#the audience is on the edge of their seats. but i will not reveal my sneakrets >:o)c | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

novaursa · 6 months ago

Note

okk hear me out!

gwayne x daemon daughter // kink repro

We all remember the tournament in s1, just imagine viserys decide that his niece (who is younger than nyra maybe 16) should marry sir gwayne to make more strength between their houses.

time pass they fell in love in oldtown and they raided Daeron as their own. They all come back when Luke was name heir of drifmark (during the audience). Daemon is furious to see her with gwayne.

But their chamber is right next to daemon and nyra, and at night gwayne is way more than ready to make understand that she is his 😏🔥

In Defiance of the Dragon

- Summary: When your uncle, King Viserys, promised your hand to Gwayne, your father was least pleased about it.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

The air in the tournament grounds is drenched with the scent of crushed flowers and churned earth, the banners of noble houses fluttering like the wings of restless dragons. The sun casts a golden shine over the scene, making the polished armor of the knights gleam like fire. You stand at the edge of the royal pavilion, a place of honor, though it feels more like a cage at this moment. Your heart pounds in your chest as the king—your uncle, Viserys—raises his hand to command silence.

The crowd hushes, anticipation hanging in the air. You can feel the weight of a thousand eyes upon you, but none as heavy as the gaze of Ser Gwayne Hightower. His presence is unmistakable even among the throng of knights, his armor adorned with the sigil of his house, the beacon of the Hightower shining bright against the steel. Your breath catches as you meet his gaze, a fleeting moment that seems to stretch into eternity. There is something in his eyes—an unspoken promise, a plea for understanding.

Viserys’ voice booms across the grounds, his words carrying the weight of royal decree. "Today, before the tilts commence, let it be known that my beloved niece, the daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen, shall be wed to Ser Gwayne Hightower. This union shall strengthen the bond between our noble houses, binding the blood of Old Valyria to the steadfast walls of Oldtown."

A murmur ripples through the crowd. Otto Hightower, standing beside the king, allows himself a thin, satisfied smile. The whisper of steel, the low hum of murmurs, and the occasional startled cry from the gathered lords and ladies mingle with the pounding in your ears. Beside you, Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Alicent Hightower exchange a glance, though their expressions reveal little. You know Rhaenyra's thoughts well enough; her small hand squeezes yours briefly, a silent assurance.

Your eyes dart to the stands where your father, Prince Daemon, lounges. His posture is deceptively relaxed, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers drum against the arm of his seat. His eyes—those unmistakable violet eyes—burn with an intensity that sets your nerves on edge. When he rises from his seat, you feel a tremor of fear run through you, though you fight to keep your face composed.

Daemon’s voice, sharp and cutting, pierces the air. "I would face Ser Gwayne in the first tilt. Let us see if this union has the favor of the gods."

The crowd roars in approval, eager for the bloodshed and spectacle that is sure to follow. Gwayne’s gaze shifts, now locked onto Daemon’s. You see the flicker of concern in his eyes, quickly masked by the steel of resolve. He inclines his head, accepting the challenge with a courtly grace that belies the danger he now faces.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. The fear gnaws at you, a beast with claws that rake against your insides. You force yourself to remain still, even as every instinct screams at you to intervene, to do something—anything—to protect Gwayne from your father’s wrath.

Alicent notices your distress, her voice a gentle whisper in your ear. "Do not fear, my lady. Ser Gwayne is a skilled knight. He will honor you in this contest."

Her words are meant to comfort, but they do little to soothe the storm raging within you. Your eyes dart between the two men who now occupy your every thought—the father who has always shielded you with his fierce love, and the knight who has stolen your heart with his quiet strength. What would your father say if he knew how often Gwayne had filled your thoughts, how often you had dreamed of a future together, away from the politics and dangers of the court?

As the knights prepare for the tilt, you can barely breathe. The cheers of the crowd fade into a dull roar in your ears, and all you can focus on is the two figures facing each other across the field. Daemon’s black armor, dark as night and adorned with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, stands in stark contrast to Gwayne’s silvered plate. The dragon against the tower—a battle that feels all too symbolic.

Rhaenyra leans in close, her voice urgent and low. "You know your father, sister. He won’t hold back. You must steel yourself."

"I know," you whisper, though your voice trembles with the effort of holding back the fear that threatens to overwhelm you. You cannot let anyone see how deeply this affects you—not Rhaenyra, not Alicent, and certainly not your father.

The trumpets blare, signaling the beginning of the tilt. The horses rear, their hooves pounding the earth as Daemon and Gwayne charge at each other. Time slows to a crawl, and you can only watch, helpless, as the gap between them closes.

The impact is thunderous, the sound of steel against steel ringing out across the field. The force of the blow unseats Gwayne, and he crashes to the ground in a heap of armor and dust. Your heart lurches in your chest, and you rise to your feet, barely aware of the gasps and cries around you.

"Gwayne!" you hear yourself cry out, the name escaping your lips before you can stop it.

The crowd is on its feet, roaring with excitement, but all you can see is Gwayne, motionless on the ground. The world blurs as tears well in your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to show any weakness.

Daemon circles back, his expression inscrutable behind his helm, but you can feel his eyes on you. This was no accident; he wanted to make a point, to remind everyone that no one—Hightower or otherwise—would take what belonged to a dragon without consequence.

But then, Gwayne stirs. He rises slowly, his movements pained but determined. Relief floods through you, but it is quickly replaced by a renewed sense of dread. Daemon is not done—not yet.

Before you can react, Gwayne is back on his feet, his eyes locked onto Daemon's. The defiance in his stance is clear—he will not yield, not even to a prince of the blood. You feel a swell of pride for him, despite the fear gnawing at your insides.

Daemon, sensing the mood of the crowd shifting, raises his lance once more, ready for another pass. But this time, something in Gwayne’s demeanor gives you hope. His gaze flickers to you for the briefest of moments, and you see the silent vow in his eyes—a promise to fight for you, no matter the odds.

The horses charge again, and this time, Gwayne meets Daemon’s strike with a fierce determination. The impact is brutal, but Gwayne holds his ground, refusing to be unseated. The crowd roars its approval, the tension in the air is felt.

When the dust settles, both knights remain in their saddles, battered but unbroken. It is Daemon who finally raises his hand, signaling the end of the tilt. There is no victor, no vanquished—only two men who have tested each other’s mettle and found themselves equally matched.

The relief that washes over you is overwhelming, and you sink back into your seat, your hands trembling in your lap. You dare a glance at Gwayne, who inclines his head to you with a slight, weary smile. It is a small gesture, but it fills your heart with warmth.

As Daemon dismounts, he casts a long, lingering look in your direction. There is something unspoken in his gaze, a challenge, perhaps—or a warning. But for now, you do not care. You have seen Gwayne survive your father’s wrath, and that is enough for you.

For the first time since this day began, you allow yourself a small, secret smile. The road ahead may be fraught with danger and intrigue, but you will face it with the courage of a dragon—and with Gwayne by your side.

You stand at the window of the Hightower, looking out over the sprawling city of Oldtown, where the cobbled streets wind like serpents beneath the autumn sun. The air is cool, tinged with the salt of the Whispering Sound, carrying with it the scent of the sea that you’ve come to know so well. The bells from the Starry Sept toll the hour, their sound reverberating through the stone walls of your home.

Your home. It’s a thought that still brings a small smile to your lips, even after all these years. The Hightower is vast, imposing, and ancient, its walls steeped in the history of Oldtown and the Hightowers themselves. Yet within these walls, you have found something unexpected—peace, and more than that, love.

Gwayne is beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back, a comforting weight. His touch is gentle, yet there’s a strength in it that you’ve come to depend on. He’s watching you with that soft expression that always melts the last of your worries away, the lines of his face relaxed, his grey eyes bright with the warmth of the afternoon light.

“He’s arrived,” Gwayne says, his voice low and calm, a grounding presence. You turn your head slightly to meet his gaze, the unspoken question in your eyes.

“Prince Daeron,” he clarifies, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Alicent’s letter arrived this morning, and they’ll be here within the hour.”

You nod, the familiar flutter of anticipation and duty stirring in your chest. Prince Daeron, the youngest son of Queen Alicent, sent to Oldtown to be raised and educated under the care of your husband’s family. It’s a great honor, of course, but more than that, it feels like a trust, a bond that ties your houses closer together.

Gwayne’s hand moves from your back to your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “He’s young, but from what we’ve heard, he’s bright and eager to learn. He’ll thrive here, I’m sure of it.”

You smile at his optimism, leaning into him slightly. “We’ll make sure of it,” you reply, your voice carrying the quiet determination that has grown within you over the years. Oldtown has become a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you and Gwayne have built a life together, despite the stormy beginnings of your union.

You can still remember the day of the tourney, the way your heart had pounded with fear as your father had chosen Gwayne as his opponent. The memory lingers like a shadow, but it’s one you’ve learned to live with, just as you’ve learned to live with the man who became your husband.

Gwayne, sensing the shift in your mood, squeezes your hand gently. “He’ll have the best tutors, the finest training. And he’ll have us.”

“Yes,” you agree, turning your gaze back to the city below. “He’ll have us.”

The grand hall of the Hightower is filled with the warmth of a roaring fire, the stone hearth dominating the room. The thick tapestries that line the walls soften the sound of footsteps on the stone floor, and the smell of spiced wine and roasted meat fills the air.

Daeron is smaller than you expected, a boy of perhaps seven years, with a mop of silver hair that falls into his eyes. Those eyes, so much like his mother’s, are wide with curiosity and just a hint of nervousness as he stands before you and Gwayne.

“Welcome to Oldtown, Prince Daeron,” Gwayne says, his voice kind but formal, as befits the occasion. He kneels slightly, bringing himself closer to the boy’s level, a gesture of respect and warmth that seems to put Daeron at ease.

The boy glances up at you, his lips parting in a small, shy smile. “Thank you, Ser Gwayne,” he replies, his voice small but clear. Then, turning to you, he adds, “My lady.”

You kneel beside Gwayne, reaching out to take Daeron’s hand in yours. His fingers are cold, and you can feel the slight tremor in them. “You’ll be safe here, Prince Daeron,” you assure him softly. “This is your home now.”

Daeron looks up at you, his young face a mix of emotions—fear, uncertainty, but also trust. It’s a look that tugs at your heart, and you find yourself wanting to protect this boy, to give him the guidance and care that only family can provide.

“We’ll take good care of you,” you promise, your voice gentle but firm. “Just as we would our own.”

The boy nods, and you can see the tension in his small shoulders begin to ease. He looks around the hall, taking in the grandeur of the Hightower, the vastness of the space that is now his home. There’s still fear in his eyes, but there’s also a glimmer of something else—hope.

Gwayne rises to his feet, offering his hand to you. “Come,” he says to Daeron, “let’s show you the rest of the Hightower. There’s much to see, and I believe the maester has prepared something special for your arrival.”

Daeron hesitates for just a moment before he takes Gwayne’s offered hand, his small fingers gripping tightly as though seeking reassurance. You stand beside them, a silent guardian of this new bond that is being forged.

As you walk through the halls, Gwayne points out various tapestries, statues, and paintings, telling stories of the history of the Hightowers and Oldtown. Daeron listens intently, his earlier nervousness slowly melting away under the gentle guidance of your husband.

When you reach the maester’s chambers, you’re greeted by the sight of a table laden with books, scrolls, and an array of strange instruments that immediately capture Daeron’s interest. The maester, a kindly old man with a beard as white as snow, greets Daeron with a deep bow.

“Prince Daeron,” the maester says warmly, “I’ve prepared a special lesson for you, one that I think you’ll find quite interesting.”

Daeron’s eyes light up with curiosity, and for the first time since his arrival, you see a genuine smile on his face. He looks up at you and Gwayne, his eyes shining with excitement. “Thank you,” he says, his voice more confident now.

Gwayne squeezes your hand, and you can’t help but return the smile. This, you realize, is what it means to be a family—not just by blood, but by the bonds you choose to create. In this moment, with the warmth of the fire and the promise of a new beginning, you feel something settle in your heart, a sense of fulfillment that you hadn’t known you were missing.

As Daeron sits down with the maester, already engrossed in the lesson that has been prepared for him, you and Gwayne share a look, a silent understanding passing between you.

And in this moment, as you both watch Daeron eagerly absorb the knowledge being offered to him, you know that you wouldn’t have your life being lived in any other way.

The halls of the Red Keep are as imposing as ever as you and Gwayne make your way through the corridors. It's been years since you last walked these halls, and yet they feel as familiar as ever—haunted by memories both bitter and sweet.

Gwayne’s hand rests on your elbow, guiding you through the maze of the castle with practiced ease. He’s dressed in the colors of his house, the green and silver of the Hightowers, his expression calm and composed as always. But you know him well enough to sense the tension beneath the surface, the way his gaze sharpens when he hears a distant sound, always vigilant, always protective.

You both turn a corner and nearly collide with a small entourage, led by none other than Rhaenyra herself. She’s flanked by her husband—your father, Daemon—and their children, their steps purposeful, their expressions tense. Rhaenyra’s silver hair gleams under the flickering torchlight, her violet eyes widening slightly in surprise as she sees you.

“Rhaenyra,” you greet her, your voice soft but steady, betraying none of the uncertainty you feel. So much has changed, yet seeing her here, a part of you yearns for the easy camaraderie you once shared as children.

“Cousin,” Rhaenyra replies, her voice warm despite the strain visible on her face. She glances at Gwayne and then back at you, her gaze searching, perhaps for some sign of how the years have treated you. “It’s been too long.”

“Far too long,” you agree, your eyes flicking to Daemon, who stands slightly behind Rhaenyra, his gaze locked on Gwayne. There’s a tension in his stance, a stiffness that wasn’t there before, and you know immediately that your father is displeased.

Daemon’s eyes are dark, and though he remains silent, the disapproval is clear. His gaze travels from Gwayne to you, then back again, lingering on the clasped hands between you and your husband. A muscle ticks in his jaw, and for a moment, the air seems to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved history.

“You’re back in the capital for the petitions, I presume?” Rhaenyra asks, breaking the silence, her tone carefully neutral. The mention of the petitions brings you back to the grim reality of why you’re all here—the matter of Driftmark, and the question of succession that has thrown the court into turmoil.

“Yes,” Gwayne answers before you can, his voice firm. “We came as soon as we heard.” He glances at Daemon, his expression respectful but guarded. “It seems the crown’s decision is in favor of your son.”

Rhaenyra’s face softens at the mention of Lucerys, but before she can respond, a voice from behind her interrupts. It’s Jacaerys, his young face set in determination. “The matter should have never been in question. Luke is the rightful heir to Driftmark.”

You see the fire in his eyes, the same fire that once burned in Rhaenyra at that age. It’s both heartening and concerning, especially now, in these treacherous waters.

“That he is,” you say gently, offering a smile to Jacaerys. “And it’s clear to anyone with eyes that he’ll make a fine lord.”

Before Jacaerys can respond, Daemon steps forward, his presence commanding attention. His eyes are locked onto yours now, and there’s a storm brewing behind them, a mix of emotions you can’t fully decipher. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, carrying the weight of a warning.

“You’ve found happiness in Oldtown, I see.” The words are directed at you, but his gaze shifts to Gwayne as he says it, his tone laced with something darker. “Though I wonder if the cost was worth it.”

You feel Gwayne’s hand tighten around yours, a subtle gesture of support. “Happiness is not something to be questioned, Father,” you reply calmly, meeting Daemon’s gaze without flinching. “Nor is the loyalty I hold to both my families.”

Daemon’s lips twitch, almost as if he’s about to say something more, but Rhaenyra places a gentle hand on his arm, silently urging him to hold his tongue. There’s a brief moment where it seems he might ignore her, but then he lets out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“We’re here to support our family,” Gwayne adds, his voice measured, addressing Daemon directly now. “In whatever way is needed.”

Daemon studies Gwayne for a long moment, the silence between them stretching thin. Finally, he gives a curt nod, though the hardness in his gaze doesn’t entirely soften. “As you should,” he says, the words clipped, before turning back to Rhaenyra.

“Come, we have business with the king,” he says to her, his voice brooking no argument.

Rhaenyra hesitates, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. “We’ll speak later,” she promises, offering a small, genuine smile before following after Daemon, their children trailing behind her.

As they walk away, the tension slowly dissipates, leaving you standing beside Gwayne in the dimly lit corridor. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, leaning slightly into your husband’s side. Gwayne wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his warmth a comfort against the chill that lingers in the air.

“That went… better than I expected,” Gwayne murmurs, a touch of wry humor in his voice, though you can hear the relief beneath it.

“He’s never going to fully approve,” you say quietly, your eyes fixed on the spot where your father had stood. “But he’ll have to accept it.”

Gwayne turns to you, his expression softening as he looks down into your eyes. “I don’t need his approval,” he says, his voice firm. “I have you, and that’s all that matters.”

You smile at that, a genuine smile that reaches your eyes, banishing the last of the unease. “And I have you,” you reply, your voice filled with the love and certainty that have grown between you over the years.

The heavy oak door of your chambers shuts behind you, a soft thud echoing through the room. The warmth of the fire flickers across the stone walls that dance in tandem with your heightened pulse. Gwayne stands before you, his emerald eyes sharp and intense, still simmering with the tension of your earlier encounter in the halls. He says nothing as he approaches, but the way his hand reaches for your waist and pulls you flush against him speaks volumes.

You’ve grown accustomed to the feel of him—the strength in his embrace, the heat of his breath against your skin—but tonight there is something different, something more urgent. The lingering traces of your father’s displeasure hang between you, and you know, without words, that it fuels Gwayne’s every movement.

His lips descend upon yours, fierce and claiming, tasting of the wine shared at the evening’s feast. You respond in kind, your hands weaving through the thick strands of his hair, pulling him closer, as though you could erase the earlier tension through sheer proximity.

His hands roam across your body with practiced familiarity, fingers curling around the ties of your gown, loosening the laces with deliberate slowness. Gwayne leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice low and rough. “I will make you scream for me tonight,” he promises, and the unspoken words hang heavy in the air—Let him hear.

Your heart flutters in response, not with fear, but with anticipation. The thought of your father just beyond the walls, likely brooding over his anger, stirs something within you. How often had Daemon whispered venom into your ear about the Hightowers, about how they were a poison slowly strangling your family? And yet here you are, wrapped in the arms of one who bears that very name, bound to him not only by vows but by something far deeper, something that even your father’s fury cannot tarnish.

Gwayne’s touch turns rougher, more insistent, and your breath catches in your throat as he lifts you with ease, laying you down onto the bed. The covers crumple beneath your weight, the mattress giving way as he settles over you, his eyes burning with a hunger that matches your own. “I want him to know,” he murmurs against your neck, his lips trailing fire down your throat, “that you belong to me.”

Your back arches involuntarily, and you bite down on your lip, the need to hold back your cries warring with the knowledge of who might hear. Gwayne’s hands grasp your hips, his grip possessive as he moves against you with a rhythm that leaves you breathless. Each movement, each deliberate thrust, is a challenge—a challenge to the walls that separate your chambers from those of your father and his wife.

The pressure builds inside you, the familiar heat coiling in your belly, and you grasp at Gwayne’s shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you fight against the wave of pleasure threatening to drown you. His mouth hovers over yours, demanding, coaxing you to give in, to let go.

And then you remember—Daemon’s chambers are just beyond. The thought of his reaction, of his barely concealed rage at the idea of you finding joy with a Hightower, sends a thrill through you. You gasp aloud as Gwayne drives into you harder, his breath ragged in your ear, “Louder,” he commands, his voice a mix of authority and need.

You close your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, letting the sound of his name tear from your lips, louder than before, louder than you ever have. You imagine the look on your father’s face, his fists clenched in helpless fury, and the thought sends you spiraling into a pleasure so intense it nearly blinds you.

Gwayne’s name tumbles from your lips again and again, each cry more fervent than the last, as he brings you to the edge and beyond. You feel his satisfaction in the way he groans your name in return, his hold on you unyielding, as though he could anchor himself to you through sheer force of will.

When it’s over, when the last echoes of your cries have faded into the night, you lay beside him, your body spent and trembling, but your mind still racing. Gwayne’s hand rests possessively on your hip, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of exertion. “He heard you,” he says, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

You can only nod, the thought of what tomorrow might bring swirling in your mind. But for now, there is only this—only you and Gwayne, and the knowledge that whatever storm your father’s ire might bring, you would weather it together.

In the silence that follows, you curl closer to Gwayne, your fingers tracing idle patterns across his chest. “Tomorrow…” you begin, but your voice trails off.

“Tomorrow,” Gwayne echoes, his tone firm, reassuring, “we will face whatever comes. But tonight, you are mine, and that is all that matters.”

You smile softly at his words, closing your eyes as sleep finally begins to claim you.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd gwayne #hotd x female reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #gwayne x you #gwayne x reader #gwayne x y/n #gwayne hightower #ser gwayne

521 notes · View notes

dominantslasherking · 5 months ago

Text

Armand With Dominant Male S/o pt 1

Backstory: Louis and Armand talk to Daniel about you. Armands, strange feelings and possessiveness of you is revealed. The obsession that Armand reveals for you is unsettling, Daniel can't help but wonder, what happened to you. Authors note: Tell me if you want part 2.

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

The dim light of the room flickered softly over the rich crimson drapes, casting long shadows that mirrored the weight of the conversation between Daniel, Louis, and Armand. The sound of the city outside was muffled, distant. It was just the three of them now, seated in that familiar, quiet tension. Daniel, ever the sharp observer, leaned forward in his chair, the recorder beside him whirring faintly, capturing every word.

Louis’ dark eyes flickered over to Armand, who sat with a distant expression, lost in thoughts of a time long past Almost weary of the current subject that was about to be, revealed. The interview had delved into old wounds, recounting moments of blood and betrayal, moments that were still vivid in Louis' mind. The play, the Theater of the Vampires, where he and Claudia had first met Armand and his brood. It was a time when everything was fragile—when the world had cracked open and bled.

Daniel was listening intently, following the story, but there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes, something unsaid hovering on his lips.

“And this is where Claudia asked to join them,” Daniel remarked, a small smile playing at the edge of his mouth. “Bold move. She never struck me as one to hesitate.”

Louis chuckled softly, a bitter edge to the sound. “Claudia was many things, but hesitant was never one of them.”

But then, Daniel shifted, leaning back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he steered the conversation in a different direction. “Speaking of companions…” he began, his tone measured, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. You’ve mentioned so many characters from your past—Lestat, Claudia, Armand—but there’s one who seems to be missing from the puzzle.” Daniel’s gaze sharpened, settling on Armand, whose stillness had taken on a peculiar intensity.

“What about the vampire [Your Name]?”

Louis glanced at Armand, whose expression remained unreadable. The air between them felt thicker, charged with something unspoken. Armand’s dark eyes flickered with something that might have been longing, or perhaps possession, as if the mere mention of [Your Name] had awakened something deep and dormant within him.

“[Your Name],” Daniel repeated, leaning into the silence. “There’s not much written about him, but what I’ve found… well, it’s fascinating.” Daniel paused placing his recorder onto the table tappingsome files. "I mean anytime you did talk about your past, never once did you mention [Your Name] despite the hints in your story that seemed almost made up, as if you were...well I don't know, excluding someone?" Daniel let out a hum, Louis faked a smile.

Armand’s lips curled into a soft smile, though his eyes remained distant. “Fascinating, yes,” he murmured. “He always was.” Armand stayed calmly distracting Daniel from Louis for the time being.

Louis shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “[Your Name] was with us for a time after we… after we thought we had killed Lestat,” he explained, his voice quieter now, more careful. “He was an old friend, or at least, he felt like one. Claudia adored him. Treated him almost like a father, after Lestat.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “A father figure? That’s interesting. Especially after… everything with Lestat.” Louis opened his mouth to respond, but the weight of the past pulled him under, drawing him into a memory he hadn’t revisited in years.

Claudia’s youthful laughter echoed softly in the apartment room, filtered through thick curtains. You sat with her at a grand oak desk, his quiet presence a soothing contrast to the chaos that often surrounded her. He held a delicate book in his hands, showing her the intricacies of calligraphy, his long fingers guiding hers with a gentle patience that was entirely foreign to Claudia’s previous life.

“Like this,” [Your Name] murmured, his voice soft but commanding. He demonstrated a fluid stroke, the pen moving with elegant precision. Claudia’s brow furrowed in concentration, her hands trying to mimic his movement, though frustration danced behind her eyes.

“I can’t do it,” she huffed, but there was no real anger. With [Your Name], there never was. Slowly your hand brushed against her dark and flawless skin

“You can,” he replied calmly. “You just need time. We all do.”

There was something calming in his presence, in the way he never rushed her or demanded perfection, unlike Lestat. He was patient, treating Claudia with a respect that neither Louis nor Lestat ever fully granted her. It was perhaps why she came to see him as more than just another companion—he was a guide, a teacher, a quiet fatherly figure.

Claudia’s smile returned, albeit faint, and she tried again, her tiny strokes improving under his watchful eye.

Louis, watching from the doorway, had always been struck by the way [Your Name] interacted with her. Unlike Lestat, who sought to mold Claudia into a creature of his own making, [Your Name] let her be free. He offered her the tools to learn but never forced her hand. ---

Louis nodded, though his gaze grew more distant, his mind drifting back to those long, haunting nights. “[Your Name] didn’t speak much,” Louis continued. “He was quiet, gentle, with an aura that suggested he had seen more of the world than any of us combined. Claudia trusted him, perhaps because he never tried to control her. He let her be free, let her learn. I… I never asked about his age, but I always suspected he was ancient. He had that look about him. That weight.”

Another flashback enveloped the room. [Your Name] sat in a dimly lit corner of their home, the flickering candlelight casting shadows over his face. He was hunched over a piece of parchment, a quill gliding smoothly across its surface as he wrote in deep concentration.

Louis, standing a few feet away, watched the scene quietly. He had often wondered what thoughts lingered behind those eyes, what worlds [Your Name] inhabited when he retreated into his silence. There was a timelessness to him, a stillness that unsettled even Louis.

The quill scratched softly against the paper as [Your Name] wrote, never pausing, never hesitating. A half-finished poem lay before him—lines that hinted at an eternal sadness, at an understanding of the world that Louis could only guess at.

"In shadows deep, we dance and fade, Unseen by time, in darkness laid. A fleeting touch, a whispered cry, We live forever, yet still we die."

Louis had never dared to ask about the poem, nor about the others like it that [Your Name] left unfinished. There was always a sense that those words were not meant to be shared, that they belonged to a part of [Your Name] that remained forever out of reach.

Armand’s eyes flicked over to Louis, a subtle smile on his lips. “You never understood him,” Armand said softly, his voice almost tender. “But Claudia did.”

The room seemed to freeze again, the gravity of Armand’s words hanging between them. There was something more, something deeper beneath his tone, but Louis didn’t respond. Instead, he let the silence stretch.

Daniel, however, was unwilling to let the moment pass without prodding further. “And what about his work? His poetry?”

At this, Armand’s expression faltered, his usual controlled demeanor slipping for a fraction of a second. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but Daniel caught it. He had been waiting for this moment.

“You mean his unfinished poems,” Daniel continued, flipping through his notebook. “It’s strange, isn’t it? So much of his work was lost or… incomplete. But there’s one poem that stands out. The one about Claudia.” He paused for dramatic effect before reading a few lines:

"In her eyes, a child—yet, never to grow, Trapped in a prison of eternal woe. Her heart beats, but not with life’s fire, A doll’s existence, never to expire."

Daniel looked up, meeting Armand’s gaze. “Unfinished, of course. But haunting, nonetheless. It almost feels like he was trying to capture her essence, but couldn’t quite bring himself to finish the thought. Why do you think that is?”

Armand’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing over his features. “Because some things are too painful to complete,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Even for a vampire as old as [Your Name].”

Daniel held Armand’s gaze for a long moment before turning back to Louis. “So, he was there, part of your little family, but never truly part of it. An outsider, despite being… what, centuries old?”

Louis nodded. “He was always elusive. A shadow. There, but never fully with us. But in his own way, he cared for Claudia. I believe he loved her… as much as a creature like him could love.” Daniel snorted at Louis calling the other vampire a creature, amusing really.

Armand’s expression softened, but his eyes still held that possessive gleam. “[Your Name] was more than just a companion,” Armand said quietly, his voice dripping with something more intimate, something obsessive. “He was an artist. A mind that saw the world in ways none of us could comprehend. And in that, he was perfect.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, sensing the depth of Armand’s obsession. “It sounds like you were quite fond of him, Armand.”

“Fond?” Armand’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. “Fond doesn’t even begin to describe it.” He glanced at Louis, then back at Daniel, his gaze sharpening. “But I suppose you’ll find that out in time, won’t you?”

The room fell silent again, the weight of the past pressing down on all of them. Armand’s obsession with [Your Name] hung in the air, unspoken but palpable, and Daniel knew that this was only the beginning. The dim lighting of the room cast long shadows across the walls as Daniel’s voice cut through the tense air. He glanced between Louis and Armand, history lingering just beneath the surface. Louis sat stiffly, avoiding Armand’s gaze, his expression unreadable but tight with an underlying tension.

"So, how did you first meet [Your Name]?" Daniel inquired, breaking the silence. He leaned forward in his chair, eyes sharp as he caught the subtle exchange between the two vampires, but his quesion was clearly direced at Armand. Louis shifted uncomfortably, his eyes momentarily meeting Daniel’s before darting away. His hands fidgeted slightly in his lap as if the very mention of [Your Name] was enough to unravel something within him. “I need a moment,” Louis muttered, standing abruptly. Without another word, he exited the room, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

Daniel raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued further by Louis’ reaction. “That was… strange. He usually holds his composure better.”

Armand watched Louis leave, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. His dark eyes flicked back to Daniel. “Louis is complicated when it comes to [Your Name].” His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of possessiveness.

Daniel tilted his head, intrigued. “What do you mean by that?”

Armand leaned back, folding his hands together as he considered his words. “Louis… admired [Your Name], perhaps even more than he admitted to himself. He loved him, in a way. But he never acted on it. He feared what might happen if he did. He worried about Claudia, about rejection. Louis has always been a creature ruled by guilt.”

Daniel’s brow furrowed. “So, you’re saying Louis was in love with [Your Name]?”

Armand gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Yes, but Louis’ love is often restrained by fear. He couldn’t risk what they had, the balance they had established. He was content with the idea of [Your Name] being there, even if he never fully pursued his desires. But me…” Armand’s smile grew, dark and intimate. “I wasn’t as restrained.”

“Obsessed?” Daniel offered, his eyes gleaming with interest.

Armand’s smile deepened, his gaze far away now as he recalled the moment that had changed everything. “Obsessed,” he repeated softly. “I first met [Your Name] at a play. I was performing for humans, entertaining them with our little charade. But when I saw him…” Armand’s voice trailed off, and the room seemed to darken as the flashback began. ---

The theater was crowded with the lively chatter of the mortal audience, the scent of cheap perfume and candle wax heavy in the air. The dim light of chandeliers flickered across the stage as the actors performed, though Armand’s attention was no longer on the play.

Seated among the audience was a figure unlike anyone Armand had ever seen. [Your Name], with his sharp jawline and hauntingly smoky red eyes, sat in the back row, a quill in hand as he scribbled across a piece of parchment. His attention wasn’t on the performance but rather on whatever he was writing, his lips barely moving as his thoughts flowed onto the page.

Armand, playing his role on stage, felt his concentration waver. The beauty of [Your Name] was undeniable—he was like a statue carved from marble, perfect and distant, entirely uninterested in the mundane theater around him. His very presence seemed to command the room in a way that no mortal could.

As the play continued, Armand found his gaze drawn back to [Your Name] again and again. There was something magnetic about him, something beyond mere physical attraction. It was as if [Your Name] belonged to another world, and Armand could not resist the pull of that world.

Unable to focus any longer on the play, Armand had finished early, much to the 'awes' of the mortals watching. He made his way discreetly toward the back of the theater, his eyes never leaving [Your Name]. The other actors continued their performance, oblivious to his distraction, as Armand approached.

When he was close enough, he could see the quill moving smoothly over the parchment, the words forming beneath [Your Name]’s skilled hand. His expression remained impassive, though there was a subtle grace to the way his jaw moved as he focused. His beauty was mesmerizing—those sharp, defined features, the way his fingers held the quill with delicate precision.

“Enjoying the play?” Armand’s voice was low, but it held a teasing edge.

[Your Name] didn’t look up immediately. Instead, he finished the line he was writing before raising his eyes to meet Armand’s. His gaze was piercing, deep red with an ancient wisdom that sent a thrill through Armand.

“Not particularly,” [Your Name] replied smoothly, his voice calm but with an underlying sharpness. “I’ve seen better.”

Armand smiled, intrigued by the indifference in [Your Name]’s tone. He had expected someone as striking as this to be swept up in the grandeur of the theater, yet here he was, completely unimpressed.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t entertain you,” Armand said, though there was no sincerity in his apology. Instead, his eyes lingered on [Your Name]’s form, taking in every detail—how his clothes fit perfectly against his body, the way the flickering candlelight cast shadows across his face, making him look almost ethereal.

“You seem distracted,” [Your Name] remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on your performance?”

Armand chuckled softly. “Perhaps, but I’ve found something far more interesting.” His gaze lingered, making his intent clear.

[Your Name] raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Is that so?” --

The flashback faded as Armand’s voice broke through the memory, returning Daniel and the present audience to the dimly lit room. Armand’s eyes were dark with longing, his tone soft as he spoke again.

“That was the first time I saw him,” Armand murmured, his voice almost reverent. “He captivated me in a way no one ever had before. There was something… otherworldly about him. From that moment on, I knew I had to have him, despite the fact that I was...Occupied with Louis at this time”

Daniel remained quiet, letting the weight of Armand’s words settle in the room. The intensity of Armand’s obsession was palpable, and it was clear that this story was far from over

#the vampire armand #interview with the vampire #interview with a vampire #louis de pointe du lac #vampire armand #armand x reader #armand x louis #armand x male reader #obsession #obsessed armand #claudia #2022 Interview with the Vampire #slasher x male reader

347 notes · View notes

gallusrostromegalus · 11 months ago

Note

I must ask how my Most Favorite Boys, Jushiro Ukitake and Shinji Hirako, are doing in AEIWAM?

When Shinji returns to his post as Captain of the 5th after his exile, he is DETERMINED to not repeat his past mistakes and actually get to know the shinigami serving under him. He needs... Some kind of event, something people will voluntarily attend, where they'll tell him about themselves, and with a bit of structure because he is an awkward sod, and social interactions need RULES, DAMMIT-

"Now hang on-" says Shinji after staring at the blank office wall in silence for the last thirty minutes. "-that's not a bad idea!"

"...Is he okay?" Lieutenant Momo asks quietly.

"Oh yeah, he's always a little freak. Talks to himself and gets a lot out of the conversation." Also Lieutenant Hiyori nods. "You don't need to worry until he breaks out the craft supplies."

"He just pulled out a bunch of markers and construction paper." Momo pointed to their captain as he scribbled furiously on the paperwork he was ignoring.

"Aw. Fuck." Groaned Hiyori. "Well this is gonna be cringe as hell."

***

A few nights later, most of the fifth division assembled in the auditorium, slightly confused, but they had been promised there would be no additional work from this meeting, and there was an open bar, so they were in figurative and literal high spirits.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Fifth Division, welcome to TONIGHT'S GAME!" A cheerful and showman-like voice called out over the speakers, and the stage curtain rose to reveal a brightly colored game show stage where there had not been one before.

"Tonight's lovely contestants are- all the way from payroll, it's Fifth Division Tenth Seat Tenya Danshin!" The voice called out as the familiar face of their payroll and scheduling manager trotted out onstage and took his place behind the first of three podiums. There was some scattered and genuine, if confused applause from the audience.

"He's Big, he's Bad, he's just a little Bizarre, he's Josuke Araki!" The voice continued as a notably tall and muscular member took his place behind the middle podium with a wave and broad grin. There was more clapping and a few cheers this time.

"Currently being dragged onstage by my lovely assistant, it's my second favorite Lieutenant, Hiyori Sarugaki!" The voice continued as Hiyori was wrestled onstage and behind the third podium by Momo. The audience whooped and snickered at the spectacle.

"FUCK YOU, YOU FREAK!" Hiyori roared, flipping off the audience and the figure behind the final podium on the other side of the stage.

"I'm your host, ME! I've been here the whole time!" Grinned Shinji, dressed in a rather snappy three piece suit and holding a microphone. "WELCOME, all my lovely division members and Hiyori, to Tonight's Game! Now, you all know how to play, right?"

"Um. No. Sorry sir." Muttered Tenya as Josuke shook his head.

"You didn't tell us shit!" Hiyori growled.

"That's RIGHT!" Shinji's Cheshire Cat smile shined under the spotlights.

"You see, I wanted to get to know everyone in the 5th a little better, and there is nothing quite like a game show to get people to reveal some truly startling sides of themselves, but playing the same game over and over would be boring! So, every night we play Tonight's Game, the game is a different game than last time, and the contestants will all start with blank slates!" He explained, entirely too pleased with himself. "So- the only way to win is by learning, the only way to learn is by playing, and the only way to begin is by beginning, so without further ado- Momo, will you please bring out THE LIE DETECTOR."

The small curtains at the back of the stage opened, and Momo rolled out a cart with a strange device covered in dials and switches with a long antenna and a large lightbulb on top.

"Thank you Momo! Now, the clever bastards in the 12th whipped this up for me so I have absolutely no idea how it actually works, but I am assured this is the latest cutting-edge in Veracity Technology. Let's turn it on and try it out! Tenya-!"

"Yes, sir!" Tenya snapped to attention. "No need to be formal, I'm only your host, not your captain right now." Shinji waved. "Tell me Tenya- Do you have any children?"

"I- Um, my wife and I have three children, two little boys and our infant daughter?" He stammered, confused.

DING! The Device charmed, light bulb lighting up bright green.

"That is CORRECT!" Shinji grinned. "You get a point!"

There was another chime as the screen on the front of Tenya's Podium lit up and displayed a "1".

"Oh, I see!" Laughed Tenya.

"Josuke!" called Shinji.

"Capt- Host?" Josuke stopped mid-salute.

"Very good! Tell me Josuke, do you live in the barracks?" Shinji asked with genuine interest.

"Uh, no. I live with my Mom." Josuke shook his head.

DING! Said the device.

"That is Correct!" Shinji nodded approvingly. "You get a point as well!"

"Oh, so, every time we tell the truth, we get a point?" Asked Josuke.

"Very quick on the uptake my friend!" Shinji winked. "Of course, as the game goes on, the questions are going to get much harder to answer Truthfully..."

Oooooooh! Gasped the audience, invested now.

"What happens if we lie?" Wondered Tenya.

"Even if we did- how would he fucking know?" Hiyori rolled her eyes.

"You can try it and find out!" Shinji grinned with more than a hint of Menace. "Hiyori! It's your turn!"

"Ugh. What?" She groaned.

"Tell me, When is my birthday?" Asked Shinji.

"I don't know and I don't care." She smirked, sticking her tongue out at him.

BZZRK! The Device buzzed angrily, and the light flashed red. OHH! laughed the audience.

"What the FUCK?" Yelped Hiyori.

"Ooh!" Shinji winced, thoroughly enjoying himself. "I'm afraid that is INCORRECT! According to the screen back here, you spent the better part of THREE MONTHS tracking down a specific part to repair my sound system and traveled halfway across the planet to deliver it personally to me on my birthday. So not only do you know, you DO care, and for that I'm afraid I'm going to have to dock you two points."

Hiyori's screen lit up and displayed a "-2"

"WHAT THE HELL?" Hiyori wailed. "You didn't even see me when I gave you that Banana Plug or whatever-!"

"I did not!" Shinji grinned. "-but The Device knows, and is infallible!" "That's terrifying!" Tenya laughed nervously. "Alright contestants, the questions are going to get harder now, so consider your answers to them carefully." Shinji warned, a finger up to his lips. "Contestants- does any of your underwear have holes in it?"

"...Can we refuse to answer on the grounds it might get us in trouble?" asked Josuke.

"Yes! But you won't get any points for that round, and you may not win our Lovely Prize this week. Speaking of- Momo! Will you please show our contestants what they're playing for this week?"

Momo emerged from backstage with a large, blank sign, which she turned over and held over her head for all to see.

AN EXTRA WEEK OF PAID VACATION

OHHH! exclaimed the audience, with a few audible mutters of Damn, a whole week? and How do you get on this show?.

"ALL MY UNDERWEAR HAS GOT HOLES IN IT!" Shouted Josuke, now with heavily-motivated enthusiasm. Laughter exploded out of the audience, thoroughly entertained.

DING! chimed the device, and the score on Josuke's podium went up.

"Josuke taking an early and shameless lead!" Beamed Shinji, delighted that his plan was working. "Tenya?"

"I-ah, I don't think so?" Tenya blushed. "I bathe the kids and get them ready for bed while my wife does the laundry." He tried to explain.

BZZRK! The Device contested, red light flashing and the audience howled with laughter.

"Uh-oh, that's Not Correct!" Grinned Shinji. "According to the device, a significant amount of your clothes have holes in them, and you don't notice because you get dressed in the dark. You didn't outright lie though, so you will only not get a point instead of a deduction."

"WHAT?" Yelped Hiyori, outraged.

"Yeah, that's fair." Tenya winced. "Seriously though- where does this thing get it's information from?"

"...Hiyori?" Shinji leered playfully at his lieutenant.

"Yeah, it's all got holes. They come that way- Two for my legs and one for my torso." Hiyori snarled.

DING! agreed The Device.

"That is *technically* correct, which is the BEST kind of correct! You get a point!" Shinji cheered, and so did the audience.

"FINALLY!" She shouted, but her eyes narrowed with competitive enthusiasm.

---

The game continued for an hour, with a mix of group and solo questions, but equal chances to score points awarded to all contestants. Josuke was shameless but ill-informed, causing him to fail several rounds, Tenya was honest even as his face flushed red and he crumpled behind his Podium. Hiyori did her best to be only as honest as she had to be, and as the game continued, they came to a three-way tie.

"Before we begin the final round-" Shinji said, intoning a gentle sincerity. "Contestants, you've been so honest with me. Like. Alarmingly Honest with me. So I need to be honest with you- I do know how The Lie Detector works."

There was a scandalized gasp from all three contestants and the audience.

"Okay- I *sort of* know how The Device works." Shinji admitted. "I don't know what 'Wiffy' is-"

"YOU MEAN THE FUCKING WI-FI?" Howled Hiyori.

"Oh, like you know how it works!" Shinji glared.

"It's using a radio frequency to transmit Data instead of an electrical pulses like internet usually does." She scoffed. "-AND I KNOW HOW TO PRONOUNCE IT!"

Shinji glared. "...I should deduct a point from you for insubordination."

"You can't do that, you're the Host, not the Captain!" Said Josuke cheerfully.

"Yeah, unless Host is a Military rank, it's arguing, not insubordination."

DING! Agreed The Device.

"DON'T GANG UP ON ME!" Shinji wailed. "Fine, fine. Anyway, I might not know how Why-Figh works, but I *DO* know how the device knows if you're lying or not. Would my Lovely Assistants please come to the stage?"

Momo emerged from backstage, wearing a labcoat and holding another device with an antenna that matched the Lie Detector, followed by a middle aged woman holding a Baby, an older woman, and Mashiro Kuna.

"Akkiko?" Tenya yelped, and his wife laughed manically.

"MOM??" Wailed Josuke.

"MASHIRO??" Hiyori bellowed, jumping up onto her Podium. "YOU SOLD ME OUT?!"

"FOR A BAG OF CORN CHIPS!" Mashiro cackled.

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN PAY HER?!" Hiyori howled at Shinji.

"She was gonna do it for free! I talked her UP to a bag of corn chips!" Shinji protested. "But YES! You've all been deceived! Hoodwinked!Bamboozled, even! Which brings us to our Final Question!"

The crowd roared with excitement.

"I started this game because I wanted to get to know everyone better- but I have to ask, how well do YOU know each other, and so I must ask you all if you know these people as well as they know you?"

There was a loud OOOH! of intrigue from the audience.

"Just to make it extra-exciting, all of these questions will be worth up to three points!" Shinji grinned, then slowly turned to the first Podium. "Tenya."

"Oh god." Tenya laughed nervously.

"Your lovely wife. You've been married for ten year now, so you theoretically know what she looks like, right?" Shinji teased. "So, for a potential three points and week of paid vacation- Do you know what color Akkiko's eyes are?"

Akkiko giggled, turning around as Tenya leaned as far forward on his Podium and squinted at her. With a deep sigh, he slumped over the podium in defeat.

"...I do not." He groaned and Akkiko cackled.

"That is CORRECT!" Shinji cheered.

"I'm not good with colors." Tenya tried to explain. "-this morning I actually asked her what color MY eyes are."

"YES! That's what I was waiting to hear!" Shinji shouted, pumping his fist in the air. "All three points!"

The audience cheered loudly.

Shinji turned to the next contestant. "Josuke."

"Oh no." Josuke giggled.

"What is your mother's favorite food?" Shinji asked.

Josuke stared blankly.

"SURELY you are not living in your mother's house and NOT COOKING FOR HER, are you?" Shinji asked with no small amount of menace.

"You're never going to get married if you can't cook!" Tenya nodded in agreement.

"I COOK!" Josuke protested. "...sometimes." he added, cringing.

"-So. What do you make for your beloved mother, who works so hard taking care of her adult son?" Shinji teased.

"LOTSA STUFF THAT'S WHY I DON'T KNOW!" Josuke wailed. "I COOK KATSUDON, I COOK RAMEN, I COOK CURRY, I COOK OMURICE- I EVEN LEARNED HOW TO COOK WESTERN FOODS LIKE LASAGNA AND CHILLI CHEESE DOG-! DING! Went the device, Josuke's mother holding the radio.

"Was your favorite in there Mrs. Akari?"

"Yes! I like Chili Cheese Dog." She smiled. "I always eat seconds!"

"YOU ALWAYS EAT SECONDS OF EVERYTHING I COOK I DON'T KNOW WHICH ONE YOU LIKE THE MOST!" Josuke wailed.

"That is also true! He is a very good cook! And single!" She nodded up at Shinji.

"-And he's single!" Shinji grinned at the audience, some of whom whistled back. "Three points, for your culinary skills! Which means we have a Tie!"

The audience tittered with speculation and excitement.

"...Hiyori." Shinji grinned.

"You're a dead man as soon as you sign off on my vacation time." She glared.

"I mean, I can end the game right now." Shinji wagged his finger at her. "-But I can't resist the opportunity to humliate you. Now, You and Mashiro have been living under the same roof for longer than Josuke and Tenya have been alive, so to be fair to them, I'll ask you about someone you've met more recently but should still know pretty well-"

Hiyori squinted at him.

"-What is Momo's Favorite Animal?"

"What?" Hiyori laughed. "-Everyone knows it's Penguins!"

"Really?" asked Josuke. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I didn't know that either and I've served under her for decades now!" Said Tenya.

"What? How do you guys NOT know that?" Demanded Hiyori. "Her phone background is a Rockhopper Penguin, she's got a Fairy penguin squeeze toy in her desk for really long phone calls and she's always talking about wanting to go to the Tokyo aquarium in the living world to see them in person! She's even got a HUGE collection of penguin plushies in her r-" DINGDINGDINGDINGSING!! rang the Machine as Momo furiously pressed the button, face red as a beet.

"Wow!" Shinji smiled. "I'm surprised! You seem to know Miss Hinamori really well!"

"Uh, duh? We're colleagues." Hiyori rolled her eyes.

Momo sighed with relief.

"Interesting! Follow-up question- What's Mashiro's surname?" Shinji asked.

Hiyori blinked. "...uhhhhhhhh..."

"You heard Kensei yell it at least six times a day for the last century you jackass!" Laughed Mashiro.

"UHHHHH..." Hiyori paled, and the audience roared with laughter.

"Hmm... I seem to remember you pretending you didn't care about my birthday, and yet, you do- For you to remember her favorite animal and in such detail, Momo must be VERY IMPORTANT to you!"

The audience giggled Momo turned scarlet again and slowly crumpled into a ball. Mashiro vibrated with excitement beside her.

"Yeah?" Hiyori glared at Shinji. "She's the smartest person in the whole damn division and does half your job for you? If I win, I'm giving the week off to her just to watch you flail around without her! No wait- I'll set up the webcam and we can split the week off, go to the aquarium AND watch Shinji squirm like a worm an a-! Uh? Momo? You okay there?" She asked, finally noticing Momo laying on the floor, borderline catatonic with embarrassment.

"This is FASCINATNG!" Shinji grinned. "You are apparently so immune to embarrassment that you have somehow made it bounce off you and target Momo!"

"What's to be embarrassed about? I like her okay?" Hiyori blinked. "She's great! I wanna work with her forever!"

Shinji leaned forward on his elbows, chin in his hands and stared at Hiyori, positively vibrating with excitement.

"What?" She glared.

"You are. SO CLOSE. To comprehending something." He said, wide-eyed and delighted. "It's fascinating to see someone on the precipice like this."

Hiyori stared blankly at him. clueless.

"So you like Momo. We've established that." Shinji said, attempting to throw her a bone. "H- how do you think Momo feels about you?" Hiyori slowly lowered her gaze to Momo. The entire audience watched in hushed fascination as Hiyori frowned at the situation, thinking hard-

"...Momo?" Hiyori's voice was suddenly nervous. "Do you- have I just been annoying you? Becuase I can stop-"

Momo Hinamori was abruptly on her feet, crouched atop the Podium, fists balled in the front of Hiyori's shushako, pulling the blonde's face up so it was mere inches from hers. "HIYORI SARUGAKI YOU ARE THE MOST INFURIATING WOMAN IN THE UNIVERSE!"

"Fuck!" Hiyori yelped. "I'm really sorry, I'll- I'll leave you alo-"

"I'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO DO, MISSY!" Momo continued, grabbing Hiyori's face. "YOU'RE WINNING THIS GAME, YOU'RE SPLITTING THE WEEK OFF WITH ME, YOU ARE GETTING A HOTEL IN THE LIVING WORLD AND THEN *I* AM GOING TO-'

In the videotape of the game that mysteriously appeared in the ninth division later that week, the next forty-seven seconds of sound had been obscured by a single, loud, continuous "BLEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" sound, but Mashiro was visibly looking up some of the terms being shouted on her phone, Josuke's mother sprinted up to cover her son's ears to no avail, Akkiko was pointing between herself and Tenya with excitement, and Shinji's jaw fell so far open it looked like it had become unhinged from his skull.

"-AND IF EITHER OF US CAN WALK IN THE MORNING, THEN WE'RE GONNA GO SEE SOME PENGUINS!" Momo finished, staring Hiyori down with a terrifying blend of romantic fury and bloodthirsty lust.

Hiyori stared up, wide-eyed and expressionless, face clearly offline as she underwent several psychological and spiritual awakenings before her she slowly broke into a slow, stupefied grin "Oh you like-like me!"

"...Yes." Momo sighed, deeply pained and affectionate at once as the audience howled. "You're okay with... all that?"

Hiyori saluted Momo with an enthusiastic "-Yes, SIR!"

"NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M FUCKING TALKIN' ABOUT!" Shinji whooped with joy, jumping up and down, the audience on their feet with applause. "POINTS AND VACATIONS ALL AROUND, AND FOR BEING THE *MOST* HONEST, THE WINNER OF TONIGHT'S GAME IS MOMO HINAMORI!"

The audience cheered wildly as Momo scooped Hiyori up like a princess and carried her backstage.

"THAT'S IT FOR TONIGHT'S GAME!" called Shinji over the din. "GOODNIGHT EVERYONE, AND GOOD FUCKING LUCK!"

---

As for Jushiro Ukitake, he appears on a special guest episode of Tonight's Game with fellow Captains Soi Fon, Byakuya Kuchiki and Retsu Unohana to play "Never Have I Ever" and *that* episode is widely considered to be one of the most scandalous and unhinged of all the games on Tonight's Game.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #Bleach Fanfic #Shinji hirako #momo hinamori #hiyori sarugaki #jushiro ukitake #(well he get mentioned at the end)#Long post #I've been watching a lot of Game Changer and I occured to me that Shinji and Sam Reich have a lot in common #for those of who don't watch Game Changer: This is a parody of the second episode

501 notes · View notes

heizlut · 1 year ago

Note

Hallo! I am very new to tumblr, so please excuse any mistakes i may make qwq

I really enjoyed your Venti and Kaeya story(ies)! Could you do something similar for Lyney with the addition of a breeking kink? He doesnt have cat ears or a tail like his sister- instead, the feline side of him shows through his obsessive need to breed :x

jshdhdhd i’ve been thinking about this like crazy and i’m so glad we got to clarify a few details over messages before i wrote this! again, welcome to tumblr! i’m so glad you stumbled across my page🫶🏼 (was also totally inspired by the yaoi when writing this lmfao)

Jinx

cw: breeding kink, textured feline tongue, hypnosis, rope-play, mentions of pregnancy

tags: sub fem!reader, dom!lyney with recessive feline traits, mostly proofread

a/n: here's a lil translation for the pet names- "mon chaton"= my kitten; "mon cherie"= my beloved; "bonne fille"= good girl; “ma bonne fille”= my good girl

nsfw under the cut

m!list here

જ⁀➴✧:･.˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.・જ⁀➴✧:

Ever since becoming his girlfriend, Lyney found he had a particular jinx; all because one evening he fucked you so hard backstage before his performance, filling you so full of his sticky cum, and his show ended up being the greatest one yet. The next performance, he wanted to test out his little theory; fucking his cock into your tight cunt til his cum was leaking out and dripping down your thighs. Lyney had yet another show stopping performance.

When he told you his theory, you had simply laughed, “Seems like you just want to relieve some pre-show nerves. I doubt it’s some type of jinx, my love.” The cute little pout on Lyney’s face made it hard to take him seriously. You give him a kiss on the cheek, “I don’t mind this little routine though. If it means getting fucked so full of you before a show, I’ll do it.”

Tonight was a performance that Lyney knew he couldn’t fuck up. It was meant to be another show stopper with prominent Fontaine guests in the audience. You made your way to his dressing room as you usually did. Lyney was seated at his vanity touching up his hair when he saw your reflection behind him in the mirror. The corners of his lips curl upwards, “There she is~”

You smirk in response, “I have something special for you tonight…Master Lyney~” Lyney turned his body in his chair to face you as you begin to undo the buttons of your dress. The soft material slips off your body, revealing a red lacy lingerie set with a black garter belt that matched his. Lyney’s lips part, taking in every inch of you with his violet eyes. Lyney almost wanted to curse his innate feline genes for almost pouncing on you right then and there. The way you looked right now and using that title he'd teased you with before was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to be able to take his time with you, or at least as much time as he could before he had to make his way to the stage.

Lyney gets up from his seat, sauntering over to you with a sultry look in his eyes. His fingers reach out, tracing the lacy edges of your lingerie, "Look at my sweet girl dressed so provocatively... Wearing my extra garter belt no less." He runs his finger under one of the straps and pulls it back and releases, letting it lightly slap back against your skin. Your breath catches in your throat as he does so. Arousal pooling against the thin fabric of your panties when he leans in, his lips grazing yours as he speaks in a low tone, "I have something special for you too, mon chaton~" Lyney backs away from you, the lingering touch from his lips sets you ablaze with desire.

Lyney digs through his pocket and pulls out a carnelian pendulum with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Be a sweetheart for me and keep your eyes on crystal, yes?" You draw your bottom lip between your teeth and nod, fixing your gaze on the pendulum. Your eyes follow the swinging pendulum as Lyney begins to speak, "Relax your mind and your body... Focus on the sound of my voice..." He continues on as you feel your mind go blank. He smirks at your dazed expression, now having you fully under.

He softly caressed your cheek, running the pad of his thumb across your soft lips, "Be a good girl and get the purple rope, yes?" All you can do is nod and follow his instructions. Lyney's cock twitches as he watches you bring back the rope he requested. He takes it from you hands and moves behind you, his lips against your ear, "Arms behind your back, mon cherie~" Of course, you comply. His voice filling your mind like a sweet melody that was only meant for you alone. A tingling sensation pricks at your skin as the ropes loop through your arms just tight enough for you to be forced to stay in that position, unable to touch him.

Lyney's fingers trace your skin as he moves to the front of you, admiring how gorgeous you looked. He takes hold of the straps of your pretty bra between his digits, using his pyro vision to carefully singe them just enough to let a piece of them burn away. The straps fall loose to your back and he singes the front connecting the cups. Your perky breasts are left exposed to his lustful gaze as the bra makes a soft noise when it lands on the dressing room floor. You squirm a little in your spot as the need between your legs begins to consume you. Your eyes stuck on his violet ones that burn with deep desire, "Be still, mon chaton."

Your lips part as you let a soft moan slip when Lyney cups your breasts in his nimble hands. He squeezes and massages them, mesmerized by the way the plushness squishes between his fingers. He lowers himself and leans forward taking one pebbled nipple into his mouth; his rough feline tongue flicking and swirling around it. Your body tries to fight against the hypnosis, desperate to tangle your fingers in his hair as his rough tongue does its work on your body.

Leaving your breasts sore and swollen, Lyney kisses down your body softly til he's eye level with your clothed cunt. His eyes flit up to your face, pleased to see you looking so needy. He taps your thigh twice, "Spread out so I can enjoy my pre-performance meal." You comply, taking a small step to the side to give him more room. Lyney smirks, "Bonne fille..." He places his hands on your thighs and licks a stripe through your thin panties. He lets out a broken groan at the scent and taste of you as your arousal soaked the material. Lyney tugs at the panties until they rip and glide down, now hanging loosely around one ankle.

Your moans fill the small dressing room as he dives in between your folds, lapping up your juices with his rough tongue. His grip tightens on your thighs as you shake with pleasure; his tongue relentless against your sensitive clit. White hot pleasure courses through you as you cum on his tongue, making him snarl as he overstimulates you, unable to get enough of your taste. "Please, Master Lyney~!" you cry out, feeling as though your legs are about to give out from underneath you. The title you give him and the way you taste and smell kicks his feline instincts into full gear. Lyney needed to breed you.

Lyney straightens up and tugs you by your garter belt to his vanity. He bends you slightly and tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling your head up to look at the reflection of you both in his mirror. "Oh, mon chaton... See the way you look right now? I simply can't resist~", he chuckles as you whimper when you're forced to look at how dazed and desperate you are for him. He undoes his pants, tugging them down just enough for his twitching cock to bob free against your ass.

Lyney's hands travel down your curves and to your round ass, giving your cheeks a light squeeze. He spreads them apart, giving himself a better view of your leaky pussy. He moves his hips, letting his fat pink tip rub against your cunt and gather your arousal. Lyney stills himself, his tip pushed against your wet entrance as he leans over, locking eyes with you in the reflection, "Keep your eyes on us." Unable to do anything other than what he says, your eyes widen as a pretty cry leaves your lips as he pushes himself inside of you.

His fingers dig into the fat of your hips as he fucks into you deep and hard. Lyney completely loses it when he sees your eyes flutter and drool slips from the corner of your mouth as you keep your eyes on the lewd display. His pace becomes harsh as the tip of his thick cock bullies your insides over and over, "Need to breed you nice and full... Need to see your cute stomach swell with my children- Fuck, mon amour...-" His hips stutter when he sees the white ring of cum that had formed at the base of his cock. Lyney lets out a breathy chuckle, running his fingers though his hair, “Creaming around my cock? You must really want me to breed you, huh”

You’re so fucked out the only way you can respond is by moaning over and over. You looked angelic and so fucking slutty that when your eyes crossed in pleasure and your tits bounced in time with his thrusts, Lyney releases a whiny moan. With a final thrust, his hot cum floods your fluttering pussy. His cock throbs as he regains his senses, groaning as he pulls out and his cum begins to leak from your cunt.

As much as the sight of his cum leaking from you filled his ego, Lyney needed it to take. Quickly grabbing a silicone prop, he pushes it inside your pussy with a curved smile, "You shouldn't let my seed go to waste. We need to keep you stuffed full 'til my cum takes..." Your eyes meet his devious ones in the vanity mirror, still looking for more. A sudden knock on the door causes Lyney to snap from his thoughts as Lynette's voice sounds from the other side, "Lyney, it's time."

"I'll be there in a moment!", he calls back and then lets out a sigh. His gaze returning to your dazed one. Your were still under his hypnosis... Lyney's voice is saccharine when he speaks his next words, "Sit still at my vanity and don't even think about covering up or fucking yourself on the prop that's keeping my cum in you." A sly smile forms on his lips when you let out a small whimper when you sit, making the silicone prop push deeper inside of you. Lyney presses a slow kiss to your lips and smiles, "Ma bonne fille..." He readjusts his clothes and fixes his hair one last time before heading out for his grand performance,

And what a performance it was. A standing ovation, thrown flowers covering the stage, and raving reviews from the prominent figures of Fontaine; all thanks to you. Lyney walks back to his dressing room and his lips curl up when his gaze lands on your shaking, restrained body still sat as his vanity as your own arousal had pooled in the chair. You were his lucky charm, his special jinx; and oh how he would reward you for being so perfect.... Breeding you time and time again.

જ⁀➴✧:･.˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.・જ⁀➴✧:

a/n: i turned myself on just writing this lol also plz if you’ve read the yaoi i referenced, let’s be friends lmao

#lyney smut #lyney x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #lyney x reader #genshin lyney #genshin impact lyney

698 notes · View notes

sworeidnevercompromise · 2 months ago

Text

𐙚 shameless: a drew starkey smau part one > series masterlist

youruser

liked by drewstarkey and others youruser hello summer

View All Comments bffuser i'm in love w u come over youruser @/bffuser On my way! y/nsource johnathan daviss spotted randomuser @/y/nsource & drew starkey liked ??? y/n x obx crossover??? y/nsource @/randomuser wait i didn't even notice that drew liked omg. i wonder if there's smth going on there :O fandomusername guys back off we're actually married! y/nsource @/fandomusername that's funny bc we've actually been married for years? y/nsource

liked by y/nloveliest and others y/nsource "empire state of mind" via @/youruser instagram stories

View All Comments y/nloveliest wait why is she in new york lowkey y/nsource @/y/nloveliest let's ask the audience @/youruser youruser @/y/nsource @/y/nloveliest all will be revealed 🤐 y/nsource @/youruser omfg she responded to my comment i can die happy

youruser

liked by madelyncline, drewstarkey and others youruser it's been waiting for ya! 🗽 View All Comments bffuser come home the kids miss you youruser @/bffuser i'm a new yorker now i'm never turning back sorry madelyncline the way you wouldn't let us help you carry the tv up youruser @/madelyncline i'm a strong independent woman! drewstarkey ey i'm walkin here youruser @/drewstarkey oh now josephs got jokes! 🥸 drewstarkeyfan @/drewstarkey @/youruser ariana what r u doing here

randomuser first she was hanging out w johnathan daviss in la and now madelyn cline in nyc?? and drew commenting? wtf is going ONNN y/nloveliest @/randomuser and her response to drews comment was so flirty i'm on the edge of my seat

drewstarkey

liked by youruser, madelyncline and others drewstarkey 🗽 View All Comments madelyncline banishing me to the last slide is crazy work drewstarkey @/madelyncline 🧍‍♂️ drewstarkeyfan @/drewstarkey who's this diva youruser u and cline need to visit again soon drewstarkey @/youruser get those air matresses ready madelyncline @/youruser @/drewstarkey yes triple threat needs to reunite y/nsource wait WHAT he was in new york with y/n y/l/n?? omfg i pray my dating theory is true hateruser @/y/nsource ew no y/n y/l/n doesn't deserve him y/nsource @/hateruser get a job drewstarkeyfan last picture im literally licking my phone he looks so good skydivesunrise @/drewstarkeyfan i was gonna say ur crazy for this but lowkey i get it youruser 20m

#drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey smau #jojo's works #model/actress!user #jojo's au's #work: shameless

110 notes · View notes

stardancerluv · 3 months ago

Text

What the Emperor Wants

Part Eight

Summary: Justice is served, feelings are realized.

Warnings/Notes: 18+ & over! P in V consensual sex, implied violence…death in the coliseum, drinking, old time thoughts about the gods & life.

Sol Invictus: Roman god of the Sun, Pluto: Roman god of Death, & Ursa: Bear

❤️s, comments, feedback & reblogs are always welcome! Thank you for reading! (A bit long!)

Sitting in the royal box of the coliseum made you nervous. You had only stood and served prior to this day. As you settled in your seat you felt like all the eyes were on you. You knew that wasn’t the truth of the matter but it didn’t help. Your heart kept a steady beat.

“Don’t worry. The eyes will be on me soon enough.”

Startled, you glanced at Geta. A slow smile spread across his face.

You glanced around the intensity of his gaze made you shift where you sat. Taking a breath before looking back at him. “Sire?”

“Justice is going to be served.”

“Good.”

*******

This was going on to send ripples in the water. He looked forward to seeing if it would bring about a storm. Regardless, the earth will be free of one enemy. Perhaps, others will scurry out of the shadows and reveal themselves.

The herald, called for the attention of the vast audience. Trumpets sounded. He felt as if the gods, were on his side as he walked to edge of the royal box.

“People of Rome!”

He shouted. A thick silence fell over the arena, it ceased what remaining words flew from people’s lips.

“People of Rome!” He repeated, he looked over the seats.

“When dawn broke this morning, before Sol Invictus flew across the sky to bring us the sun; a man snuck into my dwelling. He wished for me to meet, Pluto.”

The crowd erupted. He allowed them to scream their disgust, their unpleasantness.

Easily, the herald brought the coliseum once more the order.

“My trusted guards, have questioned him.”

He let his lips curl into a wide smile.

“And it is here I will let you all witness justice. You will see what happens to anyone who tries to end my life.”

The clanging of metal filled the colosseum as the gates rose up, the man beaten and bruised was brought out. Seeing his condition pleased him greatly.

“Now, I will allow you and the gods to choose his final fight.”

A snarl followed by a loud, guttural roar filled the arena. A lion, pounced and rocked his iron cage. He circled in the small space eager to be released.

“Shall we allow a lion have its way?” He called out.

The man now standing by himself could be seen trembling at the place the guards had walked him too.

The creaking of a much larger cage came into the arena. Just as some of the loose sand was kicked up in a breeze and blew when a roar from the depths of its belly was heard. A bear, far taller than serval men stood on its hind legs and banged against his cage. Spit, fangs were bared as it roared once more.

“Who shall this assassin be brought to justice by?”

The crowd went wild. Their screams, their cheers were far louder than both of the beasts that were in the arena.

He watched from his perch, the man fell to his knees. His eyes, which had once been filled with hatred and malice now were watery and full of pleading, remaining on his knees. He completely forgot the sword the guards had dropped near him as he appeared to cry out with pleas for mercy. The man who had wanted him dead not that long ago.

A laugh erupted from his throat and he threw back his head in amusement. His crown of golden leaves remained where it rested atop his head.

Power, surged through him. He spread out his arms. He got his answer. It was as if the words had been whispered in his ear.

“The gods have spoken!” He hollered.

The crowd, once again silenced.

“Today, a bear is what deliver the sentence!”

The men who drew out the lion, returned it to the shadowy tunnels where they fed and kept it ready for any match or punishment.

The men who brought in the bear, bowed to him before turning to the locks that held the bear secure.

The man jumped to his feet, barely able to grab the sword left for him. He bowed quickly. That irked Geta, but he would be dead soon enough, he mused.

The bear, shook himself off ignoring the men who retreated back to passageway from which they came. He appeared to look around.

“Be the hands of the gods, great Ursa!” Geta called out.

The bear rose at his words, letting out a roar. He had been trained well. Geta smiled. The bear finally saw the man. He lowered himself onto all fours.

“Now for justice.” He said softly and caught the eyes of you, his brother who actually looked pleased for the first time in a while and the general. Who looked actually ill at ease. he shrugged it off. He knew he liked the freedom of a battle. The landscape of the earth beneath his feet as he fought along side his legion with a sword in hand.

Sitting down, he saw as the bear and the man clashed. A scream and roar mingled and became one. The man did manage to graze the bear’s shoulder with the blade before he was knocked into the air from the full force of the bear. A fight ensued.

Geta, glanced away to see you. There was a flush in your cheeks and your eyes looked as if a storm had rolled in, reminding him of how you spoke of things to him. But your emotions, he couldn’t be certain of. He watched as you turned towards him, surely you felt his gaze up you. Your eyes met his.

“He is getting what he deserves for what he attempted to do. In the underworld, he will never forget.” You said, with a great strength behind it.

It pleased him.

“Yes. And he will know that a girl, who is as delicate as a spring’s bloom saw him and foiled his dark, devious deeds.”

“Anything to keep you and Rome, safe and at peace, Sire.”

********

“I had thought, you told the others we would be joining them for the festivities being held. Food, dancers would be brought out for your pleasure.”

Your stomach was still in knots, after watching the man torn apart by the bear and fights that had been held after to further celebrate the justice that had been severed. The gladiators had fought with great pride that afternoon.

Wine, the fruit did nothing to calm you. A shadow of what could have been, fell over your heart. If you had not returned for his crest that held your clothing, it would have been a completely different day. You were certain of it.

Your place, would be different. You would mostly would have been in that arena. You knew in your heart that Caracalla despised you. Though, with this glorious delivering of justice and Geta’s kind words, you would continue to live, to breath.

“That is true. They will be. Wine, will be poured. Toasts will be made. Words, will fly in my praise. Though as a man, an emperor I wish to take a moment.”

“If that is your will, Geta. I can give you some solitude if it is what you wish?”

A light chuckle came from him. You glanced at him, his eyes that met yours were bright as if the sun itself was blessing the fresh earth it chose to shine upon.

“No, that is not what I wish.”

The warmth of his hand on your lower back could be felt through the soft fabrics you wore. He easily guided you to his quarters. Once the door, closed behind the two of you.

“I need to be one with you.”

“Geta?”

“Yes?”

You watched as he carefully took his crown off and laid it on a table near where the two of you stood. Your heart quickened in your chest. With quick pace, he was in front of you.

“This is a pleasure, the great Venus has given us. I wish to feel it once again.”

His fingers grazed the curve of your jaw.

You closed your eyes and nodded. “I wish to feel it as well. But then shall I retire for the evening?”

He shook his head. “No, we shall go and enjoy the banquet, watch the dancers. I want one of my favorite possessions at my side.” He smiled.

Something about his words, that smile made a fluttering in your stomach. It was the very emperor, that wished for you and no one else. In all the stars and prayers you made, would have been something you ever thought would be bestowed upon you.

“This will be our own display of gratitude to the gods for the justice served today.”

His thumb grazed your lips, your heart began to thud like the night before. If not harder since now you knew what you would be feeling.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

********

“Wait?”

“Yes?”

He let his eyes move over you. A softening of his words, that came to his tongue urged him to speak. You had been the to save his life. Not the guards that stood outside his door.

“You are far lovelier than any fresco, in my domus. I will have to fetch in artist in the coming seasons.”

“Truly Geta?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

His hand glided down your soft side, the fabrics made you only more pleasing. He brought his hands to your hips and squeezed. You winced, parting those flower petal pink lips.

“Just as your breasts, shall be good for a baby to eventually suckle these hips,” He smiled. “These hips,” He repeated will help carry that baby. A real gift from the gods.”

“You think so, Geta?”

Your breathless, made him pull you against him. He loved how you felt against him. Made his desire in his lions for you tighten.

“Certainly. Now go and lay down.”

“What of my clothes? Will they not be amiss?”

“No one will take sight.”

He watched as you went and laid down and pulled aside where the fabrics met and parted ways.

“Remove the scrap of modesty fabric, I want nothing to hinder me.”

Stepping closer, he finally he freed himself. The coolness of his room gave him a gentle relief from the heat of his passion. He came to kneel beside you, open and ready to receive him.

“Do you want to see more of me, Geta?”

“Yes, that would be very pleasing.”

His heart squeezed as he watched you pull the folds of fabric away from your full breasts. You were truly his own living piece of art. The gods, truly pleased him with giving you to him.

The soft sound from your lips as he entered you and the one that came from him became one. It felt so good.

“You were made for me.” He managed to say before he began moving in and out of you.

Your body tightened as your moans grew louder. He had braced himself on the bed underneath the two of you. Easily, he lost himself in his passion as it took ahold of him.

“Yes, yes let me hear you.”

“Yes, Geta. My emperor.” Your moans and breathlessness grew louder, stronger.

His body tightened as he felt his pleasure growing. That’s when he remembered the soft bud at the apex of your legs, the ones that caused you flutter around his length. He needed to feel that again. Reached down, his thumb gently grazing it. Your body matched and moved with him.

“Give yourself to the pleasure. Let it fill you.” He urged you.

He let his thumb graze your soft bud once more. Your moans filled his room with more beauty than a lyre and seeing that he was the cause, made him move even deeper into you. Causing, his pleasure to finally come over him, and soon he was filling you with the seed only he possessed. The strength he felt earlier came over him. He felt as everything had the soft glow a sunset would give all within its reach.

*******

“These are the dancers from the new providence brother, are they not divine?” Caracalla, leaned in smiling as he nodded to one who swished near. Hints of jasmine, lingered in her wake.

“Yes. I knew that alliance would reap several good tidings.” Geta, smile and sipped at his wine.

At the moment, he was still settling into the comfort from the pleasure you and him shared. Everyone, there was in good spirits even his brother. Turmoil between them could come back another day but tonight there could be peace.

He knew of the history of Romulus and Remus, he truly wished that history would not befall him and Caracalla. Though, he would never push away the lingering of his trust he had for his brother in his heart.

As you sat near Geta and watched the dancers while nibbling on some fruit. Something blossomed in you. After, his pleasure had taken him over, he had for moment pulled you closer to him while his breathing finally calmed. He glanced back at you from over his glass, as if he had known your thoughts and gave a fleeting smile, it stirred a warmth in you.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @screaming-blue-bagel @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @heartsforjosephquinn @helsa3942

102 notes · View notes

radiant-reid · 2 years ago

Text

Exposed

Summary: You and Spencer don't realize how many of your not-safe-for-work conversations have been on the FBI's radar until a memo gets distributed

Word Count 1.0k

Content Warning: NSFW (18+) themes

Similar to how it's never good to get called into the principal's office, it's never good when Hotch calls a meeting in the middle of the day. With no case, active or pending, curious looks get exchanged before the team when Hotch speaks from the landing before you all climb the stairs and follow Hotch to the boardroom.

Spencer slyly sits next to you, pretending he didn't notice Morgan was going to sit there. He taps your foot under the table, which you didn't understand could be flirtatious before you met Spencer.

Always a straight shooter (metaphorically and literally), Hotch doesn't waste any time. He hands a copy of a stapled stack of paper to each of you but stays standing, hinting that it will be a quick meeting. Thankfully, that means nothing is wrong.

Your eyes widen when you read the cover page: Sexual Harassment Memorandum.

A tiny giggle escapes JJ's lips as everyone looks at Penelope and Morgan, who are likely the guilty parties. They both look a little nervous, Penelope grimacing while Morgan stiffens in his seat.

"The brass has caught on to some less-than-work-appropriate language used by members of this team," Hotch informs you all. "And, although we have more important things to do like saving lives, they want this memo of inappropriate language examples distributed."

Besides the hilariousness of the passive-aggressive telling-off, it amuses you that Hotch thinks it's a waste of time.

"Please read through it and refrain from using these words when there's an outside audience." He finishes.

"That outside audience being Erin Strauss," Rossi comments in a low enough whisper Hotch can pretend he didn't hear the insult at his superior.

"That's all." Hotch wraps up the meeting before leaving the room, presumably to finish work that's actually important.

Everyone's wearing amused grins when Hotch leaves. "Busted." Rossi sing-songs to Morgan and Penelope, who are looking very guilty. "Have fun, kids." He laughs before leaving the room.

You notice the thickness of the new list of forbidden phrases. "Damn, how much flirting have you two done since the last time you got in trouble with HR?" You joke, earning a laugh from the table.

The list is amusing to read, everyone laughing at the memories. It was definitely not HR's intent, but it breaks up the monotonous day.

Reading pages ahead, Spencer stiffens next to you, and you're on edge about what he's read. After eight years, he's heard some lewd things come out of Penelope and Morgan's mouths, so it's unlikely one of their comments would have phased him.

You see it when you skim-read a few quotes: you looked sexy in your glasses earlier. You can remember exactly when you typed that. It was a stakeout where you were assigned to sit in a car with Morgan while Spencer sat with Emily, and you were so bored you thought you'd flirt with your boyfriend. It's not too revealing regarding who it was about, and Penelope wears glasses, so hopefully, it goes unnoticed.

It doesn't.

"Wait, I never said that," Morgan says, finger hovering over the quote.

"Which one?" Emily asks, intrigued.

"You looked sexy in your glasses earlier." He repeats what you'd texted Spencer, busting you both. You kick him under the table when you notice the blush spreading around your boyfriend's neck.

The rest of the team is puzzled, not understanding how it couldn't be them. "Are the rest yours?" Emily asks.

"You're on my most-wanted list." Morgan reads the contents of the email Spencer sent you with an attachment to the FBI's updated most wanted list. That one was situationally inappropriate, but you deleted it twice and told Spencer to do the same, so you're not sure how they got it.

They read through a few more that aren’t theirs, and you grow increasingly worried about how curious they will be. There’s no chance they’ll let it go. As profilers, won’t take them long to figure it out, especially when your boyfriend is blushing like a maniac next to you, no matter how much you kick him under the table.

The most damming one is on the last page: that sweater vest is very sexy. Olive green is your color. It’s from a few weeks ago, spoken over Spencer’s earpiece as he infiltrated a poker competition to apprehend an UnSub.

“This is about you.” Emily immediately picks up, looking at Spencer.

“Yeah, and you wore your glasses a couple of months ago,” Penelope remembers. Although he played it off like his contact lenses didn’t get delivered before he ran out, it was really because he left them at his apartment when he stayed at yours one night and you distracted him for so long in the morning that he didn’t have time to get any.

Spencer cringes, looking totally guilty. There’s no point in denying it, so Morgan lays into the next part of the mystery. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

That’s much easier to solve when there are four women around the table, and Penelope couldn’t be sexually attracted to him, JJ’s married, and Emily’s like his big sister, so that leaves you.

“No way!” Penelope squeals excitedly, clearly thrilled by this big reveal.

“Some of this is filthy,” Emily says, pointing out some very dirty messages. They were mostly over phone calls which is why you didn’t think they could be tracked.

You bite your bottom lip, eyes flicking to Spencer. He’s as amused as he is embarrassed. “Surprise?” He jokes to reveal your relationship.

You smirk, joining him in his unashamed stance. It’s not your fault the FBI won’t overlook your occasional flirting. “It’s worse on our personal phones.” You assure them.

“I want to know everything,” Penelope tells you. “We’re having girls’ night ASAP.”

It’s not the reaction you imagine, but Spencer shrugs. He has been reassured countless times that he leaves you more than satisfied in bed. “Just remember you’ll have to look at me the next day.” He warns the BAU ladies who are desperate to hear the insider details of your relationship.

It's a good point to consider but the gossip is too tempting. “Tonight.” Penelope decides.

You laugh at her eagerness, nodding. “Let’s do it.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot

2K notes · View notes

pinkthick · 1 year ago

Text

Ephemeral Voices

Pairing: Human!Alastor & Female!Reader (He will love the reader but not in the way you think)

Human!Alastor & Human!Mimzy

Summary: Alastor chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving hers "I do not know, my dear." he replied, extending a gloved hand towards her. “Care to find out?”

Notes: I do not know what I’m doing but enjoy 😭😭 (Credits to the artist @xixixixi1037 on Twitter)

Masterlist

Chapter one: May I join you?

In the dimly lit jazz club, the air hummed with the sultry notes of saxophones and the rhythmic tapping of drumsticks. Y/N sat at the corner table, her fingers tracing the rim of her whiskey glass as she lost herself in the melodies swirling around her. The ambience was intoxicating, drawing her deeper into the world of jazz.

Mimzy, her vivacious friend and a regular performer at the club, took center stage, her voice weaving through the room like silk. Y/N watched with a fond smile, admiring Mimzy's talent as she commanded the attention of the audience.

Amidst the crowd, a figure caught Y/N's eye. Tall and enigmatic, he moved with an effortless grace that seemed to defy the very essence of the music. His crimson suit gleamed under the soft glow of the stage lights, and his presence exuded an aura of mystery.

Alastor, that was his name, though Y/N didn't know it yet. He danced with Mimzy, his steps synchronized with the rhythm of the jazz. There was something captivating about him, something that tugged at the edges of Y/N's curiosity.

She took another sip of her whiskey, her gaze never leaving the pair on the dance floor. There was a story there, she could sense it—a tale woven within the threads of music and movement.

As the night deepened, Y/N found herself drawn closer to the stage, her heart quickening with each note that hung in the air. Alastor's presence loomed larger, casting a spell that seemed to envelop her in its embrace.

Mimzy's voice faded into the background, replaced by the sound of her own heartbeat as she watched Alastor's every move. His eyes, piercing and intense, met hers across the room, sparking an electric current that sent shivers down her spine.

Their gazes lingered, a silent exchange of recognition and intrigue. Y/N's pulse quickened, her mind ablaze with questions she couldn't yet voice. Who was this man, and what secrets lay hidden behind his captivating facade?

As the final notes of the jazz melody faded into the night, Alastor and Mimzy took their bows, their performance met with thunderous applause from the audience. Y/N remained rooted to her spot, her thoughts consumed by the enigmatic stranger who had ignited a flame within her soul.

In the hushed aftermath of the performance, Alastor made his way through the crowd, his eyes never straying from Y/N's as he approached her table. There was something interesting in his gaze.

"May I join you?" he asked, his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers cascading down her spine. Y/N nodded, her voice caught in the swell of emotions that threatened to consume her. As Alastor took his seat beside her, the world around them faded into oblivion.

"I couldn't help but notice you were staring, dear," he remarked, his voice a sultry cadence that danced through the air. Y/N's cheeks flushed slightly, caught off guard by his direct acknowledgment. She laughed, a soft and melodious sound that echoed in the intimate space. "Wasn't everyone?" she replied, attempting to mask the fluttering excitement in her chest.

Alastor's smile widened, revealing a hint of charm beneath the enigmatic exterior. "Alastor. Alastor Hartfelt," he introduced himself, extending a gloved hand toward Y/N. The air seemed to crackle with anticipation as she placed her hand in his, their fingers interlocking in a fleeting moment of connection.

"Y/N," she responded, her name rolling off her tongue with a grace that matched the jazz melodies still lingering in the air. "Nice to meet you, Alastor."

Alastor's gaze lingered on Y/N, his eyes betraying a curiosity that mirrored her own. "Are you here all alone?" he inquired, his voice a whisper that stirred the air between them.

Y/N shook her head, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Oh, no. I came with Mimzy," she replied, her words laced with warmth and affection for her friend.

Alastor nodded, a knowing glimmer dancing in his eyes. "Ah. A friend of Mimzy’s is a friend of mine, Miss Y/N," he remarked, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement.

"She's a really good dancer," Y/N remarked, her eyes fondly following Mimzy's movements on the stage.

Alastor chuckled softly, his gaze still fixed on Y/N. "She's one of the only people who can really keep up with me," he revealed, a note of pride in his voice.

Intrigued, Y/N arched an eyebrow. "Are there others?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Alastor chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving hers "I do not know, my dear." he replied, extending a gloved hand towards her. “Care to find out?”

A spark of excitement ignited in Y/N's eyes as she accepted his invitation. Their fingers intertwined once more, and Alastor led her to the dance floor.

As the music enveloped them in its intoxicating embrace, Y/N found herself swept away by the rhythm of the jazz with Alastor as her guide. "I must say, Miss Y/N, you're holding up quite well," Alastor remarked with a twinkle in his eyes.

Y/N, breathing a little heavier, managed a breathless laugh. "I don't know how you're still doing this," she admitted, a playful glint in her eyes.

Alastor, the epitome of grace, chuckled softly. "Years of practice, my dear. It becomes second nature after a while." Despite her best efforts, the fast-paced dance proved to be more challenging than she anticipated. Y/N struggled to keep up with Alastor's effortless elegance, her breath quickening as fatigue set in.

She even stumbled occasionally, her steps faltering under the weight of the rapid movements, but each time, Alastor was there to catch her. “For someone who's not a usually, this is quite the workout." she quipped, attempting to catch her breath.

Alastor's eyes sparkled with mirth. "You're doing splendidly, considering," he complimented as he guided her through a series of spins with effortless grace.

As the jazz melodies reached a crescendo, their dance intensified, weaving patterns of connection between them. Y/N embraced the challenge, determination in her eyes, even as the fatigue started to set in. Alastor sensed her effort and, with a twirl, brought their dance to a graceful conclusion. They stood at the center of the dance floor, breathless but exhilarated. Y/N, her cheeks flushed, couldn't help but smile.

"I must admit, you have a unique charm on the dance floor," Alastor complimented, a genuine warmth in his gaze.

Y/N grinned, playfully rolling her eyes. "Maybe not as unique as yours, but I'll take it."

They returned to their table, the echoes of their dance lingering in the air. Mimzy, observing from afar, joined them with a knowing smile. Her voice cut through the lively chatter of the jazz club, her tone laced with playful concern. "Take it easy on her, darlin'," she chimed in, her eyes twinkling with affection.

Alastor turned to Mimzy with a charming smile, his eyes alight with amusement. "Of course, Mimzy. Wouldn't want to wear out my dance partner too soon," he replied, his voice dripping with playful banter.

Y/N laughed, sharing a glance with Alastor. "I was just trying to keep up honestly.”

Mimzy winked at Alastor. "Not everyone can keep up with this one.”

Alastor leaned back in his chair, a contented expression on his face. "What can I say, just pour me some whiskey, and I will be on the dance floor all night long."

Y/N chuckled, raising her eyebrows playfully. "A man of simple pleasures, I see. I'll remember that for next time."

Mimzy chuckled as she rolled her eyes "Well, well. Alastor, you're quite the dance enthusiast, aren't you?"

Alastor grinned, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Guilty as charged. It's hard to resist the allure of a good dance."

Mimzy smiled, pouring a glass of whiskey and sliding it across the table to Alastor. "You know where to find me if you need a dance partner. Now, enjoy that whiskey, darlin'." With a wink, Mimzy returned to the performance area, leaving Y/N and Alastor at the table.

As the jazz melodies continued to fill the air, Y/N reached into her bag, producing a pack of cigarettes. With a swift motion, she took one out, placing it between her lips, and lit it with a flick of a match.

Alastor, watching her with mild surprise, hummed, "Didn't take you up for a smoker."

Y/N exhaled a thin stream of smoke, her eyes meeting his with a knowing smile. "It's a bad habit, I know," she admitted, the smoke curling around her like a veil.

Alastor nodded, taking a sip of his whiskey. "We all have our vices."

Alastor observed Y/N, her features softened by the glow of the match and the ambient light as she nodded.

He noticed her gaze shift towards a clock on the wall, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Something on your mind?" he inquired, curious about the sudden change in her demeanor. Y/N glanced back at him, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Just checking the time. It's later than I thought." Alastor followed her gaze to the clock, realizing that the night had indeed slipped away.

Y/N took a final drag from her cigarette before flicking away the ash "I should probably be heading home."

Alastor raised an eyebrow, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "So soon? The night is still young, my dear."

Y/N nodded, her eyes lingering on the clock for a moment longer. "True. It's just... I have an early morning tomorrow.“

Alastor, sensing Y/N's impending departure, smiled warmly. "Then allow me to escort you home," he offered, a gesture that held both politeness and genuine interest.

Y/N looked at him, touched by the offer. "That's sweet of you, Alastor. But it's not necessary. I can manage on my own."

Alastor chuckled, his gaze unwavering. "Consider it an old-fashioned courtesy. Besides, a gentleman wouldn't let a lady navigate the streets alone, especially at this hour. It's the least I can do after the delightful company you've provided this evening." He would know that.

Y/N couldn't help but grin at his charming demeanor. "Well, who am I to refuse such a gentlemanly offer? Escort away, Mr. Hartfelt."

As they made their way through the jazz club's exit, Mimzy waved them off with a wink. "You two take care now. See you again, Y/N!"

The city night enveloped them as they stepped onto the streets, the echoes of jazz fading into the background. Alastor's presence offered a sense of comfort, and Y/N found herself enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

As they strolled through the dimly lit streets, Alastor engaged Y/N in conversation, the night air carrying their voices in a gentle exchange. Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the whims of fate that had brought Alastor into her evening.

"Excuse my curiosity, but are you working at the jazz club?" she inquired, her tone gentle.

Alastor's eyes flickered with amusement, and he chuckled softly. "Ah, no, my dear. I'm just a patron who appreciates good music and the art of dance. Although, I must say, the idea of working at such a place is intriguing."

Y/N smiled, finding a shared appreciation for the enchanting atmosphere of the jazz club. "You seem like you'd fit right in.”

Alastor tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Perhaps. I work at a radio station. Mostly a podcast focused on dramas and comedy ," he confessed.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "A radio podcast? That's unexpected," she admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I would have never guessed."

Alastor nodded, his enigmatic smile never fading “I reckon you heard of ‘Ephemeral Voices’ from WWL.”

N's eyes widened with recognition. "Wait, 'Ephemeral Voices’? I've heard of that! I never connected the dots until now."

Alastor's smile widened as he took out a small card from his pocket, handing it to Y/N. "Well, now you have a face to put to the voice. Feel free to tune in whenever you like."

Y/N took the card, a mix of disbelief and excitement on her face. "I can't believe I've been listening to your podcast without realizing it was you." Alastor shrugged playfully at that.

As they arrived at Y/N's house, the night air took on a hushed quality, the city lights casting a soft glow around them. Y/N turned to Alastor with a grateful smile. "Thank you. You didn't have to come with me, you know," she expressed, the sincerity in her voice echoed in her eyes.

Alastor's gaze met hers, and he replied with a casual shrug. "I beg to differ. A gentleman wouldn't leave a lady to navigate the night alone. It was my pleasure."

Y/N chuckled, appreciating the chivalry that seemed to be second nature to him. "Well, I appreciate the company, truly. It's been quite an unexpected night."

Alastor's enigmatic smile lingered. "The best nights often are."

Y/N fumbled with her keys, her gaze lifting to meet Alastor's. "I suppose this is where we part ways," she said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

Alastor nodded, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "I trust you'll rest easy knowing you're home safe and sound.”

She extended her hand, which Alastor took with a gentle smile. "Thank you, Alastor.”

Alastor bowed slightly, a gesture that seemed to belong to another era. "The pleasure was mine, Miss Y/N. Until next time."

As Alastor bid her farewell, Y/N watched him disappear into the night and she entered her home, the door closing behind her.

She couldn't shake the smile that lingered on her lips.

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hartfelt #hazbin hotel #human alastor #human mimzy #alastor the radio demon #human reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x female reader

230 notes · View notes

shirefantasies · 10 months ago

Note

Hey, babes!

Honestly I have brain rot for the idea of the ‘woman of the group does sexy dance to help mission’ trope and like LOTR boys. I also have brain rot for them hearing her sing ‘I Wanna Make Love To You’ by Etta James.

Anyway can I request the elves reactions to reader do a sexy burlesque/strip style dance? Like they in the audience and how they’d react.

By elves I mean: Elrond, Lindir, Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir and Arwen

OK I’M YELLING (I went ahead n threw our girl Galadriel in there cuz gotta catch em all right? 😁) there’s not really a mission lol but hope this does it justice! My latest D&D session the other night ended with burlesque performance so this feels like the perfect time to post this hehe

The Elves Reacting to F!Reader’s Burlesque Performance

Warnings: suggestive obviously 😆

Thranduil

Sure, he knew you’d all but been dared to set foot upon the stage, but something in your resolute expression and the long robe you wore had Thranduil’s eyebrows raising. Nary did he expect the way your hand shot out, grabbing the pole the moment the lights dimmed, or the way your robe dropped, revealing the lowest-cut, highest-slit dress he’d ever seen you in. Breath hitching, he watched as a long wave of fabric draped between your gorgeous legs, which wrapped around the pole as you climbed it. Eyes darkening as you spun, he could hardly help imagining what, or whom, else they could wind around so, and if he would ever be so blessed to see the confident air overtaking you again…

Legolas

Frowning, Legolas disappeared further into the gathering crowd. Gimli was the one who’d dared him to attend the show, telling him he was sure no pointy-ear could handle it. How could it be so, simply a performance? The crowd looked far too eager for you to be putting them into any sort of- oh. You emerged onto the stage, forearms and down covered with feathers like the wings of a great bird. Your legs were almost entirely bare, skirt minimal and bodice little more than a corset. Twirling and pirouetting into poses the woodland prince could only describe as suggestive, you beamed innocently at the crowd and hid behind your feathers, lashes fluttering. Another performer emerged behind you, hands on your waist and fingers deftly loosening your corset… Gripping the arms of his seat tighter, Legolas leaned in, a yearning in his own fingers readily accepting his friend’s latest challenge.

Haldir

A dancer you were. That was a known fact whispered among those familiar with you, often calling you something of a knife-dancer. Curiosity got the better of Haldir when scandal colored whispers of your performance right outside the woods. Was it dangerous, perhaps? Pride flowed into the little smile of anticipation he wore as fast-paced music filled the room and flames were snuffed, leading you to slide gracefully into the dim. Crouching, you crawled to the edge of the stage with a bloodthirsty grin that sent shivers down Haldir’s spine. Flicks of your wrists revealed your famed blades, which you twirled, tossed, and dragged gently along the length of your tongue. Brows raising, he found himself leaning forward with new interest. What sort of dance was- Coherent thought ceased immediately when you tossed your blades, caught them, and began slicing away at purposefully shoddy seams upon your outfit, revealing more and more until the elf was on the edge of his seat…

Galadriel

Hearing of a new form of entertainment served only to pique Galadriel’s curiosity and draw her from her frequent solitude. After all, if it was making her people happy… She did not expect to see a lone performer upon a platform, elaborately feathered fans covering most of her figure, but there you were. Clad all in white, at least from what she could see near your feet, you slowly closed the fans. The long swaths of fabric that hung near the ground begun only at your hips, the expanse of your legs utterly bare as you extended them, moving gracefully across the stage as your fans accentuated every curve and undulation of your body. Jerking, you rotated, hips swiveling as you happened to face the Lady of Lórien, and watching you through her lashes Galadriel felt a devilish smile rise to her lips. She saw exactly why there had been such a buzz…

Lindir

There had been talk of you giving a performance of some kind, but all Lindir had been able to retrieve on the subject was that he should quite like to be in the audience, so with a light heart he shuffled into the crowd, pleased to be quite close to the stage set up for you. Perhaps you’d learned a new instrument under his nose and wishes to surprise him with a performance! Perhaps- You slunk to the center clad in, oh dear, quite a sheer skirt. Feeling a rush of heat to his face, he tried to focus upon the swell of music, largely successful until you ripped your top off, hips swinging lower as your layers thinned and thinned… You froze momentarily, wearing little more than your corset, and made direct eye contact with Lindir, whose eyes widened and body felt quite faint. Slowly, deliberately, you took up your dance once more, grinning at him as you began unlacing the back of your garment. His hands shot up, half-covering his face, but he couldn’t help himself peeking again and again.

Elrond

Housing a troupe of performers was certainly an unusual set of circumstances, but not in the slightest beyond the reach of the great homely house. Indeed, at encouragement from Lindir to let music fill his halls, Elrond acquiesced to a performance, unknowing of the so-called ‘dancers’ who would emerge after the exuberant wind section. In fact, it wasn’t until they called you out that Elrond’s eyes widened, brows expressive as ever as they flexed in great shock. You were lowered down on ropes, sitting with your legs largely bared and swinging. Garments- quite the loose term- of drapery covered the rest of your form, but as you leaned back in your swing, you began twisting, swiveling, removing one veil after another… Elrond found himself looking this way and that, but his eyes could never leave you for long. Feeling his gaze darken and his hands flex, he wondered what he had gotten himself into…

Arwen

How scandalous could it be? Many a friend or even a family member or two had rolled eyes and whispered harshly about your performances, but Arwen was not afraid. No matter what it was said to be, she would experience it for it to be so in her mind. Thus she found herself in the audience of the very subject of contempt, the somewhat smaller ratio of maids to men not lost upon her. A great fount was all Arwen could see at the center of it all, at least until one bare leg slowly arched from its edge. Blinking, Arwen watched as it was followed by another, each of them kicking some water onto the crowd before your hands gripped the other side, flipping over to render most of your body visible. Hanging from the sides, you swiveled your hips, head innocently rested upon your folded arms as if your…ahem…rear end were not moving so. Sitting up, you let go, dropping back into the water with a splash before emerging again and grinningly tossing water on more patrons. Arwen found herself mirroring your expression, following your every motion with interest and a strange sense of elation.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

#lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr imagines #the hobbit imagines #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #thranduil #legolas #haldir #galadriel #lindir #elrond #arwen #female reader #ask #fly-on-my-sweet-angel #requested #suggestive #this was a fun one thank you 😌

185 notes · View notes

mullermilkshake · 1 month ago

Text

The rose garden - Chapter 1

I will be uploading the whole thing here, it's just going take a little time, but if you want to read more right now, there's more on my AO3 <3

Summary - You are just an author wanting to put your writing out there and carry on with your life, but when two people end up murdered, things you write about seem to be more real than just pure fiction.

Pairing - Yandere!Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader, Detective!Satoru Gojo x Fem!reader (Sort of. One sided)

Word count - 3.9k

Full tags (master list for the entire fic, will add TW and significant tags in each chapter) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!! PLEASE READ THE TAGS!!! because this is gonna get dark, NSFW,SMUT,NO USE OF Y/N, YANDERE!SUGURU GETO,Porn With Plot, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, PornwithFeelings,EstablishedRelationship,PleasureDom,Codependency,Murder,Torture,Conspiracy,Cunnilingus,Orgasm Control,Multiple Orgasms,Minor Original Character(s),psychiatry,Medication,Power Imbalance,Vaginal Fingering,Disembowelment,Manipulation,Gaslighting,Rimming, Praise Kink,Grinding,mentions of blowjobs,Dry Humping,thigh riding,Dark,Autopsy,Aftercare,Hunting,Guns,Perceived infidelity,Body Horror,Smoking,Vaginal Sex,Misogyny,Public Stimulation,One sided sexual tension,Invasion of Privacy,Strangulation,Reader-Insert,Serious Satoru Gojo,Orgasm Edging,Obsession,Accidental Voyeurism,Angst,Questions of masculinity, stabbing, shooting

One hell of a launch, now I just have to write the damn thing.

An award for your cabinet.

Tags for chapter - Fem!Reader has some anxiety, Suguru is a therapist, Established relationship, Pleasure dom. Smut, Vaginal fingering, Multiple orgasms, Nipple licking, Orgasm control

Darling,

Your books are exemplary. So much emotion, darkness and pure, raw principles to execute the perfect story. I look forward to reading more, be brave and explore the unknown, your true fans will always be there for you.

And I’m your number one fan. I always will be.

—

Well, your fiancé was your number one fan, but it helped getting fan mail like that.

Getting up in front of a large group of people who were all aiming for the yearly award in the dark fiction world wasn’t easy. Especially when half of the authors in there glared at you with fiery eyes when your name was called to receive it.

Those who were awarded, had the opportunity to launch and promote their new book. “Hello, uh, this is such a shock. T-thank you for the nomination and this award…”

What should you say now?

It didn’t help that you had crippling stage fright. “I’d like to thank my agent, my editor, and the wonderful team I met along the way to get this book off the ground. It has definitely come with its hurdles and you all came through for me. But most of all, I’d like to thank one person in particular who has been my top fan in the highs and lows, and never lost faith in watching me do what I love to do.”

He was sitting right at the front next to your empty seat, your name cards nestled next to one another in tandem. “And that’s my partner. Suguru. Thank you, hon. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

He smiled sweetly and blew a kiss from the audience to which you caught. “So… It is with great pleasure to announce my next book. Coming this year…”

A staff member came to the stage carrying an art stand for the reveal of the cover you agonised over weeks to get right. “‘A fate sealed’ was the first book, and I’d like to introduce the second instalment in the series…”

The man approaching placed it down and ripped the cover away to reveal the picture. “Severed connections.”

The room erupted with a roar of applause and their faces studied the new book cover, a series of blotches and blood stained shoes, taking inspiration from a piece of art you saw last year at an exhibition out of town and a homage to the ink splodge Rorschach test you were familiar with from your fiancé.

Well they seem to like it. The hours crying over it not being right were worth it in the end.

“Uh, t-thank you everyone.”

You weren’t sure what to make of the award, it laid heavily in your hands, cradled almost with an ornate open book and cartoonish knife to mark the genre. Certainly a first for the cabinet at home which had sat empty for over a year.

And now, you finally had something to put in it.

It took everything in your power not to run from the stage straight to the comfort of Suguru’s arms, but he was already there waiting for you to take your hand at the bottom of the stage steps.

“Sweetie, you did perfect.” He pressed a delicate kiss to your temple.

“It wasn’t too much? I didn’t really know what to say.” Sliding your arm around his instinctively, you showed him the award. “It’s neat, right? Sort of heavy. Could knock someone out with this thing actually.”

“It was the right amount of what you needed to say.” Suguru must have noticed your rambling because he engulfed your hand in his for safety, grounding you a little. “It’s wonderful, that’ll look perfect in the cabinet. We can put it in when we crack the champagne open, alright?”

“You got champagne? We didn’t know if I was even going to get nominated.” It was a confidence issue. You knew that.

He led you over to your seat and set the award down for the other nominees to be announced. “Well I knew you were going to be. So we’ll enjoy it together.”

There wasn’t really ever a time when you sat next to each other that Suguru’s hand wasn’t touching you in some shape or form. For the most part, as the others got up for their awards, his fingertips rested on the back of your neck, caressing part of your hairline like a comfort for himself.

Ten awards were handed out for each sub genre of dark fiction, yours being romance- thriller. You were not a seasoned veteran by any stretch, but three years and counting, it was the most shocking surprise to be called.

The vibe in the grand hall was exquisite, elated dancing, call outs and scouters already fishing for new faces and work to start the new book year in launch season. A few months from now and a book of your own would make the brave appearance for a second time in a year.

The only thing you had to do now was actually finish it so your agent could do her job. Writing was the hard part, and boy, were you struggling this time around.

Well, you actually had to start writing it in the first place.

Anxiety was a killer, deadlines were even worse testing the boundaries and mortality of your own brain stem, forcing too hard for an end result. Your agent was really going to kill you.

What else could have killed you? The amount of glares in your direction that were seemingly directed at your award.

It was known in the industry that, by the news articles, you were the ‘underdog’. Not your choice of word and undoubtedly a conscious decision by critics to throw a stack of sharpened blades into a bag while they shook it up for drama, or whatever odd reaction they wanted.

Unfortunately, with plenty of mud slung, that was the poor word that stuck, and seasoned authors did not appreciate it.

Words hurt, some more than others, but it didn’t matter most of the time. Suguru stood by your side with a soothing touch and kept you grounded to soldier on. Like the most handsome, well connected personal shield to deflect the negativity and allow you to keep on doing what you loved.

After all, writing did start off as a hobby, not a full time job. You just happened to have the opportunity to get paid for it once you had found the appropriate publisher.

“Oh, it’s you.” An author stood there in a beautiful emerald gown, a writer who was as talented as she was known.

She contributed to the same sub- genre. She did not, however, collect an award tonight.

Her pseudonym was Ella.

“You won an award?” If only her acting skills were as diverse as her writing. Maybe then she might have been able to convince you.

You lifted it up, Suguru’s hand lingered over your waist. “Yeah… I did.”

She folded her arms dismissively, and noticed a friend of hers came up alongside her. “I didn’t see, must have stepped outside to use the bathroom or something.” She eyed the award briefly. “That’s cool.”

“Thank you.” You were still humble. “It was a massive shock-“

“Have you met my friend?” Ella side tracked you immensely. “She’s an aspiring author. Up and coming actually.”

“Oh Ella.” She appeared embarrassed, but her acting skills needed some work too. “Oh… Doctor Geto? Your…” That reaction was sincere.

Suguru smiled and still held close. “Hello, what a surprise to see you here.”

You looked to him for an answer. He obliged. “We know each other through work.”

That meant in his own words, that she was a client of his.

Suguru was the perfect shield. He also stayed back and allowed you to fight your own battles. More or less, he dealt with the aftermath. Not the healthiest attachment to which he had already pointed out, yet still indulged you. You saw it more as relying on each other.

“Y-yeah. Through work.” The girl nodded with a curt smile. “Anyway, we should go, Ella. I think your publisher wants you.”

“Bye.” It was short, but you always tried to stay cordial.

You turned to your fiancé after they left without responding. “Through work, huh?”

He stared them down as they left and stole a kiss at your forehead. “Yeah, just regular work stuff. Nothing important.”

That made you smile. “I was just regular work stuff once.”

“You may be many things, sweetie. But ‘regular’ you are not. You never were.” Oh yes, you were also a client of Suguru’s. Well, former.

You just got a proposal instead of a filled prescription.

Whenever he talked like that, it sent flutters in the depths of your stomach, especially in close proximity to his touch. Suguru took care of you to which you were endlessly grateful. He was a caring man, giving in every way and expected nothing from you but your love and trust.

Though tonight, it was inevitable that it would not end by the two of you sleeping. It was entirely possible you would fall into bed with his head between your thighs.

“It’s lovely you think that way, Doctor Geto. ”

He exhaled with amusement and looked at you like you were the only person in the room. “I always do. Soon to be, Mrs Geto. ”

Just the name made you giddy.

As soon as the book was finished, planning would commence and you could invest all your time into planning the wedding.

You both looked at eachother like you were the only two in the world. “Why don’t we take your award home and celebrate-“

“Hey!” Through the crowd, abruptly causing a ruckus was your literary agent, Akari Nitta. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere- hey Geto, it’s nice to see you. It’s been a while.”

“It has. It’s good to see you.” Suguru gave your hand a reassuring squeeze and let go. “I’ll let you get on with it. Come find me when you’re ready to go.”

You agreed and watched him leave. Nitta leant to the side and sighed wistfully, observing him go and disappear into the crowd.

“How on earth is he so perfect? God it makes me sick.”

“I often ask myself that too. I wonder why he puts up with me if I’m honest.”

Why did he? An insecurity of yours that was no less vocal most of the time.

As honest and hard as your job was, you made a living writing about murder and conspiracies, sex and depraved toxic traits whereas Suguru was an accomplished psychiatrist with his own practice.

Hardly a perfect match in occupation considering Suguru had regular sessions with you before entertaining the idea of courtship.

Some saw it as wrong, an abuse of his power but that was simply not true. Not in the slightest. He just happened to know you more intimately and understood your insecurities before the first date.

“Anyway, before you go drooling over the place because of Mr Perfect, I wanted to catch you before you cut and run like always.”

That wasn’t strictly true. You did try and make an effort, you just preferred to be invisible. Tonight however was your day off and you were not about to spend the evening speaking of business and other subjects that could wait for Nitta’s office.

“Right now? Can’t we leave it until when I’m back?” You still had to break it to her that the book would take longer than she initially recommended.

“Yes now, and then we can get it all out of the way. First of all, congratulations, I knew you could do it.” The first proud pat on your shoulder, followed by…

“I need to know how this next book is coming along, I’ll need to sort out the last of the advertising before the deadline.” And she read your vacant expression far too well.

“You are nearly finished. Right?”

Um… in my mind. Yes. “I still need some time-“

Her tut of disapproval got you searching around the room for Suguru. “You haven’t even started have you?”

“I mean… Well uh, sort of.”

It wasn’t that you couldn’t, or was riding off of the high of your win and sales, it was just that every idea you put to paper just wasn’t right.

“Oh shit. We have a deadline, how on earth are you going to get any investors if you can’t produce the product on time?”

Either the plot didn’t work just right, or the corner you’d written yourself into had no life preserving ring to scramble for and climb out. Each time made the computer page more empty and depressing.

At this rate, you were uncertain that you were even going to get it finished this year. Still, you had a plan.

“I have a plan though.” You held your arms up in defence. “Suguru’s taking me to our place out of town, y’know the one by that lake? I’m thinking it’ll be great inspiration for me to get started. Quiet, secluded, so I’ll have no distractions.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose like a scolding parent. “Fine. I expect several chapters at least by next week. I can’t provide them with anything if the manual script doesn’t exist.”

“Yep, of course… several by next week.” Oh crap. You bit off more than you could chew.

“Good.” Nitta appeared more positive. “Now go get your man before all those thirsty book reading women cause a flood.”

Naturally, Suguru was surrounded by people, anyone who was drawn in by his aura and charm that just instinctively radiated from his body. Ella being one of those people.

He was chatting quite well enough until he saw you, and once more, it was as though you were the only person in the room. Though it wasn’t the same for every other person there, their expressions faltered slightly as he abandoned them mid conversation to approach you.

“Are you ready?”

You nodded, your eyes flitting to the people behind him who had started chattering amongst themselves. Ella staring at the back of his head with a fire in her eyes distracted you, you assumed she would focus back on the conversation. She didn’t.

“Doctor Geto, won’t you join us for the after party? All of the nominees are invited to my place, I’d love to have you there.”

Wow, she was flirting. The sticky oozy tone in her words made you sick. You were not invited to anything after and you accepted an award too, you would have heard about this surely?

“Oh?” He said, turning back for just a moment. “ Everyone is going?”

“Yes, of course. We had such a good turnout for nominations that we decided to celebrate.” Was she pushing her chest out?

You couldn’t blame her. Suguru was so handsome. He had this charismatic air about him that put anyone’s guard down and bare their soul to him, you knew he’d listen too. Perhaps that’s why he was so good at his job.

Unfortunately, his kind and charming nature drew the wrong sort of attention at times. Well, unfortunate for you. It impacted your confidence greatly. Still, Suguru never made you feel any less, and never bit any bait. And you trusted Suguru implicitly.

It was other people you didn’t trust.

“No thank you. I’ll have to politely decline.”

“Huh?” She was speechless. It was the astonished and gormless gaze you always selfishly enjoyed afterwards.

“I’m going home to celebrate my wife’s award.” He laced his fingers with yours. The way he used wife as your title set your stomach ablaze.

“She’s your… Oh.”

“If you’ll excuse us, we have some celebrating to do.” He didn’t even entertain her.

Suguru led you through the crowds and across the packed out hall until you were met with the cooler air of the lobby. He walked with more of a pace, longer strides you just about managed to keep with.

Forgotten again. You were almost invisible.

“Ignore it. They’re pompous, the lot of them.” But you were always seen by Suguru.

“They’re envious you got where you are on talent alone, most of them have some sort of finger in a different pie that helped them get where they are. You did all of it on your own with no help from anyone high up.”

You wouldn’t have said that he was angry or furious, but how he spoke indicated that he was at least upset with the situation. Even so, you had yet to experience him even raise his voice. Suguru dealt with issues like this and ones even worse with class and dignity every time.

“I know.” You said, taking his hand properly and finally matching his pace by the time you both had entered the parking lot. The award still clutched tight in your fingers.

“I honestly don’t know how you do it. I’m so proud of you for rising above it and being who you are.” There were the words of affirmation you needed.

Just as you were.

Despite the therapy, the dark themes and red flagged recipes for disaster wrapped up neatly inside a book cover to cover, how your mind worked and overworked, Suguru loved you just as you were.

Mostly the only person to confidently express it.

“I don’t know how I do it most of the time either.” You chuckled it off as a little joke, yet there were times where you found yourself counting to ten or taking the largest inhales of air so you didn’t scream the house down in mounted frustration.

The silence on the way home was comfortable. A quietness that settled like sediment in the bottom of a well, easily disturbed by either one of you talking and introducing your voices back into the space. It settled easily, but picked up and merged just as well.

“You called me your wife.” Just saying it carved a smile on your face.

“Well, you will be soon enough. We should get used to saying it, right?” You didn’t need to face him to see that he was smiling. “It suits perfectly.”

“I like the sound of it too.” The sound was nice, but the stress of planning something like a wedding was daunting enough.

You didn’t mention that to Suguru though. The stress of the book was enough. You were convinced that he had his reservations about it though. Still, he never expressed it regardless of how well the two of you communicated to each other.

The rest of the ride home sat nice enough, it had begun to rain by the time you had reached the house, coming down considerably hard when the weather report specified none. Once the garage door closed, Suguru came round to open your door before you could even get your seatbelt off.

You were still grasping your award. “This will look really good in the cabinet, won’t it?”

He helped you up and stayed holding you, “It’ll fit nicely. Why don’t you place it while I get the champagne. It doesn’t look like the rain’s going to stop any time soon, I think it’s a perfect time for a bath.”

You nodded and trotted off, slipping your stiletto heels onto the plush carpet in the hallway and padded towards the living area, the long awaited cabinet sitting there waiting for something to sit willingly in the glass chambers for its stomach.

My first award… Right there, in the middle, front and centre to show anyone who visited that you were a serious author who collected awards because you were doing alright for yourself. Perhaps, if you worked hard enough, you would give this baby trophy a hypothetical and equally as adorable sibling to accompany it behind that glass next year.

As you closed the door, the champagne cork popped off across the room in the open planned kitchen followed by a small fizz and splat. You turned and saw Suguru chuckle with a small foamy mess pouring out of the bottle's neck.

“I’ll clear it later.” He came over with the glasses and poured. “To the most beautiful, intelligent and talented person I have ever met. Congratulations, Dearest.”

A heartfelt cheers. You would choose this over everything you had gone through tonight. Every time.

“I couldn’t have done it without your support, hon.”

He took a sip, as did you and studied your face like it was the last time. “That was all you.”

The tension was palpable, his charm often shifted when the two of you were alone. It never ended either, his adoration for you that you often felt was misplaced. How could someone as beautiful as Suguru even notice you? Yet he still did.

“I’ll go run that bath.” One soft peck to your cheek and he was off towards the bathroom.

The night wasn’t ending at all just yet.

“Oh my…” Most of the time, you failed to even find the words to express how good Suguru made you feel when his fingers were deep inside you right to the knuckle.

The thing with Suguru, was that he was a giver. It was rare that he ever received because he enjoyed the art of giving more than you ever realised.

It was thunderous, the bathroom lit only by several candles visibly keeping the bath water warm without a top up over the goosebumps lacing your skin with sweat and bubbles. The grand sunken bath served its purpose far too many times to count.

Countless times you had Suguru over you, working your body to a fine tune he played so easily. He knew your body inside and out and made sure you knew it too.

“There. You think I can have one more from you, sweetheart? It would make me so proud.”

So sweaty and just his voice set everything on fire that made your eyes water. “I don’t- I think I… My make up-”

“Let it run down your face.” His fingers pushed slowly, painfully unhurried. “I’d always notice how beautiful you are in a pitch black room full of fog, mascara makes no difference.”

The delicate and almost patronising peck on your cheek to reassure you made the air even more dense. He just knew every single trick in the book to make you squirm.

Suguru leant forward and ran his lips loosely over the prickled skin of your chest, moving down to take a nipple between his teeth just to make you shudder. Overstimulation was something you responded well to and he just loved how much it affected you.

“I just need to-” Full eye contact just to steal the words from your throat.

“One more time.” It wasn’t a demand, but it may as well have been. “I know you can do it. Will you do it for me?”

He sucked and made a seal, flicking his tongue to send you wild though you stupidly hoped you could control the jerking erratic movements of your body. You wanted to finish all over him again, hand between your legs, fingers curled just perfectly.

One more time. Could you do it? Yes you could. It was brewing deep down like a tickle, an itch to satisfy or one for Suguru to scratch. It was just there, building and building.

“Do it. Come for me, sweetheart.”

As though on cue, one last orgasm rolled through your abdomen just like the lightning outside. Ripping and clenching around his fingers in silence bar the quietly sloshing water and orange scented bubbles coating the soaked skin of your stomach.

“Four times. Good job.” Everything he said was like sparkling dust and glitter. Your ears perked to it and hung on every word like melted butter.

What a way to end such a momentous day for your career. Wet and proud with one gorgeous man between your thighs.

Sort of blissful.

-> Next

(Master list)

Tag list -> If you want to be tagged, let me know! <3

DISCLAIMER - I do not own any of the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

The side characters and advanced plot is my own work. A gift for @vampir-queen and original idea for this fic is their's.

Also Please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

47 notes · View notes

isak-dot-gov · 2 months ago

Text

Accidental Reveal - Part Three: Going Public

Pairing: Inȇs Bettencourt x Singer!Reader

Word count: 1812

My Masterlist :)

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

The excitement in the air was palpable as Ines and her UConn teammates made their way to the venue. Your concert was in Connecticut tonight, and the whole team had accepted your invitation to come see you perform. Inȇs had been nervous at first—her relationship with you was still under heavy speculation, and she wasn’t sure how the media would react to her attending. But her teammates had insisted, saying it would be a good way to unwind after a stressful few weeks. Besides, they had come together to support her, and they wouldn’t leave her hanging.

Paige, Azzi, Nika, and KK were hyped, laughing and chatting as they approached the backstage entrance where security was waiting for them. You had pulled a few strings to get them VIP passes, and they were excited to experience the show up close.

“You ready for this?” Paige asked, nudging Ines with a grin.

Inȇs smiled nervously. “I’m ready to see her. It feels like forever since I saw her last.”

“It’s gonna be a great night,” Nika reassured her. “Just enjoy it.”

The venue was packed with fans, and the energy was electric. Inȇs couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety as she thought about the rumours that were still swirling online. But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was about seeing you perform, about enjoying the music that made her fall for you in the first place.

As they settled into their spots, the lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted into cheers. The opening beats of your latest hit rang through the venue, and when you appeared on stage, the energy in the room doubled. Ines felt her heart swell with pride as she watched you command the stage. You were captivating, your voice clear and powerful as you sang your heart out, the crowd hanging onto every note.

For most of the show, Ines was able to forget her worries. She was just another fan in the crowd, mesmerised by you. But that all changed when you reached the special segment of your concert—the advice segment.

You had started this tradition early in your career, giving one lucky fan in the audience a chance to share their story and ask for advice about their love life. The rest of the crowd would listen and react, sometimes giving their own input. It had become a fan-favourite part of your shows, a chance for you to connect on a personal level.

“Alright, everyone,” you said with a playful smile, taking a seat on the edge of the stage. “It’s that time again. Who’s ready to share some love life drama?”

The crowd cheered, and security handed the mic to a girl in the front row, who looked both excited and nervous. She was young, probably still in high school, and her voice shook slightly as she started to speak.

“Um, hi,” she began, her voice amplified throughout the venue. “So… I’m kind of going through something with my best friend. We’ve been really close for a long time, and recently everyone at school has started this rumour that we’re dating.”

The crowd murmured in response, some sympathetic noises of understanding rippling through the room.

The girl continued, “The thing is… the rumours are true. We are dating. But it’s been really hard because now everyone’s talking about us, and we didn’t want it to be public yet. We’re trying to figure out how to handle it, and I guess I just want to know… what do we do?”

There was a pause as the crowd reacted, and the girl’s voice wavered as she finished. Inȇs’ heart sank. The situation was so painfully similar to what she and you were going through. She felt her palms sweat, wondering how you would respond.

You smiled warmly at the girl, your eyes soft with understanding. “That’s really tough,” you said, nodding. “It can be overwhelming when people start talking about your relationship before you’re ready. Believe me, I know how that feels.”

Inȇs’ heart skipped a beat as you said those words. Her stomach twisted as she realised where this might be going.

You paused for a moment, then glanced out into the crowd, your eyes landing on Inȇs. “It’s kind of like what’s happening with Inȇs and me.”

The venue fell silent for a split second before erupting into loud gasps and cheers. Inȇs’ mouth dropped open, her pulse racing as the entire crowd began screaming in excitement. Her teammates looked at her with wide eyes, equally shocked by your bold reveal.

You chuckled as the crowd’s cheers grew louder. You held up your hands, trying to calm them down, though the wide smile on your face showed you weren’t too bothered by the reaction.

The girl holding the mic stared up at you in disbelief, her own question momentarily forgotten. “Wait,” she said, her voice trembling with awe. “So you guys are actually dating?”

You smiled brightly, nodding. “Oh yeah. I thought it was pretty obvious at this point, but… yes, Inȇs and I are together.”

The crowd exploded into applause and cheers once more, some fans jumping to their feet in excitement. Inȇs sat frozen in her seat, a mix of emotions swirling inside her—shock, joy, nervousness, and a bit of panic. She hadn’t expected you to confirm things in front of thousands of people without warning her first, but she also couldn’t deny the relief that washed over her. The secret was out, but in a way that felt right.

The girl, still holding the mic, blinked in astonishment. She looked at you, then back at the crowd, almost like she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “So, wait,” she stammered, “you guys are actually, like… together? Like for real?”

You nodded again, this time with a softer smile. “Yeah, for real. We’ve been together for a while now.”

The crowd erupted once again, but the girl wasn’t done. She tilted her head, her curiosity clearly piqued. “How do you deal with it, though? Like, the rumours, the pressure? I mean… everyone talking about you all the time? How do you handle that?”

The question hung in the air, and the entire crowd seemed to lean in, waiting for your response. Even Inȇs found herself holding her breath, curious to hear what you would say. This was something you had both been struggling with, something that had weighed heavily on her for weeks.

You took a deep breath, pausing for a moment before answering. “Honestly?” you began, your voice thoughtful. “It’s not easy. People are always going to have opinions about your life, especially when you’re in the public eye. But the most important thing is to stay true to yourself and the people you care about. Inȇs and I didn’t want the world to know about us until we were ready, but the truth is… sometimes life doesn’t wait for the perfect moment.”

You glanced out into the crowd, then back at the girl with the mic. “People are going to talk no matter what. They’re going to speculate, make up stories, and sometimes, they’ll even spread rumours that aren’t true. But what really matters is how you and your partner feel about each other. At the end of the day, the love you have is stronger than any rumour or comment online.”

The girl nodded slowly, absorbing your words. “So, you don’t let it get to you? You don’t worry about what people say?”

You smiled softly. “It’s not that I don’t worry. I do. And I know Inȇs does too. But we lean on each other. We talk about what’s bothering us, and we support each other through the tough times. And honestly, having a strong support system—like friends, family, and teammates—helps a lot. So my advice to you is to talk to your best friend, figure out what you both want, and lean on each other. The rest will work itself out.”

The crowd reacted with cheers and applause, clearly touched by your thoughtful response. The girl, now visibly emotional, smiled up at you. “Thank you,” she said, her voice thick with gratitude. “That really helps.”

You smiled back at her, giving her a warm nod as you made a small heart with your hands. “You’ve got this. I love ya, ‘kay?”

“I love you too,” the girl said before handing the mic back to security and mirroring your hand gesture.

With that, you took the mic back from the security and turned your attention to the rest of the crowd. “Alright, enough relationship talk. Let’s get back to the music!”

The crowd roared in approval, and as the next song started, Inȇs could feel the weight of the past few weeks starting to lift. The anxiety she had been carrying for so long was slowly fading, replaced by a new sense of relief. You had made your relationship public in a way that felt natural, without the pressure of a formal announcement or the scrutiny of the media. It had just… happened.

---

After the show, you met Ines and her teammates backstage. The energy from the concert was still buzzing through the room, but Inȇs seemed quieter than usual.

Paige was the first to speak. “Well, that was one hell of a reveal.”

Nika grinned. “You really know how to put on a show.”

You laughed, feeling a little sheepish. “Yeah, I didn’t exactly plan to announce it tonight. It just felt like the right moment.”

Inȇs finally spoke, her voice soft but steady. “You didn’t warn me.”

There was no anger in her tone, but you could see the mix of emotions in her eyes—relief, surprise, and maybe a little bit of anxiety. You stepped closer, reaching out to take her hands. “I know, and I’m sorry for springing it on you like that. I just… I didn’t want to keep hiding. I’m proud of us.”

Inȇs’ eyes softened, and she squeezed your hands. “I’m proud of us too. I just… I wasn’t ready for all the attention. But seeing you up there, being so confident about it—it made me feel better. Like we don’t have to keep running from this.”

You smiled, pulling her into a gentle hug. “We’re in this together. No more hiding.”

Behind you, Paige, Azzi, Nika, and KK watched with grins on their faces. “Well,” KK said with a smirk, “I guess the internet’s gonna go wild over this.”

“Oh, they already are,” Nika added, glancing at her phone and showing them a flood of notifications. “Look, we’re trending!”

Inȇs laughed softly, still holding onto you. The anxiety that had weighed on her for so long was finally lifting, replaced with a new sense of freedom. The world knew now, and while there would be challenges ahead, she had you—and her friends—by her side.

And that was all that mattered.

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

Isak Speaks: Ngl I kinda coocked with this. Also I'm kinda getting obsessed with the whole "reader being a singer" thing. Don't worry, it will wear off at some point.

(I also refuse to have Inȇs leave UConn in my writing so if you don't like it, I can't help you lol)

#uconn wbb #wbb #paige bueckers #inês bettencourt x reader #nika mühl #azzi fudd #kk arnold

50 notes · View notes

cillianmesoftlyyy · 4 months ago

Text

Take It on the Run Pt. 2 | Thomas Shelby x Fem!OC

summary: Tommy keeps coming back to the cabaret but you never know why. Sometimes he stays but usually he doesn't, leaving his cigarette still smoking on the table. His flighty behavior and emotional unavailability starts to rub you the wrong way, but you can't bring yourself to hate him... but maybe you should.

warnings: outdated language concerning sex-workers; smut

word count: 4142k

Do I Move You?- Nina Simone 🎵

Daylight- David Kushner 🎶

Tommy Shelby told you that the cabaret “wasn’t his… thing” just a week ago and yet, when you begin your solo routine in a cream and sheer bodysuit, guess who’s sitting at that familiar table? You’re singing your song when you notice him, leaning back in his chair and holding a lit cigarette between his knuckles. His cheekbones are cast in an aggressive shadow but you can still make out his icy blue eyes looking back at you.

You meet his gaze and match his neutral expression. You hadn’t expected to see him again after that night, maybe once or twice in passing but not here. You curse silently in your head and continue singing, feeling more self-conscious than usual beneath the hot stage lights. You can see his eyes pass over you though he makes no show of his thoughts when he takes another drag of his cigarette.

Your song finally comes to an end and the crowd cheers with wolf whistles. Tommy doesn’t even clap, he stares at you for another moment and then stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray. He downs the rest of his whiskey and stands, and leaves. You watch his back as he walks through the doors of the cabaret and doesn’t look back. Suddenly, you feel like a little girl, standing alone on the stage in a room full of strangers.

…

After the cabaret closes, you go back onstage to grab your jar of tips. The house lights are dimmed, practically off. The rudimentary electricity flickers every few seconds, stimulating a migraine the longer you look. Your bare feet make no noise as you walk across the sticky stage. The sound of a lighter flicking open sounds from somewhere in the audience, revealing a cut-angular face and a peaky cap. The lighter snaps shut and a cigarette ends burns red in the dark.

“Sorry I didn’t stay- had important business to attend to,” Tommy stands from his seat and drops his lighter into his breast pocket. He looks you up and down, smirking slightly at what you look like after the show.

“Were you waiting for me?” You ask, not sure whether to be flattered or afraid.

“I thought I’d congratulate you on a good performance,” Tommy shrugs and weaves between the tables with the chairs upturned on their tops.

“You didn’t look like you enjoyed it,” you banter back and move closer to the lip of the stage. Tommy waves his hand in a dismissive fashion, scoffing.

“I told you, cabaret’s not really my thing.”

“Right,” you nod and come to the edge of the stage. Tommy stands just below you, his face coming up to your hips from his position on the floor. He looks up at you, tilting his head to the side as he looks you over. Your bodysuit is revealing, barely covering your tits and cunt. He twists his mouth slightly in an expression that almost looks like anger- jealousy.

“Nice costume,” Tommy mutters and takes a long drag from his cigarette. You don’t respond so you both fall into a tense silence until he speaks again. “So you said you live here. Is that right?”

You nod and point backstage. “Back there. Just me and the other girls. We all have rooms back there.”

“Is that where you take all the men?” Tommy asks, gesturing with his cigarette.

“Jealous are we?” You tease. Tommy looks away and shakes his head once.

“Don’t.” His voice is stern and sharp. You know you’ve touched a nerve and you smile softly, biting your lip and looking down at your feet.

“It’s affordable and safe here with the other girls… that’s why I live here.” You answer finally and Tommy looks back at your face, studying you.

“Safe?” He asks softly, his judgmental brow raised.

“It’s safer than walking home alone every night after the cabaret closes.” You elaborate, gesturing loosely to the streets of Birmingham right outside the cabaret walls. “Anyway, I’ve been here for five years now- I started sometime after the war. You get used to it pretty quickly.”

Tommy clenches his jaw, silently counting the number of male clients you might have entertained in your time here. He takes off his cap and runs a hand through his hair, exhaling tightly.

“Sounds like a lonely life,” he says at last and you shrug.

“So does yours.”

Tommy looks back up at you with cold, annoyed eyes. He sets his cap back on his head and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah? And what do you know about my life?”

“Nothing, I can just tell.” You tilt your head to the side, looking at him intently. Tommy falters beneath your direct eye contact and bristles.

“Really?” He asks, his tone hard, “how?”

You crouch down on the lip of the stage so that you’re face to face with Tommy. You take his left hand and hold it with his palm facing you.

“No wedding ring, so you’re not married. You’re a criminal, so you struggle to trust others which is why you usually work alone. And… you came here. What were you looking for if not for a distraction?” Your eyes look between his. He scowls, pissed that you can see through him- or at least that you’re saying it aloud.

“Very observant,” Tommy says coldly.

“It’s part of the job, you have to know what the men need from you…”

Tommy keeps his face neutral but his eyes leave your face, flicking to the side before going back to your face. His jaw is tight.

“And what is it that I need?” He asks slowly, dangerously. You look at him for a little while longer and then shake your head.

“I don’t know…” you admit. You look down at his hand and turn it around in your hands. Tommy looks down at you, his brow furrows and he scoffs sarcastically.

“Why are you holding my hand like that?”

You look up at him and roll your eyes. “You’re mean, you know that?”

“I’m aware,” he scoffs again and pulls his hand away. He clenches his fist and relaxes it. You laugh softly at his attitude and lean closer.

“Why are you so mean?”

Tommy looks you up and down, his eyes stopping briefly on your chest. Slowly, he raises his hand to your cheek and slides his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Why do you try to get so close?” Tommy asks, his lip curled.

“Does it scare you?” You ask softly against his thumb.

“No, it doesn’t scare me.” His words brush against your lips like a slap. He smells richly like tobacco, and it almost makes your knees weak. You sigh and stand, stepping away from the lip of the stage. Tommy’s hand falls to his side again and he watches after you with a tilt to his head.

“Goodnight, Mr. Shelby.” You whisper and grab your jar of tips. You can’t help but almost storm off the stage. Whenever you try to get closer to him, he has a way of ridiculing your feelings and affections. You don’t look back as you leave him standing in the dark cabaret.

…

Then a few nights later, you see him again. And then again a few nights later. Those two nights he didn’t stay after or try in any way to speak to you. He’d started to just become another patron, another man that liked to watch you- fuck you, but nothing more. You couldn’t tell what he wanted or what he was thinking anymore and it started to really bother you. It’s not like you really had feelings for Thomas Shelby but you couldn’t deny how beautiful he was. As much as you hated the way he showed up and said nothing, you still loved seeing him in the audience surrounded by smoke like a veil. You knew he was there to watch you so you always tried to put on a good show in the hope that he would wait for you after. But he never did.

Tommy was trying to avoid the Cabaret. He didn’t even have any feelings for you, not really. He was still grieving his true love and first wife, and didn’t have the ability to feel anything for anyone else. It wasn’t love that he felt for you- it was something else that he couldn’t quite put into words. He felt that you were really similar to him, that you could deeply understand one another and maybe even benefit from helping one another. But at the end of the day, you were just a cabaret dancer and Tommy didn’t need another cabaret dancer. But each time he forced himself to forget about you, he thought about your situation and the way you had spoken to him the first time he’d met you. You’d said that you wanted to be a “normal woman,” and while Tommy certainly wasn’t a normal man- maybe he could provide you with a more “normal” life. He knew he was capable of doing that, of giving you an escape from the cabaret into a life of safety, stability, and normalcy but wasn’t the idea too ridiculous to pursue? He didn’t even know you but he kept going back to the cabaret and seeing you. It made him angry to see you onstage, maybe it was jealousy but it was also knowing how much you hated the work. He knew he wasn’t a good man, but the boy he used to be was. He could do something right, something good but could he bring himself to do it?

So Tommy finds himself at the Cabaret again, sitting at his usual table, a cigarette dangling between his lips. This time when you see him sitting in the dim light of the bar, you stare him down. Tommy swallows tightly and taps his cigarette over his ashtray, watching you still. He knows what you’re trying to do. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from yours, his expression one of subtle challenge. You trail your fingers over your body starting from your pelvis up to your breasts. The whistles of the audience are lost on you, only capturing Tommy’s attention matters at that moment. His eyes follow your hands as they curve over your body and his jaw tightens. When your routine ends, he doesn’t leave, just blows out a cloud of smoke slowly. You bow and disappear backstage, a twitch of annoyance on your lip.

Tommy flags down a waiter, one of his fists clenched at his side.

“I need you to pass a message to Diana, tell her to meet me backstage after the show tonight. Understand?” He mutters darkly and takes another drag. The young waiter, realizing who the patron is, swallows tightly and stutters.

“Y-yes, Mr. Shelby. Anything else?”

“No, that’ll be all.” Tommy exhales and returns his attention back to the stage. More dancers come on stage and perform but you aren’t among them this time. He downs another glass of whisky and checks his watch, the time is nearing midnight and the cabaret will be closing soon. Tommy watches from beneath his cap as patrons start to leave and waiters start busing the filthy tables. As the cabaret closes down around him, Tommy puts his cigarette between his lips and stands, sliding on his jacket. The waiter hurries over and ducks his head.

“She’s ready for you backstage, Mr. Shelby.”

“Alright, thank you.” He says around his cigarette and follows the man backstage through a greasy side door.

“She’s in ‘er dressing room through there.” The waiter points to one of the doors along the thin, dim hallway. Tommy nods once again and waits for the man to leave before opening the door.

When the door to your dressing room opens, you can’t help but jump a little. You turn around quickly, already ready for a fight.

“Tommy-” You start but he waves his hand through the hair, silencing you.

“Don’t.” He says calmly and slams the door behind him. “Sit.” He points to the chair behind you. You look back at the chair, your brow furrowed. Slowly, you do as you’re told, looking up at Tommy with a hint of resentment in your eyes.

“Why the hell are you looking at me like that?” Tommy steps closer and rubs his hands over his face, stretching the skin.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, ignoring his question. Tommy steps closer, his brow raised. He can’t exactly explain why he’s so pissed off at you and because he can’t, it makes him angrier.

“You know damn well why I’m here,” his voice is strained and tired.

“You keep showing up, just watch me perform and leave without speaking to me. What am I supposed to think?” You protest, your voice steady in its frustration.

Tommy smiles and laughs, shaking his head like he’s laughing at his own joke. He sniffs and clears his throat.

“You’re a smart woman, you can figure it out.”

You narrow your eyes at him. The truth is, you don’t know why he came back this time. You assume it’s for sex and that makes you even angrier.

“Fuck you,” you snap and Tommy chuckles, his lips curving into a smirk. He closes the distance and leans his hands on the armrests of the chair, boxing you in. His face is just above yours, his eyes more vibrant in their emotion.

“What that mouth of yours,” he says lowly, evenly.

“Or what?” You start, “we fucked once and then you practically disappeared. You don’t have the right to tell me what to do.” You growl.

Tommy’s grip on the armrests tightens as he tries to swallow down the mixture of anger and lust rising in his chest. Exhaling, he grabs your chin and holds it roughly in place.

“I said watch your mouth. I’m not some random man you can just push around.” His voice is low and dark, like a threat.

“No,” you mock unapologetically, “your’re Thomas fucking Shelby.” As if his name even means much to you. It certainly carried some weight in and around the cabaret but you’d told him before, you don’t concern yourself with business outside of the cabaret.

Something snaps in Tommy’s eyes and he grits his teeth. “Listen to me. I won’t tell you again. Watch your fucking mouth,” he nearly spits.

And before you can think it through, you respond.

“Make me.”

With a quick movement, Tommy suddenly pulls you to your feet by your arms and pins you against the wall, your face just beneath his. He doesn’t worry about being gentle with you, in fact he hopes it hurts you a little when he does this. You gasp out a breath of air when he shoves you against the wall and holds you by your shoulders. Your eyes widen and your lips fall open in surprise.

“Is this what you wanted?” Tommy pants, his hand coming up to hold your throat. He stares directly into your eyes as you take a breath and struggle against him, your palms beating his chest.

“Let me go, Tommy.” You ignore his question again, pissed.

He grabs your wrists to keep you from hitting him and pushes his weight against you. He looks down into your eyes, his gaze changing from anger into one of passion.

“You don’t really want me to do that, do you?”

You stop thrashing and take a breath, your eyes looking between his. As much as you hate him right now, god damn his eyes are beautiful. Remembering your frustration, however, you try to speak.

“Tommy-”

Tommy interrupts you, seeing the look of defiance in your eyes. He leans in, his lips close enough to brush against your neck.

“Say my name again,” he orders softly.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing. You can feel his breath against your neck and it sends shivers down your body into your cunt. Taking a second deep breath, you exhale.

“Tommy…”

He smiles against your neck and starts to nip the sensitive skin beneath your ear. Then he moves his lips to rest against your ear.

“I want you, Diana.”

You close your eyes, sighing, your body starting to give in. But in the next moment you remember yourself and push him away. You move across the room, your legs weak and shaky. When you turn around, you’re both breathing heavily. Tommy removes his heavy coat and tosses it over a clothing rack.

“For God’s sake, woman,” he grits out and runs his hand over his mouth. You exhale tightly, trying to hold yourself together and ignore the throbbing in your cunt. Instead of responding, you start to pull off your shoes and accessories, dropping them aggressively on the floor and makeup counter. You can’t even look at him without wanting to go back to him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Tommy scoffs as he watches you discard parts of your costume and ignore him.

“Are you gonna keep acting like a child?” Tommy grumbles and leans against the wall with his arms across over his chest. You spin around, your arms gesturing wildly and your eyes flaming.

“Jesus, Tommy! What do you want from me? Why do you keep coming back here just to never speak to me?” You rip off your feathered headband and toss it to the side angrily. Tommy watches you discard parts of your sheer costume. His eyes roam over your body, his lust once again starting to rule over his frustration. He sighs and passes a hand through his dark hair. He takes a breath, looking away from you, then finally turns back, his eyes jumping from your body to your eyes.

“I can’t get you out of my mind,” he says softly, as if he’s exhausted.

You freeze, never expecting him to say something like that. Tommy shakes his head, frustrated at himself now for giving you and your situation so much power over him. Though he won’t say it, he might be obsessed with you. He suddenly feels ashamed and his eyes go cold again.

“Is that not what you wanted to hear?” He asks, his eyes turning away from you. In the harsh dressing room light, his cheekbones cast dark shadows on his face in profile. You wet your lips and shake your head, not able to believe him.

“I’m not a whore, Tommy. You can’t just come back whenever you want to fuck me,” you mutter, suddenly exhausted too. Tommy looks back, his brow immediately furrows. He jumps off from the wall and closes the distance once again between you. He places his hands on your shoulders, holding you still.

“That’s not what this is,” his voice is low but clear- direct. He’s becoming more impatient by the minute. It’s like you’re refusing to see sense, to understand what he’s trying to tell you. He doesn’t understand why you’re the only thing he can think about and why he wants more of you, in all senses, now. His hands travel up your shoulders to the sides of your neck before they come to rest on either side of your face. His pointer fingers rest behind your ears, tucked beneath your flapper’s bob.

You finally look up into his eyes, your heart falling into your stomach at what you see. You start to believe him, god-damn it. You do. Tommy lets out a gruff sigh and caresses your cheek with his thumb, his eyes traveling over your face as if he has all the time in the world to do so.

“Don’t act like you don’t want me just as bad,” he mutters, his voice quieter than before. And when he says it, it doesn’t sound like he just means sex anymore. But what more do you want from Tommy Shelby than just sex?

Your hands move to his lapels, gripping the button holes. You close your eyes for a moment as Tommy’s thumb passes over your bottom lip. He sighs when you close your eyes, his head immediately tilting down to get closer to your lips.

“You drive me fucking mad, you know?” Tommy mutters so close to your lips that you can feel the sound of his words. His mouth dodges your lips and finds your neck, kissing below your jaw.

“I hate you sometimes,” you whisper back, your breath jumping when you feel his hand slip down to your waist. He nods against your skin and moves his mouth slowly up to yours.

“I know.”

As he says this, you break and pull your chemise over your hips so you can undo your garters. Tommy groans softly against your mouth as he feels your garters snap as they fall away. Tommy runs his hands up your thigh as you unbutton his trousers, both panting softly between kisses. Tommy unbuttons his shirt and lets it hang open as he picks you up and sits back in the chair. He sets you down on his lap where you’re straddling him. His hands roam over your thighs as you take his face in your hands. The straps of your chemise roll off your shoulders but the fabric still covers your chest.

“I want to see you, Diana.” Tommy slides his hands up your sides. You look down at him, your eyes meeting and holding contact.

“Not yet,” you whisper.

Tommy’s hands slide back down your sides to rest on your hips. One of his hands starts to rub circles on the small of your back over your chemise. He smirks softly and tilts his head to the side.

“Why not?”

You smile back and lean down, brushing your nose against his. “You have to earn it,” you whisper. You kiss Tommy gently and he sighs against your lips, pulling you closer by your hips.

“Earn it,” he asks, his eyes still closed, “how the hell do I earn it then?” He smiles and looks back up at you. You kiss him briefly, adding to his sexual frustration.

“You have to be good to me.”

“Good to you?” He repeats, groaning when you start to taunt him with short kisses.

“Be good to me,” you whisper again and begin to kiss him harder.

He slips his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest. He kisses you passionately and deeply. You moan softly against his lips and Tommy moves one hand to slide up and down your thigh, holding you securely on his lap.

“Is this good?” Tommy mutters, smiling. You giggle and shake your head, breaking the kiss.

“You can touch me… but you can’t look- not yet.”

Tommy leans his head back against the chair and closes his eyes, trying to contain himself. He sighs tightly and opens his eyes, his head still leaning back. His hands roam up your body to your waist and up to your chest. His hands are open and flat as he passes his palms over your breasts, still veiled in silky fabric. He watches your reaction as you gasp softly, your nipples hardening beneath his light touch.

Your hands trail down his bare stomach to his unbuttoned trousers. You reach into his pants and pull out his erection. Tommy groans, his eyes not leaving yours as he continues to feel you up over your chemise. You rise up on your knees and align his cock between your thighs. You sit down slowly and sigh tightly as you feel him fill you up. You move slowly, rocking your hips back and forth. Tommy holds onto your hips, guiding you and matching your rhythm. He watches you in admiration as you take the lead, grinding harder and faster as you please.

“Fuck.” Tommy pulls you down harder on his cock, causing you both to groan and gasp against each other. His hand slides up your back to rest against your spine, supporting you as you lean away from his chest. You’re whimpering as Tommy breathes heavily against your sternum, sweat glistening beneath your collarbones and between your breasts. You’re moving your hips as quickly as you can as Tommy guides you up and down. When you kiss him, he lets you slot your tongue between his lips. He groans when you suck on his wide bottom lip and his hips sputter up into yours.

“Slow down, girl,” Tommy warns you between kisses, his hands slowing your hips down. “Stop for a second, look at me,” Tommy speaks softly though his words are broken up by heavy breaths. You stop and look down at him, your neck flushed with blood.

“W-what is it?”

Tommy looks up at you, his hands rubbing up and down your sides. Why he chooses this moment- he doesn’t know. He wets his lips.

“Marry me.”

83 notes · View notes

just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 8 months ago

Note

Z 🐉🥵🍎

Excellent choice. this was very fun to write! 🐉❤️

A welcome distraction

Rated: E

Words: 980

Tags: Fantasy AU; dragon!Eddie; king!Steve; established relationship; mates; soul bond; cock warming; edging; anal sex; monsterfucking; that's right, that monster gets fucked

Notes: Set in the same universe as Hic sunt dracones

Sometimes, Steve hates being king. He loves his people, but some days, he'd rather fight a hundred more usurpers than suffer through another day of audiences and paperwork.

Stifling a yawn, he grasps for the bowl of fruit Joyce brought. It's almost empty, but the pile of documents awaiting his signature is still as large as it was hours ago. He sighs, popping a berry into his mouth and pulling the next page from the stack. He squints in the flickering candlelight, trying to concentrate, but reading feels like trying to move through sludge. Steve groans and reaches for the bowl again.

He comes up empty.

He keeps groping around for a moment, but finds only the surface of the desk.

“What the-?” he mutters, looking up.

The bowl is gone.

While Steve is still staring at the spot of thin air that has taken its place, something at the back of his mind starts to tickle. The mental equivalent of a poorly restrained cackle.

“Really?” Steve rolls his eyes. “You'll do anything for attention, won't you?”

A blueberry flies from the shadows, hitting his chest.

“Oh dear,” says the darkness, unfurling leathery wings, and the sound is home. “My king is grouchy.”

“My dragon is annoying,” Steve retaliates, but his mouth tugs into a grin as Eddie peels himself from the shadows, crowding him into his chair. “Anything you wanted? Apart from throwing food at- Get your ass off the desk, I'm reading that!”

Eddie obeys gladly, nudging Steve's knees apart so that he can settle on the ground by his feet.

“Want what's mine,” he purrs against Steve’s lips. “Want you.”

“Eddie, c’mon,” Steve says. The words come out around a gasp as Eddie nips at the bite mark on his shoulder. “Let me finish first.”

“Don't worry, beloved,” Eddie's hands find the bindings of his pants. “I'll let you finish alright, but first we’ll-”

“Oh no, we won't,” Steve snaps, pushing him off with one hand and gesturing at the pile of documents with the other. “Nobody is finishing before I'm done here. Is that clear?”

A heartbeat passes in silence. Then, Eddie’s offended scowl morphs into a devious grin. The bond thrums with mischief and desire, and Steve knows he did this to himself.

Steve scrawls his signature onto another document. It comes out wobbly and almost misses the line, little drops of ink splattering all over the parchment. He doesn’t even wait for it to dry, just slams it on the pile with the finished ones. A quick glance reveals that there’s two more left. He groans in frustration, trying to shift in his seat, trying to gain more leverage, more friction, more of that delicious, wet warmth. It’s no use. There’s two strong hands on his hips, holding him firmly in place.

“Eddie,” he whimpers. “Please, c’mon, you’ve made your point.”

His dragon hums at the sound of his name, the vibration sending little sparks up Steve’s spine, then pulls off his cock with an obscene, wet sound.

“No can do, beloved,” he laments, glancing up at Steve from below dark lashes. His eyes are pure gold in the candlelight. “You said no finishing before-”

“Fuck,” Steve swears. His hips twitch feebly in Eddie’s hold. “There’s only two left, I can do these tomorrow, please, I-”

Eddie licks a long, hot stripe all the way from his base to his leaking tip, and the words trail off into an incoherent moan.

“Wouldn’t want to keep my king from his duties,” Eddie rumbles, breath cool and ticklish against the sheen of his own spit. “Now come on. You’ve lasted so long, you can do two more.”

And then, without waiting for a reply, he swallows Steve’s cock again. Steve feels that throat constricting, feels that wicked tongue teasing at his balls. Feels Eddie’s cock pressing into his leg as his dragon adjusts his position, and knows that he’s just as desperate for it.

“Oh Gods, I hate you!” he groans.

Eddie laughs, wrecked and muffled around the weight on his tongue, and lust coils in Steve’s abdomen like a spring, wound tight and waiting to snap.

He yanks the two remaining documents towards himself, scribbling something vaguely resembling a signature somewhere near the bottom of both in one jerky movement before he slams the quill down on the desk. It snaps. Ink splatters on wood, and he knows the stains will never come out. He doesn’t care.

“Done,” he rasps. “C'mon, c’mon, please!”

His hands land on a horn and a fistful of hair, yanking so hard it must be painful, but Eddie doesn't complain. Instead, he scrambles into Steve’s lap and impales himself on his cock, all in one, fluid blur of movement. Their lips meet, and the taste of himself on Eddie’s tongue, the feeling of his mate clenching around him, is all it takes. Steve shatters apart with a hoarse moan, and Eddie greedily licks it out of his mouth while he spills inside of him.

“You're a menace,” Steve tells him between sloppy kisses, once he's found his voice again. “Distracting me from work like that.”

“Oh?” Eddie grins. “If anything, I think I made you work faster.”

“Except I have no idea what I just signed,” Steve replies, snorting when his dragon nuzzles his throat playfully. “Peace treaty? War declaration? Who knows?”

“Who cares?” Eddie quips, standing from the chair and stretching languidly. “Sounds like a tomorrow problem to me.”

“Wait, woah!” Steve yelps as he is picked up and carried out of the study. “Where are we going?”

Eddie laughs as he kicks open the door to their bed chamber.

“What do you think, my love? You may be done, but I’m not. I plan on changing that. And maybe after …,” he grins down at Steve, all fangs and hungry golden eyes, “I'll let you finish some more.”

"Yeah, sorry your treaty is all crumpled up. My dragon sat on it."

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hic sunt dracones #hype's 1k follower ficlets

88 notes · View notes