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winterarmyy · 2 months

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Against All Odds | Part I

An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.

Summary: In a medieval kingdom where magic and political intrigue are woven into the fabric of society, Y/N, the youngest daughter of a noble Earl family, finds herself in an arranged marriage to James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke. Known as the Winter Soldier, Bucky's reputation as a monster in war had instilled anxiety into Y/N's heart. But that fear quickly begins to crumble when she discovers that her husband is not the brutal figure society depicts him to be.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 8.1k++

Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader

Warnings: fantasy/medieval au, i did not write this with much knowledge of fantasy nor medieval lore. I write it solely for plot and the couple dynamic lmao. if you're expecting full blown fantasy novel; this ain't it, man. anyways, 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, loss of virginity, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint), marking kink (i think), soft fluffy smut, a wee bit of dirty talk. soft!reader and even softer!bucky. (idk what else, so tell me if there's something i miss.)

P/S: This is the fic for an idea I had earlier this year. The first chapter will only cover the original post but what happens next is something you will need to look forward on the upcoming chapters. Enjoy your read!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N stood in front of the grand mirror in her chamber, her reflection staring back at her with wide, fearful eyes. The delicate lace of her wedding dress was the opposite of the twisting anxiety in her stomach. Today, she was to marry James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke of the kingdom, a man labelled to be more beast than human.

He was known as the Winter Soldier, a title whispered with both fear and awe. Tales of his gruesome feats in battle, his merciless brutality, and his cold, metal arm was deemed as a horror story for the children in the kingdom. People spoke of him as a monstrous weapon, a beast moulded by the Emperor to do his bidding without question or hesitation.

Y/N had heard the stories many times before; and it has always been a hushed conversation that floats around whether a ballroom of a gala, or at the tables of the garden parties, sometimes even in between the racks of books in the library.

They always painted a picture of a man who lived only for war, devoid of humanity.

She couldn't help but let these tales feed her imagination. What kind of man was he truly? Did he revel in the violence, or was he a prisoner to his fate? Y/N shuddered at the thought, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Her father, the Earl, had made it clear why she needed to marry him. It was a political manoeuvre, a strategic alliance to strengthen their family's position. The duke, Bucky's father, wielded considerable power, and their union would bring the Earl closer to the heart of the kingdom's influence.

And when he heard that the duke was looking for a wife for his bastard son, he knew that she would be perfect. That was when Y/N, the youngest daughter, became the pawn in this game. Her father's ambitions certainly outweighed any consideration for her feelings or desires.

Y/N had always longed for a marriage of love, a dream she clung to despite her circumstances. She was a hopeless romantic through and through; much like her late mother. She remembered the nights when her mother would read to her and her siblings, spinning tales of prince charming and valiant heroes.

The fire crackled warmly in the hearth as her mother’s soothing voice filled the room. Y/N and her siblings, her older brother Eric and sister Clara, lay tucked under blankets, their eyes wide with wonder.

"And then the prince, with a heart full of love, swept the princess into his arms, vowing to protect her forever," her mother read, her voice a melodic whisper.

Y/N, her eyes sparkling with innocence, declared, "When I grow up, I want to marry a prince charming too!"

Clara, ever the practical one, nodded in agreement. "Me too! He has to be brave and kind."

Eric, being a little boy, scrunched his nose in distaste. "I don’t want to get married. I want to be a knight!"

Their mother chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N’s forehead. "It does not matter if he is a prince charming or a humble knight. As long as you marry the one you love, that is what truly matters."

Y/N's heart ached at the memory. How she wished her mother were still here to guide her through this terrifying day. The gentle knock on the door brought her back to the present.

"Lady Y/N, it’s time," one of the maids said softly.

Y/N took a long and deep breath, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. She followed the maid down the corridor, her mind a swirl of emotions. Reaching the grand doors of the church, her father waited for her.

"Remember, Y/N," he said, his voice stern. "Do not mess this up. Just endure it. And you'll be fine. This is the most useful you can be to our family."

Her heart sank further; yet she nodded obediently.

Compared to Y/N, her elder brother, a celebrated swordsman, and her sister, a master in the art of business, had always outshone her in their father's eyes. Y/N's talent with languages; ancient and modern – was seen as a useless skill, something that brought no tangible benefit to the family.

Her father had never been cruel when she was younger but everything changed when her mother died. In fact, everyone in the family had lost a piece of their soul when she left. Now, his lack of affection only increases the number of scars on her heart.

The doors opened, revealing the crowds of high-ranking nobles; who were mostly strangers – staring at her. Some were judging her; some pitied her. She reminded herself that she was doing this for her family, for the greater good. But the little girl inside her who dreamed of prince charming certainly felt a pang of sorrow.

As she walked down the aisle, her legs trembled, and her hands shook so violently that she had to clasp them together to steady herself. From afar, she saw the silhouette of the man she was destined to marry. His tall and huge figure stood out compared to anyone in the hall. As she got closer, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, too afraid to look up at her husband-to-be.

When she finally reached the altar, the priest began the ceremony. His speech was long and dragging, giving Y/N too much time to entertain her growing curiosity that she dared to glance up at the man next to her. Even from behind the veil, she could see his towering and broad-shouldered build, his presence commanding the room. His long hair was slightly untamed, and a scruffy beard framed his face. His metal hand, glinting in the sun that leaked through the church’s windows, was a jarring reminder of the rumors that surrounded him.

There were no heartfelt vows to recite to each other; only their promise of "I do" was exchanged. And that was the first time Y/N heard his voice. It was deep and resonant, sending a shiver down her spine; but there was a certain warmth in it that contrasted sharply with his fearsome reputation.

When the priest announced their union and Bucky lifted her veil, Y/N was struck by the unexpected gentleness in his eyes. They were a brilliant, mesmerizing blue, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Bucky's eyes softened as he looked at her, his gaze tender and almost reverent. Slowly, he placed one hand gently around her waist, pulling her slightly closer. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle against her skin.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as he leaned in, her breath catching in her throat. When his lips met hers, they were soft, warm, and so unexpected. She could smell his cologne; an earthy, woodsy scent mixed with a hint of something fruity; like peaches or tangerines. It made her head spin and her heart jumped all at the same time.

The kiss was gentle and unhurried, very much differs to the forceful gesture she had feared. As he pulled away, Y/N found herself blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her fear momentarily replaced by confusion and a surprising awe. She was caught off guard by the tenderness of his touch, the way his lips had brushed against hers so gently.

Could the rumors about him be wrong?

"I’m sorry if I startled you," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear."

Y/N blinked slowly, trying to process the sudden shift in her emotions. The fear that had gripped her so tightly seemed to dissipate, replaced by a confusing mix of relief and intrigue. Her hands, which had been trembling, now rested at her sides, feeling strangely steady. Her eyes met his, and she could see softness in his gaze that contradicted the harsh rumors she had heard.

“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. She took a deep breath, her cheeks getting warmer as she processed the endearment he just called her. On the other hand, her mind was racing as she tried to reconcile the man in front of her with the fearsome figure of the Winter Soldier.

Bucky’s eyes mellowed even further, his gaze glazed with a tenderness that seemed to pierce through the weight of the room. A warm smile spread across his face, and he held her gaze with a comforting assurance.

“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a gentle affection. “I’m glad to hear that.”

The reception that followed was a blur of faces and polite conversation. Y/N moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and well-wishes, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky than the rumors suggested. Every time she caught his eye, he gave her a small, reassuring smile that made the butterflies inside of her go wild.

As the evening drew to a close, they were escorted to one of the Emperor’s palaces, a grand and opulent residence that was to serve as their temporary home before they traveled north to Bucky’s territory. The palace, with its lavish furnishings and golden accents, seemed to mock the uncertainty Y/N felt. She had been assigned a chamber to prepare for the night, and the palace maids were bustling around her, helping her into a set of elaborate, far-from-modest lingerie.

The palace’s maids’ whispers and side glances did nothing to ease her growing anxiety. Their condescending tones and occasional snickers were laced with cruel speculation about how roughly Bucky would treat her. The more Y/N overheard, the more her apprehension grew. Despite the gentleness Bucky had shown her earlier, she found herself doubting its sincerity.

Could he really be the caring husband he appeared to be, or was it all just an elaborate show?

The maids finally left, their laughter fading down the hallway, leaving Y/N alone in the grand chamber. Her heart raced, and cold sweat formed at her brow as she sat quietly on the edge of the ornate bed. She kept her gaze firmly on the floor, her hands fidgeting in her lap. The room felt enormous, its sheer size heightening her sense of isolation and dread.

The door creaked open, and Bucky entered the room. Y/N’s heart nearly stopped as she heard the heavy, measured footsteps approaching. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, her body tense and her mind a swirl of panic and unease. She almost held her breath entire when she felt the slight indentation of the mattress beside her.

“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice was soft and coaxing, a distinct difference to the coldness she was expecting. “Look at me.” He continued. She hesitated momentarily; torn between obeying and disobeying but ultimately decided to raise her eyes to meet his.

The sight of him; his upper body bare, revealing a tapestry of scars and the stark metal of his prosthetic arm; made her breath hitch. Her eyes traced the lines of his faded wound, particularly the jagged marks where his shoulder met his metal arm. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow and concern. Her fingers, almost of their own accord, reached out to trace the contours of his chest and shoulder.

Bucky let the innocence of her touch to trace the most tainted parts of him; however noting her trembling eyes, he misunderstood her apprehension. “I want you to know, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle, “that I will never hurt you. You are safe with me.”

Y/N shook her head, her heart aching. She felt an unexplainable pain growing in her chest as she gazed at him. Her fingers still lightly touching his scars; her eyes, full of unshed tears, silently asked a question she was too afraid to voice. “Does it still hurt?” she wanted to ask, her expression betraying her concern.

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with affection, and he took her hand in his, holding it tenderly against his chest. “Don't worry. It does not hurt anymore,” he said with a reassuring smile.

The connection between them was electric, charged with a deep, unspoken understanding. Bucky’s gaze was steady and filled with a depth of unspoken emotion that took Y/N’s breath away. “I know this is difficult for you, Y/N,” he said, his voice laden with sincerity. “But I promise, I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

His words and the way he looked at her left Y/N feeling both comforted and overwhelmed. For the first time since their wedding, she felt a genuine, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, their marriage could become something more than a mere political arrangement. Bucky’s assurances, his gentleness, and the tenderness in his eyes began to dissolve the fears she had harboured since the beginning of their union.

As they sat there, the weight of the night’s expectations seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile but growing trust. Y/N had entered this marriage with a sense of duty, convinced that she would have to endure the consummation of their union as a matter of obligation. But Bucky’s tenderness, his understanding, and the sincere reassurance he had given her began to change her perspective.

The idea of fulfilling her marital duty had initially felt like a burden she had to bear. She had steeled herself to face it with resignation, convinced that it was merely another part of her role in this arranged marriage. But now, she found herself reconsidering. The idea of being with him no longer felt like an obligation but a possibility of something more profound and intimate.

Y/N hands softly toyed with the delicate strings of her sheer lingerie, pulling it softly as her doe eyes signalled her husband of her intention. Bucky, sensing the shift in her demeanor, looked into her eyes with a mixture of concern and affection. “Are you sure, my dear?” he asked softly. “I want you to feel safe with me and not afraid of me.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered as she met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the depth of her emotions. “I am,” she said with quiet conviction. “I feel safe with you, James”

Bucky's hand naturally went to brush her hair behind her ear, “It’s Bucky, my dear,” he corrected softly.

“Hmm?” she asked, slightly puzzled.

He chuckled warmly. “You can call me Bucky from now on. It’s a nickname only a selected few who I trust and love knows.” Her eyes sparkled at his choice words; trust and love.

“Bucky…” she tested the name on her tongue, the syllables feeling strangely intimate. Upon hearing his name from her lips, Bucky’s heart swelled, almost bursting from his ribcage. He hummed in approval, “That's right, my dear. I’m your Bucky.”

His reassuring smile grew wider, his calloused thumb gently stroke her cheek causing a shiver to strum all over her nerves; sending an emerging desire. One she had not fully acknowledged until now. The way he looked at her, the pure and raw endearment in his eyes, and the softness of his touch stirred something deep within her.

As the moments passed, Y/N realised she wanted this. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, to explore the warmth of his hands, to connect with him on a level she had longed for. The yearning for his touch, which had been dormant under layers of fear and uncertainty, now surged forward with undeniable intensity.

Without fully understanding why, Y/N found herself leaning closer to him, her breath coming in soft, eager gasps. She whispered, her voice barely audible but full of longing, “Bucky, please.”

Bucky’s expression softened, and a tender light filled his blue eyes, “May I?” he asked, his voice low and gentle as he held out his hand. There a shy hesitation before she finally placed her hand in his.

With a gentle but firm pull, Bucky lifted her onto his lap, his careful hands beginning the process of undressing her. Each movement was full of care, yet almost deliberate, as he slowly removed her dress, leaving her in nothing but the flimsy lace piece covering the sacred area between her thighs.

Bucky's eyes roamed over her bare skin, admiration clear in his gaze. Y/N could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes traced every curve and contour of her body. The intensity of it made her feel both vulnerable and cherished, a potent combination that sent pleasurable shivers all over her body.

Seeing the hunger in his blue eyes, she felt the warmth of his body and caught the scent of him; the same once she noticed at the church; warm and comforting. Her breath quickened, and she found herself unsure of what to do or where to place her hands, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Noticing the subtle panic, Bucky reached for her hands and guided them through the thick strands of his long hair. “You can touch me as you please, my dear,” he whispered, his voice soothing as he reassured her. He leaned in to kiss her bare shoulder, then moved up to her neck, along her jaw, leaving a trail of warmth on her skin.

Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, the softness surprising her. The intimacy of the moment, combined with his gentle kisses, began to dissolve the last remnants of her anxiety. The feel of his lips on her skin was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of sensation she never felt before.

Bucky’s hands, still careful and tender, caressed her back, drawing her closer to him. Her breath hitched as he kissed the valley of her breasts; soft gasps escaping her lips as Bucky begins to lick and sucked on her delicate skin; likely trying to mark his claim on her.

Every touch and little kisses he left sent shivers straight to her already dripping core. And by the time his lips grazed her nipple, her body jerked forward; in response, unintentionally dragging her aching pussy against his thick thigh.

His lips latched around her right nipples as he licks and sucks the hardening skin; lapping at it as if he was feeding from her. The sensation was overwhelming, yet she found herself leaning into his touch, her body responding to his gentle ministrations. The grip on his hair grew tighter as the strings of moans poured out her lips.

Bucky’s large hands find their place on her hips, guiding her to gently rut on his thigh. Trusting him, she followed his lead as he continue to grind her clit through the thin fabric she was wearing; introducing the sweet friction in on her core. Bucky pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression filled with a mixture of subtle affection and desire. “You’re doing wonderfully, my dear. Can feel your pussy leaking on me. Do you feel good?” he murmured as he dipped back to kiss her neck.

Oh, he was filthy with his choice of words but surprisingly she was not mad about it. In fact she didn’t even notice the whimpers purring in her throat upon hearing those sinful words.

It was as if Bucky recognized that needy sound she made; it caused a smile to spread on his lips. She can feel it grow against the skin in between her breasts, “My my, is my sweet wife feeling needy right now?” he teased playfully as he effortlessly lifted her up and laid her down on their bed.

Placing himself in between her soft thighs, his lustful gaze trained on her naked body; he admired the marks he has left on her breasts, the wet patch on the flimsy fabric covering her cunt, and the way her breath shuddered when he teasingly grind his harden cock against her.

Y/N can feel the contrast of his hands on her thigh, one warm, one cold. Her eyes drew her attention from his hands to his gorgeous face. Oh, the pure unfiltered lust in his eyes was pulling her in so effortlessly; seducing her to submit her body and soul to him completely. Shying away from his stare, she dragged her view down to his chiselled jaw, his broad chest then slowly to his beautiful abs.

She admired his body as much as he did of hers.

But what was more prominent out of all, was the way she could feel his erection throbbing against her heat. Blood went rushing towards her face when Bucky guided her hips against the confinement of his cock, which in response; causing her hands naturally found their way to cover her face in embarrassment.

A deep chuckle bubbled from Bucky’s throat; he found her reaction to be absolutely endearing. He leaned down towards her, one hand holding himself up and another tenderly pulling her hands away, then drawing it close to his chest, right against his beating heart.

Having nowhere to run, Y/N’s teary eyes drowned in his ocean blues, “Don’t hide from me, dearest.” He peppered a delicate kiss on her forehead, then on her nose, then on her cheek. She could feel the prickly sensation of his beard grazing on her skin. It was ticklish and a little bit painful and yet weirdly enough, it felt good that it naturally made her want to nuzzle it more.

But before she could, Bucky’s lips were already making their way down to her stomach. Her body responds to how soft his lips trailing down; and further down until she could feel them on her clothed core. A surprised yelp fell from her lips as he tore the last piece of clothing from her.

“Now, hands away from your face, my dear. I want to see that beautiful eyes of yours when I eat your sweet pussy.” his voice was honeyed when he made himself comfortable in between her thighs. His hands reached upwards to intertwine both of her hands with his own; acting as a restraint to restrict her from covering her face.

Y/N almost sat up upon hearing his words, “Eat what now?”, the question she had in mind was unable to be vocalised; due to her confusion. Prior to marriage, she had learned about sex and its purpose in her marital studies. Unbeknownst to her, the knowledge she had was few and limited for academic purposes only. Which means there were only the few illustrations of penetration depicted in books and the process of how children are bred as a result of it.

So what does he mean when he said those words? While she was still lost and confused, Bucky on the other hand was in his own world; completely and utterly transfixed on the glistening need of her cunt. She was dripping wet; the juices covering her slits perfectly; her scent was intoxicating and if it weren’t for the fact that this is her first time, Bucky would’ve ate her like a man starved of touch. But, he can’t do that. Not tonight. He wanted to be gentle; to cherish her, to love on her.

Seeing the darkened clouds in his eyes as he stared at her private, Y/N braved herself to ask, “What are you– ohh hmmm” her sentence ended up transforming into a toe curling moan as she felt Bucky’s wet tongue flattened across her weeping core. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he dragged her clit into his mouth and sucked. He strummed her clit with his tongue, causing her to arch her back and he took the opportunity to push his face further into her cunt; licking and sucking quite the literal soul out her.

It felt amazing but her self-consciousness won the battle in her head, she let out a whimpering plea, “Buc--bucky st-stop. That’s dirty.” as she gripped on his hands, trying to escape from his grip. Bucky growled against her in response to her futile protest. The sweet vibration only caused her pleasure all over her fluttering core.

When Bucky pulled away for a moment; it caused her to feel a sense of loss. “It’s not dirty, my dear. In fact, it’s so sweet.” His lips moved to kiss on her inner thigh, murmuring against her skin as he left yet more of his marks on her, “So fucking sweet.” He releases his right hand from hers, just to rub his thumb on her clit, slowly dragging it in between her slit; smearing her wetness all around her throbbing bundle of nerves. Her thighs trembled to the sensation of his rough movement of his thumb and a string of shaky mewls fell out of her.

“But..” she tried to protest but immediately stopped when Bucky brought his soaked thumb to her mouth. Her lips were wet from how he gently smeared the juices on her, “Taste yourself.” He lured her softly. Hesitation glints in her eyes as her cheeks redden. Bucky’s eyes grew tender at her watery ones, he whispered lowly, “Sweetheart, do you trust me?”

She does; but she does not trust her own voice to not come out sounding like a needy moan, so she simply nodded. Bucky’s pink lips spread into a smile, “Good girl. Now, open up.” he coaxed lovingly.

Y/N opened her mouth as she was told and let Bucky slip his thumb inside; he was not shy to smother her juices across her tongue, coaxing her to suck on it. To get a taste of what he was having. “It’s sweet”, she thought to herself. A muffled moan purred in her throat at the thought of her husband enjoying the taste of her.

Bucky smirk grew at her reaction, “Tastes good huh, sweetheart?” he pulled his thumb away, leaving her nodding to his question. “Now are you going to let me enjoy your pussy?” his brow quirked when he tilted his head to the side. How can she deny him now? Her eyes glazed with need as she replied, “Yes, please”.

Her mouth falls open in anticipation as a low moan creeps up her throat. Bucky’s tongue slips past her folds, she watched him between her legs, savouring her pussy with his unfiltered groans vibrating against her sensitive spot. Breathless moans and incoherent pleads fall from her mouth as the soft and firm tip of his tongue circled her swollen pearl and flicked it. Bucky’s hands went to her hips, guiding it in time with her own movements, giving her partial control to set the pace.

“Buckyyyy.” She gasped as she alternated between wanting to push his head away or keep him in place. Meanwhile, the man in between her thighs had lost himself; consumed by pure desire the more he drank from her cunt. His tongue moved faster against her clit when he noticed the beat of her throbbing cunt increased. She was going to come. He was sure of it.

The way that she was practically creaming on his tongue drove him near feral. He kept lapping at her juices as if it was the sweetest honey he ever tasted; fuck he even sucked her clit in hopes to force out more of her nectar to leak; then he’d lap on it again.

The sweet cycle had pushed Y/N over the edge, her eyes rolling back as pleasure and her hips slightly lifted as pleasure surges through her veins.“Oh oh Bucky please please.” She didn’t what she was begging for as she chanted his name. “I’m gonna, ‘m gonna–“ her words died as she squealed; her body trembling in pleasure.

His tongue moved faster against her clit; her cum was dripping out of her; coating his beard but his frantic licks didn’t stop even when she continue to gush on his tongue.

“Bucky please, sensitive..” It was too much; her orgasm, her swollen clit, his tongue. Everything.

Unfortunately for her, Bucky was far gone to stop now. He had the taste of her cum, now he wants nothing more than to have it again. Despite her protest, Bucky held her hip down, interlocking his hands across her stomach to keep her in place and continue to lick and suck on her overstimulated cunt.

Her whiny pleas didn’t come across as a sign for him to stop; instead it kept him going causing him to bury his face further in between her legs. His cock continued to throb in his pants, probably leaking with so much pre-cum and in need of some sort of relief but he ignored it. He wants nothing more than for Y/N to cum on his tongue again.

And that is exactly what happened next.

The moment she fell over the edge, Bucky pushed her even harder against him as her whole body spasmed. He maintained his pace on lapping up at her all throughout her high as her hands went from his hair to the headboard, trying to hold her limp body upright. Y/N took a moment to gather herself together, panting heavily as she regained their senses; while Bucky was swift to pull his pants off and throw it to the side.

He grabbed on her hips, holding her firmly in place as his heavy leaking cock nestled between her aching pussy. “Are you sure about this, my dear?” his hot breath fanning against her neck as he gently ruts into her heat. Even though Bucky can see the darken lust in her eyes, he still wanted to make sure that she was sure of her decision.

Y/N’s heart swelled at his concern, and she found herself smiling, a genuine smile that reflected the warmth she felt inside. She pulled him closer and kissed him, pouring all her newfound trust and affection into the kiss. “Yes, Bucky. I am very sure. ”

Bucky quickly responded with equal passion, his tongue slipped in between her lips; exploring the warmness of her mouth, the softness of her tongue. Their muffled moans filled the silenced room, his hands moved to caress her sides, drawing her even closer before breaking away from the heated kiss.

Resting his forehead on hers, his eyes trained on her beautiful face; not wanting to miss his chance to witness the pleasure contorting on her expression. He nudges her clit first, rubbing it slow and sensual before trailing down to her entrance. Gradually, he inches closer, he pushes in and through the tightness of her sacred channel.

Delving impossibly deep, her tightness wrapped around his thick cock until the tip of him reached the deepest parts of her. The sudden feeling of fullness on her untainted pussy caused her to experience both pain and the delightful sensation inside her. The ecstasy of being so knitly connected to each other caused both of them to simultaneously let out moans and groans of raw pleasure.

Bucky waited for her to adjust to his size; leaning down to pamper her with the softest kisses and praises that tears started to swell in her eyes. It was as if Bucky knew exactly what she wanted to hear, how she wanted to be treated and what makes her feel good.

“You’re doing so good, my dear.”

“Look at how perfect your pussy’s taking my cock. So perfect.”

“Made for me aren’t you, sweetheart?. Made to be loved by me, made to be stuffed full of my cock.”

“I promise you’ll be safe with me, Y/N. Always.”

When Y/N finally gave him the permission to move, Bucky kissed her pouty lips and murmured sweetly, “Thank you, my dear.” His hands travelled to find her ankle; which he then gently prop her calf over his broad shoulder. He started pumping in and out slowly, letting her get used to the friction.

Bucky couldn’t help but to groan out to the feeling of her wet hole gripping his cock ever-so-tightly. It was slippery and dripping, that he almost completely slid out of her. Gripping her closer he continue ramming himself back in, deeper, harder; sliding in and out of her at an even pace. Each force of his cock causing her body to jerk in ecstasy; hitting that good spot in her so perfectly.

“S-shit, sweetheart,” he moans deep and heavy as he felt her pussy tightening around him. His metal hand slid in between them and his thumb hones in on her clit. The coldness of his finger made her jolt at first but when he proceeded to rub and pinch on it, everything suddenly started to feel too intense; so incredibly good.

With his fingers assaulting her clit, each thrust of his cock and every deep guttural moan and groan coming from Bucky, she felt her release was growing closer. Bucky also started thrusting faster and harder; he knew he was about to come. Especially when he can feel how much pre-cum has been leaking inside her.

He leaned and rested his forehead on hers, his needy ruts became more and more irregular when her pretty doe eyes looked up at him, “Cum for me, my dear.” his lips brushed against Y/N’s as he coaxed her to her sweet release. His thrusts got harsher and deeper and the friction of his metal finger working on her clit got her cunt to frantically tremble around him, “I wanna feel you milk my cock, sweetheart. Then, I’m gonna my pump cum inside you until you’re leaking.”

Although his words were debauched to no end, however Y/N could sense his genuine affection for her. She felt his sincerity in the way he looked at her, in the way he held her, in the silenced gaze they shared. Overwhelmed with pleasure, her nails dragged across Bucky’s back as she moaned and screamed out his name; letting the high took over her body.

“Fuck,, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum!” groaned as he took in the sound of her pleasured mewls. He ruthlessly grinds into her, savouring the feeling of her cunt tightened around him. With one last rut, he thrust his cock, balls deep inside and let his warm white strings filling her up to the brim. His cock twitches in her fluttering cunt, his legs tensing with every small grind he makes, groaning lowly at her as he bites down on her shoulder, almost drooling on her as he emptied himself completely into her.

Y/N continued to let out strings of soft moans as he pulled out from her leaking cunt; all swollen and sensitive. While she thought she could finally catch some breaths, she didn’t notice the way Bucky was biting on his lip at the sight of his cum dripping out of her, or how his hands lazily tugging on his now hardened cock.

“Dearest?” Bucky hovered above her as he cradled her by her flushed cheeks. She smiled sweetly as she leaned to his touch, “Yes, Bucky?”, she was anticipating him to utter more of those soft words and praises to her; but instead his lips curled into a devilish grin when he slid his cock back into her, immediately pulling a long sinful mewl of his name from her. Bucky hummed approvingly in response; he gently brushed his lips against hers, “May I fill you up again?”

As the morning sun streamed through the windows, Y/N slowly stirred awake. She reached out, instinctively searching for the warmth of her husband beside her, but found the space empty. A pang of loneliness touched her heart, but it was quickly replaced by curiosity when she saw a bouquet of bluebells, her favourite flower, placed delicately on the bedside table.

Next to the bouquet was a note. With a small smile, she picked it up and began to read.

"My Dearest Y/N,

I hate to leave you alone this morning, but I must ensure our journey home is smooth and safe. I trust you slept well, and I promise to return to your side as soon as I can.

Yours always,

Bucky"

The words written on the note were filled with sincerity and reassurance that made her heart flutter. She smiled, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she wondered how he knew bluebells were her favourite.

Just as she was lost in thought, the door opened, and the palace’s maids entered the room. Their faces were a mixture of curiosity and impatience, clearly expecting to see a frightened and bruised young bride.

However, when they saw Y/N's skin, they temporarily froze in their spots. Her skin was indeed bruised, but each one of them recognized the marks for what they were: love marks, not signs of harsh abuse that they were expecting. The traces of Bucky's possessive love were prominent all over her neck, chest, and inner thighs, leaving Y/N blushing as the maids, too, found themselves flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” one of the older maids muttered under her breath, her tone laced with irritation. Another maid, with a more condescending sneer, huffed. “Looks like we lost the bet, ladies. Who would have thought the beast could be so... tender?”

Y/N’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and pride. She could feel their resentful glances and knew they were not pleased with the outcome. The marks on her body were a testament to the affection and desire Bucky had shown her, and despite the initial fear, she now wore them as symbols of the unexpected bond they had begun to forge.

The head maid, who had been the most vocal the night before, now seemed to handle her with an edge of bitterness. The other maids, who had been so quick to judge, were now silent, their eyes wide with resentment.One of the younger maids, braver than the rest, couldn’t hide her frustration. “Well, my lady, I suppose you’re alright, then?” she asked, her voice barely masking her disappointment.

Y/N looked at her, considering the appropriate response. If it was up to her, she ought to punish every single one of them for not knowing their place. Unfortunately, they were not her maids to begin with, but the palace's staff. Otherwise, she would likely fire each one of them.

The memory of Bucky’s affection and care filled her heart, leaving no room for anger or resentment. The warmth of his embrace and the gentle way he had treated her made the maids' behaviour seem petty and insignificant.

She could still feel the lingering touch of his lips on her skin, the way his hands had caressed her so delicately, and the sound of his reassuring voice. Her body was still tingling with the remnants of the previous night's intimacy. Her skin bore the marks of his love, not of brutality, and each bruise was a testament to the passion they had shared. It was completely different to the vile expectations of the maids.

A small smile playing on her lips despite the blush that still coloured her cheeks. "Yes," she said softly, "I am quite alright."

The maids exchanged annoyed glances, their expressions a mix of frustration and disbelief. Their muttered disappointments were tuned out as Y/N focused on the lingering warmth from the night before.

She couldn't hear a single thing except her heart beating to the thought of her husband. She missed him already. Who would’ve thought she’d be swooning for him so soon?

She found herself yearning for his presence, the comfort of his touch, and the sound of his reassuring voice. The memory of his gentle kiss and tender words lingered in her mind yet again, making her heart flutter.

As the maids continued their work, Y/N hoped they would at least perform their duties well enough to cover up for their childish behaviour. She wanted to be ready to see Bucky, to greet him with the same warmth and affection he had shown her. Despite their rudeness, she resolved to focus on the positive, cherishing the newfound bond with her husband.

Bucky stood at the head of the table, his stern expression and commanding presence filling the room. He was reviewing the logistics of their journey home, his voice cold and decisive as he issued instructions to his knights. His trusted knight, Sam, was detailing the possible hotspots for bandits they might encounter along the way.

"We'll likely face trouble here," Sam said, pointing to a spot on the map. "We should send some of our best men ahead to clear the path."

"Agreed," Bucky responded, his tone unyielding. "Deploy the knights in advance. Ensure the path is secure before we proceed."

Sam nodded and continued outlining the plan. He paused, expecting Bucky to reconfirm, but noticed a change in his leader's face. The harsh lines softened, his eyes filled with a tender warmth, as he stared intently at something across the room. Before Sam could look or utter a word, Bucky turned and walked away with determination.

Sam followed Bucky's gaze and understood immediately. "Ah, that's why," he muttered to himself as he watched Bucky approach Y/N. The change in Bucky’s demeanour was striking. He moved with a grace and warmth that was at odds with his usual stern and imposing presence.

Bucky’s eyes softened as he took in the sight of Y/N. He admired her beauty with a gaze filled with awe and adoration. The way he looked at her was as if he was seeing a vision he had longed for, a rare and precious gem that had finally come into his life.

As he extended his hand toward her, a gesture usually seen as etiquette but now entirely with different meaning, especially with the hearts bursting our of his blue eyes. Y/N’s face lighting up with a shy smile, took his hand; almost too eagerly. Bucky's fingers closed gently around hers, his touch tender and reassuring. The contrast between his usual, fearsome reputation and the gentle way he interacted with her was profound, making it clear that his feelings for Y/N were deeply genuine.

Bucky kissed the back of her hand, his lips softly caressing her knuckles. "My dear," he greeted her, using the endearment he had chosen when they first met at the altar.

The scene seemed like it was pulled raw from a romance novel that the surrounding staff and knights simply watched in shock and awe. "Did he just..." one knight whispered, eyes wide. "Called her 'my dear'?" another finished, equally stunned.

Sam, who had witnessed firsthand the monstrous side of Bucky in war, found himself in a state of utter disbelief, jaw dropped loose. He had seen Bucky’s sword painted blood-red, his face splattered with the gore of countless enemies. The Winter Soldier was a force of nature on the battlefield, his brutal efficiency leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. Sam recalled the sight of Bucky’s cold, unyielding eyes as he cut through foes without hesitation, his armor and weaponry gleaming with the blood of those who dared oppose him.

And yet, here he was, the same man who had struck terror into the hearts of many, now standing before Y/N with a tenderness that seemed unimaginable. Sam could hardly believe his eyes. The disparity was pronounced and bewildering. Bucky’s expression was soft, his movements gentle as he held Y/N’s hand in his.

“I’ve missed you,” Y/N said softly, her eyes shining with affection. She truly did, it would be a lie that she didn’t felt the ache in her heart when she woke up alone that morning. The emptiness beside her had felt profound. The bed still carried his scent, a lingering warmth that whispered of his recent presence. Even though the separation had been brief, as evidenced by the thoughtful note and the bouquet of her favourite flowers he had left behind, the loneliness she felt was palpable. His absence, however fleeting, had created a void that left her feeling incomplete.

Bucky’s heart seemed to burst with emotion. He couldn't care less about the gawking staff surrounding them as he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. She initially froze, caught off guard and embarrassed, but soon melted into his kiss with a blossoming confidence.

As their lips met, memories of their tender and passionate night together surged through Bucky's mind. The way she moan his name, the taste of her cum, the tightness of her pussy gripping on his cock, the way his cum leaked out of her, every single sinful scene replayed in head; infinitely. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and he found himself nearly losing control. Reluctantly, he pulled back from the kiss, his breath uneven and his gaze filled with an unspoken hunger.

"God, what should I do with you, hmm, sweetheart?" Bucky whispered, his voice laced with seduction as he continued to place gentle kisses along her cheeks and jaw. His lips brushed softly against her skin, whispering how much he had missed her and expressing a wistful desire to stay wrapped in the warmth of their shared bed just a little longer.

Y/N’s soft giggle rang out as she felt the roughness of his stubble against her delicate skin. The sound was like music to Bucky's ears, brightening his mood and filling him with a profound sense of joy. Despite the joyful exchange, he reluctantly ended the sweet torment, his kisses lingering just a moment longer before he pulled away.

“We should be ready to begin our journey shortly,” Bucky said, his tone shifting to a more practical note when e turned to Sam, who had approached during their moment of intimacy.

“Y/N, this is Sam Wilson, he is one of my trusted knights.” Bucky introduced, his gaze shifting to his wife. Sam gave a respectful nod to Y/N, a hint of surprise still evident in his expression from witnessing Bucky's affectionate display. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Y/N.”

Y/N smiled warmly at Sam, appreciating the introduction. “The pleasure is mine, Sir Wilson.”

Sam, sensing that the formality was unnecessary given their imminent interactions, decided to ease the situation. “Just Sam, my lady,” he said with a friendly tone. Y/N repeated his name with a touch of amusement. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sam.”

Bucky, observing the growing camaraderie between his wife and his trusted knight, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of protectiveness. The easy familiarity between them seemed a bit too casual for his liking. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gave Sam a warning look. “Watch it, Wilson.”

Sam, not missing a beat, chuckled at Bucky’s protective demeanour. “What’s the matter, my lord? Can’t handle a bit of friendly conversation?”

Y/N, noticing the playful tension and Bucky’s slight irritation, couldn’t help but laugh. The contrast between Bucky’s usually soft demeanour that Y/N had witnessed and his current protective stance were both endearing and amusing. Her laughter lightened the mood, making Sam’s teasing even more enjoyable.

Bucky's stern gaze softened as he watched Y/N’s laughter, though his protective instinct remained palpable. Steering the conversion back to the preparations, he allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of his mouth despite his earlier warning.

“I trust you can escort my wife to the carriage,” Bucky said, his voice serious but tinged with a hint of a smile. “However, I expect you to maintain proper distance and adhere to these additional guidelines.” He paused, ensuring his words were clear. “No unnecessary physical contact or overly familiar behaviour. And if you could, avoid any casual conversations that might be misinterpreted.”

Sam looked at Bucky in disbelief, shaking his head with a bemused expression. “Seriously, Barnes? You’re laying down rules for me to keep my distance from your wife now?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Consider it a precaution. I’d rather not have any misunderstandings.” Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes as he complied. “Understood. I’ll make sure to follow your... guidelines.”

Y/N watched the exchange with amusement, her earlier shyness melting away into a warm appreciation for Bucky’s protectiveness. The scene, tinged with a touch of comedy, only deepened the connection between them.

Bucky, intent on making a point to Sam while expressing his affection, pulled Y/N close and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. The gesture was both intimate and deliberate, a subtle yet clear indication to Sam that she belongs to Bucky. “I’ll join you shortly, my dear,” Bucky said softly, his voice filled with warmth as he gazed into her eyes.

Sam, unimpressed by Bucky’s display, rolled his eyes at the seemingly childish antics. “This way, my lady,” he said with a hint of impatience. Y/N nodded in agreement but paused before turning her back on Bucky. With a loving smile, she whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before following Sam.

Bucky watched as Sam guided Y/N away, his gaze lingered with a mix of affection and something much deeper; an unspoken sadness. As their silhouettes walked further and further away from his sight, a sombre glaze settled over his eyes.

Beneath the surface of his composed exterior, his heart ached; the was a silent reflection of a pain he had hidden deep within his heart. It was a lingering sorrow that had shadowed him ever since he stood at the altar, the weight of unvoiced grief clinging to him as he gazed at his future bride.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Wondering why he was in the feels at the end? We’ll know it soon enough. I’ll see you in the next parts! Thank you for reading!

#bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #bucky smut #bucky angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier!bucky #medieval!bucky #duke!bucky #grumpy!bucky #soft!bucky

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ovaryacted · 2 months

Text

REPRIEVE

PAIRING: General Marcus Acacius x wife! reader || WC: 3.8k

SYNOPSIS: The General arrives home after his most recent crusade for the Roman Empire. In the hastiness of his arrival, you aid him in his relaxation.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Rough sex. Manhandling. Marking. Choking. Fingering (f receiving). Barebacking. Breeding Kink. Implied free use kink established (if you squint). Sort of dom/sub elements. Sir/Authority kink. Allusions to loss of virginity. Sex in the bath cause I said so. Mentions of Roman customs & clothing. Marcus pursued & courted reader beforehand. Reader is female and has hair. Ambiguous age gap [Reader is assumed to be younger but early 20s]. No use of y/n.

A/N: This was a pain in the ass to write since I haven't written a full smut piece in a minute and I had to do some research to figure out shit about Ancient Roman society, but I'm glad this is done. This fic wouldn't exist without Ali, @pedgito who practically held my hand during the process and helped with the proofread and aesthetics. Also big shoutout to my other baes for the reassurance and motivation. Anyways, I hope those who read it enjoy it, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated as always. <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

Some would say the General was more reminiscent of a God than a man; his silent prowess oozed out of him everywhere he went. To the empire, he was respected and admired by many, an irreplaceable asset to the Roman Emperor and the one true leader of the greatest army to exist.

Outside the walls of the great city, he was a different beast entirely. Bloodthirsty and hungry for control, his name whispered through unconquered lands and peninsulas like a plague. Marcus Acacius, the moniker of death.

He commanded his soldiers to pillage and return what they could to the capital: gold, livestock, and new fodder to satiate Rome’s everlasting appetite for power. As he trampled through villages of the unknown, his steel blade cut through human flesh with finesse, his skin stained with the crimson of those who lay dismembered in a heap. Whoever was left of the inhabitants dropped to their knees, vowing servitude to the empire in exchange for their personhood, all while the General reveled in that power.

He was a force to be reckoned with in every sense of the word, dominating every space he invaded with his broad shoulders and fierce eyes. Being at the hands of the Emperor would prove to be a benefit if his sins didn’t fill him with regret. Despite his domineering attitude, he urged to want more, to be understood and accepted with all the faults of being a mortal man.

The Gods seemed to hear his silent prayers, taking pity on Acacius and granting him the opportunity to wed a wife, a pretty thing he had spotted once while patrolling the city with a few other soldiers. He was called upon for a council meeting when you crossed his path, the purple fabric of your palla catching his eye, holding your gaze for mere seconds before you continued to stroll past him.

He sought after you through the crowds in the market and at the Emperor’s banquets, seeking you out any chance he was not shipped out on a campaign, wooing you with his charisma and stories of his conquests. You’ve bewitched him wholeheartedly, pursuing you until he asked for your hand in marriage, and you accepted willingly.

After every battle and bloodbath, you awaited him in the Domus, high in the exclusive Palatine Hill. At first, he didn’t know what being wed would be like and didn’t expect to uphold the standard of a spouse, but all he knew was he wanted you, and he succeeded in his endeavors.

The sun had already set past the horizon when Acacius stepped through the entryway of his domus, the heavy footfalls of his steps echoing through the stone walls. He didn’t address the servants who attempted to welcome him into his home; instead, they bowed and greeted him in kind as he paid them no mind. He strolled past the atrium and the gardens, refusing to turn his head to admire how the moonlight shimmered over the luxurious pool, lotus flowers, and lily pads floating idly over the calm waters.

Taking another turn across the hall and striding through a wide door, he entered a dimly lit room surrounded by candles where the private bath was located, already prepared for his arrival. He didn’t hesitate to strip himself of his armor, the heavy metal of his chest plate clanging to the ground with the rest of its attachments. His undergarments were next, covered in the dirt of his recent crusade and smeared with the blood of his spoils of war, the dirty linen fabric of his red tunic piled up by his feet as he impatiently removed his caligae. He lifted his arms to force an audible crack in his spine, rolling his shoulders and neck to ease the strain he felt wound tight in his body.

Carefully, he sank into the warm water of the bath, groaning as he pressed his back against the sleek tiled edge. Acacius took his first exhale since returning to Rome, closing his eyes and stretching his arms across the bath’s rim. He’d usually sit in the water with a servant aiding him in his cleansing routine or at the careful hands of his wife, who worried more than he would’ve liked. To him, this was a much better alternative than the bustling bathhouses he frequented, no longer seeing the appeal in a stranger’s touch when he could get familiarity elsewhere.

Lost in thought, he was mentally replaying his decisions from the most recent Roman expansion when he heard the faint pitter-patter of footsteps behind him, acquainted with the light heel-to-toe pattern to know that his wife had entered the room to check up on him.

“Acacius. You have returned.” You expressed rather calmly, tone even and cautious as you eyed the back of your husband’s head.

Earlier in this union, before Acacius asked for your hand, you didn’t know how to approach him. A man of his prestige and experience was foreign to anything you’ve ever encountered. Though the gifts he bestowed you during your courting did much to convince you of the type of man he was, it was a learning curve you had to overcome. It took you a while to know how to tame a beast such as Marcus Acacius himself, but you reaped the benefits of your partnership over the months you were given the title of being the General’s wife.

“I have.” He muttered, flexing his toes under the water.

“Did you not call for the servants to aid you in the bath?” You asked him, having received word from your handmaiden of his hasty return.

“I am not interested in their help,” Acacius declared, huffing a breath through his aquiline nose. He finally turned his neck to face you for the first time tonight, his chocolate brown eyes burdened with the Emperor’s expectations to protect the city you both loved, to protect his reputation, and to protect you.

“Join me.” The words slipped out of him without hesitation, and you had half the mind to follow through on his suggestion.

“Are you sure? I can call f-”

“I do not wish for them, I wish for my wife. Now get in.” He wasn’t asking, and like one of his soldiers, you were ready to fulfill his demands without a second thought.

Carefully, you pulled at the soft material of your stola, unclasping it and letting the silk fabric fall to the floor around you. The tunic layered underneath was next, kicking it off alongside your spouse’s armor and unveiling your bare frame. You entered the bath from Acacius’ left side, not missing how he watched you as a predator would stalk their prey. Standing face to face with the man you called your husband, his big hands rashly grabbed at your hips, pulling you towards him and gesturing you to sit on his lap. Both of your legs were on either side of him, knees situated next to his hips and your pelvis hovering over his own.

“You know this is improper.” You often reminded him of societal customs, and though he admired you for upholding Roman values, at the moment, he could care less about what was appropriate.

“You are my wife, are you not? That means I get to do as I please with you in my home.” He eyed you as you sighed and admitted defeat, not that you were complaining.

He was in one of those moods. So be it.

Quietly, you reached for the wooden bowl set off to the side of the bath, filling it with the oil-scented water and pouring it over his chest. Your fingers idly stroked Acacius’ collarbones and pectorals, making a note of the markings left behind from the heavy armor he often sported.

Sinking the bowl into the bath, you carefully streamed the water over his scalp, running your fingertips through the dried blood that settled at his graying temples and hairline. The grime was off-putting initially, but you quickly adjusted to it. Being the wife of a war leader forced you into a lifestyle you knew you had to accept, and making him happy was your burden to carry.

Acacius remained vigilant as you continued your meticulous washing, being extra attentive to his aching limbs. Grabbing the pumice stone with your palm and wetting it with a dip under the water, you began to scrub away at the leftover filth of combat from your husband’s body. You started at his neck, careful not to be too harsh and avoiding any apparent cuts. Moving downward towards his chest, you rubbed at him again as the reminder of his conquest trickled away in cascading ripples.

Many would not be able to stomach the reality of accommodating the General in all of his intensity, but to you, you didn’t mind. After all, you were a natural at servitude, having been shown the expectations of becoming a good wife by your mother since you were a young girl. Indeed, you did not expect to find yourself at the hands of Acacius; your father preferred to marry you off to a Senator and keep you within reach. But the moment your eyes locked on those warm brown irises on your walk, the man fascinated you, and your mind couldn’t let him go.

Being here like this with him caused you to reflect on the life you’ve been given. You were grateful to have a man endowed with such strength who would give you anything you wished for without having to ask. You reminisced about the night you were wed a few months ago, recalling how Acacius showed you what pleasure felt like for the first time. As passionate as he was merciless, his hands ran over your body and made you his in more ways than one, whispering promises of the future in your ear as you prayed for Venus to never cease the numbing feeling between your legs after each crashing wave that washed over you.

Strangely, you would consider yourself crafted for Acacius, to think it was fate to have met him that day to lead you both to where you are now. To Rome, he was a ruthless conqueror with years of expertise, and you honored him as the fighter he was molded to be and the cunning man you loved.

Diverting your attention to his shoulders and arms, you observed Acacius from the corner of your eye, noting his ravenous gaze when you entered the bath to join him. You could feel the texture of his worn palms over your skin under the water, clutching at your thighs and urging you closer on top of him. You permitted him to do what he wanted and touch you how he liked, not daring to tell him no.

He squeezed at your rear, the touch sending an electric pulse down your back and building towards the center of your body. Focusing on cleansing him and finishing your routine, the hardness you felt poking at your inner thigh grew increasingly evident the more he kneaded at your soft flesh. The moment his fingers teased at your entrance from behind, you exhaled shakily above him, meeting his mischievous eyes.

“Acacius…” You started to speak, nearly dropping the pumice stone in the bath as he caressed you more intimately, his whole hand fully cupping your sex with intention.

“Hm?” His hum radiated through you, limbs vibrating with leftover adrenaline. “That is not what you call me dulcissima. Or must I remind you of your place?”

“Carissimus.” Your voice was more airy than you’d like it to be when you replied, but it was worth the toothy grin plastered over your husband’s face.

“There we go. I knew you would give me a proper welcome, just like your cunt always has.”

You were rewarded with two thick fingers plunging deep inside you, a noisy moan tumbling out of your mouth and falling over the General’s lips. His dark eyes devoured every sound you made and encouraged you to shift your hips against his hand. The pumice stone was long forgotten, sunken to the bottom of the bathing pool as you reached for his shoulders and dug your nails into his taut skin to keep yourself grounded.

If others knew of Acacius’s devotion to you, people would consider him a madman. He doesn’t take what the Gods have given him for granted, presenting him with a loyal partner such as yourself. You were always willing to please and welcome the baggage that comes with his title with open arms and open legs. You allowed him to put his energy into something other than killing rebels overseas and being the Emperor’s lap dog. All of his pent-up frustrations were channeled into the abrupt slaps of his hips against yours within the columned walls of your shared home.

You supported him, worshiped him, and preserved the same look of reverence every time he stepped through the front doors with another victory under his belt. His rank and what his duty entails didn’t intimidate you or push you away; rather, they enticed you, a curiosity he’s come to admire. The contrast between your eager softness and his inherent brashness unlocks the most primal parts of him, and more often than not, his urges win the inner battles.

If only you knew just how much you occupied his mind. Out on the battleground, as he plows through groups of people he doesn’t bother to count, the only thing that keeps Acacius going is the remembrance of your scent wafting his nose and your soothing touches over his scarred skin. He was nothing short of obsessed with you, and though he may not confess his fixation outright, you weren’t blind to your effect on him.

The frequent pump of his digits was devastating, with no pause to let you adjust before the tips of his fingers curled into the textured spot that brought stars under your eyelids. The heel of his palm bumped into your throbbing clit with every thrust and drag of his hand, bringing you closer to that delectable edge. Rough kisses were littered across the column of your throat as Acacius’ coarse facial hair marked you, followed by the nipping of his teeth into the crease of your neck and shoulder.

“Please…” You begged him to let you seek release, cried for him to give you what you always craved. Your grip twisted into his thick, graying locks, scratching at the bruised skin of his nape.

“Give it to me.” Acacius instructed, knowing it would only take a few words to have you shaking and arching in his lap, followed by a soothing but stern order. “Come for your General.”

Your vision whitened out, crying for Acacius loud enough for the servants to hear from the other side of the door, though this was far from new for them. Your hips moved on their own accord, pushing and pulling at his fingers as your walls pulsed around them. He didn’t stop his prodding and opted to press his calloused thumb to your sensitive nub, milking your release for all it was worth. Teeth clashed with your lips as he kissed you fervently, seeking to satisfy his craving of devouring you whole from the inside out.

Pressing your chest further into him, your pulsing core grazed his length that touched your leg under the warm water. A whimper departed from you, silently imploring for more, for anything he was willing to give you. He had trained you to take all of him properly without objections or qualms. Since then, you have become greedy for him, for the frequent reminders that you were very much his to claim.

Holding on to the bottom of your thighs, Acacius lifted you in his grasp and stood up straight in the bath. He walked off to the other side of the edge, laying you down with your back to the ground and looming above you. You glanced up at him with hazy eyes, ready for him to finally be inside you when you were manhandled to your front, your breasts pinned to the cold tile underneath, bringing goosebumps to your arms at the disparity in texture.

You turned your head to look over your shoulder, taking in the rapacious expression on your husband’s face. Acacius towered behind you with a twisted grin widening over his aged features as he stalked you down, the corners of his eyes creasing as his lips curled upwards. The lust radiating over him was palpable, pawing at your hips to keep you in place.

The tip of his cock teased your opening, shamelessly grinding into you and feeling every twitch of your wet slit. A breathless whine came from you, instinctively spreading your legs wider to make room for him, standing on your tippy toes and curving your backbone for Acacius’ view.

“I have trained you well. Always ready to take me whenever I like…” He tenderly touched your waist then, affectionately light, juxtaposed to your current positioning.

“Always, sir.” You mumbled, batting your lashes back at him as your body ached from the emptiness you felt.

“My pretty wife. Rendered a needy fucking thing.”

You didn’t have time to come up with a proper response before you felt him splitting you open, burrowing deep inside until he was nestled down to the hilt. A moan settled in the base of your throat, your eyes fluttering closed as the heavy weight of him kept you tethered to the Earth.

A sob passed your lips as Acacius drew his hips back, leaving the very tip of him inside you and thrusting forward, repeating the action again and again until he set a punishing rhythm. You sought for purchase on the tiles in front of you, letting your husband do as he wished with you, his aggressive tempo sending your body jolting forward on the cool ground.

With a broad hand, Acacius ran his touch up your back, reaching the base of your neck to wrap your hair in his fist, dragging you upwards. He held you to his chest, and all you could do was let Acacius take and take and take. Your thighs shook and your walls flexed as your hips remained at the edge of the bath pool, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

The water splashed around you both in time with his forceful bucks, the sounds of skin slapping resonating in the room’s walls. Acacius practically growled in your ear, huffing out praises and sweet nothings that made you clench around him with every brutal drag of his hips. He fucked you like he’d kill out in the field; fierce, quick, and without remorse, just the way you wanted.

The fingers previously holding your hair wrapped around the hollow of your neck, providing a doting squeeze and accepting your dazed nod. He kissed your cheek once and held your hip bone with his other hand, returning to moving against you like his life depended on it, like he’d never get the opportunity to feel your pussy wrapped around him like this again.

“Sweetest thing I have ever felt. You were made for me. Had no need to mold you to my cock, hm?” Acacius sinfully murmured in your ear, forcing another whimper from you as the tip of him hit that textured spot with striking precision.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You couldn’t say anything else, words growing heavy on your tongue the moment your husband’s grip tightened around your throat. Knowing that a man so capable of death had your life in his hands made you throb and crave the carnage that was embedded in his very being. The headiness of it all propelled you to bounce your hips against his, catching every lunge he gave you.

“Is that all you can say when you are full of me?” Acacius whispered in your ear, the degrading chuckle that rumbled from the depths of his chest made your walls quiver around him again.

Sneakily, the hand holding your hip moved between your legs, seeking out your clit to fondle it tight circles the way he learned you liked. Your keens grew in volume, head thrown back on his shoulders and your nails raked over the skin of Acacius’ forearm, losing yourself to the pleasure he was more than willing to provide.

“Please, please…”

“Maybe I should claim you properly. Let my seed take for everyone in Rome to know who you belong to.” You clenched hard at the notion of being bred, gasping under your breath as your body craved something much more than a proper release.

“Carissimus, my body is yours, I am yours.” Though you didn’t need to remind him of what he already knew, the prospect of being blessed with carrying his child was enough to launch you into a violent climax with a sonorous wail of his name. “Claim me. Claim me.”

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“I will, I swear I will.” It was a vow, Acacius’ word being his bond as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. A couple more diligent jabs of his hips and he spilled into you, filling you to the brim and holding you close to him. The blunt edge of his teeth dug into the side of your neck as he groaned, digging deep enough to tear at your skin. You squealed at the act, slumping towards the floor to catch your breath and attempt to calm your rapidly beating heart.

Soft kisses and caresses slowly brought you back down from your high, your left hand reaching for your husband’s face. He was drawn forward to your touch, bestowing a warm and slower-paced kiss on your plush lips, humming contently.

“Must you treat a lady with such reckless abandon, General?” You jested with a breathless laugh, and Acacius couldn’t help but chuckle back. He was much calmer than before, the tension and adrenaline he carried back to Rome now dissipated and simmered to a minimum.

“Only my lady appeals to such behavior.” You rolled your eyes at that, neck sore from the bite now imprinted on your skin, almost certain it will bruise by morning. If it weren’t your thighs or chest, he leaves his mark visible under your chin for everyone to see, as if the golden ring on your finger wasn’t enough to show that you were wed.

“Do you wish to call for the servants?” Acacius asked, catching the shake of your head.

“Nonsense, this is just fine. You still have to fulfill your promise to me.” The corner of your lips coiled up in a playful smile, and Acacius could feel his blood rushing south again.

You were just as insatiable as he was, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x y/n #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 fanfiction #ovaryacted fics #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

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bachibabe · 11 months

Text

— 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫 ♡

synopsis: oh no! what is a cursed spirit supposed to do when he gains interest in a mortal girl? probably not make sex dolls of her, kidnap her, then fuck her until she breaks. but no one told him that!

𖦹₊┆ mahito x fem! reader

𖦹₊┆ wc: 4.5k

𖦹₊┆ warnings: noncon, dubcon, kidnapping, sex doll, cruel and unusual punishment, mindbreak, fear play, blood, biting, marking, minimal prep, cervix bruising, dehumanization (?), creampie, mahito is gross, referring to the sex doll as if it was a real person

𖦹₊┆ notes: the fic ive been writing on and off for a month… she is my baby… i have birthed her. please please please read the warnings and enjoy <33 kms if this doesn’t show up in tags

18+ → minors / blank blogs dni

Creak.

Footsteps. Footsteps right in front of you. Right in front of your safe haven.

Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please keep walking. Please. If there’s any god out there please make him keep walking.

Bang.

His fist hits the desk right above your head. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Why the fuck did you even hide? It was dumb. So dumb. You can’t get away. Maybe if you ran, kept running forever you could get away. But you can't. Not anymore. It’s too late for any of that.

“There you are, pretty doll.” His sick smile is all you see as he leans down, coming into view. He’s crazy. He’s fucking crazy. You know that. You do.

You knew from the moment he knocked on your door in the middle of the night. Practically buzzing as he rocked on his heels. His speech was slurred, manic. He’s never spoken like that before. So. . . so crazy.

You tried to be polite, you really did. You tried to make small talk, to politely excuse yourself even though your hands were shaking.

You tried to close the door on him but it just wouldn’t shut as he kept rambling. His foot shoved in the way, preventing your escape. His dirty fucking sneakers– god even now you remember them so clearly. You remember so many things you wish you didn’t.

How he fucking smiled when you looked back up at him.

It makes your stomach churn to think about it now.

You remember clearly how he grabbed you. He forced his way inside, slowly backing you against the wall. You remember how he grabbed your wrists, talked about how tiny they were in his hands. Showed you only a moment of warmth before harshly biting into the skin, red rising to the surface, coating his tongue. A sound of pain was retched from your throat, trying to pull away while his grip only got tighter. His hips forced you into the wall, trapping you. Keeping you as prey.

He said you taste delicious.

It fucking echos in your head. Makes you go insane with how it repeats over and over again. Exactly how he said the words. The lilt in his tone, the smile that made him look like he just saw the face of god. How excited he sounded at the first taste of blood.

The way you could tell that he craved more.

Craved everything you had to give.

You didn’t think demons were real before that night. Ghosts, angels– anything that goes bump in the night was just a figment of one's imagination. Maybe hallucinations. But this, this was real. How you wish this was all just some stupid hallucination.

Nothing is paranormal before you face the devil himself.

Nothing is more terrifying than when the devil wants you.

You learned that that night.

He dragged you next door, throwing you to the ground. He looked like a shadow, only a silhouette as he stood in the doorway. The moon casting a glow from behind him. You couldn't see his face, none of it was legible as you scrambled backwards. Trying, trying so desperately to put some space between yourself and the beast.

His shoulders heaved as he panted. Like a fucking monser that just got his kill.

He had.

He closed the doors. Locked them with what felt like a million keys. He started fucking giggling. Giggling like a goddamn lunatic as his demeanor changed completely. He was smiling like an innocent little kid. He was happy. The happiest you had ever seen a person before.

“Ahhh~” He sighed, glee laced in his all too cheery tone. It was like nails on a chalkboard. Speaking, churning in your ears so it's all you can hear. It mocks you. Mocks your very being. Mocks you for trying to live a normal life away from him.

You remember how he clung to you that night as you sobbed. Whining about how you shouldnt be sad, that you were home now. He’d coo, playing with your hair as he tried to ‘soothe’ your trembling body. His arms wrapped around you in a vice. It felt like he was choking the air out of your lungs.

Maybe he was trying, maybe he wanted you dead. You really had no clue. You just wanted to get away– be as far away from him as you could. You’d do anything, you told him as much. Change your name, leave the country. You promised you wouldn’t tell anybody! You would tell him anything if it meant you could leave.

But he kept you in place. Tucked in his arms. His entire body wrapped around yours, keeping you close. Keeping his face nuzzled into your neck. Smelling you. Smelling your fear.

He loves that smell.

If you let him he would breathe it in all the time, treating it as the very thing that keeps him alive. Well, until you die anyway. But he knows that won't be anytime soon! You’re strong. You're tenacious. He knows you are. You’ve dealt with so much in your life, you can deal with him too. He just knows it.

He wonders what all of your other emotions smell like.

Hmm.. What about love? That would be an interesting smell. Maybe it would be sweet like honey? Maybe bitter like chocolate… Humans are so interesting. They're so fun.

You are especially. And he knows you’ll like him too. He’s sure of it as you finally tire yourself out, falling asleep on his beat up mattress. Mmhmm crying for hours must really hurt your soul. Poor thing. He would fix it. Fix you up all nice and pretty. Yeah, he knows just how to. His pretty experiment.

Well, he thinks that’s all you are. A nice human experiment for him to play with. To learn everything about. Learn what makes them tick, what makes them laugh, what makes them cry. Kenjaku told him as much. He could keep a little human as a pet, dispose of them when necessary. But… he doesn’t want to let you go! Just the thought makes him want to cry!

You are already better than he ever imagined!

Bang.

The chair blocking your body is thrown back, assaulting the wall with a deafening crash. Your hands come up, covering your ears. Shit Shit Shit! Fuck, what are you going to do, what are you going to do?! Your body forces itself as far as it can into the corner of the desk. All you can hear, all you can think about is the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Why are you so dumb?! You knew you couldn’t win! You never win any of his games!

He squats in front of you, blocking your only means of escape. You hear him, watch him inhale deep before letting out a sick laugh. One that makes you want to cry. One that makes you feel like trying to run– trying to hide is useless. Maybe it is. You don’t see how you could possibly get away.

The pictures covering his walls tell you everything you need to know.

“Found you.” He smiles, crawling towards your body, crawling towards your last bit of safety. He looks like a monster– he is a monster. He can’t be human. He can’t. You refuse to believe it. Your legs kick, they try to get away. They try to be your last line of defense but his face only shows that of an owner looking at a puppy having a fit. He looks so fond of you.

You want to scream.

He grabs your ankle. It hurts. Everything hurts. You should’ve become numb at this point, you wish you had. You feel your body slip out from under the desk, dragged against the hard floor. Pick you up with ease, lay you down in his bed. His gross disgusting bed.

He pouts. He fucking pouts at you. Sits in front of you.

“Don't tell me you’re jealous.” His frowns, tilting his head at you. “I didn't mean to make you! I swear! I just wanted to show you. How much I love you…how good I could make my pretty doll feel.” You could never be jealous. Not of anything involving him.

Especially not involving the putrid fucking sex doll that lays next to you in bed.

How he fucked it last night, making you watch. Made you hold his hand while he thrust into the thing. Made you cup his face as he came inside.

“How I’ve been practicing just for you.” He coos, a smile gracing his lips as he moves to his knees, crawling towards you in the bed. “Humans are hard to understand…And I really just can’t wait for you any longer.”

You don’t hear his words. Your eyes fixated on the doll that looks just like you. Every freckle the same, every mole. Every fucking tiny detail mirrored yours in a lifeless, hollow core made of silicon. Filled up with his cum. You don’t want to think about how many times he’s fucked it. How many times he’s pretended having sex with you while holding it close. How much he had to have spent to get such a thing.

How deep whatever he feels for you runs.

You swear it probably coats his veins. Running under every inch of this skin. Giving it color. Giving it life. It's all you’re able to think about when he leaves you alone in the apartments. It’s hard for you to swallow. To believe for yourself. You wish it is a lie.

You let him get close. You let him into your bubble for only a second. You allow his face into your neck. Biting your skin, drawing blood once again. He loves the taste. You think he's probably obsessed with it. You wanted to recoil away, disgusted with how he hums, lapping at the skin. But you don’t. You need to let him have this. Even if it's just for a second.

You close your eyes tight. You feel him relax. He thinks you’re giving in. You know he does. You can do this. You can do this. You may have only made this decision a moment ago as you stared at the doll, but you had to do this. You had to do it for yourself. It may be the last chance you get. You can’t stop fighting.

You can do this. You can do this.

The mantra chants over and over again in your head like a prayer. You feel his hand reach up, covering your clothed breast with his palm. Massaging it carelessly, without any thought or respect for you. In his head you’re probably the same as that fucking sex doll.

Your knee shoots up. Right into his crotch. Right where it hurts the most. Your hands shove him with all the strength in your body, getting him off of you. Getting him away for only a moment while he recovers. Maybe. Maybe you can make it out of the door. Or maybe you can make it to the bathroom and lock yourself inside. Maybe you have a chance. Just maybe.

Your body scrambles off of the bed, moving faster than you ever thought was possible. You race towards the door, arm reaching out for the handle. You’re so close. You’re almost there. You’re almost able to get away.

Freedom is within your grasp, it's so close you can taste it. He forgot to lock the door, you know he did. You didn't hear any of them click back in place when he came inside. He was too caught up in the moment with trying to find you. If you make it there then maybe, just maybe you can get outside. Run as fast and as far away as you can. Call the police and escape from him. Spread the wings he’s tried to clip.

You land flat on your face.

Not even your arms are able to cushion your fall.

A stitched hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you, dragging you again. Backwards. Back into the cage. Back to him. His chest heaves. His shoulders hunch. He looks disheveled. Crazed.

He has that fucking smile plastered on his face.

“I love it when you run. It's so pretty.” He giggles, “You know me so well.”

You kick at him, thrash your body as he pulls you closer and closer. “Get the fuck away from me!” You yell, though it falls on deaf ears. All the strength in your body is being used to get away. To try and escape from him. He can’t be human. He’s too strong. Even with your struggle he still lifts you easily, like you’re just some fucking little kid having a temper tantrem.

“I’ve been so patient…” He sighs, placing– rather, forcing you onto the edge of the bed. Your knees on the floor as your torso is pressed against the mattress. Your arms pinned behind your back with one of his hands. Your hips pinned in place with his own. You can feel his cock against you. He’s hard. “I really am patient, you know?”

He hums, gently rocking his hips against you. His entire length pressed against your cunt. Taunting you. Words are not needed for you to know what’s to come. “It’s really too bad you know? I’ve run out.”

The simple statement makes your blood run cold.

“I’ve been so gentle…so caring…” He purrs, forcing his sweatpants down his legs. Just enough for his cock to spring free. Just enough for him to be able to stroke himself. For him to press the fat head where he wants– no, no. Needs to be. “I’ve really been trying my best to be good for you.”

You wish you could see. You wish you could see everything– exactly what he is doing. What he is planning to do to your wrecked frame. If, if everything wasn’t such a surprise then maybe… maybe you could make it a little better. But like this… you’re helpless. You’re trapped. You hate it. You can’t stand it. You wish you still had more tears left to cry. But you know it’s over. You can’t do anything now.

Exactly how he wants it– wants you.

You feel him stop moving, an excited gasp resonating from his throat. His entire presence changes in a flash, giddiness taking him over as the cogs in his brain turn. Making his own story, his own reality changing all over again. “Unless, you don't want me to be good for you? You want me to take what I want? That’s why you’ve been trying to run and hide?”

His frame towers over yours, his full weight pressing against your back forcing you deeper into the bed as he mumbles into your ear. “All you had to do was say so~ ♡”

All you can do is whimper in response. Whimper like a wounded animal that's been forced to accept their fate. Your head is blank, devoid of all thoughts and feelings. There is nothing. Nothing you can do.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe a small part of you does like it. Who knows. You certainly don’t.

He blows gently on your ear, teasing you before he leans back. Your bottoms are forced down, exposing your cunt to the entire room. You can feel him practically buzzing with excitement. With some sick pleasure found deep within his gut.

“So pretty!” He whines, spreading your cheeks to get a full view of your pretty little cunt. You hate that you’re already wet. You hate that the feeling of his cock did it to you just moments before. You hate that he can see it. You hate the way pride bubbles up in his gut. The way you can hear him lick his lips like a starved man.

Hate what the other little voice is saying inside of your head. Hate that even maybe a little bit of your soul wants to feel him. The quiet fucked up voice that you always try to scilence.

“Mm… I wanna taste you so bad but… I really can’t wait anymore… what am I supposed to do!!” You can practically hear the pout plastered on his lips. “Ah~”

The fat head of his cock finds its way back to your cunt, dragging itself up and down your lips. Milking every last bit of wetness out of your hole. Your nails dig into your own hands— maybe his. It’s hard to tell where you stop and he begins. When he’s this close it’s hard to tell much of anything.

“We have forever together don’t we?” He chuckles, his head stopping at your unprepped little hole. Attempting to push into it with just enough pressure to have you squirm. Have you bite down on the sheet to silence any sounds that might try to come through. “We can try out all sorts of fun things together~”

His thumb aids as he tries to push the head of his cock inside. Prodding, trying to force his way inside without a care in the world for how it might hurt. How it might feel for you. He’s too big— you’re, you’re too tight. You can’t take it! It won’t fit you just, just!

“Mmmm!!” A muffled cry breaks free from your throat as the head of his cock buries itself in your cunt. Your ears ring, pain taking over your senses as he lets out a mouth watering, near pornographic moan from above you.

His grip on your wrists tighten, eyes staring at where he’s fucked himself into you. Wow~ it’s so pretty. He never expected a human to feel this good! It’s incredible! Magnificent! And this is just the first inch of him? Oh my… he can only imagine what bottoming out with feel like— how it will feel when his cock is pressed against your cervi—

Wait wait!! He’s getting ahead of himself again. A gasp leaves his throat as he pulls out, a muffled whine leaving your own. Your hole clenches around nothing. What a cute little thing! It’s calling him back in!! He knew you wanted this, he knows all about you huh?

He drags his cock back and forth through your lips again, red mixing in with the pretty white. He dips his cock head over and over again into your entrance, thrusting himself deeper and deeper every time. Stretching you just perfectly around his length.

Hmm, humans like prep right? He figures that this is close enough. His doll doesn’t need it. She just takes him right away— someday you’ll be the same! He just needs to break you in! But until then, he needs to savor this… who knows when you might come around again?

Mmm… you’re too mean to him. Yeah, that’s all it is.

Ah, it’s too bad he’s too lost to notice you’re already falling apart. Your back is arching on its own. Working without permission to give him a better angle. Your hips bucking, leaning back ever so slightly as he presses into your cunt. Urging him just a little deeper. Your pussy is too wet to think about anything, your head in a daze as he teases you, taunts you relentlessly.

You don’t want this— at least you think you don’t. But, it’s so hard to know what you really want when you’re head gets like this. When it’s actually feeling good. When the pleasure mixes with pain to concoct something dangerous. Something that makes you unsure of anything really. Maybe you’re dumb, maybe you’re stupid. Yeah. You probably are. But that’s okay. He likes that.

He likes you.

He slides his cock inside of your hole, his hand moving to your ass as thrusts his hips. Forcing his cock deeper and deeper with each stroke. Your walls clenching around every inch that pushes its way inside. God, you’ve never felt so full. You’ve never felt anything like this. Anything like his cock, anything like him.

Whimpers, whines, all sorts of sounds escape your throat as you let him do what he pleases. Give into whatever twisted pleasure is being given to you. It’s hard to stop them when he’s even louder— panting like a fucking dog as he feels you. Feels every inch of you. Makes you two become one.

He fucks into you so hard it hurts. So hard that your entire body is being pushed into the bed, spine curving up to meet him with every demonic thrust of his hips. Every time the skin of his thighs meets your ass, every time the head of his cock meets with your cervix, pain racks through your body. You can’t take it. You feel like you’re going crazy. You feel like you’re the insane one.

The sound of skin against skin penetrating the sound of your ears like some sort of sick, twisted song. A song he plays so well. One you don’t want him to stop. No matter how much it hurts, how it stings you, you just can’t find it in yourself to push him away. His moans feel like a siren’s voice, luring you closer and closer, pushing you so close to the edge.

“Why’s she so mean!” He whines, his thrusts frantic and hurried. Only caring for his own pleasure, only caring about him. “Won’t let me in any deeper doll! Can you believe that?” He groans, pressing his cock so hard against your cervix you nearly scream in pain. Your body thrashes, trying to get away from the sensation.

He shushes you quietly, leaning his torso against your back as he coos. “Shh… shh… it’s okay… we won’t try that today okay? Must be too much for you… poor thing.” His hips relent, slowly rocking into your battered cunt to give you a little bit of a break. To rest before the main event.

You want to cringe at how wet you sound, how messy you’ve become due to his cock and his cock alone. How greedily your pussy takes him, urging him back with every thrust. Wanting it. Wanting him.

You see his arm reach past your head, grabbing onto your mimics hair. Pulling the doll closer. Holding its head so it’s staring right into your eyes. It’s so lifeless. So hollow.

“It’s okay.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Someday you’ll take me just like she can, yeah? You’ll be sooo~ good for me.” His hips start to pick up their pace again, thighs slapping against your ass so hard you might see stars. So hard you actually want to listen to him.

“I had to break her in too, real good.” He pants out, loosing himself in the feeling of your tight, warm walls.

You flinch away. You can’t look at it anymore. Can’t look at a face that is exactly your own yet so cold and distant. So lost. Used for months on end. Maybe a little sense comes back to you, a small part of reality seeping back into your skull.

He tsks. Fucking tsks and shakes his head in disappointment. “That won’t do… I need my girls to like each other…” He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at the thing. The creature with your hair and eyes.

“Kiss it.” His voice changes in a second, morphing into something commanding. Something scary. Fuck reality. Living in whatever dream you’ve created for yourself is better. Better than facing this. You don’t want to disobey. You want to listen, want him to let you cum. Maybe want his praise, even if it’s just a little.

Your lips meet with the cold, lifeless silicon. Tasting whatever disgusting leftover cum can be found on its lips. He pushes the head against your lips, forcing you to lick your tongue inside. “Adorable!!”

He likes it. He likes it too much. You can tell.

Tell by the way his hips pick up speed, forcing your used hole to take him over and over again. Forcing you to accept him into your body. Forcing you to fall for his cock. Make sure no one else will ever be able to use it. Use you like the way he wants to.

Can tell by the way his cock twitches, his thrusts becoming sloppy. His pace completely out the window as he searches for nothing but his own release.

Maybe you like it too. Like the way his cum tastes. Like the way he took this, took all of you for himself. All of you flesh as his. The coil tightens in your stomach, white specks start to form behind your eyelids. You’re close, too fucking close you just can’t take it anymore.

A loud moan leaves your lips, muffled by the silicon held against your mouth. Waves of pleasure crashing through your frame like a tidal wave of ecstasy as white paints the inside of your walls. Ears ringing, vision gone white as endorphins fill your brain making you forget— forget everything about this moment. How fucked up it is. How you want more.

Your walls clamp around his cock as it jerks in your cunt, milking every last drop of cum from him. Filling you up until you’re full. Until you can’t think anymore. Until you’re so tired you just want to collapse.

He drops the doll letting you pull your head back to finally be able to breathe again fully. Your frame slumps against the bed. Tired. Drained of everything it has to give.

He slowly pulls out of your abused little hole, watching the way it flutters around nothing. Watching the white mixed with red slowly drip out of it onto the rug. “Humans are such incredible little things…”

He smiles, shallowly dipping a finger inside your hole before popping it in his mouth. Just a little taste. “You did so good doll…” He pets your hair, gives you some sort of comfort after everything he’s done. It’s the least you deserve.

He moves your body into the bed with ease, pulling a blanket over your shaking form. A nap would be good right now. It’s always good to give humans at least one nap a day! Mhmm… and you seem like you could use one.

He moves behind you, wrapping an arm around your body from behind. Pulling you close to his chest. Making no mind to fix your clothes. This is good. This is right. It’s how it’s always supposed to have been!! Ah, and now he has all the time to make you understand that too. He’s so lucky. So lucky to have found such a good human.

“Night night dolly…” He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair gently. Coaxing you to sleep. “Let’s have a great day tomorrow too, yeah?”

Right. Cause this is forever. ♡

2K notes · View notes

malewifeharem · 7 months

Text

sex with danheng IL

彡- ,, brainrot???? small fic????? of sex with danheng IL hehe

cw ⁞ afab!reader, nsfw filth (duh), dragon features (two pp but only one goes in ha?, size diff, FANGSSSSSSS), mention of prey/predator dynamic, marking, breeding kink IF YOU SQUINT, scent kink IF YOU SQUINT EVEN HARDER

an ⁞ YALL FR GONNA FIND A WAY TO REPOPULATE THE VIDYADHARA CLAN ;D (idk how im gonna play hsr the same way after writing this...) im not very happy with the intro but its wtv.

@cloudshuffle my amazing awesome proofreader <3

after getting intimate with each other a couple times, danheng and you have discussed taking things up a notch. i imagine him coming back to the astral express, incredibly frustrated after a stressful mission (after seeing his ex in xianzhou), and he really just needed you. you excitedly welcome him back but you're suddenly pinned down — wrists enveloped by his hand and his tail coiling itself around your leg.

"d-danheng? what's wrong...?"

he growls carnally, his cerulean eyes hazed with lust. he dives in for your chest, inhaling deeply before lightly nipping at your neck with his fangs and branding you as his with a few hickies.

"need you now. you know your safe word, yes?" he huffs impatiently, tugging at your shirt.

you nod before hurriedly ridding yourself of your top and bra, exposing your upper half to your lover.

"so beautiful," he whispers in awe.

danheng's hands immediately lock in on your tits, gently squeezing them before giving each of them a sweet suck. your cute little whimper just spurs him on even more! you're so much smaller than him, it's adorable. but it really doesn't help his innermost desires to manhandle tf outta you. it's just part of his animalistic urges as a dragon, after all.

his hands quickly trails down to unclip your skirt and pushing your panties aside to finger you. you let out a small gasp at this, slightly unnerved by his hastiness but you weren't complaining at all. it's not long till he adds another finger, coaxing a low moan out of you. with your walls clenching so deliciously around his fingers, the dragon wondered how you would feel around his cock instead.

"cant take it anymore... please 'heng..," you whine.

"hm, my baby's so needy all for me? i'll give you what you want since you asked so sweetly."

danheng chuckles before discarding his own slacks, revealing his erect cocks. (yes, two ehe) it's so pretty, being tinted a light turquoise at the base and a pink-ish fleshy color at the tip. he slides one of them in slowly — the stretch being so much bigger than his fingers. you both moan in unison once his length is fully buried in your wetness, with his hand pressing down on your spine, putting you in a mean arch. he waits for your signal before moving his hips, thrusting slow and deep — allowing you to feel every vein, every inch. your skin flushes in embarrassment when you notice how lustful danheng looks in the moment, eyeing you hungrily as if you're meek prey, who've fallen into the beast's domain. (omg so alpha) as he picks up his pace, your cries of pleasure only grow louder and you're sincerely hoping march won't call you both out on it later.

you wrap your arms around danheng's neck, hungrily pulling him in for a kiss while your legs encircles his waist — forcing his cock to drive deeper into you.

"mmfh— fuck, you're sucking me in... feels so good, darling," he pants in between sloppy, wet kisses. it's so messy, the way your pussy squelches sinfully with each thrust — your juices coating his girth with a layer of slick and even spilling onto the sheets below. he continues rutting into you ruthlessly, knocking all the air out of you as your hands find their way onto your boyfriend's back, leaving searing marks — staking your claim. the pain only turning him on even more, he hisses as his breath grows erratic, warning you of his impending release. you're on the edge of your own climax too, a familiar coil tightening in your abdomen.

"haah... i can feel you clenching around me, let's cum together," he groaned in your ear, enveloping you with the essence of him — body, soul, and mind. to him, you look best all fucked-out, guts rearranged and your mind filled with only thoughts of him and his dick. one particular prod to your g-spot sends you to your climax, your cunt clamping down impossibly harder on your poor boyfriend's dick. your words coming out as broken, incoherent sobs as your body quivers from the intensity of it all.

with your pussy milking him for all he's worth like that, how was danheng supposed to hold back? he shot ribbons of pearly white cum inside of you, making sure to fill every crevice of you with him — his cock twitching with each pulse.

"i would've never expected cumming inside of you would feel so good... could we go one more round? gonna fill you up real good again, i promise."

700 notes · View notes

dirtytomatoedwrites · 1 year

Text

Preludes and Nocturnes - Part 2

Paring: Rafe Cameron x InnocentPogue!reader

Summary: Rafe discovers your hidden talent and now he has seen it, you have his full attention.

PART 1 is here if you haven't read it

Warnings: 18+ Smut. Darkish!Rafe. Virgin!Reader. Romance, Angst, Dub-Con, Fingering. Not Proof-Read so mistakes are my own.

Word Count: 8.3k words (Rafe has released the writing beast in me)

Author Note: Hello lovelies! So happy you enjoyed the first part. Here's the second. I thought it would just be just a second part but the more I wrote the story just kept unfolding and I really want to do it justice. (I think part 1 and 2 together is the longest I've written for any fic character) So in order to really get into the angst and it not be too long its going to have to be 3 perhaps 4 parts (not sure yet) Anyway I'm currently writing part 3 so it won't be too long before posting. One thing - there's only one piece of music with this part and I would suggest playing it and leaving it running while you read the rest of the chapter.

Thank you for reading and sticking with the story and if you enjoyed it please reblog. It helps to spread the love. Much love and take care. ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

The soft glow of your phone, quietly vibrating beside you, nudged you out of your peaceful slumber. Still shrouded in a groggy haze, you instinctively turned away from it. Without even a glance, you knew who the messenger was, and the mere thought that he had sent another text caused a weary sigh to escape your lips.

Rafe's persistent attempts to connect since that unforgettable night had been unrelenting. Ignoring his calls was relatively easy (you had silenced his number), but his text messages proved more difficult to dismiss. Simple words like "Hey," "Hi," and "Talk to me" consistently lit up your phone at all hours, serving as a gentle yet persistent plea for your response—a response you couldn't bring yourself to give, yet somehow couldn't bring yourself to block him outright either. Ultimately, you opted for what seemed the only rational strategy, although in hindsight, it may not have been the wisest: complete avoidance.

But, in truth, none of that mattered. Not when your waking thoughts and dreams were dominated by memories of Rafe, endlessly replaying the night you shared. The feeling of being completely overwhelmed that night, your pleading words that it was all too much, that you needed to stop, were still fresh in your mind. How Rafe merely smiled in response and declared it was only the beginning, sealing his promise with a kiss.

And as he kissed you slow and deep, Rafe was true to his word. His middle finger wormed its way back between your legs. He found your sensitive clit already swollen and slippery with your slick and rubbed the nub in gentle circles in sync with his languid kiss. Slow and steady, minutes ticked by as Rafe dragged out your pleasure, watching you patiently, drawing back his finger whenever he felt you were close, his tongue lazily circling yours, as you both breathed as one. Until finally, finally, he allowed you to cum.

Your body exploded for him, blinding white pleasure saturated your senses leaving you crying and shaking while Rafe whispered soothingly against the shell of your ear "That's a good girl. That's a good girl."

Your unforgettable night with Rafe was unparalleled, surpassing all previous experiences, including those with your first and only boyfriend, Jake. Granted, you had not given Jake the same liberties, but even with the awkward kisses and over-the-clothes groping that marked your brief relationship, Jake had never elicited emotions remotely comparable to what Rafe managed in just one evening. What Rafe stirred effortlessly within you was a different beast entirely — something desperate, needy, and vulnerable. The sensation was so powerful that even three weeks later, it remained, smoldering like a steadfast ember, ready to reignite under the right conditions.

This realization filled you with absolute dread. The sudden understanding that it was Rafe- Rafe Cameron that held the power to shape your desires, ignite unknown cravings, and provoke illicit responses from your body that you couldn't control, was utterly terrifying.

You had often heard tales of girls falling for the proverbial 'bad boy,' forsaking their better judgment for some reckless charmer, and had always scoffed at such narratives. The thought of you succumbing to such feelings or desires was, until recently, beyond the realm of your wildest dreams. It seemed, however, that you were not as immune as you had once believed. All it took was the right—or perhaps, in this case, the wrong—person to stir those latent desires to the surface.

The sheets felt like an unwelcome weighted blanket on your body, pressing you down as you twisted and turned, desperately trying for sleep to come. But it remained stubbornly out of reach. Instead, you found yourself overwhelmed by a flood of polarising emotions.

Chief among them was a sharp sting of shame from that night with Rafe—a shame born from the startling responsiveness of your own body to his, and a gnawing guilt that it was Rafe, of all people, who had elicited such a reaction.

Yet, beneath the layers of guilt and shame, another emotion stirred, one you fervently sought to squash: a thrill of excitement at how utterly alive you felt being dominated by him and the confusing, even more, inescapable undeniable truth—you had loved every single intoxicating minute of it.

In a small town of no more than 7000 souls, you had turned avoiding Rafe into something of an art form. It wasn't difficult, really. Your comfort zones were galaxies away from the crowded, noisy spots that seemed to magnetize him. Bars, clubs, and bonfires weren't your scene anyway. Your day-to-day orbit included exam prep and college applications, mostly done at the library for a change of scenery, relentless babysitting shifts, and quiet trips to the edges of the out sticks with your cousin to catch crawfish —far from the exclusive circles of Figure 8.

Life was, if not exactly smooth sailing, at least predictably turbulent. Everything seemed under control, except for one tiny, nagging detail: Rafe. And your near-pathological commitment to avoid him.

On an average day that seemed to blend seamlessly with the rest, you were navigating your way through a series of errands for your dad. The North Carolina sun was blazing overhead casting sharp shadows. As you rounded a corner bathed in this bright, unforgiving light, a figure suddenly materialized. At first, it seemed like a trick of the heat, an illusion stirred up by the sweltering atmosphere. But as your eyes adjusted, recognition dawned. It was Rafe, but he looked... different.

Your gaze drank in the details, lingering over the notable changes—the buzzcut that gave him an even more dangerous edge, the way he stood taller, seeming to tower over the world, the newfound confidence that rolled off him in waves, a palpable energy that dared anyone to challenge him. But the transformation wasn't just physical. An undercurrent of danger clung to him like a second skin. He looked like he had seen things. Done bad things.

Reality came rushing back, slamming into you like a tidal wave, you tried to reverse course, turning on your heels to disappear from his line of sight. Yet, your reaction came a second too late. Rafe had spotted you, and maybe if you hadn't just blown most of your cash on groceries, you would've dropped them and run.

Rafe's speed was unrivaled. With just a few long strides, he effortlessly caught up to you. Firmly grasping your arm, he swiftly spun you around to face him, and there, you saw your own reflection in his Ray-Bans. He slid the sunglasses onto his head, revealing his piercing blue eyes. He made no attempt to hide the whirlpool of emotions swirling within them.

"That's not very neighborly of you," he said. His words were clipped and tinged with anger, yet something in his expression softened slightly as he gazed at you. Was it relief? Disappointment? It was difficult to determine, but one thing was clear—his emotions were just as tumultuous as yours.

"I forgot something—"

"Oh, you forgot something?" His grip tightened, decreasing the space between you.

"Yes, from the supermarket—"

"What, the one over there?" he asked, casually gesturing over his shoulder in the opposite direction.

"A different store."

"Right, right. Well, I'll walk you there."

"No! I've changed my mind," you protested, shaking your head. Your feet instinctively shuffled backward as you attempted to free yourself from his grip. His laughter was low and dry, his hold on you tightening.

"I need to go, Rafe. Let me go. I have to get home," you pleaded, desperation edging your voice.

"You heard her, country club. She said 'Let go'." The forceful tug-of-war between you and Rafe abruptly seized as both of you turned to see Barry approaching. You'd never directly interacted with Barry, but tales of his local thuggery and drug dealing were well-known to you. He greeted Rafe with a familiarity that, given Rafe's reputation, was not surprising.

"This doesn't concern you, man. Keep moving," Rafe commanded, his gaze fixed on Barry.

"Well, I did hear her say 'let her go'," Barry remarked, positioning himself beside you.

"Yeah well, she doesn’t know what she wants," Rafe retorted, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he pulled you closer, positioning himself between you and Barry.

"Just let her go, man—"

"Fuck off," Rafe spat.

Unfazed, Barry squinted and leaned in closer. "You realize how this looks, right? Out here in broad daylight?" he warned.

“Keep walking,” Rafe's jaw clenched as he squared off against Barry.

"Do you not realize what you are doing, bro?"

"I said keep walking," Rafe said icily, maintaining eye contact.

An unspoken exchange passed between the two men, concluding with Barry retreating, hands lifted in a gesture of surrender. “Alright then,” he conceded. “You do you, country club. You do you. But don't come crying to me when this shit backfires. I warned your J.Crew lookin' ass.”

After Barry's departure, Rafe scanned the surroundings before returning his focus to you.

"Where's your car?" His question hung heavily in the air as you looked up at him, fear evident in your eyes.

“Hey, I asked you a question,” Rafe's voice softened, his hand gently shaking your arm. “Where's your car?”

"It's...it's not working,” you whispered.

“You walked here?”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

A smirk crept across his lips. "Well, aren't you in luck? I'll give you a ride."

"No, that's... I can walk. I planned to walk—"

"Don't. Don't do that. Don’t act dumb, alright? It's nearly a hundred degrees out. What- you planning on collapsing on the side of the road?" His tone was surprisingly gentle, even as he grabbed the grocery bag from your hands. "Let's not make a mountain out of a molehill, yeah? Barry's already acting like a fool. We don't need a full circus," he stated, heading towards his truck and leaving you with no choice but to trail after him.

Rafe held the door open for you, assisting you as you climbed onto the plush leather seat. After handing you the grocery bag, he closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. In a subtle move to put some distance between the two of you, you placed the grocery bag in the middle.

Rafe started the truck, rolled up the windows, and activated the air conditioning. The truck pulled out of the parking lot, beginning a mostly silent ride.

Apart from the occasional glances Rafe threw your way, the journey remained relatively quiet. He made no attempt to hide his attention, his thumb rhythmically tapping on the steering wheel. The intensity of his gaze was unnerving, and you felt like you were suffocating despite the AC. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"You look good..." Rafe stated, punctuating his words with an approving nod. The compliment stirred a flurry of emotions within you, leaving you feeling disoriented. As your heart pounded like a war drum, the silence seemed to morph, becoming dense and strangling.

"Thank you," you muttered trying to fill it. Your gaze firmly on the road ahead.

"How's your dad?" He asked, initiating a light conversation about your dad's well-being. You answered his questions with measured caution, unsure of his intentions. You informed him that your dad was coming home tonight and you intended to cook him a meal since he practically survived on sandwiches during the week in Burnsville. Rafe's thoughtful nods suggested he was listening, but there was an undercurrent of ambiguity that left you uneasy.

"What are you planning on making for him?" he asked with a semblance of innocence.

Your voice wavered as you listed the dishes, each word revealing your growing vulnerability. Anticipating his next move or comment, your heart raced and you braced yourself for what felt like an inevitable confrontation. You kept thinking he'd ask about the unanswered calls, about his ignored messages.

"Wow, you’re a real cook, not just a 'barely-can-boil-water' cook."

“I manage,” you replied.

Rafe hummed in agreement, his thumb still tapping the steering wheel albeit slower; more measured. “You know, Wheeze misses you.”

“I miss her too. How is she?”

“Good. She’s got exams coming up, so she’s been focusing on that. She's also got herself a little girlfriend."

"You seem to approve. Let me guess, Kook?" you asked absentmindedly.

"Nah, Pogue," he corrected, emphasizing the 'P'. "I guess we like what we like, huh?" he said, eyes raking over you.

Silence followed as Rafe steered away from the main road, venturing down an isolated street lined with beech trees. Decaying houses dotted the landscape, separated by wild stretches of tall bluestems and switchgrass.

"You should, you know… come by the house. See her sometime. I know she’d like that."

“Oh- I.. I would but I can't," you stammered, shaking your head "I have college applications to finish. Maybe sometime after."

“Right, right… college... applications... where are you applying?”

"Um… Kildare Community, Piedmont, Sun Valley, Crystal Coast Community--"

"What about Juilliard or Berklee? You applying to any of those?”

His question caught you off guard, and you turned your gaze towards him. Under the sunlight, his handsome profile seemed almost otherworldly.

"I hadn't really given it much thought," you confessed, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

His eyes fixed on yours, curiosity flickering in them. "Why not?"

Your answer was simple, albeit hard to articulate. "I can't afford it," you said with a shrug. Your eyes back on the unfolding road ahead when his gaze became too much.

"Don't they offer scholarships?"

"Yeah, they do. But the competition among applicants would be intense-"

"So? You're talented. Apply." he said matter of factly. "There are folks on the cut dreaming of an escape, with squat to show for it. You? You have options..." His voice trailed off, and he shook his head, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. "Don't squander it. Not here and definitely not at some shitty community college."

Taken aback, you struggled to find a response, and it didn't help that you could feel his eyes on you, evaluating your reaction. The remaining ride passed in silence, and by the time he pulled up outside your house, you were more than relieved.

"Thank you, Rafe," you said, quickly reaching for your grocery bag, but Rafe stopped you.

"So, that's it? Just 'thank you, Rafe?'" he asked, his jaw shifting restlessly from side to side, as though words were on the edge of his tongue, fighting to break free.

"Oh— I'm sorry, I should've offered to cover the gas. I don't have much on me, but I can--" Your words were cut short by Rafe shaking his head.

"I don't want your money."

Fear prickled your skin, "Then what—what do you want?" Swallowing nervously, you awaited his response.

Rafe's gaze flitted to your lips then back to your eyes "A kiss." he said.

Your head jerked back, unsure you'd heard him correctly.

"A kiss?" you echoed, attempting to digest his sudden proposal.

"Yeah, just a kiss," he replied. His voice was so steady, so devoid of emotion, it was as if he was merely commenting on the weather or asking if you had the time.

Your query rang out once more, uncertainty creeping into your voice, "A kiss?"

"Just one. One kiss and we call it even." Rafe's lean-in was deliberate, his index finger lightly grazing your jaw, igniting a trail of warmth along your skin and unsubconsciously you leaned into it.

"A kiss," you whispered back, your eyes locked onto his. Perhaps you didn't want things to escalate into a fight, but maybe, just maybe, a part of you wanted to kiss him. Taking a breath to steel yourself, you leaned in, brushing a swift kiss against his cheek. Almost instinctively, his lips followed, seeking yours.

"That's, that's not a kiss," Rafe breathed, his eyes growing progressively darker with each word he spoke.

Gently, Rafe curled his fingers around the back of your neck, drawing you closer. His attention was solely focused on your lips. As if under a spell, you relented, delivering a brief, innocent kiss onto his lips. But just as you began to pull away, Rafe halted you, his fingers remaining intertwined at the nape of your neck.

"Nah, that doesn't count."

"I kissed you, Rafe—" you began, your voice trembling.

"No, no. You owe me a real kiss for all the unanswered texts and the missed calls..." His words triggered a surge of panic within you and you tried to pull away, but Rafe held you firm, his gaze burning into your own. "I was worried about you. Did you know that?" he asked, his eyebrows creasing in confusion.

"We had fun. I made you feel good and then you just...." He paused, collecting his thoughts, his eyes darting between your lips and your startled expression. "I thought something had happened to you. But then, I woke the fuck up and realised you were safe - you just ghosted me. You know, I even contemplated driving over to your house? But I knew your dad wouldn't appreciate that. I thought I might never see you again, and then...there you were."

Rafe's words gushed forth like a sudden revelation. "There you were, shopping for groceries to cook for your dad, playing the dutiful daughter, blissfully content in your little world, while mine was hell." He spat out the words with venom, his fingers tensing at the nape of your neck, pulling you so close that his lips were mere millimeters from yours. His eyes, swirling with turmoil, locked intensely onto your eyes, which were now brimming with unshed tears.

"So, while I'm relieved you're okay," he started, his lips curving into a slight pout as he painstakingly enunciated each word, "You owe me. You owe me for thinking about you. You owe me for worrying about you. Now, open your mouth."

"Rafe," you whispered, tears beginning to cascade down your cheeks.

"I said, open. Your. Mouth." His voice hardened, his command leaving no room for doubt.

Your broken sob was all it took for Rafe to swoop in, kissing you passionately. His tongue probed the depths of your mouth, and you willingly complied, feeling the unmistakable force in his movements - raw, desperate, determined.

With each passing moment, Rafe deepened the kiss, leaning into you even further. He poured in his passion, demanding that you returned it with equal intensity, leaving your head spinning and your heart aching. The sheer intensity of the moment left you gasping for breath, and as Rafe's lips left yours to press desperate, kisses against your cheek and down the column of your throat you felt like you couldn't breathe at all.

"Please, I have to go, I have to," you managed to muster, pulling his fingers away and pushing him back. With a surge of determination, you grabbed your grocery bag and yanked on the passenger door, only for Rafe to swiftly reach over and slam it shut.

You turned to face him, struggling to catch your breath and see him through your teary haze. Rafe's face portrayed a picture of calm, cold calculation, with only the harsh puffs of air escaping his lips marring that composure. "You're making this difficult," he uttered, his voice echoing the icy chill of his demeanor. "It doesn't have to be."

Rafe relinquished his hold on the door, and you seized the opportunity, yanking it open. You nearly lost your balance in the process but managed to catch yourself just in time. Without daring to look back, you bolted towards your porch. Only when you heard the grating sound of his truck pulling away and tires screeching against the gravel did you risk a glance back.

The rhythmic splash of water against the wooden planks of the dinghy was the only sound as you and your cousin worked in tandem, freeing the crawfish from their nets and emptying them into plastic buckets filled with fresh water.

The usual serene ambiance of your shared task was disrupted by the thickening tension in the air, both from the approaching storm and from the heavy silence your cousin seemed eager to shatter.

"You know," she began, her voice deliberately casual, "Konnie's been running her mouth again."

You looked up from the net you were shaking above the bucket of cold water, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, yeah? What crazy story has she cooked up this time?"

She hesitated, then said with faux nonchalance, "Something about seeing Rafe with a girl yesterday. Says she looked a lot like you."

"What?" You froze mid-shake, a flicker of surprise crossing your face.

"Wild, right?”

Forcing a laugh, you attempted to balance surprise with casual dismissal. "Konnie's always been good at making stuff up."

She glanced sharply at you, her gaze assessing. "It's not ‘making stuff up’ if Barry was there to corroborate it."

The weight of the revelation pulled at your focus.

“This sounds like something out of a K-drama," you whispered, your focus back on your trap.

"Isn't it just? Our Kook King looking down on half the town like we're nothing but shit beneath his shoes, is with a Pogue. An actual born and bred Pogue. I don’t know if that’s rich in irony or if it makes him a hypocrite?" She laughed bitterly.

"Both, probably, if it were true. But it’s not.”

She nodded slowly. "Right well, Konnie said Barry tried to stop Rafe from making a scene. Why would Rafe be making a scene?” she asked, her eyes locked onto you.

Your fingers tightened around the net, your heart beating in your throat. "I don't know. It's the outer banks. People talk. They get things wrong and--"

She sighed, leaning closer. "Is there something going on between you and Rafe?”

“No, there isn't—"

“Because if there is, I need to know. Like, are you sleeping with him-“

“No!”

“Then are you dating him?”

“No- it’s not like that." You said shaking your head profusely.

"Then what's it like?"

"I babysit his sister you know that—" you faltered under your cousin's intense gaze. "He just happened to be in town when I was grocery shopping and he gave me a ride home. Nothing happened.”

Your cousin gave out a bitter laugh and shook her head. "A minute ago you were acting like it was some baseless rumour—”

"Because you were freaking me out! What else was I supposed to say? You just came at me with a bunch of questions like I did something wrong" You said, your face hot.

You couldn’t help but notice your cousin’s frustrated sigh.

“Look, I’ve got your back, regardless of whatever is going on here. And I can’t tell you how to live your life, that's for you to decide. But, Rafe-- Rafe is not the type of guy you want to be involved with in any capacity. I thought you knew that.” The distant growl of thunder underscored the urgency of her words.

“I do, and I’m not,” you said, licking your lips.

“Good. Because Rafe would never risk being seen in public with a Pogue, let alone put his reputation on the line for one. If you get involved with him, you'll be the one who ends up getting hurt."

"I know," you murmured in agreement.

She nodded and looked up at the darkening sky. "Good. Just making sure we're on the same page is all."

"We are," You nodded, barely able to meet her eyes. "We should hurry," you said quietly. "A storm's coming."

During the subsequent week, Rafe had surfaced in your life more times than in the previous three weeks of no contact. Initially, you brushed it off as mere coincidence. You saw him at the market, then again at the docks, immersed in intense conversation with his friends, and once again at the wreck when you went to pick up food. Each encounter was brief, like an encounter with a spectre and each time you slipped away, thankfully, unseen.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you assured yourself that he wasn't intentionally seeking you out. You dismissed these run-ins as sheer coincidence. That's what you convinced yourself, at least.

Until the Library.

Your heart stuttered as you spotted him through the double doors just as you were about to exit. There he was, nonchalantly leaning against his truck, eyes concealed behind Ray-Bans and his arms folded.

Despite the casual stance, his presence radiated terrifying, intimidating energy. His posture, his unwavering gaze, his patient vigil - it all pointed towards one intention. It felt like you had been doused with cold water when realization struck-

Rafe was waiting.

For you.

Two choices lay before you. Either you could escape through the back door or find a window to climb out of. But deep down, you knew these would only delay the inevitable. It was time to confront the situation. Harnessing every ounce of courage, you resolved to put an end to this.

Usually, you'd carry only a handful of books, but today you had filled your tote. The thought of smacking Rafe in the head with it seemed like a good option. Adjusting the strap on your shoulder and gripping the bag firmly, you pulled the brass handle, flung open the door, and strode down the library’s stone steps, your chin lifted high.

A grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat split Rafe's face, his teeth flashing with amusement as he watched you. But you didn't give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence. You breezed past him, leaving him behind in your determined stride.

Not long after, Rafe slipped into his truck and drove alongside you, his arm hanging out of the window, eyes flicking between you and the road.

"It's gonna rain, you know." he said. His voice, smooth as silk, echoed around you. You kept walking, acting as if his words had fallen on deaf ears, yet they hung ominously in the air.

"It's gonna rain, you know," Rafe repeated, amusement tingeing his tone.

"I heard you the first time," you snapped, your voice sharper than you had intended.

Rafe whistled in surprise. His grin only widened, “Come on, don't be like that. Get in. I'll give you a ride."

You faltered for a moment at his offer, but quickly regained your stride. "I don't need anything from you, Rafe."

"Sure about that?" He drawled, his truck moving at the same steady pace as you.

The thrum of your heartbeat in your ears underscored your steely resolve, refusing to meet his gaze. The truck's engine growled ominously at your side.

"You know, a ride with me wouldn't be so bad. In fact, you might enjoy it”

"I'd rather get hit by lightning," you fired back, keeping your gaze fixed straight ahead.

Rafe removed his sunglasses and lightly tossed them on the dash. His silence was heavy, bearing witness to your defiance before his voice returned, a touch of impatience coating his words. "So how much longer are you planning to keep this up?"

“What do you mean? Keeping what up?”

“Running...pretending like you don’t give a shit—”

"Who said anything about running? I'm walking away. There's a difference."

"Oh, is that what this is? Right. Right." He drawled, the truck maintaining its constant presence by your side. "Well, it looks more like running to me."

"You can think whatever you want, Rafe. I really don’t care" Your words were as icy as a protective shield, distancing you from his unnerving scrutiny.

"You know," he spoke after another pause, his voice melting into a softer, intimate cadence, "You'd think I'd be bored by now but nah, I like these little interactions of ours. I look forward to them, actually…”

"Don't," you managed to whisper.

"Don't what?" He questioned, feigned innocence in his tone. You could hear the smirk in his voice, a symbol of triumph despite your rebuffs.

"Just leave me alone, Rafe."

"You know I can't do that," he declared with unshakeable certainty.

"Why not?" You shot back, halting to confront him and Rafe hit the brakes. As you turned to face him, the first drops of rain began to fall, soaking your skin and hair. You surrendered to the sensation, letting the rain blur your surroundings into an indistinct haze. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

A fleeting wave of vulnerability crossed Rafe's face, causing his confident smile to momentarily falter. "You know why..." He began, licking his lips, as if the weight of his next words were a challenge to articulate.

"No, I don’t. Aren't there plenty of Kooks you should be chasing after? Isn't that supposed to be your speed, anyway?" Your voice was laced with a mix of frustration and genuine curiosity.

He exhaled slowly, his eyes unwavering, locked onto yours. "Okay, you want me to spell it out? Fine." Leaning in just slightly, ensuring every word landed with intent, he said, "I like you, yeah? Not some Kook or a Touron. You." And then, softer, almost a whisper against the backdrop of the rain, "You know I do." The quiet intensity of his affirmation sent shivers down your spine. It was a truth both of you had danced around, a truth as terrifying as it was undeniable. Time seemed to stretch in that moment, punctuated only by the drumming rain and the frantic pace of your heart.

You swallowed hard, battling the storm of emotions threatening to spill out. "Well, you have a peculiar way of showing it," you managed to say, your voice quivering with a mix of vulnerability and defiance. His unexpected honesty had pulled the rug out from under your feet, leaving you reeling. "You've been stalking me, trying to intimidate me, forcing me to do things I don't want to--"

"Forcing you?" Rafe’s gaze hardened as he studied your face. "Forcing you? I’m forcing you?”

“Yes, Rafe. Forcing me,” you protested, the words tinged with desperation, a last-ditch attempt to create distance between you two.

Rafe chuckled under his breath as he shook his head. “I'm forcing you, but you came harder than you've ever done in your entire life just from my fingers. I'm forcing you, but you came so many times you could barely remember your own name--"

"I never wanted any of that! I didn't ask for any of that—" You tried to reason only for Rafe to silence you with a frustrated roar, his hand banging on the steering wheel.

"Get in the fucking truck!!"

"No!" you laughed shakily “No. in fact, I'm perfectly fine. Right. Here." you declared defiantly, tilting your head back to let the rain wash over you. A temporary respite came with your eyes squeezed shut. When you dared to open them again, Rafe was still there, an unwavering, persistent figure.

With another heavy sigh, Rafe surrendered. "Alright." he nodded bitterly "Alright, You're really gonna make me do this, huh?"

"Do what?" you retorted, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Before you could decipher his next move, Rafe abruptly killed the engine, flung open the door and stepped out into the torrential downpour. The heavens seemed intent on soaking him through. Droplets of rain lashed down, darkening his shirt until it clung to his chiseled torso, revealing the muscular contours beneath.

"What the fuck," you whispered under your breath, your heart racing from his unexpected action. There he stood, defiant against the torrential rain, every drop sliding down his chiseled features, his piercing eyes never wavering from yours.

Time seemed to stand still until, driven by some invisible force, Rafe lunged forward pulling you into his embrace, his lips fiercely meeting yours.

His lips was soft. Not demanding and you found yourself responding instinctively. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest as your hands moved to grip the wet fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. You could taste the rain on his lips, mingled with the hint of sweetness from the soda he had been drinking earlier. The world disappeared.

There was only him.

The kiss deepened, Rafe's hand moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your rain-soaked hair, while his other arm snaked around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. His touch sent a shiver of anticipation running down your spine, setting your nerves alight. The rain beating down on you both seemed to fade into the background, drowned out by the thunderous pounding of your heart.

His lips moved with a fervor that left you breathless, each stroke of his tongue against yours an echo of the underlying passion and yearning that had been simmering beneath the surface. Every sensation, every emotion was amplified tenfold in the shared intimacy of the kiss. You surrendered completely to the moment, losing yourself in the touch of his skin, the strength of his hold, and the intoxicating taste of his lips.

Eventually, the kiss slowed, the initial fervor simmering into something softer, sweeter. Rafe broke away, his breath shaky. His eyes held yours captive, and a flush crept onto his face. His fingers traced a path down your cheek, before he finally stepped back.

"We can do this two ways," Rafe murmured over the steady patter of rain on the truck's roof. Pure mischief danced in his eyes as he stated, "I can drag you kicking and screaming and trust me, I’ll enjoy every minute of it, or you can walk and get in on your own. But either way - you're getting in the truck. Your call."

Wordlessly, you pivoted and moved towards the truck, your boots crunching against the rain-dampened gravel.

"That's what I thought," Rafe replied, a victorious grin splitting his rain-speckled face as he caught your fleeting glare. Unruffled, he stretched out his hand, popping open the weather-beaten door with a familiar creak lost in the drumming rain. His hand was warm and steady as he helped you up into the seat, the fabric of your clothes already beginning to stick to the leather.

In one fluid movement, Rafe navigated around the truck, momentarily swallowed by the spray of the falling rain before reappearing on the driver's side. With a clunk, the door closed behind him, sealing out the chill and sound of the heavy rain. His wrist flicked, the ignition turning over and the engine’s steady rumble intertwining with the rhythmic tapping of raindrops on the roof.

Leaning over the seat, Rafe's momentarily searched around the back. When he reappeared, he held a well-used, grey fleece jacket, its fabric softened by countless washes.

"Here," he offered, his voice barely louder than the muted patter of the rain against the windows. He extended it towards you, his fingers brushing against yours in exchange.

"Thank you," you replied, accepting the jacket. The fleece was surprisingly warm, a welcome contrast to the chill spreading through your rain-soaked clothes.

Rafe maneuvered the truck through the storm your house barely discernible in the relentless deluge. He parked close to your porch, an unspoken gesture to spare you from the worst of the rain. When he switched off the engine, the absence of its rumble made the cab feel suddenly small. The silence that enveloped you both was thick, charged with unsaid words and emotions neither of you didn't know how to share.

Rafe turned to face you, the dim glow from the dashboard lights casting a soft luminescence on his features. Rain droplets traced shimmering paths down his face, catching on his eyelashes and hanging at the tips. His gaze held yours, searching, longing, a question lingering in his eyes.

Swallowing hard, you broke the silence. "Want to come in?" The words hung in the air, tender and tentative. "Maybe dry off a little before hitting the road?"

"Make yourself at home" you said.

With a click, you turned on the side lamp, illuminating the cozy sitting room in a warm glow. You excused yourself, leaving Rafe momentarily to fetch some things for him. From the hallway closet, you grabbed a clean towel, and after a brief rummage through your dad's wardrobe, you found a red plaid shirt that might fit him. Deciding to change yourself, you quickly slipped into a comfortable, loose faded shirt and denim shorts.

Upon your return, you found Rafe intently examining the family photos that adorned your walls. The captured moments were a mix of joyful events and everyday life: you proudly holding up your first caught fish, a close-up with you and a school friend age seven with your front teeth missing, an affectionate snapshot of your parents in a tender embrace, and a cherished image of baby you, seated on your dad's lap at the piano. Each photo was a silent testament to days that were simpler, happier.

Rafe, towering in your small living room, shifted his gaze to the old piano settled in one corner. The instrument, though aged, held a simple grace.

“It’s not as grand as the one at your place,” you remarked gently, catching his attention. As his gaze shifted to you, there was a perceptible pause as his eyes traveled down to your legs and then resettled on your face.

"But it still has its charm, right?"

“I guess,” you shrugged, closing the distance between you two and handing him the towel and shirt.

Your fingers brushed with the exchange, sending a thrill through you. With a grateful nod, Rafe dried his head and face. He began to unbutton his shirt, pulling the wet fabric from his slacks, peeling it off his body. As he revealed inch after inch of lean muscle and beautifully tanned, unmarked skin, you couldn't help but admire the flawless appearance—a testament to his privileged Kook life.

“Can't take your eyes off, can you? Want a guided tour?” He teased.

“Dream on, Cameron,” you shot back, attempting to sound casual, but the playful glint in his eyes suggested he knew exactly the effect he was having on you. The sound of his confident chuckle filled the room with warmth.

“How long have you had it?” he inquired, head tilting towards the piano.

“You mean Betsy?”

Rafe smiled “It has a name?”

“Of course. We've had her as long as I can remember. My dad got her before I was born. She’s older than I am,” you confessed with a fond smile.

"Go on, play for me," Rafe murmured, the timbre of his voice making it feel less like a request and more like an intimate invite.

The memory of the last time you played for him, and what had ensued, made you take a deep breath. But you shook off the feeling, reminding yourself that your bench was, luckily, a one-seater. "I'll play," you said with a small smile, "but you've got to promise to behave."

Rafe chuckled, leaning back on the couch, wearing your dad's shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. His smirk was wicked and teasing, the very embodiment of temptation itself. "No promises."

Rolling your eyes. You took a seat on the bench and began to play, allowing the music to flow through your fingers. Each note resonated with the room, reflecting the myriad emotions swirling within you. The gentle glow of the room's lighting seemed to dance in tune with the melody, casting warm and shifting shadows. The scent of the rain outside mingled with the familiar smells of your home, creating an atmosphere of nostalgia and present moments intertwining. As the final note lingered in the air, caressing the silence that followed, you turned to find Rafe's gaze fixed intently on you. His eyes, laden with intensity and yearning.

“Come here,” he said softly, his voice filled with something deeper, something unspoken. He leaned back against the sofa, extending his hand to you.

With a deep breath, and a flutter in your chest, you walked towards him, finally straddling him, feeling the warmth and strength of him beneath you, knowing that this moment was a milestone, a turning point in whatever it was that was unfolding between you two.

Rafe's fingers delicately trailed along your thighs, taking in every curve and contour. He lingered for a moment on a mole on your left leg, brushing his thumb over its slightly elevated surface. Every touch ignited a fire on your skin, an intimate dance of warmth and desire. As his hands continued their exploration, they ascended up your sides and Rafe sat up.

Suddenly his hands wrapped around your neck, tipping your head back with a possessiveness that made you gasp. The raw strength in his grip was undeniable; he held the power to hurt you. But somewhere deep down, amidst the swirling mix of emotions, you felt an unwavering trust that he wouldn't.

With your head tilted back, you found yourself drowning in Rafe's gaze. He examined your features, delicately turning your face this way and that, softly illuminated by the nearby lamp. Every aspect of your countenance seemed to fascinate him, but it was his own features — the small scar above his right eyebrow, the striking high cheekbones, thick lashes, and those mesmerizing blue eyes — that captivated you in return. When those very eyes briefly lingered on your lips, and his thumb gently brushed against them a sharp inhale caught in your throat.

"So fuckin' pretty," Rafe breathed, the weight of his words heavy in the brief silence that followed. Then, with an urgency that stole your breath away, he captured your lips with his. His kiss was both tender and powerful, a dance of tongues and unspoken passion.

His hands moved from your neck, sliding beneath your shirt finally touching bare skin to wrap around you. The world seemed to tilt as he expertly turned, positioning you beneath him without breaking the kiss.

Rafe's fingers found the buttons of your shirt. Each one he undid was like unwrapping a gift, each sliver of exposed skin driving him further into a fervor kissing you deeper until he pulled away from your lips altogether to look down and savour your breasts.

“I knew it…” he whispered “You’re gorgeous...” and wasted no time in swirling his tongue around your pert nipple before sucking it into his mouth. His other hand kneading the tender flesh of your other breast oh so softly.

Rafe's touch sent waves of electricity coursing through your body, each sensation igniting the desire between your thighs. With every gentle tug, every teasing bite, you surrendered to your longing, your moans a symphony of need. While dampness formed at your core, evidence of your escalating arousal.

Leaving your nipple, his lips sought your cheek, his fingers deftly finding the button of your shorts, effortlessly undoing it. "I couldn't stop thinking about the way you squirted for me." he smiled, his voice a soft murmur in your ear.

"Ugh- Rafe, don't-" You couldn't help but groan, your hands instinctively covering your face in a mix of bashfulness and embarrassment.

"Come on, babe don't hide from me now," he urged, gently moving your hands away from your face. His unwavering gaze bore into you, with a magnetic intensity that held you captive. "It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen," he continued, his words wrapping around you like a sensual embrace. You responded with a mix of eye-rolling and a self-conscious laugh, but Rafe's touch on your jaw stilled your reaction.

"I'm serious," he insisted, his eyes locked onto yours. "Watching you moan for me all desperate and sweet. Feeling your pretty little pussy swallow my fingers... and then knowing I made you feel so fucking good you couldn't help but squirt…” Rafe groaned, his eyes rolling back at the memory “Baby, I jerked off to the thought so many times I'm surprised my dick hasn't fallen off." he chuckled. "All I could think about these last few weeks was watching you cum. I wanna watch you cum." Rafe's words were a soft murmur, his unwavering gaze locked onto yours.

Adjusting his position slightly, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your jeans shorts, a deliberate slowness in his movements as he eased them down your body. His breath quickened, his eyes devouring the sight of you in your white panties, damp with the evidence of your arousal.

Moistening his lips, he carefully tugged down your panties, guiding your legs free from their confines. He stared at your pussy taking his fill.

"Pretty as a picture," he whispered. Settling in beside you, he rested his head on his palm, his gaze fixed upon you. "I want to watch you cum, but this time..." Rafe tenderly parted your legs, cradling your knees and exposing you fully to the room's golden light. "This time, I want to see everything," he murmured.

His fingers traced the contours of your mound, the subtle hills and valleys of your skin. A light dusting of pubic hair added to the texture he was exploring. There, at your slit, a glistening collection of your arousal had formed. With a gentle touch, he collected a bead of it on his fingertip, his eyes locked onto your face. Bringing his finger to his lips, he sensually tasted you, an intense hunger gleaming in his gaze.

"I’ll need to eat this pussy too..." he murmured, nodding as if confirming an important task on his list of things to do. "But let's take it one step at a time, yeah? Don't want you running away from me anytime soon." His words held a trace of humor, a playful acknowledgment of the strained heated desires between you two. You were about to chastise him but his lips captured yours in a hungry kiss. While your mouths entwined, Rafe's finger moved back to your clit, his gentle movements coaxing a moan from your lips.

Just as you were sinking into his heavenly touch, Rafe broke the kiss and gently pulled his finger away from your clit. The absence of his touch almost prompted a whine from you, but Rafe quickly quieted you with a gentle shush. With a practiced finesse that revealed a glimpse of his dexterity, he employed his teeth to deftly remove the signet ring that encircled his finger. The ring glided off smoothly, lingering briefly within his mouth before finding its place in his pants pocket. His voice, laced with desire, broke the silence in a husky murmur, "Can’t go deep with a ring in the way, can we?” With deliberate intent, he returned his two fingers between your folds and wormed them inside you.

"Oh god, oh shit-" The fabric of Rafe's (or rather, your dad’s) shirt twisted beneath the force of your grip, your fingers curling and clenching as a flood of both pleasure and pain surged through your core. He was not lying when he said he was going to go deep.

Admitting comfort at this moment wouldn't be honest, not with the way his fingers were delving inside you, pushing against your tight channel. The fine line between discomfort and pleasure was being treaded, a line that teased just on the cusp of crossing into one or the other. Strangely, there was an undeniable allure in feeling so exquisitely full and it dawned on you that even with the mingling pain you liked being full.

With a mix of awe and submission, you embraced the realization that this was indeed what your body was designed for—an intricate dance of taking and being taken. The recognition of your body's innate capacity to accept him, to welcome him so completely, was a mesmerizing revelation that you couldn't help but marvel at.

As your gaze drifted downward, you couldn't help but raise an intrigued eyebrow at the sight that greeted you. His long, skillful fingers moved sinfully, withdrawing and reentering, each motion leaving them glistening with the evidence of your arousal. The sight and sound was hypnotic, and as a drawn-out moan escaped your lips, you couldn't help but notice Rafe's gaze following suit, his own reaction mirrored in the form of a needy groan.

"God, look at you. Taking it all the way to my palm... making a pretty mess." he quipped, his voice trembling with desire as a shaky chuckle escaped him. "Does it hurt?"

You gasped in response, the honesty ringing true in your voice, "A little."

A low, almost guttural groan escaped Rafe's lips, his tongue darting out to moisten his suddenly dry lips. "Yeah, but you like it, don't you? That slight twinge of pain. Hurts good, doesn't it?"

A slow, almost reverent nod escaped you as your eyes rolled backward, caught in the riptide of sensation. Your hand joined Rafe's at his wrist, a desperate yearning to connect more deeply with the source of your pleasure and the exquisite ache that accompanied it. You craved the sensation of his every stroke, each movement a testament to his mastery over your desire. Your hips began to sway, an instinctual response, seeking more friction, a little extra pressure to tip the scale just a bit further into pleasure. When you started to pluck and gently pull on your nipple you had finally reached it.

"Shit. That's it. Take what you need, baby.” He whispered. His tongue made its way back to your other nipple sucking on the tender flesh while he stared up at you. His gentle tongue swirling and firm hard fingers relentlessly drilling and your own hand gently plucking had you seeing stars and then some. You could feel his cock, thick and stiff brushing against your side as he rutted slowly against you seeking friction and for the first time you began to whine in sheer desperation, wishing he had fucked you with his cock instead.

"Use your words, baby," Rafe's voice held an almost teasing quality. "I want to know how good it feels—for next time when you accuse me of forcing you..."

You should have been mad, outraged even, by his audacity. But there was a magnetic pull in his words, a spell that rendered your protests powerless against the tide of pleasure that had you firmly in its grasp. The chorus of moans that spilled from your lips was a testament to your surrender "Don't stop- feels so good. Oh god, ‘m close. So close. Please Rafe-- please.. please... please.." Your words quivered with a mixture of urgency and need, punctuated by the ragged rhythm of your breath as your body shook.

As if on cue, Rafe applied a cork-screw motion, his fingers expertly stroking your G-spot with fervor. Your orgasm surged forth, violent and all-consuming. Waves of ecstacy coursed through your body, compelling your abdomen to convulse, and your leg to kick, a response to Rafe speeding up his efforts, fingers plunging deep while his thumb orchestrated rapid blissful circles on your clit.

"OH, FUCK-- OH RAFE!!!" Your voice filled the room as you were swept away in the throes of your orgasm. You couldn’t help but soak his fingers, and like a breached dam, overflowing and cascading, so too did your juices overflow as it trickled down to the cleft of your ass.

"Fuck—" Rafe hissed, his voice strained. "Ah, shit!" he sneered through clenched teeth. Overwhelmed at the sight, feel and sound of you screaming his name, his hips involuntarily jerked as he came. An untouched release that left him gasping for breath. His moans blended with yours, a beautiful song of shared pleasure that only ended when he leaned in for a messy kiss.

His gaze never wavered; it feasted on every second of your reaction and revelled in the glorious aftermath. You were glowing, skin flushed and alive from the intensity of your climax. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat glistening off of your exposed breasts. Legs still spread, revealing the slippery mess with his fingers buried deep in you.

If you weren't so strung out from your orgasm, the opportunity to catch a glimpse of something more in his expression might have presented itself. A fleeting flicker of his unwavering fixation taking root, a mere hint of the deeper obsession he harbored for you. But instead your eyes closed, your lips forming a satisfied, lopsided grin. You couldn’t think. In fact, you couldn't care about anything at all.

Feedback is always appreciated. Lots of love until next time and thanks for reading.

UPDATES - PART 3 / MASTERLIST

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x you #rafe fic #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x fem!reader #18+ read #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x female reader #dirtytomatoedwrites

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djarins-cyare · 1 year

Text

✭ Series Masterlist ✭

Languishing in a dull and lonely existence on the forest moon of Endor after travelling there to help salvage Death Star wreckage, a nearly fatal encounter with a mysterious bounty hunter out in the forest heralds an opportunity to utilise long-forgotten skills and develop something more profound than you ever thought possible.

Second person POV, present tense. Set post-season 2, diverges from Canon events before TBoBF and season 3. This is a novel-length, exceptionally slow burn with an original plot, worldbuilding, and fully-developed characterisation. SWU concepts and lore are accurately researched.

WORDS: 406,560

PAIRING: Din Djarin x Female Reader/You

RATING: Explicit (18+)

CHARACTERS: Din Djarin, Reader/You/Female OC, Original Non-Human Character(s), Original Human Characters, Greef Karga, Cara Dune, Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Peli Motto

TAGS: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Romance, Love, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Smut, Sex, Sexual Content, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Relationships, Healthy Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Dark Past, Additional Warnings In Author's Notes, Bounty Hunter Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Smart Din Djarin, Soft Dominant Din Djarin, Ewok Species, Mandalorian Culture, Mando'a Language, New Razor Crest, Thoroughly Researched, Worldbuilding, No use of y/n.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This took me almost a year to write and four months to edit/proof. Each chapter is prefaced with specific tags and (where necessary) warnings, plus word counts. End notes contain translations and comments… this baby is thoroughly researched, so I’m sharing context where appropriate. I’ve also added definitions of in-universe terms so people less familiar with the franchise won’t be left wondering what the hell certain words or references mean. This is a slow burn (adult themes), and although the explicit content only occurs in the latter half, when it does, it warrants the ‘E’ rating. Basically, the first half is a love story, and the second half gets spicy. I hope you enjoy it!

READ THE COMPLETE STORY ON AO3:

(Chapters containing explicit content marked †)

Chapter 1: The Obstacle

Chapter 2: The Interrogation

Chapter 3: The Covenant

Chapter 4: The Snare

Chapter 5: The Strike

Chapter 6: The Groundwork

Chapter 7: The Genesis

Chapter 8: The Progression

Chapter 9: The Hide

Chapter 10: The Beast

Chapter 11: The Adjustment

Chapter 12: The Storm

Chapter 13: The Broadside

Chapter 14: The Intercourse

Chapter 15: The Village

Chapter 16: The Confession

Chapter 17: The Reprieve

Chapter 18: The Fortification

Chapter 19: The Ambush

Chapter 20: The Meridian

Chapter 21: The Homestretch

Chapter 22: The Union †

Chapter 23: The Overture

Chapter 24: The Crescendo

Chapter 25: The Harmony †

Chapter 26: The Cadence †

Chapter 27: The Ride †

Chapter 28: The Veneration †

Chapter 29: The Spree †

Chapter 30: The Tribute †

Chapter 31: The Courage

Chapter 32: The Feast

Chapter 33: The Exhibition †

Chapter 34: The Reward

Chapter 35: The Binding †

Chapter 36: The Synergy †

Chapter 37: The Match †

Chapter 38: The Flag †

Chapter 39: The Foundling †

Chapter 40: The Future †

✨Additional Media✨

@burntheedges has written a spectacular little drabble detailing what Din was up to during the paragraph break near the end of chapter 1 (*SPOILERS* you don’t find this out until chapter 27).

@roughdaysandart has sketched a fantastic study of chapter 33 and it’s absolutely perfect (*SPOILERS* cliffhanger ending for the chapter).

@djarin-desires has created some awesome AI images of a few scenes using Midjourney.

I spent a stupid amount of money on the Hot Toys official Din Djarin action figure, simply so I could photograph him in poses from my fic 🤷🏼‍♀️ This is just a taster of what’s to come, but here he is offering to help Reader climb onto the speeder in chapter 8.

🧡💚 Thank you for reading! 💚🧡

➤ MAIN MASTERLIST

Dividers by @samspenandsword

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heartysworld · 4 months

Text

Thy blood shall flow through mine || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

What's up my loves, it's been a while! After I watched the new trailer and everything I couldn't contain my excitement and I just HAD to write something to cope with the 1 month we have left until season 2! I got the inspo for this from my Old English classes and as much as I was disgusted during class my mind had to turn this into an Aemond fic bc let's be honest, that man could be nastyyyy...

I'm not gonna lie this one is a bit rusty but it's been a while since I've written about Aemond and I was in my 3rd coffee omfor the day as I wrote it so yeah...enjoy

Masterlist

W.C: 1k

Mark but this knife, and mark in this, How little that which thou deniest me is;

It sucked me first, and now sucks thee, And in it our two bloods mingled be;

Thou know’st that this cannot be said

A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead, Yet this enjoys before it woo, And pampered swells with one blood made of two, And this, alas, is more than we would do.

The letter was ripped apart in your hands moments after you read it out loud. Your uncle stood in front of you, his face covered with an unreadable expression as he watched you read his letter, the one of many you had found in your rooms.

The beautiful letter A sat neatly written in the bottom right corner of the parchment.

The first time you received one of these you were scandalized. Who could be so shameless to address such shameful writings to a princess? The first person who came to mind was your uncle Aegon, after all this was something that he would do with no doubt.

But then, as the letters kept coming you realized that the fool who dared call himself the future heir to the Iron Throne lacked the mental capacity to come up with such carefully crafted words, arranged in such way that send chills down your spine every time you read them. Aemond. It had to be him.

"Have you lost your mind, Aemond?" You asked, voice raising slightly as you looked at him, a desperate expression plastered on your face. "What if one of my maids found it? What if it got to my mother? Or the Queen? Not even Balerion himself could save me from their wrath. How could you be so senseless? And they call you the brightest one of the King's children!"

Everything that had been piling inside of you for the past few weeks finally came out as you voiced all of your frustrations.

The ripped pieces of paper gracefully fell from your fingers as they made their way towards the burning fire that lit up your chambers.

Your hand slowly made its way towards your face, touching the now wrinkled skin of your forehead as you felt the slowly forming headache that was going to torment you until dawn.

Seconds later, a larger, colder hand wrapped itself around yours, pulling you closer to a firm chest. The much familiar aroma of leather from riding gear, and hints of smoke and ash filled your nostrils.

"Hush, little hatchling. Do not fill yourself with excess frustrations. The Red Keep does not need another burnt scrub of the gardens." Aemond hushed against your ear. You could feel the corners of his mouth curl upwards as they hovered over the shell of your ear.

The contact with his body alongside his raspy voice stirred something deep inside you that made you shiver.

"We both know the way you've been looking at me for the past few moons. After that day in the courtyard, when my blade cut across your arm. It is soaked with your blood as much as it is with mine. Tell me, hatchling, does this not count as the consumation of a marriage? Is our blood not mingled together as it would be inside our own child? You are mine, hatchling, you've always been and will always be."

Aemond's words caused your breath to get caught inside your lungs, hot waves pulsating through your body.

His arms slowly encircled your waist, like a snake wrapping around their pray. He was the beast, you were his pray, and you've been willingly letting him sink his teeth in your neck for weeks now, taming you as his pet, his little hatchling that was about to become him forever.

" We can't, Aemond. Not when a war is about to rage above King's Landing and we're about to be on the opposing sides. I cannot let you take my hart in your possession only for you to shatter it to pieces the moment your grandfather blows his whistle at you like a dog and makes you drive a sword in between my mothers eyes!" You voice came out broken, eyes misty and reddish.

" I would rather drive that same sword through my grandfather's skull than let him take you away from me, Y/N!" Aemond snapped, his anger finally surfacing despite the facade he attempted to put up for you.

It never worked with you, him trying to hide what he truly felt. It's always been like this, to you, he was like an open book. No secrets, no nothing.

Masterlist

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ghostlyforxst · 1 year

Note

In LOVE with your Tengen fic!! Can I request something similar to it: a farm au where a Centaur Sanemi is trying to breed the reader?? 👀👀

I really love how you write!!

❱ http:˚♡I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys˚ˑؘ 🍄 ·˚

GENDER: Gender Neutral Reader

WARNINGS: Monster AU, Inappropriate Reader, +18, Slight! Breeding, Hair Pulling, Slight! Non-Con, and Marking.

CHARACTER: Sanemi Shinazugawa

WORD COUNT: 561

A/N- I apologize for taking forever to respond to your request and I also apologize for not adding much breeding since I made it gender neutral. Though I am still hoping that this meet some of you expectations and that you enjoyed it!

Another day had dawned, the muggy weather had your clothes embracing your dewy skin and your muscles were tense from the laborious chores you had completed. You had tidied up the stables, harvested the garden, and naturally you cared for your monsters. Yet, rutting season had caused those supposedly uncomplicated chores to become complicated. But thankfully-ish your centaur was the last for the day, though his rutting mindset had you nervous. He became territorial, brash, and overall just desperate—countless of times you had to fight him off and run, screaming as he galloped not too far behind you.

You released the pail to the ground, breathing through your nostrils, and eased the stable doors open. His presence was absent from the stable, your shoulders slumped with a sigh. You take the rake and begin to scrape up the previous hay, ignorant of the lustful beast that snuck noiselessly behind you until fingers tangled themselves into your hair and forced your head onto the scratchy hay bale. “Wah!”

“You are not going anywhere.” The beast, Sanemi, growled as his calloused hand swept down your back to your jeans and yanked them to the ground before his hooves came into view on either side of your head. “You're mine this season and the seasons to come.”

“Sanemi.” you yelped, hips raised high in the air and legs parted for his massive girth. “g-get off!”

Sanemi went seemingly deaf to your words, disregarding them as his hand eased between your legs and teased your arousal. You knew you had stripped him of his sanity from the way his desperate hand stroked and rubbed you, the way he blushfully whimpered under his breath when his cock prodded at your hole. You bit your cheek, restraining the moan that was lodged in your throat as his dick dryly persuaded itself into you.

“I can’t,” Sanemi breathed, “I can’t wait.”

Your blowzy cheeks dampened with tears as you blubbered pleas from him to remove himself, writhing beneath him as his length buried itself into your warmth entirely—the pain becoming near unbearable.

“Begging is a good look for you.” Sanemi smirked breathlessly, bucking his hips into you.

You cried out, grasping at the dead grass, ashamed at how pleasurable it felt. Sanemi stoops down, his tongue darting past his curved lips and he glides the wet muscle along your nape before biting and sucking at the skin—a purplish bruise remaining as he seated himself back up.

His hands raveled themselves back into your hair, roughly tugging, as he rocked himself into you.

“M’feeling so fucking good around me, feels good doesn’t it baby?” Sanemi grunted, yanking your head back and kissing you abruptly. “It has to, you are a mess on my cock. I can feel you falling apart around me. ”

You sobbed at his dick thrusting into the right spot, your tummy tightening before releasing; swallowing air as your hips jerked on his length with a drawn-out whine. Sanemi reaches below you, rolling your niple between his thumb and fingers—his silvery tail whipping behind as his thrust quickens.

Sanemi’s hips stammered, his chest rumbling with a guttural growl, before he emptied himself in your clenching hole. He lazily smooches the back of your head and weighs himself against your back. “Mhm’love you.”

You hummed in response and Sanemi chuckled, “rest, I'm wanting a second round soon.”

418 notes · View notes

kaeyahiya · 1 year

Text

"Unrequited Enemies" (NSFW)

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Pairing: Ayato x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW/Explicit content, use of y/n if that bothers you,use of feminine parts, enemies to lovers (kinda), swearing, and mentions of marking, a little bit of angst, a little bit of smut

Disclaimer: This is intended for adult viewing only, I have plenty of SFW content on my master list so please check that out instead. I am strongly discouraging and actively not condoning the consummation of this content for anyone who is a minor.

Word count: 5687 OH MY GOD???

Authors note: This is LONG the longest thing I think I've written to date. This counts as like a full fic, should be like a multi chapter type beat. It's a long read but dare I say this might be my best work yet. Anway, I haven't written anything for Ayato bc he was a faceless ncp before I went on my hiatus.... I am also in love with man and couldn't stand the thought of this. Hence I'm writing a self serving fic bc I'm incredibly selfish rn and need some of this man in my life. Also I enjoy a good enemies to lovers troupe sue me!! ALSO ALSO THIS IS GENDERED HAHAHAHA finally if you see my master list it's all been GN so ha I did it. Anyway enjoy me being selfish 🧍🏻‍♂️(edit) Future self here... This took me almost a month to write, this turned into a novel and I apologize....

This will also be crossposted on my A03 probably bc of the girth of this beast. You can read it: Here if you prefer that interface better

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Working under the Kamisato's was a blessing. Truly it was. You considered yourself exceptional in hospitality and an ace seamstress. That's how the Kamisato clan sought you out.

Lady Ayaka was kind, the easy one to put it bluntly. Her tasks were normal simply as asking you to clean her linens or making small repairs on her formal wears. (Which Thoma would normally jump in to help, cleaning and sewing was also his forte). Genuinely, she was the nicest noble person you've ever seen, still managing to keep an air of excellence and gracefulness to her despite her overly kind nature.

Working there is what kept you and your family fed and you were able to have a safe haven during the Vision Hunt Degree when being a vision holder yourself was hard to avoid.

However, working under the Kamisato's wasn't easy work by any means.

The head of the household was where the issue lied when it came to your work. Kamisato Ayato, you swear had it out for you since you arrived to work for them. One day he'd have you doing mundane tasks like taking inventory of the spices in the kitchen, and the next it would be making him tea over and over until it was the exact temperature he liked.

Not to mention all the constant repairs on his clothes you'd have to do, whether it be taking care of personal matters or training with his sister he'd always come back with piles of clothes in need of huge repairs.

You probably would have punched the pretty smirk off of "Lord Ayato's" face if it wasn't for poor Thoma keeping you afloat. You feel bad but while he cooks, you normally lament your frustrations to him. He'll occasionally offer his support or advice, since after all he's your senior and also a fellow outsider of Inazuma.

"Miss, your presence is requested in Lord Ayato's office." the guard locks eyes with you. You want to groan in agony, you were hungry and tired but still you mustered a smile. " I'll head over right now, thank you." You say with a small bow. Once the guard exits you you finally let out a long groan looking to Thoma for support. "Can't you go instead, at least you can put up with his nonsense." You sigh exasperated.

After one particularly frustrating day of repairing both Lord Ayato's and Lady Ayaka's training wear entirely and aiding another with mending their Shinai Practice Swords (The bamboo ones, commonly used in kendo??), which were almost beyond repair. You find yourself once again in the kitchen with Thoma going on and on about the day before a dreaded guards men enter.

Thoma chuckles. "I believe a 'Miss' was summoned, I'd be scolded if I showed up, besides I'm cooking. Unless you wanna deliver food to the entire staff and the Lord and Lady." You wrap him lightly on the back of his shoulder. " Fine, but if I wind up dead it's your fault." You joke. You excuse yourself and exit the kitchen; then head for your doom, Lord Kamisato's office.

You stand outside his office, the dimly lit Shoji (those paper sliding door things?) showing the silhouette of menace himself just waiting for you. "(Y/N) here My Lord." You grit your teeth. "You may enter." You can almost hear the sadistic smile in his voice. Sliding open the door you're immediately confused on why you are here.

Ayato looked right as rain, clean and on top of that his office looked organized and practically sparkling (you'll have to thank Thoma for that later), boba tea full, and a small before dinner snack fully eaten. What more could he need at this hour. "Ah yes, Miss (Y/N)" his eyes lock with yours. "I've seemed to have spilled ink on my clothes. I need them cleaned immediately before dinner is finished." Though the room was dimly lit, you could clearly see there was no ink anywhere on Ayato's clothing.

"My lord I don't-" before you can even finish getting the word's out, Ayato takes the ink on his desk and proceeds to dump its contents all over his clothing. All the while that signature sadistic smile plastered on his face. You face contorts, you try to conceal the seething hot rage from pouring out of your mouth. (Un)Luckily Ayato speaks first. "I'm sorry you were going to say something? Go ahead, I apologize for my clumsiness."

Your mouth opens but you quickly close it. You're dumbfounded. His informal attire is mostly white, similar to his training attire, getting ink of that amount out in such a short amount of time would be nearly impossible. As you continue to stand there in silence you can see Ayato absolutely blossom with happiness.

A few more seconds pass until you collect yourself enough to speak calmly. "I'll fetch you some other clothing to change into while I tend to your..." Your eyes narrow at him. " Accident. " Words laced with venom at the end. He nods, smiling. " Go ahead, I'll be right here. Do be quick though, I hear ink is a pain to get out the longer you leave it. " He smirks.

You bow rigidly before bolting out the door to his quarters to grab him some fresh clothing. Returning to the lion's den, you announce yourself once more. "You may enter," Ayato calls out again. Sliding open the door he promptly stands up this time.

You don't say a word but hold out the clean clothes to him. "My my, that was fast." He smiles. You don't answer but begin to turn to exit so he can change in private. "No need to be so shy. You're practically one of my retainers at this point. "

You quickly turn around deciding to face the door instead of him, face red with embarrassment this time. You hear the rustling of the rest of his clothes. After a few awkward quiet moments with your thoughts filled with annoyance and somehow Lord Ayato's bare chest and perfect stupid abs, he finally speaks again. "I'm dressed." You pivot to see him again, back in pristine condition, however not bothering to pick up the ink stained clothes off the ground.

Retainer??? Since when? Where's your pay raise? That's all that runs through your mind as you stare at him dumbfounded. You don't realize until you snap out of your train of thought Ayato has already started stripping, his bare chest on full display. "Miss (Y/N) I don't mind if you watch, but watching me so intensely is unnecessary." You didn't think that smirk could get any bigger but it does.

You let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding in and kneel to grab the stained clothes scattered around his feet. You go to grab a sleeve and the bastard has his foot still on the article of clothing. Giving it a little tug as a hint to move, Ayato simply looks down at you with a smile. "Oh my apologies, didn't realize I was standing on it and hindering your precious time to get those pesky stains out." He steps out of your way and plants himself back to his desk. Asshole is all that runs through your mind as you gather the clothes.

Once again you quickly excuse yourself and rush to the medical bay to grab some balls of cotton and rubbing alcohol. Storming back into the kitchen you decide you need to get this frustration out and combat this stain at the same time.

You definitely startle Thoma as you slide open the Shoji with little to no care of its fragility. "Listen I'm sorry, Lord Ayato is fucking awful." You say holding up the stained clothing to accentuate your point.

You recount your encounter with the Lord of the house to Thoma all the while desperately scrubbing the ink out with the rubbing alcohol. "He's a sadist Thoma, he hates me I'm sure of it. Why on earth would he do this." Thoma turns to the area of the table you're vigorously scrubbing at ,now almost finished with dinner at this point, offers you a pot of cold water and soap to help you finish cleaning the stain. "That's just Lord Ayato, and hey maybe it was a genuine mistake." He shrugs. "Thoma, I saw him pick it up and dump it on himself."

You move over a bit to let Thoma work his laundry magic. Taking the garment from you, which was now almost its original color, he washes it in the aforementioned cold soapy water. After some more scrubbing he pulls it out. Looking as radiant as it did on Ayato before he went and soiled it. "Thoma I'm sorry for roping you into this... I appreciate you." He smiles nudging you softly. " Stop that, you'd do the same for me if I needed that level of help. " You're glad Thoma is always here to save your ass.

"I may have done the best I can but it won't dry before dinner, since I'm almost done with it." You grab your Anemo Vision and wave it in front of him and he lets out a 'Oh yeah...' before he smiles radiantly. "You got this then, dry it quick and as soon as you're done I'll serve dinner. Hopefully that'll buy you a bit of time. " You bow to Thoma, thanking him profusely. You exit the kitchen before running to the courtyard to swiftly dry the Lord's clothes with a little help from your Vision.

After making quick work of drying the clothes. (Thank you Anemo Archon). You inspect the clothes one last time and decide they are pristine enough for him. Carefully folding them, you proceed to slide down the hall to Ayato's office once more.

For the final time of the night you announce yourself. "Miss (Y/n) back so soon?" he says as you enter. His eyes narrow in on the clothes in your hands. "I'm more than pleased with your speediness. However, folding them will definitely crease them." You wordlessly unfold the clothes, gesturing to the creaseless stainless garments. "I see... Very well then, I will change after dinner."

His eyes light up again and you regret opening your stupid mouth. "Ah yes, Thoma should be along with my dinner soon. My arms are awfully tired from writing documents all evening..." There it is again that fucking sadistic grin. "Stay here and feed me will you?" You can't stop the words from spilling out of your mouth. "What? Why?" Clapping a hand over your mouth. He didn't like that, you can tell as you watch sadism on his face fade to confusion. "Because you serve under me and I'm telling you to do so."

Taking the clothes from your hands, Ayato purses his lips briefly as your fingers touch during the exchange. You grimace at him, typical of him to be disgusted by touching you even for a millisecond. You quickly rearrange your face before asking the dreaded question. "Can I help you with anything else my Lord?"

Right. You forgot. You're supposed to be like Thoma, a loyal dog who does what it's told. Maybe that's what you're supposed to do but this was an outlandish request. However, knowing the wrath of Kamisato Ayato, you flop yourself in the corner in defeat, not bothering to put up a fight. You press your knees up to your chest, glancing at Ayato's, once again, happy smirk. He too proceeds to sit back down, at his desk.

A heavy silence fills the room as Ayato resumes his work. You want to yell at him, kick and scream, but overall you just wanted to cry. You're so embarrassed for what's to come and your mind is reeling. The tears brimming your eyes burn as you try to continue putting on a strong front. You refuse to let this asshole see you cry.

Thoma must be taking his time because amongst the scribbling mixed in with silence you have a lot of time to think. You evaluate your position. You signed up for this, but did you really? A maid sure, but dealing with a sadistic brat? No, that wasn't in the job description. Or maybe that was the plan all along, maybe it just happened along the way? You weren't sure at this point and you felt bitter and defeated.

"Lord Ayato?" Your voice comes out horse. "Hmm?" He questions. "Why do you trouble me with the most torturous and utterly embarrassing tasks?" You stare him down. He looks shocked you dare question his authority. He opens his mouth to answer? maybe yell at you? But as if the Archons themselves are taunting you, Thoma announces himself. "My Lord you dinner is ready, may I enter?" Ayato fixes his gaze on you for a second longer than needed before responding to Thoma. "Thoma. Yes, you may enter." He answers

Thoma comes in hands full of all of the dishes Ayato requested tonight. He almost doesn't see you in the corner for a second but being the loyal retainer he is, the actual retainer of Ayato, he says nothing but shoots you a sympathetic glance. "Thoma, please let Miss (Y/n) help you with the rest of your food deliveries. I wish not to be disturbed the rest of the night." Ayato says using a voice he normally only uses when talking with other officials. It's cold, a lot colder than usual. The blood drains from your face and a knot forms in your stomach, you fucked up big time.

Three days. It was three days of terrifying tranquility, free of summoning from Lord Ayato.

Lady Ayaka assured you, as well as your job, were fine. The looming anxiety however had you on edge, you couldn't sleep fearing you'd be assassinated in the middle of the night. After all Kamisato Ayato hated being questioned, the only thing you were sure he hated more was you. Death would be the only solution right?

You were in the courtyard, it was evening and everyone was eating dinner. Thoma approached you gently tapping your shoulder. "Dinner is ready for you in the maid's quarters... But uh, Lord Ayato wishes to see you in his quarters before dinner." He says sheepishly. You groan looking to Thoma “If you don't see me tomorrow, assume the worst." You joke but deep down felt your stomach drop. It had been three days of not seeing him, who knows what kind of punishment you'd receive.

Thoma gave you a reassuring smile as you bid him farewell and headed from the courtyard to the personal quarters of Kamisato Ayato. It's not like you haven't been there before, but something still felt off about addressing your punishment not in his office but your room.

So there you were, standing in front of the looming door to the man who was about to decide your fate. You swallow hard before addressing your arrival. "My Lord, (Y/n) here. Thoma said you requested my presence..." Your voice came out a lot shakier than you'd like to admit. Frankly you were terrified. There was, what felt like, an eternity of silence before he finally responded. "Come in."

Your hands waver as you pull the Shoji door open. It was almost pitch black inside Ayato's room. He was sitting under a Kotatsu with his dinner finished. His eyes immediately fixed on you as you entered. "Miss (Y/n) please sit. There's something I'd like to discuss with you." Fuck. Your family will be so upset if you lose this job, what will you do for work, where will you live? Sure you hate Ayato but you for the most part enjoy your job and- No no no you can't spiral right now.

You suck in a composed breath and take a seat opposite him under the Kotatsu. "What is it, my Lord?" You ask meekly. He closes his eyes, sighing. "I.. You see.." He's uncharacteristically fidgety. "My sister has brought it to my attention that I've been causing you much strife lately." You want to laugh, lately he says, it's been since day one but okay sure. You grit your teeth. "As you said before, I serve under you. It's my duty, I suppose." You respond promptly. As much as it hurts your pride to admit you needed this job. You belong here and you won't go down without a fight. "I see." He says, sighing again.

" (Y/n)... You loathe me do you not?" He locks eyes with you, as if boring directly into your soul. " My Lord, of course not. I'm grateful to serve the Kamisatos." He shakes his head. " Miss (Y/n), from the moment you arrived here you've seemed to take a disliking to me. I'm just trying to understand what started it. Please be cooperative."

Huh? You? You're the problem in this situation? You know what fuck your job. "Kamisato Ayato, I do believe from the moment I arrived here you've made me do the most outlandish things and have, frankly, acted like a brat. If anyone hated anyone first it'd be you." You bang your fist on the table of the Kotatsu. "I'm a mere maid trying to make a living, not a babysitter or a toy for a spoiled noble's amusement."

He has the audacity to laugh. "I'm sorry I seem to be missing the joke here my Lord. Please share so I too can laugh at the very serious call concerns I just raised." You glare at him. He smiles trying to suppress his laughter. "(Y/n) no one has ever talked to me like that before..." You pause. You've never seen Ayato look so pleased in your presence before.

"Shamefully I'll admit, I enjoyed hearing your true feelings about me." He fidgets under the Kotatsu again. "For the record, I never hated you. I enjoy teasing you, and I'll admit I take things to an extreme. For that I apologize for the suffering I put you through." You're stunned at his apology. The head of the Kamisato clan apologized to you? " My Lord I..." Your words catch in your throat and all the anxiety built over the past three days spills out of your eyes. The one thing you swore you'd never do happens, you're crying in front of Ayato.

Instinctively Ayato rushes to your side of the Kotatsu kneeling next to you handing you his handkerchief. You take it and turn away from him as you try to repress your sobs. "(Y/n) I'm so sorry, I didn't realize... I..." He turns you to face him. His face is almost unrecognizable, maybe from the blurry vision of your tears, but his face laced with pure concern and gentleness. "I apologize for being so bold to ask but my I... Hug... You?" H u h? Your world feels like it's been turned upside-down. Ayato is being nice to you, and the craziest part is you kind of enjoy how it makes you feel. A half hour ago you would've never dreamed you'd be in this situation.

You cautiously nod and Ayato gently pulls your much smaller form into his chest. You sniff, still calming down from your episode. Ayato gently strokes your back. It sends shivers down your spine but you don't... hate it?? You're conflicted at this moment. A man who was once so cruel to you is now being the perfect gentleman.

While battling your thoughts Ayato fills the silence. "When my sister and I were young, she would often hurt herself by accident. While she cried, I'd hold her like this until she would calm down." You hum softly. You're unsure what to say. This whole situation feels like a twisted dream. You feel like any moment you'd wake up in your bed and the sinister Ayato you'd known up until now would return.

You glance up at him, his eyes are closed as he still is gently stroking your back. He looks peaceful, a small gentle smile on his face. You dare even concur he looks rather handsome like this. Your face turns red as you now realize the situation you're in. Kamisato Ayato is holding you. Even worse, you're enjoying it.

One of his eyes opens and peers down at you. His smile gets wider but remains gentle still. "Feeling better?" He asks. "I think so. I apologize for my outburst My Lor-" "Ayato..." "Huh?" "You can apologize but please use my name, not my title." You snort with a smile, there's the Ayato you know. "I apologize for my actions Ayato. For the record as well, I don't hate you either."

You pause for a brief second confused by your own confession, then words continue to spill out of your mouth. "I think I hated the way you treated me and just assumed you hated me. Besides you'd make me do silly things and would cause problems just for me to fix, making my life harder, it was frustrating but..." Ayato tips your chin up from his chest. You both stare at each other in silence.

Whatever rambles you had in your mind vanished and all you can think about now is how pretty his eyes are and how you never noticed until right now. Ayato leans down, your lips inches apart from his, you can feel the heat of his lips radiating on to yours. "May I be bold once more Miss (Y/n)?" You say nothing, you're absolutely frozen so he continues. "I think I did all of that because I'm positively enamored by you." Then closes the gap between the two of you, kissing you.

His lips are soft and as his hand moves from your back to your waist you find yourself kissing him back. It's gentle but tender, all that pent up rage for the man you once loathed melts and in this moment it feels like you two are the only ones in the world. He pulls away first. You stare at him, he looks positively breathtaking now. His other hand runs a finger over your bottom lip then joins his other hand on your waist. "If you hate it please tell me to stop, and I will." You shake your head. "Please... Continue."

His lips meet yours again this time with more passion. You wrap your arms around his neck and gently part your lips. Ayato takes this opportunity to deepen the kiss further, sliding his tongue gently into your mouth. His hands wonder about your body while he kisses you. You can't deny the sparks that follow in the wake of his touch.

You part briefly to catch your breath and Ayato uses this as an opportunity to explore your neck. You tilt your head to the side giving him more access. He chuckles softly at your action. "So responsive." He teases against your neck. "Please keep your thoughts to yourself and keep kissin-" He bites down on your neck leaving whatever grip you had planned to die in throat and gets replaced with a soft moan. He lavishes the bite with his tongue and you're positive that's gonna be a mark you'll have to cover tomorrow morning. He tugs at the corner of your kimono staring into your eyes asking for silent permission to continue.

Taking the hint you boldly slide down the shoulder of your kimono to let him continue. He smirks as continues his conquest from your neck to your newly exposed collarbones. Placing soft kisses on them while making quick work of sliding the top half of your kimono off, leaving the excess fabric to hang around your waist. The cold night air hits your skin leaving your exposed top half covered in goosebumps. Ayato reaches around to your back feeling for the clasp of your bra. "May I?" His voice comes out soft, filled with lust against the shell of your ear. "Please." You whimper. He skillfully unclasped the bra freeing your breasts from the confines. Instinctively you cover your, your face bright red with embarrassment with another realization Kamisato Ayato, your boss, is about to see your naked body.

Ayato wraps a warm hand around your wrist, planting a kiss on the inside of it. "If you're nervous we can stop here. If not..." His eyes wander to his bed, which is partially skewed from your vision due to the folding screen for Ayato's privacy sake. "No I want to continue... I just..." You laugh. "I don't want this to affect my job you know?" Ayato chuckles back. "I promise you it won't." You blush slowly unfolding your arms. "In that case..." He smiles, that's all the permission he needs and in one swift motion stands up and hoists your half clothes body over his shoulder, like you weighed nothing.

He takes a few steps and throws you on to his bed, one you've made many times before and one you'll probably have to make again after this. He takes advantage of you getting comfortable to take off his top. You're once again faced with Ayato's bare torso, this time you are able to ogle at it as much as you'd like. "You're staring again." He says with a smug expression, climbing on the bed now towering over you. "Am I not allowed to My Lord?" You quip back.

He raises an eyebrow and then you see that expression on him that you used to loathe, that sadistic smile. "I suppose I'll allow it tonight. I'll even do you one better." He once again grabs your wrists, this time places your hands on his bare chest, abs, shoulders. But Ayato being Ayato was in control of your movements Giving you the satisfaction of feeling his smooth skin but not giving you control to do so as you please. "Ayato..." You whine. He just laughs before releasing your hands and leans back down to kiss you again.

While kissing you his hands wander to your breasts giving them a little squeeze. You can feel him smile in the kiss when you let out a small moan. "Sensitive?" He asks. You nod in response, worried your words will betray you. His kiss trails back down your neck to your breasts this time. Taking a nipple in his mouth and biting and suckling on it you can help but cover your mouth and whine in pleasure. He takes his other hand and messages the other breast pinching your other nipple occasionally.

Your core was practically aching for friction at this point you wiggle your hips. Ayato's attention shifts again. "How cute.. Someone's needy." He says after releasing your breast from his mouth. He shifts his attention to untie your obi to get the rest of your pesky kimono out of the way. When he does you catch a glimpse of the sizable bulge in his pants. "I could say the same for you." You tease. "Can you blame me?" He responds as you lift your hips so you can let him discard your kimono on the floor. "Besides, your one to comment when your panties have a wet spot." He states bluntly as he slides off the bed dragging you by the hips to set you at the side of the bed.

Ayato plays with the waistband of your panties eyes once again meeting your asking for silent permission to go on. As if you would stop him now. He must take your silence for reassurance because he drags your panties down your hips and discards them somewhere with your kimono. He parts your legs and spreads your pussy open. "You're soaked..." He sounds breathless as he stares at your glistening hole. "Don't stare!" You protest as you attempt to close your legs, admittedly flustered. Ayato, of course, overpowers you by keeping you legs spread and plants a firm's kiss on your clit.

He takes his time eating you out. Making sure to tease all the spots he gets a good reaction out of you. Your grip on the beds' silken sheets will tear somehow. Ayato looks up at you making eye contact with you before sucking on you clit particularly hard. You almost cum right there. After a one more delicate kiss on your core he brings his fingers up to your mouth. "Suck on these for me please." He says. Instinctively you take his fingers in your mouth. The flush across his face as you tease the tips of his fingers is something you'll definitely be thinking about later.

Once Ayato decides you've soaked his fingers enough he gently pulls them from your mouth. You let out a whine and Ayato takes the opportunity to spread your legs a bit wider. "Oral fixation... Good to know." He teases. Taking his now wet fingers he gently prods at your damp fold locking eyes with you as he slowly inserts a finger into you. You bring a hand out to cover the guttural moan that spills from your mouth.

Ayato looks up at you, eyes boring into yours. "You better keep your voice down, we don't want the entire estate to know I'm giving my 'disobedient maid' a punishment. " He winks, and you click your tongue at him. Ayato quickly slides another finger into your hole before you can come up with something to throw back at him.

Ayato scissors his fingers, opening you up for him. You feel close, that all too familiar high. "C.. close" is the only thing you can muster without being too loud, you were just so sensitive. He smiles sinisterly at you, rudely ripping his finger from your aching core. "Not yet, I want you to cum with me inside you." He bashfully explains. To think Kamisato Ayato is blushing, you still honestly can't tell if this is a fever dream or not.

While in your own thoughts Ayato shed the rest of clothing and you finally get to see his cock. It's definitely not going to fit... He's going to split you in half. You move to get off the bed to 'return the favor' but Ayato stops you. "Next time... I need you right now." Pushing you back down on the bed he grabs some oil stashed under his bed and lubes up his dick. Pumping it a few times for good measure. The anticipation is gnawing at you, as he runs his length in-between your folds.

You open your mouth to tell him to hurry up, but his lips catch yours and he inserts himself into you. Ayato takes, what would have been an earth shattering groan, from your lips as he lets you adjust to his size. Pinning your arms above your head he peppers your face with kisses as your pain slowly morphs into pleasure. Eventually the pain stops and you relish in the feeling of being full, the glee of that gets old pretty fast and now all you want is Ayato to rail you into high heaven.

You wiggle your hips as a gesture to show him you're ready and he smiles down at you. "Use your words... Ask me what you want." He's a fucking sadistic asshole. "Please?" You whine. "Please what? (Y/N), you always have something to say, why are you so shy now?" You hate him, tears of desperation fill your eyes. " Ayato please fuck me, I need you to fuck me. I can't-" You choke back a moan as Ayato slides all the way out of you and rams his dick back into you. He buries his face into your neck. "Good girl." He praises before leaving yet another hickey you'll have to cover later.

He sets a steady pace snapping his hips into yours. You can only imagine how fucked out you look right now. Ayato looks like an Archon himself above you, his furrowed brow and the sweat glistening on his forehead. To think you hated this man a few hours ago... Now look at you, completely at his mercy. The soft grunts he lets out next to your ear you wish to engrave in your memories forever.

Ayato hits that spot inside you that makes your vision blur and you can't suppress the whine that spills out this time. "Ther..Fuck...There!" Ayato hones into that spot, causing you to fall over the edge. He gently thrusts in and out of you helping you ride out your orgasm. With the combination of your soft whines and how tight your climax made you, he pulls out and comes all over your stomach.

With no strength left Ayato collapses, gently, onto you. "Noooo" you whine weakling. " My stomach is a mess now you're messy too." "I'll call for a maid to bring me a towel." You smack him and he laughs, rolling off you. He pushes himself up off the bed and grabs a small towel from a drawer. Gently tending to your cum covered stomach before attending to himself. You curl up on his bed, as you watch him as he grabs your clothes along with his. "So next time huh?" You smirk. "Pardon?" He freezes for a moment. "I owe you one, so you know... This doesn't have to be a one time thing." He clears his throat. "I wouldn't be opposed to that, I suppose."

You push yourself up to grab your clothes from him but immediately regret it as every muscle in your body refuses to cooperate with you. You fall back on the bed Ayato chuckles softly. "Rest for a bit before leaving... Leaving too hastily will definitely cause more suspicion than leaving now anyway... " He lays back down on the bed pulling your body into his. "I didn't take you for a cuddler My Lord." You joke, followed by a yawn. He laughs, stroking your back just as softly as he did when you were crying. "Rest for a bit. I promise I'll wake you up in a bit." You nod sleepily into his chest. "Just for a bit is fine." You mumble before drifting off to sleep in Ayato's arms.

-------- ••• ------- ✧ °✧° ✧ -------- ••• -------

OH MY GOD I FINISHED IT HAHAHAHA GET ABSOLUTELY FUCKED PAST ME. If you read all of this I both sincerely apologize and thank you for reading my self serving fic. I hope you enjoyed it even a tiny bit.

#kamisato ayato #ayato kamisato #ayato x reader #ayato smut #ayato x fem!reader #ayato x y/n #kamisato ayato x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imapct #this is so long bro #my writing #kamisato ayato x you #kamisato ayato smut

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nebulousbrainsoup · 1 year

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PAIRING: biker!kang yeosang x fem!reader GENRE: romance, strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, lil bit of angst, teeny bit of comedy SUMMARY: more often than not, a life lived in Night City is carefully crafted, slotted firmly between preapproved lines—or it is if you value keeping it. whispers of freedom float just beyond the city's neon lights, and it's only through a chance encounter with the most unlikely of characters that you finally start to hear them. TAGS/WARNINGS: explicit content, minors do not interact!, biker!yeosang, biker!seonghwa, misuse of lore terms, extensive control of emotions, artificial intelligence, food, shady government tampering, mysterious disappearance/implied death of unnamed bg character, near-death experiences, mild motorcycle wreck, injury, language, discussions of government corruption, alcohol consumption, discussions of being unhappy with life, unbetaed & barely edited, pov shifts, inspired by outlaw teasers/posters & @hwaightme's This World (Bai is well aware of my shenanigans); tell me if i missed anything pls! WORD COUNT: 12.6k PLAYLIST: Don't Stop - ATEEZ ; Control - Halsey ; Paranoia on Main Street - Demi the Daredevil ; ERROR - The Warning ; Ghost - Halsey ; Virtual Reality - rey ; Aqua Regia - Sleep Token ; AMOUR - The Warning ; BURN IT DOWN - Linkin Park ; Z - The Warning ; mercy - KiNG MALA ; EVOLVE - The Warning A/N: it's finally here, and with a playlist too!!! (yes it's a lot of The Warning, but this whole fic is ERROR-coded i had to) this fic has taken me close to a month to write, it is my baby, so pls treat it with care <3 i have to give world's biggest shout out to Bai for inspiring this absolute beast and for giving me the privilege of tipping my hat to it and her in my first full-length ateez fic. i hope it lives up to expectations. much love, ash tagging the homies: @jaehunnyy & @justhere4kpop

nsfw tags under the cut ; masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

this work is 18+. this is a friendly reminder that if i catch a minor interacting with this work, they will be blocked. so don't :)

A/N 2: y'all remember the opening to the Kingdom performance of Rhythm Ta? "The disease is human emotion"?? well, that was echoing in my head on a very obnoxious repeat, and this fic (and its smut scene) absolutely reflects that. you've been warned. NSFW TAGS/WARNINGS: explicit consent included, protected sex, yeosang keeps a condom in his wallet (don't do that!), they're both switches p.2, outdoor sex, pet/nicknames (doll, angel, Sangie), hair pulling, lil bit of marking, yeosang's voice, oral (fem receiving), handjob, decently fast-paced, also emotionally charged; lmk if i missed anything!

It was always unnerving, delivering in this Sector. He'd done so countless times without incident, but even so, Yeosang could feel the infinite eyes of the Guardians upon him. His first trip to this particular building had left him shaken, turning down any more legitimate, above-board deliveries for the rest of the night and hightailing it back to the rest of the Blue Birds as soon as his duty was done. Mars had been less than pleased, scowling at him as he scolded, “As far as they can tell, you’re a delivery boy. There will be no reason for suspicion until you run.” A valid point, certainly, but one Yeosang had trouble reminding himself of while trapped in that neon maze.

The next night, he dutifully shoved down the nausea that crept up his throat and the shudder that threatened to rip down his spine as he stared up at the looming steel pillar in front of him. Plastic bag in hand, he took a deep breath and pressed the building's buzzer, trying to find comfort in the shadows and the familiar blue of the lights.

The intercom crackling to life startled him, nausea welling up inside him again as he spoke, “Blue Bird Delivery with an order for Y/N.”

“Come in, I’ll meet you down in the lobby!”

It took a moment, that first night, to recover from hearing a human voice rather than the monotone, robotic rasp of a Guardian coming from a government building. He hadn’t expected life or warmth to greet him amidst the blinding lights of the lobby, but both did as you stepped out of the elevator, still in your lab coat and gloves, smiling softly and subtly at him as you patted your pockets. “Shit, I forgot what I owe you.”

Something about the way he looked as he tilted his head in confusion, helmet still on and bandana still pulled up around his nose, had you focusing all your remaining willpower on not doubling over in laughter. “You paid online. You don’t owe me anything.”

His turn to bite back laughter came then, standing there with his arms folded and his lower lip between his teeth as he watched the gears in your head turn.

“Long day, hm?” The words left his mouth before he even registered them, and as your eyes snapped back to his visor, his heart jumped into his throat.

To his surprise and relief, you laughed, and the tension in both of your bodies drained simultaneously. “It’s two in the morning and I’m having my dinner delivered to work,” you countered, “you tell me.”

Behind his mask, Yeosang smiled. “Have a good evening.”

Nothing about the anonymous man on the moped should have piqued your interest. But that same night, as you settled in the empty employee cafeteria, the stranger seemed unwilling to vacate your mind. Sure, he’d joked around with you; that was unusual in this Sector with the plethora of Guardians milling about at all hours, but not unheard of; and it was a little odd he hadn’t taken his helmet off. Neither of those things, you thought, were good enough justifications for the thought that circled your mind on repeat until sleep finally began to take you; when can I see him again?

As luck would have it, the answer turned out to be “soon” and “frequently.” You and your team were already a week behind the requested lead time on your current build, and as the days dragged on, the microchip’s flaws only seemed to multiply exponentially—much to your annoyance; you’d warned the design team, after all. Of course, the longer it took, the worse the hours got. By the time you made it home after twelve or more hours locked in the clean room, being leered at by eyeless creatures and pulled into at least one far-too-heated debate over a fix or adjustment every two hours, it was all you could do to make it into bed. Cooking was not an option; you lived on delivery.

It wasn’t always Blue Bird—they seemed to reserve themselves for the late night and early morning; but when it was, it was always him. The same jacket, same jeans, same fingerless gloves and bandana obscuring his features, and the same warm, silky baritone greeting you from underneath it all. He rarely joked with you again, seeming to become skittish as more of your team members stayed later and the late-night Guardian presence increased, but you continued to exchange basic pleasantries. Your manners wouldn’t leave you in the face of tighter security. Still, you couldn’t blame him in the slightest—you yourself wanted to have a word with whatever psychopath had designed their ‘faces’—but you couldn’t help missing the teasing lilt his voice held that first night.

Around a month after your late nights became mandatory, you had trudged into work as usual, with four hours of sleep and the largest coffee cup in your arsenal the only things keeping you upright, and the chaos you were met with nearly made you walk back out. Your production manager was nowhere to be found, leaving you and the rest of your coworkers to scramble to find something, anything that could direct your workflow for the day. It was you who, in sorting through the papers in and on the desk in his office, figured out why. Every ounce of your self-control went toward keeping your eyes from shifting to meet the cameras as you shoved the incriminating papers back where you had found them, rising to your feet to sift through the mess on the desktop once again. Somehow, even with your shaking hands and unfocused gaze, you managed to find what you were looking for, pulling the newest revision of the drawing from a stack you were positive you’d already searched. Hidden, maybe, you thought.

Returning to the clean room and pinging your team melded hazily into going over the drawing, which faded into you handing out tasks on autopilot until, finally, you were left alone at the work table you had claimed as your own. Falling back into your chair, you finally let yourself acknowledge what you had seen—drawings. Dozens of them, tucked—no, pointedly hidden away between the various books and manuals stored in the bottom drawer that, until this point, you could have sworn was always locked. They weren't unusual for your production manager to have in the slightest, under normal circumstances—their desk was usually covered in white sheets.

But between the loyal employee’s unannounced “sick day” and the amount of White-Out painted across months of drawings for new tech you and your team had been having unprecedented trouble with… These weren’t normal circumstances, and you figured they wouldn’t be coming back to work any time soon. Before you could lose yourself wondering what exactly this development would mean for you and your team, the whirring of a camera lens zooming snapped you out of your thoughts, and you quickly buried yourself in your work once more. Prying would only get you in trouble.

The morning passed in a blur, you spent your lunch hour staring at the stark white wall behind your newest, least jaded coworker’s head as they prattled on, and before you knew it, those still intent on keeping eight hour shifts were beginning to filter out of the building. The ever-present hum of machines and voices slowly dwindled until you were alone with the buzzing lights overhead and the sound of your own breathing. Most days, this was when you got your best work done. No one else was here to bother you, fewer people meant fewer Guardians breathing down your neck, and you could make any snide comments or use any language you wished without offending the sensibilities of anyone nearby. But tonight, once your last coworker had waved goodbye and the click of the door shutting behind them had finished echoing ominously behind them, the usually comforting silence that enveloped you brought with it a sense of unshakable dread. Shifting uncomfortably, you let your eyes wander over the empty clean room, lifting your head nearly imperceptibly.

You wanted to leave. Every hair on your body was standing on edge, and every fiber of your being was screaming at you to run, to get as far away from this Sector as you could. Something was going on here, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the crosshairs were zeroing in on you next. But running—leaving, you corrected yourself; you have nothing to run from—early would only arouse suspicion, wouldn’t it? You’d lived your life slotted neatly between the lines the government had drawn, but that hadn’t kept you from hearing the horror stories of those who toed those lines or, heaven forbid, stepped across them. There was no reason to feel this way.

Until.

For as large as the Guardians were, the things were nearly silent in their movement. If you hadn’t tinkered time and again with their abilities yourself, you’d believe the stories that they could teleport. It was in front of you in the time it took you to blink, and you nearly jumped out of your skin as your eyes met the chrome monstrosity that was its ‘face.’ Gingerly setting down the delicate tools and microchip in your shaking hands, you set carefully practiced neutrality on your face and suppressed a shudder as its message began to play.

“L/N Y/N. Requested by Upper Management. Follow.”

In seconds, ice filled your veins. If anyone had asked, you’d tell them, truthfully, that it was survival instinct alone which carried you to your destination. When you finally came back into yourself, you were staring at the imposing wooden doors you knew belonged to your location’s operational manager. Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you knocked, and were immediately met with your manager’s voice ushering you in.

“Hello, sir,” you greeted, bowing lowly as you shuffled over the threshold.

“To you as well, Miss L/N,” he offered in return from behind his desk, snapping shut the file in his hands. “Please, have a seat. We have much to discuss.”

“So what’s our next move, then?” Yeosang chewed on the inside of his lip thoughtfully, listening to the silence on the other end of his comms grow ever louder. “Seonghwa?”

“If I had an answer, I’d tell you,” his companion spat back, leaning further down over his handlebars and pulling ahead of him. It didn’t matter that they needed a new game plan within the next few hours, he was done talking. With a sigh, Yeosang sat back, rolling his own throttle forward to keep pace as he fell in behind his friend.

Night City sped by in a blur as they rode in silence, eyes and ears trained to the streets they were patrolling. Small houses gave way to apartment buildings and local shops with no movement on the streets, but still the tension in Yeosang’s shoulders rose with each passing minute. Finally, as they passed into the city center and neon skyscrapers began to loom over their heads, he could stand it no longer. He felt like he was suffocating, and they were miles off-course for their patrol anyway.

“Mars. Something feels off,” he called, pulling off his throttle and sitting up straighter.

There was silence for a beat as the other man pulled further ahead, and Yeosang watched his helmet turn. “What are you seeing that I’m not?”

“Nothing, I just have this feeling—”

“Well, keep an eye and an ear out, and we’ll deal with it when we have to.”

He sighed, tossing a narrowed side-eye Seonghwa’s way before turning his gaze back to the streets and leaving him with his thoughts. Maybe it was just this Sector, he reasoned. The artificial gaze of the cameras, drones, and Guardians was enough to put anyone on edge. Couple that with the time he’d been spending here, making deliveries of all kinds, and of course he was feeling on edge. It was nothing.

It took another block for the itching anxiety to come back full-force. “Mars.”

A sigh crackled over his comms. “I don’t see or hear anything, Hermes. It’s probably just the surveillance systems getting to your head.”

Yeosang sighed, nearly resigning his edginess to paranoia again. Until, out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. “On your left, look.”

A person was quickly making their way out of the government building he brought most of Blue Bird’s above-board deliveries to, oblivious to the two motorcycles sailing in their direction. He saw the moment Seonghwa made his decision, weight settling further over his handlebars as he shifted into a higher gear. In moments like this, he thought—moments where his desperate search for adrenaline dragged someone else a little too close to the line they delivered others across; the moniker of the ancient god of war fit his friend a little too well.

He knew the drill by now; fall back, open mid-distance communication with whatever unit was patrolling here for clean-up—just in case he cut a little too close to you—and meet back—wait.

His head snapped up from his watch, abandoning his redirect halfway through in favor of surging forward to catch up with Seonghwa. “Mars, don’t!”

The shout had Seonghwa’s helmet snapping up in alarm, his weight shifting back and throwing both him and his precious Suzuki Hayabusa off-balance. For a moment, he tried desperately to downshift and tame the beast under him, a cause that quickly became lost between his own speed and the downhill slope of the street. You had frozen in your tracks at the sight of the two machines barreling toward you, one now out of control, and Yeosang’s heart skipped a beat or two as the events in front of him began to unfold in slow motion.

You had been sent home early—well, early for you, anyway; the weight of your new position heavy on your shoulders. Production manager. It was everything you should have wanted—everything you had wanted at one point; but the thought of coming in to work tomorrow morning, moving your meager belongings out of your locker and into your former boss’ office to pretend everything was fine had bile rising in your throat. Your meeting with upper management had shed no light on the mysterious disappearance of the last person in charge, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that a target had been painted on your back now, too. Maybe that was just paranoia, though—you had no plans to sabotage any products, after all. What reason would anyone have to make you disappear?

Lost in your thoughts as you began the trek home, you failed to drag your eyes from your feet, only noticing the two headlights careening toward you when the rumble of their engines was close enough to feel in the ground below you. You froze, stunned as your heart jumped into your throat. Was this the dread you had been feeling? Was this the curse of your new position? There was little you could do about it now, you supposed, staring down what you were sure was certain death. It was silly, but you couldn’t help wondering whether your new delivery boy friend would miss you.

“Shit!” Seonghwa hissed, the curse crackling in Yeosang’s earpiece.

Your shoulders tensed and you took a step back and raised your hands, clearly bracing for the oncoming disaster. Mere seconds before your fate would have been sealed, he watched the unimaginable unfold in front of his eyes; Seonghwa, heeding his words of caution, threw his weight to the right, sending his bike skidding away from the both of you. The grunt he let out as he hit the pavement weaved together with the screech of metal on asphalt, a discordant symphony echoing through his helmet. You added no harmony of your own to it, only flinching as the man who would’ve been your doom rolled to a halt at your feet, visor reflecting familiar blue neon as he stared at the sky. He saw rather than heard the breath you let out, watching your shoulders drop from your ears as you stumbled away from Seonghwa’s prone form.

“What the fuck,” you gasped out, one hand splaying out over your chest as you caught your breath. Adrenaline was coursing through you, leaving your heart pounding and hands shaking as the other biker sidled up next to you.

“I’ll say,” the man below you grumbled, slowly climbing back to his feet. He winced as he settled his weight on his right leg, limping heavily as he made his way back to his friend and leaned against their bike. “You should probably look before you cross the street next time.”

“I was halfway into the road, you ass!” You fumed, snarling at the man before you in stark contrast to the last time you’d met a masked stranger. “You could’ve gone around me—it’s not like you were driving a car!”

Yeosang couldn’t help the giggle he let out at the sight of you—mild-mannered, eternally frazzled you—standing toe-to-toe with the infamous Mars, masked vigilante leader of the Blue Bird biker gang. He bit his lip quickly, hoping his mic hadn’t picked up the quiet noise.

No such luck, it seemed, as the other man whipped around to face him. Somehow, the visor was more intimidating than the scathing glare he knew lay behind it. “Something funny?”

He shook his head, the action dizzying him just slightly when coupled with the weight of his helmet and the adrenaline cooling in his veins, and raised his hands in surrender. “Nope,” he hummed, nodding over to the wrecked Hayabusa. “You think you can get that thing to the shop, or do I need to do it for you?”

Seonghwa shifted his weight, testing his injuries lightly. “Help me get her up and I’ll take it from there,” he muttered.

Something about the man with the cruiser was familiar, you decided, as you watched the pair cross to the bike and set it back upright. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but between his voice and the way he carried himself, he reminded you of someone. You’d never seen either of their bikes before, though, and both of these individuals struck you as the type who were connected to their respective machines. You were still racking your brain for the answer as his friend pulled away, sparing you no apology, and it wasn’t until he reached up, tugging at the chains around his neck with familiar, skeleton-gloved hands, that it hit you.

“You’re the Blue Bird Delivery guy.”

Yeosang froze in his tracks, blinking and stunned as he scrambled for an excuse. “I, uh…”

“Your friend just almost killed me. The least you could do is be honest,” you prodded, crossing your arms over your chest.

The way he looked down told you there was a sheepish smile on his face, and you wanted nothing more than for him to finally remove his visor so you could bask in it. “Yeah, I am.”

“Does my near-death experience mean I get free delivery next time?” you quipped. The laugh that left him this time was full-bodied, heard even through the thick padding and metal of his helmet. You decided then and there that you would stop at nothing to hear that sound again.

The grin you gave him in exchange was sunny, another mark of your warmth in the midst of Night City’s eternal chill. “I might be able to arrange something for you, sure,” he hummed, his smile evident in his tone. “But that might end up being my paycheck you’re cutting into.”

You shrugged. “I’ll tip the difference.”

“Then there’s no point!” Another cheery laugh bubbled up from him, and you found yourself leaning closer to the delivery boy-turned-biker as you shared in his joy. For all the leather and mystery, he didn’t seem all that intimidating; he was nothing like his counterpart had been. He seemed shy and maybe even friendly behind the facade, and the interactions you’d had with him before seemed to corroborate your guess. Again, that familiar feeling of longing that had struck the first night came back to you as he took a step back toward his bike.

Luckily for you, your mouth worked faster than your brain. “Would you want to maybe go get coffee with me?”

Your inability to read his expression meant the silence you were met with had you wanting to pull your words back into your mouth; to rewind time so you’d never spoken; so you’d looked up and seen Delivery Boy’s idiot friend speeding at you; so you’d never ordered from Blue Bird in the first place—

“I can’t, tonight,” he muttered. If he removed his helmet, you would be able to see the tips of his ears turning red. “But maybe another time?”

Your heart sank. When would you ever have time again? “Um, maybe. We could exchange information?”

He tensed, shaking his head gently. “I know where to find you.”

Again, you felt yourself deflate. “Can I… Could you at least tell me your name? So I know who to contact if your friend ever tries to kill me again?” Your attempt to lighten the darkening mood was half-hearted at best, but you tried for a weak smile.

For the third time that night, Yeosang froze. It felt like every camera and Guardian in the vicinity had their lenses trained on him as you asked what was, to anyone other than Yeosang and the rest of his friends, the simplest question in the world. This time, he recovered quickly, unwilling to draw more suspicion to himself than Seonghwa already had with his stunt. “Hermes.”

Your brow furrowed, and he found himself wanting to swipe the crease between them away. “Just Hermes?”

He nodded, stepping back to his bike and tossing his leg over the body, feeling suddenly like a rat in a trap again. “Just Hermes, for now. You can find out the rest later.” He sent you a wink as his bike roared to life under him, only to hang his head when he realized you couldn’t see it.

You tilted your head at him as his shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Hermes?”

“Yeah, I, uh… I shouldn’t try to flirt. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

Staring after him, still in the middle of the street, that longing feeling pulled at you again, following his dimming taillight over the horizon.

He was flirting?

“You did what?!”

Yeosang flinched. He was very rarely on the receiving end of Seonghwa’s wrath, but between the wreck and his… slip up with you earlier, he found himself squarely in the sights of Mars.

“What was I supposed to do, give her my full legal name?” he argued, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning, trying to at least somewhat match the energy in the warehouse. “That would’ve been a death wish.”

“So you gave her your callsign instead?” Yeosang shrugged, earning a scoff in return. If he were being honest with himself, he didn’t know why he’d done what he’d done either. “What you should have done was hopped on your bike and come straight back here, like we always do.”

His eyes turned to the floor, and for a moment, everything was silent. “She recognized me,” he muttered, quiet voice still managing to echo like a whipcrack between them.

“You took your helmet off in the middle of the city?!” Seonghwa was on his feet now, yelling, and Yeo might have been scared, if not for the panic flashing behind his friend’s eyes.

“No, no, I’m not that stupid.” The older man settled, leaning back against the beam beside him once more, arms crossing over his chest. “My voice, and the gloves, I think. She didn’t say, but she pinned me, and I panicked. I couldn’t just turn tail and run; that would’ve looked worse.”

Finally, a smile cracked the cold demeanor Yeosang had been facing down, and the tension between the two men split as Seonghwa shook his head in exasperation. “If you make me wreck my baby again, I’m making you pay to fix it.”

The comment earned a hearty eye roll as he shifted his attention back to the bike he’d been outfitting upon Seonghwa’s arrival. “As if Yunho makes you pay.” The other man hummed dismissively, and he chuckled quietly. “Could’ve gone a lot worse, anyway. She could’ve had the Guardians on us in seconds for you running her down.”

Seonghwa frowned, staring thoughtfully at his freshly patched bike for a moment. “She could have. Why didn’t she?” He murmured, eyes flickering back up to Yeosang.

“I… hadn’t considered it.” The younger blinked, matching the elder’s frown and sitting back on the ground. Why wouldn’t you call the authorities on them? They were at your beck and call, hiding just beyond the gates of the building you’d been in front of at the time. Most people in your Sector would have quickly taken advantage of the convenience, leaving the two outlaws to flee for their lives. It wouldn’t have been the first time, nor did Yeosang think it would have been the last.

“Do you know what she does there?” He blinked out of his thoughts, shaking his head. “You might consider finding out, since you’re friendly enough to be recognized. She’s clearly not as far up the government’s ass as some of the rest of them; she could be a good in, since we just lost our last one.”

His frown deepened at the suggestion, stomach turning at the thought. “She might just do grunt work. I deliver to her a lot—she’s always there.”

“Worth a shot, though. I’ll take anything we can get at this point.”

“Maybe,” he hummed, chewing on the inside of his lip.

It was an excuse to see you, at least.

After your little run-in with Hermes and his friend, Blue Bird Delivery was out of service in your Sector. You couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that echoed in your chest every time you checked their app; you’d been hoping that your lack of a report would have kept the authorities off their trail. No such luck, it seemed. The longer time dragged on with no Blue Bird and no word from your faceless friend, the more your worry grew, and after a week and a half of radio silence, you were beginning to lose hope that he was just lying low somewhere. Until, two weeks after you had nearly been run over, their delivery started up again. You couldn’t help but smile as you clicked through your usual order from your favorite restaurant and watched as it was confirmed.

Fourty-five minutes later, your phone pinged to signal its arrival and you made your way to the lobby with a spring in your step. You barely bit back the smile that threatened to take over your face—keenly aware of the Guardian stationed outside of the elevators—as your phone buzzed again, this time to signal the ringing of the building’s doorbell. Forgoing the usual pleasantries, you quickly made your way to the door, this time stepping outside and letting it shut behind you.

It was unbelievable, really, that you’d managed to peg the edgy biker from two weeks ago as this same moped-riding, unassuming delivery driver. You thanked whatever being was listening for your attention to detail.

He offered you a small wave, fingers twitching in the air, and if there had been a doubt left in your mind that they were the same person, it would have left then. You bit the inside of your lip as you stepped forward and took ahold of the takeout bag in his hand, bowing to and thanking him.

“So, about that coffee,” he murmured quickly, his words overlapping with your own pleasantries as you both stood upright again. You blinked, head tilting in mild surprise as he continued. “When are you off work?”

“I, uh… I could be off in like an hour and a half?” You offered, smiling subtly at his visor.

“I’ll be waiting. I hope you’re okay with motorcycles.”

You could hear the little smile behind his many masks, and your heart fluttered. “I’ll see you then.”

“Will I get to see your face?” He stopped in his tracks at your bold question, and you clapped a hand over your mouth. “Sorry, I— If you’re not comfortable—”

“If you don’t mind a little bit of a drive, then maybe.”

You looked at the ground, taking your lower lip between your teeth to force back your grin. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

It was a risk, Yeosang knew, revealing his identity. Seonghwa wouldn’t be happy when he found out; but what was another bout of his anger in the grand scheme of things, really? If the risk turned out to be worth the reward, he’d end up back in his friend’s good graces at record speed—and he had a gut feeling that would be the outcome. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of curiosity and wonder he’d experienced when you greeted him that first night, full of bright life and warmth in the middle of a desolate steel tundra. Something about you was different from the others that roamed your Sector—you’d proven that tenfold two weeks ago; and Yeosang was more than happy for the opportunity to figure out exactly what that was. Meeting you, really meeting you, was the first step.

It was a risk, sure, but a calculated one.

The closer the clock ticked toward your designated meeting time, the antsier Yeosang got. He’d finished the rest of his deliveries in record speed and closed things down for the night, stopping back by the warehouse just long enough to inform Seonghwa of his plans and make the shift from delivery boy to biker. The elder was yelling something after him that Yeosang didn’t quite catch, tossing a wave over his shoulder before the door clanged shut behind him. He was back in your Sector in record speed, anticipation building in his veins the closer the clock ticked to your meeting.

And as it ticked past, he began to feel trapped. More and more as the seconds ticked past into minutes, he found himself glimpsing his watch, glancing warily over his shoulder and at the door of your building, waiting for you to emerge. Five minutes turned to ten, and ten to twenty; he’d nearly considered calling this a lost cause before you finally made your way from the building, eyes darting around the street as you stepped onto the sidewalk. He watched your face fall just slightly as you saw no sign of him, only to brighten in the next moment as he flicked his headlight back on. Stepping out of his hiding place, he pulled one hand out of his coat pocket, giving you the same wave he had earlier in the evening. He looked ridiculous, you thought, halfway between your delivery boy and the biker you’d met briefly—the same long, black and red leather coat, but this time sporting the same helmet and goggles he wore on his moped.

Barely biting back your grin, you nearly skipped over to him, and he beamed behind his bandana. “I wasn’t sure you were still coming,” he hummed.

You looked down and huffed a little sigh, feeling heat rising to the tips of your ears. “I’m sorry, paperwork just took a little longer than I expected tonight. I’m still adjusting.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I know what your hours can be like.” Again, you heard the smile in his voice, and you wanted nothing more than to see it. “I wouldn’t have blamed you, anyway. If I were going out to an undisclosed location with a mysterious, masked stranger, I’d be wary, too.”

You giggled softly, and Yeosang’s chest got tighter. He wanted to bottle up that sound and wear it around his neck, close enough for him to pull out and listen to any chance he got. “You don’t feel like a stranger.”

The blush that rose to Yeosang’s cheeks was, frankly, embarrassing, and he was more thankful than ever for his need to remain anonymous. “Neither do you,” he murmured in return.

Reaching down to the backpack he’d dropped at his feet, he unlatched the helmet from it, offering it out to you. “When do you have to be back at work?”

You blinked, tilting your head at him and taking the offered helmet. “I have tomorrow off, actually. New position, new hours.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about it when we get where we’re going, then.”

You’d been entirely unprepared for the feeling of riding a motorcycle, much less riding one with Hermes. When the growl of the engine kicked up beneath you, you’d found yourself clinging tighter to his middle, earning a low chuckle that you felt more than heard. The city streets gave you some time to adjust and by the time you reached its outskirts, your heart rate had mostly returned to normal. As he took you past the little rows of houses that marked the beginning of the edge of Night City and into the warehouse district that followed, though, it picked up again.

What were you doing?

You hadn’t told anyone where you were going or who you were with; you didn’t even know who you were with, not really, anyway. A few passing interactions didn’t count for “get to know you” material, in your humble opinion. His friend had nearly killed you, or at the very least nearly put you in the hospital. You had no clue what this man looked like and only had one name, which you were nearly certain was, itself, an alias.

This was easily the stupidest decision you had ever made.

As he pulled to a stop just before the city limit, the desert sprawled out in front of you, and you loosened your hold around his middle. To your surprise, he noticed immediately, turning over his shoulder to glance at you before pulling your hands tighter around him again.

“Only a few more minutes, I promise. Hold on tight.”

His voice was like magic, washing over you and soothing your nerves. It brought with it the familiarity and warmth you’d come to associate with Hermes; the warmth of the sun in a place where it had been blotted out. Shifting closer to him and squeezing him tighter, you nodded. “Let’s go.”

Riding through the desert was a rush entirely different than puttering through the streets of the city. Hermes had shifted his shoulders forward, picked his feet up, and sent you sailing into the cool night. You shivered as the wind whipped around you, slipping your cold hands under his jacket to seek heat you couldn’t find through the leather. He jolted slightly at the contact, helmet tilting back toward you for a split second, and you thought you felt him laugh again. It was terrifying, cold and dark, save for the strip of road illuminated by the headlight.

But it was also exhilarating. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as his speed climbed, and although you were freezing, the excuse to curl closer to Hermes was not unwelcome. It felt like freedom, being even five minutes outside of Night City, seeing never-ending darkness rather than eternal, artificial light, being here with someone you barely knew, taking the risk of a lifetime. Your initial fear was gone, replaced entirely with childlike wonder, and you let out a quiet giggle, relaxing just slightly as you gazed out at your surroundings.

You were almost a little disappointed when, as promised, Hermes began to slow a few minutes later, just as you were cresting the top of a bluff. When he had killed the engine and steadied his bike, he carefully pulled your arms from around him, swinging off of it to offer you a hand. You took it readily, leaning heavily on him as you stood on wobbly legs. He let out a quiet laugh as you stumbled into him just slightly, and you found yourself thankful for the helmet you still wore. Once you had gained your footing, he let you go, letting you remove the cumbersome thing before reaching for the pack he’d secured onto your back before your ride.

“Sorry again about that,” he muttered, “I really didn’t think before I decided to bring things along. It was either you or the storage compartment on the back.”

You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “Don’t worry about it, I needed it as much as you did. Holding onto my stuff the whole time would’ve been a pain.” Breathing a pleased sigh, you set your loaned helmet on the seat and turned to him.

He’d removed his own helmet and goggles, leaving only the bandana hiding him as he crouched in the sand, digging in his backpack. It was a little hard to tell whether his black hair was purposefully slicked back or simply still stuck in the same state his helmet had put it in, a few strands falling into his eyes. As he tucked them behind his ear, eyes narrowing in annoyance, your attention was drawn to the movement, and your gaze landed on the birthmark beside his left eye. Your jaw dropped open just slightly as you stared, taking a step forward and kneeling in front of him. Even with half of his face still hidden from you, you could tell Hermes was a fitting name for him—he truly did have the beauty of a Greek god.

Steely gray eyes flicked up as they registered the movement, and you felt the wind knocked out of you under their intensity. Just as quickly as they had snapped to you, they softened, and once again, you were left wondering how to reconcile your delivery boy with the vigilante-esque biker in front of you.

“I brought some blankets, snacks and soju. I figured we could stay for a little while, get to know each other,” he murmured, looking out to the horizon.

Was the dim light playing tricks on you, or were the tips of his ears turning pink?

You beamed at him, smiling wide with your teeth for the first time since you’d met, and Yeosang felt his heart flutter. It did that more frequently lately, it seemed.

“Sure, yeah. Does food mean I get to see the rest of your face?”

This time, you heard the giggle that left him, the sound wrapping you up like a warm hug. “That depends. You’re not going to drag me back to the Guardians by my hair if I end up being a wanted criminal, are you?”

“If I wanted to do that, I would’ve sent them after you and your friend two weeks ago.”

He sighed, breathing another laugh and looking at the ground, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair. Seriously, though. I might actually be a wanted criminal, and I might actually need you to confirm whether or not you’re going to turn me in.”

You blinked, brow furrowing for a moment. He couldn’t be serious. Sighing, you gave in. “No, I won’t drag you back to the authorities. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, standing and pulling a blanket from his backpack. “Do you want to face toward or away from the city?”

You glanced behind you, back in the direction you had come from. The neon lights shone like a beacon in the distance, a slow gradient from electric blues and purples to fiery oranges and yellows as the city spread. Red tinted the edges of the amoebic mass of industry, giving the impression of a spreading fire or trickling blood. You shuddered.

“Away, please,” you murmured, and he nodded, spreading out the blanket to overlook the edge of the bluff, out into the quiet of the desert. Setting his bag at its edge, he gestured to it and moved back to his bike, pointing the headlight out in the direction you would be facing. You settled in, curling in on yourself and rubbing your arms for warmth against the chilly night.

Before you could dwell on it too much, something warm and heavy dropped onto your shoulders. Glancing up, you found Hermes had shed his coat and settled it over your shoulders, leaving him in a tank top and you blushing. You hadn’t expected a toned body underneath the puffy Blue Bird jacket he always wore, and you could barely tear your eyes away from him as he situated himself next to you. He was a little more than just fit, if his arms were anything to go by.

“So,” he began, leaning back on his hands, eyes fixed with yours on the horizon. “New job, you said? What are you doing now?”

You heaved a sigh, pulling his jacket tighter around your shoulders as your eyes turned to the ground. “Production management,” you murmured dejectedly. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shift to face you. “I got… Promoted, I guess. I don’t know why, because there are other people who’ve been there for years that I’m sure would be better at this than me, but…” you trailed off, sighing again, and when you glanced up, the concern in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. “I didn’t ask for it, but I couldn’t really turn it down.”

His eyebrows creased for a moment, something like disgust or anger flashing behind his gaze. “Why not?”

You shifted uncomfortably, gnawing at the inside of your lip for a moment. “Well, I would’ve been stupid to, for one. And no isn’t a very well-received word when you work for the government.”

He hummed thoughtfully, looking back out over the horizon. “You didn’t have any sort of warning?” You shook your head, catching him glancing at you from your peripheral. “Don’t people usually give a two-week notice or something?”

“They do when they don’t disappear without a trace.”

Yeosang shot upright at your words, eyes wide as he turned to you. “They what?”

You startled just slightly, turning to better face him. “He disappeared. No word, no sign. I got promoted the same day.”

“That’s… disturbing.”

You nodded, shifting to rest your chin on your knees, and he shifted closer, settling one arm behind you. Leaning into his side, you sighed. “It happens, sometimes, when people step a little too far out of line. Par for the course in Night City.” You heard him scoff and felt him nod as he wrapped his arm around you, giving you a quick squeeze that had you relaxing immediately.

“I’ve been wondering something,” he mused, breaking the silence that had begun stretching between the two of you. “Why didn’t you call the Guardians that night?”

The question caught you off-guard and you sat up straighter, brows furrowing together. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, your building was right there, when you almost got flattened, and I think anyone else in your position would have taken full advantage of that fact. I know others in that Sector have—my friend’s had some pretty close calls before.”

You frowned, painting careful neutrality back on your features as you stared at the ground. If anything were going yo betray you, it would be your eyes. “I didn’t really… This isn’t a trap, is it? We’ve been over me not ratting you out, but how do I know you’re not trying to trick me into saying the wrong thing? I haven’t even—”

“Seen my face?” he finished, and you nodded. “Look at me, Y/N.”

Slowly, you raised your eyes, your heart skipping a beat or two as you caught sight of his bandana, now resting just above his collar. Excitement surged in your chest as you let your gaze flicker over his features, quickly morphing into confusion and a bit of panic. “You look familiar,” you murmured, shifting away from him. “This has got to be a trap, please don’t—”

“Y/N,” he soothed, his quiet baritone settling your frayed nerves just slightly. “I wouldn’t have anything to do with the government if my life depended on it. Which, I rather prefer the opposite thing I’ve got going on instead.”

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, memories of his face flashing behind your eyes at lightning speed. Every bulletin, every news story, every poster that had displayed that same silhouette, described the same features you were staring at now, right down to the birthmark you’d been fantasizing about kissing. There were never any photos, but your mind had put together a decent enough replica.

Kang Yeosang was not the monster you had heard described in the media, you didn’t think. If he were, why hadn’t he taken his chance and poisoned your dinner? Why hadn’t he killed you the moment you were outside the city limits? Why hadn’t his friend just run you over? Where, in the slew of calls for his immediate arrest and reminders of how dangerous he and his friends were, was this man; the one who greeted you pleasantly, who made you laugh, and whose own giggles in return could warm you for days? You didn’t know what was real, what to believe anymore.

Despite yourself, you laughed. He tilted his head, an amused and wary expression on his face. “I’m sorry, I don’t— this is just—” you tried, gesturing between the two of you. “My delivery guy is Kang Yeosang, one of the most wanted criminals in Night City. It’s kind of ridiculous.”

The giggle that graced your ears was louder without barriers to cover his pretty little smile, and you beamed back at him, chest tight and warm.

“Isn’t it dangerous for you to be out and about like that?” you questioned.

He shook his head. “It’s better to hide in plain sight, actually. The Guardians rely so much on facial recognition, anyway, that as long as I stay covered up, I’m not at much risk. The delivery job gives me a good excuse to do just that.”

You nodded thoughtfully, gaze turning back to the desert. “That makes sense, I guess. Are the rest of them doing the same thing?”

“More or less.”

“So… your friend from the other night, is he one of your vigilante buddies?”

He was silent for a long moment, and when you glanced back at him, his smile had been replaced with a pensive look. “The less I tell you, the better.” Your heart sank ever so slightly, but you nodded, hoping you hadn’t overstepped too far. “Just… For your own safety, you know?”

“Yeah… That makes sense. Sorry.”

He turned to you again, tilting his head like a curious puppy, and you bit back a giggle. “Don’t be. I’m sorry for being so mysterious.”

“Don’t be,” you echoed, nudging him with your elbow. “It’s your life on the line, and I rather prefer you right where you are.”

If you could frame a moment, you would choose this one, when Yeosang blushed a shade of pink that was barely noticeable in the dim light, smiling shyly as his eyes turned to the ground. “I’m glad,” he murmured, voice only audible thanks to the complete silence around you, “because I prefer being here, too.”

It was your turn to blush as you reached for his backpack, pulling a bottle of soju from it and cracking it open, tilting the opening toward Yeosang. Cocking his head again, he followed suit, clinking the necks of your bottles together.

“To being here, then,” you offered, heart fluttering at the return of his sweet smile.

“To being here.”

With the tension broken, the silence between you two became comfortable, and you unfurled your legs from your chest, shifting to lean against Yeosang. After breaking into the snacks and a few swigs of soju, he finally broke the silence again. “You never answered my question, you know.”

You thought for a moment, and he found himself holding back a giggle at the sight of the near-pout on your face. When the realization seemed to hit, you perked up quite comically, eyes wide. “Oh! I don’t really trust the authorities anymore. After…” you sighed, chewing on the inside of your lip. “I’ve never really liked them. They’re creepy, I know what they can do, and it’s… I don’t think like what they represent, I guess. I’ve never had the guts to do anything about it, but I’ve always kind of kept my distance. And after my old boss went missing, I didn’t really… I haven’t felt right getting them involved in anything.”

He listened intently as you rambled for a moment, eyes locked onto your face as he searched for any form of deception. He couldn’t think of a single reason why you would lie to him, of all people, about your dislike for the guardians, and he was relieved when he read you as truthful. Hwa was right, then—you could be a helpful asset.

Nodding as you finished, he turned his gaze back to the horizon and capped the bottle in his hand. “That’s kind of what I thought too, at first, and it built from there pretty quickly. I guess that’s the Captain’s fault, though.”

“Hongjoong?” You questioned, taking another stiff glug of your drink.

That was a name that put you on edge to speak, like its utterance would summon its owner. Yeosang only hummed in confirmation.

You tucked yourself further into his side, tucking your legs up again as you picked at the label of your bottle. “I kinda thought you guys were a myth before tonight.” The look he gave you was something adjacent to offense, and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from your throat. “I don’t mean it in a bad way! The stories have just always been so much larger than life. I thought you were a legend the rebels of the city cooked up to keep hope or something.”

He laughed at your explanation, securing the arm that rested behind you around your waist and squeezing you into his side. You hid your face in his chest as heat rose to your cheeks, hoping he couldn’t feel your blush through the thin material of his tank top.

“You did not,” he teased, shaking your shoulder lightly. When you didn’t raise your head and only mumbled something unintelligible in response, he sat up straighter, the hand that had been holding him up coming to lift your chin. “Oh my god, you did,” he teased when you wouldn’t meet his eyes, tongue caught between his teeth. He let out that distinct, adorable giggle, and you couldn’t stop your lips from twitching into a smile.

“Yeah, I did,” you murmured, still plenty embarrassed.

You felt him shift more than you saw it, turning your head to figure out what he was up to. Freezing for a moment as you found his face inches from your own, you glanced between his eyes and lips. His fingers shifted from under your chin to splay out over the side of your face, and you saw the ghost of a smirk tug at his lips.

“You’re blushing, Y/N,” he hummed, making you impossibly more aware of the heat in your cheeks and under his palm.

When you didn’t respond, he hesitated, a small blip of wariness in the confidence on display in front of you. Before he could pull away completely, in a feat of bravery you didn’t know you were capable of, you pulled him in until your lips crashed together.

The little noise of surprise he let out was muffled between you, but he recovered quickly, pulling you tight against him and meeting your kiss with just as much fervor. He was quick to grab at your thigh, pulling it over his hips and tugging you into his lap. Hands settling on his shoulders, you barely noticed his coat falling from your own before his hands left you to catch it. He pulled back with a low hum and a smile as he settled the garment back where it had been, this time wrapping it in his embrace with you.

“Still think I’m just a myth?” He prodded, earning a scoff and an eye roll from you.

You smirked, though, as you looked back at him, eyes flickering over his own flushed face. “I don’t know, let me check again.”

You were almost sorry to swallow the giggle that left him, but any regret quickly melted away with the feeling of his lips on yours. This one was slower, soft and exploratory, a stark contrast to the sudden heat of the last. He dragged your chest flush with his own slowly, one hand splaying out between your shoulder blades while the other slid around to your opposite hip. The movement had goosebumps prickling over your skin and, despite the warmth of his body and the coat around you, you shivered. He hummed against your lips and held you ever so slightly tighter, hands beginning to wander across the expanse of your back.

When you finally broke for air, Yeosang’s hands settled at your waist, doing little more than steadying you as you breathed each other in, foreheads pressed together and eyes closed. It was like time had frozen around you, the silence of the desert night suspending you in an alternate reality, and it felt as though even the slightest movement would send you careening back to the doom that awaited you in Night City. Neither of you spoke, neither of you stirred; for a few short moments you wondered if you had forgotten how to breathe. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Yeosang broke the silence.

“Do you want me the way I want you?”

There was a rasp to his already deep voice that hadn’t been there before, and when you finally opened your eyes, he was already staring up at you, the desire burning low in his gaze making your breath catch in your throat. Swallowing thickly, you nodded, one of your hands slipping into the hair at the base of his skull. He hummed lowly, pleased, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a smirk, and guided your hips to rest more firmly against his own. You let out your own quiet sigh at the evidence of his arousal pressing against your core, quickly sealing your lips again. He met you once again with passion, an undercurrent of desperation and urgency in the way his hands ran up your body, pushing his coat off of your shoulders. Your grip on his hair tightened as he slid them under the hem of your shirt, and you swallowed the moan he let out, matching it with a quiet whine of your own.

His hands settled on your waist again, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your skin as he pulled back from you just long enough to speak, “Tell me.” You huffed, trying to guide his lips back to yours, but he held you fast. “I need to hear you say it, doll.”

The pet name had you whining, nodding eagerly as you squirmed against him. “Yes, Yeosang, I want you. Please.”

Your permission was all it took. In seconds, his lips were back on yours and his hands were exploring every inch of skin they could as his hips rolled up into your own. His explorations left your shirt bunched up, and as the cool night air met your skin to contrast pleasantly with the warmth of his hands, a shudder lit down your spine. His lips parted from your own to pepper open-mouthed kisses and teasing nips down the pillar of your throat, hands dropping back to your hips to drag you more solidly against the bulge in his jeans. You both let out breathy, broken moans and found each other’s eyes, desperation reflected back at the both of you. Your hands fell from his shoulders to slink under his tank top for a moment, fingers wandering over the toned muscles you found for a moment before running over his waistband, tugging at the buckle of his belt.

“Eager,” he murmured, leaning up to nip at your pulse. He ground up into you roughly as he shifted under you, one hand settled firmly on your hip while the other splayed over your shoulders. You barely registered his words, too preoccupied with the need coursing through you, when he spoke again. “Flip with me.”

You complied easily, letting him roll you onto your back and settle between your legs. His gaze was hungry as he ran his hands down your thighs, hesitating when he reached your waistband. A nod seemed to be all he needed to unfasten them and drag them down your legs along with your underwear, leaving you bare to his gaze and the night air, one or both of the sensations sending a shudder lighting down your spine. Feeling exposed, you moved to close your legs, but in a flash, Yeosang was settled firmly between them, fingers kneading at your thighs as he hovered at eye-level with your core.

He lapped a fat stripe over your folds and it was over for you both. The groan he let out and the hungry way he dove back in had you whimpering in seconds, legs twitching where they rested over his shoulders. His tongue worked over you a little clumsily at first, but the moment he found the things that had you gasping or whimpering, he was zeroing in on them, building you rapidly toward a peak you weren’t quite ready to fall over.

“Sangie,” you gasped, reaching down to tug at his hair and drag him up.

His eyes, closed in reverence of his position and your body, snapped open, and he sucked hard on your clit. You whined, pushing back against the top of his head. “Yeosang,” you tried again, “need you t’... Need you.”

He hummed lowly, pressing a kiss to your folds before pushing himself back up, caging you in with his body.

“You’ve got me,” he murmured, leaning down to mouth at your neck again.

You whined in protest, hand finding his hair again to pull his lips to yours, earning a low chuckle from the man above you. Reaching for his belt, you ran your nails over the front of his jeans, pulling a hiss of your own from his lips. When fumbling blindly with his belt buckle became a lost cause for both of you, he sat back on his heels, unfastening both his belt and his pants. He paused only to pull his wallet from his pocket and a condom from his wallet before he was shoving his jeans and boxers down. You let out a quiet moan at the sight of his cock, flushed and leaking, propping yourself up on an elbow and reaching for him.

The look of him as you wrapped your fingers around him was a memory you wanted to keep forever. His eyes rolled back in his head and his hips twitched up into your touch, a broken moan falling from his lips. His fingers tightened around the foil packet between them as you slowly pumped his length, his breathing quickly becoming ragged. Within moments, one hand was snapping down to grab at your wrist, halting your movements.

“You keep at that much longer, angel, and I’m not gonna last.”

You grinned, lip caught between your teeth, thumb swiping over his weeping slit. He heaved an unsteady breath, head rolling back again, before he focused back on you, glaring.

“Fuck me already, then,” you quipped, mouth ticking up in a smirk.

He huffed another laugh, shaking his head as he tore the foil open, reaching for you the moment he had a hand free to pull you in for another kiss. He lowered you to the ground as he rolled the condom over himself, gasping into your mouth at the friction, and you clung hard to his shoulders as he settled back over you. You whined as he parted from you again, tugging at his head to urge him back, but he grabbed your wrist, lacing your fingers and pinning your hand to the ground as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“You’re sure about this?”

As touched as you were by the check-in, it made your jaw twitch in irritation.

“Yes, I’m sure, fuck me, Yeosang–!” His name morphed into a long, drawn out moan as he pushed into you in one quick, fluid stroke. His own low sound melded with your own, crafting a harmony that would be echoing in your mind for weeks.

He paused for a breath, leaning down to kiss you quickly, catching your bottom lip between his teeth. You whined as he shifted within you, breath already coming in short; you were desperate for him, and if he weren’t just as desperate for you, Yeosang would have taken more time to commit the sight to memory. But with the way your walls were hugging him—and the way you had already begged him, the sight of the rapid rise and fall of your chest and the knowledge that he caused that—he couldn’t wait long or this would be over before it had even really started.

The moment you felt him begin to move, really move, within you, you let out a gasp, the hand he didn’t have pinned snapping up to tangle in his hair. You pulled him forward as he fucked into you, pressing your foreheads together, and he followed your lead eagerly, catching your lips in a sloppy kiss. It devolved quickly into little more than you moaning into each other’s mouths, hips rocking together rapidly as you chased bliss together. He was warm, strong and sure above you, and the night around you faded into nothing with the way his body covered yours, leaving both of you once again suspended in a world of your own making. Your cries and whines of pleasure echoed out into the nothingness of the desert, and for once you didn’t bother silencing yourself—out here, there were no repercussions for your pleasure.

For the second time that night, you mused over how Yeosang—a man you were taught was the enemy, trapped in a prison of his mind’s own making—felt like freedom. The build of the high you were chasing now reminded you of the rush of adrenaline that had coursed through you on the back of his bike such a short time ago, and you pulled him impossibly closer to you, needing to feel his body flush against yours in the same way. A quiet grunt left him as he dropped down to his elbow, stuttering for only a second before picking his pace back up. You settled your feet on the ground, using the leverage to tilt your hips up, and with that small shift, you were seeing stars. His cock was hitting that perfect spot inside of you, his lips were chasing yours every chance he got, and his grip on your hand was tightening; you could tell he was just as close to his peak as you were as he sighed your name against your lips.

He feels like freedom. The thought echoed in your head again, this time louder, and your heart skipped several beats in quick succession. Your chest, throat and core all tightened together, and you pressed your lips against Yeosang’s lips with purpose as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave. You swallowed the drawn-out moan that left him as your walls milked him dry, his hips twitching against your own. He pulled back while you were still lost on cloud nine, wanting to drink in the sight of you, and when his eyes caught the tearstains on your cheeks, his headlight tinging them gold, his stomach dropped. But your eyes blinked open as he wiped them away, a hazy, blissful smile on your face, and he felt himself relax just a bit.

“What’s wrong, angel?” he murmured, and your chest clenched at the concern in his voice. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

You shook your head vehemently. “No, Sangie, you were perfect. I just… It felt really good to let go,” you admitted, turning your gaze away from his own. “I haven’t ever been able to, with the whole…” You gestured back toward Night City, and he raised his head to stare back at it, frowning.

WIth a sigh, Yeosang nodded, slipping out of you to sit up. You whined in protest, grabbing at him, and he placated you with a kiss before shifting around to clean both of you up. Once you were dressed again, the cold quickly having become unbearable without his heat, he tugged you into his lap.

“I’m sorry you’ve never had an experience like this before,” he hummed, pressing a kiss into your hair, “but I’m glad I could provide it, and I hope you’ll let me again.”

You smiled brightly against his chest, nodding. “Any time, Sangie. I’m just sorry so many other people miss out on this.”

“Me too.”

“It felt like freedom,” you murmured after a stretch of silence. “You feel like freedom.”

Another moment you wanted you imprint on your brain; the grin he gave you before he yanked you in for another kiss.

When he returned to the rest of the Blue Birds for patrol the next night, Yeosang was keenly aware of Seonghwa’s eyes boring holes into the back of his skull. No doubt he was curious about the details of the previous night’s escapades and itching to give him an earful for wandering off with a government employee and no backup or contingency plan. Sure enough, when the gang split for their respective patrols, he was the one left with their leader. It wasn’t unusual by any stretch, but since the change to his callsign, Seonghwa had been putting Yeosang with other people more frequently to give everyone a chance to adjust.

As they set out, silence stretched between the two riders, and Yeosang couldn’t shake the discomfort it brought. After only a short fifteen minutes, he had to break it.

“You’re mad at me.”

It was purposeful, he was sure, the way he could hear Seonghwa’s drawn-out sigh over his comms. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

“But I didn’t,” he countered, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“You could have gotten yourself arrested.”

Yeosang scoffed. “What’s the difference, these days?” The silence that met his ears spoke volumes. “Look, I know you aren’t happy about it, but I did it, and I survived. And I think you might be right—she might be on our side, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

Another sigh. “What does that even mean, Yeosang?”

“I figured out why she didn’t call you in.” Silence, this time, but where he had been pointedly keeping ahead of his companion, Seonghwa sat back just a bit, slowing his pace to ride with him. “She doesn’t trust them.”

“Who does?”

“Like eighty percent of the population. Can you be civil for long enough for me to explain, please?” Silence met Yeosang’s ears, but it was miles better than snark. “She’s worked on the things—she knows their wiring and their programming back to front. She could be a very valuable asset to us.”

“So you’ve said—I fail to see how this is more than grunt work.”

“She just got promoted to the position our guy was in before.”

Seonghwa’s helmet whipped to face him for a split second. “Okay, now that is something. Did you convince her to help us, then?”

Yeosang chewed on his lip. “Not yet, but I think I can.”

The deep breath that echoed through his earpiece set his nerves on edge. “You’d better work fast. She’s good at her job—the things our guy was blocking from release are almost ready to be delivered to the masses, according to my intel. We need her position back as soon as possible, and there are already plans in motion.”

There it was. His stomach dropped and bile rose in his throat. “You’ve already called a hit on her.”

“In my defense, I didn’t know it was this girl you’re head over heels for.”

“Says you,” he spat, uncharacteristically nasty, eyeing the way his companion’s shoulders rose. “It wouldn’t have mattered anyway.”

Silence once again, heavy and tangible, hung in the road between the two men.

“If we only resort to death and violence, we’re no better than they are.”

Seonghwa’s scoff echoed as he revved his engine, pulling ahead once again. This time, it didn’t seem like he would be falling back. “I can give you a week. Either convince her or get over her. It’s your choice.”

Yeosang scowled, watching with a glare that could kill as his friend faded into the horizon. He didn’t need a whole week.

Two days later, when you were once again working late and in desperate need of a meal, Blue Bird Delivery was out of service once again. Your heart sank and bile rose in your throat at the implication, and you promptly locked your phone, suddenly too sick to eat. You drowned yourself in your work for the next hour or so, blissfully uninterrupted. It wasn’t until your phone pinged in your pocket, signaling the building’s front buzzer, that you were pulled back into reality. Blinking the measurements and notes from your vision, you frowned, clicking the front camera onto your computer and opening the intercom. “Yes?”

“Blue Bird Delivery with an order for Y/N,” came the quick reply, Yeosang’s voice crackling through the speaker. You rubbed your temples and sighed heavily, feeling like the weight of the world had been taken off of your shoulders as you relaxed.

“I’ll be down in a minute.” You bit the inside of your lip, holding back your grin as you made your way downstairs and through the front door as fast as possible.

He seemed even more on edge than usual tonight, shoulders tensed up nearly to his ears, you noted when he came into view. This time, it was you who used his greeting to cover your question.

“Are you alright?”

He hummed quietly, barely loud enough for you to hear, and turned on his heel, leaving you stunned and confused, a million questions running through your mind. Did he regret taking you out? Did he regret the sex? If he wasn’t here to talk, why was Yeosang bringing you food that you hadn’t been able to order in the first place? He had seemed happy for the rest of the night, holding you close, watching from the street as you had made your way into your apartment building and waved to him from the window, pouting just slightly before you’d arrived that he couldn’t kiss you good night. In a slight daze, you made your way back to your office, locking the door behind you before settling in to eat. No matter how bitter the food would taste now, you needed to eat, but you certainly didn’t want anyone disturbing you.

Pulling the bag open, your eyes immediately zeroed in on an unfamiliar shock of blue tucked down the side of it. You squinted for a brief second in consideration of it, quickly thinking better of pulling it from the bag. Removing the takeout containers resulted in the paper falling down into the bottom of the bag, and as you set it below your desk as you had made a habit of, readying it for the remnants of your dinner, you glimpsed the message scrawled on it.

“1 hr. -H”

You swallowed thickly, anxiety coiling in your gut. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

He was waiting in the same place he had been before, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. You hesitated as you approached him, and his heart sank. He wanted so badly to touch you, to kiss you, to pull you to him, but he couldn’t risk that emotional breakdown happening in the center of Night City if this went south. Still, he offered you a half-hearted version of his little finger wave.

“What’s with the passing notes?” You questioned, attempting to laugh off the awkwardness.

“I need you to make a decision.” If you weren’t nervous before, you certainly were now, heart pounding against your ribcage as you bit back a retort about your relationship being too new for ultimatums. “I can either be here as an opportunity or a warning.”

“Should we go somewhere—” you started, only for him to cut you off with a raised hand.

“We’re safe enough here, and I don’t want to waste gas. This is a blind spot for surveillance.” You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort. This didn’t feel good. “The rebellion needs someone in your position. Your previous boss was—”

“I know,” you cut in. “I found the forged documents ages ago, before I even took over.”

He went silent, head tilting to the side. You wished you could see the puppy-like look under his disguise.

“He wasn’t sneaky. He didn’t destroy any of the evidence—I found it all the morning I got promoted. The drawings, the inspection sheets, all of it. Are you here to ask me to take over for him?”

Yeosang hesitated. “Well, I was going to, yes. The issue is, you’re a little too good at your job, and if you keep being good at it, I and my people will start losing our footing. And…” He paused, taking a deep breath, trying to ignore the way you were staring at him with narrowed eyes. “There might already be a hit out on you from some of the higher-ups. So it’s kind of a ‘help us or die’ situation.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “There’s no other alternative?”

“Not unless you wanted to end up running and hiding for the rest of your life like we do.”

Your decision, and therefore your reply, was instantaneous. “How do I do that?”

If you could see his face, you probably would have laughed at the stunned look Yeosang was giving you. “What?”

“I don’t want this life anymore. I’ve spent my entire life making absolutely sure I fit the mold, and it’s been absolutely terrifying every step of the way. I’ve lost coworkers, friends, even family members for bullshit or unknown reasons and I—” Your voice broke and you paused, regaining your composure. “I felt free with you the other night. I want to feel that again, as often as I can.”

He was quiet for long enough that dread settled back in your stomach. When he finally broke the silence, you could hear the mask fall away from his voice. “Let’s go for a ride, then. We’ll figure this out together.”

You grinned, waiting impatiently for him to settle over his bike before climbing on behind him, wrapping tightly around him, this time in excitement rather than fear. Like the first night, you felt him laugh. “Hold on tight, doll, you’re in for a bit of a bumpy ride.”

Despite knowing he was talking about more than poorly paved roads this time, your heart soared. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Hermes.”

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barnesafterglow · 2 months

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once upon a time, a girl fell in love with various marvel characters. over three years later, she still can’t let go. join me for a sleepover of princess proportions to celebrate!

hi friends!! so last weekend marked 3 years since i posted my very first fic. despite my turmoil with this god forsaken website, i still hold so much love and have so many good memories. because of that, i want to do something to celebrate even though i’m not as active as i used to be. so without further ado, here’s my fairytale themed sleepover!

- mother goose: classic sleepover games such as fmk, would you rather, top 5, etc.

- cinderella: moodboards. send me a character + aesthetic/color/vibe and i’ll make a moodboard based on it

- sleeping beauty: love letters! this is for mutuals only. warning: you may cry

- rapunzel: drabbles! send me a character and a prompt and i’ll write a few hundred words

- snow white: wip time! ask me what i’ve been working on, or ask questions about any of my previous fics

- the princess and the frog: fic recs. send me your favorite fics or ask me for recommendations!

- goldilocks and the three bears: playlist shuffle. come one, come all and see my superior music taste

- beauty and the beast: book talk! tell me what you’ve been reading or ask me about my recent reads

- hansel and gretel: ask me anything!

no pressure tagging some friends to join!!

@itistimeforusalltodecidewhoweare @demxters @aphrogeneias @gxrlcinema @foreverindreamlandd @fandoms-writings @writing-for-marvel @scrumptious-delusion @petal-veined @smokeinherperfume @jen-with-a-pen @navybrat817 @inklore @thornsnvultures @abovethesmokestacks

#3 year tumblrversary

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finitepeace · 1 year

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LAST MONTH I READ DRAMIONE

On April I read Dramione. Here are the fics I’ve finished. Personal favorites are marked with ✿

Long Ones:

Alternate History by Furare | 155k words | it’s dramione but i feel the ‘slytherin harry’, ‘snape and sirius happy’ and ‘draco’s found family’ elements are more prominent

Capstone by bek_48 | 112k words | read this from collection titled: underrated dramione | Sixth year canon divergence but like.. really diverging. well-written friendships and probably my favorite lucius writing ever <even if he just appeared for like.. 2 seconds lol>

Ghost of You by happy_valley | 105k | in which draco malfoy died and turned into a ghost which only hermione can see. or is he?

The Phoenix Potion by FedonCiadale | 237k| post-war dramione tragedy with happy ending. it has two story arc: (1) dramione secret relationship and how it led to draco losing his magic after war + hermione falling out with ron and harry. (2) the granger-malfoy children wreck havock on wizarding (+house elves) community.

Remember Us As War (but call us forgiveness) by Anyaparadox | 168k | dramione and marriage law

✿ The Fixer-Upper Club by CharliPetidei | 160k words | 8th year AU, dramione coping with PTSD through fixing hogwarts

Medium length ones:

Behind the Mask by EmilieJane | 46k | Beauty and The Beast with a twist. TW: Domestic violence, mention of rape, etc. Ron-bashing.

✿ Instruments of Time by i_know_what_you_wrote_last_summer | 71k words | 3rd year AU because draco accidentally time traveling

✿ Curses, Banter, and Babies, Oh My! by LiloLilyAnn | 79k words | dramione having a child together first, work out their feelings second

Signed and Sealed by niffizzle | 26k | book shop keeper hermione, widowed single father draco

✿ The Watergaw by ectoheart, smokybaltic | 39k | dramione stuck together after a failed apparition, a detour on the deathly hallows mansion scene.

Escapism by sodamnrad | 15k | Reunited in the Muggle world, Draco and Hermione wreak havoc on each other’s loneliness.

Rebonded by niffizzle | 11k | dramione and ritual to fix draco’s wand <literally>

Kissed by Fire by niffizzle | 14k | Azkaban was a freezing fortress in the middle of the North Sea that devoid all prisoners of warmth. Or so Draco was told. The howling winds never bothered him. Nor the supposed chill emitting from the stone walls.He hadn’t felt cold since a lick of Fiendfyre scarred his flesh.

Short Ones:

✿ Only you – Or the only time Hermione believed in divination by FedonCiadale | 5k words | CUTE CUTE CUTE CUTE

Surprise Soulmates by FedonCiadale | 6,2k | post hogwarts, In which Draco and Hermione discover they are soulmates OR Draco is a drama queen and looks guilty as fuck and Hermione tries to be rational about it all

Common Spaces, Empty Places by elithien, senlinyu | 3,4k words | eighth year dramione, confessions.

Can't Get Any Better Than This by augustr | 1,4k words | 8th year, dramione being soft

Between Pages by DarkoftheMoon | 5,6k words| penpal dramione throughout their times at hogwarts

The Best Christmas Present Ever By: Proxima Shining | 9,8k l grandparents lucius & narcissa + family reconciliation

10 Things I Learnt About You by nyle_bd | 4k words | It's Parent's Day at Hogwarts and Professor Granger can't keep her eyes off a particular parent. Sparks fly and burn into something brighter.

Worse Things by niffizzle | 2k | In the midst of Ginny and Blaise's engagement party, Hermione is busy dealing with a bitter Ron. That is until they're interrupted by the soon-to-be Best Man.

✿ The Hour After by niffizzle | 2k | post battle meet up

With Teeth by provocative_envy | 5k | humor, dramione hunting horcrux(es)

a bunch of dramione in secret relationship

✿ If/Then by Santhe | 5k words

I Know, I Know by nevertoosweets | 2k words

the one time they stayed by quitethesardonic | 6,9k words

Forgot to Mention by wetpretzel | 5,7k words

Tied in Lies by niffizzle | 3k

✿ Forgotten by niffizzle | 2k

not a dramione but I think everyone would love this Draco:

✿ the dogfather by hollimichele | 47k | What if the Dursleys rejected Harry after he was left on their doorstep? canon divergence in which the adults in HP are much more responsible than the one in canon | sirius x lupin but mostly sirius as harry’s godfather.

part of the dogfather au, there’s one focused on draco and it’s so lovely (and heartbreaking but hopeful)

#dramione #dramione fic #dramione fic rec #monthly read

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dear-ao3 · 1 year

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newsies fic recs

cause you all asked

unfortunately i remember a lot of the good ones were on tumblr and so many people have changed their urls that they are not findable but, heres what i got

also keep in mind i havent read any of these in years and the summaries im giving are probably ass

these are all mostly ralbert, because that was what i read the most of, except for the ones at the end

the toaster fic (i used to remember this persons tumblr @ like 5 url changes ago but my brain is small and soupy so i am sorry). its crack, under 2k, absolute silliness and im still laughing about it five years later. modern era.

side by side its a really long ralbert soulmates fic where they are oblivious to hell and back. from what i remember its fluffy and silly. modern era.

voice okay she slaps ngl. its a modern era kind of angst situation. albert is mute. theres some referenced homophobia. lots of cuddles. 6k.

shaking thisss is a sick fic if i remember correctly. race is silly and gets a cold and there is cuddling. definitely part of a larger spralmer au but it works as a stand alone. under 5k. modern.

let the memory live again THIS FIC o gosh its killed me several times over. might be my favorite. idk. its up there. modern ralbert au. sad but also happy. albert is supposed to be dead and is not. he also has amnesia. its like 14k. read it at 2 am for maximum effect. god tier.

a love that will never grow old this is a sad canon era soulmate fic. race is alberts soulmate but albert is not races. theres also a sequel. the good kind of dad. multihap, 9k.

hero complex by @turtle-steverogers classic little ralbert oneshot, perfect amount of angst and comfort. albert is a firefighter and race is Worried also theres a dog. about 3k. modern.

thank u, next by the one and only @jack-kellys. its paranormal. its funky. its modern. its five parts and its complete. its 12k words and honestly like. i remember reading this and going absolutely batshit fizz is such a good writer (and is still actively writing newsies, throw them some prompts they love javey)

dont leave me by @sun-kissed-star its sprace, modern and spot is in the military. a good angst fluff angst ping pong match. 3.5k. theres some good and funny little jack moments :)

story written on skin by @patrocool oh my god the most well written soulmate au that i can possibly remember stumbling across at 3 in the morning and crying while reading. its a canon era sprace one. soulmate au where if one person gets injured the other person gets a mark. its really good. theres a part 1 and 2 and its long. like 15k long. read at 3am for best results.

the beast of brooklyn which i dont remember if ive actually read but i was asked to include it on the list so i did. mafia sort of au but also kind of beauty and the beast. well written and beautiful. fuckton of angst. sprace. modern.

#not a tag #from saph #newsies #newsies fic #newsies fic recs #ralbert #sprace #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #spot conlon #we can make more recs if you want more i have so many recs #katya does too

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azsazz · 2 years

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Torrential

Knox x Reader

Summary: Anon Requests: “Hey I love your writing could you do a fic about Knox and his mate?” & “Knox supremacy”

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 4,362

Notes: This is quite a bit different than what I’ve written thus far, but I hope you enjoy anyway. I wanted to try to write a little something for Knox since he’d be the love interest if I ever wrote my own book so here we go, Knox girlies stand up 💙

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You tuck your dark robes tighter around yourself as you hurry along the unbeaten path. The heaviness is a comfort, thick and soft despite the thin metal links sewn between layers. Protection camouflaged by its emerald fabric, a disguise at night as much as it is a shield.

It isn’t cold, but the forest after the sun has dipped behind the ruddy red mountains is eerie. Your only company is the clicking of beetles, howls from packs of wolves in the distance, and the soul in the jar clutched tightly to your chest.

Your High Lord had demanded it of you, to slay the otherworldly creature roaming his lands and return its soul to the river to be washed back to where it had come from. Hel.

It had been one of the most terrifying things you’ve ever encountered. A perfect mix of a beast that stood three times larger than any male you’d ever met. Its pincers snapped loudly, echoing throughout the hilly lands of your home, and they were the size of your forearm. Its ivory talons dug up the soft ground as it growled and clawed at you in a warning.

Those very talons had shredded your side in a fateful swipe that you couldn’t dodge. The beast had stomped on the end of your cape and in your desperate attempt to outrun the creature the strings of your hood had tightened around your throat, yanking you off of your feet. All of your breath had escaped your lungs.

Through the stars in your vision and the pain in your side, you’d managed to dodge the pincers on their swipe downward, ready to stab through you and wave your limp body around like a trophy. They’d lodged into the dirt as you rolled away, and it had given you just enough time to stab your knife into the underside of its jaw and through its skull, effectively slaying the beast.

The long jagged claw marks carving open your side had hurt, but your advanced healing combined with the enchantment from the High Lord hadn’t taken long for your skin to stitch itself up, leaving an irritated pink scar in its wake.

The Night Court isn’t a place you find yourself visiting frequently, but the instruction from your High Lord had been to dispose of the creature's soul in another territory, and you weren’t one to argue. As his hand, you’d do anything that he asks, even if it means completing a job that you’d graduated from working every once in a while.

The soldiers originally sent after the beast were no match for its large but nimble body and quick reflexes. You’d seen off a group of five men and only two had returned, one with talon marks that nearly carved his face in two, an eye missing, and a broken jaw hanging agape. The other soldier had fared better, though the way that he was limping and the trail of blood that followed told you that he’d probably been grabbed by the creature’s pincers.

The High Lord had executed them without a second thought and sent you in their place.

A branch snaps beneath your foot and you cringe, stilling your body. If a member of the Night Court catches you in their land – returning a soul no less – you’d be tried for your crimes in front of the High Lord and his family. You’d heard that in the years since his children had grown, they’d adopted positions within his court as spymasters, warriors, lords and ladies of court territories and the sub-courts they ruled over. One child had even been ordered as keeper of the river, arguably one of the most taxing roles in the court.

The river – aptly named Psychē, for the souls it houses, is a direct line to Hel. Rumor has it there are four hidden waterways throughout the continent, though this is the only known. The remaining three have not yet been discovered, or if they have their founders kept that information close.

You hardly know how it works. Your High Lord had told you nothing of the intricacies of returning a soul to the underworld. He’d sent you off with a knowing look, that you would do well by his name and come back unscathed. The charmed pendant on a silver chain he’d wrapped around your throat was for protection, should you need it.

Your instructions included capturing the beast's soul before it escaped into the night sky, trekking into the eerie lands of the Night Court, and disposing of the soul without getting caught by the riverkeeper.

If you got caught, you’d surely be dead.

You stiffen as the sound of the breaking branch ricochets through the lush forest. Your hand tightens around the jar nestled to your chest and your heart skips. You keep your breathing soft and calm, listening for any signs that you’re no longer alone.

It’s nearly too dark to see. Your only light is the bright stars guiding you to your destination. You’ll know you’ve reached Psychē once you stand directly beneath the Alizer star. The High Lord’s instructions echo in your head.

He’d also mentioned the silvery glow the body of water would give off when you were near. A reflection of the moon and the withering souls reaching up for the sky. You’d heard that they’d make nearly any bargain to become one of the stars.

You knew better than to swear on the Psychē. It is your job for Mother’s sake. Capture and kill those who have done wrong by their bargains, by their court. Slay beasts and creatures alike. Trap those who do not belong to this realm and let the riverkeepers decide their fate.

The thought sends a shiver up your spine.

There’s a faint tap against your chest. The soul trapped in the container slams itself against the side, trying to shatter the glass to escape. It only bounces off of the magicked jar. You bite back a smirk, pulling it from between your robes and giving the crock a rough shake. The wisps of the once beast shatter inside and it begins to swirl around in a mass, trying to weave itself back into a semi-conscious state.

You snort at it, returning it between thick layers of mossy robes as you continue your journey.

The brush begins to thin and you gasp as you enter a clearing. In the center is an ethereal-looking river, just as it had been described to you.

The waterway opens into a pool of light, shining brightly against the thick trees. It looks like a body of liquid metal, like stars fallen to the continent and melted into something more, something that snatches your attention and makes you want to bathe in it. One side of the Psychē thins out into a trickle, and you wonder if you follow where it would take you. Hel perhaps. It must not be an easy trek to the underworld. The other end of the river tapers slightly, the water sweeping into the swirling pool of light.

The clearing looks as if it’s never been touched by anything in the time it’s been here before any fae or wild creatures were put on the continent. There are no tread marks in the grasses from passersby, no animals seeking out the river or its lush waters. Now that you’re paying attention to it, the clearing is silent, like you’ve stepped into a secret, or worse, a trap. No sound coming in and no sound leaving.

Stumbling forward on suddenly weak knees, the thought that your High Lord has sent you on a mission that you won’t be returning from crosses your mind. You take a steadying breath, shaking the silly thought away. No, he wouldn’t do that to you, you are his favorite and his hand for Mother’s sake. Of course, he would want his dearest pet back.

Quickly and quietly you kneel before the edge, peering into the sparkling abyss. Your robes sweep up on a phantom wind that makes your hand tighten around your jar protectively, the other sliding to your weapon at your waist. The fabric pools around you as you lower yourself to the ground, settling around you in dark waves.

The Phychē’s calming silver waters ripple with lost souls. Your breath hitches at the sight.

You don’t know if they’re on their way to or from Hel, if they’re sentenced to swimming this impassible boundary between the living and the dead, screeching and screaming to the Mother for mercy.

You think they might be praying to the wrong entity for help.

With one last cautionary glance, you settle. You untuck the container from your chest and place it between your knees, keeping a tight grip on it just in case the beast tries to break through it again.

You pull your large hood back, revealing your face to the river and the night sky.

Taking the jar back into your hands, you grip the lid with one and the body with the other, twisting the top a hair looser. You’re eager to get this mission over and return to your lands, to your palace, where the High Lord eagerly awaits your return.

A loud wail startles you and your head snaps to the darkened woods around you. Beaming light from the river washes the brush bright around you, but no glowing eyes are staring in your direction, no glint of fangs pulled back from snarling lips. There are no other sounds to lead you to believe that there’s someone out there watching you.

The screech grates down your spine like steel on steel, drawing your attention to the metallic waters before you. The soul's gray form swims beneath the surface of the water, treading against the magic with all of her might to stay in front of you.

It’s a soul that has made that sound, you realize, shuddering. She’s a tiny little thing, nearly half of the size of the other wisps of lives swirling around her. She calls up to you but you don’t understand what she’s saying. The language isn’t something you’ve ever heard.

Apparently, souls from all realms live within the Pyschē.

The curious part of you wants to reach in and grab her, pluck her out of the busy stream of souls and hear her pleas, let her loose upon the Night Court. It’s clear she wants to bargain, they all do, if the shouts and moans of the other churning spirits tell you anything. Promises that they’ll never be able to fulfill, in exchange for your help.

But the warrior in you knows better. Not to reach your hand into the silvery pool of light or to bargain with a soul. You don’t know where they’re from, who they’ve worked for, why they’re here. Though, if they’re in the river to Hel, you know it mustn’t be good.

The beast beats against the wall of the crock frantically as you lower it toward the glowing river. Your hands are ready to twist the lid off and spill its soul into the weeping waters.

The shadows of night fracture like cracking ice.

The air around you drops to sub-zero and you freeze, arms outstretched over the silky waters. You can see your warm breath mingling with the cool air and something tingling at the back of your neck. Your heart thunders in your chest.

Even the souls fall silent.

Like an ink droplet falling into the clear waters, the Psychē bleeds black. The center of it grows with a fountain of darkness, quickly spreading over the surface of the river. The onyx shadows swallow the light and the screeches of souls within grow louder, more frantic as they try to slide away from the entity that’s overtaking their path.

You tighten the lid of the jar, tucking it quickly beneath your robes as you fumble desperately for your weapon.

Fingers circling the hilt, you’re just about to pull it out from its holster when your muscles spasm to a halt, freezing in place. You wince, or, you would wince at the thing clawing your head inside out, stiffening your muscles against your will as it spears your mind. The power is strong, much too strong for you to break its hold, even with your years of practice.

It makes your throat bob and your chest hurt.

You can’t even blink, can’t scream as onyx talons split through your skull, searching, learning. It looks at all of the secrets in your head, even the ones you’ve thought you’d buried deep down inside your wounded soul.

A bead of sweat rolls down your cheek and you itch to swipe it away.

Shadows seep in from all around, slinking their way down trunks of trees and sliding through the tall grass like snakes. It’s so dark that you can hardly see, the moonlit pool offering no light with its inky covering. The seething darkness is unmistakable, as the shadows gather and curl in the center of the smoky river that once was, brushing away to reveal a male you’ve only heard of from horror stories.

The riverkeeper.

The sight of him is terrifying in itself. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is pounding. You can’t even blink or huff out a breath to dispel his dark shadows around you. There’s no air in your lungs to scream or room in them to gulp down the death-coated air. You are completely under his lock.

The passing tales you’ve been taught spin in your head. Those of a youthful male, the youngest of the shadowsinger of the Night Court, a starless entity much stronger than any living creature in Prythian.

Death incarnate.

And it is your judgment day.

Some have said that he deserves to live in the deepest depths of the Prison. Others rally for a public death of Hel’s keeper, the population terrified of his abilities. He lives in all darkness and is made from it.

Most of what you know about him is lore. You’d heard of powerful beings but none with magic quite like this. How he’s able to manipulate the night into your deepest fears. A child’s trick for him. You’ve been told that nothing and no one has heard the crow of his call, his true voice, for the day that if you do, it will be the last thing you ever hear, his baritone tone projecting into your head like the sweet call of death, unable to resist its song. His face will be the last thing you ever see.

The hiss is caught in your throat as you struggle futility against his mental holds. It’s pointless, you know, but you try to escape the iron grip he has on your mind anyway.

They’d told you of the monsters roaming in the shadows, but never the ones made from them.

Nevertheless, as the tall male shrouded over you pulls his dark hood back, you’ve frozen again of your own accord, but still his doing.

You didn’t expect the monster to be so…handsome.

Silky black hair sweeps across his brow on the wind his shadows create. They twirl around him like bloodthirsty snakes, eager to reach out and constrict your body and drag you into the river of souls before you. His thick brows are curved downward over narrowed golden eyes that are the only light source in the clearing. His angular features are set into an impassive glare, staring directly into your soul.

His stalk looks more like a glide, like he’s an ethereal being all of his own. He is, when you catch sight of his large wings poised tightly to his back, talons sharp like the tip of a sword. They’re just as dark, silky smooth skin absorbing the night.

He is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He forces a patch of shadows to disperse and you squint against the sudden light of the glowing pool he’s opened up. Whatever he’s doing, it doesn’t look good, and your heart pounds loudly in your chest.

Instead of pulling you into the Psychē like you thought he might do, a tendril of darkness dips into the light. It’s exquisite, the black against the white waters and you’re mesmerized, staring on with awe.

Until his shadow plucks up a soul.

The contour of black carries the soul to him where it settles by his side, a pet delivering its toy to its master. The soul in its icy death grip shouts vulgarly as it struggles desperately in the shadows' grasp.

With a sweep of the riverkeeper's hand, the soul goes limp, glowing eyes fogging over with an unfocused look. It stares directly at you.

Your spine tingles as his shadowy purr settles into your bones.

“Are you on your knees because you knew you’d be begging for my mercy?”

Your brows itch, aching to pull into a furrow. The voice isn’t coming from the riverkeeper, instead, it comes from the soul clutched in the grasp of his shadow. He mustn’t be able to speak or doesn’t want you to hear his true voice.

If it does incite your last moments alive, you’re thankful.

His words are amused but his tone is deathly serious as it fills the clearing with a powerful boom as if he’s unaware of how loud he’s being. There is no mirth to his features to let you know that he means anything other than business.

He is the riverkeeper, after all.

You choke on a breath as he releases his hold on your mouth. The rest of your body stays still as stone beneath his strong power.

“You,” you choke on the word. Your surprise is clear, as is the shake of your voice.

His golden eyes gleam.

“Me.”

His voice is its own whisper of death, even though it isn’t even coming from him but from the soul beside him. It’s rough like the shadows twirling around him like guard dogs. One circles closer to you, swimming in front of your face as if interested, so you do the only thing that you can do with your unrestrained mouth; curse and blow at it like a child.

He cocks his head slightly, intrigued by your response.

“What are you doing at my river, sweet creature?”

Your mouth pulls into a frown at the name.

“Don’t call me that,” you grit and his gaze flickers brighter. His hold on you turns near painful, your spine popping as he forces it to straighten. A warning to you, knowing that he can tear you apart at any given moment.

“What shall I call you then?” He’ll give you this mercy, so you better answer.

“(Y/N),” you choke, gasping a heaving breath once he relaxes his hold and lets you settle back into the earthy ground. You glare at him with all of your might but it doesn’t seem to affect the male.

“(Y/N),” the soul purrs. You know that it isn’t his voice but it sends shivers up your spine nonetheless.

“You have a name, don’t you?” you question.

“We all have names,” he answers bluntly.

You bite back a curse. “What’s yours?”

His wings twitch at his back and his shadows crackle, scattering around the clearing. They look like they’re hissing but you don’t know for sure. Apparently, he doesn’t get questioned much.

“My name need not be known by murderous, sweet creatures,” he answers, voice like cold death. There’s that word again. Sweet. No one’s ever called you that before.

It makes something in your chest flutter.

The glass crock tucked against your side pings as the creature’s soul makes another attempt to escape, uncaring of the literal devil you’re staring down.

His dark brows furrowed. A shadow curls around his rounded ear, whispering something to him that makes his gold eyes sparkle and his fingers twitch with interest.

“What is it you’ve got down there?” he asks.

A muscle in your jaw twitches with effort. “It’s the soul of an Alphrachne. I was feeding it to you.”

Silky smooth laughter echoes throughout the clearing. It startles you, the sound of anything other than threats and violence coming from the soul he’s controlling. You remember then that he’s young, hardly a few years older than yourself, and that he seems to have a wicked sense of humor.

“I do not eat souls,” his gravelly voice is amused, “I see them to their final destinations.”

“And where might that be?” you grit, struggling against his hold. You’d thought that while he was laughing his grip on your mind might slip and you could free yourself. No such luck.

“It will take a lot more than a bit of struggling to get out,” he responds. Goosebumps rise on your arms as he continues simply, “Hel.”

You knew it.

He seems interested in the creature’s soul you’ve brought forth anyway, golden eyes flickering down to your robes as if he can see through the thick material.

“An Alphrachne, you say?” the soul questions, unfocused eyes glimmering under his power. The voice sounds intrigued almost.

Of course, he knows what the beast you’ve brought is. His brother Jax has taught him everything there is to know about the creatures crawling the lands in this realm and the next.

He’s heard that they are enormous. Bigger than Uncle Cassian. With sharp pincers and long talons. And you’ve captured one’s soul all on your own, armed with only a single knife and a healing spell around your neck.

His mouth twitches, impressed.

“Let’s see it then,” he reaches a hand out and you glare, limbs still obeying his commands. They don’t move from your sides.

“I’ll let you see it if you tell me your name.”

The amusement flees from his gaze.

“Is that a bargain, (Y/N)?”

Your throat dries and your swallow catches, “No.”

He laughs again and your thighs quiver at the sight of his sinful smirk, the way his fascinating glimmering eyes glow with something else. Something akin to curiosity but warmer.

“Clever girl.”

His words are paired with a caress of razor-sharp claws against your mind. They’re much sharper than the Alphrachne’s, a tease of a scratch to let you know that it won’t take much else for him to break you completely.

You don’t deign to respond.

“And what happens if I take it from you?” he asks, and it's nearly playful. He wants to banter with you, he wants to see what you’re capable of.

“I’ll kill you.”

“And I’ll drown you in the river. Maybe I’ll even use that jar to keep your soul in like a little pet. I’m sure my brother would be more than happy to dissect your soul.” His voice slides like ice down your limbs and your breath puffs out in front of your face. You shudder.

You nearly fall forward into the shadowy abyss that is the river when he releases you from his hold. You pitch forward but shadows sweep upwards from their murky depths, righting you on your haunches.

Every muscle in your body aches from trying to escape his grasp. You gulp down heaving breaths of air as you stare up at him, his handsome face stoic but gold eyes focused, watching as you grab fistfuls of your deep emerald robes and clutch them tightly to yourself.

The soul beside him lets out a huff of impatience and you scramble for the jar. You pull it from your robe and offer it to him with a shaky hand. Even lifting the lightweight jar seems difficult with how tired your limbs suddenly are.

He uses his shadows to carry the jar on a dark wind to him as if he’s afraid to come closer to you. Surely death himself isn’t scared of a girl like you, but he stays in the center of the pool on his throne of darkness.

The crock looks humorously small in his hand and it’s only now that you notice the swirling tattoos inked upon his tanned skin. They look like his shadows, rivers of black circling his fingers and crawling up his arms. If you squint you think they may be moving.

He admires your capture with bright eyes, twisting and turning the jar. The soul inside quivers, pressing itself against the glass as far away as it can, cowering in fear, knowing its fate now.

Should’ve been quiet then, you think to yourself, having no mercy for the beast.

The riverkeeper's mouth quirks up at your words and you’d forgotten for a moment that he’s inside of your head, listening to all of your thoughts.

Your eyes go wide with realization. If he can hear your thoughts that means that he knows you were thinking about how handsome he is.

Fuck.

His lips pull high into a wicked smile. One side curls higher than the other and it’s the first imperfect thing you’ve noticed about him, yet it still makes your breath hitch.

Those shining eyes snap back to yours.

The darkness moves, pulling in from all corners of the clearing like a tidal wave of black. They sweep around him and you throw an arm up to shield your eyes as they draw from the river, its metallic moonlit waters shining full force.

“Do not let me catch you here again, (Y/N),” the soul’s eerie voice says. You lower your arm and squint against the brightness to see him one last time. “I will not be so nice next time.”

“Wait,” you blurt frantically. You don’t know why you’re calling for him, why a part of you doesn’t want him to leave. His shadows falter, coming to a stop and it feels like they’re all staring at you, along with the soul in his grasp and his molten golden eyes. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

He studies you for so long, shadows sweeping around him that you’re afraid he may not answer after all.

But his harsh gaze softens as the soul speaks one last time before disappearing into a puff of black smoke.

“My name is Knox.”

#azsazz next gen #azsazz #azsazz - knox #acotar next gen #knox x reader

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