#that old man's captivated everyone's souls | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sluttylittlewaistenthusiast · 8 months ago

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╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list . m.list two

@gutsby

⭒ Wedded Bliss

The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

@samthemarvelfan

⭒ Bad Romance

In Brooklyn, everyone knows the unwritten rule: you don’t cross James Barnes. When you return after nearly half a decade, things are anything but the same. After the murder of your Uncle, you begin to learn that no one is who they say they are, and that you may have accidentally given your heart to a mobster; The White Wolf of Brooklyn. More dangerous than that, he’s given you his.

@anonymityisfunwriter

⭒ Two Sides of the Same Coin

⭒ You're Losing Me

Your fairytale ending is crumbling before your eyes. You don't know how to love someone who can't tell you're dying. You fear you're fading away, begging him to do someone, say something, choose something. You fear he won't be able to resuscitate you this time. This time, he's losing you.

⭒ Alone Together

It was always been you and Bucky, alone together, you'd say. But suddenly, you're just alone.

⭒ Uptown Girl and the Brooklyn Boy

Everyone knows that all any Uptown Girl needs is a Greaser from Brooklyn to make her forget all about her uptown world.

@pellucid-constellations

⭒ For the Love of the Game

Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.

@barnesafterglow

⭒ Friday (I'm In Love)

every day you love bucky. every friday he pretends to love you too

@sinner-as-saint

⭒ Tempestuous

With his kingdom flourishing in peace, and no threats from enemies; recently crowned King - James Buchanan Barnes sets out at sea. With his finest ship, the best crew ever recruited, and a deep desire to see whether the edge of the world truly exists; the King sets sail. Hoping to find the marvels of the ocean, to find beauty and magic even; however he ends up finding a fiery soul – one he cannot get enough of. But then again, no love story is ever perfect, is it?

⭒ Ruin

You work at a café owned by your family, close to your uni. And most of your days are pretty laid back and calm, but that is until you catch the eye of the mob boss. Your cute skirts and soft sweaters make him weak. Your innocence captivates him. And he wants you, badly. He wants you in his bed, wants his hand under those cute little skirts… he wants to ruin you.

⭒ A Sweeter Place

Years after a messy break-up, and now seeking stability, infamous mob boss James Buchanan Barnes finds himself reunited with an old flame of his. Instant guilt and regret wash over him when he finds out that his reckless ways back then, changed an innocent girl’s life forever.

⭒ You're No Saint

Steve and Bucky have been friends since they were young boys. They are inseparable, so naturally when you married Steve you were aware that Bucky came along with him. Every event, every vacation, even as the best man at your wedding - Bucky was always there, alongside you and Steve. He was one of your best friends as well, so you’ve never thought of him in a sexual way, ever. That is until one certain night, when you see something you’re not supposed to and you like it a little too much. You deny your desire towards Bucky, but Steve knows you better than anyone. He knows what you want and need, and he’s determined to fulfil your fantasy; because what his wife wants, she gets.

⭒ Run For Your Life

He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with.

⭒ All Yours

One of your students confess their feelings for you and things get interesting...

@mellowsaturns

⭒ In Losing Grip, on Sinking Ships

when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

⭒ All to Myself

after bucky finds out why you've been acting up ever since his company's party, he teaches you a lesson and remind you that you're the only one for him

@renxzs

⭒ Redemancy

Maybe it was a bit naive to think moving in with your best friend and long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, was going to be some smooth road that led to an admittance of mutual feelings for one another and a happily-ever-after ending, wrapped up nicely in a bow. Naive indeed; especially when you have to consider the fact that Bucky is the biggest womanizer you know.

@cryptidcasanova

⭒ My Devotion

The one where Bucky doesn’t take your breakup well.

⭒ Loverboy

It's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky.

@subwaysurf45

⭒ She's Not Mad

Bucky Barnes was a known people pleaser, it was second nature to him. After meeting you and getting close you both try to navigate his eternal stressed state, working together you try your best to tone down his obsessive ways.

@adrinktostopyourthirst

⭒ Sniper

Reluctantly, you get thrown into an assignment with Bucky and Yelena, but Bucky doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. When he's proven to be correct, it turns out you're still a hell of a good team.

⭒ Three Hundred

Bucky always makes sure his best friend is okay, because that is what you need. He's caring, but very passive and nonchalant, because you need it. Not him. He doesn't need that. He doesn't need you. Does he?

⭒ Variant

The chaos of the multiverse is quite literally holding up a mirror to Bucky. Turns out, it's very easy to get under someone's skin when you have a universal connection to them.

⭒ Underground

The Underground is the last way for you to survive whatever is left of the world after the Blip. Natasha introduces you to the Winter Soldier whose wing you're under until you find your way around. He's a stoic Underground fighter and you're... useless.

⭒ One Shot

Bucky and you have a hard time staying away from each other. And though you try to push him away, every time he finds you again, the universe finds a new way to pull you apart.

⭒ Satisfied

Drunk sex with Bucky.

@thenhewaswrongaboutme

⭒ Your Hands Have Made Some Good Mistakes

Bucky has to spend six months locked up with a stranger.

⭒ Time Out

Need me a boy who is so needy and whiny when he cums inside for who knows how many times, and yet he still begs as soon as he's done "please, please again? I'll be good, I-I swear, I just need it so bad, just one more baby I promise–"

@bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

⭒ After All This Time

impending danger puts you and your ex, Bucky, in close quarters.

⭒ Why Are You At The Wake?

Bucky sits by your hospital bed, anxious for you to finally open your eyes. He’s got to set the record straight, and apologize for what he said before you got hurt.

⭒ The Rain Is Always Gonna Come If You're Standing With Me

A hurtful article in a low-budget gossip magazine throws your relationship with Bucky for a loop.

⭒ I Can Go Anywhere I Want, Just Not Home

Bucky doesn't talk to you anymore, and he's less than enthusiastic when he runs into you out of the blue. But when he calls from a strange phone number, the puzzle pieces fall together.

@noceurous

⭒ Get You Back

You hated that you loved Bucky Barnes, and he loved that you could not hate him.

@violentdelightsandviolentends

⭒ Honey Girl

The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

@notafunkiller

⭒ You Were Just Mine Yesterday

It's been a while since your break up with Bucky happened, but you're still not over him. You try to move on, go out, and have fun with your friend, Steve, but you end up in the same bar you two went to often. It also just happens that Bucky is there too, with Natasha by his side. It doesn't take long for you two to end up getting into old habits.

⭒ Out Of Style

A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.

@queers-gambit

⭒ Curiousity Killed The Cat

after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

@cherryblossom-heart

⭒ I Loved You Once

Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.

@rookthorne

⭒ Purity

Softness was a trait you unwittingly carried - the wings of a dove taking you higher and higher, elevating you in the eyes of the devil. And that devil did not want to wait any longer. It was time to collect.

⭒ His Girls

Cars were all the same to you — classics, imports, you name it, they were all the same. Well, they were, until you were nonetheless forced to visit your local mechanic and saw the man that would pique your interest in not only every single make and model of classic car, but his charming smile; the air of righteous arrogance that flowed from his tattoos, and that damned cheeky glint in his bright eyes.

⭒ Hollywood Boulevard

All it took was one night, one song - hell, one note - and you were gone for him, hook, line, and sinker. Turbulent times lay ahead, but in the afterglow of ecstasy, forced to feel emotions in such intensity for someone you’d never expect, you couldn't help but follow him anyway - he was irresistible, after all.

@boxofbonesfic

⭒ You're Gonna Give Me Six

@gogolucky13

⭒ Mean It

You and Bucky get trapped overnight in the safe house after a mission. Everything should be okay, except he's your ex and thanks to his carelessness, the situation gets a little more complicated.

@intrepidacious

⭒ Almost Believing

You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

@buckybarnesdiaries

⭒ Please

Bucky needed to be spoiled.

@buckys-darling

⭒ Face The Sun

To ensure the prosperity of their two kingdoms, a determined Princess and reluctant King are to be wed. She is willing to commit, but he can’t seem to let his lover go.

⭒ Will You Love Me Tomorrow?

You and Bucky are friends who fuck and nothing more. That’s what you’ll keep telling yourself, at least.

⭒ Electric

Flirtation has a different meaning with Bucky, and his patience doesn't last long when it comes to you.

@straywords

⭒ Kiss It Better

You’re not entirely sure your boss with the staring problem even likes you, but you’re determined to do your job either way.

@little-miss-dilf-lover

⭒ Fifteen Minutes

@bucksfucks

⭒ The Feeling's Mutual

the amount of times you and bucky have seen each other masturbating is alarmingly high. might as well do it together.

@ellemj

⭒ Bigger Than He Was

Bucky pretends to be your new man when you run into your ex in public. However, the little act of pretending sparks something inside of him that he didn't know was there.

⭒ Strawberries

Bucky, the man with a long list of girls on his roster, gets exposed to a sex pollen in the field. Will he fuck the first girl he calls or the girl he's wanted for the last two months?

⭒ Breathe

Bucky hates the way you take unnecessary risks in the field, the way you're so mesmerizing and yet so hard to work with, and he especially hates the way you get on your knees for him during a dangerous mission. Finding out how pretty you look on your knees is the last thing he needs.

⭒ Flustered | part 2

Bucky seems to thoroughly appreciate all women...except for you. When he finds out one of your weaknesses, he can't help but use it against you, which only makes you hate him more.

⭒ Inevitable

While on a mission with Sam, John Walker, and Bucky, you're the only person exposed to a sex pollen. Bucky sure as hell isn't going to let anyone else take care of you.

⭒ Blurred Lines

When choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you.

⭒ Does It Hurt?

Bucky never would've gone out of his way to help you if he knew that HYDRA was still watching his every move, if he knew that it would shift their focus to you. When you're targeted and taken, it's his fault and he'll do anything to save you. Anything.

@viixenvi

⭒ Red

You work at a strip club and Bucky is a regular. Tonight he specifically asks for you in a private room. You never thought he'd love the color red on you so much.

@ro-is-struggling

⭒ Self Care

Bucky always seemed interested in your skin care routine, so when one day he arrives tired and drained from a mission, you take the opportunity to show him the importance and benefits of self-care.

@kinanabinks

⭒ Silent Girl

After a traumatizing event, you aren’t the friendliest or most talkative of people. Bucky understands, and in turn becomes the one person you soften your hard exterior for.

⭒ Special Girl

Being friends with benefits definitely has its perks, especially when the friend in question is as hot as Bucky Barnes - but when you're feeling insecure about the arrangement, Bucky makes it clear to you that you're more than just a friend.

@angrythingstarlight

⭒ Roommate Bucky

@wkemeup

⭒ Cold, Cold Water

While on a stakeout in the heart of Russia, Bucky learns that touch can bring something more than pain and he will willingly give himself over to the ice if it means keeping you alive.

⭒ Drunk On You

Bucky has always been nervous around you. When he’s tasked with caring for you after a night of heavy drinking and suddenly you’re kissing him, Bucky doesn’t know what to do. You couldn’t possibly want him sober, right?

⭒ Honey and Chamomile

Four cups of tea, four distinct moments in time, and each pulls you in closer beyond the walls surrounding Bucky’s heart.

⭒ Suburbia

Posing as husband and wife, you and Bucky infiltrate a quaint suburban neighborhood in search of a Hydra hacker. Perhaps if you weren’t so in love with him and he hadn’t broken your heart, the act of pretending wouldn’t hurt so much.

⭒ Eclipse

When a mission leaves you empty and broken, Bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface.

⭒ Back to Bourbon Street

When you’re badly injured on a mission, Bucky works desperately to keep you alive. Only, it might not be enough.

@espinosaurusrexex

⭒ Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers

Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

@navybrat817

⭒ Reconnect

Bucky Barnes is your best friend. You're also in love with him. After his recent breakup, the two of you get a chance to reconnect during a weeklong vacation together. Is it long enough to get your happy ending?

@dyspneagrime (wattpad & ao3)

⭒ No Privacy

You're stuck on a mission that never seems to end, in a completely destroyed studio apartment, with absolutely no privacy. And no privacy means- you haven't cum the whole time. Thing is, neither has the ancient, half-cyborg, psychopathic, hobo-lookin' asshole that you've been partnered up with.

⭒ Little Wing

The year is 1973. All Dove Rogers wanted was a relaxing summer. Just one last hoorah before being thrust into the adult life. Yet everything shifts when her new houseguest and long standing enemy- Bucky Barnes, arrives. In the thick of sun-kissed relaxation, the two of them are forced to face the awakening and burning desire growing between them.

⭒ Possessed

Margaret Everlee is a meek little thing. Living her life as a struggling artist in New York, trying to find her place in the world. That is until the formidable CEO with a dark past, James Barnes sets his sights on her. His infatuation is instantaneous, becoming a man obsessed with making her his own little doll.

@stardustdreams-andcaffeine

⭒ The Thin Line

Of one thing you were certain—Bucky Barnes hated you, and you hated him. How could you not, considering the super soldier had made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell after you had been assigned to protect him? But there was someone after Bucky from his past, and now he was forced to work alongside you to stop them. And in the process, you would find out just how thin that line was between love and hate.

@buckybabesonly

⭒ Wanna Be Yours

You are afraid to believe that someone like Bucky might actually love you back.

@lovelybucky1

⭒ Flirting and Football

@kurogxrix

⭒ Drunkenly In Love

you and Bucky ‘accidentally’ get married after a drunken game of truth or dare with the avengers.

@stxrvel

⭒ Hate Is A Strong Word

you hated Bucky and you were convinced that he hated you back. until one time he was talking to you and it started to sound... lovely? what was happening?

@kikixreverie

⭒ Its Called: Freefall

Things get heated between you and your closest friend Bucky, when you're made to play a married couple on an important mission. Neither of you can help yourselves when you end up stuck in a hotel room together, with sexual tension you could cut with a knife.

@brunchable

⭒ I Don't Want You Like A Best Friend

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

@thyme-in-a-bubble

⭒ Just For Tonight

before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?”

@aquaticmercy

⭒ Sleeper

When Bucky falls in love with the antihero he’s sleeping with, he offers her a place in the Thunderbolts.

⭒ My Own Soul's Warning

You, an immortal being, falls in love with the very mortal Bucky Barnes. You would do anything for him, even if it meant you had to strike a deal with Death herself.

⭒ Breaking Point

You and Bucky had always hated each other. When Bucky gets injured during a mission, you start wondering if the hatred was just masking something else.

@skaye44

⭒ Coffee Companion

You and your friend Bucky enjoy going for coffee dates as friends. Bucky sees the names and numbers of two flirty baristas on your cups. He's jealous and wants to be the one you date, so he takes matters into his own hands.

@ultralightpoe

⭒ Juno

@elixirfromthestars

⭒ Sink Your Teeth In Me

You and Bucky are supposed to attend Sam's party on Halloween. However, when you show up to his place looking like temptation itself—he gets other ideas on how to spend the night with you.

@vunblr

⭒ The Memory Remains

An unexpected encounter brings Bucky face-to-face with someone from his past, stirring memories he thought were long buried.

⭒ Roots and Branches (part 1)

Bucky has built a quiet life in the woods, content to keep the world at arm's length. But when a new neighbor moves to town, her presence ignites emotions he’s hesitant to face.

⭒ Heartwood (part 2)

After Sam’s party, Bucky begins to navigate uncharted territory as he works to balance his growing feelings and lingering insecurities in his blooming relationship.

@thyme-in-a-bubble

⭒Just For Tonight

@elvenrin

⭒ Cold Libraries Create Warmer Hearts

a reserved librarian and a history-loving student keep crossing paths in the cold library, where shared smiles and hidden glances will make them understand that burning hearts don't do well in a place that easily ignites.

#marvel #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #“ass or tits?” bro A METAL ARM #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #tfatws #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #“i can change him” bitch why #hes a perfect menace to society and i love that #sebastian stan #mob!bucky #mob!au #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky x reader

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lizzyiii · 5 months ago

Note

just read “his lady love” and i’m completely obsessed with your writing, i definitely need a part 2 for that please 😭😭😭

His Lady Love (2)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

word count | 3.8k words

summary | you return to westeros, to find that the young prince has become a man and his burning infatuation with you has not died out and you reconnect with helaena

tags | no warnings? usual mention of targaryen incest (but let's be real, everyone who reads hotd fanfic has now normalised targcest), and child marriage (my poor bby Helaena), filler

note | oh my god, y'all 😭. idk what I was thinking with that dramatic ass mikaelson reveal. as we all know the reader is never described, but as we all also know the mikaelsons are white af. so I'm making it clear that the reader is NOT mikael's daughter, leaving the reader's description and race unknown, esther was busy getting her freak on and her real father will never be disclosed. because in my mind the reader or y/n is and will always be a curly-haired, brown-skinned baddie....so each to their own. AND I'm pretty sure this is going to be a series cause for the life of me I am unable to make a oneshot without further exploring a story.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

Five long years had stretched into nearly two thousand sunrises since Aemond Targaryen last laid eyes upon you. Each passing day weighed heavily on his soul, a slow burn of a thousand bitter memories. Some days, the tempest of his emotions roiled within him, bidding him to hate you—for your departure, for the way you had vanished from court like a wisp of smoke, leaving only echoes and shadows in your wake.

But the flames of that hate flickered and faded, giving rise to a deeper yearning, a gaping void where love had once flourished. Even now, after all this time, your spirit held his heart captive, stolen under the very nose of fate when you chose to forsake the realm.

In the wake of your absence, thirteen year old Aemond had become a specter haunting the hallowed halls of the library, pouring over tomes and scrolls in a frantic quest for knowledge of House Mikaelson—a house that seemed to dissolve into the mists of myth with each turn of the page. The histories were silent, and when he turned to his elders, the lords and ladies of the court, their ignorance stung deeper than any sword. Your name was but a whisper lost amongst the louder clamor of dragons and destinies.

Desperation guided his steps toward the Queen’s solar, where his mother resided. He pressed forth, demanding answers of her, yet it was peculiar; though he sought her wisdom and guidance, she seemed to have forgotten the very reason of why she had made you one of her ladies-in-waiting. Her brows knitted with confusion as he spoke your name, her big brown eyes clouded with a nostalgia she could not place.

Yet Aemond could see it in the gentle curve of her lips, in the way her gaze drifted past him, as if searching for a phantom. She missed you, that was clear. Her heart held a chamber of memories crafted from your offered comfort amidst the whispers of court intrigue, from the grace of your presence that had brightened the darker days.

The weight of five relentless years bore heavily upon Aemond Targaryen. Through trials of fire and blood, he had forged himself anew, emerging both mentally and physically formidable. He was now the most skilled swordsman within the keep’s sturdy walls, a warrior of such caliber that even the esteemed Ser Criston Cole would struggle to match his prowess. Secluded in the dim light of solitary training grounds, he immersed himself in the ancient tomes of philosophy and the illustrious history of House Targaryen, dedicated to honing his mind as keenly as his sword.

Yet in this relentless pursuit of strength and mastery, the warmth of his heart had withered, leaving behind only the chill of calculated ambition. His facade, meticulously crafted, rendered him cold and unyielding — a visage so fierce that even the bravest souls flinched at the thought of meeting his gaze directly.

Thus, it was with a jarring dissonance that Aemond entered his sister, Helaena's solar that day. It was a ritual he had come to cherish against the backdrop of his darkening spirit, visiting her and the twins for a fleeting moment of respite. However, as he stepped across the threshold, the air thickened and his breath caught in his throat.

Helaena sat with delicate artistry upon a chaise, embroidering threads of vibrant colors while keeping a watchful eye on her children. But it was not the familiar sight of his sister that seized him. No, there, in the heart of the chamber, stood his mother, Queen Alicent, holding the hands of a woman whose features were obscured from his view. However, even with your back turned, he recognized you and your unmistakable figure.

Alicent’s large, expressive eyes caught his, shimmering with an emotion he had not anticipated. “Aemond,” she uttered softly, the sound piercing through the tension-laden silence.

With the calling of his name, you turned, and the breath in his lungs faltered. The years stretched out like an endless tapestry between the two of you, but as he beheld you standing there after all this time, it felt as if no time had passed at all.

Five long years had passed, and in that span, Aemond had transformed. His once-boyish frame had hardened, each line of muscle now finely chiseled, his stature soaring to a height that eclipsed yours. He had shed the skin of youth and emerged a man forged by the fires of ambition and vengeance, yet he could feel a familiar tug at his heart as he stared at you.

But you… you had remained untouched by time’s relentless march. Your face, flawless and luminous, bore no marks of age; not a wrinkle nor blemish dared mar your smooth skin. Your form he remembered was preserved in perfection, your hair framing your figure in the same glorious waves that had enchanted him years ago.

You were the embodiment of memories he cherished, the same as ever.

For a fleeting heartbeat, Aemond dared to believe you were but a haunting mirage conjured by his yearning heart. If not for the watchful eyes of his mother and sister resting upon you, he would have thought himself lost to despair, ensnared by the fantasies of his own making.

An eternity seemed to stretch in the daunting silence that enveloped the two of you, the world around forgotten as each of you engaged in a quiet, yet profound examination. Your eyes sparkled like the night sky in the light of the day, and when you smiled—the same saccharine smile that had once filled his heart with joy during the innocence of his childhood—it left him breathless. “My prince,” you spoke softly, your voice dancing in the air, “how you’ve grown.”

In that moment, something within him shifted—a profound balm against the bitterness he had nurtured like a dark plant within his chest. All the resentment, the stinging remembrance of your abandonment, and the shadows of sadness that once clouded his thoughts dissipated at the mere sight of your smile. His throat was dry as a winter's night, thoughts scattered like ash on the wind, and yet, the corners of his mouth began to lift involuntarily, mirroring the warmth radiating from you.

Mikaelson.

A name that struck terror into the hearts of countless souls. Yet, here, in this strange realm of Westeros, where dragons soared and the icy dread of White Walkers loomed behind the walls, such fear was but a whisper lost to the winds. No, this land, though foreign and fierce, offered you sanctuary—not the kind woven from solace and warmth, but the kind fortified by distance and the absence of your cursed siblings.

Here, there were no vampires lurking in the cloaks of night, nor were there werewolves howling beneath the pale moonlight. Instead, there were dragons, fierce and resplendent, and direwolves, proud and wild. Most crucially, there was no Mikael—a freedom that tasted of hope amidst you heart's turmoil.

True, you thought often on whether you should have brought your siblings along, for Mikael would never find this place. Yet, a heavy foreboding gripped you; you understood all too well that the Mikaelsons (Niklaus) very presence would shatter the fragile peace you sought. Westeros was far from a land of plenty, riddled with poverty and further burdened by the cruel fate of women, yet in its chaos lay distance.

So, you fled, slipping away into the shrouded embrace of night, abandoning the only family you had known—or, more accurately, what was left of it. It was the sixteenth century, a time when hope flickered dimly in the eyes of men and women alike. You had not laid eyes upon Finn since Niklaus, in his relentless wrath, had condemned him to a tormented existence, and staked a dagger in his heart. Kol fared no better; his defiance had earned him Niklaus' ire, leaving him to face the very same fate that had befallen their eldest brother.

Months had slipped by as you braved the tempestuous seas, each wave an echo of your desperation, each gust of wind whispering promises of a new beginning. You had set sail toward the edge of the earth, guided by an insatiable yearning for freedom—until at last, you had discovered Westeros.

You had arrived in Westeros with an unyielding ambition, your ethereal beauty concealing a fierce determination that allowed you to easily compel your way into the court of Queen Alicent Hightower as one of her ladies-in-waiting. The smell of dragonfire and the whispers of civil war clung to the air, a distinct reminder of the foreign heritage of the Targaryens.

The first time you had seen one of the great beasts aloft, its shadow sweeping across the land, leaving you breathless and in awe. Dragons were an embodiment of the Targaryen power, but alongside that power lurked a shocking underbelly of normalized incestuous unions and the festering decay of traditional familial bonds. For a girl raised among the Mikaelsons, who had danced among the vices of immortality, this was both familiar and grotesque.

Your new world was laced with intrigue—rumors skittered through the halls like restless spirits. The whispers spoke of Princess Rhaenyra and the seed of doubt surrounding her claim to the Iron Throne, the barbs of scandal raised even higher by her many alleged bastards. These complexities intrigued you, compelling you to observe from the outside, where the machinations of power were far more amusing than any political play you had encountered in your old life.

Queen Alicent, though esteemed and regal, bore the weight of her flaws almost indiscernibly, like a cloak of gold marred by rust. From what you could tell, the Queen wielded herself like a pawn—her father being Otto Hightower, an unseen puppeteer, tugging at the strings of her choices. Maternal instinct flickered in Alicent like the candle flames that lit the chamber at night; she faltered and stumbled but made an earnest effort to nurture her children as best she could, though in your opinion she had failed miserably with Aegon. And yet, her fund of effort, a raw and poignant endeavor, resonated with you. The Queen was imperfect, yet within that human frailty lay a semblance of motherhood that Esther Mikaelson had failed to give you.

Thus, in your role as one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, you discovered a sanctuary of sorts. The court became a twisted labyrinth of alliances and betrayals, yet amidst the swirling intrigue, you found comfort in Alicent’s earnest attempts at kindness towards you.

In the two years you had spent in Westeros, you had found solace in the delicate friendship you created with Princess Helaena—a rare gem among the Targaryens, whose sweet and gentle spirit seemed devoid of the cunning that defined her kin. Helaena's quiet understanding struck a chord deep within you, reminiscent of a time before death had twisted your mind. Once, you too had lived in a world that felt like a dream, until Niklaus tore down the veil of your innocence with his ruthless reality check. He had carved fear into your heart, reminding you of the darkness that lurked within the world.

But as you observed Helaena, an overwhelming sorrow enveloped you. The Queen's decree to betroth the princess to Prince Aegon sank like a stone in her gut. Aegon—a broken soul, defined by indulgence and ambition—was a force of chaos that echoed the wickedness of their own familial bond. In many ways, he reminded you of Kol, with his infectious charm and volatile spirit, yet where Kol harbored a flicker of love beneath layers of darkness, Aegon radiated a depravity that sent shivers down your spine.

Your heart ached at the thought of Helaena being shackled to a boy so unworthy of her light. The specter of Aegon’s reckless nature loomed large, and you feared for the princess's fate. You could see it clearly: with every passing day of their union, Helaena’s spirit would wither under the weight of neglect and cruelty, her gentle soul extinguished in the fires of a loveless bond.

And then there was Prince Aemond, the second youngest son of Alicent's brood—a striking boy marked by a fierce determination to embrace his responsibilities as a prince. You often felt a pang of sympathy when you witnessed the relentless taunts from Aegon and the scornful jeers of his nephews, sorrow swelling in your chest at the knowledge that he was the only Targaryen without a dragon to call his own. And it was hard to ignore the tender glances he cast your way, his violet eyes lingering on you whenever you graced a room.

However, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of Aemond standing at your door during the elusive hour of the wolf, his ethereal silver hair, tousled and framing a face streaked with tears, the light of hope dimmed in his now singular violet eye. Fury ignited in your core when he confided the harrowing tale of how Aegon had dragged him to the Street of Silk, that dark sanctuary of vice—your heart shattered for the innocence that had been ripped from him, for the heavy shame that now clung to him, marked by his brother who should have looked out and protected him. By now, Aegon was six-and-ten, he should have gleaned wisdom from his years, yet he chose the path of cruelty instead.

In an effort to soothe the wounded prince, you opened your heart and your arms to him. You conceded to his requests, bathing him with tender care, allowing him the sanctuary of your presence as he lay beside you. Your intentions were pure, untainted by anything but the desire to comfort a boy you had come to deeply care for.

And yet, with a heavy heart, you turned your back on Westeros, your mind haunted by the echoes of family. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, you found yourself yearning for the bonds that had once defined you. The Targaryens, ensnared in their web of resentment and betrayal, made it clear that true loyalty and love were rare treasures. Their familial discord stood in stark contrast to the fierce devotion of your own bloodline. For all the chaos wrought by the Mikaelsons, love remained their unyielding anchor.

Niklaus, with his volatile nature, was both feared and revered by you; yet, beneath that fierce exterior lay a soul tormented by the shadows of his past, perpetually haunted by the specter of abandonment. Finn and Kol, locked in eternal slumber by Niklaus’s cruel whim, lay undisputed in their coffins, yet your brother stood sentinel over them, unwavering and steadfast. The thought of returning to him was chilling; the mere sight of you would surely earn a dagger in your own heart.

You resolved to escape, to steal away before Queen Alicent could impose a husband upon you like a gilded cage. It was meant to be a brief respite, a momentary retreat from your burdens. You had once believed that seamlessly integrating into the intricate tapestry of Westerosi society would be a simple endeavor. Yet, the relentless weight of expectations proved stifling. Each encounter demanded a dance of delicate grace, a façade meticulously curated to meet the desires of those around you, and in turn, it drained your very spirit.

Thus, you sought solace in the sun-drenched lands of Essos, a realm that defied the rigid conventions you had grown weary of. Essos was a land of vibrant colors and broken norms, where the sun shone unabated and the very air seemed to sing of possibility. Gone were the burdens of being gracious and demure, replacing those restraints with the intoxicating freedom to explore the wild tapestry of cultures sprawled before you. In a realm filled with mercenaries and traders, where the scent of spice mingled with the salty sea air, you couldn’t help but feel invigorated.

Shame washed over you like a cold wave, a sharp pang of regret settling in your chest as you sat in Princess Helaena's solar, surrounded by the laughter of her twins, Jahaerys and Jahaera. The children, mere five summers old, served as a vivid reminder of your absence; Helaena had brought them into the world at the tender age of fourteen, while you had been lost in the allure of Essos. Your own selfish pursuits had drawn you away from Westeros, leaving your dear friend to navigate the tides of motherhood without your companionship.

But now, fate had drawn you back to Westeros, though the reason for your return eluded you—perhaps it was mere curiosity, or a desire to witness the Targaryens as they embarked on a path toward their own ruin. Perhaps it was simply the lingering comfort of a maternal embrace that Queen Alicent had once offered you. One thing remained certain: you were back, unchanged yet bound by the curse that clung to the Mikaelsons. You still appeared as you had, forever encased at the tender age of six and ten, the same age at which you had died nearly six centuries ago.

The twins were a study in contrast. Jaehaerys, the young prince, was somber and introspective, casting shy glances your way from beneath the curtain of his silver hair. In contrast, Jaehaera exuded a lively spirit, her laughter as bright as the morning sun. She was a sweet girl, eager for your attention, her small hands clutching her beloved dolls as she beckoned you to join her in playful realms of castles and grand adventures. Every so often, Jaehaerys would join in, indulging his sister’s imagination by taking on the role of a fierce dragon, albeit with a reluctance that made his quiet demeanor all the more endearing.

“I have missed you,” Helaena said softly from her place on the chaise, delicate fingers working through the intricate patterns of her embroidery, her gaze never leaving the fabric.

You met her gaze, a frown momentarily shadowing your features, your heart tightening at the sight of her. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips as you replied, "As I have missed you, princess. I offer my sincerest apologies for my prolonged absence."

“But you have returned, and that is what matters,” she replied with a tranquil certainty, her expression unwavering.

With a nod, you maintained your tight-lipped smile, the corners of your mouth struggling to lift fully. “Indeed, I have, and I hope to stay here for as long as fate allows.”

As you resumed your playful moments with the twins — Helaena’s voice broke through the lighthearted chaos as she called your name. “Pray tell, how old were you when you came to court?”

Your lips pursed gently as you recounted, your tone tense but soft, “I was but six and ten years, my dear princess.”

An oblivious smile spread across Helaena's face, illuminating her features. “And yet you appear unchanged, as if untouched by time’s passage. Like a Lepidoptera,” she remarked, her imagination weaving images as vivid as the embroidered fabrics around her.

Your brows knitted in puzzlement. "A what, my princess?"

"A Lepidoptera," she patiently repeated, her eyes shimmering with youthful curiosity. "It is a classification that encompasses butterflies, which remain breathtakingly lovely until the end of their days."

A bittersweet pang echoed within you at her words, for you were destined for a far different fate, cursed to wander the shadows as a creature of the night. Yet, you offered a slight nod, managing a soft, "Thank you, my princess," as you absorbed the weight of her innocent compliment.

“And yet, I cannot claim to have missed you as intensely as Aemond has,” Helaena mused, her gaze distant as you idly threaded your fingers through Jaehaera's shimmering locks of silver.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite grasp what you mean,” you replied softly, masking your understanding with a facade of innocence.

“I believe you are quite aware,” Helaena said softly, a melodic note in her voice, her smile lingering with a teasing warmth, “Aemond has loved you since he was a mere boy.”

You cast her a sidelong glance before adopting an air of nonchalance. “Love is a weighty term for one so young, Princess. Surely, it was nothing more than a fleeting fancy.”

Helaena shook her head, her needlework a steady rhythm in her hands. “No, I do not believe so.”

Deep down, you didn't believe so either. Ever since your return to the depressive halls of King's Landing, a sensation had accompanied your every step—a watchful gaze lingering upon you. Aemond had worked to keep it hidden, but your heightened senses revealed the quiet intensity of his interest, as vivid as the summer sun.

There had been numerous revelations awaiting you upon your return to the Red Keep—the prideful births of young Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, the scandal of Rhaenyra and her uncle Daemon's elopement, and the grim decline of King Viserys's health, shadows stained upon the Iron Throne. Yet, the most haunting transformation was that of Prince Aemond.

Aegon had blossomed into the drunken sleaze you had always anticipated, a replica of the whims that dictated his every choice, but Aemond—oh, how he was the exact opposite of what you had envisioned. The youthful boy, once soft and unassuming, had unfurled into a striking figure, sharpened like the blade of a Targaryen sword, each line of his form etched with the harshness of time and expectation. His stature now towered over you, his presence immense, a tempest contained within the boundaries of a man’s body.

He seemed to carry within him a quiet fury, a storm beneath the surface, and it stirred something deep within you, a memory of that boy who had once been desperate for approval and had hope for a dragon. His boyish softness had been replaced by the resolute presence of a true dragon, a stark reminder of the power and peril that resided within his bloodline.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #ewan mitchell #the originals #mikaelson #vampire!reader

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affableramen · 3 months ago

Text

Pantalone x inexperienced AFAB reader

very angsty smut with plot. 6K word count

explicit content, minors dni

Note: finally releasing my big dicked king in all his beauty 👍🏻

The man that always wore masks of an extremely affable demeanour had been hiding by any means an ugly heart. Behind the decorous appearance and impeccable manners there was an old bachelor who knew nothing but loneliness before becoming the richest man in the country and after. It was like he was destined to be always alone, he thought. But that perilous assumption was not enough to justify the poorness of his character and the ill manner of his actions while being in close intimacy with someone. Though extremely charming in public, he was incredibly unlikeable to those he spoke privately to. Smart, well-read and educated that was all about him but at the same time it could not save his soul that could only have capacity for three feelings: abhor, greed and lust.

You did not understand him. You did not understand how someone could go about their day throwing false smiles here and there, playing with people as if they were nothing but puppets on strings. He was not a beast, but he was a skillfull manipulator, a creature to you more disgusting than anyone else. You did not agree with any of his false views of justice and you simply knew that the two of you lived in very different worlds. You did not deny that a person was a product of their traumas and experiences, yet somehow the man standing in front of you right now seemed to absorb every filthy trait, every possible flaw one could know.

He was indeed a man of many flaws, but at the same time he was so captivating for you. So interesting to watch, to study. People were always drawn by something they failed to understand…

“I love you.” You shivered and inhaled sharply upon hearing his false (to you) words.

The rain’s heavy drops fell chaotically making a mess of the ground under your feet. It was a big rain. As big as the emotions that spoke from the bottom of your heart. This man under any circumstances could not fit with your convictions.

“You don’t know love.” The answer slipped from your lips made Pantalone’s chest squeeze into something shallow and cracky. But he had been the man known for getting what he wanted whenever he wanted, ignoring any obstacles no matter how dreadful they could be. That man did not have a single hint of fear in his heart. He was reckless, foolish sometimes even, so dearly holding onto his plan, believing that he was saving everyone. But in the whole bitter truth, he was only saving himself.

“Then teach me.”

He was standing there, when the falling rain had washed that smug smirk long ago. The masks were taken off, the true faces were in the light. The both of you standing there were wet to the bone, your fuzzy coat did absolutely nothing to protect your skin from the coolness of the autumn.

It was a long few minutes before Pantalone finally switched his brain on and pulled the umbrella out. He opened it and locked it above your heads. You wished you did not allow yourself doing that, but instinctively you pushed your body closer to the shade of the umbrella, accepting Pantalone’s generousity.

You hated this man. Did you not? Or did the seriousness of expression he gave you every time you were in sight cause your knees to feel weak? The long, blank face he would give every time the two of you appeared in the same room by chance? How his stupid, false (to you) smile hurriedly morphed into the most tense expression you’d ever seen? This man was so smiley to everyone else… but to you. Or, how his hand squeezed yours for a tiny shallow moment when he pulled you out from his car, at the evening he surprisingly gave you a lift to home?

Damn those gloved hands! They did not protect you from the heat of his fingers. You imagined the hand under those leather gloves icy cold, but you knew the touch would be so burning at the same time.

“No, I do not hate him. I can’t hate him. Not when he makes me stop in my tracks, not when the sensation I thought dead forever would rise somewhere below my tummy at the mere thought of his eyes on me.”

You finally met his. Yet another piece of decorum was but an obstacle on your way of discerning him. Those damned eyeglasses. He hid his eyes behind them way too well.

“I know what you are about to say. You want nothing more than to once again point out how cruel, unappealing, cowardly and dishonest I am in your eyes. I am perfectly aware of what good people think of me (by any means, you’re one of the good people). But before you start, I want to confess the true feelings I have been burying deep within me for so many months. Seeing you and not being able to express my true feelings or have your company around was but a torture for me. I want to feel your eyes on mine at least once without that judgement and prejudice. Without that desperate hate of yours, the eating, raging fire that wants to burn me so badly. And I would allow you to do it, I am more than convinced of the imperfections of my character. The evil that took lives of many, the greed that made so many suffer and die in aloneness… I am well, believe me for once, aware, that my presence is destructive and dangerous, and gives ground to foulness. And if the charming façade of a successful businessman had been discerned by you so easily, and you have seen the flaws of my heart so clearly, then I admit you have completely beaten me and truthfully taken my heart as a trophy. Because you are, by any means, the love of my life."

You felt your eyes getting wet. This was so foolish and laughable, but it was the first moment between you when you finally felt a tad bit of sincerity from his heart. The little sparkles came out of his deep dark, almost hollow eyes of a rough businessman as he spoke his confession. This man had humiliated himself quite literally in front of you just a moment ago.

“Did I say something wrong?” Pantalone inquired, the light in his eyes shook with worry.

“Not even close.”

“You look like you are not getting enough sleep. Your eyes are bloodshot, you’re so pale.”

“Is that what you’re concerned about right now?” You said through a laugh that was more a cry of despair. “Do you care about how I feel?”

Pantalone’s face did not crack for a second. He spoke seriously, with firmness of his velvety baritone.

“I do not deny I did not consider your feelings once during the earlier period… I mistreated you badly. But I will truthfully admit that the first time I met you, I looked at you with unknown softness spreading through my mind. The softness I never knew even existed in me. I deemed feelings like attachment and sympathy shallow, my whole life.”

“All this time I thought your serious gazes at me meant nothing but disgust. After all, I have no name to myself and no wealth behind my back…”

“Dear Y/N…” Pantalone gasped air as if it was not enough for him to breathe. He remembered his horrendous past at that moment. No, not remembering, it would be an understatement. The whole life seemed to rush through his mind, the suffering of a destitute family, the destiny destroyed for one poor child because his family could barely afford sugar. The constant hunger that turned into an echo of eating disorder later. The so usual cold and rain. The stray cats that would surround him. He was never a lucky boy, he deemed his life very cruel and pathetic. Not a single praise, not a single one more fake smile on his face, that impudent selfishness he tried to wrap around his face like a mask, was a good tool to sustain his reputation. But when he was alone with himself, how he looked in the mirror - he always saw nothing but that poor beggar, cursed by the universe, abandoned by the archons and left forever alone to suffer his pain that did not even tiny bit subside. Eating those lavish homely cooked meals by his damn, personal chef! Being served every time when he looked into the plate, his poor traumatised mind forced him into seeing nothing but scraps! He was a beggar once, and he was a beggar forever - that’s how he thought of himself.

“I do not care if you are not rich. As I myself had been roughly put in the position of a destitute, pathetic beggar once. This all you see”, he pointed at himself, “is but a façade.”

The words leaving his mouth seemed very heavily spoken. It caused him immense pain to dwell on that part of his life.

“But if the woman I love gave me at least a hint of affection, I would consider myself the richest man alive not by public view but my own, deep inside my wicked heart.”

“Affection?” You broke into a thousand pieces. Your voice shook, you were almost sure you left a shocked noise but you could not be able to hear it, due to the uneasiness of your mind.

“Affection, yes, the definition of which I so successfully fail to understand. But if you would teach me to love you, showme how I can be the man worthy of your attention”, his velvety voice darkened, no, deepened. “Just one chance.”

You could not believe the words you were about to say, the thoughts that were rushing through your head, but intuitively you knew that this moment was perfectly fitting for the filthy words you longed to let off your mind.

“And if I want that… in the bedroom?”

The words slipped off your tongue so quickly, you could not bear it and felt how your body reacted with pure embarrassment, sending shock waves through the whole of you, deep red slowly spreading across your face.

"In the… bedroom?" he asked, reaching out his free hand to her gently. He chuckled at last. “I would… I…”

The elegance and richness of his façade had dropped so soon after having heard your blunt but arousing words. There was unspoken diffidence in his stature, you swore you never saw it before. The shape of the ruthless businessman morphed into a rather shy man who did not know what to respond, not insulting or embarrassing you with his own personal opinion.

“I would not dream of it”, he finally said. “I only imagined a kiss, or two. But to hear you offer—” he cut his sentence. The words seemed too improper to say them outloud.

The rain was still falling, the two of you were still standing there. Pantalone stopped talking the moment he realised that you might get sick. He wasn't even thinking about his own well being in that moment. The sole purpose of his life became…. you.

(The smut part starts here)

Pantalone and you had successfully gotten to his mansion to hide from the cruelty of the weather. The cruelty of the weather that you called rather romantic. Once you entered his house you were smitten by the lavishness and luxury, but unlike how you imagined it in your head before (that it would be rather vulgar), it appeared more old, more antiqued to you rather than vulgar. It felt like he bought this house from another rich gentleman and decorated it in his own way, however it still remained with the dark, aging aura within.

You did not have too much time to enjoy his mansion, but not because he rushed you or because you did not want that - you did, badly. But the solely reason of your hurry was the desire you wanted to fulfill. Something feral, physical, you denied having in yourself for a long time. The two of you dried up, removing the soaked clothes and putting on something else. Pantalone’s servants were quick to fetch you a clothing. The dress was completely new, gray and of luxurious looks. Pantalone would never even think of forcing you to wear one of his previous lovers’ gowns, that obviously had remained in the old wardrobes of the mansion… He gave a thought to destroying all of them as soon as you entered his house. There will be nothing more showing attachment to his previous encounters. You will not suffer the consequences of his careless actions and will never be treated as a regular rich man treats his whores.

The clothing arrived and you finally dressed yourself, Pantalone waiting in another room patiently. At last, he asked his servants and butler to leave you to all alone. They could swear they never saw their master with such peace of mind.

“It would be my greatest pleasure to share a bed with you, if the words you spoke before were not satire or a joke to mock me”, he covered the top of your hand with his own. His frail hands… you looked down and saw that they were bare. Slightly calloused, aged, but with impeccable manicured nails and pleasant appearance on the whole. Without his rings they were almost unrecognisable. Perhaps the only clue to see his person in them was the familiar elegance of the movements of his fingers, which were slightly trembling right now.

“There was no satire”, you forced yourself to not waver. “I suspected the… the signs of your appreciation for me, but I would rather ignore them for the sake of my peace of heart. I chose to believe that you-” you covered your face for a moment as if realising the gravest mistake. “That you had hated me to the bone. The looks you had been giving me both resembled hate and softness of heart. I could not decide which one was more vividly depicted.”

“In that aggression, in that hostility, if you may, I hid the softest feelings to you. However with you being completely honest and so blunt (which, belive me, does not ruin your attractiveness by any means) I feel myself preoccupied with rather primal desires. I want you as a man wants a woman. I don't want you as a friend. I want you on a level that is way more personal. In a way that, if described accurately, will raise scandal and be considered sinful and dirty.”

And he said it like that, in the most down-to-earth way possible.

“There is always a little bit of scandalousness involved when one person desires the other.”

You tried to comfort him in a way that would resemble his wordings. Having been pleased with your answer, Pantalone chuckled softly. You realised that the clothes you just put on were going to be taken off you once again. But this time, not by the maids - by Pantalone himself.

“I usually have my valets undress me. But tonight, I trust myself to you.” He smiled playfully. You started undoing his coat gently, slowly, playing with the buttons in your fingers.

“How many women did you have?” You asked nonchalantly, trying to play the coolness of character, but the blush of your cheeks would betray you.

“That is the question the answer to which might disappoint you.”

“I want to know. Besides, you are alone with me right now, and for a reason”, finally getting to his shirt you apologised, “it may have been rather too forward of me, forgive me. I am just trying to learn more about you.”

“Gossips won't always provide you with a rightful answer, my dear. Though I am not a womaniser, nor a man who ‘has received intimately more women than he can count’, I have had my fair share of experience.”

“Then I think you should lead me.”

You finished unbuttoning his shirt, the clothing that was an obstacle for you to seeing his chest you desired seeing so. Finally, the shirt was not longer covering his top and you found yourself astonished seeing his scrawny physique. He could not be considered explicitly skinny while wearing all those layers of luxurious clothes. That was quite a change for you, but you still found yourself drawn to it after a few moments. The pale aristocratic skin seemed even more graceful to you when looking at him so closely, so personally.

“Turn around, my dear”, Pantalone asked you smoothly. You complied, and he started undoing your dress. The unabashed manner of his intricate movements confirmed that undressing a woman was but a regular practice for him.

The way his fingers moved felt so skilfully, a thought of what else good he could do with them crossed your mind unintentionally and gave you shivers.

“And do you often indulge your primal desires?”

For a few short moments Pantalone did not say a word. It was only after he undid your dress that he responded, calmly:

“The past few years I have been less enthusiastic than when I was in my full grace, in five-and-twenty.”

The confession, and the feeling of subtle hint of Pantalone having physical imperfections, for example, rheumatism, that is often seen in men of his age and would be a hindrance to remain well-performed in intimate activities, made you let out a slight giggle.

Your dress was undone and you felt slight tightness somewhere in your throat, realising that once you’d turn to face Pantalone he would see your breasts in all beauty. His hands gently touched your shoulders, but he did not have to press on you, as you turned to face him by your own will shortly.

A low sigh escaped his lips once he saw you, naked, bashfully but gracefully standing in front of him. From his perspective you were the most beautiful woman in the world. He could not dream of anything more satisfying than this.

“I do not deserve such beauty”, he said quietly, forcing himself to tear his eyes off your chest and look you in the eyes at last. His hand moved to your cheek, caressing it before it moved to your hair and gently pulled on your hair pins, letting your hair fall waves on your shoulders.

“May I?” Pantalone let yet another gasp when your hands appeared on the belt of his pants.

“Whatever you wish to do with me. I am yours.” He slightly pulled his arms to the sides in a welcoming gesture, but only for a moment.

You slowly unclasped his leather belt and in two languid motions he was completely bare in front of you. But if earlier he was bare just mentally before you, at this moment, he was standing quite literally naked.

“Pantalone, it’s-” so big.

He was not even close to a man who could be called rather hairy in terms of bodily hair, but a few dark black hairs were stood out below his waist area. You found it extremely hot, a knot in your stomach was imminent.

His piece was already stiff by the time you freed him of his clothes. The sight of it startled you, almost causing a gasp of your own.

“Are you-” Pantalone held his tongue, but the question was too important to be simply avoided. “Are you inexperienced?”

You nodded without a word coming out of you. Yes, despite your age you still had not known marital activities.

“I should have realised it sooner. Forgive me, I would have been less rapid with the manner of undressing you.”

“The manner you undressed me with was above beautiful.”

Pantalone smiled, and you smiled back, however there was still a pattern of worry in his eyes, a slight embarrassment even. He simply cared a lot for your sensations, not wanting to cause you any hint of harm.

“Don’t worry, all you have to do is relax and trust me. Will you do that for me?”

You stepped out from your dress, completely revealing yourself bare. Although impressed by the beauty of yours and the attractiveness of your skin, the smoothness of your complexion and the sweetest smile he had ever been given to, he held himself back in order to not cause you unnecessary tenseness.

“The process will be slow, I will treat you gently and carefully.”

In no time you felt your body on the king size bed, the softest cotton of sheets welcoming you naturally. You let out of a gasp seeing how Pantalone was quick to tower over you, his body was not big, it was skinny, but he was a man of considerably tall height so he seemed, at that moment, quite huge compared to you.

“Don’t be afraid”, he moved the hair strand out of your face, and then his finger traced a slow path down your lip, slowly tugging on it down. Your mouth parted, you looked at him the way a woman madly in love would look at her man. You did not know you could feel such hunger for anyone.

Pantalone then leaned to kiss you. The movement was very languid, smooth and almost innocent at first. Shortly, Pantalone sought entrance to your lips, parting it softly. With the carefulness of his tongue, the finesse of his skills he was teaching you into the art of love making. The kiss was long enough to leave you breathless, but sudden greediness burned inside you, telling oh, eternity will not be enough for you to feel him.

“I might need just one question to be addressed.” Pantalone pulled away from the kiss and gave you a look full of warmth and appreciation.

“What is it, my love?”

Gulping impatiently you steadied yourself. It was impossible to keep a blank expression on your face while having the thoughts of such wanton nature.

“Do you prefer to be in complete charge when it comes to such activities? Do you play a dominant role in the bedroom or, perchance, allow bit of work by the other party?”

Pantalone was a possessive man by any means, and regarding business he was known to be ignorant of advice. He always did the way he personally preferred it, in accordance to his experience and end goals.

But of course it was hard to predict him in marital relationships. The question you asked, you knew, it humoured him, as he let out an amiable chuckle.

“I won’t lie and say that I prefer to take a dominant position as to intimate relationships. That, of course, does not cut your chances to treat me with similar eagerness.”

He allowed you fervour and that was everything you needed to hear.

“I will start now, slowly warming you up. Don’t worry about anything, I want to ask you to feel me. Close your eyes…”

His voice alone was so soothing and made wonders on you. You shut your eyes, even though the curiosity disagreed.

There it was, a sensation you never knew possible. You felt the Harbinger’s hot breath on the centre of your heat… It was embarrassing, almost insufferable, upon realising that his head was between your legs, you felt nothing a strange sense of vulnerability. But all worries as if by magic had stopped once he parted your legs and kissed you right where it would send butterflies to your stomach at only single thought of this.

His tongue lapped against your wetted core, very kindly at first, but with more time passed his manner became nothing but of someone who had earnest dedication to their beloved one. His tongue was slowly pushed inside your quivering slit, your eyelashes fluttered impatiently. Pantalone managed to drew tiny pants and gasps out of your lips with success.

He did not plan on pleasing you with his mouth only, you assumed, when you felt the gratifying coolness of his fingertips. The firmness of his fingers when he rubbed your clit was embellished with the gentleness, the slowness of pace. At first, you didn't make any sound at all. You were completely and utterly smitten, adjusting to the senses of pleasure newly discovered by you. Only when his finger slid inside you carefully (but with great precision still) you let out a noise so scandalous and filthy.

“M-more…” you buckled your hips to the pleasure. Pantalone took advantage of it and added a bit of force to the movements of his finger in and out of your centre. Being overly sensitive due to your inexperience, you let out a cry.

You felt dampness unlike anything before. It was gathered in your heat, the fluids, increased in volume with the intensity of the earnest love making action, covered you.

“Archons, Y/N, you’re so aroused.”

It was not long after he added the second finger you could not deny yourself the ecstasy anymore and gave in to the feelings completely. You felt warmth in the stomach area and not long after you presented him your release, dampening his fingers to some degree.

You clawed his arm in frustration when you saw him move away.

“Pantalone, I want to make you feel good too.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Please, allow me to-” touch you where you touched me. Pantalone did not need you to continue.

“You want to bring me pleasure?” He sat on the bed, looking at you expectantly.

You slowly moved to your knees and sat yourself comfortably as well, as close to him as it was possible in such circumstances.

“May I touch it?”

“Of course. You may touch it as much as you please. Don't be shy.”

“Is it pleasant when I do it this way?”

“You may grip it firmer.” Pantalone made a distinguished “oh” with his mouth once your fingers grazed the soft skin of his peachy-coloured head.

“Frankly speaking, I am quite content with making you satisfied first, my dear. I wish nothing more than to bring you to the peak of satisfaction again and again. But if you want to take care of my body, I shall not deny you any of it.”

You attempted to gently stroke along his length, drawing small groans from Pantalone’s lips, only to be soon once again kissed passionately and as fervently as possible. You were pushed back into the softness of the sheets, and when the kiss came to its logical end, Pantalone gave you a look that was more attentive than fervent. That was the moment you realised what dominant approach meant to him. It was frustrating witnessing how he did not let you proceed with rubbing his member, clearly did not want to allow himself even a tiny amount of vulnerability. It saddened you, but at the same time a dominant approach didn't seem so bad to you either.

“I will be completely frank with you, it might hurt at first.” You nodded, seeking the already so dear to you the calmness in his eyes.

“I can handle a little pain. I am alone with the man I trust.”

You did not believe you said that so openly, considering that just an hour ago you were persuaded that you hated this man to guts.

You saw his hand disappear somewhere in between your bodies before a connection so intimate by body and mind finally happened.

Dull pain spread over your abdomen, your thighs felt unnecessary heavy, when his tip was pushed inside you with one definite movement of his hips. You gasped, gripping into Pantalone’s neck almost outrageously, unintentionally firmly, but meaning him no harm in fact.

“Continue… please, use it to the full extent”, you panted, knowing for sure that you sounded like someone who begged his heat to be inside her.

You did not have to request him twice - Pantalone entered with one full, satisfying movement and let out a long held breath:

“H-hah…”

The pain was indeed there, just as predicted, however he fit perfectly. Pantalone found your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Here, take my hands in yours. Grip them as tightly as you wish.” Your hands squeezed his, not tightly enough to hear the slight crack of his old man bones, but tightly enough for him to feel your wholehearted commitment.

“Now, I want you to keep your eyes on me, for me.” Pantalone said, deep buried within you, but not moving yet, letting you adjust, his hips looking extremely poetic in this angle. You held your breath for a moment when you saw how darkened was the colour of his eyes. He was so aroused - both physically and emotionally. You could feel his ragged breath and thought: oh my goodness, if he panted like this by simply being seated inside me, what noise is he going to make once given permission to move?

Your curiosity was soon satisfied. Pantalone gave you a careful push, as if tasting your insides, how he fit you with his hardened manhood. A particular sudden noise escaped your lips in accordance to the movement, and you started melting to the touch. You were already incredibly aroused when he pleased you with his tongue and fingers, but once he thrusted into you with ideal precision, which could only be possible for a banker by profession, you moaned filthily. “Okay?” He asked when he gave you a tiny taste of what’s to come.

“Okay.”

“Hold my hands, look at me”, he whispered, his voice dripping not with threat, it did not resemble his usual order-giving like manner. It was a gentle request. To which you complied, focusing on holding onto him.

“Are you in pain?”

“Not anymore. I think I’m…” you panted, “getting used to the… size. It’s getting more difficult to stay… silent.”

“Why are you holding your voice, my love?” Pantalone inquired, perplexed. His eyes bore into yours as his whole being buried deep inside you, slowly but steadily picking up the tempo.

“What if you don’t like the way I cry?”

"God damn Y/N”, the curse slipped from the banker’s tongue. You felt proud of making such a collected and well-mannered gentleman who represented nothing but affable demeanour in public, cuss.

“I’m fucking the woman I love, and if I’m making her cry of pleasure I want nothing more than to hear it.”

He released your hands at once and cupped your face in his cool hands, leaning towards you so closely in order to bring a delightful kiss to your lips. Upon not feeling his hands anymore you pouted, but the so wanted sensation was soon replaced with generous amount of warmth and electricity that occurred once Pantalone gripped your hips and increased the force of his thrusts.

“Oh my god, Pantalone… Oh my god… I feel like I’m losing my mind.” You scratched his back involuntarily, and you were sure it was not entirely pleasant for him, it might even leave red marks.

“Then do lose your mind, with me. Oh, my love-”

Your eyes were glued to his lips almost unblinking, but once he moved his hips so forcefully, your mouth opened with a loud sigh.

“Soon you’re going to feel pleasure you’ve never thought about. You’re going to think of things that never crossed your mind. You’re going to experience the peak you never thought possible. And I will be the one making you happy, should you allow me.”

“Of course I’d allow you!” Your panting replaced with blunt, honest cries of pleasure as his hips were moving gracefully and quickly with precision and passion. You noticed him abruptly stop, but only to change the angle.

“It’s better like this”, he gave you sloppy kisses all over your face, “deeper.”

With the smooth change of angle, something else entirely had been awakened in you, and with all passion of your feelings, all sincerity of your earnestness, you called Pantalone by his real name in the midst of love making.

“Fuck, Y/ N. Where did you hear this name?”

You did not respond, overwhelmed with passion and lust that were only developing in you gradually just now. There was a noise that came from his lips which did not resemble a hoarse, manly groan, but rather a vulnerable moan of someone close to the so desired release. And your assumption was confirmed when Pantalone buried his face into your neck and said with a tone extremely close to that of pleading:

“You may not respond. It is but nonsense right now. Oh Y/N, please, say that name again…”

Had he always been so handsome?- you thought. Had he always been so eye pleasing to you?- you did not know. But the way he was towering over you right now, panting, losing control both of his silver tongue and graceful body, seemed hot. It was not just scarcely amiable to you, the way he was being with you in such intimacy gave sprouting to the carnal desires you must have been hiding. The kisses were not exactly chaste anymore, and the way you stared into his gloomy, void-like eyes was not even close to platonic.

You said Pantalone’s real name again and again, tasting it on your tongue, playing with it, giving it more intense intonation with each thrust of his thick manhood.

“Archons- [his real name]!” you yelled again, this time realising you were close to falling apart, and even if you were lying on the bed you still felt insecure and unstable. You were shaking, but for a good reason. You did not even consider his mansion staff hearing such filthy moans containing the master’s true name slipping from your mouth. It was all irrelevant now.

Pantalone did not finish after a couple of shallow thrusts but he undeniably lasted not long. He could not, for the desire to finally have you was tremendous and his heart was practically throbbing in his chest, as with one more vulnerable, high-pitched moan he squirted his release.

You felt satisfying warmth dripping down all over your stomach. It was supposed to be unnoticeable, but due to swelled sensitivity you could still feel it. Seeing the creamy mess, however, you did not flinch in disgust.

“I must apologise for staining your stomach.”

“We can clean that just fine.”

That instant, hearing your recommendation Pantalone grabbed a freshly smelling towel from his wardrobe and wiped you clean.

“You, cleaning your seed from my body. The evidence of what we had done together. Doesn't this seem incredibly personal to you?”

“It does. I want to provide you with the sweetest aftercare, because you are deserving each second of it.”

After cleaning you dry Pantalone got under the blanket closely to you and kissed you. The kiss this time was not dripping with fervour; it was soothing and gentle. You pulled the lock of his hair down playfully and asked with a smirk so unusual in contrast to your diffident behaviour during intimacy.

“Did I take you well, banker?”

“You took me exquisitely. I apologise if my performance was not as satisfactory as you imagined. Let’s say, I was overwhelmed with eagerness to feel you thoroughly. The noises you would let out, the movements your hips would make to match mine. I find myself madly in love with you more and more by every second, and this intimacy was a development to enormous extent.” Your breath hitched and shook when he cupped your face the way he did it during your closeness, except for this time it was slightly less rough.

“I know you do not love me as much as I would want it to, but just letting me look at you the intimate way I do now, is enough for me to feel happy. I never thought I would be the one saying that, but I admit happiness does not consist of the material wealth only.”

“[His real name], I love you. I’m sorry that I lied to myself for so long. I’m sorry that I fooled you, too. I desire your company so, so much. You are my favourite person in this world.” The Harbinger’s hand which was stroking you froze in place. He looked at you, his eyes behind the glasses still looked deep and resembled the abyss. But you knew for sure that the way he spoke sounded nothing like of a man who was evil to the bone. It was soft, pleading, handsome and many other qualities, if someone heard you describe Pantalone with, would be called laughable. But this man was not as transparent as many thought. Behind the mask of the affable businessman, who was merciless to his rivals, there was a man who longed to be loved and taken care of.

“Oh, Y/N, Y/N…” his eyes were glistening with hint of tears. “I love you. I need you, too.”

#pantalone smut #pantalone angst #pantalone x you #pantalone x y/n #pantalone x reader #anime x reader #genshin x female reader

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bakugoushotwife · 1 year ago

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kinktober day twenty-five: biting kink

>>> oh yeah i got a new laptop! went back in and reformatted the other days so hopefully they aren't an eyesore but we back on track with choso here :)) he's so.....yum...he's so....biting coded idk

>>> starring: choso kamo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: sorta dark content just to be safe, biting, a little blood, one spank, spitting, oral (f!receiving), doggy, uh kinda yandere coded i suppose, one kinda baby-trapping comment >>> wc: 3.3k >>> event masterlist:

choso is a family oriented man. it’s at the core of who he is, and everyone knows how important his family is to him—no matter how small said family was. his brother yuji meant a lot to him as his only “blood” relation and closest friend. he loves the guy more than anything. or, he thought he did. that was easy to say until he met you of course. choso was new to life despite his soul being over a hundred years old, and he had never experienced the emotions you bring him. the joy, the excitement, the true love. it amazes him and he’s still not quite used to all of it just yet, despite the several years that you’ve been together.

you met through yuji during the height of his woes of war and the inner battles he fought against his own cursed brain—toeing the line between human and monster. at some point, he made peace with not belonging. he knew that yuji loves him and that was really all he needed. he didn’t have to relate to yuji’s struggles. his perfectly human issues, like running behind on laundry now that fushiguro is on a mission and isn’t hounding him to do it. he didn’t have to relate to the emotions of love and worry and anxiety or jealousy, not until yuji introduced him to a fellow sorcerer—a kyoto school alumni. you were radiant. like a captive ray of sunshine. he hadn’t experienced such warmth in his chest, blossoming across his face. what was this? he missed your name. he was too busy panicking over introducing himself and how he would do so that he’s already made a complete fool of himself by the time he bows at the shoulders and gives you a gentle whisper of his name.

you miss his name too, he was much too quiet. you look to yuji, and he clarifies. “my brother, choso. the one i was telling you about!” he pats your back, and you do remember him telling you about his older sibling. by the time choso’s lifted back to his regular posture, he’s convinced yuji’s probably only revealed the most embarrassing things about him and that you would be put off just by the knowledge of what he is. but when he looks at you again, you’re smiling. you give him your hand instead of bowing, repeating your name and cheerfully offering to show him around kyoto city.

he was so glad he accepted. that warmth in his chest never went away. you were so addictive. you didn’t bat an eye at his awkwardness and you seemingly took pleasure in teaching him any gaps he had yet to experience. that day, when you showed him around the city–he had no clue what it was that he felt for you. he followed you around your town, touring shops and exploring scenery with you, with no trace of embarrassment. you were easy to get along with, naturally talkative and entertaining—he learned a lot about you that night. you were captivating. you were standing at a natural pond, pointing out some cranes and spouting off facts about their mating cycles. he had no clue what half of it really meant, but he liked the sound of your voice and the excitement shimmering in your eyes. he knew he wanted to feel this warmth again. he never wanted it to go away—his body was buzzing with the feeling of being alive. he’d never had that before. it was you, it had to be you, maybe that was your cursed technique. but either way, choso was hooked.

“you’re beautiful.” he blurted out in the middle of your educational rant, and he’s not sure what made him say so. clearly you were gorgeous—but the confidence to confess it was something he was sure he would lack forever. maybe his brother had rubbed off on him, after all yuji was very outward with his affection for his boyfriend. but you weren’t choso’s anything. he just met you. and if he hadn’t left an awful first impression, he was sure he had made things way to awkward for a first interaction now.

but you giggle. he likes the sound. it was warm like that feeling in his chest. you turn to give him your attention then, and he really gets to see the gentleness in your eyes. so free of judgment, so soft as they look over him. he’s sure he’s blushing again.

“so are you.” you grin, one side of your mouth higher than the other. he’s entranced by it. but he’s not the only one affected by this first time encounter. you were amazed by his kindness. he was easy and gentle, not to mention ethereally gorgeous.he was tall and broad, and even though he was covered head to toe, you could tell by the veins in his hands that nothing but strength and muscle lurked beneath his oversized sweater.

that really sent him reeling. what does he say to that? he’s never been in this position before and yuji certainly didn’t give him any pointers. he could only follow his overly-forward example in his established relationship. “i like you. i want to see you again.” he tucks his hands in his pockets and scuffs his boots over some dirt.

“like a date?” you ask, brow raised and hopeful. it had only been a few hours of wandering together but you liked the calm tranquility he brought—along with that strikingly handsome face.

date. date? he knows what that is, he remembers something about these. it’s where couples spend time together! but you weren’t a couple yet, so… was that different? he could ask later, right now you stare up at him expectantly—and he can’t say no to that look on your face. “yes. romance.” he nods, and you smile softly at the attempt.

though romance you he did. he must have learned a lot in the weeks leading up to your official first date, because from that point on choso never ceased to amaze you. he surely didn’t know everything about being a boyfriend, but you made things pretty easy on him. he mostly acted off of instinct, and where that failed him–you made sure to keep him informed on how to love, console, talk through his feelings, and navigate any other bump in the road along the way of your beautiful three years together.

you taught him how to embrace his intimacy, too. and boy, is that his favorite way of loving you. he is clingy and possessive–you’re the only person alive who could evoke such neediness from him, of course he wants to stay near you always and make his claim on you as visible as possible. hasn’t he already established how beautiful you are? i mean your nature and beauty alone was enough to bring someone like him out of his shell. he can only imagine what effect you must have on lesser men.

he never imagined that lesser men would include your male coworker— partner. even worse. he may be unfamiliar with several things that this life has to offer, but the concept of a work husband was not lost on him. especially when it comes time to pick you up that day. choso always liked to pick you up. he liked to see you as soon as possible number one, and number two he liked to make sure his presence was still well noted around your infested office. he picked a good day to stop by, apparently. your partner had you trapped in your chair—his body wedged between your desk and any escape. choso could tell by the look in his eye that his intentions were anything but pure–and clearly the healing bruises peeking up over your collar weren’t enough to let the pervert know that you were more than spoken for.

you could feel his energy as soon as he rounded the corner, and your relief was clear. you slump into your seat, ready for your loving boyfriend’s rescue from this horribly awkward conversation. your relief doesn’t last long. the look on your boyfriend’s face was that of pure rage, his eyes a dark purple flame. your pesky coworker seems to feel the perilous stare. he wheels around to be met with the boyfriend you warned him about, and he opens his mouth to make excuses.

“leave. don’t talk to her again.” he utters from your doorway, making sure the man had to walk past him to obey his requests. “want kids one day?” he threatens, raising his brow, his face a nasty scowl. the guy backs aways from you immediately, tucking his head to slide past choso and pray that his sliminess doesn’t get on his clothes. choso growls a little upon his exit, slamming your door shut behind him. your kind and gentle boyfriend was in the backseat of his own mind, and you knew it. he was blinded with jealousy—though he trusts you with his life. it just disgusts him that anyone can picture you in the way that’s only meant for him. if he could, he’d make sure no one could even look at you, though that’s far from an achievable reality. he stares at you, the fire dimming in his eyes only slightly since you were not the source of his rage—but you would surely be the resolve of it.

you could tell what he was ordering you to do without him having to say a word, and it wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve let choso fuck you in your office. it excites you to see him so controlling. you unbutton your blouse, moving from your office chair to the desk to present yourself for him. he growls approvingly, thumbing over his bottom lip as he admires you. you’re already a patchwork of bruises in various stages of healing—and thanks to your overzealous partner, he’d have to add more to the collection.

“just panties.” he orders in that low silken tone of his. you can see the imprint of his cock steadily hardening against the casual black jeans he chose to wear today. your mouth nearly salivates at the thought of how rough he was about to be with you as you grip at the sides of your pencil skirt, yanking it down your legs and into the floor before you move for your bra—sighing at the relief of your free chest meeting the cool air. he nods, tugging at the neck of his shirt to remove it.

your body just puts everything in overdrive. every need to take you and mark you up intensifying tenfold. you are perfect, sultry little lips, a perfect rack and curves for days. he knew he was hardly the first guy to fantasize about you—but he had to make sure he was the only one taking up your thoughts. you shudder at the reveal of his chiseled top half. he was so bulky despite first impressions, huge biceps and thick, veiny forearms. his chest was wide and pecs defined, he was a god. your legs shift wider in subconscious accommodation for him and he’s pushing his jeans down and giving you a half-lidded smirk—enough to make your panties stick to your cunt in anticipation of him. he grabs your chin, giving you a harsh kiss. he was so dual, so easy with you one moment and brutal with you the next, it was everything. he gnaws at your lip, shoving his thick tongue into your mouth, licking over the walls over your cheeks and tasting the bitter energy drink you’ve been sipping on your tongue. he chuckles when he pulls away, your lip puffy in the spot his teeth met.

“so pretty even your coworkers want you. what am i gonna do with you, sweetheart?” he sighs, sinking to his knees. he rubs you over your panties, enjoying the squishy mush he feels waiting for him beneath the fabric. you kick your legs on either side of him, leaning back on the desk to get more of that feeling, his fingers temporarily hooking on your clit with each pathetic little roll of your hips. “only this wet for me though, right?”

you nod vigorously, parting those swollen lips to plead your case. he swipes your panties to the side and loudly spits against your clit. his other thumb comes in to spread the nasty lube. you clamp your mouth shut again at the feeling of his digits stroking over you, your studious boyfriend having learned exactly where to touch you through your times together. you shudder instantly, body responding through jerks of your legs and trying to shut them around his head. that only makes him move his fingers all together, leaning in to suckle your clit in between his teeth, biting at the sensitive nub. you can feel his hair rub against your inner thighs, the warmth and wetness of his mouth making you look around for a way to ground yourself against the rapid stretching elastic feeling in your core. his hands find the dimples of your thighs, kneading at them and groaning as he flicks his tongue against the nerves now—memorizing the patterns and speed you liked best like this quick figure eight he was doing now.

one hand grips the desk, your other coming up to grip at his black pigtail, whisper-chanting his name as helplessly grind on his face. he knows you won’t last much longer, and he knows exactly how to push you over the edge—letting his fingers take the place of his mouth so he could occupy his teeth with the plush skin of your inner thighs. luckily you love it, his sick need to brand you in the most dangerous way possible—loving the message it sends. you squeal as he sinks into your flesh, seeing stars from the combining sensations.

“choso!! cumming, oh shh—” your mouth drops open, the shocks coming over you in waves. if he was in a kinder mood, he’d work you through the onslaught and let you sit on his length, working you both out in such a delicious fashion. but he’s insatiable, and one of those sweet squeals from you is not anywhere near enough. he stands back to full height, pulling off those soaked panties and letting them lie forgotten along with the rest of your clothes. you’re so gone already—so beautiful and blissed out in the way that you have taught him exactly how to do this to you and no one could be as attentive and cater to you like he does. you look up at him so sweetly, you’ve given over your entire body for him to decorate as he sees fit—and your neck doesn’t have his teeth marks in the delicate skin where everyone can see. no, he had been a gentleman so far, keeping everything coverable–tasteful peeks available depending on the work shirts you chose. he thumbs over your lip, scraping his teeth over your jaw and nipping at different places just enough to bruise, loving the blues and reds left in his wake. he knows to be careful, to avoid your carotid–no one’s more in tune with blood flow than he is. so he picks his spot, laving his tongue over it as his fingers play in the mess between your legs, making you gasp and hump into his hand again like the eager little girl you are. you scream out his name when he bites, the iron tang of blood dripping on his tongue and down that pretty neck of yours. you kick your feet, the pain so deep but so good—connected directly to the panging need in your cunt, you can’t deny that his kink is one you share.

you can see the red staining his teeth when he pulls away to look at the little streaks running down your skin–just enough. he would never seriously hurt you, and he knows that you love to be bitten and branded as much as he loves to do it. you grin at the sight of him, blood on his lip and desire burning in the place of his earlier rage. he turns you, helping you lean over your desk so he could see what marks needed to be replaced on your ass. he licks his teeth, several had healed up and disappeared to his distaste. he slaps the supple skin, making you jump a bit with giddiness—some dizziness even. you push against your wooden desk to feel his warmth, his large hand enough to sting your whole cheek as his teeth sink into the other. your eyes roll back a little, knowing this one had drawn blood based on the way he soothes over the indents with his tongue. it’ll be hard to sit on it tomorrow, but he compliments the brand with a few hickies surrounding the main piece, palming at your skin to soothe. he loves hearing you mewl and moan when he claims you, he loves seeing that glistening layer of your want for him on your thighs when he spreads your ass cheeks, grunting out just how happy it makes him as he guides his fat leaking cockhead to the eager entrance.

he hisses and you moan when he bottoms out in you, giving you inch by inch without mercy. you press your cheek to the cool wood of the desk, only able to feel the heat of your body and his hot cock sliding in and out of you. you can’t speak, he fills you too well. he’s angled too perfect, hitting every spot over and over to make you stupid—unable to even hold yourself up any longer. he loves using such a brutal pace on you, thrusting powerfully enough that his balls slap against your bruised ass. you clench down around him so tight he’s worried his cock might snap in two—but it’s so worth it for the animalistic moans spilling from your throat every time he nudges against your cervix. you look so cute beneath him, clawing at the desk and screaming his name in those silent yells.

“is this my pussy? tell me who’s pussy this belongs to.” he grunts, pulling your arms behind your back. you arch to fight against the depth he’s getting, only to give him more with your squirming. he tightens his hold to keep you still, using his other hand to pull your hair up for a clear answer. you inhale sharply at the pain, the feeling so blissful you can feel another elastic band stretching thin inside you. “asked you a question, sweetheart. speak up.”

“yes–” you choke out, trying to collect your thoughts in between the loud beats of your heart and throbs of your pussy. “all yours, ‘s your pussy chos–choso!” you cry out, the rubber band snapping as he finds the weak spot of your womb.

“that’s my good girl, want my pussy to cum for me.” he squeezes your wrists in one big hand—freeing your hair. you gasp out, nodding eagerly as the release comes gushing, your series of babbles and squeals enough to do him in. he slams his cock as deep as it will go–hoping to one day mark you as his in the most obvious way possible as his seed spills into your insides. he rocks you both through it this time, a sign that your boyfriend was returning to normal after receiving the cure to his sour mood. his soft hands caress the curves of your waist as he stills, catching his breath. you lay beneath him in a dream state, blood on your body and traces on the table and on his own person. he chuckles a little—hopefully your partner, and any other oblivious skeez, gets the point now, if your screaming didn’t run them out of the office.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kyleewritesjjk #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #choso x reader #choso kamo #choso jjk #choso smut #jjk choso #choso

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cntloup · 9 months ago

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one-night stand your first date :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“Hey!” you greet him with a welcoming smile, your gaze lingering on his scar-adorned features and his mysteriously alluring eyes, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Hey...” he responds, holding your riveted glare as if you’re the most enchanting soul to ever walk the earth.

(you both just stand there like idiots staring at each other with heart eyes for a good few minutes)

He called you to say he’s gonna take you to the pub with his mates.

He didn’t even ask you, only told you to message him the address and that he’s gonna pick you up.

(what a freak! I love him!! and yes he takes you to meet the lads on your first date because they're the closest thing to a family he's got so he wants you to meet them asap and he's already planned your wedding in his mind!!)

“Umm... these are for you!” he mumbles, holding out the bouquet of flowers he got you, his unwavering stare still fixated on you.

(he asked Gaz what to get you and he said the simple old-fashioned flowers are the best way to go)

“Oh! These are beautiful! Thank you so much!” you exclaim, almost tearing up as you take the flowers with a grateful nod.

(spending a good few more minutes staring at the flowers while sobbing, the poor lad thinks he did something wrong!)

“Fuck! Sorry! I love them! Thank you... again!” you ramble and chuckle nervously while furiously wiping your tears with your sleeve and turn back to go inside and put the flowers in a vase.

“So? Where to?” you ask excitedly when you walk back to the door, “To the pub. Near my place. About 20 minutes from here.” he states matter of factly, yet somehow it sounds intriguing. Maybe it’s just his voice that makes everything sound so... so... (idk man his voice just does something to me)

He leads you to his car, a Range Rover Velar, suitable for a guy like him; it holds an intimidating and mysterious aura paired with a rough and tough attitude, yet maintaining a sense of style, captivating.

He opens the door for you and the moment you step inside, a mixed aroma of whiskey and leather reaches your nose, intoxicating.

He lets you pick the songs during the whole drive and sing along off-key while he chuckles at you, surprisingly not annoyed one bit. On the contrary, his heart might just burst out of his chest.

Once you arrive at the pub, he has his hand on the small of your back, leading you to their usual cozy spot.

You take a seat in the far corner of the booth and he sits beside you, resting his arm on the back of the chair behind your head and leaning closer to you to introduce everyone through the loud music.

The faint smell of pine, bourbon and tobacco takes over your senses, the low timbre of his voice and the soft brush of his fingers on the back of your neck, already making your head cloudy and your heart flutter.

As night carries on, you can feel the warmth in your heart turn into seething flames, engulfing your soul as he shifts closer and closer to you, his arm now wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

His head is turned towards you all throughout the night, occasionally making sarcastic remarks and smiling proudly as you laugh, your beautiful laugh making him adore you even more if that’s even possible.

He takes you back home before midnight, his paranoia creeping up on him out of nowhere and cursing himself for endangering your life even though nothing even remotely dangerous has occurred.

He kisses you at your doorstep, his kiss so sweet and tender, melting your heart right at the spot.

“Good night, dove.” he murmurs while softly caressing your cheek, “G’night, Si.” you whisper back with a hazy smile as if in a trance, absolutely smitten, bewitched even.

He stays by your door and asks you to text him when you’re inside.

He stays a few more minutes after you text, observing the surroundings to make sure no one has followed you.

And he leaves with a newfound emotion enfolding him, reviving his cold, dead heart as he thought it was.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader

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calmcoldevening · 10 months ago

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Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Micheal Myers X Dr. Loomis’s daughter reader one shot? I thought it’d be an interesting read lol. If you’re not Interested or too busy that’s completely fine! I just haven’t seen any one else do this request. Honestly, I would request more, but I’m always too nervous to talk to people online and in person. Sorry for the unnecessary rambling! Thank you and have a lovely day or night ( depending on what time you see this lol )!

Michael Myers x reader, who is Dr. Loomis's daughter

The boy with the eyes of the devil. Monster.

You didn’t fully understand what your father was talking about, after all, at that time you were only six years old, but you could say with confidence that this “something” made your father terribly nervous and even frightened him, although he would never admit it.

It was an ordinary early November morning. The weather was cloudy, all the streets were filled with milky fog. The damp air settled unpleasantly in my lungs with each new breath. You sat in the back seat of the car while your father put the key in the ignition. Your small hands nervously fiddled with the edge of your seat belt. Not to say that this was your first trip to your father’s place of work, no. On the contrary, you often went there with him, because sometimes there was no one to leave you with at home, almost all of your dad’s colleagues knew you. And yet today the atmosphere in the car was unpleasantly oppressive and dense, you could literally cut it with a knife. It seemed that your father was weighed down by some thoughts, but you did not dare to ask him about it.

The journey to the psychiatric hospital took quite a long time because your father decided to take a longer but safer route. He didn't want any accident to happen due to such thick fog.

When you arrived at the hospital, it was already around seven in the morning. You approached a tall building, which, despite its appearance and neat paths for walking with patients, inspired subconscious fear in you. Your father gently but firmly took your hand.It was quite dark outside, so when you walked inside, an unpleasant greenish light hit your eyes, creating a strangely tense atmosphere among the white walls of the hospital. Your father immediately went to some office. It was a small office, filled with various folders and documents. In the middle of the room, at a dark table, sat the man with whom your father was now talking. You didn’t pay much attention to their conversation, completely captivated by the small colorful fish in the aquarium. Your children's palms carefully pressed against the slightly cloudy glass, joyfully following with your eyes the colorful fish hiding among the tall corals.

Finally, your father called your name, causing you to reflexively turn your head in his direction. His voice was gentle and calm, but it still contained his characteristic sternness.

“I need you to stay here for a while, okay? I have work in another office. Will you be a good girl for me?” Loomis asked with a small smile, patting your head. In response, you only nodded briefly.

You were always a smart and understanding child, so Loomis was not afraid to leave you alone. Although he knew that you liked to play by your own rules from time to time, the man really trusted you and your smart mind for a child. After all, you are your father's daughter.

About fifteen minutes passed before you realized that you were tired of watching the office fish. What's the point of staring at them for a long time if all they do is swim back and forth and back? You definitely should have taken some toys from home. Finally, when boredom took over, you carefully left the office, hoping to find your father and proudly declare that you had nothing to do. Wandering along the corridor, you caught some nurse and asked where your dad was now. This kind soul, of course, didn’t know that she shouldn’t tell you about this, but everyone in this place knew you as a smart and calm child, so she told you the right office without any problems.

It was a particularly remote room at the end of the corridor. The dim green light barely reached here, and there were no windows in this part of the hospital. You quietly opened the right door, wincing slightly at the disgusting creak, and went inside. Inside there was another door with a small window to the right of it. You walked closer to the window, because of your short stature you could barely see what was happening on the other side of the glass. But you perfectly saw your father sitting with his back to you. A strange boy sat next to him. His blond hair was disheveled and looked somewhat dirty, and his empty dark eyes looked simultaneously into nothingness, but at the same time into your very soul. He looked no older than your age, although he was obviously larger than you in size. Your father was telling him something, but the boy did not react to his words at all, he just looked blankly out the window opposite. Did he look at you? Unknown.But it seemed to you that the moment you came into his field of vision, the boy’s head shifted slightly to the side.

This was the first time you saw this boy, a most strange but intriguing meeting. Michael Myers. That’s what your father called him, looking through the child’s personal file in your kitchen at home with a cup of coffee in his hands.

The next time you saw this boy was only about two weeks later. Your father purposefully brought you to Michael's room, hoping that perhaps you, as a child, could establish some kind of contact with this strange boy. Loomis gently squeezed your hand, looking down at you with a smile.

“This is a special boy. You should try playing with him, okay?” You nodded curtly in response. "That’s my girl."

Loomis led you into the same small room, not even suspecting that you had already been here once. Your own cunning caused a small, naive smile to bloom on your face. Loomis led you to Michael sitting on the bed and sat you on the chair next to him.

“I’ll be behind this door if anything happens to you, okay honey?” With these words, Loomis left the room.

You carefully sat down on the chair, folding your hands in your lap. The boy in front of you looked almost like a lifeless doll, so empty was the look in his dark eyes. He looked somewhere ahead and didn't even blink. You smiled slightly, deciding to use all your charm and friendliness.

“My name is Y/N. And what is your name?"

The boy didn't react. But you could have sworn you saw the focus of his eyes shift from the emptiness in front of him to you, seemingly appraising you. A pleasant burning sensation lit up in your heart when you realized that this boy was truly “special”, as your dad told you, and not some emotionless vegetable. It seems like that’s what doctors called such people, no? You weren't sure. But you really wanted to appear grown up and work like your dad in the future, so you wanted to start getting some knowledge about it right now.

“Your name is Michael, right?” you smiled your childish, somewhat toothless smile, “You don’t really like to talk, do you? I think yes. Then do you mind if I do the talking?” There was only silence in response. You giggled, “Silence is a sign of consent! So, I'm six. Probably you too? I haven’t been told much about you, to be honest.”

Now you leaned back in your chair, folding your arms over your chest and pouting your lips in a mock pout.

“This is so awkward. I want to grow up quickly so I won't be treated like a child anymore! Oh, you know, I really like to draw! I don't think you'll tell me what you like, after all, it's just me talking now, but next time let me bring sketchbooks and pencils? I think you'll enjoy drawing too! It's really interesting."

One moment there is darkness, and the next there is this gentle voice and a warm feeling of presence. Other... people radiated only coldness and anger towards him, but this pure soul was strangely kind and welcoming. He had already felt it once, when that unpleasant and stern man was in front of him, but then she was far away. Now she was right in front of him. A girl. She told him her name, and even tried to start some kind of cute, even somewhat stupid, childish conversation with him. There was absolutely no point in talking to this girl, but for some reason her presence was strangely comforting and almost pleasant. It was as if he was little again, at home. But now he knew that he did not have that warm, old home. Not after the voice in his head told him to kill his dirty sister, no. And yet now he wanted the presence of this girl, although he himself did not know why.

You have become a frequent visitor to this psychiatric hospital. You usually visited Michael once or twice a week, and Loomis very soon noticed the results. The boy really opened up to you. Even if it really couldn’t be seen with a simple glance, Samuel, as a psychiatrist, had long noticed the difference: the way Michael’s head tilted when he listened with interest to your stories, or the way he gave you certain unambiguous answers in his own way. It seemed that the two of you had your own language, understandable only to you two. Michael even smiled next to you (although it could hardly be called a smile, but the corners of his lips curled up slightly nervously when he saw you, although it only happened for a split second). For Loomis, this was indeed a definite discovery. The man noticed how the boy sat on his bed for a long time, waiting for you, and seemed to be calculating the time and day. The hospital did not tell him today’s date, because there was no particular need for this, but Michael independently realized that you usually come on Tuesday or Wednesday and always Friday. Surprisingly, his cold heart opened up to you.

At first, this really encouraged Loomis, because perhaps his patient was beginning to recover. But after two or three months he realized that he was mistaken. Michael's personality development only happened in exceptional moments when you were around. The rest of the time, he did not react in any way to the requests or words of the staff and doctors. Michael has become attached to you. No, rather, to some extent he became obsessed with you. Loomis saw that deadly metallic glint in Michael's dark eyes as the man walked back into the room, saying your time is up. Michael’s childish fists almost twitched, as if an obsessive desire to hurt the doctor arose in his mind, if only you would remain nearby.

As the years passed, the doctor realized that getting you into Myers' "treatment" was a bad idea. Now you are ten years old, and Loomis has reduced your meetings to twice a month. He noticed how this affected the boy.

Now Michael absolutely refused to make contact with any of the doctors, spending all his free time in his room, staring blankly at the ceiling. His wall near the bed was covered with your drawings, and on a small table in the corner of the room lay a half-empty pack of pencils and a new album. You brought it during your last visit, saying that you would draw it next time. Five weeks have passed since that time, and Michael still hasn’t dared to touch the ill-fated album. The cover with the cats was already fairly covered with dust, and the pencils were covered in red and black. Michael obediently waited for the next time, knowing that you would not deceive. It is so? You always came back, no matter how badly he behaved with doctors, right? He will wait as long as necessary, like a little faithful puppy.

The guy stopped counting the days, and the world around him turned into endless darkness. All these brainless doctors and orderlies, whose souls are each blacker than the other. Vile, dirty people with no compassion. He missed his little flower. A pure, cheerful creature who brings colors into his life, and with them light. Her soul was the only source of light in this endless dark pit. Why was it taken from him? They took away his source of warmth and light, his little sun. She will be back. She'll definitely be back. She's different. He knows.

---

It was an ordinary cloudy day at the Illinois State Mental Hospital. The sky was covered with a dense layer of gray clouds, threatening to burst into torrential rain, and fog covered everything around. The evening swayed the trees with thin tables with unprecedented force, carrying already fairly yellowed leaves for miles around in a simple dance.

You sighed nervously, looking at the fading nature outside the window. Finally, you turned your head in the direction of your father, who was enthusiastically giving you another lecture of instructions, completely not noticing that you were absolutely not interested in it.

"..dad. I’ve read his personal file three times already, I understand everything, okay?”

The man frowned, but exhaled in defeat, folding his hands behind his back. Even when he relaxed his face, a few wrinkles on his face remained, clearly indicating the man's age and the stress of his job.

“I know, I’m just worried about you.Are you sure you want to practice medicine with this particular patient? You know, there are several dozen more patients in your specialty, and less dangerous ones..."

“Dad,” you interrupt him with a frown, “You and I have already discussed this several times, haven’t we? Don't worry. After all, he is your patient, I know you will intervene if something goes wrong.”

Finally the man gave in. He nodded in agreement and briefly hugged you, patting you on the head like when you were a child. A short “ok” left his lips, and together you headed towards the ill-fated office.

The sound of a door opening. Michael didn't bother to turn his head towards the entering doctor. The guy knew that now again the meaningless dialogues on the part of the doctor and even more meaningless taking of pills would begin. He was healthy, the guy was sure of it. He had long ago become accustomed to the emptiness in his chest that had become painfully familiar to him and the noise of endless thoughts in his mind. And he didn't want to change that. It was as if, over such a long period of time, this state had become like a protective cocoon for him.

The room was filled with an unobtrusive sweetish aroma of some fruity perfume, from which Michael could barely restrain himself from wrinkled his nose. The heavy silence in the room was interrupted only by the steady tapping of women's heels. It had been a long time since he had been visited by a female doctor, something new.

"Hello, Michael."

These few words made the guy's heart clench unpleasantly. He stared in front of him, now fully feeling that long-forgotten feeling of warmth and light presence. That bright figure of white light appeared before my eyes again, like the purest angel on earth. A short sigh escaped from his chest, and his lips almost reflexively bent into a pitiful semblance of a smile. Still, he was really glad to see her. He knew she would return. He knew, even if that pathetic old man and his employees told Michael otherwise. He knew you were different.

"It's been a long time... I'm really sorry."

He remained silent, instead absorbing her every new word like a sponge thrown into the sea. Now he didn't care that she left, because she came back. The guy tried to remember everything: the aroma of her perfume, which now seemed so painfully sweet and pleasant, driving his entire pulsating mind crazy; the sound of her angelic voice is like a gentle cradle, lulling him in her tender embrace. He tried to remember everything. Now her fragile image filled his entire mind. He wanted to touch, touch, feel, show that she was his. Over the many years of being here, he realized that she was his, and he had to prove it to everyone. His light, his delicate flower, his sun.The guy was ready to fulfill all her instructions and requests, if only she would stay with him as long as possible. Stayed forever.

Now the girl came to him every day, and Michael could not imagine anything better. It was as if all his dreams had come true.

She was his personal nurse.

In the mornings she sometimes combed his hair. Usually it stuck out and was very messy and dirty, but now his curly hair looked clean and soft.

She brought him food, and sometimes Michael deliberately chose to pretend to be a brainless vegetable, if only she would feed him herself, gently bringing the spoon to his bitten lips.

Michael could have sworn that there was actually excitement and tenderness in her actions, as if she was worried and genuinely cared about him. And just thinking about it made his soul warm. Now he heard her voice every day, felt her gentle touches, felt her trepidation and care. But this was not enough. He wanted more. Michael felt a strange burning sensation when she talked to other people in the hospital, especially men. He began to feel an unpleasant itch, and images were scrolling through his head of how he could kill this vile guard and then pull her into his protective arms. Michael wanted her hands on his neck or in his hair, and his hands on her soft hips. He wanted her for himself and no one else.

---

That morning you came again to give Michael pills. You were the only one Michael allowed to give him his medicine. He would even drink poison from your hands. The main condition was that there should be no security either inside or outside.

You moved closer, gently lifting Michael's chin with your gentle fingers. He wrapped his arms around your hips, looking up at you, and obediently opened his mouth. You placed the colored tablet on his tongue, to which he quickly swallowed it, without water. The man’s hands gently roamed over your soft flesh, pressing you as close to him as possible. You gently massaged his tangled hair, lightly scratching his itchy skin from constant thoughts.

“Michael..” his name sounds like the sweetest honey on your tongue, the man is ready to listen to this for an eternity, “I’m sorry, but today is the last day of my practice.”

Michael raised his eyebrows slightly, snuggling into your gentle hand.He wanted you to explain what it was about and why you had such a sad expression on your face. The guy wanted answers, but you perfectly remembered your father’s request not to tell him about it. This could cause Michael to become aggressive. Still, you didn’t want to hurt him. So you just briefly hugged him by his strong shoulders and briefly kissed his forehead.

The next day you didn't come.

And every other day too.

Did he do something wrong? The evil doctors did not allow you to come to him again? Michael had many questions, and yet, the answer for him was the arrogant smiling face of Dr. Loomis.

---

It was Halloween evening. You have already distributed all your candy to the children in colorful costumes, who for a good few hours interrupted your peaceful existence with their constant knocking on the door. Now you were sitting relaxed on the sofa in the living room and watching your favorite horror movie, sipping sweet soda with pleasure. And so, at the next moment, when something terrible was about to happen in the film, you heard that ill-fated doorbell again. With an annoyed sigh, you stood up from the couch, setting the soda on the table, and headed towards the door. To your surprise, there was no one on the street. But as soon as you closed the door, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist. You tried to escape, hitting the stranger in the stomach with your elbows, to which you only received a muffled grunt. A strange metallic smell filled my nose. You turned around, feeling your heart beating wildly in fear in your chest. Your eyes met the emotionless eye-shaped cutouts on the latex mask. Is this some kind of joke? You wanted to scream, but were interrupted by the sharp sensation of someone else's lips on your neck. How did he manage to roll up the edge of his mask so quickly? You bit your lower lip in fear, pulling off the unfortunate mask with one sharp movement. Now a pair of sad dark eyes are staring at you.

“Michael?.. How you.. why are you here?”

The man just muttered something unintelligible, rubbing his nose against the skin of your neck.

Loomis worriedly dialed your phone number, putting the phone to his ear. His most dangerous and unstable patient has escaped. Possible options for his direction were his younger sister Laurie and... you.

“Y/N, baby, are you okay? I'm in the hospital now and Myers has escaped! If he headed towards you and something happened to you, I don’t know what I’ll do...” The doctor muttered nervously, wiping his own forehead, sweaty from stress, with his palm.

“No, it's okay, dad. I didn’t see him,” came the answer from the other side of the line. A steady, quiet snoring could be heard in the background.

#slashers x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers imagine #michael myers x you

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p3akd1lfc0rner · 6 days ago

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Arthur Morgan × Daughter! Reader

SFW

Arthur, despite his tough exterior, would be gentle and caring towards you, his daughter. He'd often find himself marveling at how someone like him could help create something so precious and pure like you.

He would teach you how to ride a horse, hunt, and survive in the wilderness - skills that he believes are essential for anyone living in the time they are. He'd be patient with you, guiding you through each step with a surprising amount of tenderness.

Arthur would tell you bedtime stories about his adventures, albeit toned down to be more age-appropriate. He'd enjoy seeing your eyes light up with excitement as he spun tales of his life.

He would secretly love it when you'd fall asleep on his chest, your soft breaths lulling him into a sense of peace he rarely felt. In these moments, Arthur would feel a warmth spread through him, a happiness that he didn't think was possible for a man like him.

Despite his usual stoic demeanor, Arthur would be unable to resist your cute requests, whether it be for a new toy or an extra piece of candy. He'd grumble and act annoyed, but deep down, he loved indulging you.

Arthur would be fiercely protective of you. He'd make sure that everyone in the gang knew that if they so much as made you frown, they'd have to answer to him.

NSFW

As you matured into a young woman, Arthur's feelings for you began to shift. He'd find himself captivated by your beauty, both internal and external. You became his ultimate temptation, a forbidden fruit he couldn't resist.

Your first intimate encounter would be a mix of nervous anticipation and explosive passion. Arthur would take his time exploring every inch of your body, savoring your sweet whimpers and sighs as he introduced you to the pleasures of the flesh. He'd be gentle yet firm, guiding you through the waves of newfound ecstasy.

In the heat of passion, Arthur's possessive nature would reveal itself. He'd leave a trail of love bites across your sensitive skin, marking you as his and his alone. But once your passion cooled, he'd hold you close, peppering your face with soft kisses and whispering words of love and adoration until you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

The sound of you moaning his name would become Arthur's favorite melody. It'd send shivers down his spine and make his heart race with desire. He'd strive to make you sing it every night, worshipping your body with his own until you both collapsed in a sated heap.

There would be times when the weight of your taboo relationship would bear down on Arthur, filling him with guilt and self-loathing. But you would always be there to chase away his doubts, reminding him that your love was pure, no matter what society said. You'd wrap him in your arms, your gentle words soothing his troubled soul until all that remained was your unwavering love for each other.

Arthur would revel in the taboo nature of your relationship, the secrecy adding an extra thrill to your stolen moments together. He'd take you in the most forbidden places - the church confessional, the sheriff's office, even Dutch's personal quarters - the danger of getting caught only heightening your pleasure. But no matter where you were, Arthur would always make sure to keep you quiet, muffling your screams of pleasure with his hand or his mouth.

As your relationship deepened, Arthur would start to introduce you to some of his kinkier desires. He'd take delight in tying you up with his old lasso, rendering you completely at his mercy as he teased and tormented your quivering body. He'd bring you to the brink of ecstasy again and again, only allowing your release when you begged him for it. And through it all, he'd whisper filthy words of love and possession, claiming you as his in every way possible.

So uh, what do you guys think? Please tell me in the comments, this is my first time writing this kind of thing so... sorry if it's not that good or if Arthur is kind of OOC ÓuÒ.

#d1lf #p3akd1lfc0rner #proshippers please interact #proselfship #proship positivity #profiction #profic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #father x daughter #dad x daughter #daughter reader

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starlightshadowsworld · 4 months ago

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Bungou stray dogs except it’s not a bounty that’s placed on the tigers head. It’s a missing persons alert on Atsushi’s.

The story goes that a teenager was newly adopted that had either run away or been taken. A poor scared child who had an ability that he couldn’t control, please someone help him.

The kind, generous (and rich) Francis Fitzgerald who had previously lost a child now going out of his way to help another lost soul. Who wouldn’t eat up such a story, especially when they have no idea what he wants said child for.

The Agency takes the case because despite Fitzgerald being American, the teen and was adopted from an orphanage in Japan. Apparently he met the now Headmaster of the place many years ago on one of his adventures.

They’d stayed in touch and Fitzgerald had visited the place to meet up with his old friend. Which is where he met his now missing ward.

It all seems above board and yet Ranpo and Dazai sense something off.

Atsushi running away from visions of a tiger and seeing missing posters for himself. He doesn’t get it, he was kicked out he knows he was kicked out. Why are people looking for him?

He’s not sure who this man it says to return him too is. But Atsushi knows immediately that he’s dangerous. He starts to avoid the police along with what he believes is the tiger.

It’s part of why he doesn’t try to steal from anyone. Because he can’t and because if he does and he’s caught they’ll take him away. And Atsushi would rather be dead and free than alive in captivity.

But then he gives in and saves a man to rob him, who turns out to be a detective.

Dazai wordlessly convinces Kunikida to play dumb and though both tell Atsushi their profession they act like they know nothing about his case. Or that they’re the ones on it.

They convince Atsushi to stick around and get to know him. Dazai nullifies his ability so he doesn’t transform that night. Atsushi is subtly questioned and eventually he tells them everything.

That he doesn’t know who this man is. That he’s not adopted and he never was, he was kicked out. And it doesn’t take a Ranpo to know Atsushi’s telling the truth.

He still joins the Agency and Dazai goes off to the Port Mafia to do some digging. They are still after Atsushi, let’s say Fitzgerald still pays a large sum for the safety return of his ‘son.’

It’s not the Port Mafia’s usual job but money is money.

Everything goes semi smoothly until the man himself shows up at the Agency and is overjoyed to see Atsushi safe and sound. And demands he return with him, and lo and behold he has official adoption papers naming him Atsushi’s guardian.

And Atsushi’s signature is on them, it’s identical and doesn’t look to be forged. Legally there’s nothing the Agency can do and Atsushi is taken away.

Before he’s taken, Dazai promises him that they’ll figure this out. That Atsushi’s home is the Agency and it always will be. It hurts all of them to watch Atsushi, clearly terrified leave with this man.

And it’s only after he leaves that Dazai and Ranpo put it together that Fitzgerald is part of the Guild. A mysterious criminal organisation that doesn’t exist to the outside world.

So that’s why they wanted the Agencies special ability license, to make them legitimate and legal ti uphold this charade.

And they just let him walk out with Atsushi.

Atsushi who glares daggers at the man before him who smiles cruelly “oh don’t look at me like that boy you’ll break your father’s heart.” Fitzgerald says sarcastically and Atsushi only glares more, trying to free himself from his shackles.

“Shut up! You might have everyone fooled but you aren’t my dad!”

Fitzgerald chuckles “no but I’m probably a step up from him, aren’t I? After all, he abandoned you and I came back for you.”

“How do you….?”

“I know you. I know you were treated horribly by your parents. That the headmaster tried to kill you and how he did it. And I know you’ve got a powerful ability that will find the book I need.”

“You couldn’t just ask a librarian?” Scoffs Atsushi trying to hide his panic. Fitzgerald scoffs “again with the snark, you must get it from your mother.” His eyes glint dangerously as he walks up to the bars separating him and Atsushi.

“And no, you are the key to finding this particular book. Tell me or don’t, I’ll get you to show me where it if it’s the last thing I do.” It’s so casual it’s almost friendly and yet Atsushi knows he’s in trouble. He has no idea what Fitzgerald is talking about.

Fitzgerald grins, cold and amused and his next words could’ve made Atsushi’s heart stop.

“I hope you said goodbye to those friends of yours, because unless they’re fireproof it’ll be the last time you ever see them. And know that it’ll all be your fault.”

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd atsushi #bsd dazai #bsd ada #bsd armed detective agency #bsd fitzgerald

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almostwisegalaxy · 1 month ago

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An Echo of Melancholy

Ji Chang wook x fem!reader

The reader has a shy personality in this story

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The lights of Seoul sparkled in the darkness like scattered stars, but in the auditorium where y/n's fan meeting was taking place, another kind of light captivated hearts. y/n, a actress and singer, walked gently onto the stage, greeted by applause as warm as it was contrasting to her reserved demeanor.

She wore a simple midnight-blue dress, her braids framing a face of delicate beauty. Her shy smile and measured gestures reflected a modest, almost elusive personality. Yet, whenever she spoke or sang, she captivated everyone, as if her voice touched their souls directly.

Among the crowd, a man observed with disarming intensity. Ji Chang Wook, the renowned 37-year-old South Korean actor, sat silently, hidden among her fans. Accustomed to being the center of attention, he found himself feeling strangely vulnerable in her presence. Ever since he had stumbled upon her melancholic voice by chance, he had been unable to think of anything else.

The event was in full swing, and the fans, united in enthusiasm, begged y/n to perform one of her most iconic songs: Whispered Scars.

y/n hesitated, playing with the microphone in her hands.

— "Wouldn’t you prefer something more cheerful?" she asked with a slightly nervous smile, provoking laughter throughout the room.

But the fans persisted. She finally gave in, a faint sigh escaping her lips.

— "All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you."

She sat down on a stool, her fingers brushing the microphone as if to steady herself. The first notes of the piano filled the room, and as soon as she began singing, the auditorium fell into complete silence.

The melody was gentle and melancholic, and each word carried a universal pain. Whispered Scars spoke of invisible wounds, silent struggles hidden from the world. y/n's voice, fragile yet powerful, pierced the hearts of everyone present, and soon, tears streamed down many faces.

Ji Chang Wook felt a strange warmth spreading through his chest. It was as if she was revealing a part of herself through the song—a part he wanted to protect at all costs.

After the performance, the emotion in the room was palpable. Fans began sharing their own stories, inspired by y/n's raw sincerity.

A young woman timidly stepped forward, the microphone trembling in her hands.

— "y/n-ssi… I just wanted to say thank you. Your music helped me through a really difficult time. My fiancé left me after eight years together… I didn’t know who I was without him. But your songs made me realize I could survive, even with scars."

y/n looked at the fan, her eyes glistening with emotion.

— "Thank you for sharing that," she said softly. "I don’t have the perfect words to ease that kind of pain, but… sometimes, our scars become our most beautiful stories to tell. You’re stronger than you think."

Another fan spoke up, a young man with tear-streaked eyes.

— "y/n-ssi, have you ever… lost someone you loved? I don’t know how to keep going. I’m so tired."

The question, brutal in its honesty, seemed to freeze time. y/n lowered her gaze for a moment, searching for the right response.

— "Yes," she murmured at last. "I’ve lost someone… not to death, but to betrayal. And it’s a different kind of pain, but just as heavy. I won’t lie to you—it never completely goes away. But one day, you’ll realize you deserve better, and that will be the beginning of healing."

Sensing her words weren’t enough to break the heavy atmosphere, she added with a teasing smile:

— "And if nothing else works, you can always try planting tomatoes. I did that once, and even though they were inedible, it was oddly satisfying!"

The room erupted into laughter, breaking the tension. Even y/n blushed slightly, surprised by her own humor.

Later, a young girl approached shyly with a bouquet of flowers and a small, carefully wrapped package.

— "y/n-ssi, it’s not much, but… I made this gift for you. It’s a bracelet I crafted. I hope you like it."

Visibly touched, y/n stood to accept the flowers and the package. She bowed slightly, a humble smile on her face.

— "Thank you so much, it’s beautiful. But… you know, I’m not that special."

The fan shook her head fervently.

— "To me, you are. Your music gave me hope when I needed it most."

Moved by the declaration, y/n, in a spontaneous gesture, removed the silver bracelet she had been wearing. It was a gift she had received at the start of her career, but at that moment, it felt like it belonged to the young girl.

— "I want you to have this. To remind you that you’re special, too."

The fan burst into tears, overwhelmed by emotion, while y/n gently embraced her.

In the shadows, Ji Chang Wook observed every movement. Her natural kindness, her sincerity, and her way of connecting with her fans captivated him more and more. But beyond admiration, he felt an obsession growing within him.

He promised himself he would meet her. No, not just meet her—he would become a part of her life. No matter the cost.

As for y/n, she felt deeply moved by the evening, entirely unaware that in the crowd, someone was already planning a role in her destiny.

---

A few days after the fan meeting, y/n arrived at a workshop for underprivileged children organized at a community center in Seoul. Although she was often invited to charity events, this one was particularly close to her heart. The cause of struggling youth resonated with memories of her own childhood, marked by personal challenges.

Dressed in simple jeans and a cream sweater, she was almost unrecognizable compared to the star who captivated crowds. But here, she wasn’t a celebrity; she was just y/n, a volunteer ready to offer her time and warmth.

The workshop, centered around painting and music, buzzed with energy and laughter. y/n knelt beside a little girl who was struggling to draw a bird.

— "Do you want me to help?" she asked softly, picking up a pencil.

The child timidly nodded, and together, they began sketching a bird with colorful feathers. Within minutes, the little girl was laughing, opening up to y/n as if they’d known each other forever.

Across the room, Ji Chang Wook entered discreetly, dressed casually with a beanie partially hiding his face. He had learned about y/n’s participation through a contact at the center and couldn’t resist the idea of seeing her in this setting.

At first, he stayed in the background, watching how she interacted with the children. She radiated a natural warmth that seemed to put everyone at ease. This version of y/n—dedicated and kind-hearted—only deepened his desire to get closer to her.

After a while, he approached a boy sitting alone, his hands curled tightly around a paintbrush. The boy seemed hesitant to join the others.

— "Hi," Ji Chang Wook said with a smile. "Want to try something together? I’m not very good, but we could paint something funny."

The boy looked up timidly, intrigued by the warm man, and eventually nodded.

y/n, who had gotten up to fetch some brushes, noticed Ji Chang Wook for the first time. She blinked, surprised. He looked familiar, but she wasn’t sure. Was it really him?

Later in the day, after the activities had slowed down, y/n approached Ji Chang Wook. He was still with the young boy, softly laughing at their creation: a strange mix of a dragon and a cat.

— "You’re good at making kids laugh," she said, a playful smile on her lips.

Ji Chang Wook looked up, his gaze meeting hers. His heart skipped a beat, but he kept his composure.

— "I try. But I think you’re the one with the magic today. The kids adore you."

y/n blushed slightly, feeling shy at the compliment.

— "I’m just doing my best… but you seem very comfortable with them too. Do you come here often?"

Ji Chang Wook hesitated for a moment before answering. He didn’t want to admit he was there only because of her.

— "It’s my first time. I heard about the workshop and wanted to see how I could help."

— "That’s a wonderful initiative," y/n replied. "The kids need role models like you."

He smiled, but deep down, he knew he wanted to be more than just a role model to her.

As the workshop came to an end, Ji Chang Wook found the courage to hold her back for a moment.

— "y/n-ssi, it’s been a pleasure seeing you here. You seem to really love what you do."

— "I do," she answered sincerely. "It’s a way to give back a little of what I’ve received."

— "Maybe we could work together on another project for these kids? I have a few ideas in mind."

Surprised by his suggestion, y/n sensed a warmth in his approach. He didn’t seem to be there to impress, but genuinely engaged.

— "That’s a good idea. Send me your ideas, and we’ll see what we can do."

Ji Chang Wook nodded, pleased with her openness. It was only a small step, but for him, it was the beginning of something he hoped to build with patience.

In the days that followed, they exchanged a few messages about projects for the center. Ji Chang Wook tried to remain professional, although he found every interaction with her deeply captivating.

y/n, on the other hand, appreciated his respectful and thoughtful approach. He wasn’t at all what she might have imagined a celebrity of his stature to be. He seemed humble, almost vulnerable.

Without realizing it, she began to look forward to his messages with a certain anticipation—a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

In the quiet rhythm of their exchanges, a connection was gently forming, like a subtle melody promising a beautiful harmony to come.

---

A few weeks later, Ji Chang Wook and y/n met at the community center to finalize a project they had co-created: a workshop combining theater and music to help children express their emotions. The concept was simple yet powerful: the kids could act out scenes they created themselves, with improvised songs accompanying their stories.

y/n arrived first, helping to prepare the costumes and props. She was focused, her hands working delicately. Ji Chang Wook joined her shortly after, carrying a large bag filled with quirky wigs and hats.

— "I thought a bit of humor might help them relax," he said with a playful smile.

y/n burst out laughing as she pulled out a huge pink wig from the bag.

— "This is perfect. I’m sure they’ll love it. But… I can’t quite picture you wearing this," she teased, looking at him mischievously.

— "Oh, you underestimate me," he replied, immediately putting on the wig. "So, what do you think?"

y/n laughed even harder, and at that moment, she realized just how much she had grown to enjoy his company. Ji Chang Wook had this rare ability to lighten things up, even when she felt weighed down by her own thoughts.

The workshop was a success. Encouraged by the presence of the two celebrities, the children began to perform with a freedom and joy that even surprised the regular facilitators. y/n guided some of them through simple compositions, while Ji Chang Wook improvised hilarious scenes with the more timid ones.

At one point, a boy named Minho refused to participate. He had withdrawn to a corner of the room, arms crossed. y/n approached him gently.

— "Minho, are you okay? You don’t have to join in, but we’d love to have you with us."

The boy shook his head.

— "I’m no good. The others always make fun of me."

y/n crouched down to his level, looking him in the eyes.

— "I understand. You know, when I was little, I was scared to sing in front of others. But I learned something important: even if your voice shakes, even if you make a mistake, what matters is how you feel and what you share. It’s not easy, but I’m here for you."

Ji Chang Wook, who had been watching from a distance, approached quietly.

— "Minho, would you like me to be your scene partner? I’m terrible at singing, so maybe you could help me out."

The boy hesitated but eventually agreed, won over by the sincerity of the two adults. Together, they improvised a small scene where Minho played a brave hero while Ji Chang Wook dressed up as a clumsy villain. The laughter of the other children filled the room, and for the first time, Minho smiled.

At the end of the day, as the children went home, y/n and Ji Chang Wook stayed behind to help tidy up. A peaceful silence settled between them, each lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Ji Chang Wook broke the silence.

— "You have a gift, y/n. It’s not just your music or your voice. You have this ability to deeply touch people. Even a boy like Minho… he needed that today."

y/n turned to him, surprised by the intensity of his words. She lowered her gaze, uncomfortable with such sincerity.

— "Thank you," she murmured. "But I think you’re the same. Minho followed you because he sensed you were someone he could trust."

Ji Chang Wook smiled but said nothing more. He knew this wasn’t the right moment to reveal his feelings. He simply appreciated her presence, finding a strange comfort in their shared silence.

As they left the center, Ji Chang Wook suggested, almost without thinking:

— "How about grabbing a drink? You worked hard today; you deserve a coffee or tea."

y/n hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t the type to accept such invitations, especially from someone she still didn’t know well. But something about Ji Chang Wook’s demeanor put her at ease.

— "Alright. But I get to choose the place," she replied with a playful smile.

They ended up at a small, quiet café, far from the bustle of the city. For an hour, they talked about everything and nothing: their childhood memories, their dreams, their fears. y/n found herself sharing things she had never told anyone before, and Ji Chang Wook listened with an attentiveness that deeply moved her.

As they parted ways that evening, they thanked each other for the day. Ji Chang Wook, standing by his car, watched y/n walk away, a warm feeling spreading through him.

He knew it would take time to earn her full trust, but he was willing to wait. To him, y/n wasn’t just a fascinating woman; she was an echo of a part of himself he had never explored.

For her part, y/n felt a strange lightness for the first time in a long while. As if, after years of emotional solitude, she could finally consider opening a small door… gently, at her own pace.

And so, a relationship began to bloom between them, built on patience, respect, and shared moments that only deepened their budding connection.

---

The following days were marked by sporadic but meaningful exchanges between Y/N and Ji Chang Wook. Sometimes, he would send her a message to share a funny anecdote about the kids at the center, while at other times, she would share the lyrics of a new song she was writing. Their connection seemed to grow effortlessly, like a river flowing gently towards the ocean.

One afternoon, while she was rehearsing in a music studio, Y/N received an unexpected message from Ji Chang Wook.

"I'm about to start filming a movie. We're looking for a song for an important scene. Maybe you could think about it? Nothing official, just an idea."

Y/N smiled. She had never considered composing for a movie, but the thought of contributing to a project featuring Ji Chang Wook intrigued her.

"Send me the details, and I'll see what I can do," she replied.

A few days later, Ji Chang Wook invited her to visit the film set. Curious, Y/N accepted, though she was a bit nervous about seeing him in his professional element. When she arrived, she was immediately struck by the intense atmosphere. Technicians were bustling everywhere, and the crew seemed deeply focused.

Ji Chang Wook greeted her warmly, dressed in his character's costume. Despite the makeup and the serious demeanor he wore for the role, he couldn't hide the sparkle in his eyes upon seeing her.

"Welcome to my world," he said with a smile. "It's chaotic, but I love it."

Y/N watched the scenes being filmed with fascination. Between takes, Ji Chang Wook explained the story of the movie and the specific scene for which they were searching for a song.

"It's a pivotal moment," he explained. "The main character realizes he has to let go of someone he loves for their own good. It's painful but necessary."

The words resonated deeply with Y/N. This duality between love and letting go was a theme she understood well.

"I think I can write something," she replied, ideas already swirling in her mind.

That night, Y/N immersed herself in writing. The words flowed almost effortlessly, fueled by her own experiences and the emotions she had observed on set. Within a few hours, a soft and poignant melody had taken shape, accompanied by simple yet powerful lyrics.

The next day, she sent a demo recording to Ji Chang Wook. Shortly after, she received a call.

"Y/N, this is… incredible," he said, visibly moved. "It perfectly captures what we were looking for. You're truly a genius."

She laughed softly, embarrassed by the compliment.

"I'm glad you like it. I hope it fits the scene."

"Not just the scene. It's perfect for the entire movie. You have no idea how much this will touch the audience."

A few weeks passed, and Y/N's song officially became the centerpiece of the movie's soundtrack. To celebrate the collaboration, Y/N, in a burst of pride, invited Ji Chang Wook to dinner. It was more of a subtle kidnapping than an invitation.

---

Ji Chang Wook had just wrapped up a particularly grueling day of filming when he received a message from Y/N:

"You’ve always been the one to reach out, but this time, it’s my turn. I want to celebrate our collaboration. Dinner this Friday—what do you say? No refusals, I insist."

He read the message several times, an incredulous smile spreading across his lips. Y/N, usually so reserved, was taking the initiative. This simple gesture, so unusual coming from her, deeply moved him.

A strange mix of surprise and pleasure washed over him. He was used to being the one to initiate their exchanges, whether to discuss the project or simply to joke around. But this was different. It felt as though she was reaching out to him in return, and it stirred a warmth within him he hadn’t anticipated.

He stretched out on the couch in his dressing room, unable to focus on anything else. His mind wandered, exploring the implications of her gesture. Was it merely a professional acknowledgment, or was there something more?

A feeling he rarely experienced began to surface: he felt wanted. Not in the superficial way he was used to because of his fame, but in an intimate, genuine sense. Y/N, with her shyness and gentle demeanor, had broken an invisible barrier to invite him into her world.

He quickly replied, his tone slightly playful but sincere:

"A subtle kidnapping, really? I’m curious to see what you’ve planned. I’m happy to surrender to this ‘capture.’"

The rest of the week was marked by an unusual anticipation. Ji Chang Wook, an actor accustomed to the spotlight and high expectations, found himself thinking about the dinner more often than he cared to admit.

He wondered what restaurant she would choose, what she would say, how she would act. Would she remain as composed as usual, or would she reveal a more relaxed side of herself?

For him, it wasn’t just a dinner to celebrate a collaboration. Not anymore. It represented an evolution in their relationship, a step forward that he wouldn’t have dared to push for.

He was willing to wait as long as she needed to open up to him, but this initiative made him feel like she was starting to let him in. And that made him feel unexpectedly vulnerable.

Ji Chang Wook realized then that this wasn’t just artistic admiration or a fleeting fascination. His feelings for Y/N were rooted far deeper than he had anticipated.

"I'm doomed," he murmured with a smile as he adjusted his tie for the evening.

When Friday arrived, he was ready. And for once, he wasn’t trying to impress. He just wanted to be there, with her, and see where the evening would lead.

---

Ji Chang Wook arrived at the place indicated by Y/N, a small restaurant tucked away in a quiet alley in Seoul, far from the glitzy venues he was used to. The place exuded a simplicity and authenticity that matched Y/N perfectly.

As he entered, he spotted her immediately. She was sitting by a window, dressed in a white blouse and jeans—casual yet elegant. She was absentmindedly fiddling with a ring on her finger, as if trying to calm her nerves before his arrival.

When she looked up and saw him, her face lit up with a genuine smile.

— "Ah, you're here," she said, a bit nervously. "I was hoping you wouldn’t stand me up."

— "Are you kidding?" he replied, pulling out a chair. "I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Besides, how could I pass up the chance to get kidnapped, right?"

They shared a light laugh, and the initial tension quickly dissipated.

The meal began in a relaxed atmosphere. Y/N had chosen a simple menu, and Ji Chang Wook appreciated the modesty of the place. They started by talking about mundane things: the filming, the kids at the center, the song Y/N had composed.

Then, little by little, the conversation turned more personal.

— "You know," Ji Chang Wook began, idly playing with his glass of water, "you surprised me with this invitation. It almost feels like you're trying to thank me for something I haven’t even done yet."

Y/N blushed slightly and looked down at her plate.

— "Well… you’ve already done a lot. Not just for the song or the movie, but… for me."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

— "For you?"

— "Yes," she murmured. "Since we’ve started talking, I feel like… I can just be myself. You don’t see me as just a singer or an actress. You actually listen. And that means a lot."

Her words, simple but heartfelt, struck Ji Chang Wook deeply. He leaned slightly toward her, resting his elbows on the table.

— "Y/N, it’s not hard to listen to you. You have a way of reaching people, not just with your music, but with your presence. You might not see it, but you have a calming effect on those around you. On me, at least."

She looked up, surprised by his confession.

— "On you?"

— "Yes," he replied earnestly. "You remind me that there are simple and genuine things in this world, things worth holding onto. And I’m glad you let me be part of your world."

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward but charged with a gentle, unexpected intensity. Y/N nervously played with a strand of her hair, while Ji Chang Wook, on his side, studied every nuance of her expression.

Then she broke the silence with a small, nervous laugh.

— "It’s funny, I thought I was the one who’d be thanking you tonight, and here we are with the roles reversed."

— "Maybe we should just thank each other," he said with a smile.

Y/N nodded, her smile widening.

— "Alright. Thank you, then."

They continued their dinner, discussing future projects and sharing stories about their lives. As the evening went on, Y/N felt more at ease, and Ji Chang Wook realized he was happier in that moment than at any glamorous party or red carpet event.

As they left the restaurant, Y/N suggested taking a walk. The night air was crisp, and the streets were quiet. They walked side by side, silent at first, simply enjoying each other's presence.

Eventually, Y/N stopped and turned to face him.

— "Ji Chang Wook… thank you for coming tonight. I know I’m not always great at expressing myself, but… this meant a lot to me."

He stepped a little closer, meeting her gaze.

— "Y/N, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I need to say something. I’m glad we started this… collaboration. But for me, it’s more than just a project or a song. I genuinely appreciate the person you are."

She stood still, her cheeks flushing slightly. She opened her mouth to respond, but Ji Chang Wook raised his hand gently.

— "You don’t have to respond right now. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here, no matter what."

Y/N slowly nodded, moved by his sincerity and patience.

They resumed their walk, their steps gradually falling in sync. The night stretched ahead of them, full of promises and possibilities yet to be explored.

---

Ji Chang Wook and Y/N were sharing an impromptu lunch on set. Between bites, he suddenly said:

— "I have an idea."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

— "Oh? Another brilliant idea for the movie, I suppose?"

He smiled, but his tone turned more serious.

— "Not exactly. Listen, you’ve been working so hard lately. You deserve a break. How about taking the weekend off with me? Just the two of us."

Her eyes widened, caught off guard.

— "Go where?"

— "There’s a village in the countryside I love. Quiet, secluded, no one to bother us. We could relax, recharge. And maybe… get to know each other better."

His gaze was intense but devoid of any pressure. Y/N felt her heart race, both unsettled and drawn to his proposal.

— "That’s… spontaneous," she murmured, trying to mask her nerves with a smile.

— "Spontaneity has its perks," he replied. "And sometimes, we need to escape the routine, don’t you think?"

After a long pause, she nodded.

— "Alright. But if it gets weird, I’m making you walk back to Seoul."

He burst out laughing.

— "Deal."

The journey to the village was filled with light-hearted conversations, but every glance they exchanged carried a quiet intensity. When they arrived, Y/N was struck by the serenity of the place. Rolling green hills stretched as far as the eye could see, and a gentle river wound its way through the landscape.

They settled into a quaint guesthouse, where the owners greeted them with warm smiles. After freshening up, Ji Chang Wook invited Y/N for a walk.

They strolled in silence, soaking in the beauty of the setting sun. Then, on a whim, Ji Chang Wook gently took her hand.

— "It’s to keep you from tripping," he said with a mischievous smile.

Y/N felt a shiver run through her but didn’t pull her hand away.

— "You’re so considerate," she replied, feigning a teasing tone to hide her unease.

After dinner, they decided to sit by the stream, where the starry sky seemed infinitely vast. The atmosphere was intimate, almost magical.

— "It’s beautiful here," Y/N whispered, her eyes fixed on the stars.

— "It’s even more beautiful with you here," Ji Chang Wook replied without hesitation.

She turned to him, surprised by the gentleness in his voice.

— "Are you always this straightforward?" she asked, her smile uncertain.

He shrugged, his gaze steady on her.

— "Only when I feel something real."

Their eyes met, and a charged silence filled the space between them. Ji Chang Wook hesitated for a moment before lifting a hand to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

— "You’re incredible, Y/N. And I don’t just mean your talent. There’s something about you—this light—that draws me in, captivates me."

Her heart pounded furiously.

— "Ji Chang Wook, I…"

He didn’t let her finish. Slowly, cautiously, he leaned in. Their lips met in a kiss that was soft yet brimming with restrained passion.

Y/N didn’t pull away. Instead, she responded with an intensity she didn’t know she possessed. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of their own.

When they finally broke apart, slightly breathless, Ji Chang Wook murmured:

— "I’m sorry if that was too sudden. But I couldn’t… wait any longer."

Y/N placed a hand on his cheek, her eyes shining with an emotion she couldn’t hide.

— "It wasn’t too sudden," she said softly. "It was… perfect."

Back at the guesthouse, Ji Chang Wook suggested they sit by the fireplace. They spent hours talking, sharing their fears, dreams, and hopes.

At one point, Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close.

— "I don’t know where this will take us," she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep.

— "Neither do I," he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But I know I don’t want to lose you."

That night, under the stars and the crackling fire, they let their hearts open fully to one another, crossing a boundary they both knew they could never ignore again.

..................................................................................

#kdrama #kdrama fic #ji chang wook #ji Chang wook x reade #x reader #fem!reader #actor x reader #kactor #gangnam b side #the worst of evil #queen woo

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impala-dreamer · 4 months ago

Text

Slipping Away

A Short Story

~ In his heart he’s lived a hundred lives, been through hell and back, loved a million souls. The heart is strong but the mind is weak, and in the end, only memory remains as his lives begin to fade.~

Jensen Ackles

954 Words

Bittersweet Angst

Thank you to everyone who read/shared/commented on my stories for @jacklesversebingo and specifically to @deanwinchesterswitch who organized such a fun, inspiring event. This is my final piece for the bingo, using the prompt "All But One Dies”. I hope you enjoy this swan song...

JacklesBingo Masterlist ~ Full Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

There’s an old man sitting at the end of the bar. His hair has long ago gone gray but a strand of dark walnut still peaks through now and then. The memory of reddish-brown plays over his jaw, but it’s all gone white. His skin has grown pale over the years, his tan freckles fading with it. He used to be covered in speckles like stars across the universe, but now, only a few remain. His tall frame is bent with a slight forward hunch- the consequence of years of stunts that should have been left for younger, more qualified men. His shoulders are still broad, but now bony, and his arms are weaker yet just as warm.

His eyes are still the color of the forest, but behind them, not much else remains.

Long, thin fingers trace the rim of a whiskey glass before gripping it tight and lifting the last sip to his lips. Once so plump and rosy pink, they’re impossibly cracked and pale.

The whiskey soothes the ache in his bones and he sighs.

Time has been cruel, but the life he can remember was good.

Once upon a time, he’d traveled the world, meeting a million smiling faces and dodging hands all reaching out for him. He’d captivated every stage he’d set foot on, microphones twirling in his hand and carrying his laugh through countless auditoriums. He told hundreds of stories, some more than once, some exaggerated, all met with applause.

How many times had he smiled for the camera or accepted hugs from strangers? How many pen strokes were wasted on his name? It was impossible to tell. He was barely able to remember those events now, let alone count the numbers. He knew he’d made them smile, he knew he’d left some impression.

Memories were fleeting and sometimes painful. It was getting harder to sort through the flashes of history and make sense of anything. Some days it felt like he’d lived a dozen lifetimes.

He remembered running through dark, damp tunnels with no more than a headlamp to light his way. He could smell the coal; feel the heft of the pickax in his hands. His breath was thick and heavy as he stalked his way down into the depths of Hell.

He remembered pining for the girl- a beauty with long dark hair and bright eyes. He could almost smell her sweet perfume and hear her sassy remarks as he tried his best to woo her affection. He tasted oil and vinegar on his fingertips; felt the bacon grease pop from the griddle and sting his arms.

There were times when he recalled the feeling of wind on his face as he leaped from rooftop to rooftop beneath a full moon. Clad in heavy kevlar, he moved through the shadows of the city, listening for screams or cackles of evil.

Sometimes, memory inferred that he was the evil one. Striding with purpose through a warzone or locking his long fingers around some delicate throat. Power surged through his veins surely as the drugs he took, and it felt as if he were immune to the rules of life and the laws of man. He could do anything he wanted, be anything, kill anything. He was the epitome of strength, the emblem of America, the most powerful man alive.

Those lives were disappearing faster these days. When he struggled to remember, he drank. When he cried for lives he’d taken or loves he’d lost, he slept.

The football fields and shell necklaces, the cowls and capes, the flashes and stages- they were all lost in the fog of his mind. A myriad of lives lived and stolen by age until only one remained.

He smiles when the bartender works her way back to him.

Kate is short and curvy, with dyed pink hair that matches her neon tank top. There are silver studs in her ears and a hoop in her nose, and her shoulder is inked with scrollwork wrapped around an image he could never decipher.

“Can I getcha another drink?” she asks, thickly painted lashes fluttering kindly at him.

Jensen nods and pushes his glass forward. His voice is shaky as he speaks, but he soon finds a familiar rhythm.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I ganked an entire vamp nest by myself? Took out a dozen blood-suckers before Sammy even knew I was gone.” He laughs and reaches for the refreshed drink. “It was something. I was somethin’. Best hunter there ever was. Well, Sam had his moments, but I was good. Real good…”

The bartender smiles. She’s heard the stories before but doesn’t mind repeats. The old actor is sweet and tips her well, so she never minds watching out for him until his daughter comes to collect him.

“If you play your cards right, Sweetheart, I may take you for a spin in my car.” He winks over the tumbler at her, green eyes slick with a flirtatious gaze. “Sexiest damn car you’ll ever see. My Baby. One of a kind. You know, I rebuilt her a whole bunch of times…” His voice trails off as he tries desperately to count the occasions, but time is twisted and pale. His brow creases with worry as another memory slips away. There is only one life left and it’s vanishing more every day. Tears well in his eyes and he clears his throat. “Anyway… I uh…”

Kate gently takes his hand and leans close, catching his gaze. “Hey. It’s OK, Mr. Ackles. You’re OK.”

The old man sighs and worry leaves him. He smiles and squeezes her hand.

“Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I killed Hitler?”

#jacklesversebingo23 #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fic

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emmaofnormandy · 8 months ago

Text

~A Medieval Tale: The Rogue & His Lady. Part I~

Plot: Y/N is a damsel who captures the heart of a rogue, misunderstood prince named Aegon Targaryen in 14th century England… with no civil war to disarray the family.

It’s fluffy, very mediæval like; smut; long post.

(+21)

***

The bells are heard. The sound echoes through the county, reaching the ears of high and low born alike. It indicates that another part of the day comes with other demands to attend.

You are occupied this first part of morning, busied hands using the needle skillfully. You are followed by your mistress’s other ladies, for the task given is about producing a tapestry. The scene chosen to be sewed usually is biblical, but the princess of Wales is too fond of Greek allegories to let them be prevailed over by her piety.

It’s all about a story concerning a damsel of pure heart who captivated the heart of Apollo. He struggles to conquer her, as far as you know it—which you don’t know much, preferring chansons and sweeter stories to old “pagan” ones.

“My ladies, we are required at court”, the voice of your mistress breaks the pleasant silence that has been helpful in the work. Lady Rhaenyra is dressed in her usual clothes, lately preferring black robes in opposition to the Queen’s green ones.

“There is a lavishing meal to be offered by the king, my father. Dress yourselves the best for we expect my husband and our children to return from the hunting trip.”

You quickly stand, prompted to do as told. Quiet and introspective, you are overshadowed by the usual bubbly and chatty ladies, whom you judge to be far prettier—and snobbish to be around.

Discreetly you part of the others, preferring the way that leads to the gardens. It’s when you and him cross paths first.

Aegon is the king’s second son, treated as the presumptive heir by many in spite of His Grace’s evident preference over Rhaenyra. Often overshadowed by his siblings’s gifted minds and brilliant sword skills—as is the case of both Aemond and Daeron—, this prince found solace in wayward manners overlooked by the court.

However, out of people’s sight—and mind—, he is a fragile, broken prided man. Aware of his flaws, Aegon is lost in thought, not really preoccupied in masking his lostness underneath arrogance when he bumps into you.

“I am sorry, lord…!”, your words die by half an agony when seeing whom you collided to.

The prince is about to retort something, irritated by what he judges as being caught off his guard, when he looks at you. A lustful man, drowned in the darkness of his heart and slaved by his flesh desires, he suddenly feels the weight of his sins just by looking at you.

Your wide-eyed gaze, your red lips that form in a small “o”, the shyness behind your delicate features… signs of a sweet tempered soul. A rogue he is, but Aegon is a poet when he is not too occupied being someone everyone expects him to be.

Your y/c curls that are partly loose in rebel-ish locks that run free like a cascade behind your back, reinforce your heart-shaped face, matching the y/c that paints your eyes.

So mesmerized, like struck by the arrow of an invisible Cupid—oh, winged being! Shall thou be the one to receive the blame for this another misfortune that befalls my fate?!— he forgets his own selfishness.

“Lady”, his voice comes out unusually dusky, carried out by a different sort of embargo.

You, hardly before a royal company who is not the mistress you serve—albeit discreetly so—, too are affected by this intense and disruptive encounter.

To stand before a Targaryen prince equals to stand tall before a living dragon. You are afraid of the fire, even though part of you is led to wonder what would be like to be burnt by it—a sinful thought you are quickly to dismiss, though.

“Lord”, you lower your eyes down to the floor and, recalling manners, dip to a curtsy.

Your heart is troubled by this view, this singular captivating instant where destiny seems to play with one another. Thus you wish to disappear, trying to get your steps moving you out of the way.

But someone like you must not be lost out of his sight. Softening, Aegon says:

“I apologize if I scared my lady. Never before I saw such a handsome creature of your sex.”

You lift your gaze, carefully checking your emotions.

“I fear to doubt the sincerity of your words, lord. Nonetheless, you find in me with honest gratitude for an unworthy praise.”

“Unworthy praise?”, there is a shadow of smile playing in the prince’s lips and you suddenly remember his bad reputation—so to preserve yours, you begin to walk away, but to your dismay he follows. “I believe many poets have described your beauty, Madame. Your gracious moves, your cascade locks and your y/c eyes are unmatched!”

Rather unaccustomed to be praised like this, you think wise to stop this before it goes to a path where there is no going back. Thus you sigh heavily and, retracing your steps back inside the castle, you say:

“Lord, I ask you to save your praises to someone of your station. Little I am in comparison to a prince like you. Leave me be, this I ask. And forget my existence.”

Aegon is left thus annoyed, almost angry, by a rejection that never before occurred. But if you think that by preserving your heart of his misdemeanors, you’d soon know how wrong you were…

After all, the Cupid had other intentions where you and the rogue prince are concerned…

***

The following day he finds you again. Here’s the scene he sees through his eyes: a damsel of long y/c locks in blue, long sleeved silk gown twirling and dancing merrily with her lady companions. She seems oblivious to the attention her presence attracts and this itself inspires a new sensation of despair in this prince who is used to have it all.

According to hierarchy, a prince like Aegon should court and espouse his womanly counterpart. But where men know rules, what is to say concerning their hearts and desires?

Somehow, his overconfidence breaks him. Aegon is more than acutely aware of the glances bolder ladies cast him—some of them even married by now. But you? Too busy dancing, smiling merrily as if bumping to the kingdom’s next king was a random encounter designed by fate.

Aemond, seeing the melancholy his brother is, takes no more than few moments to realize the cause and says:

“You’ve had women in your bed before. Why is this one an obstacle for you?”

“She is not like any other, Aemond.”

“Certainly far less wench like”, says the other slyly.

Aegon shoots his brother a glare.

“She is anything but worthy a comparison as this, Aemond.”

“Then pursuit her already”, Aemond retorts, not inclined to these courtly games. “What’s there to lose?”

“My dignity”, he grumbles, detesting his fragility.

Aemond doesn’t bother responding the drama. He shrugs his shoulders, occupying himself with his secret liaison as their sister Helaena casually passes by, giving the prince a long, meaningful look.

***

At the gardens, the prince is after his damsel once more. This time, he hopes to look far less obnoxious than before. He is determined to have you by every means—even if doing so requires reason to acknowledge some spell cast on him to humble this proud lord.

Here he is. Ready for a chase.

And here you are. Prompted to be chased.

‘Tis all fair in the game of love, is it not?

“Lord Aegon”, you cry out before the sight of the handsomest man you’ve ever laid your eyes on, even if he’s the devil himself. “My prince!”

“‘Tis I who should bend my knee before my lady, not otherwise”, says the king to be, quickly helping you stand.

One touch is enough to electrify both parts, with neither knowing what to do.

“I know naught about my lady”, whispers he, thirsty for you.

And you cannot withdraw of his presence, because it burns too much and it feels good to burn this bright.

“My name is Y/N”, you give in partly.

Because his eyes are locked with yours, the purple there is in his irises seemingly holding the color that paints yours—as if pressing you against the wall is the solution to denude the soul you refuse to give.

But Gods be cruel. You want him too.

“Lady Y/N”, you’d think he smiles because he gets what he wants and is soon leaving you, but what do you know, sweet child of summer? “I am Aegon. But my friends call me Egg. May I have the honor to get to know you?”

That sharp side of yours is ready to rebel. Your reasonable self recollects his scandals, prompted to riot. But when you dive in these purple eyes… every resistance dies.

So this is how defeated your pride is.

“Aye, lord. Though I do not think I am interesting to a prince such as you.”

“Allow me to disagree, my dear.”

Locking arms with him never seemed so sinful. And yet here you two are, finally in harmony.

“Here we are”, you smile at him. “Shouldn’t you be elsewhere? Perhaps with your wenches?”

Aegon snorts at your sharp tongue. Indeed, sharp as a blade, under which he would gladly let in his skin crave.

“Nay. They interest me naught”, and when gazing at you this broken king feels whole.

Indeed, it all indicates that this could not have been arranged by other than a divine being. Never before this attraction crossed the limits of the flesh and soul.

Aegon has no explanation for reason cannot conceive why you have messed up with him. And you two barely met.

“Do you like poetry?”

He asks.

And it all begins with this.

One simple question.

Your heart skips a beat. Your lips pull out a smile.

“Aye, lord. I do.”

This is how it begins.

***

The chase must follow the typical etiquette: poems here, poems there, no matter the longing, the lord must be after his lady in between court sessions, gardens plays and theatrical dancings.

No one seems to think this is going truthfully far more than a mere court love fare.

“A day without the sight of you is a divine punishment”, says the besotted Aegon, surprisingly tamed by your sweet temperance. “It pains me physically to be distant of you.”

You two are underneath this pomerade this day. It’s sunny and cloudless. The scenario is ilidic, dreamy like. With none to trouble the peace of this day, you count the Gods as your witnesses.

In the summer breeze, you dress in the colors of autumn, embellished with the jewels he gifted you.

Leaning your head against his shoulder, you drown in his words, paradoxically warmed in this sinful contact against his protective body, locked in his arms.

“You tend to exaggerate the words, my dearest”.

“Hardly exaggerated these are when they truthfully express how I feel towards my lady. Imperfect I may be, but not the love you inspire me.”

You turn lightly at him. The tenderness in his gaze is genuine and it makes you beam. Seeing the delight in you inspires Aegon likewise.

For the very first time there is peace within and when he kisses you, serenity is exhaled.

But it only lasts briefly. For soon passion ignites and his old self comes to surface—albeit in a different manner than before, not the rogue he used to be.

However, temptation comes, sinfully so. Where is, one might wonder, the resistance of conscience? Nowhere to be found, for sure.

You want more and so does he. Though inexperienced, you move to his lap, striding over him, moved by a strange instinct never before known that now takes the reins of you.

Aegon smirks at the urgency with which you now kiss him, leaving aside decency and prudence. His hands take the opportunity to play with your braid, resting thus in your hips all the whilst his lips follow the rhythm dictated by yours.

Your hands are now wrapped around his neck, your fingers hesitantly play with his short locks. Decorum is not in your mind when these move impatiently to his chest and before he knows…

“Oh!” Aegon throws his head back, eyeing you with a mix of pleasant surprise and lust.

But something about his “oh” confuses you. And you stop what you are doing.

“Why’d you stop, dear Y/Nickname?”, he inquires when seeing the deep shade of pink that colors your cheeks.

You lower your gaze, noticing the unlaced pants that are nearly showing his manhood. Your blush deepens.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Aegon blushes too. Has this courtly love gone too far? The prince fears the answer.

“I lament that it has caused you embarrassment of any kind”, he rests his chin over your shoulder, trying to read your composed face.

“This is not about embarrassment, my love. You should be properly praised. Come here.”

Saying so, Aegon helps you laying down in the grass. He soon follows, on his elbows by your side. You giggle softly, blushing to be under his intent gaze, but every smile dies when his lips touch yours, barely brushing before moving to your jawline and neck.

When his tongue moves to your neck, this prince is soon eagerly showing his devotion to you. He wants to make this memorable—even if this isn’t about consuming the aching passion that burns in each of you.

You sigh heavily, playing with his silver locks all the whilst his tongue takes his time against your neck. Only then his right hand moves to your chest, brushing his fingers over your nipples quickly—much to your dismay, for this new discovered feeling, sinful as it is, makes you want to explore it further. How to voice it, though?

The confusion that is your mind is solved when his hand is now lifting gently the skirt of your gown.

“Very bold of you, Egg”, you admonish him in a playful tone, short breath cut the moment he rests his hand over your womanhood.

When Aegon lifts his head to meet your gaze, his hair dropping over his forehead giving thus a sensual look, you feel already dropping wet.

“Should I stop, milady?”, he side smirks, perceiving what is not being said by your red-ish lips, but so clear behind your y/c eyes.

Your blush is the answer he needs. Aegon chuckles, before pecking your lips.

“If we best not engage in this intercourse, voice me your denial and I shall respect it”, he vows it.

You, however, meek by nature—and sinful, if taken in consideration the words of the clergy—find too much tied to this experience to refuse him.

In other words, it’s to say you want him.

Badly so.

As if this prince is capable of reading your thoughts, Aegon chuckles quietly. He dives in your lips, slowly kissing you, letting your tongues intertwine perfectly.

But he wants to see you. He anxiously wants to see the effect he has on you.

And here you are. Right under his command, experiencing new experiences, you burn the dragon fire.

“Oh!”, your eyes are barely open, eyelashes fluttering as bliss opens pave to Heaven.

Aegon too is aroused when finally having a taste of you. Knowing too that he’s giving this to you only makes his bone ache. But it’s about you, his lady. The one woman who made possible his redemption.

By the time you are arching your back, sounds resulting from this pleasurable intimacy, he comes to your aid like the dreamy knight he’s become.

One kiss is enough to seal this spiritual vow you and him now exchange.

But a question is yet to be answered… What will be of the two of you?

(To be continue)

#Aegon II #Aegon II Targaryen #Aegon Targaryen #Aegon II smut #Aegon II fluff #Aegon II fanfic #Aegon II fic #tom glynn carney #Aegon II x female reader #Aegon II x y/n #aegon ii x you #King Aegon II #King Aegon II Targaryen #House Targaryen #Fire and Blood vol 1 #House of the Dragon #medieval #medieval fic

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tosomeonessomeone · 11 months ago

Text

Unbound.

words・ 5.3k /pairings・Lee know x Afab!reader / genres・ slightly angst, don’t worry there is a happy ending/ warnings・ mentions of violence and a fake suicide letter.

This amazing anon send this incredible request, hope you enjoy it ✨ My darling, you made me forget my university duties just to write this amazing piece. Dear Lord, I hope you enjoy it. The credit is all yours for this amazing idea! L.MH X AFAB READER - slow burn forbidden love (slight angst) but happy ending! Also imagine the song is old😅 if you’re able to it’s set in the older days (language is more well spoken and mannered etc..) Y/N slips out the window. She was wearing a commoner outfit as a disguise. A hood over her head, given that she was the princess, her father would naturally never allow her to leave the palace grounds. She walks into the popular dive bar that she had heard about by the other commoners. She sits to the side, amazed by the man's captivating voice and performance of "Call Out My Name" by The Weeknd, but quite emotional (or any other song of your choice). She stares at the man, his voice is beautiful. The lighting is perfect and ambient, and when the charismatic singer catches her eye, seeing the awe written all over her face, he sings harder. After looking for a second longer he instantly recognises those beautiful eyes. ‘The Princess,’ he thought. (i’ve left it open if you’d like to carry on this scene!) A fresh prisoner was later thrown into a cell a few days later. Upon realising the lyrics that echoed the cold walls, one of the many prisoners was singing very quietly as she walked by, the princess asks the guards who it was, to which they respond that it was a new prisoner who entered the castle grounds without permission. She gives the order for all the guards to leave and enters the prisoner holding area. The singing paused, "Princess," was murmured from the dark cell. THE REST IS UP TO YOU :D if you’re confused the singer is Minho! ✨

Y/N's heart raced as she slipped out of the castle window, the cool night air enveloping her in a cloak of secrecy. Dressed in a simple commoner's attire, she pulled the hood over her head, concealing her identity from the prying eyes of the palace guards. Her father, the king, would never approve of her nocturnal excursions into the bustling town below.

Stepping onto the cobblestone streets, Y/N marveled at the sights and sounds of the common folk going about their lives. Lanterns cast a warm glow, illuminating the narrow alleyways and quaint shops that lined the bustling marketplace.

Guided by whispers and rumors, Y/N found herself drawn to a dimly lit pub tucked away in a quiet corner of the town. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, she was greeted by the scent of ale and the soft murmur of conversation. The atmosphere was alive with anticipation, the air thick with the promise of secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Taking a seat in the shadows, Y/N watched as the crowd hushed, their attention drawn to the stage where a lone figure stood bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. His presence commanded the room, his voice weaving a spell that held everyone captive.

As the first notes of the song filled the air, Y/N's breath caught in her throat. It was a melody she had never heard before, yet it stirred something deep within her soul. Mesmerized, she watched as the singer poured his heart into each word, his voice a haunting echo of longing and desire.

And then, their eyes met.

In that fleeting moment, time stood still. The world faded away, leaving only the two of them bound by an invisible thread of fate. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she gazed into the depths of his soul, recognizing something familiar yet unknown in those dark, soulful eyes.

Lee Minho felt a jolt of recognition surge through him. Those eyes, he thought, as he continued to sing, each note infused with newfound fervor. They were the same eyes that had haunted his dreams, the ones he had glimpsed in passing at court gatherings and royal ceremonies.

The intensity of her gaze spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of the connection they shared, hidden beneath layers of duty and expectation. For a brief moment, their worlds collided, converging in a silent understanding that defied the boundaries of status and privilege.

As the song reached its crescendo, Minho poured his soul into each verse, his voice a reflection of the emotions swirling within him. In that dimly lit pub, amidst the curious stares and whispered rumors, he sang not just for the crowd, but for her – the princess who dared to venture beyond the confines of her gilded cage.

And as the final notes hung in the air, Minho held her gaze, a silent promise echoing between them. In that fleeting moment, he knew that their encounter was no mere coincidence, but the beginning of a journey fraught with challenges and obstacles, yet brimming with the possibility of a love that transcended time and expectation.

As Y/N hurriedly made her way through the bustling streets, her heart still resonating with the echoes of Minho's soulful melody, she felt a sudden tug on her arm. Instinctively, she tensed, ready to defend herself against any potential threat that lurked in the shadows.

But as she turned to face her assailant, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in disbelief. Standing before her was none other than Lee Minho himself, his expression a mixture of concern and determination.

"Please, forgive my intrusion," Minho spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "but I could not let you leave without knowing... without understanding."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, torn between the thrill of his proximity and the weight of the forbidden allure that bound them together. She searched his eyes, seeking answers to the questions that lay heavy on her heart.

"What is it that you seek?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, her resolve faltering in the face of his unwavering gaze.

Minho reached out, his touch gentle yet determined, his fingers brushing against her cheek with a tenderness that ignited a spark within her soul. "I seek only the truth," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity, "I am Lee Minho, your highness."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Lee Minho knelt before her, his words reverberating with a solemnity that stirred something deep within her soul. "Rise, Minho," she whispered urgently, her voice tinged with urgency. "Please, there's no need for formalities."

Minho obeyed, rising to his feet with a grace that belied the intensity of his emotions. His eyes searched hers, a silent plea for understanding lingering in their depths.

"We must be cautious," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the din of the street. "If they were to discover my true identity, it would spell disaster for us both."

Minho nodded, his expression tinged with understanding. "Minho," Y/N whispered, her voice laden with longing and vulnerability, "please, call me by my name."

Her plea hung in the air, a fragile thread connecting them across the vast expanse of uncertainty and fear. In that moment, she longed to shed the weight of her royal title, to revel in the simple intimacy of being seen and known for who she truly was.

Minho's eyes softened at her words, a tender smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Y/N" he murmured, the sound of her name a melody that resonated deep within his soul.

As they walked through the winding streets, Y/N could feel Minho's gaze burning into her back, his questions hanging heavy in the air like unspoken secrets. She quickened her pace, her heart racing with the weight of her own uncertainties.

"Why did you sneak out of the castle, Y/N?" Minho's voice broke through the silence, his tone tinged with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Y/N paused, her steps faltering for a moment as she struggled to find the words to explain the tangled web of emotions that had led her to this moment. "I needed to escape," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "To breathe, to feel alive... even if just for a fleeting moment."

Minho's brow furrowed in confusion, his gaze searching hers for answers that even she could not fully articulate. "But why now? What drove you to take such a risk?"

Y/N hesitated, her thoughts racing as she grappled with the weight of her own desires and fears. "The walls of the castle were closing in on me," she admitted, her voice tinged with sorrow. "I needed to remind myself of who I am... of the woman beneath the crown."

Minho listened intently as Y/N spoke of the burdens she carried as the future queen of her realm, the weight of duty and expectation pressing down upon her like a heavy cloak. Though he could not fully comprehend the intricacies of her position, he knew one thing for certain – he wanted to make her feel alive, to help her rediscover the essence of who she truly was.

With each step they took through the moonlit streets, Minho sought to unravel the layers of Y/N's identity, to peel back the facade of royalty and reveal the woman hidden beneath. He understood that her heart longed for freedom, for the simple joys of life untethered by the constraints of tradition and obligation.

And so, Minho took a firm grip on her wrist, Y/N allowed herself to be led through the labyrinthine streets until they emerged into the heart of the village, where a vibrant fair was in full swing. The air was alive with the tantalizing aroma of sizzling food, the melodic strains of music, and the infectious laughter of revelers lost in the moment.

As they stepped into the bustling square, Y/N's senses were overwhelmed by the kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that surrounded them. Colorful banners fluttered in the breeze, casting playful shadows against the cobblestone streets, while vendors beckoned with trays of steaming delicacies and glittering trinkets.

Minho's eyes sparkled with mischief as he surveyed the lively scene, his smile infectious as he offered Y/N his hand, inviting her to join in the festivities. Without hesitation, she accepted, her heart pounding with excitement as they wove their way through the throng of people, their laughter mingling with the joyful cacophony of the crowd.

They sampled exotic dishes from far-off lands, their taste buds tingling with the flavors of adventure and discovery. They danced to the rhythm of the music, their bodies swaying in perfect harmony beneath the starlit sky. And amidst the chaos and revelry, they found a moment of peace, a respite from the demands of the world beyond.

For Y/N, it was a glimpse of the life she had always longed for – a life unfettered by the constraints of royalty, where she could revel in the simple pleasures of the present moment.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Y/N found solace in the clandestine meetings with Minho, each encounter a precious treasure hidden away from the prying eyes of the world. Sneaking out of the castle became a ritual, a secret escape into a world where titles and expectations held no sway, where she could simply be herself, free from the weight of her crown.

In Minho, she found not only a kindred spirit but a true friend – someone who saw beyond the facade of royalty and embraced her for the woman she truly was. Together, they laughed and talked, sharing dreams and secrets beneath the twinkling stars, their bond growing stronger with each stolen moment.

In Minho's company, Y/N discovered the beauty of simplicity, the joy of living in the present moment. Whether they were strolling through the bustling marketplace or sharing a quiet meal by the riverbank, every experience was imbued with a sense of wonder and possibility, a testament to the transformative power of love.

And amidst the laughter and the shared moments, Y/N felt something stirring deep within her heart – a flutter of emotion that defied rational explanation. Was it admiration? Affection? Perhaps even love? She dared not speak its name, afraid to confront the tumultuous sea of emotions that threatened to consume her fragile heart.

But in the quiet moments of solitude, as she lay awake beneath the cover of darkness, she allowed herself to entertain the possibility – the possibility that in Minho, she had found not only a friend but a soulmate, someone who understood her in a way no one else ever could.

And as she looked to the future, uncertain yet filled with promise, Y/N knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, she would face them with Minho by her side, their love a beacon of hope in a world shrouded by darkness. For in him, she had found not only friendship but the true essence of her own heart.

As the moon cast its silvery glow over the labyrinthine streets, Y/N ventured out into the night, her heart heavy with anticipation and longing. With each step, she searched every familiar corner, every hidden alcove, hoping to catch a glimpse of Minho's familiar figure amidst the shadows.

But the streets remained empty, devoid of his presence, and the silence echoed with the hollow ache of disappointment. She dared not speak to anyone, fearing the consequences of being recognized, of having her secret world exposed to the unforgiving light of day.

With a heavy heart, Y/N retraced her steps, her footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night. The weight of uncertainty hung heavy upon her shoulders, casting a shadow over the once-familiar landscape. And as she returned to the confines of the castle, a sense of loneliness enveloped her like a suffocating shroud, the emptiness of her heart echoing in the cavernous halls.

In the solitude of her chambers, Y/N allowed herself to succumb to the melancholy that threatened to consume her, her thoughts consumed by the absence of the one person who had come to mean so much to her. She wondered where he was, what had kept him from their clandestine rendezvous, and whether he was safe.

The very next day as Y/N made her way through the dimly lit corridors near the dungeon, the haunting melody of the prisoner's song echoed against the cold stone walls, tugging at the strings of her heart with an inexplicable urgency. Ignoring the curious glances of the guards, she pressed forward, driven by a sense of determination that burned bright within her chest.

Reaching the entrance to the prisoner holding area, Y/N issued a commanding order, her voice steady despite the tremor of uncertainty that lingered beneath the surface. "Leave us," she commanded, her words carrying the weight of authority.

The guards exchanged wary glances but obeyed, their footsteps echoing into the distance until only silence remained, broken only by the soft strains of the prisoner's song.

With each step she took, Y/N's heart pounded in anticipation, her pulse quickening with the knowledge that she was about to come face to face with the mysterious singer who had captured her attention so completely.

And then, she saw him – a solitary figure huddled in the darkness of his cell, his features obscured by shadows yet somehow familiar. As their eyes met, a shiver of recognition coursed through Y/N's veins, her breath catching in her throat at the realization of who stood before her.

"Princess," his voice was barely a whisper, filled with a mixture of reverence and disbelief.

Y/N's heart quickened as she stepped closer to the cell, the dim torchlight flickering against the cold stone walls. "Minho," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the dungeon.

Lee Minho stood up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the sudden presence of light. His rugged features softened as he gazed at the princess standing before him, her regal demeanor contrasting with the darkness surrounding them.

"Princess, what are you doing here?" Minho's voice was hoarse, filled with a mixture of surprise and concern.

Y/N reached through the iron bars, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the rough surface. "What are YOU doing here?!" Y/N's voice trembled with a mixture of concern and disbelief as she confronted Minho through the iron bars. Her heart raced with a myriad of emotions, each one vying for dominance in the tumultuous sea of her thoughts.

Minho's expression softened, a flicker of sadness dancing in his eyes as he met Y/N's gaze. "I... I had no choice," he confessed, his voice heavy with regret. "I was caught trying to enter the castle grounds without permission. They saw me as a threat, a trespasser in their world."

Y/N's heart ached at the pain in his voice, the weight of his words sinking deep into her soul. "But why, Minho?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion and desperation. "Why would you risk everything to come here?"

Minho's gaze met Y/N's, his eyes reflecting the tumult of emotions swirling within his soul. "Because I couldn't bear to be apart from you," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "Every moment without you feels like an eternity, every heartbeat a reminder of the void you've left in my life."

Minho watched in astonishment as Y/N, the princess, rose to her feet with a newfound sense of determination, her regal presence commanding the attention of all who stood witness to the scene unfolding before them. In that moment, he saw her in a different light – not just as the object of his affection, but as a leader, a force to be reckoned with.

With unwavering resolve, Y/N turned to the guards, her voice ringing out with authority. "Release him," she commanded, her words carrying the weight of her station.

The guards hesitated, their eyes flickering between the princess and the prisoner, uncertainty etched upon their faces. But they knew better than to defy her direct order, and with a solemn nod, they set to work unlocking the heavy iron bars that had held Minho captive.

As Minho stepped into the cool night air, his heart heavy with the weight of their parting, Y/N remained standing in the dimly lit dungeon, her gaze fixed upon the empty cell that had once held the key to her heart. In that moment, she felt a sense of resolve wash over her, a determination to defy the odds and carve out a future where their love could thrive.

With unwavering determination, she whispered softly to Minho's retreating figure, her voice barely above a whisper yet filled with conviction. "Go," she urged, her words carrying the weight of her resolve. "Find sanctuary beyond these walls, and know that I will find a way for us to be together."

Minho turned back, his eyes widening in disbelief at the promise that hung in the air between them. In Y/N's unwavering gaze, he saw the reflection of his own hopes and dreams, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatened to engulf them both.

With a silent nod of gratitude, Minho disappeared into the shadows, his heart filled with renewed hope and determination. For in Y/N's whispered vow, he found the promise of a future where their love could flourish, unfettered by the constraints of duty and expectation.

As days turned into weeks, Minho's heart grew heavy with each passing moment of silence from the princess. Despite the whispered promises and vows of devotion, he couldn't shake the gnawing sense of unease that lingered at the edges of his consciousness. The absence of communication weighed heavily upon him, casting a shadow over his hopes for their future together.

Meanwhile, within the walls of the castle, rumors began to swirl like tendrils of smoke, carrying whispers of the princess's forbidden love. With each passing day, the whispers grew louder, the truth of Y/N's affection for a commoner spreading like wildfire through the halls of power.

As the rumors reached the king's ears, his rage knew no bounds. His daughter, the princess, the future queen of the realm, entangled in a romance with a mere commoner – it was a betrayal of the highest order, a stain upon the honor of the royal family.

Fueled by fury and righteous indignation, the king's wrath knew no bounds. He raged against the injustice of it all, his mind consumed by visions of betrayal and defiance. The very thought of his daughter consorting with a commoner filled him with a sense of profound betrayal, a wound that cut deeper than any sword.

Alone in the grand chamber, Y/N stood before her father, the king, her heart heavy with the weight of his disappointment and fury. The air crackled with tension, the echoes of his rage reverberating against the ornate walls adorned with symbols of their noble lineage.

Her father's voice boomed through the chamber, each word a thunderous indictment of her actions, a condemnation of the love that had led her astray. "You have brought disgrace upon our family name," he roared, his voice laced with anger and betrayal. "To consort with a commoner, to forsake your duty as a princess – it is a betrayal of the highest order."

Y/N stood in silence, her gaze fixed upon the floor, her heart heavy with the weight of his words. She had known that defying her father's wishes would come with consequences, but she had never imagined the depth of his fury, the extent of his disappointment.

As the king's tirade continued, Y/N felt a surge of defiance rising within her, a quiet resolve to stand firm in the face of adversity. She would not apologize for following her heart, for daring to love someone who saw her for who she truly was, beyond the trappings of royalty and duty.

With a quiet resolve, she met her father's gaze, her eyes burning with a fire that refused to be extinguished. "Father," she began, her voice steady despite the tremor of fear that lingered beneath the surface. "I cannot deny the depth of my feelings. I cannot forsake the one who has captured my heart, even if it means defying your wishes."

The king's eyes flashed with fury, his expression darkening with anger at her defiance. "You dare to defy me, your own father, your king?" he thundered, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and outrage. "Know this, daughter – if you dare to see this commoner again, I will have him executed without hesitation."

Y/N's heart clenched at the weight of his words, the enormity of his threat looming large in her mind. She knew that to defy him would mean risking everything – not only her own life but the life of the man she loved.

And yet, even as she stood on the precipice of uncertainty, she knew that she could not turn her back on Minho, could not abandon the one who had shown her the true meaning of love and acceptance. For in his arms, she had found sanctuary, a refuge from the storm that raged within her soul.

With a silent vow, Y/N braced herself for the trials that lay ahead, knowing that no matter the challenges they faced, she and Minho would face them together, united in their love and unwavering in their resolve. And as she turned to leave the chamber, her heart heavy with the weight of their forbidden love, she knew that their bond would endure, steadfast and unyielding, bound by the unbreakable ties of their hearts.

Under the cover of darkness, Y/N stole away from the castle, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision. In the quiet stillness of the night, she left behind the only life she had ever known, her footsteps echoing in the empty corridors like whispers of a farewell.

With each step, the weight of her father's threats pressed down upon her, a suffocating burden that threatened to consume her spirit. The thought of a life without Minho, without the freedom to love and be loved, filled her with a profound sense of despair.

And so, with trembling hands and a resolve born of desperation, Y/N penned a letter, her words a silent testament to the depth of her anguish. In it, she confessed her decision to end her own life, to escape the tyranny of her father's wrath and find peace in the quiet embrace of death.

Leaving the letter behind as a silent farewell, Y/N fled into the night, her heart heavy with grief yet kept by a glimmer of hope. With nothing but the clothes on her back and a small pouch of coins clutched tightly in her hand, she set out into the unknown, determined to carve out a new life for herself, far from the shadows of the past.

As the first light of dawn broke upon the horizon, Y/N disappeared into the embrace of the night, her fate unknown, her heart aching with the weight of her decision. And as she vanished into the depths of the unknown, she knew that her journey was just beginning – a journey fraught with peril and uncertainty, yet filled with the promise of redemption and renewal.

As Y/N slipped through the quiet streets, her heart pounding with each step, she knew that her destination lay in the arms of the one she loved. With every passing moment, the weight of her decision pressed down upon her, a heavy burden that threatened to crush her spirit.

And then, as she reached the familiar threshold of Minho's dwelling, her heart leaped with anticipation, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of him standing before her. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, the world fading away until only the two of them remained, bound by the invisible threads of fate and forbidden love.

Minho's eyes widened in disbelief as he beheld the vision before him, his heart stuttering in his chest at the sight of Y/N standing there, her presence a beacon of hope in the darkness that threatened to engulf them both. He couldn't believe his eyes, couldn't fathom the reality of her standing there before him, her beauty illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight.

Unable to speak, unable to move, Minho stood rooted to the spot, his gaze locked with hers in a silent exchange of longing and desperation. In that moment, the world fell away, leaving only the echo of their hearts beating as one, the promise of a love that defied the boundaries of time and circumstance.

And as Y/N stepped forward, her hand outstretched in silent invitation, Minho knew that this was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment when their love would transcend the trials and tribulations that had threatened to tear them apart. With trembling hands, he reached out to her, his fingers intertwining with hers in a silent vow of solidarity and devotion.

In the throes of emotion, Minho's heart pulsed with an urgency he couldn't contain. With a surge of longing and determination, he closed the distance between them, his hand tenderly cupping Y/N's cheek as he drew her closer.

In a moment of pure desperation and unbridled passion, their lips met in a fervent kiss, a culmination of all the longing and yearning that had simmered between them for so long. It was a kiss filled with the intensity of their love, a silent declaration of their unwavering commitment to each other.

In that fleeting instant, time seemed to stand still, the world falling away as they lost themselves in the intoxicating embrace of each other's lips. It was a kiss born of desperation and longing, a testament to the depth of their connection and the power of their love.

And as they finally pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, their eyes met in a silent exchange of understanding and devotion. In that moment, amidst the quiet intimacy of their shared embrace, Minho and Y/N knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, they would face them together, bound by the unbreakable bond of their love.

As Y/N revealed her plans to Minho, her words hung heavy in the air, each syllable carrying the weight of her decision. With trembling hands, she showed him the sack of coins, a symbol of their newfound freedom, a chance to start anew in a world untainted by the constraints of royalty.

As she spoke of her letter, her voice quivered with emotion, the weight of her words a stark reminder of the sacrifices she had made to be with him. "I am dead to my royal life," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "But with you, Minho, I am alive in ways I never thought possible."

Minho's heart swelled with a mixture of awe and disbelief, his mind reeling at the magnitude of her sacrifice. To leave behind everything she had ever known, to forsake her birthright in pursuit of a love that defied the boundaries of tradition and expectation – it was a testament to the depth of her devotion, a testament to the power of their love.

In that moment, amidst the quiet intimacy of their shared revelation, Minho knew that he had found not only a lover but a kindred spirit, a soulmate who understood the true essence of his being. With tears glistening in his eyes, he reached out to Y/N, his fingers brushing against her cheek in a silent gesture of solidarity and acceptance.

"Together, we will forge a new path," he vowed, his voice tinged with reverence and gratitude. "A path free from the shackles of our past, free to love and be loved without fear or reservation."

With a sense of urgency driving his every movement, Minho hurried to gather the few possessions he had accumulated over the years. His hands moved with purpose as he packed the essentials into a bag, his mind focused on the task at hand – to ensure that they had everything they needed for their journey into the unknown.

As he secured the last item into the bag, Minho's heart swelled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. This was it – the moment they had been waiting for, the chance to leave behind the confines of their old lives and embark on a new adventure together.

With a sense of determination coursing through his veins, Minho led their horse to where Y/N stood waiting, her eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. Gently, he helped her onto the horse, his hands steady as he settled himself behind her, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for each other.

As they checked to ensure that they had everything they needed, Minho felt a surge of excitement building within him. They were leaving behind the familiar comforts of home, venturing into the great unknown with nothing but each other to guide them.

With a silent nod of reassurance, Minho urged the horse forward, their journey unfolding before them like a tapestry waiting to be woven. And as they rode off into the distance, their hearts filled with hope and determination, they knew that no matter what lay ahead, they would face it together, united in their love and unwavering in their resolve.

As they rode away from the village, Minho and Y/N stole one last glance over their shoulders, their eyes lingering on the familiar sights of the world they were leaving behind. The village, with its winding streets and bustling marketplace, seemed to shimmer in the fading light of dusk, a testament to the life they had known, the life they were leaving behind.

And there, in the distance, loomed the imposing silhouette of the castle, its turrets reaching toward the sky like sentinels guarding the secrets of the past. For Y/N, it was a symbol of duty and tradition, a reminder of the life she had been born into but could no longer abide.

But as they rode further and further away, the castle and the village began to fade into the distance, their outlines blurred by the passage of time and the promise of a new beginning. In that moment, amidst the quiet stillness of the evening, Minho and Y/N knew that they were leaving behind more than just a place – they were leaving behind the constraints of their old lives, the expectations that had bound them for so long.

With each passing moment, the horizon stretched out before them, a vast expanse of possibility and adventure waiting to be explored. And as they rode into the unknown, their hearts filled with hope and anticipation, they knew that no matter what lay ahead, they would face it together, united in their love and unwavering in their resolve.

For in each other's arms, they had found the courage to defy the odds, to carve out a future that was uniquely their own. And as they disappeared into the fading light of the evening, their hearts ablaze with the promise of tomorrow, they knew that their love would be the guiding light that led them through the darkness, a beacon of hope in a world filled with uncertainty.

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lazyalani · 2 years ago

Text

| Blue Lock

| Them as Taylor Swift song lines

| fluffy, becuz taylor swift is life itself, i refuse to believe reo and chigiri arent swfities, swearing cuz its me, i had to redo this cuz tumblr literally deleted the first one :'), slight angst? I like the old version of this better :(

Ft. Reo, Nagi, Chigiri, Aiku, Sae, Rin, Bachira, Ness, Kaiser, Otoya, Yukimiya, Isagi

| Blue Lock Masterlist

| Main Masterlist

REO "you've got a smile that could light up this whole town" - you belong with me

Man you can't tell me his smile just not sends you to cloudnine. That one panel of him smiling at Nagi got me cursing that bitch for making Reo cry. He's so precious I'm crying. Nagi better have tripped 50 times after walking away from him. His smile is so genuine. Reo is so easy to read off field. His emotions are always easily seen based on his expressions and how he acts. Just by looking at his face and eyes, you could really tell how he feels. The way his face lights up and his eyes sparkle when he smiles got butterflies on my tummy. Fuck you Nagi.

MEGURU "we're happy, free, confused, and lonely in the best way" - 22

Bachira is always a mix of emotions. I genuinely believes he can feel and handle a lot of emotions at the same time and still only show one, and he chooses what to show. He's always smiling or calm despite the chaos on field and everything. He's so chill. He'd be the fun person to be around everytime. He's a flexible person. He could be fun when it's the mood, and bring out his lonely feeling when you talk deep. But he's so optimistic he lits up the mood again. He's the type to just go with the flow of anything and worry about something when it's there. The fact that he finds a way to make himself kind of okay is amazing cuz I would honestly lash out on everyone in the field.

RIN "back then we didn't know, we were built to fall apart" - the very first time

Ah, he's definitely the angsty childhood friends to strangers trope. The moment Sae broke him he was bound to break everything around him. Even if he hurts people unintentionally, the damage is still done, no? He inherited his brother's sharp tongue and bad attitude so if you aren't a masochist or a simp, better stay away cuz this man could make you cry with a sentence. It doesn't really help that he literally grew up all over Sae. It's not like Rin is the type to say "go away cuz you're distracting me from my revenge" or something, but his change drives people away from hi.

SEISHIRO "it's me, hi. i'm the problem it's me" - anti-hero

Literally sucks at communicating. He'd be the person who would slack off at communicating and do whatever he wants when he thinks you know him enough. He's probably think you know he'd buy a new house when he complains about the broken cieling. You better get that laziness out of your spoiled ass and start trying harder AND IF YOU DONT WANT REO ILL TAKE HIM. Get your game face on GET YOUR GAME FACE ON. Don't confuse and play with my Reo's feelings you asshole.

HYOMA "i'm captivated by you baby like a firework show" - sparks fly

You cannot tell me you don't internally scream when you see this pretty man. I believe in Chigiri Hyoma supremacy, I believe that he gets all the attention he deserves everywhere he goes, and I refuse to believe that no one in blue lock had even a slight crush on him. He's just so pretty and gorgeous and cute and talented and fast and charming and dreamy and fast and red. Please let me touch your hair you can kick me afterwards. I went into daydream mode the first time I saw him.

EITA "goodbye, mr. perfectly fine, how's your heart after breaking mine?" - mr. perfectly fine

I don't even have to explain. I would've burned his whole soul down if he did that to me.

AIKU "long story short, it was the wrong guy" - long story short

Don't even get me started on this one. He's so obvious. Tbh, in real life, you'd be pretty stupid if you didn't notice sooner. Getting with him on a committed relationship, a fubu, or a fwb would be a risky 50/50 if you're weak for guys like him, better run, but if you're a flagpole then why not? You could fall for him for all he cares, he just wants to have fun.

SAE "why'd i have to break what i love so much?" - afterglow

Now he'd defnitely be the one to lash out. Aside from the Rin drama, if Sae had a childhood sweetheart or something like that, they would either end up like Rin or slowly experience and see the change in Sae. From his usual teasing manner to the dry, lesser and lesser text and messages. He'd be the type to lash out and tell you to go away when you pry too much for his taste. Sharp tongued, bad attitude, sharper actions, so realistic to the point that he does so much damage around him and what's worse is that he doesn't care. He knowd what he's doing and he just doesn't care enough. It's not he doesn't love or like Rin or his 'if' childhood sweetheart, it's just the way he is after his change. He's like a fire burning everything on his path, and he just keeps going.

YUKIMIYA "darling, i fancy you" - london boy

Like, have you seen this man? He's a 3 in 1. Angst, Fluff and Sm-- hehehehe. He's so pretty, soft boy at first look and then sexy at the second, then angsty health drama in the third. My yukki is so strong for handling his sickness so well :') come here and lemme give you a hug.

MICHAEL "he's so obsessed with me and, boy, i understand" - i think he knows

Ness, I completely understand, it's completely justified. This man is gorgeous and he fucking knows it. He's probably the center of attention when he walks in and he loves every bit of it. BUT THE NEXT TIME HE BULLIES NESS IM RIPPING OF THAT REMAINING HAIR ON HIS BACK :D Aside from him annoying himsagi everytime and being a menance to everyone, who wouldn't love him? Talented, handsome, and don't even get me started on that 300M.

ALEXIS "'cause darling i'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream" - blank space

Oh boy only a little more and he's gonna fucking snap and rip himsagi's neck off. His smile is so babyboy and innocent but when he closest his eyes you better run. Many people probably think he's just one of those die hard Kaiser defenders who bark and be a stupid, good for nothing moron in the field but my Ness is very strong and boy he BITES. Reo version 5. Kaiser, make up your mind seriously, I'll take him if you don't want him.

YOICHI "i swear i don't love the drama, it loves me" - end game

Pretty self-explanatory. I feel so bad for him. My boy just wants to play soccer and suddenly he's a double love story antagonist and a brother stealer :') ever since Rin and Nagi came into the picture he lost Bachira. Like, just go away and give him back Bachira. Then there goes Kaiser and Ness drama, an upgraded version of reonagi. Reonagi drama level 3. Cuz level one is them, them level two is Kunigiri. GIVE HIM THE BALL AND LEAVE HIM ALONE. Need to build a government himsagi protection squad cuz Ness is probably gonna break his legs sooner or later.

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