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arcielee · 1 year

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Peace Beneath the City

Summary: Years have gone by and you receive a familiar visitor. Paring: Osferth x Female!Reader Word Count: 3052 Warnings: Smutty smut, we got season 5 Osferth coming in with the d that they were fighting over, oral (female receivng), p in v. 18+ MINORS DNI. Author’s Note: Thank you @aspen-carter for being my beloved beta reader, seriously you all would unfollow my ass if I posted without her sage insight. Anyway, here is part 2 of Silver Coins as per the poll I posted! It’s smutty, it’s sweet, it’ll pull at your heartstrings (maybe). Enjoy! ♥ Dividers by @jaysdividers Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @eddiemadmunson @schniiipsel @aaaaaamond @tssf-imagines

The old man who owned the alehouse was considered a philanthropist for the growing city, an elder in this regard who would help with the affairs. You thought yourself fortunate that he was always kind to you and the other girls, with a sense of kinship for the mismatched gathering beneath the roof.

When he passed and it was known he had no children of his own, it brought forward a slew of greedy claimants who tried to take ownership of the tavern and by proxy the whorehouse below.

This was when you and the girls dared to step forward, bringing your combined silver saved from the years and demanded ownership, demanded your freedom and for the right to own yourselves.

Their response was the threat of riots, their reverberation for violence rolled throughout the city and promptly died at the feet of Lord Uhtred and his men. Perhaps it was luck, or maybe the mercy of the gods, that they happened to arrive that day, intrigued by the city brimming with chaos. Lord Uhtred was quick to remind them of the faithful peonage served and how it should be rightfully rewarded with ownership; he then continued to boast of the sound mind you possessed and his faith for you to take on this vacant role.

Most importantly, he told them that if they decided to keep the tavern still, that you, as well as the other women who rallied behind, would leave the city and return with them to Coccham.

Your face was flushed and you had no words as you watched the title be signed to your name.

That night was a celebration for the new era in the city of Gloucester. The cups brimmed with ale and you were able to find Osferth in the crowd; it had been several months since the last night you spent with him and you felt the warmth pool between your thighs at the sight of him. You were bold to seat yourself in his lap and table cheered when you wrapped your arm around his neck and pulled him in with a soft kiss; he grinned with your affection.

He stayed with you that night and it was just as sweet as before with his same eagerness to please you. He was adamant to practice your trade secrets and you adored him for being quick to learn, responsive with your soft moans and hums for direction.

You had been heartsore to see him leave and you declared that they were forever welcomed within the city walls. It was a new day to embrace new responsibilities and the decree let it be known that you and your own were protected by Lord Uhtred.

The city of Gloucester was on the apex of the river Severn, at the cusp of Mercia and the crossroads where travelers, traders would pass back and forth from Wessex to Wéalas. You showed that you were savvy with your role and there was an unspoken accord that the city was a sanction, a place where Dane, Saxon, or other could come to trade, rest, drink, and fuck in peace.

You became the revered Madam of the city and it began with you moving your belongings upstairs and renovating the downstairs amenities, having them cleaned and properly furnished. You were the known shrewd haggler, creating partnerships to guarantee stock, food and ale for your establishment and its residents. With the growing respect, you were able to convince space to be made and stalls created for the passerby merchants, which allowed the small economy to thrive.

The city adored you and the peace continued, with a harmony that welcomed when Lord Uhtred returned. On this night, the tavern was thrumming with life and your eyes danced over the men, your cheeks flushed as you searched for him.

Lord Uhtred was seated at the head of one table, with his men around and some already partnered with your girls. You could see Sihtric, his hint of a smile as he drank his ale, and Finan with his cheeky grin, glowing as the ladies were vying for the attention of the handsome Irishman.

And then you spotted him.

There was maturity from the years that had passed. Baby monk, as you remembered Finan and Sihtric crowed, was no longer suitable for the man who entered. You noticed that his face had leaned, his features had hardened but that his cerulean blue eyes still twinkled when he saw the men. He held himself with a severe pride, his shoulders broader, perhaps from the years of fighting, but he still moved with the same grace as he weaved through the crowd and came to seat himself.

You knew the years had changed you as well and with that thought, came that flutter of trepidation down your spine, though your steps still brought you towards where they all were now seated. Your hands were nervous and smoothed the silk of your wrap dress that hugged to your womanly curves; your curls were worn down and billowed with your walk. Your face was bare, as you no longer felt the need to paint it to appease men; in fact, you had not taken another man to your bed since the last time Osferth had been in the city and this was because…

Well, he was different.

Despite your unease, there was also the warmth that coiled in your lower abdomen and gave a determination to your steps; you called out for their cups to be refilled and you were greeted with the uproarious response of Lord Uhtred and his men. You felt a hitch in your chest when you saw how his face glowed with his recognition, how his eyes watched you move to his side, a soft touch to his shoulder and you leaned forward to whisper in the shell of his ear, “My lord, you are welcome to stay in my bed this night, if it pleases you.”

You watched him through your eyelashes, coy with your demeanor, and felt the flutter of pleasure as you watched the severity etched onto his features soften from your touch, how your words made him redden with your proposition. He looked into your eyes and you saw the same kindness as before, then he reached to pull you onto his lap. A giggle spilled from your lips and the men cheered even louder, drinking to good health, good fortune, and to good friends.

With the commotion, Osferth nuzzled into your neck and you felt the tickle of his lips to your ear, his voice low. “You are always a pleasure, my lady.”

You shivered with delight at his words and there was a comfort against his chest, you felt almost girlish with how your feet almost touched the tavern floor from your seat in his lap. As the men regaled with tales of their adventures, you felt his large palm move around your waist and rest on the outside of your thigh, the gentle caress of his thumb. When you shifted your weight, you felt his hardness beneath your bottom and your cheeks grew rosy, a heat that pooled between your thighs.

Osferth noticed the shade of red and when you looked into his eyes, his hand moved to squeeze the softness of your hip and he gave you a sly wink.

The anticipation bullied you; it grew late and the men paired off, you were quick to slide from his lap and take his hand into your own, all but dragging him upstairs. Your face blushed again from the good natured catcalls from Finan, Sihtric, and the remaining company; your head remained high, but you stole a look to see the shy smile on his face as he followed your steps.

Your room was cool from the night air that came through the windows, the soft flutter of fabric from the curtains you took care to hang. You turned on the ball of your foot to see him stop in the doorframe, bending over to remove his boots.

Your hand moved to cover your smile, touched with his gesture, and he peered up at you, his face brightening with a grin of his own. He took care to set them by the door and your feet padded soft across the rugged floor; you pressed against his chest and tilted your chin up to find his lips.

They were soft and warm as you remembered; his large hands roamed your body, one that cupped the back of your neck to deepen the kiss and his other gripped into your hip. You moaned into his mouth and his tongue pressed forward to taste you, the slow motion to savor before his kisses trailed your jaw and fell to the junction of your neck. You sighed and melted flush against his chest when he nipped his teeth against your pulse, gooseflesh rippled over your skin that showed.

“My lord,” you breathed, daring to tease him. “You kiss like a man starved.”

He pulled back and you see the upward curl of his bow lips. “My lady,” his voice was low like before. “You, of all people, may simply call me Osferth.”

Your eyes met with the brilliant blue of his own and you saw they still held that same genuineness as before; you reached to trace his jaw and stepped closer still, your lips finding his once again.

His arms wrapped around the small of your waist and picked you up enough for your feet to not touch the floor; you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, enjoying his woodsy musk mixed with sweat and ale.

Osferth was careful to eye the bed and his long steps brought you to the foot of it; you felt his hold relax and once the floor was beneath you, your hands were quick to unfasten his embossed leather and help him remove the albe underneath. You stopped and allowed your eyes to wash over his matured form, the crimson returning to your cheeks.

His broad shoulders only emphasized his slender waist and there was a refined definition to his abdomen, the same tuft of hair across his chest. Your eyes looked over each healed scar that decorated him, as well as the sporadic placement of freckles from where the sun had kissed his pale skin.

That thought, the sight of him emboldened you and your touch was gentle, just a finger to trace the jagged line above his pectoral and you followed it with a kiss. He hummed his pleasure from the tickle of your lips and reached to catch under your chin, bringing your eyes to meet with his own and you see how his pupils swallowed the brilliant blue.

“May I?” He asked and his large palms moved to rest on your hip, on the knot for your dress. He watched you, always adamant for your consent, and you smiled at him. Your hands rest on his own and you helped him untie, allowing the silk to spill onto the floor.

It was his turn to admire you; his eyes looked over your curves, adoring how the silk chemise beneath clung to them, and widened at the sight of your nipples peaking beneath the soft fabric.

His tongue wet his lips, your name a fervent prayer whispered and he pulled you into his arms, flushed against his bare chest and his lips tasting the curve of your neck. You made a noise that was a mixture of a giggle and a hum when his tongue trailed your collarbone, his hot mouth latched to the softness of your chest and left love bites.

“Please, my lady,” you can feel his breath, how his lips curl with his words against your flesh. “Allow me to show you what I have been practicing.”

Your eyebrow arched and he reached for your hem, pulling the silk over your head. You giggled again as your curls spilled onto your shoulders and you felt his large palms clasped onto your waist; there was a quick lurch when he pushed you to fall back against your bed.

He grinned with your almost lyrical laughter, you were bright and flushed and he moved to climb on top of you, kissing every inch of you with a renewed hunger; a soft moan escaped you and his mouth moved lower, stopping only to nip at your hip bone before trailing towards your center.

Osferth nuzzled between your thighs and you felt the blossom of blood when his tongue dragged along your wet slip, then pressed between the top folds and began to flit back and forth against your pearl. You mewled his name, gripping the bedclothes and pushing to your elbows to look down at him; your eyes fogged with pleasure and he pulled back, the dribble of spit that fell from his lips onto your cunt.

He looked at you with a grin that dimpled his cheeks. “I find this better prepares the ladies…” but he trailed off, his focused return to move until his slender fingers touched the wetness with deliberate circles.

Your question to the plural use of ladies died on your tongue, your head fell back against the bed with a moan to the gentle prod of his finger as if he was searching; a louder moan spilled from your mouth and you moved to muffle the sound, but his other hand caught your wrist.

He shook his head. “It is just us,” the grin was still on his lips. “Let me know how this feels for you.”

You were almost wanton from the pleasure that continued to build in your lower abdomen, more vocal with the second finger that curled sinfully within you. He paced himself, the momentum brought you to the precipice of your peak and then his mouth returned, suckling above your entrance. The simultaneous act had you seeing stars.

“Osferth,” you exhaled and he moved to climb on top of you, his mouth finding yours and you moaned from the taste of your release on his lips.

You grabbed his shoulder and pushed him onto his back, your hands moved to the laces and helping him remove his breeches; he was bare and you straddled him, the slickness from your cunt trailed his cock and your palms were flat on him tensed abdomen, holding yourself as he shifted to line up with your silken folds.

Though the stretch was not as severe as the other times, there was still the unmistakable fullness as he slowly sheathed himself into your cunt. You felt the warmth of his palms on your thighs, how they grabbed into their softness and his eyes were watchful for your response, allowing you to adjust.

You realized your fingers dug into the solid plans of his abdomen and you exhaled before you slowly began to rock your hips into him.

He relaxed with your movement, a guttural groan from the back of his throat as he reached deep within your wet heat. You clenched in response, his jaw tensed and his eyes fluttered while your own soft noises came with how he hit your sweet spot.

His hands moved to grab your hips and the rhythm quickened, the coil in your stomach tightened with each pleasurable thrust and your cunt clenched.

You almost whined with its abrupt stop; he pushed himself up and rolled you onto your back, with kisses that tickled your bare chest as he cradled into your hips, pushing into you once more. Your back arched, your fingernails bit into his shoulder and you sighed when his hands came to rest on your hips, rutting into you and the rhythm returned to press upon your sweet spot.

His pace began to build towards your second release and your cunt fluttered around him; he groaned, his hand shifted and his thumb pressed against your bud with a familiarity, matching with the brutal pace of his hips. His touch was the push over, the rolling pleasure causing you to clench with your own release and he followed.

There was a tenderness in the moment, with the slouch of his posture and how it allowed his damp brow to touch against your own. You closed your eyes and enjoyed how your breaths synchronized, enjoying his woodsy musk with sex. When your heartbeat settled, you opened your eyes and he pulled back, the returned curl of his lips and a sweet kiss before he allowed you to move from beneath him.

The basin was filled and you took care to hand him a damp cloth; he was careful to wipe himself and he laid on his side, waiting for you to return. His arm reached to pull you close, to rest your head in his chest and cuddle beneath the quilts; it was the same comfort you remember, the gentle thrum of his heart to your ear.

After a moment, he asked, “My lady, do you ever feel we may have been destined for one another?”

This was a thought you would revisit over the years, whenever you rekindled the shared intimacy of the few nights you two had spent together. Reality always brought you back, for you knew he was damn near a nomad and driven by his bastard status to create something all his own. It was a plight you could relate to, as whoring had not been your own life’s ambition, but you had been able to create from it, a life of comfort and a kinship with the girls.

A haven all your own.

“I believe,” you began, your voice soft and words slow to form on your tongue. “That we all each have our destiny to follow and that we are lucky enough for our paths to cross, from time to time,” and you turned your head, pressing your lips to the underside of his jaw and against his neck, savoring his scent that would linger on your sheets when he would leave you once again. “Please know that you are always welcome whenever you return.”

He did not say anything, but wrapped his arms tighter around and hummed his acknowledgement. You closed your eyes again and relaxed against him, enjoying the soft touch of his fingers as they drew circles on your backside.

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#osferth #osferth fanfic #osferth x you #osferth x female!reader #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #osferth x reader #peace beneath the city #part 2 #silver coins #enjoy #♥#oh and thank you for the follows #i hit 600 #i just adore my tumblr kindred spirits

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daydreaming-in-letters · 1 year

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Kindred Spirit

Part Two - To Love

07/06/2023

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reeja (ofc)

Word Count: 5,848

Warnings: healed wounds/scars, mentions of monsters, language, fluff, unprotected sex

Summary: Geralt awakes at Melitele and finds himself soon after in the nightly gardens of the temple to thank the woman who nursed him back to life.

A/N: I know, I know, it's been ages since I posted the first part and I couldn't blame you if you were sure by now that the second part would never come. But here it is and there are two more planned. I just hope it won't take as long until I finish the next part. 🤞

Divider by @firefly-graphics

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Even before he had opened his eyes, Geralt knew exactly where he was. At first there was the heady scent of incense from the pendulum, eased by the fresh smell of water that was running through the gardens and collected in smaller and larger pools or fountains. The sound and the cool it brought was meant to calm body and mind alike. A deep inhale carried a notion of the medicinal herbs that were planted all over the gardens, riddled with lots of ornamental flowers to bring a little colour and shape to indulge the eyes as well. Slowly the sweet perfume of the flower wreaths that had been left by the temple’s many visitors as an offering to the goddess mixed with the tangy notes of the herbs, accompanied by an equally sweet scent of honey that rose from the warm wax of hundreds of candles placed all over the temple. Melitele.

For many days, he had woken to the familiar scents of the temple. He had been much younger then, at a time that seemed like a whole lifetime ago now. Yet there was hardly anything that could ease his mind like the atmosphere at Melitele. It was rooted deep inside of him, the security and peace this place offered, engraved in his bones to be remembered forever.

Still, something was not quite right about it today. There was something else, something unfamiliar mixing with the usual notes. Geralt couldn’t stop the slight alarm from crawling up on him and forcing his eyes open even though his lids still felt too heavy to abandon his sweet slumber just yet. The rich scent hung heavily in the air that filled the room, clinging to the walls and furniture despite the soft breeze that drifted through the open window. It was everywhere, on the sheets, his pillow, it even stuck to his skin.

Grabbing a fistful of cool cotton, he lifted the covers and inhaled again. Even here, from all over his naked form the unparalleled sweetness filled his nose and made him shiver. It was probably nothing, just his mind playing tricks on him, an aftereffect of the venom.

His jaw clenched as his fingertips found the pink patch of new skin on his abdomen. That fucking arachas. Usually they were not a difficult kill, but this one had been remarkably feisty. It had surprised him in a way, or maybe that was just the lie he chose to tell himself instead of allowing himself the thought that he might be beginning to slow.

With a sigh he sat up, the idea pushed far away to the back of his consciousness for now as the room started to spin for a moment.

“Fuck,” he muttered, one hand fisting the sheets to steady himself while the other reached for his clothes that he had made out from the corner of his eye. They had been washed, mended and neatly folded before someone had placed them on a stool next to his bed. It didn’t surprise him in the least that they too carried the unfamiliar scent. Unfamiliar but pleasant and before he knew what he was doing, he found himself pressing the dark shirt to his face and letting the sweet scent invade his senses once more.

“You’re awake.”

He froze in place, feeling caught even though he had his back turned towards the visitor. There was no shame between him and the woman who had taken him in, taught him the little magic he knew and cared for him more than his mother had ever done, but still he was glad that he had already managed to put on his trousers. He hurried to do the same with his shirt before he turned, a huge smile on his face.

“Nenneke.”

She didn’t return his smile at first, worry clouding her dark eyes instead. “How are you, Geralt?”

“I’ve been better,” he scoffed, a half-smile turning one corner of his lips upward, “but I’d probably be much worse if it weren’t for you.”

“I had no hand in healing your wounds. And to be honest, I don’t think you would be at all if you hadn’t managed to reach Melitele in time.”

Slowly she made her way over to the chair that stood by the open window on the other side of his bed and sat. Geralt was not sure whether she was watching him button up his shirt or if she was observing something on the other side of the door. But he hadn’t even managed to reach the last button, when a whiff of air seemed to follow Nenneke’s path through the room and he knew.

The scent came richer than before, urging him to turn around and he had to steady himself as it rolled over his whole body, so fresh and enticing. His ears picked up a soft hum as well, as sweet as the scent it accompanied, and without noticing his hand lifted to ease along the pair of deep creases between his eyebrows.

“Who—” he started his question, but the words refused to leave his mouth as for a split second, someone came into view. She was gone as quickly as she had appeared, too fast for him to memorise whether she was short or tall, whether her hair was long, blonde or black, there was only one thing apart from her scent his mind had committed to memory: her eyes. They were beautiful, sparkling, but so were others. No, there was something else about them, something deeper, that had drawn him in in the blink of an eye, irrevocably, that had opened him up for her to gaze beyond flesh and bone directly into his heart.

“That’s Adreejana.”

For the second time, Nenneke’s voice startled him and as he turned to find an amused smile on her lips, he could feel the heat crawl into his cheeks.

“She’s the best student I ever had. I introduced her to the studies of healing, her salves and potions are extraordinary. Don’t tell her I said that, but they might even exceed my own. You would still be unconscious and lying in bed with a bad fever if it weren’t for her.”

It took him a while to find his voice again, and even then he only managed to form half a sentence. “So she’s the one—” who nursed me back to life, he had wanted to say, but it would have sounded awfully sentimental for someone like him.

“She is.”

As if the confirmation had made her reappear at the door again, Geralt turned once more. Of course the spot where she had been mere moments ago was empty, still he couldn’t help but stare foolishly at it.

“Why don’t you go talk to her? I know she may seem shy at first, but once you’ve gained her trust, I’m certain you two will find that you have much in common.”

He strongly doubted that. Whatever could he have in common with someone like her? Someone delicate, refined, someone soulful.

It was quiet now in the gardens. Without the sound of birdsong or the buzzing of insects, there was only the soft susurration of the leaves and grass, mixing with the light gurgling of water from the fountains and pools. And a little further away, somewhere in the dark, he could make out a low hum.

It was what he had come for—who he had come for—and still it made him stop in his tracks. He had put this off all day even though his thoughts had revolved around little else. It was ridiculous really to be this nervous about talking to a woman for the first time. He had talked to many women before, had uttered things in the heat of carnal passion he wouldn’t even dare repeat to his brothers, yet here he stood, lost for even a simple expression of gratitude for the person who had healed him and thus saved his life.

With a sigh he finally pushed on, his feet growing heavier with every step and once again, he contemplated turning back around and trying again in the morning, when his eyes made out her form in the deserted garden at last. As he had anticipated, she was harvesting herbs—woolly thyme, lamb’s ear, lavender, sage. Some said it was mere superstition to do so at night. He wasn’t one of them. And neither was she, it seemed, as he watched her go about her work for a while. Skilful hands moved swiftly, yet the movement was of an elegance that only sprung from long experience. She looked so innocent, the world around her forgotten while she had fully emerged herself in her task.

Thanks to the darkness and the fact that her back was turned to him, he still couldn’t make out any distinct features. From what little hair peeked out from underneath the veil that covered it, he could tell it was of a dark colour, probably an earthy tone, and long, ending somewhere just above her behind. And even though the fashion of her dress resembled that of the temple priestesses, its colour, most likely a shade of green, told him that she wasn’t one of them.

Without a sound, Geralt drew closer, eager to discover more details on the way. But all he got was more of her scent, pure, like the rest of her, as the first winter snow. The closer he came, the surer he grew that for the first time, Nenneke must have been mistaken. They had nothing in common, not in the least. On the contrary, it couldn’t have been more obvious that everything about her was a stark contrast to himself, a monster in comparison, his hands having killed so many while hers had probably saved the same amount of lives, or more.

It almost seemed blasphemous to touch her, still he found his hand reaching out for her until his fingertips found the warm skin of her bare shoulder. She jolted, rising to her feet in an instant, but it was only when she turned to face the intruder that Geralt felt her heart speeding up and caught the hitch in her breath. He fully expected her to take a step back to bring some distance between them, but to his surprise she stayed put.

“Geralt!” Her voice was steady, seeming perfectly calm, but then her words chose to betray her. “I mean Master Witcher, um, Mr White Wolf of Rivia, sir.”

“Geralt is fine.” He tried an encouraging smile, but when she didn’t return it, he feared he had messed up. He didn’t have much practice in smiling and more than once he had been told that it could strike more terror than his scowl. The only reaction he could make out was a quick nod.

“Can I help you with anything, Geralt? If you are looking for Nenneke, she’s—”

“I’m not looking for Nenneke.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” Without meaning to, he took a step closer.

“Some medicine then? Is the wound still troubling you?”

Even before her hand reached out, he could sense the movement. It wasn’t consciously made but born from instinct, leading her as far as the black fabric that covered his stomach before her senses came back to life, and she pulled away in a hurry. Wide eyes starred up at him, shocked by her own lack of restraint.

“Actually I was looking for you.”

“For me?”

If it was possible, her eyes grew even wider.

“Yes, for you. Nenneke told me who you are and what you did for me.”

Her mouth opened for a reply, but then she seemed to remember something and averted her gaze. It wasn’t hard to guess which images had come back to her judging from the flustered state she was in and another pleased smile spread across Geralt’s lips.

“I wanted to thank you for your…kindness,” he teased, reeling in the way it almost made her squirm.

“It was nothing.”

They both knew it was far from nothing. She had saved his life.

“You needed help and I knew what to do. Anyone else would have done the same.”

If Geralt had learned anything about mankind, it was that there was no help to expect. Not for a witcher.

“Believe me, they wouldn’t.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other. He wasn’t sure whether to try a smile again, but when he noticed the nervous fiddling of her fingers, he abandoned that idea. Instead, he took the freshly plucked roots she had been twisting and turning from her hands and brought them to his nose.

“Valerian?”

Immediately her face lit up, “You have an understanding of herbs?”, just to fall again when she realised. “Sorry, what a stupid question. Of course you do.”

“A little, yes. Not that my knowledge could ever match yours though.”

Geralt watched her teeth dig into her lower lip, the thread of their conversation slightly slipping from his mind.

“I probably don’t even know half as much as you credit me for.”

“And still it’s obviously more than I do.” He lifted the roots in his hands before putting them back into the basket that was still standing next to her feet. “For example I didn’t know valerian had to be harvested during a full moon.”

His deduction made her chuckle and even though he didn’t know why, he couldn’t help but smile along.

“It doesn’t. I just didn’t find the time during the day.”

“You better don’t keep your sleepless patient waiting then.”

Idiot, he scolded himself. The conversation had just begun to become less awkward and now he was practically sending her away. And judging from her bewildered look, she would be more than eager to escape him. But then her gaze suddenly cleared.

“Ah, no. The valerian is not for a patient.”

“Hm. So it is you who has trouble sleeping then?”

Her eyes fell to the ground. “I do, sometimes.”

“Do you know what I used to do when I couldn’t sleep during my time at the temple school?”

She shook her head. Of course she didn’t know, how could she? And when she lifted her head in hope of an answer, she found his hand already waiting for her to take it.

“Come, I’ll show you.”

There was no hesitation in the way her hand found his. It looked so delicate against his own, glistening in the bright moonlight like a precious jewel. He gave her a moment, waiting for her to reach for her basket, but she didn’t. And so he began to lead her through the nightly garden. Soon they reached one of the inner courtyards which housed a small fountain lined with jasmine. The air was heavy with its intoxicating aroma and he could feel it take a hold of them both.

It was silent here, apart from the string concert of a few cicadas and the steady breathing of his companion behind him. She probably knew where they were headed by now, still she didn’t let go of his hand as he stopped in front of the large wooden door. He listened for a moment, and he only allowed himself to breathe again when his ears didn’t pick up any heartbeats on the other side. With a groan the door gave way and Geralt lead her to the middle of the pitch black room.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear, causing a shiver. And even though his command seemed redundant in a dark room, she did as he had asked of her. “Wait here.”

Soon, the black was replaced by soft hues of gold and orange that danced across her closed lids and she could feel his presence by her side even though she hadn’t heard him approach. The warmth that radiated off his body came closer and she felt it seep through her clothes and underneath her skin long before his chest met her back. Gently his arm rounded her middle until his hand came to rest on her stomach and he pulled her closer. Warm fingers touching her forehead, he guided her head back to rest against him.

“Now open your eyes.”

The soft vibrations of his low voice rumbled through his chest, spreading to her own body, rolling through her to collect deep inside her core, causing a sensation that threatened to unleash in a heady moan, when she obeyed his wish and the sight before her rendered her speechless.

She knew the room, knew the dark blue ceiling with its spots of mother of pearl and gold, but she had never seen it like this. The blue had faded to black in the dim light of the candles, the dancing flames creating a perfect illusion that made her feel as if she was gazing straight through the ceiling, up into the night sky with a million of twinkling stars.

“This is my favourite room at Melitele. I used to sneak in here many nights during my time here.”

It was his voice again. There was something about it that made her foolish and what made it even more dangerous was that it stopped her from caring. And so she closed her eyes and allowed her head to tilt towards the warmth of his cheek until she could feel the tickle of his scruff against her skin.

“I think it is something about this artificial sky, it offers a strange sense of peace.”

She hummed in agreement, her cheek moving against his in a gentle caress and his fingers pressed further into her stomach in a wordless answer.

“If people knew, they’d surely come here more often.” Not simply because of the view, but because of his connection to it. “You are quite the legend inside these walls.”

She could feel him stiffen against her back. “It seems I have quite the reputation outside of these walls as well,” he scoffed.

“Really? I didn’t know that. I don’t leave this place often. What do people say?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“No,” she finally whispered after a moment of consideration, wiping away the tension from his body with just one word. “I’d rather like to find out who you are by myself.”

He would have noticed much sooner, but the hand that found his neck distracted him for a moment. The heat it brought spread through his whole body, pulsing through him without restraint until the blooming desire made him dizzy. But even through the white noise that clouded his ears, he could hear it loud and clear. He also felt it, against his chest as much as underneath his fingertips, beating wildly and faster with every breath she took. There was also this scent, heady and bewitching as it evaporated from her skin freely, and he knew that it meant one thing and one thing only. She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her.

Assured by the unmistakable signs her body sent him, his hand began to wander, following the call of heat south, a heat he felt growing stronger in the valley of her thighs with every heartbeat. The grip on his neck tightened as his fingers finally reached their destination. Everything about her was ready to give in, her legs slightly spreading, allowing him more room to venture further, her lips falling apart in a gasp, aching to meet his, so close now, when the spell suddenly broke and she drew away.

His instincts told him to follow her and for the first time in forever he felt they had betrayed him when she took another step back, away from him. And so he stopped, ready to apologise and bid her goodnight. He had seen this many times, people, women, shying away from him as soon as they realised what he was. By now, he didn’t take it personal anymore. The fear in their eyes had lost its power to break his heart long ago.

But it wasn’t fear he found when her eyes met his again. At least not of him. For once, someone hadn’t fled his touch because they thought he was a monster. She was afraid of herself, afraid of giving in to her own desire.

Patiently he waited until her breathing slowed and when he took another step towards her, she didn’t shy away again. To be fair, she wouldn’t have come far anyway with one of the large pillars that supported the ceiling almost right behind her. But the smell of honeyed nectar that began to pool at the apex of her thighs as he drew in on her promised that she didn’t want to go anywhere.

She was so close now, his chest almost touching hers, the heat of her laboured breaths slipping past the buttons of his shirt to tease the hair that covered his pecs and stomach. He inhaled deeply to steady himself, a mistake, he realised at once as another strong wave of her arousal flooded his senses. One hand reaching for the cool stone behind her to keep him from crushing into her, his eyes fell closed as the world began to spin.

“Geralt?”

He wasn’t sure what caused his eyes to snap open again, the worry in her voice or the touch of her hand, squeezing his own. He thought he was dreaming as he watched her while she slowly lifted it to her face to cup her cheek. She was soft as silk against his touch and soon he found himself exploring more of her, fingertips gliding along her jaw, her chin, her lips. Somewhere along the way her eyes had fallen shut, her lips parted and she was his.

He was hers too, although he couldn’t tell when exactly it had happened. Had it been when he had first laid eyes on her, that brief moment after he had regained consciousness? Or had it been while he had watched her work, the moonlight washing over her form and making her glow? Or was it now that his lips touched hers for the first time, barely even so, careful, probing, then deeper, more intimately until her arms and legs wrapped around him and they tasted each other fully, breathed each other in as if they could do the impossible and become one.

Not here though, not in an act of fleeting passion against a stone pillar. He wanted to enjoy this, wanted her to enjoy this, to celebrate whatever it was that was blooming between them, all night long. And then all morning, all afternoon and evening and then all night again, until they were blissed out and spent.

And so he carried her to his room, her lips not once leaving his until he had set her down on her feet again. Gently he took her hands from his neck and brought them to his mouth to kiss her fingertips.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Adreejana.”

“Call me Reeja, please.”

“Reeja.” A shiver washed over her skin as his lips and tongue caressed her name, speaking it with a softness no one ever had. “What else do you want me to do?”

She pondered his question for a while, aching to feel him close again, to kiss him, and yet there was something that would make all of this even sweeter.

“Undress yourself.”

She had expected him to raise his brows in astonishment or at least tease her a little for her request, but he did nothing of the sort. He simply did as she had asked of him, starting with the buttons of his shirt. Reeja remained close, watching as determined hands yanked the dark fabric out of his trousers before it glided from his wide shoulders and fell to the ground. He didn’t stop, not one second of hesitation as his fingers repeated their actions on his trousers and they, too, fell away to reveal every last bit of him.

Geralt watched the same twitch in her hand that he had seen earlier tonight when she had asked after his wound, but this time, he hoped, she wouldn’t pull away.

“Go ahead, nothing you haven’t touched before.”

The sensation of her caress tempted him to close his eyes when her fingers finally found his skin, but even more he wanted to see them move, wanted to watch her explore his body, no matter how much it would cost him not to go insane with want while doing so.

The movement of her hand mirrored that of her other, tracing the lines of his shoulders and clavicles until her fingers touched right underneath the dip where his neck and chest met and ventured further down to graze through his silky fur. She let them rest there for a while, her right hand close to his heart.

“I always thought a witcher’s heartbeat is supposed to be much slower than a humans.”

“It usually is,” he smirked.

“Oh.”

She was adorable when she was flustered and he couldn’t help his hand from gliding into her hair to bring her lips to his again. All senses dazed by his kiss, he could feel her touch loosing grip and her hands began to drift down his stomach. Lazily they followed the slight up and down of his muscles, moving closer to the prominent V that lined his hips when they came to an abrupt stop and then left his skin altogether.

Bewildered by the sudden absence of her touch, Geralt broke the kiss to search her eyes for the reason of her retreat.

“Does it still hurt?”

It was clear that he didn’t understand, his eyebrows knitting even closer together than before her question.

“Your scar.”

He still looked a little puzzled, but then he followed the line of her finger that pointed at the latest edition to his collection. It was hardly any different from the many other scars that decorated his skin, only a touch of light rose hinted at the fact that it was the most recent of them all.

“No, it doesn’t.” He hadn’t even noticed a difference when her fingers had crossed it. And even now, when they found the freshly healed wound again, her touch didn’t cause any discomfort. On the contrary.

“I’m afraid it will stay though.”

Slowly his hand pushed across hers, sealing it in place.

“Good, it will forever remind me of your kindness. The mind tends to forget, but scars remember everything.”

“I know.” Her voice was but a mere whisper, her eyes suddenly avoiding him once more and when she freed her hand from underneath his, he let her. Shaky fingers began to unclasp the plaited leather belt that set on her hips before they travelled up to the simple golden fibula on her shoulder, the only thing that held her dress in place. By now her hands were trembling so violently that it kept gliding out of her fingers over and over again.

“May I?”

It seemed that her words had abandoned her once more, still she consented with a nod and Geralt was quick to finish the task for her. He could have watched forever as the olive fabric cascaded down her form, like a curtain, falling instead of rising, to reveal what his eyes had longed so much to see. The moment was over too soon, but the effect grew stronger by the second, until every single fibre of his body was fighting the urge to sink his fingertips into her skin to feel her, all of her, inch by inch by inch.

Instead he forced himself to look up into her eyes again. She was about to turn when he caught something in her gaze that sent a cold shiver down his spine. And then he understood. Almost all of her back was covered in a huge, angry burn mark, spreading all the way from her shoulders down to her pelvis. Simply imagining the pain it must have caused her made his stomach turn and red heat course through his veins. He wanted to touch her, to soothe the memory of the pain however long ago it might have subsided, but then he remembered how hesitant she had been to touch his scars and halted midway.

“It’s appalling, I know,” she spoke lowly, and he knew he had messed up again, his hesitation leading her to believe that he was repulsed.

“No, it’s not. Not in the least. Nothing about you could ever be appalling to me.”

She sighed and he knew she didn’t believe him even before she spoke again. “Then why did you pull away?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

A myriad of emotions washed over her face at once and Geralt hadn’t identified them all when she took his hand and brought it closer to her face. Softly her fingertips glided along his palm, inspecting it as if she could measure whether his hand held any danger.

“You would never.”

No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. And he was eager to show her when she guided his hand to her back and placed it right in the center of her scar. He was astonished how smooth it was, silky and soft like the rest of her skin. The tissue was nothing like the scars on his body, not bulgy or messy to show at first glance how much the wounds had hurt. But he knew all too well the agony she must have been through.

“What happened?”

She turned in his arms, burying her face in the crook of his neck, and he pulled her tightly against himself.

“Let the past be the past. Just for tonight. I promise to tell you another time. But for now I’d rather forget about it.”

“Then let me help you forget.”

The touch of her lips was light, barely even palpable against his strong pulse, but he hadn’t just imagined it and it was all the confirmation he needed. He left an open mouthed kiss on the top of her shoulder, his tongue darting out to taste the salted honey of her skin. A few inches away, he repeated his movement, venturing further with every kiss until he had reached the exact spot her lips had met his skin mere seconds ago and a loud moan broke the silence as he began to tend to her sensitive flesh. It was heaven and he needed more of it. Luckily he knew how to get it, not wasting a single second to let his fingers glide right into the heat they had tasted before. Slick with arousal, she welcomed him in, sharp nails digging into his shoulder the further he ventured.

“Geralt,” she breathed, sending a flash of lightning straight to his loins that coaxed an unholy grunt from the depths of his chest. “If you keep on using that technique I will have forgotten even my name come morning.”

He stopped immediately, a deep chuckle telling of his amusement as he softly removed his fingers.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

She had wanted to reply something witty, but when the two glistening fingers he had pleasured her with vanished in between his lips with a delighted hum, her mind went completely blank. Speechless she watched as he walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, his massive chest bouncing enticingly in the process. If he had already registered her dumbfounded state, he didn’t let on. Not even the slightest hint of a self-satisfied smirk played on his lips as he extended his hand and bade her join him.

He had probably anticipated she would take the place next to him, but she chose to climb his lap instead. She could feel him against herself, hard and heavy, twitching in anticipation as she pulled herself even closer against him. There was a need in his kiss she hadn’t felt there before. But not only in his kiss, it was in his hands, too, as they eagerly grabbed her behind and guided her up and down. It matched her own, matched the growing heat inside of her, from a fire only he could quench.

“Have you…have you been with a man before?”

“With men, yes. But never with someone like you.”

“A mutant?” He didn’t know why he had assumed that was what she meant, a reflex probably. But it made her stop and that was the last he had wanted.

“No,” she laid her palm against his cheek, her eyes holding his intently, “a gentle soul. A kindred spirit.”

“Reeja.”

His voice was shaky, overwhelmed by the goodness her heart held. And thankful for it because maybe it was that very goodness that made her see beyond what everyone else saw in him and helped her fathom the goodness in his own heart. And however little of it still remained, it was hers, entirely hers.

“Geralt,” she moaned his name as she aligned his tip with her entrance and lowered herself in an agonisingly slow pace. Their names were the last that was spoken. There was no room for more words, all they needed was to feel. Feel the way he filled her so perfectly as if they were made for each other, feel the velvet of her walls embracing him tightly, welcoming him deeper with every slow roll of her hips. It was anguish and delight, they were delirious, lost in each other and yet they had never been more at peace.

Every kiss, every thrust they celebrated with the longing of the first and the hesitancy to let go of the last, their bodies completely tangled in each other after he had turned them both over. She was writhing underneath him, drawing him down against her to feel more of his delicious weight on her. Grunts and groans, mewling and moaning filled the silence of the night, rising, rising, rising until they both came apart in each others arms. Once, twice, losing count somewhere in the spiral of desire and satisfaction long before morning came.

For Geralt’s taste, it came far too soon. His limbs were still entangled with Reeja’s, impossible to unravel. Not that he had wanted to. He loved to lie here, nestled in between her breasts, her fingers woven into his hair to keep him close. In the still of the approaching morning he could hear her heartbeat against his ear. Steady now, needing the peace after the heated passion of the past night. He pushed the thought aside for the moment as it threatened to fan the embers of his desire anew, but he didn’t want to wake her. There would be time enough to spoil her again after she had rested.

He smiled when he recalled the original plan to leave as soon as his wound had healed. Everyone always chided him for not allowing his body to properly restore itself. Maybe it was time to try something new and listen to them, just this once. Just to make sure.

***

Tag List: If your name is crossed out, I wasn’t able to tag you. If you don’t specify which fic you want to be tagged in, you will be added to my general taglist.

@summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @dorothea-hwldr @omgkatinka @ashesofblackroses @amberangel112 @icarusblinders @zealoushound @asuni921 @endofalldays01 @nerra75 @indigosaurus @nowyouseeme098 @cap-just-said-language @miss-rebel-without-applause @wheretheriversrunintothesea @maan24 @mochionly @introvertedmouse @sofiebstar @kebabgirl67 @elizabetharegina @littleone65 @thoughtfullyfurryangel @mimi-just-living @themanfromu @liecastillo @capncassas @evansabove1981 @luclittlepond @geralts-yenn @beck07990 @agniavateira @enchantedbytomandhenry @lumiousmoon @tumblnewby @crazybutconfidentaf @viking-raider @thorins-queen-of-erebor @aletheladyinred @fvckinghenrycavill @atomicr4ven @queenofstarsanddarkness

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher fanfiction #henry cavill #kindred spirit

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yuwumeniji · 2 years

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Luxiem & Vibes

WARNING: Please remember that I am writing about Luxiem based on their characters online and not of the people behind their vtuber avatars, thank you!

EXTRA NOTES: just something short and sweet so that i don't forget how to write lmao

GENERAL

a different writing layout! the dividers aren't present due to the shortness of length!

i cant be bothered to colour the names too differently (sorry boss)

just general vibes lmao, try figuring out what part of their personality (lore wise + minor details from their livestreams) i'm referencing ^^

MORE UNDER THE CUT

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

IKE EVELAND

a quiet campus library near exams season

you can feel how stressed out the students are in the library, yet there seems to be this air of serenity still

quiet clacking of keys, the quick flutters of papers and the smell of monster energy drinks mixed with an unhealthy amount of espresso

LUCA KANESHIRO

a dark alleyway in an otherwise dazzling street at night

neon signs, cigarette smoke and whistling all masking away the darkness within the city's brilliant lights

the lion's eyes watching as its prey walks by

MYSTA RIAS

a forest meadow surrounded by fire

the otherwise serene scenery is surrounded by chaos as the flames crept closer

the smell of burnt wood, the green hues withering away and the sun feeling as if it was shining even brighter. one may say that this is just fine

SHU YAMINO

a cemetary in the middle of the night.

they say if you enter the cemetary at a certain hour, many souls could be found wandering around the graves

eerie stillness, leaves rustling and the suspicious chuckling that could be heard across the graveyard

VOX AKUMA

sailing in the middle of the ocean during a still night.

no one knows what could be lurking under the waters or could tell how violent the waves could be, yet there seems to be comfort in the unknown

waves crashing against the otherwise still boat, the chilling salty air and the serene scenery of ocean for miles on end

#yuwrote #ok this is rushed RUSHED because i didnt let this rot in my drafts lmao #if youre reading this still - answer key!!! or at least why these vibes #for ike; i remember him talking about an energy drink addiction and it reminded me of my own that i developed after uni exams #hence the espresso bit lmao #for luca; it's his bright personality but his lore as a mafia boss #for mysta: how chaotic he is vs the idea that he is a genius detective #i mean you can be a genius and still be chaotic BUT DEAR LORD THE GAP MOE.....#as for shu: the souls bit. im referencing his flames (i think theyre souls ?? if i remember correctly??)#wow yuwu fake yaminion /j #and for vox; the idea that the waves could be violent. i can picture vox as a boat and the kindred as the waves that keep him afloat #the waves could suddenly turn violent #yadayayadayada it sounds super pretentious of me LMAO but i hope the message got across #luxiem x reader #nijisanji en luxiem #luxiem imagine #luxiem drabble #nijisanji en #ike eveland x reader #ike eveland #luca kaneshiro x reader #luca kaneshiro #mysta rias x reader #mysta rias #shu yamino x reader #shu yamino #vox akuma x reader #vox akuma

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writeshite · 2 years

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The Rest Of Life Is Canceled

Summary:

You’ll make so many memories, they said. Yes, well, memories shouldn’t include the dead being, not dead, and great uncle Jordan crawling his ass out of his grave and coming for your ankles.

Pairings:

Daryl Dixon x Male Reader

Tags:

Angst | Death - It's The Apocalypse |

Words: 1185

Author's Note:

I'm sorry that I put out the masterlist and then didn't update or upload a chapter this whole damn time 😭✋��

Series Masterlist

Travel, they said.

It’ll be fun, they said.

You’ll make so many memories, they said.

Yes, well, memories shouldn’t include the dead being, not dead, and great uncle Jordan crawling his ass out of his grave and coming for your ankles. Said man’s brains currently being the lovely decoration on your pants, you tried not to think about that, though, scrubbing furiously at the garments - the house was empty, the others had adopted the everyone for themselves mentality rather quickly. You’d barricaded the door just after bashing great uncle Jordan’s head into a pulp, then the windows, and then raided the kitchen for whatever food was left behind. Great aunt Lydia was scratching at the back door, her face less decomposed after uncle Stevens had hacked her for the general store’s keys - though you doubted he’d find anything there - your phone service was weak, and the updates from Britain had stopped an hour ago.

Sammy: There’s someone outside; hold on….

You: Don’t let them in.

You: Sammy?

You: Sammy?!

You: Sammy?! Samantha!!!!

Sammy’s been radio silent, but even if she responded, you doubt you’d get it now. The grime on your pants wasn’t coming off, and your scrubbing was growing more frustrated; you nearly screamed, tossing the pants back into the red-stained bathwater - great aunt Lydia had moved to beneath the bathroom window, you peeked out, and she lifted her hands. At least she was wearing her favorite sundress; you scoffed at your thought - as if putting her down would be made better by that. But that was tomorrow’s problem; right now, you needed some new pants.

Dinner consisted of yesterday’s leftover spaghetti and meatballs, a silent affair; Martha’s CD collection kept you well entertained. You slept in your room; door barricaded, a gun nearby, and a bat in your arms. Great aunt Lydia went down easy; her old bones could never quite keep up in life; you buried her and uncle Jordan just round back - there was nothing more for you to do, so you packed whatever you could carry; necessities - clothes, food, medicine, water - sentimentalities - books, a family picture, card, things that you’d hoped wouldn’t weigh you down too much - and left.

You strolled through town on your way out; most of the cars were gone; those left were turned over, crashed into each other and the buildings around. The general store was wide open, shelves empty; you took what little they had to offer before continuing - skid marks led you out, where one or two cars lay on their sides. Your recognized one as uncle Stevens, his body lay at an unnatural angle, half hanging from the windshield. His car was a trove of resources - too much for you to carry in one go, so you settled for what you could and left as the pooling blood began to attract the undead.

Day one was quiet. Being on the road was nice; the non-existent traffic was a nice change, you swung your bat leisurely, and the houses were in abundance; you camped out in them, racking up what resources you could - preferably before sunset - somewhere after the power lines died, you encountered your first swarm, they huddled together along the streets, you’d watched them from an upstairs window, terrified out of your mind as they passed. The larger crowd dispersed a few days later, leaving only a few behind; you stayed where you were for an extra day, though, anxiety bubbling at the surface at every noise. Day nine saw you leave that home; day ten, nothing new. Day eleven, you camped out in the woods and couldn’t sleep a wink. Day thirteen, no more hot showers in abandoned houses. Day seventeen, no significant changes.

Day twenty-three, you find a group - nice folk - you don’t stick around them for long, one of their own was bit, and they don’t look ready to accept she’s a goner.

“It’s like a scratch; it’ll heal.” Jemma, the leader, had said, confident in her words, she attempted to reassure you, but you shook your head. Medicine had been your major, but even an idiot could see the bite mark wasn’t healing; it looked closer to a festering, skin raised and a sickly shade; you’d briefly taken a look at it, before realizing it was dead skin. Necrosis was spreading, and you’d told them such. “Look, she’s not like those things; she’s safe. You’re safe.”

She being Jemma’s daughter, Mary, her arm was out of its sling, no longer appearing like a broken limb; she held it close to her; the swelling had gone down, but the antibiotics were on their last leg. Her upper arm looked detached, and you’d probably guess the muscle there was already deteriorating - her body was already doing the same, and by the bloodshot tear-stained eyes, she could feel every bit of it.

“I’m sorry,” you turned away, and Jemma grimaced. They didn’t need a medic; they needed someone to lie to them, hold Mary’s hand and tell her she’d be right as rain in a few days and that her wrists weren’t going to snap off when her skin started to rot. You couldn’t give them that, not even with the best intentions, you’d had the pleasure of never having watched a person succumb to the bite - you’d seen the after, documented the effects and behavior as you went from place to place. They were slow, enough that you could outpace them, but not in a swarm; the numbers would overwhelm you in seconds; drawn to light and sound, they could also distinguish the living alarmingly well.

Jemma’s remains find you on day fifty-nine, or rather, you find her, legs clean off; she crawls towards you, and you step away before she can reach. Mary is nowhere to be found, though you suspect she might have been the sunken head in the river a few miles back; the rest of their group is equally absent, but you don’t stick around to look for them. Autumn comes and goes; you celebrate Halloween when you think it is, and the little bag of candy brightens up your day a little. Winter passes by, and you miss the warmth of heaters. Come spring, you bump into a stranger; well, bump is a generous word; you’re both looking for food, and there isn’t much to go around.

He’s spruced up in uniform, a sheriff badge on display; you’re not drawing guns at each other yet, more eyeing the other for suspicious activity. You’re holding your bat, held out towards him as your other hand hovers over your gun; he does the same, hand on his holster, slowly treading away from his horse.

“I’m not here to fight,” he says, and you eye him suspiciously.

“You sure? Cause you look ready to shoot.”

“Just want some food, is all,” he replies. You keep eyeing each other before coming to a silent agreement, reluctantly, you lowered your weapon, and you went about dividing the food. “Rick,” he mumbles his name.

You do the same, and he offers a hand, “Heading down to Atlanta, wouldn’t mind the company.”

End Note:

Am I writing two different series at the same time? Yes. My brain does its best work under stressful circumstances it should not. Stay Hydrated.

#daryl dixon x male reader #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead imagine #kindred spirits series #i'm avoiding homework by writing fanfic again

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italian-love-cake · 1 year

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Heya, Kindred! Since some of us are over here now, I'm just gonna put my self-proclaimed Magnum Opus fic for MiBoss right here.

Finally, some good fuckin' MiFood is coming to this platform, I'm so excited to see everyone's stuff.

#vox akuma #kindred #vox akuma x reader #vox akuma x you #archive of our own #ao3 #i wrote a thing #boss akuma #miboss #akumasutra #kinfiction #vox akuma x kindred

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sapphira-mydnyte · 8 months

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Kindred Spirits

<Contains: Fluff, sadness, mention of murder & will cause an outburst of crying. PLEASE HAVE TISSUES READY!>

{WARNING: This fic is entirely in the Lucinda font, which is cursive & is also in green like Slytherin house, so this will also be bright.}

(The screenshot is mine, so you may absolutely reblog this fic or go to AO3 or Wattpad & read it there.)

The minute you ask him which books have the "non-standard spells" you make everything in him start jumping with happiness. He hasn't felt "wanted for who he is" it seems, for a long time. You chose to pay attention to him & show that you want to know more than what the school will teach you, just as he does. You've excited the proud young Scotsman & he shows it to you. He is the most loved boy in his house & very well-liked among most of the students, even praised by the professors for being a bright child, despite his detention record.

The desire to teach lies within him because of his parents, as they were professors themselves, but the minute you show interest in the darker spells, it fills him with more happiness than he'd ever want to admit in the open. Of all the students in the school, he is the most understanding of them all, as he loves learning about the ancient magic just as much as the dark arts. Arriving safely after escaping a dragon has certainly got him wondering what made you so special, but he doesn't doubt your abilities in magic, no matter how strange they are to you.

If anything, he finds you a wonder worthy protecting & deserving of everything that the school won't teach you. Such rare magic would be sought after & killed for, which something Sebastian knows of all too well what with his own best friend being a parselmouth. Ominis would be hunted down & killed just because of what he is & Sebastian doesn't wish such a fate on those who are different for any given reason. You, on the other hand, have a magic even rarer than Ominis' serpentine power. Confrontation with foes seeking your power is certain & as Sebastian learns of you strange power, it doesn't take him long to get himself ready to teach you the three unforgivable curses. It's not a matter of "if" it's a matter of "when" & Sebastian, being the best duelist of the school, cares so much about you that he takes upon himself to make sure you have the unforgivable curses to use if you absolutely need them.

Knowledge is power & Sebastian has it in spades, but he also has a very loving heart. He doesn't want to take over the world, he doesn't want his best friend killed & he certainly doesn't want his sister, nor you to die. Life has many battles & he's been through many a goblin attack in his own hamlet, but your opponents will be far stronger & he's willing to give you the darker magic to take them out as you see fit. The dark arts & ancient magic... two of the most misunderstood & seemingly villainous types of power... are given a chance to be understood & used for good in Sebastian's eyes.

In his eyes, if your willing to learn the dark arts, then he's willing to learn what your ancient magic is. He'd rather see his sister cured by it than use the dark arts, but since so little is known about the ancient magic, he feels safer in going for the dark arts, which is understandable since there's more on the curses anyway. He gives you the 3 most powerful spells & all he asks for in return? His sister to be healed... knowing the ancient magic, if left untainted, isn't dark magic at all & something she'd be wiling to have for a cure.

Spare him punishment & tell him who really hurt his beloved sister? You will have won his heart, but... if Anne is cured... then you will have earned him as a boyfriend... possibly Ominis as well depending on how things unfold in the future. 1 boyfriend or 2? With Sebastian, he won't care, because that choice is up to you. ♥

#sebastian sallow #king of curses #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy sebastian #slytherin #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow fic #slytherin fic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #kindred spirits fic #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfic

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eupheme · 1 month

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— trouble will find me

[part ii | masterlist]

bodyguard!logan x mobster’s daughter!reader

rated e - 3k

tags: 70s era, dofp/bonedaddy!logan, bodyguard!logan, reader is the daughter of a mobster, reader is shorter than Logan, club setting, use of alcohol, cigar smoking, mutual pining, flirting, light brat taming!logan, references to violence, competence kink, semi-public vaginal fingering, kissing, forbidden relationship

a/n: I can’t stop thinking about dofp!logan sleeping with the girl he’s guarding, this is inspired by that scene! huge thank you to @pr0ximamidnight who let me chit chat about this little idea. you are amazing! 💖💕

His eyes darken. Fingers pinching against your skin, as he adjusts his grip, “‘s a bad idea, sweetheart. Supposed to keep you out of trouble.”

Your hands skate lower, fingers tracing the edge of his belt buckle. His nostrils flare - a warning, though he does not move.

“Supposed to keep me out of trouble,” You hum, “But what if I want a little in me?”

You can feel his eyes follow you.

Which shouldn’t really be surprising. It's his job, of course. Keep an eye on you, keep you safe.

But there’s something in the way he watches.

A curl of smoke from a lit cigar. Fingers tracing the rim of a half-downed whisky, a worn leather jacket thrown over a broad shoulder. The tilt of his chin when your eyes meet his - dark and narrowed, missing nothing. Slipping over you like the soft silk of your dress.

Indulging, almost. Unashamed.

You might have a crush.

You're trying not to think about it too much.

Tonight, you're just trying to enjoy the after-party.

It's all bright lights.

The room is bathed in pinks and yellows and flashing red. Disco club music pumped through the speakers, the panels of the floor flickering to the beat. You've been here for two hours already. Nursing tequila sunrises and pink squirrels. Sweat sticking to the nape of your neck, as the minutes tick by, bleeding past midnight.

He's not going to stop you, just yet. You can have your fun tonight - sway to the beat of the music - as long as you play by the rules.

Logan is so different from the ones before him.

Tripping over their feet to check on you. Breathing down your neck, with their padded-shoulder suits smelling like cigarettes and cheap cologne. Too afraid for themselves, of your father, to actually do a good job of protecting you.

Stifling and all too willing to tell you yes to anything.

It was exhausting.

Logan had come recommended - an acquaintance of a friend. He'd 'get the job done' from what you heard. Motivated. Needed the cash and would listen, no questions asked.

Just the type your father thought he could sway - a half-wild guard dog, his salary a leash. Heeling at the click of a tongue, the snap of fingers.

It's not how you saw him, though.

His silence was not obedience. There was nothing bought about this man - watching you from the line of leather booths along the wall.

You've wondered if maybe - you're just desperate to find some form of kindred spirit in someone. Too used to feeling like an accessory instead of a person. Your appearance at your father's events drove home his image. The good, family man who was oh so generous with his time and money.

Articles were written weekly about how philanthropic he was.

You had no idea if anything ever came from the numerous events you hosted - an attempt at doing something with your education. How much was skimmed off your blood, sweat, and tears, funneled back into what he did best.

Maybe you both saw through the bullshit.

He'll last longer than the others, at least.

More than once you've been halfway out the door, headed off to East Village or SoHo, only for him to catch you by the scruff of your sweater - whisking you back inside or into the Lincoln Town Car before you realized what happened.

An angry fist connecting with the nose of a man who had gotten too close at a gala last week. Cornering you in the coat room. Logan, charging in like a snarling beast when you had whimpered his name - red dripping down to stain the pressed white collar as the man was hauled away.

You’ve been thinking about that for days.

There was no sucking up. No flashing of a holster under his arm, some grandiose promise that you don't need to worry. You've never even seen Logan near a weapon but somehow, you feel more safe with him than you ever have with anyone else.

But this bit of internal tenderness that has sprouted, paired with his competency, has been seriously cramping your style.

It’s been enough that he's been hard to get out of your mind. Two weeks of teasing and poking at the limits set. Never giving you much, with that glare - thick arms crossed over his chest. A little thrill rippling up your spine, when his voice goes low and gruff.

The lights go dim, as the music begins to slow.

With the way your eyes wander, you know he sees you when you pick up a partner.

A man that moves with you, peeling off to crowd your space after your hips swivel with the hustle. His hand dipping low from where it rests on the small of your back.

Bold, when he bends to ask you 'if you'd like to get out of there'.

You meet Logan's eyes when you tell him yes.

Telling yourself that it's just to forget him. Definitely not because you're desperate to see the look on his face. To hear that tone he takes when he's pissed off.

A way to ascertain if you've taken root in his mind, even for just a moment.

There's zero chance Logan heard you from across the room. But it doesn't stop him from moving. Pushing to his feet, cutting straight through the crowd to wrap a hand around your bicep the second you start peeling off with the stranger - heading towards the side door.

"No fucking chance." It's gritted out, as he yanks you to him. Your shoulder collides against his chest as he steps between you and the man.

A sloppy hand pushes against his arm. The man's eyes are hazy under the neon lights as he makes a grab for you.

"Come on, man. I saw her first."

Logan pivots you away with a snarl, "She ain't leaving with you, bub."

Another sloppy shove, glancing off the brown leather jacket.

"You're really starting to piss me off." Logan's tone drips with warning, with knowing, "Gonna regret starting something in a room full of people like this."

And it's now that he takes in how big Logan is. The flex of splayed-wide fingers, knuckles curling into a clenched fist. A look in his eye that says that punches won't be pulled - not tonight.

The stranger takes a step back. It's enough.

You're already getting hauled away before they can answer. Guided into one of the many VIP rooms. A snarled "get the fuck out of here" to the attendant, before Logan's crowding you against the bar - hands bracing on his hips.

Fuming, you push yourself up to sit on the top - an attempt to get closer to his height.

"What was that about?" Your chin lifts, as your arms cross.

His eyes flash - a curl of his lip, "Can't you make my job easy, kid?"

Kid. It always makes you bristle. So far from that, and it's the way he says it. That dripping edge, like he knows something you don't.

"Maybe he was a friend." You deadpan.

"Yeah. Real friendly," He scoffs, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose, "You think your daddy is gonna like you going home with a piece of shit like that?"

That makes your teeth clench - a glare sent his way, "I don't think it's any of your business."

"It's literally my business, sweetheart." Logan huffs. His hands curl around the edge of the bar, braced on either side of your knees.

Your breathing hitches, for just a second. The soft name is ground out between his teeth, but it still shoots straight to your pussy.

You haven't been this close to him before. Enough to see the bleed of brown to green in his hazel eyes. The sharp mark between his brows that you want to press your thumb against.

The shorn-down hair at his chin, before it grows thick across his cheeks. Handsome in a way that makes you ache, your fingers curling into fists to keep from touching him.

There's been moments alone - car rides, lounging in the armchair in the corner of your room when he barks at you to hurry up.

But it hasn't been like this.

Maybe it's the opportunity. Maybe it's the amber glitter of tequila in your veins, but you let your palms press against the shining wood. Your knees inch a little further apart, the hem of your dress riding up your thighs.

"That the only reason you whisked me away?” Your eyebrow lifts, "Kidnapping, if I recall, is one of the things you're supposed to be keeping me safe from."

"You are safe." He deflects, "'s not kidnapping when it's me.”

Those eyes are still on yours. Not dropping to where his hips nearly press against the edge of the bar top.

You break the eye contact first.

“Well, it’s fine.” You sniff - as if his actions had been your idea, “I didn’t want him anyways.”

Logan grunts. There’s the slightest brush - the flex of his thumb at your thigh, where your dress rides up. A long look before he’s pushing back to step away, but your fingers reach out, catching on his white shirt.

“Are you going to ask me what I do want?”

There’s the slightest twitch of his nose. Lips parting to show the peek of a tongue, caught between teeth. The briefest dip of his eyes. Down to the shadow between your breasts, pressed together as you lean forward to catch him.

“I know what you want, sweetheart.” He rasps, “Not gonna happen.”

The rejection stings, and you pout, “What isn’t?”

A sigh, and he’s stepping back into your space. Your hand flattens against his stomach, hard muscles beneath as his head tilts.

“You want a man to take you home. Treat you nice.” Logan’s eyes burn into you. Wide hands curving around your knees, thumbs pressing into flesh, “I’m not that guy.”

You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat. How it thunders to the beat of the music muted outside this room. Dropping down to pulse between your thighs.

Wondering if he’s thought about you, the way you have him. How he could both see and miss so much at once.

“You’re wrong,” Your head shakes, “I don’t want that.”

A breath, before you’re confessing, ”I want you.”

Logan's eyes darken. Fingers pinching against your skin, as he adjusts his grip.

“‘s a bad idea, sweetheart. Supposed to keep you out of trouble.”

Your hands skate lower, fingers tracing the edge of his belt buckle. His nostrils flare - a warning, though he does not move.

“Supposed to keep me out of trouble,” You echo, “But what if I want a little trouble in me?”

The smile you give him is sweet, a tilt of your head as he catches your hand. Thick fingers curl at your wrist, holding your hand in place. A thumb pressed up against your pulse.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me.” He rasps, voice low.

You’re undeterred.

“Could get on my knees.” You coo, “You could show me. Would you like that?”

Logan’s jaw grits. His grip loosens just long enough to feel your wrist flex - before he guides your hands, pressing your palms flat against the polished wood.

“It’s not going like that,” He husks. The tone is the same as when he’s ordering you around, one that makes your back go straight, “Those are staying right there. Got that, honey?”

All you can do is nod, as his hands skate up your thighs. Fingers massaging into flesh, soft and smooth as he eases them wider apart. Fitting himself closer between them.

The way he looks at you now is the way he did before.

Focused, as your dress inches higher. The fabric pooling at your hips as they tilt toward him, the pretty lace between your thighs now on display.

“Look at you,” His tongue clucks. A finger tracing the elastic edge, as you clench in anticipation, “Need this, don’t you?”

Drifting across, a thumb pressing against the fabric. It sends a jolt through you, your fingers almost reaching for him before you remember.

“Good girl.” He muses, as your hands flatten again.

The slightest pressure as the pad of his thumb slips up. Nudging against your clothed clit, as you inhale a sharp breath.

Pressing, and circling. It’s agonizingly slow, his eyes flicking up to watch the way you bite back a whimper. Your hips flexing into his touch, aching for more.

It lifts, so he can see how the fabric has dampened. Clinging to your skin, his knuckle tracing your seam.

“Making a mess.”

You can only whine in reply. Afraid that he’ll stop if you make too much noise. If you move - he’s made it clear he’s in charge here, and for once you’re willing to follow.

The pad of his thumb pulling back, a faint shine in the neon-bathed room.

“That for me?”

Your head nods, “Logan, please-”

There’s a sharp flash of teeth. Fingers pressing low, fitting against you, “You want me here?”

“Yes.”

You need him. Need anything he’ll give you, the sharp pinch in your palms where your nails bite into flesh.

“Ask me.” He coos.

“Please put use your fingers,” It comes in a rush, “Want you in me-”

Logan smirks, as his fingers slip beneath the waistband. Air sucked through clenched teeth when he meets slick, soaked skin. A teasing swirl against your clit before he’s parting you.

The tip of his middle finger tracing your hole, before it dips inside. His hips flex against the wooden edge, when you clench around him immediately. Trying to draw him deeper, as he works himself further in.

His fingers are much thicker than yours. A second already tracing where he opens you up. Teasing the tip in as his hand flexes, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit.

Your head tips forward. Each breath growing shorter, as you’re stretched around him. That slight ache unfurling into pleasure. Panting, as the pump of his fingers grow louder - the muffled cadence of skin against skin each time his palm collides with your cunt.

The fabric strains against his hand, his knuckles pressed against the soaked fabric.

Something bright burns in your belly, as your knees press into his hips. It makes you break the rules - a hand grasping at his arm. Anchoring yourself with your grip.

“I wanna watch. Let me see you.”

He lets you. A tap against your hip so you can lift. Carefully pulling your underwear down, easing them over the heels of your boots.

The lace disappears into his jacket pocket. His palms against your inner thighs, spreading you open. A throaty groan when he sees you, one that he can't quite manage to bite back - the rough sound shooting straight through you.

You both watch, when his fingers fit inside you this time. Two sinking down to the knuckle, slick and shining.

Unable to bite back the moan this time, though he does not shush you. His eyes fixed on your face instead, watching how your brow pinches when his fingers crook deep inside you. Searching.

The way you go jolt and then go tense when he finds it, a soft cry loosening.

“You been fucked like this before?” Logan growls, his fingers dragging against that soft spot inside you with his emphasis.

Your head shakes, when he does it again. Eyes dropping to watch his how hand looks, how you wrap around his fingers. The slick shine as they pump a little faster.

His other hand taps against your thigh.

“Words, sweetheart.”

“No,” It comes out hushed. Needy. “Never.”

His lips part with his groan, baring his teeth. With the way he touches you - his thumb moving to rub circles against your clit - it’s not long before he has you close.

A swiftly building pressure in your belly. That space between you eases as your knees close around his hips. His head tilting until his nose ghosts against your cheek.

Breath hot against your neck, as he inhales you. The slightest scrape of teeth that makes you bear down on his fingers - so careful not to leave a mark behind.

“Logan,” You pant. “That feels, ah, I think I’m gonna come-”

He groans against your skin, keeping the same pace. Feeling how you forget yourself - grasping at him, arching into his touch. Your muscles going tight as your breath grows short - panting.

“Give it to me,” Logan growls, “Come on my fucking fingers, baby.”

It’s impossible not to listen. You come, with his thumb pressing against your clit. His fingers notched deep inside you, as he feels your pulse racing beneath his lips.

The moan that rips from you pitches up, and then goes silent.

It leaves you breathless. Deep waves throbbing inside you, as you dampen his palm. Washing over and pulling you under, as your vision darkens.

“That’s fucking it. Come on, honey.” He coos, “Just look at you, so fucking pretty.”

The pump of his fingers goes still, the tips still crooking, as the tight pulses wane. The air comes rushing back into your lungs as you come back to yourself, your hands fisted in his jacket.

His chest heaves. Eyes hungry, when he slips from you. Slick clinging to them, webbing between his fingers as he pulls them up to the light.

Before he’s focusing on you again, his other hand thumbing at your lip.

“Open.”

They part automatically. Closing around the fingers he feeds you. The salt of his skin pairing with the sweet tang of your release, too blissed out to do anything but suck them clean.

“Good girl.”

It’s soft, as his fingers press down. Spreading, until you’ve cleaned yourself from them. Only when they slip from you, does his head dip.

A soft sound as his mouth presses against yours. There’s the sweep of his tongue against your lip, needy and insistent. You part for him, swallowing the moan as he tastes you. Teeth and tongue - deepening the kiss as his hands grip at your waist.

Letting your hands grasp at his shoulders. Tug at his hair until you’re pulled flush against him, your tits crushed against his chest.

Hungry, threatening to devour you, until you mumble his name.

Bringing him back to himself. Sharing a breath, Logan’s forehead pressed to yours when he pulls back. Those spit-slick fingers dropping down.

Palming himself roughly, where his cock strains - thick and hard against his jeans. A bitten-back groan, the word “fuck” rumbling deep in his chest as his hips flex into his hand.

“You going to listen now? Get that out of your system?” It comes out ragged, and you’re nodding.

All your sharp edges smoothed down. Blissfully complacent, as his fingers get a better grip on your waist. Bringing you down to the floor with wobbly legs, his hand coming to grasp at your upper arm.

“Good.” He growls, “Come on.”

A sharp tug, and you almost trip over yourself to follow.

“I’m taking you home.”

ahh I had the idea for this and had to jot it down! and I do know he goes by james/jimmy in the 70s because it’s pre-weapon-x, but I'll be keeping it as logan for this. (And I am thinking this will be a two-shot - give her a chance to get what she wants 😏💖)

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett #james logan howlett x reader #xmen x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x f!reader

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thatfeelinwhenyou · 6 months

Text

KINDRED — 40 (finale)

It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star athlete and put them in front of a camera?

written (2.7k words)

❥･• episode 40 — her entire being is lovable

The week after Jungwon’s competition, the two of you slip back into the usual programming of studying together after school, despite the documentary having ceased filming. It's a curious irony, isn't it? Now liberated from the suffocating grip of your mother's expectations, free to pursue your own desires, yet you find yourself still tethered to your books, for she was right when she says you can’t go anywhere without decent grades.

You also don’t know what else to do in school besides studying. The library, with its quiet embrace, has become your refuge, a familiar haven and a place where you seek clarity amidst the chaotic excuse you call your current predicament. With your resignation as student body president, all that remains is the race against time until your college entrance exams.

"Y/N, sorry for being late!" Jungwon's voice breaks through the quiet murmur of the library as he settles beside you in your customary corner. You offer him a shy smile, basking in the familiar scent of his cologne that wraps around you like a comforting blanket.

"I finished a whole chapter waiting for you," you tease gently, knowing full well that he'll feel a twinge of guilt for keeping you waiting, only for you to feel bad for making him feel bad. And now you’re both feeling guilty and he’s demanding a kiss from you to make up for it.

"I never took you for the clingy type in a relationship, Yang Jungwon," you chuckle softly, playfully pushing a finger against his forehead to halt any public displays of affection in the holy vicinity of a public library.

"Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be rejecting my attempts at showering you with love when we’re a whole fortnight into dating," he pouts, his bag dropping to the seat beside you with a sullen thud. If one other thing did change aside from your relationship status, it would be the fact that Jungwon no longer sits across from you, but beside you. He insists it’s for practicality's sake, which to a certain extent you agree.

Truth be told, Jungwon just finds it distracting to be directly across from you, where he was in full capacity to be distracted by the beautiful features of your face. Not that the new arrangement helped anyway when he is still constantly reaching for your hand to hold, a silent plea for your touch that you gladly reciprocate.

“Why did the teacher hold you back anyway?”

"Couldn't believe my math grades improved so much; he thought I cheated on the recent quiz. Never thought I was doing so badly to make him doubt me that much."

"I mean… you were pretty horrendous," you quip with a grin, nudging him playfully. "Emphasis on ‘were’!" you add, teasingly, knowing he won't take it too seriously. He proves you right as he scoffs at your candid assessment of his past academic struggles. After all, deep down, you both know there's some truth to it...

"We have that final confessional with Producer Choi later today, right?"

"Yeah, can’t believe two months just flew by like that. Feels like just yesterday we were agreeing to only pretend to like each other." You snicker softly, sensing the irony in the situation now that you and Jungwon are in an official (not fake) relationship.

The irony is not lost on Jungwon as you catch his silent smile, knowing he, too, is lost in the memories of that pivotal moment, where pretence gave way to something real and profound.

"What's to say I'm not pretending right now?" Jungwon raises an eyebrow, eliciting an exaggerated gasp from you.

"Are you suggesting you still hate me?" you exclaim, feigning offence and playfully inching away from him on your chair. Jungwon's reaction is immediate, grabbing onto you as he pleads for you to stay, insisting he was only joking.

"So, you don’t hate me?" you inquire with mock seriousness.

"No, I would never!" He envelops you in a sideways hug, leaving you in a precarious position where, without his support, you'd probably topple off the chair, earning judgmental stares from every library patron within a half-mile radius.

With his arm around you, you gaze up at the finely sculpted features of his face, marvelling at how you ever found this man annoying in the first place. As Jungwon's fingers toy with the strands of thread hanging off your uniform blazer, a comfortable silence settles between you.

“When’s your confessional?” Jungwon's question breaks the serene silence, prompting you to glance at the clock and realise the time constraints you're under.

"I'll have to leave soon if I don’t want to be late. Your confessional is right after mine, yeah?" you confirm, already mentally preparing to make your move.

"Yep, I’ll meet you at the gate after, and we could go for some snacks!" Jungwon suggests with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Is this another one of your tricks to feed me into a coma so we don’t have to study?" you quip, raising an eyebrow in playful scepticism.

Jungwon feigns innocence, his grin widening. "Who, me? Never!" he replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm. You chuckle, knowing full well his penchant for indulging in snacks whenever the opportunity arises. But as you gather your things and prepare to leave, you can't help but look forward to the prospect of spending some more time with Jungwon, even if it means indulging in a few too many treats along the way.

You arrive promptly at the confessional venue, positioned strategically in the field right by the entrance of the school so the logo can be seen clearly in the background. This meant people, a lot of them, stopping nearby to watch and observe the commotion as it's not every day you get to see a whole camera crew in the front yard of your school.

Spotting Producer Choi among the crew members, you make your way over and exchange greetings. "Y/N! It’s been a while, hasn't it?" she exclaims with a warm smile.

"It has," you reply, returning her smile as you exchange pleasantries with the familiar faces of the cameramen stationed around you.

"It felt weird not seeing you around after having seen you almost every day for the last 2 months. Strangely enough, I kind of missed it," you admit, though you sense a hint of scepticism in Producer Choi’s eyes, as she knows damn well you were the most excited for this documentary to end.

With a gesture from Producer Choi, you settle into the stool in front of the cameras, and the familiarity of the setting washes over you. It's strange how quickly this space has become a second home over the past few months, filled with the laughter of the crew members who have become like family. With that thought in mind, you mentally ready yourself to share your thoughts and reflections on the journey you've embarked on.

"First of all, thank you, Y/N, for agreeing to be a part of this documentary," Producer Choi begins as the camera lights turn red. You nod in response, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement coursing through you.

"Let’s start by having you share with the viewers how you felt about this journey," Producer Choi prompts, her voice gentle yet probing.

"Well, it’s not easy, that’s for sure," you begin, your words flowing more easily now that you've found your rhythm. "It was an experience that urged me to step out of my comfort zone and explore beyond a routine that I was already used to. It was difficult, no doubt, but the friendships that I’ve made along the way made this whole journey worthwhile. If I were to go back in time, I would do it again."

Producer Choi nods encouragingly, her eyes reflecting understanding and empathy. "If that’s so, tell us the most important thing you gained from this documentary."

"This experience was precious to me in many other ways than one," you continue, your voice growing more animated as you recall the memories. "But if I were to point out the most important thing I gained out of this documentary, it would be myself. It’s a little cringy, I know. It still amazes me how much I managed to change in this short period of time. But you know what they say, the best discovery starts within you, and you best believe I discovered."

The camera captures the sincerity in your eyes, the raw emotion shining through as you speak from the heart; a genuine reflection of your growth and transformation throughout the journey.

"Throughout the airing of ‘Kindred,’ the show has gained immense popularity among both domestic and global viewers, why do you think so?" Producer Choi asks, her tone shifting to a more analytical one.

"Honestly, the documentary was able to do well all thanks to Jungwon," you respond with a chuckle, thinking of your ever-charismatic boyfriend. "Without Jungwon, I genuinely think you guys would have produced the most yawn-bearing documentary to date. I acknowledge my lack of entertainment wits. There is also the whole strange pairing between Jungwon and I, even I admit that I’d be interested to find out how our very unique dynamics would work with each other."

The crew members share a knowing smile, having witnessed firsthand the magnetic chemistry between you and Jungwon that has captivated audiences around the world. It's a testament to the power of authenticity and genuine connection, something that can't be manufactured or scripted.

"Speaking about Jungwon, how has your relationship with him changed throughout the show?" Producer Choi inquires, her curiosity piqued.

"Jungwon is really special to me," you admit, a soft smile gracing your lips as you think of him. "I’m glad I got to properly know him through this experience. I’ll forever be grateful to ‘Kindred’ for bringing him into my life."

"Seems like there's something more to it, but I won't pry! But now that you’re graduating soon, what’s next?" Producer Choi prompts, her tone shifting to one of anticipation.

"Hmm… I’m not sure," you confess, feeling a pang of uncertainty creep in. "Ironic since you’d expect the girl with perfect grades to know what she wants to do. But I’m still working on that. Although, tutoring Jungwon made me realise how much I actually love teaching. May or may not consider pursuing it in the future, but we’ll see. I’m not in a rush anyway."

"Lastly, is there anything you want to say to the viewers of ‘Kindred’?"

"To all the viewers of Kindred, thank you for all the support and attention you gave us!" you exclaim, genuine gratitude shining in your eyes. "I’m glad you found some sort of joy going through this journey with Jungwon and I. It’s an experience I’ll hold close to my heart forever."

As the final words leave your lips, you can't help but feel a sense of closure wash over you. This chapter of your life, filled with ups and downs, laughter and tears, is coming to an end. But as you look back on the memories you've created and the relationships you've forged, you know that the impact of this experience will stay with you for a lifetime.

"By the way, will Jungwon be doing his interview here too?" you ask, curiosity tugging at you.

"Why of course," Producer Choi replies with a smile.

"Can I watch?" you inquire, eager to see Jungwon in the hot seat for a change.

"You don’t see Jungwon here now, do you? We got to play it fair, Y/N," she says with a wink as she scurries you away from the film site, leaving you with a sense of anticipation for Jungwon’s answers now that you know the questions that were being asked.

"What was your answer to the question?" you grab onto his arms, shaking it relentlessly trying to get him to fold, even equipping your signature puppy eyes. Jungwon, however, continues to chew on his food that both of you bought off a random street cart, and is now seated at the very same bench where you shared your first kiss.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me,” you consider revealing your answers but decide against it when you think back to your responses and visibly cringe.

Jungwon, ever the enigmatic one, simply smirks, his lips curling into a playful grin. His eyes sparkle with mischief as he toys with you, taking another casual bite of his street food as if your inquiry were nothing more than a fleeting thought.

You roll your eyes, knowing damn well the game he's playing. This teasing banter, a familiar exchange between the two of you, only adds to the playful dynamic of your relationship. But deep down, you can't help but wonder what his answer might have been.

“I guess we’ll only know when they broadcast it,” you shrug, resigning to the mystery as you lean your head on his shoulders. The warmth of his presence beside you, and the gentle rhythm of his breathing, all serve as a comforting anchor amidst the bustling street around you.

As Jungwon reaches over to play with the strands of your hair, a comfortable silence washes over you. The sound of distant chatter and the occasional honking of car horns fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble of tranquillity.

With a playful smile, you reach up to gently swat at Jungwon's hand, feigning annoyance. "Stop messing with my hair," you tease, though secretly enjoying the attention. Jungwon chuckles, his warm breath brushing against your cheek as he leans in closer.

"But it's so fun," he counters, his voice a mere whisper. You roll your eyes playfully, unable to contain your grin. "You're lucky I like you," you retort, leaning into his touch despite your mock protest.

Jungwon's laughter fills the air, a melodious sound that resonates deep within you. His genuine joy is contagious, spreading warmth and happiness with every moment you share.

"I know," Jungwon replies with a smirk, tightening his hold around you. "And I'm lucky to have you." You smile to yourself, the warmth of Jungwon's words enveloping you like a soft embrace. His ability to express his feelings so openly still catches you off guard at times, leaving you feeling both exhilarated and a little overwhelmed.

"You know, you have a way with words," you tease, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Jungwon's smirk widens into a full-blown grin, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Only when I'm talking to you," he replies, his voice filled with sincerity.

The sincerity in his words touches something deep within you, stirring a gentle flutter of emotions in your chest. Despite any doubts or uncertainties that may linger, there's a sense of reassurance in knowing that Jungwon is by your side, ready to face whatever challenges come your way.

You never fully comprehended why you felt so connected to Jungwon in the first place. Sure, you could say that anybody in your position—forced to film a documentary 24/7 with a decent-looking boy (though you’d rather die than admit this back then)—you were bound to catch feelings.

To you, Jungwon is more than just a forced proximity crush; he's an anomaly in your otherwise stoic and academic-focused life. An anomaly that got you so frustrated trying to figure out why he’s such a constant pain in your ass. An anomaly that introduced you to the world outside of the one your mother delicately crafted for you—holding you to unrealistic expectations that she knew damn well you could never meet no matter how much you tried.

He helped you understand that this life is a journey that you shape. That no matter what, mistakes are inevitable. You can give your everything and still somehow manage to fuck things up along the way. Yet, the beauty lies in the way you get to decide how you’re going to fuck up. And there’s no one you’d rather navigate these missteps with than Jungwon.

And while many would assume that a student council president with stellar grades and a Taekwondo athlete who can't study to save his life would never go well together, these assumptions are proven to be false as you realise the many similarities you share with Jungwon. Like how either of you will do anything for the people you care about and for the things you wish to achieve. You could say the two of you are Kindred.

As you rest against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, you can't help but marvel at the depth of your connection, forged through peculiar circumstances.

With him, it doesn’t matter who you want or need to be.

With him, life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile.

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♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: aaaaand that marks the end of kindred!! i have so much i want to say but i'll save it for when the epilogue comes out! in short, thank you so much to everyone who stuck till the end despite my super irregular posting schedule... 🫣 until next time!

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chuluoyi · 2 months

Text

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄

- sylus x reader

more than friends with benefits, definitely lovers. your relationship is one filled with banters, steamy nights, and secret strings attached... but when someone shows an interest in you, sylus won't hesitate to stake his claim for everyone to see

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, crack, fluff, smut, a dash of comfort, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc)

note: loosely a sequel to strictly (un)professional. how this snowballed into 3.8k... i don't really know :')

“Missus, please spare us!”

You shot an unamused look at the twins before you, who clasped their hands together, pleading for you to let them go.

“Why is it so difficult for both of you to say?” you hissed, crossing your arms together. “I’m not asking for much—just a recount of what happened!”

“Boss will have our tongues for this!” Kieran looked up at you, quivering. “No way, I want to live!”

“He’s terrifying…” Luke shuddered in fear, hugging himself. “You don’t know how frightening he is!”

You were holding both Luke and Kieran hostage, the tender preys, all because Sylus refused to reveal what you had been wanting to know these past few weeks.

“So you’re afraid of Sylus…” You fixed them with a steely glare. “But have you ever thought that if you don’t spill it now, I will be the one taking both your tongues?”

“—?! Missus, please!”

“Why are you bullying the twins?” A deep voice cut through the twins’ pitiful laments, and you let out an exasperated huff as your chance slipped away once more.

Speak of the devil, and Sylus shall appear. He looked at the scene before him as if you were all a bunch of kindergarteners.

Luke and Kieran immediately flocked to him. “Boss! Save us! She’s scary!”

And now you were suddenly the scary one. You rolled your eyes. "Your henchmen are useless."

Sylus glanced at you with a half smile, knowing what information you were squeezing the twins for. "Sweetie, just give it up. You'll find peace faster that way."

Was it wrong to be curious about what Sylus had been up to during the three weeks you were unconscious after the attack that literally took your life? Why was he being so secretive about it anyway?

“I know, you were so worried sick you didn’t even eat or sleep,” you taunted your lover with a wicked smile. “That’s why you won’t tell me about it.”

Sylus laughed outright. “Pftt. You’ve got quite the imagination. Good to know.”

Nothing much changed after that night of his confession—if you could call it that—to you. You were indeed no longer strictly his bedwarmer, but your banters stayed the same, if not even more sarcastic now.

“Chop chop, we have an auction to go to, sweetie.” Sylus placed his big hand on your head, amused. “Stop being a hissy kitten towards the poor twins and get ready, hmm?”

“I’ll definitely uncover it,” you shot him a resentful glare. “Just you wait and see.”

Such were your days with your true kindred-spirits lover. He would tease you during the day and turn you into a hot mess at night, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In tonight's auction, you had one target: the broker for a new rising star firearms dealer. Sylus had been eyeing him, deducing his goods could be a nice addition to his armory.

And so, you went up to him. However...

“...Are you single, miss?”

Here we go again.

You forced a tight smile. “Sir, I’d appreciate it if we can stick to subject at hand.”

The man blinked, then quickly plastered on a wide grin to mask his surprise. “Oh yes! Yes, I-I’m sorry, I got distracted— well, I’d say this is a pretty solid MoU... but I’ll need to contact my boss first.”

This weirdo... you thought with boredom, is so transparent.

This wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with a situation like this. Granted, you were pretty and you knew it, but usually, more distinguished men would be a bit more subtle about it.

“Take all the time you need,” you encouraged smoothly, your eyes crinkling in an attempt to look friendly. “As you can see, Mr. Sylus has proposed the perfect bargain for this kind of dealings.”

“I wouldn’t argue with that. I assure you we’ll certainly try to accommodate his request.” The man nodded and gave you a meaningful look, before coughing awkwardly. “Uh, sorry, what was your name again, miss?”

Your faux smile remained perfectly still as you replied, “Mephisto.”

The man’s eyes roved over you, and he grinned roguishly. “Right. Still, I never expected Mr. Sylus’ secretary to be as beautiful as you, Miss Mephisto...”

This was tedious. Your patience was tested with every leering look he gave you. Sylus must know this already, and he's somewhere laughing at the sight of you dealing with this creep.

“You flatter me too much, I’m average.”

“No, no! I mean it!”

He knows... yet he wouldn't do anything about it. Not that you would expect Sylus to barge in like a man blinded by envy, but still, he was insufferable for not coming to you just like he had for Miss Hunter back then.

The man kept droning on and on about himself and everything else that had nothing to do with the business deal, and you were this close to dropping him and using your Evol to shut him up when—

He then turned to you expectantly. “Oh, there is a dance! Miss, would you mind if I have your first dance?”

“Oh...”

And it occurred to you... why not spice things up a little?

Sylus’ dark crimson eyes narrowed silently as he watched both of you from the island table while savoring his glass of wine, before he let out a loud snort.

That vermin doesn’t have a clue he is playing with fire.

For most of your interaction, the firearms dealer’s broker kept giving you suggestive looks, and occasionally brushing his hand against yours on purpose. He wasn't even trying to hide it, and it was amusing to see how aggravated you looked the entire time.

Adorable. Sylus found you incredibly endearing these days, from your pouts to your glazed eyes whenever he thrusted into you—

You were oh so delectable… at least until he saw you holding that lesser man's arm, as he led you to the dance floor.

A deep frown immediately formed in his forehead.

“What are you scheming now?” Sylus scowled, half exasperated and half in disbelief. “You naughty cat.”

He was even more irked when he saw how casually you wrapped your arms around that vermin, twirling and pressing yourself against him in a waltz. Seeing him trying to hit on you was one thing, but for you to reciprocate was just plain unacceptable.

—and to his ire, your audacity continued throughout the night.

. . .

“Miss Mephisto, do you play pool?”

“I do.”

“Then, will you play with me?”

Sylus was now burning with tendrils of anger, watching you from a closer corner. He had seen the broker put his hands on you so many times that he had lost count—during the dance, mingling with other guests, and while sharing hearty laughs. All in all, you were acting as if you had forgotten he was even here.

You were threading on a very thin ice and whether you realized it or not... you didn't seem to care.

"Ah, I think your stance is a bit off..." And to make it worse, the broker was definitely seizing every chance he could, as there was nothing wrong with your form—you often accompanied Sylus playing pool, so you were a pro—and yet he still got behind you, trying to drape his arms around your body.

That was the last straw. Enough is enough.

Before Sylus realized what he was doing, he stormed over to where you were, yanked your arm forcefully, and effectively separated you from him. He didn’t give a damn about the horrified shout from the broker or the judging looks from other partygoers as he dragged you by the hand out of the ballroom.

“Sylus!” you nearly shrieked when he kicked open a door to a meeting room and locked it with his black-red mist. He pinned you against the wall, and crashed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

“Mmph!” You tried pushing him back, but he was stronger and held you in place, his tongue forcing your lips open as he pressed the back of your head toward him. His other hand slipped inside your dress—between your legs— two fingers in—

“—!” you couldn't even squeal as he devoured your mouth and the shock set in, feeling yourself getting aroused by the minute when his fingers did that scissoring thing and edged you further.

After he was done with your mouth, his hot lips trailed down to your neck and shoulder blades, sucking hard on several spots, making you gasp and moan.

"Hah... this... is the price to pay for testing me, sweetie," your lover growled his nickname for you with satisfaction as he noticed you trembling body, nibbling on your shoulder. "You want to get punished so badly, huh?"

"Ahh..." you threw your head back, clinging to him, grinding yourself against his fingers.

"Is it funny to you? Watching me see him touch you?" Sylus' unforgiving ruby eyes stared down at you like a lion eyeing its prey. "What an insolent little kitten you are..."

His fingers kept moving and thrusting inside you in an alarming speed, mercilessly hitting that one spot that could make you cry. He was seriously teaching you a lesson by forcing you to come undone right then and there.

"I-I...!" you tried to refute, but then you felt the knot inside you burst, and in the next second, you could feel yourself coming all over his fingers, shuddering, your breaths coming in pants.

Feeling faint, relief washed you when he pulled out his fingers. You leaned and clung onto him, pulling him closer, and Sylus finally saw what a mess he had turned you into.

Your glassy eyes focused solely on him, seemingly pleading—and those swollen lips, as well as the sizzling heat creeping up your cheeks—

“Ha,” he let out a low chuckle, a wicked grin curling his lips. “If I can still make you look like this, then I suppose I can forgive you.”

“You’re a meanie,” you mumbled breathlessly.

“You’re the mean one,” Sylus tutted with narrowed eyes, starting to pull away from you.

But then you pulled him close again and pressed your lips to his, this time with a gentleness that surprised him.

There was no malice or burning desire in your kiss. Strangely, it felt far more intimate. You pulled away, the heart-stopping swirls of his red eyes captivating you as you pressed your foreheads together.

“Needy, aren’t you, sweetie?” Sylus whispered, holding your gaze, his breath hot against your skin.

But right now, all of a sudden, you looked so vulnerable to him, as if any wrong word from his lips would shatter you. It made him almost feel guilty for manhandling you so roughly.

You didn’t respond, just wanting this closeness with him. Behind your snarky words and little schemes, this was what you wanted more than the release you just got. Sometimes, you still worried—did he want this too?

“What is it?” Sylus asked with a frown, seemingly concerned. “Talk. Tell me.”

“Nothing…” you replied in a small voice.

“Do you feel sick? Want to go back?”

You shook your head.

You weren’t usually this quiet. Sylus couldn’t help being restless at your sudden change. It felt awkward for him to do what he was about to do next, but instinctively, he figured it would comfort you a bit.

You felt a pang in your heart when he pulled away, but in the next instant, a wave of warmth enveloped you as he pressed you to him, burying your head against his sturdy chest.

For someone who deals with blood and gore, your body felt too soft and fragile, yet still fit perfectly in his arms. Though he had held you and made love to you many times before, it was only now that he truly noticed how small you were.

“You’re warm…” you murmured, your voice carrying a hint of a whine.

So needy and pliant… for him.

“My woman is such an enduring mystery.” Sylus mused, sounding almost as if he were lamenting. “Sometimes she’s a brazen kitten without a shred of shame, but then she pulls stunts like this.”

Your heart picked up the pace. You are... his. That was right. You were his woman in every sense of the word now, and he wasn't shying away from it.

But to cover your embarrassment, you could only come up with, “Can you not refer to me as cat...?”

He shot you an irked glance. “No.”

“He calls me by your bird’s name.”

“...”

“Sylus, you can’t murder him. Your deal will go down the drain.”

“Tch.” Sylus blew out an annoyed sigh, glaring at you. “By the time I get back here, you’re going back with me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, yes.”

Honestly you were exhausted, and you wanted to nothing more than a good sleep. But you couldn't just leave the broker without preamble because this deal depended on him, and Sylus too had some loose ends he had to tie before the two of you left.

Strangely, all eyes were on you when you returned to the ballroom. You wondered why as you navigated the crowd until you met the broker you had fooled in so many ways.

“Oh, Miss Mephisto, you’re back!” he was visibly and utterly drunk, and you cringed at the strong smell of alcohol on his breath. But then you noticed his eyes seemed to be fixated on your—

Neck. You realized in horror.

“Oh... hic, t-that... I-I see,” he blabbered, coughing awkwardly as he stared at the marks on your neck. “Miss... so that man is... y-your lover...?”

“Uh...” It was a wonder he didn’t recognize Sylus at first glance. Perhaps it was because he was so infamous, but it astounded you how this person couldn’t even tell that it was him.

"I-I thought... w-we..." he hiccupped again heartbrokenly, before snatching a glass on the table. "Oh, I need more drink!"

You observed him, half cringing. "Sir, I just want to remind you that once the documents are signed—"

"Yeah, yeah! It will be done by the end of the week!" he yelled at you. "Miss, how about you have a drink too!?"

Suddenly, a glass of gin was shoved into your hand, and you let out an irritated sigh. Yeah, he might be right. A glass of alcohol would help you sleep better tonight, you figured, so you chugged it down.

"Huh...?" And it didn’t take you long to realize something was amiss. The dizzying sensation set in far too quickly, you felt so hot, and you had to lean on the table next to you to keep from falling.

“Are you okay...?” a waitress asked you with concern, but the only sound you could hear was your own violent heartbeat. Before you knew it, the glass in your hand slipped from your grasp and crashed into the floor.

"Oh, miss! Are you okay?!" the broker suddenly got a hold over your body. "Oh! It seems you aren't feeling well! Let me escort you to you room!"

Room? You barely discerned what happened when he led you out of the crowd. Your head spun terribly, and then suddenly throbbed, making you clutch it and cry out in pain, "Ah!"

It didn't make sense, no matter how you saw it. You had a pretty good tolerance, so for you to get hungover from a gin was just—

“Oh, does it hurt much?” he suddenly asked in your ear, making you shiver. “Don’t worry... it'll be bearable soon enough... I’ll make sure you will feel good…”

It's him! You realized. He spiked your drink!

His arms were now locking yours, steering you to go into the elevator. You took a deep breath before directing your speech manipulation evol on him— "Let go!"

He was immediately jerked away from you, but as a result, you almost crumpled, your vision swimming and your head pounding intensely. The pain made you feel close to passing out, and yet you managed to trek forward, leaning on the wall for support.

You had to get away from him before he could catch up to you. Panic set in, and when strong arms caught you, you convulsed, thinking he had grabbed you—

“Stop thrashing!”

“S-Sylus...?” You looked up, trying to focus on his face, but everything was so blurry.

“I’m here.” His voice was ragged, and you’d recognize it anywhere. “What happened to you? Are you hurt?”

“M-my head...” Your voice came out as a broken whimper, clutching at your throbbing head. “Hurts...”

You were feverish, trembling against his hold, and you reeked of alcohol. Sylus instantly realized something was seriously wrong and pressed your head into his chest to provide comfort. “Just a little bit longer—” his deep voice carried a subtle hint of alarm as he hoisted you up to his arms. “Hang on, alright?”

But just as he was about to bring you back, he caught the sight of a fleeing silhouette in the corner, and realizing who it was, his right eye blazed, black and red mist swirled in the air and restrained the broker, engulfing his screams.

“S-spare me! P-please!” the man pleaded tearfully, pinned on the ground, and Sylus approached him silently, looking down at him with so much spite in his eyes.

“A roach that doesn’t seem to know his place…” The corners of his lips twisted into a sadistic smile. “Whether you survive or not depends on you. Best hope you’ll last.”

Despite his pleas, he paid it no mind as he walked away with you in his arms.

When you awakened, your head was no longer pounding.

It took you a moment to realize there was a cool compress on your forehead, you were now in a clean oversized sweater, and someone was holding your hand.

Sylus. You looked up to find him asleep, sitting with his back against the headboard beside you. It was rare to catch him sleeping. In this moment, he looked defenseless, yet a faint frown lingered on his handsome face.

Has he been waiting for you like this, holding your hand all night...?

You tried to get a better look at him, but the rustle seemed to wake him up instead, as his eyes cracked open.

“You awake?” he asked, voice so sultry it woke all your senses up. “I was just shutting my eyes.”

“Aren’t you uncomfortable sleeping like that?” you asked.

Sylus turned toward you, his eyes still hazy from sleep. “What about you? Feeling better?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair gently.

“Really, you...” His stare was so withering it made question marks appear in your head. “I took my eyes off you for one minute, and you ended up with alcohol poisoning?”

“—? I didn’t know! But wait, what happened to that bozo?”

Sylus gave you a deadpan look, and you gasped. “You… didn’t kill him and have his body secretly disposed of, did you?”

“Just who do you think I am?”

“…a kingpin of an illegal syndicate?”

Your lover’s scowl deepened further at your response. “Nah, he got lucky. I only returned him with a broken jaw, broken hips, and two missing teeth.”

“Sylus!”

If he looked sleepy before, now he definitely looked wide awake. Sylus always sleeps at dawn, and you wanted him to rest more than anything, but now you were itching to ask him...

“Say... were you waiting for me while sitting like this too when I wasn’t conscious for three weeks?” You avoided his gaze, the question burning on your lips. Sylus had never given you a straight answer whenever you asked him about this.

This time too, he grumbled, “Why do you keep asking that?”

“Because I can’t ask Luke and Kieran, they look as if you’d set them on fire.”

Sylus went silent, not giving you any affirmation at all, and you huffed and unclasped his hand, pursing your lips together. “I see. You don’t care about me at all. Noted.”

You heard him sigh, before his red eyes squarely landed on you.

“When I was shot, you worried about me even when you know I’m going to be alright,” he suddenly posed the question on you. “Didn’t you?”

You nodded, and he tousled your hair again—the action alone somehow made you feel warm.

“Whatever you felt that day, that’s the same to what I went through during those three weeks. Multiply it by ten.”

“Huh!?” you rose up from the sheets in surprise, facing him.

Sylus then turned away from you, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes. “That’s it, sweetie. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“Wait!”

You scrambled into his lap, clinging to his shoulder. Sylus begrudgingly opened his eyes again, a look of irritation on his face. “What?”

Multiply it by ten…? Heh. At this moment, you felt light and giddy, knowing that the two of you were now true lovers in every way that mattered even when you were faced with his sourness.

“Don't scowl too much!” you giggled merrily. You placed your fingers on the corners of his lips, gently lifting them to force a smile. “Honesty suits you much better, Sylus. It’s recommended.”

This cheeky woman... Sylus never thought the day would come for him to experience these myriad of emotions, much less for them to be incited by you.

He pulled you close, one arm around your hips and the other around the back of your head. Your lips met his in a passionate kiss that left no room for further conversation, only parting when you both needed to catch your breath.

“If you want me to, then don’t make me relive those nights,” he said with a sly smile, his crimson eyes glinting in the light and his voice like silk against your ears. “Can you?”

His tone softened your gaze, a warm sensation spreading through your chest. You responded with a playful snort, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him another peck on the lips.

After your innocent make-out session, you nestled closer to him with a contented sigh, savoring the reassuring warmth of his embrace as you both drifted off again into the morning.

Epilogue

"Do you hear anything?"

"No, nothing..."

Luke and Kieran whispered amongst themselves as they tried to hear anything of importance beyond Sylus' bedroom. After their boss went back home with you passed out in his arms last night, they had totally expected the worst.

“Seems like she’s alright then…” Kieran concluded, stepping away from the door. “We should just go. If Boss catches us, we’re dead.”

The twins backed away from the door and went back to the living room, sighing in relief.

"But honestly, Boss has changed lately, hasn't he? He looks kinder, somehow."

"Are you sure, Luke? Maybe it's just when he looks at the missus. With us, meh."

“I still get chills thinking about when he destroyed the Protofield to dust after he found her following the explosion,” Luke gazed off in wonder. “It was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, but it was also heartbreaking—especially when he tried to wake her and realized she was beyond help because the steel had pierced her heart…”

Luke and Kieran went quiet at the memory.

“Anyhow!” Kieran suddenly exclaimed. “All’s well that ends well! To be honest, I totally saw it coming that they'd end up together!”

“Ooh, you're right! They did a bad job of hiding it too, no less! I mean, one time, the missus came out of his room while—”

As the twins gossiped about their master and mistress, they were unaware that Mephisto the crow, perched nearby, was dutifully recording their conversation and would report it all to his master later.

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arcielee · 2 years

Text

Ask Me Anything

Summary: Aemond asks his professor some questions. Paring: Modern Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 3162 Warnings: The smutty smut you all wanted, fingering, p in v. Author’s Note: Here is part 2, you can read part 1 Hazy Shades of Spring ♥ This was the poll winner and I had to make it into 2 parts. Also, I am also celebrating that I have over 400 followers now! Thank you all so much for reading, it fills me with joy. A shoutout to my muse and editor @f4ll-for-you thank you for your unique perspective and helping me become a better writer! ♥ Also, I got this finished on Ewan’s birthday? Coincidence? Yes, absolutely. My planning and scheduling is terrible. Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @nina2697 @skikikikiikhhjuuh @itsabby15 @greenowlfactif @padfooteyes @danika1994 (If there is a strikethrough, it would not allow me to tag you.)

Mrs. Lannister had been kind enough to share that even though you ended your office hours early on Fridays, you would often remain to finish the lesson plan for the next week. “She’s the only one who does this,” she continued her overshare, batting her lashes. “The rest of the faculty is already gone for the day…even I’m about to leave!”

Aemond returned a warm smile that was close lipped and allowed his cheeks to dimple, noting the faintest hint of rose to her complexion when he thanked her. His gait was languid with his fluid stride to follow the hallway that snaked through the building and back to where he already knew your office would be.

He saw the glint of your name on the door plaque and it seemed closed; he stopped and rapped his knuckles on the wood, the action pushing it slightly ajar and allowing him to step in.

“How may I help you?” You had asked without bothering to look up. Your laptop was open and a stack of papers were tidy on the side, but your focus remained on the one in front of you.

Aemond thought to when his brother first enrolled in your business law course, his arrogance more obnoxious than usual when he came home to say, “My professor is hot and I am definitely fucking my way to an A.”

Aemond did not even acknowledge the cocksure idiocracy he spewed and remained silent when Aegon would return with weekly updates before he inevitably begged their grandfather for a suitable donation to help him pass your class. He remembered being intrigued by the professor who, despite the board’s pressure, then only gave Aegon a barely passing grade.

Aegon was furious and Aemond only said: “You could always attempt studying,” with his eyebrow cocked.

His brother moaned. “Wait until you have to deal with her.”

When Aemond entered the classroom, he remembered you were bold with your gaze and without the hint of fear he often met with other professors. Aegon had once described you as a librarian in need of a good railing, but Aemond liked your tasteful, almost bookworm look, how your hair would be twisted back and the glasses you wore during lectures.

He was dutiful with his classes, but with yours he found himself pressing for more; he would push for answers, often getting a rise from his classmates with his constant disputation, but you were unfazed by it, taking the time to pick apart any argument in your eloquent way and even admitting when he was correct with his verdict. Aemond would wait after the room emptied to approach your desk, pleasantries always exchanged and he liked your smile when you once said, “Are you sure you’re only twenty-two?”

“Age is only a number,” he replied and relished in the blush that dusted your cheeks.

Aemond could admit to himself he had a slight crush, but he did not understand the extent of it until the semester ended, until that Friday night.

With Aegon doing a “study-abroad” in Essos, it was put on Aemond to help with the new restaurant. His uncle had been annoying throughout the set-up, using Aemond for menial micromanaging, and he was relieved with the grand opening, just to be rid of the role of Daemon’s tedious shadow.

Everything is perfect, though, he thought during his rounds, walking the grand staircase towards the bar when he noticed your backside.

Aemond did not immediately recognize you. For one, your hair was down, your thick main smoothed into a cascade of curls instead of the usual bun or braid your locks would be in. Also, the dress you wore fit to your curves in a way that looked like you had been poured into the garment, not your usual comfort uniform of a top, cardigan, and jeans.

He was enamored by the curve of your back, how you were curled over the bartop and your attention focused on something, unaware of the few patrons that lingered with the hopes to draw your attention, before grabbing their drinks and moving on. It was the moment you paused to grab your glass of wine that he recognized your profile.

He had to talk to you.

“Professor?”

Your hesitation was understandable, but eventually you fell into the ebb and flow of the comfortable conversations he would get moments of during your office hours. His heart jumped when you offered the excuse to take you out on the balcony. He was enamored with the way you held yourself, the smile on your lips and how he never truly noticed the beauty of your eyes or how your lashes framed them.

Aemond noted the moments you would hem for words, as if it was an internal debate to say one thing before you would give your genuine thoughts and your upfront honesty was something he welcomed. He noticed the flush to your cheeks and nose, perhaps from the bit of cold in the night air mixed with your passion for science fiction, which he had not expected, and that was the moment he stepped in to kiss you.

You seemed to meld against him with a soft familiarity to his touch. He loved how your expression brightened when he took your hand and how you moved to keep with his strides towards the car he called for. Aemond waited with bated breath when you paused at the car door, watching when you leaned forward and it exaggerated the curves your dress complemented. He would have followed you to the ends of the earth, but you only asked him to come upstairs.

The next morning, Aemond woke with your curled so perfectly against his chest, his silver hair between your fingertips. He did not move because he did not want to wake you and allow this tranquil moment to end. You were cute when your eyes fluttered open to take in your surroundings and he handed you your glasses.

You seemed to not want him to leave and he stayed until Sunday. Even then you hesitated to let him go and he made sure to follow up with you, just a simple text that thanked you for the lovely weekend. He followed to ask when you would be available and was surprised when he did not get even an emoji for a response.

Aemond waited before sending another text, but when he saw he had been left on read, he let it be. Maybe you thought the weekend was a mistake? Perhaps you had not enjoyed yourself like he assumed you had?

The abrupt end confused him, until he received an alert from Amazon, suggesting a new book release from an author he made sure to follow.

Your pseudonym, an anagram of your first and last name.

He read Hazy Shades of Spring in one sitting and knew he had to see you again.

“Hello, professor,” Aemond stepped into your office. “If you have a moment, I came to seek out your expertise on a matter.”

Your expression was stunned, your lips parted for a moment and your cheeks rosy from his severe gaze, his one sapphire eye glinting in the office light. “Yes, Aemond, hello,” you struggled for the greeting. “Please, sit down. How may I help you?”

There was the probability of running into him on campus, but you had not expected for him to come directly to your office. Your eyes could not help but drink in his lithe figure, the grace of his movements as he seated himself in the chair across from your desk. His expression would have been stoic except for the slight upwards curl of his lips, amused by your flustered state.

“I had some questions in regards to one's penumbra rights,” he began, watchful of your reaction with his deliberate words. “I think I could be a victim of unwarranted appropriation and I wonder how that would hold in the court of law?”

You could feel the blood drain from your face and your tongue pressed against your bottom lip, your teeth biting as you brought it forward to try and relax your jaw. The gesture was subtle with your attempt to calm your nerves, but it was not missed from his intense gaze.

Aemond fucking smirked.

Your eyes narrowed on him. “You would need undeniable proof of tort liability,” you began, your voice hoarse with your reply and you cleared your throat before continuing. “It would need to be undeniable that your likeness had been used without consent.”

There was a pregnant pause; you refused to ask what he may or may not have and you watched the dimples line his cheeks with his knowing smile. “I believe I do have proof,” he finally said, reaching into his jean’s pockets and retrieving his phone. “It’s an ebook that was just released.”

Oh, fuck.

You force your features to relax and watch his screen light up, filled with text. “His mien is breathtaking, the sharp contours of his features-”

“That description could be used for any protagonist worth noting,” your voice interrupts, almost shrill; you find yourself standing on your side of the desk, your hands pressed on top to anchor you.

“Perhaps,” he replied, his eye flitted to you for a moment. Your breath came out slow through your parted lips, watching as he looked back at the screen and continued to read. “The severity of his gaze was offset by the sapphire stone-”

Your moves are quick and clumsy, coming around the desk and clasping your hands over his; your cheeks are flushed and you are bold with your stare. “Aemond,” you finally find your voice. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

There is a moment that his expression hardens, a flash of an emotion that is wiped away and instead his perpetual smirk returns to play at his lips. He pulled his hands away, pushing to stand while tucking his phone into his pocket.

You fall back as he takes a step towards you, his silver hair spilling forward when he leans forward to hold you attention. “I actually came for clarity,” his eye flits to your lips and he purses his own for a moment. “I had thought we had a lovely weekend together, but every reach out I attempted since had been left on read.”

“Aemond,” you say his name with your exhale, breaking away and looking at the floor.

His head tilts with a slight hum as he looks over your stance; your bottom is pressed to the edge of the desk and your arms stiff at your sides, with a hold on the profile that has your knuckles white with your grip, like you could not trust your idle hands.

“I had thought,” he softened his tone. “I thought I had done something to offend you, or perhaps… you did not enjoy yourself, until…” you looked up and saw the glimmer of hope that danced through the aloof façade of Aemond Targaryen. He didn’t finish the thought and instead said, “I also came here because I want to take you on a proper date, to go to an agreed location, where I will be punctual and we will have dinner together.”

You cannot form words; your face is burning and you make a noise of disbelief, a mixture of a gasp with an almost laugh that stops in your throat by the touch of his warm palm to cup your cheek. His hold keeps you from looking away again, his stare intense. “I am telling you what I want, why I came here.” He leaned forward until the tip of his nose touched yours, the breath of his words fans your jawline and you can feel the ripple of goosebumps all over. “But if you are not interested, tell me now and I will stop. I will leave you alone.”

You did not want him to leave you alone.

In fact, that weekend was on an endless loop in your mind. After he left, you began to write, fervently, and with every keystroke, you poured the intimate, delicious details into a transcript, hoping that when you sent it in, it would empty your mind of him.

It did not and Aemond consumed your thoughts. You remembered the ease of conversation, the comfort of his presence, and how you craved his touch, how alive you felt pinned under his steady gaze.

Now he was in your office and his steady gaze was burning; you bit your bottom lip, your fervor basked in the flame of his stare, savoring the warmth that he exuded. His scent washed over you, just his proximity made your skin feel aflame.

The moment ends when Aemond relaxes his stance, falling back a step, and only then did you react. Your hand touches the junction of his shoulder to his throat, your fingers curling around the back of his neck to bring his lips to yours. He welcomes your mouth with a lusty frenzy and you moan when you feel his tongue move to taste your mouth.

He closes in on you, his thigh pushing your legs apart and his hand on your jaw to tilt your head, moving to ghost his lips on the column of your neck until they reach your ear. “I love that you are a woman of action,” his husky tone and words tickle your skin. “But, remember, I require verbal consent.”

Your hands move to his jawline, your right hand hovering and careful to not quite touch. “Yes, Aemond, please,” you beg him, your eyes wide. “I wanted to reply but I…”

He interrupts your words with another kiss and he is hungry to taste you again. Your arm wraps around his neck and the other hand is pressed against his solid chest. His hands move to follow the curves of your hips and wrap around to cup below your ass, bringing you flush against him.

Your hands drop to unbutton your jeans and you feel his warm palms slip into the waistband of both, pulling your underwear as he peels you bare. He presses against you, lifting to set you on the desk edge before kneeling in front of you and unlacing each Converse shoe. Aemond sets them aside and returns to grab the fabric to pull it off; you burn from his stare and he leans to kiss the inside of your knee, his lips trailing your thighs and his hand pulling himself to stand again.

You watch him bring two slender fingers to his mouth and wet them with his tongue, before they dip between your thighs. A gasp spills from your kiss-swollen lips when he touches you with familiarity, following the crease of your wet folds and the slow curl of his finger inside you.

He watches your response, the arc of your back with the rub of his fingertips in your velvet walls until you mewl his name. Aemond hums, a smile to his lips, and adds a second finger, continuing the same come hither motion to that same sweet spot. His wrist shifts, allowing his thumb to press against the nub above with ample pressure and you moan loudly to his touch. Aemond continues his ministrations until he feels you clenching; there is a lewd sound of your wet heat and how his fingers continue to fuck you through your climax, until you whimper from the overstimulation.

You look at him through lidded eyes, still on the curtails of your release; he licks his fingers clean with a grin, his gaze narrowing on you. “Is it better than the book?”

Your look hardens and you push from the desk, desperate to pull his shirt over his head and the fall of his silver tresses tickle your face; your cardigan falls to the ground, your fitted shirt follows. He is still smug when you place your hands on his chest and push for him to fall back into the chair, your touch falling to unbutton his jeans.

Aemond lifts his hips to bring it down enough, his hand wrapping around the base of his member. Your mouth waters at the sight and you step to straddle the chair, lowering yourself so he can line with your entrance before you sink further.

You moan as he fills your velvet walls and he wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into your neck and allowing you a moment to adjust to his size. With slow breaths, your nails bite into his shoulders and you press onto the balls of your feet to rise and lower onto his length.

There is a soft echo in the office with the lewd noises, the suction of your cunt to take him in and your wanton moans when he begins to thrust upwards, meeting your motion. He presses his lips against your ear with the hot whisper, “Stop clenching or I won’t last.”

You almost purr from the sensation, turning your head to find his lips. “You’re fine,” your voice is breathless. “I’m on the pill.”

He stills and you look to see his pupil blown, taking you in; without a word, his hands grip into the soft flesh of your ass and he moves to lift you. You squeak your surprise, your legs quick to wrap his waist as he takes a step towards the desk; the polish wood is cool to the touch when he sets you down, reaching behind you to clear away the clutter and laying you back on the desktop, positioning you until you are nearly folded in half.

This new angle has you a mewling mess of tears, the flutter of your cunt encourages his fingers to bruise into your hips with a brutal pace until you see stars.

You can feel the twitch of his cock and a low, guttural groan from the back of his throat with his peak. Aemond leans forward, his forehead damp and pressed to yours, his breath warm with his exhale until it evens again.

He looks and notices a box of kleenex, reaching for it and is careful to clean the mess. You sit up, still feeling the trough of the waves of your release tingling over, your hand moving to pull the hair tie and your fingers comb out the braid.

Aemond rightens his jeans, but does not button them; instead, he looks at you, another hum as he reaches to cup your face, bringing his lips to your forehead and then tilting your head back to find your lips. You stare at him a moment, warm from his touch and also shy at the realization you are still very much naked.

“What now?” You ask, pushing to stand.

He pulls you against his bare chest and your heart flutters from his warmth. “Depends,” he murmurs and you pull back to look up at him. “Which restaurant did you want to go to?”

#ask me anything #part 2 #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x female!reader #here is the smut you all wanted #my tumblr kindred spirits #thanks for reading #♥

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softanddreamyhours · 6 months

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🌷enhypen smau recommendations🌷

these are all fem!reader, my apologies !!!! pLEASE SENF ME RECOMMENDATIONS I LIVE LAUGH LOVE SMAUS

lee heeseung

a stoners guide to starbucks (completed) - @jayflrt lee heeseung x fem!reader, fluff, strangers to lovers. this was honestly the funniest thing ive read ever, i was properly laughing out loud.

verboten (completed) - @heesbaby lee heesung x fem!reader, fluff, smut, kind of an age gap? also kind of angst? girl this had me so hot and bothered, love love love.

poison (completed) - @onlyjaeyun lee heeseung x fem!reader, angst, smut, brothers best friend. my guy this was great i love lee heeseung and i also love user onlyjaeyun

park jongseong

strictly business (completed) - @onlyjaeyun park jonseong x fem!reader, fluff, smut, ceo!jay x secretary!reader i love a man in a suit ohmygosh also if you dont follow user onlyjaeyun youre doing it wrong, writing is immaculate.

park sunghoon

cold hearts (on going) - @onlyjaeyun park sunghoon x fem!reader, fluff, smut, friends to enemies to lovers i love toxic men unfortunately and sunghoon is mean in this one. i am so invested in this story its crazy.

the pleasure principal (on going) - @moonlighthoon park sunghoon x fem!reader, crack, smut, strangers to lovers this has been such a cute and funny read so far. cant wait for the rest.

fuck christmas (completed) - @jayflrt park sunghoon x fem!reader, crack, fluff, friends to lovers a quick read, but super sweet !!!

sim jaeyun

after hours (completed) - @heesbaby rockstar!jake x fem!reader, fluff, slow burn, smut. this had me hooked man, great writing !!!!!

hybe boy (completed) - @onlyjaeyun sim jaeyun x fem!reader, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers jake is honestly so cute in this story i love him so bad.

doctors orders (completed) - @heesbaby sim jaeyun x fem!reader, angst, fluff, smut. loved the angst in this one *chefs kiss*

kim sunoo

i havent seen a single smau for my baby, if anyone has recommendations PLEASE send them to me !!!!!

UPDATE! a sunoo smau has been sent to me wooo

let my love run wild - @jaeminvore sunoo x fem!reader, fluff, down bad sunoo, kinda mean reader? i was so happy when i got this sent to me, i binged it omg i love kim sunoo he's the cutest

yang jungwon

cupids conflict (completed) - @amakumos yang jungwon x fem!reader, fluff, enemies to lovers but only one of them knows they're enemies lol this was sooooo cute

kindred (completed) - @thatfeelinwhenyou yang jungwon x fem!reader, fluff, angst, enemies to lovers i binged this story !!! it was soo good and cute and good and cuuuuttteeee

nishimura riki

joah (completed) - @jayujus nishimura riki x fem!reader, fluff, crack, enemies to lovers?? so cute, theres kind of a love triangle ? tbh this is the only fic ive ever read for niki.

#enhypen #enhypen jay #enhypen heeseung #enhypen x reader #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen niki #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen smau #enha #enhypen scenarios #enhypen recs #enha recs

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tojisun · 2 months

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the lights are on

!! simon riley x afab reader; chubby reader; confidence and body issues; past bullying (not by simon and briefly mentioned); smut - minors dni // divider by @/plutism!

i projected too much of myself onto the reader so do forgive me for that. this is a milestone celebration for me, mostly, but also for you all so i hope you all would like it too <3

this is inspired by rachel wiley’s “10 honest thoughts on being loved by a skinny boy” - a slam poetry

you are told that love comes easily — that it is the budding of spring, shimmering and vibrant, and blooming oh-so tenderly. unfurling oh-so carefully, like you are melting into padded sheets and cashmere sweaters.

you are told that love comes easily — that it stands out amongst a vast ocean. that it is distinguishable; a beacon so familiar you run towards it, unafraid and unashamed. like fate or destiny; like fairytales being remade.

you are told that love comes easily, but you know they mean to people who don’t look like you; only for the girls with slim arms and robust legs, with dips in their waists and hour-glass figures, with bones pressing against their skins like carved mountains.

love comes easily to thin girls. to the girls whose loud laughter are heard as wind chimes, whose jolly isn’t sneered at or embarrassing to see, whose confidence is just is — that it isn’t an act of empowerment or a statement or a message.

so you slink back into your shadows with little laughs and curled shoulders, like maybe if you diminished your presence enough, you would be seen physically small too. petite is a word no one has used for you but how else can anyone explain the way you trim yourself into bite-sized pieces?

you aren’t the first to be chosen; not the one people fight over. when you walk into a room, the best that could happen was that no one would notice you. that you would blend into the shadows or the walls, quiet and peaceful. painfully lonely, yes, but peaceful, nevertheless.

(you still have nightmares of high school.

of boys using you for their dares, like the only thing good about you was to be the butt of the joke; like asking you out was a comedic show.

of girls and—

sometimes, they’re meaner than the boys with all their lilac and softness; you thought that at least they were a kindred soul, but so many times, during lunch, you were cornered into tears until you became full from nothing but your anguish.)

when simon first walked into your life, you knew it — whatever ‘it’ could be — was impossible.

you had already ended the tragedy before something could even begin. you saw his beauty — in a way that you cannot explain; in a way that is rugged and scarred and terrifying, almost, but beautiful, still — and knew there was no way he would fall for you, anyway.

but simon was… persistent. charming you in a way that was painfully absent of all suave but he was still so charismatic, he always left your stomach in knots. hope bloomed in your chest and you realized that maybe it needn’t be a tragedy; that it mustn’t be a joke nor a dare; that you must be—

loved.

that you are loved — just that. just as is.

simon watches as you lay down on the bed, your cheeks tingling with heat as embarrassment rises from the base of your neck, dancing past your shoulders and devouring up until even the tip of your nose thrums with feverish touch. you look away from him, feeling so shy at the intensity in his eyes. he looks at you like he is ravenous for you; like you are the only nourishment he needs, and that you have made him hungry, his gums aching with the need to sink his teeth into the soft parts of your body.

you have never been looked at like this before, and it is intoxicating. it makes you heady, breathless, lips parted open as you gasp for air—

rustling fills your ears and you perk up, getting ready to snap your bra off, only to find simon naked, bare, his cock chubbing up from underneath his bush, and you have never loved a body until his. lust coils in the tendrils of your heart, stretching into the yawning that burrows in the pit of your stomach to capture you whole.

you want him.

god, do you want him.

he falls to his knees, stalking close to where you are splayed on the bed like the offering you are that he says he will never deserve, but you stop him with a hand up and a quiet breath, and, “the lights.”

your voice trembles. shame slowly snuffs out the greed.

“can you turn them off, please?” you ask because it is a courtesy you were taught to—

‘can you bathe me in darkness so that the two of us can pretend that i am not undesirable and that your love is not a fluke?’

‘can you hide me from your eyes so your mind does not give you reason to pull away?’

‘can you reduce me into a body to fuck into, so that our pretend-love story does not end?’

your question makes simon still, his heady eyes lightening up again. recognition slips into his consciousness and he rouses up — you tell yourself that the caving in your chest isn’t a heartbreak — to reach forward.

to reach for—

you.

simon’s scarred palm falls to your stomach, planting atop the sea of stretch marks. his thumb traces their ridges, so soft and slow and intimate, and your eyes burn because why is he so cruel?

why must he touch you like you are something to revere? like you are something priceless and that he is undeserving of you? like you are, all parts, beautiful?

“won’t you let me love you like this?” is what he says instead, and he moves, desperate to meet your eyes. “can we do it with the lights on, from now on?”

all the air in your lungs is knocked out of you.

his words were quiet but they resonated so loudly, almost booming and deafening. the world doesn’t freeze nor does time slow, but there is something in that moment that makes you feel like you are at the throes of something divine. like you are finally sewn together.

you do not sob but you are so close to doing so. instead, you pull him close, trembling, and give him a kiss. he melts into it, his hands mapping the softness of your body, digging into the fat and never letting go.

he devours you like this — hot lips against your own. spit is shared, moans fall in between the tiny cracks whenever you pull away to breathe only for simon to push close again, never letting you stray alone any longer, and clingy as he fits you into him.

the first drag of his fingers into your cunt makes you gasp, your head falling back to the pillows as a mewl drips from your mouth. he pulls away, huffing, and positions himself so he can watch you. you keep your head tipped up, still so embarrassed by being exposed this way, but simon curls his fingers just right, and he strokes against something that punches a gasp out of you.

“shit—”

“like this, sweetheart?” simon croons, nuzzling his face on your rib, his cheek bumping against your boob. he pulls his fingers out, dragging with him muffled squelching noises that tickle your ears, before fucking his fingers in you again.

you whine, a drawn hiccupped sound, and claw at the sheets at the pace he adopts. it is fast, overwhelming, but still not enough. it seems like he’s spoiled you rotten, and left you needy for nothing but his cock.

“fuck me,” you whimper, arms looped around his wrists. you feel so weak from the pleasure, wrung out of orgasms with his fingers in your cunt and his palm against your clit. you flick your eyes up, meeting his gaze. “si, please?”

he lets out a snarl, his softness and need peaking into something dangerous. you find that you are not scared, instead, you are besotted — inviting him in by spreading your legs wider, showing him how wet your pussy is and that it is ready for his taking.

your face crumples at the slow slide, his cock fucking you raw like this is the first time again. like you two have more to explore, more to uncover, and you keen at the intensity of it all.

missionary has never felt this good before; simon thrusts his hips, humping the remaining inches in, and you scream — your hips snapping up, and your throat burning with the ache. simon holds you by your waist, his fingers dimpling your flesh, and fucks you with gusto.

he chases his orgasm as he melts into you. he is louder today, and more guttural with his desires. he snarls his praises, the words curling from the backs of his teeth until they drip on you like hot wax — scalding, overwhelming, and leaving you to feel all tender and raw.

“si!” you cry out, reaching forward to play with your clit. “m’close, baby. m’close!”

“yeah?” he rasps out, his balls slapping against your ass. you go dizzy, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as goosebumps rise across the expanse of your body. “do i make my baby feel good? tell me, sweetheart, go on. tell me, huh?”

he is rambling, untethered, himself, as he loses in his own swelling euphoria.

you sob, toes digging into the mattress because you are unable to properly vocalize the pleasure, your mind all razed by the way he fucks you, but your baby is asking you to do so, so you tell him, “s’good. baby, s’good! i feel so full an’ only you can fuck me good an’— an’ si, i’m gonna— i’m gonna—”

your orgasm hits you like a fever breaking; like you are feeling a sense of release that has never been felt before. you feel like you are suspended, floating, your skin buzzing with lightning. you don’t even know you are screaming, deaf to anything but the explosion of ecstatic pleasure.

your teeth rattle at the first spurt of simon’s cum, and he presses uncoordinated kisses on your lips. it makes you giggle, all sluggish now that exhaustion is weaving in, and it is then that you meet simon’s eyes.

they are so clear and vibrant, the way they only ever are under light. they crinkle in his smile, and you puff, snuggling close, feeling like you can drop to sleep with his cock still in you.

“love you si,” you murmur, your words sticking together in your drowsiness.

he presses a kiss on your temple and breathes you in. then, “i love you too, sweetheart.”

and the lights are still on.

thank you once again for the 15k, and i hope you have loved this the way i loved writing it <33

i was struck with the poetry, and the way wiley described the way she is loved. she started her performance with the lines: “i say, ‘i am fat.’ he says, ‘no, you are beautiful.’ i wonder why i cannot be both.” and i have never related to anything more. wiley then talks about how their relationship unfurls, and in ‘6’ (it is a list poetry), she says, “he tells me he loves me with the lights on,” and i sobbed.

so i wrote a fic of me, and i hope thats alright.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley smut #afab reader #simon ghost riley smut #cod x reader #chubby reader #suns

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dollgxtz · 2 months

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Ok a fic where reader and sylus are at a business meeting, she “offers” herself as payment (maybe as a joke or just to rile sylus idk) and he makes sure to remind her who she belongs to? Please???

Kindred Spirits

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, possessiveness, ownership, spanking, hitting, slight blood mention, pet names like kitten & sweetie, creampie, rough sex, crying, slight fluff at the end :3

AN: Anon ur a literal genius. This has Sylus written all over it. Im so happy to be back posting another story for you all! Also happy to announce my masterlist is now complete and can be found in my pinned! Ty all! Enjoy and remember, my asks are open for any character, Sylus is just my husband LOL. Remember to read my pinned before requesting please! This is a bit tamer than my other stories but trust I am cooking up some deviant content as soon as I publish this one :33

“Finally…”

You nearly collapse near your front door. A whole week of your life. Gone. To what you ask? Dealing with wanderers on a special aid mission. Sure sure, the job paid well but it had been weeks since your last off day. Every time it seemed like one was around the corner here they go with some emergency call and a spill about how some rich politician needed help or something.

You were starting to get tired of cleaning up other people’s mistakes.

You fumbled with your keys, fingers numb from the biting cold. The wind whipped around you, making you shiver as you tried to fit the right key into the lock. Your breath came out in visible puffs, and you could feel the frustration building with each failed attempt. Finally, with a relieved sigh, you heard the click of the lock turning.

The still warm air is such a welcoming contrast to the wind and biting cold outside. You quickly shut your door and melt to the floor, your feet aching with relief as the pressure you had been putting on them subsided. Peace at last. Time for a hot shower an-

Your peace was cut short with the distinct tone of your phone ringing. And not just any ring tone. The one you had set specifically for a certain white haired man that only ever brought trouble. Wondering if you should even pick up, you bring the phone to your face, knowing that you were going to answer regardless.

“Sylus…I’m really tired. Can we talk lat-"

“Long time no see kitten. You should stop by for a bit, hm?”

You roll your eyes, suppressing the urge to scoff out loud. Arrogant prick, you think, irritated by his inability to let you finish a sentence without interrupting. How did he even know you were home now?

You sigh deeply, feeling the tension building, and rub your temples to alleviate the mounting frustration. No, you tell yourself firmly. You wouldn’t put up with this today. Maybe another day, but definitely not today.

"Actually, no. I just returned from a week-long aid mission. Not today," you say firmly, aiming to be clear and resolute in your decision to stay put. Sylus however, seems to sense the cracks in your resolve and only responds with a chuckle.

“I want to see you. I’ll have Luke and Kieran come get you since you’re so tired”.

“Hu-”

“See you soon. They’re en route. Ciao”

The phone clicks, signaling the end of the call. For whatever reason, your ever growing frustration simply dissipates, defeat taking its place. You should be used to this by now. Sylus always gets what he wants. And you always let him. It goes without saying that it’s the same way for you as well. At least, Sylus always gives you what you want if it doesn’t interfere with his need to lay his eyes on you at least once in awhile. He knew that you wouldn’t push this though. You both knew.

Deep down, you wanted to see him too.

You asked Luke and Kieran to wait outside for a bit while you took a brisk shower and freshened up. Those two had always been very patient and understanding. You felt bad “bossing” them around, and yet they always insisted that you could. Though Luke had admitted on one occasion that he never expected to be helping a girl find hair ties or carrying shopping bags while working for Onychinus.

The statement had made you laugh a bit. You finally finish dressing in some plain sweats and rush to the car. Luke and Kieran are waiting outside of a dark colored jeep. Not too flashy as to not draw attention, but it was still clearly very expensive.

“Actually miss, Boss wanted you to wear these” Luke says, holding out an expensive looking dress. Clearly designed by hand and tailored to your measurements. Kieran follows his lead, holding out a box containing a pair of earrings and a lavish looking necklace.

“Huh? What’s this for? A date?”

“Business. That’s all he said” Kieran chimed in. Although you couldn’t see their faces, you knew they had no reason to lie to you about this.

“Ah. Dragging me into more trouble. Got it”.

When the three of you finally arrived to the location, the sun had already set for the day. You darted your eyes back and forth, squinting above at the bright neon sign of the establishment.

“We’re not going to the N109 Zone? This is a nightclub…” you mutter, taken aback by the unfamiliar surroundings. When did this even get here? There were plenty of clubs in Linkon of course, but you never seemed to notice this one. Not that you knew much about the night life to begin with. People were lined up at the entrance, chatting, fixing makeup, or texting.

“Boss wants you here. He’s waiting inside. Enjoy your time miss” Luke said, amusement written all over his tone. He gets out of the passenger seat to open the door and lend you a hand. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to appear shaken up by the situation. Sylus was always full of surprises. This was no different, act confident.

At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. After getting almost immediate entrance into the club with just a simple nod from the guard, you enter. As you walk inside the club, Luke and Kieran not far behind you, you can tell this was no ordinary night club. Everyone here was dressed lavishly and sharp, clearly possessing power and ulterior motives. A few eyes lay on you as you walk in, and you feel your hands start to sweat.

Keep cool. This isn’t the first time you’ve been around high ranking individuals. This is probably some test he set up…right? Or some kind of joke to get a laugh?

Clenching your fists, your eyes dart and search for a tall figure with white hair, feeling more nervous by the second that you don’t see him. You’re about to turn around and ask one of the twins, but at last your gaze settles on him, sipping on a glass of Gin Fizz. He’s sitting in a velvety booth by himself, people watching. He’s wearing his black button up with red streaks across it, coat hanging on his shoulders per usual. As if he felt you staring, his eyes shift to meet yours. He sets down his glass, giving you you a small smirk. His eyes narrow, sending a very clear message.

Come here.

As if you were suddenly possessed, your feet seem to start moving on their own. You weren’t sure if you were relieved to see him or if it was just the relief of seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar place. You take a few deep breaths as you approach, readying your witful replies to any of his attempts to make fun of you. Without making any sound or looking at him, you quietly slide in next to him.

“You look nice. Seems I was right about this look on you” Sylus says, taking another sip of his drink. His eyes wander up and down behind the glass, seemingly devouring you. You squirm under his gaze.

“Hm. Thanks. This gift is the least you can do after dragging me to do whatever you want on a whim once again” you scoff, eyeing the full glass that sits on the table. It’s another glass of Gin Fizz, probably for Sylus. There’s three other very empty glasses on the table.

This man can definitely hold his alcohol.

He chuckles, taking a finger and pushing the glass of Gin closer to you.

“Don’t be like that sweetie. Loosen up a bit, you’ll need it”

“For what exactly? Business?” you mock, picking up the Gin. You didn’t exactly like the taste of this particular alcohol of choice but Sylus was right about one thing. Some liquid courage was definitely needed for whatever shenanigans he was dragging you into tonight.

“Yeah. Figured I could use Linkon’s darling Miss Hunter as backup” Sylus chuckles, watching you nearly choke as you take three big gulps of the drink. You squeeze your eyes in disgust as you finish the rest of the glass, shooting a death glare in his direction as you set it down.

“You’re perfectly capable. Don’t mock me Sylus”. You grit your teeth in irritation, almost ready to rip him to shreds with your words. Clearly your tone has no effect on him though, as all you get in return is a soft smile. Sylus places a hand on your upper leg, slowing sliding his fingers under your dress. You gasp, the coldness of his fingers making you twitch a bit. The warmness of your skin mixed with his cold touch makes the sensation feel like icy fire.

“Or what? You’ll use this on me?” he smirks, tugging on the concealed gun strapped under your dress. “I’m all for it honestly”

You slap his hand away, the woozy feeling from the Gin Fizz starting to kick in. What was in this drink? It was strong. Too strong.

“Pervert. Always touching me, making fun of me. Maybe I will shoot you. Again.” you growl, turning your head away from him. You attempt to scoot away as well, but are met with a strong grip around your waist as you’re pulled into closer proximity with him. Sylus grabs your chin and lifts it towards his face. He leans down a bit, the smell of alcohol and his bourbon vanilla cologne making you feel even more dizzy.

“You can put your claws away now kitten. Don’t make me have to melt your little tantrum away” he coos, gently caressing your face with his thumb.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, desperately searching your sluggish brain for a comeback but finding yourself too flustered to form any words. The look in Sylus’s eyes shifts from a smug expression to a much softer, almost tender gaze, and you wonder what his next move will be. Your face starts to burn as you feel heat rising in your core, your heart pounding in your chest. Panic sets in as you consider the possibilities, your mind racing with the fear of what might come next.

Don’t tell me he’s going to…?!

"You're so...confusing" you mutter.

You’re just about to try and squirm from his grip, when Luke and Kieran tap on the table, catching yalls attention.

“Boss man, Val says he’s ready for ya” Luke says, nonchalantly ignoring the scene that’s displayed in front of him. Sylus releases your face, his face going serious again. He gets up, reaching out a hand to help you out of the booth.

“Time for business, sweetie”

You’re guided by the twins and Sylus past the sweaty bodies on the dance floor to a somewhat hidden room located downstairs. The area the stairs led to was blocked off by a singular rope, clearly only meant for a select crowd.

In the room there’s a long black table, cards and chips all over it. There’s a few prominent figures already seated, along with a few bodyguards standing near the door. Sylus pulls a seat out for you, before taking his own. You study the figure that’s sitting at the head of the table as you sit. He’s short, a bit chubby, dark hair, smoking a cigar. A scar sits angrily on his forehead and you wonder what kinda grudges led to such an injury. He notices you looking at him, and gives you a devilish grin. Some of his teeth are crooked or missing.

All that money and he can't fix his smile?

You shudder. Sylus looks over at you, and back to the man at the head of the table. He’s reading you, clearly sensing your nervousness. He says nothing, simply reaching a hand over to rest on your thigh.

“Was starting to think you were going to keep me waiting Sylus. Seems you didn’t run after all” he laughs, wheezing a bit as he takes another puff of his cigar. You wrinkle your nose a bit as the potent smell hits your senses.

“I couldn’t turn down a game of cards with my dear old friend” Sylus says, irritation coating the last word. “Let’s keep things civil this time, hm Valentino?”

Valentino bursts into laughter, clearly amused. Despite his laughter, you couldn’t ignore the murderous tension in the air. Something tells you this isn’t any regular game of cards. You gulp, trying to force yourself to look at everyone at the table and smile.

“Well hello little lady. Sylus, you didn’t tell me you kept such gorgeous company…” Val says, his eyes snaking all over your body. You feel Sylus squeeze your thigh, clearly irritated. He pulls out a coin from his coat pocket, seemingly trying to channel his frustrations into something else.

“You know I’m not really the type to share, Val. She’s all mine. Down to every single strand of hair”. Sylus ends, catching the coin and shooting a glare in the man’s direction. It was plain, but conveyed a message very well.

You feel your palms start to sweat. Was he being serious right now?? You side eye him, trying to piece out whether or not this was some kind of facade you’re supposed to play into. Valentino clearly takes Sylus’s words as a challenge.

“I’ll give you twenty million for her. Maybe fifty million if you make her give us a little strip show. What do ya say? She looks so soft. Probably makes cute noises too…~” he chuckles, likely enjoying the look of surprise that washes across your face.

Sylus remains quiet, his face unmoving, frozen in a pissed glare. You don’t know if it was the alcohol you drank earlier, or if it was some inkling of an attempt to dissipate the tension, but you clear your throat and begin to speak.

“Well Sylus? You can share can’t you? It’s quite the generous offer Mr. Valentino. I’m quite flattered actually.” you express, putting on your best smug look. Sylus stiffens, a somewhat shocked expression washing over him. Valentino erupts into yet another fit of laughter, seemingly unable to contain himself. Turning to look back at Sylus, you see it in his face briefly. An uncaged look of rage before it quickly dissipates.

Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.

Far too late to stop now though.

“You heard the lady Sylus. Why don’t you try sharing just this once? What I would give to taste that sweet little body of he-”

Sylus slams a revolver on the table, then calmly starts picking up cards from the deck.

"I'd suggest you stop talking and start playing the game, Mr. Valentino," Sylus snarls, his words dripping with venom. The fury in his voice is palpable, and it's clear he's reached the end of his patience.

You give Val a sly look, feigning pity. “Ah, sorry Valentino. Seems this one can’t quite let me go yet”. You don’t know what you were trying to achieve, but it’s certainly not working to dissipate any tension. Val doesn’t respond to you though, all his focus on Sylus now.

“My dear friend. You should know me by now. There’s something I’m much more interested in now than some money. Now I want the girl, or nothing”.

Valentino wears a shit eating grin on his face, soaking in the fact that he thinks he’s gained some control of the situation, unaffected by the gun on the table. Sylus simply sighs, rubbing his fingers against the temple of his forehead.

“I see where this is going then”.

You barely process what’s happening before everything and everyone starts moving. As soon as Sylus begins to stand, Valentinos guards start shooting. Sylus wastes no time flipping the large table, sending the cards and game chips flying everywhere. You yelp as he yanks you towards him using his body and the table to shield the oncoming attack of bullets. You hear Luke and Kieran joining in the frenzy, yelling obscenities as they begin shooting their own hidden weapons.

You swiftly reach for the weapon concealed beneath your dress, your fingers brushing against the cool metal as you draw it out. Turning to face Sylus, you ready yourself for his instructions, your body tense with anticipation. Instead of giving you orders, he locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing through you with an intensity that feels like it's reaching into your very soul. The silence is heavy, charged with unspoken tension as bullets whip past the both of you, and you can feel your heartbeat quicken in response.

“I need you alive for what’s coming sweetie. Pay attention, stay close”

You blink. Twice. Unable to process his words before he yanks you both up, one hand using his evol to send the table crashing into several bodyguards. The four of you fight your way through the onslaught of people coming into the door, before eventually dashing up the stairs. People are running in all directions, seemingly caught up in the chaos of everything. You all manage to make it out the door and into the brisk cold air, the twins quickly hopping into the car to whisk you away.

“Go on, I’ll catch up soon” Sylus states, hurriedly pushing you into the car and slamming the door before you could protest. He signals Kieran to drive off, and that he does.

“He’s…going to level the building. Isn’t he?” you sigh, sighing at the fact that Sylus seemed to conveniently forget that this was in fact not the lawless land of the N109 Zone. No doubt the Hunter’s Association would have to investigate for potential wanderer activity, and that would be a lot of paperwork.

"It's fine. He owned that place anyway. He'll just build another," Luke says, his voice calm and unbothered. Just as the words leave his mouth, a deafening boom erupts behind the car, shaking the ground beneath yall. The explosion's shockwave rattles the windows, and the sky lights up with a fiery glow, cutting off Luke's next sentence mid-breath.

You groan.

The twins did drive you to the N109 this time, swiftly helping you out the car and into Sylus’s private villa. When you entered the front door, a nightgown and lacy underwear were laid neatly out for you in his room, your arrival clearly anticipated.

It wasn’t more than an hour before Sylus waltzed in the front door, eyeing your slouching figure on the couch. You sit up as soon as you see him, still somewhat annoyed.

“What took you so damn long? Also do you have to level every building you come across?” you spat, glaring at him. He says nothing though, walking straight past you and into his room.

“Huh? Sylus?? What the hell…”

Not liking the feeling of being ignored, you hurriedly chased after him. You had never really been uncomfortable barging into his room. You had done it plenty of times at this point, the first time being when he had challenged you to steal the brooch from him. No point in being shy now. He’s fumbling with something in his drawer when you reach up to tap his shoulder.

“Sylus! Don’t ignore me, I know you ca-”

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist before you can touch him. His gaze is unreadable, cold even. You start to sweat, trying to take your arm back. But he only squeezes tighter.

"I was hoping you'd leave me be so I could calm down. But of course you're as petulant as ever" he says.

"Let go! What's wrong with you!?" You attempt to remove his hand from your wrist but he doesn't budge.

“Go to the bed. Place your hands on it” he says, face unchanging.

“Huh??”

“I don’t like to repeat myself”.

You freeze for only a moment before quickly moving to the bed. You meticulously put your hands where instructed, something deep in your core telling you that it’s likely best to listen for now. However, you can’t help to look over your should to quip at Sylus. You’re slightly bent at an angle, trying your best to keep your balance.

“What’s this about? I’m not that upset that you reduced the building to rubble”

Sylus snakes his way behind you, quietly, as if thinking of what to say. He reaches out a hand, grabbing the ends of your nightgown and moving the soft fabric around in his fingers. You feel the heat rise to your face, the skin of your ass feeling a slight gush of cold air.

“You like playing games with me, don’t you? Testing me” he says coldly, fingers trailing up the back of your legs slowly. You shiver, attempting to squirm away. His evol appears around you, its tight grip making you cry out.

Oh. This was about that.

“Huh?? No, I was just playing along. Just friendly banter yknow?” you say, voice wavering. You’ve clearly pissed him off. A part of you knows it’s a slight lie. You didn’t want to admit it out loud but it was kind of amusing to see Sylus get so riled up over something. Over you especially. But you hadn’t exactly done it fully on purpose. It was the alcohol.

But you knew he wasn’t buying it, as observant as he was.

“Sure. You were just pretending to act like a stray kitten trying to find a new owner?” he smirks, his fingers beginning to trace circles over the cloth of your panties. You let out a small whine, his touch just barely grazing your already wet cunt.

“Owner? I don’t belong to you. Or anyone” you scoff, the resolve in your voice wavering with every little circle he completes on your skin. You almost whine in disappointment when he pulls away.

“And yet…” Sylus trails off, leaving you with aching curiosity before you’re met with stinging pain on your ass. You cry out, unable to move with his evol still snaked around you. “You did exactly what I told you to do just now, wear the clothes I leave out for you, and practically melt everytime I even barely touch you”.

“Sylus?! What the hell was that…?!” you exclaim, trying your hardest to process his words and the situation at hand. He doesn’t respond, proceeding to gently caress the spot where he smacked you. The stinging pain gently eases away, and you feel yourself relaxing with his touch once again. He once again trails his fingers down to your clothed pussy, rubbing slow and meticulous circles around it. You start to whine, attempting to push yourself into his fingers for more friction. He pulls his hand away, making a disapproving sigh.

“Acting like you’re in heat per usual” he chuckles, watching as you wiggle around under the grip of his evol. “This is a punishment”.

“For what? Cause I let some sick and ugly looking crime boss think he had a chance with me?”

Sylus wastes no time bringing his hand to your ass again, earning another painful whine out of you. You feel tears forming in your eyes that you can’t wipe away. He’s certainly not holding back his strength, and yet you know this isn’t even a third of the force he could use on you.

“For entertaining him” he says plainly.

Another smack.

“Another for stupidly handing over your life, body and soul for a measly twenty million”

An even harder hit, this one fueled by rage.

“And lastly…”

You nearly choke as he delivers the final blow, your ass definitely bruising by now. Sylus offers no comfort this time, instead leaning down next to your crying face, breath hot against your ear.

“For forgetting that you belong to me, just as much as I belong to you. Kindred spirits remember?”

You have no chance to respond before he’s flipping you on your back, your nightgown flying up to reveal your wet panties.

“I-im sorry, Sy” you choke, tears blurring your vision.

“Show me then, sweetie. Spread your legs. Wide” he instructs, reaching up to brush your tears away. This isn’t done lovingly, more like calculated and cold.

This is far from over.

You silently but shakingly open your legs, your ass still painfully aching from his assault. You’re surprised when he doesn’t rip your underwear in two, choosing to rather peel them off your legs slowly. You notice the hunger in his eyes as he does so, as if savoring the view of your cunt at his fingertips. A small drop of arousal pools down your ass, and Sylus scoops it up with one finger.

You watch as he puts his finger in his mouth, savoring the drop of you with swiftness. His piercing gaze never leaves yours though, and you want to suddenly run away and hide. This is beyond thrilling, but you try your best to remain as still as possible, scared that he’ll think you’re enjoying it too much and punish you accordingly.

You suddenly can’t take the tension anymore, and close your eyes. You hear the sound of Sylus removing his belt from its loops, then the loud clang as it hits the floor. You feel the bed shift as he lowers himself over you, his face stopping just inches over yours, indicated by the sudden feel and warmth of his breath. He grabs your face in his hand and squeezes your jaw. Hard.

“Look at me kitten” he commands, his tone filled with unkempt rage and anger. Your eyes fly open, terrified.

“I’m the only one that will ever taste you. Repeat it” he says. Before you can get a word out, he’s pushing the fat tip of his cock in your entrance. You cry out in agony, nowhere near ready to have been penetrated. But he doesn’t stop filling you.

“Repeat it. Or I’ll hit you again. Do you want that?”

“You’re t-the…ah!” you whine, his cock halfway inside you at this point. Your poor cunt feels like it’s being impaled, splitting pain soaring through your core.

“Try again”

You let out a whimper, trying your best to push through the pain and put thoughts into words.

“You’re the oh-only one that gets to taste me” you choke out, voice wavering and your eyes teary. Sylus gives a hard thrust, pushing the rest of his length inside you. You cry out again, feeling like you’re on the verge of passing out. Sylus seems unmoved by your outbursts though.

“And?”

You stare at him, barely able to see his face through the tears. What? What does he mean and? He didn’t say anything else did he?

“Hu-what?”

You hear him sigh with disapproval, giving you yet another hard thrust. And another. And another. You’re clinging onto his back now, nails digging into his skin as the sound of the bed creaking and your pants fill the room. Blood has probably been drawn on his back, not that he’d even notice. You can hear him grunting in your ear, clearly enjoying the feeling of you tightening around him when you tense from the pain. Although it still hurts, you can feel yourself accumulating to the shape and size of his length, and the pain lessons a bit more with each thrust. He stops once again, tilting your face in his grip.

“What did I say you forgot? Or is this kitten filled with too much cock to think straight now?” he mocks. You can hear the smile on his face despite not being able to see him clearly. Heat creeps up on your cheeks as you wrack your brain for answers.

“I-you…we’re kindred spirits?”

“Before that sweetie”

You blink the tears on your face away, your vision becoming a bit more clear. Although he’s still gazing down at you, his expression is not as angry as before. Seems he’s gotten a bit of his pent up anger out now.

“I belong to you, Sylus” you say, voice small and whiny from crying. That’s definitely what he wanted to hear, as he began to pepper kisses on your neck, on your cheek, and eventually resting on your lips. You greedily return his affection, leaning into this feverish kiss, the both of you only periodically stopping to pant for air between kisses. He stops, resting his forehead with yours, gazing into your eyes once more.

“And I belong to you. What’s mine is yours. All of it”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s thrusting again, this time with a continuous and steady pace. You cling onto him, the exchange of flowery words and rigorous thrusting already bringing you on the verge of ecstasy. Sylus already noticed long before you did though, as he brought his hand between the two of you, circling your clit further your stimulation.

“Go ahead, come undone for me” he whispers, voice strained for nearly being at his end too. Your body obeys, unraveling and writhing with pleasure as Sylus continues to pound into you. You ride your orgasm to its end, till the touching of your clit becomes too much and you whine from overstimulation.

“Sylus…!” you moan, and he stops, already at the start of his own climax. You shudder as you feel him spill into you, his seed immediately beginning to pool down your cunt and to your ass. He pulls his heavy cock out of you, a feeling of emptiness taking its place. For a moment nothing is said, just the sound of the both of you catching your breath.

You decide to break the silence.

“Sylus…I’m really sorry” you start, looking up at him. He simply chuckles, placing a kiss on your cheek before getting up to grab a rag from the bathroom.

“You’ve taken your punishment quite well, why are you apologizing again sweetie?” he says from the bathroom, coming back to wipe you clean. You scoff, slightly tensing from the coldness of the cloth.

“Hmph. Fine, I take it back then. I’m holding a grudge anyways for how hard you hit me”

He simply sighs as he finishes wiping you up. “Back with the infamous wit already? Can’t a man catch a break?”

You sit up, feeling emboldened once more.

“Nope. Maybe don’t hit me with the strength of a thousand suns next time and we’ll see”

Sylus tosses the rag in a laundry basket, making his way back to your side. He pulls you into his arms, embracing you in his warmth. You can’t help but smile against his chest.

“Well, good thing I have all night to make it up to you”

You lightly pinch his side, giggling into his embrace. A question crosses your mind.

"Did you mean it Sylus? We belong to each other?"

Sylus took your face in his hand, giving you a slight smile.

"I don't say stuff I don't mean. You know this"

That's the furthest he was willing to explain it. At least for now. Who knows what kind of power trip would ensue if you truly knew how much you had the big bad leader of Onychinus wrapped around your finger.

#umi writes ♡︎#sylus x reader #love and deepspace #sylus #sylus x reader smut #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds smut #lads #lads smut #lads fic #lads scenarios #l&ds sylus #l&ds #love and deep space x reader #l&ds x reader #sylus x reader fic #love and deep space smut #lads sylus

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ellecdc · 3 months

Text

Peace & Quiet [& Sirius]

Regulus Black x mute!reader [gn] who speaks with Regulus for the first time

request: Regulus Black x mute reader and she's quiet so she can talk, and her speech is excellent, she just chooses not to talk until maybe one day studying she let's it slip and he heard by @simps-for-to-many-people

CW: selective mutism

Regulus Black was a very self-serving person, and he was more than happy to admit that.

Nothing that Regulus did was coincidental, accidental, or unplanned; he had a motive for every action he took, and there was meaning behind everything that he did.

Like now, for example; he was very pointedly not sitting with his friends in the middle of the library, but rather in a far secluded corner near a fireplace and a bookshelf containing tomes on the reproductive patterns of frost snails.

In essence, no one was coming back here for books or otherwise.

But that wasn’t why he was sitting back here.

It was likely why you were sitting back here, which was decidedly why Regulus was, too.

He’d asked first, of course; he was a gentleman afterall. And you’d offered him half a smile and a quick nod before quickly returning to your notes.

Regulus liked that about you.

You were a quiet sort - and not only because you didn’t talk, because Regulus was certain that even if you did make a habit of speaking, you’d likely be nearly just as quiet.

It didn’t appear to him that you couldn’t speak, but rather just that you didn’t.

And Regulus couldn’t blame you, there weren’t very many people in this castle worth conversing with anyways.

That didn’t stop him from trying to converse with you, however.

He made sure to say hello when he saw you, and always asked if your day was going well, or if you were finding class difficult; the likes.

He never got more than a nod or a smile, and that was enough.

So, here he was sitting in the farthest, darkest corner of the library with the quietest seat partner as he enjoyed the view.

And if it wasn’t clear by now, the view Regulus so enjoyed was you.

You’d not shared more than a smile and nod with him in the years of classes you shared together, yet somehow Regulus seemed to find a kindred spirit in you.

A soul aching for solitude and silence, for patience and understanding, for space and peace.

He certainly found those things with you.

He hoped that you felt the same about him, or perhaps that you could bring yourself to find the same in him.

For now, though, Regulus was happy to reap the benefits of your presence for as long as you were willing to share them with him.

“There you are, Reggie! My favourite brother!” Regulus heard the unmistakable sound of Sirius’ voice as it permeated his (and, rather unfortunately, your) quiet sanctuary.

Regulus could kill him.

“I’m your only brother, you sod.” Regulus hissed as Sirius plopped himself down on the bench beside him, either ignorant to or in spite of the lack of enthusiasm at his arrival.

“And I’m your only brother, don’t you think you ought to be nicer to me? Hi, L/N.” Sirius replied, greeting you quickly as he turned back to his brother. “Listen, I need a favour.”

“No.”

“Reggie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Please.”

“I said no.” Regulus bit out.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.” Sirius pouted, resulting in an awkwardly long staring match between the two brother’s before Regulus finally sighed.

“What?”

“I need the password to the Slytherin dungeons.”

“Are you out of your sodding mind!?”

“You don’t know what it’s for!” Sirius argued.

“It’s for a prank.” Regulus responded resolutely, causing Sirius’ expression to fall just as he was about to start another sales pitch.

“Okay, so maybe you do know what it's for, but that’s not the point!”

"That's exactly the point."

"But-"

“I’m not giving you the password to my common room, Sirius.” Regulus stated with finality as Sirius groaned and let his head fall to the table in front of him with a thump.

“You’re mean, you know that? He’s mean; why do you hang out with him, L/N? You could do so much better.”

“What? Like you?” You responded quickly, not bothering to look up from your notebook to see the absolute astounded faces of both Regulus and Sirius Black, and the satisfied smirk on Remus Lupin’s face as he sidled up behind the two brothers.

“I knew I liked you, L/N.” Remus said as he shot you a wink and placed a conciliatory hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “So, you failed to get the password and had your arse handed to you?”

Sirius harrumphed as Regulus let out a very uncharacteristic bark of laughter.

Neither Sirius nor Remus missed the satisfied smile that graced your lips at the sound.

“That’s alright, Pads; there’s always plan B.”

“What’s plan B?” Regulus asked cautiously.

“That’s for us to know and you to find out, dear brother.” Sirius announced as he stood and ruffled Regulus’ curls before turning to stalk away from the table, throwing a hasty ‘nice chatting, L/N’ over his shoulder before he disappeared around the corner.

“But…” Remus continued once he knew Sirius was out of ear shot. “Maybe don’t eat breakfast tomorrow at the Slytherin table.”

“Thanks Lupin.” Regulus grumbled, equal parts exhausted by his brother’s antics and grateful for Remus’ warning.

“Later Black, L/N.” He called as he followed after Sirius.

Regulus turned back towards the table to see you staring intently at your notes, though you seemed to be doing little more than fiddling with your quill.

“That was impressive; it’s usually impossible to shut my brother up like that.” He offered carefully, hopefully, eagerly.

Gods, he was a mess.

You smiled and looked up at him through your lashes. “He was killing our vibes.” You replied in barely a whisper.

Regulus chuckled disbelievingly; not only did you feel comfortable enough to speak to him or in front of him, but that comfort seemed to extend to the likes of his brother and his brother’s boyfriend.

And you felt like the two of you had vibes, and that Sirius was a threat to those vibes.

Surely he was dreaming? Hallucinating? This couldn’t be real?

But there you were, sitting across from him as you so often were, looking at him shyly and hopefully and very much real; Regulus felt as though the two of you were on the brink of something.

“I agree; I enjoy your company very much, if I’m being honest."

You smiled at him again - and it was a more open smile this time, less hopeful and more grateful, less shy and more confident - quickly signing what Regulus knew to be the BSL sign for ‘me too’.

Feeling quite vindicated, Regulus finally pulled his gaze away from you and smiled down at his notebook. “That’s great to hear, because I may need to keep you on standby for the next time my brother starts harassing me.”

And Regulus was certain he’d be hearing the sound of your laughter in all of his sweetest dreams going forward.

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