#red shoes x reader
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kuichihimei · 2 years ago
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Rsat7d Characters as Flowers
(Long Post)
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Floriography is the language of flowers. All flowers hold different meanings, often based on the type of flower, the colour of the flower, or both.
Snow White
Red Roses
♡ Roses symbolise different kinds of love depending on the colour. Red roses specifically symbolise love & romance, but I like to think that they represent love as whole instead.
♡ Snow is a very loving person, no questions asked. I have a feeling that she really likes roses, specifically the red ones since they remind her of her mother...
♡ Much like a rose who has thorns to protect itself, Snow can very much stand up for herself when someone's being a jerk to her or her friends. Every rose has it's thorns after all...
Merlin
Nemophilas & Blue Hyacinths
♱ From the greek word “Nemos” which means wooded pasture or small forest and “Phileos” meaning to love, also known as Baby Blue Eyes, they symbolise success & victory.
♱ Much like how Merlin ended up finding his happy ending with Snow, I'd say he wound up pretty victorious in the end. He broke his curse AND ended up marrying the love of his life
♱ Blue hyacinths symbolize sincerity & loyalty. Merlin loves Snow with such sincerity & he's undoubtedly loyal to his friends. He and the F7 are pretty frickin' tight with each other if you ask me.
Arthur
Orange Gladiolis, White, Blue & Purple Hydrangeas
☆ Gladiolis symbolise strength of character & we all know that Arthur's pretty heckin' strong.
☆ Fun fact: Gladiolis get their name from the gladiators of Ancient Rome. The expression 'death or gladioli' is derived from from the tournaments held by the Romans, as the winner gets praised with gladiolis at the end of the match.
☆ White Hydrangeas are sometimes associated with boastfulness as they bloom many flowers, but only produce a few seeds & Arthur can be... a little boastful sometimes...
☆ But hydrangeas can also mean apology & desire to deeply understand
☆ I can see Arthur as someone who'll try to right his wrongs once he sees the error of his ways & try to understand why he was wrong to avoid doing it again.
Hans
Cornflowers & Green Chrysanthemums
♧ Cornflowers symbolize reliability, rememberance & a bunch of other things. Hans is someone you can rely on when you're dealing with something that emotionally burdens you.
♧ He's the type of guy you would go to when you want to vent something; he'll even offer you some snacks while you're trying to explain to him what's bothering you...
♧ Chrysanthemums are used as a token of friendship during the Victorian Era. Out of all the seven + Snow, he's the second friend you've made out of everyone, he's really easy to befriend.
♧ Green Chrysanthemums symbolize good health & believe me when I say this; When you're with Hans, you LITERALLY cannot starve, because he can and he will coerce you into healthy eating habits.
Jack
Magnolias/Peonies
♀ Much like Jack, Magnolias symbolize nobility & wealth, & is celebrated all around the world for it's resilient blooms.
♀ It also symbolizes perseverance & endurance since it has tough flowers that have thick tepals to protect it from hungry beetles.
♀ This shows that despite coming off as narcissistic, he's still a strong fighter & WILL come through to help in times of need.
♀ This guy takes self-care very seriously so he can do his best in  whooping your butt.
♀ Peonies are another flower that symbolize wealth, since they come in clusters.
♀ Peonies are traditionally given on special occasions to signify goodwill & best wishes & Jack would give you little gifts if he likes you (albeit romantically or platonically).
♀ He'll even give you little trinkets from his quests like a magpie :D
❈ It's canon that the triplets are engineering geniuses, but I have this headcanon that they manifest it differently from eachother.
Pino
Blue/Purple Irises
✣ Irises are a symbol of hope, courage & wisdom. The flower is named after Iris, goddess of rainbows & messenger of Hera. She was the one who navigates the path from earth to heaven for the souls of the dead.
✣ Much like how Iris guides the souls of the dead towards heaven, Pino tries to guide his brothers towards the right paths in life.
✣ As the oldest of the triplets, he's more cautious when it comes to approaching new things. He's cautious because he doesn't want any of them to get hurt.
✣ He's had his fair share of negative experiences & uses them as an example of what his brothers shouldn't be.
✱ He's quite analytical whenever faced with a problem & often gives off advice that can come off as a bit harsh & can come off as a bit of a know-it-all sometimes...
✣ He's book smart & tends to look more on the facts & tries to think ahead so he can know what to do, when to do it & how to do it. He tends to find out what's wrong & immediately tries to fix it.
✣ His younger brothers look up to him whenever things go wrong, because if there's one thing they know for sure, it's that their older brother's got the answers to most of it 90% of the time. They do need to get a little nagged at though... (ÂŻ^ÂŻÙ„)
Noki
Blue/Purple Clematis
✻ Clematis flowers symbolize ingenuity or the trait of artifice due to it's clever ability to climb around walls and other surfaces.
✻ Blue Clematis flowers symbolize loyalty & intellect, while Purple Clematis are favoured by clever & quick-witted people.
✻ If Pino is book smart, Noki is street smart. He knows how to deal with people & he definitely knows how to talk his way out of things.
✻I headcanon that he's the most social out of the group
✻ Clematis flowers also symbolize mischief, with a nickname like the devil's darning needle & being very difficult to kill, you can guess why. (It has occured to me that he kinda reminds me of Hermes actually—)
✻ When they're not inventing, the triplets go off and do their own hobbies away from each other. Pino likes to go on walks, Kio likes to collect scrap metal & Noki? Let's just say he likes to do a little bit of trolling sometimes >:)
✻ Noki is a menace during April Fools, just a heads up.  What? You've gotta use your smarts on other things anyways :)...
Kio
Red/Purple Asters
❋ Asters are another flower that symbolize wisdom/intellect. Their name is derived from the greek goddess Astraea.
❋ The greek word “Astír” means star.
❋ Red Asters symbolize undying love and devotion. He may not be as analytical as Pino, or street smart like Noki, but what he lacks in those he makes for with his emotional intelligence.
❋ Kio is more emotionally in tune than he let's on, don't let his shy demeanor fool you. He's constantly observing everyone around him if they're ok or not.
❋ He doesn't know ALL the solutions to your problems & he's not good with his words, but he'd definitely sit with you & listen to you rant about your problems.
❋ Kio is quite wise when it comes to emotions...
❋ There's something about him knowing what's wrong with you without saying anything or how he knows how to put into words what you're thinking of or how he knows when to speak & when to listen at the right times.
❋ The fact that he just knows, is quite comforting & a bit unsettling at times... (゜゜)
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pastryfication · 5 months ago
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THE RED SHOES ↳ oscar piastri
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based on the fairytale by hans christian andersen | inspired by an old school project i found on my laptop 
 this took me forever so please give it some love <33
pairing: oscar piastri x leclerc!sister!reader summary: from the moment you were gifted your first ballet slippers, dance had been a constant in your life. a comfort in even the darkest times. but it becomes unhealthy the moment you are unable to take off the shoes.
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the most worn out, old shoes in your collection dated all the way back to your fourth birthday. they had been a gift from your three brothers; a pair of red dance slippers for you to wear when you the following week participated in your very first ballet class.
it had been love at first sight for you. the moment you stepped into the studio, feeling the hardwood beneath your thin shoes, seeing yourself reflected in a mirror no matter what direction you looked in, you knew that it was where you wanted to spend the rest of your days. dance became your lifeline, the only thing keeping you going when everything else seemed dull.
when your brothers were off racing and your parents preoccupied themselves with the go-karts and helmets, you found solace in the simple act of ballet. lacing up your shoes, the familiar scent of the studio and the smoothness of the wooden floor always managed to calm you. when the music started, your world narrowed down to the rhythmic beating of the drum and the fluidity of your movements. there, in that sanctuary, nothing else mattered.
your first pair of shoes quickly became worn out, too ruined to be used, and your parents provided you with a new pair. a new pair that soon would be replaced as well.
when you were twenty, you were for the first time introduced to oscar. it was the italian grand prix, an event your entire family always attended in support of your older brother, and that year was no different. you had been wandering around in search of a familiar face when you ran into the mclaren driver. it had been love a first sight—something neither of you believed in, yet couldn’t deny—to put it simple, and the two years you had been together had been nothing short of incredible.
the australian was more than happy to contribute to your collection of shoes that only grew more and more as your training became harder, more challenging, more draining.
he worried. it wasn’t in his nature, not something he found himself doing often, but for you, for the growing dark circles under your eyes, for the weight you only seemed to loose and not gain, he worried.
you would never want him foreboding, never want him to feel the slightest unease, but as your days filled with more stress, your mind started closing up, leaving room for nothing but the new choreography.
each morning and each night, you stepped into the studio, the mirrored walls reflecting your resolve, as the music filled the air like a whisper of promise. each movement carved out a sanctuary, a space where the weight of the world faded to a distant hum.
your body became a vessel for the dance, each plié and tendu an escape from the noise outside. time drifted away, an endless stream of practice and precision and the pulse of the music guiding you deeper into this realm.
the world outside became a mere shadow, its demands and voices lost in the blur of your focus, where you were both lost and found. every ache was a testament to your commitment, every breath a surrender to the rhythm.
the only thing remaining clear was the shoes.
you had long since outgrown the pair your brothers had gifted you so thoughtfully, yet somehow, they stayed with you, not only in the physical sense, but in a way that felt deeper, more insidious. you couldn’t see it then, couldn’t know how easily the delicate line between passion and obsession could blur without you noticing.
your brothers had never fully understood, though they loved you all the same. their world was filled with the rush of engines, the thrill of speed. they were boys of the track, always chasing something fast, something tangible. when they handed you those shoes on your fourth birthday, they had no way of knowing they were giving you something you would chase for the rest of your life. a place you would carve out in the quiet, where the sound of your feet against the floor was all that mattered.
time went on so slow yet so fast. your brothers still called, though not as often as before. arthur’s voice always had an edge of command, as though even over the phone, he couldn’t help but lead you, the only person who would ever follow his command. “we’re all going to monaco this year. you’re coming, right?” his words held the weight of expectation, as though he couldn’t imagine you saying no. but when you hesitated, there was always that brief pause before he moved on, never pushing too hard.
charles’ calls were shorter, more distant, his voice lighter, floating through pictures and scattered texts from whatever corner of the world he happened to be racing through. he asked about the dance, though you both knew he didn’t really need the answer. to him, it was enough that you were still moving, still spinning through your world as he did through his.
and lorenzo—sweet, caring enzo—he called the most, his words gentle but filled with concern as he told you about your mother’s worry. about his own worry. “you sound tired,” he’d say, even when you laughed it off. he noticed things the others didn’t, sensed the exhaustion creeping into your voice, the hesitation between your words. but you reassured him, told him you were fine, always fine.
it wasn’t until oscar voiced the same worry that you began to feel the weight of it yourself. he wasn’t like your brothers—his concern was quieter, but it settled over you like a shadow. he’d watch you in the studio, even when he was busy and cramped by his ever growing career.
silent he was, his eyes tracing the movements of your body as it twisted and turned, as though trying to understand what it was you were chasing. he knew, even if you didn’t want to admit it yet, that something had shifted.
“i’m worried,” he had said one evening, after watching you move through another rehearsal, the exhaustion clinging to you like a second skin. “you don’t have to push so hard.”
his words were soft, but they lingered. you had brushed them aside at first because how could he understand?
the studio was your world. it was where everything made sense.
each day, the pull of the shoes grew stronger, though they were no longer on your feet. the new pairs you slipped on felt no different; they all seemed to carry the same curse, driving you forward even when your body begged to stop. the movements, once effortless, now felt like a compulsion, a promise you couldn’t break. you were chasing something. chasing a perfection that always seemed just out of reach.
it wasn’t until you stumbled—it just a small misstep, barely noticeable to anyone but you—that the truth started to crack open. you stood there, breath caught in your chest, staring at the mirrored walls surrounding you. your reflection looked back, but it didn’t feel like your own. there was something unfamiliar in the way your body moved, something hollow in your eyes. the girl in the mirror was still dancing, but you weren’t sure why anymore.
oscar was a magician in the way he immediately was there, his hand on your arm before you even realized it. “it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice steady, but his eyes told a completely different story. “you don’t have to keep doing this,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against yours as tenderly as if you were close to breaking. “you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
you wanted to believe him, but you couldn’t. the shoes still called to you, still urged you forward. they were tied to something deeper than the dance itself, something you couldn’t quite name, but couldn’t quite let go of either.
your brothers called again, their voices distant but filled with love. “come to the race,” charles said. “we’ll all be there. we want to see you.”
and for a moment, you hesitated, the pull of family tugging against the pull of the enchanting movements. you thought of charles‘ steady voice, of arthur’s laughter, of lorenzo’s quiet concern and of your mothers worrying eyes. you thought of your first ever shoes, of the girl who had received them. the girl who danced because it was her joy, not her burden.
but as you tried to step out the shoes, you found that you couldn’t. they were stuck, grown unto your feet so tightly that not even the whispers of your adoring family and all too loving boyfriend could free them. the web had spun for years, and now, it was too late to escape.
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k2ntoss · 1 year ago
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jason: you should pick the red ones, you know?
y/n: but they don't match my dress, i think that green goes better
jason: but red is prettier
y/n: baby, red won't match my grad dress
jason: ):
y/n: what if i paint my nails red, hm? bet they'll look pretty with my degree and later with something else
jason: (:
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bloodibambiidoll · 4 months ago
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♱ Charlie Mayhew Masterlist ♱
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✶ ALL WORKS ARE FEM!READER AND 18+ NO MINORS ✶
Let Me Worship You
After lusting after Father Mayhew for weeks the tension finally breaks in a way you least expected.
Paint It White
Charlie is sick and tired of watching your parents try to set you up with pathetic, little church boys. It’s time for him to remind you who you belong to in the same AU as this Church Mouse Moodboard
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paperrretro · 11 months ago
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LIGHTSTRUCK | pt. 12
Pairing: Merlin x Reader
Word Count: 2,619 words
Warnings: None
Summary: Your father accepts a position as Prince Merlin’s magic tutor, and you are unceremoniously dragged along.
(Or, pieces of your unspectacular life in and out of the royal palace, and how a certain idiotic prince somehow gets wrapped up in it either way.)
read on quotev | read on ao3
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In the corner of a restaurant, huddled at a table meant for two, you slurp up the last of the noodles and lick the grease off your lips with a satisfied sigh.
Good, authentic Carmarthenian food is hard to come by on Golden Goose Avenue, but this one – this one is promising. A rich broth, fresh vegetables sliced paper-thin, spices that warm your throat like gentle coals in a fireplace. You long to be able to cook this well, but the culinary arts are more different from elixirism than one would think. (For one, the quality of food is measured by how good it tastes.)
“More?” asks the owner, an older lady who reminds you of Fay. (She owns the restaurant with her son. He’s your age, she’d told you when she brought your food. Single. Graduated top of his class at culinary school and takes very good care of her.)
“Oh, no, thank you. I’m so full.” You feel guilty for saying no, even though you’d given in the previous two times. You eye the table next to yours. “But could I have some tteokbokki to go?”
“Of course.”
After paying your bill and sitting for a bit longer to digest, you heft yourself up and grab your takeout, waving goodbye to the owner and her son before finally exiting the restaurant.
The bright sunlight scalds your eyes. Squinting against it, you look around for some signs or a directory. You’re already done with your work-shopping for the day. Maybe you could go browse for some new books.
Just as you reorient yourself and start heading towards Beauty and the Books, you hear two familiar voices coming from somewhere nearby.
“Red Shoes!”
You perk up, curious. Turning around, you catch sight of Arthur and Merlin rounding a corner, hands cupped around their mouths. Behind them lumbers a giant wooden bunny.
“Red Sh – oh,” Arthur cuts himself off once he spots you, blinking in surprise. “Hello. Fancy running into you here. Have you seen Red Shoes, by any chance?”
You eye Merlin, who only meets your gaze for a second before finding a sudden interest in the nearby lamppost. Fine. He can act how he likes, and you’ll pretend he doesn’t exist. “No.”
“Great.” Arthur sighs and slumps forward. “I take my eyes off her for just a few seconds and she up and disappears on me.”
Your brow wrinkles, and you glance around. You certainly haven’t seen Red Shoes since you got here, but Golden Goose Avenue is a big place, and you haven’t exactly been paying attention to the other shoppers. “Maybe she went into one of the stores to shop by herself. Is it really that big of a deal?”
“Well, no, but you never know what could happen,” Arthur persists. “Looks like hers bring all sorts of creeps out of the woodworks.” He shudders. “Speaking from experience.”
Now, that is something you can imagine. Maybe it’s not so great to be so beautiful, you think, if all you get in return are expectations.
“I’ll help you find her,” you offer.
“Would you? Fantastic!”
Walking alongside Arthur as he retraces his steps, you keep an eye out for silky brown hair, a red satin skirt – lovestruck gazes. You hope she’s outside so you can avoid the hassle of looking in each individual shop. Some of them are charmed to keep you inside for hours.
In all honesty, it’s more likely that Red Shoes will find the three of you instead of the other way around, given the heavy thump, thump, thumps that rumble behind the two of you down the street.
You clear your throat during a lull between calling her name.
“So, what’s with the giant wooden bunny?”
Arthur looks up at you and then back at the silent creature. He reaches up to scratch the back of his head before stopping midway and posturing instead. “Just a vicious beast that I rescued Red Shoes from last night. Pretty impressive, right?”
“Ha!” Merlin says, and Arthur whips around.
“Got something to say, magic boy?!”
As the two begin to bicker, you drop back to examine the bunny again. It stares back at you, eyes half-lidded as if utterly unimpressed with the company it has found itself in. ‘Vicious’ is the last thing you’d use to describe it. If anything, it’s calmer than any of you.
You’ve never heard of giant wooden animals living near Risky Rock before. Maybe the increase in monster activity is affecting the wildlife 

“—so I’m not even gonna bother explaining women to you anymore.” A loud scoff from Arthur distracts you from your staring contest with the bunny, and you furrow your brow as he breaks away from Merlin to resume walking. You jog slightly to catch up. “C’mon, [Y/n]. Red Shoes! Red Shoes?”
From the alleyway to your right, you hear someone call out.
“Guys! Guys, I’m here.”
When you turn to look into the shadows of the alley, you can just make out the figure of a young woman in the middle of a group of knights. She waves at you.
You don’t recognize her. Judging by the looks on Arthur and Merlin’s faces, they don’t know her either, so the three of you awkwardly look away and continue on.
“That was weird,” Merlin mutters once you’re out of earshot.
“She probably thought we were someone else,” Arthur brushes it off. “Let’s go, we need to find Red Shoes.”
Merlin nods, but when you look at him, his expression is troubled. He glances over his shoulder and stops walking.
“No, the way those knights were standing around her 
” he starts. “Something didn’t seem right.”
You frown. You’d be the first to list Merlin’s many faults, but poor instincts is not one of them; you’ve been on the wrong end of them too many times to count. You think back to the alleyway and wonder what he had noticed that you didn’t. Was the woman secretly asking for help? Were the knights not as relaxed as you thought they were?
Arthur groans impatiently, throwing his arms out. “They’re probably helping her find whoever she thought we were,” he responds. “It’s fine. Now, are you going to help me find our princess or not?”
Your gaze flits from one prince to the other, stopping on Merlin as he continues to look over his shoulder. His fingers twitch, antsy, and his mouth presses into a thin line before he opens it.
“Keep looking for her,” he finally says, turning around and running back to the alley. “I’ll be right back!”
Curiosity eclipsing your pride, you run after him.
“Are you ser – guys!” Arthur yells after the two of you, his voice fading with the distance. “Merlin, stop trying so hard to play hero!”
With Merlin’s stature, it’s easy to catch up to him. “Hey,” you ask once you do, clutching your bags to your chest to keep their contents from clattering around, “what did you –”
“Shh.” He halts abruptly just before the entrance to the alleyway, throwing an arm out to stop you.
You hold your tongue and swallow the impulse to push him right back. Wordlessly, he and you peek around the corner and squint through the darkness.
Oh.
The knights, who had seemed so casual before, now cluster in the back of the alleyway, their weapons raised. And though you can’t see her, you can hear the voice of the young woman from before.
(You hate it when he’s right.)
The soft crinkle of paper by your leg catches your ear, and you glance down to see Merlin holding one of his talismans. Your eyes widen.
“Uh, Merlin –”
“Come on,” he mutters, and the next thing you know, he’s striding towards the knights and flicking his fingers with quiet confidence.
The knights rattle and drop like flies, revealing the cowering figure of the poor woman you’d all ignored earlier. She’s pressed herself against the back wall. As she lowers her arms, eyes round with shock and fear, shame swirls in the pit of your stomach.
You trail after Merlin as he picks a red shoe off the ground and dusts it off. He approaches the woman and offers it to her.
“Your red shoe, milady,” Merlin says.
His voice is gentle, assuring, and soft, and it renders you speechless.
Merlin isn’t gentle. He’s arrogant, and flashy, and tries too hard to be suave. He’s a prince. He’s not a gentleman. But the way he had gone back, and the way he had stayed to speak with the woman afterwards 

Something moves inside your chest. It warms behind your ribcage, and you are startled by the strangeness of it, and strangely frightened.
“
 Excuse me, miss, have we met?”
“Um”—the woman tenses, meeting your eyes before quickly looking away, and you are hit with a odd, vague sense of familiarity—“well, that’s kind of a complicated question.”
You open your mouth, only to be interrupted by the sound of Arthur yelling out for Red Shoes outside the alley.
You had almost forgotten.
“Will you be okay?” You break your silence upon your second attempt, lowering the bags from your arms.
This time, the woman holds your gaze, and she smiles a bit bigger, nodding. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay 
 er.” There are now two pairs of eyes on you as you free one hand to dig around in your satchel and pull out a small bottle. It’s partly to assuage your guilt, which makes you feel guiltier somehow, but, “Here, have this. It’s a deterrent. You spray it.” When she takes it hesitantly, you hastily tack on, “It’s free.”
(Oh, gods, you think. Why would you even say that?)
Merlin tugs at your sleeve, gesturing at the street with his head. “We gotta go,” he tells the woman. “Stay safe.”
You mumble out some semblance of a similar sentiment, and as you leave her, hurrying out of the darkness into the bright light, you bite your bottom lip in embarrassment and squeeze your eyes shut.
“Wow.” Merlin releases you once you’ve both turned the corner, letting out a snort that brings blood rushing to your ears. “I bet princesses would be scrambling in line for your post-rescue care.”
“Shut up,” you grumble, desperately wishing for him to just drop it, drop it. (You know he won’t.) “What – what about that weird act you had going back there? ‘Your red shoes, milady’ – I almost died of cringe!”
“Excuse me? I wasn’t acting,” Merlin replies indignantly. “And it wasn’t cringey.”
“I’ve never seen you be that nice without a motive.”
He huffs up at you. “I’m actually genuinely nice, thank you! You’d know that if you didn’t antagonize me all the time.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around,” you retort.
“Oh, please.” The two of you begin to walk towards Arthur and the Wood-Rabbit, and Merlin’s voice takes on a smugger tone, needling at the part of you that remains young and oversensitive. “You know what I think?” he says. “I think you’re jealous that I was being nice to her.”
“
 What?”
“It’s perfectly fine, [Y/n].” He casts a glance at you, a smirk stretching across his cheeks. “If you ever get attacked by a dragon or something, I’ll sweep you off your feet too.”
You balk. Heat spreads from your ears to the entirety of your face.
That little –
“Took you guys long enough!” Arthur scolds right as you’ve decided to encase Merlin’s head in an ice cube and then yours. “So, Merlin, was I right or was I right?”
“You were wrong, actually,” Merlin snarks. “There was a problem, and I took care of it. [Y/n] can vouch for that.”
“Yeah, right, you really think I’m gonna believe”—Arthur looks to you for backup, only for his face to drop when you glare at the ground and cross your arms—“believe 
 w-well, that’s 
! Fine! Anyways, more importantly, I just saw Red Shoes on a wanted poster, and I have a lot of questions about that, so we need to find her ASAP.”
“Wanted poster?” you ask.
“You didn’t see them? The knights have been passing them out,” Merlin says. “The ones that weren’t busy harassing citizens, at least.”
He pulls out a piece of paper and unfolds it, offering it to you. With distaste curling your lips, refusing to meet his eyes, you snatch it up and read the header and footer.
WANTED, it says. BIG REWARD.
Drawn in the middle of the page is, without question, Red Shoes.
“What did she do?”
“It doesn’t say.”
“I know it doesn’t say; I can read. What did the knights say?”
“Go and ask them yourself.”
“Oh, for the Lady’s sake,” bemoans Arthur, throwing his head back and turning around, “I liked it better when you two were moping. Can you just –” He looks past you and suddenly, his eyes brighten. “Red Shoes!”
He waves his arm. You turn on your heel, catching sight of who you’re certain is Red Shoes dashing towards the entrance of the Avenue. She doesn’t so much as slow down or look over her shoulder.
“Stop!”
You blink, and a gust of wind blows by as two giant men barrel past you. It doesn’t take much to figure out who they’re chasing after.
Merlin yanks your arm a split second later.
“Get on!”
“Get on what –” Realizing his plan, you scramble after him onto the Wood-Rabbit’s back. “What about Arthur?”
Merlin clutches onto the greenery sprouting from the back of the rabbit’s head. “He’ll catch up!”
You yelp as the Wood-Rabbit stands up, grabbing a fistful of moss with your right hand. Your left hand isn’t so lucky.
The creature bounds forward, and you fly several inches up into the air. With a panicked gasp, you wrap your loose arm around the next sturdiest thing and squeeze tight.
Merlin lets out a mix between a wheeze and a cough as you all but crush his lungs. “What are you doing?” he yells, trying to pry your hand from his coat. “Grab Red Shoes!”
The rabbit jumps again, bringing your heart to your throat, and you tighten your grip. “You’re the rescuer, aren’t you?!”
“How can you expect me to – just do it!”
“I can’t!”
“Yes, you can!”
“I can’t!” you shriek just as you catch up to Red Shoes, throwing your arm out. She grabs it, and when the rabbit jumps, she soars upward and lands right behind you.
“I’m okay!” she yells, grabbing the moss on the Wood-Rabbit’s back with far better luck than you.
Merlin looks back, exhaling with relief when he sees Red Shoes. “Thank Morgaina,” he exclaims. The four of you sail past the Avenue’s entrance, and his attention then turns to you, his eyebrows raising as you dig your fingers into his coat again. “See, was that so hard, you big baby?”
“You’re a jerk,” you shout. But your nerves are alight, and your blood is rushing, and a sharp, wild laugh bubbles from your throat for the very first time. “If we die, I’ll kill you myself!”
“Like you could!” he says. You feel laughter rumbling through his chest, fresh and real and alive.
(Your heart jumps into your throat again.)
Behind you, Red Shoes dissolves into giggles. The adrenaline pounding in your head brings with it the hysterical relief that only comes from a terrifying experience, and your laughter joins hers and Merlin’s, cracking the air and leaving your pursuers in its wake.
This curse is going to take years off your life, you think. You find yourself not caring nearly as much as you should.
—
Part: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve
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writing-fanics · 2 years ago
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y’all remember this movie?
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he’s still daddy he’s still daddy I have an x reader for him on my quotev @witches-brew
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nacatu · 2 years ago
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Merlin x Reader (RSATSD)
Part 2
My deep, dreamless sleep swam around my healing body, warm and coddling.
That was until a sharp, loud scratching dug it's claws into my head, dragging me back up into consciousness by my ears. Erratic thumping and clinking jump-started my heart that, just moments ago, was peaceful and slow.
The claws sunk into my brain as it fully peeled my body from any rest I'd cocooned myself inside of.
I lifted my head, trailing the phantom claws sunk in my head as I struggled to open my eyes.
The horrid scratching didn't stop, in fact it only got more and more aggressive. I snap my half lidded eyes towards the window, only to see the familiar flock of crows trying to break in.
Dazed and pumped with a sudden adrenaline, I stumbled out of bed and followed my hurrying feet towards the annoying birds.
I slammed the windows open on them, knocking the closest one unconscious and causing it to fall to the ground. The crows scattered almost immediately after their brethren hit the ground like a bag of rocks.
The morning sunlight poured in through the window. The sky was painted an optimistic pink as a light blue haloed the bright colours of a clear morning.
I groaned and rubbed the heel of my hand against my eyelid, rolling the sandy sleep from the corners of my eyes. I pulled the window shut before lazily shuffling back to bed. Only then did I notice that all the dwarves were huddled under the blankets of their respective beds.
The silence suddenly held a power over me I couldn't ignore.
I stealthily tiptoed back towards my bed, seating myself like a feather back onto the mattress and started to tug the perfectly warmed embrace of the cotton sheets over my shoulders.
As the blankets settled on my chilled body, I felt an alert consciousness. I tracked the feeling and turned behind me. To my dismay, it was the sorcerer next to me. His brown eyes were cold steel against my skin.
I matched his expression sourly. "What?"
"I know what you are." He said quietly, totally and unnaturally still.
"And I know who you are." I whispered, flopping my body down onto the mattress, snuggling deep into warm sheets that smelled of sawdust. "Who all of you are."
Our eyes were locked, waiting for the other to make a mistake, one wrong move to give the go ahead. It was clear Merlin was itching for a reason to kick my ass out of here.
Unfortunately for him, I lost any inkling for a fight the longer I stared at him. "So... what happened to you?"
His eyebrows cranked farther down into his eyes. "Well, if you know who we are, you should already know how this happened."
I deadpanned, pulling the blanket closer to my body. "If I knew I wouldn't be asking."
He stayed silent, his mouth pressing into a tight sneer. The silent morning flowed by for long enough for me to understand that this conversation was over.
The blanket shifted around me as I turned my back to him.
"...If you do anything to hurt my team, I'll kill you." He uttered darkly into the silence. The firmness in his voice scraped against my nerves in such a way all my joint's calcified, and my skin numbed despite the cold electrical shocks just beneath. This was no threat, but a sincere promise.
It took almost all of me to not give into the urge to dive out the window and never be seen again, but I wasn't a force to be reckoned with either.
The drumming of blood flooding my ears seemed to serve nothing but the perpetual fear now circulating in my body. "If you try anything against me or Red, that curse you have now will be remembered as a blessing." My voice was flat, casual, but singed by a fire deep inside that if set upon the world, wouldn't be something to be scoffed at.
That was enough of a safety guarantee for me as I settled my heart beat, watching the new day-glow press it's light to the wooden beams within the ceiling. Consciousness became harder and harder to hold onto until the lasts strands of the waking world lovingly slipped from my grasp, sending me back into my dark pool of peace.
____________________
CHAPTER 2: Forest Magick
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The second awakening of mine was much less terrifying this time around. The summer sun was comfortable in its rise, at least four fingers above the horizon as its beams warm the foot of my bed.
With a slow stretch my senses collect together, carrying the scent of something sweet and buttery on the air. My eyes crack open into the warmly lit room with an achey spine and a rumbling stomach.
I slowly sat up to find I was the only person left in the shared bedroom. Convenient for me, now I can put my salve on in peace.
I slip the white dress off my body and take a generous amount of the salve from its tin, slathering along my spine. The aches and flecks of pain fizzle away within the spicy tingling. As it dried I hurriedly dig through my bag for my change of clothes. Whatever that heavenly smell was coming from was mouth watering, I either have to have it or have to get out of here before I lose my mind.
I pull on a fresh under dress that rests off the shoulders followed by a mustard yellow skirt that falls to just above my ankles. I didn't bother lacing up the white sleeves and instead focus my effort into lacing up my stays while I wandered the room.
Once the stays were secure I sit back down on my bed, lacing up my boots before finally picking up my bag and exiting the bedroom.
That was almost the wrong choice as once the door opened a waft of that delicious fluffy smell hit me like a ton of bricks falling straight to the bottom of my stomach. A growl emitted from me as I submissively followed my nose down the stairs and into the living room by the front door.
If I weren't so hungry the scene before me might have had me way more embarrassed for the men then it did.
There sat Snow with the entirety of the cursed F7 doting over her, desperate for her attention and affection. Little Merlin seemed especially hungry for the woman's eyes to stay with him as he spoke quickly to her. Of what I couldn't be bothered to try to know, but it was blatantly obvious she was having trouble listening as her stare kept wandering towards a plate full of... full of...
My mouth began to water slightly at the sight of four, maybe five slices of French toast coated in cinnamon, nutmeg, and powdered sugar, decorated intricately with ripe fruit of strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, and the odd apple slice.
Hans spotted me and lit up. "Ah! Good morning Y/n!" He greeted happily with a jug of steaming syrup held in his hands.
The others all turned to look at me.
I grinned back and flounced towards him, eager and hungry. "Good morning."
"How was your sleep?" Pino asked, almost nervously.
I grabbed myself an ottoman and pulled it up between the triplets on a couch and Arthur in a recliner. Coincidentally, I was also sat straight across the coffee table from Snow and Merlin, the latter of who was glaring death upon me. "Really great, the cotton was a dream." I mused in my sweetest most innocent tone, successfully getting the sorcerer more riled up. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble, Pino." I mewled, demurely gazing at the eldest of the three. Merlin looked like he was going to foam at the mouth.
Pino's face exploded with colour. "Oh! It— It was really nothing! I'm happy to help!" He squeaked as his hat fell crooked atop his head.
I smiled at him, grabbing his hand in mine and giving it a kind squeeze. "Well, even so, thank you."
The poor man had to hide his face in the crook of his free arm's elbow. "I-It's— gulp— it's my p-pleasure—!"
I let go of his hand and immediately Niko shook Pino's shoulders in a small celebration. I slyly inspected Merlin who was only a second away from launching across the table and socking me in the head.
Despite the threatening electricity in the pooling air, I trusted that he wouldn't do a thing in front of Snow.
Well, nothing physical at least.
Snow noticed the pointed glare of Merlin's and quickly jumped into action. "So, Merlin, I'm sorry I didn't quite hear you before." She probed.
The little sorcerer easily pulled his glare into a soft, mushy smile as he looked to Snow again. "Ah right, of course."
I kept my eyes on them, only breaking my intense protective watch momentarily as Hans handed me a plate of French toast, much to my delight. I offer a quick thank you and slight bow of my head before going right back to making sure Merlin doesn't try anything. Sure, they're mostly nice enough, but there was something they were after from Snow. So as soon as I finish this food, we're outta here.
"I'll just cut to the chase. We've all talked about it, and if you're searching for your father and the F7, that'll simply take far too much time." He said with a shake of his head. An uneasiness in my stomach began far too late to intervene in whatever he was planning. "So, maybe we can help in place of the F7!"
Both mine and her eyes widened in shock. "What?!" She and I cried, far different in tone.
"Really? You'd do that?" She asked, as a smile began to spread across her face. She scooted towards the sorcerer to get a better look at him, as if trying to figure out if his eyes were sincere.
He flushed a light shade of pink as he sat up slightly, clearing his throat. "O-Of course! Afterall the F7 have been gone for a year, what're the chances they'll show up again now? That's just more work to do."
I thinned my eyes at him harshly as my arms fold over themselves. Is this slimy little skeeze ball really doing this?
"Well, more help can never hurt, huh?" She said with a charming grin, then looked to me. "This has been a pretty lucky couple of days for me." She chuckled, picking up her plate of French toast happily.
I guess more help can never be a bad thing.
My eyes drift to the blue tunic wearing turd.
I know for a fact Merlin will rat me out as a witch to his friends if I say anything about them being the F7 to Snow. Each of us only needs to do a little convincing and the protective veil is torn.
So, in the face of this blatant lie, I bit my pride back and looked away. "The more the merrier."
The men buzzed with excitement, a new glimmer of hope that hadn't been there moments prior became blinding in mere seconds. I had to look away to protect my eyes from the secondhand embarrassment radiating from the display. Unfortunately I had to subject my gaze onto a far more embarrassing sight in the form of crows zipping to and fro in the front. My eyes became saucers as I had to consciously keep myself from leaping to my feet in alarm.
My fingers dug themselves into the arm of the couch next to my rigid form as I anxiously stared out the window.
"I'll be right back." My mutter went unnoticed by everyone as I stood and tread out the door, taking the barely enchanted broom still by the entrance on the way out. Only a single pair of eyes followed me.
I slipped quietly through the door only for my ears to be bombarded by the shrill cries of crows in the tens in numbers. Some flapped and swooped down into my hair while others anxiously circled something farther down the way on the hill.
With fear and vigour, I swatted the pests from the air with the straw end of the broom. It worked surprisingly well as I cleared a perfect path towards whatever it was they were incessantly cawing about, only to leave behind a trail full of stunned birds on the ground.
There in the grass, swarmed with blackened feathers and inky beaks, laid the branch I'd left behind lasts night. The very same thing I nearly broke my spine for.
I begrudgingly swat the birds away and plucked the branch from the ankle high grass it was coffined by. The wood was pecked and splintered more than before. It's new texture made itself known against my calloused hands.
Within the moment of making contact with the branch, a gust stirred and fluttered against my body. An impromptu spiral of birds gradually summited an invisible line while keeping me within the typhoon of wings. The smell of magic; sour and zesty fell from every wing beat in a shower of life.
I stared up to the eye of the feathery storm. The deepened blue of the sky remained unobscured, funnelling some kind of deeper meaning down to me. Whatever this energy was, it reached down just brushing at the tips of my sky-bound fingers. The atmosphere was so kind, but terrified and selective. It was cold, but yearning to bless some kind of warmth onto the earth. The spiralling was nauseating as my palm reached farther towards the heavens.
"Hey!" A grating voice yelled out towards me.
Immediately the trance was destroyed as the crows all haphazardly scattered; the steady rhythm of wings became uncoordinated as the connection left me with a vague message and a lingering sense of dejecta memora.
A frustration burned along the bones in my back.
Merlin.
"What do you think you're doing?!" He griped, his voice encroached unpleasantly.
I collected my patience as best as I could as I kept my back to him. "Just taking in the sunshine." I held my snarl beneath layers of poisoned honey with a fixed gaze forward.
"Sunshine my ass!" He snapped, now only maybe a few feet behind me as his footfalls in the grass became easy to prepare for. "What was that?! And don't you dare try to lie twice!" He raged, shortly coming to a stop with an electricity sparking from him. Stray hairs of mine began to float unbound by gravity.
A frown crinkled my face before I whipped back around on him, readying both the broom and branch in separate hands. "It's none of your concern," I snapped, glaring down at him. Unfortunately, my hard stare faltered as a wash of alarm submerged me in a frigid realization. It numbed my being for a horrible moment.
His erratic aura, the lightning collecting and traveling along his arms in bursts and crackles, even his stupid little jacket. The very same shade as that patch of sky.
A dread set heavy in my stomach as it connected in my head.
The man eyed me for a confused moment, swiftly pointing his spell charm paper more accurately at me. "What?" He asked accusingly, distrust swimming about his darkened eyes. "What are you doing?"
The broom and branch slipped from my grasp and landed with a softened thuff. I groaned loudly and plopped my face into my hands. I wasn't intentionally being rude... well, maybe I was, but for fucks sake. This guy? You've got to be kidding me.
Confusion stared to sedate his aggressive suspicion as his spell charm lowered. "Uh..." He blinked a few times then quickly side glanced his surroundings before returning his eyes to me.
If only I had a shred of subtlety.
Slowly, I craned my heavy head back up to meet his inquisitive stare. His eyes scanned my slumped figure for any sign of danger that didn't come.
"... What was that?" He asked, as if prodding a sleeping beast.
I couldn't look directly at him otherwise this frustration would ignite into something far more severe. "I just—" My shoulders bobbed, "I hope we can get this over with soon."
That was about all I could say as I scooped the broom and branch off the soft grass.
The sorcerer's guard fell almost immediately as I walked around him, back towards the house. "Hey wait!" He cried out, trying to match my pace.
I cast a glance back at him with an annoyed grimace then set my sights back onto the house.
"I said wait!" His cold hand clasped around my wrist.
There wasn't even a second of contact before I wretched my arm from him and whirled back on him with a silent glare. One he easily matched.
"What happened out here? What did you see?" He demanded.
I scoffed, trying to ignore the crawling under the skin where he'd touched. "Strange that you're suddenly interested in my magic," I mocked, flippantly.
His eyes thinned up at me as his shoulders squared. "The fact that you're being so defensive about it is strange. Especially if it's nothing to be concerned about."
I jabbed a finger towards him as my face contorted into an annoyed scowl. "I wouldn't say it's strange being defensive when a crazed little goblin has an itch to fry me alive."
He looked aghast; insulted even as he took a half step back. "Goblin?" The surprise was short lived and a seething fury overtook it's place. "Not much room to talk when you'd steal a dead man's skin!"
Liquid rage pooled and swirled within me, rising to my head before I had any say in the matter. I threw the broom to the ground and held the branch tightly in both hands, pointing it directly at his heart. The end of my staff was void of any life, a vacuum that promised the worst. To my woe, he was just as quick; he aimed his index and middle fingers —with a spell charm trapped between them— for my heart as well with lightning visibly conducting along his body.
"Once again a sorcerer makes his ignorance known," I sneer down at him as I lift my chin a fraction. "For all the studying you'll commit yourself to, the idiocy in your class only seems to rise." The poisoned words were satisfying on my tongue.
A smug look played on his intense face. "Insults. As to be expected from the lazy and uneducated mind of a witch," He chided with a tsk.
My teeth grit and my knuckles whitened around the branch. Our auras clashed menacingly and horridly, a push and pull of two different oceans. Death waiting in a riptide to pull one or the other below it's turbulent surface.
"Stand down," he demanded, his eyes alight with electricity.
"I have nothing to lose," I scoffed, stabilizing the branch in my grip a little more. My eyes zero in and pinned him in place with a thin, calculating leer. "But you do, don't you."
He bared his grit teeth as his severe glare began to crack. Even if he didn't mean to, I could feel his resolve weaken, the strength he displayed became hollow, performative. He fought with his brain and his eyes flicked about me, gradually losing focus until finally and abruptly dropping his arms. A silence took hold as the lightning —along with its sizzling and popping— had completely disappeared back into his little body. He exhaled bitterly. "You'd be a waste of spell charm."
Despite my wanting to, I said nothing. His words didn't feel completely untrue, but his flustered red tipped ears added a layer of embarrassment to his claims. I lowered my new weapon, the void at the branches tip released back to the surroundings in thick unseen waves of negative energy.
The will to fight dropped dead in the water humiliatingly fast and only left the little green man red faced and angry. He sped past me retreating to his home while a fuming cloud of smoke was nearly visible as he stormed away. I kept a keen eye on him until he slipped back into the house, not once daring to cast a glance back at me.
Great. I have to stay here now, not just for Snow or a pardon, but for this little jerk too.
The cold grip of this new entrapment drew its fingers tighter against my skin, leaving behind frigid marks that only a witches eye could never spot.
I scoffed off a shiver and dug the end of my branch into the earth before me, desperate to ground myself. A few breaths and sheer will was all that kept me from completely giving in to the sudden uncontrollable rattling of my knees. Somehow this felt worse than always running away, especially now that running wasn't an option.
"Y/n?" Snow's voice called from the doorway, no more than thirty seconds after Merlin slunk back inside. I looked up from my feet dizzily. The weariness in my spent body suddenly felt childish. I hadn't even gone through with the soul stealing spell, merely conjuring it had me almost doubling over from exhaustion.
"Y/n!" She cried in alarm, rushing towards me with the other men trailing behind her as fast as they could. "What happened to you?" She asked as she fret about.
I waved my hand in dismissal before having to grapple back onto the branch propping me up. "Nothing. I'm just feeling a bit faint," I said through a breathless and shaky laugh.
The men all shared wary looks until Hans finally —hesitantly— spoke up. "Did... Merlin do something?" He asked.
My eyes widened for a fraction of a second. What a perfect setup! His dislike for me hasn't exactly been hidden, and now it could be utilized against him.
"In fact he did! He—!"
As I was about to elaborate on this soon-to-be intricate lie, but there was a sudden and sharp pang of guilt. It incessantly began needling into the flesh of my sensitive heart.
Condemning this kind of mark on someone's reputation (whose worst offence was being rude and irritating) and placing that mark within his closest circle of friends no less? That's... something a witch would do... something he'd expect from me.
Realistically this smear campaign would only set me back on whatever the fates had planned for Merlin and I's twisting destinies. So with a pinched nose, I wove a new narrative. "He noticed I looked a bit ill and went to fetch me some water."
Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?"
The other men shot him sharp, wide eyed glares causing Arthur to clam up and look away. "Er— I mean... th-that seems like he'd uh..."
Jack rolled his eyes and stepped forward. "I suppose I'll clear the air." He stated with a flourish of his hand, flicking his cape back.
The beat of my heart picked up speed to reach a gallop. Did they know what I was?
"We are all quite aware that he doesn't particularly like you Y/n," Jack stated with his fingertips pressed together in front of him. "I can assure you, none of us hold any ill will towards you here."
I eyed him suspiciously and remained silent.
"Truly, I cannot understand why he's being so rude to a friend of Red Shoes," he said this almost annoyed, as if Merlin's actions where ruining something for all of them.
Ruining their image perhaps? I glanced towards Snow, who was standing next to me still looking me over anxiously.
Pino then spoke up with a fluttery voice. "I personally have no idea why he would be so cold towards you," he proclaimed with a shy finger in the air. "Y-You're quite lovely I'd say."
The others murmured agreements, far less genuine but far more eager in saying so. It was hard to believe they were saying this for solely my benefit as their eyes all wandered to Snow.
I forced a strained smile to pull across my stiffened face. "Thanks."
Snow finally couldn't take my pitiful state and swept underneath my right arm, taking some of my weight off my unsteady feet. With her hand pulling mine over her shoulder and her another arm around my waist, she lead me towards the house. "Come on Y/n. Let's get you off your feet." She instructed as I leaned against her, the six men staying close in tow.
Pino ran ahead and opened the door for us to step into the cool house. "Careful Y/n," He said standing to the side, keeping a close eye on me with his hands ready to catch me at any point in time.
A genuine smile lifted my lips, the first one I'd given since ending up on their doorstep. "Thanks." It felt like a momentous occasion that one of these men showed me genuine care with no detectable ulterior motive strewn within their actions.
As I hobbled past the home's threshold, Merlin was nowhere to be found. I suppose he wouldn't be keen on sticking around once I got inside.
Snow led me to the couch in the living room and sat me down. I immediately melted into the cushions fabric as my fatigued, ill body welcomed the comfort with open arms. "Thank you." My thanks to the woman was barely above a whisper.
Her face twisted at the sound as she stared down at me, a knuckle caught between her pearly teeth.
Pino spoke up as he grabbed a pillow from the recliner. "Is there anything you need?" He asked, handing the feathered pillow to me.
I smiled and graciously took it in my hands. "Thank you, but no, that's alright. This is really nothing to worry about."
"How can you say that?" Arthur butted in, "You can't walk, you can barely speak, and right now, you're struggling to keep your head up." He pointed out, short and blatant.
"Oh?" I hadn't even realized my neck was bowing back until he pointed it out. I quickly move to correct my posture only for it to deteriorate again mere seconds later. Despite the clear issues I was having, I had no energy or agency to try and explain it away.
He was annoyed. His lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line as he stared me down.
Snow quickly shifted the attention off of me. "Well, what's the plan for finding my father today?" She asked, pulling the mens eyes towards her as she stood straight up, towering over everyone.
The men all scrambled to speak. Plans began to get tossed about willy nilly with me and my odd ailment long forgotten. I offered Snow a tired smile before leaning back into the couch and letting my eyes heavily flutter closed.
I slipped into a restorative, dreamless sleep. Something about resting my bones after conjuring such a draining spell was addictive in its comfort. The voices around me fell away into muffles, then nothingness.
I could've sworn only mere moments had fled past when a harsh clanging of metal jolted me from the little rest I managed to grab. A shot of adrenaline coursed through my now racing blood as I sat straight up, gripping the couches arm rest harshly.
The banging came to an end as I looked about in a flurry, just for my eyes to fall on the little lightning goblin himself holding a pot and a wooden spoon. My eyebrows settled deep into my eyesight before I plopped my head back on the couches back rest and let out a long sigh. "What do you want now?" I grumbled out.
"For you to get up," he snapped, "Everyone has been out looking for Red Shoes' father for hours now except us, and that's because of you!"
I blinked my eyes awake before braving the ice of his eyes again. "Then why are you here? If you want to go so badly then go."
"If I could don't you think I would have?" He hopped off the coffee table and towards a little satchel by the fireplace. "I promised Red Shoes I was gonna watch over you, which I think I've done plenty of today." He sorted through the things in the bag for only a moment longer before tossing the satchels strap over his shoulder. "So since you've slept plenty, I think you'll have more than enough energy to help with the search." His tone was acidic as he wheeled back to stare impatiently at me.
A bored stare was all I could muster. "Uh huh..." My groggy head fell back again as I waved my wrist about lazily. "Just go without me, I don't need a baby sitter."
He bristled as his shoulder squared. "Unfortunately that's not happening," He fled swiftly towards the door. "I'm tasked with watching over you, and I have no idea what kind of magic you conjured out there before, but I know it wasn't good. So if I go and you suddenly die or turn into sludge as some kind of side effect, I'll be blamed for it." He pulled the door open. "So I'd much rather just have you in my sight where you can't go and mess everything up for me."
The faint smell of mountain flowers wafted into the home with the suddenly opened door. That was the only thing pleasant coming from that opening. I groaned heavily again and rocked myself forward to my feet. "Why do you care so much about what Red thinks?" I asked airily as I strode towards his suddenly stiffening frame. "Actually... why are you all so infatuated with her? It's well beyond a crush... it's... almost desperate." I noted thoughtfully.
He didn't respond, keeping his eyes locked sternly on me while holding the door, waiting in the middle of the open space.
I hummed slyly to myself as I grabbed my branch and trotted slowly towards the doorway. "I wonder if it has to do with this curse you find yourself under," I mused, bending at my waist to get a closer look at his face.
He glowered up at me, his knuckles became a whitish green on the door knob.
A mischievous grin lit up my face. "Ahh, I see."
He huffed and whirled away from me, almost slamming the door on my nose if I hadn't been fast enough in catching it. "You have no business butting into my affairs," He stated shortly. "Keep your long, warty nose out of it and I won't blast you into next week."
I shot straight up. "Wha-?! Warty?!" I cried out, absentmindedly touching my nose. A growl fled my chest as I stormed after him, slamming the door behind me. "That's rich coming from you, you little toadstool."
He ignored my dig at him, opting for a more peaceful approach. "How about we don't talk to each other and focus on finding Red Shoes' father," He suggested with a toss of his wrist over his shoulder.
A red hot steam blew through my body as I glared holes into the back of his head. "Fine." The word thread through clenched teeth.
The short man sped down the hill towards the forest that coddled the house in thick foliage. A blessing of shade was granted to our silent search party while I aimlessly followed him like an idiot. Only the forest's ambiance was bold enough to flow within the distasteful tension we held.
Still —even though he was a complete annoyance— I want to understand where his motivations lay. I wordlessly ask the mystics that may be around to offer some clarity into the strange little monster of a man's motivations, as well as his intentions. I breath my intention and wish of learning into the air as inconspicuously as possible, keeping my eyes on Merlin ahead of me who was too engrossed in his own winding brain to pay me any mind.
I kept my eyes and ears ready for any knowledge that may be thrown my way, scanning the perimeter, trying to drown out Merlin's heavy feet against the soil, and the far off cawing of crows. This was all for naught unfortunately, because Merlin spoke up again. "How come those crows are always following you around?" He asked sharply with the audacity to be annoyed.
I sneered at the back of his head and fired back with a question of my own. "Why are you so desperate for Red's attention?"
However, my irritation quickly left as quick as it came. There on the toe of my boot was an earth worm, and a long one at that. My breath hitched as the thought of the near drought floated into my head, a dry harsh spell that's been collectively holding the land hostage for the past few weeks. Yet here was a worm out of the soil and wriggling aimlessly about, and on top of my foot no less. A sign, and one that only confirmed my suspicions about him and his F7 friends.
So, he's opportunistic.
This wasn't much of a revelation, but helpful to know there were signs being sent my way. I had to keep up though so brushed off the little wiggler and I sped forward, landing back at the comfortable distance I kept behind him.
He dodged my question too. "Well whatever the case, can you shut them up? They're extremely annoying."
I scrunched my face as him bitterly. "Don't you think I would if I could?" I chastised with a shake of my head, "Those birds don't listen to a word I say, quite the opposite in fact. I have to listen to them."
A small, unmistakable croaking of a frog stole my attention. Again, an oddity to be out at this time of day. And within this dry patch of land in the forest, far away from any water or stream to swim in? Another sign.
He's confused and misguided.
Possibly tying back to his opportunistic tendencies. Is he confused and misguided because of these tendencies? Or are these tendencies a result of being confused and misguided? I suppose it didn't matter how it occurred, it just matters in knowing what this person before me is like now.
"Well maybe you should use some of your magic. Do something useful with it and banish them." He insisted, a deep frown creasing his face.
I scoffed at him. "You can't banish a magic that's a part of you. That's like cutting off your arm just because of a blemish. It'll cause more harm than good."
He rolled his eyes and sourly sneered back. "Couldn't be worse than their bloody crying." He waved his hand up to the bird flippantly as he trudged on. I opted to remain silent amongst the cawing flock, there wasn't a thing I could say that would make his mood better in the slightest anyway. After all, I didn't totally blame him for hating the crows. They were no picnic, and took years of practice to drown out.
I look back to the scattered multitude of birds following, flapping and landing from branch to branch through the trees. Even for me their noisiness was getting ridiculous.
Maybe I should at least try to calm them down.
I slow to a stop and face the crows, lifting my left palm towards them to receive what they were saying. (Saying is a strong word, it's more of a signal through intuition)
What is going on with you guys?
The flapping of feathers and chaotic cawing were difficult to sift through, the energy was so hectic. Not in warning though, it was more... excited? That was the closest word I could find to describe it.
"What're you doing?" Merlin questioned to my back.
"I'm trying to figure out why they're all freaking out so much." I explained, keeping my focus trained on them, searching for any answer to my question. It was just like they were talking over each other, nothing was decipherable in the slightest.
'One at a time please!'
Only message I could make out was 'hurry' or 'quick' all tangled up amidst the flock.
My brows pinched together 'can you clarify?'
The waves of cawing started to become overstimulating as they all became more and more erratic.
'hurry!', 'witches magic', 'fast!', 'follow!'
The hair on my arms stood on end as their messages began falling into place. 'Where?' I ask back.
Immediately the birds take quick flight towards the East, a sharp divergence from the path Merlin was leading us down. My heart jumped into my throat and I gave chase.
"Wha— Hey!" Merlin yelled after me, clumsily getting his footing to cooperate. "Where the hell are you going?!"
"They caught whiff of a witches magic!" I cried over my shoulder, ducking and hopping around obstructing branches and roots.
"And you're going towards it?!" He hollered, the scrutiny in his voice was near completely drowned by the fresh panic shooting through his body. Two witches is bad news for any sorcerer. I didn't bother explaining, he was already following me anyways.
The crows flew down next to me before scooping back up into the canopy. The sky's blue was that of an ocean and they were the fish jumping out of water as they led.
After hopping and ducking through the forests foliage, the faint scent of a familiar magic powdered itself on the air; spiced yet wintery. The trail became more potent the farther I ran, but Merlin was keeping a good pace behind me. He was far quicker than I'd expect from a little goblin, even gaining on me from what I could hear of his oddly long strides, "Wait!" He cried after me, trying to sound demanding in his tone.
I felt just on the cusp of finding the source of the magic when a large, cool hand grappled my wrist and pulled me back to a stop, yanking my momentum from my body stiffly. A yelp pushed out of my mouth, running free where my speed had dissipated as the thread to the magic is smelt began to become thinner.
I rounded back on Merlin and his hand felt small around my wrist. "What are you doing?!" I all but shriek down at him before anxiously looking out towards the rapidly diminishing trail.
His hand felt bigger around my wrist. "You're running towards another witches magic! Don't you think that's a little stupid?!" He snapped, his hand tightening around my limb.
"No!" Was all I offered as an explanation before turning back to him with a sharp glare.
"Why?! We're looking for Red Shoe's father! Not a witch," He pointed out, "plus, even if she's civil towards you, what do you think a witch is going to do when she spots a sorcerer in your company?"
A sudden reminder rolled over my shoulders. Merlin hadn't any idea who Snow really was, or by extension what her step mother, the Queen was capable of. "Remember when Red said her witch step mother did something to her father? The magic I smell is her step mothers!" Merlin's head tilted with a small pinch in his brows as thought began to fall into place. "So whatever's at the end of this smell is a clue, whether it's the step mother herself, or a trace that might point us in the right direction!" I yanked my wrist from his slowly loosening grip, only to grip his wrist in return. His eyes widened in alarm. "So shut it and let's go." I turned from him and ran again, frantic to pick the trail back up again.
To my surprise he didn't fight me further and instead —after a few seconds of stumbling— fell into stride with me.
"So what are we supposed to do if we run into this step mother of hers?" He asked pointedly.
"I'm a witch, you're a sorcerer. I think we'll have a good chance of fighting her off." I stated boldly and cast a glance back at him as he suddenly began to struggle to keep up.
"R-Right—! But it won't be the easiest fight if her magic is that strong from so far away!" He huffed out, attempting to find his footing.
I rolled my eyes and looked forward, "If it is her, we'll be fine," I lied. I didn't believe it was her, otherwise the level of confidence I held would be scraping the floor.
Merlin was no idiot to be wary if it was her I could smell from here. That in itself would be an impressive amount of magic. But this wasn't her, it was simply a trace of her magic. She isn't impressive, she's horrifying.
"You better know what you're doing!" He called out, running with his legs out in front of him, as if leaning back and letting me drag him forward. "I'm barely in the mood to deal with one witch, let alone two."
I didn't respond and opted instead to yank his arm forward, putting his weight back solely on his own sprinting legs.
The smell became overpowering as the crows cawed louder with less direction. It's close.
I hopped a tree trunk —one I kind of wanted Merlin to stumble over— and finally, finally a large wooden rabbit stood there calmly sniffing about the dirt.
As I came to a stop Merlin flung around me due to our connected arms, coming to a soft footed stop with heaving lungs a bit ahead of me.
Both of our heavy puffing and sudden appearance took the rabbits attention easily. He stared at us both oddly and sniffed our way.
"So... thats what you're looking for?" Merlin asked, looking back to me before his eyes dropped to mine still around his wrist.
I quickly dropped my hold on him and nodded. "Yeah, yeah that's... that's the source." The rabbit was spiced in magic, just as Snow was with those shoes. But this wasn't the end of the similarities.
He squinted and blinked as his attention pulled back to the rabbit. He heaved a few steadying breaths as his eyes inspected the giant wooden animal, hands resting on his hips, "Huh..." he turned to me. "This doesn't seem very helpful."
The rabbit sniffed them hopped closer, his nose twitching like crazy in our direction. I couldn't look away. The rabbit —far beneath the layers of alteration magic— held a likeness to Snow.
A staggering likeness.
"Merlin." I said as my eyes stayed straight ahead.
He turned to me, confused.
I locked eyes with him. "That's her father."
His brown eyes widen for a fraction as they fly to the rabbit then me, then the rabbit again as his shoulders slump. "... you've got to be joking."
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muntitled · 2 months ago
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Tic-Tac-Toe
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Pairing: The Salesman x Fem!reader
Summary: Every Wednesday your schedule consisted of attending classes during the day, and satisfying the needs of a sadist through the night.
Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Violence, Kidnapping, Isolation, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Gore, Stockholm Syndrome, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Insertion, Fingering, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Gunplay, Deepthroating, Breeding Kink, Unprotected sex
A/N: Hell is empty
4k Words
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You're strapped in a chair, like always, and you are blindfolded because he doesn't trust easily.
It's terribly annoying.
At any point of during and after your little 'arrangement' you could have called the cops. Doesn't he understand that?
Every Wednesday, you're taken from the warmth of your apartment, and you're delivered right back at 00:00 on the dot, every Thursday with barely an inch of life left in your bones. You'd either always come back wet, with semen sliding between your thighs, or with mysterious marks- old and new- crawling underneath your sweater. Whatever mood he was in, he'd always leave you feeling sore.
It should have bothered you.
The thought of seeing this large, domineering shadow-in-a-suit every Wednesday should not overwhelm you with all these feelings of excitement. Instead, you should do like all the mentally ill girls do and just get some fucking help.
But you want him to trust you, for some reason.
Which was utterly ridiculous considering the fact that to him, you were something akin to a porcelain wind up toy for his amusement. You had no business requesting he remove the blindfold aspect but still, you asked anyway. Toy's couldn't be trusted, could they?
"I'd really appreciate it if I didn't have to wear one of these everytime I visit your place." He removes the blindfold, and in a second, your vision is filled with nothing but him. One moment you were in the cozy warmth of your dorm room. Curled up on the couch while your roommate spends her youth effectively- out with boyfriends and friends and everything you didn't have. You answered the front door when you heard his special knock, like you always do. You walked with him to the cab. You let him put on the blindfold. You said 'I'm fine’ when the taxi driver got a little too nosy and you let him lead you away from your boring life.
If only for a few hours.
You'd let him do whatever he wanted for those few hours because such surrender was almost sacred. You forfeited your safety in his hands, to do with it whatever he pleased and in that, you found rest. Whatever happens, happens.
Forget this room- what was essentially his personal dungeon, windowless, red and boasting various torture objects- your eyes are only on him.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't feel the need to kidnap me anymore? We do this every Wednesday," You become more childish around him and he lets you. Like you forgot you are a fully autonomous university student. There was power in that too. "Surely we've established some sort of trust?” He doesn't respond to you immediately. You crane your head up at him, hungry to lock eyes with his cold, empty slits that enchanted you body and soul.
You are in love with him, perhaps.
That's a logical response isn't it?
You laugh almost.
Listening to yourself try to rationalize your fondness for such a horrible man.
Said horrible man is silent. All you hear is the clicking of his dress shoes as he moves to the leather seat directly across from yours. Your eyes scan over all his movements.
The right corner of his lip quirks up. A small coffee table creates the only distance between you and he bends over to pour you both a generous glass of Brandy on the rocks. You don't drink it. Ever since he's been bringing you here, you never do. He knows this, yet still he pours.
"This relationship isn't about trust." He says finally. Something inside you, that is perhaps a little broken, actually purrs at the sound of his voice. You're hyperaware of your thighs squeezing together on the leather seat. They're spilling out of the sundress you purposely wore today.
Lots of your clothes were for the function of comfort. Your body was full and curvy and not always something to be advertised, unless you wished it to. Tonight, you wanted to show off as much as possible.
A thick leather band is keeping both your wrists locked to the armrests, while he sits back, free and so irrevocably in charge it should scare you. It should. But the sick and incredibly deranged thing is that it doesn't.
Outside, the rain is beating down on whatever building you're in, casting a thick veneer of grey all across the city.
But inside this velvet room... your heart is hammering inside its cage as you watch him undo the buttons of his crisp suit. A black one today. Jet black like his hair.
Although-
"You've got more grey in your hair than last week." You can't help but say.
He tilts his head in inquisition. "Are you insulting me or complimenting me?"
"I'll leave that up to you to decide," you shrug your shoulders as much as you can under these limited restraints. At least he hasn't restrained your ankles this time. Progress. "In here, you're the boss. Right?"
He takes a sip of his drink until finally, you've finally locked eyes. Your bare toes curl and your back arches slightly as you sit a bit straighter in your seat. Like you're in a lecture hall, although he is far more interesting than any of your professors.
"I'm not as young as I used to be," he finally says as he takes one more sip of his drink before bringing his briefcase onto the coffee table. Its presence is ominous and so horribly loud for an inanimate object. It kickstarts all your dormant nerves, revving up all the rest of your senses that have yet to catch up to the fact that you were facing the man of both your desires and nightmares once again.
"Who have you told about our arrangement?" The question causes you to roll your eyes. He watches the petulant movement with that same, silent smile and blank eyes. He unclicks the briefcase. Your stomach lurches and your thighs squeeze together. Pavlov's dog.
"Every time you ask me-" an object clinks onto the table. A butcher knife.
You try to pull your eyes away from the objects he's placing on the table, one by one. "Everytime you ask me if I've told anyone about our arrangement-" another object. A wooden spoon beside the knife. "Everytime I tell you the same thing."
Your throat closes when he uncovers a dildo. Bright pink and fucking menacing. "Carry on talking." He says, snapping your gaze away from the objects lining the table.
"I don't have any friends." Your voice is wobblier. You try to deny the sight of the rabbit vibrator, "It's the reason you picked me." You clear your throat as you hoped to clear all the nerves beginning to fog your mind. "Someone could've followed me here. B-But I don't really know anyone enough to care." The final object that clunks onto the glass coffee table and this time, you're unable to look away.
"Are we ready to begin?"
The metal revolver laying quiet and undisturbed beside the rabbit vibrator makes everything else on the table look like children's toys. Even the butcher knife.
You pull at the restraints, your legs quivering slightly as you shift and writhe in the seat. He studies you as closely as you were once studying him. You can see the excitement begin to flood his eyes at the physical manifestation of your discomfort.
"Now you're getting it." He nods sardonically, taking another sip from his glass before placing the briefcase on the floor beside him. "You were a little too happy to see me," he joked, letting out an airy exhale of laughter.
"You wanna hazard a guess as to what we'll be playing today?" He's smiling, genuinely. With that look in his eyes you can tell he's hovering in the clouds. Meanwhile you've begun to feel real fear. No matter how regular these visits might become you'd never get used to him. It's impossible. Not when he found new and daring ways to torture and pleasure you every single week. You couldn't get used to something as brash and unconventional as him. Like the conditions of a child in a broken home, he kept his tactics inconsistent so that every week is a new hell or perhaps- depending on his mood- heaven.
"If I guess wrong?" You swallow thickly and something dark in him settles. He spreads his legs more, there's a twitch inside his lips before he smiles again.
"Well, guessing isn't the game, so you'll be fine."
You nod your head... assessing the objects. There's menacing objects and household objects. Even just looking at them you can tell what they all have in common.
"Am I going to have to insert-"
"You're not guessing." His voice booms. He rests his elbow on the armrests, his hands corded with veins seem itching to do something, you're not sure what. "I said guess." He commands.
"Hide and seek?"
He snickers, "A favourite-"
"More like your favourite." You snip back, "I couldn't sit down the whole week." You frown at the memory. That week he'd brought you to an abandoned warehouse, letting you run the entire perimeter full.
"It's in your best interest to keep coming to our sessions-" he reminds you, snapping you back into the present.
"You're paying my university fees, I'm not complaining." You nod, before plastering a thin smile on your face, "All I have to do every week is prostitute myself to a literal sadist-"
"Have you given up on guessing today's game?" He didn't like you making him hyper aware of the fact that this dynamic, whatever it is, is considered objectively bad. And so you're not surprised when he swiftly moves past the topic.
He leans forward. His large hand disappears under his chair before uncovering a small whiteboard. Four lines- 2 horizontals are running across 2 verticals, creating 9 blocks. He stands up, while your eye is still focusing on the board. From your point of view it sits underneath the row of objects on the table. You don't even realize your right wrist strap is being untied.
"Colour?" He asks, pushing a crate of whiteboard markers towards you. With your now free hand you pick the pink one.
He snickers. "Predictable." He whispers before placing a large, domineering hand on your head. He presses down your braids, patting you like a stray he's rescued from the cold. You stare aimlessly ahead, fearing you won't be able to contain everything you've begun to feel for him if you lock eyes now.
"We're playing tic-tac-toe," he relents. His hand lingers on your head a bit longer before he's stepping away.
"With a twist, I presume?"
"Clever girl," he nods, walking back to his seat. "So you're aware of the objects."
"Place a gun in front of a girl and she's going to notice."
"Paranoid girl." He tsks before leaning forward.
"You want to start or should I?"
"Wait-" you swallow, "What happens if I win?"
He smiles that dazzling, debonair smile.
"You pick which one goes inside you."
Lightning cracks across the sky. A chorus of thunder roars all at once like some kind of phenomenon and your lips stutter open.
"Th-That's insane I-"
"I shouldn't have to remind you that you came here out of your own volition. "
"What happens if you win?"
"Then I choose." He says.
Your eyes skate over the object. It doesn't take an ivy league graduate to hazard a guess as to which of the objects he's itching to stick inside you.
"There's a fucking knife here-" You're trembling. Tears are pooling in your eyes. It doesn't even matter that you're a somewhat decent tic tac toe player. It doesn't matter that you're confident in this game. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters.
"And there's also a spoon," he nods, neutrally, "And a vibrator, and a dildo. Etcetera. Etcetera." He leans forward, unclicking his whiteboard pen, "your words are just words, Darling. You're just listing things. Start," he says, with a deadly lilt in his voice. "Or I will."
You scramble to uncap your marker with one hand, all while he watches with dead and black eyes. You knew that whoever starts the game was placed at a big advantage and so you're nearly scrambling to place that dignified X in the center block.
"Clever girl." He says once again, drawing his blue 'O' directly beside your pink 'X'. You aim for the block above him. He blocks it. You aim for the block beside the center. He blocks that too.
Your victory comes too quickly. You barely feel it as you strike a line vertically through the blocks. 3 X's.
Relief washes over you but it's overcast with doubt. Like you're celebrating in trepidation as you watch him stand up.
"Congratulations! Which do you choose?"
"I can pick anything?" You ask, staring up at him, bright eyes wild with the adrenaline that comes with wanting to preserve your organs.
"Anything you want, my little winner."
You begin to lean over. His eyebrows quirk up when you wrap a small hand around his wrist.
"I pick that." You say breathlessly. Your eyes zeroed in on his hands at his side. And you watch as he walks towards you, as if compelled by an unforeseen force. His palms are calloused underneath yours and you blow out several unstable breaths as he stands above you. So imposing it's breathtaking.
"You sure?" It's the way he asks it that has you second guessing. And perhaps he sees the caution seeping into your eyes because there's excitement lurking in his. Before you're even able to formulate a response, his hand is locked tightly around your esophagus, vacuuming all pathways shut until you're writhing for air.
"A fine, fine choice," He's becoming more and more riled up the more you writhe in your seat, trying to scrounge for a single breath of air. He doesn't let you. Instead he moves behind you, before leaning down.
If you could breathe, you would shiver at the feeling of his lips behind your ear. "Here we go-" he whispers, before reaching around your torso with his free hand before forcing your legs open. The second he lets his three digits stab into your cunt, he uncurls the grip on your throat as you make a horrid sound somewhere between a moan, a scream, and a haggard gasp. "FUCK- Sl-Slowdown-" you knew better than to request something like that. All you hear is a snicker from behind you as pain blossoms all across your nether regions. He's not gentle. He's not kind. He doesn't allow you to adjust to his fingers before he's scissoring them inside you, causing a blood-curdling scream to rip itself out of your throat. Your back is arched and you're trying to get away from him but the fucking persists.
"You've been wet like this for me the entire time?" He sounds absolutely demented, behind you, "You wanted this didn't you?" He bites at your ear as the first tears begin to pool at your eyes, "My little winner."
"P-Please stop-" His fingers are restless inside you. Curling and uncurling. Scissoring and stabbing as if wanting to open you up and split you all the way in half.
"What a pretty little pussy, huh? Look at what a mess you're making."
"When-" you can't form words. "When- Stop?" It's all you're able to say as your nails dig into the material of his suit.
"The sooner you cum the sooner it stops."
You doubted your ability to cum under these circumstances. He's setting an ungodly pace and it's all so hurried and in a frenzy, it's like your brain does not have time to understand if you even like what's currently being done to you.
"What- Do you want you want my help?" you begin to shake your head. "I'll help you, baby-"
His other hand reaches over and pinches your clit.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your orgasm is quite literally forced out of you. Your hips writhe and your ass tries to leave the seat as the first feelings of pleasure rip through you by force. "That's it, Clever girl," he coos, still curling his fingers inside you, "That's my Clever girl." He says once more before stilling his movements. For a second you just sit there, trying to collect your breath while he's still inside you. All at once, his hands are removed from your body.
He grabs a handkerchief from his breast pocket and you watch him clinically wipe his hands before erasing the marks on the board with the same cloth. A very clear boner pushes against his black slacks yet still his face is calm.
"Alright, My turn to start-"
"WHAT!? B-But I won." You scream, absolutely seething with desperation.
"You know everyone who plays 'X' has a significantly higher chance at winning-" You say with your eyes narrowed. He nods.
"And you know that too, which means we each should be granted alternating times to play ‘X’. Regardless if you won or not." You slump in your seat, suddenly far too aware that your bare cunt is exposed.
"Don't mope." He says, "It's not cute." Before drawing his 'X' in the center.
You close your legs, sitting upright with a new zeal of self preservation as you grab ahold of your marker.
You draw your pink 'O' underneath his.
You both play many more rounds. All ending in ties. This is how you play- with a frazzled grip and closed legs. A shiver every now and then overcomes you with the gravity of your aftershocks. His snickers bring your eyes up to his. He speaks as he makes his move.
"You're so focused on blocking," he sighs, "You're not even trying to win anymore-"
"I'm not letting you stick a knife in my cunt." You nod in finality before blocking another move.
"Not even if I say please?" He asks, making a faux pout.
"Fuck off."
"In that case, I have to win."
Your heart kickstarts as he pushes his pen to the board. Images flash across your mind. Blood splattered across his gorgeous face. Your blood as he fucks the sharp end of a knife inside you. You nearly vomit while he speaks. “Easy as-" you block him.
"Tic-" you block him again.
"Tac-" you block him some more
"Toe- I Win."
A victory that somehow escaped your vision. He strikes a line diagonally through the squares and your stomach sinks. He stares at you from across the room. His eyes so deeply satisfied you can feel it radiating off of him in waves.
You lower your teeth to the other restraint, violently trying to free your left wrist from its oppressive hold. And you watch as the devil slowly rises.
Your heart aches. Your brain is sent into complete alarm as your flight or fight kicks in and your sympathetic nervous system fires.
"Now, which one would look pretty inside you?" He drags his fingers along the objects, undoubtedly an act of taunting. You stomp your feet on the ground. You try to push the chair underneath you but it's plastered to the floor.
"Please!" Tears are running thickly. They cloud your vision. You don't even see the way his smile falls enough for him to rub over the bulge in his slacks.
"Fuck," he says gravelly as he relents and picks up the gun. "You're so fucking pretty when you're scared out of your fucking mind. You know that?"
You shake your head as he nears, wondering if this might really be the end. Has your body become too worn out by his games? Has the time for him to discard his toy finally dawned on you both? Is he all grown up with no need for such things as toys?
"PLEASE-NO-"
"Open your mouth." He's standing in front of you, your head directly in front of his raging bulge.
You shake your head, trying to move away but he rips your face towards him. "Listening to me is the only choice you have to make it out alive, Baby. You wanna live, don't you?" He's nothing but a tall figure, with the overhead lights shining around his head like a halo. Your face right by his bulge.
"Little girl needs to go to school." He nods, eyes fluttering shut, "She needs to complete her studies and get a good job so she wouldn't have to meet with scary men like me- Fuck-" it riled him up to no end to have you scared of him. You suppose it triggered a part of him that craved attention. He needed to feel like he existed and if that was reeped from fear then so be it.
"Stick the barrel in your mouth," the bottom of his hand coaxed open your jaw, and, as if on autopilot, you listen. Perhaps there is a way out of this. Perhaps you should just listen.
"That's it... Fuck," he brings your free hand up to rub his erection "That's it, Baby, stick it inside your mouth." Cold metal hits your lower teeth, "Stick it in like you would a cock." He says, looking down at you intently as your tongue unfurls and you suck the barrel in. "Shit-" he places his other hand on the back of your head before forcing you to take the gun deeper down your throat. He's trembling. Far too badly. And so is his finger on the trigger.
"Fuck, you're such a fucking whore, you know that?"
You're gagging and flailing around the barrel, saliva slides down.
So desperate to please him.
In your hast you don't even realize your left hand that had been restrained is now free. Your eyes are closed.
Please him.
Just please him and you'll live.
"That's my brainless girl..." he praises and that rouses something in you. It has your hips bucking against nothing.
"Such a stupid girl..." he continues, "You're gonna ride me, aren't you? You're gonna fuck me so good-" You're not about to tell him that sex wasn't supposed to be apart of this game. You're not stupid.
You faintly hear the sound of a belt unlooping. A zipper siding down. "You're making me so happy, baby." He admits before effortlessly lifting you from the chair until you're straddling him.
You're free.
When did that happen?
"F-Fuck, I need you to ride me." His head is leaning back against the chair. His tie hangs messily from his shirt that has two buttons undone.
You're free.
"Don't try anything," he warns, as he lifts you enough to pull his cock out of his pants. "Matter of fact. Keep it in your mouth while you ride me-" He slams you down onto his cock the very second those words leave his mouth. He's fucking into you with recklessness and fury and violence. His hair falls in his face but the gun is too heavy, without a hand there, it nearly slips from your mouth.
He's careful to catch it, forcing the barrel back in your mouth as he places a hand on your ass, controlling how your ass bounces on his lap. The gun offers motivation like no other. It has you arching your back and swirling your hips as you tighten your cunt around him.
He sticks the gun down too far and you gag. "You trying to get me to cum, huh? You little slut-" you nod, the tears still spilling as pleasure begins to stream through your brain. It has you excited by the prospect of being held at gunpoint. You realize with grave certainty that you've arrived at the point of no return.
"What a good girl- fuck-" he's ramming up into you, his hand on the gun twitching like his cock does. "I'm gonna fucking cum- FUCK-" he does and your orgasm immediately barrels into you at the exact same time. You try to ride him, to milk it as much as you can, to continue to make him happy.
"Such a stupid fucking slut-" he whispers, eyes hooded as his hips still spurt cum into you.
Your ears perk. You see his finger on the trigger move. You squeeze your eyes shut as you hear a click.
"Such a silly girl." You hear him say. "Don't worry, Baby, it isn't loaded." You're still in your body. You're still alive, on his lap, your sundress unfurling around you both.
"Not yet anyway."
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hislittlesparklejumpropequeen · 2 months ago
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Watching you
Hwang In-ho x female!reader.
Summary: In-ho sees you and his brain chemistry changes. A/N: in reader’s pov he’s referred as Young il. Sorry if it’s confusing. Warnings: Obsessive and possessive behaviour, masturbation, stalking, perverted opinions, murder, blood, kissing, mentions of arousal, mentally and physically vulnerable characters, dubious consent, non-con touching, manipulation, sadism, dacryphilia
W/c: 3,5k
It was strange that he kept his eyes on you more than anyone in the games. The moment he saw your shaking figure among the crowd of people in the green suits, he felt his breath get stuck in his throat. You were looking around with eyes that were full of fear, hands wrapped around yourself and holding back tears as others started an argument in the middle. You listened as someone complained about his shoes being so expensive, and someone asking for his phone, an old lady argue with her son and guards answering the players’s questions with patience.
He kept his eyes on you as the first game started. He saw your eyes widen when someone was shot right in front of you, and he watched you as you realise the seriousness of the game you accepted to take part in. Gi-hun was interesting to him, yes. He was searching for them, for him have been for years now. And he was brave enough to come back to the games just to find who was behind them. He respected his determination. Yet there was something about you that he could not name. Something captivating. Something that shifted things in him, made his skin sting in ecstasy as you nearly moved when the doll turned around. You looked around with those innocent eyes and blood of someone flowing down your cheek, he felt his trouser tighten. A small, tingly sensation took over his loins and made him frown in confusion. He had never taken a liking to a someone, let alone a little, fragile thing like you.
When he found the video of you playing ddajki with the recruiter, he felt himself get harder and harder as he watched you spill tears in pain every single time you received a hard slap on your cheek. The camera captured the noises you made as your body was falling backwards with every single slap. The recruiter hit you hard and In-ho wandered if you would sound the same when he pounded you hard on his bed. He took his mask off and palmed himself trough his trouser as he kept replaying the video over and over again. When he was finished spilling his seed into his palm, he wished that was your mouth wrapped around his tip instead.
When the first game finished and your number and picture still shone bright on the floor, you voted for ‘X’ and expected everyone to vote same as you. Yet you were so wrong when the last player 001 and all others voted ‘O’, causing all of you to stay in this hellhole. You felt tears fill your eyes as some people were cheering with victory in front of you. You sat down on one of the beds at the front and hugged your legs with disappointment. As you were thinking what was going to happen next, you felt someone sit next to you.
“I’m sorry, I thought staying was the best option.” Said the man who was looking at you, watching your tears flow down your flushed cheeks. You looked at his number and saw 001 in bright white font. He was the person who voted last and made the decision. You sighed and shook your head.
“It is not only you, sir. Half of us wanted to stay.” You said as you pointed at the people who had the ‘O’ banners on their right side. He did not look at the direction you were pointing at, he kept his eyes on. You were so pretty when you cried. He wandered how beautiful you would look when you were overstimulated with his fingers in you. He felt his cock twicth when you looked at him again. Your lips were plump, and the tip of your nose was red. He wandered how your tears would taste like.
“We have a winner here. I thought we could use this for our advantage.” He explained as he pointed at Gi-hun who looked very troubled not so far away from you. Your eyes were on the last winner when you felt the man beside you stand up and take few steps towards the player 456. Yet he stopped mid way and looked back at you, as if he was waiting for you to follow him. And for some reason you wiped your tears away and followed him like a lost puppy as he walked towards the previous winner of the games who was already accompanied by few guys who kept asking him questions.
And the small group was formed with two of you joining them. You did not know much about others, did not trust them meanwhile player 001 was confident and comfortable talking to them. When he sat down next to Gi-hun, his eyes pointed at the small space next to his feet, so you sat down there. Being close to him brought you a sense of safety. He was the first person who approached you in this mess of a place with kindness. You did not know him, didn’t know his name or why he was here. Yet there was a look in his eyes that made you want to stick beside him.
When everyone went to sleep, In-ho looked at your resting form. You were wrapped in the thin blanket and was curled up into a ball. He looked at your curves that were visible from the tracksuit, his mouth watered. You were so frightened and powerless. You needed someone to protect you in the games. Someone who would look after you, make sure you make it alive. He knew what humans were capable of doing in a place like this. People were going to go mad and hurt one another viciously. Would he be able to just stand and watch if you got hurt?
Your soft whimpers and cries brought him back to reality. When you woke up from your few hours of sleep drenched in sweat and tears flowing down your cheeks, he crawled to you, in the darkness of the hall. He reached out to you, from the metal bars of the beds, and held your shoulder. You squirmed in fear and was about to scream until a large hand covered your mouth.
“It’s me.” He whispered to your ear as his whole body was pressed against your back, other arm wrapped around your shoulders. He was towering over you, as you felt sweat drops make their way to your neck from your temple.
He let go of your mouth, but his touch did not leave your body when he moved to sit next to you. He was close, his breath hitting your face and neck when he looked at you with observing eyes that did not give any feelings away. His touch made your heart beat fast and quicken your breaths, yet you did not want him to stop holding you.
“Bad dream?” He whispered, his voice is low yet deep enough to make your insides shake. You nodded when tears filled your eyes again. The images of dead bodies all over the playground haunted you since the moment you came back from the game as winners. You didn’t want to cry in front of anyone, but you felt like he would not mind seeing you cry.
He nodded along with you, almost like a grown up talking to a little kid and mirror her moves to befriend her. When he saw your bottom lip tremble and eyes full of fear scan the hall of people sleeping, he felt his loins burn in need. The face you made when you were scared and felt alone was enough to make him cum in his underwear without any touch.
Without hesitation he brought your body closer to his own and his arms embraced your shaking form with mercy. You buried your face into the crook of his neck and wrapped your smaller arms around his waist. He was warm. Very warm that you felt your fingertips burn over his body. When you breathed in and out in the crook of his neck, all In-ho wanted to do was throw your body back into the bed, rip those clothes off of you and ravage you in front of dozens of people without any care. The though of fucking you, turning you into mass in front of them, giving them a show as he claimed you, sent shivers down his spine.
“I’m so scared,” you whispered, your crying voice reaching his ear as he tried to hold back a smile at your situation. You were so helpless that you were crying in the arms of the man who was the reason why you were still here. He was a stranger, who had the potential to do anything. Yet here you were, quivering against his chest and making his member throb in need.
“I’m here.” He said. And you had no chance but trusting him.
———————
The next game you were automatically given the Gong-gi game as the only female in the group. Yet your hands were shaking when it was your turns to play after player 390 completed his part successfully. When you missed two times, you were so sure you were going to die and worse, be the reason for everyone’s death in your group.
He watched you panick, drop the pebbles and fail to catch them midair. Everyone around you was getting inpatient and scared naturally. Even tho he loved the way you were struggling and feeding into his twisted desire, he could not let you die. He held your waist and stopped the trembling of your body. You looked at him under your lashes that were wet with your tears and went back to work once he gave you a reassuring smile. With that you managed to catch all the pebbles in your palm and passed the round.
It was then, you felt something was off, when it was his turn to play his own game. The top kept slipping from his hands or landed wrong on the floor that was covered in the blood of eliminated players. You wanted to step back yet could not because of the ties when he started to scream in anger and slap himself. There was a crazy, off-putting look in his eyes. It was less uncomfortable when he was looking at you, yet it was still there. His eyes made your skin crawl and stomach twist in sickness. You did feel safe around him. But not like you would feel safe with a family member, a friend, or a lover. It felt like he was a wolf who claimed a lamb, kept her on his chest and waited for right moment to eat her.
When your group managed to survive and go back to the hall, he kept to you close. His hand was on your back, leading you to your bed. When it was mealtime, he gave half of his food to you, telling you to not to worry about him when you tried to reject him. He watched you until you finished all your food. After all of you exchanged names, he watched you talk to player 388 about his time in marine and watch you laugh when he was talking excitedly, telling everyone how prideful he was about his military service. He watched your tears dry up as you listened to the conversation that was flowing in the group. Your smile made his stomach twist and his jaw clench.
Your hopes once again were shattered when people voted for “O” more than “X” and decided to continue playing the games. Young-il wiped your tears away and convinced you to get some sleep for the night. You could only relax and fall asleep when he sat next to you on your bed and caressed your head as he decided to stay awake. He looked extraordinarily strong to you. He did not need to sleep, gave his food to others, calm people down when everyone was scared, raged and pass the games like it was nothing. Most importantly, he held you close no matter what. Did not mind you cry and fail and fall. Maybe it was a sense of guilt he felt, for making you stay in the first round of voting, you thought.
——————
Next morning he held your hand when everyone was taken to the new game. It was mingle. Your group had decided to stay together. You were grateful that they had take you in and did not leave you alone. You all took your place on the platform and started to spin as the song was playing. You felt his hand get tighter around yours, reminding you that he was here with you.
10
You ran as fast as you can and took deep breaths when all 10 of you finally managed to get into a room. The sound of lock made you jump slightly. You saw Young il’s eyes on Gi-hun as he pulled you under his arm. The images of him looking at Gi-hun since the moment you met him lingered on your mind until the woman who claimed to be a shaman started to speak loudly in the middle of the room. As you waited for gunshots to stop and doors to open, you could not help but wonder the reason behind Young il’s weird behaviour about Gi-hun. He seemed to get along with him. Seemed to respect his ideas and experiences about this place. They seemed to understand one another, somehow. Yet that unexplainable look in 001 eyes was making you shift uncomfortably in your place.
Until last round, you had no chance but sticking beside Young il. As you entered rooms and people kept dying outside, you became more paranoid. And when it came to the last round, Jeong-bae asked how many people it was going to be this time. Without hesitation Young-il answered.
“2.” And it was it. When the song stopped and the platform stopped spinning, Young il held your hand tighter than before, and started to run to closest room. As you were trying to catch up with his pace, someone bumped into you, causing you to lose your balance and stumble midway. Young il turned around immediately and wrapped his arms around your waist. He lifted you like a piece of feather and made his way to the yellow door that was already opened by a guy. Young il pushed you into the room and threw the other guy away from the door. When you scanned the room, your eyes were met with pair of foreign eyes.
“Out.” Young il said sharply to the other man in the room.
“We were here first.” The man said, his voice cracking as he was shaking in fear. Person behind the door tried to open it. You pushed your back against the door and held it with all of your strength. There was not much time left, and you were afraid that all of you were going die in this room.
Young il grabbed the man and locked his arms around his head. As they scooped to the floor, his arms got tighter around the player 343’s neck. You were still holding the door and preventing the other player to get in. For a second Young il’s intense gaze met with yours and you couldn’t look away.
He looked into your eyes, showing no emotion or weakness as the man he was choking started to turn purple. Your breath got stuck in your throat, your knees were shaking, and your palms were getting sweaty with the scene taking place in front of you. As there were few seconds left for the countdown, Young il twisted the man’s neck. The sound of bone cracking filled the room along with the sound of door locking behind you. He kept his eyes on you, as he tossed the dead body of the side.
The lifeless body of player 343 laid on the ground and the gunshots filled your ear. The screams of people scratched your brain, and you finally managed to close your eyes. He had killed someone in front of you, broke his neck with one swift motion and he had no emotion on his face as he did it. Your heart was beating so fast that you thought it was going to fail at some point. Then the images of him came to your mind. When he knocked down player 124 and 230 as he looked down at them with those emotionless eyes, when he carelessly slapped himself in the second game, when he looked at Gi-hun as if he wanted to strangle him when he thought no one was looking, when he pushed everyone out of his way to get both of you to safety during the mingle game and now when he killed someone.
“Open your eyes.” He breathed out, his breath hitting your face. Suddenly you felt his warmth surrounding you and him towering over your head. You slowly opened your eyes and there he was. Looking down at you, his eyebrows lifted up and with a mocking look in his eyes. His face was close to yours. Yet it did not feel comforting and safe like it did a night ago, when he was comforting you after a nightmare.
“What did you do?” Your voice was shaky and sounded terrified as you tried to look at the dead body that was in the corner of the room. He did not let you look away with his fingers finding your chin and holding it tight. He held you with those hands that just took the life of someone. You felt chills going down your spine.
“I made sure that we survived.” He whispered without breaking eye contact with you. You could hear soldiers cleaning up the mess outside of the rooms.
“You killed him.” You tried to shake his touch away, yet he didn’t let you. Instead, he got closer, until you were trapped between him and the door. His hot breath made your skin tingle, and his touch made you wanna cry.
“Yes.” He said, and his lips touched your cheek that was wetted by your tears. His lips planted a soft kiss onto your skin. The kiss made you feel dizzy and your knees weak.
“For you.” He continued. His words made you freeze in your spot. His lips traced over your skin like a ghost and reached the corner of your lips. “Only for you” He kissed the side of your mouth, softly, gently, with mercy. You wanted to rip his hands off of you, and run away. The floor beneath your feet was slippery with the blood of eliminated players. If you slipped and fell, would he let you go?
“All for you.” His lips found your chin, then your nose, then your other cheek. He did not rush or hold you harsh enough to hurt. Yet knowing that he had just killed someone with those hands made you wanna throw up.
Your tears dropped to his lips, and he licked his lips as if he was dying over thirst. And when he made eye contact with you again, it was the first time you saw a clear human emotion in his eyes. An emotion he did not try to hide or was afraid to show; yearning. You did not know if it was for you or winning. In both cases, it terrified you to your very being.
“Stop!” You said as sobs filled your mouth and he pressed his forehead against yours hard. You felt him shake his head, his arms wrapping around your fragile, little body compared to his strong form.
“I will give you everything you want, you need.” He said and pressed his lips against yours. Without waiting, his tongue made his way into your mouth, forcing your lips to open up for him. You felt the dizzy feeling take over your head. Your ears were ringing, your mind was foggy as he kissed you harsh, deep. There was no power left in your body, so you just let yourself to his arms.
His teeth crushed against yours and he was biting every corner of your lips until he drew blood. The irony taste filled your senses, made you jump. You did not know if it was you bleeding or him. But there was blood everywhere. Covering your tongue, your lips and staining your chin as your shared spit escaped from the corner of your lips. You felt your body burn all over. Your back was arching like a cat to get any closer to him, and there was a soreness between your legs that made your clit throb. You felt shame fill you and guilt making you wanna cry out. Instead, you kept kissing him, devouring him, eating him as much as you could.
You whined and pushed your head towards him when he parted your kiss with the sound of lock. The door was opened. The third game was finished. There was still a dead man in the room. Your mouth was covered in blood, making you look like you just feasted on someone. And his eyes were on you, watching you.
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rinnstars · 4 months ago
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youre my world!
in which they accidentally reveal your relationship to the public (and confirms it)
bllk boys x reader (reo, nagi, rin, sae,): fluff, crack, pro-athletes bllk boys, drabbles, not proofread + likes n reblogs are appreciated!
reo mikage:
sometimes, contrary to what reo believes, he’s simply impulsive and childish in the face of love - excitedly posting a story of you and him at your favourite cafe, beaming at the way your hands merged with him so well - so well that he posted it to his main public account associated with both mikage corporation and his soccer career in manshine city where everyone witnessed it up for 12 hours before he wakes up to his PR calling him freaking out. to be honest, he thinks it shouldn’t be such a big deal right? its not as if the media hasn’t speculated over his relationship status for months now - from every little jewellery that fits perfectly onto his wrist, neck and fingers, from every visits to designer clothes store, to designer jewellery store, to designer shoe stores bringing out huge shopping bags that make his frame look petite in comparison, from every single photo he posts on his feed that they scruntised from the angle, to the place, to the clothes that seem to belong to a matching set somewhere somehow. its expected some thinks - he’s rich, he’s got a decent career, he’s charming both in looks and personality publicised in front of television for many to swoon over, there’s no way he isn’t taken just yet. but now, the focus that he’s so used to shifts to you, who’s only half a face is revealed but has gathered just as much attention a selfies he posts on social media at the request of his managers. and perhaps he now feels it - the jealousy that runs green at his heart as if its always been there tugging at the red muscle, and suddenly all he wants to do is to keep you in his treasure chest of things only he can have, keep you caged in his warm embrace like after practice forever, keep you safe away from the public side of the world that he’s practically born to face. but right at the same time, he wishes nothing more than to parade you in front of the world that he’s sure he loathes secretly in his heart, to share with the world of hte blessing that the world has given him in the bitter and harsh world, to express his love in the way he knows how to.
he thinks it was fate that he accidentally posted it on the wrong account, and who is he to go against the universe that have led you to him in this lifetime. and so, he posts a photo dump of you and him right on his main account - filled with pictures gathered and kept by him in his phone in a folder, whether that be a picture of you eating that sugary-sweet treat that he can still taste from the kiss he shared with you right after that photo, picture of you with him right after his first ever win in his career beaming ear-to-ear hat he looks at like its his lucky charm till this day, picture of you and him wearing that matching chikawa pajama at his apartment studying late into the night together for your finals together. and next time the reporter asks him, he doesn’t hesitate to profess his love of you to the world as though he’s waited his entire life to confess it out to the world.
nagi seishiro:
nagi seishiro is practically on the hunt list by paparazzis - infamously hard to capture on film not because of his bright white hair that seems to avoid flashes but rather that he rarely goes out of his apartment - and when he does, does the paparazzi goes crazy especially when he leaves his house on a blue moon, hands tangling with someone else’s. to him, it was just another day - dragged by you to go to wherever you want for the day that you surely deserve after sleeping over at his place for the past few days cramming for your assignments and whatnot in a quiet environment that just so happens to be his room whilst he lazes around in his bed playing his game with his earphones on glancing at you unbeknownst to you. it was supposed to be just another lunch date just like any others you’ve been with him, wearing whatever to go to your nearby cafe that practically recognises you and nagi and hides you at the corner booth where he first confessed to you out of pure impulse after seeing you chat excitedly about your interest with such passion he can’t help but feel his heart skip multiple beats at once. and yet here you both are giggling at the edits and theories his fans have came up with in defence against a dating rumour as you two lie on his bed, body practically melted together, limbs tangled with his — whether that be deeming you as his little sister that hes strangely close to, to deeming the photo as a breach of privacy, to deeming the photo as straight up edited. he thinks its sort of funny, isnt it clear you two are clearly together romantically? with his hands wrapped around yours that fits just right like a puzzle piece fitting into one another. his eyes glancing at you as though youre his entire world, his smile that rarely appears on his face as he listens to another of your passionate chats.
and he supposes he must be a pretty passive or straight up bad partner when on his next win, a reporter asks about you in such a demeaning and insulting way that ticks his brain the wrong way. he thinks its too much of a bother to get fired up, he thinks its useless to get all upset and red in the face, he thinks its only fools that let their emotion overtake them — yet its against that comment that he suddenly stands up that surprises his members, the reporters around and even the crowd, his mouth leaning onto the microphone that for the first time speaks of something other than mediocre and uninterested responses but the same passionate tone that he thinks you must be rubbing off him, announcing your relationship with him with nothing but love and pride in his voice. and maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t regret it and its no bother to defend you to the world - its you and him against the world anyways.
itoshi rin:
all of this started simply because of rin’s first win in the world cup - pulling at the promise ring attached to his necklace to kiss in celebration that went trending on social media. its not uncommon for football players to celebrate on field or have lucky charms - but for fans to see the logical and detached itoshi rin to indulge in such superstitious habits is unnerving, completely out of character of the cool and calm player that practically overwhelms the field completely. he doesn’t think much of it, youre his lucky charm anyways - every game he makes sure to kiss that polaroid of you that he took of you badly with your new digicam that is slightly blurry and slightly way too bright but he kisses that beam of yours anyways, every game he makes sure to hear that voice message of you wishing him luck in that cheery tone that just makes him replay it over and over until time is up and he practically runs out to the field for the game, and every game he makes sure to dedicate each and every step. kick, turn all to you. he doesn’t get why the reporters keep asking him the same old question - “are you dating someone?” the answer is obviously yes, but that doesn’t mean he can say it - whether it be due to his PR manager, whether that be due to not wanting the media in his personal life, whether that be simply to protect you from the spotlight. its irritating, standing under that spotlight as questions gets thrown at him again and again - all he can think about is you on the stand still waiting for him probably getting cold from the harsh and ruthless wind that your sweater might not be able to keep you warm despite it all, all he can think is the congratulationary kiss you give him after each game that melts both yours and his lips together that makes his entire face go uncharacteristically bright red and his eyes go wide, all he can think about is you so close to running off mid interview again like hes a spoiled child throwing a tantrum as the media described it just to see you a little earlier and spend a little more time with you rather than these irrelevant people. really, not even the harsh critics by the media and fans that compares him to a clone of his brother that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, not even his PR manager’s scoldings and nagging can deter him from running away from all of these to you, and hell hes sure not even if the world ended right in front him right now would he hesitate before running with all hes ever known, even faster than he runs during these matches to get to you, to at least kiss you once last time before you two turn into mash like those zombie movies that perhaps have gotten a little too into his head.
and he ticks his tongue again at that same question. are you dating someone? he sees you from the corner of his eye, walking away from the venue likely going to his car to get some warmth at least, and he cant stand to see you walk alone and so it leaves before he realises. “yes.” one word before he runs as though he’s back right into another life-or-death situation on the field. runs as though that is his only way of salvation, runs as though hes chasing after world - you. and its with you he thinks that he loses that logical and cold persona that everyone forces on him - because with you, hes just itoshi rin, your boyfriend and not any of the names the media and the world wants to throw on him whether positive of negative.
itoshi sae:
every time he goes back to japan, he swears his luck goes all the way down - first time where he goes home and finds out that his middle school had closed down where he went there the morning after, second time where he realises the convenience store he goes to closed down for the very week he was staying, and third time where he finds a photograph of him buying a ring for you going viral online. and he finds out when he sees you giggling hunched over on the other side of the red. his right side feels awfully ice cold without your arms wrapping around his body drooling in your sleep that he’s much more used to. if anything, he’s more surprised that youre awake - he doesn’t know what time it is, a stark contrast to him in spain that’s practically like a robot to the way he automatically wakes up at six on the dot and automatically does his exercise routine on auto pilot - all he knows is that its certainly too early for you to be leaving his side to laugh at god knows what. its only in your apartment that he gets to act all grumpy as though he’s back to been thirteen sleeping over at your house where he spends the night completely awake at your tight embrace on him as though he’s your plushie that’s now on the floor abandoned for his warmth and wakes up completely sleep-deprived that’s remedied by your bright grin. he doesn’t hesitate to turn a little to your side and snake his hands around your waist, his hands fitting right with your body, earning a flinch from you from his ice cold hands that contrasts with your warmth. its only then he realises his surprise has been completely spoiled - its not the only thing the media has pretty much put a dent in his life, constant comparison that drove a wedge deeper into him and his brother relationship, flip-flopping between praise and criticism of each and every of his gameplay on the field that makes him secretly doubt his own self that he doesn’t wish to admit, and now spoiling a surprise he was excited thinking of spending the two of your life together for the rest of eternity. your laugh clears any of the black cloudy joke that hazes over his mind with negative thoughts of self doubt, of insecurities, of irrational fear in your eyes, you don’t hesitate to hold him in your embrace, turning him back to his previous sleeping position - away from your phone, away from any distraction, away from the outside world. and he knows, he knows, even with that surprised spoiled, he’s sure you might just say yes to the diamond ring he still has kept in a dark red box right in his luggage tonight for a home-cooked dinner.
and he supposes he can give the media a glimpse of his life once in a while, playing the disappearance act for a few months as per usual before he posts a photo of you and him - draped in white cloth surrounded by white flowers with you and his friends and family at the side away from the camera, draped in jewelleries that he’s surprising not well-known to in the media that’s picky about the picture-perfect facade of itoshi sae that they have long decided on, draped in each others tugging at each other with nothing but love between both of you. in this world, its you and him whether or not with the media included or not, but he can’t help but to show you off to the world his angel can he?
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evilgwrl · 6 months ago
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ExHusband!Simon x Reader
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You Want a Divorce? (Two)
Note: I feel like this is so bad im sorry!!!!
CW: Angst, titty sucking, passionate asf sex, simon missed ur pussy and you very much and vise versa, breeding kink, PIV (no protection, pls use it irl), squirting, simon eats the FUCK out of ur pussy, multiple orgasms, praise, hint of degradation, possessive!simon, OVERSTIMULATION, slight daddy kink
 sorry
Part One
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It was a quiet ride, the subtle sweeps of cars fleeting by as Simon gripped the wheel, eyes trailing off to the side to look at you briefly. Your head was leaned against the window, your knees knocking together anxiously as your daughter babbled in the back, cooing about how Mummy and Daddy were now back together.
You tried to hide the shed of tears that filtered across your iris, every small childish mumble like a stab to the gut as you listened to the genuine happiness in her tone. You would turn around occasionally with a small smile as you reached out to tickle her foot, giggles filling the car.
Simon pulled in, the car bouncing slightly as it hit the gravel carpark, his hand swerving into a spot before he turned to the back. “You excited, baby?”
Ella’s face lit up as she fumbled to take off her seatbelt, “Get me, Daddy! Get me! I wanna see the lions!” It was refreshing knowing she still viewed Simon as her hero, no matter how distant he was in their lives. You knew that even though your ex-husband was rarely around, his time with them did everything it could to mend the time apart. Toby woke up at the commotion, the toddler having slept the whole way there despite his older sister’s constant bickering about what animals she had to see first.
Everything seemed to flash past you as you walked inside, the whir of kids and noise sending your brain into overdrive as your eyes flickered to Simon with Ella swinging around on his shoulders and Toby kicking his legs in the stroller. You looked away; breath shaky as you attempted to compose yourself. This was supposed to be a happy day, for all of you, yet seeing him with your children, something that was supposed to be normal, felt so distant and unknown. Gathering yourself, you plastered a fake smile, hands reaching out to pinch your son’s cheeks as you grabbed the stroller.
Your heart hammered in your chest for the remainder of the day, fingers tingling with anxiety that bled into your veins, consuming your lungs with what seemed like everything but oxygen. It was a series of squeals and commotions from your young ones, their elation evident through the bright glow of their face, soft red resting on the apples of their cheeks. As the day quieted down, Toby slumped in the stroller as you tucked him into the car seat, his new plush crocodile cradled into his arms, mouth wide open as subtle breaths snored out.
Ella was cradled into Simon’s shoulder, her shoes half hanging off as she clutched onto him, dead asleep. You settled into the ride home yet your anxiety only seemed to heighten. You were alone with Simon, with no kiddish voices to break the tension, brown orbs glaring into the side of your face.
“Should we talk about this morning?”
You scoffed. “You have some nerve asking to talk about this morning,” you screamed into a hush, “What you did was completely disrespectful. Not only did you break into my house and kick my date out, but you left our kids in the car! What the fuck were you thinking?”
He cleared his throat, almost like he wanted to hold back how he felt. You noticed the white in his knuckles as he gripped the wheel, right eye twitching as he stared at the squiggles of tar ahead. “I don’t want our kids growing up thinking it’s normal for parents to separate. They need their mum and dad together, y/n.”
The world silenced for a second, the screams of the wind rushing past you seemed to slow as your voice cracked, seeps of emotion pouring out as you choked on your breath, “Then you should have fought for your family, Simon. There is no us anymore, it’s just them. They’re all that connects us now.”
You felt like all the ivory had been sucked out of your eyes, endless pits of your pupil consuming you whole, blurring your vision with fog as you blinked, hot streams of liquid salt spilling onto your cheeks, brimming at the cracks of your lips as you sniffled. You could feel his hesitation as he looked at you.
His words regurgitated in his throat as he stammered, tangled limbs reaching out to grip yours as you pulled away.
“Just drop us home.”
Your eyes had dried now, soft stains of bare skin caving through your foundation as you smudged your fingers against it. Simon stuttered as he pulled up to the driveway, tyres screeching to a halt as you sat in silence.
The soft strum of fingers caught your attention as you turned around, the innocent face of Toby looking back at his parents, tongue blabbing out of his mouth. “Dadda! You have dinner?”
“No, sport. Daddy’s gotta go-“
“Yeah, baby. Daddy will have dinner with us.”
You blinked at your own words, Simon’s surprised expression meeting yours. The wrench in your heart would never subside, the entirety of the beating organ still belonging to your ex-husband, but being a mother was a sacrifice. And you would sacrifice yourself in every existence you become one if it meant your children didn’t have to battle the same internal wounds.
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“They’re tucked in,” Simon said, voice soft as he noticed your withered body in the couch. Your hair was messy now, strands spitting out as you anxiously tucked them back in, smoothing them down with the dampness of your palms as you ran around all night, ushering to the demands of your children.
“Thank you.”
You felt ill, your tongue cascading down your throat as you palmed at your knees, desperate for him to leave yet desperate for him to stay. Simon stilled, keys jangling in his hand before he sat down next to you, his weight disrupting the couch as he shuffled around.
“I need you to know that I did want to fight for you, y/n. I have counted every single day since you handed me those papers, waiting by my phone every single night on deployment hoping for you to text me, call me, fuck - blow my phone up. I never wanted the temporary absence that we had apart become permanent. Everything I said,” he breathed, voice cracking slightly as he looked away, “Everything I said on October 6th, 7 years ago, I meant. You weren’t supposed to get away from me - I shouldn’t have - I shouldn’t have let you get away from me.”
It was strange. Simon was never one for feelings, the brutality of his job allowed for any harsh emotions to crack through his fingers as he pulled a trigger, any dampness of tears would sweat through his skin as he pummelled a blade into an enemies head.
But it was you. And you weren’t violent, or any enemy, you were his wife, the person he vowed his entirety too.
Your anxious cascade cracked as you whimpered out a sob, chest heaving as you buried your face, tight with tears, into the pillows of your hands. You felt warmth spread through you, the texture of Simon’s fingers burning through you like wildfire, every ember he felt scorching through your flesh as he pulled you in.
Arms tangled together, intwining like wool as he wrapped you into his chest nimbly. A zephyr ran through you, your wrists clutched in his hands as you straddled him, the weight of you feeling like the grandest treasure upon him.
It was nothing strange, nor sexual but Simon recognised that cry, the differing pitch as you shuffled your frame into his. Simon knew you like the back of his hand, every crevice, every crease, every scar. He knew your backstory, and the one you made up to impress people. He knew the hex of the colour of your eyes and the print of your thumb. No papers would take that away from him.
Soaked eyelashes clumped into one as you looked up at him, orbs resembling once of a doe, innocence seeping through every inch of a salt-stained tear. His eyes met yours, apertures of cocoa reflecting your weary frame as you gripped onto him.
“Let me come home, please.”
Simon’s voice was desperate, it was raw, any shed of arrogance erased through the lines, eyebrows knotted together as he rubbed at the small of your back.
Your nod was subtle, but he could practically hear it, calloused hands gripping at the plush of your cheek and seeping through the tip of your spine, thumb rubbing at your earlobe as he clutched onto you.
Hot, seething pricks ran through your limbs as your lips connected, saline lining your mouth as he lapped at the heat of your tongue, rough groans leaving his lips as he savoured the taste.
Any diffidence left your body as familiarity sunk back into you. Hands pawed at the globe of your ass, gripping the flesh as anguished limbs wrapped around Simon’s waist.
With an easy tug, he lifted you, your hands wrapping around his neck as he pulled you in closer, teeth kissing. You never questioned Simon’s strength, and you wouldn’t start now as you felt your back hit your mattress.
He tugged at his shirt, the black fabric pooling on the floor as you sucked in a breath. Your eyes traced every scar, lighter flesh engraved into the skin of his torso, a short trail of hair disappearing into his pants as you stared at his burly physique.
Simon gripped at your shirt, the material practically ripping before his hands were at your chest, grabbing at your flesh desperately as you tangled your fingers into your bra, sliding it off. His mouth was hot on your chest, the sound of moans and pants filling the air as he positioned himself between your legs, teeth grazing the hard nubs, sucking with fervour as you whined, your hand at the base of his head, cradling it.
“Missed these so fucking much,” he practically whined, groping your tits as he pinched your nipples, lips sucking deep marks of possession into the soft skin. Your pants were desperate, begging him for more as you pulled his hair, fingernails clawing at his scalp.
Your hands fumbled with your pants, hips raising as he slid them off, clumsy fingers chucking them across the room as you laughed, lips connecting once more in a giggly state as his thumb pushed against the wetness of your panties.
“Missed how fucking wet you got for me. Such a good fucking girl,” he groaned, fingers rubbing at your heat through the thin cloth eliciting a pained moan from you.
“Simon - I need more, been so long.”
He choked out a laugh as his fingers hooked into the fabric, lace dribbling down your leg before he mewled at the sight of you. His hands held your thighs apart, your soaking cunt on display as it throbbed, slick folds glistening in the poor lighting.
“Prettiest fucking pussy,” he choked out to himself, placing your legs over his shoulder as he knelt down. Your back arched as you felt his tongue lick a long stripe of your pussy, his body seething for a taste of you as his lips found your neglected clit.
He lapped at you mercilessly, your cries and moans moulding into one with the filthy squelches of his mouth against your heat. Long digits circled your entrance, teasing you, before they curled in.
Your eyes rolled, pools of ivory exposed as you let out a guttural moan, your thighs tightening around his ears as he smirked against your pussy. Cocky fingers rubbed at the right spot, favouring the clench of your tight hole as he pulled every noise he could get from you.
You were barely cohesive as he lapped at your slick, the throbbing of your clit edging him on as he soothed your g-spot with the pad of his fingers. The coil you had only ever felt with Simon began to build, the familiar sensation pooling in your stomach as you stuttered out a whimper.
“Si- too much - I’m gonna-“
“That’s it baby,” he cooed, pulling away from your pussy for a second to take in your expression as you came, your face contorted with pleasure as your legs jerked, pussy wrapping tighter around his abusing digits as he fucked you through it with them. You looked down at him, saliva and your slick coating his mouth and chin as he grinned.
You stammered out a groan as his mouth attached back on your pussy, slurping up your liquid gold as you attempted to push his head away in overstimulation.
“Oh my- fuck - Simon - too much,” you whimpered your words commanding him to continue as he guzzled around your clit, teeth grazing the sensitive bud as your legs shook uncontrollably.
It wasn’t long before the continuation from your previous orgasm rose again, heat swarming your lower belly as you screamed out, your hand slapping over your mouth as you felt Simon’s spare hand wrap around your thigh, squeezing tightly.
You pulled at his hair, tugging at the ashy roots before you were gushing around his fingers and tongue again, sloshing liquids soaking your sheets as he groaned at the taste, mouth lapping it up with vigour. You whined in humiliation, the overwhelming pleasure becoming too much as you heaved.
“Si - no more -“
“I’m sorry baby, too fucking good. Will never get enough of your pussy.”
His words were filthy yet only held the truth, his continuous slurps against your heat causing your body to jerk as you relentlessly bucked your hips. Simon’s abuse continued on your pussy, your pussy gushing and coming another 6 times before he was satisfied, the sheet under you drenched in both your slick and squirt as Simon milked your overwhelmed cunt, claiming he was “making up for the months lost”.
You were dry heaving, throat dry as he captured your lips in a kiss, the taste of you infiltrating into your glands as you groaned, his hands reaching to tug at your breasts as he took in your fucked out state, legs jiggling and twitching as your pussy convulsed at the number of orgasms he dragged out of you.
You felt like you had been lying here for hours, yet you weren’t satisfied. You would only be content when he was inside you, stretching you to the brim as he pumped a load inside your worn-out hole.
“Simon - please - I can’t
 I need you now,” you were practically crying, tears shedding at the brim of your eyes, bottom lip jutting out as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, slicking back the sweat on your forehead.
“I know baby, done so well for Daddy, hm? Even after all that you still need to be plugged full of me don’t you?”
You nodded as a harsh slap landed against your clit, your body jolting as you squeaked. “Yes, please,” you cried, “Please Daddy.”
His hands were like clockwork, tearing at his jeans as they released his cock, a satisfied groan leaving his body as he gripped at the tent in his pants, a sticky wet patch soaking the material before his length throbbed out, angry tip slapping his stomach as a trail of precum glistened against the base of his cock.
His dick was flushed red, begging for release as he ran it through the squelch of your sopping folds, rubbing against your manipulated clit as you moaned.
Your hands gripped his head as he leant down to kiss you, his arm holding him up while the other positioned himself at your entrance. He stilled for a moment, cock almost pressing in before he whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you.”
The words were soft yet meaningful, your eyes interlocked as he began to push inside, your mouth gasping open as you clutched onto his shoulders. It was hard when you were together all those years to get accustomed to his frightening length, and now it had been a year and the stretch was searing through you.
“I know, sweet girl, you can take it. Such a tight cunt for me, so fucking good.”
Fingernails clawed at his back as he pushed in, your whines muffled by the palm of his hand as he held himself up his elbows. “Holy fuck,” he spluttered as he bottomed out, his lips connecting to your neck as he sucked, resting inside you for a second as you whimpered.
The burn slowly faded as you rutted against him impatiently, the tip of his cock resting against your sweet spot as you gasped.
“So fucking impatient, always been such a slut for me. Haven’t you?”
You nodded, whining as he began to move, moving his hips slowly as he rubbed inside you perfectly, your mouth wide open as your head lolled back. A series of expletives tipped from your tongue as you choked on the air, Simon’s pace picking up at your dramatic noises.
“Fuck - taking me so well-“ he grunted, hands groping at your tits as he watched your pussy absorb his length. It was an obscene sight and he loved it. Every fibre of your being belonged to him and it was something he constantly craved.
“All fucking mine - shit - my fucking pussy,” he grunted, thumb rubbing at your clit as you mewled, twitching below him as he spat, “my fucking wife - got the tightest fucking cunt just for me.”
You clenched around him at his words, knowing it was true as his balls slapped against your ass, skin spanking against each other as the sound filled the room, ecstasy roaring through both of your veins as you made love.
The squelch of your pussy was taboo as he lapped in the missed sound. His eyes took in the way your body reacted to every movement, no matter how small. He took in the way your breasts bounced with each thrust, lower stomach bulging as he pounded into you.
“Fuck - Simon - oh my God,” your words were a mere blabber, barely making sense as you clutched onto him, pulling him down to meet your lips.
“I can’t pull out, baby - fuck - gotta cum in this pretty pussy. Give you another kid, hm? - shit -“
His hips didn’t falter as his pace fastened, chasing his own high as he rubbed at your clit, your breaths growing shallow as your orgasm began to build. “Gonna fill you with my cum until it takes. Need your belly round again and your tits full - such a good fucking mum, makes me so fucking proud.”
His words were the final straw as the build up in your stomach popped, your whole body convulsing as your pussy clenched around him, a loud groan leaving his throat before you felt the hot splashes of his cum pumping inside you.
“That’s it baby, milk my cock. Such a good fucking girl for Daddy, gonna break you apart everyday on my cock until you never forget who you belong too.”
He didn’t pull out immediately, his cum plugged inside you as some seeped out, rolling down the crevice of your ass below you. Your eyes shut, gentle pants leaving your lips as you felt Simon’s absence before a soft cloth was wiped gently across your sex and masculine arms were gripping onto you, carrying you into the guest room before engulfing you into a thrill of heat, Simon’s chest against your back as you fell asleep.
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TAGLIST: @kiiwiipie @nijiru
Disclaimer: im sorry if this is disappointing im super tired :(((
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kuichihimei · 2 years ago
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Pov: How would they treat you if you were friends Rsat7d (Friends. Just friends bc we need more friendship fics and I'm here to change that)
F7 + Snow White
Ⅰ Ⅱ ⅱ Ⅳ â…€ â…„ Ⅹ Ⅷ
Snow White
♡ Starting with our main girl Snow! I strongly believe that she'd be highkey protective of you.
♡ Not like in an overbearing motherly way, more like... An older sister not liking your new boyfriend kind of way, if you know what I mean.
♡ Like, she would be the type of person who would be really chill with a lot of things (*ahem* considering all the crazy stuff you might get into once you become friends with the seven— *ahem*) but if she sees you uncomfortable or in a dangerous situation, you'd bets believe she would pull you out of that mess ASAP (girls protecting other girls ❀)
♡ If you're being followed by creeps, she'd definitely confront them (She might even headbutt the creeps like that one knight in Golden Goose Avenue)
♡ Y'alls would be traveling distant lands together for the experience (and for the food). Adventuring & food, it's one of the things you bond over honestly...
♡ She also likes experimenting inside the kitchen (with Hans' supervision of course [He doesn't want you to burn his kitchen down like last time]).
♡ I can also see her as someone you can go to if you want to experiment with your wardrobe. (She'll definitely hype you up if you're feeling insecure if you're trying on something new ❀)
♡ Picking cute outfits together, doing each other's hair while gossiping about the latest tea, hyping each other up when you're down 'n stuff.
♡ If you're someone who likes sports/likes to work out, you bets believe that she can get on your level despite being really feminine. Let's be honest here, you can be feminine & be able to bench-press 250... We've seen her do both.
♡ Snow White is the embodiment of women empowerment, strong-willed & compassionate (Sign me up ❀)
♡ I'm so sorry to say this but... You're kind of the third wheel whenever Snow & Merlin go on dates together ( ∀).
♡ You don't mind though, Snow & Merlin deserve a proper date every now & then. (Plus we need more Snowlin anyway)
Should I continue this & make headcanons for the other characters?
I'll probably add more if anyone wants them (ÂŻâ€•ÂŻÙ„)
Ⅰ Ⅱ ⅱ Ⅳ â…€ â…„ Ⅹ Ⅷ
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multifandom-pleasures · 2 months ago
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I would like to request a Sonic 3 Shadow x reader where after Shadow brakes out and go's to Tokyo he runs into a American tourist, who offers him her umbrella in the rain and he protects her when G.U.N shows up. Or reader offers to take him back to her hotel to wait out the rain . Or both please.
you trudged through the rain in the surprisingly still busy streets of Tokyo. you had decided to take a sightseeing trip and with the city being such a novel to so many people, you booked a flight to check it off your bucket list. today was merely your second day and it had not disappointed.
until today, that is. the rain had put a pause on your plans — which had been made in hopes of a mostly sunny day with light drizzle. the drizzle quickly turned into a downpour though. luckily you had still brought your umbrella despite the claims of sprinkles.
as you walked, staring straight ahead to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally bump into someone on the busy sidewalks, you took notice of a significantly shorter figure wandering aimlessly through the streets. cars mannered around it, honking and even splashing puddles over it, to which it would quickly shake it off and continue. the closer you got, the more the figure seemed to get clearer.
black and red fur, standing at about 3 to 4 feet, pointy ears and the only ‘clothing’ it wore was gloves and shoes. it’s little muzzle had a frown; brows scrunched up and red eyes flitting around in an almost panicked state. it clearly was confused by everything around it, and everyone was just passing him by — not even bothering to help.
it tugged at your heart. you couldn’t just leave the poor thing sopping wet and standing cluelessly in the streets. what if a car didn’t see it, and it got run over?
you slowly made your way over to it, and seemingly aware of your footsteps despite the noise surrounding it, it whipped around, glaring at you with its fists raised. It was intelligent enough to know danger it seemed.
“ I’m not gonna hurt you, “ you began, eyes flicking up to your umbrella and back down at it, “ but you’re going to get hurt if you keep walking around like that. and you’re all wet.. “ a flicker of confusion, but it seemed to be listening to you, ears twitching. you turned your umbrella towards it to block any more rain from seeping into it’s matted fur.
“ so you don’t get more wet. “ you explained softly, watching it crane it’s head back curiously to look at the umbrella, and how the rain bounced off and kept it dry. its arms lowered. it looked back up at you and parted it’s lips, and you wondered if it could speak —
tires screeched and you looked up, finding yourself now surrounded by military vehicles. the doors were quick to fly open and armored soldiers stepped out simultaneously, guns drawn and pointed to you and the creature. what had you gotten yourself into? you only had a moment to glance down at the little being — who met your eyes and took notice of the fear you had.
it was gone in the blink of an eye, and you turned around to see where it went. flashes of white and fur appeared and disappeared around you, and one by one the soldiers were taken down. you had to duck down with your umbrella forgotten beside you to cover from the gunfire, hands over your ears to muddle the loud bangs.
they stood no chance. within minutes all the soldiers were taken down, groaning in pain and some even retreating when they realized they couldn’t fight back. the creature appeared before you again, and you lowered your hands from your ears, eyes wide in shock and awe. he frowned, picking up your discarded umbrella and holding it over you. you took it with shaky hands.
“ you’re not hurt? “ it spoke, voice low and raspy, like it hadn’t spoken in some time. a boy, you decided — he sounded like a boy.
“ no. “ you murmured, slowly rising to your feet, “ are you? “
“ no. “ he responded, as if the mere thought of being touched was outlandish. laughable. you should have expected that with what you saw. you held the umbrella over you both and looked around at the fallen soldiers and overturned vehicles. it was still raining.
“ we should get out of the rain. “ you found yourself saying, and you were shocked with yourself. you were inviting this little creature, this boy alien to join you in finding shelter after witnessing the strength he had in his fists alone. they bothered him first, you found yourself reasoning, they surrounded him and made him feel he was in danger. he was protecting himself.
“ follow me. “ you looked down at the creature, and he stared up at you with a look of curiosity. but he didn’t look half as dangerous as he did a moment ago, “ I’m staying someplace nearby. It’s warm and dry. “ He nodded.
you began to lead him down the street as if the chaos behind you didn’t exist, and he followed beside you. the second being to treat him as if he were just another living thing and not a weapon — not that you would know that. you jumped when he spoke again.
“ shadow. “ he looked up at you, “ my name is shadow. “ a name to your savior. you gave a small smile down at him, and his face softened at the sight.
“ it’s nice to meet you shadow. “
this was certainly more interesting than sightseeing.
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writingouthere · 1 year ago
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singledad!Sukuna x neighbor!reader-Sukuna and Yuuji really want you to join their family! role reversal from my other series, think this will just be a one-shot though. Yuuji is Sukuna's brother but he's raised him since he was a baby and Yuuji calls him dad.
cw: Sukuna is manipulative and also a murderer but everyone's happy and you're both aware so it's okay. this is really just fluff.
"I....want you to be my mommy?"
Sukuna scowled as Yuuji looked more confused than ever.
"No, no that is not what you're saying kid. You're just going to tell her about how the other kids' mommies on the playground make you feel left out."
"But they don't, Megumi's mommy always gives me a snack when I'm hungry!"
"That's not his mommy, that's Megumi's daddy," Sukuna corrected, wondering if this was just a hopeless endeavor. He could have easily followed a plan this simple when he was four, but Yuuji was too soft. This was what happened when you raised a kid in a stable, loving environment. They lost the ability to go for the jugular when needed.
"But Megumi's daddy calls him mommy?" Sukuna didn't hold back his groan. You were going to be coming back from your morning walk any minute. He didn't have time for Yuuji to not get basic directions or to explain the dynamics of that Gojo family.
"Look when we go out there, just look sad and I'll handle the rest."
"But I'm not sad, I'm happy. We're going to the park and Megumi's mommy is bringing mochi today!"
"Shit kid, do you want a mom or not?" Sukuna asked, trying not to roll his eyes as be bent down to snap on the velcro straps on Yuuji's light up sneakers.
"I don't need a mom, I have you," Yuuji said. He looked uncharacteristically defiant and Sukuna couldn't help feeling proud of his little brother.
It had been touch and go when Yuuji was a baby. Sukuna had still been a kid himself and they didn't have any money and Yuuji's mom was even crazier than Sukuna's. Their father nowhere to be seen. Since Sukuna and Uraume had spread the pieces of his corpse around the city.
Sukuna pushed these memories aside and ruffled Yuuji's hair. "I know you don't need one, we only need each other." Yuuji nodded, his little head moving with all his conviction. "But it might be nice, right?"
Yuuji seemed thoughtful before finally biting his lip and looking down at his sneakers. He tapped them, making the red and black lights flash.
"She's really nice, I like her."
"I like her too," Sukuna said and he heard the sound of your sneakers slapping against the tiled hallway. "So let's go and look sad, okay?" Yuuji nodded, determined now and Sukuna grabbed his backpack before the two brothers went out into the hall.
You were just taking your keys out of your bag and you turned to the brothers, a smile on your face. "Good morning gentlemen, it's nice to see you. Heading out?"
That was when you noticed Yuuji's downturned expression. Sukuna saw your face shift into one of concern and he resisted a smirk.
Sukuna cleared his throat and squeezed Yuuji's hand. Good boy. "We're heading out to the park, you know the one by the high school."
"Oooh, that's nice. You like that park, right Yuuji? You said it was the biggest one in the whole city," you crouched down so you could look Yuuji in the eye and Yuuji seemed to forget he was supposed to be sad for a minute because he jumped up and down, the lights of his shoes flashing in the dim hallway.
"Yeah, it has the best swings too!" You ooohed and aawed appropriately while Sukuna tried not to smack his head against the wall. Maybe he and this kid weren't related after all, fuck.
Yuuji seemed to notice his expression because he stopped jumping to look down at feet. He put out his lower lip and used the tip of one of shoes to mess with a scuff mark on the linoleum. It would have made a more pathetic visage if his shoes weren't still lit up.
"Yuuji," you said, coming closer so you could kneel on the ground in front of the boy. The sight of you on your knees did something to Sukuna, but he pushed it aside to see what the brat had in mind. So far, he wasn't impressed with the performance. "Is something wrong?"
"It's just," Yuuji let out a sad sigh that wouldn't get him a gig in a car commercial. "Megumi and his mommy will be there and it makes me feel sad because all the other kids have mommies and I don't." God, there was no way you could be buying this, Sukuna looked at you and saw that your eyes looked a little watery.
Huh, look at that. Maybe he wouldn't have to kick the kid out, after all.
"I'm sorry Yuuji, that must be hard," you said and you reached out and swiped out where Yuuji had even managed to shed a tear. Sukuna felt so proud. "But I know that your dad is really excited to take you and the two of you are going to have so much fun!"
"Could you come too?" Yuuji asked and you bit your lip. Yuuji looked up and batted his little doe eyes at you. "It would make me really happy if you came with us. We could all have fun together."
"I wouldn't want to intrude-"
"It wouldn't be intruding," Sukuna cut in. "If you're busy though no worries, I know we'll have fun just the two of us. Right, Yuuji?"
Yuuji bit his lip and Sukuna could tell he was torn between showing how excited he was to spend time with his dad and being 'sad' so you would join them.
You looked between the two before seeming to come to some kind of decision. "If you don't mind waiting while I change, I'd be happy to join you two. Should I bring anything?"
"I think we're all set. We'll wait outside for you," Sukuna said and Yuuji went up and gave you a big hug that you returned.
Sukuna took Yuuji outside to wait for you, the kid occupying himself with a mostly washed away hopscotch chalk sketch. Sukuna alternated between watching him and texting Uraume who was claiming to be over him and his nonsense. Sukuna would take it more seriously if Uraume hadn't been saying that for going on twenty years. He knew they loved him, fucking sap.
Soon, but not soon enough, you came bounding down the stairs. A scarf tied around your neck, your turtleneck exposed by the open top button of your coat. He couldn't keep letting you be single, looking all pretty like that. He was too greedy for that.
Besides, looking the way you did and knowing your big heart, it was just a matter of time before some nice loser tricked you into settling with them and he just couldn't have that. The idea of you taking someone else home to your warm apartment with it's million throw blankets and a cookie jar, an actual cookie jar, he was convinced you kept stocked up just for Yuuji, made him want to commit another murder.
"Ready?" you asked and Sukuna nodded while Yuuji took your hand in his right and Sukuna's in his left.
"Let's go!"
Yuuji's enthusiasm was contagious and the two of you chatted all the way to the park. Sukuna saw some people shoot you all looks as you walked. Sukuna was used to people viewing him with suspicion, even fear. His tattoos, dyed hair and general demeanor making people cross the street to avoid him. Something about you and Yuuji seemed to balance him out though and people reacted as if they were just looking at a cute family going out on a Saturday.
You didn't seem to notice either way and just continued talking to Yuuji about some new anime for kids Sukuna had probably had to suffer through but hadn't retained any memory of.
As soon as you all got to the park, Yuuji took off with barely a good-bye. You seemed concerned and Sukuna bumped your shoulder with his. "Don't stress, he just sees the Fushiguro kid over there. See, they're already fucking around."
He pointed to where Yuuji was chasing around a scowling dark haired boy the same age as him. Sukuna didn't buy the scowl for a second.
He had once run into the kid and his weird dads at the grocery store and the kid had scolded him when he figured out Yuuji wasn't with him. Sukuna would have knocked the kid down a peg if he wasn't actually four years old and if his 'mommy' didn't low key give him the creeps. Sukuna was pretty sure he wasn't the only person guilty of homicide currently at this playground.
"That's so cute," you cooed and Sukuna nodded along while he took you over to some picnic tables. Unfortunately one of them was already occupied.
"Aww if it isn't Sukuna. How nice it is to see your lovely face on a Saturday morning!"
"Gojo."
Sukuna was ready to leave it there but then the bastard got up and walked over. His partner continued sipping on a large cup of boba, watching from his seat although he gave you a little wave.
"Who is this, new girlfriend?" Gojo asked tilting down his sunglasses to look you up and down.
You laughed and introduced yourself while Megumi's parents did the same. Gojo grabbed your hand when you held it out and kissed the back of it, his lips curved into a smile even as he lingered, his fingers clearly holding onto where your pulse would be. Sukuna moved closer to you and put a hand around your waist, the gesture a clear sign for the other man to back off which Sukuna knew Gojo understood because the bitch fucking smiled at him.
Sukuna didn't necessarily take any of Gojo's flirtations seriously. He flirted with every mom and dad on the playground, including him when they first met. He'd even seen him flirt with the guy who worked the ice cream truck so egregiously the kid had looked on the verge of passing out. His partner never seemed bothered and Sukuna wondered if he was just that secure in the relationship or if he hoped someone would finally come along and get the annoying man away from him.
As usual though, Gojo lost interest quickly and went back to his husband who didn't say anything as Gojo lay across his lap like some kind of housecat.
"There are children here," Sukuna said. Mostly out of spite and not jealousy that the two of you weren't curled up like that.
"Don't be homophobic," Gojo said and you snorted before looking innocent when Sukuna shot you a look.
"Alright, let's go see what Yuuji's up to." Sukuna went along with your excuse, mostly just because he liked the feeling of your hand in his. The two of you wandered closer to the playground where Megumi and Yuuji were currently engaged in a game with some other kids that Sukuna couldn't have possibly guessed the subject of.
The kids alternated running around the large structure, disappearing into tunnels, jumping down to hide underneath slides and behind climbing walls. Every time Yuuji popped back up to view he would wave and call out to you both. Sukuna still felt a little warm whenever the kid called him dad and the look you gave him after made him feel caught.
"So, I can see why Yuuji was so sad those morning. Megumi's parents are just vicious monsters," you said and Sukuna was so taken aback he knew his expression didn't hide it well. You smiled and swung your hand that was still in his, turning so you could look at him.
"I don't think that's what the issue was," Sukuna managed and you nodded.
"Right, it must have been because he's so lonely," you said before the two of you were interrupted by the sound of children's ecstatic laughter. You both looked to where Yuuji was now being chased by an entire horde of children.
"I'm the curse, you have to catch me," he yelled out and the other children screamed and laughed as they tried to grab him. Yuuji had never had a hard time making friends and that was very evident in the way he got kids of all ages, even the quiet ones to join in on his game.
"You can have friends and still be lonely," Sukuna argued and you gave him just the softest look. It wasn't fair for you to see through his schemes and still look at him like that.
"Are you lonely, Sukuna?" You got closer to him, your hand still got in his and you were so warm. "Maybe I should come home with you, then?"
Sukuna couldn't have stopped himself from kissing you even if he wanted to, which he didn't. He let go of your hand so he could cup your face in both of his palms. You moaned your approval into his mouth and he responded by nipping your upper lip, pulling you up to meet him as he leaned down to kiss you. Sukuna was about to risk another arrest by taking you right here in the park before a familiar voice called out to the both of you.
"Hey now, there's children here."
Sukuna turned to give the infuriating dumbfuck a piece of his mind when you distracted him by pulling him back to you and giving him a quick peck on the lips. He could leave the fight with Gojo for another day, he supposed. He knew he'd win anyway.
You're smiling and you look so happy and Sukuna doesn't feel the least amount of guilt in getting you here. Even if you knew it was a trick.
Although.
Did this mean you knew that all those times he was "stuck at work" and needed someone to watch Yuuji were a lie too? Or that he actually could cook and the one time he set the building fire alarm off had been because he started an actual fire and not just him burning dinner and two of them didn't actually need you to invite them to dinner so much? Did you also know that your radiator hadn't just stopped working randomly but he had broke it, knowing you would call him because your super never answered, and when he said a part was still missing and you would just have to stay the night at his and Yuuji's place-
Sukuna looked at you more closely and you just kept smiling.
As Yuuji called for the two of you to come help him and Megumi on the swings, Sukuna wondered if he had ever trapped you, even once. Or if you had just let him catch you.
Watching you push Yuuji as the boy screamed for you to go "higher, higher!" he decided he didn't care. Fuck, it might just be better. Knowing you were maybe as crazy as he was.
shout out to the dad at the park today who had the audacity to play with his toddler and have a cute dog at the same time.
also I liked the end of this so much I may just write a prequel of Sukuna and reader taking turns gaslighting the other into a relationship, we'll see.
Edit: wrote the prequel, here!
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kitasuno · 7 months ago
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we fly together | kageyama tobio x reader
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in which kageyama tobio is born for several things: the court, his team, and you. and he really, really wants to marry you.
wc: 766 | gn reader | little glimpses of your relationship with tobio over the years
There are several givens in Kageyama Tobio’s life. 
There’s volleyball. It’s in his blood. Volleyball is shoes squeaking on floors, the shrill of a whistle, Nikuman after practice, and that sweet, sweet feeling of connection– fingers brushing yellow and blue leather and palms aching after a serve. Kageyama Tobio was born for the court and born to fly. 
His team is one of them. There’s Sugawara, who still treats him to yakitori and an Asahi Dry (or three) whenever he’s back in Miyagi. Daichi sends him assorted nuts from Sendai every once in a while and Nishinoya mass e-mails him slightly blurry pictures of his life abroad on New Years. Ushijima buys electrolytes for him and Kourai. Shouyou is, well, Shouyou, and Kageyama counts him as two givens. 
There’s the small things too: he takes a little too long to read Kanji, he buys a new face wash every month, he will always avoid rush hour. 
And then, he thinks, there’s you. 
It hits him in full force in the middle of the street on a Tuesday evening as he holds a plastic bag of groceries. It also, consequently, renders him immobile for ten minutes, because Tobio had never been one to dwell on the givens. But as he stands on the pavement and his bag carries the burden of hashi for two, yogurt for two, two packs of sandwiches and four bags of gummies,
 ( because you really like those gummies: and Tobio had thought, if you like the grape flavor, then you should also try the strawberry. And if you wanted to try something new, you might crave the fizzy Cola ones. And if you liked the Cola ones, then he had to buy the Ramune flavored ones, too ) 
Tobio gets the urge to buy a ring. And an urge, no, a craving to marry you. 
Tobio remembers study sessions in high school and desperate makeouts in Karasuno’s dusty storage closet. He remembers the firsts: first conversation, first fight, first kiss, first date. Sprinting on beaches before the sun kissed the horizon and laying underneath the stars. He remembers graduation under cherry blossoms and pressing his second button into your palm with red cheeks and shaking hands. 
There were tears, too. Anger as he realized he couldn’t, for once, be selfish and have both you and professional volleyball. Anger as you had cried and cried and cried in his arms because you were getting your degree in Miyagi and he was moving to Tokyo. Anger as you had suggested breaking things off because you knew that Kageyama was born for the court. To fly. 
And you had said, between tears, that Tokyo was his potential. Because you knew him, and you knew that he didn’t like texting and that he wasn’t good at communicating, but you somehow underestimated how much you meant to him. Then: you had stopped crying because Kageyama was crying. And you had never seen Kageyama cry. 
You were there when Kageyama started on the National Team, standing in the bleachers with the biggest smile he had ever seen, jumping as you turned to show him the Kageyama embroidered on the back of your jersey. You were there when he accepted his position on the Adlers, and watched their broadcasted games behind textbooks and journals and pencils from your dorm in Sendai. 
Kageyama was there when you called him sobbing because the pipes in your dorm leaked. He was there when you got fired from your part time job for slapping a customer. Begrudgingly, he was there when you asked him to have Oikawa Tooru sign twelve jerseys for your friends at university. And then, he was there when you graduated college, diploma in hand and a blush on your cheeks as you pressed your button into his palm even though you really weren’t supposed to do that. 
Now you’re in Tokyo, having accepted his slightly bashful request for you to move in with him– in a nice apartment on the fourteenth floor overlooking the city; because even though he didn’t really like heights, he knew you loved city lights and people-watching. And if he had to cover his face when he saw the nameplate next to your shared apartment that read Kageyama, well. You didn’t have to know that. 
He’s still on the street, and he’s still holding his grocery bag, but his eyes are firm because he really wants to make your last name Kageyama. 
So he makes a phone call. 
“Tanaka-san,” He says before his former upperclassman can react. “Where did you buy Shimizu’s ring?” 
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fioiswriting · 9 months ago
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Muña | one shot
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Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.
Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI
Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)
TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread
Words count : 8064
AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlieÂ đŸ€­Â It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.
Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !! 
EnjoyÂ đŸ–€
The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired. 
You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.
At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later. 
For now, you just needed to be left alone.
You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.
Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.
"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere
Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."
A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.
You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him.  "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual."  He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"
He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours. 
If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his. 
You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.
“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy.  He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.
"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."
"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel. 
Everything he wasn't. 
'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”
You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.
The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time. 
As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.
It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.
 It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.
You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.
 "Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face. 
You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.
He was so predictable. 
“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.
"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.
The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.
*** 
As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you. 
He had become a strong man, indeed.
But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.
"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination. 
"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?
To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant. 
His silence was full of implications, louder than any words. 
Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey. 
But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.
You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation. 
After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.
"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. 
“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."
You hesitated, suddenly unsure.
You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable. 
Fuck.
“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction. 
As if to unveil what he held within himself. 
“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”
His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover. 
"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass. 
You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet. 
You knew men who were less patient.
Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”
You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach. 
An unpleasant heat. 
A hint of irritation.
You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.
“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.
You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery. 
“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.
Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.
The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.
You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.
You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.
To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important. 
After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.
Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.
So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?
His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles. 
And all you felt was fire.
And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table. 
You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.
But you didn't care.
You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten. 
Jace almost choked. 
He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.
And you hadn't removed your hand. 
An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared. 
Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.
"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.
He cleared his throat and coughed again.
“I swallowed wrong,” he replied. 
Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you. 
You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.
The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.
"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said.  We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity. 
Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.
He was hard.
Perfect.
It was you who provoked this. 
He responded to your touch.
You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"
He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities. 
As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.
"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.
Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.
And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.
You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.
*** 
It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.
It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.
Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.
No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.
The only problem was you were distant and elusive.
Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.
It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman. 
And that was something Jace hadn't considered.
He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.  
Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh. 
He clenched his jaw.
All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.
Fuck.
His breeches were really becoming too tight.
You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off. 
Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins. 
He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs. 
Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.
This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.
He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.
His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.
Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs. 
And he needed more, infinitely more.
You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.
"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear. 
But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened. 
"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him. 
He wanted more. 
He needed more. 
More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.
Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.
“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.
Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.
Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand. 
You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done. 
You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.
But you could only admire your nephew's composure. 
“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".
The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.
But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.
The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister. 
And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before. 
Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.
"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it." 
You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.
You hated that feeling. 
You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.
You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him. 
He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.
Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge. 
You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised. 
You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear.  "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations
"
Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face. 
He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.
But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.
Your eyes widened.
Jace. 
Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son. 
Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs. 
This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot. 
Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.
Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.
Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous. 
"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”
And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews. 
Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.
This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.
"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good."  She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.
And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.
Oh, but if she knew.
*** 
Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons. 
Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.
Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.
You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for. 
And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.
Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.
Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.
He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.
"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"
If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.
You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.
But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.
You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"
You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.
Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
You looked ravishing.
"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet. 
But you had no desire to be responsible.
His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.
"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm. 
You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.
To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.
And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.
He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.
Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control. 
You loved that side of Jace you didn't know. 
So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours. 
The sensation was delicious. 
The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him. 
You let your lips brush against his.
He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you. 
His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.
"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."
You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips. 
You could see through his game. 
He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.
"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."
Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips. 
"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."
And with that, he pulled you into his room.
*** 
Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.
Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.
You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him. 
The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.
You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.
You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.
You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."
Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.
You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.
It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.
But Jace was your future husband.
You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length. 
"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.
And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.
One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.
When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.
You wouldn't last long, your release close.
Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine. 
"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."
And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.
It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.
Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.
You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.
A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."
His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you. 
"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.
After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.
You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.
Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.
But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.
So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.
"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.
He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement. 
It wasn't enough.
"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.
You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body. 
And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head. 
You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen. 
Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you. 
You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.
It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.
Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.
You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.
One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long. 
He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened.  His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences.  "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."
That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body.  You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.
He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck. 
You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.
"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.
And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.
"Perhaps
We should bring the wedding date forward."
And he smiled.
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