#paris of Troy x reader

[streets-in-paradise]

In These Arms - Achilles x (Fem) Trojan!Reader

Warnings: Paris dumped the reader for Helen before she gets to meet Achilles. Includes break up angst + discussion of cheating.

Summary: Heartbroken and publicly humilliated after being abandoned by Paris, you seek peace in the promise of giving up on men without realizing the consequences of his actions would find you one last time.

Turned into a war prisoner and handled to the leader of the myrmidons, the unusual comfort of your master offers you a second chance.

Note: Inspired by two prompt lists by my dear friend @alysinwonderland-at-tea

Angst list - Prompt 4 " Everyone told me you were going to break my heart. I should have listened to them. "

Fluff list - Prompt 2 "I think about you. Ceaselessly."

Tags: @lovelybaka

If everyone else in Troy had reasons for sorrow, on top of theirs you were the most damaged. The man you loved had returned home bringing someone else on his charriot. A stolen queen, woman you didn't have the slightest chance of comparing yourself to given the charm of her famously inhuman beauty. Even when Paris never made any expressed promises priorly, love confessions had once been mutually retributed and you believed in that.

You trusted him going against the advice of many people who attempted to warn you. His own brother had told you that no matter how much he spoke of it, Paris knew nothing about love. Blinded by your feelings, you didn't care, and it turned out the worst mistake of your life.

" Everyone told me you were going to break my heart. I should have listened to them. "

It took you all the strenght you had left not to cry, but at that moment of confrontation it was him the one sobbing in front of you.

" I never meant to! Dear, what I felt for you was real … But it wasn't true love, and I had no way to tell the difference untill I meet Helen. "

You couldn't believe the excuse that was being given to you.

" It was for me, Paris … and because of you I think I will never love again. I gave you everything, but turns out all I am wasn't enough. "

The assumption seemed to have offended him.

" You know I don't mean that! Please, try to understand! "

" What's left to understand? You betrayed your homeland and you betrayed me. You too deserve each other, indeed: a cheater for a cheater … Lovely couple to doom us all! And me the first."

He gave you a hurted look, as if after what he did he still cared for your forgiveness.

" My heart breaks for you, and i am ashamed of myself for the pain i'm causing you … But what can shame do to stop the intensity of love? I would have never accompanied Hector to Sparta if I would have known there I would fall like this for someone else. I couldn't return pretending nothing have happened, and making you live a lie would have been even more unfair than this. You deserve better, I still hold good feelings for you. I swear it on these arms that had comforted you countless times before. "

Paris attempted to pull you closer for a hug, but you stopped him ríght away.

" You humilliated me in front of the entire city! And how strongly I wish I could get granted the mercy of never seeing you again, but Troy is not big enough for that. Blessed is the king of Sparta, who gets the ríght of spreading hate without having to see his wife in the arms of other man every day! Me, instead? I get doomed to watch you smile happyly from afar in the balcony of the palace alongside your mistress for the rest of my life. Do you call that justice, Paris? If that is your mercy, I would rather get your hate. "

In the most twisted way possible, the gods granted at least one of your wishes.

Promising yourself to never love another man ever again after your first love had ended so bitterly, you took the first step into the only path allowed for a woman in your position. With the help of Briseis, who remained your friend despite what happened with her cousin, you seeked to get choosen to take vows in her temple. It was a quick way to restitute your honor in the public eye and be left alone as well. Unfortunately, you didn't get to even try on the priestess robes before the concecuencies of Paris' actions reached you once more.

Greek warriors brought to avenge the husband of his new lover destroyed the temple, killing the priests and taking you prisioner. You would never get to see the great city of Priam again and, despite the sorrow you felt when thinking of your family, that also caused you a dark sense of relief. Because of Paris you have lost everything, even the most bassic of goods such as your freedom. Only after loosing so much, of hitting rock bottom, you had a real chance to be free of him.

Enslaved to Achilles, but liberated from everything you were before, the worst part was having to stand the provocations. The myrmidon enjoyed himself attempting to seduce you, but wasn't forcing you into his bed, and that worked good enough for you in that context.

At one given time you did found his teasing going too far, and only then you became fully honest with him.

" Why did you choose to love a god? I think you will find the romance one sided. "

It made your blood boil, even if you could tell he spoke to you like that because he had no idea of who you were despite knowing your name. Achilles believed to be teasing a priestess and in the discoverment of his mistake you ended up laying eyes on him for longer than you should.

He was wearing the same type of long egyptian styled robes Paris would typically wear in the domestic environment, keeping arms and shoulders covered while fully exposing the torso. It was matched with the same sort of long skirt made of light fabrics opened at the side for more cassual expousure. You could vividly remember he wore a black outfit almost identical to that one during the first night you made love.

And yet, that man looked nothing like him. His sun kissed skin and the sculpted muscles were as contrasting as his blond hair and blue eyes.

" I have choosen nothing, fate forced me to seek shelter in the cult of Apollo after being abandoned by the love of my life. I told myself that, if i could never love again, I could at least give my devotion to the regent god of my city. Because of you I never got to become a priestess, so now i'm a double spoil: rejected for marriage and dragged out of the temple. "

Although standing ríght in front of you, disbelief faded some of the cockiness.

" You won't be rejected here, that's a promise. I had a minor altercate with Ajax because we found you so pretty we both wanted to keep you."

He sat on the ground ríght next to you and observed you with tenderness before taunting you once more.

" Did I ruin your life, or arrived just in time to restaure your faith in men? I don't understand how a girl like you could think of running to hide inside a temple instead of getting herself a better man. "

You answered with the truth, but carefully crafting enough disdain.

" There was nothing I could have done to keep him with me when the competition was the most beautifull woman in the world. The majority of men would have done the same, and that's why I have choosen not to believe in any other ever again. "

Achilles wasn't expecting to find out he was struggling for the attention of the woman that the trojan prince had left behind in his pursuement of the spartan queen.

" Will all mankind pay for the crimes of Paris? That bastard is not even a man. You are so much better without him, consider that perhaps the queen has made you a favor. If he is your reason to give up on men, I have to say it's quite offensive for the rest of us. "

You could tell where his speech was coming and you tried to stop him.

" You would have given me to Ajax if Briseis wouldn't have ran away. I didn't left with her only because I have nothing left to live for. Living in Troy is unbereable for me, but at least here I don't have to worry about seeing them and that's the only perk i expect. Don't try to pretend you could be any different, specially when I'm here because you couldn't find any other more beautifull slave girl to claim yours. "

His hand was then on your face, lifting up your chin so your eyes won't leave his as his thumb caressed your lips.

" I think of you, ceaselessly. If there is any daughter of trojan judged more beautifull than you, I don't need to know and I don't care, because I want you over any other. "

Your hand followed his and pulled down, rejecting his contact.

" Sweet lies won't win me over, not this time. "

It frustrated him, but wouldn't make him desist.

" Would you believe me if I bring you his head on a spear? I can make him cry a painfull death to pay for your tears. Whatever vengeance Menelaus dreams of would be called mercy compared to what I can do to that trojan bastard in your name."

The strange rush of passionate defense encouraged you to reveal yourself.

" Revenge is not on my interest, all I want is to forget. Can you make me stop thinking of the first man who made my heart beat? The moments when we were happy still haunt me like a disease of the spirit, but then I remember someone else occupies my place now and it's like my heart gets eaten raw inside my chest. Pain and regret is all I have for you, son of Peleus. Paris drained me of anything else. "

Achilles got rid of his black robe and wrapped your shoulders with it.

" One night in my arms is all i think that would take me to vanish the memory of that fool from your mind. You haven't yet been loved by a real man: whatever he gave you would taste like few once you would have tasted me."

The fabric was still warm from the contact with his skin and he was holding both sides of it on top of your chest in an attempt of wrapping you tighter.

You didn't try to escape him that time and he used the new proximity in his advantage to trap you in his strong grip, pushing your body against his.

" In this arms you will find happiness again, if you allow me to show you how good I can do just for you. "

[edgessunflower]

Hi!

Congratulations for the 700 followers, that's trully awesome!

For the celebration, i would like to ask 🌊 with Paris and the prompt " give me a chance to prove what i can make you feel." ( I saw it on one of your celebration promp lists and was like oh my god 🥰)

Omg omg

I'll show how much I love you

Pairing: Paris x GN reader

Description: After accidentally saying your feelings for Paris he shows you that he feels the same as well

You walk away as fast as you can hearing Paris yell behind you "Don't walk away from me if you mean what you said" you stop walking as he stands in front of you. You stare back at him as tears burn and start to form despite how you take slow breaths "I wanted to tell you that for so long but not like that...not what just happened" you cry holding your hand over your face as he looks at you in shock but immediately softens moving your hand away from your face holding your face in his hand wiping your tears away with his thumb "Hey don't cry it's okay I share your feelings I just thought you liked someone else" you smile gently running your hand through and holding strands of hair in your fingers. He connects your foreheads pressing a kiss on top of your head looking around and grabbing your hand leading you behind him to his quarters away from anyone that could see the two of you especially Helen who had known he loved you for a long while and a year ago you told Hector of your feelings for his brother keeping your secrets from the other except when they told each other about keeping the secrets and they both agreed to help each other and the two of you get together doing many things from giving one a letter the other wrote in secret before they threw it out, saying the other needed help or wanted to talk ending up in the same room together for hours after, and even once when paris came in while you were sculpting pots the two of you were locked in together until the two "found" and helped the two of you out. He turns locking the door before you ended up against the wall with him in front of you feeling your heart race as he leans in stopping a few feet away from your face "I'll show you how much I love you if you let me" you feel your heart soar and tears burn in the back of your eyes leaning in and hugging him while in a kiss allowing each other to strip the others clothes off. Caressing each other's skin followed by gentle kissing and having skin to skin contact in a long awaited, emotional, and intimate moment that changed that changed both your lives and added to how much you loved each other than you already did before falling asleep to paris tracing your spine until he kissed your spine holding you after he fell asleep waking up the next day smiling as you put your clothes on going out and walking around. You find hector and helen joining the two on a small walk as they give each other knowing looks as you talked and held each other until helen finally asks the two of you "Are you two involved? you've been different with each other" you look at each other slowly turning red laughing looking back at hector and Helen who are clearly confused. You smile at them "Yea we are and have been since last night" they smile big and have looks of awe and surprise on their faces "That's why you both left and I couldn't find either of you" she giggled as they hugged the two of you watching as the two of you ran off to your garden near your home that you and your family made when you were a child, where you and paris met each other as children, and where paris realized he was in love with you now being the place the two of you lay in holding each other giving a kiss while looking at the sky above the two of you.

[goest-and-fuckest-thyself]

Patroclus, 🍀

It has been many lifetimes since we have met once again. I thought, maybe, Briseis would’ve been my fate this time round. Though, now that I have gazed upon you, known you; I realise who you are.

In this lifetime we have been confused, my affluence in our first meeting being exchanged for your abuse and suffering. I would know it again, simply to comprehend your torture in our life before.

You do barely know or comprehend my soul in this life, how I would love you the same as I did before. Yet, I wait for your remembrance of our times in the ether, our energy and souls melding into one; for you to recognise my soul as your own.

I cannot say that I await you patiently; for I do not. I beg, plead, and pray for your return to me, knowing that in this life, we shall once again be separated by The Fates.

Oh, to know you once again, when I see our shared light in your eyes, without the prejudice of your forefathers, or the skepticism of your mind. Patroclus, I would once again give my soul for you, to await at the banks of the Styx for your preferment.

I shall forever be drawn to thee, my dearest friend. Though you have thirsted for the spoils of honourable life and death, I now hope to be enough to quench such thirst.

I love you. In perpetuity.

Achilles ✨

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [34] - Cage

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Lack of honesty can cause resentment.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

If anything, your day started out pretty calm.

You were petting Alpine with one hand while scribbling on the paper with the other, and you stole a look at Bucky when he entered the kitchen. He ran a hand through his damp hair and you inhaled the scent of his aftershave as subtly as you could, pretending to be busy with the file in front of you while he made his way to the coffee machine to fill himself a cup of coffee.

You could feel his glances on you as he leaned back on the counter, sipping his coffee but you ignored him until he cleared his throat.

“So when is that asshole leaving?”

You stopped petting Alpine and lifted your head to look at him better.

“Who, Rhett?” you asked. “He just got here.”

“Doesn’t he have a city to rule?”

“He left his right hand in his place, apparently,” you told him. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

You hummed, spinning your pen between your fingers.

“You should be nicer to him, you know.”

He scoffed into his coffee mug. “Yeah sorry, I’m not capable of being nice to dickheads who gaze at my wife longingly.”

“What?”

“I’m already being civil by not shooting him, and that’s only because you told me not to.”

“You’re not going to shoot—he doesn’t gaze at me longingly, Bucky.”

“Oh he does,” he shot back. “In fact, I bet he has a plan.”

Your frown deepened. “What plan?”

“He wants to—he wants to take you to Chicago,” he said, motioning vaguely and you tilted your head, your mouth slightly open. “Yeah, he’ll feed you some bullshit about never being over you—”

“He is very much over me.”

“And he will ask you to go rule Chicago with him, and then I’ll shoot him and feed his fucking body to the dogs—”

“Can I just interrupt that very creative theory with some truth?” you asked him as Alpine jumped from the counter to the floor. “Number one, even if he weren’t over me, it wouldn’t fucking matter because I am over him.”

His eyes searched yours as if he was trying to see if you were telling the truth. “…Are you?”

“Absolutely,” you said. “Number two, whoever he is with -which is not going to be me, by the way- will not be ruling Chicago with him. Chicago’s rules are different, the crown moves through blood there. Spouses are irrelevant, they’re treated worse than heirs, or right arms. Don’t get me wrong, I hate the bitch who he’s going to marry because she’s a terrible person, but I kind of feel bad for her too because no one will ever take her seriously. King consort or queen consort, doesn’t matter because they have zero power, except for providing heirs and strengthening the loyalty of families.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times. “Jesus, and we say we have medieval rules.”   

“Exactly,” you said. “And number three, I know we both keep forgetting it but we are in fact married. Even if I weren’t over him, me going to Chicago would be grounds for war and only an idiot—”

“Trojan War started the same way, didn’t stop anyone.”

“I appreciate the compliment but I’m not the underworld edition of Helen of Troy,” you pointed out. “That’s not what’s going to happen here. Unless Eric Bana shows up, that is.”

“Which one was he in that movie, Paris?”

“Hector,” you said with a sigh. “The things I’d do to him…”

“I’m glad we had this conversation because now I will have to add him to my hitlist as well.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“The point is,” you said. “I’m not starting a war between Chicago and New York for an ex. Because that’s what Rhett is. An ex.”

“He doesn’t see you as just an ex,” Bucky told you. “You said it yourself. He trusts you.”

The sight of Rhett’s car by the campus outside your building made you stop dead in your tracks only for a moment. You could feel the smile pulling your lips as you approached him, and he took off his sunglasses to grin at you.

“Hey stranger.”

“Hey,” you said. “Look at that, you survived.”

“Mm hm.”

“I take it the same can’t be said for Lucas?”

“For him or any of his men,” he stated, leaning back to his car. “He was waiting exactly where you said he was.”

You nodded your head. “How pissed off was your father?”

“Very pissed off,” he said. “But I think it worked out pretty well, you know? Now we have sent a message.”

“The ultimate golden heir is not to be crossed or challenged,” you teased him with a small smirk. “That’s a good message.”

He heaved a sigh, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you warn me?” he asked. “I mean, aside from the orgasms I gave you—”

“That was a mutual transaction,” you pointed out, making him let out a chuckle and hold up his hands.

“It really was,” he said. “But seriously, we were broken up. And I know what promise he dangled in front of you. What, you didn’t even consider it?”

You made a face, shaking your head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“New York values loyalty over power,” you said. “That’s what I grew up with. I don’t do business with greedy backstabbers, neither would my father or anyone else in New York. Once a traitor, always a traitor.”

Rhett’s gaze was fixed on you, a light crossing his eyes as he let out a breath.

“Jesus…” he muttered. “One last transaction, cupcake?”

“Nope,” you said with a laugh. “Then we will get attached and we can’t have that. You have a city to take over, and I’m too smart to be put in the background in someone else’s empire.”

Rhett smiled softly.

“My father won’t do business with anyone in New York,” he said, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I know. Everyone knows.”

“Neither will I,” Rhett said. “Until you need my help.”

Your eyes shot up to his, your stomach doing a happy flip.

“You’d do that for me?” you asked and he nodded.

“You saved my life, and proved that I can in fact trust you,” he said. “Chicago values loyalty above everything else. The least I can do is pay back the favor.”

A smile warmed your face. “I’ll come to collect, Rhett.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said and extended his hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, cupcake.”

You let out a giggle, and shook his hand.

“Yeah,” you said. “Likewise.”  

“Because I earned his trust,” you told him as his phone vibrated and he checked the screen, then typed something. Even if you wanted to ask who it was, you managed to control yourself, biting inside your cheek.

“Dr. Raynor rescheduled the therapy session for the evening,” you told him. “Your assistant told you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I have a meeting with Anna before that so I might be a bit late but I’ll be there.”

Your brows shot up, that familiar bitterness burning your mouth. “With Anna?”

“Mm hm,” he said. “Gotta go, I’ll see you there,”

With that, he walked out of the apartment and closed the door behind him, and Alpine jumped back on the counter, meowing at you in a very demanding manner. You heaved a sigh, stroking over her soft fur.

“We’re not going to threaten Anna,” you told her, “Because that’s a fucking insane thing to do, and we’re very logical, rational individuals, right Alpine?”

Alpine meowed again and you nodded your head.

“Mm hm,” you muttered. “Exactly.”

                                               *

“I mean it’s not that I’m jealous,” you assured Becca who only watched you with her brows raised. “Obviously that’s not what’s happening here.”

She hummed, sipping her coffee.

“It’s just that she’s a bit too friendly with him I feel like.”

“Like Rhett is a bit too friendly with you?”

“That’s very different!” you protested. “Rhett and I are going to make a deal!”

“Anna already has a deal with Bucky.”

“Whose side are you on?” you asked, sulking and she let out a laugh.

“Yours, obviously,” she said. “But I’m just saying, maybe before pointing fingers, acknowledge the fact that Rhett liked you. A lot.”

“Liked,” you repeated. “Back then. Besides, I have no feelings for him and as I told Bucky, he will get married.”

“And he will have mistresses.”

“Probably,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Alice will kill them I’m guessing. She was quite obsessed with him even while we were dating and now that Rhett says he will marry her, I do not want to think about the lengths she’d go to.”

 Your phone buzzed on the table and you checked the screen, then tilted your head. “Huh.”

“Who is it?”

“Ethan,” you said. “We haven’t talked in forever, apparently he was too busy and so was I. He wants to grab coffee sometime.”

“What is it with all your exes wanting to fuck you?” Becca asked, making your jaw drop.

“That’s not true!”

“No seriously, what are you doing to those guys?”

“I don’t do anything to them—you know what, we’re changing the subject,” you said as you put your phone back on the table. “Do you think I’ll be able to pull it off?”

“The deal?” Becca asked, “I’d say you already have.”

“Nothing is on paper yet.”

“It doesn’t matter, he flew here for that deal. He will make it.”

You drummed your fingernails on the table. “My father will have so many things to say about it I’m sure.”

“He can say whatever he wants—oh!” she sat up straighter. “Guess what I heard.”

“What?”

“Apparently, Ian is learning how to fight.”

You pulled your brows together. “I’m sorry?”

“Mm hm. His right hand is teaching him, the hot Hercules guy—”

“Ryan.”

“Yeah, him.”

You scoffed a laugh. “How did you hear about that?”

“Your father told my father and my father told my mom at breakfast,” she said. “Never too late to start I guess?”

“I mean he’s the heir,” you said with a sigh. “If the cage fight is happening…”

“You know how I feel about the cage fight tradition but for Ian’s case only, I will enjoy it,” she said. “I hate the son of a bitch.”

You squeezed her hand. “How Leila?”

“That’s actually why I wanted to meet up with you,” she said, huffing out a breath. “My mom kind of forced my hand.”

“How?”

“She and me and Leila are having brunch tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“So I need you to tell me Leila won’t decide to dump me tomorrow.”

A small laugh escaped from your lips and you shook your head.

“She won’t,” you assured her. “Do you want me to be there? I will invite myself to that brunch, I don’t care what Winnifred thinks.”

 She looked like she was genuinely considering the idea before she made a face, then shook her head.

“Nah, I need to deal with this myself,” she muttered and you pressed a hand over your chest.

“Aw,” you said with a grin. “They grow up so fast.”

“Shut it,” she said, kicking at your shoe with hers, making you gasp. “But I’m going to need all the moral support I can get, so you will be by the phone the whole time, alright?”

You let out a laugh. “Deal.”

                                                    *

Bucky was late to the therapy session as he said he would be by fifteen minutes, and when he got there, he was rather tense. Even if you wanted to ask what had happened, you knew you couldn’t in front of the therapist so you raised your brows at him but he shook his head.

“So,” Dr. Raynor said, “Let’s pick up from where we left off the last time. How have things progressed in terms of your communication with your ex-boyfriend in the picture?”

“Him being my ex-boyfriend doesn’t play a part in our communication or lack thereof,” you said quickly and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“It definitely does.”

“I think what plays an important part in our communication is the fact that Bucky doesn’t exactly trust me.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times and turned to look at you better.

“I don’t think you should be pointing fingers here, Charm.”

“I do trust you!” you protested, making him scoff.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You know what, if you’re being like this because I didn’t give you one tiny little detail about my plan—”

“One tiny little detail?” Bucky repeated with a laugh. “Try the whole plan.”

“You wouldn’t even spare me a glance if I pulled the shit you did back in that back alley,” you finished your sentence as if he didn’t cut you off and that seemed to take him by surprise. He gawked at you, then licked his lips, shaking his head.

“Are you serious right now?”

“What happened in the back alley?” Dr. Raynor asked, her voice almost too calm and Bucky gritted his teeth, leaning back in the couch as if he was uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“It was ages ago,” he said curtly and you hummed.

“And you never apologized.”

“I did apologize—”

“Asking me if I’m still mad via text does not count as an apology, Bucky.”

“What happened?” Dr. Raynor asked and you took a deep breath, then crossed your arms.

“I had a silly little crush on Bucky years and years ago,” you said. “Before I left for college, I made the mistake of telling him about it.”

“Charm.”

“And it’d be fine if he only turned me down but nope,” you spat, that bitter taste burning your throat again. “He had to humiliate me.”

“I didn’t humiliate—”

“Yes you did,” you cut him off and he ran a hand over his face, then motioned at Dr. Raynor.

“Are we seriously going to do this in front of her?”

“Why not?” you said. “That’s what the therapy is for.”

“And you resent him for it, Y/N?” Dr. Raynor asked and Bucky scoffed a laugh.

“Oh she hates me for it,” he corrected her and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not saying I don’t trust you, I’m just saying that if I didn’t trust you, it would be with a reason.”

“Right.”

“Was there a reason behind it, Bucky?”

“No there wasn’t, other than the fact that he wanted to humiliate me.”

“Charm.”

“Y/N, open communication is very important and a huge part of it is listening,” Dr. Raynor said, making you shake your head.

“No, he really didn’t have a reason other than the fact that he was the city’s golden prince who thought—”

“My father wanted us to end up together,” Bucky cut you off, making you pull your brows together in confusion and you turned your head to gawk at him.

“What?” you asked after a beat and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“Yeah,” he said. “He kept talking about how it would be good for the business, how I should visit you in Chicago when you’d leave for college and…all that bullshit.”

You blinked a couple of times in complete silence and Bucky bit inside his cheek.

“I mean obviously I didn’t see you that way back then, but I wouldn’t have been that much of an asshole to you if that was the only reason,” he told you, his voice almost inaudible. “I thought…I thought you were yet another cage he would drag me into, that’s it.”

You could barely hear anything from the way your heart was pounding in your ears and Bucky swallowed thickly, then stole a look at Dr. Raynor and took a deep breath.

“Yeah no, I’m not doing this shit in front of a stranger,” he muttered and got up from the couch as if he was too restless, then walked out of the office and slammed the door behind him. The sound snapped you out of your haze and you jumped on your feet, grabbing your purse.

“Thanks Dr. Raynor,” you said in a haste and walked out of the office as well but by the time you stepped outside, Bucky’s car had already driven off. You let out a breath, then leaned back to the wall on the building and rubbed at your eyes.

“Oh…” you murmured more to yourself. “Fuck.”

Chapter 35

[neo-nomatrix]

The Head of Aphrodite

Aphrodite!Gojo x Ares!reader

word count: 1072

summary: You, goddess of war, go into battle with your beloved, god of love.

banners by: @cafekitsune and @saradika

warnings: idk historical inaccuracies? i tried to follow some parts of the iliad. i was originally gonna do this with aphrodite!reader and ares!gojo (or toji) but this happened. coercion by gojo. uhh gods fight mortals??? idk i needed an excuse to put them into battle and realized that it doesn’t make sense in the middle of writing

You betrayed your own mother for your beloved.

Since the beginning your mother and you had sided with the Greeks during the Trojan war. Your mother despised the Trojans. After Paris, the prince of Troy, had said Gojo was more beautiful than her. Although you agreed, she was still your mother. Yet, you were only in love with one. Gojo Satoru, God of beauty and love, the most gorgeous being through the living and the dead.

“Please, my love,” Satoru begged from beneath you.

He often did this, groveling at your feet at any chance he could get. You’re sat on your throne, a beautiful creation made of leather, metal, and skulls. It’s a drastic difference from your dark demeanor to Satorus constant beam of light following him. Your skin is adorned in your armor, face resting on your hand in boredom. His white tunic slips off his shoulder as you look down at him, revealing a chest chiseled by Pygmalion. His skin glowing radiance. He caresses your bare legs in his arms, kissing up your calves and thighs. Whispering sweet nothings to you, in hopes of convincing you.

“My loyalty is supposed to lie with the Greeks, you know this, my love,” you say back.

“No. Your loyalty lies with me,” Satoru says back, his eyes turning suddenly dark before shifting back to his mesmerizing blue ones.

“My mother would-“ you begin before Satoru cuts you off.

“To hell with Hera! She only wants you on the side of the Greeks because the Trojans worship me instead of her. You really believe she is worth more than me? Your lover?” He begs, voice almost whimpering in despair.

“What do they have to offer me?” You ask.

“Brutality. The Trojans are men of war! They will not rest until the battle is done, they are true soldiers,” The God says, knowing you would take a liking to a barbaric nature.

“You’ll be fighting by my side, my goddess,” He continued.

“Joining the Trojans would be joining the losing side. I only win,” you argue with him.

“why must you be so difficult?” Satoru thinks to himself.

“You would rather fight against me? Is that how you see me, my dearest?” He says, knowing it will push your buttons.

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it,” you say, irritated by him.

“But you did! You would rather fight with me, your lover, the god who is the reason for all your pleasure, because it means you would win a war that doesn’t even matter to us!” He reasons.

“Satoru, you started the war! You are insufferable, i’m beginning to actually want to fight against you,” Your fuse is about to blow.

“Oh, sweet girl,” Satoru muses at you.

He begins to make his way up your body from his pathetic position. Slowly touching your body, from your ankles up to your face. He presses soft, pleasuring kisses, to every part of your body he can reach. He easily finds the sweet spots on your neck and teases at them.

“Join me, my goddess. My all powerful being, creator of destruction and war,” he whispers against your skin.

“Fine,” you mumble back.

It’s not your proudest moment. A goddess who has put men on their knees due to a simple look. A goddess who has won, and started, hundreds of wars. The goddess that has been broken down so easily. A small bit of begging and touching makes you crumble. Gojo knows he has won. He smiles against your lips.

“I knew I would win.”

You’re drenched in the blood of mortals. You know none of it is yours because no warrior has yet to even come close to you with their blade. You are the Goddess of the war. Subsequently, many did not take a liking to you. Most did not worship you, and you don’t mind. You relish in slaughter and bloodlust, why would a few (thousand) mortals hating you make a difference? If it really mattered to you, you could just kill them too.

Satoru looks ethereal on the battlefield. The god of beauty really doesn’t take a day off. When you spot him he’s wiping off blood from his face, bodies surrounding him. He pulls out his grand sword from the body of a soldier, face turning into disgust when he sees the gruesome scene around him.

In contrast to you, many worshiped Satoru Gojo. They adored him. He was charming, handsome, kind, handsome, funny, and was handsome on the list? Satoru Gojo is a sight even among Gods. The mere thought of him to mortals was enough to send someone into shock.

It was no surprise when you heard a soldier talk about taking his head as some sort of trophy. Even if not surprising it still enrages you. The thought of disgusting mortals even thinking of taking your lovers head made you want to wipe out every living being on the planet.

You create a path to these said men. The aura surrounding you smelling of death. Your sword gripped in your hand. You wish for them to suffer. Your steps hold so much power the ground shakes beneath you, causing the men to fall. You begin stabbing into their chests, piercing their stomachs through the armor. Until you take one by the hair, and in one swift stroke their head comes off their body. Face going limp, stuck in an expression of fear.

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo was watching you. He was taken aback by you. The sheer power you held with you. Your muscles gleaming in the smoky air, sweat and blood decorating them. He has never seen something so attractive in his life. If he were to describe true beauty, he would say you.

You turn to him with an angry smile on your face. The once living head turned into a skull at your command. Simply another death to add to your collection.

Still seething you approach Gojo. Looking him in the eye. A dark presence follows you while your lover is surrounded by a light one. His head pounds in adoration for you. He has never felt like this in his entire life. You throw your sword into the ground, eager to touch Satoru. You calloused hands wrap around his biceps. You stare at Satoru in the eyes, his hand wrapped around your waist.

“No one touches what’s mine.”

[thatonegreekgodwrites]

“ECHOES OF ELYSIUM”

Odysseus x Fem!Reader

warnings. sexual assault, slavery, a greek retelling, eventual smut, war/gore, this won’t have a happy ending

pairing. odysseus x fem! reader (inspired by epic:the musical)

in the heart of troy, amidst the towering walls and architecture, the city bustled with the vibrant energy of its people. the market squares were filled with the sounds of merchants haggling and children playing, unaware of the shadow of war creeping ever closer. within the palace, the air was different—heavier with the scent of incense and the hum of anticipation.

you, a young slave girl with kind eyes and calloused hands, moved silently through the halls. your life was one of routine and quiet obedience, your existence almost invisible among the grandeur of the palace. today, however, was a day of celebration, and even you could not escape the excitement that seemed to permeate the very stones of troy.

the reason for the festivities was the birth of the heir, the firstborn son of prince hector and his beloved wife, andromache. the birth of the child promised new hope and joy, a symbol of strength and continuity. their legacy now secured if the gods favored them so. the celebration was to be grand, with nobles and warriors alike gathering to honor the new prince and his family.

you had been tasked with pouring wine for the guests. it was a simple task, yet it required precision and grace—qualities that had been drilled into you from a young age. you carried a large jug, the cool red liquid sloshing gently inside, as you made your way to the grand hall.

as you entered the hall, you were struck by the sight before you. the room was adorned with rich tapestries and garlands of flowers. the tables were laden with food and drink, and the air was filled with the murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. at the center of it all was prince hector, his tall frame and noble bearing making him easily recognizable. beside him stood andromache, cradling their newborn son, both of them beaming with pride and joy.

you approached the head table with a steady gait, careful not to draw too much attention to yourself. you dipped your head respectfully, eyes fixed on the ground. you could feel the weight of the guests' gazes on you, but you remained focused, constantly reminding yourself to not make a mistake in your mind as you were known to be a bit clumsy.

"wine, my lord?" you asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

hector turned to you, his expression warm and kind. "yes, thank you," he said, gesturing to the goblet before him.

you carefully poured the wine, the liquid catching the light and sparkling as it filled the goblet. moving down the table, you repeated the process for andromache and the other guests. as you worked, you couldn't help but steal glances at the infant in andromache's arms. the baby boy, unaware of the significance of his birth, slept peacefully, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

the celebration continued, the sounds of music and laughter filling the hall. you retreated to the edges of the room, task completed only for the moment. you watched the scene unfold, a mixture of longing and contentment in your heart. despite your status, you found joy in the happiness of others, even if it was a distant joy.

the night wore on and you remained vigilant, ready to attend to any needs that might arise. you and everyone else were unaware of the storm brewing beyond the walls of troy, the consequences of paris' actions casting a long shadow over the kingdom that would consume them in darkness in due time. for now, in this moment of peace, the future seemed bright and full of promise.

but you knew, as did everyone in troy, that peace was a fragile thing, easily shattered by the whims of fate. and as you stood in the grand hall, the echoes of the past and the whispers of the future intertwined, creating a tapestry of uncertainty that would shape the destiny of troy and all who lived within its walls.

lingering on the edges of the grand hall, your eyes scanning the room for any sign that you might be needed. the celebration for the birth of hector's son was still going even as night fell, the hall being brought alive with music and laughter.

suddenly, the room seemed to tilt as a hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you roughly into the light.

you turned to see hector's younger brother, prince deiphobus, his face flushed with wine and his eyes glazed with a drunken haze. he was known for his roguish charm, but tonight, it was more than evident that he had indulged too much.

"well, well, what do we have here?" he slurred, his hand wandering from your shoulder down your arm, lingering in a way that made your skin crawl. "a pretty little dove in the midst of all these hawks."

you stiffened, your pulse quickening as you bit your tongue, swallowing the surge of disgust that rose within you. you were a servant—a slave, and he was a prince. to resist would mean severe punishment, which meant you had no choice but to endure.

"my lord, can i get you some water?" you offered, hoping to distract him, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

deiphobus laughed, a sound that was more menacing than mirthful. "water? no, i have something else in mind." his hand moved to your waist, drawing you closer as his breath was hot and reeking of alcohol against your ear. "tell me, does a slave like you know how to have fun?"

you forced a smile, the muscles in your face straining with the effort. "i am here to serve, my lord, in whatever way pleases you."

he grinned, his hand sliding lower. "good girl," he murmured, fingers tracing the curve of your hip. "i knew you would understand."

every fiber of your being screamed to pull away, but you remained still, eyes fixed on the ground. you could feel the weight of the guests' gazes on you, some watching with curiosity, others with indifference��after all, your plight meant nothing to them.

"why don't we find a quieter place, hmm?" deiphobus suggested, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.

"deiphobus," helenus called out from next to them, raising his goblet to his lips as he quirked a brow, voice calm but commanding. "leave her be."

deiphobus turned, a drunken sneer on his face. "ah, helenus. always the serious one. why don't you go back to your scrolls and leave the fun to me?"

helenus' eyes narrowed. "surely you can go one night without tainting another servant. find entertainment elsewhere and by the gods, remember that you're a prince, have some decorum."

deiphobus scoffed, but the firmness in helenus's voice gave him pause. he let go of you with a rough shove, making you stumble back. "fine, fine," he muttered, turning away with a dismissive wave. "always spoiling the fun."

helenus watched him go, his expression unchanging until deiphobus disappeared into the crowd. then, he turned to you, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "next time you ought to remember i won't be able to stop him, i suggest you find a way to keep your hands busy."

you nodded with a tug inside your chest. "yes, my lord, thank you."

with that, he looked away, drowning the conversation of the people around him as his own servants served him grapes. you took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you took helenus' advice, moving around the large room to keep yourself occupied and out of the sight of deiphobus.

you felt the fragility of peace hanging in the air, a feeling of knowing that the celebration of new life was shadowed by the impending storm. yet, within the confines of your role, you found a flicker of strength, a resolve to endure whatever fate the gods had in store for you.

author’s note. comment your thoughts, if this does well I’ll continue it over on here and might put more effort into the account. you can find this story also on my wattpad account. thanks for reading!

[leclercss]

Paris, je t'aime (Charles Leclerc), Part 3

Masterlist

plot: it's almost three years since your tumultuous relationships with Lewis and Charles came crashing down. but you find your self in a new city with new beginnings and new ways to fuck up your love life. that's no thanks to a cheeky frenchman who's set you up on a double date with someone oh so familiar.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating, violence and some swearing

authors note: part trois, enjoy. i literally wrote this and accidentally deleted my draft. fml. this chapter is going to focus on Charles' perspective of the break up. it may explain a lot of his feelings, i hope you enjoy

word count: 5.2k

taglist: @toppersjeep @janeholt3, @princess-siba, @nichmeddar, @tremendousandsonorouswords, @cmleitora, @victoriaholland, @amalialeclerc, @queensofshinigamis, @tempo-rary-fix, @starmanv, @happylittlereader, @trouble-sistar, @lightdragonrayne, @persephonemv1, @dreamingofautopia

'I’m so grateful that I got the chance to see you again.

Amour xxx ’

Charles has reread this part of the note at least 20 times already. His emotions have been conflicted every since he woke to the emptiness of your side of the bed this morning. Well, it wasn't really your side, just where you slept last night. Or for however long you were there for before you decided to flee. When he rolled over this morning, expecting his arm to wrap around your soft skin, all he felt was nothingness before his arm fell onto the mattress below him. Confused, he opened his eyes to see that you had gone and all that remained was the faint smell of your perfume and a small note.

He immediately grabbed it and was expecting the worst. Had you regretted seeing him again and took the first opportunity to flee? Because you had tried to leave a couple of times yesterday but only for Charles' resistance and pleas, you would have left. And Charles was unsure if you would ever want to see him again.

Could he blame you though ? I mean, he was a total asshole to you last night. If he was being honest to himself, some part of Charles enjoyed being an asshole towards you yesterday. After everything you had put him through three years ago, you deserved to feel some sort of pain or embarrassment. You had left him for a shitty husband, after all. A man who had cheated on you so many times and only seemed to care for your existence when he felt threatened. Which was what your husband had felt when it came you and Charles because at one point in time, you and Charles had loved each other. The two of you were in deep and when things finally felt like they had a chance for the two of you, you threw it back in Charles' face and decided to move away (more like run away in Charles' eyes) to New York with ... fuck, he even hated the thought of his name after all of this time ... Lewis.

The thought of him made Charles' blood boil to this day. He had only ever come across Lewis twice in person but that smug face remained imprinted in his mind. And at night, as he lay alone, Charles' thoughts often drifted to that dinner at Nusr Et where you were celebrating your birthday with Lewis. Unknowingly, Charles and his friends were also having dinner there that night.

Because fate had a funny way of working, the two of you were occupying two tables beside each other and Charles now found himself just two metres away from your husband and he couldn't hide the horror he was feeling. And neither could you, because you went into some weird silent state of panic.

Confused, Lewis had tried to comfort you but couldn't miss the theatrics that were happening on the tables opposite of him. Lewis just had to take one look at you and he understood that Charles, this stranger on the table beside you, was your lover. To everyone else, you hid it behind some heavy champagne drinking that had now taken over your body, but to Lewis it was all of the confirmation he needed. After months of trying to win you back, he had finally found the man who was occupying half of his wife's heart. Unable to have you to himself any more, Lewis decided that he was going to destroy Charles in a shameful display of arrogance, dick-swinging and lust.

In the moment, it had worked. Charles' was humiliated but he wasn't going to give up on you that easily. Lewis couldn't get away with his behaviour any longer, Charles thought. But then he did because one day you had come over to Charles' flat and your ring was no longer on your finger and to Charles, it meant that you were finally single. The two of you could finally be together and he could finally make love to you knowing that you were free from the restraints of your marriage.

But after you had had sex, Charles started talking about the next stage of your lives together. After all, it only felt natural now that you had broken up with Lewis. But you hadn't, he was moving to New York. And so were you...

Lewis and New York had sealed the fate in yours and Charles relationship. It was over, done. He was angry, traumatised, confused but most of all, he was heart broken.

He tried to hate you and at some point, he was sure that his efforts had paid off. Eventually the hatred had become exhausting, or at least trying to hate you was exhausting. After you had left, Charles felt that everything in London had reminded him of you and so he took the opportunity to flee. He had moved back to Monaco for a while, hoping that being at home somewhat healed him. It didn't. Monaco was more relaxing than London and it gave him more time to think, to think about you. He needed somewhere busy. He'd always wanted to move to New York but now, fuck that place.

One day, he reconnected with a childhood friend, Pierre, who was now living in Paris and thought that Paris would be busy enough to occupy his life and his mind. He never told Pierre why he was so open to move. Just that Monaco was a little quiet for a single man in his mid-twenties. So off to Paris and for Charles it occupied his mind, at least for a while. He kept himself busy with work and girls but none of them healed him deep down. No matter what he did, he always thought of you and he always thought about how you were living your life in New York.

Were you happy? How did you get used to living and working in the States? Did you miss home? Did you have babies yet? Were you still married? How was it so easy for you to leave Charles? Did you just use him to get back at your husband? Did you ever really love him? Did you ever even think about him? Even a little? Did you still love him like he knew he loved you?

He had so many questions to ask and none of them had been answered, until now. The funny thing was, despite it being Charles' truth for the last three years, you had never went to New York. And you were now divorced from Lewis.

Charles’ eyes drift back to the note and his anxiety about you not wanting to see him again after all this time had disappeared. You had said that you were happy to see him. His heart fluttered when he saw that five letter word, “Amour”. It clearly still meant something to you and it still meant something to Charles. You were his only Amour.

Feeling tired, Charles shuts his eyes and he realises that you were right. You both needed some time to clear your heads because this situation was fucked up. And while his body felted exhausted from the events of last night, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

Fate was a funny thing and it had somehow brought you back into each other’s lives. As much as he complained about him, Charles was grateful for Pierre. For months Pierre had been harassing Charles to go on dates but Charles, who was much more into just straight fucking than romance these days, was hesitant. He still wasn’t over you and knew that deep down he’d compare every woman to you, despite the two of you having a fucked up relationship.

However, Pierre wasn’t a man to take no as an answer. He was convinced he was the modern day Cupid after all. If taking each of your girlfriends to a PSG match as your first date made you the god of romance, Charles was fine to let Pierre have that title.

But Pierre was like a dog with a bone, he wasn’t letting the one go. He was going to help Charles, who one night drunkenly confused that the only reason he was single was because one woman broke his heart, move on with his life. And there was no better person for him to get over you with than … you.

Pierre had exhausted many opportunities when it came to setting Charles up on a date. From Kika’s model friends, to setting up a Tinder account on Charles’ behalf, to taking him out to clubs. Nothing did the trick. Charles was hopeless.

But then Pierre, god of romance reborn, knew of the perfect person to set Charles up with.

“Charlie, I promise you’ll love her. She’s just as tragic as you are,” Pierre boasted like it was a good thing to be this bad at love.

“You’re really selling the dream here, Pierre,” Charles grunted, at the time he was too busy being preoccupied by FIFA to take Pierre’s proposition seriously.

“No, I’m serious. She’s moved here about six months ago from abroad. She’s divorced and thirty so what’s more tragic than that?”

Christ, Pierre really knew how to find these girls.

“She’s got the best tits, ask Kika. And… oh…. Wait a minute. She lived in London the same time that you did. Maybe you know her?”

Charles grunted once more. “Pierre, ten million people live in London. There’s no fucking chance I know her”.

“Alright, alright,” Pierre protested. “But I’m serious, bro. She’s fucking awesome, she’s just had a hard time at love.”

Feeling a little guilty, Charles conceded.

“Fine! I’ll go on a date with her,” Charles sighed. “But I’m not going on a blind date. Show me a picture so I can confirm she’s at hot as you say she is”.

With smirk like a Cheshire Cat spread across his face, Pierre tossed his phone to Charles.

“Here you go, lover boy”.

With Charles’ expectations at an all time low, he grabbed Pierre’s phone and looked at the picture on the screen.

Oh.

My.

God.

He wants to rub his eyes so he’s sure not seeing things but Pierre already thinks he’s weird enough as it is. It’s..

“Hot, right?”

Charles can barely get his words out, instead he just offers a nod.

“I… what’s… what’s her name?”

“[Y/N]”.

And as soon as the date was set and he knew that he was finally going to lay eyes on you after all of this time, he thought about how he was going to approach your date.

After quizzing Pierre as much as he could about you without raising too much suspicion, Charles felt like he held all of the cards. He had found out that you were divorced, had been in Paris for six months and were basically a mess when it came to your love life.

He’d tried to find out more about your life in New York that led to your divorce but apparently you didn’t want to talk about it that much. And when Charles asked Kika, who he was sure would spill the beans, she gave him nothing.

“She knows nothing about you so I’m not giving you any more details, okay? I’m already pissed that Pierre showed you her picture. It was supposed to be a blind date”.

Charles would cut his losses. But he had found out the important thing that you were divorced from Lewis. A petty part or him was gleeful. You’d have your tail between your legs now. Breaking Charles’ heart didn’t pay off and he wasn’t going to let you forget it.

And as your date rolled around, Charles put a plan into motion.

Step 1: Look hot as fuck ✅

Step 2: Turn up to the restaurant fifteen minutes later than planned. He wanted you nervous and off your guard. If he was going to control the evening, he needed you on edge ✅

Step 3: Try not to fall in love with you all over again as soon as he sees you …

Skipping straight to Step 4: Act as calm and collected as possible. Lead the conversation and if possible, convince her to leave the restaurant to come back to Charles’ for a “deeper chat” ✅

Step 5: Casually ask her about New York and hope that she regrets ever leaving him.

Well, the first part of Step 5 was executed. Everything after that was an utter shit show. Because you pulled an UNO reverse card on his sorry ass and now he couldn’t think straight.

The last three years of his life were a lie. And he didn’t know how to compute it all.

And he lays there in his bed, eyes still closed, he begins to feel guilty about how he spoke to you. How he taunted you about your divorce with Lewis and how your love life had been so pathetic that Pierre and Kika had to hold some sort of intervention. It’s funny, because they’d done the same to him. And maybe that’s what made him act at you so much. Because despite spending three years trying to hate you, you were in the same position as he was. And maybe that meant he hated himself too?

He didn’t have time to analyse that because clearly you weren’t here to tolerate bullshit any more. Your marriage had clearly fed you enough bullshit that you had reached your capacity and were ready to call out anyone who wasn’t treating you properly.

Feeling vulnerable, wounded and not ready for you to walk out of his life again just as you had come back into it, Charles threw one last Hail Mary to catch your attention, he was going to hit you were it hurt.

“Sorry, baby thought you were into men who treated you like shit”.

He wasn’t sure what hurt more. The slap you had given him or the look in your eyes. Broken, horrified. Charles had done that to you, just like you had done to him.

Maybe you were even now. It was petty for him to try and even keep score but Charles felt some sort of closure. He had made you feel just some of the pain that you had given him. And for what? Was it even worth it? Because, as you caressed his face to heal him, you had told Charles about how your life never went as he had believed or expected. Instead, your life was totally different.

And while he was saddened that you had never reached out to build some sort of amends, he was thankful that you didn’t settle into your job and life in the States and that you and Lewis didn’t in fact stay married and have lots of babies.

No, you grown up and even after all this time, you still cared about him.

Some, not all, of the wounds were beginning to heal and he couldn’t help but look at you like he was in love you with again. Because maybe a part of him still was. He just had to look at you for one second back at the restaurant in that peach dress for you to have his heart beating the same way it did the night that you had first met.

You had spent some time talking before the air in the room began to change. Charles was pretty sure it was him that initiated it but the two of you found yourselves in a soft and gentle kiss which only escalated within a matter of time.

Soon, he had pulled you onto his lap and your hands ran all over his body. Charles mentally patted himself on the back for not letting his appearance go because you were hot and bothered as your fingers traced over his skin. Him too feeling hot and bothered, Charles did his very best to get as much of your body out your dress as possible. He had kindly reminded you on a few occasions that the dress you were wearing was meant to get you laid that night.

And he planned on being the guy who was going to do that for you.

Soon, he was sucking on your nipples and every part of your exposed skin could find.

Fuck, he was getting hard underneath you. No wait, was he just hard now as he lay in bed, thinking about last night? Nope. It was both. He was hard last night and he’s been even harder now.

Because last night he had the chance to fondle with you, slip his fingers into your panties before teasing your clit. Where as now, all he has is his own hand to please himself. It’ll have to do because his dick is almost throbbing at the sound of your moans in his ears.

“Fuck Charles,” you gasped. Your voice sends tingles down his spine just it like it used to.

His eyes still closed, Charles runs his hand up and down his shaft. Shit, he wishes it was you that had their hand wrapped around his dick but his own is doing the job and he has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from moaning.

“Oh, Charles,” there you go again, moaning in his ear as he slips his fingers into you, your breasts bouncing in his face and latches onto your nipples once more. You’re so sensitive that your squeal has Charles’ cock twitching.

Holy shit, the thought of you is having him close to cumming already. His hand is moving faster against his dick and he gently thrusts up into it and in his memory, he thrusts his fingers up further inside of you. But this time you don’t pull yourself off of him, in his mind and in his fantasy, you begin to ride against his fingers.

Moans pour out of your mouth as you tell him how much you’ve missed him and how you want to cum so badly.

“Cum for me, amour,” he tells you as you moan at the sound of him calling you amour once more.

You’re close, the movements in your hip falter and Charles too feels that the cock in his hand as almost at its peak.

“Please, Charles. Fuck!”

“Charles, I’ve missed this,” you moan. And after one last big thrust, you cum undone on his fingers.

“Fuck!” Charles grown and he soon opens his eyes as he finishes himself off. His cum soon spills onto his lower abdomen.

Shit.

That felt good.

As his finally starts to catch his breath, Charles rests his head back on the pillow. All it took for him to fall for you again was one disastrous blind date. You have him hooked.

Ready to go to the bathroom to wash away his cum and his busy thoughts, Charles hears his phone buzz.

Grabbing it, he smiles around the phone.

‘Pierre: Charlie, I haven’t heard from you. How did it go? Did you…”

Charles chuckles and pauses before he responds.

‘Mate, I owe you. I think I’m in love with her already’.

[sailoryooons]

Incubus yoongi x reader

Go wild with smut maybe theres fluff and angst too! Love your writing so much

☾ Pairing: Incubus!Yoongi x archdevil!Reader

☾ Summary: 

Sunder (sun·​der) transitive verb : to break apart or in two : to separate by or as if by violence or by intervening time or space Sunder (sun·​der) intransitive verb : to become parted, disunited, or severed

☾ Word Count: 5,297

☾ Genre: Smut, Forbidden Romance, Angst, Fated Lovers

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Vague worldbuilding - this takes place in a Hell setting so.. Lots of talk of literal hell, implied violence and war, themes of classism/species racism, hint of political scheming, depiction of servants who are chained/collared, implications of sex work/incubi being bread specifically for sex work, honestly Yoongi and reader kinda give co-dependant vibes, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, a little bit of overstim, cum eating if you squitn, multiple orgasms, bleeding/scratching/biting, possessive themes… um I don’t know the smut scene is more PrOsEy than straight-up smut. 

☾ Published: Sunday, April 7 2024

☾ A/N: We are using Forgotten Realms (dnd) lore because I was randomly inspired to do so. You need zero knowledge of Forgotten Realms or dnd lore to read this - there is vague world building and references to a plot on the side that I imagine Yoongi and reader are a part of but that does not happen in this little one shot. I just did it for the tension and because I’m out of control. 100% change I got some dnd lore wrong - don’t care, I kinda made it my own in parts as needed!!! Thank you!!! 

☾ A/N 2: Dear anon, I don’t have a clue what this is, but it was inspired by a very specific scene in the movie Troy when Paris (Orlando Bloom) sneaks up to Helen’s (Diane Kruger) room while the Greeks and Trojans are downstairs partying and he’s like hehe let’s bang it out. That’s it. I really hope you like this because sometimes I fill requests and I'm like ..... that probably was not what they had in mind and yet here I am, delivering whatever ??? this is ??

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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Note: I don't use my tag list for requests!

A pair of dark eyes in the shadows around the party catches your attention as you listen to Archdevil Belial's drone about his victory in Phlegethos. The fiend’s words fall on deaf ears as your gaze narrows to a deadly point on the man lingering in the shadows across the room, keeping away from the revelry with a single chalice in his hand.

And he’s staring at you. 

You feel your muscles constrict as you flick your gaze away, your heart rate picking up speed as you try and focus on Belial again. It isn’t a story you care to hear about - he’s been droning about his defeat of the Kelemvor worshipers on the fiery planes of Phlegethos. Hardly a battle as much as a skirmish outside of the city gates that demanded his attention. 

Archdevil Belial is none the wiser that the creature he really desires to kill is lurking at the edge of the party, burning eyes on you as he cocks his head and glances toward the empty staircase that leads toward the living quarters. 

There’s a twitch of irritation in your stomach as Yoongi turns and vanishes into the shadows. He is good at being seen only when he wants to, which works in his favor when he enters the hall of his greatest enemies, all in one room because of war meetings against the very fiend who now slips upstairs to your bedroom. 

It was only a matter of time before Yoongi showed up - despite the level of stupidity it takes to show up in the hall of your sworn enemy. Yoongi likes to show off though. He likes to remind his enemies - and himself - that he is not so easily kept out of places that he wants to be. 

Especially if those places he’s being kept from have you inside of them. 

“Thank you for the conversation, Lord Belial,” you interrupt. The devil looks at you with his mouth open, eyes blazing as you interrupt him to dismiss yourself. You feel a small twist of satisfaction. “I must retire for the evening. I am returning home tomorrow before starting my campaign through the realms to ensure my father’s army are being… led properly.”

Belial’s face twitches in irritation. You’re above his station - though not too far - and decorum is everything in matters of spoken insult. “Yes,” he agrees. “It is important for our… figureheads to inspire. The Whip of Asmodeus paints a threatening picture, to be sure. It is hard to be of influence on the battlefield - we do appreciate your efforts off the field.” 

A laugh like cutting glass bubbles from your lips. “You honor me.” You feel the ice in your mouth when you dip your head politely, pretending to be unbothered by the implication that you’re nothing but an empty threat. “I will see you in a tenday, Lord Belial, when I come to inspire in Phlegethos.”

With a curt turn, you cut through the party toward the stone dias. Those in attendance part for you like water parting around a sharp boulder, hurrying to get out of your way. Figurehead or real threat doesn’t matter - you’re the daughter of their lord and by rights their lady. 

Your father sits on his throne of twisted bone and fire ahead of the party, crimson eyes drinking in all that happens from his seat of power. Yet he has missed something incredibly important that now lingers upstairs waiting for you. The thought makes your lips twitch in a smirk as you ascend the stairs to where Asmodeus sits, a giddy tingle in your belly. 

A beautiful incubus boy sits next to the throne on the floor, a gold collar around his neck with a glittering chain that leads to Asdmodeous’ hand. The incubus looks at your father with adoration, gold eyes burning. Mouth agape. Breath catching. 

You don’t know how much of it is performance. It’s always hard to tell with the lower level fiends what is real and what is an act. It’s part of the dangerous game they play, and thought you’re more accustomed to their kind - especially the one lurking in your room - you’re still unsure how to tell the difference with this one.

You catch the scent of honey and vanilla as you step nearer, though the incubus doesn’t look at you. You immediately feel the ebbing power of allure from the creature, battering your senses just being so close. Asmodeus seems unaffected by the battering power of lust radiating from the incubus, but you see the two guards behind him glance toward the creature on the floor. 

You grit your teeth and ignore the twist in your gut, trying not to be irritated. Only one man has power over you this way. It isn’t the incubus’ fault that he’s doing what he was trained to do, but the sudden pitch in your stomach and dizziness you feel around him unsettles you. 

“I am returning to my chambers, Father,” you murmur, bowing deeply. “I have grown wear of Belial’s peacocking.” 

Behind him are two massive Orthons, no less than eight feet in height and wide like a troll. Their horns are curling and battle-scarred, ugly tusks showing from thick, fat lips. The beasts are hellish weapons from wars passed, now assigned to the personal guard of your father. You note that they also did not notice the shadowy incubus slipping into their party and up the stairwell.

It almost makes you tsk. Even for a creature as skilled and powerful as Yoongi, slipping past an entire party full of the most powerful infernals in the realms is impressive. He is, of course, more than just an incubus now, but still. The sheer magnitude of doing it successfully is not lost on you - and makes you worried for his sanity. 

“Sleep well,” Admodeous voice rumbles, his voice like stones grinding together. “Tomorrow, you return to Malbolge and ready to set out on your campaign.” His fiery eyes turn to you and you feel the weight of the burning Nine Hells press against you. “They will feel the crack of the Whip of Asmodeous and know that we are mighty. 

“It will be done.”

“She is as pretty as My Lord is,” the incubus boy purrs from where he sits at the foot of the throne. You glance at him, realizing that his golden gaze has broken away from your father and turned to you. Your stomach twists in equal parts anger, guilt, and disgust as you feel the lick of his power. “The House of Asmodeus is as beautiful as they are powerful.”

Again, it’s hard to discern if the incubus is performing or if he means it. Asmodeus pulls the chain hard, yanking incubus toward him. You hear his neck pop, though it doesn’t break as the creature wimpers at the sudden show of violence. “Do not speak to her, worm. You are nothing. She is the Heir Apparent and Princess of the Nine Hells. You are fodder.” 

The incubus cowers, and ducks his head away from you, curling in on himself. The sensual allure to him lessens distinctly, the energy souring. You feel your fingers twitch as you think of Yoongi. It is not difficult to guess that Asmodeous’ newfound desire to humiliate and dissipate incubi and succubi are inspired by his hatred and inability to rid himself of Yoongi’s stain. 

Swallowing thickly, you bow once more, slipping backward off the dias and toward the stairs that lead upward. No one guards them - there are supposed to be no enemies at this party - and shadow falls over them, the torches flickering as though watching you ascend.

Music and voices follow you up the stairs, the soft click of your shoes against the carved stone louder in the growing silence as you navigate to your bedrooms. The staircase winds and the sounds drift further away from you until it’s only the crackling of occasional sconces and your steps.

Two heavy doors in the west wing of the Citadel belong to your bedroom. The crackling energy of the arcana buzzing along them acting as a lock makes your skin tingle. You mutter the password and feel the pop of magic as it vanishes, allowing you to push heavily against one of the doors to grind it open. 

The room is both yours and not. It was your room for most of your life growing up under the ruler of the Nine Hells, opulent and dark, full of old possessions and heavy, draping curtains to keep out the smoke and ruin, rich art painted by careful hands with red and purple splashed across canvas. 

Now, it feels like a room that belonged to someone else entirely. You’re no longer the vicious little thing that thought would sit on the throne in Nessus one day. You’re no longer the unthinking weapon that Asmodeous uses to maintain order and public punishment. 

A large bed stands on a lifted dais, covered in silks and piled high with pillows. They lay undisturbed as you close the door behind you and mutter the password again, feeling the static of magic seal them shut behind you. It would take a small army to batter through them, thankfully. 

Your eyes scour the room. Embers burn in a smoldering fireplace, offering little light in the dimness of the bedroom. A large sitting area stretches to the right with leather chairs and velvet chaises, tables covered in untouched books and scrolls. 

To the left is an open study, a heavy wooden desk in the middle of the room backed with bookshelf-covered walls and heavy chests locked with tombs inside. You see the cover of a journal flipped open, the only sign that Yoongi had been lingering in your study snooping. 

Your mouth twitches at the corner as you look away from it. Yoongi leaving something out of place is only ever on purpose, a confirmation to you that yes - his visit has double meaning. You might be the primary reason the incubus and favored chosen warrior of a death god has snuck into his enemy’s home, but you’re not the only reason. Of course he is looking for any extra information he can use against his enemies. 

It stings a little more than you’d like. 

Stepping further into the room, you swivel your gaze back and forth, looking for a sign of the slippery man himself. A master of shadows, Yoongi is only seen when he wants to be. Strange, for a fiend whose very nature is to be seen and devoured, to give and to receive, to lure and enjoy. Most of his life has been spent in spectacle, and now he spends it in the shadows. 

Warm breath brushes against the back of your neck, making your skin prickle. “I like this dress.” 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Yoongi’s callused fingers brush up your arm. It’s a ghost of touch but it makes your eyelids flutter shut, warmth thrumming in your stomach immediately. Unlike the incubus downstairs, you don’t feel a magnetic pull that is arcane here. You just feel the pull to Yoongi - a desire that is your own and fueled by nothing else. 

He has no reason to use his charm here. It makes you shiver as you lean backward into him, eager to feel the solidness of his chest and smell the sweet wine on his breath. 

“You always say that,” he purrs, the words low and scratchy. His other hand comes up to brush his fingers up and down your other arm, pulling you toward him full. You melt, fading into him faster than you should. “When will you learn that I will go wherever you are?” 

“Even if it means your own demise? You’re in the Citadel of Asmodeus.” 

“He’s killed me before.” Yoongi’s touch is more solid now, hands exploring your waist and curves, squeezing your flesh, pressing you against his waist. You rest the back of your head against his neck, inhaling cedarwood and sage. “I’m not so easily destroyed.” 

“Don’t.” 

You don’t want to recall the many times Yoongi has been wrenched away from you. Each time a little closer to permanence than the last. Time and time again, he has been ripped from your hands as your father attempts to destroy the fate linking you, to burn it until there is no tether there. 

“You’ve been good,” Yoongi notes. His hand goes to the silk strings on the side of your dress, pulling them undone. “He truly thinks you no longer think of me? That he has succeeded where he has failed a dozen times before?” 

“Yes.”

“His arrogance knows no bounds. He’ll think he’s a god, soon enough.”

You turn your head to the side, brushing your mouth against Yoongi’s. His lips are warm and taste of wine, urging your tongue to swipe across his bottom lip for a taste. “Is he not?” you ask against his mouth, fighting the need to shiver as one side of your dress falls open. “He rules the Nine Hells absolutely.” 

“Oh come off it,” He laughs. “You and I both know that isn’t true, otherwise he wouldn’t be in a civil war. Plus… I have recently acquired Avernus and Dis.” 

You straighten and turn around sharply to look at him, brows furrowing. For a moment, you forget what it is he’s said to shock you. You’re hypnotized by eyes dark enough that they reflect the stars when in the mortal world, a mouth that is soft and sensuous, a gentle, round nose that is opposed to the way he can turn it up at someone in a sneer. A faded scar over one eye - one of many that he's received over the years.

Yoongi is beautiful the way the moon is, distant and cold, but with a glow of softness that is often underestimated. 

You had made that mistake before. A long time ago, incubi and the lower creatures of the Nine Hells hadn’t been a blip on your radar. They were nothing to a princess of the Nine Hells, someone whose entire purpose for existing would be to one day step into ruling over all nine of the realms crushed in your father’s fist. 

Now, you know better. You’d been a silly, arrogant girl then, head filled with dreams of ruling over the dread cities and bringing the dukes and duchesses to heel. You’d never considered that perhaps your existence was more for appearances and leverage than anything else. 

A puppet. 

Belial, was, unfortunately, quite right about that. 

“What do you mean you have Avernus and Dis?”

“The skirmish in Phlegethos was a distraction. The dukes and duchess’ have been so frenzied about making sure they don’t have any disruptions in their rule that Belial scrambled to deal with his, turning his eye away from the others. Mammon… well you know Mammon. He is not a concern, for now. He cares little who holds Avernus and Dis.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I had help with Dis.”

That sours your stomach. “Bel.” 

“He has no love for Zariel. And he’s from Dis.”

“He’s a traitor. You’d do well not to trust him. Who knows when he’ll turn on you if promised something.”

“The Nine Hells are full of traitors.” Yoongi’s deft fingers undo the other side of your dress. “Including me. You think I would not sell out every single one of my fighters for you, hmm?” Yoongi presses a wet kiss to your jaw. You lean your head back to give him access to your throat. “You think I wouldn’t throw away being Kelemvor’s chosen and carrying his mantle for a chance to have you forever?” 

“You do have me.”

“Not in the way we are designed.” His voice is a growl as he bites at your throat, teeth scraping. You feel dizzy in his arms, but he holds you steadfast. “You were designed for me by the wheels of fate, and I for you. All of this - war, death, political scheming - it stands in our way and I would betray the god who gives me my many lives to cut to the chase in an instant.” 

The rage-laced words are an anger you’re familiar with. Two creatures born to exist for one another - more than fated mates. Your very existence tied to Yoongi’s is a matter of universal balance, two threads of fabric that must remain woven together, lest the realms collapse. 

Divine Scales. Two lives bound together that must remain in balance for the rest of the world to exist. You and Yoongi are not the only Divine Scales in the realms, but you’re perhaps one of the most difficult to balance in a world set on keeping you apart. 

You, the daughter of the Archduke of the Nine Hells. Yoongi, an incubus servant whose purpose was to lure, steal, and spy on behalf of Asmodeus. It was an unfit match that your father was set on destroying - his daughter an heir would not be tied to a lowly creature of lust and servitude. 

“Careful,” you murmur as Yoongi peels the fabric from your skin. The air is warm but you feel a shiver anyway, nipples pebbling at the temperature change. “Your god might not like to hear you say such things.”

“He is not my god,” Yoongi mutters. His eyes are hungry, burning with desire as he drinks you in, his fingers gripping the flesh at your hips. “He is a convenience. I need power to take control of the Nine Hells, he gives me power. You are the only being I worship. The only goddess I recognize.” Yoongi sinks to his knees and your stomach flips. He looks up at you, lips parted and pupils blown, eyes so dark you could spill into them and never find your way. “Let me prove my devotion. Let me worship the only divinity I’ve ever known.”

Yoongi’s words are a spell on you, and not because he’s in an incubus, created and bred to be alluring and lead mortals to the Hells to give up their souls. Yoongi’s words have power because he is Yoongi, a being who he designed to be your other half. Another being you love so entirely that you intend to sacrifice the realm you call home, that you actively betray the people you’ve known since you were a child in order to be with him. 

These snatches with him are so few and far between. He fights a war against your father and his archdevils while you unravel them from the inside. Two knives carving away at the system which fights to keep you apart. 

You forget about all of the atrocities committed and to come. You push away the anxiety that Yoongi is thwarting his power by coming to the seat of his enemy’s power, just because he can and because he wants you. 

Instead, you focus on the way his mouth leaves wet kisses across your thighs. Yoongi’s fingers press into the back of your legs, holding you to him as his tongue lavs at a small scar on your hip, his teeth nipping the flesh.

Your world falls away as his tongue and mouth suck at your skin. Heat gathers between your legs, feeling the wet ache in your folds as Yoongi purposefully avoids going toward the apex of your thighs, instead showering your inner thighs, calves, and hips with soft kisses. 

Strong hands pry your legs apart. You let him slide your foot over, widening your stance easily. You cannot recall a single person you have ever been pliable for. You are the Whip of Asmodeous, a sharp weapon made to force subservience and delve out punishment. 

You are no whip in Yoongi’s hands. You are silk, sliding through his fingers as his mouth presses closer and closer to your heart. To everyone else, you are a weapon. To Yoongi, you’re just you. A mind to adore, a body to worship. 

Your knees threaten to buckle when the first, slow swipe of his tongue runs up your drenched folds. Yoongi chuckles, the sound throaty. Gently, he lifts a leg and pulls it over his shoulder, providing a counterweight as you stand but also giving him access to your aching cunt, pressing his face close as he licks you from hole to throbbing clit again. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper, a hand shooting to his hair. Your fingers slide through soft, silk strands and twist, rooting him there. He groans in appreciation, focusing his tongue on slow, up-and-down licks, avoiding your clit as he works. “Fuck.” 

He hums, the feeling buzzing through your pussy as he closes his mouth over it, sucking gently. His mouth is wet and warm, tongue soft as it circles your aching bundle of nerves. Your legs feel gummy as you waver, holding onto him to keep yourself standing as much as you are to keep him in place.

Yoongi’s hunger can rarely be sated. He devours you, mouth eager as he sucks and licks at you, lips smacking loudly as he does. You barely register the obscene noise, canting your hips up into his mouth as the pleasure begins to build slowly. 

A hand presses into your ass, pressing you harder against the flat of his tongue. Yoongi opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, looking up at you with fucked out eyes as he urges you to fuck his face at your pace, to use him like a god would use a conduit. 

Yoongi is your conduit, and you are his. You vowed centuries ago to be his whip, a weapon at his command. He vowed to be your shield, your knife in the dark. 

The powers of the Hells would keep you apart. Beyond the impropriety that someone so lowborn could be fated for one of the highest powers among the infernals, the two of you together are too much of a threat. Too much power tied to one another, a divine match that cannot be broken.

Still, they try. 

The two of you have died before. Keeping you dead isn’t easy, though. Neither can truly die while the other lives and no one has quite managed to kill you both simultaneously - a familial crutch that Asmodeus cannot seem to overcome. 

You’d die every day to have this moment with Yoongi, your breath caught in your lungs, sweat beading on the small of your back, head tilted back as your heart beats so loud it's all you can hear. You feel every part of your body coil before there is a moment of white noise as your orgasm crests over, your cunt squeezing, your hand pulling his hair. 

Yoongi drinks you in like he cannot get enough. Gluttonous, ravenous man, pressing into your heat as he sucks. Your hands tug at his hair, the stimulation going from warm and fluid to sharp and biting. He grows a little when you pull his face back by the strands of his hair, a picture of madness with the lower half of his face covered in your slick, lips red and swollen, eyes unfocused. 

You pull and he stands, knocking you back as he does. You stumble the remaining footsteps to your bed, mouths connecting in a tangle of teeth, tongue, spit and cum. You taste yourself on him, sucking his tongue greedily into his mouth as your hands claw at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. 

He complies, letting you push the shirt off his shoulders as he climbs over you, pressing a knee between your legs as he traps your lips in a searing kiss again. Your lips feel bruised where you kiss, his mouth demanding. His hands claw at your hips, pulling you down into his knee, grinding your slick cunt against his leg.

You let out a breathy sound, both from the feeling of pleasure blooming between your legs once again and the warmth of his skin, your hands rubbing across his chest, seeking to chase the inferno within. Yoongi has always been warm, but something hotter burns in him now. Something divine, vicious, and powerful lurking beneath his skin, the unlikely power of a god of death lurking just beneath the surface. 

You know that Kelemvor, the God of Death and Lord of Judgement has chosen Yoongi as a conduit of power because Yoongi seeks the balance of the world - he is a part of the balance of the world. His very existence is paramount to a deity whose very nature is to maintain the scales. 

It doesn’t stop you from wanting to eat away at the divinity under Yoongi’s skin, to drive out the influence that isn’t yours, to assert your dominance over a god and remind him that Yoongi does not belong to Kelemvor, he is not an extension of death. He belongs to you and you alone. 

It is an irrational, violent bout of jealousy that overtakes you for a moment. Your nails rake down his chest a little too hard, leaving trails of blood beneath. You bit his bottom lip a little too hard, the taste of iron and salt spilling into your mouth with his tongue. 

Yoongi smirks against your scarlet mouth, pulling back to look down at you. He knows what it is you seek. Yoongi always knows. Your minds are not connected, but your souls are and there is little you can hide from him. “You cannot rip him out of me, no matter how much you want to.” 

“I will try.” 

“Good.” He leans down and bites hard on your collarbone, making you gasp. “I will tear Asmodeous’ influence from you in kind.” 

Your hands are less harsh as you undo the laces of his pants, pulling them down powerful thighs. Your viciousness cools in the shower of the whisper of his love against your ear and the scrap of his tongue against your skin. Every single part of you burns hotter than the deepest part of the Hells, driven there by him alone. 

You love him - such a simple word could convey it accurately, anyway.

It seems too small of a word, unable to fit the fountain of want, desire, trust, and yearning that spills out of you into such a small cup. You don’t know if love can truly hold everything you feel for him, if it conveys that there is nothing god, archdevil, or fate that would stop you from being here with Yoongi, getting to touch him, to taste him, to whisper into his mouth as he presses the head of his cock into your weeping entrance. 

“You’re mine,” you gasp, rolling your hips forward to meet the slow, powerful strokes of his cock. Yoongi cradles you to him, his hands gripping you tighter as he presses your bodies together, as though you could meld. “Mine mine mine.” 

“I’m yours,” he agrees, voice throaty and strained. “Who else could I belong to?” 

You have no answer. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you move to his rhythm. Yoongi’s skin is heated and sticky as he moves against you. You feel his heartbeat in exact time with yours, twin rhythms. Your arms wind around his shoulders, fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of his neck. You feel the muscle of his back and shoulder flex as he fucks you slowly, each stroke pointed and driving you to the edge again. 

Yoongi’s mouth brushes yours. You breathe in his air, unable to put anything else into words, thoughts consumed with him. With how he tastes, with how he smells, with how he feels. Nestled in the deepest part of you, you feel home. It is such a rare feeling, only discovered here like this, connected. 

It makes your breath catch, barely audible above Yoongi’s low groaning and the loud smack of skin against skin. Your heels dig into the bed, head pressing into the mattress as you throw your head back, unable to do anything but take what Yoongi is giving you. 

His pace quickens, slamming into your cunt with enough force to break you. But you do not break - you could never break with him. You squirm in his hold, babbling and panting and trying to breathe as he drives you to the edge of madness - and then you peak. 

A wild sound escapes you as you seize into him, muscles clenching, cunt spasming. Yoongi’s thrusts turn vicious, fucking you through your orgasm as you clench down on him with a vice grip. His fingers grip the back of your neck, pulling you toward his chest as he leans backward, your legs sliding as he seats you in his lap, fucking up into you. 

“Imagine thinking they could take you away from me,” Yoongi hisses. His thrusts are sloppy and hard, spearing you and sending you hurtling right toward the edge again. You submit to him, head lolling to the side as he takes you. “Imagine thinking that you could defy a prewritten fate that you are mine, that you are anything less than what was made for me.” 

A sob slips through your lips. You cannot think of a response, only able to cling to him as though to say yes. 

“They cannot take you away from me,” he growls. “I will destroy this world again and again if they try. They cannot sunder what is here, they cannot rip you away from me any more than you can rip the stars from the sky.” 

Just as you begin to teeter on the edge, Yoongi slams his hips home, clenching as he comes. “You cannot be anything else but mine.”

It sends you hurling over the edge again, so powerful that you forget where you are for a moment. It is intoxicating, this bliss that unfurls like the flowers of a petal. Nothing exists here but calm water and the scent and taste of Yoongi. There is no war here. No fight to keep you apart. No demands, no expectations. It’s just you and him. Like it was always meant to be. 

Slowly, awareness creeps back toward you. It is a lumbering, lazy thing. You only feel somewhat aware that you’re in a bed and that you feel the heat of Yoongi next to you, the press of his mouth against your shoulder. The aftereffects of sleeping with an incubus are not lost on you, even as a powerful infernal. 

Everything feels melted, like it could fall through your fingers like grains of sand. Perhaps you could float away if you tried, but Yoongi grounds you. The feeling of his hand on your hip and his mouth on your skin is the most solid thing that exists in this world in between, keeping you tethered to something real. Something substantial. 

When you blink away the sticky high of the post-orgasm daze, Yoongi is watching you with soft, round eyes. The burning desire is still there, but at the forefront is adoration. Worship. Love. Anything stronger than words can describe. 

“Are you okay?” he kisses your jaw before drawing back to examine your face. You nod, head heavy. “Too much?”

“No. Not with you. Never with you.” 

His mouth twitches like he’s unsure. You nestle closer to him, closing your eyes as you’re cupped in the safety of his presence. “With Avernus and Dis at your command, you can take Phlegethos,” you murmur. “Mammon will give you Minauros if you can do that.” 

“Hmm.” 

Your eyes flutter open, watching as Yoongi closes his. You can tell by the twitch in his mouth that he is thinking. “I will deliver you Phlegethos.” He cracks an eye open and looks at you, seeing the hunger that burns there. “Belial needs a good whip to put him in place.” 

“The Whip of Asmodeous?” 

“No.” You grin. “The Whip of Kelemvor’s Chosen.” 

[streets-in-paradise]

Fanfiction Masterlists

My old mega masterlist for all fandoms is broken due to the amount of links it contained. I'm in the process of rebuilding it and the situation got so complicated I had to create a new one because the original post wasn't saving any modifications.

You can revisit the old one here, but from now on I will update in the following separated masterlists:

Troy (2004) Masterlist

Prince of Persia (2010) Masterlist

Lord of the Rings Masterlist

Gladiator Masterlist

Cutthroat Island Masterlist

Horror Masterlist ( Includes Chucky, Stranger Things, Halloween and Friday 13th)

Marvel Masterlist ( Includes Netflix's Daredevil, X-Men and Thor)

Note: I keep requests permanently open for the less popular fandoms I write for. Media or characters hard to find fics for get this priority because i write for some that very few people or no one else are currently writing reader inserts for.

[edgessunflower]

Hi!

I found your blog today and would like to make a request :)

Prompt two from the second prompt list on your prompt post:

" And till you can see the raw beauty that lies within you, I'll be the reflection of your soul,"

For Paris and a fem reader.

( It's so lovely and reassuring, i can totally imagine Paris saying this 💕)

Omg omg 🥺

You may not see it but you're my heart

Pairing: Paris of Troy x Fem reader

Description: During an emotional and intimate moment Paris tells you everything he thinks of you

You had just got done bathing and laying in bed when you hear the door creak open and gently close feeling a gentle touch on your cheek smiling to see Paris above you. You and Paris have known each other since you were children and had always been attached at the hip practically since you were born as your mothers were friends for years and years before the both of you were born. You get up considering you couldn't sleep and hug him "Sorry I woke you" he changes into the loose robe and clothes he left in your room earlier that day when he had to leave for battle training that morning. "It's okay I couldn't sleep anyway" you look at the night sky as he stands beside putting his hand on your back "Why do you love me?" you stare at the floor as he looks at you confused "Why do you ask that?" he gently lifts your head to look at you kissing your forehead then your nose. "I love you for you, I have loved you ever since I saw you when we were kids in the lake that sunrise, I fell in love with you when I saw you helping the poor, You may not see it but you're my heart and till you can see the raw beauty that lies within you, I'll be the reflection of your soul" he kisses your cheeks and soon the two of you were in a gentle, affectionate, and loving kiss leading to kisses down each other's body, I love you's and words of cherishment, and sleeping in each other's arms hours later when you wake up smiling at him pressing a kiss to his chest "You are my heart too but you are my life and as long as I have you I will never treat myself bad again" you go back to asleep on his chest as he opens his eyes smiling wrapping his arms around placing a kiss on your eyelid going back to asleep a second later.

[lunarw0rks]

So this is my thots for the Alejandro x f!reader x Rudy HC,

SFW:

I usually see the Ménage à trois with them being childhood friends or unit members, but I was thinking

- AleRudy and their underlying feelings that never really got addressed and they were fine.

- They meet reader in a normal setting, she's not military or a childhood friend

- nobody was looking for a relationship or arrangement, they all just sort of hit it off at some Vaqueros house party and they started hanging out

- But there's always attractions you know, AleRudy didn't know how to bring up the topic but they've been friends for so long so they were honest about liking reader and reader after having crushes on both of them was probably feeling very morally conflicted.

- The next time they met up was so AleRudy could tell the reader about them not minding sharing since they're basically a throuple anyways with their dynamic so why not try and see if it works. Turns out reader wasn't going to hesitate AT ALL like they thought.

- Reader had some ideas of her own since she wasn't blind to AleRudy's not so subtle situationship, she decided to open that can of worms and they were cool with exploring that dynamic too in this whole thing.

- They all fell rather nicely into this arrangement because it had been happening in its own way unofficially.

NSFW:

- Reader is a switch/dom leaning, Alejandro is a switch/dom leaning, Rudy himself is just happy to be there and willing to try things since he's basically vanilla but not inexperienced since him and Ale were manwhores in uniforms when they first joined the military.

- They discussed consent, kinks and limits at length so everyone was comfortable and on the same page

- They decided they weren't going to plan when and how they executed their spicy time since it seemed too stressful and awkward.

- Spicy time just happened one evening after the guys got back from their latest mission, they were over at readers house, showered + fed well. 3 just on the couch drinking and watching House of the Dragon (Alejandro was bullied since it was 2/3 votes).

- Alejandro was the one who initiated it really since he wasn't as invested in the show & he didn't have to reach very far, readers legs had been over his lap, barely covered by a shirt she took from one of them so when his hands started straying nobody was surprised.

- Rudy and reader watched the whole thing and gave up the TV immediately. Rudy took his opportunity to kiss reader while Alejandro.....

- Do they end up in Paris? yes.

You can change this as much as you want to , take out stuff, add the spicy spice too since I'm surely not good at writing it the way I read it👀 This is now yours to do as you see fit.

"take out stuff" MF THIS IS DIVINE !!

with these two, it was sort of an impulsive decision. i don't think ale/rudy are dating each other... more like they're both dating you and it works out better that way.

i feel like, since they're such good, childhood friends, there's next to no jealousy (aside from playfully). they know each other well; fucking joined the military together and are still committed !!

you would think there would be a lot more disagreements since rudy and alejandro have such different personalities — but it works in your favor. you have variety, literally and figuratively !!

and with the nsfw side of things, it's not always all three of you. more often than not, it's you with just one. besides, when one is out or at work, you get lonely. that's one of the perks of having two boyfriends — you rarely sleep alone. unfortunately, with rudy being ale's right-hand man, they do ship off at the same time. those days/weeks are the worst. you're never left in the dust, though— it's the definition of "pampered". and every so often, you'll share them ;)

[thebisexualdogdad]

Could you plz do headcanons with Hellblazer!Reader x Donna Troy?

Donna troy x Male!reader

● you have known Donna for a decade first meeting back when you were 18

● the justice league dark which you had recently joined were asked to aid the justice league in fighting doomsday

● Dick had written you off but Donna fully believed in your magic

● Dick "really Donna? You're falling for this mumbo jumbo?" He says as they watch you create a potion made of outlandish ingredients Dick had never heard of

● Donna "the Amazon's history is rooted in God's and goddesses, occultism is not too far out of the box"

● sure you two met up every so often to hook up but with the amount of traveling around you both did you decided it was best not to commit to a relationship and ruin the good thing you had

● but then years later she's settled down in San Francisco with the titans so you found a way to make your own pocket dimension headquarters to allow you to move to San Francisco to be with her while still having 24/7 access to the other JLD members when needed

● Donna is the only one on the titans who is allowed to have a key to this pocket dimension

● and Gar and Connor have been banned from even stepping inside after setting off a magical windstorm in your library while messing around with some of your ancient artifacts

● well Kori has been trusted with another key in case of an emergency but no one except you and Donna know that

● Donna walking in on you doing a spell fully naked

● "see something you like love?" You say with a grin

● "Y/N please put some clothes on, the titans need your help"

● you become a mentor of sorts to Rachel teaching her about the supernatural and how to control her powers

● she's also not allowed to take any of your spell/ritual books out of the library because once again Gar and Connor were messing around and accidentally summoned a demon in the titans tower

● Donna and Zatanna are super close

● Zatanna tells Donna so many embarrassing stories about you

● and all the magical mishaps she's witnessed you make

● being the only girl in the JLD Zatanna also likes having other women around

● Zatanna "you think Gar smells bad when he shapeshifts? You don't even want to know the smells that come off of Alec when he returns from the swamp"

● giving Donna your trench coat when it's cold out

● "you know there is something that will warm you up" you say suggestively

● Donna leans in like she's going to kiss you but instead whispers "tequila?"

● Donna pulling you in by your tie to actually kiss you

● and flirting with her at the most inappropriate times during missions

● Jason "does he ever shut up?"

● Jason still hasn't forgiven you for the time you turned him into a rabbit

● in your defense it was Kent's idea after the two of them were arguing because Jason was trying to sneakily put his Dr Fate helmet on despite being warned not to several times

● Jason "it's just a stupid helmet what's the big deal"

● "kid that helmet is one of the most powerful artifacts in the world not even I could handle wearing it, you certainly wouldn't be able to"

● Bobo argues a lot with Dick on who is a greater detective, him or Bruce

● Bobo "Richard, I am a member of mensa"

● Dick "yeah but you're a monkey!"

● Bobo "a chimpanzee actually and batman is the one who comes to me for help not the other way around"

● "he's got a point Dick"

● Dick "not now Y/N!"

● when Donna died you and Rachel stopped at nothing to get her back

● Kent told you it would be impossible to resurrect her but she was the love of your life, you would either get her back or die trying

● when you do finally get her back the two of you decide to put superheroing behind for a bit and travel the world together

● a year later Kori gets a call that you proposed in Paris and that Donna would need her help planning the wedding

[tarrenterror25]

The Menu Julian Slowik x F!Reader thoughts

Tags: mention of food and food play(?), saying spoilers just too be safe

Okay, but

I don't think I could write it, but I imagine a scene or something where Julian wants to do a more...sensual menu. his ingredients include aphrodisiacs and the way they are arranged somehow relate back to some romantic/sensual telling like your first kiss, your first time, the lost love or something of that sort.

I don't know much about food so bear with me here:

One of the dishes somewhere in the middle uses you as the plate. Completely nude save for some pasties and imagine you're this like board/serving tray brought out to the middle. There's foods not necessarily covering you, but framing you and accentuating you. These are examples, but from what we see Julian has a thing for symbolism and storytelling with his food/menus. Strawberry caviar sits in/on your belly button since they represent fertility and sensuality. Some variations of apple slices decorated with gold leafs surround your head like a halo crown; a golden apple was to be given to the fairest of three goddesses as declared by Paris of Troy, thus symbolizing how coveted you are, not just laying with you, but to even eat, no, taste, the food that has graced your form. Morsels of lamb line your sternum, lambs are known to be sacrificial animals and you're being presented as both an offering, but also to which others would sacrifice for as they have sacrificed time/money/ etc. to be here at Julian's restaurant. There also would be swirls, smears, and swipes or what have you of other things painted on you to taste with the food. If you had an overheard view of what you look like, it would look like a classic painting, like you could take a take an overhead photo, frame it, and it would look like a work of art.

And then as the customers eat from you, it also gives into this idea of your fragility and beauty. A snobby customer might say "Ah, because once we have eaten from this plate, it loses its beauty and charm because we have touched it? As if when a woman loses her beauty after so many have touched her?" To which Julian will correct them.

"No. She is not in debt to you for having tasted her, you are so privileged that she has allowed you to taste from her. You are lucky to be in this room with her, to witness beauty. What remains after you eat, after the passing of time, is still beautiful, because it happened and you were lucky enough to be a part of it."

Or something of the sort, anyways-

I'm also imagining that Julian himself would oversee the plating of the -ahem- dish and it would be a very intimate experience for the both of you.

[idk6123]

A Little Practice (Trent Northwick X Male Reader)

“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?”

As Y/N walks in the almost empty music classroom, he spots his boyfriend, Trent, practicing his acting. With much passion and drama, the blonde actor is giving out his best Juliet impression.

“Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.” Trent ahem his voice as he switches character. “Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“Thou art a arsehole, thy beloved.” Y/N says with a angelic voice, making Trent look back at him with a smirk.

“You were always the best at improv.”

“Still am.” Y/N walks over to Trent to give him a peck on the lips. “Practicing again?”

“Yes. The play is next week. I got a commercial to shoot this Saturday. Audition about two weeks. I’m thriving!” Trent proudly smiles, until he drops his façade. “But I’m also stressing the fuck out.”

“Figured. Thought you may need me.” Y/N reassuringly smiles. “We can hang out or I can help you practice.”

“Second one.” Trent walks over to a table to put down the Romeo and Juliet script down, grabbing another one in return. He walks back to give Y/N one of the script. “It’s the commercial. You’re person 2.”

Y/N hums and looks at the script. “America, a land of opportunity, dreams, and pride. When we got to the US, I expected everything to go perfect.” Y/N slows down his voice by the following lines, being extremely confused. “Turns out illegally crossing the border brings problems. My wife is going to be a whore if we don’t enough money.”

“No need to worry!” Trent says with a chivalrous voice, not bothered by the unusual script. “We at Blackshark reassures anyone to live a happy life with their family. No matter the background, we like to give anyone the opportunity to blossom. Don’t worry about paying your loans. Spend it to whatever you desire, and we promise you, at the end of the day, you will prosper.”

“Wow! Now I don’t have to sell my organs. Thanks Blackshark.”

Y/N looks up to see Trent smirking proudly. “I nailed it. You on the other hand.”

“The fuck is this script?” Y/N merely blurts out. “And your commercial is about loan sharks?”

“It sure is.”

Y/N wonders that his boyfriend know the possible consequences. “Isn’t this bad for your brand? Being revolved with scammers?”

“Look, if Paris Hilton is allowed to get in drama without issue, so am I.”

-

Minutes later, and Trent decides he had practice enough with his scripts. After convincing Y/N to do something else, they change into more flexible clothes.

“You know everyone is going to bully you if they discover you can do ballet.”

“Ballet is the core of dancing. It comes back in many other genres. Also, it’s good for the body. So if anyone is going to harass me, I remember their name and call them out once I’m rich and famous.” Trent says without a doubt.

“Don’t you mean we?”

“Depends. I don’t want to associate with lower class people.” Trent respond without remorse. He and his boyfriend begin sitting on the ground and do some stretching. “I suggest working on that football dream, buddy.”

“It’s not my fault Ted keeps hogging the quarterback spot.” Y/N groans. “I hope after all the bootlicking he gives the spot after he graduate.”

“You need to do better. Have you tried sleeping with him?”

Y/N deadpanned at his boyfriend. “You want me to cheat on a straight guy?”

“If it makes you famous like I’m going to be.” Trent merely replies. “Besides, I’m sure he swings both ways.”

“According to who?”

“My gaydar.”

Y/N sighs. “I think yours broken.”

“Na-ah. 100% accurate. You, gay. Gord, Kirby, Cornelius, Vance, definitely bi. Troy, gay. Ted, bi as fuck, he just doesn’t know it.”

“Look, just because you’re right the previous ones doesn’t mean you’re always right.” Y/N corrects him. “Wait, aren’t we supposed to do ballet?”

“Oh, yeah.” Trent forgot. He and Y/N stands up. “Let’s begin with some poses, relevé.”

“Rele-what?”

“Relevé.” With elegance, Trent jumps up a bit and with his tips of his toes, stands on the ground. With his hands, he lifts them up and make a circle out of them. “Voilá.”

Y/N is amazed by the sight, especially the ridiculous strength his toes has to balance him. “Since when do you know all this shit?”

“Since I was young. Practice makes perfect.” Trent comments. He stops posing and expectedly looks back at his boyfriend. “Now you.”

“You expect me to stand on my toes?” Y/N barely have any experience with ballet. The only experience he has is when Trent tries to flex his skills and try to compare his with his boyfriend.

“I help, since apparently you can’t do it on your own.” Trent playfully mutters the last part. He gets behind Y/N to put his hands besides his body. “You pose, I balance you.”

Y/N can’t help but smirk. “Fine.”

Thus, he put his arms up and stand on his toes, which took a couple of seconds. Luckily, after trying a couple of times and with the help of the actor, Y/N is standing in the pose. Though he gives up after almost 3 seconds.

“There. That was annoying.” Y/N chuckles.

“Good, for your first time.” Trent unnecessary comments. “Now we have 25 left to go.”

“By the love of-”

-

After a lot of practice, Y/N somehow did most of the poses Trent requested. They already practiced Trent’s scripts and ballet training, Y/N wonders what’s up next.

“Please tell me we actually do something normal.”

“You’re saying this isn’t normal?” Trent questions, but he quickly dismisses the jock’s comment. “Anyway, let’s do the last exercise.”

“And that is?”

“Improv.” Trent says with a smirk. “Since you’re good at it, have fun thinking about your first line.”

“Uh!?” Y/N quickly panics as he thinks for something to say. “Nice weather, huh?”

Trent raises his eyebrow, judging his boyfriend. “That’s what you came up with?”

“Shut it. You’re breaking character.”

Trent chuckles. “No, it’s raining you dumbass. Can’t you see through the window.”

“Oh no, what an idiot I am. Sorry, must have the moron decease I got from my boyfriend.”

“Sounds like you’re the only one suffering from it though.”

“Nah. I’m certain he got it too.” Y/N decides to play alone just to shove it on Trent’s face. “He makes me do all these dumb acting exercises instead of taking me out on a date or something actually normal people do.”

“Huh. Sounds more like you don’t care about your boyfriend’s passions and dreams.” Trent plays along as well, with both men smiling.

“Yeah, you can say that again. I really don’t care.”

Trent laughs at the respond. “Alright, alright. That’s enough. You did good.”

“Thanks. I was only kidding about the insults. I actually like you’re over confident attitude.”

“I know you do.” Trent proves the footballer right. “So, now that we’re done and I’m entertained, you want to go out?”

[septimaseverinaficrec]

Info & Quick Access

This blog is my fan fiction rec blog. None of these stories are mine. I DO NOT OWN AND WRITE ANY. Canon Male Characters x F!Readers and some GN!Readers. Because I want to escape from real, mad and chaotic world for a while with my blorbo.

All of them are rated G -> E (Mixed). Please consume with responsiblity.

Below 17 DNI please.

Blorbo

Game of Thrones | House of the Dragon

Oberyn Martell

Daemon Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Star Wars

Cassian Andor

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Din Djarin

Tolkien Elves

Mirkwood Elves

Legolas | Thranduil

House of Feänor

Feänor | Maedhros | Maglor

Others

Finrod | Glorfindel | Ecthelion | TROP!Elrond

Assassin's Creed

Altaïr Ibn-La'ahad

Ezio Auditore

Arno Dorian

Jacob Frye

Dilfs

Emperor Cleon (Apple TV Foundation)

Thomas Shelby

Luca Changretta

David Tennant's Characters

10th Doctor | 14th Doctor

Crowley

Alec Hardy

Tom Sturridge's Charaters

Dream of the Endless

Jake (Bittersweet)

Nicholas Hoult's Characters

Robert Montague Renfield

Tom Hiddleston's Characters

Loki Laufeyson

Prince Hal/Henry V

Thomas Sharpe

James Nicholls

Robert Laing

Jonathan Pine

Will Ransome

James Conrad

Orlando Bloom's Characters

Paris of Troy

Timothee Chalamet's Characters

Willy Wonka

Prince Hal/Henry V

Pedro Pascal Characters

Javi Gutierrez

Dieter Bravo

Javier Peña

Joel Miller

Bridgerton

Anthony Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

???

Sherlock Holmes (BC)

[xionisgr]

ISBN: 978-960-547-033-3 Συγγραφέας: Μακρή Αναστασία Δ. Εκδότης: Άγκυρα Σειρά: Αγαπώ τη Μυθολογία Σελίδες: 32 Ημερομηνία Έκδοσης: 2012-12-01 Διαστάσεις: 28 x 21 Εξώφυλλο: Χαρτόδετο