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sasheemo · 2 months ago

Text

Long day, huh?

Pairing: Detective!Agatha (Agnes O'Connor) x Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend Agnes Agatha, lost to the Scarlet Witch’s spell, has no memory of you or the life you shared. But tonight, you have a daring plan to bring her back.

Tags: Smut, Established Relationship, Strap-ons (Rr), Car Sex

Word count: 6.9k

A/N: So, first Agatha smut! Hope it doesn't suck that bad - would love to hear your thoughts if you’re up for it 💜

MASTERLIST

Read on AO3

It’s torture, seeing her like this. Agatha, your Agatha, right there yet completely out of reach, trapped under the Scarlet Witch’s spell.

You’ve been together for centuries, standing side by side through battles and blood, through the kind of love that’s spanned lifetimes.

You were there when she first sensed something off in Westview, when she decided to investigate what was happening, and you offered to come along. But everything went south, and now she’s here, roaming around the streets of Westview every day as a ghost of herself, believing she’s someone else entirely. Every moment you see her as this rough, almost bitter stranger, this ‘Detective Agnes’, it drives a wedge through your heart. But tonight, desperation gives birth to a reckless idea: if she can’t remember who she is maybe you can make her remember.

It’a a Friday night, and the most popular bar in Westview is pretty packed, humming with a low murmur and the occasional clink of glass.

You step inside, searching, and your gaze falls on her almost immediately. She’s right there, Detective Agnes, a rougher, possibly even quirkier version of the woman you’ve loved for centuries, sitting alone at the bar, absently nursing her drink. In the dim light, she looks as alluring as ever, though that familiar playfulness you knew is buried under layers of frustration and some sort of hard-earned dominance. And yet, you have to admit, part of you doesn’t mind it. In fact, you find yourself… intrigued.

There’s something thrilling about this version of Agatha. Agnes is rough, unapologetically bossy, carrying that particular brand of perpetual irritation that somehow only makes her more magnetic. Not that your Agatha didn’t have these traits, but this… adaptation of her takes them to a whole new level.

You’ve always loved the way she embodied both her feminine and masculine sides so seamlessly, owning every part of herself with that perfect blend of charm, ambiguity, and raw sensuality that defies any simple definition. Agnes though, leans heavily into her masculine side, and you’re definitely not complaining. Not one bit.

You smooth down the short black dress hugging your figure, fingers adjusting the purple gemstone at your collarbone. With slow, intentional steps, you close the distance, sliding onto the stool beside her. The heavy air around her feels electric, an unspoken charge palpable even through her indifference. She’s flipping idly through a small notebook, likely filled with dead ends from whatever “case” has been haunting her lately.

You lean in, letting the bar’s low light and smoky scent curl around you both. “Long day, huh?”

She doesn’t look up right away. She lets out a sigh, flipping another page in her notebook before her gaze shifts in your direction, mildly annoyed. The moment her eyes meet yours, you feel a spark, realizing those mesmerizing blue eyes will always have the same effect on you, no matter what.

“Would’ve liked to have a quiet drink.” she mutters, lifting her glass as if to punctuate her point. “Not exactly in the mood for small talk.”

“Good thing I’m not here for small talk, then.” You smile, tipping your head slightly, and you see her interest flicker, even if her eyes narrow.

There’s a beat of silence, her gaze lingering a little longer than necessary. She radiates that annoyed, no-nonsense attitude, but there’s something in the way she holds herself tonight that makes you wonder if there isn’t some part of her that still recognizes you, that feels the pull between you. You watch her expression, the rough angles of her face, the way she leans back, sizing you up with all the caution of a predator who’s just discovered someone bold enough to trespass.

“I don’t think I know you.” she says finally, a challenge in her voice.

Your smile doesn’t falter and you lean in just a little closer, enough to catch a whiff of her. Agnes carries this scent of cold air and something darkly earthy, stark and distant. It’s a sharp contrast to Agatha’s usual rich, heady fragrance, the kind that clings to your clothes and fills the room long after she’s gone. But somehow, this raw, unfamiliar scent only adds to her allure, drawing you in deeper.

“Guess that depends on what you think you know.” your voice drops to a low, almost mocking purr, a faint smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. You hold her gaze, letting the challenge hang in the air between you, your eyes glinting with just enough mystery to keep her guessing.

She lets out a quiet, humorless laugh, but something in her eyes shifts, something curious, as if you’ve stirred something in her she can’t quite place. She looks at you a beat too long before shaking her head and turning back to her drink, as if trying to ignore that spark.

You watch her for a moment, her fingers curling around the glass, her body language guarded, closed off. But there’s that trace of interest, the smallest crack in her armor. She’s intrigued, even if she won’t admit it.

She might be Agnes right now, but you still know how to push her buttons “Looks like you could use a distraction, Detective. I’ve heard it’s been nothing but dead ends for you lately.” you murmur with a sly smile.

Her hand pauses on the glass. The annoyed look is back, but this time it’s different, that reluctant curiosity now obvious on her face. She sets her glass down with a thud, meeting your gaze head-on. “Careful, doll. I don’t do well with strangers thinking they know more than they should.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You raise your hand, as if in surrender. “I just happen to know that sometimes the best way to clear a clouded mind is a little… fun.”

At that last word you can see her tense up, her shoulders straightening, gaze sharpening. A hint of a smirk crosses her face, but she quickly tamps it down. Agnes may be all business, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes that’s raw, hungry.

“Dance with me.” you say softly, your fingers reaching out to brush the cool glass of her drink. “Who knows, might be exactly what need…”

She lets out a soft snort, like she’s about to dismiss you, but then she pushes back from the bar. Standing, she adjusts her flannel shirt, slipping the small notebook into the inner pocket with a quick, practiced motion as her dark eyes stay trained on you with an intensity that makes the air thicken. She’s a predator through and through, and for a moment, you feel the weight of her gaze like a physical thing, binding you in place.

She holds out a hand, and you take it, feeling her strong fingers and the roughness of her skin against your own. She pulls you toward a crowded corner of the bar where people are already moving to the low, steady beat thrumming through the room. Dim lights cast a warm, hazy glow, bodies swaying close around you, amplifying the charged atmosphere.

Agnes holds you with a firmness that’s almost possessive, both hands at your waist. Her gaze locks onto yours, and in this moment, she’s both a stranger and achingly recognizable, the rough edge of Agnes mingling with the soul of Agatha beneath. Every inch of her exudes assertiveness, her energy powerful and magnetic as her hands rest on your body with unbreakable certainty.

The dance starts slow, a sway more than anything else, but as the tension grows, she pulls you a little closer. Her gaze flickers down to the necklace at your collarbone, the deep violet stone a stark contrast against your skin. You catch the faintest twitch in her expression, her eyes darkening as she lifts her gaze to meet yours again. There’s a hunger there, a dangerous, simmering intensity that speaks of possession and intrigue.

“You’ve got a strange way of introducing yourself.” she murmurs, her voice low, carrying an edge of danger. “Most people don’t… walk up to me like this.”

You lean in, your voice a whisper against her ear “I’m not ‘most people’, Detective.”. You let that last word linger, savoring the irony of it, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you think of the illusion she’s wrapped up in.

She chuckles, a rough sound that vibrates through you, and her hold on your waist tightens, fingers pressing into your skin through the thin fabric. “Maybe you’re just a little too bold for your own good.”

You don’t bother to reply, feeling the intensity between you coil tighter as her hand slips around to the small of your back, pulling you firmly against her. Her gaze holds yours, dark and fierce, that rough, predatory edge simmering into something more primal. The dance transforms, becoming less about the music and entirely about the electrifying connection between you, every look and touch stoking the fire higher.

You press closer, letting your hips grind against hers in slow, deliberate circles, matching the pulsing rhythm that fills the room. Each movement is calculated, provocative, testing the limits of her restraint. You can feel the tension radiate through her hands as they grip your waist, and her breath seems to hitch every time your body sways against hers.

In the dim light, shadows fall across her face, but her eyes glint with a deepening hunger. You reach up, one arm slipping around her neck as your fingers trace along her skin before threading into her hair. The contact is intimate, possessive, and she leans into it, visibly captivated by the press of your body and the brush of your fingers. With a mischievous smile, you let your other hand glide up her face, fingertips trailing along the line of her jaw as you bite your lip, savoring the spark of control you have over her.

In an instant, something snaps. Agnes moves with a swift, unrestrained urgency, her hands locking onto your hips as she spins you around, pulling your back against her with a possessive force that steals your breath. Her body presses flush against yours, fitting perfectly, her grip on you strong and unyielding.

The rhythm of the music seems to fade as she matches your movements from behind, grinding into you in time with your slow, rolling pace. The friction between you is scorching, each press of her hips intensifying the heat building between you. Her hands slide along your waist, her fingers digging in as if anchoring herself to you, claiming every inch of space between you.

With Agnes pressed firmly against your back, one of your hands finds its way behind her neck once again, fingers weaving into her hair as your bodies move together, grinding in sync to the steady beat. The desire simmering between you is overwhelming, each movement intensifying the tension coiling in your core.

But as her grip stays firm on your hips, you become aware of something else, something hard pressing insistently against you. The firm, unmistakable pressure against your ass makes your breath catch in your throat, the perfect trigger for a molten rush to spread through your veins.

You glance over your shoulder with a smirk, voice low and teasing. “Is that what I think it is, Detective?”

The smug grin spread across her face makes it clear she was waiting for your reaction, every inch of her expression dripping with satisfaction. The look only fueling the heat pooling between your thighs. Her fingers travel up your sides, leaving a trail of sparks across your skin. She grazes just beneath your breasts, her touch light but deliberate, the fabric of your dress doing little to dull the fire she ignites.

“Behave.” she whispers, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. There’s an edge to her voice, rough and commanding. “And maybe I’ll reward you.” she continues, a low purr full of promise.

But you’re here on a mission, not to behave. Definitely not to behave.

Letting the music and her warmth embolden you, you reach back with your free hand, fingers slipping between your bodies to trace a slow, tantalizing path downward. She doesn’t stop you, if anything, she presses in closer, her breath hot against your neck.

Your movements halt for a split second as your fingertips brush the cool metal of her belt buckle, a shiver running through you at the sensation. Biting your lip, you continue your descent, fingers tracing slowly along the rigid line of her zipper, feeling the unyielding heat straining against it. When your palm finally presses against her, you can feel the hard, thick bulge beneath the fabric, and the sensation sends a surge of desire straight to your core. A low, breathless moan threatens to escape, and you barely hold it back, relishing the sensation as the need builds, leaving you aching for more.

Your fingers trail along her length teasingly, taking your time, and you feel her body tense behind you, hear the soft, low growl in her throat. She drops her forehead to your shoulder, her breath rough as you continue your movements.

You tilt your head back, allowing her see the satisfaction in your eyes, a look you know will get to her. Her breath catches as your fingers continue to tease her mercilessly. “Mmm” you hum with deliberate appreciation. “I knew you’d be… impressive.” you murmur, voice low and dripping with praise.

The effect is immediate, and exactly what you’d hoped for. Her nails dig into your waist, her restraint slipping further as a husky sigh escapes her. She presses into you and raises her head to meet your gaze, the challenge in her eyes flaring, daring you to push her further.

You’ve always loved how, deep down, Agatha is so desperate for praise. She always had that little spark of pride that flares with each admiring touch, each appreciative word. But with Agnes, that need seems to linger closer to the surface, raw and unapologetic. In this form, she practically soaks up every word, every look of admiration you give her, like she’s reveling in the attention.

She’s holding herself back, barely, and you can feel the restraint beginning to crack, the thrill of it washing over you as she takes one grounding breath. “Keep that up…” she mutters, her tone both a warning and an invitation, “and you’ll see just how impressive I can be.”

With her words still in the air, she thrusts her hips forward, grinding firmly against your hand so you feel the full, hard length of her strap straining through the fabric of her pants. Simultaneously, one of her hands moves to your throat, fingers curling possessively around it in a strong, yet gentle, grip. Instinctively, you arch into her touch, pressing closer, wanting to feel every inch of her as she is pushing against you. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you can’t hold back the moan that slips from your lips.

Her body freezes at the sound, and for a heartbeat, everything is still. Then, without a word, she grabs your hand, her grip firm and unyielding as she pulls you toward the exit. You can barely keep up with her long strides as she navigates through the bar, her silence and focus only heightening the anticipation that’s been building between you. The moment you step outside, the cool night air hits you, sharp and bracing, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through your veins.

Agnes doesn’t pause as she leads you across the dimly lit parking lot, her hold on your wrist commanding, purposeful. But just as you near the shadowy corner where her car is parked, she suddenly turns, and with a fierce intensity, she presses you against the rough brick wall of the bar. The shock of the cold surface behind you only fuels the fire inside, and before you can catch your breath, her mouth is on yours.

The kiss is raw, unrestrained, her lips claiming yours with an urgency that’s nothing short of devastating. Her tongue parts your lips, exploring with a fierce hunger that’s both intoxicating and overwhelming, each movement igniting something hotter, deeper. She moves against you with a possessive need, her hand tangling in your hair as she tilts your head back, deepening the kiss even further.

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” she mutters against your lips, voice thick and dripping with need. Her other hand moves down to grab your ass, pulling you against her, her grip rough and unapologetic. You can’t hold back the gasp that escapes you, the thrill of it leaving you breathless.

Your hands find their way to her waist, fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt as you pull her closer, every inch of her body pressed firmly against yours. She tastes like whiskey and something darker, something that only fuels your desire, making you want more, need more.

“Teasing me like that all night… you knew exactly what you were doing.” her voice is almost a growl against your lips, her frustration and need laid bare, her words punctuated with another possessive press of her hips.

Your heart races, and you find yourself grinning through the haze of desire. “Maybe I did.” you whisper, a daring edge to your tone.

Her smirk deepens as she leans in, mouth brushing against your ear. “Good.” she breathes “Because now… you’re mine.”

The intensity of her words leaves you dizzy, every nerve lit up, aching, ready for more. She slides a leg between yours, pressing firmly against you in a way that makes your instantly whimper. The sudden pressure tugging at your last restraints, making it impossible to hold back. You pull her into a fierce, consuming kiss, your mouths crashing together, hot and unrestrained, her taste filling all of your senses.

With a deliberate move, you catch her bottom lip between your teeth, biting down just hard enough to pull a throaty moan from her. The sound makes something inside you snap, a fire igniting that feels like it’s burning you from the inside out. You let your tongue glide over the spot you just bit, slow and teasing, savoring the slight tremor that runs through her in response.

Your eyes meet hers, hooded and dark with lust, each breath mingling as you hold her gaze, refusing to look away. “I want you to ruin me.” your voice is barely a whisper against her lips, but every word is thick with hunger. You let the desire in your eyes say the rest, the intensity of your gaze leaves no room for doubt, a challenge and surrender all at once.

You watch the way her pupils dilate, her eyes flashing with something feral and ravenous. Without another word, she grabs your hand again, leading you the last few steps to her car, parked in the shadowed corner with only a few other cars nearby.

As you near the car, you instinctively move toward the passenger side, expecting her to get in and drive you to her place at speed light. But Agnes doesn’t head for the driver’s side. Instead, she stops just behind you, her presence looming as you reach for the passenger’s door handle.

“Other door, doll.” she murmurs, her voice dripping with intent. A shiver runs down your spine as the implication sinks in. You glance over your shoulder, finding her gaze steady, intense, and unmistakably clear. She’s not planning on taking you anywhere.

You release the handle, heart racing as you step to the rear door, her gaze burning into you with every move. Inside of the car, the familiar scent of leather mixed with something distinctly “her” fills the small, darkened space. Agnes follows, sliding in close beside you, shutting the door to enclose you both in a cocoon of shadows and anticipation.

The air is charged with an unspoken understanding as her hand finds your bare thigh, fingers pressing possessively as she leans close, breath warm against your cheek. There’s a pause, enough to let you savor what’s about to unfold, before she brings her mouth to yours, claiming you with the raw hunger that’s been simmering all night.

Her hand starts to move in a slow, tantalizing journey upward, fingers tracing your skin and slipping beneath the hem of your dress, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. A soft moan escapes you, muffled against her mouth as her touch becomes bolder.

As her fingers graze your inner thigh, both firm and unbearably light, a whimper slips out of your lips. She pulls back just enough, gaze momentarily dropping to where her hand is inching closer to where you need her most, her breathing heavy as she watches you unravel beneath her touch.

Each slow, deliberate movement seems meant to drive you wild, her smirk making it clear she’s relishing each shaky breath you take. Without breaking eye contact, her hand ventures further, until her fingertips reach your clothed core, brushing against the patch of wetness that is seeping through the fabric. Her touch sends a surge of pleasure through you, hips arching as you crave more. She lets out a low, pleased hum, leaning close as her mouth grazes your ear.

“You’ve been waiting for this all night, haven’t you?” she whispers, her voice dripping with mockery and satisfaction, every word laced with a condescending edge that leaves you trembling. One of your hands grips the leather seat beneath you, nails digging in as you brace yourself, as the other slips between your legs, pushing aside your panties in a bold, undeniable signal. Agnes’s gaze flickers with mischief, her lips curving in a smirk at your willingness, at the silent plea in your eyes.

“Look at you…” she murmurs in that low, almost scolding tone that makes you clench around nothing. “Such a needy pet.” Her fingers finally dip down to graze your drenched folds, now exposed to her touch. Her fingers glide up and down with ease, a deliberate slowness that leaves you panting, every movement igniting raw need within you.

“Mm, so wet for me.” she whispers to herself, pressing her fingers a little firmer, coaxing a soft moan from you. Your grip tightens on the seat as your breathing grows ragged, her touch leaving you helplessly craving more, every nerve under her control.

Her movements are teasingly, atrociously, slow. An impatient thrill rushes through you, impossible to ignore, and without a second thought you straddle her lap in one swift motion. As you settle onto her, your dress rides up around your hips, baring more skin as your legs fall on either side of hers, bracketing her firmly on the back seat. Agnes’s eyes widen in surprise, excitement unmistakable as her hands find your exposed thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as you begin to grind against her.

The angle presses her strap perfectly against your core, each movement sending a pulse of pleasure as you rock in her lap, the coil in your lower abdomen growing tighter and tighter with every roll of your hips. A low growl escapes her as she watches you take what you need, movements relentless and hungry.

Lost in the moment, you wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her into a kiss that’s messy, unrestrained, moans spilling shamelessly between your mouths. “Fuck… I need you.” you murmur, hips rolling harder in her lap, grinding with a desperate rhythm that has your heartbeat racing. You feel her cock press on your clit through her pants, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if you might come just from this.

But Agnes has other plans.

Her hands slip from your waist, leaving you whining at the loss of contact as her fingers find the buckle of her belt. She undoes it with slow precision, followed by the button and zipper of her pants, her gaze locked with yours for the whole time, challenge flickering in her eyes as she smirks.

Her hand slips between your legs once more, sliding over your sensitive core, fingers teasing your hole as if to confirm just how ready you are for her. You bite your lip, completely unable to contain yourself. “Please.” you beg, voice low and trembling.

The smirk that crosses her face is dark, satisfied, as though she’s savoring every word, reveling in how desperate you are to have her inside of you. Desperation starts to kick in as your hand moves over hers, guiding her fingers between your folds, desperate for the friction she’s barely giving you. You grind against her hand, each movement sending sparks through your body as you cling to the delicious, aching need building inside you. Your breathing is ragged, and you can barely focus, until you catch sight of her other hand moving down to her waist.

With a fluid motion, Agnes reaches into her boxers, freeing her strap. The anticipation and the sheer intensity of the moment making your breath catch in your throat. As she draws it out, you take in every inch, noticing how it’s bigger than what Agatha would normally choose, yet not the biggest she’s ever ruined you with. But there’s something about the way she holds it, about the way it fills her hand, that has a rush of arousal pooling low in your stomach.

You swallow hard, desire flaring in your eyes as you let yourself imagine how it will feel inside of you, stretching you, abusing your needy hole. Agnes doesn’t miss your reaction, her smirk deepens, that predatory, knowing look in her eyes as she catches you staring. She shifts her hips, letting the strap press against your inner thigh, teasing you with what’s coming.

Her voice drops to a murmur, gravelly and low. “Think that pretty pussy of yours is ready to take it, doll?” she asks, tone both a tease and a command, daring you to say otherwise.

Without hesitation, you meet her gaze, biting your lip, eyes blazing with need. “Yes.” you whisper, breathless. “Fuck yes.”

A shiver runs through you as Agnes aligns herself, the tip of her cock pressing teasingly at your entrance, one of her hand resting firmly on your hip, grounding you. Slowly and deliberately, she begins to sink into you, stretching you inch by inch. A soft, breathy moan escapes you as the fullness sets in. Your fingers dig into her shoulders, clinging to her, every nerve ending lighting up with raw pleasure.

Agnes watches every reaction with a possessive gaze, clearly enjoying the way your body responds to her. She pauses, just for a second, letting you adjust. “Just like that. Mm, I wish I could feel that tight cunt wrapping around me. I bet it would feel so good.” she murmurs, voice thick with satisfaction.

And then, with an agonizing slowness, she presses further, filling you completely until there’s nowhere left to go and she’s buried deep inside. The feeling of fullness settles within you, every inch of her stretching you in a way that leaves you teetering on the edge of overwhelming pleasure. Your gaze drops instinctively to where your bodies connect, where her strap disappears into you, a sight that sends a deep, pulsing ache through your core.

But as you look down, your eyes catch on something else. The purple gemstone of your necklace, nestled against your skin, begins to glow, casting a soft, pulsing light in sync with the pounding rhythm of your heart. A slow smirk spreads across your lips, it’s almost time.

You teasingly wiggle your hips, signaling that you’re ready, craving the friction only she can provide. Agnes tightens her grip on your hips, nails digging into your skin. She meets your challenge, leaning forward just enough to capture your mouth in a deep, consuming kiss. In the heated clash of tongues and teeth, her hips begin to move, pulling back slowly before thrusting forward, filling you again.

Her pace is torturously unhurried, letting you feel every second, watching the way your face reflects each wave of pleasure. After a few measured thrusts, her hands slide down to grip your ass, fingers kneading your skin before delivering a sharp, satisfying spank that sends a shock of pleasure through you. A gasp slips from your lips but, before you know it, her hips have stilled and she’s watching you with a provocative glint in her eyes.

It dawns on you that she wants you to move, to put on a show just for her. You hesitate, breath catching, and her voice drops to a low, rough murmur as she smirks. “Come on doll, you gotta work for it. Let’s see how you bounce for me.”

Her words ignite a fresh wave of arousal and, taking a steadying breath, you start rolling your hips. You move slowly at first, savoring the stretch but it doesn’t take long before you start lifting and sinking your full weight down onto her, each movement drawing a low hum of approval from her lips.

Lost in the rhythm, you quicken your pace, each bounce bringing you down harder, making the base of the strap pressing firmly against her clit. Her hands guide you, watching you arch and take her deeper and deeper, her gaze full of admiration and raw desire.

The car fills with the wet, needy sounds of your arousal as she fills you completely. Your breaths turn to soft, broken moans, mingling with curses spilling from your lips. “F-fuck… Aggie…” you stammer, the familiar nickname slipping out before you can catch it. “Feels so… so good.” you murmur, half-lost in the haze, voice thick with need as you ride her harder, body pressing into her with abandon.

Agnes’s eyes flash, and for a split second, you wonder if she’s even noticed the slip or if she’s choosing to ignore it, letting it pass without breaking the intensity of the moment. Her grip tightens, voice dropping to a rough whisper that sends a shiver down your spine “Good girl… you’re taking me so well.” One of her hand slides up your back, nails scratching your skin and leaving red marks under your dress. “This is exactly what you were made for, isn’t it?”

Her words ignite something deep inside of you, urging you on as pleasure builds with each movement, your head tipping forward as you release a shameless moan. Your steady, rhythmic bouncing sends waves of pleasure radiating through you, each one stronger than the last, the friction inside you maddeningly perfect. You can feel your own wetness slickening each movement and dripping down your thighs, the glide of her strap effortless as she pushes deeper, unrelenting.

Agnes is utterly captivated, her gaze darting between the raw expressions of pleasure on your face and the sight of her strap disappearing into you. She drinks in every movement, every tremble, barely able to restrain herself.

As if sensing her focus, you open your eyes. You catch her gaze and stare right into her as you bite your lip, slowly and purposefully sinking down onto her cock, daring her. And that’s all she needs.

One hand wraps firmly around your throat, grip strong and commanding, while the other moves to your hip, pressing you down on her lap. For a moment, everything is suspended, you’re pinned under her gaze as the intensity of both the pressure at your throat and the deep ache within makes you shudder, caught between pleasure and anticipation.

Then, without warning, her hips snap up, driving into you with a devastating shove that forces every ounce of breath out of your lungs. She thrusts hard and deep, filling you completely, each movement unrelenting and precise, striking that spot that has you gasping and moaning uncontrollably.

Your hands clutch at her shoulders, desperate for some anchor as she pound into you without mercy, driving you relentlessly toward the edge. Your eyes flutter shut in overwhelming pleasure, but her grip tightens on your throat, pulling you back. “Eyes on me, pet.” she growls, voice low and commanding. “You begged me to ruin you. Now, look at me while I give you exactly what you asked for.”.

You force your eyes open, and the instant they lock onto hers, her pace quickens. The smirk on her face is a mix of dominance and admiration as she keeps pushing you further with every movement. The feeling is all-consuming and, as she continues, you feel yourself surrender completely, helpless under her control, barely holding on as pleasure engulfs you.

Her hips are snapping forward with an intensity bordering on devastating, her feet planted firmly on the car floor, adding force to each thrust. Her hand finds its way between your legs once more, fingers moving in practiced circles over your sensitive clit, coaxing you to the brink.

The purple stone around your neck pulses brighter as your orgasm builds, filling the car with an otherworldly glow that syncs with the rhythm of Agnes’s relentless movements.

“Mmm, I missed this… I missed you.” the confession slips out you in a raw whisper. For a second, Agnes’ expression falters, something flickering in her eyes that seems to recognize the truth. Before she can react, the light from the stone intensifies, flooding the space between you with a bright, shimmering glow. Her gaze drops to the gemstone blazing against your skin, entranced as though the light itself is unraveling something within her.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you seize the moment and murmur the spell.

Ancient Latin words leave your lips like a quiet chant, each syllable carrying the force of longing and magic, woven with the raw passion building between you. The words wrap around you both, charging the moment, and as the final word slips from your mouth, she gasps like someone just knocked all the air out of her lungs. Agnes’s eyes meet yours, and in that instant, you know the veil has been lifted.

Agnes is gone and Agatha, your Agatha, is back. The full force of who she is, and who you are to her, rushes back all at once. For a moment, Agatha simply stares at you, the love of her life who broke her from that maddening spell… on her lap, strap buried deep inside you. The sight renders her speechless, her expression a mix of wonder and fierce devotion as she processes what’s happened.

Finally, her voice returns, smug and rough yet laden with emotion. “So, this is your idea of a rescue mission? Can’t say I mind, sweetheart.” She leans in, breath ghosting over your lips as her fingers trace your cheek, gaze softening though hunger remains.

You suppress a moan as her hips shift involuntarily, pushing deeper, and she gasps, realizing the full impact of the spell being lifted. She can feel you now, all of you. Every slick, heated movement as she fills you, every pulse of pleasure passing through you both in sync. The raw feeling of you, tight and warm, clenching around her cock, sends sudden jolts of pleasure through her. The boundary between you dissolved completely.

“Fuck… I can feel you again.” she murmurs, voice thick with awe and desire. Her voice drops, thick with satisfaction and yearning. “I’ve waited too long for this, and now… now you’re all mine again.”

Her breath catches, and her hands tighten on your hips, guiding you as she thrusts up with renewed purpose, as if proving to herself that this moment is real, savoring every second of this reconnection. Her eyes glint with pleasure as her nails dig into your skin, pulling you down harder with each thrust, her control slipping as she begins to feel herself approaching her own edge.

A ragged growl escapes her as she whispers against your ear, “You’re still so damn tight, sweetheart. Do you know what you’re doing to me?” Her breath shudders, and a smile plays on her lips as she admits, “I’m already close too… After all this time, I don’t think I can hold back.”

The rhythm between you intensifies as her hands roam over your body, holding you close as she loses herself in the feeling of being truly connected again. You’re nothing short of a moaning mess as her voice guides you closer to the edge with her, whispered praise and promises mingling with the tension building in both of you, pushing you both to the brink.

Agatha is fucking you at an unforgiving rhythm, the intensity blurring everything else. Her gaze never leaves you, watching you come undone as you both reach the edge, every sensation building to a breathtaking crescendo.

Soon, her rhythm turns erratic, her restraint fully unraveled. Her eyes bore into yours, dark and fierce, filled with desire and something deeper—a yearning that transcends this moment alone.

“Mm fuck baby… yes, just like that…” she murmurs, breathless, almost reverent.

Your thighs start to shake, each movement pushing you closer, and you can barely form words as the pleasure tightens, an unbearable ache. “Ah fuck Agatha… d-don’t stop.” you gasp, voice trembling. “Fuck fuck fuck…” you stammer with each of her relentless thrusts until your voice breaks, overcome by waves of sensation crashing through you.

The car is filled by the sound of your low, breathy moans, mixing with Agatha’s rough, primal groans, all blending together as her hands slide up your back, possessive, grounding, bracing you for what’s to come.

You’re so close, and you know she is right there with you, her body tensing as she growls, “Come with me, now.” Her voice thick, dripping with desire, her words pushing you over the edge.

Your body arches instinctively as you shudder, every nerve aflame as waves of pleasure wash over you. Your head tips back, unable to hold back the cries escaping your lips. Your thighs twitch uncontrollably, your hips moving wildly on Agatha’s lap as your walls clench around her cock, releasing all that built-up tension in one of the most powerful orgasms you’ve ever experienced.

Agatha’s hips snap up one last time, her breath catching as she reaches her own release, her hands pressing you close as she gasps. “Mine… all mine…” her words, raw and filled with emotion, resonate through you, pulling you even deeper into the moment.

Your bodies tremble together, chests heaving, hearts racing as you slowly come down from your high. She holds you there, her hand sliding up to cradle your face, her eyes softer but still burning as she meets your gaze. For a long moment, neither of you speaks, savoring the afterglow, feeling completely and utterly entwined.

Slowly, she leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss, one that holds all the love and longing she’s felt, buried beneath the spell, and everything you’ve both been waiting to express. Her mouth moves over yours with fervor, a silent promise in every brush of her lips.

A tear rolls down your cheek as emotions overwhelm you, but Agatha notices, her thumb gently wiping it away as she smiles against your lips. Her expression is soft and filled with gratitude as she holds you close, her hands tracing over your skin as if trying to commit every inch of you to her memory.

“Thank you, my love.” she whispers, voice thick with feelings. Her hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as she finally, reluctantly, begins to pull out. The sudden emptiness leaves you gasping softly, a shiver running through you at the loss, but before you can fully react you’re wrapping your arms around her, holding her close, grounding yourself in her warmth and presence.

Agatha’s hand slides down your back, comforting, reassuring. She presses a soft kiss to your temple, murmuring “It’s okay. I’m here now.” She pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, her features gentle yet fiercely protective. “Let’s go home.” she says, her tone pure tenderness “I won’t ever let anything take me away from you again, I promise.”.

She holds you close for one last intimate moment, while her words linger, solid and true. With a soft smile, she shifts and tucks away her strap before buttoning up her pants and fastening her belt, her eyes never leaving yours, filled with affection and satisfaction.

Once she’s ready she turns toward you, her hands moving to adjust your dress, her touch both careful and intimate as she smooths the fabric sliding it back into place around your waist and hips. Her hands linger, brushing along your sides in a way that makes your heart flutter.

Agatha opens the car door, stepping out first, leaning back to help you out of the car. She guides you with a steady hand as she opens the passenger door and, once you’re settled in the seat, she closes the door gently, making her way around the car and slipping into the driver’s seat beside you.

Agatha reaches over, her hand resting on your thigh as she leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. With a final squeeze of your thigh, she starts the car, guiding you both into the night. In the quiet space between you, there’s a shared understanding that this is the beginning of a new chapter, together, with nothing left to keep you apart.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha x y/n #agatha smut #agatha coven of chaos #aaa #agatha harkness #agatha all along #detective agatha #agnes o'connor #aaa fanfic #agatha all along fanfic

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lvlyghost · 1 year ago

Text

Tainted Heart

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: After not seeing you for a few weeks, you come back to the base acting strange.

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

TW: sexual themes, smut but not too explicit. anxiety, self-doubt. worried!simon, poor baby thinks he's done something wrong💔comfort and fluff, mind the english!🐸

A/N: okay so yeah, i can't believe I finished this so fast. anyway enjoy!🥹✨🫶🏻💚gif's not mine' iloveyousimonriley!💗

Masterlist✨

You try to even your shaky breathing before opening the door of the meeting room. Taking more than usual to toughen up, the last thing you want is anyone asking if you were okay. Not even your teammates and especially not Simon. Hands trembling when you open and close them, a cold sweat that runs down your spine with the clear signs of anxiety that will soon start to bubble up if you don't get this over with soon.

Another moment passes when all you can hear is your own heart racing in your ears and the world spins for a second; pushing the door open you enter. Everyone's already there, sitting around the wooden table. Four pair of eyes find you, Soap and Gaz smile your way and John nods motioning for you to take your seat next to Ghost. But you can't bring yourself to do it. You need space. You need to be left alone to battle with your own mind. Instead you grab one of the chairs and set it far from them, sitting in the far corner.

Price's eyebrows furrow but doesn't comment on it, merely resuming what he was just telling the rest of the task force. Everyone's attention is back to the Captain except for Ghost. Ghost who's frowning so hard behind the mask at your refusal to join them. It sparks a sense of irritation and worry.

He knows he shouldn't be feeling that way. You are not even together, even if a few nights spent in each other's rooms had taken place, he considered himself something akin to a friend more than just your superior or a few hook ups here and there. Were you important to him? Absolutely yes. He needed to see your eyes, needed you to look his way so he can see through you as he usually does. Your beautiful eyes would tell him what he needed to know.

But you ignore him.

Glaring at Price without really looking. Lost in your head. You know you should be paying attention but it's all static to your ears, it's the sound of every pen writing down on a sheet. Of feet being dragged across the tile floor. Bodies shifting in their seats. Someone sipping on water.

One of the boys making a comment as your leg bounces up and down not being able to stop it. All the voices inside are muffled and you just want to get out of there so bad.

"Sergeant?" Price calls you, raising his voice and pulling yourself back from your stupor.

Eyes blinking rapidly as your attention turns to him and the room is deadly silent. Was that a hair pin dropping in the hallway?

"Yes Captain?" You ask, body numb and cold.

Price sighs.

"I asked if there's anything else you want to know about the mission? You're leaving in two weeks with Ghost."

"Oh." The answer is muttered so lowly they can barely hear your voice. You find the face of the Lieutenant for one second before looking away as if it had burned you. Simon's body goes stiff. "No."

Not convinced but not wanting to push for another answer he dismisses all of you. You're storming out of the room before he's fully done, leaving the four men taken aback by your strange demeanor.

It's not until you've reached the women's barracks that you stop. If anyone had followed you, you didn't notice too preoccupied and deep in that somber haze that's been clouding your mind since you got back from home.

Memories of everything that went wrong. And the memories of the man across the room.

A beautiful, warm feeling forms in your belly, big hands tightly hold your waist. His face hiding in the crook of your neck as your arms circle his broad shoulders holding onto him, sinking up and down on his lap. Sweet sounds of skin slapping against skin echo around the quiet night of his room. Simon mutters sweet nothings in your ear as you both chase your highs, coming undone at the same time he forces you took straight to his brown eyes and your heart flutters, overwhelmed at the way he takes in your presence and breathes the essence of you. Just you as a whole. He doesn't let you go until he's spilled everything inside you, massaging you over the soft fabric of your —his— shirt that neither bothered to take off, too enraptured to care.

"Hey, you with me?" giving a small squeeze to your hip Simon let's you touch his face and trace the scars that adorn the uneven parts of his skin. He notices the way your attention seems to drift away from where you are.

"Yeah. Was thinking about us."

His brows lift.

"What about us?" Inhaling deeply you shake your head lifting from your spot and walking on somewhat wobbly legs, Simon follows you to the bathroom wondering why you're acting so strange. "Sweetheart?"

"It's nothing, I promise." He watches as you clean yourself, he could've done it —he has every other time�� but now with your sudden change he doesn't know what to think. "I have to go. My parents are waiting for me."

Clenching his jaw he decided to not pressure you on the matter. Ghost was aware that visiting your parents or talking about them struck a nerve within you.

"Want me to give you a ride?" You look at him through the mirror and shake your head in denial.

"I can take the bus."

"Love..."

"It's fine, Simon." You utter. "It's fine."

Turning around on your heels you walk past him, who stays anchored to the same spot outside the bathroom. He watches as you gather your belongings and begin to dress. Simon crosses his arms over his chest.

"Text me when you get home, please?"

A curt nod is all you give him.

You never texted him although he had tried to reach out to you in the next few days and you try not to think about everything that's happened as you strip naked and step in the shower. Warm water washing your body, forehead pressing on the cool tiles of the wall. Shoulders shaking, hands coming to your mouth trying to muffle your sobs.

The all too clear picture of your father telling you no one could ever love you. Your mother doing her best to console you when you had told her the truth.

"I- I think I love him mom." sad eyes fixated on the far wall. "And I don't know what to do."

She had taken your hand with a beautiful smile on her lips.

"Any man would be lucky to have you, darling."

Her words resounding in your ears, and your eyes glimmer with hope. Hope that maybe she's right.

But you had promised to never let it get that far. You'll lose him and that's what pains you the most.

Girl's snickering and walking in the shared showers can be heard from behind, you can't see them but the sound of their giggles fade away in an instant. Gone as soon as they came. Turning off the water pipes you wrap yourself with the white towel neatly hung on the bathroom rack and the moment you slide the curtain open you're met with brown eyes leaning against the opposite wall. He's been waiting, hearing you cry. Shooing away all the women who came with a single hard look their way. No doubt gossiping about the Lieutenant being in the women's section.

A long silence stretches between the two before he finally breaks it, pushing himself off the wall and slowly walking towards you, who holds the towel against your body in a vice-like grip.

"Haven't heard from you in days. Weeks." He starts, eyes following the droplets that travel down your body and back to your face. You've been crying. Simon hates seeing you cry and not being able to do anything about it. It makes him feel powerless, worthless. What do you call a man that can't even help his girl? "You've been ignoring me. May I ask what's going on?"

He's calm, controlled despite the rage within him. You never texted him back that day, never answered his calls leaving him worried and dwelling on the whole situation.

His own insecurities sparked the worst.

"Nothing, just personal stuff Lt." clearing your throat you try to walk past him but he grabs your arm.

"Bloody hell don't call me that. I'm asking as...-"

"As what?" You bite back, eyes snapping up at him as tears collect in your eyes. Simon grits his teeth he wants to say a lot but no words come out. "You shouldn't be here. People will talk."

"I'm not leaving until you speak. What's got you like this." You shake your head. "Fucking Christ I can't fix this if you don't tell me." He hisses.

"There's nothing to fix!"

"Just bloody talk to me, I'm losing my mind was it something I said?" He's not screaming but he's panting hard. "Was it something I did?!" He demands, big terrified, desperate orbs screaming for a sign.

"I fell in love with you!" You confess, eyes widening in horror at what you just said. Fervently shaking your head and walking back, away from him. Simon's eyes widen for a fraction before he's reaching out again hands cradling your face in them with a wild, desperate look. Your vision blurred thanks to the tears.

"Say it again." He pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. Like the sound of snow falling from the sky during the winter. You freeze in your spot, chewing on your lower lip.

"I fell in love." His body relaxed, all the tension he has been bearing on his shoulders for the past days slowly fades. "And we agreed we couldn't let this happen. Never. Forgive me Simon."

"Silly girl." He breathes in, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. "You haven't been paying attention, have you?"

"What?" You mumble, one hand coming up to rest on one of his.

"You're in my mind even when you're not supposed to be."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I'm an idiot." His forehead connects with yours and you can finally breathe again. After the hellish days at home, the sense of being loved and protected by the man you love is enough to overwhelm you. "Thought I was losing you for a moment. Nearly lost my mind, love."

"No. Never." You promise, hugging him tightly against your body. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Simon I just... I just didn't know what to do."

"S'alright." He soothes you. "I've got you." Feeling like the luckiest man alive, even if he didn't deserve to be loved.

He remembers the moment when he had fallen for you, the day you smiled up at him under the starry night on the roof of the safe house, covered in blood and dirt.

He knew there would be no one else after you.

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dilfdicks · 2 months ago

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Sutton! I saw you were on Abbys blog talking about breeding kinks, who do you think has the biggest breeding kink out of the JJK men?

don't play with me ill break it down

sukuna has a big fat breeding kink BECAUSE its a primal urge and he wants an heir to probably eat or kill in battle one day. he wants to fuck you pregnant because he's able to and its a dominance thing to put a baby in you. you're his, you carry his child, your pussy is full of his cum. his his his his his his his. ya feel?

nanami's breeding kink is sweeter, he wants to dote on you, fill you up and make you his in the familial regard. he does it gently, fuks his cum into you whilst making eye contact and whispering about how good you'll look all full with his baby. goes two rounds and then plugs you with his cock for a while to give it time to marinate.

gojo has a breeding kink because cumming in you feels great, is nasty and also he's the strongest has he mentioned that? he doesn't even want kids, he has a son and a horrible position of power he doesnt want to pass down but HOW can he not fill you with his cum and finger it back into you when you take it so nicely? HOW can he say no to you when you wrap your legs around his waist and tell him not to pull out? anything for you, he supposes.

ino's breeding kink just stems from him being a 'it doesn't feel as good with a condom babe' guy and i stand by that. he doesn't want to get you pregnant but he wants to breed the shit out of you trust me it makes sense. he's cheeky about it too h promises he will pull out but god you just feel so good wrapped around him that he starts getting close and he's giving you puppy eyes like 'please, baby, let me cum inside,' and he's just so pretty its illegal to say no to him oops youve been bred.

and choso wants to be bred by you, uhh make it work somehow he thinks its cute the idea of you laying claim on him like that even if its not possible you can entertain the idea somehow.

mahito just does it nasty style 24/7 and makes you walk around with his cum plugged inside of you with a toy so we will classify that as a breeding kink because if there's one thing that man will stand by its having every kink under the sun.

higuruma, like nanami, has sweet intentions behind his breeding kink YOU WOULD THINK but nope, he's such a freak about it he will press down on your tummy as he fucks you in a mating press and drone on and on about how he's going to fuck a baby into you and make you all his and he's obsessed with the fact that once you're bred by him your tits will get heavy with milk and he's definitely gonna suck em once that happens.

geto doesn't have a breeding kink. sike he's just cutesy about it, he won't mention having one until he's emptying his balls inside of you and starts babbling on about how good you're gonna look all roung and pregnancy for him and you're stuck there wondering when the fuck he was going to mention this was a baby making session. probably has a condom on too he's just lost in the fantasy which is kinda cute

just realised this isnt even what you asked for.. uh biggest breeding kink goes to me kenjaku

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #geto smut #mahito smut #sukuna smut #higuruma smut #ino smut #choso smut #choso kamo smut #choso x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #sukuna x reader #ino takuma x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader

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natsaffection · 5 months ago

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Hi it's my first time making a request so basically reader is tony starks daughter and tony decides to take the team on a vacation to an island .

Reader is dating g!p Wandanat and is also a virgin while they are on a beach refer decides she is ready to have sex and Wandanat and reader do it but tony walks in on them after they are done and asks reader bunch of akward question

At your Pace. | WandaNat

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI!, G!P Natasha and Wanda, oral (r receiving), loss of Virginity, unprotected Sex, slight begging, cute and soft sex

Word count: 4,5k

A/n: Hope it's not too slow, but I'm always a softi when it's about Virgin Reader ✨️🫂

It was a rare evening of relaxation, one Tony had insisted on, knowing that the team needed a break. Among those present, you, Tony's daughter, sat comfortably on the sofa, flanked by Natasha and Wanda.

Natasha and Wanda had been together for some time, their bond forged in the fire of battle and the quiet moments in between. Their love was deep, powerful, and enduring. But it wasn't until you came into their lives that they realized their hearts had room for one more person. Your innocence, your radiant smile, and the light you brought into their lives had drawn them both to you. It was a slow, gentle process, but eventually, the three of you found yourselves in a relationship characterized by affection and new beginnings.

Although your relationship was still fresh, the bond between you was undeniable. Natasha and Wanda were very patient with you and understood that you had never been in such a relationship before. They cherished you and wanted to take things slowly, but the connection between you grew stronger with each passing day.

Tony entered the room, his presence immediately drawing attention. "Okay, everyone, listen up!" he called out, his voice cutting through the chatter. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to him. "I have a surprise for you." Tony began, a grin spreading across his face. "We've been through a lot lately, and I think it's time for a break. So, I've decided to invite you all to my private island for a little vacation. No missions, no stress, just time to relax and enjoy life."

Excitement spread through the room, but your heart skipped a beat. A vacation with Natasha and Wanda, away from the distractions of your busy lives? The thought was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. Wanda gently squeezed your hand, leaning closer. "Doesn't that sound nice?" she whispered, her voice soft and full of affection.

Natasha smiled at you, her lips curling into a slight smile. "I think it will be good for us. A little time to unwind." You nodded, your cheeks flushing slightly. The thought of spending uninterrupted time with them was enticing, but you couldn't ignore the nervous flutter in your stomach. Your relationship was still so new, and you weren't sure if you were ready for more intimate moments. But the loving and patient look Natasha and Wanda gave you reassured you that they would take things at your pace. As the Team buzzed with excitement, Tony clapped his hands. "Okay, pack your bags, everyone. We're flying out tomorrow!"

The private jet ascended into the sky, carrying you to your tropical destination. You sat by the window, watching the sea stretch out below you. Natasha and Wanda sat beside you, their presence a calming anchor amidst your swirling thoughts. Wanda leaned closer, her voice a gentle murmur. "You seem lost in thought."

You turned to her and smiled shyly. "I'm just thinking about how nice it will be to relax with both of you." Natasha chuckled softly, her tone playful. "You're going to love it. And don't worry we'll take care of everything."

There was a subtle undertone in Natasha's words that made your heart race. You knew that you were all still exploring the boundaries of your relationship, but you couldn't ignore the growing sense of anticipation for what this vacation might bring. Soon, the island came into view, a breathtaking slice of paradise surrounded by turquoise waters and pristine white sandy beaches. The team marveled at the sight, impressed by Tony's private retreat. As you disembarked, you were greeted by the warm breeze and the scent of the ocean, which instantly washed away the stress of your lives.

Your accommodation was nothing short of luxurious—a sprawling villa with private suites, each offering stunning views of the sea. You, Natasha, and Wanda were given your own suite, a secluded sanctuary where you could enjoy each other's company away from the others. As you entered the suite, you couldn't resist rushing out to the balcony. The view was spectacular, the sun beginning its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. Natasha and Wanda joined you, standing by your side, their arms wrapped around your waist.

"This is perfect.." you whispered, your voice filled with awe. Wanda pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. "It's beautiful, just like you." Natasha's hand glided down your hip, her touch light but possessive. "We're going to have a wonderful time here. Just the three of us." There was a tension in the air, not unpleasant, but electric. You could feel it, the subtle shift in your dynamic. Natasha's touch lingered a little longer, and Wanda's gaze held an intensity that made your heart race.

The morning sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over Stark Island. The team had decided to spend the day at one of the island's pristine beaches, taking full advantage of the perfect weather. The beach was a secluded spot, surrounded by lush greenery, with soft white sand stretching down to the crystal-clear water. The three of you walked hand in hand, your feet sinking into the sand as you approached the others. The team had already claimed a spot, spreading out towels and setting up a few large umbrellas for shade. It was the ideal day to relax, with nothing but the sound of the waves and the gentle rustling of palm trees in the background.

You had chosen a simple but flattering swimsuit that both Natasha and Wanda had admired that morning. You had blushed under their appreciative gazes, a feeling of warmth accompanying you throughout the day. Now, as you settled on your towels, you couldn't help but notice how close Natasha and Wanda were to you, their presence a constant, soothing warmth.

"Okay, who needs sunscreen?" Natasha asked, holding up a bottle and giving it a light shake. The rest of the team waved her off, already busy applying their own. But Natasha's eyes rested on you, a playful grin on her lips. "Y/n?" You felt your cheeks heat up. "I could use some, yeah.." you replied, your voice a little softer than usual. Wanda's eyes sparkled with mischief as she took the bottle from Natasha's hand. "I'll help you." You lay down on your stomach, your pulse quickening as you felt Wanda's fingers begin to spread the cool lotion across your back. The touch was gentle, but there was a certain firmness to it, a pressure that made your skin tingle with anticipation. Wanda's hands moved slowly, taking their time, and you could feel your breath hitch as the sensations sent shivers down your spine.

Natasha, not wanting to be left out, scooted closer, brushing your hair aside and applying the lotion to your shoulders and neck. Her touch was more focused, her fingers kneading the tension from your muscles as she worked. The combination of their touches, Wanda's soft and soothing, Natasha's firm and confident sent your thoughts spinning. Surrounded by their love, you realized just how much you wanted it. The touches, the closeness, the way Natasha's and Wanda's hands lingered on your skin..it awakened something deep inside you.

When they were finished, you felt as if you were on the edge of something you couldn't quite name. Your body was alive with sensation, every nerve attuned to their presence. You spent the rest of the day distracting yourself, swimming in the ocean, playing volleyball with the team, and enjoying the sun, but nothing could ease the longing that had settled deep within you.

When you returned to your private suite, you couldn't shake the lingering sensations from the day. You lay between them, your back resting against Wanda's chest, while Natasha lay on your other side, her fingers idly tracing patterns on your arm. The atmosphere was comfortable, but beneath it lay a tension, a silent conversation that passed between the three of you. Wanda's hand moved slowly, tracing the line of your collarbone before sliding down over your heart and resting there. "You seem a little quiet." Wanda murmured, her breath warm against your ear.

Natasha's hand stilled on your arm, her eyes searching your face. "Is something on your mind?" she asked, her voice gentle but with that playful undertone you loved so much. You could feel your heart racing, the sensation of their hands on your skin making it hard to think clearly. You had been wrestling with the emotions that had built up inside you all day, and now, in the intimacy of your shared bed, those feelings were impossible to deny.

You swallowed and whispered, "I've been thinking about earlier..about how you guys made me feel." Natasha's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Oh? And how did we make you feel?" Your cheeks flushed as you glanced between the two women. In their eyes, there was no judgment, only love and desire. You felt safe with them, but also vulnerable, in a way that both thrilled and terrified you.

"I..want more.." you confessed, your voice trembling slightly with a mix of nerves and anticipation. "I'm ready..for more." Wanda's hand on your chest tightened slightly, her thumb stroking slowly and deliberately over your skin. "Are you sure, darling?" she asked, her voice deep and soothing. Natasha’s hand moved to cup your face, her thumb tracing along your jawline. "We'll take it as slow as you need, Y/n. But if you're ready..we're here."

You felt the weight of their love in those words, and it gave you the courage to push past your nerves. You turned to Natasha and pressed your lips to hers in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened as your desire took over. Natasha responded instantly, her hand slipping into your hair to hold you close. Wanda's hand slid lower, her touch gentle but purposeful as she explored your body with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. "You're so beautiful.." Wanda whispered against your neck, her lips brushing the sensitive skin there and sending shivers down your spine.

You broke the kiss with Natasha, your eyes wide with a mix of longing and uncertainty. "I want both of you..I want to feel everything with you, please.." you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. Natasha’s eyes darkened with desire, but her voice remained calm. "You'll feel everything, Y/n. We’ll take care of you, together."

Wanda’s fingers traced the outlines of your ribs with intentional slowness. "We’ll go at your pace, love. Just let us know if you need anything. Anything at all." You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. You had never felt so exposed yet so loved at the same time. Every touch from Natasha and Wanda was full of promise, a silent vow to protect you, to cherish you, and to make sure you felt safe and cared for.

When the moment finally came to take the next step, you felt your nerves resurface, the weight of the unknown pressing down on you. But Natasha sensed your hesitation and was the first to pull back slightly, her green eyes filled with concern and love. "Y/n, it’s okay." Natasha whispered, her hand gently cupping your cheek. "We don’t have to rush anything. We have all the time in the world."

Wanda, lying on the other side of you, nodded in agreement, her hand resting comfortingly on your waist. "We’re here for you, Y/n." she said softly, her voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "Let’s start with something familiar, something that makes you feel safe." Natasha leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, her hand stroking your hair tenderly. "We’ll go at your pace." she promised, her voice full of tenderness. "Just tell us if anything feels uncomfortable, and we’ll stop right away." Wanda smiled gently, her lips brushing your temple as she spoke. "We want you to feel good, Y/n."

With those words, they began to guide you, their touches becoming more focused as they helped you find a more comfortable position. Natasha kissed you deeply, her lips moving softly against yours, while Wanda pressed kisses along your neck, her hands soothingly caressing your sides. As their kisses grew more intense, you felt yourself relaxing in their embrace, your earlier nervousness slowly giving way to growing anticipation. Wanda’s lips trailed lower, along your chest, with deliberate slowness that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Natasha’s mouth followed Wanda’s lead, her kisses mirroring the soft, lingering touch, as she moved to your other side, her hands stroking your skin in calming, circular motions. They took their time, allowing you the space to adjust to the sensations, their mouths working in perfect harmony to increase your pleasure. When Wanda’s lips finally reached your lower abdomen, she paused and looked up at you with a gaze full of pure adoration. "Tell us if it becomes too much, Y/n." Wanda whispered, her breath warm against your skin. Your breath caught as you felt Wanda’s lips moving lower, the sensation unfamiliar but deeply arousing. "It feels..good," you murmured, your voice breathless. "Please, don’t stop.."

Wanda smiled, her eyes full of love as she lowered her mouth to your core, her tongue moving with precise care to bring you pleasure. Natasha, unwilling to be outdone, continued to kiss and caress your upper body, her lips tracing a path along your collarbone and breasts, her hands never leaving your sides. The dual sensation of Wanda’s mouth and Natasha’s hands overwhelmed you in the best possible way. Your breath came in short gasps as the pleasure built within you, every movement of Wanda’s tongue and every touch from Natasha sending waves of ecstasy through your body. Natasha’s lips found yours again, kissing you deeply as Wanda continued her skillful work below. "You’re doing so well.." Natasha whispered against your lips, her voice husky with desire. "Just let yourself go."

"I..shit..I-"You could barely manage a response, your mind consumed by the intense sensations coursing through your body. You had never felt anything like this before, and it was all thanks to their love and care. Their mouths moved in perfect sync, one focused on your pleasure while the other grounded you, ensuring that you felt safe and could enjoy every moment.

When Wanda’s tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot, your body tensed, the wave of pleasure tightening inside you. Natasha’s hands moved to hold you steady, her lips trailing gentle kisses down your neck in soft, lingering touches. "Just let go, Y/n.." Wanda murmured between her movements, her voice low and reassuring. "We’re right here with you." Natasha’s hands gripped your waist, her voice a soft whisper in your ear. "We’ve got you, Y/n. You’re safe."

With their loving encouragement and the overwhelming sensations from Wanda’s mouth, you finally let go, your climax hitting you like a wave, leaving your body trembling. You cried out softly as the pleasure overtook you, the intensity of your orgasm leaving you breathless. Wanda continued her gentle ministrations, guiding you through the aftershocks, her mouth never leaving you until she had eased you through the waves of pleasure. Natasha held you close, kissing you tenderly as your body slowly relaxed. "That’s it.." Natasha whispered, her voice full of pride and love. "You did so well."

As your breathing slowly returned to normal, you felt a warmth blossoming in your chest, a mix of love, satisfaction, and deep connection to Natasha and Wanda. But the night was far from over..Wanda kissed her way back up your body, her eyes filled with adoration as she met your gaze. "You were amazing, Y/n.." Wanda said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "But if you’re ready, we’d love to share even more with you."

You nodded, your heart still racing, but your earlier nervousness had now been replaced with growing curiosity and desire. "I want..to feel everything with you," you whispered, your voice steady despite the lingering excitement. Wanda smiled and kissed you deeply before positioning herself between your legs. "We’ll take it slow, and if you ever want to stop, just say the word." Wanda assured you, her voice calm and full of love.

Wanda moved carefully, her eyes never leaving your face. The initial sensation was unfamiliar, but Wanda’s gentle, slow movements and the look of love in her eyes reassured you. She paused to give you time to adjust before continuing, her movements gentle and tender. The sensation of feeling Wanda inside you was intense, but the combination of her careful approach and Natasha’s soothing touch helped you relax. Natasha kissed you softly, her hand gliding along your body as Wanda found a steady rhythm.

You gasped at the sensation, your body slowly adjusting to the feeling of fullness. Wanda’s movements were loving and deliberate, her eyes fixed on your face to ensure you were comfortable. "How are you feeling, Y/n?" Wanda asked softly, her voice full of concern. You nodded, your voice a breathless whisper. "F-Fuck, its so good..!"

Wanda smiled, her movements becoming more confident as your body responded to the pleasure. Natasha’s hand found yours, holding it firmly as she pressed gentle kisses to your lips, her voice a calming murmur in the quiet room. "You’re doing so well, Y/n. Just focus on what feels good."

The rhythm between you all soon became more intense, and you lost yourself in the sensations, your earlier nerves forgotten. Wanda’s movements were deep and steady, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, while Natasha’s kisses and touches only heightened the pleasure. When you finally reached your peak again, it was with a soft cry, your body shaking as the pleasure washed over you. Wanda slowed her movements, helping you through the waves of ecstasy, her eyes full of love as she watched you from below. Natasha kissed you deeply, her hand gently caressing your cheek. "You’re so beautiful, you know that?" Natasha whispered, her voice full of emotion. "We’re so proud of you." As you tried to catch your breath, Wanda slowly withdrew, pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

Buutt, Natasha, who had held back to ensure you were comfortable, now positioned herself between your legs, her own arousal evident. "If you’re ready, Y/n...I would love to feel you too.." Natasha said softly, her voice filled with longing but also with a deep care for your well-being.

You nodded, still catching your breath from the overwhelming sensations, but eager to share this intimate connection with Natasha as well. Your body still hummed with the afterglow of pleasure, but the love and desire you felt for both Natasha and Wanda gave you the confidence to continue. Natasha's eyes softened at your nod, her expression filled with affection as she leaned down to kiss you deeply. Her lips moved tenderly against yours, as if to remind you of her unwavering support and love. "I'll be gentle." Natasha whispered against your lips, her breath warm on your skin. "Just tell me if anything feels too much."

Wanda, who had shifted to your side, gently stroked your hair and whispered soothing words, her presence a constant source of comfort. "We're right here with you, Y/n. Just focus on the feeling and know that you're safe."

As Natasha positioned herself, she moved with the same care and patience that Wanda had shown. She guided herself to your entrance, pausing to look into your eyes for any sign of hesitation. Seeing only trust and readiness in your gaze, Natasha slowly began to move forward, her actions controlled and deliberate. The sensation of Natasha entering you was different from what you had felt with Wanda, equally intense, but with a new depth of connection that made your breath catch. You gasped softly as Natasha filled you, your body adjusting to the new feeling. Natasha moved with exquisite gentleness, giving you all the time you needed to acclimate.

For a moment, Natasha paused, her green eyes locked on yours, her hand reaching up to brush a stray hair from your face. "God, you're doing so good." she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "How does it feel?"

Your breath came in shallow bursts as you processed the fullness inside you, but the overwhelming sensation was one of love and warmth. "Uh..huh..It feels... really good.." you whispered, your voice laced with awe. "Please... don't stop.." Natasha smiled, her eyes filled with pure adoration as she began to move in a slow, steady rhythm. Each thrust was measured, focused entirely on bringing you pleasure while ensuring you felt secure. Natasha's hands roamed your body, her touch grounding you in the moment, as if anchoring you to this shared experience.

Wanda, who was lying beside you, leaned in to press soft kisses to your temple and cheek, her hand gently caressing your arm. As Natasha continued to move within you, you felt the pleasure begin to build once more, a slow, insistent wave that grew stronger with each movement. The combination of Natasha's deep, even strokes and Wanda's tender touches heightened your senses, driving you closer to the edge.

Natasha's eyes never left yours, her gaze full of devotion as she whispered sweet reassurances. "You're so beautiful, like this..!" she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "I love you so much. Just let go whenever you're ready."

Wanda's fingers moved in perfect harmony with Natasha's thrusts, her gentle caresses amplifying the pleasure that was coursing through your body. "We've got you, love." Wanda whispered, her voice soothing and encouraging. "You're safe with us. Just let it happen."

With their combined efforts and the overwhelming sensations flooding your body, you finally let go, your climax hitting you with a force that left you breathless. Your body trembled as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, your mind lost in the intensity of the moment. Natasha moaned softly as she felt your body tighten around her, her own climax approaching rapidly. "Y/n... I'm so close..!" Natasha breathed, her voice heavy with need.

"Just a little more.." Natasha whispered, her movements becoming more urgent as she neared her own release. Wanda's hand never left yours, her other hand stroking your cheek lovingly as she whispered words of encouragement. "We're so proud of you, Y/n.." Wanda murmured, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "You're doing so well. You're amazing."

With a few more deep, steady thrusts, Natasha reached her own climax, her body shuddering as the waves of ecstasy overtook her. She let out a low, throaty moan as she rode out her orgasm, her hands gripping your waist as she savored the sensation. After her release, a calming stillness settled over the room. Natasha slowly withdrew from you and collapsed beside you, her breath still coming in heavy pants as she wrapped her arms around you. Wanda leaned in to place a tender kiss on your lips, before pulling you into a tight embrace, ensuring you were securely nestled between them.

For a moment, the three of you lay there in a comforting silence, the only sounds being the gentle rustling of the sheets and the soft rhythm of your breathing. The intensity of the experience still lingered, but it was accompanied by a profound sense of peace and connection.

Wanda was the first to speak, her voice barely above a whisper as she caressed your cheek. "You were absolutely incredible, Y/n." Wanda said, her eyes shining with pride. "Thank you for trusting us." Natasha, still recovering from her own orgasm, leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "We love you so much." Natasha murmured, her voice filled with raw emotion.

You smiled, your body finally relaxing fully in their embrace. A deep sense of contentment and fulfillment washed over you, far beyond the physical pleasure you had just experienced. It was the knowledge that you were cherished, valued, and deeply loved by these two incredible women who had guided you through this intimate journey. "I love you both." you whispered, your voice soft but filled with sincerity. "And we love you." Natasha and Wanda responded in unison, their voices a harmonious echo in the quiet room.

As the three of them slowly drifted off to sleep, lulled by the quiet intimacy of the moment, the door to the room suddenly creaked open. Your eyes snapped open in alarm, your heart leaping into your throat as you suddenly saw Tony standing in the doorway. "Y/n, are you-" Tony began, but his voice trailed off as he took in the scene before him. His eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised by what he had walked in on.

Natasha and Wanda reacted quickly, pulling the covers over you to shield you from view. You, embarrassed and completely caught off guard, turned bright red and tried to burrow even further under the blanket. "Dad!" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "What are you doing here?!"

Tony, now fully grasping the situation, quickly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, a sheepish grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Whoa, whoa! Sorry! Didn't mean to barge in!" Tony said, trying to backtrack, though it was obvious that he was slightly amused by the whole thing.

Natasha and Wanda exchanged amused glances, clearly finding the situation more entertaining than awkward. Wanda stifled a laugh, while Natasha smirked, obviously enjoying your reaction even as they tried to comfort you. "Tony, maybe knock next time?" Natasha suggested, her tone light and teasing. "We were a bit..preoccupied."

You, still mortified, groaned and buried your face in your hands. "This is so embarrassing.." you muttered, your voice muffled by the blanket. Tony, seemingly unfazed by the tension, continued with his string of awkward questions. "I mean, was it..you know, at least good? No, uh, technical issues? Everything-"

"Dad, seriously, stop!" you groaned, burying your face in your hands, overwhelmed with embarrassment. But Tony, apparently not catching on, kept going. "Hey I always wamted to knowwho was on top-" You let out a muffled scream into your pillow, utterly mortified. "Please, just leave!"

Natasha finally couldn’t hold back her laughter, her shoulders shaking as she tried to keep it quiet. Wanda bit her lip, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Tony raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself. "Okay, okay, I'm going. But, hey, if you ever want to talk about..you know, positions or, uh, tips, I'm here for you, kiddo. Or, you know, not—whatever."

As Tony finally turned to leave, you peeked out from under the covers, your face still bright red with embarrassment and disbelief. "Why does he have to be like that?" you muttered, utterly mortified. Natasha chuckled, pulling you into her arms. "Because he's Tony Stark." she said, pressing a kiss to your temple. "And because he cares..in his own weird way."

Wanda smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "At least he supports you, even if he's a bit too curious." she added with a soft laugh. With the tension broken, the three of you settled back down, you securely nestled between Natasha and Wanda, feeling safe, loved, and despite everything, a little less embarrassed as you finally drifted off to sleep.

#natasha x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha #natasha romanov smut #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda smut #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff

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etanow · 5 months ago

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Do you have any showtime monster labs headcanons? 👉🏻👈🏻☺️

OH BOY DO I HEHEHEHE

Caine was the last to realize Pomni was in his residency (He was,, otherwise preoccupied), and was absolutely flabbergasted that Jax did such a thing as raising the dead. Caine has a strict policy on not letting humans(dead or alive) that far down in the C&A facility unaccompanied considering how many monsters reside there.It was one of the few times anyone had seen him properly upset at something Jax had done. Pomni was rightfully freaked the fuck out at a giant pair of floating teeth and eyes saying he's a long-forgotten God, needless to say, their first introductions were confusing on both ends LOL

Understandably, Pomni has a LOT of issues with herself appearance-wise. She avoided mirrors for weeks, and tried her best to keep distant from the others. Caine didn't walk on eggshells around her like the others did as she adjusted and that was something she appreciated, at least provided a little sense of normalcy. He was easy to talk to and remembered EVERY little detail.

Caine can change his form at will, but Pomni prefers his big ol' toothy head because he said he was most comfortable appearing that way.

Everyone has their own unique smells; Zooble smells like brimstone, musk, and campfire, Jax always smells like hand sanitizer and chemicals that make your nose burn, Kinger like old earth and soil, Ragatha smells comforting like your favorite old plushie, and Gangle didn't have much but she liked occasionally putting perfume on her ribbons. But Pomni always has a hint of the smell of death following her. She tried Gangle's perfumes and all sorts of scented soaps but nothing could truly mask or make it go away. It was only when Caine gifted her a bouquet of flowers that the smell was almost forgotten. Hell, maybe the plague doctors with their floral and herb-filled masks were on to something. Since then, Caine often surprised Pomni with fresh flowers, herbs, and plants to the point of her shelves overflowing with vases and pots of flowers in all states. Eventually, she gets to pressing flowers between books as a memento for every flower he's given her.

Pomni sometimes needs blood transfusions as her body doesn't make blood anymore but still needs it- she hates needles. Caine and Ragatha alternate sitting with her during it since it can take a few hours at a time and distract her with books or idle chatter until it's done. Caine is an amazing storyteller, he's existed a long time as both a noncorporeal and corporeal being and has countless stories of battles and moments long lost to time. He hasn't really had anyone to share these stories with, and the only other being who was around during all of it, well he doesn't get the chance to talk with him much these days...

Ragatha and Pomni got together first, they spent a lot more time together in the beginning since Caine only popped in once or twice a week usually. He started hanging around longer after a while and I'm getting sidetracked now I'm just imagining Pomni bursting into Ragatha's room sobbing with a "I'M SO SORRY I JUST KISSED CAINE PLEASE FORGIVE ME-" And Ragatha doesn't miss a beat, totally unphased and unbothered, "Ooh nice! Was he any good?" And Pomni's just standing there like "Wait What"

They are all very bad at communication lmao but they're TRYING THEIR BEST OKAY

Caine is not used to the concept of resting, meanwhile, pretty much all Pomni does in her free time most days is nap or laze around- it took Caine a while to not see it as a waste of time and now loves it when Pomni rests her head in his lap. He likes playing with her hair and watching her sleep peacefully.

Pomni keeps her gloves on often because she doesn't like the sight of her skeletal fingers but absolutely MELTS with palm and backhand kisses.

Caine is very touchy-feely, he rubs backs when talking idly or loops arms together, floats a little closer, and matches their pace when walking together (even imitates walking itself with little bobs in time with whoever he's walking with). On some bad joint days, Pomni has a bit of a limp from her exposed bone leg and Pomni finds it absolutely hilarious when Caine unintentionally matches that movement.

Pomni misses facebook memes a lot :(

#lab asks #ask box stuff #showtime #tadc #the amazing digital circus #monster labs au #tadc monster labs au #tadc pomni #tadc Caine #caine x pomni #pomni #Caine

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illubean · 11 months ago

Note

can you write for the main four with a reader that really does not care? like they could go days without eating or sleeping without really noticing and when they get into battle they arent like nervous or anything but they end up beating tf out of there enemy (i hope this makes sense) have a good week 😯

HXH with Nonchalant!reader

Characters: Gon Freecs, Killua Zoldyck, Kurapika Kurta, Leorio Paladaknight Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

eehhh these are kinda short sry ;-;

Warnings: violence

Gon Freecs

he thinks you're really cool but at the same time he worries about you

how do you forget to eat!? Gon can't even function if he were to skip just one meal!

so after learning about your forgetful habits he make's sure to remind you

his bag is always packed with essentials but now he packs extra snacks for situations just like this

after seeing you in battle he actually starts to admire you more

"Wow that was so cool! Do you think you can teach me?"

you become sort of a role model for him <3

Killua Zoldyck

you have to be a long lost sibling of his or something

he pretends he doesn't care that you don't care but you actually stress him out

he never knows what you're thinking and it reminds him of Illumi

and watching you go into battle unbothered then win effortlessly?

you GOTTA be a Zoldyck

he admires your strength but he does so from afar

he doesn't really know how to interact with you

he's just glad you're on his side..

Kurapika Kurta

I think you being so unbothered bothers HIM

like how can you not care about ANYTHING?

genuinely thinks you might be a sociopath at this point

he's concerned about your health

since you forget to eat/sleep sometimes he makes an effort to remind you to do those things

he doesn't like how recklessly you are when getting into fights, it doesn't matter if you win or not

he's a worry wart

"You need to be more careful." "What's the big deal, I won didn't I" "Well yeah but that's not the point!"

Leorio Paladaknight

out of the 4 he gets the most crazy

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVEN'T SLEPT IN THREE DAYS!?"

from now on he is personally making sure that you eat, sleep and drink water

he WILL sit there and watch you do it too

if Kurapika is a worry wart Leorio is a worry BOIL

he is literally ripping his hair out at you not taking care of yourself

"Are you seriously going to fight this dude? He's like 6'3 and 400 lbs of pure muscle!" "Ok, and?" "HAHH!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN OK AND!?!?!!??!"

but after you win so flawlessly his jaw is on the FLOOR

maybe he should start betting on you...

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sonadowwiki · 13 days ago

Text

The Intimate Relationship Between Sonic and Shadow

In the ending scene for Sonic Adventure 2 in Japanese, Sonic sadly says on his own as he looks out to Earth from the ARK: "疲れた... きゅうきょくせいめいたいか?" Which translates to: "Worn-out... Ultimate Lifeform?"

疲れた = Worn-out

きゅうきょく = Ultimate

せいめいたい = Lifeform

Though there are no subtitles for this scene, if you listen closely, you can hear Sonic say: "tsukareta," which means worn-out like you're exhausted. Sonic asks this sadly to himself as he looks down before he is interrupted. After brushing his sorrow aside so that it's not seen by others, before Sonic leaves the ARK, he says: "Adiós, Shadow the Hedgehog..." which means good-bye in Spanish.

This scene doesn't get translated correctly in English and the true meaning of this scene was lost in translation.

If we think back to previous scenes in the game, when Sonic was shot out of the ARK in a capsule, he was able to use a fake Chaos Emerald to Chaos Control into the ARK before it exploded. How Sonic got back into the ARK after defeating the BioLizard could have been the same or he flew back with what little energy he had left. Before Sonic told Shadow about how he used a fake Emerald to Chaos Control out of the capsule, Shadow watched as the capsule exploded and said to himself that it ended up that Sonic was an ordinary hedgehog after all due to thinking he died in the explosion. After seeing Sonic again and he was told how he escaped the explosion, it surprised and intrigued Shadow.

This scene can be seen as a parallel to not only when Shadow was also shot out of a capsule by Maria, but also the ending credits when Sonic looked out of the ARK while he waited to see if Shadow would also do the same as him and Chaos Control into the ARK after the battle. Once he saw that he wasn't going to appear, Sonic became extremely saddened and realized that Shadow was too tired to Chaos Control back and make a surprise appearance. But even if Sonic knew that Shadow might have not made it beforehand when giving his limiter to Rouge, he still hung onto a small sliver of hope that he would make a surprising comeback like he did.

With this knowledge, the ending lines saying for heroes to rest easy makes more sense since Sonic states that Shadow was too tired/worn-out. An image of Shadow even appears after the phrase to show that the words were for Shadow.

Another scene to take into account is the time they both turned Super. When they turned Super, it can be assumed that the Chaos Emeralds connected the two in a way that can only be seen with one's heart. This can be assumed because it was only after they turned Super together that the two became extremely concerned for one another (in the battle with the Final Hazard), fought as one, were in sync, looked out for each other, saw each other in high regard, and believed/trusted in one another with all their heart. Perhaps at that moment they turned Super, their hearts were connected and they both saw each other as equals and for who they are inside. It's possible that their hearts were so connected that when Shadow heard Maria's voice while they were Super, Sonic could have heard her too through Shadow. This can be assumed due to the slight turn of Sonic's head as if he's listening and how he waited until she was done talking to tell Shadow that now was the moment to use Chaos Control together.

At that moment when Shadow decided to help, perhaps the Chaos Emeralds helped Sonic understand who and what type of person Shadow was because even if he was manipulated to destroy the world at first, Shadow was willing to sacrifice himself to save the very people he thought deserved to suffer. And with that, Sonic gained a newfound respect and care for Shadow since he saw what a pure and good person he was deep down. This was the case so much so that the Emeralds responded in kind with their miracles and accepted in making Shadow Super as well.

Another thing to take into account is how after this game, it makes more sense as to why Sonic constantly looks for Shadow or tries to get his attention. Because Sonic saw Shadow seemingly die once despite seeing how capable and strong he is by being an equal to him in Sonic Adventure 2, he looks out for Shadow to make sure that it doesn't happen again like it was mentioned in the Sonic x Shadow 2021 July Calendar Story.

"Only the [moon] overlooking the bustling city seemed to be watching over that shadow forever and ever."

This can also explain why the two constantly rival each other at times since Sonic could be checking on Shadow's well-being, just like Shadow watches over Sonic's (Sonic Colors DS, Sonic Forces, Team Sonic Racing, Sonic x Shadow 2021 July Calendar Story).

[Sonic Colors DS - Asteroid Coaster Mission 1]

[Sonic Colors DS - Asteroid Coaster Completing Mission 1]

[Sonic Colors DS - Shadow worried for Sonic's well-being after completing the mission]

[Sonic Colors DS - Asteroid Coaster Mission 2]

[Sonic Forces - Shadow Protects Sonic at Sunset Heights]

[Sonic Forces Episode Shadow - Shadow concerned for Sonic's safety]

[Team Sonic Racing - Shadow saw that Sonic was capable after racing him, so he says that he can join him in defeating Eggman]

[Sonic x Shadow 2021 July Calendar Story - Shadow tests Sonic but also tries to get him away from joining him in his mission]

[Sonic doesn't listen or adhere to Shadow's wishes and goes to find what Shadow could be doing in order to help him]

[Both work together in sync to neutralize the bomb threat]

It has been stated and shown that Sonic and Shadow are the ones who understand each other the most. Though the both of them understand each other the most since their fight together as Supers in Sonic Adventure 2 and understand that they're capable, they both still look out for each other because of that understanding and care for one another. Perhaps it is due to the event of when they turned Super together, that they share an intimate relationship with each other as stated in the Sonic x Shadow 2021 July Calendar Story. And from that event, also gained understanding, respect and care that formed from the events; from the Chaos Emeralds' miracle. At that moment, the Chaos Emeralds responded to Sonic and Shadow's wishes, which proves that both their thoughts, hopes and wishes were the same. Therefore, it is then that Sonic and Shadow knew for sure, that the other was like himself and that they both shared the same vision and beliefs. The Emeralds created a miracle and it is through that miracle their relationship was formed; their relationship is a miracle.

[Sonic x Shadow 2021 July Calendar Story - Bottom Description]

[Sonic x Shadow 2021 July Calendar Story]

[Explanation of the phrase "懐に入って来られる稀有（けう）な関係" used in the Sonic x Shadow 2021 July Calendar Story Description that states their relationship is intimate]

After Shadow defeated the BioLizard with Sonic, in Japanese, Shadow asks if "this is enough" before falling to Earth and giving up/deciding to rest. Because Shadow ended up giving up and did not return to the ARK, along with Sonic being able to use a fake Chaos Emerald to do Chaos Control, perhaps that's why Shadow always thinks that he is below in capability to Sonic who never gives up and is capable of doing more than him, despite also knowing that they are equal in strength and speed.

Perhaps what Shadow finds himself inferior with is from thinking that he is not as good of a person as Sonic since he has made mistakes or didn't have the same drive as him. Therefore, perhaps that is why Shadow always tries to test to see if Sonic is up to par or is strong enough to take care of himself so that he stays safe and continues being alive as that good person. This also explains why Shadow was so concerned for Sonic in Sonic Forces when Infinite was going to go hurt Sonic. If Shadow couldn't take Infinite on despite being Sonic's equal and knowing that, that's why Shadow got concerned for Sonic's safety. It can be assumed that perhaps one of Shadow's missions in life is keeping Sonic safe or alive since he is a good person and someone he cares about deep down.

[Sonic x Shadow 2021 July Calendar Story]

[Sonic Colors DS - Shadow implies that he leaves it to Sonic since he believes that Sonic can do better, even if they are of equal strength and speed]

But despite always checking up on one another, they don't only test each other's strengths when meeting each other. Sometimes, they seem to also play, like in Team Sonic Racing. This can be implied since Shadow said to Sonic that he didn't have time to play with him/entertain him/have the spare time/to be concerned for his well-being at the time due to having an important mission to uphold with Emerl. But perhaps even when they play, they still test each other's strengths in a certain manner, like with their driving skills in Team Sonic Racing.

[Sonic Battle - English]

[Team Sonic Racing - Sonic went to talk to Shadow and when asked about him, he laughs a little as he implies that he got Shadow to play with him through racing (which was on his top priority to think of since he mentioned that before what he learned about Eggman)]

[Team Sonic Racing]

There are times that Shadow tries to steer Sonic into the right direction of defeating the main threat, but he still in a way, gives Sonic a choice and Sonic readily accepts like in Sonic Colors DS when he tells Sonic to go fight Eggman and in Team Sonic Racing when he reminds Sonic about the main objective in defeating Eggman. Sonic also does this for Shadow, such as in Shadow the Hedgehog 2005 where Sonic tries to steer Shadow onto the path of good when he lost his memories. Even at the end, Sonic was willing to protect Shadow and the world by asking for the Chaos Emeralds from Shadow, though Shadow ended up being able to defeat Black Doom on his own despite not remembering everything.

[Sonic Colors DS - Shadow reminds Sonic to take care of Eggman]

[Team Sonic Racing - Shadow reminds Sonic about the threat of Eggman, even if he wants to play]

The both of them make up a whole like two sides of the same coin. Sonic and Shadow know this, but it is Shadow who is not ready to close that gap between them since he still sees himself as inferior to Sonic. But even so, Sonic continues to watch over Shadow, talk to him and wait for him until Shadow also accepts that he is the same as himself, that they're equal and that they can be on the same level/stage together as one. This is also why Sonic hints to Shadow that he is already his equal and is also a good person too in the Sonic x Shadow 2021 July Calendar Story. So when Shadow still tries to shy away or run away from being unable to accept that, Sonic gets disappointed, but he still continues to wait for him, watch over him and help him come to accept that he doesn't have to think of himself as an inferior to himself.

#sonadow #explanations #shadow the hedgehog #shadow #sonic #sonic the hedgehog

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alastors-antlers · 11 months ago

Text

a brief take on the whole "Alastor's smile is permanent" discussion

hello all!

I've seen a lot of people theorizing lately that Alastor actually smiles all the time because his smile is magically, physically fixed onto his face. All of this seems to come from the fact that he's practically grimacing rather than smiling during the scene where he breaks down in ep8:

As well as this frame of his deal with Charlie: (lower res sorry)

I will say, I do like some of the implications of this theory. The sheer spite of his creditor forcing him to smile as an addition to their deal, almost like a sort of forced silence, is a neat concept. It's fun and dramatic. Plus, of all things, of course Alastor would claim the "smile at all times" policy and make it his own to pretend that it was his decision all along lol.

To be fair, though, I don't think we even need any magical compulsion to explain why he's smiling while he's having a mental breakdown. Actually, if we assume magical compulsion, I think we lose a bit of dimension from Alastor's character. (No judgement to anyone's take though, of course -- I just think this works in the direction of his established characterization, but obviously all personal takes <3)

Hear me out:

Alastor's persona is not just for others to see.

"A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends; keeps your enemies guessing; and ensures that whatever comes your way, you're the one in control."

That makes sense given what we know about him. If he's always smiling, he seems like he has it together. You can't read him very well, especially not when he's actively trying to keep up appearances.

Now consider that when you think about ep8's fight with Heaven, we see that he's already been through so much in this one day.

He fights an army of angels, presumably not even at his own whim (if we go by his blurb about freedom in the Finale song); he loses to Adam, who he considers sloppy and mediocre; his staff, which we can assume holds some part of his power, is snapped; he comes close to being Angelic-power-killed; and to top it all off, he knows that others watched him get injured and then apparently die or flee, all of which would ruin the public image that he's trying to maintain. It wouldn't even be unreasonable for us to assume that he knows Vox was watching, given that Vox kind of has eyes everywhere.

In a moment like this, in the finale, you could say that Alastor has lost (at least on some level) everything that we know matters to him. He doesn't have access to all of his magic, and it's limiting him. He's reminded that he doesn't have freedom or control over his own destiny. He certainly has taken massive hits to his powerful, composed persona. But he's desperate, and furious, and terrified, and clinging on.

That's why he's smiling.

It's not that he can't stop because he physically can't. It's that he can't stop because to him, the smile is the last thing that is still within his power. When there are so many moving parts that he can't predict what happens to him next, he can control how he responds to it. In these last fragments of autonomy, there is solace.

He needs to keep telling himself that he has it together and that he'll eventually scheme his way free, that there's a solution, that he won't be in chains forever; because letting his pretense slip would be admitting that it's all starting to actually get to him. That maybe this time, he doesn't have an escape plan.

In addition, if you read his interactions throughout the series, we also see something else: Alastor's reputation is of paramount importance to him. At multiple points throughout the series, when others disrespect him by discounting his power or presence, he gets visibly annoyed. And in the battle, we see a glimpse of the part of his personality he seems to be trying to leave behind - a normal Alastor, who's just some guy from Louisiana. No transatlantic accent; no unflappable malice; no sharp wit waiting at the ready. Maybe even unremarkable.

Dropping his smile - arguably the most prominent part of his brand - would be admitting that in reality, he's not the Radio Demon of legend that he aspires to project. And if he doesn't have that... where would he be?

#alastor meta #alastor analysis #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor meta #hazbin meta #hazbin alastor analysis #bro I love this guy so much

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silverwhittlingknife · 7 months ago

Note

So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!

No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)

25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim

This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:

WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3

Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)

I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!

Below the cut:

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)

On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)

Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)

I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)

I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)

1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)

2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)

3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)

4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)

5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)

On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)

6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)

7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)

8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)

9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)

10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)

Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)

11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)

12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)

13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)

14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)

15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)

I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)

16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have. If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)

17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)

17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)

18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)

19) In my head he’s the responsible one. (Gotham Knights 10)

I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)

20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)

21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)

22) I trust him. When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)

23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)

24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)

25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)

Final rambling thoughts:

TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.

SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.

And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf

All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.

But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!

Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.

And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --

-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3

#i enjoyed thinking about this so much i wrote a novel with All My Thoughts sorry sdfsdfs #tim drake #dick grayson #somewhat tangential but as i was writing this i was thinking about zahri's post #about how different types of stories offer different kinds of emotional payoffs #and i think for me for dick and tim the main two payoffs are:#1) someone who sees & understands your grief for deaths that will never get fixed or get better #and who will face your ghosts with you EVEN WHEN you're also mad at each other #2) someone who you look at and you see all the ways that you suck & he's better & you're a loser who's failed him etc etc #but it turns out that you're wrong. that you're good enough. not that none of the failures were real or that they were all in your head #but it turns out that it's okay that you didn't always immediately do or feel the right thing #and it's okay that you weren't perfect. you can fuck up six thousand ways & everything you did right will still matter #not because of making excuses or allowances or somebody pityingly trying to make you feel better #but because in the end the things you did right are just Genuinely More Valuable than anything you did wrong #all the times you tried & everything that you tried to give - everything you think wasn't good enough - it was.#IN OTHER WORDS they are both convinced they're not good enough & they are both wrong <3 #anyway dick and tim are both INCREDIBLY SIMILAR and also CONSTANTLY misreading each other and i love that for them #and like. they will sometimes totally misread each other & then never figure out the part that they misunderstood #but then they manage to keep going anyway. we love each other on purpose <333 #ask tag #dick&tim

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hotheadedhero · 8 months ago

Text

Think You're Cute

'Like 'em Big Series'

AN: I have so many stories to write but I had to do this. Blaming being sick, m'kay? Fever has got me bad and these meds got me loopy. Thinking we need some good, silly fun in our lives, right? Plus, now that I've watched Rise, I'm hungry for some big Raph appreciation. I know I ain't the only one

Part 2

All characters are aged up

Raphael x Reader

Warnings: near peril, easily smitten, possible errors due to fever (what kind of fever is up for deliberation🥴)

Cutting right to the chase. You like big dudes. That doesn't necessarily mean muscles, either. You just love you a big man - someone with a bit of something-something to them. More to love, you know? Given your track record with the greater world, it shouldn't be all that much of a mystery. Cats? Get yourself a tiger that you can cuddle into. Jumpers? Comfort central, baby. Beds? If you can't spread eagle then you see no point. The old-age saying does declare that the bigger the better, so who are you to disagree? How true that is may be up for debate but it’s merely as simple as understanding what your preferences are.

However, this makes dating a difficult ballpark to play in. No matter how tall, jacked, or voluptuous someone is, it never feels like enough. Human biology and genetics can only go so far in the conceivably possible sense. You just want to be absolutely engulfed when you get a hug. Is that such a crime? Apparently, it is. Unfortunately, you also seem to come across the worst jerks when you attempt to date within this set of criteria. One might argue it's your karmic justice for being so superficial and picky but a woman has needs. Not those kinds of needs, either. Get your head out of the gutter.

All hope seems lost and after yet again, another failed date, you decide to call it in for the evening and make your way home. A fresh failure and another wonderful outfit gone to waste. By no means is it anything flashy but you put a lot of work into it: pencil skirt, turtle neck sweater, and a nice pair of boots to compliment the look. The whole shebang! All of that effort for nothing. This is the last time you spend three hours doing your hair and makeup. Block after block, your feet grow heavier with every step. What you would give to come across a mountain-like man you can climb who is also a kindred spirit. Perhaps this dream guy will forever be that - a dream. Men like that don't just fall out of the sky.

"Look out!!"

The sudden shout almost scares you into tripping over and you look behind yourself, wishing you hadn’t. Two very large, very dangerous-looking figures entangled in battle, those of which are approaching your helpless little self. You quickly duck as the giants hurdle over you. One falls on its side whilst the other claws and skids against the ground, regaining its balance. It shakes its head and locks onto you, a guttural snarl rumbling past its jowls. Such a creature is surely from the stuff of nightmares. An indescribable nightmare whose sights are set on you. The smart option would be running away but it's as though your shoes have melted into the pavement. Pawing into the tarmac, the beastly thing growls and lunges for you. Great. This is how you die: torn limb from limb by a demon dog. Well, assuming your clothes join you, at least you’ll look like a total babe in the afterlife.

"Oh no ya’ don't," the other one yells from behind the predator, grabbing it by its tail. “Pretty ladies are not food!”

With a mighty tug, he pulls it back and swings it as far away from you as possible. You release a shaky breath, legs trembling beneath you. That was far too close for comfort. The fight isn’t quite over, however. Just as it approaches him, the green goliath swivels on his feet, full 180, and whacks the creature's jaw with a closed fist. His speed alone has you in awe but the force is astounding, practically earth-shattering. It completely knocks the air around you and pushes you onto your backside.

When the dust clears, the first thing you see is your saviour panting, his spiky shell(?) pointed towards you. Just past him in the distance, you notice three more figures in blue, purple, and orange taking a closer look at the unconscious tyrant. You swear one of them pokes at it with a stick. Witnessing strange beings such as this isn't entirely new. Anyone who's watched Chateau Pretenche knows about the celebrity chef turning into a grotesque pigman. To describe it in one word? Horrifying. It's just whether people choose to believe it genuinely happened or if these bizarre entities exist. Being up close and personally observing it now puts your scepticism in check.

As the humanoid turtle calms, he turns to face you, recapturing your attention. A red mask sits over his eyes and there’s a noticeable snaggle tooth poking past his upper lip. Typically, the prerogative is keeping out of sight but it’s much too late for that. He gradually advances towards you. You watch him warily and he keeps his movements slow for that very reason. It wouldn’t be a shock if you were to try and make an escape. He wouldn’t blame you. Currently, all he wants to do is make sure you weren’t hurt during that fiasco provided you don’t suddenly come out of your bewilderment and run off. You have good reason to but he just saved you. Either that or he’s as ravenous as that beast and wants you all to himself. The irrational conclusion remains as such - irrational - when he descends to one knee and outstretches a hand. There’s an irrefutable kindness in his eyes; a caring nature that can’t be replicated in the face of savage brutes.

"You okay?" he asks.

You continue to gawk without a word but, bit by bit, you reach out for his offer. Your fingers lightly trace the centre of his palm before comfortably trusting the proposal. His hand engulfs yours completely and Raph hopes to mercy that you don’t realise how sweaty he’s getting. He can feel his heart beating like crazy. He wonders how much of that is the adrenaline from the fight and how much of it is being in the presence of such a beautiful gal. As he helps you to your feet, he rises to his own. Someone of his stature shouldn’t be capable of being this delicate but he is. It has you running through a loop and you unintentionally stare at the remarkable behemoth.

Quite pathetically, you nod, unable to verbally respond to his question. How can you? You are effectively starstruck. Once you gloss over the turtle-y features, all you see is the sheer size of him as he towers over you. Height, width, the magnitude of those arms! All of it is glorious. You can hear the universe asking, “You want a big man, huh? How about one who isn’t human?” to which you answer, “Who gives a damn?”. If the only way a man can be this big is not to be human, so be it.

Amidst a whisper, your mouth moves on its own, "You're beautiful."

"What?"

"Huh?" Blinking out of your trance, you realise what you’ve said and giggle sheepishly, "I mean, you're be... ba... booming! Totally awesome with the whole- uh... saving thing." Nailed it.

He blinks right back down at you. This is certainly a first. He can feel his face heating up and he withdraws his hand lest you endure the wrath of his bashfulness, opting to hold the back of his head. At this moment, he seems to look anywhere but you.

"Heh. Gee, thanks." His humility is adorable and you’re glad he doesn’t question your initial statement. He turns to you once more, regaining some composure. "You sure you're okay, though? That thing was pretty scary looking."

It’s clear that you haven’t sustained any physical injuries but even bearing witness to something so unsightly can have lasting effects on one's mind. His brows furrow gently in concern down at you and it occurs to you that there’s a soft heart under all of that shell and muscle. Bonus points. This makes you smile for the first time in front of him and Raphael is sure that the streetlights got brighter.

You laugh fondly, “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.” Twiddling your fingers, your lips purse up in his direction. “Is there any way I can repay you?”

He places his hands on his hips and chuckles cutely, “Just doing my duty, ma’am.”

He may be indulging in his alter ego - the Red Angel of Preventing Harm - but it’s not every day he gets paid thanks when he saves someone. It’s also not every day he gets to save such a pretty woman, either. You, however, can’t just leave it at that. There must be some way in which you can properly thank him. Ulterior motives include getting to know this already loveable lug better but shh. It feels like the odds are finally turning in your favour and you won’t let this slip away from your grasp. That’s when it hits you.

Muttering under your breath, you erratically search through the confines of your little handbag. You are certain that you had one in here somewhere. In the spare pocket maybe? Ah! Found it. Fumbling to take the lid off of your pen, you hold out your hand, gesturing for his. He slowly complies, to which you jot down a series of digits on his palm accompanied by your name and a tiny 'x'.

"Gimme a text sometime," is the last thing he hears before you disappear around a corner.

Oh? Oh. Ohhh. Wow. Getting your number is the last thing he expected. Did he get hit on the head during that scuffle or something? Was everything from the last few minutes a dream? He bores holes into the writing on his skin, scanning it over and over, scared that it’ll disappear if he so much as blinks. A dumb, wobbly smile not so gracefully decorates his lips as he trudges back to the turtle tank. He takes his seat but it’s obvious that he isn’t all there. Being so caught up in his rose-tinted bubble, he doesn’t register his brothers' voices. In an effort to gain his attention, Michelangelo jumps onto his shoulder, partly intrigued by what their leader is so absorbed by.

"Oh me gosh!” the young brother screams in shrill excitement, “Raph's in love!"

Careful not to smudge the neat ink, he’s quick to hide his hand against his chest. "That's crazy talk!”

Donatello sniffs the air and mockingly covers his nose. "The overwhelming manifestation of your nervous stink indicates otherwise, dear brother."

"I got a girl’s number!” he continues to defend, feeling his face go all kinds of red. “'Course, I'm nervous but that don’t mean I’m in love."

Lies and slander. It was practically love at first sight. He just doesn’t like the idea of his brothers knowing that. It’s easy pickings to be made fun of.

"Don't worry, Big Red. Lucky for you, you got a guy who knows all about the charm." Leonardo points both thumbs at himself as he falls back into his seat and props his legs up on the dashboard. "First, you just need to..."

The "helpful" advice drowns out as the large snapper opens and gazes at his palm again. He just can't comprehend how a gorgeous individual such as yourself could take one look at him and give him your number. It's puzzling but he supposes there’s a first for everything? That also doesn't mean he won't text you. The only thing getting in the way of that is fear. Raphael thinks he’d rather go toe-to-toe with that mutant dog again than have to face the risk of embarrassing himself. To anyone who knows him, it’s no surprise that he caves under pressure. No. He will do it! A chance like this is one in a million.

Oh boy. What could possibly go wrong?

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fioiswriting · 1 year ago

Text

Reunion | oneshot

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

[Part 2]

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, implied Cregan Stark x Reader (you can interpret them as lovers or not). Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral m receiving, praising kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, Alys Rivers (but no cheating), Reader has a child, grief, light choking, not proofread.

Words count : 7600

Author's notes : Hi everyone !! Sooo I’m posting my first ever fanfic on here, my first x reader and my first fanfic for Aemond. I’m very anxious haha But well, this fanfic is heavily inspired by a RP that has been going on for months with my wonderful gf <3 She writes Aemond so well I swear and now she’s making me fall in love with Cregan too haha oops whatever. Some of Aemond’s lines in this fanfic are hers so of course the credits go to her 💕 Long story short the reader’s backstory is inspired by my OC! The plot doesn't make any sense but whatever

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met The night we met - Lord Huron

The snow had covered the landscape of Winterfell in a thin white layer so similar to ash, and the image tugged at your heart for a moment. Ashes. Fire. War. It was strange, the stillness that had followed the fury of screams and blood, of fire and ash, the constant anguish and pain of loss. It was like a long howl and then sudden silence. Life had resumed its course, the earth and the grass nurtured in red, as if nothing had happened, and that still irritated you sometimes, three years later.

For this peacefulness was a constant reminder of your life before. Before the war, before your own family ripped itself apart from within, before you lost him. There was something bitter in the thought that, in an alternate reality, you would have been happy with him by your side. The night brought its share of sweet dreams, lulled by the embrace of his arms, and you closed your eyes with ease, hoping to see his face again, which was fading day by day, desperately clinging to the details that made him.

It had been the best solution, you knew.

For there was no reality in which he could live as much as you wished for. And you had accepted your duty by straightening your shoulders, silencing your heart, digging your thumbnail into the inside of your wrist. Your stepfather had said he was dead; he had seen Vhaegar fall from the sky, wounded. He had seen the huge dragon crash into the water with all its weight. He had waited, and no silver hair had returned to the surface. He had searched and no body had been found.

So, he had returned, triumphant, with the conclusion that Aemond Targaryen was dead.

The room had swayed around you, but your fingers on the hard, rough wood of the table had kept you grounded. You had nodded, unsure, your ears ringing, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your tongue to hold back the tears that were beading at the edges of your eyes.

You knew it was inevitable, perhaps even fair. But it still hurt. It sill fucking hurt.

Daemon had reassured you by pointing out that you were now released from your marital obligation. A marriage to him that you had hoped for, waited for, dreamed of in your younger years. A marriage you had despised, once forced into, once made captive, a prisoner to be used against your own mother. And then a marriage that you had loved, cherished even, when he had opened up to you, when he had changed, when he had revealed that soft side despite his rough edges. And you loved him, truly. The childhood love, the shy love that had blossomed between laughter muffled behind the curtains, hand-in-hand runs through the Red Keep and reading session hidden under the library table, had been rekindled. Raw, devouring, bruised by war, but more powerful than ever.

Out of the corner of your eye you had caught a glimpse of the comforting gaze of your mother, the Queen, her gentle eyes searching for clues that would betray what you were feeling. It was she who had stroked your hair that evening, her presence welcome and soothing.

During the war, events had made you more uncertain than ever; blood and cheese had broken something in you. Suddenly shaken by the horrific actions of someone you hardly recognised, by the actions of your own family and the father figure who had raised you as his own daughter. You questioned your loyalties more than ever. Of course, you'd been devastated by Luke's death, your beloved little brother, so innocent, so sweet, and the despair you'd felt, the sadness, had gradually turned to anger.

Your desire for revenge had fed on your rage, on your anger.

And in your quest for revenge, you had grabbed the dagger hidden in your bodice when you had kissed him, when you had poisoned him with your lips and your body pressed against his. Perhaps it was cowardice to do it on your wedding night, right after the pitiful ceremony in which you had been forced to exchange your vows of fidelity, the humiliation of the white, blue, red and green cloak around your shoulders. Perhaps it was cowardice to wait for him to surrender to your touch, hard with desire, before plunging the blade straight into his heart.

But you didn't do it, in the end, the humiliation of your failure burning in your cheeks, and you had seen the horrible reality in the icy eye fixed on you: he was expecting it. He knew. He had anticipated you, as usual, one step ahead of you, ahead of your plans. And the humiliation was all the more bitter.

First he had defied you, knowing full well that you couldn't do it, despite your momentary hesitation. Then he had wiped away your tears, the sound of metal echoing off the floor as he captured your lips with his own.

And both you and he had sought to release the accumulated tension in the comfort of your naked bodies, in the rough, demanding thrusts.

You weren't quite sure when your relationship had changed. When he had become more forgiving. When he had trusted you. When he had become gentle. When you had felt him slipping away, subtly, almost imperceptibly. When you had begun to seek comfort in his arms, to seek the warmth of his body, to seek his love on his lips.

You loved him.

So you spent the nights lying awake in fear. Fearing the moment when you would have to make a choice. Fearing the moment when you would have to betray.

Which side would you choose when both armies were coming towards you, carrying the same flags, the same weapons, both calling your name?

Anxiety had spread its roots in the pit of your stomach, crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You felt as if you were losing your mind.

But the choice had been forced upon you without you having to make it. You had accepted it, as your duty demanded, as your loyalty to your family demanded.

Life at Winterfell wasn't so bad, quite the opposite in fact, despite the cold and snow you weren't used to. Cregan Stark was a good man. He had given you time and space to grieve, and had opened the castle gates to you with kindness. You had decided that you could get used to the cold and the snow, to the stone and the rustic wood, so different from the refineries of the capital, but infinitely warmer.

It was your choice, your departure for Winterfell. Dragonstone was still haunted by the ghost of Luke, by the ghosts of Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys and Rhaenys and all the family members you had lost. King's Landing was haunted, too. By your sweet aunt and her cries of despair, by Aegon's descent into madness, by the humiliations you had so gracefully endured, by the recurring announcements of deaths, by the smell of the innocents’ blood, by the pitiful looks of Alicent, who had seen in you the image of herself a few years earlier, powerless and manipulated.

But above all, it was haunted by��him.

The weight of the memories had become unbearable and you needed to leave.

You chose Winterfell, hoping the cold would help you forget. And Jace had come with you, his thumb caressing the back of your hand with affection, always the protective, reassuring big brother he was to you. Probably glad to see his friend again, too. Your friend, to both of you.

But forgetting was something you'd never really been able to do, even less with the last memory he'd left you.

Now, just over three years later, you felt ready to return to King's Landing to visit your parents, to face the demons of your past and to mourn once and for all. It was inexplicable, perhaps a little strange, but you felt the need to go back.

On his first dragon ride, Rhaegar clapped his hands along the way, nestled into your arms in front of you, closing his eyes as the wind ruffled his dark curls. Midnight, your dragon, as pleasant as ever, as easy and gentle as ever, took care to be careful with the two of you on his back.

When you arrived, Rhaenyra hugged you as tightly as she'd ever hugged you, her nose buried in your thick hair, before bending down to take her grandson in her arms.

"I've missed you, sweet girl." she said to you. You smiled and reached for her arm, glancing at your son who'd grabbed one of your mother's long silver curls: "Daemon has missed you too. You know he doesn't show his feelings, but... he missed you."

You smile, your eyes dropping to the floor. You missed them, too, terribly, despite the frequent letters.

"And of course... we’ve missed you too, little one!" Rhaenyra added, catching the child's nose with her thumb and forefinger, causing him to burst into laughter.

It felt good to be back. It was good to have regained some sort of routine in your daily life with your family. It was good to see the walls of the Red Keep return to their original familiarity, chasing away the ghosts you feared you might see again.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Perhaps you should have listened to your stepfather and not stray under any circumstances from the knight who has been following your every step with concern, afraid to lose sight of you.

Five years earlier, it was Sir Erryk's vigilance that you had deceived when you had carelessly followed your eldest uncle into the dangerous streets of the capital.

The streets of King's Landing offered you a freedom you had missed. But now you almost regret sneaking through the crowds to escape the vigilance of the knight who had escorted you. You decide to take a shortcut, the hood of your cloak pulled down over your forehead. It must have been your imagination. You aren’t on the worst side of the city, not like five years ago, and the streets have become safe, much safer now that your parents are in power.

Your footsteps led you to some stone steps, which you climb at full speed, your heart pounding in your chest. Glancing behind you, you disappear like a shadow around the corner of an alley, but the feeling is still there. You feel as if you are being followed.

At the Red Keep you already had the unpleasant feeling of being observed. In the gardens, with your son. Along the ramparts, enjoying the sea breeze on your face.

But you blamed it on your body's automatic response to the anxiety that had built up in all the years you'd spent within the walls of the Keep.

You slow your pace as you spot the dome and towers of the Great Sept at the end of the alley. From there you can easily find your way back to the Red Keep. All you had to do is keep moving, staring ahead, pressing your pace, wrapped in the thick wool of your cloak.

One step after the other. Breathing deeply. Half-moons in your palms.

The Great Sept growing closer give you a strange kind of reassurance.

And then suddenly, one hand closes over your mouth, the other around your waist. Your back bangs painfully against the cold stone wall of the winding alley into which you have been dragged. Fuck. Fuck.

You are too paralysed to struggle, too paralysed to bite the hand of the stranger holding you prisoner between the wall and his own body.

"You obviously learned nothing from my advice, Lady Strong," the icy voice whispers in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes widen.

That voice. It couldn't be.

Lady Strong. Lady Strong. Lady Strong.

It can’t be.

That is your sick mind playing tricks on you again.

"As reckless as ever, hm, aren't you? You could easily get yourself killed."

The stranger releases you and you look up again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, searching for that icy blue, tinged with lilac, that have read through you so many times before.

It is impossible.

He has died three years before, falling from Vhaegar's back into the deep waters of the lake at Harrenhal.

Is it a ghost? Is it a hallucination?

"You are dead. You were dead," you whisper, more to yourself than to him, still in shock from the feel of his body against yours. You feel the tears that have formed at the corners of your eyes roll down your cheek, and your little fists pound his chest.

You have so much to say to him. So many things to reproach him for.

His hand cups your cheek to turn your head and force you to look at him, his thumb wiping away your tears.

The way he looks at you hasn’t changed; it still makes you shiver. You still feel that your uncle could read through you, that he could discover your deepest secrets. And there is still that hint of desire, too, that gleam in his one seeing eye.

You want to kiss him. You want to slap him.

He clenches his jaw as he pulls you against him, burying your face in his chest, his arms around you. He rests his chin on your head. One of his hands strokes your dark hair as you stifle sobs into the wool of his cloak.

The situation takes you back to your wedding night, when he had comforted you in the same way after you had told him that you couldn't hate him, even if you had tried.

"I know," you hear him whisper, the vocal cords vibrating from his throat against the top of your head.

He is standing there, in front of you. You cling to the fabric of his clothes with all your might, as if you're afraid he'll slip away again.

"How?" you ask, eyes closed, head against him. If he is to be taken from you again, you intend to enjoy every moment in his company.

He clenches again. You step back to look into his eyes, to search his enigmatic gaze for answers, for clues, for signs that would explain how. Why.

He doesn't answer you, but he is filled with desire as he grips your chin between his middle and index fingers, as he captures your lips with his own. You rediscover the possessiveness you've been missing. He pushes you a little harder against the wall behind you, as if to remind you who you belong to. Who you were married to.

A familiar warmth blossoms between your thighs, a warmth you haven't felt for too long. You're trapped, right there, your uncle towering over you, trapped between the wall and his body. His fingers close around your jaw and you kiss him back hungrily, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

You're perfectly aware that the situation is surreal. You're perfectly aware that you're making a mistake, that you shouldn't respond to the kiss of the man who used to be your husband, not when he's technically still your enemy, not when he's technically dead.

But you shut out the voices in your head begging you to stop.

"I still want to hate you, you know," you breathe between his parted lips. He merely mutters hm in reply, trying to shut you up again, his hands wandering under your cape, tracing the ribs of the body he'd missed so much. He reaches for your waist, your hips, which he grabs meanly.

There's no one in the alley around you, but the hood over his head hides his long silver hair anyway.

"Three fucking years." Your lips leave his, a mixture of anger and desire bubbling up from your lower belly. Aemond stares at you, his jaw clenched. He knows you need to unleash your emotions when you don't read an ounce of regret in his gaze. "Three. Fucking. Years. And you've told me nothing. You never sought to -"

"I couldn't," he retorts harshly. He seems to be searching for words to explain something you could not possibly understand, but his gaze does not soften. You know he needs time, you've learned to know him. You've waited three years, what's another moment? But you're tired, and your patience isn't as strong as it used to be. You look away, a mocking laugh escaping your lips as you repeat his justification. "You couldn't."

"And risk your mother executing me?" He forces you to look at him again, and you feel the lump form in your throat. You know you are perhaps being unfair, but you were alone for those three years while you mourned him, so alone, and in a way, you want to make him pay.

"You were dead to me, qybor." Uncle. You feel him twitch at the mention of your family tie, at the nickname he used to love to hear on your tongue. "I had to live with the idea that you would never come back."

The tears that had dried on your cheeks threaten to flow again, pooling at the corners of your eyes. Aemond sighs.

"I thought I was dead too," he whispers. You can feel the tension in every one of his muscles. There's a moment of hesitation, a silence that hovers between you. You have so many questions, but you don't know where to begin. Not a sound leaves your lips.

"She tended to my wounds," he adds, and you frown in confusion. "Alys."

Alys. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he keeps you pinned to the wall. Alys, you remember the rumours whispered in your ear by that rat of Larys - those false rumours, you remind yourself - but you can't help feeling your heart clench. You don't trust your voice enough to speak, to say anything.

"There's no one left in Harrenhal but her," he adds, as if you need that clarification, as if you need to know where he's been all this time.

You say nothing. Your throat is tight. If you speak, if you look at him, you'll cry again and betray your feelings all over again. You refuse to make a fool of yourself, not now.

"She's the one who saw you. In Winterfell." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice as he mentions the place where you've spent the last few years rebuilding yourself, trying to forget him. A bit of anger, perhaps, too.

"Cregan Stark welcomed me indeed," you reply curtly. Perhaps you want to hurt him as he hurt you, but you are deliberately vague in your answer. "I have mourned you, qybor."

Everything is so confused in your mind. A paradoxical blend of desire, anger, sadness, jealousy. Of love too.

You want to strangle him and melt on his lips at the same time, and you know that after all this time you should be used to feeling this paradox of emotions with Aemond. Your uncle was a set of contradictions all his own.

"I saw you. On Midnight. That's how I knew you were here."

You nod. Words don't work between you, you know that. It has always been like that; the habit of letting silence speak more than words. The habit of communicating through the carnal acts of your bodies against each other. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond pushes you against the wooden door as soon as you enter the mediocre room of the inn. He is demanding, more than ever, as his hands run along your hips to your thighs to lift you up and press you against the door, your legs closing around him. He watches you with hungry eyes, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. You can't stop a moan from escaping your lips.

There's something feverish, passionate, urgent about the kiss. And when his tongue begs for an opening, your lips part to welcome him. There is only you in this room, an interlude where nothing else exists, where you don't have to worry about your duties and loyalties, where you are guided by nothing but passion.

His hand slams against the wall next to your head and with a movement of his hips he lifts you a little higher onto his waist, your legs locked tightly around him. He grunts into the crook of your neck at the friction of your crotch against his.

"Tell me to stop." His hand which isn't against the wall to support your weight slides up to your jaw. He lifts your chin, his gaze locked in yours, searching for clues, anything that would betray your desire to end whatever it is you're doing. "Tell me to stop now, or I won't be able to."

You don't want to stop. You should, you know you should, but you silence the little voice in your conscience that's begging you to pull yourself together, to end it all before you've even started, before you've even gone too far, and you kiss him with more vigour, with more fervour.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop, qybor," you whisper against his lips. "You know that."

His hardened member twitches beneath you at the mention of the High Valyrian, at the mention of that nickname he's so fond of. It's his weakness, you know, and despite the three years he's been away, he hasn't changed.

It's so good to feel him against you again, to feel his lips against yours, along your jawline to the junction with your neck. In one sharp movement, he rolls his hips to meet yours, pressing you a little harder against the wooden wall, and he catches your moan between his lips.

You know that tonight there will be no shy touches between you, no awkward explorations like in the early days of your love, when it wasn't tainted by war, blood, and death yet. You and he will both be consumed by the burning fire of passion. You both need to release that tension and frustration, to make up for lost time, to drown, drunk with desire, in the most carnal of acts. All that matters now are his hands on your body to ease the pain pulsing between your thighs, the desperate need to feel him inside you.

The barrier of your clothes frustrates you. You need to feel his skin against yours, to feel all of him, and your hand runs down his body to pull at the cord holding his breeches together. Immediately his fingers close around your wrist to hold you back. He wants to be in control, you know. But it has been three years and something about you just isn't the same.

"Let me worship you like I used to, qybor," you whisper against his lips, your forehead pressed against his, and you feel his jaw tighten. There's a moment of hesitation in his eyes, clouded by desire.

His thumb caresses your lips, pressing against your lower lip. You part them, just enough for the tip of your tongue to wet the top of his thumb. There are no further words exchanged between you, just silence, punctuated by your gasping breaths. His hand closes around your throat, not pressing too hard, just enough so you can feel the weight of his palm against your windpipe, just to remind you that he's in complete control of the situation.

Fuck, you've missed it; the adrenaline of his hand around your throat, the adrenaline of knowing he could do anything to you and you'd be defenceless.

"On your knees then."

The command echoes through the room and you feel the wetness seeping between your thighs as you slide to your knees in front of him. Your eyes shine with envy and you look up at him as you did years ago. You know he can't resist the angelic look on your face when you're between his thighs. You know he can't resist the dichotomy between the innocent look on your face and the sinful act you're about to commit. He revels in your submission, and that's something you've learned to use against him.

Your uncle releases his cock from his breeches, his hand wrapped around the base, and the desire you feel between your thighs becomes more and more unbearable. The head is already glistening with anticipation, white pearls beading at the slit, and it takes all of Aemond's self-control not to grab you by the hair and force himself into your mouth entirely.

Closing the distance, he rubs his member against your lips to spread the wetness before pushing into your mouth. Your lips close around him. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the hand holding the base of his manhood is replaced by yours to cover what you can't take. Your tongue curls around the tip first, absorbing his salty taste, and you look up at him through your long lashes. He doesn't look away from you.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caresses your cheekbone before sliding to the corner of your lips, just where his length disappears between them. It's as if he's hypnotised by the spectacle, by the bobbing of your head, by your hollowed cheeks, by your application and devotion.

His hands leave your jaw and sink into your thick curls, urging you to take him a little deeper, and he thrusts between your lips with more vigour. You close your eyes, concentrating on not choking as his member touches the back of your throat. You take it as diligently and assiduously as ever, ignoring the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

"That's it, just like that. Such a good girl, mandianna [niece], such a good wife," you hear him grunt, his movements more erratic, more jerky, and you revel in his praise, sending a new wave of heat between your thighs. "Only for me."

You feel him throb on your tongue. You know it won't be long now, and you prepare yourself to welcome him, to let the salty taste of his seed flood your tongue, but your uncle pulls back reluctantly.

"I would rather not waste." he whispers, his eyes riveted on the thread of saliva that connects your lips, glistening with saliva and precum, to the tip of his cock. You shudder. Aemond definitely hasn't changed much, you realise.

His hand finds your cheek again and he caresses your lips to spread the mess you've made by sucking him. You know he isn't finished. This is just the beginning and you're both driven by the consuming hunger of passion. You know what's coming now, your core clenching around nothing, and you rub your thighs together, in an attempt to soothe the impatience.

He urges you to stand. He has that predatory look in his eyes as he closes the distance between you with his determined steps.

" Undress," he orders, and you do not take your eyes off him as you untie the linen dress you had put on to disguise yourself as a common girl.

The garment falls heavily to the floor, forming a grey puddle at your feet, and you take a step forward.

"Do you not like seeing me dressed in rags, qybor?" you ask in a playful tone, teasing, referring to the time, years ago, when he had rescued you during your adventurous walk along the grim Silk Road where your uncle Aegon had accidentally led you.

The memory was so close and yet so far away.

Aemond takes a step towards you, his hand brushing aside the long hair that hides your breasts to tuck it behind your shoulder.

"Not when you are meant to be my Queen." His eye glow with desire. He studies your body in detail as his fingers slide down your collarbone to your breasts. His thumb traces their underside before moving up to your nipples, hardened by the cool evening air and desire. He plays with them, eliciting a moan that satisfies him. He looks at you like one looking at a prize, a long-awaited gift.

"Three years away from my beautiful wife," he whispers, his good eye gleaming as he looks at your breasts.

"You did have pleasant company in Harrenhal though, didn't you?" you hiss through your teeth and Aemond's hand suddenly closes around your throat to make you swallow your insolence. You're not afraid, not anymore, for you know he won't hurt you. You have this power over him and it's delicious.

His face is so close to yours that your noses are touching.

He doesn't let go of you.

"It wasn't like that." He whispers. "With her." You know he's sincere because he's almost awkward with his words, his explanation. You can see in his eye that there are so many other things he would like to tell you, but you have learned not to rush him. It has always been difficult for him to open up, to be vulnerable.

His fingers release you. Aemond is a good head taller than you, and as he puts a hand on your shoulder, moving forward to force you back until your knees hit the mattress, your eyes remain fixed on his.

Your uncle lays you down on the mattress. It's not the comfort of the bed you once shared, but you don't care, you just need him inside you.

You need him to make you feel whole again. Aemond was fire, and you were willing to burn for him. You had always burned for him.

In the candlelight of the small bedroom where you spend the night, you see his thumbs slip under the waistband of his breeches. His clothes quickly join yours on the floor.

There's something soothing about the weight of his naked body on top of yours. Once under him, you know you can surrender completely to him and stop thinking, just stop thinking.

His lips on yours, his hands on your body, his broad torso eclipsing your smaller figure.

He places kisses down your neck to your collarbone, sucking your skin between his teeth to leave purple marks that will blossom tomorrow.

He kisses your breast, his lips closing around an erect nipple which he sucks gently, then around the other. Your hands are buried in his long silver hair. You can feel how wet you are between your thighs. You need him desperately, right there.

The confidence with which his fingers slide down your waist, from your hips to your inner thighs, only emphasises his ravenous expression. His touch on your folds sends a wave of heat through your body, causing your hips to move against his hand. Softly tracing the curves of your crotch, his index and middle fingers finally part your folds to collect the wetness that has formed there.

"Is it sucking your husband's cock that has got you so wet?

Yes, you want to answer, seeking more contact, but the words are stuck in your throat.

"Stay still," he orders in a hoarse voice as you move your hips, his hands gripping your hips to pin you back against the mattress.

You comply, for once, because you know he won't give you what you want otherwise. And you can't wait any longer, not today, not when you thought you'd never feel his warmth against your body again, his hands on your hips, his cock inside you.

"You see, you can be a good girl." His voice is softer when you obey. And to reward you, his fingers slide to your entrance, where he applies a little pressure with the tip of his middle finger without actually penetrating you. "Now beg your husband to fill you."

"Please, qybor," you murmur, your hand taking his cheek to bring his face to yours. You want him to look at you. "Please, I need you inside."

Oh, the slowness and precision with which his finger plunges into you makes you throw your head back. He begins to move back and forth, his index finger joining his middle one, caressing your spongy walls, his thumb tracing circles around your bud. Curling his fingers, he strokes that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and you clutch the sheets beneath you.

You feel your centre tighten around his fingers, the release you've been looking for so close, so very close. You shut your eyes, ready for the familiar wave of warmth to wash over your entire body, but your uncle pulls his fingers away. You grunt in frustration.

You open your eyes only to see Aemond bring his fingers to his lips indecently, spreading your wetness over his own lips. "You still taste so good," he purrs, and you feel the blush rise to your cheeks.

He leans over to kiss you and you taste yourself on his lips. It's indecent.

He pulls back and you see him wrap his hand around his hardened cock, the head angrily red and already drooling in anticipation. He guides himself to your core, rubbing his length between your folds, coating it with your glistening juices.

The round tip of his member enters you, slowly at first, stretching your narrow entrance as if to give you time to adjust. Aemond pushes and he sinks easily into you until he's fully seated, your warm, wet walls feeling heavenly around him, squeezing him just right.

" You are so tight," he growls against you as your arms close around him, your legs bent and pressed to either side of his body.

He gives you a moment to get used to having him inside you again, to feeling him so deeply. It's exactly what you need; he stretches you deliciously, with a perfect touch of controlled pain.

You feel whole again and you want to cry. You never want to lose that feeling. You want to keep him, against you, inside you.

You close your eyes and bury your head in the hollow above his shoulder, clinging to him as if to feel him more deeply, more intimately.

"You can move," you reply, rolling your hips to support your words. Aemond's hand immediately presses down on your stomach to hold you against the mattress and you bite your lower lip, almost guilty of forgetting his earlier command. He always has that need to control. He's the one who decides, you should know it after all these years, and you should stop being so demanding, so desperate.

"I said stay still," he scolds you, and the waiting is unbearable.

You need him.

When he finally pulls out and thrusts into you again, you let out a whimper. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his back, leaving crescent marks that will probably still be there the next day.

Once under him, Aemond has the ability to make you vulnerable, and part of you hate him for it.

"You take me so well," he growls after a particularly brutal thrust. "You're such a good girl."

The praise is sweet music to your ears. You have always needed it, to be praised, complimented.

You feel him hitting that special spot deep inside you, you feel him pressing in so deeply and your grip tightens around him.

"Did you miss me?" you whisper in a voice made weak by pleasure, but all you get in return are the hoarse grunts of his voice.

Aemond lowers his eyes to look at where you are joined, hypnotised by the sight of his cock disappearing inside you. The rhythm he imposes is powerful, deep, and his fingers find their way between your bodies, reaching your little bud at the top of your folds to trace circles on it. You won't last long and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten desperately around him. Your moans grow louder.

"Look at me." His voice barely brings you back to reality, even though your mind is already far away, even though you know you can't last much longer. Painfully, you open your eyes to meet your uncle's icy gaze. " I am going to fill you up." His pacing becomes more erratic, more sloppy, and you know he won't last much longer either. Leaning on his forearm, he continues to stroke your pearl in small circles. "I am going to fill you up and you're going to take it all."

The image of you, belly round with his child, haunts him. It never stopped haunting him, even on the brink of death, even when he thought he'd exhaled his last breath as he fell into the icy waters of the lake, his heart clenched with regret and remorse. It still is a wonder that he has survived. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Gods still had plans for him.

I'm going to fill you up. Words like that shouldn't bring you to ecstasy, and yet they do. Aemond reaches deeper, and as he feels your whole body convulse with the spasms of your orgasm, he joins you in your release. He spills his seed deep inside you before remaining still, buried against your womb, enjoying your warmth, making sure he's pouring every last drop into you.

He doesn't want to pull out, not yet, and you close your arms around his neck, your breast pressed against his chest as he softens inside you.

The weight of his body on yours is comforting. For the first time in years, you feel alive. For the first time in years, the open wound he left seems to be healing.

When he pulls out, you wince at the sensation of his cock slipping between your still too sensitive folds. You immediately miss the feeling of fullness.

You barely move, your whole body still sore from your lovemaking, but you can feel his cum leaking from your entrance onto the mattress below.

Again, Aemond's fingers are between your thighs that are glistening with the intimate essence of both of you, collecting his own seed and pushing it back into you. You whimper, still too sensitive, your lips brushing against his, and he remains inside you for a brief moment. He wants to make sure nothing is wasted.

And when he withdraws his fingers, he presses them against your lips for you to clean them.

You snuggle up against him, your head against his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, the fine line of his muscles, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. You enjoy the warmth of his body while you still can. Between your thighs you feel the sticky sensation of his seed mixing with your wetness as it still flows out of you, but you don't want to leave the embrace of his arms.

"I saw you in the gardens. With the child."

When you feel his throat vibrate, you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "It was you, then?" You swallow. "It was you watching me." It's more of an observation than a question, and you suddenly understand that constant, uncomfortable feeling of being watched. At least you weren't crazy.

He lets out a hm and pauses.

"Is he yours?"

You know where this question is leading. You fear the moment of truth. You'd deluded yourself into thinking you could avoid it, but you were naive; did you really think you could hide the truth from him for much longer, now that he was back?

"Yes." You answer, looking away. You're nervous, and he can feel it.

"He's Cregan Stark's son, isn't he?"

Your heart clenches. You hesitate for a moment. You should lie. You know you should lie. To protect your son and your family, as you've protected them for the past three years. You only need one word.

You hear him sighing beneath you, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No, he's not."

The words leave your lips before you can even stop them. You hold your breath. Beneath you, Aemond tenses. He straightens, puzzled, silent.

"A bastard, then?" His voice is dry, almost mocking, revealing a form of irritation. "I did not expect this from you, dear niece." Disappointment.

You feel anger boiling inside you at the thought of him insulting your son, your sweet boy you love so much. You swallow the lump that has formed in your throat and rise on your forearms, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn your hard gaze on him.

You don't know how to express the words that are desperately trying to escape your lips.

" He has blue eyes," you add, and you can see the confusion on his face. A lock of hair slips from your shoulder and falls around your face. "Your blue eyes."

You feel him tense up. He says nothing, just stares at you with his one seeing eye. It's rare to see Aemond Targaryen so unsure of himself, so full of doubt. He stares at you as if he's afraid he's heard you wrong, as if he's afraid he's invented the words that have come out of your mouth.

"What did you say?"

You look away. You bite your lower lip, regretting your words. You want to bury your face in his chest. You breath.

"He is your son, Aemond." You finally admit it.

It's true that Rhaegar's brown curls could easily make him look like a Stark. Cregan had offered to raise him as his own, and you had smiled at his kindness.

Rhaegar is so much like you. Like you, and like Luke, and especially like Jace as a child, of whom he is the spitting image. He has the soft features of your face, but his eyes make him undeniably Aemond's son.

Your uncle holds you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, his long nose buried in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair.

"My son," he repeats in awe. It's rare to see Aemond smile with sincerity. Especially after the war has worn him down, made him more ruthless than ever.

"His name is Rhaegar," you say. "Just as we discussed." There's shyness in your voice.

He straightens, you on top, straddling him, and he seeks your lips to kiss you fiercely. His desire awakens beneath you; you feel him harden against your core again.

And this time, he makes love to you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

"I missed the best part." He purrs against you, his hand absently caressing your breast before sliding down your body to rest on your flat stomach, just above where your womb lies. He clenches his hand possessively over your flesh. His voice is almost tinged with regret. Your hand rests on his.

"You shouldn't have left me," you reply, bitter. Deep down, you're still angry with him. Your gaze falls on your stomach, where both your hands lie, yours on top of his, clasped together. "You shouldn't have let your anger dictate your actions," you add, looking away. "But you were blinded by your desire for revenge, by your desire to prove that you could be better than him.” You swallow.

It is his fault, after all, that he missed your son's birth, that he didn't see him grow through the tender years of his infancy.

Rhaegar needed a father, and it was Cregan who raised him.

"Does he even know who I am? Who his father is?"

The guilty look on your face betrays you, and you know immediately that you've hurt his feelings. It may be selfish of you, but he needs to understand.

"You were supposed to be dead. There's still a lot he doesn't know."

He doesn't say anything. You don't have the courage to meet his hard, stern gaze, you don't have the courage to see the disappointment and pain on his face, because if you do, your heart will tighten and you will fall apart.

"He's still so young. Give him time." You add, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his hand, in an attempt to soothe him.

You know how much Aemond wanted a son, and you know it's cruel to take that from him. You know he would have made a good father. You can picture him with Rhaegar on his knee, reading him stories, telling him about the adventures of Vhagar and Visenya, and you love the image that forms in your mind.

You told Rhaegar about Aemond, though he was still too young to understand. You told him that his father had once owned the greatest dragon in the world, that his father was a fearless man for it was true, and you saw his big eyes light up.

Aemond pulls you closer to him. "I want to be there for him, you know." Unlike Viserys, but he doesn't have to say it, you understand what he means in the undertone he leaves at the end of his sentence. He has always suffered from his father's indifference.

You cuddle up to him and he runs his fingers through your long curls. For a moment, you imagine that everything is fine and you search for his touch. He plants a kiss on the top of your head.

"I've missed you," he admits, the words landing on the tips of his lips in the silence of the bedroom, but you're already dozing off.

You know that tomorrow will be made up of choices and decisions.

But for now, you fall asleep in the embrace of his very real arms, for once, enjoying the illusion of the life you both could have had.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x niece!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic

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cielettosa · 8 months ago

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LEVI ACKERMAN: WHY HE IS HUMANITY'S STRONGEST SOLDIER

This post contains:

An in depth analysis on Levi's motivations and what underscores them

His view on his strength

Why Levi is so reserved

Why Levi was obsessed with killing zeke

Levi presents a nuanced exploration of the gap between initial impressions and underlying motivations.

While his initial demeanor appears stoic and potentially aloof, bordering on arrogance, a closer look can reveal a profound sense of responsibility and dedication driving his actions.

Levi's act of comforting a dying comrade while vowing to eradicate the Titan threat signifies a deeply ingrained sense of purpose.

This act transcends mere pragmatism, demonstrating an emotional connection to the fallen and a commitment to the collective cause of the Survey Corps.

His vow is a promise to honor the sacrifices made by countless individuals, carrying their collective resolve forward in the fight for a Titan-free world.

He is burdened by the weight of loss yet driven by an unwavering commitment to the ideals and the fallen comrades of the Survey Corps. He embodies the collective hope of humanity, particularly those who dedicate their lives to the eradication of the Titan threat, ensuring that the sacrifices made will not be in vain.

His physical prowess is a defining aspect of his character and role within the narrative.

His strength serves as a pillar of support for those around him. His ability to consistently survive and excel in battle, as evidenced by his reassurance to the dying comrade, instills a sense of hope and security in his comrades. He becomes a symbol of unwavering resilience amidst the constant threat of annihilation.

However, Levi's perception of his strength extends beyond its immediate utility. He views it as a burden, a responsibility inextricably linked to his title as "Humanity's Strongest Soldier."

He recognizes that his superior abilities often come at the cost of countless lives lost around him, leaving him as the sole survivor in dire situations. This realization fosters a profound sense of duty within him.

Levi's strength compels him to carry the memory and legacy of the fallen. He acknowledges that his survival necessitates fulfilling their unfulfilled aspirations and carrying forward the collective resolve of the Survey Corps.

This is exemplified in his willingness to take responsibility for Eren, even to the point of eliminating him if necessary, and in Erwin's unwavering trust in Levi to handle crucial tasks, such as subduing Beast Titan.

While Levi's immense strength grants him immense power, it is not a source of pride or personal gain.

As Kenny said, Levi is a slave to being a "hero".

He feels an immense responsibility to utilize his power for the greater good, becoming a protector and champion for humanity in their desperate struggle against the Titan threat. This unwavering commitment manifests in various ways, from advocating for the desperate measures of feeding civilians to his relentless dedication in the fight against Titans.

Levi's reserved demeanor is a consequence of a life marked by constant anticipation of tragedy and the loss of countless comrades.

His atypical upbringing, from the harsh realities of the underground to the brutal world of the Survey Corps, has instilled a deep-seated expectation of further losses.

This environment makes emotional expression difficult, leading him to adopt a detached exterior as a coping mechanism.

However, Levi's emotional self-preservation doesn't diminish the profound care he harbors for human life. He fights relentlessly for the sake of strangers, suffers immense anguish with each squad he loses, and his empathy for suffering stems from his own deprived childhood, where basic necessities like sunlight and food were scarce.

Throughout the manga, Levi endures a relentless cycle of loss, constantly grappling with the responsibility of being the "last man standing."

He carries the weight of their sacrifices, driven by the unwavering determination to fulfill their shared dream and ensure their deaths were not in vain. This ever-growing burden continues to shape his reserved nature and fuels his unwavering dedication to the fight for humanity's survival.

Levi's unwavering dedication extends beyond his own burdens. He readily takes on the emotional weight of others, particularly evident in his interaction with Erwin.

When Erwin confesses his guilt and internal turmoil regarding the lives sacrificed in the charge, Levi deliberately chooses to shoulder that burden himself.

This act transcends mere support; it is a conscious decision to relieve Erwin of the immense pressure associated with the lives lost.

Levi explicitly states, "I am making the choice," signifying his deliberate assumption of the responsibility.

This choice carries immense consequences. Levi takes on the horror of the charge and the weight of all the lives lost – the recruits who perished and ultimately, Erwin himself.

This decision contributes significantly to the profound weight that burdens him throughout the manga.

It manifests in his overwhelming sense of failure when he ultimately cannot eliminate Beast Titan, and his heartfelt apology to the charging recruits further underscores the gravity of the responsibility he carries.

As the manga progresses, the weight on Levi's shoulders intensifies. Eren, the boy he once vowed to protect and take responsibility for, ultimately betrays humanity, leaving Levi questioning the "awful joke" of the sacrifices made throughout their journey.

The lives he feels deeply responsible for, even going so far as stating to Zeke that he views them as "killed" by their actions, become a constant source of internal conflict and fuel his unwavering determination to continue the fight for humanity's survival.

As Levi enters the final battle, the physical and emotional toll he bears surpasses anything he has faced before.

He loses the last remaining comrade from his friend group (Hange), faces the seemingly impossible task of fighting his former subordinate, and suffers critical injuries, losing an eye and fingers just days prior.

Despite his weakened state, his sense of responsibility intensifies. He refuses to rest even when Armin urges him to, driven by an internal pressure that compels him to fight.

No external force compels him to engage in this final battle; it is solely driven by his overwhelming sense of responsibility.

His determination to protect his remaining comrades manifests in his actions – offering himself as bait for Mikasa, saving Jean, and enduring further injury while saving Connie.

Even while coughing up blood, he maintains a facade of strength, burdened by the weight of being humanity's strongest.

Finally, after temporarily being sidelined due to his injuries sustained while saving Connie, the immense pressure he has been carrying throughout the narrative culminates in a moment of vulnerability.

Levi is forced to confront the "awful joke" of their situation once again. Now physically broken, Levi contemplates his inability to contribute further, succumbing to self recrimination in the face of immense loss, horror, and guilt.

He questions the purpose of their struggle, wondering if it was all in vain.

However, amidst this profound despair, Levi exhibits a remarkable resilience. He reaffirms the idealistic dream that the Survey Corps fought for, recognizing the inherent value of the lives lost and refusing to succumb to regret.

He chooses to look forward, believing in a better future and the potential of the next generation of idealists. Even in the darkest moment, physically unable to walk and coughing up blood, Levi remains the voice of reason, urging Mikasa to pull it together as they are the "only ones left who can kill Eren."

This unwavering commitment to his duty proves the fact that Levi never stopped fighting, even when his own body betrayed him.

Despite being presumed out of the fight, Levi's unwavering spirit compels him to push through his debilitating injuries and excruciating pain.

This final act of defiance proves crucial in both halting the Rumbling and saving countless lives, fulfilling the promises he made to his fallen comrades and granting meaning to their ultimate sacrifice.

In the aftermath, a profound shift occurs within Levi. He acknowledges the immense contributions of his comrades, recognizing that their unwavering dedication fueled his own actions.

The immense pressure and the burden of countless lives he carried finally lifts, allowing him to release the pain he had bottled up for so long.

For the first time, after enduring countless tragedies, we witness Levi shed tears, signifying a release of the emotional weight that had burdened him throughout his arduous journey.

Levi's title as "Humanity's Strongest Soldier" extends far beyond his physical prowess.

It is his unwavering mental fortitude, forged from constant struggle, that truly defines him. He chooses not to succumb to bitterness or resentment, even after facing a lifetime of hardship and loss. Instead, he exhibits an extraordinary resilience, fueled by an unwavering determination to protect humanity.

Many characters within the narrative succumb to the cycle of violence and hatred. They wield their power to inflict pain and dominate others, fueled by the trauma they have endured. Others, like Ymir, become paralyzed by their past, unable to utilize their abilities to help others. Still others, like Zeke, lose hope in the possibility of a better future.

Levi's journey stands as a powerful counterpoint to these destructive tendencies. He demonstrates that even individuals who have suffered immensely, who have every reason to be disillusioned and apathetic, can choose to believe and fight for the betterment of others. He views his exceptional strength not as a privilege but as a profound responsibility, a tool to be wielded for the benefit of humanity and the preservation of individual lives.

Even as the world around him crumbles, Levi continues to exhibit compassion and a desire to contribute positively. He chooses to break the cycle of hate and despair, actively seeking to put more good into a world that inflicted immense pain upon him. This unwavering commitment to hope and the value of human life stands as a testament to the enduring strength of the human spirit, even in the face of unimaginable adversity.

Other analyses by me:

Levi and Kenny

How Levi utilizes his intellect in fighting and decision making and his leadership in final battle

Levi Ackerman (an overall analysis? One of my first one so it's not that good ig)

The Yeagers and the Ackermans I: Their motivations and dynamic

The Yeagers and the Ackermans II: The Similarities and the Contrasts

#anime #levi ackerman #manga #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #animanga #anime and manga #snk levi #levi aot #character analysis #analysis #cielettosa meta #cielettosa

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