#like. the heart thumping is in the translation right
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missmarveledsblog · 2 days ago
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THE MIND IS A PRISON , I'LL BE THE KEY ( BUCKY BARNES X ODINDOTTIR!READER )
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Summary : when bucky has a nightmare so bad , she ready to comfort him not expecting what will follow when she does so .
warnings : angsty as hell with a fluffy cute as hell ending , hydra sucks , idiots in love , bucky tries and fails to be a dick , reader is stubborn in the best way possible , google translated russian so please be free to correct the errors , best friends to lovers .
hope you like it @joshwashingtonmybeloved <3
This was too familiar ,  that cold , mold  and damp  smell to the almost frozen concrete feeling  below . The bare dingy cell and what constituted as a mattress lay on the floor . decade in places like this  was all too familiar feeling  in his gut only made worse from the freedom he was getting used to . knowing what being here entailed  and what would follow had his heart beating faster , it felt like its thump echoed on the walls of the cell . the tensing of his muscle awaiting for the pain that was sure to come  and his mind almost scrambling to grasp every happy memory and shield it before it was taken away .   eye wide watching waiting , limbs heavy refusing to move and fight his way out why wasn’t he fighting this . the screeching of the cell door opening guns locked and aimed  feeling his body being dragged through the halls. like a ragdoll  .  the walls a faded olive or it was just the build up grime and dirts over   the years . watching the rooms and sell passing  , even if his eyes were closed he knew where he was going , all this place were the same , same corners , the same misery laced in the foundation and evil that seeped in it walls . 
Some movement as he pushed and fought the bastard like hell feeling the sting of the tasers on his skin the way his muscle  so used to the feeling till it was no use  as the straps held him down the metal piercing his skin almost pulsating in his skin  , the rubber in his mouth that made his stomach twist and turn the bile rise in his throat  .  while the devil stood over him , the cold condescending eyes that told him no matter what he’d never be free , the smile of victory on alexander pierce's face as  the currents start  , every zap that made his muscle contract and  his body seize , the screams of pain , the screams of hope to not fall into the will of these monster muffled .  those eyes of pure evil blurring , doubling and then gone as everything went black .
He thought it would be a nightmare come true   ,  being him again but this was worse maybe what happened in wakanda that freed him could also made him be locked in his own mind , a prisoner in his own body as while he was in full control .  watching what haunted his dreams in real time  wanting to scream be in control and stop this all . but he wouldn’t it was like he was happy that bucky was able to see this all .  The winter soldier fighting against the ones he loved the most , the people who helped in every part of him being a person again .  
“ come on buck this isn’t you” steve panted dodging the incoming blows , bucky wanted to scream tell them he was trapped .. tell them he was sorry he couldn’t stop this but he was trying to gain control . 
“Fight this come on i believe you can do this “ that voice  , the voice of someone that truly made him feel like he mattered , deserving on love  and the one he loved most in this and every universe and he knew that . one swift hit and steve was throw away and bucky felt his body move , locked in his own body and no control as the soldat zeroed in .  the new target to torture him .
“ no anyone but her please i will let you do what you want please” it felt like he was screaming the words  and yet his mouth didn’t move . slow deliberate steps toward his y/n odinsdottir a woman he loved in secret not willing to well this knowing she was too good for a monster like him , he was right at he could see her own eyes broken and filled with sorrow . 
“надеюсь ты смотришь(I hope you’re watching ) “  his own voice and not his words as he saw his own eye going to grab her but of course his doll was a fight , strong  and ready moving out of the way . 
“ bucky fight this , this is not you “ god her voice was so broken kicking and punching  her  him away trying not to hurt him. 
“ pretty one “ that voice was and wasn’t his speaking again grabbing her throat lifting her off the ground her finger scratching and scraping trying to pull his hands away , her face red  . 
“ t-t-this is n-n-not you “ she spluttered pulling her close her face was directly  at his .
“ Это есть и так будет всегда( It is and it will always be )”  * crack*  everything stop and the surge of his being pushing forth  slowly but surely his body was his own again a laughing in his head  when he looked down .  His whole world , his reason for being lifeless, cold and limp laying on the ground . 
“ doll ?  ..Y-y-y/n” he knelt holding her  in his arms as  he felt no life , no beating of her  heart . it was all gone , she was gone .  
The room was black when he shoot up panting and sweat pouring out his body looking around the room to see he was still in the compound. All the furniture y/n and steve helped him pick out and all the picture he pretended to be annoyed at when she made him smile or pose for . ones of him and the team along the walls he was home .  then the door flew open crashing with a bang  bed head and eyes dripping with concern and worry staring directly at him .  she was alive it was all a bad dream or was this the dream . his confused and frankly downright terrified expression  trying to decipher reality  and the subconscious of his own mind .  then he felt it the warm feeling of soft skin on his face  , she was holding  his face and talking so sweetly to him that grounding him back to earth .  
“ it’s just a dream , you're safe “ the coo of her melody filled voice his his ears . 
“ you broke the door again “ he could hear steve coming in  now  looking at scene before him. 
“ stark can afford it “ was all she shot back before returning her gaze onto bucky .  without warning or hesitation her pulled her to him holding her tightly and letting the warmth of her skin hit his own , her scent fill his nostrils and  the beating of her heart fill his ears. 
“ hey it’s ok i’m here, i’m not going anywhere “ her voice muffled and more high pitched than normal something he found adorable and sweet .  
“ i’ll leave you to it “was all steve was heard saying . 
“ buck ? “ 
“ doll i thought … i thought he got you , i got you and you were gone “ it was barely a whisper but she could hear it , she knew the moment she heard the screams what was going on and maybe she didn’t need to break the door but she need to get to him by any means necessary . 
“ I'm ok, look  well, actually don’t look.. I look like crap but listen, “ she smiled . “ feel” she took his hand suddenly he was afraid to touch her in case it wasn’t a dream or if he hurt her.  Then she moved it to her chest  where he could feel her heart beating strong and maybe a little fast but it was beating was the main thing. 
All that love he felt for her , something he kept so personal even from her , she was his friend and best friend at that . He never felt he deserved anything more than that , never felt she could love him like he loved her .  Yet in everything she was breaking the door and to get to him  , to make sure he was ok .  She was his doll , his friend and undisputedly the love of his life and that terrified him the most . every sacred thing in his life was destroyed and he couldn’t open himself to her because what would kill him more was destroying her or her being destroyed because of him . 
“ penny for your thought buckaroo” she smiled ever so softly . 
“ you need to leave and stay away from me “  that hurt on her face turn to a frown in a split second if he blinked he would have missed it . 
“ No “ simple but to the point crossing her arms . 
“ what do you mean no , leave .. get out of here “ he scoffed  if he had to be a dickhead to make her safe then so be it . 
“ no i’m not letting you do this asswipe” she climb over  situating herself in the bed beside him throwing him off his plans to get her away .  “ go” she mocked his voice. “ i know what your doing and it’s not working ok so go asleep or talk to me but i’m not leaving” that stubborn attitude  , that mouth that could rival stark  or give the billionaire a run for his money. 
“ i’ll hurt you or they’ll hurt you to get at me “ he turned . 
“ one  your not going to hurt me bucky  you won’t even spar with me properly  “ she rolled her eyes. “ hydra can’t hurt me kinda immortal “ she winked. 
“ loki died “ he shot back . 
“ loki dies every wednesday and come back saturday it kinda the regular “ she shook her head  . 
“ i can hurt you “ 
“ You can’t because you won’t it’s not in you to hurt your friends bucky and if your scared of him , he is gone he can’t hurt you anymore “ . 
“ what if he isn’t gone . what if he’s never gone laying dormont somewhere inside”. 
“ Then I will kick his ass and wait for you to come back and we will figure away to free you but we both know he’s gone bucky “ her hand laced in his , the conviction of her words and the way he could never doubt the truth in them . 
“ i don’t want to hurt you ever, “ he finally said .  “ I can't lose you,  of the people in my life I couldn't live again , this one i could never come back from if you were gone even more so if i was the one that made that happen …  you doll, your my heart and soul and everything that great in my life i love you too much “  the word he held in so long finally coming out , almost freeing in a sense .  feeling her scramble from her spot ready for her to run out the door and never speak to him again but instead she was kneeling once more in front of him.  Punching his arm taking him off guard before crashing her lips with his making his brain confused  , short circuiting before coming back to the moment  pulling her close to him as he kissed her back with much love  he kept inside for so long . every time she was close and he had to hold himself back would never be the case she was his doll  and that part of him that fear hurting her slowly melted away like ice thawing with the heart of her and his own love burning brighter giving a new sense of strength . 
Pulling away a pure and genuine twitch of his lips , the frown and worried expression long gone a smile was on his face. 
“ i don’t care what your mind thinks if you ever try push me away after that barnes were gonna have problem “ she sighed softly laying herself on his bed pulling him down with her . another thing his dream world never recognised was her strength much enhanced like his own  .  he lay his head on her chest feeling her hands in his hair , nails scratching along his scalp or the the soft hum of a song he heard thor tell them it was a old lullaby their mother sang to them as kids . usually he was afraid to sleep after such a nightmare but with every second of her soft embrace and every sense softly lulled to a comfort bliss , it was the  first time in a long time bucky felt himself smiling as he drifted off to a better  dreamland .  wasn’t long til she felt her own eyes grow heavy  and the call of the dream land calling her name. A tired smile on her lips to mirror his sleep  induced one before closing her eyes , an unspoken promise to keep him safe even from his own mind .   His mind  could be a prison and she would always be the key .
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non-fantasy · 2 years ago
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;;;:) same anon but i went back and yea it looks like everything was fixed. though if i remember right they never took out hiyori blushing i dont think, they have have it translated as her face being red or hot but i dont know about pronouns though ;-; i pmed them before and they said they are still self teaching so its a learning process
anon i realize now that you said that everything was fixed and that's a relief. but also i went insane and opened my copy of heroine training plan and found all the passages i was looking for from memory so i am just going to tell you about them regardless of whether or not they are related to the topic.
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after hiyori is rejected by asuka, yujiro comforts her and the highlighted line is specifically showing that yujiro's voice is gentler than usual while he's wiping away her tears.
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hiyori thinks that she's weak to yujiro's smile and she specifically gets the kyun sound effect????
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again!!! she's going dokyun at yujiro's teasing smile!!!
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hiyori why are you FUCKING BLUSHING at this. hiyori. hiyori!!!!!
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anantaru · 6 months ago
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imagine: dating alhaitham and waiting for the right time to have sex for the first time :))) (ps. ur my favorite writer <3 xx)
cw. his cock is big in this fic (and in general), passionate and hot and sexy and yum yum bark, fem! reader
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alhaitham and you wanted to wait for the right time before you took the next step in your relationship, when the both of you would truly be ready to have sex for the first time— and when he touches you within the fullness of the night, his personality shows two different types.
one being reflective and patient, inspecting the way your body reacts to him while on the other hand, he was shapeless, needy and almost, feral.
he wets his lips in concentration, his weight lingering against your stomach as you couldn't stop your body from shivering out of anticipation that shot through your muscles and pores before looking at the lust in his eyes, the hunger in his expression.
the softness of your skin blossoms beneath his hand as his ears were weakened by the sound of your angelic tunes and whimpers, his finger tips set out with a plan to caress and stroke every nook and cranny of your skin.
"are you alright? d-does that feel good?" he asks and kisses along your cheek, his solid erection sliding through your wetness as you nod eagerly.
answering him with a tranquil whisper, his cock pounds in and out of your warmth as his strong hands instantly grip at your wrists to draw them above your head, pinning them there.
"it— it's so good—" and after your moans, your body warns you with goosebumps rising on your skin in combination with your back arching, your head floating as you gasp out his name again, each time getting louder, needing him close, your teeth digging into his shoulder as gently as you could.
inside this inferno, you struggled, desperate to touch alhaitham too, you almost feel bad that he was the one doing all the work when in reality, the scribe wanted nothing more but to make you feel good tonight, stroke and lick and touch you like you deserve.
your breathing was ragged at how he continuously changed between being overly sweet and caressing to rough and ruthless. the first new taste of his hips smacking forward and beginning to roughly pound you made your blood sing, your heart thumping in your chest.
alhaitham swallows a sound that certainly could not be a whimper, it was more— you simply were too much for him, feeling too tight when he bulges you apart on every single thrust of his cock, your pussy squeezing him like you're going to end up suffocate him dearly.
you stifle a shudder that no doubt promised an imminent climax as you prepared to take it for him, cum with him at the same time, aching by the solid bulk burning in and out your hole, inch by inch until you're moaning into each others lips.
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©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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sarahscribbles · 3 months ago
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𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞
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𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞…𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟗𝐤
𝐀𝐍: 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐜. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞
𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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It’s the faint, purposeful thump of leather boots on stone that pulls you somewhat lethargically from the crinkled tome before you. A deep breath, a relieving stretch of tired muscles, an exhausted slump over the ornate marble table. An empty moment passes, followed blissfully by several more, and then reality crashes back around you like a peal of thunder. 
Fuck.
The roaring fire that had been dancing and crackling merrily in the grate to your right has long since turned to ash, and the library is now illuminated in a pearly glow rather than a golden glimmer. 
You’ve done it again. 
Groggily, you run your hands over your tired face, caring little that they’re likely spotted with ink stains. You had promised him this wouldn’t happen anymore. He had been vocal on how it displeased him to find you shivering in the library at absurd hours of the night, and you had promised that you would bring your studies to your chamber once the moon began to climb. 
And you had kept that promise.
Well, until tonight. 
Tonight, the High Valyrian text has kept you stubbornly in your seat. It’s complex and dense and has evaded your blossoming translation skills for the better part of the evening. You had desperately wanted to make your husband proud - you had envisioned yourself returning triumphantly to your chambers able to boast that, even with your own patchy translation skills, you had managed to untangle the seemingly endless sentences.
The gods, it seems, are not looking upon you with favour.
A fresh wave of irritation bubbles within you. The text before you feels mocking in its complexity and you’re briefly overcome with the urge to tear the delicate pages from the spine.
The burning vexation with your husband’s mother tongue, though, doesn’t stay with you long.
The heavy footsteps that had broken through your studious stupor continue to grow louder as they approach the doors, and, unsurprisingly, it takes only moments before your heart feels as though it’s trying to echo their rhythm.
Because those footsteps are familiar and they can mean only one thing. 
Aemond has come looking for you.
The knowledge of such a simple fact sends excitement surging through your blood like a bolt of lightning. In your mind's eye you can picture your husband prowling around the castle in search of you, and growing increasingly frustrated when you continue to evade him. In truth, you really hadn’t intended to displease him, but, given how you’ve quickly become the prize at the end of a hunt, it’s impossible not to eagerly anticipate your discovery. 
You’re close to giddy when the colossal doors to the library finally heave open, but you force your eyes back to the pages strewn haphazardly across the table, feigning a deep interest in the intricate text. Even when the doors ease closed and Aemond’s determined footsteps come to a gradual stop at the opposite end of the table you still don’t look up, biting back the smile that’s threatening to unfurl across your lips. 
The seconds continue to tick by, the tendentious quiet of the library only broken by the sound of your own heart pounding in your chest. Under your husband’s heavy gaze - because you can feel how intently he’s watching you - you fight the urge to fidget, to nervously tap at the table, to do anything to channel the excitement that’s furiously rushing through you. 
Of course, it’s Aemond who finally breaks the silence. 
“The hour grows late and our bed grows cold,” he says in that silken smooth voice. “Haven’t I told you how it displeases me to find you here so late? I do not relish the thought of my wife freezing to death in a library chair.” 
The excitement bubbling through you finally escapes in a loud burst of laughter. You raise your head to look at him, but your smile only grows wider at the serious expression on his handsome face. “We are far from the ice of the North, husband, and the fire has only just died. It would seem I have cheated death once more.”
Aemond’s face remains impassive, but you don’t miss how his lips quirk with the ghost of an amused smile. His eye stays trained on you as he walks the length of the table, only stopping once he’s close enough to reach out and take your hand in his. The warmth of it seeps pleasantly into your cool skin, and, with that, you know he’s caught you.
“Do you think me a fool?” he asks quietly, tracing his thumb slowly over your knuckles. 
“I do not,” you answer, suddenly now craving the warmth of his embrace.
He hums a response, then turns his attention to the array of books covering most of the marble topped table. “And what is it that is keeping my wife so infuriatingly out of my reach tonight?” He asks, picking up a book at random to scan the page. “High Valyrian? I hadn’t realised you were so inclined, my love.” 
You offer him your sweetest smile. “How else am I to whisper filth in your ear when we break bread with our neighbours? I know how tiresome you find the ceremony of Court, I only wish to make it more tolerable as any good wife would.” 
Aemond smirks and tosses the heavy tome carelessly back atop the others. “Indeed? And how far has my little scholar progressed in her endeavour?” 
“A fair amount, though some parts are proving to be more challenging than others,” you admit. 
It’s impossible to hide the tinge of shame that wraps around your words. Your husband speaks High Valyrian beautifully and with an ease that you’ve long been jealous of. Each word of the ancient language drops from his lips as naturally as rain from the skies, all while your own meager attempts have been clunky and awkward. You know Aemond would never taunt you for it, but the embarrassment and frustration still burn like dragonfire within you. 
“Mhm.” It’s the only response he offers before placing your hand back in your lap. 
With the practiced ease of a seasoned predator, your husband takes the few remaining steps to stand directly behind your chair and places two large hands upon your shoulders. “Mayhaps you need a tutor? It would be a sin to let such a brilliant mind go to waste, no?” He poses the question quietly, almost innocently, but you know him well enough to hear the not so subtle ripple of debauchery beneath every word. 
You shift slightly on the velvet cushions as a pleasant tingle gradually fizzes to life between your thighs. 
“Mayhaps I do,” you answer thoughtfully, fighting not to react when the soft pads of his thumbs begin to trace the exposed skin of your shoulders. “Who do you propose, my prince?”
It’s a ridiculous question, you know, but you’ll happily play his game tonight. Already, your need for him is burning a fiery trail beneath your skin. Tonight you’ll be his, however he wants you.
As if there were any other option.
You hear the soft rustle of clothing, feel the familiar caress of blonde hair on your shoulder, and then Aemond’s forehead is resting against your temple. “Someone who understands how to properly motivate you.” His teeth nip playfully at your earlobe, and you’re powerless to stop the breathless moan that floats like a dream from your lungs. 
Your head hits the gilded back of the chair in tandem with one hand curling around the edges of the mahogany armrest. The other tangles loosely into Aemond’s hair in an attempt to guide his lips back to your neck, the eager tilt of your head a silent plea to your husband to begin his assault. It matters little that you’re in the library, that anyone could easily push their way through those doors and catch your shameless tryst. Such is your need for Aemond you’d happily let the entire kingdom watch as he made you his. 
The tip of his regal nose traces a faint line along the sensitive skin of your neck, and you hold your breath in wait for the press of his lips on your throat, but they don’t come. Your brow furrows, followed almost instantly by a soft whine tumbling quietly into the silence of the library. All until you feel your husband’s hot breath against your cheek. 
“Translate,” Aemond murmurs softly in your ear. “Kostilus bodmagho nyke, valzȳrys.”
Your mind grasps quickly at the threads of words, hastily weaving them together in what you pray is the right answer. “Please teach me, husband.” 
“Mm, good,” he replies simply, and your reward is the feel of his lips on your neck as he sucks his mark into your skin. 
Your sharp cry of pleasure echoes through the columns of the library, and melts swiftly into a shameful moan when you feel the wet heat of your husband’s tongue against your skin. Your hand twists deeper into his hair in another desperate attempt to pull him closer, because you always need him closer. Aemond is your heaven and your hell, he’s your every sinful thought brought to life, and you’d happily drown in him if given the chance. 
“Husband, please,” you breathe out, your head now fully resting on your shoulder and eyes fluttering closed. 
You never tire of your husband’s affections, whether they be brief and fleeting or whether they have you moaning his name long into the night. Each touch of his hands or press of his lips only makes you crave him more.
You can never get enough of him, but, this time, your desperate pleas go unanswered. 
Aemond untangles himself from you before you can draw breath to object. Instantly, you miss the comforting warmth and familiar weight of him draped around your shoulders, and you turn to him with betrayal shining in your eyes. Your husband only reaches for your hand with that perpetual smirk curling on his lips. With ease, he pulls you from your nest of cushions in a twirl of skirts so he can settle back comfortably in the chair. Just as easily he tugs you forward, guiding you closer until you can go no further, until you have no choice but to straddle him and feel the heavy weight of his hands resting low on your hips. 
“Mhm. Much better,” he purrs, pressing against your hips to slide you closer. 
The scent of him wraps around you like a favourite blanket - smoke and leather and, somewhere deep underneath, the faint, sweet smell of cinnamon. 
It’s Aemond. 
It’s home.
Loosely, you drape your arms around his neck, letting your fingers idly play with errant strands of blonde hair. “I must admit that I have never known my tutors to be so familiar with their students,” you tease him, watching the smirk grow on his face. 
Aemond’s lilac eye twinkles softly at you, and then his thumb and forefinger reach out to gently pinch your chin. “I should like to think not, wife, or they may find themselves soon without their heads.”
Your fingers curl into the soft material of his jerkin as something hot and primal stirs to life in the pit of your stomach. This is no idle jest; your husband is dangerously possessive of what he perceives to be his, and if some poor soul were to get too familiar…
His possessiveness doesn’t frighten you. Rather, it makes you crave him so deeply that you feel the ache right down to your bones. You need this man like you need the air that fills your lungs, and, instinctively, you begin to rock against the thick material covering his thighs. 
Aemond chuckles low in his throat, curling his hands tightly round your hips to hold you in place. His grip is like steel - hard and unyielding - and you know that tonight your release will not be easily granted.
He studies you silently and with such intensity that you wonder if he can hear the pounding of your heart. You feel his fingers dig into your hips - a warning in itself - and then he shifts his thigh beneath you at just the right angle to brush teasingly against your aching core. 
“Aemond, please!”
He quirks an eyebrow at your plea, but, infuriatingly, makes no move to offer any relief. “Zaldrīzes,” he says quietly, holding your gaze with that beautiful lilac eye. When several moments pass and fail to say a word, that familiar smirk pulls across his face. “Mhm. Mayhaps you tire after your hours of study, wife.” He makes as though to lift you from his lap, but, at the final second, the last piece of the puzzle slots into place. 
“No!” You cry out, not the least bit ashamed at how desperate you sound. “Dragon. That’s what you said, isn’t it?” 
Aemond relaxes back against the chair, lilac eye flashing with satisfaction. “Good,” he says simply, and you feel his large hands run along the length of your back and along your shoulders until he’s cupping your head firmly between them
His lips are warm as they meet yours and the sheer force of his kiss takes you by surprise. You melt into him easily, letting your own hunger for this man guide your lips. Your fingers tangle greedily into his hair, and every inch of you screams more, more, more.  Aemond’s kiss is slow and deep and lasts nowhere near long enough. You clutch at him and swallow a whine when he finally pulls away, peering at him with desperate, pleading eyes. 
The taste of him lingers on your lips - faint traces of honeyed wine - and you want nothing more than to get drunk on him, to have so much of him it addles your senses and strikes you dumb.
You want Aemond Targaryen, more than you’ve wanted anything in your life. 
“As I said, wife, someone who knows how to motivate you.” The soft pad of his thumb traces your cheek, and you can’t help but instinctively lean into his touch. “Dārys,” he then says, letting his hand fall to rest on the curve of your shoulder. 
“King,” you answer before the last syllable leaves his tongue, so eager are you for the coming reward. 
This time, Aemond’s praise doesn’t come. Instead, his lips latch onto the sensitive skin of your jaw, kissing and sucking until the silence of the library is filled with your moans of his name. His kisses are warm and slow and, when you feel the wet press of his tongue against your pulse point, you’re shamelessly arching into him in search of more.
“Jaqiarzir,” he continues, beginning to suck another mark into your flushed skin.
Your mind is half gone to the lavender haze of lust. All you know is the softness of Aemond’s lips, the firmness of his thighs underneath you, the silky feel of his hair twisted around your fingers. Against that, everything else feels so terribly unimportant, but a gentle nip to your jaw reminds you that your husband still expects an answer. 
“Glory,” you half moan, feeling a burst of pride surge through your blood when Aemond hums against your neck. 
“Clever girl,” he murmurs, taking your chin back between his thumb and forefinger to reward you with a single slow, deep kiss.
Once again, he pulls away long before you’re ready, and his eye is filled with a quiet dare to challenge him. 
You know better. 
“You’re becoming a tease, husband,” you settle on saying, hearing the evident breathlessness in your own voice. 
“If my love would prefer a different means of instruction, then I am nothing but willing to hear so,” Aemond replies smoothly, his one eye twinkling with mirth.
You fight to keep a neutral expression, but all too easily a grin is curling across your lips. “I would not dream of questioning your methods, my prince,” you reply coyly.
His hands have returned to settle on your hips, and somehow he manages to pull you closer still. The brief friction of his breeches against your smallclothes is equal parts glorious and torturous, and is enough to pull a deep, quiet groan from your lips. You aren’t sure how long Aemond intends to play his little game, but the strings of your resolve are pulled taut and threatening to snap with each passing second. 
Something he no doubt already knows. 
“Mhm,” Aemond hums, his face unreadable. 
You feel his hands once again slide along the length of your back until they reach the high neckline of your gown. He pauses for only a heartbeat, then begins to unlace your bodice with practiced ease, expertly pulling each lace loose until the rich burgundy fabric falls soundlessly from your shoulders. 
You inhale deeply as the cool night air hits your skin, peaking your nipples and sending a trail of goose pimples along your arms. You’re in nothing more than your silk chemise and, when your eyes flick back to your husband, he’s gazing at you intently, almost as if…
“Keep going. Please,” you say softly. 
Aemond makes the same short work of your chemise until it pools loosely around your waist, and then you’re bare before him. His eye trails appreciatively over your naked breasts, a new hunger sparking within it at the sight of your naked flesh. 
As though he hasn’t seen you like this a thousand times before. 
“Gevie,” he all but whispers, taking a nipple and rolling it firmly between thumb and forefinger. 
You cry out sharply at the heady mix of pleasure and pain, of teasing and torment, and your husband smirks proudly at the response his touch elicits from you. 
“Please, Aemond, I beg you.” Your voice drips with desperation, but you no longer care. You can feel the slickness of your thighs beneath the folds of your gown, and feel the need for this man burning beneath every pore you possess. 
If he wants you to beg, you’ll fall to your knees. 
He cocks his head mockingly to the side and gives your nipple another cruel twist. “Your lesson has only started, wife. Would you give up so easily?”
A frustrated curse slips from your lips before you can swallow it, one that you know Aemond hears but chooses to ignore. You want to say yes. You want to curse this damn language to the Seven Hells and take your husband to bed, but your stubborn pride rears its insufferable head. 
“No. I want you to keep going,” you say, arching your back to press more of your breast into his hand. 
“A wise choice, my love,” Aemond murmurs, then reaches forward to trail a path of slow, wet kisses along your collarbone. When you sigh audibly in content he wraps an arm snugly around your waist to press you closer, and soon his lips are moving against your skin again. “Vhagar's kipagīros iksis hae nēdenka hae issa handsome, se zȳhon ābrazȳrys iksis se olvie fortunate riña isse se sīkuda Dārȳti.”
You hear the soft drawl of Aemond’s voice, hear every hard consonant and soft vowel, but the words of Valryian barely register in your lust addled mind. Vaguely, you note that he’s said something about Vhagar, but with with the teasing press of his lips along your collarbone and the tops of your breasts, you find that you really couldn’t care less. 
You want him to devour you right here in the library, but your husband is waiting patiently for an answer. 
“Can…can you please repeat?” you ask when your senses slowly begin to return. Aemond quickly obliges and this time you try in vain to grasp at every word. “Vhagar is…handsome and…fortunate…because of the Seven Kingdoms.” 
You know you’re wrong before the last word leaves your mouth, but, in your current state of arousal, you’re proud to have even gotten that far. 
The confirmation comes in another cruel twist of an already sensitive nipple. “Wrong,” Aemond tells you softly, driving the point home with another sharp nip to your neck.
The raw need for him is simmering in your veins and pulsing between your legs, threatening to turn you half mad unless you get your fill of him, but all you can do is roll your hips against his thigh, though it doesn’t grant you even a modicum of relief. 
Aemond is in charge tonight, and you’ll feel that euphoric release only when he allows it. 
“Seven Hells,” you groan, letting your head fall forward onto his shoulder. The cool leather is a welcome relief against your flushed skin and Aemond allows you a moment of respite, but mercy is not on his mind.
You feel the tip of his nose trace softly along your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine, and then his warm breath is tickling the shell of your ear. “Again, wife.”
A shaky sigh leaves your lips, but you know you have no choice but to obey. “Vhagar…Vhagar is handsome and - fuck, Aemond!”
You arch into him until your breasts are close to crushed against his chest, because now his hand is beneath your gown and those long, practiced fingers are teasing your aching cunt through the material of your smallclothes. 
“Keep going,” he commands firmly, running a single fingertip firmly over your clit.
You swallow the whimper that’s beginning to rise in your throat. “Vhagar is handsome and the Seven Kingdoms are fortunate.” The words spill from you like a sudden downpour and, for just a moment, you bask in the blissful feel of your husband touching you where you burn for him. 
His touch is like water to a burning flame but, as quickly as his hand has slipped beneath the layers of your gown, it’s just as easily gone. This time, you can’t suppress a whine. 
“Wrong again,” Aemond says, taking your chin back between his thumb and forefinger. “Mayhaps I am not motivating you enough, my love.” 
“Your motivation is cruel,” you answer back petulantly, although you’re already missing the feeling of his lips on your skin and the taunting tease of a single finger. 
Aemond’s soft smirk only grows. “Mhm,” he hums, and then you’re suddenly in motion. 
His hands are curled securely beneath your thighs as he raises you from his lap and sets you atop the library table. From your vantage point you see the mischievous twinkle in his lilac eye as two large hands hold your legs apart, and your jaw falls slack when he then falls to his knees between them.
It’s a deliciously sinful sight that goes straight to your head. Aemond Targaryen, perhaps the most feared dragonrider and skilled swordsman in King's Landing, is on his knees before you and gazing at you as though you’re an oasis in the desert. 
“Gevie,” you whisper, echoing his earlier compliment. 
Even in the half light of the library you catch the faint blush that stains his cheeks, but his face remains impassive. “Sweet words will get you nowhere, wife. Again,” he says, and presses his lips to the inside of your knee. 
A shameless groan fills the quiet space as your fingers curl tightly around the edge of the table, It’s simultaneously too much and nowhere near enough. You hear Aemond’s elegant words of Valyrian, but only a handful more register in your lust-addled mind as his lips continue their journey along your thigh. Your translation comes forward on a shaky breath and is broken by moans and yelps as Aemond sucks bruise after bruise into the soft skin of your thigh. 
You bask in the feel of it - because little feels better than your husband marking you as his - and when he doesn’t stop, you believe that this time you’ve actually gotten it right. 
Aemond’s slow path of kisses continue until you feel the brush of his hair against your lower stomach. You inhale deeply, preparing for his strong hands to make short work of your smallclothes. The anticipation makes your hips tilt expectantly, waiting for the glorious feel of his warm mouth, his skilled tongue…
“Wrong,” he says softly, pulling his head back from between your quivering thighs. 
You’re ready to combust into a million little pieces with how great your need is, and the last of your pride slips through your fingers like freshly spun silk. “Aemond, please! I cannot bear it! Take me…please.”
Your begging is his weakness and you wait for him to crumble, but as your eyes meet his lilac one, you see only a steely determination. 
“Shh shh shh,” Aemond soothes you, running the pad of his thumb over your knee. Yes, you can, ñuha prūmia. Now try again.” 
Your husband repeats himself once more, this time placing intentional emphasis on the words that are still evading you. Slowly, the intricate words of Valyrian slot into place, the web of tangled knots unravels, and you can’t help but laugh at Aemond’s choice of words.
There are many reasons why you love the man between your thighs - his bravery, his protectiveness, his determination to name a few - but never has one person been able to make you laugh so easily. Others may see a monster, you only see the man who holds your heart in the palm of his hand. 
“You are demon, my love,” you scold him lightly, feeling him smirk against your inner thigh. “Vhagar’s rider is as brave as he is handsome, and his wife is the most fortunate lady in the Seven Kingdoms.” 
“Sȳz riña,” Aemond praises you, all while pushing your thighs wider apart. 
Warm hands slide over your thighs to your smallclothes, and one swift pull rips them roughly from your body. 
And then you finally feel the warm wetness of his mouth against your aching cunt. Tonight, he doesn’t tease, but instantly begins spelling out promises with his limber tongue.
You’ll hold him to every one of them.
Aemond licks a firm, slow line along the dripping length of your cunt, making sure to empathise each lewd noise of your arousal. You bite your lip as electricity crackles beneath your skin, trying as best you can to stifle the sounds that are bubbling in your throat.
Something your husband is having none of. 
“I want to hear you, my love,” he says from where he’s nestled between your thighs. He squeezes them roughly, informing you that his words are a warning and not a request.
The sound of his voice coaxes your eyes down, and you fleetingly see the shine of your own arousal coating his top lip. 
“Seven fucking hells!” You cry out, twisting a hand tightly into Aemond’s silver hair to push him closer. 
Your husband smirks and doesn’t take his lilac eye off yours as he buries his tongue back in your cunt.
It’s like throwing a flame to a funeral pyre.
Pleasure white and hot explodes through every inch of you, so blindingly intense that you have to throw a hand on the table behind for support. “Husband, please! Keep doing that!!” you plead roughly, beginning to grind against Aemond’s face in a desperate search for release.
He moans against your cunt and tightens his grips on your thighs until you’re sure there’ll be tiny bruises along your skin tomorrow, but you’ll welcome every single one.
“You’ll be the death of me, Aemond Targaryen,” you sigh, letting your head fall back on your shoulders to bask in every second of pleasure. 
You hear his appreciative hum from between your legs, and then his tongue settles wondrously on your clit, licking and lapping like a man starved. With each swirl and flick of his talented tongue the coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter, promising a blinding release on your husband’s mouth. 
“Aemond…Seven Hells, Aemond…I’m so close, please,” you plead with him, arching your back as the first tendrils of release begin to flick teasingly through your core. 
Your husband responds by pulling you closer to his mouth, clamping you tightly to him until you’re balancing beautifully on the very edge of pleasure. 
Less than a minute later a tidal wave of pleasure pulls you fully beneath its surf. 
The force of your release sends your eyes rolling in your head and Aemond’s name leaves your lips like a sacred prayer, echoing wildly off the high ceilings of the library. You care little - let all of King's Landing and beyond know that you belong to this man body, mind and soul. 
Aemond’s tongue doesn’t leave your cunt until you’re panting and mewling above him, practically boneless atop the table in the wake of a shattering release. He presses a quick path of soft kisses to your inner thigh, fixes your skirts around your legs, and climbs to his feet while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 
“I believe that a successful lesson. What say you, wife?” he says with a smirk, fixing you with his good eye and reaching out to pull the bodice of your dress back over your shoulders. 
You shiver at his chaste touch. “I think another may be in order. It’s of the utmost importance that I master this language, wouldn’t you agree?” you tease him back, wrapping heavy arms around his shoulders. 
Aemond steps between your thighs and rests his forehead on yours. “Mayhaps a longer lesson is needed then?” he murmurs quietly.
You don’t fight the smile that unfurls across your lips. “I wouldn’t dare to question your methods, my prince.” 
He answers with a small smile and a quick peck to your lips. “Mhm. In our chambers would be wise. I fear your next lesson may last throughout the night,” he says, each word loaded with filthy promise. 
You take his offered hand and slide from the table top on shaky legs, feeling fresh excitement begin to bubble in your veins. “Then we must make haste, husband. Every second counts when such an important task is at stake.”
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tk-duveraun · 2 months ago
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LBH is SO NORMAL About Shen Yuan
Part 1/?
1 (here), 2
Based explicitly on @sunderwight 's idea here
System dialogue modified from the 7seas translation of svsss
-
Everything hurt. Considering the last thing Luo Binghe remembered was metal and glass flying everywhere thanks to a truck t-boning his car, pain everywhere was only to be expected. Less expected was the mobile phone ringing so loud it felt like it was inside his own head. No one should have their mobile in his hospital room. Not since he was taken in by his biological father, who was the very definition of more money than sense.
He opened his eyes a crack to see if he could glare at the phone's owner until they silenced it. The ringing stopped, but his eyes were assaulted by an electric-blue floating window out of some badly CGI-d scifi movie.
He had to blink a few times before his vision was clear enough to read the words.
[Activation Code: "Who wrote this? Knock-off Chat GPT fed only a twelve year old's wet dreams?" System automatically triggered.]
The fu— Luo Binghe's eyes snapped fully open to stare at the screen. Yes, he had been reading the latest update to "Intricate Rituals with my Shixiongdi" while his driver took him to his father's house, but—
[Welcome to the System. This System operates in lie with the design concept "YOU CAN YOU UP, NO CAN NO BB"; we hope to provide you with the best possible experiene. It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and, in accordance with your wish, transform a stupid work into a magnifcent, high-quality, first-rate classic. We hope you enjoy.]
My wish? Luo Binghe went cold, then hot, adrenaline flushing through his body. I can finally wife Shen Yuan? He wanted to cry, to scream, but he was still saddled with enough pain that even the adrenaline didn't give him much energy to get up and run off his excitement.
"Ah, Shixiong is awake. Good," a voice came from his right.
Luo Binghe agonizingly turned his head away from the blue screen and saw an older teenager in neat hanfu and a starched apron standing next to him. The teen had a handbound book folded open and was holding a stick of charcoal.
"How is Shixiong feeling?"
"Hurts." Luo Binghe said. His voice was rough and his throat felt like he'd swallowed every shard of glass from his windshield. He tried wiggling his hands and feet and found the movement easy, if excruitiating.
"Mmm, to be expected given the severity of Shixiong's qi deviation." He reached out and took Luo Binghe's wrist. Having his arm moved hurt as much as moving it himself. It felt like being injected with saline to have his meridians checked or whatever the trainee healer was doing. "But Shixiong's system has stablized nicely. One of this shidi's seniors will be by to release you to Qing Jing Peak with the next…" The teen glanced at something outside of the room and finished, "half shichen."
"Thanking Shidi," Luo Binghe croaked. So it was confirmed: he had transmigrated into IRS. Had transmigrated into Shen Yuan's own peak. And as a disciple, if he was the same generation as this kid. Was he part of Shen Yuan's cohort? His heart thumped at the thought.
IRS was an excrutiating mess of will-they, won't-they between the protagonist, Shen Yuan, and his ever-increasing bevy of admirers. It was a mess with character growth and subplots dropped in favor of introducing another man in love with Shen Yuan's poise and genuine goodness. If Luo Binghe was part of Shen Yuan's cohort of disciples, he could cut through ninety percent of the garbage and save his beloved the indignities of countless 'wardrobe malfunctions' and plants with extremely dubious tentacles.
The teen — a Qian Ciao disciple — nodded politely. "Luo-Shixiong would be wise to consult with Shen-shibo before resuming normal cultivation."
A klaxon went off between Luo Binghe's ears even before the blue screen returned to his sight with a merry jingle.
[This system was sucessfully actuvated! Bound Role: Shen Yuna's demonic student, Luo Baixiao. Weapons: Amature Spiritual Cultivation, Demonic Cultivation (locked), Demonic Abilities (locked). Starting S-points: 100.]
Luo Binghe's mind raced with swear words in a rainbow of languages. He finished with an emphatic kurwa.
[You have triggered the System's execution command and have been bound to the Luo Baixiao account. As the plot progresses, various point types will gradually become available. Please ensure that no score falls below zero, or the System will automatically mete out punishment.]
What kind of shit luck. Luo Baixiao was boogie man of the entire second half of IRS, used as a punching bag by Shen Yuan's various suitors to show off. It was stupid, senseless! How was Luo Baixiao so powerful that he never died, yet so weak he was constantly defeated by the man of the week? Why did he start as Shen Yuan's student only to disappear after a few chapters only to return as a villain?
It made no sense!
Luo Binghe — Baixiao now, he supposed — bared his teeth at the empty room. Actually, that was weird. Who did that? Was that a demonic instinct from his new body? He'd have to do some intense examination and introspection when he could move his limbs without wanting to curl on the floor and whimper.
He was supposed to be Shen Yuan's worst nightmare? Well that whole plot could kindly fuck itself. Luo Binghe knew exactly how Shen Yuan's squirrely mind worked and he was going to slot himself irremovably from his shizun's life while the suitors of the week failed in attempt after courting attempt.
[Warning,] the System warned, flashing again before his eyes. [This proposed plan is incredibly dangerous and qualifies as a violation. Please do not attempt or the system will automatically mete out punishment.]
"What do you mean dangerous? Shen Yuan would never hurt one of his disciples, let alone one that made his life easier," Luo Binghe asked inside his mind.
[Currently, you are at the beginner level, and the OOC feature is frozen. You must complete a beginner-level quest to unfreeze it. Before unfreezing, any act in violation of the original Luo Baixiao character settings will result in a deduction of a fixed number of S-Points.]
"You must be joking," Luo Binghe deadpanned. "Disciple Luo appeared in three chapters. I managed the wiki. He didn't have a characterization at this point."
[This System utilizes all resources in defining characters.] Okay, that meant nothing. So it was going to pull characterization out of its ass and hold him to it? [To aid user, multiple reply options will be given during critical dialogue. User may complete side-quests to unlock Luo Baixiao character motivations. For now, review the complementary character sheet.]
Luo Binghe wasn't really much of a gamer, but the character sheet displayed by the System was pretty basic. Strength, endurance, charisma… It also listed the same 'weapons' the System initially told him about. Near the bottom right it said simply: Internally cold and resentful, externally polite and aloof. Thanks, System.
[User is welcome (✿◡‿◡)]
He was going to have another qi deviation.
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arminsumi · 1 year ago
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baby came home— 五条
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note: nothing just comfort fluff about satoru coming home to you because i feel the need to apologize in some way for that soul-crushing angst lol
warnings — beware of spoilers for manga !! , not proofread, blood and hugging / kissing though he's bloody, scars mention, he cries, implied dating, "baby"
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curled up in bed, muttering "come home, baby, it's cold without you." into his pillow. you feel sick with worry.
but you're trying to soothe your worries by inhaling his scent, sleeping in his bed, and wearing the shirt he bought in okinawa, the oversized one that he used to say looked so cute on you when you woke up bleary-eyed and brushed your teeth with him.
you fall asleep, numbed by all those shed tears full of hopelessness.
and in your sleep, while you breathe gently and clutch his pillow, the front door clicks open. a soft thumping of footsteps sounds down the hall.
he peers into his room, and finding you there brings so much comfort to his soul. he stands at the doorframe and stares for a while. just because.
all bloodied and beaten up like a soldier that just came off the frontlines, his feet wander over to you even though he planned to wash off the blood before touching you.
" 'toruuu ? " you mumble half-asleep, half stirring at a familiar touch. his heart flutters at the way you just know it's him without even seeing or hearing.
that's how much you love me, huh?
" angel. i'm home. "
you look at him through bleary, stinging eyes. plush lips kiss underneath. the scent of blood isn't disturbing, though it's pungent and filling your lungs — it's satoru's blood, why should you feel creeped out by it?
it's too dark to see all the scars that he collected through the battle.
" thank you for listening to me and staying here. " he mutters, kissing your lips without thinking.
" missed you, come here. "
" i'm all bloody, i'll go clean up first. . . "
" i don't care. come here, come here, satoru. "
that itself makes tears start glitter on his waterline.
" baby, " he chokes up, becoming completely weak as your arms wrap around him. " i missed you so b—ad it hurt. the idea of never being in these arms again hurt more than a—ny w-wound — fuck, hold me tighter. please. don't let go. " his voice breaks terribly, and he begins to cry like you've never heard him cry before.
he feels safe right here, cooped up in your arms. it's always been comical how much bigger he was than you, and yet he curled up like a cat against your body since he was a lanky teenager and even now when he's a big beefy boy.
when he feels you beginning to play with his hair and pull him undercovers, he melts into a tired slumber. it feels like he's never slept in his life. but now that he's back in your arms, he's sure he's going to get the most fulfilling rest of his life.
nothing can hurt the two of you anymore. he's fulfilled his duty as the strongest and gotten rid of the king of curses. now he's home, and he can happily become weak in your loving arms.
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© arminsumi
Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.
Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
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onismdaydream · 8 months ago
Note
yuuji x older sister ‼️ he probably asks her to teach him how to kiss and stuff but then he gets turned on oops 😅 he just admires her so much and wants to make her feel good too :(
anon i am eating you i love this so much ...... i think yuji is so ... he gets attached very easily and he would definitely be like that with his siblings but tenfold. and he doesn't necessarily mean for it to be more than siblings, it just kinda happens where his feelings and love get so big that it becomes something else.
tw for incest (obvi..), mostly just kissing, not really anything smutty
his words come out rushed, fingers gripping his shorts until his knuckles turn white, but his amber eyes never leave your face.
"you want me to... kiss you?" you ask, slowly, almost as if you were unsure if you heard him right. but you know you did. you always knew what yuji needed or wanted. it started when you were kids, when his mouth was still learning how to form sounds properly and you were there to translate his butchered speech. you understood him like no one else.
it'd be scary if it was anyone but yuji.
"yeah." he nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat.
"why?"
"because... well, because i don't know how." his eyes drop for a moment, landing on the space between the two of you. you haven't moved away from him, your knees still practically touching, legs crossed as you sit on your bed. part of him expected you to push him away, to call him disgusting and a freak.
the other part, though—
"okay." you hum, agreeing to it like it's the easiest thing in the world. and maybe it is.
-
the moments your lips touch, yuji knows that he never wants to kiss anyone else. your mouth feels so soft and warm against his own and he finds himself chasing you when you begin to pull away.
"yuji," you smile, a light giggle making his heart skip a beat. "start slow."
"right. sorry." but his gaze fall to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own. the slightest taste of your chapstick lingers on him, a sweet strawberry flavor. something a bit too artificial to be real and now something a bit too you to be anything else.
you must take pity on him in that moment, must notice the sound of his heart thumping against his ribs, because you're kissing him again.
and then your hands are on him.
you lean forward, your palms resting on his thighs to steady yourself as you deepen the kiss. it's like electricity is flowing through yuji, his body overheating from excitement and bound to catch fire soon enough. but he wants more, needs more. it's not his fault that you're so addicting.
he tries to focus on the kiss, he really does, but your hands are so hot and burning through his shorts, and he can smell your shampoo and you're just so close to him that all he can think about is you. he feels guilty that his blood is rushing to his cock, knows that he should stop this before you notice but he can't. he can't pull away from you. yuji is always going to be drawn to you like the moon to the earth, tied to you from the moment he was born.
he doesn't follow when you break the kiss again. instead, he grabs onto your wrists, hoping you won't pull away. his eyes are half lidded, slightly unfocused, as he catches his breath.
"please."
it's all yuji needs to say for you to know what he's asking.
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00-jammy-00 · 11 months ago
Note
Yandere CEO with a darling being a rival CEO??
That would be funny omg 💀
Anyways love your writings ❤❤❤
Yan!CEO HC’s
Yan!CEO x GN! CEO! Reader
Content warning - Yandere themes, obsession, nsfw mentions, mentions of murder, possessiveness, horny yan, masochist yan
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Yan!CEO who knew you were going to be his target when he went to that stupid con that his assistant had begged him to attend. At least something good came from it.
Yan!CEO who immediately started teasing you, the way you got so irritated made his heart thump! You had to use a green pen to write notes down? Do you enjoy your children colouring books too?
Yan!CEO who takes a couple…business trips to your office, most of the time your assistant stops him but he can sneak past the fucker all of the other times. He parades into your office with a large grin and outstretched arms, going for a hug only for you to narrowly avoid him.
Yan!CEO who eventually got tired of sneaking past your assistant, what a nuisance he was. He was gone and buried anyway! Don’t be sad babe why don’t you combine companies with him? It’s a good investment!
Yan!CEO who managed to get in some sort of beneficial relationship with you which eventually got more…beneficial. God must have been looking down at him when you got drunk and made a move on him. He was so excited when you grabbed him by the throat and kissed him, I mean, he came in his pants right away!
Yan!CEO who gladly accepted the rivals with benefits relationship you offered up after that night. You, him, some rough hate sex in your office? Who would pass up that golden ticket of an opportunity.
Yan!CEO who doesn’t stop his stalker-ish tendencies after you two started fucking. He still has your whole calendar written down. He still follows you home. He still fumbles for his binoculars when you start prepping for your shower. And he still rids you both of any rivals and also anyone who decides they can touch his precious rival.
Yan!CEO who gets a lot more touchy at work, and a lot hornier. Did he just cum in his pants when you decided to yell in his face? It’s a possibility. Did he crawl under your desk when you were getting frustrated with paperwork? Sure, guilty. But at least he loves you. More than anything.
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Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, requests are open <3
please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.
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back2bluesidex · 1 month ago
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Closure - JHS
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Pairing: Hoseok X Fem!Reader 
Theme: slight angst, slight failing to move on, exes to lovers, second chances au. post discharge scenario.
Word count: 1k+
Summary: If the highest degree of love had a name - it would be termed as Jung Hoseok in your story.
Warnings: reader is bisexual (not a warning but just mentioning), implied pining. that's really all.
Minors do not interact!!
Masterlist | Patreon
A/N: Because my husband is home.
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Your thumb hover above the ‘send’ button. 
Dilemma? Yeah, that’s right. 
You can’t decide whether to send this simple text or not. So, you read it again. 
“Congratulations on discharge.” - that’s all it says. That’s all you have to say to the man you have loved the most, you have felt pain for the most. 
Just before his enlistment - Hoseok broke up with you, claiming that the changes would be too much for him to take and he needed to start afresh. 
Absurd. You thought. 
But you realized you had been in his shoes when you moved back to Seoul after spending five years of a successful career in LA. You wanted to start afresh too, you had broken up with your girlfriend too. 
So you didn’t blame him. 
Kissed him all the best and moved on and failed to do that - miserably.  
Because if the highest degree of love had a name - it would be termed as Jung Hoseok in your story. 
Now that he has discharged just this morning - you can’t decide if you should send the text or not. 
If you do - he might think you are trying to get back in touch or worse back together. 
If you don’t - it will question your generosity because you and Hoseok go way back. He had been a close friend before he was your boyfriend. 
Just when you are about to close the messaging app, Poko, your cat, jumps on your lap and you accidentally hit the send button. 
Everything happens for a reason. 
“Poko!” you shout at her mildly “Thanks.” 
She purrs sitting on your lap. 
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You are pouring the second cup of coffee of the day when your phone buzzes with a notification. Being afraid of the obvious, you decide to ignore it first but every pore in your body oozes with curiosity. 
Is it Hoseok? Has he sent a passive reply? Is he angry? Is he upset that you texted him? 
All of these questions raged inside your mind, making you give up. 
When you open the application you find four different texts while only one would have been enough to calm you down. 
“Hey, thank you so much.” 
“How are you doing, Y/N?” 
“I was going to call you. Haha. I actually wanted to talk to you if it’s possible.” 
“Let me know if you are in. I am all free so any time is fine by me.” 
Fuck. Hoseok wants to talk? What he wants to talk about? Is he writing a new song? Does he want a consultation? 
Or maybe it’s not professional? But personal? 
A tiny sprout of hope swayed in your chest. 
Sucking in a deep breath you reply, “sure. I am at the office till 7. You can come by anytime you want.” 
His reply comes within a second, “I will see you in an hour.”
Your heart thumps in your chest. 
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Try as you might but you have never been able to act cool whenever Jung Hoseok was in the room - and even after dating him for an entire year, he still makes you nervous. 
He walks inside your office wearing baggy jeans and a soft-looking dark gray hoodie with snoopy painted in the middle of it. His hair is cut short just like it should be. His skin is glowing, his cheeks are full, his lips are stretched in a smile that translates to ‘it’s good to see you’. 
You urge your heart to slow down and your mind to take charge of your body parts that have stopped working since the moment his citrusy perfume has invaded your system. 
“When did you change assistants?” he asks casually, as if he didn’t ask for a closure of your relationship just 18 and half months ago. 
“Hana got married last month.” you gesture at him to sit on the sofa.  
He extends a bouquet of flowers towards you, just then you realize that he had been hiding his hand behind. 
“Ah. I should be the one to congratulate you with flowers.” you try to keep the blush away as you sit on the other corner of the sofa. 
“It’s alright.” he gives you one of his most charming smiles, making your heart flip inside your chest. 
“Y/N” Hoseok starts in a serious tone, “the reason why I am here is because I wanted to apologize- um- for the way I behaved during our very last meeting.” he sighs. The traces of smiles vanishing from his face as a frown takes over the space between his eyebrows. 
“It’s ok-”
“No please hear me out. I have been a fool. I thought things would change for me when I enlist. I thought I would change and I might not be the same guy you once liked and the guy who once liked you. But I was wrong. Hell- the wrongest I have ever been.” he covers his face with his big palms - veins prominent on the surface of the skin. You divert your focus instantly. 
“I- I had a long time to think. A lot of free time… at the end of the day… when my body would be exhausted from all the training but sleep wouldn’t come by. Or maybe during communal showers, when other guys would talk about their women back home - and I- I thought of you. I thought of the way we were so much in love and all the times we spent together. I would wish it was you whenever anyone came to visit me without prior notice. It was too much - what I feel for you is too much and that hasn’t changed a bit. I know I said I would like to start afresh so.. So I came to ask you out again, to start over. If you have anyone - reject me. Reject me on my face so that I know how stupid I have been all the time and-” 
“Fuck you, Hoseok. Fuck you because I still love you. And it’s pathetic how I wanna jump on your right now. My dignity as a woman is in question.” a lone tear slips down your eyes. 
Hoseok’s own eyes are glossy but his smile is returning in full length. 
He doesn’t say anything rather opens his arms for you.
When you press your body against his, and hear his heart beating faster than it should - you find that the closure of your story will always be Jung Hoseok. 
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kimkaelyn · 1 year ago
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"hey."
you tear your attention away from the black-and-white movie that's playing on the tv to look at your boyfriend of three years. "hm?"
katsuki doesn't say anything right away. you watch as he bites his lip, one of his nervous habits he does when he is trying to gain momentum to put forth actions. after a couple of moments of silence, he lets out a sharp tsk before tossing a tiny white box your way.
your boyfriend should have known better than to throw something your way, especially with no warning. your arms weren't fast enough to catch the tiny thing. it hits your head and lands on your lap with a soft thump on the blanket.
you both sit there in stunned silence for a couple of seconds before you laughed at your lack of reflexes. katsuki mutters something that sounds a lot like "shitty brat" before grabbing the box and places it in your hands.
"what's this?" you ask as you study the box. there are no hints of its contents on the outside.
"open it." katsuki urges you. you do as your told, and you gasp when you see the gift lying inside.
it's a beautiful, albeit simple ring. no big obnoxious stone that costs more than your yearly income multiplied. just a simple band with some small diamonds. nothing fancy.
"what-" you stutter as you continue to study the band. "is this a-"
"promise ring," katsuki quickly interjects before you start short wiring.
you smile softly as you look up at with. your eyes shine with adoration and so much love it makes his heart skip a beat. "i thought you didn't believe in this stuff," you softly inquire.
"i don't," he confirms. "but i saw it and thought about you so i had to get it."
you smile. you carefully take the ring out of the box and place it on your finger. a perfect fit. "i love it, kats. thank you." he hums softly in response. he places a tender kiss on your forehead as you admire your new piece of jewelry.
"what are you promising?"
"what?" katsuki meets your gaze.
"when you give one a promise ring, you are supposed to make a promise, hence the ring to solidify it." you tell him.
katsuki thinks for a moment before whispering, "i promise to one day get you a bigger ring." he seals it with a kiss to your lips.
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Copyright © by kimkaelyn. All rights reserved. No plagiarizing, re-uploading, translating, or copying of any kind or on any platform of my writing. Please notify me ASAP if you see my work posted on other sites.
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powerfultenderness · 1 year ago
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Savior
Summary: König drops everything to save you. Paring: König/F!Reader Rated: T+ Word count: 521 A/N: Neighbor!König. More fluff. Not part 2, just a little procrastination blurb. [More Neighbor König]
[Masterlist]
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König acted on instinct. He only just got home, he hadn’t even had time to change, good thing he hadn’t stopped for take out. That high pitched, terrified, scream followed by a few loud thumps and more squeals echoed in his mind and heart as he rushed to your door. Before he could even reach the doorknob, the door flew open and you bumped into him with a quiet little grunt.
He grabbed your arms, steadying you in his hands, and shouted something at you in German. You didn’t bother asking him to translate, only squeaking out a meek, “help!”
He shoved you behind him, shielding you from danger as he quickly searched for whatever was out of place.
“In the bathroom!” 
A combination of cold dread and hot rage ran through him. Someone tried to hurt you, while you were vulnerable. He would offer no mercy. 
Was it the first breath he took since he heard your scream? He looked around the small bathroom…no one was there. “What?” 
You popped up in the doorway and pointed at the wall. “There!”
He looked to where you were pointing and…started laughing, his entire body shaking with unnecessary adrenaline. A spider. Not even a big one. Just a common house spider. 
“Don’t laugh! Get it!” You cried, still shaking.
“Shit, darling! I thought you were in danger!” He was still laughing, at this point he had to lean on the counter to keep himself upright.
“Just get it! Pleeeease!” 
Like a splash of cold water, hearing you beg was sobering. 
“Whatever you want.”  
He raised his hand-
“Wait! Don’t kill it!” 
He paused and looked at you, “what?” 
“It didn’t do anything wrong but be where I don’t want it. It doesn’t deserve to die. Just get it out of here, please.” 
König’s heart squeezed as he looked at the way you pleaded for the life of some little spider that you were scared of. His instincts were right. You needed him to protect you.
He scooped the spider into his hand and you jumped out of the way so he could carry it outside. And just because you asked, he actually took the thing outside. 
You were waiting atop the stairs when he came back, looking a little sheepish but smiling at him like he was the light of your life, when in fact, it was the opposite. You were the light of his life. 
“Thank you, König!” 
And you hugged him, standing on the top of the stairs with him a few steps down, it was easy to wrap your arms around his neck. The fear that coursed through his veins when he thought you were in danger finally fading into your warm embrace. “You’re safe now.” He promised, as long as he was alive he’d keep you safe.
-
You caught movement out of the corner of your eye after you tossed your garbage in the dumpster. It was a spider. If you squinted, it might have been the same spider…
“Hey there, little guy!” You grinned as it scurried away, “excellent job, wingman!” 
You weren’t at all scared of spiders. 
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theewritingroomm · 6 months ago
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A Wasteland Reunion
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Summary: It's been more than 200 years since you've last seen your cowboy. Pairing: Cooper Howard x Reader Word Count: 1,070 (a drabble? what's that?) Warnings: mentions of violence, swearing, A/N: Part of The Cowboy & The Movie Star series, a part 2 if you will. Let me know what y'all would like to see from this series. What snapshots would y'all like to see?
I do NOT consent to my work being translated or published onto third party sites - including AO3 and Wattpad.
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A layer of dirt and grime covered every surface of the Red Rocket Gas Station. Outside the sun blazed down, covering the Wasteland in a blazing heat. The wind gave an occasional whistle as it blew more dirt into the gas station’s broken windows. Though you were paying attention to none of that, you were focused on the sound that should not be there. 
The thumping of heavy footsteps on broken concrete. 
So with your back against the checkout counter you reload your gun and cussed Ma June. If this ‘simple favor’ didn’t kill you, you were going to ring the older lady’s neck. 
As the heavy steps get closer your finger tightens around the trigger of your gun. The old bell chimes above the door and heavy footfalls turn into light steps as the newest customer to the Red Rocket navigates around the debris littering the floor. The footsteps grow quieter as the person heads towards the other end of the gas station. 
Taking the opportunity, you slowly crawl towards the open door a few feet to your right. The manager’s office was threadbare, a simple desk and chair sat in the middle of the room with a few filing cabinets sitting behind the desk. It did not offer many hiding places, however you had no interest in hiding. You were interested in getting the piece of tech Ma June was searching for and getting the hell out of the Red Rocket. 
After waiting a moment, with bated breath for the sound of footsteps to draw closer. You were surprised when they never did, coming to the conclusion that the person must have left. Likely abandoning their search when they came up empty handed. Not that you minded, The less people here, the less bullets you would have to use to make it back to Filly. 
Pushing the other person from your mind, you began going through the drawers of the desk. Where you found a handful of plastic forks, a loose cigarette and four caps. With another glance to the open door and a pause to listen for steps, you turned your attention to the filing cabinets behind you. 
The first cabinet was a bust, holding nothing but trash. You had moved onto the second cabinet, only starting to pull the first drawer out when the hairs on the back of your neck rose and a pit of dread opened in your stomach. Before you could turn to inspect, the hammer of a pistol was pulled back. The click echoed off the walls of the dusty gas station. 
“My, my,” A low voice drawled out behind you. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ all alone out here?” 
The voice was low, gravely, distinctly a man’s voice. It trickled down your spine like ice water, setting off every nerve ending within you. But deep down, there was a familiarity in the voice. A familiarity that had your heart tightening in your chest. 
“Just surviving,” you replied., hand tightening around your own pistol. “Wasteland’s a rough place.” 
You tried to keep your voice level, not wanting to give away any of your intentions or give the stranger a reason to pull his trigger. At this point you were ready to call this mission a bust, sure that the tech Ma June was after was not worth your life. 
“Stand up, leave your gun on the ground” the man demanded, leaving no room for arguments. 
Complying with the man, you left your gun in the dirt and stood. Muscles aching and protesting from being squatted for so long. Once fully stood you began to turn around. Wanting to see the man who was likely going to shoot you down. 
The man, no, the ghoul in front of you was menacing from looks alone. A long, leather trench coat covered the rest of his outfit, an ammo belt stretched across his chest, and a weathered cowboy hat was pulled low on his head. A sneer stretched his lips across yellowing teeth and fire burned in deep brown eyes. 
As you locked eyes with the Ghoul a weight of emotions crashed into your chest. If silence hadn’t consumed the gas station you would have thought he shot you.
“Cooper?” The name fell from your lips before you could stop it. 
The sound bubbled in the space between the two of you. Growing with the tension in the room before popping with a deep growl from the man. 
Quicker than you could realize, he was on you. A heavy arm pushing against your throat as he slammed you against the hard metal cabinets behind you. A handle dug harshly into your hip, surly going to leave a bruise. However, you could not find it in you to care. Not when Cooper Howard was standing before you two hundred years after you had seen him last. Two hundred years after you were sure he had died.  
“How do you fuckin; know that name?” He growled, pushing his forearm harder against your throat.
“Coop, please,” You coughed out, struggling to breath past the pressure Cooper was putting on your neck. “It’s me.”
His eyes darkened, a predator staring down at you. “Bullshit.” 
The arm not holding you to the cabinets began to raise, The metal of his gun was cold as he placed it to your temple. 
“I’m only gonna ask one more time.” He pulled the hammer back with a sickening click. “How do you know that name and why are you wearing her fuckin’ face?” 
He was nearly shouting at the end of his question. Fury beginning to take over his composure. 
Knowing you only had one more chance to prove to Cooper that you were standing in front of him, you dug into your memories with Cooper. Going back to a place you had long wished to go back to.
“I told you I loved you for the first time the day the bombs dropped,” you choked around the words, “I had a meeting at the studio and you were getting ready for a birthday party. We were standing in the driveway and you were wearing that damn cowboy getup, but I couldn’t wait anymore so I blurted it out.” 
The fire in his eyes diminished as another emotion took over. With a small sigh, your name escaped his lips in a whisper. Like a prayer he had long since forgotten.
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bookishdreamer28 · 1 year ago
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Jujutsu kaisen men reacting to you falling asleep in their arms♡
Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento ☆
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫
Satoru
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You were making pop corn while Satoru was trying to pick a good movie for you to watch.
After you were done with snacks and drinks, and you two took your seat on the couch.
You were clinging on Satoru like a coala, while he was resting his head on top of yours, while rubbing your back softly.
You felt so relaxed in his arms, that you couldn't stay awake any loner, so you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his warmth.
After a few minutes, Satoru noticed that your hold had become loose, and when he look down and saw you sleeping, he felt his heart beating fast. He wanted to squeal so loud by how adorable you looked.
His only thought right now was to give you as many kisses as possible.
He stroked your hair gently, gave you a small kiss on your nose and slowly picked you up in his arms, to get you to bed.
Once he went into the room, he laid you down on the bed and he joined you, withoutwaking you from your slumber. Once his body moved closer to yours, he wrapped his arms protectively around you, making sure to keep you warm again.
He went to sleep with a smile on his face thinking how lucky he was.
Suguru
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You were hanging out in Shoko's house with your friends for some bbq.
You were sitting on Suguru's lap, his hands around your waist holding you securely on his knees.
Tiredness consumed your body and you felt your eyelids getting heavier.
So you softly moved to lay against Suguru's chest, just to rest your body for a little.
Suguru was talking to Shoko about the food and stuff, but once he felt your body leaning closer to his, his attention went to you.
He smiled softly at your sleepy expression, and gave you a sweet, loving kiss on your forehead, changing your position a little to make you more comfortable and ran his fingers through your silky hair.
"Are you feeling alright sweet girl?" "I'm just a little sleepy." You murmured, snuggling closer to him.
You immediately fell asleep after you felt Suguru's finger's going through your hair.
When Suguru turned to look at you to make sure you were ok, his eyes widened a little when he saw you sleeping soundly, in his arms. He couldn't contain himself and reached for his phone to take a picture of you, because you looked so f precious at the moment.
Kento
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You two were on a date at the beach, wanting to have some relaxing time for yourselves.
After you gathered all your stuff from the car, you started looking for a place to leave things. Once you found this nice shady place under a tree, you spread the beach towels on the sand and sat on them.
Everything about this place, gave a feeling of relaxation and happiness, especially, when you were alone with Kento.
Kento was holding you close against his chest, staring at the sea and humming to himself a song that you listened on the radio earlier.
You closed your eyes, enjoying the sound of the waves and the soft pecks Kento was planting all over you face.
Kento noticed how quiet you were and once he saw you sleeping so peacefully, he felt his heart warming. He smiled down at your sleeping figure, admiringly, thinking how mesmerizing you looked.
He leaned in carefully, to give you a small peck on your nose, and whispered a sweet 'I love you', stroking the soft skin of your cheek with his thump.
Your body instantly responded to this act of affection, causing you to melt even more in his arms.
He rested his atop of yours and closed his eyes too, wanting to cherish this moment you had now. Because having you like this, in his arms, was something he's been dreaming of for so long.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫
I'll def make more of these !!
Thank you for reading <3
all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, repost, translate, or claim my content as yours.
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anantaru · 7 months ago
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⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ cw. semi public, reader wears a dress, meanie boothill, fem! reader
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you were awfully late to the party your friends were throwing tonight— although, it wasn't your fault, not at all.
in reality, boothill was to blame.
here's the deal, it's not necessarily his fault, so do not blame him too much, okay? because it's you, you were wearing the prettiest outfit, enhancing the natural curves of your body and hugging your breasts just right.
ugh, boothill just couldn't help but drool at the sight.
he just couldn't keep his hands off you, it started with a subtle touch against your lower back before he wraps his arm around your waist to press you against his chest. your eyes meet as you made it so easy for him to pin you to the wall in an abandoned street, his hungry lips instantly attacking your neck.
he licks across your skin and roughly kneads your breasts, sucking at your neck down to your collarbones until he could vividly feel your heart thump beneath your hot skin. an addicting electricity rushes through your veins as you whine out his name, becoming quite sensitive once he twirls your nipple through your dress and playfully bites your neck.
to your boyfriend, you made the most seductive sounds, so sweet and high-pitched and desperate. it sets his loins on fire, fueled by your leg ever so often brushing against his hard erection. you're lured in by his touch and sweep one hand into his hair before watching him through lidded, hazy eyes. wanting more.
but oh look at the time? what are you doing?
"hmm, we have to go now, baby," you hear boothill chuckle, his voice revealing a groan as he murmurs at you, "you don't want to be late, right? to the party?" fuck, you need him so bad you feel a domineering frustration suffocate the air surrounding your frames.
"oh hey, what's that?" he mumbles into your mouth further, teasingly licking over your bottom lip before lightly pressing his thigh against your clothed cunt, revealing your soaked panties to the fabric of his pants.
"looks like you're going to have to wait until we get back home from the party now."
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©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago
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BABES IM ON THE FLOOR 😭 I watched this Price Voice Lines Video and my god 🫠 His voice is so deep im litrally insane. Could you maybe do something with his lines around the 13:35 mark, where he’s being a self-sacrificing jerk? 🤭 Maybe the Reader is with him on a mission or something and like their both super protective and trying to save eachother or something ❤️
All, Most, Some, None
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PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader
SYNOPSIS:  Snow melts in the heat of blood.
WORDCOUNT: 2.4k
WARNINGS: Angst, major character death(s), some fluff in the beginning, protective!Price, pre-relationship pining, obliviousness, blood, bullet wounds, hurt/no comfort, etc. no happy ending
A/N: You know I have to finish out my requests with just pure heartbreak.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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You look out over the dark landscape and take down a breath as the atmosphere of the camp behind you murmurs like a warm drink. Night had fallen swiftly two hours beforehand when you’d first volunteered to take watch, your smile bright and eyes eager. Snow was just beginning to slide down from the gray sky, thick clouds hanging like a navy cloth—splotch marks of yellowish stars a far-off glimmer of infinity. 
When the footsteps echo out, coming to your position, you already know the weight and pace of who it belongs to; can trace the way his feet will conform to the dirt and the crunch of white powder. A grin flickers your lips easily but you don’t bother looking over your shoulder. 
John huffs as he takes his place beside you on the lookout, crossing his arms over his chest. In the corner of your eye you spy on his loose yet measured face, that authoritative edge that seeps into his skin at times. 
For a long moment, the two of you look out over the earth, studying the dips and drags of the Northwest Territories of Canada in early winter. While cold, the jackets the both of you wear take the chill off well enough. Along the body of your MK14 EBR, your fingers rest casually—no need to be tensed and ready. Your sharp eyes hadn’t spotted anything for eons. 
“Sitrep, then, Sol?” You hum under your breath as John looks over at you with a raised brow.
“Rabbits and Caribou, Sir.” Your voice goes teasing, “I think we’re boxed in from all sides—I suggest immediate evac.”
A low chuckle and a firm shake of a beanied head, a puff of condensation as the darkness seeps over all to be seen. John glances at you with a smirk.
“Unfortunate, seeing as we just got here.” You smile and laugh deep in your throat. It was at moments like this that you thanked whatever deity was out there that Captain Price had seen your potential all those years ago. 
He’d handpicked you when you were nothing but a Private—brought you up with knowledge and stern, yet gruffly companionate, assistance all the way to Lieutenant. You don’t know the exact moment when you started to get flustered around him. 
Your chest is tight right now, fingers that were once cold going clammy as you twitch them. Inside your chest, your heart pounds blood into the thin drums of your ears like boot-thumps. Clearing your throat, you shift your feet and push out, “Did Laswell get in touch?”
“Ah,” John shakes his head, taking a breath as he says, “Negative. We’re on our own for this.” He turns his head fully to you and for a moment you’re enraptured by the shine in the depths of his blue irises. Teasing, “Think you can handle it, then?”
You turn away quickly, face burning. 
“Doubt me?” Matching his jab you smile widely. John chuckles and jerks his shoulders, grunting as his chin tilts. 
“Never.” Hiding the violent burn of your cheeks, you look at the landscape quickly, nails tapping the metal of your gun. 
“Sol?” John speaks after a moment of tight silence. You blink over with an interested look, cocking your head. The Captain had shifted to fully face you, and one of his hands itches at the side of his finely-trimmed beard. Fast eyes glance over your form like a studious teacher—your lungs still inside of your ribs. John mutters, “Stick near me tomorrow, yeah? Want you on my six.” 
Touched, your brows still furrow with confusion. 
“Don’t…you need me to lead Unit Two?” John’s already shaking his head, gritting his teeth. It’s like something’s bothering him. 
Feet taking you forward, you grab onto his bicep and stare into his tense face with slight concern. “John?” You ask, lids narrowing. 
The man stills at the sensation of your touch, even separated by the layers of his gear and jacket. Eyes slip to yours and lightly soften, the edges easing in their relentless wrinkle of dark thoughts. Like the star that your codename emulated, you seemed to be a ray of illumination for the Captain, and John’s nose twitched before his eyes quickly looked away from your open face. 
It wasn’t right to think the way he did about you. 
“Just have a feeling, Love,” he shakes his head slightly, clearing his throat. Your hand drops from him and he stops himself from snatching it back. 
You smile at him, huffing a laugh. 
“Well, who else’ll be able to take my place, then, seeing as you’re so eager to have me by you?” Gazing behind you into the small camp, John grunts, keeping his eyes on you. A small smirk slips over his lips and pulls his beard back.
“Daniels has got it…copy?” Your throat hums in consideration before you nod in a firm flinch of your head. 
“...Alright.”
“Good.” The Brit shifts his feet and the snow squeals. Snowflakes collect on the top of your head, sitting atop your scalp like tiny insects as the swell of your mouth goes back in a grin. John blinks at you, and before he knows it, he’s extending his hand up to his beanie with little thought beyond how lovely you look like this. 
He plops the fabric down on your head and you snap a hand up to press into it in shock. The man’s large frame slinks back as he takes his leave with you looking back at him; his feet make tracks, leading away to mirror the ones that came before. 
“Don’t get a cold, eh? I’ll expect you to be back in your tent within the hour, Lieutenant.” Face burning, you can’t answer. 
Blue eyes peek over a wide shoulder. Something sparks in those met gazes, a pinprick of wonder and deep affection. Perhaps it was even love.
The snow falls faster, and as John disappears into the darkness the chill of the open ridge suddenly seems less violent than your pulse as it thumps to the humming of the earth. Hiding a giddy smile, you look back out and rub at your neck; hat upon your head perfectly ingrained with a scent of charcoal and pine. 
“Leave me! I won’t make it!” The words made your stomach drop through your intestines. Shouted over the open line John’s voice barks the order like a knife with break-neck efficiency. No hesitation. 
It had all gone to shit in a matter of hours. The sun was just on the horizon, spreading its hands of dawn over the camp that was awash with blood and bodies. Enemy soldiers, the ones that your squad was tasked with taking out within the next day, had killed the next sentry on duty after you and stormed your position. 
To think you were minutes away from being that very sentry was mind-numbing. But now the real problem was the state of the camp. 
John had been hit through the right thigh.
Taking cover behind a large pine tree, you dart out at every other interval to fire rounds into anything that dashes like a wild animal into the open. Most of the squad was dead—the rest scattered in the sparse cover that was offered or in the process of dying. Snow melted in the heat of crimson fluid.
Spying the downed figure of your Captain, you growl and sprint out before you can talk yourself out of it, taking the recoil of your MK14 EBR into your shoulder and teeth gritted. John writhes on the ground, trying to maintain control over the remaining forces as his leg is limp and useless. He growls out in pain as his head hits the ground behind him. 
“Fuck!” He shouts. You feel a bullet whizz past your head as you skid down to your knees beside him. 
“Sol!” He glares at you as you survey the damage quickly, ducking when the metal projectiles get gradually closer and closer. There’s shouting in the far treeline; death cries. “What the hell are you doing? Get out of here!”
“You’re stupid if you think I’m about to do that to you!” You yell, jerking your gun up to release three bullets into someone who had burst out with a raised assault rifle. Pain flares in your left bicep, but you barely notice it beyond a strained, instinctual, whimper. “I’m getting you out of here.” 
Panic had gone as deep as your DNA, seeing the large pool of blood around John, his venom-laced words that stem from agony.
“Leave! Fucking hell, Lieutenant, that’s an order!” 
“John,” you shout, “shut the fuck up!” The man’s eyes go wide with shock. It wasn’t often that you swore at him. 
Making your hands dive under your Captain, you loop your hands behind his shoulders and latch at his armpits. With all of your might, you shift and begin dragging him backward into the trees; gritting your teeth at his pained yell and the bare of his own pearly whites.
Moving like this was stupid, you wouldn’t be able to take out your gun without dropping John—and you certainly weren’t going to do that. Not on your life.
“Christ,” the Brit groans, and you frantically watch the blood trail he leaves behind along the ground. Like a rabbit who’d gotten his leg bit off by a wolf but was still trying to run.
There was too much blood.
Agony explodes in your side, but you keep dragging backward with a new hitch in your lungs; eyes awash with tears before the air leaves you with a ragged and violent gasp. The sounds you hear from all around are horrible—the screams and the popping of rapid-fire shots. Sucking down oxygen with a vile cough, you get John behind a cropping of rocks and have to settle him down as you hack into one of your arms; chest shuddering.  
There is a pressure inside of you that digs into your flesh, but the adrenaline floods your brain over the alarm bells, drowning them.
You pull back your arm to see blood. But it doesn’t matter—not now. Not with John like this.
Looking down, you stare into his eyes while you get to your knees by his side. His gaze is wide and stuck at your abdomen with panic, where you already know the damage a bullet can do. 
“Love…” he begins, but his fingers curl into fists of pain instead. John breathes heavily, and when you look down to his thigh you find far more than one bullet. 
There were three, all spaced out in an arch. One at his thigh, one up on his pelvis, and the other directly in his stomach. Your eyes widen with mute horror, mouth stuttering as your throat closes. 
“Yeah,” blood bubbles from John’s mouth as he chuckles in quick gasps. “No good, eh?”
Tears build in great waves, but you force out, “No,” growling, you feel your own blood stain your gear and clothes. No exit wounds for either of you, you can already tell. “No, John—not like this.”
“Sweetheart,” he tries, but you grip the beanie on your head and shove it into his stomach, pressing on the wound there as he wheezes and you sob. 
“No, John!” A large hand finds the back of your hair, and you shake your head wildly. 
Blue eyes stare with regret and torment before darting back down to your wound. You can feel it—you already know; knew the moment the stray bullet hit you. 
The both of you…
“I’m sorry,” he says, quietly so that you have to strain to hear it above the noise. “I’m sorry, Love.” With a shiver of intense throbbing, the strain growing, you dart forward with waning strength and place your lips to his. 
Bloody hands grip his cheeks, slipping over his beard in fruitless desperation. Blood coats your mouths, but the moment of pure love and tenderness takes over. For a minute you can both forget the chill of metal and the blood pooling to the ground. The shaking in your muscles.
You can forget that the both of you are dying.
John keeps the back of your head to him as strength begins to slip. When you pull away with quivering limbs, his thumb weakly brushes your undereye to dispel the bitter tears. He hums with wet eyes. 
“I never got to take you out, did I?” You slip down beside him, shivering and losing heat not only because of the snow. Limbs grow heavy and in the back of your mind, you know you should be afraid—terrified. Maybe you were.
The comment makes you want to scream and rage and wail. 
“No,” you instead say, laughing through a sob at the cruelty of it all as you latch onto him. “No, you didn't, John. But I’m here now. I’m right here.”
Eyes slide over your face as you stay near him; waiting. A tiny smile as his bloody fingers brush your cheek. 
“When we get back I’ll show you ‘round Hertfordshire,” you both know that will never happen. His forehead knocks against yours. “You’ll love it, Sweetheart. Know you will.” 
“I will,” you promise, knowing you can’t. The world besides both of your eyes swirls. “Anywhere with you, John, is worth going.”
It’s obvious what you mean.
John presses his lips back to yours with one last whispered breath of his vow. “I’ve loved you since I first saw that beauty of a smile.” 
The two of you whisper promises and secrets as the gunfire dies down, lips making up for all of the times you should have kissed before and now don’t have the time to. Eyes don’t leave each other as the blood keeps flowing into two large pools of crimson sin. You’re drowned in it—flooded in it. 
You should have told him sooner.
“I’ll find you,” you whisper, eyes fluttering. But the body is long cold. 
You let your muscles loosen as the last of the fight leaves. Content, even in this, but for the simple fact that John’s arms are around you forever in this moment of endless infinity. The sky rolls back, and your last view is of him.
In the snow, preserved by the elements even weeks later, they would find your bodies, curled amongst themselves as if to protect one another. They would say that it had been because you were cold, freezing, and bleeding out from your wounds that you’d huddled for comfort. But that wasn’t the truth. 
The two of you had never been warmer than when you were with the other. 
What they couldn’t account for were the twin smiles on frosty lips.
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miniwheat77 · 1 year ago
Text
Red. (König.)
!CW! NSFW, smut, fluff, König being protective, blood, poorly translated German, (sorry if I missed any.)
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Red is the color you’ve learned to associate with König. Not for any particular reason, but you’ve seen the massive man covered head to toe in blood, and the scariest part about it? It was never ever his own. You met him before he became a Colonel, and when he did become one, you were amongst the first few soldiers he wanted around him. He saw potential in you. He liked having you around. Not for any particular reason, or so he thought.
Red is the color of your panties when König passes by your bedroom when your door is cracked open. You hadn’t realized it was open, forgetting all about it. He watched for far too long, the way you drew them down your legs, discarding them into your hamper and sliding another pair onto your legs. His eyes are dark as he watches you. He has to force himself away from you, he couldn’t do this to himself, he had too much to lose than to pursue something like a relationship.
Red is the color that seeps into his teeth when he bites too hard on his lip. Seeing you pass by, imagining what you look like with only panties on. He can only imagine what you’ll look like with them off too. He moves his hand up his hood, wiping the blood away from his lip, tasting the familiar metallic taste on his tongue, oh how he wanted it to be yours instead. He was obsessed.
Red is the color of the one single rose he’d found on a mission with just the two of you. He passed it to you, smiling even though he knew you couldn’t see it. Your cheeks blushed crimson, and he felt his heart thumping deep in his chest. “Thank you Colonel.” You giggle. Hearing him laugh. “Hübsche Blume für ein hübsches Mädchen.” He mumbles, seeing the way your smile starts to falter. You nibble at your lip nervously. He takes the rose from you, placing it between your skin and the strap of your helmet. Right above your ear. He’d already pulled the thorns off so that they wouldn’t hurt you.
Red is the color of his cheeks when you make the first move, stepping toward him. Reaching very slow as you raise his hood just enough. Right at the bridge of his nose. Pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He’s the one who deepens it, resting his hands on your waist and pulling you into him to kiss you harder, show you that he wants more. Your lips are flushed and plump from his harsh kiss. Pupils blown out, eyes begging for more of him. He doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.
Red is what he sees when a new recruit touches you in a way you don’t like. Resulting in you being upset. He marches right over to the both of you, threatening the man. “If you touch her again, I’ll cut your hands off. Do you understand?” He corners him, your cheeks lighting on fire. He was so protective. How dare he touch you. König was the only man allowed to touch you. Nobody else was supposed to. You were his, only his. He sends the recruit to his room for the night and grasps hold of your wrist, pulling you along. Once he gets you alone. He’s kissing you again. You were his. He was going to make sure of it.
Red is the color of the rose petals he’d decorated your shared house with. Along with candles in the shape of a walkway. You came into your house, shocked by what you see as you set your keys and bag down skeptically. You creep down the hallway, finding him waiting for you in your bedroom. “What is all of this?” You smile. “A surprise. Come here.” He nods. You giggle as he takes your hand, bringing you into him. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He mumbles. You smile up at him, but it falters as he lowers himself down onto one knee. Lifting up the little black velvet box. “Willst du mich heiraten?” He smiles. Seeing your eyes fill with tears.
Red is your daughters favorite color. Anytime she gets a hold of a marker or crayon, it’s always red. Her favorite thing to do is show you and König what she has drawn, and even though he’s not a fan, he’ll let her color red marker onto his fingernails. She’s not quite old enough for the real thing, so marker will have to do for now. You laid in bed next to König after a long night, seeing his nails and how there’s still remnants of red marker. You can’t help but smile. Just as you lie in bed, you can hear a little sniffle at your door. König sits up fast, plucking the little metal chain on the lamp next to him. Seeing his little girl with tears streaming down her face. “Baby what’s wrong?” You ask. “I had a bad dream.” She sniffles. You hear König let out a sigh. “It’s alright liebling, daddy’s gotcha.” He breathes. Reaching his hands out for her and lifting her into your bed. “Stay with mum and dad tonight.” He mumbles. Yawning slightly as she nuzzles up between the both of you. She had him wrapped right around her little finger.
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