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peachesofteal · 1 year

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Mermaids

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon Riley/mermaid!reader 8.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Dark themes. Magical beings eating human hearts. Magic. Blood, Violence. Explicit sex. Blood kink. Breeding kink. Creampie. Dubious consent. Possessive Simon Riley. "And with your mermaid hair and your teeth so sharp, you crawled from the sea to break that sailor's heart" - F+TM

It begins early this year.

Earlier than usual, when your hunting ground in the mortal world was just starting to turn green, shaking its frosted and frozen branches free to make room for bright blooms and emerald leaves. Just as the steps of Brighton Pier changed from ice slick ledges to waterlogged, weeping wooden planks, and human clothing shifted from long coverings that protected their fragile membranes from the bitter wind to soft and flowing fabrics that allowed their bodies to breathe.

This time of the year the mortal world was alive. Full of rebirth and growth, strong and vibrant.

Vibrant, like the song that began early this year, the frequency echoing deep below the water’s surface to where you waited for its pull. The siren song of a true treasure, far beyond any other, the melody of your chosen, the ebb and flow of the rhythm that is not unlike the sea. The siren song of a mortal’s heart, the cacophony able to reach you and your sisters far below the swell and crash of the ocean, far beyond where the light ceases, the melody possessing the ability to pull you to the surface once a year.

Once a year, to hunt.

One a year, to dance and drink and fall in love, if only for a night.

Once a year, to sacrifice a human heart.

Your eldest sister holds you tight to her body in an embrace as the sun rises. Elegant fingers fuss with your hair, smoothing and tugging and pulling, a vain attempt at taming something wilder than her own heart. Her face is grim, a black void that reflects no joy or excitement, just dread. It is a mirror of yourself. It is a pain that you know too well.

“What bothers you?”

You are the last two left on the beach. The others have all gone, eager to stretch their legs and seek their own songs, the trill of the blood bubbling up in their veins, their bodies pulled like magnets to the source. One heart, one song, one human male for each sister, poor mortals who have no idea what awaits them today, their ignorance bliss on the last night of their lives. Your sisters, as well as you, all live for this night. The joy of the love, the thrill of the hunt, the taste of the ichor that sustains you. The anticipation of this night fills your dreams with swirls of violent songbird chords and sweet melodies of affection. It is all you talk about for cycles, leading up to the day when you leave the water at sunrise and your tail shifts and shatters to reveal two very human looking legs.

“I am weary.” She tells you plainly, an announcement that does not come as a surprise. You have watched how she fades. Watched her linger in the darkness of the caves, watched her float lifelessly on slow currents, gaze hollow, vigor lost. “My song is faint.” She pushes further, holding your hand tightly as she releases you from her embrace. “I think I may not take a heart this year.” But we must. Must we? It was a question unanswered, but one that plagued you both. How else could you live, if not for these sacrifices?

“You would choose to die.” You surmise and she gives you a curt nod, as if it is obvious. As if her admission does not rattle you down to your very bones. Perhaps you too, one day, would make this choice. Would choose not to hunt. Choose not to love and lose. The notion pains you, fills you with sorrow as it has for many, many years. This was not an unknown feeling, even though you still experienced the joy, the bliss of your hunting, of the harvesting, you still felt the pang of loss every time, stronger and stronger as the years ticked by.

“It aches now, knowing I will fall in love this night, just for it to end as the sun rises.” The sea crashes onto the beach behind the two of you, and her lips part with a smile before she leans in to graze a kiss along your cheek. “Happy hunting, my sister.”

The song encourages you onward, leading you through a maze of streets and buildings while the sun rises and lingers in the sky. You comb the city for your male, following the electric hum of the song through alleys and neighborhoods, stopping to enjoy the day, your one day on land, as often as you can. You relish in the things that are rare for you, the taste of coffee and human food, the smell of flowers in the park, the feel of grass on the bare pads of your feet. The dress you’ve chosen flutters in the breeze, allowing the cool air to caress your skin softly, and the sun beams down on your exposed limbs, warming you under its light as you indulge in mortal world. It is nice, you decide while you bask in its rays, to feel the sun as humans do. Such spoiled creatures, being so close to something that gives so much life.

That same sun begins to sink lower behind the skyline and you’re still mindlessly gazing at small insects and diving birds when your heart trills, the force of the song slamming between your ribs, a smattering of warning bells going off within you. He’s close, your blood croons, so, so close. The incessant rattle, the insistent pull is enough to bring you to your feet and anxiously smooth the wrinkles of your clothing, eyes darting wildly around while you hunt for the source, feet flying beneath you. So close, so close.

You come to a stop in front of a pub where a black door is propped open, music and revelry echoing from inside. Here. He’s here. The supersonic vibrato that hums in your own blood draws you into the dimly lit bar, and you hear the song in his veins grow even stronger when you step through across the threshold. He is not hard to find, this close, and your magic strings out before you, weaving and seeking past the bodies that dance closely on the floor, each as desperate for one another as you have grown for your mortal and his song.

He stands in the back, half covered by shadow, the dark pitch of the room matching his clothes and the mask he wears over most of his face. Everything about him is bigger than the males that have called to you in the past, his height, his arms, the width of his shoulders, even the feeling of him in this place. Everywhere you venture, every spot you position yourself in, you feel his eyes on you. He is unusual, and watches, from his vantage point, his companions, other humans, the bartender.

You perch atop a barstool on the opposite side of the room to study him. His eyes carry a ferocity, a heaviness of emotion that stirs the blood running through your own veins until it is pounding in your ears. The severity of him nearly intimidates you, the level of his awareness, the pools of his amber rich brown eyes occasionally flicking over to where your fingers wrap around a glass of beer, the heat of his gaze searing away at your skin underneath the dress. The mask confuses but does not caution you, and your own heart now beats in time with his due to your proximity. Handsome. You muse to yourself, caught up in tracing the outline of his cheekbones. Beautiful, in a dark way.

There is something about him. Something ruinous, something different. Something you cannot name.

It is of no consequence. You are the huntress. You will have your prize, your immortality, the taste of his heart on your tongue. His death becomes your life. His love, his heart, becomes yours, for eternity.

But how nice, might it be, to keep this one? It is an impossible thought, a dreamless idea, but one that still crosses your mind. The fantasy of falling in love for eternity, of having more than one night, more than the blood and violence that follows, more than the loss that would sustain you. If it were to be one, you know you’d choose this one. Your thoughts stray to your sister for a moment, imagining her alone beneath the surface, mourning the centuries of life she has lived, the centuries of love she has lost. Did she know this feeling? This hopelessness, this despair. Your lips tug downward as you consider her words. It aches. It aches, knowing I will fall in love this night, only for it to end as the sun rises. Gloom washes through you, your own yearning itching inside your soul, your desperation for your human itching at your skin. It aches. It aches, it ach-

“Hello.” Someone says from behind you, a deep, distinct voice, and you snap upwards, straightening your posture to turn into the body that crowds you. You jerk backwards on the stool when you realize how close he is, the action unsettling you from your seat, and you slip forward, nearly falling free from your wooden perch. Balance on land is difficult, and yours is perpetually off, a skill you've never mastered. A massive hand wraps around your elbow to right you, gently steadying you, and your jaw goes slack when you finally look up.

It's him.

“Hi.” You smile, trying to recover from your less than graceful impression. Your heart thunders in your chest, and the melody inside him screams for you.

“I’m Ghost.” He motions to your mostly empty beer and raises his completely barren one in return. “Buy you another?”

The indulgent smile that scrawls across your face is practically involuntary as you give your answer.

“Sure.”

His name isn’t Ghost, but he keeps his true name close and won’t give it to you. You give him a nickname, one you usually use on land, and he doesn’t bat an eye, even when you tell him it’s a pet name and not your real one with a wink. The name Ghost doesn’t strike you as odd, after learning what he does, why he keeps it tucked away, and you marvel at him while he tells gives you bits and piece of himself, occasionally peeling his mask up to drink. He’s a solider, a Lieutenant in a special task force, some of which he happens to be out with tonight. He likes bourbon, specifically from a certain region in America, and he smells like the forest. You lean closer, completely unable to stop yourself, inhaling as deeply as you can, breathing in the mossy, earthy, green scent that hovers in the air around him. It was heady, and endless, and wrapped you in a dizzying cocoon of memories that you couldn’t place, but clearly envisioned. Forests, teeming with life and glowing chartreuse from top to bottom, oceans with aquamarine waters, shallow pools for you to bathe in under the sun, the water crisp and cold, your skin eagerly soaking it up its potent brine. Sapphire skies, the beaches stretching on and on, their seas fathomless, their bounties endless. You push closer, nosing as near as you can to his skin and take a lungful of the air. Strange. You knew humans wore things to mask or change their scents, but had never encountered one so… affecting.

“Alright, love?” He brushes the lightest contact of his fingers against yours, and you straighten, eyes ducking down in embarrassment.

“Yes, sorry. I- I was… distracted.”

Unusual indeed.

One drink turns to many, and you carefully note how Ghost’s posture becomes more relaxed, shoulders less tense as the two of you indulge. He continues to surveil the room, observing and cataloguing, and you find it dangerously appealing, how in tune he is to his surroundings. How vigilant. Your hand lays gently on his thigh when you can no longer hold off the desire for physical touch, and he inclines his head to speak above your ear, the warmth of his cheek behind the fabric pressed casually to your head.

“D’ya want to go somewhere else?” Yes. You nod, and he motions to his group before excusing himself, his large body cutting a path through the packed room like he’s parting the sea.

You note the couplings around the bar as Ghost approaches his companions, leaning down to speak to one who is seated, legs spread wide on a faux velvet chair. He has a mohawk, and cerulean blue eyes that trace you from head to toe after Ghost begins to walk back towards where you're seated. You break the eye contact hastily, observing the others, pity pulling on your heart strings over a distraught female who sits in a corner, watching another with longing. The state of her broken heart is written all over face, her body rife with grief. The object of her affection, another stunningly beautiful female, dances with a different mortal, her artfully woven hair spiraling from her shoulders in tune to the way she moves her body. They have it so hard, you think. The song does all the work for us. You never have to woo your mortals, just provide them with the opportunity to find you. The song pushes them to seek you out, drives them to near madness unless they are in your company. They don’t always love you back, as you love them, certainly. But you never have to vie for their attention, never have to posture for their affection.

A large hand takes yours, warm and beating with the pulse of his heart, the rhythm of the song.

“Ready?” You open your mouth to say yes but nothing comes out, and the feeling of dread, the ache swamps you for a passing second. I think I may not take a heart this year. All you can do is nod.

As he leads you through the crowd, you cannot help but reach forward with your free hand and clasp onto the dancing woman. She pauses, eyes lighting wantonly when she sees you, but you push a sprinkle of magic through her, sparking desire in the base of her consciousness for the mournful dove in the chair.

You don’t look back at either of them as you leave, and silently pray to no one that they find happiness in love, that they relish it and keep one another, if only for you.

You bring him to the beach, as is your custom. It was where you felt safest, closest to the ocean, it’s where your power felt most pure should you need it, should something go wrong. You shiver at the thought, shoving down the memories that threaten your balance, and you clutch Ghost’s hand.

“Come down here often?” He inquires and you shrug, a response you know mortals are fond of.

“I like it here.” You offer, and he hums in acknowledgement. You tug him towards the overhang of the pier, where the shadows will shield you, where no one dares to venture. The only light comes from the moon, it’s silver glow glittering dimly through worn wooden pier slats, and you watch it catch his eye, his pupil expanding and contracting as you step closer and closer. “I want to kiss you.” you implore. “Will you remove your mask?” The song. You’re depending on the song to help you with this, depending on his desire, the power of the melody in his veins to urge him to comply with your request, and when he tilts his head like he’s considering you, you hold your breath.

It happens quickly. He removes the mask in a fluid motion, and then his lips are upon yours, hot and seeking, tongue exploring your mouth while yours opens for him, your body clenching with dizzying desire at the feel of his touch against your skin.

“I knew it.” You gasp when you pull away and trace the fine point of a fingernail down his jaw. “I knew you were breathtaking under there.” He chuckles.

“Happy you think so.”

Your mouths melt together as he holds you around the waist, your bodies getting closer and closer until you can feel the hardness of his cock in his jeans, feel the scorching heat of him through his clothes. You are desperate for this mortal, your desire to feel him moving inside of you nearly as strong as the lust you feel to taste his heart. You sink to the sand together, a dance of limbs and movements that have you panting astride him when he settles, propped up on his elbows.

“Simon.” He says mid breath. “That’s my name. Want ya to have it.” Simon.

“Simon.” You whisper it, and he nods before pulling you back to him, two large palms cradling your face like you’re a delicate creature. It makes you feel special, makes you feel cherished, like you’re something gentle to be treasured, and not a monster out for his life. You kiss him tenderly, one more time, as softly as you can manage, your heart trembling inside your chest, before your teeth bite into his lip, the ferocious intensity of the act returned by him, his mouth meeting yours full force. You bite again, and this time his flesh gives way, bright, mineral rich blood bubbling from the tiny cut and you eagerly lap at it, the ichor coating your tongue and exploding across your senses. He laughs, the echo of it rumbling deep in his chest, and you place your hand against his heart greedily, the vigor of its beating nearly making your eyes roll back into your head. The length of his cock throbs between your legs, where only the fabric of his jeans separates you, and you rut against him helplessly. Sparks ignite between you, your body shuddering when his hands hook into your hip, strong grip guiding your movements against him. Your magic swells inside of you, and your head spins.

Take him, take him. Take his heart, take his song. Have him, his love, his heart, for eternity, forever.

You push him onto his back, dress rucked up around your hips, fabric pooling around the two of you.

“I want you.” you tell him, fingers fussing with his clothes, encouraging him to strip his shirt free and then unbutton his jeans. It’s messy, uncoordinated, and sloppy but you can’t find a care. You’re too filled with want, overflowing with desire for your mortal, your desperation mounting as he stills you, tracing a finger over your ribs and then down your pubic bone to where your slick, silken folds wait to be touched.

“Simon.” you whisper his name again, the word close to begging, and he shushes you, swirling a finger down where you’re leaking, circling the swollen bud of your clit with agonizing strokes that fill your senses with electricity.

“Shhh. I know what you need.” He soothes, and deftly pushes a finger inside of you, stroking along your walls. You shiver, face dropping into the crook his neck, and he turns his head so that the soft puff of his breath wafts over your skin as you whimper. “Does that feel good?” He asks, pressing another inside, his thumb flicking over your clit in lackadaisical patterns. You moan, body welcoming his touch, and you nip at the skin of his shoulder, eager to tear it apart, to taste his blood again. His other hand pushes at the back of your head, until your teeth are flush with his skin. “Go on.” He urges, and your eyes slip closed with bliss while you break the thin membrane, blood pooling to the surface as he lets out a small grunt. Your tongue swirls in it, painting his skin ruby, and you drag your lips downward, over where his heart pounds wildly in his chest. For you. It pounds for you. It sings for you.

“I need you inside me.” He pulls at the straps of the dress, divesting you of the top, exposing your breasts to the cool air and silver light of the moon. His thumb rolls one of your nipples and you feel for him, already free from his under garment, the things humans wear under their outside clothes, and you swallow when you feel the size in your fingers.

You sink down onto him with a hiss, body stretching for the intrusion, cunt spasming around the width and length as it fights to make room. He pets your hip soothingly, and you sit straight up, letting out a cry when you feel the true length of his cock inside you, the absolute fullness of it nearly seated in your belly. When you look back down, your eyes trace the smear of blood from his lips and shoulder, and your tongue darts out against your own skin, seeking the flavor of ichor that waits on the corner of your mouth.

Something glitters in his eyes, something shifting as if he finally recognizes the danger he’s in. Even here, with you astride him, split open his cock, hips stuttering in slow circles, wariness flexes across his face as if he knows, finally, that he is the prey and you the predator.

“It’s okay, do not be afraid.” You reassure him, stroking a fingernail over his breastbone, to where his heart flutters beneath your touch. He blinks, eyes blissfully blank, the firm grip of his hand on your hip relaxing before he says:

“Will you not tell me your name?” A long sigh slips between your teeth. Mortals. So hung up on familiarity. But how could you refuse a dying man his last request? Your lips kiss the shell of his ear as you give it to him, the point of your fingernail pressing into his delicate flesh, desperate to seek the strong muscle beneath, the song in his blood echoing through your own bones with supersonic vibration. The sounds and colors of the mortal realm all increase, too bright, too loud, everything shaking like the earth is suddenly trembling and then-

Something snaps inside of you. Magic, raw and powerful, a force unlike anything you’ve ever felt spills into you, your body being washed over with the rush of floodwaters, your heart and blood now singing for him, yearning for him, desperate to be consumed by him.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

The claim burns beneath your skin, your magic twisting away into something completely new, something more powerful as your mind grapples with the changing reality.

In the next moment, you’re spinning, tumbling through the air until you’re on your back, splayed beneath him, hands trapped at your sides. Your legs are folded underneath the width of his torso, your body opened for him just so, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix, stretching the slick walls of your cunt with each punishing thrust.

“I-“ the words are cut off sharply when he seals his mouth to yours, teeth gnashing and gnawing down from your lips to your jaw and then up to you ear.

“You,” He punctuates the word with a sharp thrust, and you gasp. “are mine, little huntress.” It is a vow, snarled through clenched teeth, and your own body betrays you by tightening around him, eager and willing to be claimed. The air is hot, humid and electric with magic, the burning effects of your error travelling through your every vein, every cell of skin. The utterance of your name, the act of your own foolishness strings heavily between you, while your body tenses underneath him.

“Simon.” You breathe and he only nods, holding your cheek in a gentle palm, stroking a loving touch across your face.

“Sweet little Nereid...” He names your kind with a growl, and your heart slams in your chest, his cock thrusting into your cunt wildly, desperately. “More beautiful than the sea herself.” The laugh is crooned, like the satisfying scratch of a needle against a record, and his fingers stroke your clit while he presses himself to you, your hips pinned beneath his weight, your body immobile. “Did you truly believe me to be a mortal?” He smiles darkly, lips curling with sinister satisfaction, and you feel the cold hand of fate reaching into your own chest cavity, rooting around in your soul until magic is searing across your skin, a bending and scraping feeling digging underneath your ribs, your own magic twisting and clawing until it burns away into something new, something changed, something imbued with him.

No. It’s not possible.

“You… you’re-“

“Yes.”

Simon cares little for the mortal realm. It’s pace and its noise and its scents are all cloying to him, obnoxious and foreign, the general rush of its inhabitants and their lack of care for their world offensive to him and his kind. They do not care for their realm, and do not take care of it ether, instead choosing to let it rot and fester beneath their feet, their drive and determination to outdo one another single handedly responsible for the destruction of most of their world. They call it something here, 'capitalism', like naming it will excuse it, while Simon just calls it murder, and greed.

Mortals and their extreme indifference do allow him certain things, however. Their love of violence and obsession with wealth put even the most well-off of his kind to shame at times. His kind loved things that shone, certainly. But mortals? They loved things that bled. It was this lust for power, this ravenous streak of greed that gave him the opportunity to position himself as he has.

As a hunter. A killer. A ghost.

Simon had been hunting for the thing he loved for a very, very long time.

And tonight, he was finally going to bring you home.

The first time Simon saw you; over a century ago, it was beneath Brighton Pier. You had a human male panting after you as you walked beneath the wooden overhang, your hand cupping his cheek softly, eyes full of tenderness and love. Simon, and the man, were both entranced by your beauty, the way your body moved under the night sky, how your skin seemed to glitter against the sand. Simon watched as you led him to where the moon couldn’t reach, beneath the shield of the slats, the dark of the evening hiding you from all prying, curious eyes, except for his.

He watched you take the male inside your body, watched you lavish your tongue across his neck and chest, watched your lips form sweet words of reassurance and honey while you tasted his blood. He watched the nails of your fingers gleam in the low light, watched them sharpen and then dig, scratching and clawing beneath the threads of the male’s skin, until you held an ichor rich organ in your palm, a complex system of vessels and ventricles, it’s sinew glowing red beneath your touch. He stood in awe as you devoured it, your feeding turning into a frenzy as you consumed it piece by piece, the male bleeding out and dying slowly, all while still buried inside your cunt.

After your feast, you dragged the male’s lifeless body down the sand to the water with you, where you pulled it beneath the waves, never to be seen again. Surprised, and intrigued, he stood at the water’s edge, watching the tide that was tinged red lap calmly at the shore. He knew humans had a taste for blood, but this was another desire onto itself. What were you?

The following year, Simon couldn’t help but return to the same area in hopes of spotting you again, the creature unknown to him, a mystery begging to be unraveled. You appeared at dawn on the same day, with a horde of others, who then dispersed into the city and surrounding areas, following the sound of a song he could not hear. He became a creature obsessed, tracking your every movement, watching your every hunt and sacrifice. He stood in the dark while you made love to the mortals whose lives you would take, watched you hunt with wild abandon, watched you enjoy the small, tiny things in your eternal life that others often overlook. He began to know you, began to learn what you liked and didn't, began to learn what made you smile.

You became the brightest spot in his own too long existence, the yearly reminder of love, of vitality, of life. He loved you, desperately, recklessly so. His dreams were filled with soft, sweet visions of you, bloody moments of passion and adoring, lingering kisses that he swore he could still feel when he woke.

It took time, too long of a time, before he discovered who, or what, you were. He spent a century trying to learn how to lure you to the surface. Simon tore apart libraries, bargained favors across dimensions, granted wishes and wove powerful spells just to trade for information on you and your sisters, the Nereids, the lasting remnant of a forgotten power, reclusive magic lurking inside the deepest depths, a realm inside a realm, never to be discovered unless you wished it so. And even then, the additional answers he sought were scarce.

Every year, he returned to the human realm to see you, tucking himself away in cloaks of magic and darkness so that he could creep as close as possible to you. Every year, he watched you hunt, watched you capture your prey effortlessly and consume their heart. He watched you shed a tear for them. Watched your drag their corpses down the beach to the sea, where you carried them into the water with you before disappearing all together.

Eventually, time began to change you. He watched you regard your lovers, your mortals with callousness, and cruelty. He watched you treat them with tenderness, and adoration, caring for them, making their ends sweet and soothing their fears. He watched you stand on the beach for hours at dawn and try to fight the urge to hunt. He burned to take you away from this world, to sever you from your ocean, bring you home to him, but your kind did not live in his realm. He was unsure how to sustain your life, and the search for answers was slow. Years went by, and the soft dreams that he had always welcomed turned to nightmares, fueled by the fear he’d lose you before he even had the chance to try to bring you home.

A decade ago, he watched you falter. Your body trembled as you took your sacrifice, your cries so hysterical he was certain you’d draw the entire block to where you hid in the shadow of someone’s gaff. His own body was rigid with tense, untethered magic that sought to lash out, and he was rife with worry that you’d give yourself away, you’d be caught by some mortal force and unable to return to the sea when the sun rose. The fear he felt was unreasonable, uncontainable. He'd level the city to protect you, to keep you safe, and he nearly did. He almost took you, that night. Was quite close, so close that he was crossing the street in front of vehicles and preparing to pull you into his realm when you composed yourself and completed your harvest, the glowing organ in your hands proof of your will to live, to love.

He rarely left the mortal realm after that. Only to seek his final answer and solidify his plan, his masquerade as the masked Ghost allowing him to exist in the realm indefinitely, giving him the availability to be close for when the time was right, for when you would be ready.

A year ago, you were the last to return to the water, your steps slow and clumsy, your eyes tired and weepy. You appeared satisfied, but as you looked back on the city from the shoreline, he saw the hint of desolation in your eyes, the shadow of dejection haunting your face.

It was more than enough, to spring him into action. More than enough, to find your promised mortal for next year and steal his song, bringing it into himself by a small piece of blood magic, something so simple and obvious Simon cursed himself for not realizing sooner.

This morning, as he observed you and your sister on the beach, he knew he had been right. He could see it in your face. The pain of sadness, of loss twisting your elegance into an ache, those feelings compounded by the admission of your eldest sibling. This could be your last hunt.

It was time to bring you home. Forever.

“That her then?” Johnny nods, indicating he’s looking the same direction as Simon, watching you walk down the curb, paper coffee cup clutched in your hands, face smiling at the sun.

“Yes.” Simon answers, shifting uncomfortably. The bloody song has been heating his flesh for weeks, boiling in his veins and driving him practically mad. Nymph magic. Its incessant hum has been battling his own power, jockeying for position as it worked to pull you to the surface. Combined with his own, he wasn’t surprised it possessed the ability to bring you up earlier than normal, encouraging you and your sisters through the depths and to the shore. If his blood was singing, then so was every other poor sod’s in this city.

You cross the street into the park, dress swaying around your hips, and he indulgently stares at the form of your body, the set of your shoulders, the texture of your hair. He closes his eyes to breathe, reaching into himself to get a handle on the battle of will going on in his blood, the warring magic factions pushing and pulling beneath his skin, begging to be let out, trying to lash out. Soon. He reassures himself. She will be with him soon.

He can smell you from here. You’re ripe. Overflowing, your scent is like a flickering ocean breeze, briny and cold but full of life, of promise. You’re ready, ready to be taken from this awful realm, ready to be bent underneath his body, ready to be crying on his cock as you come while he floods your womb with himself and his power, tying you to him for all eternity.

That is, if he can get you to relinquish your name.

It is a key piece of his plan, and the one that worries him the most.

He knows you do not give it freely; knows you keep it guarded. It’s like you’re already aware that he waits in the shadows for you, watching, keeping track of every step you take, every year, from sunup to the next, until you slink beneath the water where he cannot follow.

The pressure inside his body is nearly unbearable by the time you step into the pub. Dozens of heads turn towards you, mortals’ eyes roving all over your body like you’re a treat for them, like you’re something delicious they’ll have an opportunity to taste. Foolish, greedy mortals, too busy staring dreamily at you to recognize the predator that you are, or the predator he is, oblivious to the two hunters in the room with them right now. He wonders, if you'd bathe in their blood, given an opportunity. The image makes him smile.

Johnny clears his throat expectantly, and Simon nods, casting a glance over to where Gaz sits with a pretty female on his lap, her attentions focused solely on him, her eyes heavily lidded with lust. Johnny gives him a nod.

“Good luck.” He offers and Simon waves him off. He’s no need for luck. His blood sings your song.

“Ready?” He nearly loses control when he watches your face fill with despair for a moment after his question, his aching need to soothe and comfort you almost forcing his hands out to touch you. I'm here, little huntress. You are not alone anymore. He cannot tell you this, not yet. So instead, he applies pressure to your hand gently and waits. When you nod, he breathes just a tiny bit easier.

He cannot stay in this place any longer. The eyes, the mortals, their inane thirst for alcohol and violence starting to scratch underneath his skin. He needed you, needed your name, needed to take you home to his realm, and all this noise and smoke and foul-smelling liquor stood in his way. The feeling of your hand in his soothes him, calms the anxious explosion that’s building in his chest, but it’s not enough. Nothing will be enough, until he has what he wants.

On the way out, he does not miss your little spell. He is, and has been, the most powerful creature in this room. He has felt every ounce of magic used, by you, by Johnny, by Kyle, all night long. It makes his heart swell when he feels your effort to push the dancing female into the arms of her scorned lover, makes his heart soar when he realizes perhaps, you have not given up on love, on life. Perhaps, you just need something else, something other than the hunt, to live for.

He allows you to take your time beneath the Pier. He cannot rush you, cannot allow you the feeling of anything being amiss, being off. You are so close to the sea, so close to the edge of the water that if he spooks you, it will be too easy for you to slip away. Too easy for you to be lost beneath the surface, again, just as you have been for hundreds of years.

When your teeth tear into his flesh he nearly moans, almost loses control again, but tamps down the urge to spring forward and toss you into the sand beneath him. He needs your name, needs your name so bloody badly it has his head spinning, his entire being desperately urging him to act, to claim, to take you. Your cunt is searing hot around his cock, your body shivering in his arms as you rock your hips delicately, eyes watching him half addled, crazed with the lust for his blood, for his heart.

“Will you not tell me your name?” He thrusts slowly up into you, and pity flashes across your features as you bend forward to brush your mouth against your ear. He feels your lips part, hears the intake of your breath and then-

You’re his. The magic begins immediately, bonding you to him, searing you into his soul and vice versa, the song in his blood slipping away until all he feels is the combined force of your power and his, the melding of souls and magic that will guarantee your existence in his realm, by his side, guaranteeing your survival, your ability to thrive. He takes advantage of your confusion, of the chaos that rises in your heart and flips you on your back, spreading your thighs wide beneath him and plunging his cock as deep as he can. So close. So, so close, and then you will be truly his, for as long as you both shall live.

“I-“

“You,” he thrusts harder, desperate to claim you. “are mine, little huntress.” He hisses it, pushing the words forward with the brunt of his power, and you gasp before whispering his name.

“Sweet little Nereid…more beautiful than the sea herself.” He kisses your throat, stroking your clit at a torturous pace while your confused gaze tracks his every movement. “Did you truly believe me to be a mortal?” The magic pushes through your blood and bones, continuing to stitch and sear you to him, and he can’t help the feelings of possession that come over him.

His. His. His.

His magic cuts and gnaws at your own, ripping and shredding it to bits until it’s infected with him, the strength of your name, your free admission to him, turning you inside out, changing the very chemistry of your body. He watches with dark satisfactions as your face shifts, your lips parting with understanding, eyes widening with your knowledge of the truth.

“You… You’re-“ Clever little huntress.

“Yes.” He purrs, and punches his cock back up inside of you, pressing close to your cervix, your body wet and needy, just for him. You shudder and blink hazily, confusion flickering across your features while his magic roots around inside of you and binds you to him, cell by cell. He can still smell you, smell the cool salt air of the sea that comes from your skin, smell the ripeness of your body, your willingness spilling forward in the air, the scent of sweet honeysuckle and sea holly. Your thighs tighten around his hips, your body rocking swiftly in time with him while your brow furrows, like you’re not sure what you should be doing. He licks at the stain of his blood on your lips, his tongue pushing into your mouth, and you let out a sharp whine, small hands flexing against his chest.

“No.” you admonish, face stricken. “No. No, you t-tricked me.”

“I did.” He agrees, reaching between the two of you to rub your clit in a swift circle, your breath hitching. Your face twists into something sour, but your cunt clenches around him, and his lips curl into a crescent moon smirk. “Are you going to come on my cock, sweet one?”

“Unnf.” You moan nonsense, turning your face away from him but he does not stop, hips snapping against yours, his body working to bring yours closer and closer to its climax.

“I think you are.” He hisses and grips your jaw to turn your eyes back to him. They’re wet with tears, but he doesn’t see fear in them, doesn’t see the despair. Only flares of rage, and the heat of desire, the electricity of the magic that is now shared between the two of you. He smiles triumphantly. “I think,” he relaxes his pace, dragging his cock out of you painstakingly slowly, gaze never leaving your lovely face. “you’re going to come for me, and then I’m going to breed you, little huntress.” You tense around him, squeezing his cock, the words pulling a delicious, physical reaction from you that shakes his focus for a moment. His palm lays flat over your lower belly, low enough that his thumb can feel the hardness of your clit, can stroke around it’s hood while you gasp and convulse in his arms. You shake your head stubbornly, chest heaving for breath, and he slams himself back into you, your spine curling forward into his chest.

“Gods.” You cry out, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto, finding his shoulders and sinking deep, deep enough that he knows you're drawing blood. It oozes from the tiny wounds, tracing down his skin and when you pull away, your fingers have been darkened with it.

He watches with small wonder as you slip them into your mouth, face going slack with bliss, cunt spasming around him while he strokes deep. His skin prickles, mouth finding yours again, and you moan into him, uninhibited, full of abandon.

“I have watched you for over a century, my sweet Nereid. Watched you hunt, watched you love, watched you lose.” He slows to look down at you, caressing your face with a gentle touch. “I have watched the light fade from your eyes, watched despair take over your existence.” Your gaze widens, mouth dropping open in surprise, and then closing abruptly, eyes softening around the corners.

“Simon.” You murmur, pressing your finger to the weeping wound from your teeth.

“My huntress. You will never be alone again.” He noses your jaw, licking and sucking against your skin, cold brine exploding against his tongue. Your scent crests, peaking with the honey flower and salt, your body yearning beneath him, cunt milking his cock. “Come for me.” He encourages when he knows it’s time, when he sees the glossy want all over your face. It doesn’t take much urging, another stroke of your clit and you’re coming, body locking up around him, muscles straining as you cry out, face full of bliss and legs tense around his hips. You clamp down around him, holding him deep inside your body like a vice but he works you through it, thrusting slowly inside your scorching cunt, your walls desperately trying to keep him inside. “There you go.” He soothes, fucking you through the aftershocks, your face still twisted up. “That’s just what I needed.” The orgasm makes your more pliable, more soft and less angry, and he sees in your eyes what he knows to be true. You want this. Perhaps this is not what you would have chosen at first, perhaps the magic was too strong in your veins in the beginning, but your body knows what your mind works to accept. You are choosing this, choosing him, over the hunt. Over the sacrifice. Over the immortal life of loss.

So, so close.

He folds your legs towards your chest, opening you deeper and you mewl, lips parted in dazed, post orgasm glow. He can’t help but kiss you again and again, his painfully slow thrusts forcing irritated breaths to puff from your nose.

“Something you want?” He teases, and you nod, pressing your face into his shoulder and groaning into his skin.

“Simon. Please.” You voice breaks, and he feels your cunt pool around him, liquid heat forcing him to grit his teeth in an effort to stave off his own orgasm.

Ask me for it, little huntress.

“Please, what?” He mocks, thumb pressing down on your clit hard, causing you to keen. He doesn’t move, just stays steady inside of you, your cunt working pull him deeper.

“Please, please. I want-“ you gasp when he bites the skin of your neck, and he smiles wickedly. Your cunt practically strangles him now, body working to drag his orgasm from him, magic singing in both of your hearts.

His. His. His.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

Your scent overpowers him, the swell of the ocean behind him combined with the salt of your essence pulling him harder into your gravity.

“What do you want?”

“I want your come.” You beg and he snarls, finally losing control, fucking into your eager body with abandon, hard and punishing while you moan and cry beneath him. He takes your earlobe in his teeth before whispering a vow:

“Then you shall have it.” He plays with your clit, the intensity of his strokes matching the pace of his thrusts and you pant eagerly. “You shall have it every day until you are full of me, full with my child.”

“Yes.” You moan, and he feels you moving towards another climax, your muscles spasming and eyes slipping shut.

“I’m going to breed you, give you my baby, sweetling. Make you mine, forever.” Your back arches and you wail, your cunt clamping down on him again, and he thrusts as deep as he can, chasing his release, fueling his burning desire to empty himself inside of you. He lets go completely, untethers his magic, lets it fully fuse with yours as he spills inside of you, the pressure of his orgasm working against your aftershocks, and your own magic that wraps itself wildly around him, clawing at the seat of his power, desperate to attach itself.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

His. His. His.

You fall asleep on his chest, body relaxed and sated, mouth open in a small o. He needs to get you up, needs to get you ready to travel to his realm but in this moment, he’s content to sit here, against the old wooden pier, timing the rise and fall of your breathing and planning for the future, for eternity.

“Will you care for her?” A musical voice asks from a short distance, and his head snaps up to see your sister, the one you stood with on the beach this morning, inclining her head towards your peaceful, sated body that sits snugly in his arms.

“Always.” He promises, and she nods, eyes looking down the shoreline.

“I am happy for her.” She looks sad, forlorn, not unlike how you appeared hours ago.

“It is not too late, for you to hunt. There is still plenty of time before the sunrise.” He tries to encourage, and she nods.

“Perhaps.” Simon briefly wonders if Kyle or Johnny are still in town, a sinister idea forming in his mind, taking shape before his very eyes. He pushes, just the gentlest bit of magic, the piece that’s mixed with yours, towards her. A long moment passes, and then, “I think I’ll walk.” She motions up the pier and gives a goodbye nod, as he strokes a hand down your spine when you shiver in his arms.

You do not stir until she is a speck on the horizon, and when you do, you lift your head wearily, like you’ve slept for a thousand years.

“What’s going on?” you murmur, shifting your dress so it covers your thighs. He presses a light kiss to your forehead before giving an answer.

“We’re going home now, little huntress.”

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #mw2 #ghost call of duty #mermaids #mermaids au #magic au #ghost x reader #cod fanfic

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oh-no-its-bird · 1 month

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Ok so I love demon slayer, I love naruto, I love crossovers and I do think that the most interesting crossover you could get between the two is by including Kagaya Ubuyashiki as a major player

In Narutoland, leaders are leaders due to strength. The Kage's are the strongest around, and it makes sense bc in a warrior society ofc you want your leaders to be strong.

Kagaya is very much not that, and I wanna play with it. There's just something so fascinating ab the leader of so many scarily strong people being a soft spoken and kind man who physically could not fight if he wanted to, but is still willing to embrace The Horrors when need be. Really big contrast to Naruto, I like it

Anyways umm

Fic where after Kagaya Ubuyashiki blows up his fucking house w the wife and kids, he and maybe also the wife and kids end up zapped to Naruto.

Immediatley like, there is no Muzan here. There are no demons. Kagaya's curse to bear is over, the weight lifted from his shoulders. He has done all that he can do. He gets to retire now.

So just Kagaya trying to settle in to retirement in another world, struggling w the fact that he's like. Penniless now. Sickly young master lost all his fucking wealth and buisness investments, not much he can do there.

But no matter what he does he's too fucking charismatic and eye catching to not gain some kind of notoriety. I think it'd be funny if he's legit trying to live his best life but people keep swearing allegiance to him. He's just wandering around trying to find a way to make money and not die and accidentally picking up Deidara before Akatsuki can.

He like compliments his art by acknowledging that there is beauty in everything, even destruction. And Deidara is eyeing him like ",,,maybe this old man is ok,, I guess,,, oh no wait he's a CIVILIAN?? And also fucking useless at everything???? Man I guess I HAVE to stick around and protect him. Wow what a bummer. I guess I have no choice... and also if he pats me on the head and calls me a good boy and feeds into my many ignored complexes then that's also whatever......"

Kagaya actually just keeps running into Akatsuki members and getting varying levels of "this guy is alright I guess (if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone in the room then myself)"

He's collecting a little army of shinobi with daddy issues (every shinobi ever let's be real) by pure accident

Dw Kagaya, you don't need to worry about those medical bills bc u are now the sugar baby of multiple criminal organizations! (Don't think about it too hard)

Obito gets the worst of it, he sees Kagaya and gets flashbacks to his ailing grandmother and suddenly can't unsee it. Kagaya seems to see through his Tobi act seamlessly, and still reaches out to touch his scarred face without a single twitch of his smile and says he can feel a good man in that heart of his. Obito explodes immediatley and has to retreat for 7-10 buisness days to deal with the sudden onslaught of Feelings(tm)

Akatsuki slowly becomes good bc Kagaya learns of some of their plans and gives Obito a dissaproving frown and the psychic damage is so strong that Obito immediatley goes "ok I guess we don't HAVE to kill the children." And he just frowns harder and Obito twitches and goes ",,, or the adults. I guess. If u really think so."

#birds fic talk #demon slayer #naruto #obito uchiha #uchiha obito #obito #deidara #akatsuki #kagaya ubuyashiki #ubuyashiki kagaya #crossover

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addie4ddie2005 · 6 months

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THE NEW CHAPTER IS SO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVGDFCHBVKDSVBKHFBJLSVBJLSSJLVBSLJBVLS🦅🦅🦅🦅💥💥💥💥 GOOD FKN SOUP IM DEVOURING IT RN it might be my fav chapter thus far........It has elements of The horrors tm and scenes that make me kick my feet in delight GODDDDDD🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 AAAAnd as usual I have some new silly doodles that I've got (Sadly I cant draw fast enough to finish my fan art for this chapter BUTIMWORKINGONSMT). I do have the RGB reader designs that I mainly use so that other fans could (maybe....just maybe...) mold their reader/player into whatever they want but I DO have a design that caters to my fav design tropes...

ALSOALSO- I've got a folder righttt 👉here where I'll compile some more sketches (and the animation with the right sync good gracious me-) so that I dont BOMBARD you with 50plus images.

the last "AGAIN"- THE CHAPTER WAS SO SCRUMPTIOSSSSSSS- KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you I'm so glad you love it!! 🦅💥 (Nonsense emojis are becoming a habit I have to stoppp...)

It's so funny you said that cuz I have a Doc called "kicking my feet blushing giggleinf" that I use to jot down the "fluffy" moments when the inspiration worms hit x0

And take your time with the art gurl!! What you've already done is amazing!! The most important thing is that it's fun and engaging for you,, no pressure 🫶

Those RGB designs are a banger btw they have so much personality!! I forgot to mention I loved the color scheme of your animation. I'm a sucker for some super saturated RGB...

OKAY now I'm gonna gush abt your art >:o] I love your insert she's too spunky!! She looks so done w him LOL. Also your style is delightful and fun!! I love your habit of drawing ppl with tired eyes and no mouth. It speaks to me.

The “You look lonely” piece is gorgeous btw :) He’s so shinyyy,, Insert looks tireddd. I know it’s the meme format or whatevah but I would be too.

I hope you don’t mind me sharing screenshots? Just let me know :o) I’m abt to holler abt some sketches.

THESE!! These made me so soft oml. I know in my heart he feels like a Squishmallow or whatever those fat chibi stuffed animals are.

DRIP KINITO 🔥🔥🔥 I giggled. Also baseball Kinito is canon now. To me. I just KNOW he picks up random human sports and tries his darndest to play them with only two people. (Reader cheering him on and also looking thoroughly depressed is so real LMAO)

I think that's all I have in my heart for now... TY for this plethora of art you went above and beyond <3

BTW I’m gonna provide a pic of the players here for easy viewing cuz they’re cool as freak 💯🐊

EDIT: I am so glad!! You love my fic!! I heart U!!

#In Pixel Haze #FANART <3 #KinitoPET #KinitoPET.EXE #Kinito and You #Kinito and Reader #Kinito x You #Kinito x Reader

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thunderandsage · 3 months

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hannibal fic recs

(in honor of my first ever fandom… yea i get the implications of how that makes me look 😂 anyways, i tend to like the hannibal fics that are closer to the tone and content of the series vs some of the more popular ones jsyk, and i’m putting the more “same characters, different vibes ” fics in the bottom section. my absolute favorites recs are the ones with red titles)

SEASON 1 ERA/VIBES

Pièce Montée, 3k words, episode-style case fic with well-written original characters and plot, sympathetic killers, would kill (ha) for this to be an actual episode on the show

where there is smoke, there is fire, 3k, georgia madchen character study, reading experience comparable to the joy and dread of watching sparks catch on kindling

Foreplay, 1.5k, despite the title not a smut fic but is actually a hannibal character study which takes the premise “seeing people as meat” and seeing how he does/doesn’t view people’s humanity

SEASON 2 ERA/VIBES

Salome, 6k words, tension, delves into the dark obsessive side of oscar wilde’s work, excellent hannibal pov

As Smoke to Flame, 3k, wherein the seduction does include fucking and predictably doesn’t make anything better, focuses on the inherent angst and betrayal of will’s ploy

Trotline, 7k, takes the fluffy-sounding premise of “will takes hannibal fishing” and makes it uh hannibal, an incredible take on hannibal’s sadism/cruelty, gorgeous looming sense of dread

each according to its own kind, 192k, after getting released will ditches the fbi and leaves for the other side of the continent, a love letter to the pacific northwest, the best will graham interpretation i have ever seen, slowburn character study, bonus points bc hannibal gets decked not once but twice in glorious detail, john steinbeck vibes, one of my favorite pieces of writing ever

pitiful things sometimes born in hospitals, 8k, daemon au where will has yet another difference, not a hannigram fic, beverly/will vibes, bittersweet and tragic

your heart is a vast stone desert, 10k, a conversation goes left field and enters the thorny splendor of psychedelic imagery and the most sinuous dialogue you’ve ever read, takes inspiration from ives’s play venus in fur

SEASON 3 ERA/VIBES

Silver Springs, 2k, a Dolce “let’s make this worse,” non-linear writing, heavy angst but god it hurts so good, gorgeous feels from the eponymous song

Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks, 6k, a short scene in the BSHCI, what it means to be loved gently by a monster, grotesque and tender at the same time

highway 190, 10k, will graham growing up as a queer man in the deep south and beyond, religious trauma, prose as vivid and striking as a poisonous snake

Churrasco, 2k, leans into the avant-garde vibes of the show, all characters start out using false identities and you get to see them revealed slowly

Au Natur, 9k, a bleak but beautiful imagining of post-fall hannigram, fully embraces will graham’s manipulative tendencies

forgiveness, 1k, a poem-with-footnotes format as Will attempts to explain what his life has become to his father

Sins of Omission, 15k, Jack Crawford’s perspective on the development of hannigram, regret, very good outsider pov

VIBES-ADJACENT (aka fics that don’t “feel hannibal” or are vy AU, but are vy good nonetheless)

Adrasteia, 96k words, Kitchen Nightmares AU, nsfc (not safe for chilton), a hilariously sarcastic and done(tm) will graham, the first long hannibal fic that i read

Black Swan, 10k, as per the tags “all serial killers are birds, some birds are serial killers,” a cracky Swan Lake AU

Separately to a Wood, 13k, a “love at first sight” leads to “proposal during the breakfast scene,” soft

They Came to Florence or: Plagiarize This Fic, 5k, hannibal is a huge fan of will graham’s novels and becomes incensed when someone plagiarizes them, the author was apparently inspired to write this after someone plagiarized one of her fics and i respect that

Poppies, 5k, wherein it is acknowledged that for all the horror she’s been through abigail is just a teenage girl and is allowed some soft moments

their beaks not yet turned red, 134k, magical realism au where the baby does miraculously save the marriage, includes hilarious takes on the inherent absurdities of hannibal’s trial

Be Your Dog, 4k, a rock band au that adapts will graham’s proverbial “descent to the dark side” with an ominous intensity

Sagittarius, 13k, a salem witch trials au where will seeks to avenge abigail’s death by any means necessary, dark but cathartic

a siphon; to pass through, 71k, will has type one diabetes and hannibal is an infuriatingly smug vampire, crack but extremely well-written

#hannibal #hannibal fic #fic rec #hannibal lecter #will graham #ao3 #fanfiction

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yellowbunnydreams · 2 months

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Bunny Ears (Part 22) ~William Afton X F! Reader~

~Not feeling so superstar today guys, but I'm trying to continue writing whilst I still have the braincell, because you deserve to feel the love from our husband boyfriend~

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tag List: @ruh--roh-raggy @h4nluv @sleepy---head @do-double-g @confiscated-peaches-main @dij-ology @viviennemuerte @robin-the-enby @shari-berri @randymeeksisafinalgirl @hallow1090 @aponia-yue @likoplays @dilflover-3 @oak-leafs @phd-in-fuckery @weirdoartist21 @nicolezghostz @fauine @emmbny

Sorry if I missed you on the tag-list!

CW: Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 30's), divorce/processing divorce, Afton being a sarcastic hot ass, grumpy x sunshine. Sexual connotations, consent is sexy, softdom!Will. Faz-Fuck TM

After lunch at the diner, and the best soda floats on that side of the state just like William had promised, he'd taken his time in driving you back to his house. The now familiar gravel drive soothing as his large calloused hand rested on your thigh for as long as it could and his thumb soothed over you gently. Your eyes had closed at some point, and William smiled at your peaceful expression when he realised that you had fallen asleep with him driving, something he took as a large compliment.

Shaking you awake as he parked the car, you grumbled softly at the intrusion into your sleep, making William chuckle as he got out and moved around to your side, carefully scooping you up into his arms and smiling even wider as your arms wrapped around his neck. Planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Somebody just wants to be carried." Whispering softly to you as he carefully made his way to the front door, trying not to disturb you too much as he tried to fish for the correct key in his pocket as you nuzzled into his neck and shoulder.

"I mean, you did save me like a damsel in distress." You teased, keeping your eyes closed as William chuckled and placed another kiss on your forehead, finding the right key and unlocking his front door, kicking it open and dropping the keyring onto the small table in the hallway as he brought you to the couch. Gently laying you down and plumping up some pillow around your head, perching on the edge of one seat, gently brushing some hair from your face as he smiled down at you.

"Well, that might be true. Does this mean I get a reward?" Teasing right back as you hummed and shook your head after a moment. William raised an eyebrow as he looked down at you, his large hand gently stroking down over your shoulder and making you shiver. "No?"

"No, you have to kiss damsels on the lips to wake them up." A playful smile on your face as you heard him laugh, his hand wandering down over your stomach and sides in a way that made your heart race in your chest slightly.

"Oh really?"

"Yep, those are the rules."

William thought for a moment before his smile grew and he continued running his hands down your body. But you kept your eyes resolutely shut, even though you could feel him tugging at the belt he'd leant you that morning. His steely eyes focused on your face to watch for any twitch or sign of discontent as he slowly unbuckled it and slid it from your waist, thick fingers working on the buttons. Pausing as he saw a little from on your face.

"Everything okay, bunny?" He asked softly, watching the way your eyes rapidly flickered under your eyelids, threatening to open as you thought for a moment.

"I thought you were going to kiss me on the lips." Afton thought for a moment and leaned forwards to kiss you just besides your lips, teasingly close to actually kissing you, but letting his stubble brush against your skin.

"You never stated which ones you wanted kissed, my beautiful bunny," Keeping his voice low and soft, holding onto your hips, his thumbs running over the curve of your hip bones. "Do you want a normal kiss, or for me to continue?"

"If you want-"

William gently grabbed your jaw and turned your head towards him despite your closed eyes. He loved the way you looked, but he hated that little frown and the way your brow creased when you were upset by something, or at the very least, concerned. Planting a kiss onto the end of your nose and feeling a smile tug at his lips as he sighed.

"Bunny, it isn't about what I want. I asked what you wanted, and you avoided the question."

You thought for a moment, the furrow in your brow increasing slightly before you felt your lip quivering slightly and whispering softly.

"A normal one, please."

He obliged when you told him, placing a soft, almost chaste kiss against your lips. You finally opened your eyes and saw the soft disapproval hidden behind the golden glasses he wore, but the warm smile he gave you as he leaned in to kiss you again washed away any worries you had. Lips moving together softly in that familiar rhythm that you had both found since that first kiss in the parts and services room at Freddy's whilst you sat on the workbench. One of his large hands slipped to the back of your head as he carefully laid his chest against yours, letting you feel the reassuring weight of his body against yours before the kiss broke and your eyes fluttered back open.

"My love, my heart, you are allowed to not want the same things as me at the same time." He soothed, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he gazed at you adoringly.

"But I thought....Thought that it was a done thing..like..I had to-"

"Bunny, if I find out I have ever made you feel like you had to go through with something I want; there's a gun cabinet in the basement, I want you to shoot me with what's inside."

"William!"

"Apparently, I wasn't very clear last night when I said we could stop at ANY time, bunny. I know I'm a big scary old man." You scoffed at that and he smiled, watching you roll your eyes at him and giving him a soft smile.

"You're hardly scary, or old. Big, yes." You retorted, making William smile as he pulled up your legs and sat down properly before he made you yelp by pulling you into his lap so you could lay against his chest. Cradling you against his broader chest as he put his chin on your head.

"Well apparently you were so frightened of me the first time we met, you had to check that I was not some intruder breaking in and working unpaid." You groaned at the memory and felt your cheeks heating up as William chuckled and kissed your head, watching you hide your head in your hands in embarrassment before he gently pulled them away so he could see how pretty you were.

"You aren't going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Not as long as I live. I think it's cute."

"God that's so cringey to think about."

"Maybe, but it's still funny. The point you've masterfully distracted yourself from, bunny, is that I love you, and I would never want to do something to you that you didn't want. Whether it's sexual or not. You are in control of your consent, would you touch me if I didn't want it?"

"Of course not!"

"The same applies to you. Physical affection isn't a reflection of our love, it's a component of it." William explained softly, peppering you with soft kisses across your forehead and the top of your head too. "Understand?"

"Yes sir." Afton sighed at your playful reply before wrapping you up in a bear hug and falling to one side, making you gasp at the moment of free-fall before you both 'thwumped' into the soft cushions of his couch, feeling his thick fingers stroking your hair and lulling you into relaxing more against him as the other hand temporarily abandoned you and reached for the TV remote, turning it onto some movie channel that seemed to be playing a horror-comedy.

"Let's just chill out, my darling little bunny, I'll order us take-away tonight."

"Isn't that-"

"Shush, I want to spoil you. Remember, I'm a dad who can provide for you." You giggled at the memory of when he said those words to you, turning your head and giving his stubbly cheek a kiss before turning back to face the TV.

"DILF."

"Pardon?"

"You're a DILF and a DWCP."

"....Are...are you having a stroke?" The comment made you burst out laughing and you squeezed William's arm tighter around you, making the older man bury his face into your neck and nuzzle in affectionately. Shaking his head and planting kisses against you as he held you against his body.

All was right again, and the memory of anything going wrong with your day seemed so far away already as you cuddled with the man you loved.

The rest of the day had been uneventful, William had ordered from a Thai place that you didn't even know delivered to Hurricane and the food had been eaten with laughter and exploring new things as William insisted on feeding you things that you hadn't tried before to see how you liked them. And you had fallen asleep together curled up in his large bed, happily pressed against his broad chest and you held onto him like a lifeline, which made the older man quite happy that he had even more excuses to cuddle you to sleep.

But the peace had been disturbed by the sound of loud knocking against the front door, making you both jump as you looked at each other, confused for a moment before it started up again and William reached for his glasses on his bedside table. Putting them on and wiping his hands over his face as he kissed your forehead and padded down the stairs. You groaned at loosing your own giant cuddle partner and wrapped yourself back up in his sheets, inhaling deeply and keeping your eyes closed as you tried to go back to sleep, figuring it was far too early for it to be anything but somebody on their death-bed.

Suddenly, you heard the door slam downstairs and your eyes opened up. Blinking away any traces of sleep as you heard William talking downstairs, deciding that you needed to get up to use the bathroom anyway, you made sure you were decent in his oversized t-shirt and a pair of what you were pretty sure were his boxers before sorting yourself out and then heading down the stairs.

"Hi!!" You heard your name being called with childish excitement as you were rushed by a head full of blonde hair. Wrapping your arms around Vanessa as you realised that it was Afton's daughter that had arrived.

"Hey you! What're you doing here?" You crouched down to ask, keenly aware that you were in her dad's clothes as you felt your cheeks flushed and looked over her shoulder up at William, who was rubbing his face with his hands. Looking incredibly fine in his tight t-shirt and sweatpants that seemed to be his go-to aside from work clothes.

"Vanessa needs to stay here a few days, apparently her mom....has other commitments." You could hear the barely contained anger at the situation in his voice, but you looked at the cute kid in front of you and knew that he loved her dearly, and you grinned at her as she hugged you before bouncing excitedly.

"Well, that sounds like a girls day to me! How about I get dressed, and I can go to my place and pick up some make-up and we can do arts and crafts and make-up? Does that sound fun?" You asked, watching Vanessa's eyes go wide before she squealed excitedly, jumping up and down in your arms before turning and looking at her dad for his approval. William simply smiled at her and shrugged.

"I need to finish fixing that arcade machine anyway, so if you two want to have a girls day..."

"THANKS DAD, YOU'RE THE BEST!!!" The small blonde flung herself at William and knocked him slightly from his feet, but he recovered quickly and groaned as he picked her up with a smile. Hugging her tightly to him as he shooed you upstairs to get changed whilst Vanessa babbled happily about how she was going to make you look very pretty, not that you weren't pretty already.

You decided to put on the dress you had worn to the date you had originally been on, brushing your hair and making sure you had the necklace that William had given you on, as well as your silly purple plastic bracelet before heading back downstairs and taking over Vany to allow William to get dressed.

"DAD! You're supposed to have your bracelet on too!" Vanessa whined, making you laugh as she held onto your hand and looked at the bracelet, William throwing his hands into the air in defeat as he headed for the stairs.

"I'm putting it on! Calm down, Vanny, or I won't let her play with you." He warned, but the tone was far too playful and the small child knew it. Giggling as she clung onto you and you smiled down at her, kneeling down to save your back as you picked up the small child and gave her a big grin.

"Well then, how are your make-up skills little miss Afton?"

"Mummy says I'm shit!"

"....Well let's not use that word again, but practise makes perfect!" You sighed internally, eye twitching somewhat as you were handed your first real opportunity to play home-maker with the man you loved and his adorable kid.

#william afton #william afton x reader #steve raglan #springtrap #steve raglan x reader #fnaf movie #springtrap x reader #william afton x you #fnaf x reader #william afton smut

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tumbleweed-writes · 3 months

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Fight For What You Want: Chibs Telford X Reader

When Chibs Telford overhears the woman he's been unwilling to make a move on has a first date lined up, will he be willing to fight for her? When Y/N's first date turns into the first date from hell will Chibs Telford's efforts to protect her be enough to turn the night around?

Part one of two.

==================

Chibs Telford had never been one to eavesdrop. He knew well enough in the world he’d chosen to operate in that listening in on private conversations could only lead to trouble and could even be deadly. So, when he was well aware that there was a conversation that he had no business listening in on he was quick to disappear and mind his own business.

He wished he’d thought to mind his own business as he approached the door to the office at TM Auto. His feet remained locked in place though as he heard her voice.

“Are you 100 percent sure you’re okay with me dipping out a little early today, Gem?”

Gemma was fast to respond to the inquiry. It was clear by the tone of her voice she’d been asked this at least a dozen times today and there was a slight hint of amusement to her voice. “Yes, Y/N. I’m sure we can function even if you leave a little early today.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh, a nervous chuckle leaving her lips. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry I keep asking. I think I’m just feeling a little anxious, pre-date jitters I guess.”

Chibs felt his heart sink down into his belly upon hearing the words Pre-date jitters.

Although everything in his heart and soul was screeching at him to walk away before his heart had a chance to sink even lower, his body remained locked in place as he continued to listen in on the conversation.

Gemma was quick to speak, calling Y/N out on her comment. “Not butterflies?”

“Pardon?” Was the reply she earned Y/N’s voice raising a pitch it clear by her tone ovf voice that she was unnerved by the comment.

Gemma was fast to speak again not backing down with her observation. “Just jitters, not butterflies.”

This comment earned a small nervous laugh from Y/N as she replied. “I don’t know what you mean by that. Aren’t jitters and butterflies the same?”

Gemma spoke up, clearly not letting this go even with Y/N’s attempts to laugh off the reasoning behind the questioning. “I’m just surprised that’s all, Sweetheart. You don’t seem excited about this. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to have any first dates, at least not with him.”

Y/N Winston let out a heavy sigh at the words apparently already well versed in this conversation. “I’m accepting a date from the guy who will actually ask me out. I’m sick of waiting around for the guy I want to ask me out. I’ve accepted it’s not going to happen”

“That’s because you won’t force it to happen.” Gemma was fast to point out it only earning her a huff from Y/N.

“I shouldn’t have to force it, that’s the problem. It’s pretty obvious he’s not forcing it on his end. I’ve realized that he’s just going to keep dancing around me. I refuse to be the one who asks him out at this point. I’m not chasing a man. I should not have to chase him down. I refuse to chase him down and force things. I just have to accept that it’s not happening. He’s made it clear he’s not as into me as I am into him. I am realizing he’s not going to ever make a move and like I said, I’m not doing it for him. I got my hopes up, which was a dumb move on my end…I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be shocked that he’s just sitting on his ass not making any moves to show me this is more than flirting and hints that he might want me. I should have known how this was going to turn out from the start. I mean, pretty sure most guys around here have been sworn off even looking twice at me. So, why should he be any different? Maybe it’s time I just go for a normal guy outside of this entire SAMCRO circle.”

“I’m not sure that’s entirely the truth, Y/N. I mean, I am sure your uncle and cousin have something to do with his hesitancy. You have to understand though that this has gotta be complicated for him. It’s been a while since he’s pursued anything with anyone, at least anything more than a quick fuck from a croweater.” Gemma was quick to provide, trying her best to soothe Y/N’s apparent angst.

Chibs furrowed his brow wracking his brain over who this mystery guy who was dancing around Y/N could possibly be. He’d not noticed anyone paying her more mind than what seemed to be appropriate.

He furrowed his brow all the more realizing it was someone within their inner circle. He searched his brain thinking of each one of his brothers searching for the possible culprit ignoring the way it made bile rise in his throat to think of any one he shared a kutte with harboring romantic feelings for Y/N.

He widened his eyes the truth hitting him like a freight train as Y/N spoke a huff leaving her. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Estranged wife…or whatever is going on there and a kid in Belfast. I’ve heard all about the baggage. Trust me, he’s told me about his past. He opened up to me about it all over a shared joint and some whiskey. I’ve heard the entire story. I get it, it’s complicated for him. I am done making excuses for him though. I mean, either he likes me and wants to ask me on an actual date, or I’m just a friend. I can’t have it both ways, Gem. It’s not fair for him to want it both ways. I get that he’s maybe rusty at this whole dating thing, but either he wants me or he doesn’t. He hits on me and is all too happy to flirt with me, but any chance he’s had to take it to the next level has been squandered by him. He clearly isn’t going to pick if he wants me as a friend or a romantic partner. So, I’m picking for him. He’s just going to have to stay my friend.”

She paused a shaky sigh leaving her lips a bitter laugh following the sigh. “I was a fool to think that there’s something more he wants from me. I thought he was sending me all the signals that he saw me as something more than the club’s kid sister. I mean he’s taken me on a dozen bike rides and there've been shared joints and a ton of private talks on the roof of TM or outside at a Friday night party where it’s just us…conversations got deep and I felt like we connected. There have been so many moments where I hoped that he might actually make some kind of move, but like I said, it’s clear that he’s just not as into me as I am into him. I got my hopes up last time we spent some time together…I swear he was about to kiss me, but then he just backed up and acted like he couldn’t wait to get away from me. It’s like anytime I think he’s getting close to making a move this switch goes off in his head and he’s tripping over himself to get the hell away from me before it goes too far. What else am I supposed to believe when he’s so back and forth on the romantic gestures. It’s obvious that he’s just not that into me.”

She paused again another heavy sigh leaving her the sound shaky. It was clear she was getting emotionally overwhelmed. She cleared her throat as she spoke again. “I’m done waiting around for men. I’ve spent almost ten years tending to a guy’s ego, emotional needs, and wants. I’m not a mother nor am I a therapist and I am not a sex doll. I’m done tending to and waiting for men. A perfectly nice guy finally asked me out and I am not going to turn him down just because I’m sitting around waiting on Filip Telford to decide what he freaking wants. Trust me, I’m so done being the girl who sits around and waits on a man to decide if he wants me. I’m not getting any younger. I’d like to settle down at some point in my life and maybe have at least one kid. If the music thing isn’t going to work out for me then I’d like to at least have some part of what I pictured for my life. If I’m not going to be the musician I wanted to be, then I’d at least like to fall in love with my soulmate and be a mom. I’m clearly not going to get that with Filip. So, it’s time to move on to a guy who can give me that.”

Chibs felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him as he soaked up her words. Him? She wanted him? She was talking about him?

He felt his stomach churn as he soaked in her words, his heart sinking all the further. She thought he didn’t want her?

That was so far from the truth.

When Piney Winston had announced that his niece would be moving back into town earlier in the year, Chibs Telford had been intrigued.

Chibs had been living in Charming for almost a decade now and he’d not heard of any Winston niece.

He’d of course heard the entire backstory from Bobby; Bobby Munson was a terrible gossip.

Apparently little Miss. Y/N Winston had left home at eighteen years old, just a few months before Chibs Telford had rolled into town. She’d taken off down to Southern California chasing some dream of getting signed to a record label in Los Angeles with some boyfriend who’d talked her into forming a band.

Though she’d not remained in Los Angeles for too long. Apparently she’d been hopping around the country living in New York City, Las Vegas, and Nashville, Tennessee.

The boyfriend she’d run off with had bounced their band around from state to state trying out different cities and different labels. A few records had been put out through independent labels but nothing close to the music stardom they’d been hoping for had turned out.

Apparently the band had broken up with Y/N who had been the lead singer getting the boot after her ex boyfriend and she had a nasty breakup.

Y/N had been left broke and homeless; sleeping in her car and spending what little savings she had to survive as meagerly as she could. She had been forced to call up her late mother’s brother, the man who had raised her, and ask to come back to Charming.

Piney had accepted of course even shelling out the money to get her home. He was the type that believed it was a man’s responsibility to take care of his family, especially the women in the family. Y/N was family; that meant he was going to come to her rescue.

Chibs had also received another piece of information about Y/N this information coming from Tig who had been happily listening in to Bobby’s gossip. “Y/N is hot from what I remember, but painfully untouchable. If Piney doesn’t shoot any guy who glances her way, then Opie will do it, Jax probably too. Fucking shame too, fine piece of ass like her having a ton of guys who aren’t afraid to commit murder watching her like rabid fucking dogs. It’s all look and don’t touch with that one.”

Upon hearing that information Chibs had been all the more intrigued but mildly terrified. Although Piney was attached to an oxygen tank, the man had a nasty temper. Opie and Jax were quick to anger as well, especially when it came to the women in their lives.

So, Chibs had resigned himself to keeping his distance and following Tig’s advice of looking but not touching.

That was easier said than done. Upon his first sighting of Y/N, Chibs Telford was hooked.

She couldn’t just be pretty, no that wasn’t enough. She also had a sweet personality to match her pretty face.

Then there was her voice. That voice had sprouted their very first conversation.

He’d walked into the office at TM Auto late one night when they’d been the only ones working only to hear her singing softly to herself absentmindedly as she went over the books.

The words had left his lips before he could stop them “Ye have a beautiful voice.”

She’d gazed up at him, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly and Chibs Telford had known he was screwed when it came to keeping his distance.

Before he’d known it there had been offers to take her on bike rides on the weekend, shared joints on the roof of TM Auto during Friday night parties, lots sneaking away during Friday night parties where they’d had deeper conversations that Chibs had with any woman in far longer than he would ever admit, and shared lunch breaks.

As much as his heart had screamed that he wanted nothing more than to press his lips to hers and press his body against hers preferably in a bed or any available surface, he had held back.

That stupid comments Tig had made kept ringing in his mind: painfully untouchable, guys who aren’t afraid to murder watching her like fucking rabid dogs. If Piney doesn’t shoot any guy who glances her way, then Opie will do it, Jax probably too.

Chibs Telford would probably deck anyone who called him a coward, but he’d found that he was spineless when it came to pursuing Y/N Winston.

His heart screamed it wanted her, but his mind told him that making her his would sow disaster among the club he loved.

Anytime he found himself imagining what it might feel like to feel the press of his lips against hers or feel how glorious her body might feel under his, he’d quickly pictured Piney Winston strangling him with the tubing of his oxygen tank or Opie or Jax putting a bullet through his skull.

Chibs had reminded his heart and his hormones that Y/N was only meant to look at but he could never touch her.

He had been foolish of course, he knew that now, he’d not considered that Y/N might just find someone who was willing to touch her.

He felt his heart sink all the more as Gemma spoke. “And this paralegal is going to give you what Chibs won’t?”

Y/N let out a deep sigh as she replied to this. “I have no idea, but it’s worth a try.”

Chibs grinded his jaw realizing just who this paralegal was. The man had come tagging along with SAMCRO’s lawyer to the clubhouse just a few weeks ago.

Jax Teller had contacted the lawyer to draw up some papers for him, something concerning a will and the Teller children. It had been nothing like what the Sons’ lawyer was usually called up to TM Auto for.

Chibs had of course noticed the attractive young paralegal gazing a little too longingly at Y/N, and he’d not been thrilled with it.

He’d held back any desire to be a possessive asshole about it though. A little nagging voice in the back of his brain taunted him pointing out that he would not lay a claim on Y/N, so he had no right to get pissy just because a guy was looking at her like she was a rack of all you can eat ribs and a pitcher of beer.

It seemed though that perhaps he should have shown it bothered him.

He felt his heart crack as Y/N spoke. “I mean, I don’t get butterflies or whatever you want to claim I’m supposed to get when Russell looks at me, but I’m not saying I have to marry the guy. Maybe he’ll grow on me. Either way this date will be good for me. It’s time for me to stop putting all my eggs in one basket with Filip. I’m just breaking my own heart waiting around for him.”

“He should give you butterflies though, Sweetheart. You shouldn’t waste your time on a guy who doesn’t make you feel something. He shouldn’t have to grow on you.” Gemma pointed out a sigh leaving her lips clearly frustrated that Y/N seemed determined to see this date through.

Y/N let out a shaky sigh, it obvious she was feeling overemotional again. “I know, but I’m not sure what other choice I have. I am so sick of waiting on, Filip. I’m tired, Gemma. I’ve spent my entire life having guys I like scared away by my family both immediate family and my SAMCRO family. I ran off with the first guy who didn’t get scared off by you guys and look how that turned out for me. I came back home hoping things would be different…but it seems like even guys within the SAMCRO family are too chickenshit to make a move on me. Russell doesn’t seem scared. So, I should just take what I can get. Even if he’s not what I envisioned, I…beggers can’t be choosers at this point.”

“It doesn’t seem like it’s making you happy though, Hon. That’s all I’m saying. You’re settling.” Gemma pointed out the obvious Chibs feeling his stomach turn as he soaked in all the information that had just been slammed down on his head.

He felt his knees grow weak as he backed away from the door hearing Y/N’s voice sounding far too defeated. “We can’t always have what we want. I guess I’m just getting to a point where I no longer can say this is what I want my life to be and am just saying, well that’s life. I have to grow up and accept that we don’t get the love we want. I have to accept that this is what life is going to offer me.”

Chibs felt faint as he allowed everything he’d just heard roll through his mind like rocks in a rock tumbler.

He let Y/N’s words ring through his head, the words feeling like dozens of little knives to the heart: we don’t get the love we want.

================================

Gemma tensed her jaw as Chibs Telford made his way into the office of TM Auto, the woman who had been ruminating over him having left hours before.

Gemma gazed up at Chibs who seemed to be lingering around the microwave that they kept sitting over a minifridge to hold whatever meals the guys in the garage might bring for a lunch break.

There was no real breakroom at TM Auto. Most of the patched in Sons who worked at the garage just took their lunches to the clubhouse, unpatched guys who worked in the garage were afforded less luxuries.

She dared to speak, deciding to just be as blunt as possible. “What are you still doing here Chibs?”

“Jus lookin fer a quick snack. Transmission on that Honda is killin me. I need some energy.” Chibs remarked a voice in the back of his head snapping that this wasn’t quite what Gemma was meaning to ask him.

Gemma let out a heavy sigh fast to say the words. “I mean, why the hell are you still here when the woman you are crazy about is out with some spineless yuppie prick?”

Chibs cleared his throat, his eyes widening. He spoke trying to keep his cool and pretend that he had no idea where Y/N was at the moment. “I don’t know what yer talkin bout.”

Gemma rolled her eyes not above calling him out. “Don’t bullshit me, Chibs. I know you heard everything. Y/N might not have a clue, but I could spot you through the blinds listening in earlier. Now, I’m going to ask again, why the hell are you here right now and not out crashing that date and taking what you want?”

Chibs felt his stomach plummet his head feeling faint all over again. He’d been asking himself the same question all afternoon. Why wasn’t he taking what he wanted?

He let out a heavy sigh, deciding to just be honest. “Pretty sure lass has a few guys in her life who’d skin me alive if I even thought of it.”

“So, you and I both know you aren’t the kind of guy who backs down from a fight?” Gemma pointed out rolling her eyes once again as she stood up, her hands resting on her hips a stern look of disapproval crossing her features.

Chibs dared to turn to face her, he almost shrinking back at the look of disapproval on her features. Not many women intimidated him, but the Queen of SAMCRO had a certain intimidation factor when it came to the Sons. She was like everyone’s unrelenting mother. No one wanted to piss off mom.

He cleared his throat trying to square his shoulders and make his point of view clear. “I aint goin to stir up trouble in the club, not when shite has been this tense. I’m doin this fer the good of the club.”

“Oh, bullshit.” Gemma remarked, removing her hands from her hips stepping around the desk to approach him.

She spoke again, her voice firm. “Don’t feed me that for the good of the club bullshit. You have been following her around like a lost dog since she moved back to Charming. If you were trying to avoid trouble you wouldn’t be so obsessed. You want her. If you think that no one notices it, then you’re blind and stupid.”

Chibs cringed at the comment, a heavy huff escaping his lips. “Doesn’t matter much if I do, Gem. Shite, I…”

He paused, his throat growing tight revealing the other reason he’d been so hesitant, the truth he’d not even wanted to admit to himself. “What can I give her? I’m a criminal, I’ve done a lot of horrible shite.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Chibs, but Y/N was raised around this club. When her mother died Piney was the only one who was willing to take her in. She knows this club. She is not naive to the nature of SAMCRO.” Gemma pointed out.

Chibs shook his head, a heavy sigh escaping his throat. “Even if that’s true. Shite with me aint so simple. I got an estranged wife in Belfast, a fuckin messy history there too. Shite is complicated there. Fiona and I been talkin bout finally divorcing…but that aint even started yet.”

“And she is aware of that messy history. She is all too aware of Fiona and the mess there. Hasn’t seemed to make her shy away from you, Sweetheart. You can’t use that as an excuse to not go for something with her. Don’t you think you deserve some happiness, after all the misery?” Gemma offered attempting to make him see the reality of it all.

Chibs took a deep breath rolling the question through his mind. “Do I though? Would I bring er anythin but misery? Look at what happened to Donna, Luann…shite, how difficult is it fer ye and Tara…isn’t lovin men in this life a ticket to misery? What if I bring er nothin but pain and heartache?”

“That’s a risk with any relationship, Honey. Sure, loving a man involved with the club is not without its own risk and heartbreak. You’ll probably break each other’s hearts a million times, but what matters is you put those hearts back together, together. You talk about pain, but I know for a fact that Y/N won’t be protected with anyone outside of this club. She needs someone who will go above and beyond to protect her. We both know that spineless prick she’s out with right now won’t have the balls to protect her. If push comes to shove he’s not the type to fight for her. I think you and I both know there is only one man who will do whatever it takes to keep her secure and love her. I’m looking right at him.” Gemma explained, reaching out placing her hands on Chibs’ shoulders, staring up at him.

She gave his shoulders a squeeze driving the point home. “You have to ask yourself something important, Sweetheart. Can you stand by watching someone who does not deserve her get a life with her? I think we both know the answer to that. Take what you want, Chibs. Decide if you can stand losing her or if you’re willing to fight for her.”

Chibs let the words sink in, the choice rolling through his head.

He swallowed a lump developing in the back of his throat, the answer seeming so clear.

He knew what his choice had to be.

============================

Y/N cringed as her date reached out placing a hand on her bare knee. His hands were too soft.

The thought felt ridiculous but it was all she could focus on.

She glanced over at her date mentally wondering why she’d agreed to any of this. He wasn’t exactly her type.

He was too clean shaven and too prim. The polo and slacks he was wearing seemed too formal for a movie date. His blonde hair was neatly trimmed and styled. His face was too smooth and though he had a sharp jawline and nice cheekbones she found herself wishing that there was a little facial hair there. His eyes were a pleasant shade of blue but she found herself comparing them to a certain brown shade sported by a Scottish Son.

She pushed thoughts of the Scotsman out of her head, refusing to let Chibs Telford ruin her night.

She placed her hand over Russell’s shoving it away as he dared to run it up her thigh getting too intimate in her opinion for a first date.

She spoke, clearing her throat as they turned down an unfamiliar road, the area looking more secluded and not anywhere close to the restaurant on main street he’d promised her they were going to after the movie they’d watched. “Where are we going?”

“Just a quick detour.” Was the response she received, the comment making her stomach turn a red flag waving in the back of her head.

She cleared her throat trying to laugh off the comment as they turned down an alley. “Quite the detour.”

She felt her stomach churn as they pulled into an alleyway Russell parking and turning the engine on his shiny red sports car.

She glanced over at him through the dim lights a voice in the back of her head telling her that she was possibly in danger. This didn’t feel right. It was clear what he was most likely expecting.

She felt her stomach turn a hint of rage raising in the back of her mind. He seriously thought he could pull into an alleyway and get lucky?

She spoke her voice holding a bit of tension. “I’d like to go to the restaurant now, please.”

Russell leaned in his breath warm against her cheek he far too close to her he having taken off his seatbelt. “We’ll leave in a minute. I just thought we could take a moment.”

He spoke again making her skin crawl. “Come on, live a little.”

She parted her lips to once again demand that she did not want to be in the alleyway with him, but did not have much of a chance to say a word as he pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was too damp and too rough. She recoiled from the kiss bile rising in her throat as he attempted to coax her mouth open.

She placed a hand on his chest shoving him back with all her strength she fast to speak making her voice as demanding as she could. “I want to leave. You need to take me home. I don’t want to be here.”

“Oh, come on Y/N. I didn’t take you for a prude.” He remarked a scoff leaving his lips.

She was fast to reply to the comment her arms crossing over her chest scooting up against the door thinking of reaching for the handle and escaping the car. “I want to go home.”

“I thought you’d be more fun, I mean the people you’re involved with, I assumed you’d be a little more free thinking.” Russell remarked, he scooting closer to her making her stomach turn the rage that had been building in her becoming all the more prominent.

“Excuse me? The people I’m involved in, my family?” She snapped her hand reaching for the door handle ready to bolt for it if she needed to.

Russell smirked quick to say it. “Family or not, I’ve seen the girls who hang around that clubhouse. Girls only hang around that club for one thing. Now quit being such a fucking tease.”

He pressed his lips to hers again the kiss harsh his hands roaming her body as she struggled to open the door panic surging in her, her mind screaming to run.

She shoved him back, managing to find it in her to deliver a harsh slap to his cheek.

The action worked a growl from his lips, his voice tense and far from the charming tone he’d taken with her when he first asked her out. “You stupid bitch. I’m going to make you pay for that.”

She felt her blood run cold not helping but wish she’d thought to carry the revolver, Piney had insisted on giving her when she’d first moved back home, in her purse. She had left the gun at home though telling herself it was not needed on a dinner date with a nice normal paralegal.

Her mind began to spin wondering what he intended to do with her. What did he mean by making her pay?

Her salvation came so suddenly she did not even have a chance to fully understand what was happening.

The driver's door was yanked open, a pair of hands reaching into the car and harshly yanking Russell out of the vehicle, a familiar voice sounding out. “What the hell do ye think yer doin?”

She widened her eyes, recognizing Chibs Telford’s voice anywhere. managing to open her own door, her knees feeling wobbly adrenaline still rushing through her veins as she turned to see the scene playing out on the other side of the car.

Chibs Telford stood over a stunned and scared shitless Russell, the Scotsman’s fist risen. “What the hell are ye doin?”

“I didn’t mean nothing by it. I just figured she was up for it. I mean I know you guys have girls who hang around the club who are up for that kind of thing. I figured she was used to this kind of thing.” Russell dared to explain Chibs’ eyes growing darker at the explanation.

He delivered a harsh blow to the man’s face, his fist colliding with Russell’s nose a sickening crack sounding out.

Y/N watched the blood pool around Russell’s nose the youunger man reaching up to clutch it as Chibs’ fist backed off.

Chibs managed to push back his rage enough telling himself that tending to Y/N was far more important than beating her date to a bloody pulp. He’d deal with Russell later hopefully with some members of SAMCRO to aid him.

He spoke his voice holding a dangerous edge. “Ye get in yer car and drive away before I do somethin worse than a broken nose.”

Y/N watched as Russell scrambled to open his car door and get in still clutching his bleeding nose with one hand.

She watched as he fumbled with the keys, managing to turn the engine, the car backing out of the alleyway and speeding off carrying her would-be attacker far away.

She stared up at Chibs Telford as she and he were the only ones left in the dim alleyway, her mind going a million different directions all at once.

This was not how she pictured this date going.

Everything had gone completely awry so quickly, and she had a feeling her night was not over yet.

#chibs telford #chibs sons of anarchy #chibs telford fanfiction #Chibs Telford X Reader #Chibs Telford/Reader #sons of anarchy X Reader #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfic

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 1 year

Note

Event?????

1 or 7, domestic style fluff with my favorite eel?? ♡♡ (it's Floyd of course)

I leave romance vs platonic up to you, gn reader so everyone can enjoy as well :)

Can't wait to see what younc9me up with!!! If you need any help or ideas come bug me, floyd sits in my head constantly like a very annoying song

Warm Mornings; Floyd Leech

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, romance

Content Warning; Some swearing

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; Who needs a weighted blanket when you have a Floyd? I am here to deliver soft Floyd(TM) hours! (he also sits in my head constantly; the song is the low-quality Funky Town)

Even when Floyd was dead asleep, he squeezed you, and that was your situation now. You were lying on top of him, and he had you in a comfortable yet strong bear hug. Just tight enough that you couldn’t wiggle free from him. And it was normally fine, but last night someone had left the window open and now it was warm and humid in the room, making you feel sticky.

“Floyd,” you whispered, trying to wake him up gently.

A gentle snore was your answer. You should have expected that though, he sleeps like a damn log.

You tried wiggling around a bit, but Floyd just hugged you tighter on unconscious instinct and rolled over, trapping you under him. Yeah, you were officially stuck. “Floydddd,” you groaned, poking him right above his hips. “You’re crushing me.”

Usually he would wake up by you repeatedly poking him, but he was out cold, he only just shifted, trapping your face where one cheek was pressing against the mattress, and the other was smushed up against his chest. Normally, you wouldn’t complain about this situation, but it was grossly warm. You were also too far away from your usual ‘escape the crushing weight of my dearly beloved eel route’, which was just tickling his legs and feet. Too bad your arms were pretty much pinned against the bed.

“Floyd, get off me,” you grumbled, squirming around like a worm on a hook.

Still nothing.

Sighing, you accept your fate. Besides the humidity, it was rather nice. Sure, you couldn’t make out the crashing of the waves on the beach, the steady beat of Floyd’s heart was right up against your ear, and it was slow and steady.

Slow and steady, not two words many people would associate with Floyd. It was a calmer side that only you got to see; when you were overwhelmed, or when he was feeling soft. Yes, he was usually a bundle of energy, but even he had his quiet moments. Within the hurricane, there was always the eye, where things remained still, despite the wild winds outside.

“Mmm,” Floyd groaned, the first sign of life you’ve seen since you’d been sandwiched.

He slowly blinked his eyes, working out the sleep from them, and tilted his head down so he could actually see you, since you were still stuck between his chest and the mattress. “Heh heh, I caught a Shrimpy in my sleep!~” He drawled, voice chipper but still heavy from sleep.

“Yes, yes you did. Can you please get off though, it’s gross out,” you groaned. At least he was cute, which the wild bed head only played in his favour. How can he look so good in the morning? Maybe it’s a mer thing… “Floyd?”

He hadn’t moved, and was instead giving you a wide grin. “Hmm, maybe I should’ve called you Crabby instead of Shrimpy, Shrimpy,” he pinched your cheeks teasingly, “since you look pretty crabby right now.”

You rolled your eyes, “And maybe I should use that mushroom risotto recipe that Jade gave me for our dinner tonight. But that’s only if you don’t get off.”

Floyd narrowed his eyes at you, trying to make out if you were bluffing or not, since last time you were dead serious and did exactly that. But he rolled off of you, grumbling a bit. “Meanie,” he muttered.

You shuffled over to where he was dramatically splayed out, his head slightly turned to you, and giving you puppy dog eyes. Chuckling, you kissed him on the lips, as that is what he was being dramatic about.

Giggling, he captured you in his arms yet again, and trapped you against the mattress for a second time this morning. He was giving you a shit eating smile. You weren’t leaving this bed until he had his share of kisses.

“Floydddd,” you groaned, but you weren’t annoyed with him, if anything, you were amused. There was never a dull moment with him around.

“Shrimpyyyyyy,” he mimicked your voice with a more prominent whine. “You know the drill!~”

Sighing, you ran your hands up through his messy hair, and brought your lips together, deeper this time. You knew the drill; neither of you were getting up until both of your lips were tired, sore, and most likely bitten… which may not be for a while.

~~~~~~~

Tags: @azulashengrottospiano, @eynnwwyjth, @hydra-sea, @krenenbaker, @officialdaydreamer00, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

#dove does events #follower event #twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech x gn reader #sha la la la my oh my! go on and ~kiss da eel~#identity!#identity. floyd lives rent-free in my mind and he really should start paying me rent it's damn expensive #free weighted blanket that kisses you; aka I'm cranky because my weighted blanket is being washed and pressure stim is AMAZING #a mattress reader eel sandwich; nice and toasty for ya #you're going to need a shit tonne of chap stick for your poor lips; damn bastard bites and KNOWS his teeth leave a mark #he does it on purpose; but whines if you do the same to him #floyd; shrimpyyyyy why did you bite my lipppppp?#reader; *lips with visible and nearly bleeding marks in their lips cuz of him* you know why #fish bastards my dearly detested #<- for people wondering; i love them but at the same time i hate them #doing a lot of domestic fluff but that makes sense with this event; plus it's good practice; and GYIFYDTSTRSRTHJ BRAIN ROT

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juancarlos-ortiz · 4 months

Text

Safe - Juice Ortiz x Reader (Daughter!Reader x Dad!Happy Lowman)

Request:

A/N: I hope you enjoy anon! I'm sorry this ended up being more Reader x Happy (daughter/father) than Juice x Reader. I'm thinking of doing a part 2 if anyone is interested. Also, lets say that reader is early 20s and Happy was like 15 when she was conceived otherwise I feel like the age gaps would get a little inappropriate.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex (off page), kissing, swearing, mentions of killing and violence

Word Count: 1984 words

You wiped the sweat from your brow as you panted, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each inhale and exhale. Sitting up, you leaned onto one side, resting your weight on your elbow on the bed as you looked down at Juice. He was puffing like you, a satiated smile spreading across his face as he let his eyes roam down the length of your body hungrily. You rolled your eyes and huffed out a laugh, dragging the top sheet up from the end of the bed and draping it over your clammy skin. "No, no, no," Juice tutted, ripping the sheet away from you. "Don't hide from me now." He gently nudged you back down, leaning over you and grazing his teeth against the soft skin of the top of your breast.

You gasped lightly, trembling as his hands began to map the warm skin of your torso. "Juice," mumbled as he kissed your exposed chest, slowly making his way towards your peaked nipple. "Hmmm?" he hummed against your skin, drawing a shuddered breath out of you. "We gotta get up," you pushed him off you gently and he groaned, flopping onto his back dramatically and throwing his arm over his eyes to shield them. "Don't wanna," he pouted. You laughed and leaned over, pressing your mouth against his. "You need to get to TM and I told Jax I would watch Abel today, since Gemma isn't up for it and Tara is working."

Juice groaned again. "Do you think bikers can take sick days?" he asked. You just laughed, standing up and grabbing both of your towels from where they hung on the back of your bedroom door. You threw them at him, staring hungrily at his naked form as he made his way to your ensuite. "Your dad has really been giving me shit lately, it's almost like he knows somethings going on," he said. Your stomach soured, any inkling of arousal now completely extinguished. "I really don’t appreciate you bringing up my father after what we've just been doing," you grated out. Juice only laughed, disappearing into your bathroom and turning the shower on.

You pulled on your dressing gown and made your way to your kitchen, switching the electric kettle on and grabbing two mugs out of the cupboard. The low rumble of a motorcycle engine made you pause, tilting your head to the side as you listened. The noise got closer, and suddenly your pulse began to sprint as the bike audibly slowed down out the front of your house. You rushed to the front door, peaking through the curtained window to the side of it. "Shit," you cursed as you watched Happy Lowman swing himself off his bike, undoing his helmet. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," you whispered in a panic, running to your bathroom.

You dragged the shower curtain open quickly, making Juice jump. "Jesus Christ, sweetheart, couldn't wait to get in here huh?" he wiggled his eyebrows seductively. "Juice, baby, I need you to be quiet, ok," you said, waving your hand at him to get him to shut up. His brow furrowed in confusion. "It's funny that you mentioned my dad…" you trailed off. Juice's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "What?!" he asked. You held a finger to your lips as you heard your front door open. "Ok, keep quiet and let me get rid of him."

"'Ey kid, you here?" Happy called out. You left the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and making your way out to where your father stood. You ran a hand over your hair and pulled your dressing gown closer to your body as you walked towards him. "Hey dad, not like you to swing by this early," you smiled, trying to act calm while your heart thundered in your chest. Happy looked you up and down, a scowl on his face. Hiding things from your dad was damn near impossible, and when you did you felt extremely guilty for it. But with your situation with Juice, you had no choice. There was no way he would allow it, and you didn’t want Juice to end up as another tattoo on your fathers stomach.

"You don't want me here?" he grunted, flicking the toothpick in his mouth from side to side. You laughed awkwardly, resting your fists on your hips as you shook your head. "What? No! Of course I want you here, I just… wasn't expecting you that's all," you rambled, motioning to the kitchen. "Otherwise I would of made you some breakfast." Happy's eyes drifted to the kitchen, landing on the two mugs you had left out. You swallowed, your smile faltering. "Looks like you were expecting someone," he scowled. You nodded slowly. "Yeah, I mean, I heard your bike coming so… I thought you might want a coffee or something," you smiled. "But you came from your bedroom?" he asked. You huffed out a frustrated laugh. "Geez, what's with the interrogation?"

Happy only tilted his head, crossing his arms as his mouth pulled into a grumpy frown. "I was running to turn the shower off," you explained. Happy shook his head. You could feel your lies unravelling at the seams, your stomach beginning to feel queasy. "Shower's still on," he prodded. You swallowed thickly, nodding. "I know, I'll go turn it off now," you turned on your heel and began to walk away. "Why is Juice's bike out the front?" he asked. You froze immediately, cold washing over you from head to toe. Slowly you turned, meeting your fathers eyes. "Is it?" you asked, your voice a higher octave. "Maybe he knows the neighbours or something," you tried to shrug nonchalantly, scrabbling to hold onto your last efforts to keep your secret.

"Wrong," was all you father said before he brushed past you, heading into your room. You spun after him, grasping his arm in an attempt to stop him from going any further. "Wait, no wait, dad please I can explain," you pleaded as he shrugged out of your grip. He opened your bedroom door and froze when he saw Juice's cut and clothes folded neatly on the armchair in the corner of your room. Happy turned to you, his face now in an angry grimace. "Don't hurt him," you begged, your voice a hoarse whisper. Happy just kept moving, pulling open the bathroom door and ripping the shower curtain to the side. Juice yelped, covering his groin, his eyes bouncing between you and Happy frantically. "Oh, hey Hap," he said awkwardly, a scared smile on his face. "Fancy seeing you here?"

"Get dressed," Happy barked. "And get to the clubhouse. Now. Before I do something to make you both cry." He pulled the curtain shut and spun to face you. "Living room, now," he growled. "I think there's some things you need to tell me." You nodded, your eyes downcast, unable to meet his stare. Happy left the room and you followed miserably, your heart feeling ready to fracture. No doubt this was the end of you and Juice, there was no way in hell Happy would let you keep seeing him, especially after you had lied about it. Despite being a legal adult, you still never wanted to do things to disappoint your father. Even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness. That and you wanted to prevent the amount of dead bodies piling up in the San Joaquin area.

You slowly sat down on the couch, the backs of your eyes stinging and a lump forming in your throat. You tried to squash the sensations, knowing Happy wouldn’t have any sympathy for tears at this moment. You heard your bedroom door open as Juice stepped out, now fulling clothed, doing his cut up. He stopped when he saw you sitting on the couch, your hands folded in your lap timidly, your eyes brimming silver with unshed tears. He glanced between you and Happy, and for a second you were sure he was going to make his way to you , perhaps comfort you. But instead he turned, and made his way to the front door. It wasn't until the door had closed and you heard his bike start up and pull away that Happy spoke.

"You keepin' shit from me now?" he asked. You shrugged, picking at one of your nails. "You would never have allowed it," you sniffed, blinking the tears away. "Allowed what?" Happy prompted. You looked up at him, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. You motioned your head towards the front door that Juice had left through. "Juice and I…" you leant back into the cushions of the couch. "And what are you?" Happy asked. Your brows pulled together. "What?" you questioned. "You and Juice," Happy grated. "What are you?" You scoffed and shook your head. "You really want me to explain?" you choked out. Happy shook his head. "You his Old Lady, or what?" he pressed.

Your mouth pressed into a line, and you shook your head. "No, it's not like that it's just… casual," you said. Happy's face turned bitter. "What, so you would be ok with it if I was his Old Lady?" you asked, confused and a little hopeful. It was your fathers turn to shrug. "Just don’t want you being treated like some croweater," he admitted. You sat up straighter, shaking your head. "He doesn’t treat me like that dad," you said, holding a hand up when Happy tried to cut you off. "Seriously, he's so sweet. The sweetest. And kind and generous, and thoughtful. He's funny and understanding and-" "Alright alright, I get it," Happy cut you off. "I feel safe with him," you admitted. "There's not many people I can say that about."

Happy knew you were right. Since you were young it had been you and him. Your mom had split and even though he had his mom and aunt to help out when you were younger, you two had basically been joined at the hip. He had been there for every bumped head, scraped knee, fractured bone and broken heart since you had entered this world. He was your safe place to land, and to hear you admit that someone else made you feel that way too - although in an obviously different way - had him feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he didn’t want to share you. Wanted to hide you from the world and not let anyone ever know about you. But on the other hand, you weren't his little girl anymore. At least not physically. You were all grown up, and to know that someone other than him made you feel safe, well… who was he to stand in your way.

Slowly he nodded his head. "Gonna take me a while to be really ok with it," he said. "But I ain't gonna stop you from doing what you want. Or being with who you want. Especially if he makes you happy." You stood abruptly from the couch, a slow smile spreading across your face. "Wait, what?" you sputtered. "If he makes you happy then I don’t see why I should stop… whatever it is you’re doing," he gestured vaguely. You grinned and raced over to your father, wrapping your arms around his middle tightly. He gripped you back, resting his cheek on the top of your head. "But if he hurts you, then he's gotta die. Like a lot," he vowed. You rolled your eyes and pulled away. "Yeah, yeah, drama queen," you pushed Happy away. "Gonna go talk to him," Happy said, moving towards the front door. "Wait, wait, what? No, what?" you blabbed, following him. "Gotta make sure he knows what'll happen if he fucks this up," he explained. "You're not gonna hurt him are you?" you asked. Happy smiled dryly. "Don't worry. I'll leave his pretty face alone."

#sons of anarchy #soa #juice ortiz #juice soa #juan carlos juice ortiz #juan carlos ortiz #juice ortiz fanfic #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #juice ortiz imagine #sons of anarchy fic #happy soa #happy lowman

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bahbzxxx · 1 year

Text

Serenitea pot shenanigans 3~ Little Whopperflower🦋✨🌺

(Ven ven x reader)

~In which you decide that stealing his bowtie is the best idea ever🎀(TM)~

CW: it gets a little smutty

ヾ(｡>﹏<｡)ﾉﾞ✧*。

"W-windblume? Windblume! There you are...I've been looking all over for you! I just- "

He stops.

You turn your head innocently, eyes a glimmer and hair gently flowing among the thousand winds.

"hmm..."

To the bard, you're always a stunning sight~ a shade more ethereal than white.

But you've really taken the cake this time~ spoiling him with this sight. Even if it meant you were a little whopperflower at the same time.

He raises an eyebrow and smirks, shaking his head and putting his hands on his hips. "Of course...I see..." He whispers to himself, soft and low.

A few hairs stick to your lips as you tilt your head innocently. You push them back.

"w-whats wrong?" You ask sweetly, trying to maintain eye contact. He naturally notices how your eyes dart to his chest for just a splinter of a moment, and how your cheeks gain a slight hue of pink. At his undone shirt.

You're holding back your giggles. He knows you are. You're batting your eyelashes...you know you're guilty. Every inch of you is riddled with guilt!

Yet here you are...wearing his bow, so beautifully tucked into your locks...feigning innocence.

"W-whats wrong?" Venti asks, playing fake ignorance to match the caliber of your acting skills. But you know that look. That mischevious yet silly smile growing on his face as he closes his eyes.

"Ah, it's nothing, my muse! Ehehe..."

He comes closer, and you turn your head slightly away from him to hide your stifled giggles. He's right behind you now, just close enough to be touching. But not quite yet...

"I just...I can't help but feel I've misplaced something..."

"Oh really?"

You feel Venti's breath now, on the back of your neck. It gives you a rush of butterflies that you try so very hard to conceal from him.

"Oh...yes...I was going to wear it for our stroll tonight..."

"Oh, it's only a stroll, my love..."

"Not on evenings when it's with you, my muse."

You can't help the small laugh that escapes you from that line. It's also so wonderfully comedic hows he's gone from increasingly suductive to pouty within a matter of seconds.

"Hey, what's so funny? It's true!"

"i-im sorry! C-carry on!" You giggle again, and he keeps pouting for a moment before getting back into character.

"so...what is it that youre looking for?" You ask, twirling the bow in your finger. "May I...help?"

His heart pounds out of his chest as you press your back into him. Would he really need to cut the act so short? You really are quite the tease, getting him all flustered...

...

You're being such a whopperflower in so many ways this evening!

"Ah...well...maybe if..." He begins to weave his fingers through your hair gently. You think he's about to take the bow out of your hair at first, but instead, he grips your waist and purrs into your ear.

"mmm...nevermind. I believe I've found it~my little whopperflower~"

"W-whopperflower? What's that me-ahh!"

You squeal as he wraps his arms around your middle tightly, lifting you off the ground and then plopping you onto the ground among the asters. He chuckles devilishly, lapping up the picture before him. What a beautiful sight it is, for his eyes and his eyes alone...wearing something belonging to him so graciously and lovingly. Even though it was stolen...sometimes, you just have to learn your lesson...right?

Immediately, his body is on top of yours, using his weight to pin you down so there would be no escaping his affect- consequences.

He proceeds to lay his love on you, letting his hands roam so freely along your body as he kisses you. Simple kisses on the lips become sloppier until they are no longer just on the lips, but all over your face, your neck, and even getting closer to your collarbone. The cute noises you make just for him fill him with more desire and love, so much so that his body aches from it. He groans against your neck, still trying to press into your body even more. You wrap your legs around his soft waist, eliciting an even stronger reaction from the bard. He chuckles darkly.

"Hm...you're enjoying this too much, aren't you, you little whopperflower..." He teases, his lips and breath brushing against the skin of your neck.

"N-no...what makes you think that?"

"oh?" He lifts his head, his hair brushing against your cheek and tickling you before his turquoise eyes shine in dramatized concern. "Then, pardon me! Since you're obviously not pleased...perhaps I should...hmm...I should go..."

Your eyes widen. You purposely stole his bow just to get this...

When he slowly and dramatically pulls himself off of you, drudgingly, you yank him back down by his collar. His eyes widen for a moment, but they become filled to the brim with lust and mischief within mere seconds.

"Wow, you~ you're asking for it now, you little weed..."

"I'm not a weed! I'm your windblume!" You pout.

"Oh? Are you sure? Positively absolutely sure?" He purrs, and then lovingly caresses your cheek~ the eye of the storm before he gives you your divine punishment.

"yeah!" Oh. That little pout.

"Aw...wonderful." He giggles and closes his eyes. An even denser fog descends upon the area. If you weren't even one hundred percent sure that the two of you had privacy tonight before...

Well...

His cape comes off so delicately. So, so very delicately. His hat, he places on top of it, giving it a few pats. His eyes are still closed. He seems so calm. At divine peace.

He gently, oh so gently, crawls on top of you, his braids gently tickling you in the face. For a little bit, he's looming over you, as if he's waiting for you to do something... His braids still dangling, brushing your cheeks.

You know very well how this works...It's your waiver, a contract between you and your lover...and this is how you sign it~ especially on evenings where he just knew that you may get a little...caught in the storm...

You undo his braids at a largo pace~ painfully slow and gently. You can see the cracks in his smile forming, and he's getting impatient. You giggle, imagining how this will present itself.

"Oh, my Little whopperflower, my sweet, lovely, divine, innocent whopperflower...I have all of the time in Teyvat for your shenanigans..."

_(_^_)_

TYSM for reading!!!🦋✨

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lemon-russ · 1 month

Text

I have finally made more of The Gays (tm). And now with smut!

Bone apple teeth~

Taglist: @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye (And i didnt have taglists before but since i tagged you guys before i assume you wanna know lol @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual)

Emperor's Saint (Pt. 3)

Prev || Next || Ao3

Fem!Custodes x Fem!Reader

CW: GAY, SUPER SAPPHIC GAY, FxF sex, Fingering, Eating out, what you expect from women fucking, plots real thin today ngl

Summary: Hera and The diplomat return to the ship and have a very normal evening of gals being pals in her quarters.

Word count: 4,290 (women take so long to fuck this is so much quicker with astartes)

“Thank you as always, Ambassador.” Guilliman says as you hand him the signed contracts. You made it back in one piece to the flagship, your new golden guard standing happily vigilant near a wall of Guilliman’s office.

The Primarch glances up from his work as he takes the paperwork, then knits his brow. “Hm? Are you well, Ambassador?” He asks as he studies your face.

You suppress a groan as you hear Heraclast suddenly push from the wall she was leaning on, now alert. You had been blushing and flustered the whole way to his office. Hera had been on a tangent on the way over about how she would wrestle with her custodes siblings for fun and how they always did so in loincloths only, to make it harder to get grabs in.

Needless to say the imagery had set your mind on fire. You could barely manage to reassure Hera your faintness and flushing was not a medical emergency, and now here was Guilliman, saying Hera’s trigger words again.

“I’m fine.” You tell the Primarch, trying to keep your voice even. “Just a little warm.”

“My Lady-” Heraclast says quietly, already behind you and placing a very unhelpful hand on your shoulder. “Will you not humor me and go to the medicae? Just to be assured of your health?” She pleads softly, her voice lower and sweet with concern.

Guilliman raises his brow as you flush even harder, his eyes going to Hera’s hand, then back to your face. He has the faintest smile as he processes the situation.

“Maybe your Shield has the right idea.” He says with a small chuckle, smirking a little in amusment. You grimace as you feel Hera’s grip on your arm tighten slightly. Betrayed by your own Primarch.

“Sir, I really am fine-” you try to argue, but it’s too late. Hera is already urging you out the door.

“Come, my lady, it will not take long, just to make sure you did not pick up any foreign illnesses in your journey.” She says, looking down at you with a soft frown and worried eyes. The sight makes your heart stutter again, and you shoot a glare back at Guilliman.

He is smiling, leaning back in his chair and chuckling to himself as you are hurried out his door. “Take care, Ambassador. You shouldn’t let your Shield have to worry so much.” He teases, and he actually has the gall to wink before turning back to his papers.

You scowl at him as the doors close. Betrayal. Cruel, backstabbing betrayal.

____________________________

“Hera I'm fine” you reassure her once again. She was pouting, sitting and watching you from the corner of your now shared quarters. You’d gone to the Medicae and were given a clean bill of health, much to Heraclast’s annoyance.

You sat at your vanity mirror, taking out the intricate braids Hera wove for you earlier from your hair. It seemed to take you more time to unwind them than it did for her to make them, and they kept tangling due to the complexity.

Hera huffs a bit, “Baseline medics, they haven't an idea what they're doing.” She grumbles as she pulls her chair with her, sitting behind you and gently moving your hands from your hair. She starts undoing the braids easily, still pouting to herself.

“They didn't even check for strange diseases, or take your blood, they barely looked you over.” She complains quietly.

Her hands gently tugging and running through your hair makes your shoulders slump in relaxation. You chuckle softly. You've never seen a custodes sulk before.

She huffs, and you watch in the mirror as her soft green eyes follow her fingers as they untangle your hair. You’re momentarily mesmerized by the way her hands move, the twitching of her forearm muscles as she works out the knots, and the way her pout makes her tense her sharp jaw.

Her eyes flick up from her work to meet yours in the mirror, and you suddenly find the chipping paint on your vanity veryinteresting. But not before Hera could clearly see the admiration in your eyes. You feel warm crawl into your cheeks as she softly smiles.

“Though, maybe I'm just worrying about the wrong causes for you always turning red and flustered, hm…?” She teases gently, running her fingers down your scalp and through your now free flowing hair.

Your eyes widen and meet hers in the mirror again, and she grins mischievously back.

“I have no idea what you mean.” You mumble, glancing away.

Heraclast's grin softens to a warm smile. “Oh, of course, My Lady. My apologies.” She chuckles, rising from her chair and stretching. She walks back to her bed- a large cot brought in after she showed up, She doesn't use it to sleep, but appreciated the thought- and starts unclasping her armor.

As she takes off her shoulder armor and places it gently on the floor, and you find yourself entranced again watching her muscles flex as she carefully lays each heavy piece down.

You turn around to face her, “aren't you going to do a tripple parameter danger check or something before getting defensless?” You ask with a nervous chuckle. She makes such a big deal about always being ready to protect you at a moments notice, it’s odd that she’d just get unarmed.

“Aboard the Ultramarine flagship?” She returns with a smirk. “Don't worry, I've done my research on all the marines currently aboard, and accessed all security records for the area and cross checked them with their schedules. They all behave as expected, and I do not worry about your safety from them.” she says with a gentle chuckle, finally stripped down to her under layer. She pulls off her tight silk top and you have to look away again.

There was a small knock on your door, drawing both of your attention. You start to stand but Hera is already at the door.

A somewhat Surprised Ultramarine stands in the doorway, brow raised as he has to look up at the massive woman. “Ah- apologies, I was looking for the Ambassador…?”

You sigh and join Hera at the door. “Hello, Andred.” You say politely. Your former bodyguard looks between the shirtless, massive, only dressed in a chest wrap custodes woman and your messy haired, slip wearing self.

“M-my lady.” He says, clearing his throat as his cheeks grow pink. “I, um, did not mean to intrude, I will come back tomorrow-”

You blink a couple times before your own cheeks warm, “oh!” You cover your mouth, “No no, it's not- Andred, this is my new bodyguard-” you say quickly.

His shoulders relax and he lets out a held breath. “Ah- of course, apologies, my lady…” he says nervously.

Hera grins, clapping him on the shoulder with enough impact to force the marine to balance himself. “Heraclast Ossian, Aquillian Sheild.” She introduces herself cheerfully. “You must be who's job I took! Don't worry, I have her fully protected for the foreseeable future.”

The marine gives a tight smile. “Andred Cestean. It is an honor to meet one of the saints of the Emperor, Sister Ossian.”

Hera tilts her head with a confused smile. “Sister? I do not believe we share any parentage.”

Andred knits his brow. “Oh, um, apologies again. Do Custodians not use familial titles?”

“No? Why would we.” She says with some amusement. “I refer to other custodians as a whole as kin or siblings, but metaphorically. We share no genes. Nor do I share any with you, Cestean. You may call me Heraclast, as all others do.”

Andred gives an apprehensive nod, “Right, of course. A pleasure to meet you, Heraclast.” He flances back to you. “May I borrow the Ambassador alone a moment?”

You smile and nod, happy to have a momentary break from your constant surveillance, but Hera shakes her head, fluffing her short undercut around her chin. “Alone? No. But you're welcome inside. I won't make a peep.” She chuckles, retreating to her cot. You roll your eyes and follow, sitting back at your vanity and brushing your hair.

Andred stands awkwardly just inside the door. “Alright, I suppose…” he mumbles before clearing his throat. “Lady Ambassador, I wanted to ask something of you.” He says, suddenly standing straight and at attention.

You smile and chuckle under your breath. Andred always was a little overly formal with you, but he was kind and respectful, and until Hera was here, he was a good bodyguard while you went about your diplomatic duties. “What is it then?” You ask, looking at him through the mirror as you tied your hair. If you didn't know better you'd think he looked nervous, but astartes don’t get nervous.

He pursed his lips into a line. “My Lady, since I am not in charge of your protection anymore, it would no longer be… a conflict of interests-” his voice actually cracked a little, making you raise an eyebrow, “-for me to ask, would you… would you care to spend more time together?” He finally managed, swallowing hard. “As in, well- romantically?”

You straighten in your seat, eyes going wide.

“Andred, I- I mean, I had no idea-” you stammer slightly as you turn to look at him. You feel the color in your cheeks drain a bit. You had no idea he had romantic feelings. You had no idea astartes got romantic feelings. You really wish he didn't. You considered Andred a friend, but, dating? The thought never once crossed your mind.

As you stammer and stall, Andred slowly deflates, frowning softly as he reads your expression. “Ah. I seem to have… miscalculated.” He says softly.

“No! I mean, well, yes- but-” you try to say, standing from your chair. You reach out to comfort him, but pull your hand back, realizing denying it would hurt him more. “It's not you Andred, Really.” You add a bit softer.

He looks away, taking a deep breath. You can see him trying to hold his heart together in his expression. In the corner of your vision you see Hera watching the scene with rapt attention, chin on her fist and leaning in like she was watching a cheap holodrama.

You try to ignore her. “Really Andred, it's not you, I really consider you my friend, I just-” you press your lips into a line. Your eyes dart back to Hera, and he doesn't miss the look, pressing his lips into a line.

“It's just… there's someone else.” He says softly.

You shake your head, “No, not that- I mean…” you sigh, grimacing as you force yourself to look into his sad eyes. “I just don't see you like that. I'm sorry, Andred.” You say apologetically.

His shoulders fall, deflating from all the confidence he was trying to hold himself up with when he came in. “I…. I see.” He says, glancing at Hera.

Heraclast doesn't even try to pretend she isn't fully engaged in the melodrama, chin on her hands and grinning. When Andred meets her gaze, she at least has the decency to pretend to look sad for him. He rolls his eyes and sighs.

“I'll leave you to your…” he looks you up and down quickly, taking in your state of undress, “…evening, then.” He finishes, trudging to the door.

You frown, scrunching your brow and taking a half step toward him. “Andred, you don't have to go-”

He holds a hand up slightly to stop you. “It's ok. I just misread things and… well, I need to go lick my wounds. I'll be fine.” He says, giving a half-hearted smile.

You frown deeper as he leaves, the door sliding shut behind him and latching with a noise.

Hera giggles impishly from her cot.

“Well, that was interesting.” Hera says with a little too much levity. She flops forward on her bed, head on her hands. “Why’d you turn him down? He seems to like you a lot.” She chuckles.

You sigh, giving her a tired look. “I just… don’t like him like that.” You say, trying not to stare at her chest as the wrap fails to contain her as she lays on her stomach.

She smiles and tilts her head. “Was he right? Is there someone else?” She says teasingly, scooting up on her cot.

You feel your cheeks warm again. “No.” You deny a little too quickly.

Hera blinks, tilting her head the other direction. Her eyes narrow as she studies you, sitting up and leaning forward, making you flush more. You cross your arms and turn away, trying to escape her dissecting gaze.

A playful grin slowly spreads across her face and you see a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

“Heraclast…?” You rasp, praying to the Emperor silently that she isn’t thinking what you think she’s thinking.

She chuckles, springing up from her cot to stand right in front of you, forcing you to crane your neck up at her. She’s smiling ear to ear, and you freeze as you feel her hand touch the bottom of your chin.

Your whole body feels on fire suddenly, and she’s so close that you’re surrounded by her scent- sweet spice and incense and a little rosewater-

“Is it me….?” She asks in a soft, low voice. Her eyes are warm as they meet yours, half lidded and just a little apprehensive.

You feel like the air has been sucked out of the room, momentarily worrying there is a hull breach siphoning the oxogen from the ship. You can’t lie to her, so imposing and so close and by the throne how can eyes be so green-

You try to swallow, failing to sooth your hot, dry throat.

“Yes.” You manage to squeak, voice barely above a whisper.

She lets out a deep held breath, gaze softening into a tender look. Her eyes flutter down to your lips, and her hand trails from your chin up your jaw, gently caressing your cheek in her calloused palm.

“Good.” She rasps, and your breath is stolen again as her lips envelop yours.

You melt. Her free hand splays over your back, pressing you against her as she cups your face in her other and hungrily moves her lips against yours. Your head feels dizzy, but you finally return her eager kiss, which earns a happy purr from the Custodian.

She moves you with her, the edge of the bed meeting the back of your knees and making you fall back on it as Hera eagerly pushes you back, finally breaking the kiss. You gasp for air, but only get a moment to catch your breath as Hera scoops you under the arms and moves you back farther on the mattress.

She leans over you, catching her own breath in soft pants, warm tanned cheeks darkened with a blush. She smiles playfully, running a thumb over your lips.

“I thought you blushed an awful lot for someone who wasn’t sick.” She chuckles.

You giggle, shy at being caught. “W-well, You keep getting all close to me and saying things and-” you stammer defensively.

She grins, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “And you’re so shy. Never letting me see you undressed, never letting me help bathe you.” She teases in a warm tone. “I feel silly not seeing it, but I suppose it has been a long time since I spent so much time around baselines…” she hums as she trails kisses down your jaw.

You see stars for a moment as her lips pepper your jaw and neck in soft kisses. “In your defense-” you mumble, hands snaking over her toned shoulders. “I was very subtle…” you giggle.

She lets out a low, rumbling chuckle from her chest, pulling back a little to smile down at you.

“Super subtle. So subtle Guilliman sent you to the Medicae to get checked for a fever.”

You laugh shyly, “Okay, well, maybe not very subtle.” You say, sighing as her mouth finds your shoulder, pushing your slip away to plant kisses down to your collarbone.

“Mm, I got there eventually. Only took seeing you completely uninterested in a kind handsome man, and seeing you very subtly look straight to me as you tried to deny having feelings for anyone.” She murmurs against your skin with a chuckle.

You giggle quietly, melting under her and running your hand up the back of her hair. “So… now what…?”

She smiles against you and slips your thin dress further down your arms, exposing more of your chest. “I figured that would be rather self explanatory, My Lady.” She purrs as she follows your dress down with her lips.

You look down at her, suddenly feeling a little bashful. “I mean- now?” You squeak. “Shouldn’t we, like, talk about things…?”

She scrunches her brow, picking her head up to look at you. “What? Why? You like me, I like you. There is a suitable bed for a little baseline here…” she says sweetly, lowering her head to your neck to nuzzle against you.

You bite your lip, head spinning as her hands ran over your waist. “That’s just all you need-?” You rasp, flushing warmer as she nestled her leg between your thighs.

She chuckled, gently nibbling at your neck, “Well, I bought you lunch. That’s a baseline courtship thing, right?” She teased.

You laugh, losing the battle of trying not to fold immediately to the heat pooling between your legs as she gently pushed her knee against you. “Technically, that was my money you paid with.” You chuckle.

She lifts her head again, grinning playfully. “Then you bought me lunch. Thank you, I accept your courtship proposal, My Lady.” She says with mock formality before returning her mouth to kissing the top of your now partially exposed breast.

You moan a little as her hand runs under your slip and over your sensitive nipple. At the sound of you folding to baser needs at last, Hera chuckles and takes it as permission to stop holding back.

She pulls your slip off, surprising you and drawing a soft yelp as it’s pulled over your head and tossed aside. She sits up, caging you in with her arms and admiring your now exposed body with a hungry gaze.

“By the throne…” she Murmurs, running a hand over your stomach. “You’re breathtaking, My Lady.” She says it with such soft admiration, her eyes raking over you so reverently, it causes your mind to wipe blank a moment. The way she calls you My Lady as she’s nestled between your legs like shes kneeling at an altar sends heat straight through you.

You swallow, and reach up to touch her toned arm with a shaky hand. You give her a shy smile, and she sighs and melts as she meets your eyes.

“I like you. And you like me. Your right. That’s enough for me too, Heraclast.” You say gently, squeezing her arm a little.

She lets out a low sigh, leaning in to give you one more soft kiss on your lips before pulling back with a smile and scooting back. She runs her hands from your waist over your thighs and up to your knees.

“Then, allow me to show you how much I have been admiring you, My Lady.” She teases with a smirk, pushing your knees apart gently.

You let out a small squeak as she takes you by the hips, easily lifting your ass up so she can pull your underwear off with her teeth, growling playfully as she slides them down your legs and tosses them aside. Before you have time to blush shes back between your thighs, and you’re taking by surprise again as you feel Hera’s warm tongue running up your center.

Your eyes nearly roll back as she laps over your clit, and she groans a happy sound that vibrates through you. “You taste amazing-” she purrs as she gently bites at your inner thigh. Your hands find the back of her short hair again as a moan escapes you.

She smiles against your thigh and chuckles at your noises, then laps at your lips again, devouring you like your wetness was ambrosia. You fist her hair as she wipes your mind with her mouth, and while you’re being worked into a stupor, the moans and gasps she makes between your legs makes you wonder if she’s somehow enjoying this even more.

Maybe something to do with Custodes competitiveness? The joy of a job well done perhaps? You chuckle internally at the thought before she envelops your clit with her soft lips and you forget how to think again.

She circles your hole with her eager tongue, chuckling into your pussy when it makes you whimper and pull her hair, grinding your hips up to her mouth instinctually.

“By Holy Terra, the sounds you make are so beautiful, My Lady-” she murmurs between lapping at your entrance. “The sweetest symphonies of the finest remembrancers could not capture the melodies of your noises-” She moans into you, drawing another whimper from your chest as she prods her tongue into you and her thumb starts rubbing your aching clit.

You arch your back up, one hand fisted desperately in her warm brown hair, the other grasping at your sheets. You could feel your stomach clutching with heat as she increases her tempo on your clit.

“That’s it- good girl-” she gasps against you. She returns her mouth to your nub, carefully working a finger around your entrance. You moan weakly, feeling her huge finger gently working into you. You never stopped to imagine how a 9 foot tall woman made of 99% muscle mass might be a little harder to get fingered by, but you don’t have time to think about much as she finally pushes it carefully into you.

She licks and sucks at your clit as you whimper and roll your hips on her hand, and she pushes a second finger in as she starts curling them up to meet your inner spot as you buck your hips with increasing desperation.

“Hera-” you gasp, gritting your teeth at the onslaught of sensations. You’re at the edge, breath catching in high, airy cries as she pumps her fingers into your clenching pussy. “Hera, close, I’m-” you plead.

She groans, increasing her rhythm into you and lapping at your clit in long, slow licks. She looks up at you from between your legs with burning emerald eyes, half lidded in ecstasy from being buried in your sweet pussy.

“Good girl-” she grumbles, “Let go, let me serve you-” she hums as she sucks your clit, gently letting it graze her teeth. She meets your eyes as she laps up your lips again. “Come, My Lady. Don’t hold back.” She purrs. She pushes her fingers deeper, stilling their pumping as she pets your gspot while sucking hard and rhythmically on your clit.

You’re pretty sure you die for a moment, eyes rolling back as she pushes you over the edge. When your ears start ringing less a few moments later, you realize you’re screaming her name. Your body trembles as she works you relentlessly, riding out your orgasm and making you cry out for her again as you clench hard around her fingers.

When your moans turn to whimpering she finally lets you collapse. She pulls her fingers out, making you twitch at the empty feeling, and props her chin on your lower belly, mouth soaked and grinning as she pants to catch her breath.

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy that nickname?” She murmurs, planting a languid kiss inside your knee.

You hum out a mmm? Weakly. She chuckles warmly, smiling reverently down at your fuck drunk face. “That nickname you gave me. Hera.” She clarifies.

She pulls herself up next to you, pulling your head to rest on her chest and petting your hair. “The name you call out when you come, the name you say so sweetly when you’re annoyed with me.” She chuckles softly.

You blink as your mind slowly pieces itself back together, looking up at her from where you’re nestled between her breasts. “What do you mean…?” You mumble.

“No one else calls me Hera. Just Heraclast, or Ossian.” She says, smiling sweetly and brushing fingers down your cheek. “You calle me Heraclast when you speak to others, or when we’re being formal. But I adore that when you fluster and blush, I’m Hera.” She leans down and kisses the top of your hair.

You giggle softly, nuzzling into her soft chest. “I didn’t realize I was doing that…” you say with a contented sigh.

Hera hums into your hair. “Mm, I know. That’s why it’s so cute. You gave me a pet name almost immediately and then pretended not to be head over heels for me for days.” She teases, rubbing your back soothingly.

Your eyelids grow heavy with exhaustion, nestled against her chest and being soothed so gently. “Mmm… I was… very subtle…” you protest drowsily.

She chuckled, making her chest move around your face. “Yes, very subtle, My Lady.” She said with a soft sigh, right as sleep overtook you.

#wh40k #warhammer 40k #custodes oc #female custodes #adeptus custodes #Custodes x reader #f!custodes x f!reader #wh40k fanfic #OC: Heraclast Ossian #emperor's saint fic

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