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minarisplaything · 3 months ago

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I Know What You Want ft. Wonyoung

premise: Inspired by those "your birth month is your ex gf and your current gf" slideshows on tiktok. Might do more of these because they are light and fun.

pairing: Wonyoung x Male Reader content warning/kinks: cheating, daddy kink, anal a/n: happy sunday, always lube up properly o7 audio version (note: audio version is without daddy kink bc i got too lazy to edit around it) wc: 2.4k

"Isn't she a little old for you?" Wonyoung asked, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

"You sound jealous."

She shrugged. "I'm not jealous. I just didn't realize Sunmi-sunbaenim was into robbing the cradle."

"I'm twenty-one," you pointed out. Surely grown enough to make your own decisions on who you dated.

"She's thirty-two," Wonyoung countered.

You let out an annoyed sigh, "I'm not doing this with you today, Wonyoung. Why did you want to meet?"

Wonyoung bristled at your directness, her posture straightening as she scoffed. "You start fucking some hag and you start acting brand new around me."

"Some hag? Really? Wasn't it you who kept saying how much you adored Sunmi-sunbaenim?"

"That was before she took what was mine."

You let out a bark of dry laughter. "I'm not yours. I don't belong to you, Wonyoung."

A healthy response would have been to accept the setting of boundaries and acknowledge their mistake. Which naturally meant that Wonyoung took your words as a challenge.

"Is that right?" she asked, taking a step towards you. "You belong to her now, huh?"

"That's right." Which wasn't exactly true. You didn't think you belonged to anyone but something about the entitlement she was acting with made you respond out of indignation.

What you didn't expect was for her hand to reach out, manicured fingers sliding down to grasp your crotch. "Then why do I still get you hard?"

"Wonyoung -- "

A thin eyebrow arched itself, the picture of arrogance. "Are you going to deny it?"

"Your delusional."

"Am I?" She began to massage your cock over your clothing, and despite your protest, your cock was all too eager to respond to her familiar touch. "Are you telling me if I bent over right now you wouldn't fuck me against this wall?"

God you hated her. Or at least you should. The reality was that despite your separation. Despite the toxicity that had existed in your relationship. Despite being in a happy relationship now. There would always be a part of you that was weak to her. To both her advances and her behavior.

As if sensing your wavering disposition, her touch became heavier. "I'm not wearing any panties under this skirt," she said her tone taking on an innocent air. "Just the way Daddy likes."

That was all it took.

It was pathetically easy in the end for Wonyoung to get you to snap. Though, if anyone was going to be capable of it, it was going to be her. She knew you too well, for better and for worse. In fact, you wouldn't be surprised if her whole look today; the mid-thigh length skirt, the cropped blouse that was a size too small and hugged her frame as a result. She even let her hair down today so it'd be easy for you to grab it. Combine that with her lack of underwear and calling you daddy and, well, you never stood a chance.

You surged forward, gripping Wonyoung's shoulders and spinning her to face the wall. She lead out a delighted fit of laughter as she arched her back, pressing her ass against your groin. Your hands moved to your buckle, shoving down your pants to free your cock from its denim cage.

"I can't stand you, you know that?"

Wonyoung giggled as she tossed you a look over her shoulder, "Whatever you say, Daddy."

With cock in hand you used the other to shove her skirt up, revealing that she had spoken true in her words. You could see her bare pussy, practically begging for you. You bit your bottom lip, hating that the thought of missing this crossed your mind. "You were waiting for this weren't you?"

"Can you tell?" Wonyoung smiled wickedly, "Can't you see how wet I am for you?"

You could. And if you needed any further confirmation you ran your cock between her legs, coating it in her arousal. You had to stop yourself from delving into any further foreplay. This was just a one-time fuck to get it out of your system. At least that was what you told yourself. But as you slipped the tip of your cock into her and began to thrust forward, you were reminded of why it had been so hard to quit Wonyoung in the first place.

"Oh fuck yes, Daddy," Wonyoung said, her back arching further. "You feel how you're stretching my tight pussy? You haven't felt that in a while have you?"

You bit back the urge to tell Wonyoung that wasn't how that worked. Now wasn't the time for a biology lesson nor defending your girlfriend's honor. Instead you focused on stuffing her inch by inch, watching as her pussy swallowed more and more of you until you were pressed flush against her ass.

"Oh, fuck," you groaned out, your head falling forward slightly.

"It feels good doesn't it? It's perfect," Wonyoung cooed. "We're perfect."

Your brow furrowed slightly. "Don't think I'm won over that easily."

Refusing to give into the sentiment that she was suggesting you slipped your cock out of her before stuffing her again and again. You repeated the process, each time going a bit hard, a bit faster while making sure she felt every inch of your cock. The truth was it was fucking heavenly. Sex had never been the reason your relationship fell apart. And even now months later it was like returning to something familiar. Despite yourself you wanted to enjoy this, for however long it lasted.

Your fingers moved to tangle in her dark, wavy locks, pulling her head back as her lithe body shook with your rough thrusts.

"You like that, Wony? This is what you wanted right?" You taunted, giving into the moment as you seized back control.

"Yes!"

"You couldn't find anyone else to fuck you this good could you?"

"Noo," she moaned.

You tugged on her hair roughly, "No, what?"

"No one fucks me this good, Daddy!" Wonyoung cried out.

You rewarded her diligent response with a spank on her fit ass.

"Mmmfph!" She moaned, biting her bottom lip as you continued to fuck her roughly. You could feel her walls tightening around you, her juices already dripping around your cock each time you pulled out of her. The telltale signs that her first orgasm was on the horizon were there for you to see. The way her cheeks flushed, the way her mouth hung upon as she did her best to hold herself against the wall. All she needed was for you to push her over the brink.

"Are you going to come for me? Come for daddy," you whispered against her the shell of her ear as you stuffed her.

"F-fuck! I'm coming!" Wonyoung cried out, not even bothering with trying to contain her moans of pleasure. The look on her face was pure ecstasy and you found it was a look that, despite having near memorized it, it was one you missed.

Her walls tightened around your length as her orgasm shook her body. You were relentless, continuing to fuck the top idol through her climax. One arm slipped around her waist should her legs go weak on her. By the time it was all over she had leaned forward, her face pressed against the wall, her eyes slightly glazed over as her body rocked with your slower thrusts.

As you looked at her perfect ass still pointed out to you, an idea popped into your head.

"Don't move" you instructed her, though you weren't sure if she comprehended you.

You slipped your cock out of her, ignoring the lazy "Hey..." That came from Wonyoung at your action. You were still achingly hard and now thoroughly coated in her juices. That would come in handy soon enough. You got down on your knees, spreading her firm cheeks. Her pussy lips were swollen from your rough fucking but that wasn't your target, instead your tongue was probing her asshole, much to Wonyoung's surprise.

"W-what are you doing," she asked, the intrusion bringing her some of her senses back. Still, she made no move to stop you.

Her inaction only emboldened her as your tongue worked her backdoor. In all the months the two of you had spent together. In all the spontaneous sessions that broke out between you whether it was loving or after a fight, this was the one hole that Wonyoung had never let you claim. In fact, she had been adamant about it every time you even mentioned it. But you had a plan for that now. When you were satisfied you withdrew your tongue and moved to test her hole with your index finger.

"Really, what are you up to back there?" Wonyoung said, letting out a shaky breath.

"Ssh, just relax," you instructed her.

"You – fuck – you know that's off-limits," she returned.

Now was your trump card.

"Sunmi let me fuck her ass."

A poignant pause hung in the air. It was as if Wonyoung was considering what you had just said. Though, given her actions thus far, you had a feeling you already knew her mind was made up. Wonyoung wasn't nearly as cut-throat as some made her out to be but she wasn't someone who took kindly to coming in second place. Least of all when it came to you.

"Make sure you don't go to hard" she finally said. "And you better soak your cock, I'm not some stretched out hag."

"Unnecessary," you chided her. Still, she was right on one point. You returned your tongue to her asshole, preparing it the best you could before moving back to your feet. Your cock slipped inside of Wonyoung again, giving her a few rough thrusts before pulling out and applying some more natural lubrication of your own as you spit on your cock. Finally you were ready. Well, as ready as you could be. Mostly your cock was just aching at the thought of finally being inside Wonyoung's ass.

You positioned your tip at her entrance, gently beginning to push the head forward. "Remember to relax," you said, a hand on her lower back.

"Oh, fuck," Wonyoung swore, her cheek pressed against the wall. "You're too fucking big."

"I thought you liked that," you taunted her.

"Shut up," she groaned.

You couldn't help but chuckle. There was the Wonyoung you knew. Not the princess she pretended to be in front of the camera. You continued pushing ahead, slow and steady as the head of your cock finally penetrated her.

"Holy shit..." You muttered under her breath.

"Fuck. Just....wait there a second," Wonyoung muttered, one long arm reaching back to press against your hip as she got accustom to the new stretch.

You were more than happy to abide. Even just having past the head of your cock in her ass had you reeling. You knew that some of your reaction would be based on the novelty of it. On the fact that you were fucking Jang Wonyoung's ass for the first time. That you were the only person to ever do so. But the truth was it also felt far better than you could have imagined. It wasn't your first time. You hadn't lied when you said that Sunmi had taken you first. And, to be fair, you had loved it then too. But it had been different. You had merely experienced it as Sunmi rode you, in control the entire time. On top of that,t here wasn't the same history. As much as you hated to admit it, it didn't compare to this.

"Okay," Wonyoung said, breaking you from your thoughts, "You can move."

That was all you needed to hear. You pushed forward, inch by inch watching as her hole stretched around your cock until you made it about halfway down the length of your shaft.

"This will have to do," you grunted.

You began to move your hips, slowly at first as you rocked against her before adding more vigor. Steadily with drawing your cock before filling her backdoor again and again. Soft pants left Wonyoung as her nails dug into your flesh, her hand holding onto your thigh.

"How does it feel," you asked her.

"Like I'm being split in half," she groaned.

"And?"

Wonyoung was silent for a moment before a breathless, "...so good."

"Yeah?" Your cock twitched inside of her.

She nodded, her eyes closed, "Fuck yes. Fuck, your cock feels so good inside my tight little asshole."

"That's right," you said, picking up the pace. "And no one will make you feel like this."

"It's all yours," Wonyoung moaned. "Always yours, Daddy."

Somewhere along the way you had transitioned to the one who was laying a possessive claim as opposed to Wonyoung. Whatever, you tossed it up to the heat of the moment. This changed nothing but it did motivate you to see this through to the end. After that it'd be like this never happened but until then her ass was yours.

Your grip on her hips tightened as your pace increased, pounding her backdoor. Wonyoung's hand dipped between her thighs, rubbing her clit as she chased her second orgasm.

"Fuck!" She chanted, becoming more vocal as her climax drew near.

"I'm going to come," you grunted. "I'm going to fill you up."

Wonyoung didn't have the capacity to reply, instead her mouth fell open in a silent cry as her second orgasm washed over her. Not one to be a liar you finally managed to fit your entire length into her ass, just in time for your own release to hit you. Your cock swelled before spilling an obscene amount of cum into her bowel. As you pulled your cock out you watched your cum ooze out of her puckered hole.

"Jesus christ..." You muttered, chest heaving. The sight alone was damn near enough to make you want a round two.

For once Wonyoung didn't have a smart comeback, instead slowly sinking to the ground in a heap, her cheek still pressed against the wall as she tried to catch her breath. Idly you couldn't help but wonder if this was how she imagined this encounter was going to go when she first confronted you. Maybe you'd get to ask her once some of her senses returned. For now you just wanted to bask in the pleasure of what had just happened without thinking too hard.

TWO WEEKS LATER.

"Un-fucking-believable."

You stared at your phone, watching as the latest tiktok reel came across your screen. You watched as your girlfriend, Sunmi, and your ex-girlfriend, Wonyoung, completed a dance challenge together. Of course, Sunmi had no idea about your past relationships. Wonyoung on the other hand was well aware.

And yet here she was, doing a dance challenge with the same woman whose boyfriend had been fucking her ass not two weeks earlier.

You could only shake your head in disbelief and some mild concern. "What the hell are you plotting, Wony."

#wonyoung smut #wonyoung x male reader #ive smut #male reader #kpop smut #girl group smut

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 13 days ago

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Neverland

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 18

Prompt: Vacation

Rated: T

Tags: No UD AU; Cruise ship; Musician Eddie; Kids' entertainer Steve; Steve in a dress; Homophobic language; Sexual tension; Eddie being a horny disaster

Notes: Based on this brainworm. Artwork of Steve and Robin in their costumes, done by the incredible @arelliann this way.

“Hey, aren’t you on the band?”

Eddie stops his beeline for the staff room, stuffing the hand that was just about to rip off the bowtie back into his pocket, and turns to face the couple that has strolled up to him.

“Yeah?” he offers.

“I knew it,” the woman smiles. “You play the guitar, right?”

“Um, yes,” Eddie says, unable to help the proud upturn of his mouth. “Glad you liked it.”

The stuff they’re having him play is horrible, but at least he made an impression. It only goes to show how a skilled musician can turn even the most atrocious pieces into-

“Oh, we didn’t,” says the guy conversationally. “We thought it was horrible.”

Eddie gapes at them. They look back, like they’re honestly expecting him to reply anything that isn’t fuck you, you rich, entitled assholes. Maybe that’s what he should say. What are they gonna do, keelhaul him?

Except Wayne was so eager for him to take this gig. Two weeks on the board band of the MS Neverland, the Harrington Line's newest, shiniest, luxury cruise ship. He was so hopeful that this might be something Eddie would enjoy, and Eddie thought why the hell not? It sounded like an easy time, a paid vacation doing what he loved most.

Except it isn't. The jazz music is making his skin crawl, the passengers are a bunch of stuck-up snobs, and the green suit jacket and matching bowtie make him look like some kind of demented leprechaun.

But he can’t come crawling back home to confess that it didn’t work out.

“Erm,” he says. “Okay. Sorry, I guess.”

Then, he books it for the staff room, stomach twisting and face burning.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he slips inside, slumping against the door and hiding his face in his hands. “This is so humiliating.”

“Yeah,” says a voice. “Tell me about it.”

Eddie lowers his hands.

There's a guy on the ratty couch at the other side of the room. A guy in sheer tights, glittering tulle wings and a dangerously short green dress.

Eddie almost swallows his own tongue.

“Hey,” says the guy, shucking off his slippers. There's little fluffy poufs on them. “I've seen you before. You're in the band, right?”

“Hrrrgh,” Eddie says. The apparition tilts its head. Eddie pretends to clear his throat and tries again. “Yeah. I'm the guitar. I mean play. I play guitar. I've seen you, too.”

In fact, seen may be too tame a word for what he's been doing. Ogle the way the skirt rides up his thighs until his eyes almost popped out of their sockets is more like it. It's kind of hard not to, he guesses. He's caught several passengers of various genders and ages do the same.

One perfectly shaped eyebrow arches. “Oh yeah?”

Eddie nods.

“You're the … erm … kids’ entertainer. The fairy- no, shit, that sounds wrong. The … Tinker- … Tinkerdude.”

The guy throws back his head and laughs. His throat looks impossibly long in the low-necked dress.

“Oh my God, that's a new one. I love it.”

“What, really?” Eddie asks, chest fluttering with irrational pride. “I mean … you do?”

Tinkerdude nods. Then, suddenly, something seems to occur to him.

“Oh, do you mind?” he says, standing from the couch. “This thing is a bitch to get off.”

Eddie is about to ask what he means, but then Tinkerdude gestures at something on the back of the dress, something half hidden between the wings, and … oh. Oh, fuck, Eddie’s in so much trouble.

“Um, sure,” is what he says. Luckily, Tinkerdude has already turned his back, so he doesn’t see how Eddie’s legs wobble as he bridges the few steps between them.

“So, why the dress?” he asks, just to say anything while his clammy hands struggle with the rickety zipper. “Wasn't there, like, a Peter Pan costume?”

Tinkerdude chuckles. “There was, but I gave it to Robin. She was threatening to jump off board if she had to wear this, and I couldn't risk that. And besides, I make a great fairy. My dad calls me one all the time. Thanks, I got it from here.”

The dress falls open, revealing broad, muscled shoulders, and inches upon inches of suntanned skin. It's riddled in moles. Small ones, large ones, some light and some so dark they look almost black, scattered all over the guy's back, all the way down to the dip of his spine and the curve of his-

Eddie reels backwards, trips over the slippers and just barely manages to turn his fall into a clumsy collapse into the sofa. It groans. Or maybe that was him.

Tinkerdude, luckily, doesn’t notice. He's too busy shimmying into the jeans he's just pulled from the rucksack by the couch - all without taking off the tights, mind you, and how the fuck is Eddie supposed to live with the knowledge of what's under that skintight denim?

“What's your name?”

Eddie jerks his eyes up. Tinkerdude, who has paused with his shirt in his hands, is looking at him with a quizzical expression and Eddie can't help but wonder if he's asked him that before. His chest has moles, too. So do his stomach and hips. The dress is bunched around his middle like a sparkly green miniskirt. The fact that the wings seem to be spouting from his butt does, unfairly, not diminish his hotness.

“I, erm … Eddie,” Eddie croaks. Tinkerdude smiles and shrugs into his shirt.

“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” he says. “I'm Steve.”

He lets the dress drop to the ground, carelessly stuffing it inside his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Looking forward to hearing you play again,” he calls as he breezes out. “I think you're really good.”

Then he's gone and Eddie’s left alone in the staff room, trying to recover from whatever it was that just happened.

Neverland just got one helluva lot more interesting.

More holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles 2024

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yan-lorkai · 2 months ago

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Day twenty one: Genies!Kalim and Jamil deceiving their darling

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: This idea seemed to be living rent-free in my head for a few months now, so ofc I had to write. I actually wanted to write more about it but decided against; all the fics on the halloween had to be easy to write and faster. Writing 30 fics in the span of two weeks was certainly something but tbh i was stress writing lol. Either way, I'm rambling now, good read, darlings!

The lamp felt heavier in your hands than it should have. Its ornate metalwork was intricate, with delicate filigree and worn engravings that hinted at centuries of history, a history long lost - now preserved as a legend.

The lamp gift from a friend, they had laughed when they handed it to you, suggesting the possibility of a genie inside. It was, of course, just a joke — something fun, a relic from a forgotten time. But as you sat alone in your quiet room, you couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't true.

Turning it over, you traced the smooth surface of the metal. The dim light of the room glinted off its curves.

“What’s the harm?” you muttered to yourself, half-smiling at the absurdity of it all. "Nothing will happen."

And yet, curiosity urged you on. You gently rubbed the side of the lamp, not expecting anything beyond perhaps the sound of metal against your skin.

At first, nothing.

You giggled, setting the lamp down on the table beside your bed. Wishing for something like that work was futile; you had to make your future happen with your own hands.

Yet, one could hope.

As you turned around to open another birthday gift, a faint warmth spread through your body, like a blanketbeing wrapped around you so gently and softly. The lamp vibrated slightly, a low hum echoing from its core. You froze, eyes wide as thin wisps of golden smoke curled from the spout, swirling and expanding until the room was filled with it.

You blinked, heart pounding as two figures emerged from the mist.

One stood tall and composed, his dark hair framing a serious face, sharp eyes locked on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. His clothes were regal but foreign, a blend of deep colors and shimmering gold that seemed almost alive.

Beside him was another figure, smaller and brighter, with an infectious smile that lit up the space around him. His pale hair glowed under the lamplight, his eyes full of excitement and warmth, and he was holding the lamp on both his hands.

Both of them stood before you, impossibly real and tangible. If you reached out, you knew you could feel them there.

The taller one regarded you with mild interest. “I see… a new master,” he said smoothly, his voice soft and rich, like velvet. “I am Jamil and this beside me is Kalim. We're pleased to meet you.”

Kalim beamed at you. “Wow! It’s been forever since someone summoned us. You must be really lucky!” His enthusiasm was infectious, but you remained frozen, trying to process what was happening.

Was the legend real? They would grant you three wishes right here and now? Do you have any wishes? You can't think straight.

Jamil’s gaze didn’t waver. Soon enough, the famous words left his mouth as he almost purred the syllables. “You rubbed the lamp, which means you’re entitled to three wishes.”

You stared at them both, still struggling to wrap your mind around the situation. “Wait, what… this is real?” you stammered.

Kalim laughed for a long time, the sound light and cheerful. There were little tears forming on his eyes, but he wiped them. “We're as real as you are, habibi! You summoned us, so we’re here to grant your wishes!” He leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “Go on, ask for anything.”

Your heart raced as you tried to gather your thoughts. Wishes… real wishes. The possibilities swirled in your mind, but the disbelief kept you from speaking right away or remembering what you truly wanted.

The two genies stood patiently, Jamil’s eyes narrowing slightly as he waited, while Kalim watched with a wide, eager smile.

Tentatively, you spoke. “I wish for… I wish to have plenty of money.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth than the room shifted around you. You gasped as money started to appeared out of nowhere, everything felt too much like a fever dream, but this also meant you could finally treat yourself to some nice things, as you wouldn't struggle anymore.

Kalim danced around, his laughter filling the air. “Look at it! Isn’t it amazing?” he exclaimed, summoning a flower of thin air and handing it to you with a grin. “You can have anything you want.”

Jamil’s gaze never left you. He didn’t smile, but there was something satisfied in his eyes, as though your first wish had confirmed something for him.

“One wish down,” he said, his voice low and measured. “Two more to go.”

“What happens after I make all three wishes?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

You held the flower in your hand, feeling its soft petals brush against your skin. But deep inside, you couldn’t shake the feeling of something lurking just beneath the surface. There was something too perfect about it all, too controlled.

Too much like a dream.

Kalim’s smile faltered for a second, but he quickly recovered. “You’ll be happy! That’s what matters, right?” He twirled around, his carefree nature pulling at you like a warm summer breeze. “We’ll make sure of it!”

Jamil, however, met your question with a deeper, knowing gaze. “All you need to worry about is the next wish,” he said, his voice almost hypnotic. “Whatever your heart desires.”

The unease in your chest grew. You looked down at the flower in your hand, feeling the weight of their stares on you. Could you trust them? The money spilled on your floor wasn’t what you had imagined. It felt… artificial, like it existed solely to please you, the perfect amount to pay your bills and live comfortably, it seems.

“I wish for…” You hesitated, trying to find something more meaningful. “I wish to see the most breathtaking sunset, something that can’t be replicated.”

The sunset felt eternal, like time itself had stopped for you to watch. You stood in awe, the sight so beautiful it was almost painful. Yet, even as you admired it, you could feel the weight of Jamil’s eyes on you.

This time, Kalim’s expression brightened, as though he had been waiting for something grand like this. “Oh, I can do that!” he exclaimed, raising his arms toward the sky.

The sun lowered on the horizon, its light turning the garden into a canvas of fiery oranges and soft purples. The colors spilled across the sky, streaking it with brilliance that took your breath away.

“Your last wish,” he prompted, stepping closer. “Choose wisely.”

You took a deep breath, the air thick with magic and the overwhelming pressure of their presence. “What if… I don’t want to make a third wish yet?”

Kalim’s smile didn’t waver, but there was an edge to it now. “But don’t you want more? You can have anything!”

Jamil’s eyes darkened, his voice a quiet whisper. “You can’t stop now."

The air around you shifted, growing heavier as the two genies loomed closer. The carefree atmosphere that Kalim had created melted away, revealing something darker, more insistent.

Before you could speak, Jamil raised a hand, his expression cold and determined. “We’ll make it for you.”

Kalim’s grin grew wider, but it no longer felt warm. It was possessive, unsettling. The golden mist from the lamp began to rise again, swirling around you. “We’ll make sure you’re with us forever, litte master.” Kalim said cheerfully, his voice sounding almost detached from reality.

You tried to step back, but the smoke wrapped around you like tendrils, pulling you closer to the lamp. “Wait— what are you doing?” Panic surged through you as you struggled to break free, but their magic was too strong, too consuming.

"Master, we've been watching you." Jamil’s voice echoed in your ears as the smoke tightened its grip, dragging you toward the lamp’s spout. “You’re ours now. You can't escape.”

The last thing you saw was Kalim’s glowing smile and Jamil’s cold, satisfied gaze before everything went dark, the world collapsing into the endless void of the lamp.

And there, in the heart of the lamp, you realized with a sinking dread that you were never meant to leave.

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yanderes-galore · 6 months ago

Note

Could you do prompts by starbabytae 14, 19, and 21 for Aemond Targaryen?

Aemond has gone FERAL in Season 2... so I'm ready. S2 E4 has definitely given me ideas. End is a bit awkward as I was unsure how exactly to fit it with the prompts.

‼️POTENTIAL SPOILERS FOR HOTD SEASON 2 - ALTERNATE TAKE ON THE EVENTS OF S2 E4‼️

Prompts Here

Yandere! Aemond Targaryen Prompts 14, 19, 21

“I just want you all to myself. Is that such a crime?”

“That’s where you belong. Worshipping me on your hands and knees.”

“Maybe if I branded you, other people would finally get that you’re mine.”

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Swearing, Stalking, Mature themes, Typical ASOIAF themes, Potential Targcest (You replace Helaena), Manipulation, Sadism, Threats, Possessive behavior/Jealousy, Murder, Blood mention, Forced/Dubious relationship.

Aemond had gotten used to the fact he'd be overlooked. He wasn't king due to being born after his brother Aegon. He tried to settle with simply being a warrior for his king on top of Vhagar.

But he still hated it all the same.

Aegon, the whiny brat of a king and brother, always got what he wanted because he was older. As king he had all the say. Meanwhile Aemond was left envious and irritated at how incompetent his brother was as king.

Aemond studied like the good prince he is, he's even better in battle. He's a better tactician and doesn't sleep around like his whore of a brother. He doesn't understand. Why must Aegon be king simply because he's older.

What makes it worse? Aegon also got his first and only love.

You were betrothed and married to Aegon. Aemond had loved you since you both were kids, yet the younger prince was forced to watch as you married his brother. Not only that... but he had to witness the babes you bore for him.

The thought still makes Aemond seethe. He's tired of allowing Aegon, an entitled brat, get what he's always wanted. Aemond always thought he'd make the better king... he's always followed his duties...

He wishes you and him were betrothed instead of Aegon.

While you may not belong to him, Aemond still yearns for you. For years he's loved you. Even when you were married to Aegon he still fantasizes about how it would feel to have you as his.

Aemond always watched you from afar, swearing himself as your protector. On top of Vhagar he felt he was the one making decisions for this war. He's the one making plans while Aegon flirts with other women.

Aemond can tell you aren't happy with Aegon... Aemond could treat you so much better.

Aemond wasn't expecting the opportunity to act on his desires ever. At first he was just going to take Criston Cole to take down Rook's Rest along with Rhaenys and Meleys. Vhagar has been so eager for a fight.

Then he saw Aegon swoop in on Sunfyre... making him pause.

He should be ashamed... but the plan was too perfect.

It was too easy to swoop in on Vhagar when Sunfyre and Meleys were busy. Aemond just had to say one word and the whole situation would look like a freak accident. The thought of finally taking what he deserved makes him grin.

"Dracarys!"

The command is short, simple, but executed with a plume of fire from Vhagar as both smaller dragons are struck down.

Aemond took sadistic delight in taking out both riders. The fire from Vhagar was enough to make Aegon and Sunfyre crash down. However, it took some stealth tactics to bite the neck of Meleys to make the red queen fall with her rider.

By the end of the fighting, Aemond found himself standing in front of his burned brother on the ground. His brother barely moved, yet his breathing was faint. Aemond barely hesitated when he picked up his brother's dagger and hovered it over his burned brother's chest.

"I will be the one to make her happy, brother." Aemond whispers, not caring if Aegon even heard or not. "I will be king, I will win this war, and I'll do it much better than you did."

It's then Aemond does the finishing blow, tucking the dagger away before leaving. The sight of the blood trickling from his brother's chest indifferent to him. Criston Cole enters the foliage to see Aemond and the corpse of the king. The knight goes to say something, yet Aemond's remaining eye glares at him.

"It was a freak accident, that's all it was." Aemond hums, walking past the knight. "Say otherwise and I'll have you gutted by my sword."

The loss of Aegon was a much bigger loss to The Greens. In comparison, The Blacks only really lost one dragon and dragonrider. The Greens...? They lost their king.

Which leads to them placing Aemond in power in an attempt to regain control.

The death of your husband makes you... conflicted. You didn't really love him... yet you feared the vulnerability that came from having the king slain. You believed it was genuinely an accident caused by Aegon's rash decision to prove himself.

Completely unaware of the culprit hovering around you, coddling you and cheering you up like he didn't kill his brother.

With the death of Aegon, Aemond began courting you. You're a widow queen... and he's the new king. Naturally... you two end up being betrothed to keep up support for The Greens. The marriage is then scheduled to happen within the week.

Such an announcement brings rumors from both sides and supporters. The whole thing seems too convenient. Soon there were rumors of Aemond being a kinslayer, killing his brother just to take his wife.

Aemond could care less for such problematic rabble.

All he really cared about was making you his, let them gossip.

Aemond couldn't help the playful chuckle that poured out of his lips when he saw you pacing about your chambers. You looked so vulnerable without Aegon around anymore. Now you are his queen... one who should listen to him and love only him unconditionally.

Aegon never deserved you, at least Aemond promises to only pay attention to you.

"Here you are, love." Aemond greets, cupping your cheek. "Gods how I love you... I've always loved you...

Aemond leans closer to brush his lips over yours, you leaning into his touch obediently.

"I'm so happy to call you mine... It makes everything I've done worth it...." Aemond hums, kissing your lips. He craves your taste, your touch, always has since you young.

Now you're finally his to claim....

"I always hated the fact Aegon got to have you..." Aemond whispers, pressing your face closer to his own in between kisses. "I always wanted it to be me... always should have been me... but now you're mine...."

Your feelings for Aemond are... complicated. You loved him more than Aegon yet couldn't help but distrust him. It felt too... planned.

Yet you were scared to push.

"Aemond... it is scandalous to act this way with a recently widowed queen...." You whisper, yet Aemond only ignores the comment.

"Let the commonfolk think what they wish..." Aemond growls, pulling you flush against him. “I just want you all to myself. Is that such a crime?”

Aemond then chuckles, the idea of the common people and the royals knowing you're his a pleasing thought. To him, this is the ultimate revenge. Even now he despises his brother for taking advantage of the privilege he was given.

At least Aemond plans to use it right.

“Maybe if I branded you, other people would finally get that you’re mine.” Aemond teases, tracing his hands over the exposed skin of your nightgown. "Just as you should be...."

The way you shiver in his touch excites him. Be it from pleasure or fear, he doesn't care. Now that you're his... Why would he ever let go?

"Do you believe the rumors, Aemond?" You ask him in such a sweet voice, his one eye looking at you affectionately. He wonders if you can see the darkness in his violet gaze. "The ones where they call you a kinslayer?"

"Do you believe them?" Aemond asks, affectionately kissing your skin. "Do you really care what the common folk think?"

Aemond waits for you to answer, yet is met with silence. He chuckles at your conflicted gaze, kissing your lips softly. It really didn't change anything if you believed them or not... only two people knew the truth...

and Criston Cole was dangerously close to being hanged, anyways.

"Don't worry so much, love." Aemond whispers, pulling back a bit to view you fully. "You'll hurt yourself... just focus on me..." He kisses you one more time before sitting on the bed, hands on your shoulders. "Could you sit on your knees for me...?"

Obediently you listen to him, making Aemond shiver in anticipation. This was what he always wanted. You listening to him... coddling him... tending to only him.

“That’s where you belong. Worshipping me on your hands and knees.” Aemond praises, petting your head as he lays your head in his lap. "No need to worry about anything, my queen... I'll take care of it all for you."

You merely listen to your new king as he strokes your hair. This is all he's ever dreamed of. Aemond can't hide the dark smirk on his face as he gives you the affection he's always wanted to give.

You shouldn't look too much into rumors, you shouldn't worry about a thing, who cares about the fate of Aegon?

You have Aemond now... he'll fix everything... for you, the kingdom, and the seven realms.

#yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #yandere asoiaf #yandere aemond targaryen

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ghostofbambifanfiction · 6 days ago

Text

Fic Present!!!

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! While I am not posting it on AO3 until the whole fic is complete, I wanted to give you guys a festive gift, so please see below the cut for the first chapter of Heads Will Roll.

Siblings in Slaughter

"When the wind blows from the East, expect the new and set the feast."

James Potter cleaned his dagger in the river when the deed was done.

His comrade-in-arms griped at him for it, but Sirius was right to complain. Neither he nor James were wielders of cheap steel, or the kind of workmanship which might deserve to be plunged into a river and shaken out to dry once removed. That particular dagger had been forged in the guild of the Hephaestans, who were the grandmasters of their trade. With an edge so sharp that it could cut iron and a blade imbibed with elven enchantments, it was entitled to the same attention that Sirius lavished upon his own weapons of a dry summer evening, when he would arch across his sword as if in prayer, applying oils and buffing indiscernible marks with the tender care of a parent who nurses their sickly child.

The more James relied upon rivers and lakes to cleanse his blade, the sooner he would find himself in need of another.

But they'd just slain a cockatrice, and an angry one at that.

The battle had worn on for what felt like an eternity and grew no easier once James had taken care of the beast's eyes to leave their way clear. Upon finding itself blinded, the sound it let out was bone-chilling, and it thrashed like hell unleashed, swiping viciously with its barbed tail and lunging wherever it heard sound. Its last earthly accomplishment, before Sirius lopped its galline head off with a clean swipe of his sword, was to gouge its rage into James's shoulder with a talon that was sharper than his wits.

The wound it left was not deep, and it would heal before the sun arose tomorrow, but his inertia had no immediate solution. The beast had taken a full day to track, and James was tired. Bone tired. Too tired to tend to the dagger, or his sword, or the silver tipped arrows that rustled in the quiver on his back. He made a shoddy attempt at wiping the mud from his boots and hauled himself atop his horse with Sirius's admonishments wafting over his head, too lethargic to properly hear them.

No doubt he'd repeat them tomorrow. He almost always did.

The ride back to Thorney Pass was a quick one, barely five miles, but sitting upright and awake felt like a struggle until they reached the inn, blood-stained but victorious, with a monster's head swinging from Sirius's saddle, and were treated to a hero's welcome by the small number of townsfolk who had remained there to wait—without much hope, perhaps—for their return.

"Bed," he mouthed to Sirius amidst the hubbub, and his brother nodded his understanding. It would be Sirius who collected their payment from the town elder and saw to it that the horses were settled for the night this time, while James retreated to their lodgings to rest. The inn was one of the nicer establishments in town, and their room a cosy space with two plush feather beds and a spacious copper bathtub, which the innkeeper—recently widowed by the cockatrice, whose head he would now mount upon his wall—was only too happy to have filled. Once alone, James divested himself of his weapons and clothing and sank into the steaming water with a grateful sigh, eager to scrub the stench of death from his body before turning in for the night.

When he awoke, what must have been hours later, the water he lay in was cold and he was shivering, while Sirius slept soundly in one of the beds, his slow, even breathing lending the room an air of peace that their occupation so rarely allowed them to enjoy.

He had cleaned and polished James's dagger and sword; they lay on the low wooden table beneath the window, next to a neatly-folded pile of clothes that James had earlier cast off and strewn haphazardly about the room.

In the moonlight they gleamed pristinely, vivid in their splendour, siblings in slaughter, alert like living things.

James needed, he reflected, to start taking better care of his weapons.

And himself.

He needed to take better care of himself.

"I've lined up another job for us."

"Another one?"

"In Upper Hangleton."

"The place with the library?"

"Yes, Upper Hangleton," Sirius repeated through a mouthful of blood sausage. He cleared his throat when he swallowed and ran his tongue along his top set of teeth, checking for imperfections. "About a day's ride from here."

The words were innocuous, even expected, but they curdled in the ear like sour milk.

The inn was bustling that morning, and while James would have liked to attribute that solely to the excellent breakfasts that the innkeeper had presented them with, he had lived this precise situation enough times to know that he and Sirius were the attraction of the hour. Word of the cockatrice's death would have spread overnight, as it always did, and the townsfolk were as curious as townsfolk always were, crowding the inn in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the mysterious, travelling heroes who had saved them from the beast who stalked their homes. The attention that surrounded their booth was palpable enough to run a blade through, and it was a tale as old as time itself after ten years on the road. The disbelief and uncertainty that greeted them at every new location would soon give way to grateful, ardent fawning, to cheers and gifts and victory feasts, even to fathers who offered their maiden daughters as brides, and saw not how they were monsters in a rather different sense. Each town to which they were summoned became a copy of the one that went before it, after a fashion. Only the beasts would vary.

James's mother had once warned them both that consistent adulation could ruin a man who wasn't prepared to nurture a healthy sense of shame, and while his younger self had paid her no mind, lapping up praise like praise alone could keep him breathing, the man that he had become felt as if those very same words were stitched into his soul.

He was tired.

Not in body. He was twenty-seven years old, in excellent physical condition, and a healthy sleeper.

But the rest…

"We can't take another job, we're going home," he reminded Sirius. This had been their agreement when they consented to take on the cockatrice.

"Yeah, I know," Sirius agreed, his demeanour unconcerned, "and Upper Hangleton is on the way."

"Give or take a detour of about thirty miles."

"What's thirty miles in the grand scheme of things?"

"In the grand scheme of things," James growled through his teeth, gripping his knife as he sawed through his breakfast with vigour, "you promised that we were going home after this job, and the job's done. Now is when we go home."

"We will go home. Mother and Father aren't shuffling off the mortal coil just yet, they can wait a little longer to see us."

"Maybe they can, but I can't. I'm bloody exhausted."

"The letter arrived this morning, while you were still asleep; they must have heard that we were here." From within an inner pocket of his aged leather overcoat, Sirius withdrew a shortened sheet of parchment and placed it in the centre of the table. "From the library's custodian, no less."

James spared the letter a brief glance and resumed his frustrated attack on his bacon, which was cooked so well it was almost burned black, resting on a slab of thick, warm bread and creamy butter which had been freshly churned—or so the innkeeper assured him—that very morning. Just how he liked it. "I don't want to see some silly library."

"A library that houses the largest and most diverse collection of books in the country is not some silly library," his brother coolly retorted, "and the letter—"

"I don't care about the letter."

"Just read it, alright?" Sirius slapped his palm down on the letter with such emphasis that their tankards rattled, and pushed it towards James. "Read it and then make up your mind."

There was very little arguing with Sirius when he got the bit between his teeth, and James could have stormed off, but his breakfast was the price he'd pay for his desertion, and this might have been the last good meal he'd get to enjoy for days. Not every inn they frequented served up food of such a high standard.

He picked up the letter with a hearty scoff and skimmed it, swiftly bypassing the usual pleasantries, the writer's apologies for having disturbed them, and his description of the town, until…

Hah.

He looked up from the letter and searched his brother's face for the punchline, incredulous.

None came.

"A hellbeast," he flatly read aloud, in case he had imagined such stupidity. "You think a hellbeast is on the prowl in Upper Hangleton?"

Sirius crossed his arms beneath his chest and smirked.

"Can't be," James insisted.

"Could be."

"It can't."

"You're no fun. What kind d'you reckon it is?" his brother asked, ignoring his scepticism completely. His eyes were alight with the kind of excitement that only an unknown, potentially undefeatable enemy could stir within him. "A Cerberus? A Cù-Sith?"

"Yeah, you're right, what would I know? Could even be a Black Shuck," James dryly suggested, more interested in his breakfast than in entertaining this nonsense. He put the letter down and pushed it back across the table without finishing it. "Or it could be an overdramatic murderer who disguises their kills as the act of one of the rarest monsters in existence."

"Yeah, it could." His smirk undiminished, Sirius tapped the bottom half of the letter with two fingers. "But there was a witness, so eat up and let's get moving, princess."

He leaned back in his seat and threw a wink at some of the women who were watching them from the bar and in whom, James knew, he couldn't have been less interested, because that was just the kind of shit-eating git he was. Sirius wasn't interested in anyone, but they flocked to him in their droves, entranced by his pale, pouty-lipped beauty, by his inscrutability, and by the fantasy of capturing the heart of a handsome monster hunter. The most that anyone could hope to get was a night of indulgence in his body before he coolly sent them on their way, alongside their disappointed hopes. He had no appetite for romance and little capacity for affection; he loved the job, loved their parents, and loved James best of all, but that was all he had room for.

No more, no less.

But it certainly would have suited James much better if Sirius could love the job a little bit less.

"I need a break," he helplessly pointed out. There was no victory to be found here. Sirius would get his way, as Sirius always did. "We both agreed that we needed a break."

"But this is a hellbeast."

"It probably isn't!"

"And what if it is?" Sirius challenged. "And what would Mother say if she knew we'd ignored the summons?"

Knowing well what his mother would say, and not stupid enough to fall into that trap, James fixed him with a flat stare and shoved a hunk of bacon into his mouth.

"One more job. Just one. Then we'll go home for a few months," his brother wheedled, utterly unconvincing in his attempt to look sympathetic, so James continued to stare and chew and stare, and Sirius held up his hands as if in surrender. "We will, I mean it this time."

It was a pointless endeavour. An imminently wasteful journey.

There was no hellbeast in Upper Hangleton. Couldn't be.

But if there was…

Well, fuck.

Because what if there was?

"One of these days, Sirius," he sighed, slumping over his breakfast, weary with defeat. "One of these days I swear I'll kill you."

"Stop moaning," Sirius chided, and flashed his gleaming teeth. "You know you love it really."

James's response was to grumble wordlessly into his eggs.

As much as James would have preferred to return to London and sleep for a complete lunar cycle, whenever he committed to a job, he committed to that job.

There was no hellbeast in Upper Hangleton.

Of this much he was certain.

There was a beast to contend with, however, and it had claimed several lives, and that was enough.

So here he was, in Upper Hangleton, a small East Anglian town contained almost entirely within the outer fringes of a thick, expansive forest named Corvid Copse; a town so sleepy it was practically comatose; a town that had nothing of note to boast of but a library of some renown, and where nothing much of note had ever happened until now.

Here he was.

Committed.

The promise of a delicious supper from the widowed innkeeper had kept them in Thorney Pass for longer than expected, so they rode through the night and reached their destination the next morning, stopping first at the famed library to meet the man who had summoned them.

James came to realise, when they arrived, that he had expected quite a lot of the library without ever consciously considering it—marble statues or intricate paintings, or a great domed ceiling, perhaps, something grandiose to mark its reputation—and the medieval battlement that housed it was certainly imposing, but once inside, they found themselves confronted with a library that was a library in the most macabre sense, a library with thick stone walls, stone floors, and no windows to speak of. The crenelles which had been notched into the walls centuries back allowed for only draughts and meagre threads of natural light to struggle through, so fireplaces and long, tapered candles were doing most of the heavy lifting, and glass-encased lanterns were provided to those who wished to explore among the shelves, or stay and read a while.

It was with a low whistle that Sirius took one of the lanterns and promptly wandered off, leaving James to talk to the custodian. Speaking with the public was the only part of the job that Sirius didn't relish with a reverence that inched close to worship, but James could coax a conversation out of a tree if it took his fancy, and played the role of interviewer gladly.

The man's name was Remus Lupin, a tall and rather slight fellow with a closely cropped beard and light brown hair that fell to his chin. He looked to be around James and Sirius's age, which seemed young for a head custodian, but people had been saying that about them both since they first took up the sword at seventeen, so James was of no mind to assume that his capabilities were lacking.

Lupin also shared his scepticism in regards to the creature.

"I thought it all a bit far-fetched, to be frank, but Mrs Abbott insisted that she knows what she saw," he disclosed, having invited James to take a seat at his desk near the entrance. "There hasn't been one confirmed sighting of a genuine hellbeast in England in centuries, from what I could uncover, so at first I thought it more likely to be an Acromantula, perhaps even an Erymanthian boar, although goodness knows how one of those could have found its way to a place like this."

"You seem to know your monsters," James remarked, impressed.

"Oh, I don't particularly, this is all a result of some cursory research, after the first few attacks," admitted Lupin, shuffling through some papers that were littered across his desk. "Of course, that was when I assumed that the attacks would be more frequent, but as they are…" His fingers stilled over a sheet of parchment, upon which several notes had been written in a neat and precise hand, and he let out a short, sheepish breath of laughter. "My apologies, I forget who I'm talking to. You likely need my opinion on this matter about as much as I need yours on antique book restoration."

James grinned. "Is there much profit in antique book restoration?"

"I profit in spirit, if only that counted."

"If I knew how you could profit financially, I might have an opinion," James returned, with a laugh of his own. It was a shame that Sirius had wandered off; this bloke was sharp. "But I won't take offence if you want to share yours."

"That's quite alright, I shall leave the hypothesising to you, but I have written down the facts as I was given them, if that might prove useful." Lupin lifted his sheet of notes. "Unfortunately, there have been two more attacks in the time since I first wrote."

James reached out for the sheet of parchment and Lupin handed it over. "In one night?"

"One last night, another the night before, which makes for three consecutive attacks, the same as last time."

With a quick nod to indicate that he was listening, James read through Lupin's list of victims, leaning close to a flickering candle to better see.

First attack - Mr Clive and Mrs Elsie Bishop - night of May 4th or morning of May 5th - bodies discovered at Nethermere on the morning of May 5th

Second attack - Mr Aethelred Green - night of May 5th or morning of May 6th - body discovered at Nethermere on the afternoon of May 6th

Third attack - Master Alfred Nott - early morning of May 7th - attacked in the rose garden of Nott House, witnessed by Miss Margaret Nott from her bedroom window - the distance between the window and the rose garden is approximately 120 yards and the attack was witnessed in darkness - Miss Nott described the creature as dark and gigantic - body was left in the rose garden

Fourth attack - Mr Richard Abbott - night of June 3rd - taken by the beast while returning from the Old George, yards from his home on Thackery Lane, witnessed by Mrs Anne Abbott from the front door - witness described the creature as enormous and dark with sharp claws and glowing red eyes, claims that it was speaking in demonic tongues - creature used its mouth to drag the victim away as he struggled - body located at Nethermere on the morning of June 4th

Fifth attack - Miss Winifred Calvert - night of June 4th or early morning of June 5th - body discovered on southern forest trail to Nethermere on the morning of June 5th

Sixth attack - Mr Archie Faircroft - night of June 5th or early morning of

James looked up at Lupin, who was watching him closely. "This one is unfinished?"

"I was updating it as you arrived," he said, "but there wasn't anything new to report. It seems that every victim was taken whilst outdoors, despite the curfew we've enacted, because there were no signs of struggle in any of their homes, and the body was found at Nethermere like the majority of the others, in much the same state as the rest."

"And what state was that precisely?"

"Ripped apart." Lupin's voice was impassive, but one hand was resting sideways on his desk, and the fingers that curled tightly into his palm told a different story. Whatever he may have been feeling, he saw the importance of a dispassionate retelling of facts. Too often, James and Sirius were confronted with witnesses on the verge of hysteria, witnesses who misremembered and exaggerated their experiences. That may still have happened with Miss Nott and Mrs Abbott, but Lupin had at least attempted to condense them into a form that made logical sense. "Limbs missing. Chunks torn from flesh. Bloodless," he added, with a slight, barely perceptible shudder. "Completely bloodless."

"Can I grab that quill?"

"Go ahead."

James, who never seemed to have a quill on him, reached over the desk, plucked Lupin's from its inkpot, gave it a quick shake and scribbled some fresh notes in his own, untidy scrawl. Dismembered. Drained. Consumed. "And Nethermere is?"

"The lake. It's a popular beauty spot with the locals for fishing, bathing, picnicking and such—at least it was—located about a mile from here if you take the western forest trail."

"Does the southern trail also lead to the lake?"

"It does, although it takes a little longer."

"And Nott House." Common kill site. Den? Ritualistic? "Is that close to Nethermere?"

"Nott House is an estate in itself," Lupin explained. "The front of the house overlooks the lake, but from the opposite bank. Alfred was…" His jaw twitched, then tightened resolutely, and he directed his gaze towards something to the left of James's shoulder. "His death was a particular shame. He was only fifteen years old, you see. Had a sweetheart in town, Jenny Smith, and we think he may have been sneaking out to see her, which would explain why he was in the rose garden. He often brought her flowers."

"Are you close with the family?"

"In a sense," he said quietly. His efforts to curb his emotions concerning the child's murder seemed to have won out, but barely. "I was his tutor for a time, and the family trusts me—more than they trust the parish constabulary, in any case. The Notts are responsible for paying your fare, in fact. The constabulary is under the impression that it can get to the bottom of the matter without outside interference, but there isn't much confidence in their ability to do so, and the Notts want to know what killed their son."

James cast his mind back over his and Sirius's overnight ride to Upper Hangleton, and to the way the star-dotted, inky black sky had looked when Sirius pointed out Canis Major, as he was frequently wont to do.

He wrote one final note at the bottom of the page.

"So they asked you to hire us?" he asked Lupin.

"When the attacks began again and it became clear that the constabulary were out of their depth, yes, they'd learned that you were nearby and asked me to write, along with several other neighbours and friends."

"Right," said James, scrunching his nose to one side. "You seem to have a lot of people relying on you considering, well…" He gestured across the desk. "Unless you're a centuries-old alchemist with the secret to eternal youth, surely you're a bit young for all of that?"

Lupin's mouth twitched like he wanted to smile. "I had my twenty-seventh birthday in the spring."

"When exactly?"

"March."

"I had my twenty-seventh birthday in March."

Lupin pointed to his own chest. "The 10th. You?"

"The 27th," James returned, and they exchanged upwards nods in the way that people often did when acknowledging that common ground had been discovered, no matter how inconsequential the similarity might have been. "Mind you, I don't doubt your capability at all, but is it not a bit unusual for a man our age to perform duties that a town elder would usually take on?"

"Well, my father was the town elder for fifteen years," said Lupin, "and very popular, but he passed away in the autumn and afterwards it seemed to fall to me to shoulder his burdens, somehow."

"I see."

"They still haven't appointed another elder, so it seems that the matter is settled," Lupin continued, candlelight dancing across his freckled face, "though I'm sure that if they did, I'd miss the qualifying mark by a solid thirty years."

"The only reward for competence is more work," quoted James.

"I've never heard it put that way before, but you're quite right."

"Can't take credit for that nugget of wisdom; it's something my mother always says. I'm quite daft, really."

"Monster hunting expertise aside?"

"That aside, yeah. My genius is confined to killing manticores and ghouls." He patted the scabbard that hung from his belt. Contained within was his sword, buffed and polished with a devotion and expertise that James did not deserve any credit for. "We'll get rid of that problem for you easily enough, by the by. The last kill site hasn't been cleaned up yet, has it?"

Lupin's gaze lingered on the sword's pommel for a few moments, then he shook his head.

"No," he said. "The constabulary sent volunteers to clean during the first spate of attacks but the Notts have exerted their considerable influence to prevent that from happening, so you'll find the way clear for an examination."

"Perfect. We'll make our way there once my brother returns from his travels."

"Quite right," said Lupin tightly, his attention falling to the sword pommel once again. "I'm sorry to ask, but…is that Haphaestan-forged?"

He did look sorry about it, sorry and uncomfortable to have dared to ask a simple question, which was really quite funny, but James didn't want to insult his hospitality by laughing at him.

He bent forwards and placed the quill back into the inkpot instead. "My sword?"

"If that was rude, I apologise, I just—"

"Nah, it's not. Their guild in Tower Hamlets handles all of our weapons, actually. Well spotted."

"Ah," said Lupin on a breath. Possibly a relieved breath. "I thought I recognised the maker's mark."

"They're the best around."

"So I've heard. And is—is the blade inlaid with silver?"

"See for yourself, if you want," he said, rising to his feet to withdraw the weapon from its scabbard and place it lengthways on the desk.

He would not have done it if his new acquaintance hadn't seemed such a decent sort, and probably shouldn't have done it regardless—Sirius certainly would have told him off for it, were he not neck deep in dusty tomes in an attempt to escape human contact—but it felt like the right decision, and the immediate, almost childlike excitement that sprang up in Lupin's eyes from the moment the blade tasted air and he sprang to his own feet, leaning forwards to bring his face closer to the sword, his hands braced on either end of the desk, felt gratifying in the same way it was gratifying whenever James made his brother laugh so hard he spurted ale out of his nose.

More gratifying than killing something with it, in any case.

"It's a fine weapon," Lupin breathed, openly drinking in the sight of it. "Excellent craftsmanship. Damascened in silver, yes?"

James nodded. "Some of master Ollivander's finest work, that."

"What's the story behind the scene depicted?"

"No idea," James admitted, staring down at the central panels on the blade, which depicted a stag and doe together amongst the woodlands. "Ollivander doesn't take suggestions, he crafts a sword that 'best befits you' and won't tell you why."

"And it handles well? Good balance?"

"It handles beautifully." A rather reckless thought occurred to him. "D'you want to swing it at something?"

For a moment, Lupin looked up at James as if all his birthdays had come at once, but there was an ominous creak, and suddenly the library's entrance hall was bathed in brilliant sunshine. Someone had thrown the door open on the perpetual twilight which seemed to exist within this odd building, someone who snapped the custodian's spine into a ramrod straight position in an instant, as if the very desk he was leaning over had spontaneously burst into flame.

"Miss Booth," he muttered faintly, looking rather as if his face had burst into flame as well.

Ah.

The glance James tossed over his shoulder was rather pointless, as the sunlight made it impossible to make out much beyond the visitor's silhouette, but he didn't need to see her properly to know that she would be pretty. For most living, breathing mortals, there was no better distraction from an item of importance than that of a pretty face, though Sirius would claim otherwise and James had learned to form an immunity against silly romantic notions years ago. This Miss Booth proved his theory right within seconds by advancing upon the desk as the door creaked shut with a lilting, "morning, Remus," and a bust swathed tightly in a cunning yellow bodice, her dark hair falling to her waist and catching the candlelight like a waterfall of silk.

She was, as expected, very pretty.

And as for the custodian, he was fortunate that his blush was shielded by the return of semi-darkness, but the sword was quite forgotten.

"Good morning," he managed to return without a stammer. "What a pl—what a surprise to see you back so soon."

Miss Booth slipped a book—The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling—from beneath her arm and placed it on the desk. If she was taken aback to see a sword there, it did not show in her face.

"Oh, I know," she sighed her agreement, "but Mama simply couldn't put it down. I think it's these monsters that have been prowling about, you know? She can't sleep a wink for worrying, and when she can't sleep, she reads. Voraciously."

All of this she said without a whit of concern in her tone, as if her mother's panic was more ridiculous than it was relatable. Either she was naive enough to think she had nothing to fear from a creature that had already murdered seven others, or she was a seasoned monster killer herself, and she certainly wasn't that. James would have known her if she was.

"She'll rest easier soon, with any luck." Lupin gestured to James. "Our monster hunters have arrived."

James nodded at Miss Booth, whose coolly appraising eyes swept over his entire person before she smiled politely.

"Is there more than one of you?" she asked him.

He gestured towards the endless rows of dark and shadowy bookshelves in response. "He's looking at books."

"Well, you're both fortunate to have Remus as your guide to Upper Hangleton," she gushed, turning a much warmer, far more genuine smile on Lupin. Perhaps his obvious affections were not entirely unreturned. "He certainly made Mama and I feel very welcome indeed."

"You're a newcomer too?"

"Not so much a newcomer now," said Lupin quickly. "I don't think?"

"Mama and I moved here in March," she explained to James without looking at him, holding Lupin's gaze throughout. "We took that lovely old cottage by the wishing well at the end of Baker's Lane, though it was left in such a state that we've had quite a time fixing it up, but we're feeling quite at home now, and Mama loves the library, of course."

Lupin nodded along to every word she said. His whole body was as rigid as a board. "Does she want another book?"

"She would like another by the same author, if he wrote any?"

"He did, he did." He spared a brief glance at the scramble of papers on his desk and made a hasty attempt to sweep some of them into a neat pile, which must have been a hard job, given that he could hardly take his eyes off the woman in yellow. "I almost—I should have put it aside for you, really, but I didn't expect you for another few days, so I'll just fetch it now."

"Oh, no, I'm sure I can find it!"

Lupin stopped gathering his papers and held up a placatory hand. "No, please, I know precisely where it is, I'll be back in a tick."

"Only if you're sure?"

"I'm certain."

Miss Booth cocked her head to one side, practically preening. "You are such a darling, Remus."

With a couple more nods, some blustery words and an awkward attempt to move away from his chair without catching his foot behind the leg of the desk, or something equally disastrous, Lupin grabbed hold of a lantern and retreated in the same direction that Sirius had gone earlier.

"If you see my brother skulking around," James called after him, "tell him to get his arse back here, would you?"

The custodian waved a hand to indicate that he had heard this instruction, then he turned behind a bookcase and vanished into the dark. This left James alone with Miss Booth, who rocked a little on her heels and hummed Bessy Bell and Mary Gray under her breath, evidently quite at ease, so he picked up his sword and sheathed it. If Lupin couldn't fetch Sirius, James would sniff him out himself. It was high time for them to get going and inspect the murder site, which would potentially confirm if James's current suspicions were true.

"You're very handsome," said Miss Booth all of a sudden.

James stared at her.

She stared back in the same serene, appraising way in which she had first looked at him—not cold, but not particularly warm either—as if he were an antique chalice that needed to be valued. It was an observation, not a flirtation, and James had been told that he was handsome by young women quite a few times in his life, but never with what seemed to be so evident a design to gain absolutely nothing from the interaction.

"Er," he said. "Thank you?"

"Of course, a monster hunter really should be handsome, don't you think?" she pondered aloud, ostensibly to herself, toying with a pendant that hung from a thin silver chain around her slender neck. "There's a certain romance that lends itself to the profession—from the outside looking in, at least. I imagine the reality of the job is quite a lot of pissing in bushes and lurking around in swamps, no?"

If he weren't so used to the various shocks and surprises that the job she was describing entailed, James might have done a double take.

Young ladies—or at least, the young ladies he had met—did not talk to strangers about things like pissing in bushes.

"Rescuing pretty damsels in distress must be the upside to it all, however," she continued without waiting for an answer. "Are you fond of helpless maidens? I imagine there are quite a few of those here in town, should you wish to indulge your desires."

Amusement was rolling into her voice like an oncoming wave, her lips picking up slightly at the corners to form the barest suggestion of a smirk, as though she and he both were in on a joke together. Or as though she took pleasure in making others uncomfortable. James certainly didn't feel at ease with this sudden and familiar line of questioning.

"Not really my type," he muttered.

She barely blinked an eyelash. "Helpless gents, then?"

"I like maidens just fine," he stonily responded. What business was it of hers? Furthermore, why was he answering her questions? "It's the helpless part that doesn't really appeal."

Women who were in need of rescuing from every minor setback (or, as he occasionally encountered, women who pretended to be in need of rescuing) were considered quite a treat amongst many who took up the sword, but they'd never appealed to James because he'd never been given the chance to find them appealing. There had never and would never be a greater, more accomplished monster hunter than his mother, Euphemia, who even in her retirement was famous and revered, and she had trained him in her trade since he was old enough to walk. As a mother, James adored her, as a hunter, he strove for her approval, and as a woman, he admired her far too much to have ever sought out the opposite for himself. There was nothing to despise or disrespect about a girl who did not share his mother's strength and self-reliance, but the ones he'd fancied in his youth were never helpless. His mother was not helpless.

Maitane certainly hadn't been helpless.

Not until the end.

"That's very reassuring," came Miss Booth's enigmatic response, her necklace twinkling in the candlelight as she twisted it back and forth. "And here's Remus! That was quick!"

Her demeanour changed instantly as Lupin jogged back to the desk with a vellum-bound book clasped in his hand, her sly amusement melting away in favour of a warm, almost adoring smile, and with such ease that it set James's instincts to prickling. Something about this woman wasn't quite right, but it wasn't his job to worry over why people acted the way they did, it was his job to dispose of monsters.

Which he needed to hop to, once Sirius reappeared.

"You were so kind to get this for me, thank you," she cooed at the custodian, who pressed the book into her outstretched fingers a little breathlessly, as if he had run to fetch it.

"Not a problem at all. Your brother is choosing some books to borrow," he added for James's benefit as he set his lantern down, "and then he'll be out."

James harrumphed between his teeth. "Trust him to worry about books when we have a mass murdering monster to kill."

"More than one monster now, I suppose," Miss Booth airily remarked.

Both men stared at her.

"Well, didn't you hear?" She clutched the book to her stomach and blinked at Lupin with wide, innocent eyes when he shook his head. "Mr Pettigrew's been insisting that he saw a demon in the forest."

Lupin's brows drew together above the centre of his nose. "Peter's back?"

Miss Booth nodded. "He got back yesterday. Apparently he fancied a stroll to the lake and saw a demon performing some sort of sacrificial ritual on Miss Calvert's remains on his way there, so he ran the whole way back to his house."

"When did you hear this?"

"In the post office, not fifteen minutes ago. He's telling anyone who'll listen."

"I didn't—Peter is a friend, but he's been in York for at least six weeks because his mother was gravely ill," said Lupin to James, looking stricken. "I didn't know her address or I'd have written to warn him. I had no idea that he was coming home so soon."

James narrowed his eyes on Lupin's face. "He's not the type to hear of a beast on the prowl and let his imagination run away with him, is he?"

He could have asked if Lupin's friend was the type who made up lies for attention, because that was what he really wanted to know, but that kind of honest questioning generally didn't go down well with even the most helpful witnesses, particularly where their friends and loved ones were concerned.

A demon, of all things.

There was no demon in Upper Hangleton, just as there was no hellbeast. That didn't mean that Mr Pettigrew had not seen something else, but James was not particularly in the mood to waste his own time if all the man had seen was a nosy villager with an interest in grisly murder scenes.

But Lupin merely shook his head. "Quite the opposite, in fact."

Bugger.

"And he's in the post office now?" asked James, addressing Miss Booth this time.

She shrugged. Not even a trace of her earlier, burgeoning smugness remained in her attractive, olive-skinned face, nor was there so much as a whisper of worry. Apparently, demons and monsters both were no match for this peculiar woman and her teasing sense of humour. "I imagine he's left by now, but he mentioned to the postie that he was heading right home."

Lupin snatched his quill from the inkpot and turned over a sheet of parchment that was covered in notes of some kind. "Peter lives on Kings Road, about a quarter mile east of here," he said, sketching out a crude map of the area, hunching over the desk as his hand flew across the back of the parchment. "If you cross the bridge near the post office and head south, his is the house with the hawthorn tree in the garden."

After a moment or two he straightened up, folded the parchment in half and handed it to James, who took it from him and tucked it into his belt.

"My brother and I will talk to Mr Pettigrew before we examine the kill site, and we'll report back to you as soon as we can," he promised the custodian. "In fact, I should go and find him now, or else we won't see him again before daylight."

Lupin gestured for him to take up the lantern he'd laid down. "Good luck, and thank you for taking on the case."

"My pleasure." He picked up the lantern and nodded his polite farewell at the woman. "Mr Lupin. Miss Booth."

Miss Booth dipped into a neat little curtsey. "James."

He turned away and headed into the dark.

#fanfiction #Jily #Heads Will Roll #sneak peak #Jily fic

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wildernessuntothemselves · 2 years ago

Note

beomgyu as a puppy hybrid who’s eager to have you really orgasm because he’s well aware of the many times you fake it with your boyfriend

Warnings: puppy hybrid gyu (duh), cheating, dubcon, breeding kink (you know the drill), gyu calling oc master, switch gyu and oc, yanderish towards the end. This was much longer than I planned :'D

You try to latch onto the sensation your own hand is providing, try focus on the spots that give you the most pleasure as your mind flits through the faces of this celebrity or that in the hopes of finding one that will really get you going. You certainly aren't going to think about your own boyfriend who for the umpteenth time has left you alone and unsatisfied after he got his dick wet and achieved his own orgasm.

But despite all your effort, or maybe because of how much you're forcing it, you're not even close to the edge. You could almost cry... no, you could actually cry from all the frustration building up inside you. Why was your boyfriend so useless? And why the fuck are you still tolerating him if he can't even satisfy you in bed?

A muffled whine breaks you from your pathetic reflection and you hear Beomgyu--your dog hybrid--scratch at the door once again, begging you to let him in.

Beomgyu loves sleeping beside you on the bed. He wasn't allowed to at first--in fact, he still isn't, but every night he'd just stand at your door, whimpering and crying until you let him in. You know you shouldn't let him manipulate you like that. You're the owner and you need to set boundaries. God knows you let the brat get away with whatever bad behaviour he exhibits the moment he flashes you his big, wet, brown eyes. But you just can't help it. He's just so adorable. You can never say no to him.

Your boyfriend certainly doesn't appreciate the idea of a "grown man sleeping in my girlfriend's bed" despite how many times you've told him that Gyu is just your pup. But frankly right now, you couldn't give a fuck about what he thinks. You could use some cuddling after the disaster that you'd just endured.

As if Beomgyu can hear your resolve breathing, he lets out another heart-wrenching whimper and you groan, ripping your hand away from your poor abused pussy and get off the bed, walking towards the door and opening it for the entitled pup.

"Go to bed. I'll wash up and join you." You tell him before he can open his mouth then march towards the bathroom to take a quick shower.

When you go back to your room, you expect Beomgyu to be fast asleep and taking up the whole bed like he usually does, but to your surprise, he was just sitting there, alert and waiting for you like an obedient puppy.

It throws you off. This was so unlike the brat, but you don't dwell on it for long, too exhausted to question his behavior that most of the times doesn't make sense anyways.

Getting under the covers, you throw your arm out for him to nuzzle into your side. When he does, you wrap it around him and use the other hand to pet his head, ready to drift off into a cozy sleep.

But as you're drifting off, you feel the all too-familiar wet sensation of Beomgyu licking your hand. You usually don't mind it much--he is part dog after all--but it's very annoying when you're trying to sleep.

"Beomgyu, Stop it." You warn, an edge to your tone, but of course the brat pays you no mind. Grumbling, you go to pull your hand away from him but to your surprise, he grabs it by the wrist and proceeds to take two of your fingers into his mouth.

Throwing your eyes open, you stare at the dog in shock--a shock that transforms to horror when you realize just what is happening. This is the hand you were just using to masturbate. Apparently the shower wasn't enough to wash the smell away from Beomgyu's sensitive nose. He has his lips wrapped around the fingers that were inside you minutes ago, his tongue licking them up as if he can still taste you on them as he stares at you with hooded eyes and a look you've never seen from your pup... or rather didn't want to acknowledge before.

Now that you think about it, you've seen that look when you'd wear something revealing around him or when you'd pet him on that spot he liked on his lower tummy or during that one week every month when you're ovulating...

There was no denying it now. That look was pure lust. And you fucking hate how that look was enough to ignite the desire you'd just forcefully quenched.

No, no, this is wrong. He's your pet. Your literal puppy.

But it's hard to focus on that when he removes your fingers from his mouth, string of his saliva still attached to it before he attacks your mouth.

"Beomie--no--" You shriek, but that only allows him to stick his tongue down your throat as one of his hands moves between your legs and slips into your shorts, finding your embarrassingly wet pussy.

"Let me make you feel good." He pleads, long fingers fervently rubbing your slick into your pussy. "I know he doesn't. I hear you touching yourself every time he leaves. I can help."

Fuck.

"Beomgyu... I can't. It's wrong." You croak, even as you feel yourself unconsciously spreading your legs to give him easier access to your pussy, your whole fluttering when his fingers pass over it.

"No one has to know, just please. I know you didn't cum. I heard everything." He begs, hitting you with his big innocent brown eyes again as if he wasn't asking to get you off. "Please."

Fuck. You're going to hell for this.

You squeeze your eyes shut and mumble. "Fine."

Before you have the chance to second guess your stupid, lust-ridden decision, you're on your back, thighs pressed to your chest and shorts and underwear flung across the room.

"Beomgyu, fuck!" You moan out, one hand grabbing the sheets for dear life while the other tangles itself into his hair as he eats you out unabashedly, his face quite literally buried in your pussy as he eagerly licks and sucks as if it's his last meal.

You've never had a man eat you out like this before. They're usually iffy about it, approaching it like it's a chore they had to be done with before getting their reward. But for Beomgyu, this feels like his reward. He's moaning out as if he's getting off just from this, and by the way his hips are rutting against the bed, he most likely is.

He's so good, and you're so wound up, that it doesn't take long to push you over the edge. A white hot pleasure surges through your body as Beomgyu flattens his tongue out and licks up all your cum, his tail thumping against the bed happily.

The orgasm leaves you in a golden bliss, and you're quite happy to go to bed finally satiated for once, but it seems like this isn't enough for Beomgyu, for he pushes your closing legs open once again and goes back to sucking on your clit.

"Beomie, no. You got what you wanted." You protest weakly, as if your legs aren't shaking with your building second orgasm. But Beomgyu pays you no mind, laser-focused on getting you off again, and who are you to argue?

The second orgasm is even faster than the first one. Beomgyu is a fast learner, it seems, when he puts his mind to it, and eating you out is apparently a newfound passion of his because even after he brings you to your second orgasm, he still keeps going.

This time, you don't let him though. You can't. The overstimulation was getting to you so you use the grip you have on his hair to pull him up. "You're hurting me, you dumb pup."

At that, he relents, letting you pull him up and falling heavily over you. Only then do you realize your mistake when you feel his hot, bare cock rutting against your pussy.

The little shit had pulled his pants down and was now having the time of his life getting an inadvertent pussyjob from you.

"Beomgyu, no! Get off." You reprimand and he whines, putting his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

"Please let me put it in. I need it."

"This isn't what we agreed on. I thought you just wanted to help me."

"I did. But now it really hurts." He pouts, jerking his hips against you for emphasis. "Didn't I do a good job? Doesn't puppy deserve a reward?"

"You little shit--" You gasp when the head of his cock catches on your entrance and almost goes in. You have to admit, you wish it did, and with that you realize that you want him too. You want to fuck your puppy. Yeah, you're definitely going to hell.

"Fine." You say for the second time tonight, and like the last time, Beomgyu doesn't give you time to change your mind, quickly grabbing his cock and putting it at your entrance before easing in.

"Oh, god--" You both cry out. He's bigger than you expected and he fills you up to the point that you almost can't breathe. But the little shit doesn't give you time to get used to his size for he immediately starts rutting against you, mouth open dumbly and gives growing hazy.

You smirk through the pain. "What is it, pup? My pussy got you all dumb?"

"Uh-huh." He moans, eyes focusing a little bit at the sound of your voice. "Wanted it since I first saw you."

"What a naughty pup." You tsk, feeling yourself starting to relax around him, too turned on by how you're affecting him. "Here I was thinking you're such a cute little pup when all you're thinking about is pounding my pussy."

"I'm sorry." He groans, not sounding sorry at all as he digs his fingers into your thighs and slams his hips against yours. "Sorry master."

You pussy clenches at that name and Beomgyu doesn't fail to notice it. He cocks his head to the side and slams his hips against you harder. "Bad puppy just wants to breed his master."

You gasp, "Beomgyu!"

"Want you all round with my baby so that bastard knows to stay away from what's mine." He growls, worrying you with his alarming words but you can't focus on it long because somehow his cock feels bigger and bigger until you think your pussy is going to burst.

"Beomgyu, what is going on?" You squeak trying to look down to where your bodies met.

"It's my knot, master. Gotta make sure I breed my mate good."

Oh fuck, maybe your boyfriend was onto something about Beomgyu after all.

#mort talks #txt smut #hybrid smut

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angelfleurry · 2 months ago

Note

Could you do dangonronpa 2 cast kiss head cannons

SDR2 Kiss Headcanons!:

Hii, Anon!! I wasn’t sure if you meant first kiss or just general kiss headcanons, so I just did general. If you want first kiss headcanons, feel free to request again!.

Spoilers ahead <3

Hajime Hinata:

♡ My guy is so awkward bless him.

♡ Does he need a reason to kiss you? Is there an appropriate moment? Is it okay if he just…

♡ Oh, oh you’ve kissed him, okay.

♡ Okay, his turn.

♡ He’s so nervous, but simultaneously so very eager to kiss you.

♡ He tends to lean in, but he does it so awkwardly that you can’t help but giggle.

♡ He kind of pauses at that, and just looks at you for a moment.

♡ It’s only when he sees that kind expression on your face that he realises he’s okay.

♡ That’s when he just goes for it.

♡ Doesn’t kiss you very often in public, if not at all, he’s more of a behind closed doors kind of guy.

♡ He’s very romantic with it, it surprises you.

♡ Always has a hand supporting you, even if it’s not necessary, as he kisses you.

♡ Hajime’s kisses aren’t short, but they’re not long, they’re just at that perfect middle length.

♡ Once he figures out how to get there, that is.

♡ Doesn’t know what to do when you kiss him.

♡ He just sits there, processing, looking at you as his face reddens.

♡ He kind of debates kissing you back in his head, and half the time he goes for it, and the rest he just dips his head and pulls you close.

♡ Is very much a lip-kisser, it just feels right.

♡ If you need a bit of comfort, he’ll kiss your forehead.

Nagito Komaeda:

♡ It took a while to get to this stage.

♡ There were moments, just split seconds, where everything seemed to be building up to it.

♡ But then, the moment would be lost.

♡ Nagito would start to talk, or some interference would occur.

♡ It did frustrate you a little bit, but you knew that was just your eagerness talking.

♡ Truthfully, you knew it was to be expected, so you just decided to wait it out.

♡ It’s not like you were reliant on the idea, it was more so you just wanted to.

♡ But, if there’s one thing about love, is that you must pay mind to the other person.

♡ And you, my darling, did remarkably at that.

♡ You knew the time would come, and as long as everything else about your relationship was healthy and happy, you were in no rush.

♡ Eventually you both got past that initial stage, but we can save that memory for another time.

♡ For a majority of the time, Nagito’s a very hesitant kisser.

♡ What I mean by this, is that he’d rather wait for you to initiate something that even dare to do it himself.

♡ However, once you do it, he’s so ecstatic.

♡ If you could peek into his brain, all you’d be able to see would be soft pink bubbles fizzing up to the surface, popping energetically.

♡ He feels so hesitant to even say the words, as if he’s being too entitled, but he’ll ask you to kiss him again.

♡ Sometimes, he has waves where he’s incredibly clingy, and this will be where he allows himself to initiate contact first.

♡ Treats you as if you were a porcelain doll, even if he’s really needy for contact.

♡ It’s as if he thinks you’ll break should he be too quick, or too harsh.

♡ Forehead kisses are really special for him.

♡ They make him feel so safe, so cherished, even if he struggles to comprehend that fact.

♡ If you kiss him on the lips, that’s it, he’s so bewildered every time.

♡ Always raises a hand to the spot you kissed him, and just sits there for a second, processing.

♡ When you look at him, though, he’s smiling.

Kazuichi Souda:

♡ He can be such an awkward kisser, it’s adorable really.

♡ Kazuichi’s very eager once that initial barrier’s been moved past.

♡ Sometimes, you won’t even be able to fully enjoy it as he kisses you so very quickly.

♡ He can’t help himself.

♡ But when it’s at that reasonable pace, it’s actually very tender.

♡ Like, you can tell the man desperately wants to kiss you, but there’s such an edge of sweetness to it.

♡ It does something to your heart, honestly.

♡ Likes to play little games where you both go back and forth giving each other light pecks.

♡ He’s got a preference for kissing your lips, but if you tell him there’s somewhere else you enjoy being kissed, he’ll gladly oblige.

♡ If he’s going somewhere where it means he won’t be with you, he always kisses you goodbye.

♡ He’ll do it in front of his friends, and your friends, so long as that’s okay with you.

♡ He just loves to show off that he has a partner!!

♡ Enjoys being able to kiss you when you’re both cuddled up together.

♡ Please, please, surprise him with kisses!

♡ Give him that peck on the cheek, kiss his forehead, go for the lips!

♡ Makes him all giddy!!

♡ It’s so funny how he can be so composed in public, or as composed as Kazuichi can be, but then behind closed door’s, he’s so bashful.

♡ His face goes bright red, even if he tries to act cool about it.

♡ But, he can’t shake that quivery smile as he wraps his arms around you.

♡ “You’re so cute, ya’know that?” he’ll ask, and all you can do is laugh.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu:

♡ He’s very quick with it.

♡ I just can’t picture him being one to regularly kiss.

♡ It’s nice, of course it is, but it’s just not something he initiates.

♡ He won’t complain if you kiss him though, just make sure it’s okay with him first.

♡ He doesn’t regularly want to be kissed like that, and you respect that.

♡ If he does kiss you, it’s very quick.

♡ It’s not harsh, but it’s quick.

♡ It’s like a swift peck and then he’s out.

♡ Always gives you kind words of acknowledgement as he does it though, he’s not neglectful.

♡ He doesn’t really know what to do with himself, so he prefers not to get too snuggly.

Gundham Tanaka:

♡ Nose kisses, NOSE KISSES.

♡ He’s not kissed anyone before you, so he’s still learning about his preferences!

♡ But, he’s discovered he’s really fond of nose kisses.

♡ It’s not as nerve-wracking as lip kissing is, but it’s still a way he can physically show he loves you.

♡ Finds it really endearing when you tell him to close his eyes so you can kiss his nose.

♡ He does the same to you, and you find at just as sweet.

♡ He’s also fond of nose-brushing.

♡ Like, the both of you just gently rubbing noses together.

♡ It’s calming for him.

♡ He’s also fond of kissing your hand.

♡ It’s just so formal, but so wonderfully romantic.

♡ The perfect way for a dark lord such as himself to show his affection to you.

♡ Is convinced you’re performing some kind of ritual on him.

♡ Is it really this normal to feel so very…fuzzy once you kiss him?

TeruTeru Hanamura:

♡ Oh my goodness, he’s so down.

♡ We all know Teru’s got a major issue when it comes to more deeply intimate shenanigans, but what may be a surprise is that he’s honestly a big sap when it comes to physical affection.

♡ Kiss him anywhere, he’ll welcome it.

♡ Only time I can picture him not wanting to is when he’s extremely, and I mean extremely, stressed. Just try and help out if you can then.

♡ However, this is a very rare occurrance.

♡ After all, it’s TeruTeru - he’s more than happy to indulge himself in your affections.

♡ But, that doesn’t mean he won’t do the same for you.

♡ The second you start dating, this man will in fact try to be affectionate with you.

♡ Once it’s specified you’re okay with kissing, that’s it.

♡ Is very much kissing you once you wake up.

♡ It’s probably his favourite way to greet you, even if you’ve not left the same room.

♡ It’s so nice to see a smile start to form on your face after he does it, and it only encourages him to kiss you again.

♡ Is no stranger to kissing your hand either.

♡ “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve got something on your face,” he’ll tell you, smiling, “Let me…”

♡ That sly fox!

♡ It’s very hard to not be all giggly once he’s done kissing you, even if it’s just a simple peck on the cheek.

♡ Has a surprising touch of wholesomeness to him in this regard.

Nekomaru Nidai:

♡ He finds it adorable.

♡ The idea you want to kiss him sends him to a laughing fit, but it’s all from a kind place.

♡ Is very much open to it.

♡ He’s very awkward with it though.

♡ A very messy kisser, but it’s alright!

♡ He wants to hold you, but he’s a little worried he’ll be too heavy-handed.

♡ Kind of guide him if that’s what you want, and then he’ll settle.

♡ Forehead kisses are a cherished form of affection.

♡ His lip kissing skills need a bit of work, but you don’t mind guiding.

Ultimate Imposter:

♡ Oh, this one’s difficult!

♡ He’s not sure whether to be himself, or be the person he’s impersonating.

♡ Surely you know, right?

♡ I can’t imagine him letting you enter a relationship with him without informing you of his identity.

♡ Or, lack of thereof.

♡ As a result, I feel like his kisses are lacking in something.

♡ He wants to kiss you, and he will, but he’s blocking his proper emotions.

♡ Still, he’s rather soft about it.

♡ Just tell him you love him afterwards, it’ll give him a bit of ease.

♡ If you’re to kiss him, he’ll be happy, but he can’t quite show it.

♡ Likes it when you kiss his hands.

♡ It feels strange when you kiss him on his lips.

♡ He loves the feeling, but it takes him aback.

♡ How on Earth can a man so devoid of any identity still be able to be loved so tenderly…?

♡ Does he cry or not, that is the question.

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twistedbloodstain · 8 months ago

Text

vincent de gramont x historian!reader: spring breaks loose, but so does fear | sweetness and bitterness within

plot: the one where the both of you are within your walls.

warnings: marquis is different here to canon, expect oc behavior but like all fics he’s gonna be cruel museum worker! reader, entitled af french boi, unreliable sibling relationships/dynamics

masterlist

the rain pattered against the glass windows, ringing through the empty halls of the museum. you sat there deep in thought in front of your desk while the storm raged outside. the moon that had look delicately beautiful earlier had disappeared when flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder replaced the serene scenery, you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here but surely it hasn’t been that long.

where was he? he should be here by now, you pondered.

a knock snaps you out of your thoughts.

“ma’am?” your assistant calls out as he peeks his head through the door.

you look back at him but your lips stay still, not making a word but silently urging him to continue with the rise of an eyebrow.

“he’s here again, requesting a private viewing,” he informs.

oh. you almost forgot about that.

the constant visitor of the museum for the past few weeks was none other than the eccentric and affluent, marquis de gramont. recently, he frequented the museum for a private viewing for some of the rarest and beautiful pieces of art in french history. not that you’re complaining since he paid good money for his private viewings but his persistent requests to have a historian around him, explaining what the intricate histories and symbols drawn beneath the surface were an inconvenience sometimes.

truthfully, there’s no bad conversation with him. you’re quite eager to answer any additional questions or arguments he imposes upon you but judging by the exhibition of his wealth and power, don’t they teach these things to nobility at a young age?

you pull your feet up and drag them towards the door, your assistant gives you a weary smile knowing how long your discussions with the marquis would usually go, for hours on end.

the walk to the private room was filled with footsteps, your previous thoughts emerging once again. your brother.

he was supposed to be here to join you for lunch but he hadn’t shown up. lunches shared with the both of you were also your bonding and catch up time but as of late he missed at least four lunches in six weeks. you could understand that maybe it was just his busy schedule but the fewer times you saw him, he seemed anxious and jumpy with sweat beading on his forehead. as if he was always in a hurry, you consistently persisted in the lunches in an effort to get him to open up his problems with you, after all what are siblings for?

you approach the door cautiously, taking a deep breath to polish your mind before stepping into the role of gracious historian, a person that’s ready to deal with the marquis.

entering the room with an eager smile on your face, you greet the marquis who was sitting on a plush white leather couch, donning another dark blue suit with a jacket and tie to finish the look. he doesn’t offer any greeting in reply and comments on your lateness right away.

“you took a while to get here, mademoiselle.” he mutters, checking his watch.

“i apologize for my tardiness sir, i had matters to attend to.” you force a smile. he stares at you carefully, an amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips before waving it off.

“let’s get started then.”

the marquis is a difficult person to impress, especially in keeping him engaged in a conversation. more often than not you find yourself exerting a lot of information out of your brain just to keep up with him. you don’t know why you always push yourself to be somewhat superior to him in terms of knowledge but perhaps that’s just what his aura demands of you.

“and that is the final painting for your private viewing today, sir.” you recite familiar lines you’ve been saying for the past six weeks, “are there any questions you have in mind?”

he eyes the painting cryptically before glancing at you and shaking his head, looking somewhat satisfied with the answers you’ve given him. you smile at him once again before speaking.

“if you require any refreshments or desire to make an appointment in the future, enzo will take care of it. thank you for coming to the louvre, sir.” you bow your head before leaving, knowing that the marquis liked to be alone.

once you make it back to the office, you see your phone light up and vibrate. you immediately make a beeline for it and before the ringing ends, unfortunately the call ends before you could answer it but a wave of messages floods your inbox, all from your brother telling you he was at the entrance of the museum.

you hurriedly run out of your office straight to the entrance when you see a faint silhouette by the large doors. you call his name out and he turns to face you, a faint smile on his lips.

”where were you? i’ve been waiting for you the entire day, are you alright?” you immediately assume the worst and begin to fret over your dearest younger brother, gripping his shoulders and checking his face for any possible injuries.

your brother is a good person. you know that. you watched him grow, you watched him become the man he is now but still a small whisper remains in the back of your mind that you are losing him to something , and you can’t do anything to help it.

you can feel it. it started with the distance and excuses, how every single word that leaves his mouth feels less and less genuine and more like a set of lies meant to calm you down. you want to help him but he won’t let you.

”i’m fine, i just got caught up at work.” he verbally reassures you but pulls away from your touch. you bite your tongue from asking more, afraid of scaring him away. a fight is not what you need right now.

”oh…um” you mumble, taking a small step away from him, feeling your insides crush to the lack of familial warmth from a brother. he stands there unfazed by your movements, the small smile gone in front of you. instead, an uneasiness replaces his eyes and stares at the ground, seemingly too busy to deal with your emotions right now.

“do you want to have dinner together? i know this nice sushi place downtown.” you eagerly offer, his mouth opens to reply but a brief hesitation takes place.

”i can’t.” he replies.

“why?” you ask, annoyance in your tone.

”work, as usual.” he states with a humorless chuckle, worry still present in his face, “i’m here for a favor.”

“what is it? did you get in trouble? you know you can tell me anything right?” you gasp.

“no! no! i just need to borrow some money for this month’s rent. my new job doesn’t pay until the end of the month, my landlord said i’m way overdue for the past three months and he’s gonna kick me out if i don’t pay within this week.”

a silence takes over the conversation as your process the information you are given right now. the excuse feels flimsy and careless.

money isn’t really an issue for you right now. you’re not insanely rich but you are financially stable, yet you feel uncertain about giving your brother money. your brother’s landlord, a strict but yet a sweet old man often texts you whether or not your brother has paid his rent in each month and so far you’ve received no messages from him lately.

”oh..yeah sure. it’s no problem, i can send it to you later.” you smile for his comfort, making yourself feel approachable to your own blood.

monitoring your sibling’s rent status is definitely odd but with what you’re dealing with right now, to be completely honest you’re just making sure your brother’s alright, there’s nothing wrong with that.

”come on in, it’s raining outside.” you grab his arm and pull him in.

”no, seriously, it's alright. you might have some people inside-“

”it’s closing time, at least sit inside and wait for me, please?” you plead.

”okay, i’ll wait for you.” he smiles.

”good, because if i have to deal with another stubborn asshole under this roof, i’m going to lose my mind.” your brother chuckles and takes a seat by the door.

”dinner’s on me.” he adds, wiping the raindrops gathered on his forehead.

“on you? you can’t even pay your rent!” you jest.

”it was a one time thing!”

the amusement slowly dies down when you hear a large number of footsteps echoing through the halls, the door opens and it reveals the marquis. you immediately straighten up and face his direction, slipping in the professional manner that he is accustomed to.

”good evening, sir.” you greet.

the marquis doesn’t reply but instead whispers an instruction to his guards which they nod to and walk ahead of him. the marquis approaches you carefully, briefly eyeing you before glancing at the person behind you.

”it is quite late, don’t you think?” he starts.

”ah, yes it is. the night staff and i are closing the museum for the night, we were simply waiting for your departure. perhaps, you enjoyed your private viewings much longer than usual, sir.”

”you cannot fault me for that, miss. what hangs on the walls of this establishment is history, glory and beauty wrapped in one.”

”that we agree on.” you reply, “will you be here tomorrow? at the same time?” he looks at you again.

”for what reason are you asking?” he raises an eyebrow.

“so enzo and i can immediately arrange for your appointment and room, sir.”

he pauses and a silence takes place, his eyes wander all over your face trying to see something through you. you keep your gaze on him, composed and calm. as it should be. you get a feeling he relishes on weakness especially people who have a lower pay grade than him or maybe that’s just how he is with everyone.

narcissism was a major takeaway you observed from the marquis the first time you met him, quite self-centered might you add and somewhat snobbish but then again his attention is not something to be exhilarated about.

”yes, miss. i will be here tomorrow.” a small smirk curves his lips.

”you are quite fond of the art around here.” you start.

”yes, what of it?”

”how come you never bought any of it? i’ve heard from a few auction houses that you have quite the art collection. i’m sure it is much more convenient for you, having the art within the comfort of your home.” you reason to him.

more reason to see him less in your life. you think.

“you are not wrong in that. it would be much more convenient.” he agrees.

so buy it then.

”if that’s the case, i must inform you that there are plans to auction that rembrandt you are so eagerly fond of, perhaps you might be interested in joining?”

”i will have to turn that down, miss. as much as i enjoy the comfort of my home, i appreciate the aura of the louvre, it brings a sense of fulfillment and eagerness to me. i would be a fool to rob myself of that. also, the people around here are not so bad.” his eyes rake over your frame carefully, you wonder if he’s looking at your brother.

you look back and surprisingly no ones there. you shake it off when you hear a car engine nearby.

”oh, well it doesn’t hurt to try.” you begin to walk towards the door and he follows, outside his car sits with a bodyguard on standby waiting for him.

”i appreciate your service, miss. my private viewings have never been a dull moment during your enlightenments.” you lower you’re head slightly at him with a polite smile.

“i, as well must thank you for your service and approach. i tend to enjoy the art much more than when i am with myself.” the marquis remarks, extending his hand towards you.

”my pleasure, sir.” you respond as you shake his hand.

and it’s warm.

”will you be requiring a ride home? i am more than happy to offer it to you.” he offers when you pull your hand away from him.

”thank you for the offer sir but i will be here for later hours.” you retort.

“i do not mind staying here for a little longer.” he insists, you notice his line of sight eye your hand that shook his hand earlier. the cold rainy breeze must have taken control of the warmth of your palms and the marquis could have noticed the coldness of your hand. the marquis fidgets with his right hand as if it was itching to do something.

”it is not needed sir, i am more than capable of bringing myself home.” you state firmly.

”nonsense. i’ll send a car for you. it would be unfortunate if my favorite art historian was harmed in any possible way, how will i survive my viewings?” he urges with amusement in his tone but once again not wanting to back down.

”i would hate to waste your time and effort sir-“ you politely refuse again.

”it is late and unsafe for a woman of your caliber to be alone in the streets of the city. you will not have a choice in this, mademoiselle.” he states firmly this time as his voice hardens and makes it clear it’s not an offer.

it’s a command.

the marquis’ attention is not to be relished on. in this private viewings, the both of you have always maintained a polite and professional demeanor between client and host although there was some casual conversation here and there but you’ve never outright refused him, desiring to keep his temper from exploding and having his unpredictability in your space.

the marquis always gets his way. having private viewings at any time he desires with whatever piece of art he decides to have his eye on and more importantly taking up your time whenever he comes by at the louvre.

in the recent months you’ve spent with him, compliance is all he knows from you so it’s not unlikely that it’s easy for him to shut you down at the first hint of refusal. not to mention, he does not hesitate at confrontation. any small slight against him is somewhat remembered the next time you meet him.

complaints about making him wait slightly longer than usual for his viewings, comments about the apparently poor maintenance of the paintings and your tardiness to attend to him are the most prominent experiences you remember from him.

the marquis feels entitled to everything within the walls of the louvre.

and that includes you.

another entitled rich snob that thinks he understands art more than you do is not a first time experience, but his insistence of having you brought home because of him somehow brings a chill to your spine.

entitled rich snobs can come to your work any time and however they like but the moment they try to step into your life, well it’s time to push them back. you have no interest in them unless it’s something to do with your job.

unfortunately, you don’t have the strength to do that right now.

“next time.” you think to yourself, “but never again.”

you back down and thank the marquis for this offer as his body guard opens the door to his vehicle, he flashes a small but pleased smile for your gratitude and bids you a safe trip home.

you return a smile at him and watch him leave until his car disappears from where you stand. exhaustion settles back into your nerves when you realized how late it is again.

oh and your brother.

christ. give me strength to deal with this tomorrow.

you sigh and walk back inside to close up.

later, when you get dropped off by the driver assigned to you, doubt starts to creep into your senses whether or not you told the driver where you live. after thanking him and shutting the door, you tilt your head idly at the car and think deep and hard.

”did you or did you not?” you ponder.

groaning heavily you shake it off as exhaustion for your lack of remembrance.

still weird though.

author’s note: kickstarting another series when i’m still not done with four reqs and one series…anyways enjoy and please feel free to like and reblog!

#marquis de gramont #vincent de gramont #marquis de gramont x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard #john wick #john wick x reader #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard icons #bill skarsgard gif #marquis vincent de gramont #marquis x reader #marquis imagines

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youremyheaven · 5 months ago

Text

DATING TIPS for all my girlies ✨

1. just because you agreed to go on a date with a man does not mean he's entitled to touch you anywhere

You don't have to kiss, hug or whatever

Don't feel pressured into thinking that "omg I'm on a date I HAVE to kiss him whether I want to or not" 🚫 a date is just two people meeting and talking, nothing more

2. You can be celibate and still date

People think dating = sex but you can meet as many people as you want and have a meal with them (or whatever u wanna do) and never sleep with them or even see them again lol

You don't have to date to have sex. You can date to meet and hang out with people

Obviously if you want to bang, you can.

3. If you want to hook up with people, be clear about that but be realistic

A lot of women get their feelings mixed up. You're not in love with this guy, you just enjoy being intimate with him. Being intimate is not the same as being in love. Men especially have no emotional attachments to sex , so be prepared to never see him again or for this to never lead to a regular fling or more. Sex does not promise anything. Be mature about it. A guy having sex with you is NOT him saying he wants to be with you.

4. Date multiple people at once

Again, for me this involves zero sex so I literally just mean going out to meet many different people. This makes me less attached or fixated upon any one guy bc I know that I have other people I can meet and spend time with.

Don't be desperate 🙏 they're just men 😭, if one goes, another will come 😭

5. Weed out the creepy men

If you go out with a guy and he's just sleazy and super sexual, then don't see him again. Don't spend 5 dates with someone who you should have cut off after 1 date 🙏 a lot of women have trouble saying no, so they just keep going out until it gets unbearable?? but you don't have to do that??? just cut him out

6. You deserve princess treatment bc it's actually just how any woman should be treated

It's normal for a guy to pick you up and drop you off

It's normal for him to pay

It's normal for him to give you gifts

I'm sure the other stuff like holding the door open, pulling the chair out, helping you cross etc is basic essential stuff that u guys are already familiar with

With the pick up and drop off thing, if he's a stranger that u met on a dating app, don't send him ur address and have him come to ur house or anything 😭😭 just meet somewhere close but far enough from your place and have him pick you up there/drop you off there. And that's only if you want to, I'm sure some of y'all are uncomfortable with the idea of a man picking you up etc which I get but I don't drive so I like it lmao 🤭🤪

One thing I tell them about dropping me like 1.5kms away from my house is that I don't want my neighbours to see or that people in my neighborhood will talk and this excuse (which is actually not an excuse at all) goes a long way in India 🤪

Just because the guy is paying doesn't mean you should order the most expensive things on the menu. Just get what you usually get. Don't seem eager to take advantage of someone's generosity. Act normal.

7. Don't go on a trip with him until you're completely comfortable with him and trust him !!!!!

Being alone with a guy in a different place is risky. So be 100% sure he's not a creep or an asshole before you go on trips.

I'm not a 50-50 girl so I expect the man to pay for everything but I understand why some of y'all would feel guilty about it 😔 but you're literally giving him your time, energy and company and if it was his idea to go on a trip, then it's his duty to take care of the expenses ✨

Trips ≠ having sex every minute

Obviously trips generally imply having sex but you're not obligated to turn into a sex machine. It's literally just the experience of being with someone and having a good time (sightseeing, eating, swimming etc) . Obviously this will also depend on the man you're with but like I said, don't travel with a guy you don't trust and know well enough ✨

Anywayyyysss I hope this was helpful 🫶

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midnight-black2 · 8 months ago

Note

dom!reader x farleigh that begs to touch

her— like he’s so needy he literally cries if he can’t and basically he’s a super mega munch !

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅

pairing : farleigh start x reader

synopsis : farleigh has to be able to keep his hands to himself for a night in order to reap pleasurable rewards

disclaimers : smut, sub!farleigh, dom!reader, fem!reader, whiny!farleigh, reward..system...? (is this a warning? idk but i'm putting it anyway), p in v (pretend there's a condom k?), fast-paced

note : y'all i hope this isn't ooc bc i made him like very whiny and needy but...either way, hope you enjoy !

farleigh whined the second you mentioned it--the fact that he wouldn't be able to have his hands on you.

"it's a formal dinner, farleigh. you know how it is," you said, finishing your eyeliner. he sighed dramatically, before appearing behind you in your vanity. "i mean, minor touches are fine, but i don't want everyone to get the wrong thought."

"but Y/N, it's just how i am!" he argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

"no buts, this is non-negotiable farleigh," you replied, in a firmer tone. this was important, you wanted the cattons to think highly of you. after all, it was their house and they had the ability to kick you out whenever. he sighed once again, before leaning down so his face was next to yours.

"please?" he pleaded, kissing your cheek, giving you puppy eyes.

"i'll tell you what, if you can go the whole dinner while keeping your hands to yourself, then i'll reward you," you proposed. he seemed intrigued, as he quirked a brow.

"reward me how?" he queried, looking at you curiously.

and that's how it began, a deal that was too difficult for farleigh to pass up. i mean, why wouldn't he want to be fucked dumb later?

the dinner went relatively well. the family was impressed by you. you were witty, smart, and eloquent. they liked you, and that was the most you could ask for. so, as promised, as soon as you and farleigh reached your room his lips had crashed onto yours. he had waited the entire night, you didn't expect anything less. however, you were still a bit taken aback. once you finally pulled away, the two of you were panting heavily.

"a little eager, are we?" you teased.

"oh shut up," he replied. the threat was meaningless; simply a fruitless attempt to cover up just how needy he really was. he rushed to sit down on the bed, pulling you on top of him. you kissed him with fervor, and he sighed into it, clearly enjoying himself. maybe you had made him too entitled, but he needed it so badly.

your hand traveled down his body, sending a shiver up his spine. you slowly lifted up his shirt, and over his head. your hand continued its odyssey down his body. when your fingers grazed his nipples, he swore he could have came just from that. his hard-on was only growing.

"what do you want, farleigh?" you asked, smiling at him.

"what-what do you mean?" he questioned, breathily.

"well it's your reward, so tell me, what do you want?" you repeated, your hand nearing where he needed you most.

"i want to be inside, please. you know this, please," he begged, body squirming in anticipation. you hummed, and started at the zipper of his pants. you slowly undid it, and pulled down his jeans. he helped you in the action by lifting his hips up. you then removed his boxers, and watched his cock spring up. he seemed painfully hard. pre was oozing out of his slit steadily, he was a mess.

you sat up, straddling his lap, and you could see him glowing with excitement. i mean, it's farleigh, he's always excited for sex. but deprived farleigh was a different story.

you undressed yourself, feeling his eyes boring into you. he wasn't so subtle about literally anything, so it wasn't much of a surprise that he practically stared at your cunt, before you sunk down on him, engulfing him whole. he let out a loud moan, furrowing his brows in content. you felt so good around him, warm and inviting.

"there it is, you did so good for me tonight, farleigh," you cooed, brushing his curls away from his face so you could see his features contorted with pleasure. he whined, throwing his head back as you fucked him slowly, yet slightly rough. you let out a low groan, grinding against him.

"f-fuck Y/N," he whimpered, shutting his eyes closed. it was heavenly, too much yet not enough at the same time. you grinned at him, he looked divine like this. crying out your name as he writhed beneath you.

"i know you've been waiting for it baby. bet you're glad you did so, hm?" you said, with a chuckle. he nodded, letting out another frail moan.

"oh my god, s-shit," he cursed, as your pace increased. you moved up and down, back and forth.

"fucking hell farleigh, you're so big," you muttered. he smirked, but it quickly melted away when you kissed his lips softly. it continued like that, but not for long. he had been holding it for awhile, and he knew he wouldn't last long.

"fuck, Y/N i'm gonna cum."

"cum whenever you want, farleigh. this is your reward," you answered, feeling yourself near your orgasm too. he whined as you dug your nails into his skin slightly, fucking him at an animalistic speed.

"c-cumming!" he choked out, meaning in the process. as he filled you up, your high came as well. he was shaking gently underneath you, muttering a string of curses along with your name.

"there you go, that's it," you said underneath your breath, as you coaxed him through it. you planted a feathery kiss on his lips.

"thank you," he breathed out, eyes still closed. you smiled.

"my pleasure."

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

#archie madekwe #dom reader #dom!reader #archie mademay #farleigh start #saltburn #farleigh x reader #farleigh start x you #farleigh start x reader

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waayoutofline · 24 days ago

Text

Murder On The Dance Floor (part 4)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Prompt: Vigilante!Reader x Agent!Natasha

Summary: Natasha isn’t having the best of luck in trying to bring one of the ex Hydras general down. You however may be able to assist her. Will you two be able to cooperate? Or is it your fate to always stand on opposite teams?

Warnings: Angst

WORD COUNT: 2560

A / N: I'm sorry for being so late with this update, uni is beating the shit out of me :´) I had a bit of difficulty in trying to piece the last parts of this sorry, as I didn't expect for it to be longer than three eps-- oops. However, we are near the end! I'll do my best to try to post the next part by next weekend :) Thanks for reading and have a nice day <3

***

It wasn't complicated with white, rich, narcissistic men. You could see it in the way their eyes draped over you—a glint of overconfidence merging with a sick sense of entitlement. It never failed to make your stomach churn in disgust.

You had once been under the control of disgustingly self-assured men like Ashford. Treated as a mere object designed for their sick interests. Still, overpowering them with their own foolishness came naturally, and a part of you found joy in trapping them.

It thrilled you, especially to see their terrified expressions morph into desperation just before their downfall.

But that familiar thrill didn’t come this time. Instead, a pressure on your chest weighed you down, an unfamiliar sensation that made your stomach twist uncomfortably. The exchange with Natasha had shaken you. It’s ridiculous, you thought. Since when did you feel bad for doing what you did best?

“I couldn��t help but notice your eyes back there,” you started, carefully positioning yourself in a way that exuded naivety. Your arms rested delicately in front of you, drawing his gaze to your exposed skin. You mentally huffed at his complete lack of subtlety in ogling you. “Is everything alright?”

Your voice was remarkably soft, contrasting with the heavy bass vibrating through the air. Each word was pronounced slowly, deliberately, with a hint of a slur as though you’d had one too many drinks.

“Oh, nothing bad, I assure you.” He replied, his grin oozing overbearing confidence. But that’s exactly how you preferred it—unsuspecting and malleable. “Quite the contrary.”

You giggled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m glad. I actually was…” You paused with overdone hesitance, fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the tablecloth. “Never mind, I—”

“What is it, darling?” he interrupted, leaning forward as though entranced by your feigned shyness.

As if baffled by his encouragement, you stammered. “No, I… It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

His greyish eyebrows shot up, his body leaning closer, practically dangling on the hook you’d set for him. Got him. “Well, you’ve come so far. Might as well say it.”

“…Well, if you insist. I um fear I made a few mistakes when I felt your eyes on me. I just couldn’t help it! I’m such an admirer of yours.” you finally spat out, letting your expression shift into that of a star-struck teenager meeting their idol for the first time.

“An admirer, you say?” he teased further.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead nodding shyly and lowering your gaze in mock embarrassment.

“Yes, Mr. Ashford. Your reputation precedes you. I may or may not have gone to some of your… um…” You paused, letting the silence stretch just enough to make his eagerness blatantly obvious. You cut the distance slightly while looking around a bit. “Clubs. Just to see if I could catch a glimpse of you there.”

Your voice dropped lower as you spoke, but he still caught every word. You saw it in the way his grin widened, his ego practically swelling before your eyes. His expression darkened slightly when you mentioned his extracurricular activities.

“I appreciate a young woman like you taking an interest in my… enterprises,” he said, his tone thick with self-satisfaction. “But tell me, what do you expect to gain from this conversation, girl?”

He spat the last word as if asserting his dominance, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you paused, biting your lip in what appeared to be reluctance. Letting him think he was in control of this interaction would ensure that you’d get exactly what you wanted.

“I don’t want to come off as too forward, but… I was wondering if maybe…” Your hand moved closer to his sleeve, your fingertips just barely grazing his wrist. Your fingers twitched, as if you were anxious to tug at his sleeve. “You could help me. You’re a man of experience. The guys my age just don’t… command attention the way you do. I could always learn from that. If you’d agree, you could give me my first—” You paused deliberately, smirking as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Lesson, after this?”

He chuckled, his grin widening, his eyes darkening with a twisted kind of amusement. “Ah, I do admire your boldness. But I hope you understand that if we were to have these… lessons, they’d require a certain level of discretion. And, well, closeness.”

He reached out, his hand catching your wrist. His grip was authoritative, disgustingly possessive, as though he already thought of you as his property.

“Let’s do this,” he said, his voice low. “How about you keep dancing with that little friend of yours for now, hmm? I’ll be attending the VIP party after this. Who knows…” He leaned closer, his grin widening. “Perhaps we’ll see each other there.”

You forced a bashful smile, nodding demurely as if flattered by his attention. Inside, you were seething, but you let none of it show.

“Oh, I’d love that,” you murmured, your tone soft and eager.

His grip on your wrist finally released, and you clenched your jaw to avoid pulling your hand away as if you had been burned. Smiling delicately on cue, you swiftly moved away, merging into the crowd. Your pulse quickened, but you tried to ignore the racing thoughts swirling in your head.

You would usually be more thrilled, knowing you had achieved your objective—a step closer to bringing down another disgusting individual for good. But the satisfaction was dampened by the heavy shadow of Natasha’s worried expression.

Funny. Usually, you would have felt euphoric at finally coaxing real emotion from her firm, steel demeanour. But this wasn’t as gratifying as you thought it would be.

Whatever this was—this ache enclosing your chest—it had to go away. You couldn’t afford to let it linger. After all, she depended on you.

The music resumed its usual rhythm, signalling that the final round was about to begin. Shaking off the nerves crawling over your skin like ants, you let out a sigh. But a presence behind you made it harder to settle yourself.

“Guess who just skyrocketed our chances to win.”

Finally daring to turn around, you were met with her reluctant green eyes. She said nothing else, her silence cutting deeper than any snappy remark could. Flattening your smirk slightly, you accepted her offered hand and moved back into position.

The air swirled around you both, heavy with tension. Not your usual kind—the teasing dynamic you’d come to expect—but something sharper, almost suffocating. Trying to distract yourself from the unease, you focused on sneaking glances at Ashford over Natasha’s shoulder.

Even when he sent you a sly wink after speaking with Cole, the unrelenting heaviness didn’t lift. Natasha remained silent, offering no biting commentary or judgment. Her quietness made the unease sharper, more difficult to ignore.

But what her mouth didn’t say, her body did. Her movements were now sharp and constrained, a stark contrast to the almost goofy rhythm you’d shared earlier in the evening. Her expression was unreadable, her jaw set. Whatever flicker of worry or emotion she’d shown before had dissolved into a mask of cold professionalism.

“Natasha, I—” You started, the words clumsy and uncertain, unsure if you even should say something.

She cut you off before you could find your footing. “Let’s just get this over with,” she said finally, her voice not unkind but detached.

The words stung more than you wanted to admit. It's unfair, you thought. Ten minutes ago she was practically begging for you not to talk to him with utter worry in her eyes and now she was behaving as if none of that happen. If she didn’t want to care, then why dare to say nothing at all? Why mess with the dynamic you two had?

Fine. If she was playing this game, you decided, then you would too.

“The mission is the priority, right?”

You forced a smile, matching her tone.”Of course, Agent Romanoff.”

Her grip on your waist faltered slightly, her eyes lingering on yours for a brief second, but then she steadied herself, pulling you back into the flow of the dance.

After that, it didn’t take much. The last competitors, exhausted, crumbled under the pressure, their flashy styles dulled by fatigue. With Ashford’s support behind you, their disqualification came swiftly.

Honestly, you barely remember being called to the podium. The crowd clapped enthusiastically as Cole placed a tiara on your head and handed Natasha a large bouquet of flowers. A photographer called for a group photo, and you barely registered Ashford’s presence sneaking up beside you. The deliberate way he moved closer left no doubt about his intentions.

Your body tensed ever so slightly—a reaction you thought would go unnoticed. But this was Natasha, after all, and she wasn’t just anyone.

With a long stride, Natasha placed herself squarely between you and Ashford, leaving his eager hand grasping at nothing but air. Her body was as warm as ever as she pressed against your left side, her arm resting—almost protectively—on your shoulder. The sudden intimacy of the gesture stole your breath.

You could feel the heat radiating from her, the soft brush of her remaining perfume teasing your senses and making it nearly impossible to think of anything else. The weight of her arm was grounding, an unspoken claim that demanded attention without a single word.

It caught you completely off guard. Given her disapproval of your recent… choices, you’d assumed she would leave you to deal with Ashford on your own. But instead, she was here, firmly stepping in and ensuring the middle-aged man didn’t get any closer.

Some of the tightness in your chest loosened at her intervention, though the flutter of nerves in your stomach was an entirely different problem.

Shortly after, the dreaded VIP card was finally thrust into your hands—the culmination of the first part of the mission. At least it was over. You sighed softly, glancing toward Natasha.

Her eyes met yours for the briefest moment, something unreadable passing between you before she broke away. With a shared understanding, you both headed off in separate directions to change into something more casual.

The mission wasn’t over yet. There was still the after-party to survive.

***

“Got eyes on him,” Yelena muttered through both your comms, finally returning. You were confused by her disappearance, thinking that Natasha wouldn’t allow you to go unnoticed for even a moment. Still, you said nothing. “South entrance, on the balcony.”

Twirling your margarita, you subtly glanced in the direction. Hmph, for being so wanted, he sure was… rather disappointing to look at. His red hair was slicked back with what seemed like an entire bottle of hair gel, his eyes reddened (clearly affected by the unrelenting smoke surrounding him), his beard slightly unkempt, and his suit was overdone. He wasn’t very tall either—Natasha was easily a head taller than him.

So, he wasn’t the charismatic type of renowned criminal. You could work with that.

“Oh, I see him alright…” you answered, your mind already racing with all the tactics you’d need to make him talk. As if on cue, Natasha’s voice cut through.

“Raven, for the love of God, stand down. We must proceed carefully.” She reminded you, making you huff in annoyance.

“Yeah, I know, careful. Got it.I can be that” You swore you could feel Natasha arching brow rising at that. Still, you did managed to follow their plan. Rather boring if they asked you, but effective.

The two of you had to eliminate his guard team without causing any commotion, using Yelena’s assistance. Afterward, Yelena would cut all the electricity, and that’s when you would swoop in, distance him from the crowd, and take him into custody.

The first step wasn’t really complicated. Perhaps it was from the years of fighting alongside each other, but Natasha and you moved as fluidly as you did on the dance floor while incapacitating Horvat’s security team. One of you would divert attention, and the other would take someone down. It was almost like a dance of sorts, the two of you working in perfect tandem.

With a flick of your wrist, you spilled the drinks on the last two men at the bar, making them more susceptible to Natasha’s sneaky spider bite. You almost flinched when they were hit, remembering the sting of them too well. The two of you caught them just before they hit the ground, casually draping them over your shoulders as if they were just two random drunks who’d had too much to drink.

Natasha said nothing as you positioned them suggestively, one on top of the other. At her inquiring gaze, you just shrugged with a mischievous smile. “What? Look around! People are both making out and passing out.”

Before you knew it, the area had mostly cleared, which should make it easier to get to the former Hydra general without much resistance. It was almost going to good when the light and the music were shut down, Natasha slipping to Horvat’s side and pretending to be one of his guards to take him to “safety” in between the slightly panicked crowd. You meanwhile parted the way, opening one of the backdoor exits so the three of you could slip away though the stairs.

Maybe it was the exhaustion from dancing all night that caught you both off guard, or maybe it was the eerie silence in the absence of Yelena’s usual sarcastic commentary after she cut the electricity. Whatever the reason, neither of you expected to be ambushed by a full squad of heavily armed men just as you reached the exit.

The cold night air bit sharply as you and Natasha froze in place, her grip on Horvat reluctantly loosening. He laughed, unsteady and throaty.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize my own guards?” Horvat rasped, his almost unbearable, scratchy voice grating as he stepped into view. Glancing over his shoulder, he sneered, “It’s going to take more than this flimsy plan to take me down, Black Widow.”

You managed to hold back a scoff. Excuse him? You were here too!

“Dispose of them,” he barked, gesturing to his guards. Then, catching the rising guns next to him, he added, “Jesus, do it quietly you morons! The last thing I need is the entire Avengers team on my back. Just do enough damage to teach them a lesson.”

With that, he turned and was escorted away, leaving you and Natasha surrounded. Your eyes met hers, a mutual understanding passing between you as you positioned yourselves back-to-back almost immediately.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” you said, amused, as the guards advanced with electric gauntlets and other shiny gadgets. “Black Widow and Raven fighting side by side? Please.” You snickered, shifting into a defensive stance.

Natasha hummed in response, her tone cool but slightly teasing. “Just try to keep up.”

You smiled faintly as the familiar spark of your usual banter flickered back to life. Perhaps not everything was ruined after all.

“Oh, you’ve got it twisted, Widow,” you shot back with a smirk, echoing her words from earlier that evening. “You’ll be the one trying to keep up with me.”

It could have been the wind, but you swore you heard her chuckle.

Time for the second dance of the night.

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