#s: wild weave | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thexsilentxwordsmith · 8 months ago

Text

Biker!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

From the ask here

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Seeing Simon on his motorcycle is something that awakens a new yearning inside you, but when you get your own bike and start riding alongside him, the way he gets you hot and bothered makes it worse. You need him to fuck you on his bike and you hope your plan will make it happen.

Word Count: 5 k

Warnings:

The first time you ever saw Simon Riley perched atop his black motorcycle, in that moment some innate part of your brain was awakened and you were never the same. There was just something so incredibly erotic about the way those thick thighs straddled over the sides, the way his arms looked with their muscles bulging, straining his black short sleeved t-shirt wrapped around them as he leaned forward to reach the handlebars. Of course his helmet with the blacked out visor didn’t hurt either, not when paired with his sleeve of tattoos. He was a vision even more than usual and you were suddenly hooked.

Then he took you for a ride along the open highway where he could really show you the power his bike had and that solidified your need to be involved in his hobby. Adrenaline, that was and still is Simon’s favorite part of being on the open road, his bike vibrating underneath him as the wind rushed past his body, and now that you had that first taste of it all, it was yours too.

Whatever you needed to do to keep getting to look at him like that, to keep feeling that rush, you were more than willing to do it.

Whenever he was on leave you two found yourselves on his bike, roaming the city on long night rides just to feel the wind on your skin and the rush of speed under your bodies. That was until he made an off-handed joke one day about getting you your own bike so that you could drive alongside him and then suddenly you were expressing how much you actually had been thinking about it. Sharing his hobby with someone, especially you, was something he has always wanted. To think you could experience the same thrills had him rushing to take you bike shopping the very next day so he could start teaching you.

You picked it all up relatively fast and before you knew it you had your license and regular drives have now become a part of your routine whenever your military man is in. Getting on the highway, opening the bike up as you go faster and faster, weaving through traffic with Simon always right by your side, there is something exhilarating about it all. And now you had the best view of that gorgeous specimen of a man.

Being able to see you on your own bike makes Simon have a taste of his own medicine because fuck did you look a goddamn beauty. Is this how you feel looking at him? The way it makes your back arch, full juicy arse just calling his name, has him salivating whenever he gets to see it. And he can’t help what it causes him to do; it’s not his fault when you look the way you do. The first time he ever pulled his little stunt, a ritual of sorts that he has to engage in every time you’re out driving together, you had a hard time focusing on the road after.

Bringing his bike close beside yours, he reaches out and runs his hand over the curve of your ass, making sure that he does it long enough that the other motorists behind you both can see him claim his hot biker vixen as his. You belong to him and he wants everyone that can see to know it.

And fuck does it drive him wild and have you reeling every time.

This goes on for quite a while, and all the times he’s touched you while riding have conjured up a new fantasy of yours and you finally decide you have to do something about it. Lately you’ve been thinking: what type of partner would you be if you didn’t return the favor? Simon deserves to be just as flustered too, right? It’s not because you need him to fuck you on his bike, nope, not all.

Is it strange? Maybe. Will he go for it? You aren’t entirely sure, but one thing you do know is that you at least have to try. And if it works out, you know he’ll enjoy it too. On one of the last few nights of his leave, you decide that you’ve got nothing to lose and put your plan into motion.

“You know, it’s been so long since you took me on a ride with you,” you put your case to him tonight. “Like we used to. Me on the back of your bike, wrapped around you tight, you speeding through the lanes with the wind rushing past us. Remember that? I used to get so excited to see you just so you’d take me out with you.”

Those hazel eyes stare back at you curiously; of course he remembers. Christ, how could he ever fucking forget? Still, it’s intriguing to him why you would be bringing this up now. “What’s got ya all nostalgic sweetheart, hmm?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrow. “Ya don’t like ridin’ beside me?”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Just thought it’d be nice to be close to you again is all, since you’ll be leaving soon,” you say as you bite your lip with a subtle coyness while you stare back at him with those tempting doe eyes that make him melt.

How can he say no to that? To his girl wanting to be near him? Absolutely fucking never.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he responds as he gets up while pointing towards the bedroom, “well, go get dressed then. Can’t say no to ya when ya look at me like that.”

Simon is already sitting on the bike out front ready to go when you emerge from the front door in a short skirt, tight tank top, and leather boots and once again he is reminded just how lucky he is to be with you. This just keeps getting better and better for the ol boy.

Climbing on the back and securing yourself around him, helmets on and visors down, Simon takes off into the night. He can feel the pressure from your hands wrapped tightly around his waist, pressing into his abs as you hold on, the warmth of your chest against his back, your thighs saddled up against his, and he wonders why you both don’t do this more often.

The lights of the city sparkle around you, cutting through the evening like stars to illuminate your way as Simon drifts through the streets, making his way to the highway like he always does. Your heart is beginning to beat faster as you wait for the opportune moment to implement your plan and you silently hope that it works.

On the highway, weaving in and out of traffic, Simon detects the first signs of something happening behind him. The movement is subtle at first and he almost misses that both hands aren’t pinned against his stomach anymore until he detects the warmth from your palm as it comes to rest on top of his thigh. He looks down through the visor of his helmet to where your hand lays as he wonders curiously to himself about the intentions of your actions.

Just what the hell is she up to? he thinks to himself as he turns his attention back onto the darkened road studded with streetlights.

The answer is quickly approaching as he feels your hand on the move again, now inching towards the middle of his broad thighs, moving and stopping, moving and stopping, to the crotch of his jeans and suddenly he understands just as you make first contact with the mass contained inside.

A shiver runs up Simon’s spine and you can feel his back shudder against your chest as you start to rub over the swell, your touches heavy and full of purpose. Over and over again your palm makes purchase with his crotch and you can feel the muscles in his back tense. A part of him wants to pull your hand off so that can refocus, but it feels too damn good to get you to quit. Fuck, the pressure from your hand and the vibration from the bike has him so hard he can barely see straight.

He needs to find some place to stop and fast; if he’s going to come in something it is not going to be his pants, it’s going to be you.

Up ahead he sees an exit fast approaching and he quickly transfers over to the lane and takes it, not having a plan, but hopeful that he will be able to find something satisfactory enough. Brown eyes dart from one side of the street to the other frantically searching for something, anything so that he can pull off. The sign for a large parking garage is illuminated just up ahead; it’ll have to do. He won’t be able to focus for much longer; the pressure of your hand rubbing against his cock mixed with the vibrations from the bike leaves him gnawing at the bit with a need that he desperately has to satisfy. It wouldn’t be safe to keep going, not with the way his limbs are starting to tingle.

Simon drives through the first couple of levels and is glad to see it relatively empty save for a few straggling cars spaced far apart. Perfect, that means no one will be around to disturb him until he has had his way with you. He continues on a couple of levels that are completely empty as he puts you both more in the middle of the structure just to be sure you will be all alone until finally he drives to the back of the garage and pulls into the shadow, parking the bike and shutting it off.

“Hop off,” he says and you immediately do as you're told, taking off your helmet and straightening your skirt as you make it to your feet.

You stand there close to his thigh as he removes his helmet and sets it on the ground on the other side of the bike, running his fingers through his short hair to fluff it up from being crushed underneath. As he sits back up his tattooed arm quickly reaches out behind your head where he grabs your hair into a ponytail in his fist, keeping your head locked while his opposite hand palms around your waist as he leans in with a smirk across his lips and a glimmer in those coffee-colored eyes.

“Whatcha think you’re doin’, sweetheart? Playin’ games, hmm?” he asks as he stares back into your face.

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug, your tone playful and coy. You know damn well what you are doing and he isn’t dumb enough to think you don’t.

He glares back at you skeptically. “Right.”

“What?” you dismiss him. “I thought you didn’t mind a bit of touching when we ride? Always grabbing me; thought you’d enjoy a bit of fun.”

There it is; this is payback for all the times he’s made his move while you were out cruising together. And fuck, has it worked to perfection.

Simon rips his hand from your waist and wraps it around your wrist so that he can pull your hand forward and place it right up against the stiffening peak straining against the zipper of his form fitting jeans.

“So this is whatcha fuckin’ wanted, yeah?” he asks, breathiness in his gruff tone as your hand makes contact with the rigid bulge. “Gettin’ me so fuckin’ hard I can’t even be bothered ta wait till we get back home ta fuck ya?”

Can’t wait? Is he saying what you think he’s saying? God, you hope so. “What do you mean?” you ask, faking your ignorance as you rub your palm over the swell while maintaining eye contact. “We aren’t going home?”

A deep hum echoes through the atmosphere as he bites his bottom lip; you’ve started something that can’t be stopped now and the way your hand continues to stimulate him, he doesn’t think you want it to anyway. “No,” he says with a shake of his head, “ya wanted to start all this on my bike, that’s fine. Guess I deserve it. But now…I’m gonna make damn sure I finish ya on it.”

As you stand there silently waiting to see what he does next, Simon shifts back in the seat and helps you climb back onto the bike, but facing him so that he can lay you over the fuel tank. He plants his feet firmly onto the ground to keep the setup steady and pulls your body down, those rough hands pushing your skirt up off your hips to your waist as he forces your legs open wider so he can get himself between them.

Thank God you’ve worn something easy to get into. Or was that your plan all along? Doesn’t really matter much now; he’s in.

Simon looks down and his eyes catch sight of a dark spot in the crotch of your panties. He presses his hand up against the mound of your cunt and the pressure makes you twitch, your back arching up off the tank as he feels what he had just suspected: you’re a little damp.

“Seems someone’s already stirred up,” he comments as his hand releases the pressure only to press in tight all over again in a pattern that matches his increasing heart rate. “Ya like it, don’t ya baby? The way tha bike vibrates ‘tween your legs? Like the way it hums against ya ‘till your clit is swollen?”

Simon’s hard-on throbs harshly against the zipper of his pants and into your naked thigh, tenting the fabric while he grinds it into the muscle as you wrap your legs around his hips; you have to hold on as you can’t stop the way your body jerks the longer his touch prods against those sensitive lips. Just the pressure alone after the drive is enough to make you whimper inside your closed mouth.

“Have ya been thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’ like this? Me fuckin’ ya raw while you’re on this thing?”

Releasing his hand, he walks those long fingers over the top of your clothed pussy to the waistband of your panties so that he can slip them inside and back down to the moist slit waiting eagerly for their touch and there it is, the unmistakable sound of his breath hitching as his hand makes contact. God, you always feel so fucking good.

He uses his two middle fingers to part the lips of your slit and run them along the length to gather all the wetness he can on his digits so that once he finds your entrance he can easily slip up inside while the tip of his thumb nestles against your clit. You’re very warm, nice and hot and soft against his fingertips and a pleasurable hum he gives in response to the feeling.

“Ya know, I know why ya started ridin’ with me,” he says as you squirm. “I could see it in your eyes the second I pulled in to pick ya up that first time: ya like the way I look on my bike. Don’t ya?”

Your silence is met with a heavy jab with the pad of his thumb to that sensitive little button, holding it down until you are forced to answer as he thrusts his fingers inside you up to the knuckle. Your body takes them in perfectly, gripping tight around the digits as you suck him in.

“Yes,” you say in a whine and buck as his stocky fingers give you a nice starting stretch. “You

look so f-fucking hot on this thing that sometimes I d-don’t know what to do with myself. That’s w-why I n-need…”

“What do ya need, sweetheart?” he groans as he curls his rough fingers up against your G-spot as his thumb begins to stroke concise circles upon your clit. “Use your words.”

You swallow hard while breathing heavily out of your nose as you clamp your lips shut to stop from audibly crying out in ecstasy at that first contact he makes. “Ah, ah, ah,” he scolds as he pins his thumb down hard again. “Let me fuckin’ hear ya. Ain’t no one here ‘cept us.”

A desperate moan escapes your lips and echoes through the empty space as you let it all out. “I need you to f-fuck me on y-your b-bike,” you say as you vibrate under his skilled touch. “B-been daydreaming about it for a while. Didn’t know if you’d want to, but I’m desperate.”

Using a flick of his wrist, he begins to snap his fingers up into you faster and faster, those fingers vigorously working your cunt until your juices are starting to dribble down to collect on his palm and the sound of wet slaps reverberate off the concrete.

“All ya had ta fuckin’ do was ask,” he says. “Ya know I’d do anythin’ for ya, luv; my pretty girl always gets what she wants.”

You look so beautiful sprawled over his bike like this, disheveled skirt shoved up to your ribs, his hand plunged into the front of your panties so that they are stretched tight around your hips ready to rip, back arching as he again strikes right at the exact point of pleasure, tiny beads of sweat sparkling over the exposed parts of your flesh as you burn for him in the warm night air. It’s an image he’s gonna have committed to memory; every time he rides now he will remember the gorgeous mess he made of you.

If he thought he liked his bike before, it is nothing compared to how he will feel after fucking you on it.

Minute after minute each stroke draws you near that razor’s edge and threatens to violently throw you off. Your walls are fluttering around his fingers as they swell and become engorged the closer you get. Simon knows that it won’t be long now and his pulse races to feel it, that moment you come. But not like this, oh no.

He has still been chomping at the bit to relieve the pressure throbbing between his legs and now that he is sure you are ready for it, he isn’t going to waste time. You’re still in public after all, he doesn’t need this to end before you’ve both gotten off. Amidst your whimpered protests to keep going, that you are almost there, he pulls his fingers out of you with a squelch, your lubrication dripping along his fingers and glistening in the harsh lighting inside the garage.

You lean your head up as Simon pulls his fingers apart to watch the sticky fluid string between them before he brings them to his mouth and rams them into his lips to lick them clean, taking care of the mess he’s created from his touch. Just a taste to sait him, as if his face isn’t going to be plastered between those thighs later as he replays the memory of what happened here.

The sight of him sucking the lubrication off his fingers has you gasping for air. How can someone look so perfect doing something so filthy? You need him, bad. “Please,” you beg with a needy whine in your voice, “I want you inside me.”

Those words are like striking a match near a gas leak; suddenly he is scrambling to move as fast as possible. Feverish hands are clawing at clothing at breakneck speeds as his flesh begs to connect with yours and complete this union. “Ya can shoot me dead if I ever say no to that,” he growls as he moves.

Time is of the essence and so he quickly rips the soaked crotch of your panties to the side, securing them against your thigh and out of his way as his free hand ruthlessly yanks at the button on his pants to get it undone before he wrenches down the zipper and releases his cock that is throbbing and aching with his rapid heartbeat.

“Gotta make this quick, yeah?” he groans as the caress from his hand over the tip is almost too sensitive to handle. He’s falling fast. “Don’t want no one seein’ ya like this ‘cept me.”

Leaning down, he places a brief, heated kiss with his warm lips to the exposed skin near your belly button before he has you sitting up so that he can get at those lips he yearns to feel against him as he enters you. The threads of your panties are beginning to snap as he holds the fabric out of his way so he can move his hips in as he aligns the head of his cock with that dripping, aching hole.

Eyes closed and acting off of pure impulse and adrenaline alone, he mutters a rushed ��Breathe” into your open mouth as a warning while his fingertips dig into the meat of your hips. The tip prods the opening before it pushes through and slides up inside, the rest following behind in one steady, fluid motion until he reaches the base and there is no more to shove inside you.

Simon shudders at the overwhelming euphoria hitting him all at once and now he’s burning from the inside out, his bulky chest taut with each heavy breath that he releases between kisses as the feeling of you wrapped tightly around his phallus drowns out everything else that surrounds him.

You throw your head back, breaking the kiss to cry out as you are filled to the brim, being stretched to capacity with all he has to give. His hand grabs at the back of your head so that his lips can shoot back to yours as a tether to help you calm until your body can be allowed a little time to adjust; he’s not exactly small by any means of the word.

It’s a few seconds before he releases your mouth as he starts to thrust, trying to go slow at first even though he is eager for more. Hips rolling at a steady pace now he pulls back to watch himself pump in and out of you. “Look,” he says in a breathless growl as the hand on the back of your head directs your eyeline down in between your bodies. “This what ya been fuckin’ fantasizin’ ‘bout? I think it looks even prettier on my bike.”

The way his swollen, veiny cock disappears as it slides up into you is mesmerizing. You can feel it but still seeing it has you questioning…where does it all fit?

He keeps you close as he picks up the pace until the sound of slapping skin against skin fills the silent space. Panting into your face with mouth open, chest heaving up and down with laborious breaths, Simon puts more into his thrusts so that even the bike itself begins to rock with you from the force. The longer he goes the more feral he gets, relinquishing any hold he had on his sanity for as long as he gets to have his body stay fitting so nicely into your cunt.

It’s building, the warmth in the pit of your stomach is gathering steadily as the epinephrine releases all those euphoric chemicals into your bloodstream. The risky nature of your endeavor, the stimulation he’s already produced with his fingers, the fulfilling of your fantasy, it all works together to fuel your passion and his strong thrusts have you ready to spill over the edge at any second.

Simon keeps his pace even as he is now struggling to keep it together. The excitement has gotten to him too so that if he lets himself lose control he is going to come and he can’t have that, not until you have. With each passing second, each pound of that deadly appendage inside you gets more and more desperate, until he finally hears those sweet, sweet words that make his heart skip a beat.

“Don’t stop, baby,” you beg, your voice cracking with desperation as you try to keep your volume at a reasonable level while he slams into you again. “So c-close…”

“Come for me, baby, that’s it,” he coaxes desperately through gritted teeth as he strains to hold on a little longer. Just a little bit more and you’ll finish and he can let go.

That’s when an idea is thrust into his brain and he knows what he needs to do to bring this full fucking circle for the both of you; complete the fantasy and give you even more to dream about for later. Simon moves over top of you to force you back until you find yourself against the fuel tank again.

Reaching above your head, he cranks the key and restarts the engine. The motorcycle roars to life, filling the garage with its sound, and begins to vibrate until it is pulsating through his body as he thrusts into you harder and harder. It’s like having your own living dildo that only intensifies the stimulation the longer he plunges into your dripping hole; a few more seconds of this and you will be coming on his cock.

And then he revvs the engine…

The stimulation is too much and suddenly you are forcibly thrown over that precipice as you come with such force, like a hot flash of white light, that your thighs clamp down around his hips as your head falls back. You cry out in choking gasps as your orgasm tears through you; so strong that you are shaking. Your walls are fluttering sporadically around his cock as your hips buck against him unrelentingly and he can’t hold back any longer.

“Where do ya want me?” he pleads as his fingertips claw at your hips, stabbing harshly into the muscle as he holds on for you to answer; he is about to blow.

“In me, in me,” you whine as you clamp your legs down hard to keep him in. What else were you on birth control for other than this?

He jerks violently as your pussy continues to flutter around him, making his limbs numb from the pleasure, and with a loud groan that is akin to the bellow of a wild beast, the pressure building at the base of his spine finally reaching its peak and he falls over the edge as he lets it go. His hips never stop, slamming into you as the thick, warm fluid coats the inside of your pussy.

“Fuckin’ hell, luv,” he repeats as he shuts off the engine while he milks himself dry, his thrusts slowing down after a few seconds until they stop all together and he stays with his cock still buried inside you to let your body finish off the rest.

An unknown amount of time passes as your unsteady breathing slowly returns to a more tolerable rhythm, all the while Simon just sits there admiring the products of his labor: the beautiful flush in your cheeks and the contented, glazed look in your eyes, until he can find his voice again once his heartbeat has settled.

“Ya know, I’ve gotten plenty a compliments about my bike, but I gotta say that you’re the prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever rode, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls you in by the back of your head to press another breathless kiss onto your lips.

It is torture having to pull out of you, but even he isn’t delusional enough anymore to think that you can just stay like this for much longer. You’ll have to go soon and he needs to help you to redress as your legs are shaking uncontrollably. There’s no way in hell someone hasn’t heard the noise you’d been making.

“Was it everythin’ ya hoped?” he asks with a contented smile as he carefully moves you off the bike to your feet so that he can readjust your panties and pull down your skirt back around your hips.

You match his expression through the hazy afterglow of your ecstasy as he finishes you up and gets himself situated. A pretty sizable wet stain darkens the middle of his jeans, but he doesn’t pay it any mind; a risk of a good fucking time, that’s all.

“Better,” you murmur, satisfied.

Bringing his hand up he cups it against your cheek a second before he combs his fingers through your hair until he reaches the back of your head where he holds them wrapped in the strands. There’s one final thing he has to do before you get going and that is to give you one last kiss as praise for doing so well for him. With how strung out you still are from your orgasm, the gentleness of it makes your knees weak.

“Now how ‘bout we get back so we can go for round two?” he smirks against your mouth as he pulls away. “We can pretend I’m your bike and ya can show me how well I taught ya to ride.”

He gets you situated on the back of the bike, helmets and all, and restarts the engine. It bursts to life and that familiar vibration makes you squeeze your thighs together all over again. Simon smirks to himself before he turns to you with the visor still pulled up. He opens yours and leans in. “Keep your thighs tight. I want ya ta keep all that inside til we get back. I got plans to watch it leak out; I think I’ve earned it.”

With a mischievous chuckle, he closes your visor and his and takes off back out of the garage and into the cool night air. Good thing it isn’t far back to the house from here…if Simon doesn’t plan to take a detour first.

1K notes · View notes

radio-writes · 10 months ago

Note

Going on anon bc this is a bit messed up but can you write Alastor x reader where Alastor uses sex as a form of torture?

Fuck your God and His Righteous Hand(s)

Synopsis: Hasn't Alastor always been such generous partner? Hasn't He always provided for you? Given you everything and anything you ever wanted? Except for your freedom of course.

The night you decide to run away from his graciousness, you find out just how generous he could be.

Warnings: noncon, forced relationship, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, physical harm to reader, degradation, smut, over stimulation, tentacles are used (I probably missed a lot, let me know)

Tags: Alastor x fem!reader; dead dove do not eat

MDNI

Your heart beat loudly against your chest, your breath ragged and heavy. Branches and twigs snapped and broke and fell all around you as you ran.

Not that you could hear any of it over the overwhelming sound of static flooding your ears.

As if the dark wasn't terrifying enough, you had to stumble through the woods with tears blurring your vision too. Arm stretched in front of you, swatting away vines in your path as you desperately tried to get away.

You had to get away.

You couldn't get away.

You could almost feel the ground shake beneath your feet. You could almost feel his breath that skimmed the back of your head. There was no use in running, but run you did anyway.

You kept running even when you felt his clawed fingers grab at your shirt; the fabric tearing easily.

You kept running even when you could hear his voice right by your ear. "I think it's in your best interest not to anger me any more, darling."

You couldn't keep running when a heavy, velvety tentacle wrapped around your ankle; your breath knocked out of you as you tumbled onto the forest floor.

Your hand outstretched, palm reaching into the darkness. It was a terrifying, unknown, and threatening darkness—but to you it still meant freedom.

That was the last clear thing you saw before you landed flat on your stomach, the weight of your failed escape weighing you down more than the dark shadow around your leg.

He was laughing.

He was out of breath, panting almost as heavily as you were, but he was laughing.

You heard the crunch of leaves and twigs as he approached your collapsed form. No longer rushing, no longer frantic. He seemed to take his time as he walked towards you, now that he's sure you couldn't get away.

Still, the tentacle holding you down tightened—a warning not to try anything again.

Not that you could. The moment of rest allowed to you as you laid on the ground, made the pain and exhaustion of your body much too apparent for your liking. Your legs felt like led, the numerous scratches from who-knows-where all sung in a harmony of stinging pain.

Even when you knew you couldn't run anymore, your mind frantically whirled through ideas. You tried to think of something, anything, to keep away from the Radio Demon.

At least until his shoes finally came into your view; the red accents bright against the inky darkness. They stopped right by your head, and suddenly it felt too dangerous to even think.

You found the dirt and mud of the forest floor much more appealing than having to look Alastor in the eye, so you kept your head down. Your head shrunk into the ground as the man looked down on you.

"I must admit, I hadn't expected you to run." Alastor said, still a hint of laughter in his tone. Had you looked up then, you would have seen just how much of a mess you've made of the demon. His hand pushed his red hair back from his forehead, sweat trickled down the side of his neck.

But it wasn't his unusual state of exhaustion that would have been shocking if you looked at him right now. No, what would have been surprising—what would have been unnerving— was the wild, desperate look in his glowing red eyes.

While you were scared, desperate to get away.

He was terrified, desperate to get you back.

The view of your small figure as you weaved through trees, dipping in and out of his sight had filled him with such cold, heavy dread.

Almost as much as the sight of your hand nearly meeting that of another demon's.

"Oh! But you're so filled of the unexpected today, aren't you, darling?" You could hear the spite in his tone, but you didn't dare raise your head.

You felt him step closer.

"I mean, I hadn't expected you to try to sell your soul to another demon, either." You cringed, lifting your arms over your ears as the static warped his voice terribly.

You felt a heavy weight on the back of your head. It rested there briefly, before it shoved you down further into the dirt. Your face pressed down into the mud, but you didn't dare fight back. You didn't dare move. The most reaction you allowed yourself was a small whimper of fear.

The sound fueled Alastor's rage, already barely kept under the surface of his smile. His eye twitched in annoyance. Why were you shaking? Why were you afraid?

Shouldn't you be kissing the foot on your head right now? Shouldn't you be thanking him for saving you from making a terrible mistake? A soul as unique as yours would have been wasted on a demon like that.

This ungrateful behavior, this attempt to leave him, just wouldn't do.

His foot left the back of your head, but it allowed no relief. The black tentacle wrapped around your leg swiftly yanked you up.

Your eyes widened in shock and your hands dug into the ground in an attempt to stay there. But it isn't a surprise that your flimsy resistance was easily broken through. The world soon turned into a dizzying blur of colors as you were lifted into the air. The trees floated from above and the sky was a muddy mess of leaves and roots, your arms hung limply above your head. The blood that now rushed to your head didn't help you in making much sense of what was happening.

But none of that mattered when your eyes finally met Alastor's.

As you were held up by your leg, upside down in the air, Alastor's usual wide smile looked like a snarling frown. His narrowed eyes did nothing to help the fear that quickly ate its way through you.

It was silent for a moment. Tension so thick in the air that you found it so terribly difficult to breathe.

But when he finally spoke, you thought to yourself how you actually preferred the suspenseful quiet.

"Have I not been the perfect partner?" Alastor asked. The static over his voice now eerily back to the usual amount. His tone was cheery, light, like this was just another early morning chit chat over breakfast between the two of you.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak.

The black appendage holding you up tightened, your skin already beginning to bruise. Although, it seemed that was the only indicator of Alastor's true mood, as the demon remained composed in front of you.

"Have I not given you everything you wanted?" He asked as he brought you closer to him.

When you didn't respond he brought his clawed hand up to your face.

You flinched, feeling his cold skin against yours, fearing that he'd tear right through your flesh.

But his touch was gentle. His fingers softly brushed away the mud and grime from your cheek.

"I've bought you everything you liked. I've protected you. Fed you." His voice was so soft, soothing. Like an old radio show you would have listened to while you drifted off to a restful slumber.

"I've even fucked you through your pathetic little heats." His claws dug into your skin. Blood gushed down your face, the scarlet liquid stung your eye even as you clenched it closed.

"I've spared useless, disgusting sinners on your request. I've played nice for you. I've given you everything." His hand shifted from your cheek to your neck, his grip tight, threatening.

The static over his voice once again horrid as it deafened you. His eyes, now drowned in black, narrowed into a glare at your form.

Your hands flew to your throat, pulling at Alastor's fingers. "Please, I'm sorry, Al!" You begged as you struggled. Your body flailed and squirmed as he held you above him, looking almost like a fish torn from the sea, desperate to breathe.

"Oh you're sorry?" Alastor's head titled to one side as he watched you. "That absolutely changes everything then!" He said cheerily, mockingly.

The tentacle holding you up loosened out of nowhere, sending you down into the mud for a second time that night.

You managed to keep yourself up by your arms as you greedily heaved in air back into your lungs. Your head still spun from the rush of blood, and you felt like you were about to vomit out whatever flesh Alastor made you eat earlier that day.

You felt something at your chin—Alastor's microphone it seemed—and it tilted your face towards him. Your teary eyes met his cheerful ones, and your chest tightened. It's been a long time since you've even stepped outside, but you now felt more trapped than you ever have before.

He bent down, lowering his face closer to yours as he smiled down at you.

"Since it seems like I've neglected my dear darling partner for so long that they've decided to seek attention elsewhere, I think it's best to spend some nice quality time together. Don't you think that'd be nice, sweetheart?" Alastor's voice held no threats. Promises. Only promises.

You shook your head no before he even finished talking. A desperate shaking hand reached up to him. "No, please. Al. Anywhere but the radio tower again. Please."

"Don't worry, doll. This time will a bit different." He assured.

You moved quickly, hurriedly, scrambling to your knees ready to beg at his feet. But before you could even part your lips to start, Alastor had both of you melted into shadows.

You re-materialize in the one place that haunted your dreams. The one place in Hell that truly, actually, did feel like hell to you.

Your blood felt frozen as you remained on the floor. Eyes wide in fear as you stared at the control panel.

Alastor turned his back to you, humming cheerfully, nonchalantly, as he made his way towards the main seat. "There's no need to look so alarmed," He said, you could almost hear the way his eyes rolled at your stupid expression. "We won't be having any special guests for this broadcast."

You finally tore your eyes away from the contraptions. Your gaze landing on Alastor's wide back as he slowly removed his coat. "You...you won't be torturing some poor soul?" You asked confused—and admittedly a little hopeful.

You couldn't count the horrible days he had made you sit and watch and listen as he took his sweet time tearing souls apart. How he joyously broadcasted the tortured screams for his Hell's entertainment.

Alastor's grin widened, stretched just a tad bit too far, before he turned his head to look back at you.

"Oh," Heavy static morphed his voice once more. "I didn't say that."

You didn't have time to react before his tentacles sprouted from his back, his inner shirt ripping to make way for them. They grabbed at your limbs, slithering around to get a tight hold as they pulled you to him.

A scream ripped from your throat at the sheer suddenness of it, and it made Alastor's heart leap in his chest. Oh how he loved those adorable reactions of yours.

"That is delightful! But do save your voice, dear. I do have to start us off first," He said gleefully as he turned around to fiddle with the controls.

You heart sunk. Eyes wide as the realization hit you. He wasn't going to force you to listen to someone being tortured.

"Alastor, wait—"

"Why hello, you wayward sinners! Hope everyone's having a wonderfully hellish time right now, because boy do I have quite the treat to make your evenings even better!" Alastor spoke into the mic, his eyes gone black as he held your gaze. "Yes, indeed, this one is going to be very special."

"Al, please—" You bit your lip, cutting off whatever pleas you were going to throw at him.

One of his tentacles pressed against your clothed mound as the others held you in the air. It quickly worked its way under your bottoms, ripping through it easily and exposing you to Alastor's lazy gaze.

"Don't, please. I'm so sorry, Al. I won't do it again, I promise, please." You whispered, not wanting all of Hell to hear how you begged for mercy.

"What's that, darling? I'm afraid you'll have to be a little louder for our lovely, horrid, listeners." Alastor mocked, just as the tentacle between your legs started to slide between your folds. Another made quick work of your already torn shirt.

You grit your teeth and clenched your eyes closed. Stubbornly, you refused to make a single sound from Alastor's ministrations.

But you know how this ends.

You're hardly the first soul he had broken during a broadcast.

You, of all people, knew that well.

Another one of his appendages slithered its way to your core. It teased at the entrance, pushing, testing your hole.

"I hope everyone has a lovely time!" You hear Alastor speak to his listeners, just as a scream ripped through your lips.

You weren't nearly wet enough to take him. Your walls resisted, but not enough for his strength. The black shadow pushed its way deep into you, others coiled at your legs to spread them apart. One remained by your clit, lazily flicking along.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You cried as Alastor fucked his tentacle deep into you. The harsh thrusts sending your ample chest bouncing.

Alastor didn't respond, he rarely ever does to his victims. He preferred to let the song of their anguish play uninterrupted. But he did find himself paying more attention than he usually did to the way your body reacted to him.

His gaze locked at the way his black shadow disappeared into your slick hole. How it came back to light drenched in your juices, only to push back in harsher. How your little pussy stretched wide around his tentacle to accommodate its size.

His eyes traveled further up, watching as he wrapped one tentacle around your breast and squeezed. A lovely horrified sound coming from your lips from his actions.

He watched as you sobbed, attention fully on him. Only on him. And he couldn't deny the rather unfamiliar heat the pooled in his stomach at that fact.

The tentacle at your clit moved faster, pressing down just the slightest bit more at that little bud. You tried your damndest to silence the screams from your throat, but as your mouth fell open, you could only do so much.

The coil in your gut snapped easily. Alastor tightening his hold on you as he kept your spasming form in the air for his entertainment.

Your juices flowed down his dark appendages as it kept up the pace. Tears forming in your eyes as they gave you no reprieve, no time recover.

You fight against his hold, aching to close your thighs and catch your breath but the dark shadows merely pulled them apart wider. You pulled at you arms, wanting to push away the damned things from your core but you were merely held back the same way.

"Wait, please, stop." You were barely able to form a coherent sentence. The tentacle inside you opting to curl just the right amount to hit that soft, perfect spot inside you with every thrust. That spot that Alastor knew drove you wild when he fucks you through your heat, after a lot of begging on your end, at least.

You clenched down on it, that being the only thing you could think of that you could still do to slow this down. It unsurprisingly did nothing but make you feel more of each drag and pull against your walls.

Another orgasm is stolen from you as a tentacle began to grind itself up and down your sloppy slit, drenching itself in your slick as it attempted to join the one already fucking you. Your screams broadcasted for all of Pride Ring to hear.

It doesn't stop. He doesn't stop. His dark shadows held you still, fucking into your cervix without mercy, playing with your clit, your breasts. Pulling yet another sloppy orgasm from you.

"No more," You heaved. Alastor's assault seeing no end near. "I can't. Al, please." You begged.

You craned your neck over to look back at the demon. You find his gaze no longer on you or your body, but on the papers in front of him. His script.

He was idly jotting down notes, chin rested on the palm of his hand and a lazy smile on his face. He almost looked bored, but the twitch of his ear as you called out his name showed you he was still paying you some attention.

"Alastor, please," You tried again. "I am sorry. I won't do it again. I won't leave you again." You sobbed.

The tentacle inside you pulled out to your brief relief, only for it to slam harshly, deeper back into you. It's pace at breakneck speed that even with the tight hold around your limbs, your body was moved with every push and pull.

"Oh, I'm sure you won't, darling." He finally replies to your pleas, although he didn't even glance your way. He continued correcting his notes, your sweet begging made for a wonderfully sweet background song. "Because why would you ever leave someone as generous as me?"

He ripped orgasm after orgasm from you. Your release dripped and drenched the floor of his radio tower. You begged til your throat was raw for some reprieve, for some forgiveness. But Alastor went about his way around the studio. Fixing this and that. Barely paid you any mind.

It was only when you've stopped pulling against his hold. When your legs had gone slack in the air, and your screams faded into whimpers did Alastor finally approach the control panel again.

"Wasn't that just darling! A wonderful performance, if I do say so myself," He laughed into his microphone. "I'm sure you lewd folks enjoyed yourself as much as our star of the night here, so make sure to keep an ear out for my next broadcast!"

His eyes finally land on your exhausted body. Your chest heaved with every labored breath as Alastor's tentacles finally slowly pulled out of you. A wet shlop of your juices dripping out as it did.

He slowly lowered you onto the ruined floor, and your dazed eyes locked with his.

"There will definitely be more of where that came from." He said, less of his usual cheer. His tone lower. Threatening—no, promising.

You didn't move—you couldn't move—from the floor. You simply watched as Alastor shut down his broadcast and took his time straightening out and cleaning up his work station. He was humming cheerfully, seeming to be in a much better mood than when the night had begun.

When he was finally satisfied, you watched as he walked to where you were, stopping by your feet as he smiled down at you.

"Well, you've definitely seen better days." A laugh track followed his mockery.

"I'm sorry." You heaved out. You hoped this was the end of it. You hoped he would just throw you back and lock you in his room again. Anything but stay in this wretched radio tower. "I'm yours. I won't try to run anymore."

Alastor chuckled at your response, moving to rest his cane against the wall before he reached up to his neck. He slowly loosened his bowtie and unbuttoned his shirt. "Oh I know you know that." He said waving off your words as if they didn't matter.

He lowered himself over you, his towering figure blocking out what little light you had. "But I'm afraid I need a bit of a reminder about who you belong to."

His hand made quick work of his trousers, pulling his hardened cock free.

His claws were at your waist and they pulled your limp body closer to him. Not that you offered any resistance.

"You can do one more for me can't you darling?" He wasn't really asking.

You can't. But you nod your head anyway.

He pushed into you easily. Your previous releases coated him and allowed a slicker entry.

Your back arched despite exhaustion, and Alastor drank in your pained expression. "There's a good girl. Always ready to ruin herself for her lover." You heard him say. "Don't worry, I won't make this long."

But of course that was a lie. He pulled back so slowly, revering in the way your drenched walls felt around him; how they clenched around his cock like how he saw them do around his tentacle. Then he thrusted himself back harshly into your sloppy hole, forcing what little sound you could still make out from your lips.

He fucked into you, slowly, deeply, maddeningly. Making sure you both felt each and every drag of his heavy cock.

He wasn't one to crave sex as much as most of hell, but when it was with you—his precious partner, he had to admit he didn't hate the sensations all too much. And if it meant reminding you who was in control, if it meant making you owe him, making you dependent on him, making you crave him, then it was all the more enjoyable to see you fucked out and speared on his dick.

One of his hands made its way to the back of your neck, pulling you up into his lap. He fucked up into you as your head lolled to the side, struggling to keep your body upright.

Alastor drank in your expression. Your glazed over eyes, the tear stains that smeared through the mud and blood along your cheeks, the drool dripping from your split lips. Yes, this is what you deserved for even daring to leave him. This is what you needed to be reminded on just how good a partner he is.

He wrapped a tentacle around your hips, keeping you steady as he pounded his cock into you. His free hand now moved between you, to your clit.

Your hips spasmed as he drew quick circles on the bud, but you fought the instinct to squirm away. You wouldn't leave him.

You can't leave him.

You know that now.

Alastor's grin widened when he noticed your actions. "There's a good girl." He purred again, leaning down to your neck to lick up your skin.

"Let me feel you cum on my cock now, darling. Let me feel how much you want me to fill you up." He whispered, his sweet voice right by your ear as he pressed down harder on your clit.

You whined, tears pouring from your eyes once more as he tore yet another orgasm from your weakened body.

Your fluids drenched his dick, soiling his pants as you came around him. Alastor all but tore your skin as he gripped you tight. His own pace finally picked up.

You felt him twitch inside you, before the hot feeling of his seed soothed your battered cunt.

"Tell me, would that scum have let you cum like this?" Alastor whispered in your ear. He held you tightly, his head still at the crook of your neck.

"No," You responded weakly. You felt him twitch inside you again.

You tried your hardest not to think back to the poor sinner, ripped limb from limb in a blink of an eye. Their body likely still stomped down into the mud of the forest floor.

"Would any other wretched soul be able to give you what I give you?" Alastor asked again. He playfully nipped at your ear.

"No," You responded again.

"So who do you think can treat you, treasure you, best, my dear?" He pulled back, his smug smile loomed over you as he held your chin for you to keep his gaze.

"You, Alastor. Only you can treat me this good." The words were bitter in your mouth

You hadn't sold him your soul. And he would never ask for it.

But you were his and his alone, nonetheless.

"And don't you ever forget it." He mused, pushing you back down to the floor as he began to fuck himself inside of you again. His previous release slowly pushed out with every slow thrust.

"Be still for me, darling," He whispered sweetly. "Let me have my fill of you for now."

I don't usually write smut but this request sent me haywire. Hope I didn't disappoint, anon! I loved your demented request ♪

#tw: noncon #tw: physical harm to reader #tw: forced relationship #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #smut #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #vien writes #vien answers #requests from a lovely anon #MIND THE TAGS PLEASE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD

2K notes · View notes

weaselle · 11 months ago

Text

i am convinced that human evolution and development was centered around the basic up-grade from "i steal your resources" to "i steal your behaviors and concepts"

We got clever enough and we just started copying absolutely everything we observed just because now we could figure out how to copy concepts and things that other animals were doing

see that squirrel hoarding acorns for the winter? we can do that. okay now how do we make these acorns edible, cause they are poisonous to a number of animals and we don't do great with them either. What if you put them in the fire? or just on hot coals? what if you put them in water on hot coals and boil them? Oh if you soak them in cold water for 24 hours and maybe change the water a couple times you can totally eat them? YOINK storing acorns for winter is our idea now.

or, you ever seen a weaver bird do it's thing? if not i'll give you one guess what they do

or how about the tailor bird that uses spider silk to stitch the edges of a big leaf together to make a nest in

or sometimes they'll stitch a bunch of leaves into a little cup for a nest

like i'm not trying to downplay how clever it is to be the first humans to weave or sew, and indeed, being the first person to weave that anyone knew about probably happened many times throughout human existence but my conceit is that most if not all of those times was a human seeing something in nature that was basically weaving and going "i'ma do that, and get real good at it - i'ma take that concept and really make it mine"

like it wouldn't surprise me if humans got dogs because we saw how ravens were treating wolves and went "shit yeah, great idea - YOINK that's my idea now."

most of the things that we think of as special human skill or behavior can actually be found elsewhere throughout nature -- all over there are animals using tools, farming, ranching, building, etc.

my favorite primate behavioralist anecdote is a group of people studying tool use in chimps were spending their days in the bush logging the use of twigs to catch termites, and over the campfire at night they're like "it's so boring i wish they'd do something more impressive than this completely basic tool skill."

and one of them was like "actually... how do we know its not a difficult skill? has anyone tried to use a twig to catch termites and see?" and so the next day, like good little scientists, they went out and recorded their attempts at catching termites with twigs.

And lo and behold out of the whole group and all their attempts that day, only, like, a single termite was caught by a human, mostly by chance. Suddenly the whole situation flipped - they'd been thinking of it as basic unskilled tool use, but actually the chimps knew how to do something that none of them could easily figure out on their own - or even together as a group!

y'all, they had to go back to watching the chimps do it to figure out how. Think about that. University degrees, scientific minds, educated people... and they had to be taught how by the chimps.

It turns out there's a reason that young chimps will spend like a year closely studying how an adult is fishing for termites. You gotta select the right kind of twig or leaf stem, maybe you fray the end like a paint brush depending on particulars, you gotta have just the right poking and little shaking technique to provoke the termites into biting the twig, it's a whole thing. There's even regional/cultural differences in the general approach to termite fishing that are distinct between groups that live in different areas.

Now, wild chimps have been observed using objects as tools to fashion crude spears for hunting (it's the mothers doing it by the way, and slowly some of their kids have been growing up doing it, which will probably result in refinements and developments eventually.

ants do both farming and ranching. For real. Some species of ant grow a fungus they eat AND it's a domesticated fungus, like our corn, it can't actually reproduce and survive in the wild without the ants farming it. They maintain its growing conditions and feed it leaf litter mulch, and the fungus produces some kind of ant food idk i forget the details about that. But that's farming. They are farming a domesticated mushroom, basically. And other species of ant will maintain a herd of aphids; they'll move them from grazing area to grazing area, and protect them from predators, and they "milk" them for a liquid food substance and also every now and then they straight up eat one. That's ranching.

beavers sometimes have muskrat... tenants? pets? The muskrats low key pay rent by changing out the reed bedding they all use, and they live in the beaver's lodge with them and eat some of the food. So. idk

Some Tarantulas keep frogs as pets

anyway my point is, i think the true human skill that sets us apart is our ability deconstruct and reconstruct anything we see into something that is for us. Oh, you eat that? Now WE eat that. You have the perfect teeth to drill little holes in specific tree trunks to let the sap ooze out and eat it because it's high in sugar? We don't have those teeth but we're gonna do that now and if we can't figure out a tool that's as good as your teeth at it, watch out, because we will absolutely just also steal your fuckin teeth.

1K notes · View notes

buttercandy16 · 2 days ago

Text

Asylum

Chapter Four: Enemy of my Enemy

PAIRING(s): Psychiatrist!Agatha Harkness x Patient!Reader x Inmate!Rio Vidal

SUMMARY: Wrongfully imprisoned, Reader becomes the obsession of Agatha, a cunning psychiatrist, and Rio, a fiery inmate. Together, they’ll ensure she’s theirs—forever.

WARNING(s): Obsession, Manipulation, Violence, Confinement, Madness, Dubcon, and Betrayal.

Rio's whispered promise to free you played in your mind like a scratched record for the rest of the day, the words insidious in their persistence. You didn’t want to believe her—couldn't trust her—but the possibility of escape, no matter how fragile, made your breath catch in your throat.

Could you really leave? And, more terrifying, would either of them let you?

By the time night fell, the edges of your resolve had begun to crumble. Your small cell felt more like a tomb, the walls pulsing with the weight of what lay ahead. The conflicting forces of Rio and Agatha loomed over you, as though the air between them left no room for you to breathe.

Then came the night Rio made good on her word—or so she claimed.

The clock had just struck midnight when your door creaked open.

“Psst.”

You jolted upright to see Rio’s unmistakable silhouette leaning in the doorway, her wild grin catching what little light filtered into the room. She looked untamed, even more so than usual, her hair messy, her eyes practically glittering with adrenaline.

“Get up, mi amor. Time’s up.”

You hesitated, instinct screaming at you to stay still, to stay quiet. If you left with her, this wouldn’t end well—Agatha would see to that.

Still, the thought of escape pulled at you like a siren song.

“Rio,” you whispered sharply, clutching the blanket around your knees. “This is insane. What are you—”

“Shut up and move,” she hissed, her voice low but fierce as she slipped into the cell. She crouched beside you, her fingers gripping your arm tightly. “We’re doing this. Now.”

Her intensity was suffocating, her presence taking up every inch of the confined space.

“Even if you don’t believe me, what’s keeping you here?” she asked, her lips brushing against your ear in the dark. “Her? You think she’s going to save you?”

Your breath hitched, your mind racing through every tangled interaction you’d had with Agatha over the past weeks. As terrifying as she was, there was safety in the familiarity of her controlled demeanor. But the memory of her possessive whispers and the subtle threats she weaved in her kindness still sent shivers down your spine.

“Let me save you, cariño.” Rio's voice softened now, tinged with what almost sounded like genuine affection.

And maybe that was why you found yourself swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. Maybe that was why, against your better judgment, you allowed Rio to take your hand.

The corridors of the asylum were eerily silent as Rio led you through them, her steps swift and silent on the cold floor.

"How do you know where to go?" you whispered, glancing nervously over your shoulder.

She smirked without looking back. "Unlike you, I’m not new to this place. I know its secrets."

Her confidence rattled you as much as it reassured you, the fine line between competence and recklessness blurring with every step she took.

But before long, that line snapped.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The voice sent ice through your veins. Agatha stepped out of the shadows at the far end of the corridor, her dark eyes cutting through the dim light like razors. Her usual composure was cracked just enough to show the rage simmering beneath her surface.

Rio froze, but only for a moment, before letting out a sharp laugh. "Of course you couldn’t just mind your own business, doc. Always watching, always scheming."

You stepped back instinctively, your heart pounding in your chest as Agatha's gaze slid to you. Her lips curved into a smile, but it wasn’t warm or reassuring—it was predatory.

"Step away from her, Rio," Agatha commanded, her voice dangerously calm.

"Not a chance," Rio shot back, shifting her body protectively in front of you. "I told you she’s not your toy to keep. She’s coming with me."

The tension in the air was suffocating as the two women locked eyes, the silent war between them more terrifying than any shouting match. You could feel their conflicting wills tugging at you like invisible chains, each pulling you closer to their side.

But you weren’t a pawn—or, at least, you didn’t want to be.

"Enough!" you snapped, your voice trembling but firm as you stepped forward.

Both women froze, their gazes snapping to you in unison.

"I can't—I can’t do this," you stammered, clutching your head as the weight of their obsession crushed you from both sides. "You’re both insane, and you’re dragging me down with you!"

Rio’s face twisted in frustration, while Agatha tilted her head, her dark hair framing her sharp features.

"Darling," Agatha began, her voice syrupy with forced calm, "you don’t know what you’re saying. You’re overwhelmed, but you’ll understand soon enough. You belong here—with me.”

“No,” Rio growled, cutting her off and stepping closer to you. “You don’t belong here at all, cariño. Let me take you away from her, from this place.”

"You think she’ll last a day out there?" Agatha snapped, her mask of calm fracturing entirely. "She’s fragile. The world will eat her alive without someone to protect her—someone like me."

“I’m right here, doc.” Rio’s voice was sharp enough to draw blood. “And I’m not letting her rot in your twisted little fantasy."

You felt dizzy, their words washing over you in an endless tide of possessiveness and control. Escape was no longer the question—survival was.

The choice was ripped away from you in the next moment. Before you could speak, Rio lunged.

She moved faster than you thought possible, closing the distance between herself and Agatha with predatory precision. For a moment, you thought she might actually win—until you saw the glint of silver in Agatha’s hand.

The syringe plunged into Rio’s neck before she could react, her wild grin faltering as her legs buckled beneath her.

"You fool," Agatha hissed, catching Rio’s falling body with chilling ease. "Did you really think you could win this game?"

You backed away, terror clawing at your throat as Agatha turned her attention back to you.

"Now," she said, smoothing her rumpled coat as though nothing had happened, "let’s get you back where you belong."

Her calm words were the last thing you heard before darkness closed in around you.

When you woke, your body felt heavy, like you'd been pulled from quicksand. The world swam into focus slowly, the familiar dim light of the infirmary's ceiling above you. A sharp sting in your arm drew your attention downward to find an IV taped against your skin.

Panic surged as the fog of sedation lifted, and the fragmented memories of last night crashed down on you. Rio’s body crumpling as Agatha overpowered her, the clinical calm in Agatha’s tone as she promised to “fix” everything.

Your throat tightened. Had she drugged you, too? How long had you been out?

The sound of voices filtered into the room, growing clearer as the door swung open. You didn’t need to look to know who they belonged to.

“She’s mine, Rio,” Agatha’s voice was sharp but level, though it carried an unmistakable tension. “You nearly ruined everything.”

Rio’s laugh was ragged, tinged with defiance despite its weakness. “Oh, yeah? And what’s your excuse, doc? You don’t think chaining her here with your manipulative crap will snap her eventually?”

You turned your head just enough to see them. Agatha’s posture was as stiff and upright as always, though her dark eyes burned with barely-contained rage. Rio, in contrast, looked disheveled and furious, leaning against the wall for support, a hand pressed to her neck where the syringe had struck.

“I wasn’t the one trying to haul her through the asylum like some thief in the night,” Agatha spat. “You’re reckless. No plan, no care for what would’ve happened if you were caught. Do you think security wouldn’t have thrown her in solitary for weeks after your stunt?”

“And your plan is so much better?” Rio shot back, stepping closer despite her visible weakness. “What, smother her until she loves you back? At least I wasn’t drugging her into compliance.”

“She would never survive outside of here,” Agatha snapped, her control slipping for the briefest moment. “You may think you’re the lesser evil, but what you tried would have destroyed her.”

The weight of their conversation fell heavily on you, the realization settling like a stone in your gut: they were arguing over you like you were some prize to be won. Not a person, not a victim of circumstance, but a thing—their thing.

You’d been nothing more than their pawn this entire time.

The truth ignited something deep within you, a flame that burned past the sedation weighing on your limbs. You clenched your hands, determination coalescing with your fear.

If neither of them would let you go, you’d have to take matters into your own hands.

The next few days blurred as you began quietly planting seeds of misdirection. Every word you said to either of them was careful, calculated—designed to sow discord between the two. It didn’t take much effort; their hatred for one another was barely concealed beneath the surface.

Agatha cornered you in the therapy room on the second day, her gaze softer than usual.

“You look tired, darling,” she said, her voice low and soothing as she sat across from you. “But don’t worry. Things are going to be different soon. I’ll keep you safe from her.”

You nodded numbly, knowing better than to argue. “She scares me,” you whispered, a faint quiver added to your tone. “She... she keeps talking about getting me out of here, but... I don’t know if I trust her.”

The faint twitch of satisfaction in Agatha’s expression didn’t escape your notice. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing yours in a way that made you shiver.

“You don’t need to worry about her,” she murmured. “I’ll handle Rio.”

Later that evening, you sought Rio out, finding her in the common room, idly twirling a fork between her fingers like a weapon. When she saw you, her expression softened, though her grin remained sharp-edged.

“Well, if it isn’t my little escape artist,” she teased, gesturing for you to sit beside her.

You hesitated but obliged, lowering your voice to a whisper as you leaned in. “She’s watching me, Rio. Every move I make. I think... I think she knows I’m still considering leaving.”

Rio’s grin faltered, her jaw tightening. “Of course she is,” she said bitterly. “That witch has her claws in deep, doesn’t she?”

“She told me she’d stop you if you tried anything again,” you added, your voice soft but urgent. “I... I’m scared of what she might do to you, Rio.”

Her eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, her fury seemed to melt away, replaced by something softer—something raw.

“Let her try,” Rio muttered, her voice low but vicious. “But she won’t win.”

What you hadn’t counted on was how far the two of them would go to maintain their hold on you.

It started small—subtle shifts in their behavior. Agatha spent more time with you, her demeanor bordering on saccharine as she reassured you that everything would be alright if you stayed under her care. Rio grew increasingly protective, pulling you into hushed conversations where she ranted about Agatha’s manipulative control.

But then came the night they both broke.

You were woken by the sound of voices raised in anger just outside your cell.

“You idiot!” Agatha’s voice was sharp, her words slicing through the silence like a blade. “Do you have any idea what your little games are doing to her?”

“Oh, spare me the concern,” Rio shot back. “At least I don’t treat her like some fragile doll you can lock in a cabinet.”

“Because dragging her into chaos is so much better?” Agatha sneered. “You’re reckless, unhinged—she doesn’t need that.”

“She doesn’t need you either,” Rio snarled.

The sound of a struggle followed, something crashing against the wall.

“I’m not letting you win,” Agatha hissed.

For a moment, silence reigned, heavy and suffocating.

Then came Agatha’s next words, quieter but venomous: “If either of us pushes too hard, she’ll break. We’ll lose her. Is that what you want?”

The shift in tone sent chills down your spine.

“If you think I’m teaming up with you, you’re crazier than they say I am,” Rio said, though the venom in her voice faltered.

Agatha’s response was disturbingly calm: “We don’t have a choice.”

Your blood ran cold as realization dawned. You weren’t escaping. You were being pulled even deeper into their web.

And now? Now they were working together to keep you there.

_-_-_

Please don't forget to vote, reblog, and comment 💜💚

#agatha harkness x reader #agathario #rio vidal x reader #dark fanfiction #agatha all along #rio vidal #agatha harkness #agatha harkness fanfic #kathryn hahn #marvel #aubrey plaza

156 notes · View notes

gamergirl929 · 5 months ago

Text

It's Gonne Be Me, You, and The Dance Floor (Kristie Mewis x Reader)

You never expect for Megan Rapinoe's retirment party to be as wild as it currently was, but here you were, surrounded by drunk current and former USWNT Players, with a healthy dose of WNBA and NWSL players sprinkled in. Unfortunately for you, a drunk Emily Sonnett decides to drag you onto the dance floor, despite that fact you weren't much of a dancer. Eventually, she's whisked away by Lindsey Horan, the woman knowing full well you weren't the dancing type. However, before you can making your escape from the dance floor, you turn, walking smack dab into Kristie Mewis.

Anonymous Request: Kristie Mewis/G!P Reader, finding a somewhat private place at a party to fuck.

“Hey.” You jump, pulled from your thoughts by a pat on the back from Emily Sonnett, the blonde grinning.

“Get out of your head, come on, have some fun!” She says as she motions to the party going on around you.

Retirement wasn’t something you’d expected to party about, but when Megan Rapinoe announced her retirement, the team knew they had to throw a party for the USWNT veteran.

You didn’t realize that party would mean renting out an entire club for the night, with a completely open bar and a DJ.

A number of retired players had flown out to join in on the festivities, as well as a number of Megan’s NWSL teammates from OL Reign.

Her wife, Sue Bird, and some of her Seattle Storm teammates also made an appearance, refusing to miss the retirement party of Sue’s significant other, who they all adored.

You sigh deeply, downing the entire glass of liquor in your hand, earning a pat on the back from Emily.

“Atta girl! Now get out there, let’s dance!” She yells, dragging you out on the dance floor.

You weren’t much of a dancer, but Emily had grabbed your arms anyway, swinging them around dramatically.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Lindsey making her way towards you, pulling Emily into a headlock.

“What are you doing...?” She asks and Emily grins.

“Having fun with Y/N!” Her grin widens, the Gotham FC player visibly drunk.

You chuckle, about to turn and make your way off the dance floor, that is until you run smack dab into Kristie Mewis.

You couldn’t lie, you’d honestly been in love with Kristie Mewis since the moment you laid eyes on her.

You knew deep down that you’d never have a chance with her, but a girl can dream, can’t she?

“Hey!” She beams, peering around you, snorting when she sees Emily wobbling as she attempts to dance with Lindsey.

“Someone’s drunk.” She giggles and you laugh, glancing over your shoulder at Emily who’s doing, what she thinks, is dancing.

You shake your head, turning back to Kristie, your eyes widening when you see the soft smile she’s sending you.

“What?” You ask, your cheeks flushing when she takes a step towards you, the two of you almost chest to chest.

“Do you want to dance?” She asks confidently, your eyes widening.

“U-U-Uh, s-sure, b-but I’m not the best dancer.” You cringe and Kristie hums, placing her hands on your shoulders.

"You’ll get the hang of it.” She winks and you swallow hard, giving her a less than confident nod.

She weaves through the crowd, pulling you to the middle of the dance floor.

“Come here.” She says, pulling you in, your fronts now together.

You knew you were blushing, the tips of your ears burning as she pulled you closer.

Unexpectedly, her hands run from your shoulders down to your chest, her thumbs caressing your collar bone, her blue orbs glassy, but not from the effects of alcohol.

“Kris?” You say, pulling the woman out of whatever trance she was in, her cheeks dusted pink.

“S-Sorry.” She stutters, glancing away bashfully before clearing her throat.

“If you aren’t comfortable, you don’t have to dance with me.” She smiles and you shake your head.

“I-I mean, I can try...?” You shrug, her smile splitting into a grin.

“Follow my lead?” She says, holding her hands out and you nod.

The music booms loudly as Kristie starts to sway, the woman nodding in encouragement when you follow her movements,

She takes a step closer, her body flush with your own, her nose nearly brushing yours.

Her fingers knit behind your neck as her hips move, her lower half brushing yours repeatedly.

You breathe one another’s air as your hips rock, her tongue slipping between the tight line formed by her lips as she grinds harder into you.

Her hands roam your body before settling on your waist, pulling you closer, your lower halves now flush.

“Shit.” You say, the curse indivertibly slipping past your lips.

You didn’t have time to be embarrassed, not when Kristie’s lips skirted along the underside of your jaw.

You’re unable to stop yourself from gasping when you feel her press a kiss to your pulse point, her tongue taking a swipe at your tan skin.

You’re not sure what possess you, but your hands leave her waist, and instead slip around her, settling on her jean short, covered ass.

She whimpers as you pull her impossibly closer, the two of you now grinding feverishly against one another, which goes unnoticed by the bodies dancing around you considering many are doing the same.

You realize far too late that you were getting hard, the protrusion in your pants growing hard with each roll of Kristie’s hips.

Kristie’s breath hitches, her body stilling when she realizes what exactly she’s grinding against.

Your cheeks were flushed a deep shade of red as you take a step back, the blonde now able to see the outline of your cock beneath your jeans.

“I-I-I'm sorry.” You stutter, preparing to bolt, but Kristie stops you, her fingers tangling in your belt loops as she pulls you back against her, your erection now pressed against her.

“Do you want to stop...?” She asks, rolling her hips again to gauge your reaction, the woman smirking when your eyes slam shut, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

“I-I-I...” You fall silent, wrapping your arms around her as she grinds against your now rock-hard member.

“Tell me.” She purrs, unable to stop herself from gasping when you whimper in her ear.

“Do-Don’t stop.” You beg, the woman smirking against your neck.

Your hips rock, the woman pressed against you soaked beyond belief.

She’d wanted you for so long, asking you to dance had been spur of the moment, but now she couldn’t have been happier, the woman smiling against your neck as you moaned in her ear, the blonde rocking her hips against your member.

She moans against your neck, the sound making you growl.

“F-Fuck.” You stutter, giving Kristie’s sides a squeeze.

“I-If we don’t stop...” You sigh, your brows knitted in pleasure, the woman in your arms giggling against your neck.

“If we don’t stop, what?” She asks innocently, using her hips to rock harder against you.

You duck down, panting in the woman's ear as you attempt to gather your thoughts.

“I think you know what.” You say, whining when she winks, knitting her fingers behind your neck as she pulls you in, her nose brushing yours.

“Are you gonna come...?” She asks, and you nod rapidly, grunting as her hips swivel.

“Well...?” She says, your brows furrowing in confusion, that is until her hand slithers between your bodies, the woman palming the appendage between your legs.

She hugs you tight, keeping you upright as she strokes you rapidly, getting you off in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by your drunk teammates.

She places a hand behind your neck and pulls you in, your hot breath puffing against her ear, soft whimper and whines passing through your lips, the sounds making her even wetter than she already was.

“Why don’t you come for me?” She asks, watching your face contort in pleasure, your body stiffening before you groan against her neck, her hold on you tightening as you shudder, your pants filled with your release.

Kristie continues to stroke you, only stopping when you grab her wrist, unable to take any more.

You pant against her shoulder, the woman kissing the curve of your jaw over and over again.

“How was that...?” She asks, smirking when her blue orbs lock with your glassy Y/E/C orbs.

“Fucking great, even if I didn't expect it...” You say as you attempt to catch your breath, the blonde giggling.

You lick your lips, leaning in, your lips nearly touching.

“What I do know is I want to return the favor...” You rasp, the sound of your voice making her clit throb.

You nod your head off the dance floor, weaving through the dancing bodies until you break free of the crowd.

You scan the club, smirking when you spot a nearby bathroom door, the sign on its front signaling to the other patrons that it was out of order.

Kristie is unable to stop herself from laughing when you drag her inside, her back resting the closed door.

Your palms rest on either side of her head, the blonde grinning.

“Do you want this...?” You ask, worried she may push you away, even after what happened on the dance floor.

She cups your cheeks, pulling you in and slamming her lips against yours.

It doesn’t take long at all for the kisses to heat up, your tongue swiping against Kristie’s, the woman moaning into your mouth.

Your hands slide off the door, finding their way onto her chest, the woman whimpering when you knead her breasts.

“Y/N...” She moans, holding her arms up, a sign to you that she wanted the shirt hugging her upper half off.

You pull the shirt up over her head, and toss it on the floor, your Y/E/C orbs taking in the now visible flesh that had been hidden beneath her shirt.

Kristie tilts her head back, her lips parted in a silent gasp when you caress her breasts through her bra, her nipples visible through the material.

She whimpers when your lips leave hers, trailing down her neck until you reach her breasts, your lips wrapping around one of her erect nipples.

Her fingers tangle in your hair as you lavish her breasts with attention before turning to the opposite, playfully nipping at her pebbled nipple.

Your hands continue their descent, your fingers tangling in the belt loops of Kristie’s shorts, her eyes flashing open to reveal her blue orbs, darkened with arousal.

Slowly, you unzip the zipper of her shorts, giving them a tug, the blonde nodding immediately.

You kneel down, pulling her shorts, as well as her ruined panties down her legs, the woman kicking them off, the clothes joining those already on the floor.

You were painfully hard, but you wanted to give Kristie the attention she’d given you, you wanted to watch her come undone in your arms.

Kristie’s breath hitches as you sink to your knees in front of her, pressing tender kisses to her inner thighs.

She whimpers when you give her inner thigh a gentle nip, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you where she needs you the most.

At the first tentative lick to her core, she moans, leaning her head back roughly against the bathroom door.

Your tongue traces her slit before it’s making contact with her clit.

“Fuck.” She sighs as your tongue works between her legs, dipping into her entrance before running along her slit and flicking against her pulsing clit again.

Kristie whimpers and whines loudly, her thighs already starting to quake around your head.

You knew she was worked up, especially after what happened on the dance floor, you knew she was just as turned on as you were, which meant it wouldn’t take her long to orgasm.

In all honesty, you wish she wouldn’t come, which meant you’d never have to be anywhere else other than between her legs, her taste and smell intoxicating.

You wrap your lips around the tiny bundle of nerves, giving it a soft suckle, the woman crying out, her grip tightening on your hair.

“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” She begs as you lick her wildly, the woman unable to keep her hips still.

Moments later she cries out, the sound thankfully covered by that of the booming music in the club.

Her essence coats your tongue as you lick her clean, the woman’s thighs twitching as you place a kiss to her clit before moving to your feet, your lips wet with her slick.

She pants heavily cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a kiss, the kiss softer than before, but more intimate considering you had the taste of her on your lips.

Your tongues slowly meet, the two of you sighing deeply as you kiss lazily.

Kristie pulls back, her forehead resting against yours, her blue orbs raking down your front, smirking when she realizes you’re hard again.

Your brows knit when her hand slithers between you, her palm settling on the bulge in your pants, your front already damp from your earlier release.

“Maybe we should take care of that?” She says seductively, your eyes raking down her front, settling on her bare core.

“I know one way to take care of it.” You smirk, Kristie’s throat bobbing as you slowly reach for your jeans’ button.

Kristie catches your wrist, your eyes widening when she chooses to pop the button of your jeans and grab your zipper, tugging it downwards slowly.

In a blink, your pants are on the floor around your ankles, your boxers the only thing covering your lower half, the size of your member now visible.

“Fuck.” Kristie whispers, backing you up against the opposite wall, the woman pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor.

Her hands run from your shoulders down your chest, pausing to squeeze your breasts before her hands splay on your visible, muscular stomach.

“Damn.” She whispers, prodding your hard muscles.

She leans in, pressing her lips against yours, the kiss tender, distracting you from the fact that she was tugging down your boxers, that is until your erection springs free.

You glance down at your erection, your brows arching when you see Kristie gazing at it before running a fingertip along the underside of your cock.

You lean back heavily against the wall, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I want to feel you inside me.” Kristie confesses, your eyes flashing open, meeting Kristie’s shining blues.

“A-Are you sure...?” You whisper, the woman nodding with no sense of hesitation.

Your hand drops to your already throbbing member, giving it a few pumps, the sounds you're making, makes Kristie shudder.

Much to her surprise, you take charge, flipping your positions, the woman’s back now pressing against the cold tile wall.

You turn your attention back to your member, Kristie sighing when you run your head through her lower lips, stopping to rub it against her clit.

“Shit.” She sighs, her brows furrowing as you teasingly spread her opening with your tip before pulling away.

“Don’t tease.” She whines, her bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

She wanted you, and she wanted you bad, something that made you whimper, her eyes flashing open, locking with your Y/E/C orbs.

You lick your lips lining yourself up with her entrance, the blonde nodding rapidly when you give her a questioning look.

You slowly slip into her, your head slipping in slowly, the woman whining loudly.

“Fuck.” She whimpers, as you slowly slip inside her until you’re completely sheathed, her walls wet and warm, welcoming your invasion.

You remain still, lightly kissing her neck, letting her get acclimated to the stretch before you light thrust your hips.

“O-Oh.” She sighs, lifting one leg upward, curling it around your waist, gripping your shoulders tightly.

You put a bit more power behind your next thrust, earning a throaty moan in return, her walls fluttering around you.

You quickly establish a rhythm, your thighs slapping together as you pound into the woman.

“Fuck, Y/N...” She sighs, gasping when you lift her into the air and press her back against the wall, her legs wrapping around your middle as you reposition yourself and slip back inside her.

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” She sighs as you start thrusting upwards, the woman getting wetter and wetter with each thrust.

She uses your shoulders as leverage, bouncing along with your thrusts, her lips parted as a wide array of sounds pass from her open mouth, a mixture of whines, whimpers, groans and moans.

Your muscles start to contract, your breathing quickening with each thrust, your orgasm impending.

“I-I’m so close.” Kristie says in between gasps, her walls fluttering around you.

“I-I’m gonna--

You go silent, groaning loudly against her neck as you stiffen, your thrusts slowing as you orgasm, your thighs quaking as you fill her with your release.

Kristie comes with a cry, her walls clamping down around you, milking more of your seed out of your softening cock.

Her nails dig ridges in your back as she trembles in your arms, the feel of her climaxing in your arms bringing you a sense of pleasure you never thought you’d feel.

Your thrusts slow, the woman panting heavily in your arms as you lazily kiss her neck, helping her through her orgasm.

She leans in, kissing your lips softly, your now flaccid member still inside her as you kiss tenderly.

You part, Kristie’s hands on your shoulders as her chest rises and falls rapidly.

“Well...” She says, giggling as she scrapes her nails against the nape of your neck.

“I didn’t expect that to happen.” She chuckles and you shake your head, your lips splitting in a grin.

“Me either.” You smile softly, bashful even though you were currently still inside the woman.

She hums, leaning in to press another kiss to your lips.

“What do you say, we take this back to the hotel?” She asks with a seductive smirk, your lips splitting in a grin.

“I was kind of worried you’d want to pretend like this didn’t happen.” You mumble insecurely, the woman in your arms smiling as she tilts your chin up with her index finger, her sparkling blues meeting your Y/E/C’s.

“I’ve kind of been wanting to do this for a long time.” She confesses, her cheeks dusted pink.

Your brows arch.

“Really now?” You ask and she nods, smiling against your lips when your lips meet again.

“Still want to take this back to the hotel?” She asks and you smirk.

“Absolutely.”

Eventually, the two of you exit the bathroom, fully clothed, your hand in Kristie’s as she drags you out of the club, a slurring Emily Sonnett yelling from across the club.

“GET IT Y/N!” She hiccups and you snort, Kristie giggling as she squeezes your hand, the two of you eager to continue where you left off at the hotel.

In that moment, you were incredibly thankful that a drunk Emily Sonnett dragged you onto the dance floor.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #kristie mewis x reader #kristie mewis imagine #sorry im so late I forgot it was friday again XD #please let me know what you think!

288 notes · View notes

lovemomhatepolice · 29 days ago

Text

oscar piastri nswf alphabet (part 2) (minors DNI!)

navigation taglist requests

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Oscar is clear about his boundaries, both for himself and his partner. He absolutely refuses to engage in anything that seems coercive or disrespectful. Anything that involves humiliation, pain without prior discussion or crossing emotional boundaries is off the table. He rejects dishonesty in expressing desires and needs - open communication is crucial to him. Mutual comfort and consent always come first.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Oscar is the type who doesn't choose whether he prefers to get or give. He knows that it flows from both sides and he really likes to stick to it. He's quite experienced, so he tries to catch what you like and loves to see your reaction. He's also a big fan of how you give something of yourself and go on your knees in front of him. He loves it when he can weave his fingers into your hair.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Rather, he is the type who focuses on the sensuality of the whole act. Oscar likes privacy, peace and quiet. He loves how you have sex in a quiet place, away from people and the speed of the whole world. He likes to take his time, likes to focus on what he is doing and give you all the pleasure possible. But he also happens to be more freaky - for example, when you are both after alcohol, then he fires up harder. You're both in a torrent of electrifying glances at each other, an even heavier air than usual. Then his reins let go and he's not so laid back anymore

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Oscar doesn't mind quick numbers, especially when time is tight or the moment is too irresistible to ignore. He loves the thrill and spontaneity of stealing a few hot minutes together, especially if it happens in an unexpected place. However, he doesn't want them to replace more intimate and drawn-out moments, because he values the deeper connection they bring.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) He does not like risks. Oscar is such a balanced and secretive man that he wouldn't allow himself or you to take risks, such as being set upon by other people. He values his privacy too much to allow that to happen. And when it comes to risks, like lack of security, he's also rather against it. You're both young, so he wouldn't want a slip-up to happen to you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Oscar surprises with his stamina - he may seem laid back and relaxed, but when it comes to intimacy, he has impressive stamina. He can easily go two or three rounds in one session if the mood is right, with enough energy to make it exciting each time.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) It's not for him. Oscar is not fascinated by such toys. He's not against it - after all, everything is for people, but he doesn't need it. He thinks the same when it comes to your sex - he doesn't use any “boosters”. However, if you own something, he is not against you showing him…

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Oh, Oscar is a tease one. He loves to tease you, driving you crazy. All day long he can hook you up - whisper something naughty, touch you not-so-subtly on the butt or look at you with that one pattern he reserved especially for you. But rest assured, as unbearable as he is with this, he immediately returns the favor and does it brilliantly

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Maybe in everyday life Oscar is not very talkative and seems secretive, but I beg you. When things move to your bedroom, bathroom, living room, whatever - Oscar is unrecognizable. He turns into a whining mess, constantly whispers sweet nothings (or the less sweet ones) in your ear, and you could swear that's the moment when he's at his loudest

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) I have already mentioned that Oscar is a master of aftercare. But how he loves it when you take the initiative and take care of him! Mostly he prefers to do it, but when you wash him or prepare his favorite food, or god forbid, stroke his hair and back, well he is in paradise

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Hm, Oscar is rather normal sized. He's not very big, but he's definitely not small. For you, it's perfect and in any position you feel it filling you up quite as it should

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Mm, his sex drive is stable. He's not too demanding and doesn't expect sex from you all the time, but he doesn't have little of it either. It all depends on the time he is currently in. If he happens to have more free time and you're next to him, he doesn't take his hands off you. Although he does it respectfully and does not impose himself, you know very well what he wants by those shining eyes of his

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He only falls asleep when he knows the aftercare has been properly done. He tries to fall asleep only when you are already sleeping safely next to him, but he happens to fall asleep before you do. This is especially true when you are the one cuddling him close, rather than him cuddling you. Then he doesn't need much - but he tries

A/N: part one if anyone missed it!!

I encourage you to give requests in the Christmas marathon! click here :) and in my celebration to the first thousand!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

253 notes · View notes

wretcheddthing · 1 year ago

Text

this time i’m really gonna do it

#personal #bg3 #gale dekarios #oc: venali kelvyre #or i guess dekarios now :)#s: wild weave

13 notes · View notes

portraitofalinkonfyre · 3 months ago

Text

Some Bunny Loves You!

Pairing: Legend x Reader

Warning(s): Completely shameless smut. You're welcome.

Notes: Written for the amazing @h4wari, I SEE YOU BESTIE!!

Masterlist

If there was one thing you loved about traveling with a bunch of heroes on a quest to save Hyrule, it was that you were never alone. Having lived quietly for most of your life, their rambunctious presence was nothing short of a godsend, even if it meant you had to walk over ten miles daily and occasionally suffer at the hands of Hyrule's "delicious" cooking.

The forest was unusually alive–the chirping birds and rustling leaves creating a symphony that weaved through the trees with unusual grace–as you trudged down the worn path, heading for the river Sky had offhandedly mentioned over last night's salmon risotto. It had been a bit since you'd treated yourself to a proper bath, and you were determined to make the most of the rare time off.

You followed the path as it veered left, adjusting your heavy pack over your shoulders, already imagine how good the water would feel–once you got over the chill, of course. A glance over your shoulder confirmed that you were indeed alone, not that you expected anyone to follow you when you announced your intention to bathe. Legend had even walked in the opposite direction of the river in a supposed quest to gather berries for Wild's next cooking creation, which was honestly amazing of him.

Rustle.

You stilled as a quiet rustling noise came from a large shrub on the outskirts of the path, instinctively reaching for the dagger Legend had gifted you a few months ago. "Who's there?" you called out, giving whatever was out there a chance to come out before shit got nasty. "If you don't come out, I'm going to–"

Rustle.

You advanced on the bush, the gleaming blade clenched tightly in your fist... until the bush shook thickly and a pink blur shot from the bottom of it. You yelped, gingerly sidestepping the blur as it shot straight for your feet, revealing a... was that a rabbit?

You immediately dropped to a squat, sheathing your dagger as you studied the creature. It was on the larger size, fur pinker than the horizon at dawn, wearing what appeared to be a little red vest.

"Oh my Hylia," you breathed, unable to comprehend the cuteness before you. You took a deep breath, plopped down on the ground, and squealed: "You are so cute!!"

The rabbit's ears twitched adorably as it turned to face you fully. You reached a hand out, moving torturously slow until your fingers brushed the sinfully soft fur at the top of its head. It was a full-on battle to keep your squee!!! of joy to a reasonable level for the sake of not scaring away the creature, but you somehow managed, lip trembling from the sheer amount of effort you were employing to contain yourself. "Where did you come from, handsome?" you cooed, because that vest was nothing short of dapper, fingers trailing to rub tenderly at the rabbit's soft ears. "It's a good thing I found you, Hylia forbid you run into Wolfie."

The rabbit hopped closer when you added the very tips of your nails to the scratching process, and your heart damn near melted at the sight. "I could just hug you right now," you scratched harder, earning yourself a small thump from one of the rabbit's hind legs. Your hand swept down to caress the bunny's back, and it was then that you noticed the brownish tone of the fur around his rump and legs.

"You're all dirty," you mumbled slowly, running your finger through the slightly clumped fur. It was a shame, really, because you couldn't recall ever seeing such an astounding creature.

Wait...

"That's it!" You cried, hands cupping under the rabbit's chest and butt before you hoisted it up against your chest. The creature squirmed, legs kicking gently against your ribcage, and you rubbed its back softly. "It's okay, sweetie, we're just going to take a bath together and get all clean, alright?"

The bunny wiggled more, but you held it steady, continuing down the path to the river.

Legend knew he was in deep shit.

He hadn't even meant to follow you, having stayed true to his goal of gathering berries for Wild... until he caught sight of your swaying form walking along the trees, and something deep inside his chest demanded he follow you. The woods could be dangerous, so it couldn't hurt to have an extra layer of protection, especially when you were in such a... vulnerable position, he convinced himself, allowing the transformation into a rabbit to wash over him like water.

With swift hops, he followed you through the undergrowth, carefully avoiding anything that would alert you of his presence. You didn't know about his ability, but the others did, and he'd rather not have to explain anything to anyone. Legend wasn't embarrassed to admit that his gaze lingered on the subtle curve of your ass through those leggings of yours for far longer than appropriate, mostly because he knew no one was around to hear it.

Rustle.

Legend cringed as his hind leg brushed the shrub he was hiding under, and full-blown terror engulfed him when your head snapped in the direction, hand already reaching for the dagger he gifted you a while back under the guise of protecting you. In truth, he really liked seeing you in the fruits of his labor, but since nothing between you was even remotely past friendly, he had to be sneakier than piling protection rings on your fingers like he wanted.

The ground crunched beneath your boots as you took a cautious step further, expression grin. Legend tried to scurry deeper into the thick leaves, praying that you hadn't seen him, and brushed the shrub again in his haste, sending a resonating rustle through his temporary residence.

"Who's there?" your voice, typically filled with mirth, called dangerously, and he knew he had to act fast. There was no way he could transform like this--then he would really be done for. "If you don't come out, I'm going to–"

As the bush rustled one final time, Legend made his choice. His hind legs, tucked under him like two loaded springs, pushed him forward faster than the wind. Your yelp resonated in his ears and you jumped to the side to avoid the undoubtedly pink blur shooting out from the shrub. He landed on the ground a few feet from your form, turning his head just in time to catch the moment your expression changed from shocked to disbelieving to absolutely awestruck.

"Oh my Hylia," you said, and he wanted nothing more than shoot away, but that was far too incriminating, especially since he was positive you would tell the others about your encounter with a fucking pink rabbit. "You are so cute!"

Cute...? You thought he was cute? Legend had to remind himself that you thought you were speaking to just an animal, because the notion that you were speaking those words to him was far too poignant to consider if he wanted to remain sane. Legend had always liked you, perhaps a bit more than he should have, which is why he remained still when your hand reached out slowly, obviously not wanting to scare him, and allowed the tips of your fingers to graze his head.

You cooed some more, and, this time, he was embarrassed to admit the very noticeable swell of heat in his chest. "Where did you come from, handsome?" Legend just knew you were looking at the vest, unable to find a rebuttal to that particular statement; it was pretty neat, he had to admit. "It's a good thing I found you, Hylia forbid you run into Wolfie."

Right. Twilight. Legend cringed at the mention of the hero who had gotten him into this mess in the first place, but his annoyance was quickly rectified when your fingers stroked down the length of his ears, sending tremors of... well, pleasure, sliding down his spine. Hylia, was he even supposed to be feeling this good? "I could just hug you right now," you stated, hand sweeping down to caress his back, and Legend was the first to notice when the adorable look in your eyes morphed into concern. Every nerve in his body bristled at the mere notion of upsetting you, you, and the urge to shift right then and there nearly consumed him. "You're all dirty..."

He was? Legend shot a glance at his backside, cringing when he noticed the massive splotch of mud right above his rump. It must have happened while he was under than bramble bush earlier, having been too preoccupied with watching over you to mind his own appearance.

Legend nearly yelped when your hands cupped his body, lifting him in the air before he could curse Hylia for putting him in such a predicament, all the while you crowed "That's it!" while moving him to rest directly on your chest. Directly. "It's okay, sweetie, we're just going to take a bath together and get all clean, alright?"

You... you were going to what? Legend could hardly think as his hind legs kicked gently against your ribcage in a last-ditch effort to free himself, but your grip held true, keeping him exactly where you wanted him. His paws rested on your collarbone, dully registering the warmth flowing from your skin, but he had far more pressing matters to worry about. For one, you were heading to take a bath, and he was positive one didn't bathe with their clothes on, which meant...

"Hey, it's okay," your hand smoothed down his back as he began to struggle anew. This wasn't what he had in mind when he decided to watch over you, and the wrongness of the situation twisted his soul like a wet rag. For Hylia's sake, he wasn't a pervert!

Yet you walked on, blissfully unaware of the complete and total turmoil raging within him. He was going to hell for this, Legend was sure, if the others' teasing didn't send him there first.

After a few minutes, you made a noise of satisfaction, stepping into the clearing, where a medium-sized river resided. The water looked gentle enough, but he was more preoccupied when you abruptly dropped your pack, kneeling down to set him on the soft grass. "You stay here, okay?" Your smile was softer than silk and brighter than the master sword... and Legend found himself unable to move; as if his small body had simply stopped working, even when your hands pulled your tunic from your body, revealing miles and miles of smooth skin for his perusal. If rabbits could blush, his face would have been redder than a strawberry.

Legend's heart nearly stopped beating as your hands deftly untied the cloth binding your breasts, sighing softly when they were released. Everything felt hot, too hot, when you slid your leggings and undergarments down in one fell swoop, kicking them to the side as you advanced on him with a grin sweeter than honey.

"Hey, bunny, ready to get clean?"

Fuck, was Legend's only thought as he was hauled against your chest once more, breathing deepening when the hard nub of your nipple poked his fluffy stomach. Your hands pulled off his vest, tossing it atop your pack.

You carried him to the shallows, where you sat down cross-legged in the sun-warmed water, gently placing him in the space between your glorious thighs. Legend's paws scrambled against the smooth skin of your thighs as he attempted to climb away, but your hand grabbed the scruff of his neck with an iron grip, tenderly pulling him back down, and he realized escape was no longer an option. "You're too pretty to get dirty," you mused softly, dousing his back with a cupped handful of water, working those nimble fingers into the tangled fur. It felt good–really good, if he was being honest–but that wasn't the point.

You were naked. He was naked. In a river. Alone.

It was a recipe for trouble, and Legend was afraid of what he would do if he turned, of what he would do to your prone, willing form. His hands ached to smooth over your skin, drawing countless whimpers from those pretty lips of yours, until you couldn't take it any longer, eventually dipping down to the treasure between your legs. He imagined bringing you to climax over and over again on his fingers alone, then, while you were most sensitive, bending down to sample that delectable cunt, only giving you his cock when you begged him with pleasured tears gathering in your fluttering lashline–

No! Legend surged forward and bumped his head on your calf. You made a noise of concern, hands immediately reaching to comfort him. "Oh, baby, did I scare you?"

Fuck yeah, you scared him, not with how big or strong you were (though you were unadulteratingly both), but of the sheer amount of power you held over him. You could ask him to jump, and after sneering at you for a few minutes (he had a reputation to protect, after all), all he could ask was 'how high'? You could take anything you wanted from his collection, and he would let you–though not without some grumbles to save face–and your smile could literally bring him to his knees.

Legend was completely head-over-heels for you... and it scared him, the man who thought he would never love again after Koholint. He had fallen for your smile, your kindness, even the way you hummed to yourself when you thought no one was listening. He wanted to wake up to your sleepy kisses in the morning and fall asleep to your gentle breaths in the evening.

There was so much he wanted to do with you... and it felt as though this one moment was bringing everything he had ever planned crashing down. He had it all planned out: a sunset picnic of his and your favorite foods, nestled far away from the prying eyes of the others, so he could finally kiss you if you allowed him to.

But now... now it was ruined. He had ruined it by being so goddamn nosey, and the mere thought of you discovering his secret sent uncomfortable shivers down his spine. At least he could enjoy the feeling of your nails scraping all the grime from his fur, Legend thought glumly, resigning himself to his fate--

"Fuck!"

The word slipped from him like a knife through butter when your nail graced his lower rump, and Legend could have died right there, having completely forgotten he was still capable of speech in this form. Your motions immediately halted, and he could feel your eyes burning into his back... until you lifted him by the scruff and they burned into his enflamed face instead.

Your voice was low, with an undercurrent of complete disbelief, as you brought him closer.

"Did you just speak?"

Legend's soul withered.

You were completely and utter lost for words when a sudden expletive cut through the still air, coming directly from the pink rabbit in your very bare, very naked lap. You felt as though you had finally gone mad when you lifted the creature by its scruff, eyes practically staring holes through its poor chest.

Not that you were particularly concerned with fictional harm, because you knew you had good hearing and were positive that the muffled "fuck" you heard wasn't a figment of your imagination. The voice was too deep, too... unfamiliar to be your own, yet there was something about the tone that had you wondering if you had heard it before.

"Did you just speak?" You whispered, expression completely serious, and the rabbit seemed to shrink under your gaze... as if it understood you in a fundamentally different way. For an animal, at least.

Silence.

"I said," your hand began to tremble from holding the bunny up for so long, so you set him in your lap, never once breaking eye contact. To your surprise, the creature seemed to shrink even more, practically cowering against the inside of your crossed legs. "Did you just speak?"

Still nothing, so you let out a heavy sigh and stood up, casting a shadow over the trembling rabbit. Okay, now you felt a bit bad; you were confused--and frankly a bit terrified--but that didn't give you any right to be a jerk about it. Forcing your expression to shift into something vaguely neutral, you turned on your heel, walking towards your discarded clothes. You hadn't gotten that wet, so it would be easier to dress, but the thought of your ruined bath was a painful one. Hylia, what did you have to do around here to get five minutes of normality?

There was a splashing sound, followed by a soft grunt, and a very Hylian-shaped hand wrapped around your wrist. You shrieked, spinning around to face none other than a buck-naked Legend.

"Legend?" Was the first word to leave your slack-jawed mouth, followed by a very appropriate: "what the fuck?!" when you noticed his nakedness.

Legend's face was flushed beyond belief--fuck, he was red down to the shoulders--and he held his hands out defensively, tone weak and stuttering, all traces of his usual sarcasm gone. "I'm so sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were safe, but you started undressing and I–"

"Slow down," you commanded, surprising even yourself. "Why were you spying on me?"

"I wasn't spying–!" You glared at him and he immediately backed off. "I mean– it's dangerous in the forest and..."

"...And?" You prompted, beginning to blush yourself as you became more aware of your lack of clothes. Dear Hylia, he had seen everything!

"I wanted to protect you!" Legend blurted, his sincerity palpable, but it did nothing to quell your annoyance.

"Then why didn't you, I don't know–" you pinched your temples. "–tell me first?!"

"You would have told me no!" Legend said, expression falling when the wrongness of that particular sentence caught up to him. "Hylia, kill me now," he groaned.

You folded your arms under your chest; he had seen everything already, so why bother hiding it? "Then who would protect me?" you asked in a snarky tone of voice. "Make up your mind, Legend."

"I–... what?"

"Do you want to protect me or not?" You could hardly believe you were saying this, but the words just kept coming. You took a step forward, and he stiffened. "Or are you really just a peeping tom?"

It was almost satisfying how quickly he bristled. Almost. "I'm no such thing–"

"Then prove it," you said as you brushed past him, heading for the water. You'd be damned if you let him ruin your bath time, no matter how annoyingly hot he was.

You didn't bother waiting for a response, entering the water with a soft sigh. It was blissfully cool against your blazing skin, and the first thing you did was submerge your entire body with a loud splash, stretching your arms out to let the water wash over every part of you–

Until there was another splash and you were manhandled out of the water by your shoulders. You yelped in outrage as Legend hoisted you up, muscles flexing deliciously as he held you firmly. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" you screeched at him, annoyed beyond belief.

"Protecting you," his expression was a mix of stony determination and, well, you didn't want to even think about the other emotion you saw shining in his violet eyes. "Or does that make me a peeping tom too?"

That little shit!

"Let me go," you ordered lowly, and he did so, making sure you were balanced before releasing you fully, the water reaching just under your breasts. "Hylia, you are a piece of work."

Legend blinked, the remnants of his earlier blush still clinging to his sharp cheeks, and you refused to acknowledge how you knew they were sharp in the first place. "I am?"

You crossed your arms beneath your chest once more, pushing your boobs up, and his gaze fucking snapped down to ogle you for a split second before returning to your face.

"Did you just check me out?" you gasped, mouth hanging open in disbelief.

Legend's cheeks pinked some more, but he made no move to affirm or deny your accusation, choosing to wade back to the shallows, staring guard with his back to you, revealing a delicious ass for your perusal. You had no qualms staring after the stunt he had just pulled, and, Hylia, was it a fine ass. You doubted you had ever seen anyone with that much cake, no matter how lewd it was to acknowledge such an observation.

'You're staring," Legend's voice broke through the fog, and you snorted.

"Says the peeping tom."

Abruptly, Legend turned. Apprehension filled you as he stalked through the water, but you held firm, going so far as to meet him in the middle, the water pooling just above your belly button. "I'm trying to bathe, hero."

"And I'm trying to protect you, citizen."

...Well, he had you there. Unfortunately for him, you refused to acknowledge it after the madness he had just pulled. "With what weapons? Or are you going to use bunny kicks to fight off the fish?"

Legend's eye twitched, expression darkening, but you didn't care. "Maybe I'd be able to do my job better if you weren't so intent on distracting me," he ground out, and it had you feeling all sorts of ways.

"Oh yeah?" you reached over to poke him in the chest. "I thought you'd be over it after, I don't know, peeping on me."

"That's not true and you know it," his tone sounded exactly how you felt; irritated out of your mind. Good.

He was getting closer... and you found yourself too annoyed to care. "Fuck you, Legend; I don't need your protection more than you need a reality check."

For a moment, he was silent, simply studying you with those mesmerizing eyes of his, and you felt fully prepared for anything he could throw your way.

"You're right."

...Except for that, apparently.

"Excuse me?" You blurted.

"You heard me," Legend mirrored your pose, crossing his arms across his... incredibly toned chest. "It's already hard enough protecting you from monsters, so adding myself to mix definitely complicates things."

Your brain dam-near short-circuited. Did he just...?

"You look surprised," Legend observed with what you could only describe as the most self-satisfied smirk that surpassed anything you'd seen in your life. "What, remlit got your tongue?"

Hylia, when had he gotten so close? You could practically feel his breath fanning over your chilled skin. "You're..." you trailed off, taking a step backward in an attempt to put some space between the two of you, but Legend's smirk only grew as he followed you. "You're insane."

"Maybe," he said, and you were finally forced to acknowledge the second emotion in his eye: lust. You couldn't say you were surprised, considering the current situation, but it was still jarring to see him so... arrogantly confident instead of his usual snarkily confident. "But you don't seem to have any complaints."

Was... was this really happening? Steeling your nerves, you reached to poke his chest again, snarling "you're delusional", but he caught your wrist in a surprisingly firm grip.

"So are you," he was even closer now, practically pressed against your chest. You could feel something hard nudge the inner edge of your thigh, and it took everything in you not to reach down and find out what it was for yourself.

"The fuck are you on about?" you said, internally cringing at the shakiness of your tone.

The twinkling in his eyes was nothing short of evil. "You really don't think I'm the only one enjoying this, do you?"

Your eye twitched, and you harshly yanked your wrist free, replanting it on his chest as a sort of barrier. "What are you on about now, asshole–"

You were cut off when Legend leaned forward, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. Your head jerked back, just as his arms began to slide around your back, lightly pinning you in place. "What in Hylia's gotten into you–"

"You," Legend cut you off, staring deep into your eyes with that dumb smirk on his face. "You've gotten into me."

It was official; he had finally gone nuts. "Have you gone crazy!?"

"Only for you," he responded, glancing down with a chuckle. You became distinctly aware the heady press of your boobs against his chest and used your free hand to smack him upside the head.

"You pervert!"

He raised a perfect eyebrow and you nearly combusted. "What does that make you, then?"

Fuck this, you had enough of his bullshit. Planting your hands on his chest, you gave a hearty shove, successfully dislodging his arms from you. "That's fucking it," you snarled, moving to the shore. "I hope you're happy, you little shit."

"(Y/n)," the use of your name stopped you in your tracks. With an annoyed expression, you spun around.

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

...Huh?

In all the months you'd known Legend, never before had you heard a sincere apology fall from his lips. It was enough to make your irritation ebb like the water you stood in, especially at the regretful look on his face.

"It's... it's fine," you ran a hand down your face with a sigh. "I just... we're always traveling and there's no time to relax. Ever. I get being alert and all, but it's been so crazy and I–"

"I understand," Legend cut you off, wading into the water until he was all but two feet from you. "It's hard to remember you're not on the same level as us... you hide it well."

Was... that a compliment? From Legend?

"I..." he seemed to hesitate, averting his eyes, and you waited patiently for whatever revelation he was about to bestow upon you. "I like you. A lot."

"Oh," you were helpless to stop the small smile forming on your face. "I like you, too, Legend."

"Don't play coy with me," he growled, stalking closer until only an inch of air separated your bare skin. Violet eyes burned holes in your own. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

"Not a clue, so how about you tell me," you shot back.

There was a beat of silence. Legend's brows furrowed for a split second before his expression turned to nothing short of devious.

"I could show you."

You gulped at the look in his eyes; it was dangerous, so very dangerous, but you found yourself not giving a single fuck as you closed the gap between you, snarling three simple words right into his smug little face. "I dare you."

Legend was on you in a flash, arms wrapping around your body to pull you flush against his soaked form as he kissed you with such fervor that you nearly saw stars. His tongue prodded gently at your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth to allow him access with a shaky sigh. You shivered when his tongue slid into your mouth, running over every surface you had to offer, and you moaned lowly at the taste of him; warm and somewhat spicy, like cinnamon with the tiniest twinge of Goron Spice.

It was intoxicating, and you were determined to return the favor. Legend groaned when you wrapped your arms around your neck, arching your back so your chest pressed firmly against his own, all the while slipping your own tongue into his mouth, mimicking his previous actions with rare gusto.

Legend's hands slid down to your hips, though he didn't dare go further, gripping your flesh with purpose when you separated, panting for breath.

"Well?" his voice was far breathier than before, and you resisted the urge to chuckle.

"I think I need a... longer demonstration," you responded slowly, making sure to bat your eyelashes at him. Legend's cheeks flushed a deeper read than a health potion, and you knew you had him hook, line, and sinker. "Unless...?"

"Oh no," he dipped forward to plant a kiss on the side of your neck, and you shivered, thighs clenching together. "No takebacks, (Y/n)."

"G-Good," you said as he peppered the skin of your neck with more open-mouthed kisses, sucking lightly enough to be felt, but not enough to leave marks, no matter how desperately he wanted to brand you as his.

You barely held back a whimper when Legend's tongue slowly glided over your pulse point, eyes trained on your face to watch your reactions. You bit your lip when he lightly grazed the spot with his teeth, a small whine escaping your pursed lips, and he perked up, repeating the action until you relented; a broken moan filling the air between you.

Something hard prodded your thigh, and you just knew it was his cock. Your hand drifted down to wrap gently around his length, slowly stroking him from base to tip beneath the water, and Legend's motions faltered as a groan tore itself from his throat. "(Y/n)..."

You smirked, tightening your hand ever-so-slightly. "Feels good, hero?"

"Keep going," he mumbled into your neck, and you obliged, unoccupied hand tangling in his hair as you pumped his cock faster. "Please, (Y/n)–"

That was new. You hadn't expected him to beg, and you certainly hadn't expected yourself to like it, but here you were. His hands dug harder into the flesh of your hips, likely enough to bruise, but you couldn't care less; it wasn't like anyone but you and him were going to see them.

"Look at me," the words surprised even you, but he snapped his gaze to you and it all became worth it. The sigh alone was enough to make the building anticipation in your gut roll desperately, core clenching around nothing. In true you fashion, you rewarded him with a swift squeeze of your fist, drawing a loud groan from his lips. "That's it, hero."

"Nngh..." Legend's eyes fluttered closed and he buried his face in your neck, breaths turning ragged as you increased the pace. His hips began to rock against your hand, and you let it happen, holding him as best you could. It was a sight to behold--the typically sassy veteran practically reduced to putty beneath your fingers.

"Are you close?" you whispered in his ear, gently taking the outer edge in your teeth.

"Y-Yeah," he said, as if you didn't already know.

"Good," you pumped harder, and he made a noise of surprise.

"W-Wait–... you haven't–"

You cut him off with a single heavy swipe over the head of his cock. Legend shuddered, grasping at you tightly, and you nipped the earlobe in your mouth. "It's fine, you can pay me back later."

"But–"

"Just let go, hero," you tilted his head up by his hair and kissed him like you would die if you didn't, only separating to whisper: "I've got you."

Legend came with a shout, cock throbbing harshly as you stroked him through his orgasm. The water felt sticky as his cum joined the flowing stream, but you didn't mind, especially not when he all but collapsed against you, just barely catching himself as to not topple the two of you.

"Hylia, I love you," he breathed, and you giggled, planting a kiss on his temple.

"I love you too."

Two glimmering violet eyes snapped to you, wide as saucers. "You.."

"–love you, too," you finished, wrapping an arm around his waist to guide him to shore. Legend collapsed on the grassy bank as soon as he reached it, and you settled beside him with a sigh. "How do you feel?"

"Like I just had the best orgasm of my life," he snarked, and you chuckled, turning on your side to sling an arm over his heaving chest, breasts pressed firmly to his left arm. "You do know it's your turn, right?"

You faked a yawn, nuzzling your boobs against his arm. "I dunno, there's no shame in being tired, hero."

There was silence, long enough that you truly thought he had tapped out, which was fine by you. You could have your fun later, hidden in a grove of trees like you usually did when those urges arose.

"...Is that a challenge?"

Or not.

You turned your head to find him staring at you with a mix of mischief and desire, twinkling darkly in those eyes of his. You shifted slightly as your pussy throbbed with need.

"Do you want it to be?"

Legend rolled atop you, drawing a surprised gasp from your throat. His cock, already half hard, rested against your thigh, a thick bead of pre sliding down the flushed tip. "Anything you say is a challenge," he leaned down to capture your lips once more, Your mouth had long since opened, allowing him to have his way with you, until his hips jerked suddenly, forcing the head of his cock to settle at the apex of your thighs.

"Nghh...."

"What was that?" Legend asked teasingly, grabbing your chin when you refused to respond. "Tell me what you want, (Y/n)."

"I want--" the words caught in your throat when he slid his cock up to bump your clit, spreading his pre over the aching bundle of nerves. "I want you, Legend!"

"Mhm," you could see his grin without having to open your eyes, another languid thrust of his hips parting the soaked lips of your cunt. "And what about me do you want?"

You gritted your teeth and glared up at him. "I want your cock, so shut up and give it to me."

A startled laugh left Legend at your admission, clearly having expected you to put up more of a fight. You growled, pushing at his chest, but he deftly captured your wrists, pinning them above your head. "No need to get violent, I'll give you what you want."

"Oh, I'll show you violent–" you were cut off when he slammed into you with a grunt, bottoming out in one fluid motion. Your back arched off the ground as you cried out, cunt fluttering around his length. Legend, however, gave you no time to adjust, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming into you again, starting a pace that had you seeing stars after only a few world-shattering thrusts.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing, as you struggled to meet him thrust for thrust, but Legend was having none of it, leaning down to lave his tongue up the quivering column of your neck, rendering you helpless to do anything but take what he gave you.

"L-Legend!"

"That's it," he groaned, releasing your hands to grab your hips. Your arms immediately flew up to wrap around his neck, pulling you chest-to-chest as every slam of his hips against your own had you screaming: "F-Faster, please–!"

"Don't have to tell me twice," he huffed into your neck, and your back nearly broke from the force of his next thrust. The coil in your abdomen grew tighter and tighter as he fucked you like a man starved, releasing your hips to fondle your breast. You moaned when Legend took a bouncing nipple in his mouth, carefully grazing his teeth against the pebbled nub, and screamed when he moved his free hand between you to rub enticing circles on your clit. "Are you close?"

"YeAH," you cried out at the onslaught of pleasure, writhing like a fish caught in a net. The hand on your breasts moved to press against your hips, holding them still while he pistoned inside you. "P-Please, Legend!"

"It's okay," he murmured, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to the corners of your mouth. "Cum for me, (Y/n)."

And, as if his words weren't enough, his clever fingers pressed down on the center of your clit, sending bolts of electricity shocking through you as your orgasm hit you like a tsunami. Your body spasmed under him, head thrown back while chased his own high, pounding desperately into your cunt like he would never get the chance again, only for him to absolutely slam home as scalding cum filled you.

With a heavy sigh of exertion, Legend slumped over you, head resting between your breasts as he panted for breath, arms wrapping tightly around your spent form.

"That was amazing," you breathed, allowing yourself to relax against the soft grass. One of your hands came up to card gently through his hair. "I love you."

"Love ya too," Legend mumbled into your boobs, and you laughed as his breath fanned over the sensitive flesh.

"You know," you grinned when he squinted suspiciously up at you. "You're a pretty good protector."

"...Are you trying to get me hard again?"

You snorted. "Hell no, but you know what there is time for?"

Legend raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"A bath."

You both laughed.

Hot damn, this was fun to write, hope y'all enjoyed!

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu legend #lu legend x reader #lu x reader #shameless smut #loz fanfic #the chain x reader #link x reader smut

229 notes · View notes

ghoul-bonez · 1 year ago

Text

~To You He Feels Like Home~

(Neteyam x Fem! Na’vi! Reader)

Summary: You were always a wild child, literally and figuratively. You were raised by the forest and by the creatures that lived within it, and you would never want it any other way, but when you were discovered by another Na’vi you are overcome with curiosity although the animals that raised you always warned you about the outsiders.

Word Count: 5.1k

Author’s Note: This is my longest oneshot to date, at 5.1k words & 11 google docs pages, and I’ve been working on it for weeks now… Hopefully you guys will like it :D This fic was inspired by @imeanwhynotbruv ‘s Mowlie! Spider AU which I LOVE!!! Very excited for y’all to read :)

~Last - Next~

~Series Masterlist~

~Main Masterlist~

To You He Feels Like Home

You were always wild, even as a young child. Part of that could be attributed to who was raising you, how you were being raised, and part of it was because of your personality. It came down to nurture versus nature, or nurture and nature.

You were wild by nurture, raised by the Great Mother, by her forest, and by the animals that inhabited it. In particular there was a mother palulukan who had taken you into her den with her two cubs. She was your protector, your teacher, your mother. She loved you, and that was all you needed.

You were wild by nature, always bouncing around, never able to sit still. You were fierce and strong, stubborn at times, and intelligent as could be, which you used to your advantage. It was good for your survival, but exhausting to your mother palulukan, and the other animals who had taken you under their wings to teach you different survival skills.

They had all had a part in your upbringing, every animal teaching you something different. Their lessons had turned you into the woman you were today, they had taught you how to survive, and not just that, but how to thrive.

The palulukan had taught you to fight, how to attack and pounce, and win. She had taught you to protect yourself in any situation. She had taught you that no matter how small you were, how weak you may seem to your opponent, that there would always be a way to come out on top.

The syaksyuk had taught you how to swing from tree to tree, how to escape from harm's way quickly, may you choose not to fight. They taught you about community and how to work together to get to your goal.

The yerik had taught you how to scare off predators, and if that didn’t work how to run, how to pace yourself and run for longer than you thought you could. They taught you to stay calm, to not let fear overtake you as you ran.

The nantang made sure you knew how to hunt, how to stalk then attack and finish off your prey. They made sure you could feed yourself. They made you work in a team, to take everyone's different skills into account.

The ikrans that visited from the mountains taught you how to navigate the air, although you could only do so with their help. They would show you how different different parts of the land were. They showed you what you and your family of creatures looked from above.

Your upbringing was untraditional and many Na’vi would question how you had even survived, but you knew how. There was a sense of community in your animal family that could never be rivaled. You wouldn't have it any other way.

Of course there were still things you had to teach yourself, like weaving and making clothes. This had taken some trial and error as you had started as a very young child, needing to form this skill for more protection against the elements and the forest. You had figured it out later than you would have liked, but eventually you got there and had created your own outfits.

Then you had to teach yourself how to make weapons, and how to use them. You had mastered making spears out of branches when you were young, and quickly moved on to finding hard enough materials to make knives and other blades. When your mother palulukan had noticed your proficiency of making weapons she had started bringing back lost Na’vi weapons like bows and hunting knives.

After lots of trials and errors, from carving the body wrong to tying the sting wrong, you had mastered making a bow. You had found the perfect type of wood, strong enough to hold up, but soft enough to carve. You had found the perfect string made from woven plant fibers. When you carved your final masterpiece the curve of the wood was perfect and the string strung tightly enough to work perfectly.

Then came using it. You had never seen anyone use one, and your mother palulukan refused to let you anywhere near other Na’vi, so you struggled. You had tried over, and over, and over again, and eventually it paid off. Your stance was wrong to most, strange looking to others, but it worked perfectly for you.

With all of your combined skills, ones the animals of Pandora had taught you and ones you had taught yourself, you had become a lethal hunter. Once you proved yourself capable your mother palulukan let you off on your own.

At the age of eighteen years you had been sent free, allowed to explore as you wanted, and so you did. You ran through the forest with excitement coursing through your veins. You climbed and swung from tree to tree without a care for your safety. You swam in streams and shook the water from your loose hair as you resurfaced. You hunted for your own food, coming up successful every time.

You felt free.

You had been so used to your mother palulukan hunting for you that doing it on your own was enthralling. It gave you a rush unlike any other, but you never took more than you and your family could eat, dragging it back home to your palulukan family’s den.

Your little family had never eaten like this before. They had never had a meal every day, sometimes going as many as five days without food, instead giving leftovers to you, the little Na’vi they had taken in who needed it more than they did. Now you made sure they were fed daily, you took care of them like they had you.

As much as you loved the takedown of your prey, your favorite part of hunting was the stalking. You loved tracking things, finding a scent trail and following it until you found prints in the ground. You loved watching the prey once you found it, staying hidden in the shadows and observing.

Sometimes you would even track when you weren’t hunting, practicing for later or simply wanting to observe the other animals of the forest. You especially loved watching the nantang packs as they were similar to your family but also so different.

Today had been no different, you had been out searching for the trail of a nantang pack wanting to watch and observe. However that plan changed when you caught a whiff of something you had never smelled before. It reminded you of something, yourself, but you didn’t know why.

You couldn’t help but do what you do best, stalk. You followed the scent, staying close to the ground, slinking around, and watching the dirt for prints from any type of animal. When the trail stopped and there were no prints in sight you were confused, where had it gone, you questioned.

Then it hit you, the trees, it had to be in the trees. You weren’t in the mood to climb right now, not wanting a chase in the trees, but you might not have a choice. You took a breath, steadying and readying yourself, slowly looking up to the trees to see what you would be chasing, and once you caught sight of what it was you gasped.

It was you, not quite, but something like you.

He had your blue skin, stripes laid across his skin and white freckles splattered across his body and face. He had your dark hair, but his was put up in braids, something you had no idea you could do. He had your large golden eyes which were widened just like yours right now.

You were perplexed. You knew you weren’t the same as your family, you knew you looked completely different, not the same species, but you hadn’t ever seen another person like you. You didn’t know there were other people like you.

The other person looked just as shocked as you, and he was. You looked Omaticaya, but he had never seen you before, and he had seen everyone in his clan as the next Olo’eyktan in training. He hoped you weren’t Omaticaya because of how rough of shape you were in. He never wanted anyone in his clan to be in this rough of shape.

You had scapes all over your body, little scars scattered where past cuts had been. Your hair was loose and messy, knotted and in need of a good brush and braid. As he studied the strange girl in front of him he was concerned for you, for the state you were in, but to you the unkempt hair and scars and nicks that cover your body are normal.

To you they feel like home.

To you the scrapes and scars, the cuts and nicks, feel like home. They feel like the forest as you run through the underbrush, barely dodging trees and roughly catching your arms against them accidentally. They feel like jumping into streams and rivers, scraping your knees on the rocks at the bottom as the current sweeps you off your feet. They feel like hunting as you accidentally catch your finger with your blade as you finish off your prey.

To him they were worrying, they showed pain and danger, but to you that was normal, pain and danger were regular parts of your life. To him it wasn’t, and he felt the need to make sure you were okay. You were standing strongly so clearly you weren’t too injured, but the idea of you being one of his people made him feel the need to check you over, to help you.

He jumped down from his hiding spot, gracefully landing in front of you, and suddenly you took off. You sprinted away, terrified of the stranger. You wanted to make your way back home, back to your mother palulukan and the den you called home. You wanted to be safe, you wanted to feel safe.

The man lagged for a second, thinking, before deciding to follow you, taking off after you. The chase went on for a while, his lungs burned as he kept up with you, close behind, but he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up, and you didn’t seem to be slowing down.

“Wait, I just want to help!” He shouted after you, but that seemed to spook you more and you sped up.

You had no idea what the strange man had said, but his loud voice scared you. The sounds he was making were foreign to you, and it frightened you. He was communicating in a way you never had before. The way you communicated with your family was hisses and growls.

You were a good runner, had good stamina, but he seemed to be keeping up, although you could tell he was getting tired. The unfortunate part was you were getting tired too, and you would have to stop soon. You figured it would be good to stop sooner than later so you had enough energy to fight in case the need arose.

You saw a clearing to the right and zagged that way before stopping on the far end of it, crouched down like a palulukan, ready to pounce. The man stopped on the other side, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. Like this he looked less scary, he looked weak as he was out of breath, like you could win this fight easily.

He looked at you through the braids that had fallen in his face, and his eyes held no malice. He wanted you to feel safe, or as safe as possible, around him, so he showed his weakness as he was out of breath. He wanted you to know he wasn’t going to hurt you as he showed you had easily outran him.

However you still felt threatened.

Your eyes were blown wide, adrenaline coursing through you as your mind ran a mile a minute. Your ears pinned against your head and you let out a wild hiss at the man, bearing your teeth and snapping them together a few times as a threat.

He didn’t challenge you back, instead dropping to the ground to sit with his legs crossed, arms in the air as a sign of surrender, or peace, that he meant no harm. He tried to make himself look harmless, tried to make himself look smaller.

Your face scrunched up in confusion, why wasn’t he challenging you, you asked yourself. You weren’t convinced he meant to harm You couldn’t let your guard down, and your hand flew to your knife at your hip as you snarled at him, trying to elicit a reaction.

He then realized he had his own weapons on him and he lifted his bow over his head from where it rested against him, and threw it to the side. He hesitated as he took his knife out of its holder, but he threw it next to his bow a few feet away.

“They're gone, okay.” He pointed to the weapons where they laid, “I want to help you. I’m not going to hurt you.” He tried to explain.

Again you didn’t understand him, ears twitching at the unfamiliar sounds. Now you were more stressed than before. You stayed in place, ears pinned to your head again as you growled, but your hand moved away from your knife.

“There we go.” He spoke as your hand fell to your side, “What's your name?” He asked.

You felt the adrenaline wearing off, exhaustion starting to catch up to you and making you less hostile than before, blurring the lines of your fear. Your eyes were narrowed as your head tilted to the side, a questioning look on your face. You were scared because you couldn’t understand him, but you became more curious the more he spoke.

His voice was interesting, smooth and calming. You hadn’t heard anything like it before, and although you looked similar you weren’t sure if you could make the same sounds as him, accustomed to growls and hisses.

When you didn’t say anything back the man tried something different. He pointed to himself, “Neteyam.” Then he pointed to you, humming, “Hm?”

You growled back, trying to communicate the only way you knew how. He just cringed, taking it as aggressive while you were simply trying to voice your confusion.

He tried again, “Neteyam…” He pointed to himself, not saying anything else afterwards.

“Neteyam.” You whispered, only loud enough for you to hear. Then you cleared your throat, “Neteyam.” You parroted.

“Yes. Neteyam.” He nodded, happy you seemed to be getting somewhere, “You?” He asked, pointing to you.

“Hm?” You hummed, copying the noise he had made to you earlier. You thought it was a questioning sound, and you hoped your assumption was correct.

Something clicked to Neteyam, “You can’t understand me, can you?” He asked, not particularly expecting an answer.

“Hm?” You questioned again.

“Okay…” He took a second to think. Who were you? Where did you come from?

“Neteyam.” You spoke again, getting his attention. You then pointed to yourself and growled, you seemed to be trying to communicate something, and you were. You had growled your name, what your palulukan family called you.

He didn’t quite understand you, “Hm?” He asked.

You just growled again, pointing to yourself. Clearly this wasn’t getting anywhere.

“I’m going to give you a name, or a nickname I guess.” He told you, but you didn’t understand. If you had known what he had said you would have disagreed adamantly, you don’t need a different name, you have one already, but you didn’t understand, so when he pointed to you and said, “(Y/n).” The name sounded beautiful, and you loved the way it rolled off his tongue.

Your head tilted to the side, confusion written on your face, but you didn’t protest. Instead you nodded your head, seeming content, “Neteyam.” You pointed to him, “(Y/n), hm?” You pointed to yourself questioningly.

He smiled, “Yes.”

“Yes.” You copied him, but you weren’t smiling, still confused by the foreign words.

He patted the ground in front of him, inviting you to sit by him, but you don’t approach, instead sitting where you were a few feet away. He seems so calm, so relaxed, as he sits with his legs crossed and arms behind his as he leans on them. You however are stiff, skittish, as you sit on your knees, hands in your lap. You looked ready to take off at any second.

Neteyam tried to calm you down with reassuring words, even though he knew you couldn’t understand him, his calm tone seemed to take off the edge. You were scared of him, but slowly starting to believe he meant no harm. He wasn’t dangerous.

As you sat there with him he went on, and on, talking about whatever came to mind with that smooth tone. You could sit there and listen to him talk forever, but soon the sky is darkening and you realize it is time to head back home, to the comfort of your den, your mother would be waiting for you when you get there. She would be ready to allow you to cuddle up next to her and let go of the stress of today.

You’re not frantic when you stand up, instead more fixed on having a mission, to get home, but Neteyam doesn’t understand that, and so he stands up after you. You don’t pay him any mind until you start walking away and he follows you. Frustrated that he’s trying to follow you, you hold your hand out towards him, hissing.

“No!” You shout, a word you had picked up from Neteyam talking to you.

“Oh.” Neteyam simply comments. You were a quick learner apparently, picking up on the word and figuring out how to use it already.

You turn away and start walking off, and this time he doesn’t follow you, waving towards you and saying, “Goodbye, (Y/n).” He pauses before saying quieter, “I hope I see you again.” Not loud enough for you to hear.

Your mother palulukan was confused that night when you came home without a meal, but when you broke down in tears she moved to comfort you. You let out all of the stress from over the past few hours in tears and sobs, and eventually you stilled, fell asleep on her large warm body, and finally you rested.

You had intended to never see Neteyam again, but you kept running into him. It was frustrating and confusing. You had no idea why it kept happening, but of course you knew Eywa had a plan for everyone, and everything happens for a reason, but you weren’t sure why she was so insistent on putting you and Neteyam together.

The day after your first encounter you had your second meeting. You had been trying to hunt when you somehow ended up back at the clearing. You weren’t sure how you ended up there, but you gave in, sitting with him for a while before continuing your hunt.

The third time, the third day in a row now, you had been napping in a completely different area of the forest when you woke up to Neteyam looking at you curiously. It wasn’t necessarily in a creepy way, but it had spooked you at first before you calmed down. This time you did not stick around, walking off with a dismissive grunt to Neteyam.

The fourth time, a few days later, he had found you while you had been frolicking around in the Hallelujah Mountains. You had been hiding out there, trying to avoid him by not even being in the forest, but he had found you again somehow.

That went on, and on, until you admitted defeat, accepted your fate, Eywa was determined to have you and Neteyam together, and who were you to deny the Great Mother’s will. She knew all, and you trusted her, so you took her lead.

Every time you ran into Neteyam you would spend a little more time with him, and eventually that time built into hours, and then days, from sunrise to sunset you would spend your hours with him. You cherished your time with Neteyam and he certainly enjoyed your company, your attention.

Your palulukan mother was less than pleased with how much time you were spending with the Na’vi boy, but she understood you needed companionship with your own kind. She figured you would grow curious eventually and would venture out in search of people like you, and she was proud of you for making a friend, but she wished you would be home a little more.

When you finally gave into spending time with Neteyam you figured you should learn how to communicate, learn to speak his language. You would much rather teach him yours, but yours was more general emotions and less words, less actual conversation and more communicating how you're feeling through growls and hisses, hunched shoulders and bared teeth.

Today you were sitting by a river, somewhere Neteyam had shown you, as he tried to teach you the Na’vi language.

Neteyam pointed to different features on his face as you named them quietly, touching them on your own face as you went, “Ears. Eyes. Nose. Mouth.”

“Good job!” He praised you, a smile on both of your faces.

You were learning slowly, struggling to pick up a second language so much different from your first, but when you grasped a certain word you had it for good. You had started using the words you knew in basic sentences like “How you?” when you would first see him. You would listen intently as if you knew everything he was saying although you only picked up on certain words.

What really got Neteyam was when you would say goodbye when you parted ways at the end of the day. Instead of saying “Goodbye.” or something similar you would blurt out “Love you!” as you walked away.

It always got Neteyam’s heart beating in his chest, hard, and he couldn’t help but smile every time. He would say, “Goodbye (Y/n). Love you too.” because the one time he hadn’t reciprocated you had pouted and nearly cried.

He didn’t think you understood the significance of those words, of the word love, but you definitely did. You didn’t use it lightly, it being the only word you had learned to describe how you were feeling for Neteyam, and it described your feelings perfectly.

You truly did love him, as a friend, maybe more.

You appreciated what he did for you, but it went so much deeper than that. You loved how he was patient with you, giving you all the time you needed. You loved his voice, how he would talk to you even if you didn’t understand. You loved how he laughed, how he smiled, how his eyes seemed to glow when he was around you.

You love him.

You loved him like you loved the forest, it’s green foliage keeping you safe throughout your life. You loved him like you loved your mother palulukan, like a warm hug at the end of the day. You loved him like you loved the sounds that played all around you constantly, drowning out your negative thoughts.

You love him like home.

As you were mulling over your feelings, thinking whatever came to your mind, you had been zoning out, gone silent as you looked off into the distance. Neteyam took this chance to mess with you a little. He scooped up some water from the stream in his hands and threw it on you, bringing you out of your thoughts as the cool water hit your face.

You gasped, “Neteyam!”

He just laughed, pointing at you as your jaw was dropped, brow muscles raised, and eyes open wide. Your look of offense amused him and your look quickly switched to a scowl, and Neteyam felt himself still, that was never a good look on you.

You moved quickly, smiling mischievously splashing water onto him too. He looked surprised, like he hadn’t expected this from you, and you used that to your advantage, splashing him again, harder this time, with more water.

This time he was quick to move, trying to grab you and throw you into the deeper part of the river, but your reflexes were faster than him and you got up, running away like a mad woman. You smiled before jumping into the river, submerging your lower body before he could do it for you.

You thought hard, trying to form a coherent sentence, when you thought you had it you shouted, “Come get me!” Taunting him.

As you taunted him he just smiled, a sense of childish joy overcoming him. It reminded him of when he was younger. When he and his siblings would play in streams closer to home. When his father would play with them. It reminded him of family, you were quickly becoming family, but in a deeper way.

He loved you like family, he loved you like a calm afternoon at home with everyone sitting around, talking and playing games. He loved you like a partner, someone to share his own home with, where his family could come over for dinner and share stories. He loved you like someone new to the family, like someone his family could learn to love.

He loves you.

“Oh yeah?” Neteyam asked, smirking at you. He stayed where we was on the river bank, feet barely in the water.

“Yeah!” You shouted, challenging him by splashing the water around you.

He seemed to be contemplating it, over exaggerating his movements dramatically, “I don’t know… I might just stay here…” He joked.

You frowned, not understanding his joking tone of voice, “Fine…” You turned away from him, getting ready to leave the river.

However you didn’t get the chance when you heard splashing behind you, and it was too late. He ran up to you splashing you, getting your entire back wet, including your hair.

You whipped around, gasping both at the cold water and the shock of not expecting it. You shouted at him, arms crossed over your chest, “Rude!”

Neteyam laughs loudly, “Oh I’m rude? You’re the one who told me to come get you.” He defended himself, rolling his eyes.

“You…” You thought of what word to use, not sure what the word for this action was, you settled on, “hit me first!”

Neteyam was quick to correct you, “Splash, the word is splash.” He really did not want you telling people he was hitting you if you ever met his clan. He hoped it was less of an if, and more of a when.

You took in the information, “You splash me first.” You shrugged your shoulders, feeling you won the conversation.

“And I’ll do it again!” Neteyam laughed, running at you, ready to throw more water in your face, but you turned to run away from his attack.

As you were running you slipped, falling to your knees and feeling pain shoot through one of them, “Ow.” You hissed out.

Neteyam was quick to rush to your side, helping you up and walking you to the edge of the river where you sat down. You inspected the cut, it wasn’t much and you would be okay in a day or so, “I am okay.” You tried to assure Neteyam.

Neteyam frowned, “I’m sorry. Let me fix you up?” He asked.

You knew if you said no he would practically beg you to let him help you, so you gave in, “Okay.”

Neteyam sat down, pulling your leg over his lap so he had better access to your knee. He inspected the small wound, thinking about what Kiri had told him would be best for it.

He was quick to pull out the little pouch of healing equipment he had, herbs and plants, pastes and drinks, he was equipped for anything. He had decided to carry anything he would need to treat your small cuts and scrapes because every time you would see him you would have more and more. They never seemed to stop coming, so he promised he would do his best to help you.

He pulled out a paste you recognized, and before he could speak you mocked him, attempting to copy his voice, “This one will sting.” You fell into a fit of giggles afterwards.

He just chuckled at you, “You’re right.” You seemed to always be right, you picked up on other things, besides learning the Na’vi language, easily.

You smiled, sighing happily, “I know.”

Neteyam hums, smiling at you , “Tell me, how have you been? What have you done today?” He tried to distract you while he put the paste on.

It worked as you quickly responded, “It has been great. I have gotten to see you…” You trailed off, smiling shyly, before continuing, “This morning I went on a hunt, took food home to my mom. My siblings are moving out finally, so it is just us now. Less mouths to feed.”

“Good… Neteyam answered simply, focusing on what he was doing as he wrapped a bandage around your knee.

“Thank you.” You pulled his face up to look at you, a small smile was on your face, lips gently curved, eyes softened to liquid gold, “For everything.”

He sighed, content, as his face melted into your hand, pressing your skin to his, “It’s really no big deal. I would do anything for you. I would get you anything you need, anything you want.” He admitted softly, quietly.

You smiled, leaning in and pressing your forehead to his, “I know, and Eywa do I love it. I love you.”

He smiles back, the happiness reaching his eyes, and if you listen close enough you can hear his heart thumping in his chest, ready to pop out, “I love you too, (Y/n). I see you, and I will show you that every day.

Every time he tends to your wounds he is so careful, he is so careful with you. He is careful in a way the forest has never been, in a way it never will be in the future. The forest gives you safety in the form of protection through the hard and marred skin you have covering your body. The forest shows you its love through injuries you’ve sustained from your years of survival, it gives you love by allowing you to survive.

Now you don’t need the love of the forest, you need the love of him. He feels like scars, and bruises, and cuts, and pain. He feels like safety. Like how you once had found safety and solace in the cuts and bruises you bared, how your unkempt hair and scars felt like your home, to you he feels like home.

Word Bank:

Great Mother (Eywa)

Palulukan (Thanator)

Syaksyuk (Prolemuris)

Yerik (Hexaped)

Nantang (Viperwolf)

Ikran (Mountain Banshee)

Omaticaya (Forest Na’vi)

Olo’eyktan (Clan leader)

Eywa (Na’vi goddess)

#fanfic #fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #atwow #atwow fanfiction #avatar movie #atwow fics #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x fem!reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam suli x reader

2K notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 2 months ago

Text

Ian McDonald's "The Wilding"

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

Ian McDonald is one of those absurdly brilliant novelists that just leave me wondering the actual fuck he manages it. How does he cover so much ground, think up so many compelling characters, find so many gracenotes, conjure up so many complicated emotions?

McDonald burst on the scene in the late 1980s, with the 1988 novel Desolation Road and then his 1989 Out On Blue Six, a slick, stylized cyberpunk-meets-Orwell tale that overflowed with beautiful prose, technomysticism, and sly jokes that hid sneaky truths that hid even more sly jokes:

https://memex.craphound.com/2014/01/20/out-on-blue-six-ian-mcdonalds-brilliant-novel-is-back/

By my count, McDonald has now published twenty books – mostly novels, but a couple short story collections (and the most amazingly demented, Tom-Waits-inflected teddybear murder comic imaginable, 1994's Kling Klang Klatch):

https://irishcomics.fandom.com/wiki/Kling_Klang_Klatch

McDonald's work is truly globespanning. While he's made his mark on the Martian soil, and overtaken the moon with the Luna trilogy (his definitive rebuttal to Heinlein's Moon Is a Harsh Mistress) he is widely adored and much-awarded for the glittering, futuristic versions of Brazil (Brasyl), Tanzania (the Chaga series), and India (River of Gods).

Indeed, McDonald's imagination has roamed so far over the Earth and the solar system that it's possible to overlook his fantastic reimaginings of Ireland, the land where he was raised. There's his Philip K Dick Award-winning 1991 novel King of Morning, Queen of Day, a swirling, mythopoeic novel of Celtic mysticism:

https://www.baen.com/king-of-morning-queen-of-day.html

And then there's 1992's Hearts, Hands and Voices, which is lowkey one of the best novels I have ever, ever read – a scorching science fictional allegory for The Troubles, but with the gnarliest biotech weirdness you can possibly imagine:

https://archive.org/details/heartshandsvoice0000ianm/mode/2up

McDonald's books cover so much goddamned ground, but one feature they all share is a prose styling wherein every sentence is at least 20% poetry, a fraction that somehow, impossibly, rises to as much as 150% in certain especially shiny passages.

Like this passage, which opens The Wilding, McDonald's new horror novel that marks his first return to Ireland since 1992:

Autumn lay on the great bog in silvers and tans, late purples and duns.

The sun rose above the tall ash saplings and feral sycamore. It called the birds into full voice. Stabbing shrills, tumbles of notes, the flutes of dove-call, frantic ticking hisses, song upon song. In hedgerows and copses, among the pale foliage of the birches, in the weave of deep willow and the bramble fastnesses, each bird called and was heard. In this season the peatland held the day's warmth through the night and on the bright, clear mornings rivers of mist formed, filling the subtle hollow places in the exposed cuttings, the bogs and fields. High sun would dispel it but at this hour half of Lough Carrow lay mist-bound. Each blade of grass hung heavy with dew, the clumps of sedges were already browning, the bracken curling and crisping.

A pair of horns lifted above the willow scrub and out-grown ash hedges of the Wilding. Polished tips caught the low sun and kindled as bright and keen as spears.

https://www.gollancz.co.uk/titles/ian-mcdonald/the-wilding/9781399611503/

Oof.

I would drop everything to read Ian McDonald's grocery lists but after that opening, I wasn't going to put this one down, and I didn't, reading the whole thing on yesterday's flight home from my gigs in Atlanta this week.

The Wilding is (I'm pretty sure?) McDonald's first horror novel, and it's fucking terrifying. It's set in a rural Irish peat bog that has been acquired by a conservation authority that is rewilding it after a century of industrial peat mining that stripped it back nearly to the bedrock. This rewilding process has been greatly accelerated by the covid lockdowns, which reduced the human footprint in the conservation area to nearly zero.

The story's protagonist is Lisa, a hard-case Dubliner who came to the bog to do community service after a career as a crime syndicate driver for hire, a woman who never met a car she couldn't boost and pilot in or out of any tight situation. After years in the bog, she's ready to start a new life, studying Yeats at university, indulging a late-discovered love of poetry that has as much to do with her redemption as her years in the wild.

Lisa's last duty before she leaves the bog and goes home to Dublin is leading a school group on a wild campout in one of the bog's deep clearings. It's a routine assignment, and while it's not her favorite duty, it's also not a serious hardship.

But as the group hikes out to the campsite, one of her fellow guides is killed, without warning, by a mysterious beast that moves so quickly they can barely make out its monstrous form. Thus begins a tense, mysterious, spooky as hell story of survival in a haunted woods, written in the kind of poesy that has defined McDonald's career, and which – when deployed in service of terror – has the power to raise literal goosebumps.

There's a lot of fantasy that deals with Celtic mythology, including McDonald's own King of Morning, Queen of Day, but the vibe of that stuff tends to the heroic and romantic – sure, there's the odd banshee, but in the main, it's mischievous wee people, pookas, and leprechauns. More fey than fear.

But Irish mythology in its raw form is terrifying. The monsters of Irish storytelling are grotesque, mean, remorseless, and come in every shape and size. Some authors have done well by going back to the bestiary for the deep cuts. When I was a kid, I must have read John Coyne's Hobgoblin fifty times (mostly because it was about D&D, which I was obsessed with). I haven't read this one since I was about 12, and I have no idea if it'd hold up today, but it left me with a deep appreciation of the spooky multifariousness of monsters who dwell in Ireland's bogs:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hobgoblin_(novel)

The Wilding is a suspense novel, which means there's no way to really sum up the plot without spoiling a lot of the affect, but suffice to say that McDonald brings large swathes of deep Irish lore to the surface, and it had me reading as fast as I could and wanting to put the book down and hide.

What a writer McDonald is! The fact that this is the same guy who wrote last year's stunning secret-history/solarpunk/uncategorizable wonder that was Hopeland beggars belief:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/30/electromancy/#the-grace

Read you some Ian McDonald novels, is what I'm trying to say. This one is only available in the UK, if that's not where you are, consider mail-ordering it. Looks like they've got stock at Forbidden Planet for £19 plus £18 shipping to the US. Worth every penny:

https://forbiddenplanet.com/424306-the-wilding-hardcover/

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/25/bogman/#erin-go-aaaaaaargh

#pluralistic #books #horror #science fiction #ireland #fantasy #gift guide #reviews #climate #rewilding

103 notes · View notes

novaursa · 3 months ago

Note

you could do a the conquerors x brother reader

The Last of Valyria

Requests are closed!

- Summary: You bind yourself to your siblings in a tradition of the Old Valyria.

- Paring: brother!reader/The Conquerors

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @literaturedog

The day of your union dawns with the pale light of morning spilling over Dragonstone, the island fortress that has been your home since you were a boy. The sea roars below the cliffs, the winds carrying with them the ancient whispers of your ancestors. Today, the blood of Old Valyria will be honored once more, and the traditions of your people will bind you, Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya together in a way that no other bond ever could.

You stand in the chamber, dressed in the finest black and red robes, the colors of your House. Gold threads, like the flames of a dragon, weave through the fabric, shimmering with each movement. Your mind races as you prepare for the ceremony, the weight of what is to come pressing down on your chest. The air smells of salt and fire, as it always does here on Dragonstone, but today there is something more—a sense of destiny, of ancient power stirring.

Aegon is already there, standing tall and regal in his ceremonial armor, his face as unreadable as ever, yet the flicker of pride in his violet eyes is unmistakable. He is the eldest, the one who has led you and your sisters through every trial, and today, he will be the one to unite you all under the old ways. His long silver hair falls like a cascade down his back, the crown of Valyrian steel atop his head glinting in the light of the braziers.

Visenya stands by his side, her sharp, fierce beauty reflected in the cold steel of Dark Sister strapped to her hip. She exudes strength, her presence as commanding as it is magnetic. Her eyes meet yours, and there is a spark there, a silent promise that no matter what the world throws at you, she will be by your side. She, like you, knows the weight of duty. She has never flinched from it, and neither will you.

And then there is Rhaenys. Radiant, wild, and full of life. She wears her joy like a flame, uncontained and bright. Her pale hair falls in soft waves down her shoulders, and her gown of red and gold clings to her lithe frame like a second skin. There is a lightness to her that neither you nor Visenya share, and it is she who makes your heart race when she smiles at you.

The four of you stand before the altar, carved from obsidian, etched with Valyrian runes so old you can scarcely read them. The ancient priest speaks in High Valyrian, the words rolling off his tongue like dragonfire. They are words of power, words that connect you not just to your siblings but to the blood of the dragons, to the empire that once ruled the known world. Your blood, their blood, the blood of Old Valyria.

You step forward first, as is tradition for the youngest, your heart pounding as you take Visenya’s hand. Her skin is warm, her grip firm, as she looks into your eyes with a fierce pride. The priest ties a strip of crimson silk around your wrists, binding you together.

"Blood of the dragon will not die," he chants in High Valyrian. You repeat the words, your voice steady, unflinching, as your fate is sealed with hers.

Next, you turn to Rhaenys, and her eyes glitter with a warmth that melts away the weight of the moment for just a breath. She grasps your hand eagerly, and when the silk is tied, her fingers brush against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. "Serve the dragons," she whispers. The words linger in the air between you as you repeat them, knowing that in this union, there is not just duty but love, desire, and the promise of a shared future.

Finally, you face Aegon. He places a hand on your shoulder, and there is something in his gaze that speaks of more than just brotherhood. He is your king, your elder, but more than that, he is the one who has always understood you, even when no one else could. The priest binds your wrists together, the silk a final reminder of the blood you share, and you look into Aegon’s eyes, the two of you bound not just by blood but by fate.

"We are the last of Valyria," Aegon says, his voice low, resonant. You repeat the words, knowing that they are both a promise and a vow, a reminder that you are all that remains of a shattered empire, and together, you will rebuild it, stronger than ever before.

The ritual ends with the four of you standing together, wrists still bound, the weight of your shared destiny settling over you like a cloak. The priest’s voice fades into the background as you step closer, the bonds between you now more than just symbolic. You feel the warmth of Visenya’s hand, the lightness of Rhaenys’ touch, the steady strength of Aegon’s presence, and you know that no matter what the future holds, you will face it together.

As the wind howls outside and the dragons roar in the distance, you share a final glance with your siblings, and in that moment, there is no doubt. You are the blood of the dragon, united in fire and blood. Nothing, not even the gods themselves, will stand in your way.

108 notes · View notes

koyagifs · 5 days ago

Text

𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸: 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓳𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝔂

pairing: pirate!hongjoong x sea witch!reader au: pirate au | lovers to strangers | genre: angst word count: 2.9 k synopsis: she was the star in his eyes, the treasure he longed for. now, he still searches for her. warning(s): toxic relationships, screaming match. cursing. please let me know if i miss anything else!!

Hongjoong never thought he'll fall in love when he started to explore the sea. He knew that what he wanted to do was explore the sea, go adventures that he couldn't when he was younger.

But love, as unpredictable as the tides, found him anyway.

It wasn’t in a grand, dramatic moment like the tales of sailors meeting enchanting sirens. No, it crept in slowly—between the soft glimmer of sunlight on the waves and the quiet nights spent staring at endless horizons. At first, Hongjoong thought it was just the sea he had fallen for: its vastness, its mystery, its ever-changing beauty. But soon, he realized that within this world of endless blues, there was someone else who had become his anchor.

They were part of his crew, always just a step away—laughing with him under the stars, pointing out constellations he’d never noticed, and braving storms at his side. It was their presence that turned the sea from an adventure into a home.

Hongjoong never set out looking for love. But maybe that’s why he found it—because love, like the ocean, doesn’t wait for permission to sweep you away.

When you joined the crew, your magic left them speechless—ripples of light dancing across the water, winds bending to your whispers, and the way the sea seemed to sing back to you. You were a marvel, something out of stories Hongjoong thought were only meant for dreamers and fools.

He didn’t hesitate to show you the ropes when you became part of the crew, though his eagerness earned him more than a few knowing smirks from his mates. They saw it before he did—the way his gaze lingered on you a little too long, the way his words softened when he spoke your name.

Hongjoong fell, and he fell hard. It was in the quiet moments, when the crew slept and the ship rocked gently beneath the stars, that he realized it. Watching you stand at the bow, the moonlight weaving through your hair, he swore his heart leapt clear out of his chest.

His mates teased him relentlessly, of course. “Captain’s got it bad,” they’d whisper with wide grins. But he didn’t care. For someone like you—someone who could tame the sea with a flick of their fingers—Hongjoong would gladly be swept away, no lifeline in sight.

And truth be told, he hoped you’d let him drown in it.

and drown you both did.

You and Hongjoong were the only two awake, the gentle creak of the ship and the soft lapping of waves against its hull the only sounds accompanying the silence. The sea carried the ship wherever it pleased, and neither of you seemed to care.

The night sky stretched endlessly above, stars shimmering like scattered diamonds—bright and clear, as though they were putting on a show just for the two of you. Hongjoong leaned against the ship’s railing beside you, his gaze flitting between the vast heavens and the faint glow of your magic dancing over your fingertips.

At one point, he spoke softly, his voice almost drowned by the whispers of the ocean.

“I used to chase goals like a man starved,” he admitted, his tone faraway, like he was recalling another lifetime. “Adventure, treasure, proving something to the world…”

He turned to look at you then, his eyes reflecting the starlight, soft and steady. “But that all changed when I saw you.”

There was no greed or possession in his words—only the raw honesty of a man who had found the one thing he didn’t know he was searching for. You were his horizon now, the anchor that stilled him, and yet the wind in his sails that kept him moving forward.

The sea stretched on forever, wild and free, but tonight—beneath the brilliance of a thousand stars—it felt small and quiet, as though it, too, knew that the only thing that truly mattered was the two of you.

And as Hongjoong reached for your hand, his calloused fingers brushing yours, the night seemed to hold its breath. That's when Hongjoong noticed the blackness that took over your fingertips.

His brows furrowed deeply, the playful calm he'd carried moments before vanishing like mist on the sea.

“What the hell is that?” he hissed, grabbing ahold of your hands with a firm yet careful grip.

You flinched, pulling back instinctively, hiding your hands behind your back. A small, nervous laugh escaped your lips—forced, brittle. “Nothing, my love. Just… a trick of the light.”

Hongjoong wasn’t buying it. His sharp eyes narrowed as he straightened, his presence solid and unwavering, like the captain he was. “Don’t lie to me.” His voice wasn’t harsh, but it carried weight, sinking into the space between you like an anchor.

You looked away, your gaze dropping to the worn wood of the deck, the faint hum of the ship beneath your feet matching the low hum of dread in your chest. The blackness was spreading faster now. You could feel it—like ice crawling through your veins, like ink spilling across the edges of a map that used to be clear.

“You promised—”

“Hongjoong, I had to—”

“To do dark magic?!” he snapped, his voice cutting through the quiet night like a blade. His chest heaved, fists clenching at his sides as he tried to process your words. “To risk us? To risk you?”

The anger in his tone wasn’t cruel, but desperate. It was the sound of a man who was scared—scared of losing the only thing that truly mattered to him.

You flinched at his words, the weight of your guilt pressing down on you like an anchor. “You don’t understand,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I did it for you. For us.”

Hongjoong froze, his sharp eyes searching your face for answers, for something—anything—that could make sense of this. “For me?” he repeated, his voice softer now, but no less strained. “What did you do?”

His words hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and suffocating. You stepped back instinctively, your darkened fingers trembling as you tried to hide them again. Hongjoong noticed, his breath catching as he took a cautious step forward, like you were something fragile—like you might slip away if he moved too quickly.

“I…” You gulped, the words caught in your throat. How could you explain? How could you tell him that you had done the unthinkable to save the only family you had left?

“Y/N,” Hongjoong whispered, his voice breaking as his gaze fell to your hands—the blackness creeping up your skin, unnatural and foreboding. His chest tightened. He’d seen many things in his life as a sailor, but nothing like this. Nothing that made him feel so helpless.

“Joongie… I’m so, so sorry,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face as your voice barely carried over the heavy silence.

That’s when Hongjoong noticed it—the stillness.

The sea had gone quiet, unnaturally so, as if the ocean itself was holding its breath. Not a wave lapped at the ship’s hull, not a breeze stirred the sails. The world was frozen. It was wrong. So wrong.

Hongjoong’s heart sank like a stone. “Y/N… what did you do?”

Before you could answer, the silence shattered.

A deafening boom ripped through the air, shaking the ship violently. Hongjoong stumbled, throwing his arms out to brace himself, but his gaze never left you. His mind raced to process the chaos—splintering wood, the groan of the ship’s beams, and the sound of rushing water.

An explosion.

The world erupted into chaos—splintering wood, cries of battle, the acrid smell of smoke curling into the salty air. But Hongjoong didn’t hear any of it. All he could focus on was you.

You, running toward the attackers.

His chest tightened, disbelief freezing him in place as the realization hit him like a wave. “Y/N!” he shouted, his voice raw, cutting through the cacophony. You didn’t turn back.

For the first time in his life, Hongjoong felt the kind of betrayal that cracked through his heart like lightning.

The crew fought desperately around him—clashing swords, shouting orders, scrambling to defend the ship—but Hongjoong couldn’t move. He stood frozen, staring at the spot where you had disappeared into the smoke, your darkened hands glowing faintly with the power that had caused all this.

“This can’t be happening,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

A shadow loomed behind him, but before he could react, something slammed into him.

Hongjoong hit the deck hard, the air knocked from his lungs as his vision blurred. The sounds of the battle swirled around him like a maelstrom, but his head was spinning too fast to focus. Distantly, he felt the sting of a blade grazing his shoulder, the warm trickle of blood following it.

“Captain!” someone shouted—one of his crew—but their voice felt miles away.

Hongjoong blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, trying to move, but all he could see in his mind was you. The way your eyes had flickered with regret and desperation before you ran. The blackness crawling up your arms. The explosion that tore his ship apart.

Hongjoong blinked rapidly, his vision still swimming as Seonghwa’s voice cut through the chaos.

“Captain, where’s Y/N?”

Seonghwa’s face was streaked with soot and sweat, his brow furrowed in confusion and worry as he tugged on Hongjoong’s arm. Around them, the ship groaned under the strain of the damage—flames licking at the sails, the wood creaking dangerously as it tried to hold together.

“Y/N…” Hongjoong rasped, his voice barely audible. He staggered forward, ignoring the pain radiating through his shoulder where blood now stained his shirt.

“Captain!” Seonghwa called again, grabbing his arm to steady him. “What’s going on? Where is she? Did you—did you see her?”

Hongjoong stopped and turned to look at Seonghwa, his eyes hollow, haunted. “She’s with them,” he croaked, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Seonghwa froze, disbelief washing over his face. “What? What do you mean ‘with them’? She wouldn’t—she couldn’t—”

“She did.” Hongjoong’s voice trembled as he said it aloud, the reality crashing over him like the waves against the broken hull of the ship. His gaze remained fixed on the fleeing ships in the distance—the ones that now held you aboard. The sails disappeared further into the smoke-choked horizon with every passing second, taking you with them.

Seonghwa turned his head toward the wreckage and the flames still devouring their ship, then back to Hongjoong. The silence between them was broken only by the cries of the crew as they scrambled to regroup.

“What do we do now?”

The question was Seonghwa’s, but it came with weight—as though he were speaking for every member of the crew who looked to their captain for answers.

Yeosang approached quickly, bandages and a makeshift medical kit in hand, his sharp gaze darting between Hongjoong and Seonghwa. “Captain,” he said softly, kneeling by Hongjoong’s side and reaching for his injured shoulder, “we need to treat this wound. You won’t make it far bleeding like this.”

Hongjoong didn’t respond immediately. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the horizon, the faint silhouette of the enemy ships becoming a memory. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa urged, kneeling so he was level with his captain. “We don’t have time for this. The crew is looking to you. We’re looking to you. What’s the plan?”

Hongjoong swallowed hard, " we patch her up as much as we can and head to a port."

Seonghwa and Yeosang paused, " you sure...captain?"

Hongjoong nodded, his breathing ragged as the adrenaline that had kept him upright began to fade, leaving behind a throbbing ache in his shoulder and a weight heavier than the sea pressing on his chest. “I’m sure,” he rasped.

“Make sure everyone is fine, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said, his voice quieter now, but carrying the weight of command. He turned slightly to look at his first mate, his gaze steady despite the exhaustion in his features.

Seonghwa nodded wordlessly, his face unreadable as he stepped away to check on the crew.

Yeosang remained, carefully steadying Hongjoong as he adjusted the bandages on his injured shoulder. Silence hung between them for a beat before Yeosang spoke, his voice hesitant.

“Then… what about Y/N?”

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched at the mention of your name, his gaze dropping to the deck. For a moment, he didn’t answer. The wood beneath his feet was slick with seawater and ash, and the memory of the explosion flashed behind his eyes.

“She made her choice,” Hongjoong muttered finally, his voice hollow, as if saying it aloud could make him believe it.

Yeosang froze, his hands stilling as he processed the words. He glanced at Hongjoong’s face, searching for something—anything—beyond the cold resolve in his tone. “Captain… you don’t mean that.”

Hongjoong lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting Yeosang’s with an intensity that left no room for argument. “She made her choice,” he repeated, the words sharper this time, like a blade cutting through the silence. “And we have ours to make.”

You stood in the captain’s cabin, the heavy silence broken only by the sound of waves lapping against the hull. The room smelled of salt and wood polish, though it felt suffocating. Your first mate, a woman as sharp as the blade she wore at her hip, leaned over the map spread across the desk. A proud smirk curled on her lips as she tapped a finger against the parchment.

“He actually believed you loved him?” she chuckled, the sound low and cutting.

Your heart twisted at her words, though you kept your face neutral, your expression carefully guarded. You stared out through the cabin window, where the faint glimmer of dawn kissed the endless sea. Hongjoong. The memory of his face—his eyes wide with pain and betrayal—flashed in your mind. You squeezed your blackened hands into fists, the taint of the dark magic pulsing faintly beneath your skin.

“I did what I had to,” you murmured, your voice calm but devoid of conviction.

Your first mate scoffed, turning toward you with an arched brow. “Is that what you’re telling yourself? Because I don’t recall hesitation when you set off that explosion.”

You flinched, barely noticeable, but enough for her to see. Her smirk widened.

“Don’t tell me you’ve actually fallen for the good captain,” she teased, tilting her head as if testing you. “That’d be… inconvenient.”

Your jaw tightened, and you finally turned to face her. “We got what we needed, didn’t we? The ship is in ruins, and they’ll be lucky to make it to port alive.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender, though the glint in her eye was anything but apologetic. “Whatever you say, Captain. Just don’t let those soft feelings of yours get in the way of the plan.” She tapped her temple, stepping back toward the door. “You’re too valuable to waste on sentiment.”

As she left, the door creaked shut behind her, leaving you alone in the dim cabin. You sank into the worn leather chair at the desk, staring down at the map. The inked lines of the world blurred as your vision swam.

Your fingers hovered over the black marks creeping up your hands, the dark magic pulsing faintly—alive. It whispered to you, promising power, control… and yet, it felt like chains. You closed your eyes, your mind betraying you with the memory of Hongjoong’s voice.

Laughter—your laughter—filled the air, light and carefree, as you lay in Hongjoong’s arms. The golden light of the setting sun filtered through the ship’s cabin, casting everything in a warm glow. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his presence grounding you, safe and steady.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you teased, your voice soft but playful, as you turned your head to meet his gaze.

Hongjoong only smiled, his dark eyes tracing your features as though memorizing every line and curve. His fingers danced lightly over your skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. “Can’t help it,” he murmured. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you rolled onto your side, pressing a hand against his chest as if to push him away. “You say that to all the women you meet, Captain.”

He laughed—a warm, hearty sound that made your heart stutter. “Never.” His voice softened then, the teasing edge replaced by something deeper, something real. “Not like this.”

Silence settled between you for a moment, save for the soft creaking of the ship and the distant call of seabirds. You traced the buttons on his shirt absentmindedly, as though your fingers couldn’t bear to stop touching him.

“Do you ever regret it?” you asked quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Regret what?”

“Letting me join the crew.”

Hongjoong’s hand stilled against your skin before curling gently around your waist, pulling you closer. “Not for a second,” he said firmly. “You were meant to be here, with us… with me.”

You swallowed hard, blinking up at him. “You don’t even know what I’m capable of.”

His eyes softened, his thumb brushing faintly over your cheek. “I know enough.”

“You trust me that much?”

“More than you’ll ever know.”

The memory unraveled like a frayed thread, pulling you back to the present with a jolt. Your eyes snapped open, the cold darkness of the cabin swallowing the warmth of his embrace. Your fingers curled into fists as you pressed them against your chest, as if trying to hold together the pieces of yourself that felt like they were breaking.

He had trusted you. Completely.

And you’d shattered that trust.

63 notes · View notes