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almondmilktargaryen · 9 months

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Duty & Sacrifice (Part One)

Summary: Aemond is married with two kids to Floris Baratheon, as it was his duty. But it's when he ventures into Flea Bottom in the night that he faces his sacrifices.

Couple: Aemond Targaryen/Fem!Reader

Category: Flangst

Content warnings: Cheating, mention of dead children

Word count: 2k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four ✍️

The memory of Aemond’s mother holding a blade inches from Rhaenyra’s eye pops into his head whenever he plans to head into the city. His mother’s thirst for justice and balance, for the sake of him, is an image he has never shaken.

“Where is duty!” He remembers. “Where is sacrifice!”

And years later, with the Greens victorious and the Blacks slaughtered, sacrifice reveals its head here. As Aegon takes rule on the Iron Throne as the one true king (according to future history books, not the people), and Helaena’s ashes rest in the sept with Jaehaerys, Aemond takes on his own sacrifice.

Well aware of his brother’s ineptitude (and reliance on the milk of the poppy), their grandsire assigns Aemond responsibility for helping train the Royal Army with Ser Criston, as well as command the City Watch. As much as Otto claims not to care for it, Aemond and Daemon were shockingly similar. So there was no better person. Aemond agrees with his grandsire but knows he only won the dragonback fight against his uncle because he was more disciplined. He flew away on Vhagar unscathed in comparison because of his discipline.

Because Aemond understands duty and sacrifice.

And like his mother, he understands his role in the family and takes it seriously.

He wears his typical black leather attire whilst eyeing the hood in his wardrobe. He’s even just about to grab it before his chamber doors groan loudly, the force of his two boys clamoring through to see him. Baelon attacks his legs while little Daeron stumbles behind, forcing Aemond to submit and fall to his bed. Aemond’s laughter mixed with the squeals of joy. Before Baelon can sit on his chest again, he quickly sits up. “Is it almost that time?” He asks them.

“Yes,” Baelon says. Aemond rises further and the boy rests against his father’s arm. Aemond is sure that if he blinks, he’ll find his oldest suddenly tall enough to rest his head on his shoulder. “Mother says I still have to go to bed when Daeron does.”

Aemond shrugs with an amused sigh. He had learned through his oldest how much time children have to argue and dwell on their smallest of issues. “Your mother’s rules are your mother’s rules.” He simply says.

“But I’m much older than Daeron.” He has used this argument multiple times on his father, yet Aemond remained delighted as his lips curled. Aemond places a hand on his boy’s head and brushes over his matching Targaryen locks. He’s letting them grow past his ears now. Aemond has also learned his eight-year-old bends his will effortlessly, something powerful men with the most fearsome reputations and twice as many battle scars could not even dream of. Meanwhile, his son achieves it with his mother’s eyes and little effort.

“I will speak to your mother about it tomorrow.” He grabs Baelon by the waist and lifts him to let his feet land on the stony floor. “But for tonight, you must return to your chambers at the same time as your brother.”

“But Papa,” he drags out the last syllable.

“I will not hear it. Your mother--”

The doors echo again, and Princess Floris Baratheon steps in like she was summoned. Her belly has already started swelling with their third child. Despite what handmaidens and wet nurses have prepared her for, Floris has yet to discover any dreadfulness during her pregnancies. Bards have written songs about her and each birth so far, claiming the Baratheon strength eases the process, and the camaraderie between her and her sisters ensures strong sibling bonds for House Targaryen. Aemond cannot disagree with the first, holding her hand throughout each labor. Baelon took seven hours, and Daeron took four. Not a scream, but Aemond was sure he’d witness her clenched teeth reduce to dust before the babies took their first breaths. He brushed the hairs sticking to her brow and kissed her head and cheeks when she could finally sleep. She deserved those songs, every lyric.

He has reason to doubt potential bonds, though, considering his relationship with Aegon. His hope remains strong for his girls.

“Say goodnight to Papa, boys,” Floris says.

“But Papa thinks I should stay up late--”

“I said nothing of the sort.” He responds matter-of-factly. “Listen to your mother or lose your negotiation opportunities.”

Baelon groans while Daeron giggles, following him out into the hall.

“Stay with Ser Criston, boys,” Floris tells them. Her hands rest naturally on the bump as if her wrists missed it. “I will be out in a second.”

When they disappear, Aemond keeps his expression light. She still beams, and it helps. “Best to head to them before the handmaidens snatch them up.”

“Yes.” She replies. “Though I’ve told them time and again to leave bedtime for me.”

Aemond puts a hand on her forearm and the other on her belly. “You go on. I have a meeting concerning the City Watch. I won’t be back until later.”

Floris maintains a radiant expression while nodding, despite the noticeable swallow in her throat. When the door closes and he hears scampering pairs of feet grow farther in distance, he briefly questions going out, aware of his wife’s subtle yet looming suspicions. But by the time he finally reaches out for his hood, he has already pushed the thought back.

Aemond follows the hills and dips of the cobblestone roads whilst keeping his head down and royal roots securely hidden. He turns some corners sharply and holds his breath before advancing toward others. He knows his path through Flea Bottom well, but the odors of sweat, rotting meat, as well as discarded piss and shit (in buckets and sometimes small piles) are all elements he has yet to get used to. It would be a more straightforward path if he took the Street of Silk, but they both agreed they would never return there again if they had the choice.

The roads were dimly lit, and though dangerous men lurk more prominently at this late hour, one stare down from Aemond and a good view of his eyepatch gets the message across that he is not one to be trifled with. Not to mention his skills with a sword. He claims not to care for his appearance, but hot-tempered or drunk men hesitate to come close when they see him. It saves him time.

Aemond looks around for lingering faces in nearby windows before repeating the special rap at the door: three times, then two, then one. He opens it, unlocked to his dismay, but his arrival was expected. He enters anyway and moves the heavy metal bolt to secure it after an audible shut.

The small home is dimly lit, with barely room for a stewpot, let alone one bassinet. Aemond can see a single flame burn near the bedside. He follows it with the sound of his own name, as it’s spoken so sweetly from around the corner.

Radiance fills Aemond's sight: a mess of copper curls and a nightgown, and two swaddled babes in her arms. An exhale leaves his lungs and nose as he comprehends the familiar sight. “Welcome back.” She says softly, not to disturb the girls, or likely from her own lack of sleep.

“You know I hate it when you leave the door unlocked,” Aemond tells her.

“It’s too early in the night to worry about that. They are all at the taverns and whorehouses.”

One of the girls starts fussing.

“You cannot be too naïve. If I’m not here to protect you like what happened at--”

“Oh, hush and get over here. Hold your children.” She tries to sit up properly.

Aemond presses his lips together and takes a seat on the small cot, bumpy and unpleasant, nothing he’s been unfamiliar with in the past eighteen months. The comfort settles in him like a kindling fire when he gets to gaze upon his two girls. United since birth, it is hard for their mother to nestle one while Aemond cradles the other. But with every visit, they learn and adapt. Now is no different, as Aemond reaches for the one closest to him: Alisha. He’s studied the difference between them, staring at them still in the hours of the night, observing from the floor while their mother rested. Small strands of white peek through the auburn, already beginning to curl. Alyssa's hair is a blazing hue of ginger.

Aemond gives Alisha time to adjust in his arms. She fusses but eventually settles. Her eyes open gently, a dull brown. Nothing special. Nothing Targaryen. Alyssa is safe too. And her mother keeps her close with two arms now rather than one. “Are you staying the night?” She asks Aemond.

“I certainly can.” He scoots closer, meeting her hip. He brushes some strands behind her ear before cupping her face, bringing her in for a kiss. It was gentle, and the longing was the same as their first night together where nothing more happened other than this; sitting and kissing. They did not feel the need for anything else right away, understanding what the other had been through amidst long talks in the dead of night. When things escalated, she showed him patience and love, despite his fears and questions.

Now he’s more confident with movements, as his hand traveled to the back of her neck to keep her close. The brown eyes she blessed their daughters with stared back at him. Her breath smelled like bowls of brown, and he did not mind. “You know what I think you deserve?”

“Hmm.” She looks up toward the ceiling as she ponders. Brown seeps from the corners, and Aemond has hesitated to ask. She puts a hand to his face, just below the scar. “I’m sure you’re eager to show me.”

“A house.”

“Oh.” She pulls back as her brows quirk. “But I have a house, Aemond.”

“Not one you deserve, though. This was just temporary, to get you off the Street of Silk. You deserve comfort. A home where the girls can run around outside and fall asleep at night in proper beds. Where danger doesn’t loom just outside that door. No one would ever hurt them.” He kisses her again, and he feels her hesitate.

“How do you know no one will hurt them? Will you be there?”

“Not all the time. But more than I would be now. That I can promise.”

“Aemond--”

“I can assign guards to protect you when I’m not there. Servants that understand discretion. The girls will be happy and safe, well-provided for.” Prisoners in the black cells live more comfortably than she does, with space to move and leftovers from royal dinners served to them (that was Helaena’s biggest request as queen, and Aemond pushed it on Aegon as an attempt to honor his late wife). When he visits, Aemond sees how little she moves. She hurts from sharing such a horrible cot with twin babes, and Aemond cannot do anything about it here. “Please, my love. You’ve done so much for me. Taught me so much. Let me do this for you.”

“You know what will happen if they find out.”

“Nothing will happen.”

“The last war was about bastards taking the throne. People have been finding your brother’s bastards on the street. They butcher any boy or girl with silver hair like livestock, left to rot in dark corners alone. I know you’ve seen them.”

“And I would do everything in my power to make sure no one touches you. I have a lot of power. And will. I’ve protected you from horrid men before. You cannot doubt I won’t do it again.”

Water lines her eyes. It glistens painfully in the candlelight as her palm falls from his face, his shoulder, and then his chest. She keeps her voice steady. “You can’t have lost one eye, be so intelligent yet so blind,” she says. “People see. People talk. Even in the fields where nothing happens. It only gives them an excuse to be more vigilant. To see a whore just show up from the capital with guards, servants, and two girls. One with some silver in her hair and another with a purple eye. What else would they think?”

Aemond pulls back. “Purple?”

She gives Alyssa her full attention once more, coaxing her to open her eyes.

“No, last time I was here, they were both brown. Like Alisha’s. Yours.”

“This happens with babies sometimes, Aemond. This is only month three.” She tries to keep herself together. “The gods are in their right to punish us. For what we’ve done here. In here.”

“No,” he simply says. “The gods have tested me before we met. I’m used to their tests. And I’m used to prevailing, eventually. I will do it again.”

“You can’t--”

“I will.” A surge runs through him, nothing dissimilar to when he went to war. The simplistic instinct that comes with the will to survive. When he was at war, there was one he relied upon from beginning to end, and even years before that. Aemond is gentle as the surge flows through his veins. “I can’t stay tonight.” He tells her.

“Where are you going?” She doesn’t try to hide the stress.

He gives her time to take Alisha back. Alisha protests, but only momentarily. With a flat palm on each, he brushes over the heads of the twins. His gaze meets hers and he notices tears streaming halfway down her face. He brushes them away, planting a kiss on her lips again, holding her by the neck once more. He doesn’t speak a word until she looks him in the eye. “I love you.” He’d say it with more of a tender demeanor if time was not of the essence now. “With all my heart, I love you. You made the grave mistake of letting a royal war hero fall in love with you, my dear. The determination to keep you safe comes with that territory.”

Her head drops as tears finally do the same, dripping off the edge of her chin. Aemond kisses her nose.

“I want to make you a home and keep you safe. That’s not possible here. But it is possible. For you. For them. It is possible. I just need you to trust me.”

“I’m scared.” The whisper shakes from her, like dead leaves against the winter wind. “Don’t leave me yet.” She holds the babies. She can’t reach out to touch him, yet her arms try.

“I’m not leaving.” He kisses her lips again as if each one was a grant of safety from the gods. He gave each one to her willingly, frivolously, like he was a god himself who had the power to control such things. Because he did. He was a Targaryen. It was close enough. “I will be back, I promise you.”

She still cries as he stands. The babies too. And he cannot show how it breaks his heart, not now. If he gives in and does what he truly wants, it will only be a problem when he wakes up here the next morning. His eye stung with its own unshed tears, but he turned away regardless. He took a long, steadying breath before heading toward the exit. With a grip on the bolt, he commanded, “Lock this door.” He tried keeping his voice firm. “And do not open it unless you know it’s me or a man named Ser Criston Cole, you hear me?”

She nods, and he can feel a tear slide down his cheek, mirroring her own. He took in the image of the three before slipping out. The door closed and hearing the heavy bolt provided some relief.

Then he stood there, longer than what was safe, yes. The cold of Flea Bottom wrapped around him almost instantly, a biting chill of the desolate streets while the soft glow of candlelight shut out from him on the other side, as it was not his to bask in for too long.

But even in the nearly black darkness of the narrow streets, he could spot one of them; a tiny figure huddled in the corner of a nearby alley, a broken skull with hair shorter than Baelon’s. Royal blood left to soak into the cobblestone under his feet. Bones exposed and rotted in the dark, forever cold, soon forgotten.

Aemond made haste to vanish into the shroud of night, swallowed by the fog. Criston would be in his quarters at this hour, surely. It was a straightforward path back if he took the Street of Silk. And he didn’t have a choice.

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edenesth · 9 months

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The Way to His Heart [4]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 3 | Fic Masterlist | Part 5

"Mistress, please allow me to help you back to your quarters." Eunsook pleaded, once again attempting to gently pull you up from the floor. But you shook your head weakly, keeping your forehead stubbornly glued to the ground.

Jongho sighed, stepping in to help, "Miss Jang, it's the general's orders. We've been tasked with taking you back to your room. If you don't cooperate, we might be in trouble."

To the relief of both employees, that seemed to work. They quickly moved to assist your limp and defeated form, with your tear-stained face and the bruise forming on your forehead breaking their hearts. Without wasting another minute, they moved you onto the assistant's back before rushing back to The Cold Palace.

You were already unconscious when they gently laid you on your bed, the toll of your crying apparent. Eunsook sighed, pulling the blankets over your petite frame and tucking you in. She then moved to dab your wet cheeks lightly with the sleeve of her uniform.

Observing you, Jongho frowned, "She feels so light; that doesn't seem normal. It's as if she barely weighs anything. Just what in the world was her life like in the Jang estate?"

The head maid gestured for him to keep quiet, putting a finger to her lips and shaking her head in warning. She didn't want to risk waking you up or, worse, letting you hear them talk about you as if you weren't there right in front of them.

Outside your room, the two took a moment to process the events of the day. It became apparent to them that you were just as much a pawn in your father's game as their master. It was also clear that your sudden presence was set to shake the very foundation of everything they had ever known in the general's estate.

"Let's just... take a break for the night and see what happens tomorrow." Eunsook mumbled, massaging her temples to alleviate the approaching headache.

Jongho agreed, "At least we've learned that our master isn't completely heartless." They exchanged knowing smiles before retiring to their respective quarters for the night.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the estate, Seonghwa stayed awake until he was sure that his assistant and head maid had carried out their assigned task. Laying in his bed, he forced himself to sleep, but the haunting image of you sobbing and kneeling on the ground plagued his thoughts incessantly.

He tells himself that perhaps he should have begun eating a bit first during dinner; that would've allowed you to have more energy during the extended hours of kneeling. Your reaction to the food lingers in his thoughts. In retrospect, he acknowledges that instructing the servants to discard all the food while you were hungry might have been a bit much; he realises that now.

Tomorrow, I'll allow her breakfast.

Tossing and turning throughout the night, the general found no reprieve until the early hours of the day. Even when he did manage to drift off to sleep, his dreams were filled with recurring scenes of the heart-wrenching dinner. His guilt and remorse persisted even in his unconscious state.

As the morning arrived, the voice of the head maid echoed from the entrance of your room, waking you from your sleep, "Good morning, mistress! May we please enter? We will be fixing you a bath and helping you get dressed for the day."

"N-no! I don't need help getting ready!"

You gasped, a sense of panic seizing you as you tried to move towards the mirror to inspect your reflection. The prospect of them assisting you with bathing and dressing meant they would inevitably see the bruises and scars littered across your body. The risk of being ousted on your second day loomed over you, and that was something you couldn't allow.

Your legs betrayed you and gave out, succumbing to weakness due to prolonged hunger. You crawled the remaining distance to the worn-out mirror in your room, suppressing a sob as you covered your mouth upon seeing your bare, unadorned self. The tears from the previous night had washed away your makeup, unveiling the stark reality of your appearance.

"Mistress, please. We've brought a new set of clothes for you, along with the freshest rose petals for your bath. It will be relaxing and enjoyable, we assure you!"

The kindness in Eunsook's voice intensified your emotional turmoil. As you stared at your hideous reflection, you realised you didn't deserve such luxury. You weren't the beautiful and elegant first daughter promised to Seonghwa; you felt like a fraud. How naive could you have been to believe you stood a chance of becoming the wife of the renowned General Park?

You weren't good enough; you'll never be.

"No, I don't want anything! J-just leave me alone, please..." You cried, pulling your knees into your chest and hugging them close. Despite the continuous persuasion from the elderly woman, you ignored her and remained curled up in the corner.

"Mistress... please," Eunsook gave up with a sigh, shaking her head at the servants behind her, "Take it away for now." They obeyed and dispersed with the clothes and bath supplies they had prepared. She knew there was nothing she could do if you refused to grant her permission to enter.

As the footsteps of the departing servants faded away, you released a sigh of relief. Your gaze remained fixed on the marks on your skin, cruel reminders of the abuse inflicted by your father, scars that seemed destined never to fade. So long as you have these on your body, you will never know what happiness is.

A bitter, humourless chuckle escaped your lips as you contemplated the fading hope for happiness. The general's response to your heartfelt words served as undeniable proof that, no matter how sincere your efforts, he would never accept you. The burden of the Jang surname seemed to ensure that you would never be given a fair chance, regardless of how hard you try.

While you wallowed in self-pity, Seonghwa was on the opposite side of the estate, reluctantly getting dressed for the day. His sleep had been far from restful, leaving him in a sour mood.

"So... how is she doing?" He asked in a detached tone, staring out of his window to avoid meeting his assistant's eyes.

Jongho arched an eyebrow at the question, suppressing a knowing smile as he observed his master's attempt to maintain a nonchalant demeanour, "Are you referring to Miss Jang, sir?"

The general clicked his tongue in irritation, "Who else would I be asking about?"

His aide nodded, "Right, how silly of me. Well, it seemed like she was sleeping quite well when we returned her to her quarters. I haven't checked on her since then, but Eunsook has organised a group of servants to assist her with a bath and preparations for the day."

Seonghwa hummed in approval, doing his best to mask any sense of satisfaction, "Very well. She better be punctual for breakfast then, we shall see how she plans to prove her innocence."

Despite his insistence on you being suspicious, Jongho could discern that there was no malice in his master's words. Perhaps there was hope that things could work out between the two of you after all. It seemed like the general was already letting his guard down, even if only slightly; the assistant could see it.

Or not.

"Where the hell is she?"

Seonghwa frowned, growing impatient as he had been waiting for some time, and you were nowhere to be seen in the dining hall.

Breakfast had already been served, and he even had the servants prepare slightly more than usual, anticipating your need for extra food since you hadn't eaten dinner the previous night.

Just as he asked the question, Jongho pointed at the head maid rushing towards the dining hall, strangely without you in sight, "There, Eunsook's coming."

The elderly woman bowed upon reaching the dining hall, catching her breath before addressing the general, "Good morning, master."

He waved off the greeting, "What's going on? Where's Miss Jang? Were you not getting her ready?"

She appeared to hesitate in her response, stammering, "W-well, I was trying to, but—"

"But what?" Seonghwa pressed, annoyance evident in his tone. Sensing her master's foul mood, Eunsook knew she had no choice but to tell the truth.

Jongho nodded encouragingly at his colleague, not wanting her to get in trouble. The head maid lowered her head in defeat, "I arranged for her bath and everything first thing in the morning, and we've been stuck outside her quarters for nearly an hour. Master, she refuses to let us in. It seems she doesn't wish to be bathed or changed."

The general and his assistant found themselves baffled by the revelation. Your new husband struggled to comprehend why anyone would be foolish enough to refuse a pleasant bath and a fresh change of clothes. But he was becoming less surprised after witnessing your odd behaviour the day before. By now, he had accepted the fact that you were far from normal.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he pressed a hand against his head, "Just... if she doesn't want to be bathed that badly, leave it. Just tell her to come out and eat," He muttered, recalling your longing gaze fixed on the dishes during dinner, "Go, get her now."

"Yes, master." Eunsook bowed before heading back to you. She hoped that this time, you would finally show yourself. Her concern grew as she remembered hearing the anguish in your voice when you asked to be left alone just earlier.

To be sure, she checked with the nearby servants if you had called for anyone or even emerged from your room while she was away, only to sigh in disappointment when they shook their heads.

She raised her hand to knock gently, "Mistress, I've come to inform you that breakfast is ready. The master is waiting for you. He wants you to know it's alright if you prefer not to be bathed or changed, but please, come and eat."

Instead of providing comfort, that only heightened your anxiety. Was the general summoning you to further interrogate you? It seemed likely. If he were to see you in this state, he might resort to beating you to death in an instant. Surely, being wedded to someone like you would be an insult to the great General Park.

As appealing as the idea of breakfast was, you feared you might not get to eat, similar to the previous night. Especially not with your current appearance. You winced, feeling the ache in your stomach from going without food for so long.

Perhaps this is how you'll meet your end.

"Mistress, wouldn't you like to have some breakfast?" Eunsook made another attempt, her concern deepening as she noticed your silhouette huddled in pain in a corner.

You shook your head, holding onto your stomach, "No... I-I don't want anything! Just... just go away, please..."

Seonghwa's impatience reached new heights as he waited, and it only intensified when he saw the head maid returning once again, without you by her side. He narrowed his eyes, feeling stupid for trying to be considerate towards you this morning. Here you were, revealing your true colours by being an ungrateful brat already.

His anger finally erupted when the elderly woman bowed deeply with a regretful grimace, "I'm sorry, master. Miss Jang refuses to leave her room."

The general slammed his fists against the table, scaring both Jongho and Eunsook as he pushed himself off his seat, seething, "That's it. If it's my attention she wants, then she's about to get it."

In a panic, the two employees chased after their furious master, making pitiful attempts to calm him down, "Master, please, perhaps she is still emotionally recovering from what happened last night!" But no amount of words could extinguish the fire in Seonghwa's eyes as he stormed towards The Cold Palace.

Truth be told, the assistant and head maid had never seen the general so worked up over any of his fiancées before. In fact, he barely paid them any attention, and they would all flee the estate in less than a day. Had it been any other woman, he probably wouldn't have cared if she came to breakfast or not; he probably wouldn't even bat an eyelash if she died in her room.

But he was oddly affected by your absence.

"Get out of my goddamned way!" He roared, pushing through the servants working around the garden paths that led to your quarters. They scrambled to their knees, bowing their heads low to avoid angering him further.

Jongho and Eunsook shot apologetic looks as they hurried past the poor servants who were just trying to do their jobs. But they had no time to worry about their colleagues when they saw Seonghwa closing in on your room. They scurried over to hold him back, trying to prevent him from scaring you any more than he already had.

"Master, please—"

Before they could intervene, the general forcefully slammed the flimsy doors of your room open, causing one of them to break off its hinges. Your cowering form was immediately revealed, but your new husband was too furious to show any sympathy.

"Are you angry because I didn't give you the wedding night you desired? If you want it that badly, I'll give it to you right now." Without allowing you to respond, he yanked your arms away from your body and tore the outer layer of your hanbok open, exposing your innerwear and shoulders completely.

"N-no, please!"

In just a split second, all of his fury vanished.

The sight of the numerous marks covering your skin, along with the newly revealed ones on your face, left Seonghwa frozen in place. He couldn't move as he observed the bruises and scars scattered all over you, and these were only the ones visible. He dreaded to think about what might be hidden beneath the rest of your body.

What the actual f—

Having tortured more than enough prisoners as part of his job, he was able to distinguish between old and fresh wounds. Judging from all the ones on you, he was repulsed to realise that you had a bit of everything – your injuries ranged from years to a few months old. This meant that you had been enduring abuse for a really long time.

A series of horrified gasps escaped Jongho and Eunsook as soon as they entered the room and witnessed the condition of your skin. You let out a heart-wrenching sob, making a feeble attempt to cover yourself again, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." You whimpered, despite being violated.

It's over. My life... is over.

Feeling lightheaded from all the crying and prolonged starvation, your vision darkened, your eyes gradually fluttered shut, and you slumped forward. The general acted swiftly, catching you and, for once, displaying gentleness as he nestled your head into the crook of his neck, holding your fragile form close.

"Hand me the blanket." He instructed. The head maid hurried over with the fabric, witnessing her master wrapping you in it.

Rising with you in his arms, he moved toward his private quarters with a newfound determination, "Jongho, go summon Physician Jung." The assistant bowed and hastily departed to fulfil his orders.

Entering his room, he laid you on his bed and carefully covered you with the sheets. Examining you more closely now, he became aware of your true frailty. Carrying you earlier, he noticed how remarkably light you were, like a feather. He clenched his fists in rage as he took in the horrendous marks that marred your skin. The new bruise forming on your forehead from the night before only made him feel worse.

Letting out a sigh, he tenderly wiped away the tears staining your cheeks, "What in the world happened to you? Who did this to you? Who dare lay their hands on you, hm?" He whispered, his heart tightening with more guilt than the previous night.

Eunsook stood in the corner, witnessing the scene unfold before her eyes with mixed emotions. While she was pleased to finally see her master display genuine care and affection towards you, it saddened her to realise the extent of the hardships you had to go through to evoke this response from him.

At the same time, her heart ached even more at the sight of the visible evidence of what you had been trying to conceal from everyone. It now made sense why you resisted a bath; you must have been terrified of anyone seeing the marks on your body. The thought of the horrors you endured in the Jang estate sent a shudder down her spine.

"Sir, Physician Jung has arrived," Jongho announced at the entrance, awaiting permission to enter. Seonghwa nodded tersely, "Let him in." The general rose from his seat to greet the physician, a familiar face who had become somewhat of a family doctor.

"Good afternoon, General Park. Are you feeling unwell—" The physician's words halted as soon as his eyes landed on the frail figure lying on the bed.

"It's not me this time, Yunho. It's... my wife."

« Preview of Part 5 »

"Jongho," The general called out softly, his eyes staying fixed on your unconscious form. Despite the softness in his tone, he was anything but calm on the inside. His aide stepped forward, "Sir?"

Finally shifting his gaze from you, he turned to his assistant, dead serious, "I'm going to need you to dig deeper this time. Hire a private investigator if necessary. Find someone willing to infiltrate the minister's estate and get someone to talk. Pay them as much as they need. Just find out what the hell happened while she was in there."

Deep down, he had a gut feeling about who might be responsible for all this, but he needed to know what exactly was done to you and why. He needed confirmation, and most importantly, evidence.

"General Park, I eagerly anticipate our forthcoming union. I assure you, my eldest is a gem; you'll come to adore her."

Recalling the smugness in Minister Jang's tone as he uttered those words, everything began to click. The puzzle pieces were coming together. The narrative of you being an accomplice for whatever your father had planned against him was finally being discarded; it was clear to him now that you were as much a victim as he was, except you'd had it much worse.

"Leave it to me, sir. I'll do everything to find out what happened to Miss Jang." The assistant said with determination, bowing.

Before he could leave, Seonghwa added, "Mistress. It's mistress to you all now. From today onwards, she's the official wife of General Park. I don't want to hear anyone calling her by that ridiculous surname ever again, understand?"

Jongho and Eunsook couldn't hide their smiles as they bowed rather enthusiastically, "Yes, master!"

Umm, surprise? HAHA I know I said I was sick, and I still am, but I'm feeling slightly better and gosh, not even the cold can keep me away from working on this! All your kind replies and messages got me so hyped, I had to finish this asap🤭

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline

#edenesth #the way to his heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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anniebeemine · 1 month

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could I request a one shot on how spencer would react to his gf having to go undercover to be the unsubs next victim? (gf isn’t part of the bau, but matches the description of the unsubs previous victims, so the team wants her to go undercover for them)

I got a little carried away with this one. Truly, it can end at the divider

warnings: contact with the unsub, little bit of blood, some manhandling from the unsub for like two seconds

"Someone needs to go undercover," Hotch announces, his tone grave as he scans the team gathered in the cramped conference room of the Los Angeles police station. The tension is palpable, each member of the BAU silently weighing the dangers of the assignment. Spencer sits up straighter, his mind racing through possible people that could match the unsub's victimology. Hotch continues before he can offer any suggestions, "And someone has already agreed."

The door creaks open, and the team's heads turn as you step into the room. Spencer's eyes widen, and a cold dread washes over him as he connects the dots.

"Absolutely not," Spencer blurts out, standing so quickly that his chair scrapes loudly against the floor. He crosses the room in two strides, his hazel eyes locked on yours, a mixture of fear and disbelief swirling in their depths. "No. You're not doing this."

You raise a hand to shush him, your expression calm but resolute. "Spence, listen—"

"No," he interrupts, his voice growing louder, the usual calm of his demeanor fraying at the edges. "You don't understand. This isn't—this is too dangerous. You're not even in the field anymore, why are you even here?"

You blink, taken aback by his final thought. The room seems to close in as the weight of his words hangs in the air, cutting deeper than either of you expected. For a moment, you're stunned into silence, trying to process the hurt behind his outburst.

"Spencer," you start, your voice wavering slightly, "I'm here because I can help. I know I'm not in the field anymore, but I was undercover for years.

This is what I trained for, what I’ve done countless times before. I know the risks, and I know how to handle myself."

Spencer's eyes widen with realization, the anger in them quickly replaced by something softer, more pained. "I know you were. But that’s exactly why I’m scared. You’ve been through so much already… I don’t want you to go back to that."

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over memories you’d tried so hard to bury. You remember the years spent pretending to be someone else—multiple someone elses—slipping into roles that made you a ghost, a shadow. You were whoever you needed to be to get the job done, to bring the bad guys down, but in the process, you lost track of who you were. The lines between yourself and your cover identities blurred until you could barely recognize yourself in the mirror.

The things you saw, the lives you lived, haunted you. There were nights you couldn't sleep, images of violence and betrayal looping in your mind. You had seen the worst of humanity up close, and it had left its mark, chipping away at your sense of self, your sense of safety. Every time you pulled on a new identity, it was like losing another piece of yourself, until there was almost nothing left.

And then Spencer came into your life.

You met him when you were at your lowest, just after a mission that had gone wrong. You were raw, broken in ways you couldn’t articulate. He saw through the layers of deception, through the masks you wore, and somehow, he saw you—the person you’d forgotten you could be. Spencer, with his awkward charm, his brilliance, and his unwavering compassion, helped you start to piece yourself back together.

It wasn't an easy thing to do. Even now, there are some days where you struggle to remember what it feels like to be a real person. You left your job, taking a position that kept you stationary.

"I know what you're afraid of, and I won't pretend I'm not scared too. But I've come a long way since then. You helped me find myself again, and I’m not going to lose that. This is different. I’m different. And I know who I am now. I’m not going back to being lost." Your voice is soft.

He sighs. "It's not just that."

You frown, searching his face. "Then what is it?"

Instead of answering right away, he reaches into the file he’s been holding, his hands trembling slightly as he pulls out a stack of photographs. He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s deciding whether or not to show them to you, before finally placing them on the table between you.

Your heart sinks as you look down. The photos are arranged in a cruel contrast, with the driver's license photos of the victims on the left and the images of their mutilated bodies on the right. The transformation is horrifying, a chilling reminder of what’s at stake. You shiver involuntarily, the reality of the danger sinking in.

"Spencer…"

His voice is thick with emotion as he speaks. "These women… they didn’t have a chance. He’s meticulous, careful. They didn’t see it coming until it was too late. I just… I can’t stand the thought of you becoming another one of these photos."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you meet his gaze. "I understand, Spence. I do. But this time, I’ll be under the watchful eyes of the FBI. I won’t be alone."

He nods, though the worry doesn’t leave his eyes. "Just… promise me you’ll be careful."

"I promise," you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek before standing up. The heaviness of the moment lingers as you make your way out of the station, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination.

+++

The bar is dimly lit, the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses creating a low buzz in the background. You walk in, trying to shake off the nerves that have settled in the pit of your stomach. You remind yourself of the plan, of the safety net in place, but the unease lingers.

You spot Spencer in a corner booth, his eyes tracking your every move. He leans back when he sees you, his expression neutral but you can see the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders. You give him a small, reassuring smile, brushing your hair behind your ear as you settle into a table towards the back of the bar.

Moments later, the door opens, and you feel a chill run down your spine as the unsub walks in. He’s dressed casually, a smile on his face as he spots you and makes his way over. He sits across from you, his smile widening in a way that makes your skin crawl.

"Hi," he says, calling you by your given name as he leans in slightly, his eyes scanning your face. "You look even more beautiful in person."

You force a smile, matching his tone as you flirt back. "You’re not so bad yourself."

The date continues, each moment carefully orchestrated. You laugh at his jokes, touch his arm lightly, all the while keeping an eye on the clock. Every second feels like an eternity, but you know it’s all part of the plan.

As the evening winds down, he offers to walk you to your car, just as you expected. You nod, standing up and smoothing your dress. "Sure, but I need to pay the bill first."

That was the plan—to walk away, giving the undercover officers the signal to swoop in and arrest him. But as you turn to head to the bar, you feel his hand grip your arm tightly, pulling you back. Panic flares in your chest as you try to pull away, but his hold is firm.

"Wait," he says, his voice low and tinged with an edge of desperation. "What’s wrong? Why are you in such a hurry to leave?"

Your mind races, trying to come up with something to say, but the fear is overwhelming, clouding your thoughts. "I… I just need to pay—"

Before you can finish, he pushes you away, hard. You stumble, your foot catching on the leg of a chair as you crash into the table behind you. The world spins as you hit the ground, the table toppling over with a loud crash.

For a split second, everything is chaos. Patrons gasp and shout, scrambling out of their seats. You try to push yourself up, but the room feels like it’s spinning. Then, out of nowhere, a man—another undercover officer, you realize—tackles the unsub to the ground, wrestling with him as other officers rush in to secure him.

Spencer is by your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he kneels down to check on you. "Are you okay?"

You manage a small, shaky smile, trying to reassure him. "See? Told you I’d be fine."

But his eyes widen in alarm as he looks down at your arm. "You’re bleeding."

You turn to see a shard of glass embedded in your arm, a steady stream of blood trickling down your skin. The sight makes you dizzy, but you shrug it off, wincing as you try to stand. "It’ll make a good scar."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid x you #fanfic

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xenonarrow · 2 months

Text

At last, my piece for the Moon Knight fanzine Lunar Labyrinth (@moon-knight-zine) from last year! This is the first time I work with a zine project and it was definitely a delight.

I had fun with the symbolism on this piece, more info under the crack:

Prompt/Subject: My place in this zine was part of the artists for the 4th chapters, Waxing Gibbous: Order. The prompt was changed and revised through the process, ultimately revolving around the concept of being reborn, rebuilding, discovering each other's strengths and ultimately the chapter's namesake order. I played with the concept of rebuilding a literal set of mirrors as a visual metaphor.

General setting: I chose to feature the MCU version of the character(s) with some elements from the comics since the time of the planning was very close to its release on D+. The scene is set inside one's house as I often use them with the symbolic value of one's personality and emotional state. I chose Steven's apartment from the MCU for two main reasons: 1) It's shown at the end after the events of the series, implying they still use it as home 2) The layout of the set is well documented and also nice and cosy. I used a combination of pictures from the behind the scenes and artbook + a rough scene I put up in Blender as reference for the subjects' placement, perspective and palette

Character(s) There is only one (physical) character in scene that I called "the body" since it's placed in a way so the face is not visible. This is deliberate so to not give away any clue about which alter is fronting - he can be any of them, all or none at the same time - it's just the body. The physical appearance. The medium with which the psyche interacts with the rest of the physical world. The body's clothes were a tough choice but I ended up with Steven's pyjamas since it was what they wearing at the end of the series. Steven, Marc and Jake are represented in the mirror with their Duat sequence clothes (except for Jake's attire for his only on-screen appearance + comics version fake moustache because honestly he feels naked without them) and in a pose reflecting as much as their individual vibe and role as I could in a single image: Steven and Jake are helping the body putting the mirror pieces back together in two different ways, one in a more concerned / affectionate manner and the other is slightly more blunt and direct. Marc is covering his face, as hiding away is kinda fitting for his character on different occasions (hiding memories in an attempt to protect Steven, Hiding parts of himself and his life to his loved ones, running away from his problems etc). Being dramatic as usual.

Mirrors I love using mirrors as visual metaphors. And I love how they used them in the series. I am very normal about it. In this piece the mirrors function as a reflection of the inner self (or selves, in this case): the same body is reflected in three different mirrors (the alters) which are more or less fractured based on the status of their relationship with a specific alter and themselves: Jake has the most pieces missing, since in the series he's the most elusive one to the point of the others not being aware of his existence up until the end despite still being active in protecting them in times of need. The background of the mirrors reflects the pattern of the (head)space as seen in some parts of the Moon Knight (2016) comics while the colours are chosen and assigned based on the box colours used in Moon Knight (2021). The pattern is not following the perspective of the shards on the floor because it's not a physical space the mirror is reflecting but it's more of a "door" to another dimension, the psychological one. The back of the mirrors has a hieroglyphic inscription vaguely inspired by those seen during the first costume sequence at the end of ep 1 (will be back at this later)

The moon dart (that shiny thing stuck in the rightmost mirror): The moon dart symbolises their connection and service under Khonshu. It was thrown diagonally hitting all three mirrors (and causing the fractures in them) and it got stuck in Jake's, symbolising his status as the one in the system still under the god's leash. The dart has also a side, positive connotation: despite the havoc that being Khonshu's avatar has brought, it also started to bring them together and work as a team.

Hieroglyphs: There is a thematic back-and-forth in this segment of the mirror, as the empty sections symbolises a loss of self in favour of being an Egyptian deity's puppet (hence the hieroglyphic inscriptions, vaguely resembling the pyramid texts where a certain hymn features an earlier and more violent version of the god Khonsu being a slayer for the king), but in the same inscriptions (see the second picture) carry a hopeful message: "There is no son who is strong against his father, but you are strong and mighty while Ma'at (personification of order, balance, harmony) dwells on your arms and your Ba (plural) will last forever, repeating rejuvenation like the Moon". I used "father" referencing the comics where Khonshu leans heavier into posing as a fatherly figure as a manipulation tactic, so the sentence can be interpreted as escaping from Khonshu's leash and finding strength and balance among themselves. It also echoes the usage of the moon dart.

Easter eggs: There are two easter eggs in here. Three Ba birds with the alters' faces can be seen over Steven's mirror, it's a little signature detail since a previous drawing with them apparently became iconic in my corner of MK fandom? They are also mentioned in the hieroglyphic text. There's a tiny Dracula hiding under the carpet layer. We can't see you in the finished piece, but we know you're here you big fucking nerd

WHEW that was a lot. Thank you for reading this far!

Here are some other progress pics if you fancy:

#moon knight #artists on tumblr #moon knight fanzine #fanzine #digital art #zine contributor #illustration #art #my art #fanart #mk fanart #art process #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley

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ms-demeanor · 3 months

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hi! i am not sure if you will have good advice for this but your photography guide made me think about this issue. i grew up quite poor (school supplies were a struggle every september) and now as an adult i am not as financially stable as id like. this has made me very scared to use any art supplies because im always thinking that im wasting them on not good enough projects or not good enough skills or similar thinking. however that leads to me having supplies bc of gifts and whatnot (ie watercolor paper) but not using it out of anxiety. do you have any advice? thanks!

There are two ways that I go about getting over this kind of issue:

Get out the supplies right now and start making any marks. Cut a piece of watercolor paper in half. Draw a line down the center of a page in grease pencil. Do anything to just start using it to get over the "can't open it, must save for special occasions/projects" mindset. Once you've broken the seal on a first use, it's a lot easier to use tools or notebooks or paints a second time.

Plan projects for yourself like they're assignments. Give yourself a deadline and materials list, write it up like a school assignment sheet, and then do the assignment.

And, if it helps to think of it this way: you're likely hesitant to use your materials because you don't want them "going to waste," but at the moment they are being wasted because they aren't being used.

It is solidly my opinion that art supplies used for art are never wasted; not all "art" is meant to be kept and a part of the process of creating art is practice, which should lead to massive piles of clumsily made, "bad" art that you wouldn't want to hang up on the wall but is nonetheless a part of the process of making art that you'd want to hang on the wall.

You may be looking at the watercolor paper and thinking "I shouldn't break into this because each piece of this paper needs to be something special to show that I value this gift" but you don't get better at painting with watercolors if you use them on printer paper. You need to use the paper (and the paints, and your brushes) to maintain and improve your fluency with the medium.

Many people are hesitant to "waste" sketchbooks or good paper or canvas or expensive paint because they think they are throwing away the good things they *could* make if only the had the perfect plan and create the perfect piece of art with each page and each new tube.

But these things are consumables. Your sketchbook is not a guitar, and it is not a finished song, it is a set of strings. The lovely watercolor paper is a gift for you to make art with, but it is also a gift for you to *practice* making art with and the practice is just as much a part of the gift as a finished artwork would be.

So you're not wasting it if you just get out your paper and start painting with no plan, or if you "mess up" a piece, or if you just use the paper for practice.

So, if you're trying to get yourself to use watercolor paper specifically, I have an assignment for you:

Watercolor Thumbnails Assignment

Materials: Watercolor paper, 2 colors of paint (your choice), Hard pencil Tools: Ruler, Small and medium brushes, Palette

Instructions:

Using your pencil and your ruler, divide the page into 10 equal rectangles.

Visit this website and click the "surprise me" button. Select 10 artworks to create monochrome thumbnails of. (you can click as many times as you need to, but the goal here is to do thumbnails of art that you aren't familiar with rather than seeking out art that you know well for this assignment)

Reproduce each of the images as a monochrome thumbnail in the ten rectangles you've marked on your paper. You don't have to mix a unique color for each rectangle, but you should mix a few different colors and use only one for each rectangle. For instance, if you are using green and yellow paint, some images should be yellow, some should be green, some should be green-yellow, some should be yellow-green.

Purpose:

To use your materials

Work on achieving different values with single colors by layering or diluting your paint.

Composition study

Time Limits:

Once you have collected your ten images and have your station set up, you should take no more than one hour to complete your thumbnails.

Due Date: July 20th 2024

___________________

If you are not familiar with watercolor, here's a good video on some of the basic techniques for painting with watercolor:

And this is a good example of a monochrome painting done in watercolor; if you want, you can watch the video and use it as a tutorial to practice getting a feel for monochrome painting.

youtube

Use this assignment to practice! Make use of the gift that you were given by familiarizing yourself with the medium and thinking about art and working in color.

I'm going to play along too and will reblog this post with my thumbnails on July 20th - anyone who wants to join in is welcome to do so as well.

And everyone please remember: time and materials spent doing something you love or practicing a skill you enjoy are never wasted. Even if you don't end up with a "good" finished product, you have learned something and that, in itself, is valuable.

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pinknightsinmymind · 1 year

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CANON and the morning sex part? maybe some slow messy ✂️ ? nah i'm on my knees throbbing shaking and all

【 mornings - abby anderson | NSFW 】

abby anderson x fem!reader

MDNI NSFW CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

wc: 2.8k

content: established relationship, top!abby, bottom!reader, some soft dom!abby, morning sex, you and abby are very much in love, fingering(r!receiving), scissoring, lots of praise, slight body worship, use of pet names(princess, baby, love, etc.), kinda possessive abs, abby teases you a lot, slight exhibitionism (can you call it that? she wants you to be loud enough for other ppl to hear), nipple play for like one second, not choking per say but abby just has her hand on your neck at one point, cuddling/spooning, i think that's about it? this is pretty tame and kinda cute despite being smut lol

a/n: now wait a minute bc..... you got me thinking.... i got so carried away with this😭😭😭 enjoy!!! also for this fic let's all collecitvely imagine abby's morning voice bc i bet it's so sexy😵‍💫

Abby has always been a morning person by nature. Maybe it’s because of all the times she’d get up early with her father, or because of her training as a soldier for the WLF—either ways, she’s an early riser through and through. That’s why it’s no surprise when she wakes up before you, both for convenience and for her own selfish reasons. Those reasons being, namely, that she loves having the extra time to admire you before you wake up. To Abby, there’s nothing like the beauty and the sanctity of waking up next to you every morning. There’s something sacred about it, a preciousness that belongs only to you and her. You’re here in her arms, safe, loved and cared for by her, and she’d have it no other way.

Your head is resting comfortably on your pillow, having rolled over onto your back at some point in the night. The sheets crinkle underneath Abby’s body as she turns to lay on her side because she’s set on taking in the sight of you. She can’t help it; her mornings don’t feel complete until she has. She pushed your shared blanket off her body, but she accidentally uncovered your torso in the process. She adjusted it a little for you, knowing just how much you like to stay under the covers while you sleep. As you continue to snooze, she takes this time to memorize your face, to see the moles decorating your body, the way your eyebrows are so relaxed while you sleep. You look so at peace, and it reminds her why she works so hard in the first place: to keep you safe. You mean everything to her, the whole world, even, and she’d do anything to protect you. That’s why she takes her job so seriously, why she does all the tasks Isaac assigns her, why she clears so many Infected out on patrol, why she keeps an eye out for Scars like she does. It’s all so you can live in a somewhat safer world.

After admiring you for what feels like forever—because she wishes this could last forever, just you and her safe in bed, your own little world—her hand starts to rub your stomach, caressing your sides, her hand coming up to graze your cheek. Right now she can’t help but remember you’re not wearing anything underneath her t-shirt, and the thought excites her. She remembered watching you slip it on over your naked body after making love last night, and how a part of her was sad she could no longer see every curve, every mark, every inch of your skin. Just thinking about how pretty every portion of your body looks underneath that shirt has her head spinning already. She grabbed onto your waist, pulling you into her, but you ended up rolling over onto your side. Abby doesn’t mind, though, and assumes her role of big spoon so she can rub your sides and your stomach even more.

You may be laying on her left arm, but that doesn’t stop Abby’s ability to caress your body. Her free hand roams over your body gently, so contrary to the scary image many people have of her in their heads. So much destruction has been done by her hands, but when she touches you, it’s like she’s never torn anything apart in her life. It’s like for once she has the capacity to care for something, like she’s not who she used to be, like that version of herself never existed. She’s never cared for anyone as much as she has for you, maybe the last person being her father. When she holds you, when her hands touch your body, she feels like she has the hands of a farmer or a painter, because those are people who know how to nurture, how to grow, how to care. That’s something she’s always desperately wanted to do, but she didn’t know how, not until she met you. All it took was one look into your eyes for her to learn, because suddenly she knew just what it meant to want to protect someone and look after them.

It’s after the caresses that she starts kissing your neck and your face, peppering them all over your skin. This is when you start to wake up, familiar with the routine Abby has set after many mornings together, one you never dislike fulfilling. When you start to stir, that’s when Abby finally speaks.

“Morning, princess,” she whispers. You hum in response, still half-asleep and barely batting away your grogginess. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too, Abs.” Your voice is still rough with sleep like Abby’s, and you find yourself rubbing the hand she has nestled over your stomach. So touchy, you think.

“Look so pretty this morning,” she whispers into your neck. You feel her breath fanning against your skin, and you shiver a little.

“And I didn’t look pretty yesterday morning?” you tease her.

“No, you definitely did,” she says. “You just get prettier each morning.” Her hand moved from your stomach to your sides, rubbing them before sliding down to your hips. She rubs lazy circles there with her thumb as her lips resume kissing your neck. Her kisses are so soft and gentle, and you sigh a little bit as you melt into her touch. Her kisses continue until you feel her move her arm underneath you to slide her hand underneath your t-shirt, skirting over the warmth of your skin until they meet your breasts. Your body feels like it’s on fire with her hands on your skin, and that heat goes straight to your center. A small whine leaves your lips when you feel her start to play with one of your nipples.

“Abs,” you whisper.

“What’s the matter?” she asks, delivering a particularly harsh pinch to your nipple. You let out a loud whimper at the feeling. “Do you need me like I need you?” she asks. Her voice is lower and more gravelly than usual after waking up, and the sound of it has you feeling weak. You nod your head quickly as her hand comes down to grope your ass. “Words, princess.”

“Yes,” you hiss. “Need you bad.” Abby lifts up your leg and places her hand over your cunt. Her fingers just move through your folds, not really touching you how you need, but moving them gingerly to tease you and feel how wet you are. It’s like she’s just trying to feel that you’re there.

“All this for me?” she asks. You say nothing, caught up in how desperate you feel for her touch. You feel hot and bothered and you just hurt. You want her to touch you more and end the anticipation already, but Abby has other ideas. She stops moving her hands through your wetness and instead lets it rest there, cupping you. She removes her other hand from your breasts and rests it on the base of your neck. She doesn’t squeeze, and instead just holds it there firmly. “I thought we went over this, love. Answer me when I talk to you.”

“It’s all for you, Abs,” you whimper. She moves again, satisfied with your answer. “Want you inside.”

“Really, baby? So early in the morning?”

“I just need you,” you answer.

“So desperate for me,” she mutters. You were going to respond, to tell her how mean she was, but you found your words being swallowed when you finally felt one of her fingers insert themselves. You moaned as you felt her fill you up, moving slowly and languidly. She knew how to make the moment last forever, how to make you beg for more. You moaned again as you felt her finger curl inside you, hitting the spot just where you needed her. She chuckled lowly in your ear after hearing your sounds. She loved making you feel good, knowing you were hers to pleasure like this.

“You’re all mine,” she said assertively. “All mine to touch like this. You understand?” She knew you did. You were as devoted to her as she was with you, but she loved to hear it from your lips.

“Yes,” you answer. “I’m all yours. Feels so good.”

“I know it does,” she replied, inserting another finger. A small yelp left your lips at the sudden intrusion, your brain immediately going hazy and filled with pleasure. You found yourself shamelessly moaning with each move of her fingers, one of your hands reaching up to hold onto the one she had on your neck. She moved it from its spot on your skin and laced her fingers through yours as she continued hammering into you with her fingers.

“Keep making those pretty sounds, princess,” she commanded. “I want everyone in the base to hear you. I want them to know it’s me making you feel this good.”

“Oh, fuck, Abs,” you groaned. You wanted to tell her how good she was making you feel, but all that was coming out of your lips were incoherent mumbles. Abby couldn’t help the smirk that grew on her face hearing you fail to speak.

“Yeah? Making you feel that good?” she teased. You poor thing. Just fucked so dumb you can’t even speak, and done all by her. It was an ego boost, but it also made her feel good. Hearing your moans and being able to tell you were feeling good made her wetter by the second. Her own cunt was aching, and it was all for you.

“Abby,” you whined. You could feel your stomach tightening as she continued to hit that spot deep within you that made you go crazy. She knew what she was doing—she always did. She knew your body so well, knew just what it took to make you come apart when she was fucking you. “I’m close.”

“Look at you. Cumming on my fingers already?” You only whimpered in response. “Yeah, keep going, love. Cum all over my fucking fingers.” She quickened her pace, the sound of her fingers pumping into your wetness echoing through the room. You couldn’t help as the loud moan left your lips once you climaxed, the feeling overtaking you and every single one of your senses. It was like disappearing for a moment, swallowed by the white hot pleasure all over your body. Abby removed her fingers from you, grabbing onto your body and turning you to face her. Her lips were on yours faster than you expected, but you gladly returned her kiss. Her hands grabbed onto your shirt and pulled you even closer into her body. She was so desperate and hungry for you, and you were just what she needed to cure the ache between her legs.

“Need to feel you,” she whimpered against your lips. “Want to feel you against me.”

“Fuck,” you whined. “I want to make you feel good, Abs.”

Abby removed her lips from yours and sat up in bed, and you followed her actions. She pulled her boxers and her tank top off, then leaned over and pulled your shirt over your head. That only ignited the aching she felt further as she leaned in close to your body and began kissing you, her hands roaming over your skin, touching you anywhere she could. She loved to admire your naked body like the work of art it was, and she could never get enough of it. As she scooted closer to you, she spread your legs apart as she settled her own between them. When she was finally close enough, she could feel your warm skin on hers, your wetness coating her own. She let out a small groan at the contact as she grabbed onto your leg to her right and started grinding against you.

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned. She could feel your clit rubbing against hers, and it was driving her crazy. You were still sensitive after your previous orgasm, and it just made your pleasure intensify. She was grinding against you slowly, taking her time with you, staring so deep into your eyes as she did so. The intensity of her gaze turned you on even more, which you didn’t even think was possible.

“Abs,” you whimpered. Her eyes didn’t leave your face as she watched your expressions twist with every emotion you felt. Lust, love, pleasure—she loved to see it all on your face.

“Love having you like this, baby,” she grunted. “All desperate for me. You like it when I make love to you like this, huh?” Her hips kept that same slow, steady rhythm against yours, and you could feel yourself getting lost in the feeling of her against you, the sounds of your wetness echoing in the room.

“Yeah,” you answered her. You knew she’d punish you if you didn’t, and you couldn’t stand to be punished at a time like this. Not when you were feeling so good. You made eye contact with her again, her gaze boring into you and every part of you as she continued her movements. Her eyes were half-lidded as she stared at you, something wild and full of lust taking over her gaze. Feeling her watch you made it all feel even better. You felt like your body was overwhelmed with pleasure, the only thought in your head being Abby. Her name kept being repeated in your head, just Abby, Abby, Abby, and you found yourself muttering it outloud, too. Abby kept grinding her cunt against yours, and with each movement of her hips you were both losing yourselves deeper into one another. You met every thrust of her hips with your own, and it caused moans to slip out of each of your lips. The feeling was just so heavenly in a way you couldn’t put into words.

“Feel so good against me, baby, fuck,” she moaned. She was always the dominant one, always the one in charge, but whenever she got overstimulated like this, she started to lose her cool. Abby was doing her best to maintain the image she usually did, to stay in control, but she was faltering. You could both tell from the whimpers uncontrollably leaving her lips. “So–so good,” she groaned. “I–fuck,” she cursed. If there was a higher power, you had to have been sent to her by it. There was no worldly explanation for why she was blessed with someone as good as you, how she came to love and be loved by a real life angel.

“I want you to cum on me, Abs,” you whimpered. “Use me to cum. Just fuck me,” you begged. Abby let out a grunt at your words and immediately picked up the pace of her hips against yours. That sent you both over the edge as you both got much louder from the sudden sensations. You did your best to reach her pace, but Abby’s hips were moving much faster than yours, so much so she was starting to get messy. She was doing exactly as you asked, not sparing a moment to pause as she chased her orgasm. She was so close, and she knew that she would unravel soon as she was already coming undone. The whimpers leaving her lips were so pathetic, but she just felt so good she couldn’t help it.

“You’re so good to me,” she moaned. “Letting me fuck you like this. Shit.” She could feel her climax approaching, the heat in her stomach overtaking both her mind and body. “You’re—Fuck. Gonna cum.” She grinded her hips against yours a few more times and that’s when she felt her orgasm overtake her. She let out a choked moan at the sudden pleasure, but she kept grinding against you regardless. She wanted you to cum again, to cum with you. You found your eyes filling up with tears at the pleasure you felt, still so sensitive from earlier. The sensitivity made it hurt a little, but it just felt so good.

“Fuck, fuck, Abby,” you moaned, feeling it all finally wash over you. Abby kept grinding against you until your orgasm finally ran its course, then stopped. Both of you were catching your breath with heaving chests, staring at each other in post-orgasm awe. You could feel your body was sticky with sweat—and probably other fluids—but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You collapsed onto the pillows behind you, Abby following suit as she pulled your bare body close to hers. Abby felt so tired and like she could pass out within seconds, but her tendencies as a clean freak were stronger than her sleepiness.

“You wanna take a shower?” she asked. You shook your head, snuggling further into Abby’s chest.

“No. Just wanna lay here with you for a while.”

“But you will shower with me later, right?” she asked again.

You hummed in response. “Yeah. But right now I just wanna cuddle with you.”

“Fair enough, love,” she said. She wrapped her arms around you tightly, the one place she liked to keep you the best.

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #tlou x reader #tlou abby #abby tlou

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throneofsapphics · 10 months

Text

the ebb and flow of fate part 4

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part five) (epilogue)

Cazriel x f!Reader

Summary: She felt a tug, a thread like current weaving between the three of them, and shoved deep, deep down.

Warnings: injuries, nightmares, angst, a bit of fluff, depression, throwing up, drinking

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: I’m back ish! It felt so good to write again, this was close to finished before & I can’t promise when the next part will be out but I’m crossing my fingers for soon, I’m guessing there’ll be about 1-2 more

Cassian’s mad for several reasons. The main one being - she risked her life for him. Put herself in danger for him. He’s mad at himself as well for being … well, a complete asshole to her. But, right now it was easier to hold on to his anger than process any other kinds of emotions. Even if it’s not fair to her.

He gazed over at the sleeping form, brows furrowed, curled up tightly on her side.

His fault.

It's his fault she’s in that pain, in that state.

Assigning blame won’t help.

Won’t help a damn person.

The door creaked open, Mor popping her head in.

“Any change?” She asked, not bothering to look at him.

Another side-effect of the fucked up situation. His longtime friend, her sister, was pissed at him. Pissed at both him and Azriel, for reasons she wouldn’t disclose. Fuck, she only spoke to him when absolutley necessary - or to ask after y/n.

“No,” his voice was curt, tone sharp. Mor finally looked at him, her eyes narrowed as she took another step in, leaving the door open behind her.

“You can leave.”

“I just got here,” he leaned back further in his chair, crossing his arms, looking away from her burning stare.

“And you obviously don’t want to be,” the blonde snapped.

“When did I say that?”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I want to be here,” he said through gritted teeth. Mor let out a noise of disbelief, and he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. With Azriel, they’d agreed not to announce their bond without speaking to her first. Whether or not the others figured it out, was up to them.

“I do.” He insisted, still feeling Mor’s glare on him. The female left without another word, the door quietly closing behind her.

Cassian stood, dragging his chair behind him towards the edge of the bed. Everything about this was confusing. Frustrating beyond belief.

The door creaked again, and he opened his mouth to tell Mor to leave him the hell alone, but the scent of night mist and cedar hit him, and his mouth snapped shut. Azriel closed the door behind him, but didn’t move from it, leaning against the frame and observing them from afar. He tilted his head back, neck resting on the top of the chair as he looked at the ceiling. At this point, he knew every small swirl and indent of it.

His attention snapped back in front of him as a small groan sounded, finding y/n’s eyes heavily blinking, darting between him and Azriel.

“Another nightmare,” she muttered, and closed her eyes again. He couldn’t fight the small snort that left him. Apparently that’s what they were to her; a nightmare. It didn’t sit right with him, but he didn’t do anything to try and fix it. She could easily brush off anything he said as a delusion or hallucination. To him, there’s no point in fixing anything now, not with what Madja told them.

‘I cannot guarantee how much she will remember - if anything.’

Maybe that could play in his favor, confess everything he wanted to - and brush it off as one of her hallucinations later on. He shook his head, throwing the idea out of it. That was cruel, and he hated himself for considering it.

“Not a nightmare,” Az finally spoke. He knew she was still awake, but chose to ignore him.

Morning dew coating the moss soaked through her clothing, drenching her back and legs. Her eyes are fixed above her, on the clouds warping in and out of different shapes. She can’t move, can’t block out the images, can’t escape the thoughts circling inside of her mind. Cruel words whispered in voices so familiar, but just out of reach.

Even the clouds seem to be her enemy, forming arrows launching across the sky. Could they be considered clouds? As far as she knows, clouds don’t move like that.

Not real. Not real. Not real. She chants in her mind. Regardless, right now this is her reality. There’s a vague awareness behind her, that this will end at some point. All things considered, this one is rather tame compared to the others.

Thrown into her room, she cowers in the corner, wrapping her arms around her legs and tucking them in tight. Maybe if she makes herself small, they won’t notice. He won’t notice. They’ll finally leave her alone.

Heavy footsteps pound across the room as she squeezes her eyes shut, if she can’t see it - it’s not real. It won’t happen. Cruel hands tighten around her arms, another slapping against her mouth to muffle her screams -

“Wake up,” a voice says. Wake up from where? The males hands brand into her, his body looming over her -

“Wake up,” the same voice repeats.

An invisible hand tightens around her shoulder, shaking it back and forth. She glances down, but the hand isn’t there. Only the one tightening around her upper arm, the grip bruising.

“Wake up, y/n.”

Her screams are still muffled, her back slammed against the wood.

Gentle fingers run across her forehead, “please,”

Nausea whirls as she’s flung back into her body, an arm steadies her as she launches forward, clutching a hand over her mouth.

A bowl is placed in front of her, and she empties the contents of her stomach into it. Minutes pass, and she’s still heaving, her body pale and shaking.

“Get it all out,” the same voice says. One she can recognize now. A voice she loathes, mostly for the comfort it’s bringing her now, even the real hand that's rubbing her back.

As soon as she’s done, the bowl and its contents disappear, and she shoved the hand away, shuffling as quickly as she could to the other side of the bed, ignoring the pain shooting up her arms and legs, and tumbled out, barely catching herself on the other side of the wall.

“Gods-damned it,” someone cursed, and she felt their presence moving in the room, at her side before she could make it to the bathroom on her own.

“Go away,” she mumbled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“And let you fall on your ass?” Cassian muttered. That’s who the voice was.

“Yes,” she manages to say, even though each breath hurts. She groans again as his arm wraps under her knees, the other behind her back. In her mind, she can pretend she’s protesting and fighting him on it, but in reality she doesn’t have the energy to.

He deposits her in front of the sink, and hovers a few steps away like an unwelcome shadow.

“Fuck off.”

“A little gratitude wouldn’t hurt.”

“Why should I be grateful to you? You don’t have to be here,” her hands grip the edge of the sink as she glares at him through the mirror, doing her best not to focus looking at herself.

“Yes, I do,” he leaned against the doorframe nonchalantly, but she knew he’s observing every movement of hers, looking for any sign of weakness.

Letting out a large sigh, she cups her hands under the water to rinse her mouth out. A small toothbrush and toothpaste appear next to her, and she thanks the house for it. At least he doesn’t call out how her hands shake with each movement, taking a few tries to actually get the toothpaste on the brush.

A few minutes later, and she feels marginally better, some of her strength returning.

Y/n slapped his hand away as she made her way out of the bathroom, but couldn’t stop him from hovering behind her. His shadow covers hers, engulfing her completely as she makes her way back to the bed. The bed. Her damned prison now.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” he commented after she settled back in.

“And you know what’s good for me now?

“Quit putting words in my mouth,” his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, “I swear if you weren’t injured i’d -”

“You’d what?” Hazel eyes glared at her for the interruption. “Go on.”

“No.”

“Exactly,” she forces a grin, “you’d do nothing.”

His head tilts back, as if he’s praying to the mother for patience. Maybe if she annoyed him enough he’ll leave her alone.

She was finally in a state of somewhat lucidity, and all he’s getting is her attitude. At least her real feelings hadn’t changed much. Yesterday was a whirlwind.

“I think I love you both,” she sighed as Azriel ran a cloth over her forehead. He froze, his entire body going still. It was one of the times they both were in the room.

Azriel, to his credit, didn’t stop his motions.

“Sometimes,” she continued, “even if you’ve been assholes.”

She went on to reference something he knew hadn’t happened, and Cassian tried to think of ways he could forget those words. I love you.

It didn’t work, her soft and gentle voice had replayed in his mind the rest of the night. Void of the venom she usually spoke to them with.

“I thought we were mates at one point, but mates can’t hurt each other.” Y/n had convinced herself this was a hallucination, and didn’t feel any remorse for saying what’s been on her mind. Dream Cassian and Azriel had frozen and she let out a soft laugh. “It’s alright. This isn’t real. I’d never tell you otherwise.”

They exchanged a look, and she was impressed with how well her subconscious could mirror their real motions.

“At first, I wanted everything to blow over or to try and fix it. But now, it’s easier to be angry at both of you,” she turned on her side, propping herself up on one arm, face scrunching. Pain. She pushed past it. “I don’t know if I'll ever not be angry, but I heard that hate sex is enjoyable. Not that you’d ever touch me again.”

Cassian choked, and Azriel had gone still, shadows whirling around his shoulders.

“That’s not true,” Az’s quiet and cool voice said.

“That’s how I know this isn’t real” she let her eyes close again, “and thank the mother for that. I’d be mortified.”

“Anything,” she begged with tears streaming down her face. “Please.”

Anything to take some of the pain away. Azriel let himself hold her, let himself wrap an arm around her shoulders, lean her shaking body into him.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

“Why?” Her tear filled face gazed up at him, eyes full of betrayal, “why do you keep hurting me?”

“I’m sorry,” his thumb brushed away some of the tears, a gesture too intimate, but he couldn’t stop himself.

She turned her head away, “if you really were sorry, you’d help me.”

Her breaths evened out, sleep taking over her body again. Azriel wished it would mean she wasn’t in pain anymore, but the nightmares seemed to get worse as the week went on. Sometimes, she’d be frozen in place, body stiff and eyes darting rapidly behind her lids. Others, she’d thrash in the sheets so violently his shadows would intervene of their own accord, holding her in place enough for him to try and wake her.

“I’m so tired,” she told Mor. “I want it to be over.”

“It’ll pass with time.”

“I want everything to be over.”

Mor’s heart clenched. “Just give it time,” she pleaded, even knowing her sister wasn’t in her right mind. That this wasn’t how she really felt.

“It’s been years,” she whispered.

“It’s been a week,” Mor brushed away the strands of hair clinging to her sweaty forehead. “It’ll get better.”

“Everyone says that.”

“It’s true, Madja said so.”

“If Madja said so,” her hand covered her yawn.

“Get some sleep.”

Her head shook rapidly, even as her eyes grew heavy, lids closing. “It’s worse in my sleep. I’m alone.”

“You can try using your magic soon.”

Azriel watched as her eyes lit up, a small spark coming back - as if Madja’s words had somehow breathed life into her. For some reason, he’d insisted on being present as much as possible when the healer visited. If he couldn’t be there physically, his shadows would.

“Now?” The words were barely above a whisper.

“We should wait for your cousin.” Her head dropped, the small spark extinguished. “In case anything happens,” Madja added, even though she didn’t need to. Y/n would understand why. If anything got out of control, Rhys would be the best option to contain her magic.

“Step out with me for a minute,” Madja murmured to him as she crossed the doorway. A few shadows lingered behind to keep an eye on her as he followed the healer out.

The healer studied him with a startling intensity. A few decades ago, he may have been tempted to squirm under her gaze, but now it didn’t affect him. He’s used to being looked at like that - to being scrutinized with everything he does. Still, her gaze lacked the usual distrust present in others. Trust. That’s what he’d built with the healer the last two weeks - regarding his mate, at least. His mind had just become used to calling her that. There wasn’t any other word to describe it, really, even if she chose to ignore the bond once it snapped. That’s another thought he’d become used to - the very real possibility that might happen. He didn’t know if it would be him or her who would. But, he couldn’t stand the thought of her accepting it with Cassian, and not him. They hadn’t discussed that possibility either. Maybe neither of them wanted to speak the chance into existence.

“It may snap as soon as she has full access, it may not.”

She’s only repeating things he already knows.

“I’m aware,” he told her.

Her eyes narrowed at him.

“It may … undo some of the progress made. Her mental state is fragile.” He didn’t bother telling her he’s aware of that either, he’d witnessed it himself - either directly or indirectly, he always had eyes on her. Knew every word she’d spoken over the last two weeks.

Madja was hesitating to say something, so he prompted, “what else should I be aware of?”

“That’s all for now.” She was hiding something from him. In most cases, he’d figure it out in time. Azriel normally prided himself on his patience, but he’s found when it comes to y/n’s … health, he has little of it.

“What is it?” He fought to keep his voice cool and steady.

“I’m still looking into long term effects, although I don’t anticipate many.” Many. Meaning there still will be some. “Keep it between us,” she warned him.

His brows flicked up slightly at that, but he assured her he would, before slipping back through the door.

“It’s you again,” she huffed as he entered.

That’s how he knew she was lucid. The attitude and disdain.

“Thought you’d be happy, getting your magic back.”

“If it actually happens.”

Something pricked the back of his neck. “What does that mean?”

“You think I haven’t been trying?”

Azriel pushed down his anger. Most of it. “I don’t need to tell you how stupid that is, do I?”

“You lose your magic for a few weeks, tell me what you think.”

He’d experienced it temporarily, through ash arrows, but never to this extent. Still, sharp and perhaps distasteful words left him, “I think you’re being reckless.”

She blinked a few times, a type of haze coming over her eyes. “What if I never get it back?” Just above a whisper, like earlier, but this time filled with dread.

“Then you adapt,” Azriel said, much gentler. There was a very slim possibility of that happening, but he wouldn’t deny it completely to her. That’s what he’d always brought her, honesty, and he wouldn’t change it now.

“It’s like … missing a limb.”

There weren’t any words of comfort he could provide, instead he crossed the room and tugged her to his side. At first, she froze against him, but he ran his fingers through her hair, and slowly she melted, letting herself relax against him. Something he didn’t feel he deserved.

She didn’t lose her magic, and thank the gods because that would’ve snapped the last strand of her sanity. Sanity she felt like she was barely hanging on to at this point.

Although reality was distorted, some things were clear to her. Cassian and Azriel had been there the most, but she didn’t know whether or not that was by their choice. She didn’t want to know.

A month later, one particular nightmare hadn’t gone away.

She was in a town square. Not Velaris, but Autumn. Where her ex-friend lived.

“I told you I wouldn’t let anything come between us,” a haunting voice whispered, and their wings … her scream was guttural as two pairs of wings dropped, echoing on the stone.

Her hand covered her mouth, trying to muffle the remnants of the scream, before remembering the shield she’d put up for this reason.

She had to know they were alright, that they were alive. Logically, she knew it was just a nightmare, but couldn’t stay in this room any longer. She fled from the room like it was on fire, bare feet stumbling against the carpet, arms shoving the door open in front of her.

Two familiar scents and heartbeats in Azriel’s room. Relief flooded through her. It would be too much to barge into there, but at least she knew they were alive now. She retreated down the hall, instead bracing her arms on a window sill, taking in the full moon casting light over Velaris.

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she heard the door open, two pairs of almost silent footsteps approaching behind her. In the reflection, their eyes met. Both of them looked vaguely concerned.

“Just … needed to check you’re alright,” she offered an explanation. Not that she needed to, but it’s better than letting their imaginations run wild.

“Nightmare?” Cassian’s voice was soft and gentle. She hated his tone, hated that it comforted her. Words didn’t want to work, so she nodded.

Azriel didn’t speak, but held a hand out to her. Slowly, she turned back around, pinching her arm to make sure this was real. His eyes tracked her movement, flashing slightly in recognition but his body remained still and she placed her hand in his, his warm and calloused hand closing over hers.

Heart pounding and threatening to burst out of her chest, her rapid breaths warmed the air before her as they crossed the threshold. He pulled her towards his bed, pulling the covers back and gently pushing between her shoulder blades. Cassian climbed in on the other side. Said male wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her into his chest. Azriel’s body fell into place behind hers, as if this was the most natural position for the three of them. She felt a tug, a thread like current weaving between the three of them, and shoved deep, deep down. Like fate was trying to weave the three of them together, to mend and straighten something warped and misaligned by time and stupid decisions. An ache spreading through her chest, mind working overtime to try and figure out what the hell that meant.

“Relax, princess,” Cassian cut off her spiral, his large hand cupping the back of her head, guiding her to rest right where she could hear his heartbeat. Normally, the nickname was teasing - designed to get a reaction out of her, but now it felt gentle, a term of endearment.

A sense of calm overtook her, and her heart quit trying to explode, slowing to match his. Azriel ran soothing circles with his thumb, right above her hip bone. Her eyes shuttered closed and she fell asleep between the two warm bodies.

It had been a split second decision, and as Azriel watched them sleep, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Sleep was almost foreign to him, but watching them sleep peacefully, feeling her soft body pressed against his, was almost enough. Maybe he should feel jealous of how she melted into Cassian with a few words, her taut and tense body unwinding, but content filled that space instead.

They heard her stumbling down the hall. She hadn’t left the room for nightmares since … before. The footsteps paused for a moment before his door, before retreating. That’s when he knew it had been about them, whatever had happened in her sleep. They didn’t need to communicate with each other before leaving the room to track her down.

His only intention was to check on her, just to see she’s alright. Still, even as her hand reached out for him he meant to bring her back to her room, to close the door and leave, but as soon as her skin met his, he headed in the opposite direction.

Cassian hadn’t questioned him, hadn’t acted as if anything was out of the ordinary. The threads winding them together practically took on a life of its own as it sang with joy at having her this close, at having her safe between them. Where she belongs. He cleared the thought from his mind. Only if she wants to be there. Did she feel it too?

He wasn’t naive enough to think the nightmares would disappear because of their presence, and sure enough her body stiffened. Cass noticed and his sleepy eyes blinked open, meeting him with concern, almost asking; do we wake her?

I don’t know, he replied honestly.

Small whimpers left her. Not the sweet kind of her reacting to their touch, whimpers of pain. Cassian’s hand reached out, running his thumb back and forth over her cheek. Like he was some kind of instant drug, her body relaxed again.

Do we wake her? He looked at him again. Azriel shook his head, and laid down on the pillow, this time tugging an arm around her waist and bringing her closer to him.

Cassian’s mouth curved at the corner in amusement, but he ignored him and placed a kiss to her hair, taking pleasure in how she snuggled further into the pillows, one hand covering his own - holding it there.

She woke to warm sheets that weren’t her own, her back pressed against a warm body, another caging her front in. Opening her eyes might end this dream, might ruin whatever moment this is. Her nails dug into her palm, a small hint of pain running through. Real, this was real. She wiggled, trying to dislodge the arm slung tightly over her stomach.

“Stop,” Azriel’s said, his voice hoarse and sleepy. If that’s how he sounds in the morning, maybe she should try to sneak in here more often. But, she didn’t listen, and shifted her hips again. Something hard brushed against her backside. Fuck. The arm tightened around her, one leg crossing to pin hers in place.

“I said, stop.”

This time, she listened. Warm breath brushed against her neck, a sigh of relief.

Warm rays of sun peeked through the curtains, casting a glow on the bed. They rarely slept past sunrise. Actually, they never did, as far as she knew.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” she murmured quietly, not wanting to wake Cassian.

“I didn’t want to leave.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” Her pulse fluttered.

“Are you trying to kick me out of my own room?”

She shook her head rapidly, and he let out a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough to hear you snore.”

“I do not.”

“You do,” Cassian’s sleepy voice said this time.

“Rude.”

Azriel’s leg released hers, his arm loosening enough to give her some room to make space between them. Reluctantly, she did so. Her eyes trailed to the clock. One hour until she needed to be at the library.

Limbs heavy, she sat up, pushing the sheets down to climb out of the bed. Cassian’s hand reached towards hers, before stopping, falling back to his side.

“Thank you,” she said, voice just above a whisper, and climbed off, pausing at the doorway, messy hair flipping over her shoulder. They looked at her, some expression she couldn’t read, and left. Neither followed her or said a word, she wished they would. Maybe she’s relying too much on them to make any kind of move. Still, it’s normal for friends to cuddle … right?

Ever since she’d fallen … ill, they’d changed. They acted almost like they had before, with an extra tension, and it was giving her whiplash. Nothing had been cleared, despite the ‘olive branch’ they’d offered, there wasn’t any discussion of the past. Instead, it seemed like they were avoiding the topic at all costs, despite her hinting towards it. Their temporary peace couldn’t last forever, nothing good did.

Since that night she ran into the hall, she hadn’t sought them out again. Mainly from fear they would reject her. Turn their backs on her. She wondered if they wished she would. Maybe she could test that theory, if she finally grew the courage to do so.

As always, they found a way to piss her off. Acting like they had a right to her, going as far as to scowl at any males that tried to approach her on their nights out. Any time she went out with her sister, they found reasons to be there, and she got into with Cassian one morning.

“We’re not together, quit acting like it.”

Hurt flashed through his eyes, gone as quick as it came. “Fine,” he’d replied, and left like a fire was lit under his ass.

She found herself regretting the words, but she felt an inexplicable need to build a wall between them. That she was getting too close to them. Making it too easy for them to rip her heart out again. She tugged down the top of her shirt, fingers grazing over the tattoo on her collarbone. They hadn’t released her from the bargain, although they easily could’ve. Was it from care? Or for something to hold over her head?

She watched in slow motion as a female pressed up on her toes, and planted a kiss right on Cassian’s mouth, her hands balancing on his shoulders.

“Push her away,” she pleaded to the universe. Instead, his eyes stayed open, finding hers as he wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer to him. She’d brought it upon herself, she supposed. “We’re not together, quit acting like it.”

If he wanted to play that game, she could too, and a fire lit under her.

His eyes flashed; your move, he seemed to say.

Watch me. She answered.

“Can you help me out with something?” She whispered to a female friend of hers.

Her eyes lit up, “I’m all ears.”

As soon as y/n had turned away, he gently turned down the female who’d kissed him, and felt a bit guilty as she scoffed and stormed away. Not guilty enough to do anything about it. His entire body had recoiled against it, screaming to him that it’s wrong.

But, she’s the one who clearly stated they’re not together.

He grabbed his drink, tilting his head back to let the liquid burn down his throat.

“It’s good to see her getting out there,” Rhys commented wryly. Cassian snapped his head to him.

“What?”

“Y/n,” he said too innocently.

He turned slowly and watched as she danced with a female friend of hers, hips slowly grinding against each other, arms twining around each other's necks. Then, their lips met. He didn’t think she’d actually take his subtle challenge.

Rhys clapped a hand on his shoulder. Cassian couldn’t force himself to move, if she wanted her fun - she could have it. He could play this game, even as it tore into him.

Apparently, Azriel couldn’t. The shadowsinger intercepted the two of them, tugging her away from the other female's embrace. Right, he hadn’t found the time to inform him of their … discussion, this morning.

A smirk crossed her friend's face. She’d done this on purpose, he already suspected, but now he had his confirmation.

Small fists beat against Azriel’s back as he stormed out, y/n thrown over his shoulder, her friend laughing in the background.

“Why are you waiting?”

He scowled at Rhys’s voice in his mind, but slid a gold mark on the counter, more than covering his tab, before following them out the door. Cassian had a strong feeling Rhys knew of the bond, even if he kept his mouth shut.

Azriel had paused in front of the building, waiting for him. As he approached, y/n was still spewing curses at him, her face slowly turning red. One of Azriel’s arms was wrapped securely around her thighs, holding her in place. There’s no way for her to escape his hold, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t trying. There’s a small shield around his wings, keeping her from using that to her advantage.

Azriel shot him a look, and he picked up his pace.

“Quit it,” he muttered to the female, his hand lightly slapped her ass. The surprise was enough to still her for a moment, letting Azriel snatch his arm and winnow the three of them to the townhouse.

Azriel finally let her down, and she glanced around them, noticing he’d taken them directly to his room.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered too mildly.

Oh, he was pissed. She shot a look at Cassian, she’d expected he would relay their conversation, but maybe she shouldn’t have counted on him for that. Azriel followed her gaze.

“And you, apparently,” the next statement was directed at Cassian. The other male looked completely unapologetic, crossing his arms and shrugging his shoulders.

“She made it crystal clear we’re not together.”

“Really?” Azriel tilted his head, fixing that searing gaze back on her as he closed the gap between them.

Against her will, her heart raced as he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“We’ve never been together,” she managed to say. “You don’t have a claim to me.”

His mouth indented at the corner, but it wasn’t a smirk of amusement - more like barely concealed irritation and anger. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Excuse me?” She tried to wrangle her chin from his grasp, but he only tightened his grip. Instead, she looked to Cassian. A slight shake of his head, and she redirected her attention to Az.

“I won’t repeat myself.”

“Then explain.”

“If you can’t figure it out yourself, I can’t help you.” His hand dropped, and she missed the touch on her skin.

“How do you expect me to understand if you don’t tell me?” Y/n exploded, fists clenching at her side. He knew he shouldn’t have dragged her out of there, but he couldn’t stand to watch her there, in another's arms. Holding her how he should be.

Still, Azriel had waited so patiently for her to figure it out herself, he could wait a little longer. Apparently Cassian couldn’t.

“You’re our mate.”

The temperature in the room plummeted. Not literally, but shivers ran down her spine, goosebumps covering her arms. Her eyes darted rapidly between the two of them, forming some kind of conclusion.

He counted each second. Forty-seven, before she spoke. Less than a minute.

“Do you expect me to forget everything? To fall to my knees for you now?” She spit

He pressed his lips into a tight line, and prayed Cassian wouldn’t rise to the bait. He needs to stop praying and hoping where that male is concerned.

“I’d never turn down a chance to see you on your knees, princess.”

Azriel groaned.

“You’ll never see it.”

“Want to bet-” he caught the look Azriel pinned him with, and shut his mouth mid sentence. Y/n looked too pleased at the turn of events, but he couldn’t take that away from her now - not without making a bigger mess to clean up. She stormed from the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.

Fuck patience, fuck letting fate run it’s course, the truth is in the air now. He’s sick of waiting.

Azriel flung the door open, taking off after her, Cassian on his heels.

She tried to slam the door to her room on them, and he wedged his foot in between, forcing it wide open.

“Leave me alone,” she snarled.

“So you can block us out?” Cassian countered, shouldering past him to cross the threshold.

“You deserve it,” his heart thumped in his chest as she switched her gaze to him. “You both do.”

“What the hell did we do?” Cassian took another step towards her, forcing her to back up.

“I thought you were smarter than that,” she flung his words back in his face. She saw the hurt cross his face, looking vaguely like a kicked puppy. A small sliver of guilt filled her, but a vindictive anger overtook that - good, she wanted him to feel how they made her feel. Even if it was cruel, karma deserved to be thrown back in their faces. The bond may have snapped in her at that moment, but it took less than a minute for her to come to a conclusion. Like hell she’d lay down and make it easy for them, or for herself. It means nothing if she doesn’t accept it. That was a lie, she knew it, but if she repeated it enough to herself maybe she’d believe it.

They shattered her before, and she had to build herself back together. The temporary peace they’d hovered in was never going to last.

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ash5monster01 · 4 months

Note

could you write todd helping reader in english? like helping her with poetry or just regular homework. also, they are already dating ❤️ im a sucker for established relationships im sorry lol

Study Buddies

Pairing: Todd Anderson x FemReader

Warnings: established relationship, fluff, some language, just sweetness

Summary: Being a student at Welton is difficult and even more so when you already struggle with most of your classes. Thank God you have a sweet boyfriend who is always so willing to help.

word count: 700

Masterlist

The groan you let out immediately causes Todd to lift his head and scan the library for any onlookers. Deer in headlights like always just at the thought of someone paying a semblance of attention to him. You shake your head as you watch him, dropping the pencil in your hand as you completely give up on the assignment in front of you. When Todd realizes the coast is clear he finally turns his attention towards you.

“What’s wrong now?” he curiously asks and you wonder how he ever got comfortable around you if he panicked like that over just a couple of curious looks.

“This homework is impossible. I give up” you tell him, eyes glancing at the chemistry you no longer cared about. Even if you could figure out what all of it meant, the amount you had been given was absurd.

“You don’t give up, you just need a second to collect your thoughts” he says, voice his normal quiet and hushed tone and you watch as his hand reaches and slides the book back towards you. “Give it another go”

“I’d rather die” but the pointed look he gives you convinces you to pick back up the pencil and stare at the images on the page.

“I don’t get it” you pout, half annoyed and half on the verge of tears. Welton was hard, you knew that, but it still broke your spirits just the same.

“Let me see” he says, scooting close enough that his knee bumps against your own. He’s a fool if he thinks there’s any chance you’ll pay attention to your homework now. Not when your extremely adorable boyfriend is now this close to you.

“Oh well that’s easy, here look” but when Todd’s eyes look up to meet your own he can see you’re no longer interested in whatever he’s trying to show you. The look makes his ears tint pink and you can’t help but smile.

“Todd, I don’t want to do my homework anymore” you coo, leaning your face close to him. His head swings again, searching to see if anyone was peaking in on this private interaction. He freezes when your hand reaches up and stops him.

“W-we have to study” he tells you but you let out a soft ‘shh’. Stopping his stuttering and brushing your nose against his own. His face is fire truck red in an instant.

“I’d rather kiss you” you say, hot breath fanning across his lips and you can feel his mouth opening and closing, struggling to find words in this very moment. You love how shy he can still get around you.

“You gonna stop me?” you whisper and he shakes his head in your hand, yearning for it just as much as you. With your grip still on his chin you tip his mouth up and towards your own, sealing it against you.

The soft sigh he lets out causes you to grin against his lips before closing them around his again. You kiss him briefly but enough to make him dizzy. When you pull away his eyes are closed, mind reeling and now suddenly desperate to get far away from here. You chuckle to yourself lightly, watching as he processes the moment between you.

“Can you help me with number 6?” you ask and his eyes snap open, trying to recover from the whiplash you’ve just given him. He’s a mumbling mess, head snapping between you and the text book and you offer him as innocent a grin you can muster.

“Everything okay?” you curiously ask and he smiles, laughing lightly to himself and mentally cursing himself for always falling into your traps. It made sense you were the only girl who was able to lock him down.

“Everything’s just fine” he says, sliding back close and leaning to look at the question. You watch him intently, waiting as he processes the words.

“Okay, listen close” he starts and you grin, eyes casting over the page as you’re now prepared for him to explain. He was right you definitely needed a second to collect your thoughts.

Best mini break ever.

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matramancer · 7 days

Text

🌸KIKORU THE WINGMAN | Narumi Gen x Mitsuri! reader

Synopsis: As much as she admires her two mentors, seeing the two of you pine over each other was INFURIATING. Perhaps it was time to take matters into her own hands. Unfortunately.

part 1 | Mitsuri! reader Masterlist

Tags: fem! reader, HCs w scenarios, Narumi x reader, Kikoru and Mitsuri!reader found family ft. Narumi, JEALOUS NARUMI, Narumi Gen is an idiot, fluff, mutual pining, Kikoru the wingman

By the time Kikoru’s batch rolls in, she’s already gotten word about several of the unique heavy hitters in the force. She wasn’t her father’s daughter for nothing–an extensive knowledge of the Defense Force is a part of keeping yourself up in the game.

She knew about the infamous First Division—home of Japan’s Strongest Anti-Kaiju Combatant, and the more recent officer who made a name for herself as the Pillar of Love.

However, it still didn’t prepare her for the rather… lousy introduction her supposed new captain and mentor gave her. And the chronic gaming addiction. And the Yamazon addiction. And everything else in between.

When she thought things couldn’t get any rowdier, she was very bombastically introduced to you.

“Captain Narumi! You wanted to see me?” The blonde turns at the new voice entering her ears, your figure standing by the doorway. At a glance, she was taken aback at the mountain of sakura mochi on a tray in your hands, your expression an immediate stark contrast to all the officers she’s ever seen in the force.

As she locked eyes with you, your smile only widened, and Kikoru wondered if it was possible for a human to emit their own light source.

Nothing however prepared her for your figure to zero in on her in a flash, your movements so abrupt she had to take a few steps back to process them. “HELLOOO! YOU’RE SO CUTE! Do you want some sakura mochi? Though I only have a little.” A little?! You were holding a MOUNTAIN!

“Platoon leader (L/N)! Great timing!” Hasegawa keeps his grip strong on Narumi, even as he wriggles about. The man then proceeded to point at his BS5, which the other officers in the room were trying to fit into a trash bag. “HELP ME FARM A DUNGEON! IF WE START NOW WE CAN 100% IT TONIGHT!”

The room is silent as Kikoru watches on, mortified. Hasegawa is seconds away from bloody murder. You were still holding onto your plate of sakura mochi.

“…I’ll just leave these here.” you set down the plate and slowly try to make your escape— “COME BACK HERE PLATOON LEADER!”

If it weren't for the kaiju attack that happened soon after, Narumi’s image would’ve been permanently tarnished in Kikoru’s eyes.

And not only that, she actually also caught a glimpse of you in battle—that was when you really made an impression on her. She solidified her choice by then. She was going to get stronger, with your help.

Although Kikoru was mainly Narumi’s disciple, it soon became clear that the responsibility had also fallen to you. If Narumi wasn’t training her, you were.

It was really based on two things. One, you already spent lots of time training with Narumi, and second, Kikoru had approached you herself.

“You want to train together?” You blinked owlishly as Kikoru stood before you.

“Yes. I saw how you fought–” Kikoru starts. Truth to be told, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. She was assigned to your platoon, which gave her front row seats to you on the battlefield. “--Those maneuvers you did, your consistent energy distribution…”

She recounts the battle she witnessed, finding herself staring in awe as you finished off a group of yoju with your machine gun, before strapping said weapon to your back and immediately winding through the street with fast maneuvers. Even with the suit, your speed paired with such strength belonged to no one in the low combat power bracket. Then, the next thing she heard was your unwavering voice, commencing that the neutralization in your zone was complete.

She was absolutely flabbergasted. She hadn’t even registered the weird shape of your sword before you sprung forward, flooring her even more with your superhuman strength. She was a bearer of a heavy weapon herself, but seeing you jump so cleanly with all the weight of your weaponry was on another level. Not to mention how precise each and every move you did was. Anyone with a lower level of skill would’ve cut themselves with that sword!

On the other side of the comms, she hears Narumi send her a taunting chuckle. “You seeing this, newbie? You’re going to have to go on par with that.”

Back to the training grounds, she holds a determined expression on her face, surprising you with a bow, even. “...It would be an honor for you to train me, Platoon Leader.”

“Eh–EH?!?!?!?!?” Kikoru looks up from her bow to see your nervous stupor, a complete 180 from what she saw a mere two hours ago. “ME?!?!?!?!!?” Yes, you.

(Kikoru does not know if she made the right choice).

Usually, you’d be correcting Kikoru’s form and giving her pointers, then holding a sparring session to demonstrate how your techniques flowed. In particular instances where you both used your weapons, you’d move to the specialized training areas.

Narumi in all of his glory would be stuck to his console before you unceremoniously plucked him away from his lawn chair and forced him to participate.

During her training, there was one particular day that stuck out for her. The day she watched you and Narumi spar for the first time.

For once, Narumi had a look that was indescribably amused hidden under his normal demeanor. Excited even. He was the one that initiated it, after all.

“Kikoru, watch.” He says, a lazy smile curling on his lips as he gets into position. A hand to hand spar .No weapons, no gear.

“--I wanted to say that!” You sulked a bit in your mind, biting your lip.

Whenever the two of you sparred, it was always a spectacle. That much was evident on Kikoru’s expression as the two of you went at it, the lighthearted banter from prior completely abandoned as Narumi went on the full offensive.

He was ruthless, not sparing a single punch even as you took a defensive note in your steps. Even if you were dodging his blows, you did so very narrowly.

And then, you flew. An elegant figure belonging to the one deserving of the title “Love Pillar”. Your body twists and contorts with not only polished skill but extreme calculation. If you were even a centimeter off base, Narumi would finish you. It was like you knew where to dodge, and Narumi knew where to hit.

Every single one of your moves had so much thought put into them, which made sense given your weapon of choice. Similarly, Narumi was a master at switching stances, knowing when exactly to go on the defensive before he’s sending another strike to your hazy figure.

It was then that Kikoru realized that she wasn’t just watching any fight–but a culmination of efforts and hardwork that brought the two of you together in this ring. An undoubted match up of strength that solidified your places in the force. That solidified your positions next to each other in battle.

Yeah, she’s never gonna doubt you guys again (or at least, your strengths) as she watches the fight come to a close, courtesy of an announcement by the megaspeakers.

Narumi curses as he hears news of the 3rd Division’s arrival, already muttering not so clean words at the mere thought of their vice captain (you on the other hand were the total opposite, excited at the prospect of seeing some long distance friends).

“We’re going to crush them!” Narumi grunted, cracking his knuckles with the biggest stink eye while you happily tugged Kikoru along, not interested in hampering the mood. “I wonder if we can catch the captain and vice captain! You must miss them, right Kikoru?”

“Haah?! Don’t you DARE even mention Hoshina’s name!” Your captain’s rage immediately intensifies, like a man out for murder. Something Kikoru wanted no part of.

Unfortunately for poor Kikoru, out of pure bad luck and personal circumstance, she had unintentionally gotten herself caught in the front view seats of her captain slash mentor’s unexpected dilemma.

You ignored Narumi’s blatant hostility, smiling ear to ear. You couldn’t wait to catch up with your friends. “Just in time for lunch too! I wonder what’s on the menu…”

Narumi zeroes in on this, already knowing the answer. In fact, he’d even request the chefs to make today’s portions extra bountiful, under the guise of the 3rd Division’s visit.

He cleared his throat, “casually” mentioning your favorite food, and your reaction after is expectedly, a surge of excitement.

Having spent lots of time with you already, Kikoru thought nothing of it–your attitude with a superior present was certainly a bit unrestrained, sure, but after seeing your bond with Narumi, she chalked it up to you guys just having mutual respect and friendship.

Yeah, friendship. Her eyes drift a bit to Narumi, seeing his side profile. Surely, with Narumi being super nonchalant about all this, he was…

wait.

She sees it. Bared witness to it. Lays eyes on it.

A TINT of red on his cheeks. And the aversion of his eyes soon after.

Oh no. Oh no no no. OH NO.

She refuses to get involved, not in the lives of her superiors and DEFINITELY not in the sad lack of love life that belonged to loser master Narumi.

Okay, it was a bit impossible not to. Not when it was one of those things that you’d definitely always notice after realizing it once. And she was spending hours every day with these people.

In Narumi’s defense, he didn’t know how or when it happened. He didn’t even really take note of you until around the time where you earned his acknowledgement, as harshly as that sounded.

His principles, his life revolved around results. Around skills. Around the Defense Force. As far as he was concerned (and hilariously mortified at), you suddenly carving your presence in his psyche and imprinting your being into his heart was not part of any life plans he had in particular.

Sure you got more and more involved with him, sure you just became a regular part of his day, sure you were the number one person he’s most comfortable fighting side by side with, but as anticlimactic as it was, there was nothing spectacular involved. He just noticed it one day.

He especially realizes that something about you in him has changed when he barges in on two officers (nobodies, he didn’t even bother to remember their faces) throwing jabs at how air-headed you seemed. Without even thinking, his brows had furrowed and a scowl was already forming from his face, and when he came to, the officers had already scurried.

At first, he thought it was just acknowledgement and respect for your strength. But thinking about anyone–or anything badmouthing you, calling you names or underestimating you for just being yourself absolutely had him seething.

He got more particular about you all of a sudden as the feelings hit him. He thinks about it all–Your already bright smile that widened just a bit more when you saw him. How you lit up, whether it was from a good day of training with him, or when he would surprise you with a meal. How he has your face memorized by then. He especially loved when you were enjoying a good lunch by his side, when you won a game together, and–

Huh, that’s particular… Did he always notice all of that stuff from you?

Kikoru knew it was over for him when you gathered in the mess hall, and although Narumi had his console in hand, she saw him sneak more than a few glances to your ever joyous figure, your 5th bowl in hand as you excitedly chatted with Captain Ashiro.

And his eyes were full of love.

Hell, he was still quipping with Hoshina, but that’s exactly the thing. The four of you were sitting on the same table in close proximity. Rivalries aside, you were quite good friends with Mina and Hoshina and were always one for conversation, but he and the Vice Captain were usually at each other’s throats. Why was Narumi willingly sitting through this? CALMLY, no less.

These people (you two) were driving her NUTS. Crazy even. It was tolerable at first, hell, things were smooth sailing when she was none the wiser. But now? His lingering gazes, how he lights up when he gets texts from you, how he’s been pushing for your presence more and more often…

Don’t get her started on the special treatment. Did he think he was being smooth?! Kikoru was LOSING it!

Kafka, oh poor Kafka, got dragged into this mess too, via Kikoru finally spilling the beans in a frustrated burst of emotions.

“I can’t take it. It’s disgusting,” she feels like tearing her twintails out, airing out her grievances to Kafka. “The Captain is bad enough as he is.”

The older man just scratches his head with an awkward laugh. The situation reminds him a bit of his high school days. “Well, sometimes the best way to make it stop is to let it happen. Sorry, Kikoru. Young love calls.”

Kikoru groans. “Nevermind that. I don’t know what’s worse. How hard he’s trying–”

Their gazes land on the training grounds where you were chatting with Mina again, before Narumi’s figure emerges from your side as he offers your favorite grilled onigiri nonchalantly. As you thank him with a smile, you‘re completely clueless over how even Mina notices the way his hand brushed against yours for a tad bit too long. How he’s so clearly not doing this for just anyone.

“--Or how oblivious she is.”

So begins the adventures of Kikoru the unwilling wingman.

As much as she’s unwillingly involved in… whatever this was, she joined the Defense Force for a clear reason. She’s not going to toil on this and let it hinder the progress of her training, for her life’s mission.

But there are times where she throws in a gentle push. Not directly getting involved in things by the slightest, but you were quite the talker. What better way than to plant the idea in your head and handle your obliviousness this way?

She ended up learning a few things–one, you were obviously super comfortable with Narumi. Two–you amassed a great deal of respect for him, and was gracious over the opportunity you had to get close with him. REALLY close. Receiving surprise gifts and playing games together in secret during the night type of close. Three–despite all that, you had no idea about the obvious truth.

“You better pay me back for this, idiot master.” Kikoru thinks to herself sometimes.

Don’t mention how you were so good at love advice (love pillar and all, it’s in the name), having been a good ear and cupid for the 1st Division when clearly the one who needed that the most was you. It only frustrates Kikoru more.

So how does Kikoru function as a wingman despite her total unwillingness? Well, she does it through the most unconventional methods… Which is to steal you away from her idiot master instead!It’s a win-win, because she gets to one up her captain and not suffer any consequences–lest he upsets YOU.

On the occasions where Narumi wants to train one on one with you? Nope–Kikoru booked a slot first. You’ve got Friday off? Whoops, girl’s day out with Kikoru and she made you promise.

It was peak “I’m just a girl”. A concept you loved and could heavily indulge in with Kikoru. You’re not sidelining the things you love doing with Narumi, you’re moreover doing things that were more up to you and Kikoru’s forte.

How could you not? Kikoru was an absolute sweetheart, and you’d taken to her like a mother duck. Not only did she see you as a mentor now, but also as a sister figure.

When she started to call you nee-san, you were absolutely ecstatic.

Narumi was understanding. At first. But when even your gaming sessions, which was a sacred bonding time for the both of you, had been slowly taken over by Kikoru’s rendezvouses, that was when the seeds of jealousy started to plow through his skull.

“Ah, Kikoru-chan wants to go shopping.” “Can’t, sorry Narugen! I got tickets with Kikoru and Rin…” “No way! That’s OUR Gossip Girl rewatch marathon and you’re not allowed in.”

And oh does it work. It DEFINITELY started a reaction in him. Narumi has upgraded her status from idiot disciple to menace.

All of a sudden, a new competition rolled in town, and the First Division had a new point of interest to watch.

The rivalry of Isao’s brightest disciple vs his rising star daughter for the attention of the Love Pillar. (Coming to a division near you!)

Both are now vying for your compliments, and sometimes the comms get so loud with their bickering that the operations room has to work overtime over the noise pollution.

Narumi is seething because it seems like Kikoru always wins, your attention so doting on her, your favor clearly present as you never fail to praise her. Hell, the little brat was now on HUGGING terms with you! You even braid her hair the way you did yours some nights. It was driving him crazy.

Kafka’s also always at the scene in the worst timing possible. At more than one instance, he’d walk into the training grounds just as Kikoru successfully stole you away again, and he was forced to endure his daily training under an unmerciless Narumi Gen in a bitter mood.

What made him grumble at the same time was as much as he hated how Kikoru was monopolizing you, you looked absolutely joyous enjoying things with her–and he just couldn’t take that happiness away from you. No, he absolutely won’t allow it.

He wouldn’t ever reveal it so lightly at this point in time, but you meant so much to him.

And as he grows more and more obvious with the shift in his demeanor, how much he’s wagging his tail, even Hoshina had noticed and sent his tips to the betting pool.

If it weren’t for Kikoru’s sleight of hand however, the slow burn you had with Gen would’ve probably lasted longer than the existence of kaiju itself.

When he’s FINALLY able to steal you away from Kikoru, he’s taken aback by how vigorously he was vying for your time in the first place. How he felt so victorious over catching that empty spot in your schedule before his menace of a mentee dragged you away from him.

And when he finally catches himself unable to hold back a grin as he sees you all dressed up pretty on the train with him, it hits him deeply with the realization that you had made yourself home in his consciousness. That he values the many moments he gets to spend with you so much.

Maybe that was okay. Maybe he wants to treasure the little moments he has with you. Maybe… maybe this normalcy the two of you fostered together was alright.

You made him feel normal. Like the two of you were just young adults given a glimpse of a life outside of the Defense Force, where he could imagine days like this with you to come. Like he was just a boy, no captain or anything. And you saw him as just that.

That was what went through his mind on a nice afternoon out in the city, Narumi insisting he be the first to bring you to this new restaurant that served your favorite kind of dishes.

Equipped with disguise gear of great caliber (a mask, sunglasses, and two hats you had lying around), the two of you comb through the crane games and rhythm machines in the arcade, working up an appetite an hour before your reservation.

His eyes couldn’t stop glancing at your excited figure at the small plushies in the crane games. He chose your favorite songs on maimai. He made sure to reserve seats in the restaurant beforehand and nearly even used his name card to guarantee them.

And later on, when Kikoru’s eyes scanned the photostrip you were showing her taken at a purikura booth you and Narumi tried, she nearly fell down over how loving his gaze was on the last pic.

When it was finally time to enjoy your meal, you were beaming in absolute delight as you finished bowl after bowl, plate after plate, offering Narumi a share of everything.

He gladly accepted, absolutely reveling in how you spoiled him. Especially with how there was no Hasegawa around to hold you back. He was practically on your lap, figuratively.

Yapper gf x listener bf to the max as he sat beside you with an expression so soft in comparison to the rest of his unruly personality, being absolutely glued to everything about you.

Well, that was when he was facing you. Narumi had secretly turned away and glared at any other patrons who dared to even attempt to send a nasty look your way from “how much you were eating” .

“You got a problem with that? Do you want me to shove the rest of the food down your throat instead, huh?” Was what Narumi’s intense glare communicated, immediately causing the aforementioned judgemental patrons to look away in embarrassment.

Then, he’d immediately whip his head back when you addressed him, completely at your mercy.

As you finished the last of your food, you were completely obvious to Narumi’s sudden change of demeanor, a wave of nervousness washing over him as he fidgets with the inside of his pocket.

He hopes you’ll like this gift of his.

[restaurant scenario - coming soon]

“I had lots of fun today!” You gushed with your usual cheerful demeanor, sinking into the bathwater next to Rin and Kikoru. You were recounting the eventful afternoon you had to them. “I have so many new plushies now, and there’s so many new stores in that shopping district that just reopened. Let’s go there together next time!”

Kikoru huffed a bit, hearing about your day. She was both lightly covetous over how Narumi somehow managed to steal a slot of your time before her, having grown very attached to you and your attention, yet at the same time, she was absolutely floored at just how smitten her idiot mentor was for you from all the pictures, videos, and stories you showed her when practice finished. If anyone who didn’t know any better saw these, they’d IMMEDIATELY assume it was a date. Hell, that was what Rin thought when she joined the conversation!

You in your Sunday best? Taking you to a specialty restaurant that had your favorite food? Sharing bites? Winning you all those plushies? And…

She recalls just how eye catching the subtle change of your appearance was to her when you returned to the base with him. When you didn’t take off the new item you acquired until you hit the showers.

“Gen got me this today,” as you finally removed the accessory from your hair, you eagerly showed Kikoru and Rin the gift Narumi got you, barely noticing the other two girls’ wide-eyed, open mouthed stare at three things. One, how you addressed your superior, THE Narumi Gen by his first name so lightly. Second, THE Narumi Gen being thoughtful and paying attention to your tastes. He knew you loved cute things. Third, how your cheeks were glowing just a bit more radiant, how your tone had a slight change to it. How…

The love in your eyes was so evident.

“You’re so dense,” Rin’s comment brings Kikoru back to the present, the former crossing her arms and furrowing her brows. “Are we not seeing the same things here?” She continues, recalling all the times he’d been so partial to you. He’s still mean to you, yes, but there’s such an obvious touch of softness and mutual standing there that everything just speaks for itself.

You blink. “What things?”

Rin sighs, more than familiar with your disposition. “You’re going to kill me.”

The blonde watches as you haphazardly rise up from the water in a frenzy, Rin screaming as you dart towards her direction, arms reaching out to catch her. Water spills in every direction as you wrestle each other in the tub, you bleating pathetically for answers while Rin attempts to fight you off.

“SPILLLLLLL!” The other woman shrieks as you push into her body, a comedic expression on your face as you tackle her sides.

Immediately trying to regain her balance, Rin lets out a chorus of strangled noises as your body pressed against hers, desperately trying to squeeze out an answer. She attempts to steady both of your bodies as she feels you move around way too frantically. “HOLY SHIT– Your breasts are going to spill out BE CAREFUL–OI!”

“TELL ME RIN!!” You cry out again.

“IT’S LITERALLY SPELLED OUT IN FRONT OF YOU, YOU DUMMY!”

“WHAT IF I CAN’T READ?!”

Amidst all the banter, Kikoru finds herself lost to her thoughts, drifting back to her thoughts of you and Narumi. She couldn’t wrap her head around it at first, but something felt so familiar…

Then, it hits her, recalling the stories between her own parents during their youth in the Defense Force. How Hikari Shinomiya was quite the spunky, passionate youth akin to her namesake, and how Isao Shinomiya was the much mellower, passive homebody, yet had loved her with so much passion all the same.

History seemed to repeat itself.

At the sound of the water splashing, you watch in surprise as the top of Kikoru’s head dives down into the tub, seeing air bubbles form on the top. You quickly call out to her in concern. “Kikoru-chan?!”

“I didn’t expect it to work too well…”

i cant wait to write out what went down in that restaurant... here's the expression that Gen remembers the most, and the face he fell in love with. waaaaa

#after this its angst btw #kaiju no 8 #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #gen narumi #gen narumi x reader #narumi gen #narumi gen x reader #narumi gen x you #fem! reader #mitsuri! reader #kaiju no 8 headcanons #kaiju no. 8 headcanons #reader insert #headcanons #scenarios

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lxvvie · 10 months

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i loooove girl dad Ghost tbh!! would he have any pet names for his girl/s??

also feel like he's the type to say or well, feel "Ever felt like you're the most important person in the universe? That's how it feels like" in regards to their love for their dad ahhh 😭

Simon, I think, would have two girls.

The eldest is a bit of a worrywart, always concerned for her father's well-being even though she doesn't know the extent of his job. Simon suspects otherwise, though, based on some of the comments she's made in the past. She's a sponge, that one, absorbing the world in her own unique way. Has always gravitated towards the sciences, too, and wants to help people when she gets older ("Like you help people, papa!" "...Be better than me, sweetheart"). He calls her Doc because he believes she'll become one and because she's Mum's assistant when the missus is on sick duty. She resembles his mother when she furrows her brows in thought and/or when she smiles.

The youngest is a smart-ass like her father. She has her moments of irreverence but she means well. Mostly. Nothing ever gets past her because you can't keep anything hidden from her for long. Love language is pranking and teasing her family (her big sister primarily) and only SHE can do it, thank you very much. Is much more sensitive than she lets on and usually needs some time and space to process changes like Simon leaving for an assignment. Has been known to outright avoid him like the plague when he comes home injured because she doesn't want to see her strong Papa as anything less than that and he also promised he'd be safe so now she's mad at him for breaking said promise. Her nickname is Junie (for "Junior") because she was Simon's spitting image when she was first born. She has his eyes.

#2queued4u.#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #call of duty x reader #x black reader #call of duty x black reader #task force 141 #cod x you #cod x black reader #cod mwii #cod mw3 #dad!simon

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maggstar · 1 year

Text

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐞

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𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+, mni DNI!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when Y/N is moving to a new place, she asks for some help. To her luck, the handsome officer living nearby picks up her call to lend her a "hand".

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, sappy asf, cop!Hee, confession, kissing (tongue action yall know it), mutual touching, oral (f. and m.), 69.

𝐖𝐂: 3.2k

𝐀/𝐍: Hello my lovelies, I'm back (not for long). I have been promising a cop!Hee fic for so long that I've decided to feed yall with a prologue at least. Hope you like it!

Please leave any sort of feedback: reblogging and commenting is the best for me, so let me know!! ───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

Summer 2022

"Oh, come on now, we're not even halfway there!" the lilting tone emancipated from afar, shifting through the rooms of the empty apartment to place the piles of carton boxes in their assigned spot.

They were all different sizes, some possessing parts of old furniture or newly bought ones, decorations, and daily-life equipment, carefully packed and branded. It seemed as if the amount kept growing with each placement, countlessly checking the truck.

Moving shouldn't have been such a demanding process, yet Heeseung found himself sighing every minute, constantly puffing after successfully delivering a package. The sweat on his forehead kept amassing, bringing his gaze to the flaming orange star. As if the hot weather wasn't enough, the lack of clouds deprived him of cooling down a little.

He regretted dressing up for the occasion because he only wanted to rip the beige Hawaiian shirt off him. It went well with the iceberg-pleated shorts, but he would have been better without it. At least the brown aviator sunglasses were somewhat helpful, giving off the cool vibe he dearly lacked. It was all an attempt at impressing the female whom he decided to help, postponing everything on his calendar.

With a dramatic sigh, he looked back at the mentioned one, hopping from one leg to another, hips swinging to the sides at each jump.

There was a dazzling smile glowing amidst those moves, radiating bright energy, swaying her head from left to right. The wavy hair created a breathtaking shot in that lavender-colored jumpsuit, soaked in its splashy floral pattern. It all added to the sweet image, complemented by a charming personality.

Heeseung didn't know what about her turned his insides upside down. There were too many factors about that breathtaking beauty to pinpoint one. From her looks to her brains, she was a flawless 10 out of 10. A woman every man could only dream of.

He was one of those men, dreaming about her every night after hitting bed. At this rate, it was turning into a habit. His head would automatically wander to her curvy shape once he shut his eyelids. Her long and slender shoulders were a sight to see, and he imagined running his fingers on them. Sometimes he visualized her powerful thighs, hungering to feel them in his hands. His ultimate wish was to reach her back and squeeze her buttocks as much as possible. He was a pervert for fantasizing about her in such inappropriate ways. However, he couldn't help it.

She was incredibly attractive, and even if he tried to look away, his vision still ended on her. It was unavoidable. She was gorgeous.

"Lee Heeseung! Stop being a baby and help me!" the bundle of joy reprimanded, looking back with knitted eyebrows.

Nothing appeared better right then, content with the outcome of her decisions. It almost made the volunteer forget about the awaiting unboxing. He could sense the exhaustion steadily approaching from the corner, taunting the weary with its impact.

She crouched down to organize the pieces in the corner, not anticipating a figure approaching from behind.

"Oh, you did not just say that," he called out, hands stretching to the sides of her torso, ignoring the loud no's as he came closer to the desired location. At that moment, the secret weapon was released. The victim fought for air, their laughter overconsuming it all, hands trying to stop the intolerable torture.

"Yah! Stop!" they yelled, slapping the boy's arms, squirming in his imprisonment. The imbalance in the position caused them to fall over, bringing the perpetrator with them and landing on the floor together.

Heeseung stopped once his eyes locked with hers, staring into those beaming green orbs, casting rays of bliss.

It was as if he was looking at pure euphoria, smearing its gilt palms on him, like a warm blanket on a cold day, whispering sweet nonsenses. He couldn't cease admiring the view, the corner of his mouth lifting unknowingly. It was immaculate, its face round as an apple, light brown dots etched around its Grecian nose, forsaking their presence at the plump upper lip, overshadowing the bottom half, completing the perfection.

He hoped this moment could last forever, with her beside herself with joy, grinning and holding onto him, pledging its eternity. It didn't have to be authentic, just the thought calming his anxious soul, questioning the length of this point before disintegrating in his grasp.

Yet, staring into her almond-shaped eyes reassured the worried. His fingers ran through her silky hair, body slightly freezing in surprise, gasping at the unexpected gesture. The change in her breathing didn't miss his sight, caressing her head overfilled in worries and pang, hoping to divest them.

If only he could sweep away all of the trouble from her system and hold her close eternally to provide the oughted warmth and comfort. He appealed to the universe to provide her with the needed healing. To replace the bandages and plasters on her crushed soul with long-lasting stitches and disallow the wounds from ever opening up again.

The universe found it amusing that he kept asking for something already there from the beginning, fulfilling all his requests without his knowledge. It was as snug as a bug in a rug, watching over the little one and protecting her in its embrace. It was all there, slanting over her with doe eyes, creating temporary crow's feet.

"You won't go, right?" she asked, swallowing the sudden change of emotions, the numbness and fear heckling to emerge. The despair on her brows drew in, transmitting through as her jaw pulled in.

He shook his head, soothing away the dread with a peck on the rosy cheek, "No. I'll stay with you."

"Promise?" she held onto his collar, pulling him closer till their foreheads kissed. Oh, how much she wanted their lips to be the ones who connected and chafed against each other, devouring one another in ardor. She was foolishly hoping for the upcoming redness to evaporate, not embarrass her in front of the mighty male she so broadly adored.

Was it the bambi eyes blanketing her in love or the warm palm holding her petite hand that made the girl swoon? She couldn't ignore the effects of this fine man in front of her. Her true intentions have been bottled up for so long that they began opposing. They wanted to shout and express the overgrowing desire evolving into a blooming garden of affection.

"Promise," was all she needed to hear to pull him closer and make her dream come true without hesitating. To her surprise, nor did he.

It was like they'd both waited for this spectacular moment to happen, not getting enough of it. Their hands roamed on each others' backs, attempting to draw in the other as much as possible. They practically crushed their noses while doing so, forgetting about breathing for the upcoming seconds. The only thing they could focus on was the bliss it provided.

The ravenous act of love was so passionate that it almost made the woman collapse, holding on to Heeseung's T-shirt. He was in his world, experiencing the most pleasing kissing.

No previous connection could match the intensity and perfection of this moment. It was such an anticipated fantasy that he struggled to fathom her soft lips brushing against his. The way they collided with his was sensational, relinquishing every thought in his brain.

There was only this tingly feeling leading from his chest in between his legs. He was all over the place, but so was Y/N.

In her 21 years of living, she had never been French kissed before, and this was the first time she allowed someone to try it. Despite her strong resentment against the act due to finding it unhygienic, she let the man she dreamed of having for so long play with her tongue. For once, she ignored picturing bacteria transmitting through saliva and wrapped her arms around his neck.

And Heeseung made sure she wouldn't regret it.

As soon as he gained access, he tenderly slipped inside her mouth with his warm and wet tongue. He painted her walls in adore, cupping her cheeks to bring them in. That way, he could also pull her closer and deepen the kiss.

They both found the sounds of wet smacks bouncing off the empty room stimulating, letting out a few whimpers.

"Heeseung, I want you," she started sucking on his bottom lip, voicing her frustration by occasionally biting. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to bring him back from the dazed state she left him in.

"I want you too," his fingers lightly slid down her arms, sensing the change in her heartbeat. It continued grazing over lower, barely touching her skin.

The teasing threw her over the edge. She just wanted him to tear off her clothing and wander his veiny hands all over her chest. To squeeze her breasts and pinch her nipples until she couldn't handle it. She wanted to become an utter mess underneath him.

"Please, love me," She felt like an animal in heat, unable to think of anything else than the longing desire in her system. It repeatedly screamed his name in the most alluring way, gluing onto his mouth like it was the last time.

The combination of his lustful gaze and comforting smile was an unbeatable experience. His eyes were the key to his soul, expressing love and appreciation with one beguiling look.

"Can I?" he asked in her ear while playing with her earring, hooking onto the hems of the jumpsuit.

"Yes, quick," she appealed, the urge intensifying each minute. Without having to ask, she began unbuttoning his cotton T-shirt, having a compulsion to rip it apart.

His tongue was back trekking in her mouth, concealing her aching lips in the warmth of his saliva. Y/N couldn't properly focus on the cursed buttons when he delicately declared his delight in the kiss. It was impossible to do anything with him quietly moaning, stumbling over her consciousness.

"Fuck. Are all police officers this hot?" She exhaled at the mouthwatering view ahead. Her eyes rolled when her palms slid against his naked skin, the coldness causing them to flex. She knew about his exquisite physique before but never had the chance to see it up this close.

His muscles had always been visible through any piece of clothing, and Y/N found herself staring at every opportunity. Her hands couldn't stop touching his delicate skin, desperate to kiss and mark every spot. Just picturing him in purple love bites did wonders to her woman parts.

At this point, she was openly drooling over him.

"You should look at yourself," He blushed at the compliment, pulling the piece of clothing off her. His leg pressed against her core right after, adding a log into the fireplace. She closed her mouth to conceal her needs, shutting her eyelids when his knee rubbed her clit. Was she too blatant with her thigh squeezing? Fuck.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he leaned over, tracing her chest and torso with his nose. Seeing her in her undergarments and face scrunched in pleasure spurred his aching shaft even more. The addicting scent of shea butter absorbed every part of her, placing him under a spell with her features.

He placed delightful pecks on her stomach to ensure her comfort and safety, a feeling of happiness and contentment in his presence.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," his moans wiped down her thighs, licking and kissing everywhere. Her insides began burning, and she found herself desperately gripping his hair. The compliment he just dropped on her head blasted through her ears, flushing her cheeks in a rosy pigment.

He had to have a lot of adorers in his past, and she didn't doubt it was the same in the present. His visuals were better than the models on magazines, a mixture of soft masculinity. Looking at him made her gasp consistently, habitually admiring his breathtaking assets. He was a work of art, and she couldn't stop admiring it.

"Heeseung," her breath lingered, staring at the savory growth behind his sweatpants. The outline, which appeared immensely luscious, provoked her intrusive thoughts to yearn for it. To lick and suck on it like candy until reaching a sugar crash.

"Please let me put it in my mouth," the desperation transferred, sitting up to flip sides. He stared at her in shock from the floor with hands above his head, having hers wrapped around his wrists. Her sudden revelation caught him off guard, sensing his friend wholly waking up at the lewd confession.

If it wasn't obvious how much he wanted her to have him her way, he wasn't sure about anything anymore. His heart was merely beating for her, picking up speed in pumping blood around his body. It was inevitable, particularly when she circled her tongue around his teats.

He would lie if he said he had experienced such a dirty act before, twitching and squirming from the kitten licks. He wasn't sure if it being his first time caused such a mercurial reaction or her being the one suckling on them.

Either way, Heeseung wasn't complaining one bit. He permitted her to play with them as she desired.

"You're all I've ever dreamt of," her breath skimmed lower and lower until it recoiled up on his crotch. Both sighed at the highly-awaited instant as if they had been waiting for it to happen forever.

Y/N took in the paradise and rested her face on it, massaging her cheek against it. She was roaming in a daze, omitting everything around and focusing on the growing element beside her.

All these lascivious acts made Heeseung think Y/N was an expert, not having a second to figure out his methods. They were thrown out the window the moment she pulled down his shorts and Calvin Klein boxers in one go, uncovering his nudity all to herself. He goggled at her from the uncatchable pace, leaning against his elbows for balance.

"God, Hee," she wrapped her hand around the leaking material, leisurely smearing the pre-cum on the head.

"Y/N," he hissed, watching his thick cock twitch in her small hand, throwing his head back. Once her thumb circled his tip, his testicles drove in. They uncontrollably pulsated with each hoop, losing control over their equipoise.

Her sparkly orbs, gazing at him from below while gingerly kissing the base, pushed the filthiest groans out of him. He could cum from her lips polishing his member, the delicate touch reminding him of a feather.

"No more teasing, please," his hips raised, pressing his thick cock against her rosy cheek. He couldn't hold his desire any longer, practically begging her to suck him dry.

"Oh? So what do you want me to do then?" her lips entangled around his tip, turning into a feisty smirk.

"Put your tongue on it," he pleaded, his knees turning numb from the ecstasy.

"Like this?" her eyes looked up at him between his legs, sticking out her tongue to draw perfect lines across his treasure. For an answer, she received a loud groan alongside a light thump into the ground. She was playing a dangerous game, but it was too amusing to miss.

"Look at how your cock twitches when I do this," she snickered, licking him from the top to all the way down to his balls. They were also in need of attention, and Y/N didn't forget to engage them in her playtime.

"Or barely lick your head," she demonstrated the act, causing Heeseung to shiver in her grasp.

"It makes me wonder how it'll react if I decide to put it in my mouth," her last word got nearly swallowed as she answered her question, leaving Heeseung in utter disarray. His brain resigned, incapable of handling the sheer amount of pleasure. If it stayed any longer, it would go insane.

"It's so soft," she furrowed her eyebrows upwards, her hands coming back to wander on his buttery skin.

"So tasty."

"So beautiful."

"So perfect."

It hit the back of her throat, face entirely buried into his crotch, satisfied blusters opposing as a reaction. She found it adorable how he desperately held onto her hair, trying to shove himself even deeper. It was so incredible that he struggled to contain his growing lust, prompting him to unravel his aggression.

He wanted to grab her silky hair into a ponytail and mercilessly guide his dick deep down her throat. To watch the lump in it growing and disappearing with each pulse while her eyes looked straight into his.

He couldn't hold it anymore.

He had to taste her.

"Turn around and sit on my face," he conveyed, seductively running his tongue over his lips.

"What?" the shyness transferred to the opposite side, goggling at the depicted request.

"Come on, don't be shy and sit on my face, princess."

Y/N hesitantly looked at the stripped man, who was calmly lying with his arms behind his head, lustfully eyeing her up.

"Ride it until you come down my throat," the nasty invite slipped out his mouth carelessly, putting on a smirk to secure its impact.

"You know I'll lick it all up."

The woman's jaw dropped at the proposition, heavily floundering with her senses. Her interiors thawed at his sensual words, screaming at her to turn around and do as he demanded.

"I don't want you to suffocate, dumbass," she lightly punched his arm, trying to dissipate the butterflies piling in her stomach. She didn't want to seem like a nuisance with her subtle shots at the getaway. However, her confidence wasn't the biggest one out there.

Being on top wasn't the issue, but being that exposed to Heeseung. She always found it uncomfortable to have guys looking at all of her. Relaxing in someone else's arms was a problematic obstacle.

Heeseung wasn't an ignorant person not to notice the modest hints, settling to act rather than unroll the tangle of unnecessary insecurities.

With that determination, he lifted her and placed her on his face without warning to get her raw reaction.

At the same time, he found it foolish to waste a minute arguing.

Instead, he could use it to eat her out and show her immortal magnificence.

"You have no idea how good you look from here," both ended up facing each other's genitals, admiring the glorious piece of art. She stared at him covered in her saliva mixed with precum, its size managing to develop more with each touch.

Heeseung was playfully running his finger around her slick hole. The amount she had produced was more than he could imagine, the sticky material creating squelching sounds. His index traveled upwards, smearing the juices on her swollen clit.

"I could just play with you all day without ever getting bored," his finger disappeared inside her, unweaving a beautiful whimper.

"Just run my finger up and down your pussy until you can't handle it," he smoothly pushed another in, her fluids substituting lube.

"So warm and tight. All just for me," his nose hit her clit, soaking up her scent in an instant.

"Heeseung," she sighed, holding onto his legs for support.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you more, Hee."

...to be continued...

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Taglist: @end-hyphen, @hee-pster, @jakeswifeyy, @gegeetime, @heerated, @jayked, @forjongseong, @enhastolemyheart

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ^^

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@maggstar

#minors: dni #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #enhypen headcanons #enhypen imagines

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