#the deep dive you must have taken | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebadboyfanclub · 6 months ago

Text

I Will Never Leave You (Daemon x Reader)

I think this more a love letter to Rhaenyra than anything but I’m really proud of this one cause I adore writing characters like this, I hope you guys enjoy it

Rhaenyra adored her mother since she drew her first breath, yet the woman she admired the most and desperately seemed her nod of approval was her beloved aunt (y/n) Targaryen, the middle child of prince Baelon and princess Alyssa, the seat between the brothers suited her, (y/n) had the good heart and the bright mind of her older brother that went hand in hand with the wild spirit and the constant need to protect the ones she called her own that she passed down to Daemon.

(Y/n) had been by Rhaenyras side when she needed her the most, wrapping her arms around the shaking frame of the young princess burying her face at the crook of (y/n)s neck.

“Dracarys”

Even though the dragon was not (y/n)s, beautiful Syrax complied whilst Rhaenyra broke down at the arms of her aunt, (y/n) ran her fingers through Rhaenyras long hair to offer her comfort as she whispered the lullaby she would sing to her when she was little.

She had also been the one to almost harass her beloved brother and king to name Rhaenyra his heir.

“As much as I love my lord husband, he is not fit to lead, the weight of the realm will crush him until he bursts into flames, we can prevent this, you can prevent this”

“And name Rhaenyra my heir? A queen has not sat the iron throne”

“Why not name the princess your heir? She is the second born”

Otto had questioned, (y/n) side eyed the man before she looked down to collect her thoughts, the wound of her brothers digging their claws on that piece of metal had brought such mental combat between them, turning blood against one another, if she had taken a go at them then all efforts for a harmonious family would have gone to war ages ago.

“I am afraid it is too late for me to claim what could have been or some could argue “should have been” but the time is just right for my niece, Rhaenyra is the result of the love you shared with the late queen Aemma, you have already wronged her, do not turn your back on the only thing you have left of her”

(Y/n) and Daemon had wed a fortnight after Viserys and Aemma, their wedlock’s were as similar as the sun with the moon, Daemon and (y/n) mirrored one another, their fire burned bright and their thick skulls could cause the the strongest storm to lash, still at the end of the day they ended up in each others arms, holding each other tight and whispering words of love and admiration.

(Y/n) was the only one that could keep Daemon on a leash, staying by his side as he raged for the “disrespect” their brother had shown, in a delicate manner (y/n) would always grab his hand and bring it up to her cheek to ground him.

“I love you and your bravery, however I do despise when you let your rage overtake everything that’s good in you, let me fix this for you”

Daemon would always take her in his arms and kiss her lips with all the might he could master. (Y/n) was his life line, her eyes were like a much needed breath after a deep dive, her smile resembled the feeling of the brisk air on the early hours of a summer day, her hair was as soft as a birds feather as it brushed on his skin, and her touch, oh that touch of hers…like a soothing balm on Daemons wounded heart.

“What is the matter, my love?”

“We must fly to kings landing by the morrow”

“Has something happened?”

“Lucerys’s claim is at question by Vaemond, Lord Corlys has not even passed and they are already circling around Rhaenyra like crows”

(Y/n) half mumbled half explained whilst her fingers rubbed circles on her temples, (y/n) had never voiced it still a pang of guilt ate her soul as slow as the carnivores ate their dead prey whenever she exchanged letters with Rhaenyra, she gave up on her, she left her alone to fight against those Hightowers, withering away as the bastards started to tighten the rope around the heiress’s neck.

Daemon puffed out a breath, the conversation had always been the same, (y/n) would often bring up her concerns over Rhaenyras well being, asking Daemon if mayhaps they made a mistake by leaving her, fabricating elaborate scenarios of how things could have been different.

With caution Daemon approached his lady wife and once he reached her he placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing circles on her aching shoulders as she slouched back and a grunt of pleasure left her, the flames from the fireplace licking her face in such a complimenting light, had he not touched her he could assume she was just an extremely accurate portrait from the hands of an exceptionally gifted artist.

“Rhaenyra is strong, she will overcome this”

“Rhaenyra is alone, our brother is barely able to make a sentence, she cannot stand alone at court”

“And what do you think our presence will do? We have been cast away for far too long, no one will pay attention to what we have to say on the matter, besides, driftmark is none of our responsibility”

After the birth of their first born daughter Enora Daemon and (y/n) decided to leave kings landing and reside in Pentos, granting protection with their dragons they were gifted with land and lived like the Targaryens only knew how to live.

“It is under the Targaryen rule, our closests bond to old Valyria”

“Dragons are our bond, which we have our own”

(Y/n) stood up from her chair to face her lord husband, fury that intertwined with confusion painted across her face as her eyebrows furrowed and her lips half open from the shock that his dismiss had caused.

Daemon resented when they fought, he did not enjoy his love being cross with him, though he loved a battle he would hang on dear life on anything and say whatever to make her curl up in his arms with content.

“You do not want to come with me” (y/n) stated

“I do not believe we will change anything”

“You believe that? Out of all I thought you would be the one to get on your dragon the fastest”

“You are with child, our other children are happy here, must we indulge in that mess?”

“That mess? Our brother has been crippled, our niece tortured by the Hightower and now she asks for our aid and you think I will just ignore it”

“You are emotional”

“I am, and proud of it, I will fly to kings landing with my children, you can choose to stay and hide behind our thick and tall walls of this castle. I will not leave our legacy, our blood, to slowly perish. It is your decision at the end of the day”

Daemon puffed out of breath before he reached for (y/n)s arms to which (y/n) stepped back to avoid, her eyes that spewed fire starring right into his soul.

(Y/n) was the diplomat out of the pair, one can imagine the surprise of her stubbornness when it came to this, which also revealed how important this was for (y/n).

“You mustn’t get upset in your condition”

“That is something you should remember, I was fine until I saw that the years turned you into a coward”

(Y/n) spat inches away from his face, with hurried and swift motions she intentionally bumped his shoulder as she made her exit of their chamber, Daemon did not catch a wink of sleep, (y/n) had never slept at another chamber separately since they had wed.

As the sun started to shyly make its descent (y/n) was assisting her three children on their dragons for their journey to kings landing.

“Hold on”

(Y/n) looked over her shoulder to find her husband with his dragon walking towards them, she had to admit that leaving without him would have costed her a great deal, she wanted him by her side, to help her, to hold her, to have her.

“What made you change your mind?”

“My astonishing devotion to you and your stubbornness, I won’t leave you alone with the wolves”

Daemon reassured her before he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, a smile making its way to (y/n)s lips as she gazed at him with love, that sparkle of joy was what kept Daemon alive, he would risk anything to see her well.

A giggle that came from their youngest children interrupted their sweet moment, Daemon and (y/n) looked up as the twins sat on their dragons, admiring the deep affection that oozed out of their parents, Daemon only winked at his children in response and turned back to his lady wife.

“Allow me dearest”

A shriek was heard when Daemon swiped the princess off her feet and lifted her up at her green dragon Zephyr. The family landed unexpectedly since they had not given any information to their visit, Otto and Alicent were fuming upon their arrival, the pair would stir the pot and cause chaos all in the princesses name, Otto was certain of it.

However no one could expect the ever defiant (y/n) holding Viserys by his right arm and the stoic prince Daemon holding the king by the left.

“King Viserys of house Targaryen, first of his name, king of the andals, and the rhoynar and the first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, with princess (y/n) Targaryen and Prince Daemon Targaryen”

Time stood still as they entered the throne room, (y/n) had persisted on visiting her brother, encouraging him to stand and back Rhaenyras claim, begging him to find his strength and sit on the iron throne.

“I will sit the throne today”

Viserys was able to say to Otto who only bowed his head and stepped aside. When (y/n) gently assisted her brother to sit comfortably his crown managed to move and fall, Daemon was the one that caught it and placed it back on Viserys head. As the pair took a step back (y/n) was the first to curtsy in front of him.

“My king”

She whispered before she smiled, Viserys managed to get a hold of her hand and bring it up to his deformed lips, as cold and slimy the weird texture of his lips left on her hand (y/n) looked back on that memory until the end of her days, as many times as they fought (y/n) held a spot for Viserys, one of loyalty and respect.

Daemon snaked his arm around her waist as they went down the steps and took their place next to a baffled and ecstatic Rhaenyra, (y/n) subtly nodded and side eyed Rhaenyra letting her know she is her for her.

As Viserys reaffirmed Lucerys claim and Rhaenys announced the betrothal of Baela and Rhaena (y/n) was ready to turn and hug her dear niece when Vaemond stepped in front of the king, interrupting the glorious moment.

“You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir, don’t you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon, No, I will not allow it”

“Allow it? I do not think anyone hear asked for your opinion Ser…. Apologies I haven’t been at court in so long, what is your name?”

(Y/n)s words sliced through Vaemond like Valyrian steel and Rhaenyra struggled to hide her chuckle, Daemon stood proudly by her side though his grip tightened around her waist when Vaemonds eyes fell on her for a brief moment before he pointed to Lucerys.

“THAT! is no true Velaryon and certainly not a nephew of mine”

Rhaenyra as the mother that she is took a step forward to stand closer to Vaemond and in front of Lucerys, what no one had seen was an important question that (y/n) had whispered at her husband.

“Which side is your sword on today?”

“Go to your chambers, you’ve said enough”

“Lucerys is my true born grandson and you are no more than the second son of drift mark”

“You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine, my house survived the doom”

“To which you owe it to much greater men than you Vaemond, men that knew their place and played their part in history, something that you refuse to do”

“And you think that you can tell me what my place is? Your brother skipped over you and gave the name of heir to your niece, the gods know what you have done to make him skip over you and your… husband, my name survived and gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this”

“Say it, say it”

Daemon antagonised the man, (y/n) assumed her position and slipped away from Daemons grip, her hand gliding from his back all the way down to his sword, dark sister, and pulled it out the sound of metal brushing against its scabbard was enough to make (y/n) grind her teeth in annoyance, thankfully no one seemed to pay attention to what she was up to.

Except Daemon whom had already a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he internally thanked whoever blessed him to change his mind and was now going to be a witness on this wonderful event and as he viewed it “important milestone” in his lady wife’s life.

Vaemond was caught in his own fury and sense of entitlement to see his end coming, even if he had seen (y/n) with a sword he would pay her no mind, a man of such ignorance wouldn’t feel threaten by a woman with a swollen belly or any woman for that matter.

“Her children are BASTARDS and she.is.a.whore”

“I will have your tongue for that”

Daemon watched with pride as his wife lifted the sword and with one clean slice Vaemonds head was cut right above his tongue. Enora was taken aback by her mothers acts while her two siblings Alastor and Aelia hid behind their fathers legs to avoid witnessing the gruesome sight of the corpse at such a young age.

(Y/n) stood still as the sword touched the ground to support her, glaring down at the man that had so much to say, a man that thought himself as indestructible and yet he laid on the cold floor as his blood gushed out of him and pooled on the ground.

“He can keep his tongue, to explain his treachery to the gods”

“Disarm her”

Otto commanded as his voice boomed through the throne room like a proper king that would command his kings guards to obviously attack (y/n), though the real king -Viserys- had just opened his mouth to stop this when Daemon took only a step forward.

“Don’t you dare”

Daemon warned them, in a rather surprisingly composed way for the situation Daemon approached her and took the sword from her, wiping it away at his clothes lazily before he placed it back on its original spot, his hand brushed a few strands of hair that had moved and let it glide behind her shoulder, he preferred it when her hair was out of her face, so he can fully take in her beauty.

(Y/n) was seen smiling brightly, basking in her accomplishment that was so grotesque that some reported that a numerous ladies that had been witnesses had fainted or vomited at the sight.

“You must rest, my love”

“Before that”

(Y/n) proclaimed, she left her husbands side momentarily only to stand before Rhaenyra, her hands going up to cup her nieces cheeks and place a kiss on top of the heiress head, a gesture that held such affection and compassion, (y/n) had Rhaenyra in her heart and her mind as her own daughter, images of the princess running careless on the grass and finding refuge in (y/n)s hug flashed before (y/n)s eyes.

“My dear niece”

“(Y/n)” Rhaenyra breathed out

“I will never leave you, ever”

Requests are open!

913 notes · View notes

rootspiral · 9 days ago

Text

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4])

THE LITTLE FLOWER POPPIN. THE M'LADY

seems like agatha is having An Emotion

but look! look! rio is once again being super special extra on purpose!! because if she just strolled in agatha would be overwhelmed and run away again. so what does rio do??? she corners her with a grand zombie entrance!!! the more over the top she acts, the more agatha is in her element and comfortable interacting. and in this case, angry is a better start than sad. all part of rio's Brilliant 66-Steps-Plan To Win Her Wife Back™ (or was it 666?)

her face omg

oooh are you mad??? are you big mad at little ol' me???????

agatha is like nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope

imagine being aubrey plaza and being born so effortlessly cool. she's cool even when she's awkward dear lord

jen and alice: kinda stunned by both her hotness and her weirdness

lilia: VADE RETRO SATAN (lilia's spider senses are already tingling)

will I ever be over the fact that Death is just one particularly powerful green witch?? that she's a gentle if odd girl who grows plants and flowers and mushrooms and is called the River of Life??? that she is the embodiment of life in all her forms? that decay and regrowth are all part of the same natural cycle? that the hardest and most inexplicable thing a living being can go through is also the most reassuringly organic and normal???

have I already said "i love you patti lupone" today?

we're off to see the wizarrrrd. her cute peter pan outfit!

what do we think, billy? does she want to talk about it, or does she have the emotional maturity of a baby ostrich?

same girls, same

whoa there ladies, calm down. I'm already taken

lilia is also having an Emotion. it must be pretty weird to realize that your mortal foe is this hot

alice going NOPE when she sees her mom's house. the leaves are red alice, honey. it's your turn.

(does the back of rio's jacket look like a ribcage?)

it's going to be fine baby. your friends are all here. you can do this. deep breaths.

fire moon! fire moon! fire moon! oh this is my favorite trial

*grabs the mike* WOULD

from right to left: would, would, would, would, would, oh hi joe

rio: BITCH I AM?!?!?!?!?!?!? (everyone say thank you costume department)

the Road isn't subtle, BILLY.

sure, there wasn't enough sexual tension already, let's add side boobs, shall we? and rio being like hey agatha, hey agatha, hey. guess what. I'm here again agatha. you're not gonna get rid of me this time agatha.

I keep thinking that every reflection agatha comes across is a "te veo". and even when rio isn't there she is watching from mirrors and from puddles.

OH MY GAWD AGATHA how can you expect me to cope when you look around to make sure nobody is watching and then you lean in so so so sclose and then you say no with such a deep soulful voice and so much intimacy and such quiet anger and not one lil hint of clownery. I AM ABOUT TO GO FERAL

agatha around rio is like, mind screaming in anguish and body screaming in horny. lethal combination

lilia who's been trying and failing for centuries and centuries to come to terms with the violence human beings inflict on whoever is different

if there is one thing a broadway pro is trained to do is making people cry while wearing increasingly stupid wigs

JEN SEEING MASKS BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHO HIDES BEHIND THE MONSTER THAT BOUND HER

fletwood mac?!?!!?!?!?!?!? in this economy?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? I cannot handle much more of this, my emotions are raw and fragile and tender as it is already!!!!!!!!

oh, alice.

well this episode is making me feel like agatha: sad and horny. weird vibe but okay.

go to episode 4 part 3

#agatha all along #agatha deep dive #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agathario #alice wu gulliver #aubrey plaza #kathryn hahn #ali ahn #patti lupone #character analysis

203 notes · View notes

lusmeitli · 2 months ago

Text

But like of each thing that in season grows

Summary: How a kind gesture can lead to something more. One shot.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Christmas fluff, mention of off screen assault, some swearing, lots of snow, books, poetry, smutty smut.

A/N: Okay, look. It just wanted to get out. You’re thrown in without a warning, nor a floatie. Apologies for the liberties taken to interpret and manipulate characters to dance after my will once more. Obviously don't read if you're a minor.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The greatest ideas were conceived in the shower. That was a scientific fact.

You liked facts. You did not like uncertainties or speculation. The feeling of being in limbo was something that didn’t sit right with you.

So as you were in the shower, working the conditioner in your hair, the idea was just there. It was simple, humble, but beautiful. Your hands slowed and stilled. And then your mind rebooted and went at lightning speed, planning things out. You needed to write things down.

You stepped out of the shower hurriedly, towelling down your body, before realising that your hair felt different. Cursing, you stepped back under the water to rinse off the conditioner.

*****

You hated staff meetings. Particularly third Thursdays staff meetings, because they dragged on and on. The weekly mission reports were presented and Fury insisted on inviting some guest speakers. He called it “Horizon Thursday”.

In your opinion it narrowed rather than widened it. Today’s guest speaker was Quinn Harris, cyber security specialist. You suspected self-proclaimed, but you hadn’t bothered doing a deep dive on him.

You were sat on the increasingly uncomfortable chair, rows of employees in front of you, the Avengers at the very front. Rogers had delivered his usual military style mission report, the other members of his team trying to look alive, though you suspected Romanoff and Banner were asleep, as they were both donning sunglasses.

“What you need is a quantum computer and it’ll solve all your problems with encryption.”

“They might as well propose using block ciphers,” you murmured under your breath, turning the page in your book.

Meanwhile, a hand shot in the air at the front. “Excuse me, Mr Harris.”

The man smiled. “Mr Stark, do you have a question?”

“Well, not so much a question for you, but I would very much like the opinion of another expert on what you just said. You know, before anyone here thinks about investing in your product, which, let’s be honest, would be me. I’d like to be sure it’s the right thing.”

Fury rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

There had been talk about getting that dude in? You must have zoned out for that part.

Harris’ face fell for a second, but he honed his features and forced a smile. “Of course.”

“It just so happens that we have an inhouse expert,” Tony got up and scanned the crowd. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everyone uniformly turned to look at you. Everyone.

You felt the moment one particular pair of eyes set on you. The amount of times you had spoken to one another had been limited to the missions you were needed on, for hacking. You’d had his voice in your ear a few times and it did things to your body that made you feel like a system overheat. You never really saw him during missions though as your job was very much office-bound.

Today, he wore the damn leather suit. Whilst Fury didn’t give a fuck, Rogers very much was all about the professional appearance of the Avengers. What you didn’t understand was why everything looked better on him. The black and green possibly was the best colour combination there ever was. The other day Bucky had worn a Slytherin pullover and even though it very nicely accentuated his physique, it looked nothing like the colours did on Loki.

You swallowed hard when you felt his eyes on you. They seemed to see right through you, even over the distance of the seven rows of chairs.

And then you felt the weight of all the other pairs of eyes on you. That was a lot of people. You gulped and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose - a habit you couldn’t break.

“Y/N,” Tony called, bringing you back to the matter at hand. “Stand up and look at me.” His voice was gentle. “Start breathing again. Good. Now tell me what Harris is not telling me about the quantum computer.”

You adjusted your glasses again and cleared your throat. “It’s a solid proposition, I suppose,” you started, “however, one I would expect from a college freshman, certainly not from a cyber security expert specialist.”

Murmurs erupted, but you ignored them and rattled off your thoughts.

“Can a quantum computer crack asymmetric encryption algorithms? Yes. And yes, we all know that thanks to Shor’s algo the maths problems are only polynomial. Also, we know this applies to discrete log problems, too, therefore, all we’d need is a large enough quantum computer. Of course, he,” you gestured to Harris, “would have to build one first, which as you can guess is very costly. However, this entire presentation is based on the assumption that quantum computing is the end of asymmetric cryptography. And that is such a blatantly ignorant approach, with complete disregard for the safety of the members of our staff that are entirely reliant on the encryption cracking working on all their devices during operations and missions. And this whole quantum computer only works if you have a network connection.”

“So you’re suggesting there are hard problems that a quantum computer can’t solve?” Harris said, chin jutting out, arms crossed defiantly.

“Don’t be silly, of course there are,” you huffed. “I coded new post-quantum asymmetric encryption algos three years ago and tested them on several sites I am not authorised to disclose that have quantum computers. Not one of them cracked the simplest of those codes, in any of the over 5,400 attempts they ran over the past three years. So this presentation is… rather embarrassing in its sloppiness.”

“Well,” Harris’ lips were a thin line now. “I’m sure you have a ‘much better’ suggestion then?” He actually raised his hands to add the quotation marks.

“Actually, I do. I developed our own version of a quantum computer, at - and I’m only guessing here - a fraction of the price you’d charge Mr Stark, which can crack both symmetric and asymmetric encryption, works on all of our staff’s devices, portable and stationary, works offline and is about the size of, uh, a thumbnail.”

You pointed to your thumb, because in your humble experience men like him struggled to accurately size things.

Tony smiled and turned to Harris.

“Okay that concludes today’s meeting.” Fury got to his feet and patted Harris’ shoulder. “Looks like we’re good, but thanks for coming.”

People around you stood, some nodding at you as they passed. Tony caught up with you in the hallway. Before he could say something you blurted out: “Did I say something wrong? Was I rude again?”

He smirked and pushed the button of the lift. “He needed putting into place. Totally fine by me. You did great.”

“Stark!” bellowed Fury from down the hall and Tony winced.

“Excuse me, mother’s calling.” He turned and left.

You sidled into the lift with several other people. The cabin stopped a few floors up and people got off. That was when you noticed Loki on the other side of the lift. Up you went and after another stop you were alone with the Asgardian god. The cabin seemed to shrink.

You both watched the numbers climb, the lift hummed, Loki’s leather suit creaked softly as he crossed his hands behind his back.

“Could you please enlighten me about Shor’s algorithm?” he suddenly asked, looking at you.

You had a heart palpitation. Surely that was what it was. He was so impossibly tall and sculpted and… here.

“Um,” you pushed your glasses back up, “it’s a quantum algorithm for finding the prime factors of an integer.”

Loki’s face looked blank.

“It, er, essentially it finds the prime factors of large numbers a lot faster than conventional computers do. Which we use in encryption. The large numbers, that is. So it cracks codes faster.”

“Ah,” he said, head turning back to continue staring at the number display. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you croaked out.

The urge to facepalm burned under your fingers, but you resisted. As soon as the doors slid open on your floor, however, you fled and sought asylum in the ladies’ toilets, banging your head against the wall of the stall.

*****

Operation Great Idea was in full swing.

So you’ve had a little personal setback, but that didn’t deter you from the objective. You had compiled a list, one you were confident was accurate based on your intel and research. That very list was neatly folded in the deep pocket of your coat as you walked through the cold rain on this late November afternoon.

Yes, you did something you’d never done before - take an afternoon off - and were trying to evade puddles on your way to the bookshop. Could you have ordered the books online? Most of them, certainly. But your late mother, an independent business owner, had ingrained in you to support local shops. You liked bookshops, they reminded you of her and of simpler times.

Your timing was excellent - of course you had researched when the shop was least busy - and you practically had the shop to yourself. And so you walked, dragging a pull-along basket behind you as you searched the shelves for the books on the list.

Sometimes, there were different editions there and you stood for a while, feeling the weight of each book in your hand, the feel of the embossed letters on the spine, the scent of the pages. You wanted it to be just right, so you took your time.

Some of the books you would only be able to get in a little second hand bookshop, tucked away in a side street. You had called beforehand and the owner lifted a box from under the counter to show you what she had reserved for you. As soon as your fingers made contact with the books you felt absolutely giddy.

Back at the Tower, you spent two entire evenings wrapping books after work. When you were finished, you leaned back, looking at the neatly organised stack. Yes, you were ready. Now all you needed was an exorbitant amount of luck for the next 24 days.

*****

You watched Loki stare suspiciously at the first parcel. He was sitting in the communal kitchen, Thor next to him.

“Why would it be hexed?” Thor asked. “Simply because the sender is missing?”

Loki just gave him a pointed look.

“Come, brother, aren’t you curious to find out what is in this gift?”

“Loki got a present?” Steve asked as he pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Did I miss his birthday?”

Before Loki could say anything, Thor shook his head. “He’s worried it has been tampered with.”

Roger’s brows furrowed. “How did it get into your possession?”

“It was on the floor outside my door this morning,” Loki complied, sighing.

“FRIDAY would have picked up on any foreign substances or intruders in the tower,” Tony said between gulps of coffee. “He now can detect traces of magic, too. ‘Course, he went apeshit over your magic, but we got it under control, eventually.”

“That’s what all this ‘Alert, alert, magic detected, caution advised’ blaring at five in the morning was?” Scott bustled in.

A slight tinge of red shaded Loki’s complexion. “I have to practise some time.”

“Thought you were born with it?” Scott interjected, helpfully.

This earned him a glare. “I was born with the aptitude for magic and sorcery. It takes a lot more than mere talent to achieve this level of proficiency.”

“Several centuries, in fact,” his brother supplied. “Now then Stark here says it’s safe. So open it, brother!” Thor clapped his hands together.

Loki indignantly and very reluctantly slid the parcel towards him and pulled on the simple string that held the wrapping together. The paper fell open to reveal one of the books you had picked.

From your vantage point of, well, your computer screen, you zoomed in to get a better look at him.

“Oh, a book,” you heard the onlookers muttering disappointedly, quickly losing interest and going about their business once more.

But Loki just sat, staring at the book. It took him a good few minutes to pick it up. And he did what you had seen him do many times before. He weighed it in his hands, fingertips running over the cover, the spine. Then he opened the lid. To anyone else it might not have been noticeable, but to you it was: he inhaled the scent of the book. And finally, there was the smallest upturn of his lips.

You exhaled, relieved. One down 23 more to go.

*****

Over the next week you were too busy testing the new firewall you had developed to check on Loki’s reaction. Sometimes you felt a little self-conscious, scared even that he might not like the books or think this was from a stalker. Which technically you had indulged in, stalking that was, but only to find the perfect books for him. And then sometimes you would get worried that someone else might have found the presents.

But you knew he had received every single one of them, for every evening, when you passed the common area you saw him sitting on the couch with the latest offering in his hands. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it looked as if his tense shoulders had started to relax a bit.

Another couple of days went by and as the decorations started to pop up in the Tower and the first snow fell that didn’t immediately melt or turn to mush you felt happy. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that a certain someone walked differently. Maybe it was your imagination. But he seemed even taller these days.

*****

“Did it work?” you heard his voice in your ear a couple days later.

The data set was streaming on the screen in front of your eyes. “It did. Give me a moment to inject the virus, then you can disconnect the USB cable.”

“Can I still talk to you?”

Your fingers on the keyboard stilled for a moment, surprised. “Of course. The program runs through your phone, not through comms.”

There was a little pause, before he said: “I have a question. About a Midgardian tradition.”

You wrinkled your nose, scanning the code rushing over the screen. “I’ll try my best, but I’m rubbish at traditions.”

The audible outbreath sent shivers down your spine. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What’s your question then?”

“Tell me about the Yuletide calendar.”

45% done. “You mean the Advent calendar?”

“Precisely.”

This was dangerous territory you were treading on. “Oh, it’s a fun thing for kids, really. To make the wait for Christmas a bit more exciting and I guess more bearable. It’s nice to get a little something like a toy.”

“Is it always toys?”

69% now. “Well, no. My mum used to get me an advent calendar that had these lovely drawings behind each door. I hung it up in the front room and we’d open it together every morning.”

“I suppose it’s a nice custom,” he said, before asking, “What about grown ups, do they have advent calendars?”

83%. “Sometimes. There’s all sorts: beer, wine, beauty products, chocolates - you name it, it probably exists somewhere.”

“Books, too?”

The question threw you, did he know it was you? A light was blinking on your screen.

100%.

“That’s it, Loki, the virus is uploaded, you can unplug the cable now and get out of there.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You heard a crackle and the comms was handed over to operations again. As you finished running the decryption programme on the data Loki had extracted, you kept hearing his voice in your head.

“Books, too?” Were you busted?

*****

Security breaches were both an insult as well as an admittedly welcome challenge to you. Someone had tried to flex their fingers - and you had a very good idea who - to break into Stark’s network. They had managed to pierce a little hole into the outer layer of the firewall, but they didn’t know that you had several back up plans in place and you enjoyed watching them work. However, as you scanned over the intruder’s code you devised a new security strategy.

You were in the middle of coding a nice little primer for a new layer - unexpected because of its simplicity, but a tough little nut to crack - when someone cleared their throat next to you. You looked up to find Loki, his eyes fixed on you. You blinked, looked around, but no one else was there, and back up at the god.

“Can I, uh, help you?” Smooth. You facepalmed internally.

“I realised I have never been in here,” he said, looking around the room, then back at your desk. “You have a lot of monitors.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Just the standard three.”

“What are you doing now? Or is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret at all. So we’re currently under attack. Relax,” she said when she noticed him tense, “cyberattack. Someone’s knocking at our backdoor, trying to see if they can get in.”

You motioned to one of your screens. “This is the intruder’s code. He’s trying out lots of keys to see if he can get in. And this,” you pointed to the screen next to it, “is our defence mechanism.”

“Extraordinary.” Loki’s low voice murmured. He was close. You turned your head and nearly had a heart attack at just how close. His sharp profile was illuminated by the blue glow of the monitor, his hair falling to his shoulders, one hand splayed on the desk, the other resting on the back of your chair. He looked beautiful. Perfect. He was leaning closer to the screen so he could see what was going on. Your breath hitched.

And then he turned his head.

Something that sounded an awful lot like a squeak escaped your throat.

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Am I making you nervous, Agent Y/N?”

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned back, just an inch. “No?”

Loki’s eyes drifted over your face, before they met your gaze again. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“A… a statement,” you mumbled and, for good measure, added, “sir.”

His eyes darkened, a smirk curling the left side of his lips. “Are you scared of me?”

You tilted your head ever so slightly. “How can I be scared of you?”

“You’ve heard the stories, undoubtedly.”

“I did. And if I believed everything people told me and not looked beyond I would be incredibly shitty at my job.”

He smiled at that. It was small, but there, and it made him so attractive you felt your stupid heart starting to pound in your chest. Could he hear it?

“Do you like to read, Agent Y/N?”

Another adjustment of your glasses. “I do.”

“What would you say is your favourite book?” His voice was low and smooth.

His hand moved from your desk to the side of your face, where he gently pulled on a tendril, before he brushed it behind your ear. The back of his fingers skimmed your cheek for less than a second, but it sent you reeling. It was as if an electromagnetic pulse was slowly wiping clean your hard drive. You couldn’t think.

“Um, err, Jane.. Jane Eyre.”

He hummed. “I wonder why? Is it because she’s abandoned and rejected all her life?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. Because she’s forced to leave home, into a life she didn’t choose. But when she is given the freedom and space to grow she learns to be the master of her happiness.”

His eyes followed the curve of your neck and back up again. It almost felt as if he was touching you. “Interesting.”

You swallowed again, before he stood upright, nodded at you, turned and left.

Your heart was pounding. And then your computer beeped and your attention was back on the screen.

“Oh pants…” Your fingers started flying over the keyboard. “Not today, Harris. Or any other day.”

Nine more books to go.

*****

He was onto you. Of course he was. After all, he was the God of Mischief and Lies. If anyone would find out who was behind this, it would be him. Personally, the preferred outcome was that he never would find out.

You had asked yourself often over the last 18 days why exactly you wanted to do this for him. But that was just it. You really had no other motive than wanting to do this for him. Maybe because you sympathised with him, being stuck somewhere far from home, feeling lonely and not really integrated. Maybe you had projected your own feelings onto him a tiny little bit. Possibly considerably. However, it was done with the best of intentions. You wanted to make this nice for him. The run up to Christmas. A little bit magical. He must like magic, he was a sorcerer after all, wasn’t he?

So what if you had started dreaming of him at night. He would lean over you as you sat at your desk, in all his tall- and broadness. This time his hands would be touching you. And he’d lean in to whisper into your ear. Admittedly, not words you would necessarily associate with such a situation.

When you would wake up you knew where to place the things he said to you in your dreams. He’d said them to you during missions. And yes, “how much longer till the download is complete, Agent Y/N?” was not remotely as sexy as “I’m going to ravish you now, thoroughly” would have been, for example. But your brain only had so much to work with and it worked for you.

You noticed a few things, however. Loki was around more often, probably just a silly coincidence, or you had started to pay more attention. He looked at you now. You’d look up and find him already looking at you, sometimes a little smile crossed his lips, but mostly it was just something with his eyes, they seemed… warmer, maybe?

However, to your horror you discovered that you had started to blush. Every single time this happened. So you spent a lot of time in the ladies’ toilets, splashing your face with cold water, only to see it even more flushed than before. Apparently, all the books you had read lied about that ‘splashing your face with cold water to calm down and not make people notice’-thing.

But it all boiled down to the fact that he was onto you. Maybe he was humouring you and seeing where this was going. Maybe he had found out already and you made him feel awkward. Or he was waiting for the opportune moment to expose and humiliate you. You weren’t sure which.

Right now it didn’t matter. You were so tired you could hardly see properly anymore. So when you decided to crash on the sofa in the common room, because it was halfway to your room, you didn’t think to check if anyone was there.

That was mistake number one.

You collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Fuck. My. Fucking. Life,” you complained to the universe. “Can you please make the appendage of that misogynistic wanker fall off already? For fuck’s sake!”

Mistake number two.

Someone chuckled. It came from rather close to you.

Dread filled you. Foul language was not tolerated in the workplace. To be fair you could argue that the common room was not your workplace per se, however, you did not want to start arguing with HR because they were absolute savages in the art of word twisting. Or just savages full stop.

Carefully, you cracked your eyes open. And there, on the sofa right next to you, sat Loki. One leg was stretched out in all its glorious length, the other bent at the knee, his forearm resting over it, the book in his lap now closed, one of his slender fingers acting as bookmark. For a moment you wondered what it would feel like to be the book.

“I hope it’s not my appendage you’re asking to be removed,” he said with a smirk.

You grappled to sit up, horrified. “Of course not! That would be awful… I mean, a terrible thing to wish for… you’d… err… such a loss of such a beautiful… I mean, I can only guess… but… um, err… heavens, please make me stop talking…”

You hid your head in a throw pillow, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Mistake number three.

The sound of a low, rumbly laugh made its way to your ears. It entered your system like a virus, leaving your limbs feeling weak and yearning. Was Loki laughing? You lifted your head and watched him, highly bemused at your idiotic display.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. You felt a hard tug at your heart. Goodness, if this man wasn’t already a god, you’d have to declare him one. If he were the head of a religion you would throw out your atheist views and follow him to the end of the multiverse. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Then again, when did he not?

“I’m so sorry,” you started to apologise, “I don’t know what-”

With superhuman speed he moved and sat next to you, his finger on your lips. The feel of his digit on your mouth felt more intimate than any sexual intercourse you’d ever had.

And then he leaned in.

He was so close your cells were basically breathing him in. His eyes were locked onto yours and nothing would have been able to make you look away right then.

“Do you want to know what book I’m reading right now?” His quiet words did things to your insides that were not legal.

You just about managed to nod, his finger still in place.

“‘The Remains of the Day’ by Kazuo Ishiguro. Do you know it?” He waited for your affirmation. “It’s about a man who is in love with a woman. But he doesn’t tell her. When they meet again after decades, she tells him her life would have been different if she had married him. And you know what he does? He still won’t admit his feelings to her. He walks away from her. The first time he lets her go, the second time he walks away.”

You remembered the book very well. You had picked it out for him, after all.

“It’s a cruel story, Y/N. A love that is never acknowledged, nor consumed.” Loki’s eyes drifted from yours down to your mouth. His finger slowly traced the outline of your lips. It was too much, your eyes closed.

“Do you think love is this cruel?” Loki asked quietly. You felt his words as he spoke them almost onto your skin. So close.

“It-it can be,” you whispered. “But maybe, maybe that wasn’t the point of the story.”

“No?”

You opened your eyes to find him looking at you. He’d moved away a bit, giving you some space, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Maybe the point was to show that he chose his job over love. Twice. You can call it dignity or pride, but at the end he’s alone. Without love.”

“What about you, Y/N? Do you have love in your life?”

You weren’t able to look into his eyes. Slowly, you got off the sofa. You turned back to him to respond to find he’d stood up, too.

You looked down at your shoes. His shoes were black, of course, polished, perfect, like him. Yours were several seasons old. Worn. A bit of the shoe sole had started to peel off at the top of your toes. The bit you always kicked into the floor when you worked.

Your eyes wandered up his trousers, black, to the belt, his pullover, also black. He looked effortlessly elegant, poised. You, on the other hand, looked a mess, even in your work attire. Your heart grew heavy at the realisation. Your dreams were stupid. Turned out your heart was even more stupid. And suddenly you felt incredibly small in more ways than one next to the tall, powerful god.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you said: “I have known love, once. A long time ago.”

With that you pivoted on your heels and left, leaving Loki alone in the common room.

*****

Harris was an absolute tosser.

He just couldn’t leave things be. He insisted on trying to show you up, so he tried and tried to hack his way through your firewalls. Of course he had tried to hide his identity and it had made you chuckle, because you seriously had no idea how he could ever dare call himself a cyber security specialist if he covered up his tracks like a novice hacker.

In a way it was cute, but it was getting to the point of obsessive stalking and you frankly were rather tired of this little game by now. Particularly, since it kept you from your nice, warm, comfortable bed well past midnight.

However, Harris seemed to have changed tactics and started to badmouth you in the industry. Even Fury had called Tony and asked whether he should be worried, because Harris had dug up some hacking you’d done when you were much younger and much less ethical. Really it was unhinged, but everyone worked through teenage years in their own way.

You only knew this because you happened to be in Tony’s office and he had Fury on loudspeaker. Tony had pacified Fury without batting an eye, then hung up and asked if you’d be okay with him paying Harris a little visit, preferably as Iron Man. You had both laughed it off. But it bugged you.

So when you were on your way back to the tower from the compulsory (for all employees) counselling session and someone grabbed you, you weren’t surprised to come face to face with Harris. He didn’t lay a finger on you. No, he got two goons to do that for him.

Later, as you stumbled out of the lift and along the corridor, trying to make your way to your room, someone blocked your way.

“Speak of the devil! Y/N! We were just talking about you.” Tony. Other voices around him.

You kept your head down, thinking of how to get out of this unnoticed.

“We were just wondering if– Y/N? What happened?” You saw Tony’s hand reach out for you, but you flinched away.

Silence fell for a long moment.

Then a movement. Shoes appeared in your line of vision. You knew those shoes well. They had been on display on the couch for the past 22 days, attached to an Asgardian god.

He slowly held out his hand, palm up. An assurance, no harm. You gave the slightest nod. He moved the hand up and placed a finger under your chin so carefully you wanted to sob. The faintest of pressure had you lift your head to look up at Loki. His eyes scanned your appearance, stopping at your bruised hands that were trying to hold together your coat, taking in the blood splatters on the fabric, your busted lip, the lopsided glasses, the badly bent temple dangling off its hinge.

You never understood the expression ‘his features darkened’. You did now. Loki’s face transformed and you saw for the first time what a dangerous man he could be. Power radiated off him. You were glad it was not directed at you. His nostrils flared and you almost heard how much he was clenching his teeth.

“Names,” he ground out.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek and now that it started it didn’t want to stop. His eyes softened, something akin to vulnerability flitting across his features.

“H–Har…”

“Harris?” Tony asked softly. You nodded, still looking at Loki.

Loki rolled his lips in his mouth, his thumb swiping ever so lightly over the skin of your chin, before dropping his hand and walking to the lift in long strides.

“Nat?” Tony asked, the spy already by your side.

“Hold up, Reindeer Games!” Tony hollered behind you, as Romanoff led you down the corridor to your room. “I’m coming, too…”

It felt as if you were having an out of body experience as you were peeled out of your bloodied coat, your clothes and body assessed quickly but gently. She pulled out her phone after she ushered you into the shower.

“Tony? No forced intercourse, but lots of bruising…,” was all you heard before the hot spray of the water ran into your ears, blocking all noise out.

*****

Your glasses were fixed and you could see properly again. That was important, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to see Harris’ face on the news as he was escorted - handcuffed - from a courtroom and shoved into a police van, followed by the two goons who had helped him.

When you turned from the screen above the cashier, you saw Loki next to Tony across the canteen, looking at you. You walked over, clutching your sandwich.

“So, um… thank you,” you said, gesturing to the screen, “for that.”

Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, before his eyes gazed behind you. “Is that a double cheeseburger I see? Excuse me.”

And off he went, leaving you alone with the Asgardian god.

You shuffled your feet, studying the floor.

“Thanks again-”

“Are you okay?”

You both said at the same time. You laughed quietly, looking up at him. He smiled. You’d never seen Loki smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You wanted to say so much more, do so much more, like hug him. But he was a god. You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for hugging gods. The awkward silence thickened.

“So, I’ll see you around?”

He was still smiling. “Yes. See you around.”

You were fairly sure you were blushing as you scampered off, back to your office.

*****

Bryant Park was one of your favourite places to be in New York. For one, it was right behind the public library - your heaven. For another, it was close to the Tower and you could wander the paths under the lovely trees. The park was very busy as it was Christmas Eve and people wanted to while away the time in the Winter Village until the big day. But as the ice rink closed down and the skaters came off, noses and cheeks red from the cold, the park started to empty.

You sat on a bench under one of the trees, gloved hands deep in your coat pockets, a woolly hat and scarf keeping you warm. Your head was tilted back and you watched the snowflakes dance and twirl in the cold wind.

“Y/N,” someone called.

Loki stood a few metres away from you, a black coat making him look even taller. He was not donning a hat or a scarf, he looked comfortable with the cold. The snow clung to his dark hair, a soft dusting was on his shoulders. You envied the snowflakes.

You got to your feet and he took a few steps closer, looking down at you.

“Were you enjoying the activities?” Loki asked, nodding to the ice rink.

“No, I just… I just like to sit here,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “I like the trees and the snow. It’s… peaceful.”

He nodded.

“How about you? Fancied a turn on the ice?”

He laughed and you watched the cloud mix with your breath. Now you envied your breath.

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

He took another step towards you. “Yes.”

“Why? Did something happen at the Tower?” Worriedly, you fumbled your phone out of the coat pocket and checked it.

A large hand covered it. You looked up. “Nothing happened. I wanted to talk to you.”

Nervously, you glanced down at his hand that still covered your phone. If you hadn’t been wearing gloves your hands would have had actual skin on skin contact. He dropped his hand to his side.

“Am I in trouble?”

He shook his head. “I… I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

His hand pulled a book out of his pocket. “For this.” He slid it back in the folds of his coat.

“Oh.” You didn’t really know how to feel or react. You knew he’d been onto you, so it was no surprise he’d sussed it out. He was, after all, the God of Mischief and Lies. But you had to give him kudos for letting it play out.

“Um, you’re welcome.” You bit your lip.

“You don’t know what this meant– what this means to me.”

It was impossible to look at him.

“I was dreading this time of year here on Midgard. But your incredibly generous advent calendar made it feel… like when I first visited here with my mother.” He grasped your gloved hands in his. “I miss her dearly, so thank you. For giving me this.”

You were too choked up to say anything, so you just nodded.

“Can I enquire what your reason was?”

It was so cautious, as if he was worried it might scare you off. And yet, the question threw you, most likely because you had been asking yourself the very same thing from the moment of its conception in your shower. It was just there, a need, an urgency you didn’t know where it came from or why it existed. It was something you had to do. Like breathing.

But over the course of the last few weeks, particularly the last few days, it had become painfully clear why you did it.

“I wanted, no, I needed you to be happy.”

He squeezed your hands gently. The tips of his shoes, his shiny, polished shoes, now touched yours.

“Please look at me.”

So you did. He looked different… vulnerable maybe.

“Why do you need me to be happy?” The question was another cloud and you breathed it in, let it fill your lungs.

“Because…” You were afraid to say it, to admit it. But something in his eyes made you courageous. Either that, or foolish.

“Because I watched you, during missions and in briefings and ops planning. You started to believe what they said about you. And it’s not true. There’s so much you don’t share, don’t tell them and I see it. It’s right there in your eyes. And I didn’t want you to lose yourself. And it’s selfish, I know, but I need you to be happy… because if you are, so am I.”

“If you think that’s selfish, then I am guilty of this notion, too.”

Loki raised his right hand to run the backs of his fingers over your cold cheek. “I knew after three days it was you. I wanted to see where this was going, what your motivation was. And I… when I saw you after Harris… I was filled with so much rage and fear. That I would lose you. Before I had you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, you closed your eyes, heart beating out of your chest at what you were hearing. Was this a dream?

Loki’s voice was just above a whisper. “Can I? Have you?”

You moved away slightly to look into his eyes. “Yes.”

He leaned in, his hands splaying on your back, as you stood on your toes. The moment his lips touched yours, you felt a current run straight to your heart. It was as if your brain rewired, the missing piece of the primer clicked into place and unlocked everything.

Snow was falling as Loki kissed you under the tree. You didn’t hear the whistles and hollering of passerbys. You didn’t feel the cold wind. You felt elated, buzzing even.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki murmured against your lips.

“Hm?” you said dreamily.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki smiled, “someone’s calling you.”

Quickly you pulled out the damned device. Before you could even say your name, you heard Tony say: “So sorry for disrupting, Y/N, but we got a slight issue here that needs your expert skills pronto.”

You hung up, burying your head in Loki’s chest. His laugh rumbled in his chest. “We’ll talk more later.”

Breathing in his scent and holding onto him, you weren’t ready to let go. “Promise?”

*****

“Oh god, yes,” you sighed in absolute bliss. “That’s the spot, right there.”

Your groan sounded through the kitchen. You deserved that after three hours of extra work on Christmas Eve.

“Here?” Nat asked.

“Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you begged, putty in her hands, eliciting more noises from you.

“Maybe you should try yoga. Your shoulders and your whole upper body are so tense and full of knots. There’s a class I go to tomorrow at lunchtime, if you want to join me?”

“No time,” you murmured. “Heavens, Nat, what else can you do with those hands?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Banner interrupted, grabbing Nat by the hand and dragging her to the door. “I’m happy to share my girlfriend’s masseuse skills for a severe case of muscle lock, but I’m afraid I have a personal request now.”

You opened your eyes to catch Nat winking at you, a slight blush on her cheeks as she was pulled out of the room. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you heard before they disappeared down the corridor.

You laughed and turned in your stool. Thor, Scott and Loki stood staring. Thor at the ends of his braids, Scott at his fingernails, Loki at you. Eyes intense and dark. You swallowed.

“Y/N, a word, if you please,” Loki said, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and marching out of the room, with you trying to keep up with his long strides, your coat and shoulder bag in your other hand.

He didn’t say a single word until you reached his room - it was closest - and the door shut behind you, locking the outside world out. He pushed you against the door, arm placed against the wood above your head, body leaning into yours, not quite touching.

“That was… a rather interesting display,” he remarked quietly, his breath puffing against your face as he spoke. “In future, I would prefer if your keening was reserved for me.”

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt. “That sounds like an exclusive right to me.”

“It most certainly is.” His lips hovered over yours.

Your index finger slipped in the space between two buttons. “A right that needs to be earned,” you whispered, your finger grazing his skin.

His breath hitched ever so slightly. “Do not challenge me, darling,” he leaned in, his body moving against yours teasingly. “It might be,” his mouth brushed against your earlobe, “too taxing for you.”

You scoffed, but his lips silenced you. His stance shifted as he picked you up and placed you on the nearest surface - a sideboard - and stepped between your legs. He broke the kiss, to cup your face. For a long moment he just gazed at you. The heat in his eyes seemed to intensify, turning you into a needy mess. He made a show of taking off your glasses, folding the temples and carefully putting them on the side board next to you. Your core clenched.

He held out his hand for you to hop off the furniture. You took it and he took to your lips.

It was quite possible that several things fell off on your way to Loki’s bedroom. When you pushed him into the wall to open the damned buttons of his shirt, a picture might have fallen. A vase, perhaps, when he picked you up and spun you around so your back was against the doorframe next to the fragile ornament. Your head hit the heavy frame of a painting, rendering it lopsided, when Loki feasted on your throat, and you tilted your head back to allow him better access.

Kissing, licking, nipping, sucking - he was intent on leaving marks. Your fingers somehow were in his hair, keeping his head in place. Soft, his hair was so soft. A sharp contrast to the teeth you felt pulling on your skin. His ministrations drew a long moan from you.

Loki smiled against your skin. “Yes, my siren, sing.”

Your back hit the mattress and he crawled over you. His hair a curtain, screening you off from the rest of the world in your own sacred space. His shirt hung open, your hands reached out, tracing each line, each dip. His tongue against yours mimicked the motion of his hips that rolled into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting each movement, as if you had practised this dance many times before. He pulled away to tug off your pullover. His fingers pushed up your bra and then he sucked your nipple into his hot mouth, making you arch your back.

“Loki, please.”

You didn’t really know what you begged for. More, probably. More of this, more of him.

He pulled you up so you both were kneeling on the bed. Shaking hands fumbled with clothes and fastenings and then you were both naked. Your breath hitched at his beauty.

“Can I…,” you started, voice sounding hoarse. You looked up at him. “Please let me worship you.”

Something flickered across his face - surprise? He gave a curt nod and then watched every single one of your movements.

You took his right hand, tracing each finger with yours, the veins on the back of his hands. You brought his hand up to your face, cradling it to your cheek, before kissing the palm of his hand. One finger at a time, you sucked it into your mouth, to the knuckle, your tongue swirling around the digit, before releasing it and pressing a kiss to the tip, before moving on to the next.

Your hands traced the skin of the inside of his arm, his veins, the rise and fall of his muscles, and up over his shoulder, across his chest to his left arm, which you gave the same treatment. Each birthmark, each scar was kissed. Your hands skimmed over his chest, your lips followed the path. Loki’s breath stuttered when you sucked on his left nipple, before you released it, softly blowing on it. It puckered. You bestowed the same treatment upon the other nipple.

“Please, lie down,” you whispered and he complied.

You lay next to him, kissing his forehead, your fingers running through his hair along his scalp, gently tugging. Onwards, to kiss the curve of each eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, along his jawline to his ear. You felt his body shiver when you breathed: “You are so beautiful, inside and out.”

Then your teeth closed around his earlobe, gently pulling. A deep moan sounded through the room. Up until now he had let you do whatever you wanted to and not touched you. But his restraint waned and his hands splayed on your back, pulling you flush against his body. You kept going, your lips now worshipping his delectable throat. He tilted his head back to give you better access.

“Herregud,” he rasped as you kissed, licked and sucked on his sensitive skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, his hands growing slack on your back.

You kissed the dip between his collar bones and worked your way down his torso, lips kissing, hands caressing. Further and further you went, along his abs, dipping in his belly button, following the trail of hair below. You leaned back a bit, to look at him. He was fully erect, heavy, swaying slightly. The purple mushroom head gleaming with pearls of pre-cum, thick veins running down the shaft to his pubic hair.

You licked your lips, curling one of your hands around his base, the other cupping his testacles. Then you looked up at him. He was up on his elbows, staring down at you hotly, biting his lips as he watched you in anticipation. You made sure to have and maintain eye contact and then you took him into your mouth.

He hissed, his head falling back, a loud moan following when you hollowed your cheeks to apply suction, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue.

You moved your hand up his length, still sucking, giving his testicles a gentle yet confident squeeze. Up your mouth went, your tongue circling his slit, before sucking him back in. The third time you did it, his hands clasped your shoulders.

“Stop.”

You looked up at him. Loki was breathing hard and you let his cock slide from your mouth with a wet ‘plop’.

In an instant your back was on the mattress and he hovered over you.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” he explained, voice rough, “I loved it, but I have plans.”

He settled between your legs, eyes locked on yours, hand on your thigh, pulling your leg around his waist. His hand slid up, splaying over the fullness of your ass, before giving it a firm squeeze, then sliding over the globe and dipping between your legs. When his slender digits made contact with your aching centre, you cried out. Your whole body was throbbing with need.

“All this nectar is for me?” he rasped.

You nodded.

“Oh, I have to see this.” And in one fluid motion he sat back on his heels, spreading your legs with his hands, looking at your dripping wet centre in amazement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before he scrambled off the bed and disappeared in the corridor, only to come back a few moments later to resume his place between your legs. He handed you something with a smirk. Your glasses.

“I want you to see me.”

You put them on, your heartbeat accelerating. You bit your lip in anticipation. He looked up at you, his hot breath puffing against your wet core and then his flat tongue licked you all the way from your entrance to your clit. Your fingers fisted in the bedsheets, eyes falling shut in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent cry.

“Look at me.”

You did. He started a rhythm of licking, sucking and lapping that had the coil inside you wind up and tighten impossibly in no time at all. You fell back onto a pillow. Then he slid two fingers inside you and your hands dove into his hair, tugging, scraping.

What a visual. Loki between your legs, eyes burning into yours, humming and moaning against your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, curling just at the right time, at the exact angle you needed. It was as if you were a book he’d read a thousand times before. Your toes curled and then you fell into the abyss. You moaned out his name over and over as the orgasm washed over you, leaving your legs shaking.

Loki moved up your body, placing kisses on your thighs, your tummy, your breasts, before he brushed some hair out of your face. You took your glasses off, he placed them on the bedside table. His eyes searched yours.

“I need you, Loki,” you managed, pulling him down.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, the taste of you on his tongue. His hips rocked forward and he slid inside you all the way to the hilt. Loki stilled and broke the kiss, resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Your fingers caressed his back. Unable to form words, you nodded. Then he moved. His hips rocked into yours in slow, deep thrusts. He filled you so well, stimulating places inside you you didn’t know existed. Your hands ran over his back, down his sides, making him shiver. He watched you, eyes dark but warm. One hand found your swollen clit and his fingers circled and rubbed, applying the pressure you needed to fall into oblivion again. Your feet pressed into his ass cheeks to bring him closer, deeper and his name fell from your lips over and over.

He rocked inside you as you rode out your orgasm. You opened your eyes to look at him in wonder. Never had you seen anything as beautiful as Loki. He seemed to glow from the inside. Maybe it was your imagination. You lifted your head, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue moved languidly against yours, savouring the intimacy.

Then he started moving faster, pulling one of your legs up to rest the calf against his shoulder. Deeper, you wanted him deeper. You couldn’t get close enough. His mouth was devouring yours in a needy kiss, all tongues and teeth now as he pistoned faster into you, your hips meeting each of his thrusts. His lips found your nipple, sucking, pulling on it, moving to its sibling. You couldn’t believe you were on the verge again already. Never before had you been able to orgasm more than once during intercourse.

The room was quiet but for the moans, the heavy breathing. You were so wet that your coupling’s noise was wonderfully dirty, edging you both on even more.

“Look at us,” Loki commanded and you did.

Nothing had ever been so erotic as watching him fill you, stretch you, sliding out, covered in your juices. His fingers were on your clit again, rubbing, circling.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“One more, darling, give me one more,” he insisted, breathlessly.

His hips moved faster, as did his fingers and you were there, on the edge. Loki’s eyes met yours and he knew. His movements stuttered, pupils fully blown, jaw slack, a drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

“Cum with me,” you whispered, your fingers dragging down his back, possibly breaking skin, squeezing and pulling his ass into you.

And he did, propelling you into bliss with him. Your name fell from his lips in a string of Norse profanities. His cock pulsated as the hot ropes of his seed marked your insides as his, your pussy eagerly clenching around him, making sure every last drop would be spent inside you. His movements slowed and then he stilled, buried inside you.

Loki’s lips pressed onto yours in a tender kiss. You stayed in the embrace until you both caught your breath. Then he pulled out of you, your mixed juices running out of you. He could have cleaned you up using magic.

But Loki got out of bed, got a wet flannel from the bathroom and gently cleaned you, kissing your tired body, before sliding back into bed. He pulled you into his arms, your hands joined over his heart, legs intertwined and you both lay there, in your bubble of utter and complete happiness under warm covers, watching the snowflakes dance outside the window in the early hours of Christmas Day.

Christmas Day!

“Oh, wait here!”

You scrambled off the bed and ran to the door, forgetting about your nakedness, pulling your shoulder bag from under your coat. You pulled something from it and brought it back to Loki. He was sitting up, forearms resting on his knees, an intrigued look on his face.

“Merry Christmas,” you said.

He looked at you and then at the present you held out to him. He cocked an eyebrow as he took it and pulled the fabric ribbon off. His hands parted the paper and then he grew completely still.

“Where in the nine realms did you get this?” he asked after a few moments, voice sounding rough.

“A friend of mine got her hands on this a while back. I thought you might like it.”

He stared at the book, transfixed. His slender fingers caressing the embossed letters on the front and then he lifted it to take in the scent of the pages. His eyes closed.

“Do you? Like it, I mean?” You were worried about this book. It had cost an arm and a leg, but you thought it would be worth it.

“Like it?” Loki asked, finally looking at you and pulling you on his lap. “My mother used to read me his poems when I was a child. I rediscovered it later. This is…”

He was searching for words, failed to find them and instead kissed you, hard, hand fisting in your hair. After a long moment, he broke the kiss.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking his pulse point.

“Will you read it to me?” you asked, a bit out of breath.

Nodding, he sat against the headboard, you curled up against him with his arm around you. He made sure you were both tucked under the covers. Then he opened the book and cleared his throat.

“Kormákr Ӧgmundarson ‘Sigurðardrápa ‘Drápa’. This is one of my favourites, he wrote it for the love of his life.”

His fingers wandered up your arm.

“Brunnu beggja kinna

bjǫrt ljós á mik drósar,

oss hlœgir þat eigi,

eldhúss of við felldan.”

His digits absently stroked your ribcage, skirting over the side of your breast. The rhythm and intonation of his deep voice made you clench your thighs.

“Enn til ǫkkla svanna

ítrvaxins gatk líta,

þrǫ́ muna oss of ævi

eldask, hjá þreskeldi.”

He paused, closing the book and brushing his lips against the skin of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“What-what does he say?” you all but stuttered.

Loki kissed along your collarbone. Humming against your skin.

“The bright lights of both

her cheeks burned onto me

from the fire-hall's felled wood;

no cause of mirth for me in that.”

His hands cupped your breasts as he sucked and teased one of the nipples. Your hands tugged on his hair, desperate for him again already. You felt his need hard and heavy against your thigh.

“By the threshold I gained a glance

at the ankles of this girl

of glorious shape.”

Loki moved to lie between your legs, hands sliding over your breasts, your tummy, your thigh, down to your ankle, lifting it to wrap it around his hips.

“Yet while I live

that longing will never leave me.”

His voice faltered as he rocked his hips forward and your bodies were joined once more.

“That longing will never leave me,” he repeated like a vow, eyes serious and warm.

“Nor me,” you pledged, before you lost yourselves in the physical expression of your feelings once more.

~ fin ~

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #mcu loki #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader smut #loki smut #snow

301 notes · View notes

mirrorcatcreditcard · 8 days ago

Text

Take I haven't seen in the fandom yet:

Luka doesn't want to be freed.

"Now, MirrorCatCreditcard," you may say, "that's nonsense. Any human would want freedom from that system."

If you're thinking I'm gonna convince you that Luka doesn't know he wants freedom yet, you're wrong. I'm here to talk about indoctrination/conditioning, grooming/emotional manipulation, my own experience with those topics, and how all of the above connects with Luka as a character. If a deep dive like this is too much for you, please tap out for your own sake.

Luka's life was planned before he even existed. There has never ever been an alternative option. There is no life for Luka as anything but what Herperu chose. Everything in his life has been planned to have him be the perfect pet human idol. That is what he must be.

Fandom, I don't think most of you actually understand this and have dissected what this means (shout-out to the Luka stans who are getting there/have guessed similar things). These words we know have alternatives and are not set in stone are Luka's "gravity makes rain fall to the earth" and "water makes things wet." They are facts so deeply ingrained within him that even if shown the contrary he remarks that the person showing them is just disillusioned.

Take his commentary on Mizi and Hyun-A in the art book. He looks down on Mizi for not being able to control any of her emotions. How does he talk about Hyun-A? He has her at 70% affection yet shows a patronizing attitude—she's the one in denial at reality.

Now, how did we get here? How is a human so "delusional" and set in the control?

He's been conditioned.

Some of you don't know what I mean by this from experience and/or research, and count yourself fortunate that you don't. I pray you never experience such things firsthand. Don't worry about ignorance. Familiar or not, I will explain.

When you are surrounded by only one truth and reality, that is the way you interpret life. If a parent tells a child "the moon goes to sleep during the day," until the child learns otherwise, that's what they believe. Now take that child-like belief and add some toxic environments to the mix. With time, any other kid would learn that the earth rotates from their peers or adults around them. But if the creatures around them all say and believe the same thing "the moon goes to sleep during the day," then that is what the child continues to believe. Years of that same thing being the only truth make that false knowledge into a fact in the person's head, and everything that supports that fact is taken as truth or on the right path to truth.

"This is kinda silly though," you guys are no doubt murmuring, "All of this is a hypothetical. Give us something that makes sense or that someone could actually see happen in our society."

I'll give you my own experience then. My parents taught me that God is real. My parents taught me that I will be damned I do not follow the commandments of the scriptures. I didn't need to worry though. As long as I was obedient to the God who loved me and wanted what was best, I would be saved despite being born an awful sinful human. I was homeschooled, only interacted with people of similar beliefs, and taught that people too different from me in ideology or with radical beliefs against my own were trying to harm me and my family. I believed the people who raised me because why would people who love me lie to me? My task was simple. I needed to obey God and love everyone, especially them. Love meant giving up my entire being and living only as servant and sacrifice. After all, being selfless to the utmost was the greatest form of love.

Let's go back to Luka. His guardian, Herperu, when questioned about any surprises while training Luka, stated not only that he was the one who endured the "tough moments" but also that "(Luka) owes his success to me, and naturally, he should be grateful." This sentiment is echoed by Luka in his interview (shown on Patreon). My god, it's giving parents with disabled kids who brag on social media about how much trouble their kid is and how much they do for them. Sickening. This shows exactly what environment Luka has lived in though.

When you are manipulated into having something as your reality, everything else is fiction and delusion.

Let's review what exactly is Luka's reality.

Heperu is the one suffering if Luka has any difficulties being obedient.

Gratitude is what Herperu is owed because he goes through so much trouble to make Luka a star.

Love/care is shown by owning another's autonomy.

Emotions and bodily reactions exist, sure, but someone should be able to control them; and if they can't, someone should control those reactions for them.

Segyein are superior and the good ones for dealing with humans. Humans must be disciplined and shaped to how an segyein wants it to act to be considered deserving of this goodness.

(Luka)'s perfection is defined by his guardian.

Luka's life is directly connected to being the perfect performer. His guardian praises his abilities with the statement that no other pet human will ever be as perfect as him yet leaves an underlying threat saying that it will be no good if a pet is not trained properly. This has probably been mentally (if not physically) beaten into Luka's mind: his greatness doesn't stop him from being able to be disposed of. The human instinct to want to live has been explained to him as Heperu's wish for him to live and that has been further distorted as a duty to live for the stage he has been placed on.

Luka believes fully that there is a debt in play here. In his interview, he mentions repaying love. He thinks the relationship between fan and idol is completely normal, encouraged, and healthy. Performance is the most important thing. Being where he is is a privilege.

There's a chain here:

Heperu indoctrinated Luka into believing what he says is all true.

The guardian manipulated him easily to do what he wanted with his body and mind.

The years have been spent constantly conditioning Luka to be the god who encapsulated fantasies for the audience.

He is continually being groomed to exist for the entertainment and enjoyment of segyein.

Circle back to my first point of this post. Luka does not want to be freed. He doesn't know what freedom actually is. He sees freedom as either foolish denials of reality (and doesn't consider that actual freedom) or as controlling the song and stage when he performs (something he learned from Hyuna). He cannot want something he cannot understand. He cannot want freedom in the sense the fandom keeps speaking about.

It's funny. From the moment Luka was revealed to be hated by the fandom, I wanted to know why. Instead of digging and finding horrific deeds, I instead found a character who portrayed my own traumas and experiences. I instantly attached and delved deeply into learning about this thirty year old singer. Why does he express himself in a certain way? Where do we first see mention of him? Who does he have emotions towards? How was he trained? What makes Luka himself? I have past essays/replies to other's theories if you're interested, but in this one I got personal and didn't sugarcoat the facts. If the fandom can't handle deep thought, we shouldn't be discussing this incredibly profound and depth-filled web series.

As always, thank you for your time, and I hope my thoughts allowed you to open your mind to new things. Mostly, I hope you enjoyed them 🫶

#alnst #alien stage #alnst luka #alien stage luka #luka alnst #luka alien stage #alien stage analysis #alien stage theory #alnst analysis #alnst theory #tw trauma #tw conditioning #tw manipulation #tw abuse #we're dissecting the following triggers btw #in cass you're wondering #take care #mirr's rambles

159 notes · View notes

theostrophywife · 1 year ago

Note

okay for fluff prompts with Eris I would love to see something where Eris is touch starved and desperate for affection from his mate/significant other

like you wanna be loved.

author's note: i've been listening to a ton of ed sheeran lately hence this request being inspired by this song.

eris vanserra never learned how to be soft.

for his entire immortal existence, he was taught that affection was synonymous to weakness and to crave such things were beneath a future high lord. even after beron's demise, it was still hard for eris to admit that he desired that connection just like everyone else.

eris didn't realize how starved he was of affection until the first time you touched him. it was during the day of his coronation, in the great ballroom of the forest house. a crowd had gathered to see the high priestess place the rosewood crown upon his head. despite the fact that he had plotted and schemed his way into this exact moment for centuries, eris was terrified.

what if he was a terrible high lord? what if he failed his court? what if his greatest fear came true and he turned out to be exactly like his father?

eris would've spiraled into his thoughts had he not felt your fingers intertwining through his. the warmth of your hand anchored him to the present and his heart squeezed in his chest as he found you smiling up at him. the mating bond hadn't snapped yet, but at the back of his mind, eris had always known.

it was you. it had always been you.

"you're going to be the best high lord the autumn court has ever seen, eris."

"how can you be so sure?"

you tilted your head, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. "because i believe in you."

you had spoken with such conviction that it chased away all of his doubts. as he assumed his responsibilities as high lord, you became his constant. you were the anchor that brought him back to the present.

when he found himself frustrated during tense council meetings, you were there to squeeze his hand underneath the table. when he forgot to eat while toiling through the court's budget, you curled up on the couch with him, resting your leg atop his lap as you shared freshly baked bread and strawberry jam. and when the nightmares came, he let you hold him all through the night, focusing on nothing but the soft cadence of your breath and the warmth of your arms around him.

"you're always taking care of everyone," you said softly, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "it's okay to admit that you need to be taken care of too. let me be that for you, eris."

eris blinked, drinking your words in. he didn't think you realized what this moment meant to him. you were giving him permission to be vulnerable. you were teaching him that desiring love wasn't weak. in fact, it might have been the bravest and strongest that eris had ever felt.

vulnerability was uncharted waters, but for you, for his mate, he was willing to dive in headfirst. slowly but surely, your mate let you in and eris felt the sunlight of your love fill the dark corners of his calloused heart. before he could talk himself out of it, eris reached for you.

eris had kissed others before, but it had never been like this. his hands shook as he cradled your cheek. when your eyes met, there was such tenderness in his gaze that your chest tightened at the sight of him. his expression was raw and unguarded, like he was holding his heart in his hands and offering it up to you.

when his lips touched yours, eris felt like he had finally come home. your kisses were soft and tender, full of pining and yearning. he gently cradled your face and the thought that he was holding his entire world between his hands struck him just as you sighed in satisfaction. eris held you like he was afraid you might disappear. he kissed you again, long and deep this time before pressing his forehead against yours.

"you have to know," eris murmured, his voice full of passion and emotion. "surely you must know what you mean to me."

you smiled as tears blurred your vision. "i may have an inkling," you teased. "but it wouldn't hurt to hear you say it."

"i love you," eris said plainly as though he was reciting the infallible truth. as though his love for you had always been and will always be long after the world ceased existing. "i love you in a way that i never thought myself capable of. i love you as surely as the rising of the sun. i love you because you taught me that i could."

the tears fell as you looked up at eris. before you met him, love had always seemed like a vast concept that you would never be able to grasp, but now the word itself seemed inadequate to describe the gravity of what you felt for him.

"i love you too, eris." you placed his hand over your heart. "i love you so much that i don't think there's enough room in my heart to contain it."

eris closed his eyes and released a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. "i think you're my best friend."

you smiled in return. "i know you're my best friend and the love of my life."

"and the love of my life," eris repeated. "and every other life that i've ever existed in."

that four letter word—love. it hadn't been enough to describe whatever this was between you, but there was another that could. you and eris felt the exact moment that golden thread snapped between you.

mate.

#I CRAVE THE SWEET RELEASE OF DEATH #i love eris so much oh my god #eris #eris vanserra #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fic #acotar #acotar fluff

1K notes · View notes

hwasoup · 10 months ago

Text

Tale As Old As Time

Playlist !!

songs to listen along with: the beast, etc..

art credit goes to Marbipa

OMG guys, I literally hat to let this one sit and marinate for a while even though I typed it out like so long ago. AND I JUST REALIZED I FORGOT TO ADD THE SONGS FOR LAST CHAPTER, DW I DID THOUGH. Ugh and I literally also just found out that i had a textbook for a class, i didn't deep dive into the syllabus. AHHHHH regardless I hope you guys enjoyyy !! our favorite characters have finally met!!

like always tell me if you’d like to be tagged !!

prev | ch.4

warnings: wrongful incarceration, bargaining, yelling, really bad british slang, mexican spanish (im sorry y’all im venezuelan ☠️)

word count: 3.3k

Chapter 3: The Beast

After going through the thick woods, trusting Felipe to take her to where she needs to go…

Y/N makes it deep and far in the woods and stops Felipe from galloping when she spots her father’s wagon. She looks at all of the scattered food, items, and even his invention. In worry, she clutches on Felipe’s reins tightly and directs him to keep on going. After riding Felipe some time, the air gets thicker and fog covers the entirety of the forest. She then notices Felipe starting to trot and make his way down a gravel path. She looks around the dead trees and notices the large gates and the grand castle in front of her. “What is this place…” she says nervously. Felipe then starts nickering and anxiously moving as he didn’t want to go inside the gates. Y/N had to get off to comfort the horse and calm him down. After a few moments, she turns around and peeks inside the gate to see her father’s hat. She opens them and she reaches for the hat and holds it tightly in her hands, her worry now increasing for him. “Come on Felipe, we have to go inside”

She mounts the horse once more and goes inside the gate, going through the garden until she makes it to the steps of the castle. Y/N then gets off Felipe and carefully goes up the stairs, grabbing a large stick from the stairs as a weapon incase if she needs to defend herself. She then makes it to the top and carefully opens the door. Peering inside she walks in hesitantly, as she looks around.

“Look Jess…it's a pretty girl”

“I can see that Miles, I lost my hands.. Not my eyes”

Miles then peeks at Jess and whispers “but what if she’s the one who’ll break the spell ?” Y/N turns around confused at the sound of whispering “Who said that ?” She looks around to see nobody except for a candelabra and a clock. She quietly approaches the two of them looking at the inanimate figures confused at what she heard. Her thoughts however were shunned as she could hear her father’s cough from a distance. In her desperateness to find him, she takes the candelabra and goes to look for him. Jess looks at Miles being taken and she simply sighs.

Y/N follows the sound of coughing to a set of stairs, as she gets closer she then peers into a hall that goes up a tower. She anxiously walks up the stairs as she yells out “PAPA ??” She walks up the stairs faster as the coughing gets louder “ERES TU PAPA ??” Y/N then gets to the top of the tower and gasps seeing her beloved father inside a dungeon. She throws the stick to one side and places the candelabra on a nearby shelf and places it there. Y/N then gets on her knees as she looks at her father in relief after searching for him “Oh papa, que paso?? what happened to you, your hands are ice cold..” she says holding him tightly through the metal bars. Mauricio looks at her in awe and simply says “how did you even find me ?”

“That doesn’t matter, we need to get you home !”

“Y/N please…listen to me it’s not safe here, you must leave at once! This castle is alive !” he says in a whisper, tightly holding onto Y/N’s hands. Y/N looked at him confused until she heard a deep growl echoing in the distance. She grabs her stick once more from the floor and looks around the dungeon. She firmly grips onto the piece of thick wood, as she gains the courage to look around and protect herself and her father. “Who’s there, WHO ARE YOU ?”

“Who Are YOU?”

The voice of a man echoes throughout the dungeon, his silhouette appearing in the distance. “I’ve come for my father..” Y/N says with determination in her voice. The sound of someone coming down the stairs is heard in the dark dungeon. “Your Father….is a thief”. Enraged, Y/N yelled out “LIAR!” The silhouette has now fully come down the stairs and standing before her, his silhouette still only seen “He stole a rose..” Y/N raises an eyebrow appalled at his words “I asked for the rose, punish me not him !” Mauricio looks at his daughter and shakes his head “No, Y/N don’t… he means forever, apparently that’s what happens around here cuando uno elige una bendita rosa”

Y/N even more appalled turned to her father and back to the silhouette “A life sentence for a flower ?” A loud roar is heard as it approaches her even more, she steps back a little but not entirely to stand her ground despite the small shivers down her leg. “I received eternal damnation for one” the figure said, the growl in his voice becoming deeper. “Then take me instead” The figure growls and looks away and angrily says “YOU-” his expression then softly changes as he was shocked at how willing she was. “Tú....Tú tomarías su lugar?”

Y/N bites her lip and nods a whimper coming from her lips releases in her voice “If I did…would you let him go ?” The silhouette’s voice became a bit softer but still gruff in its dominant position “Yes, but you must promise to stay here forever” he says. Y/N looks down and blinks thinking of what to do next, she notices there’s a light right between them, separating the two from fully seeing each other. “Come into the light” she demands. The silhouette becomes smaller as she starts to see two large paws, she then looks up to see not a man but a beast with the horns of a goat, a thick mane that covered his entire body and crimson red eyes that peered into hers. Y/N covers her mouth in shock and turns to her father dropping the stick yet again to hold his hands. “No, Y/N to te puedo permitir que hagas esto”

Y/N kisses her father’s hands and approaches the Beast, her voice faltering to a whisper “you have my word..” The Beast then growls and opens the door dragging Mauricio out and pushing Y/N in, not even letting the two share a proper departure. He then drags Mauricio all the way out of the castle and throws him inside a carriage “Take him to the village” Mauricio cries out to him “SPARE MY DAUGHTER PLEASE!” The Beast ignores him and growls as he closes the carriage door “She’s no longer your concern…” Mauricio cries out to him to let him out, but The Beast was already walking back inside his castle.

After a moment, The Beast is seen walking back inside the castle on all fours with an annoyed expression on his face. Miles had already hopped down halfway to meet him. “So, Uh Sir ?”

“WHAT” the Beast growled out. Miles cowered a bit but then adjusted himself “soo uh since the girl is going to stay with us for quite some time, erm umm” he rubs his other two candles together “I was thinking that y’know you wanted too uhh, bring her to a more comfortable room” he says with a sheepish smile. The Beast growls at him and keeps walking up the stairs ignoring what he said. “Or not” Miles says.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Up in the tower after a week ….

Y/N wept as she whispered comforting words to herself. She thought about all of those times with her father, how he told her that home is where the heart is. But she wasn’t home, she was lonely and locked away. Her face drained as she thought of making the tiny dungeon her home, tears kept on spilling out as she thought about her poor father, all alone with nobody to lean onto in her terrible village.

She then sees a shadow loom over her and notices its The Beast. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye..I’ll never see him again..” her tears taint her cheeks that have been stained from the grime of the dungeon. “I-I’l never..see h-him again..” she says in between sobs. The Beast then looks at Y/N and a bit of guilt plagues his mind. He scratches his head and then considers what Miles told him earlier.. “I’ll show you to your room..” he says softly as he walks out the dungeon.

“My room? But I thought -”

“You, YOU wanna stay in the tower ?”

“No..” she says softly.

“Then follow me..” The Beast says.

The Beast then guides her out of the tower and back into the castle, taking Miles with him along the way so that he could light up the hallways. As Y/N is escorted, she looks around the castle and its statues and notices how dark and lonely the place seemed to be. Her eyes stare fearfully at a statue of a hideous gargoyle and speeds up to catch up with The Beast.

The Beast heard her gasp and looked behind to see a single tear falling down her cheek, he looked back in his direction as he felt a bit more guiltier. “You should say something to her y’know” Miles says softly. The Beast nodded and turned to her “I..uhh…I hope you like it here” he looked back at Miles to see if it was ok. Miles then looks at him encouraging him to say a bit more. “The castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you would like…except the west wing.” Y/N’s curiosity perks up and she asks “what’s in the west wing ?” He growled out “IT'S FORBIDDEN”. His voice echoed out into the empty halls of the castle. He then takes her to a suite and opens the door for her. “If you need anything…my servants will attend you.” Y/N walks in and looks around the room. She then turns back to him and softly asks “but what’s your name ?” The Beast looks down as he didn’t want to remember his name, as he isn’t human or anything similar to his name. “It’s Miguel..”

Y/N nods as she looks back to the room and looks around. Miles then in a corner of Miguel’s viewpoint whispers “dinner, go invite her to dinner” Miguel nods and he tries to find the best way to speak to her “YOU WILL JOIN ME FOR DINNER…Th-THAT”S NOT A REQUEST” he says gruffly as he slammed the door. Y/N in shock of his words looked back at the closed door and back to the room. Spotting the bed she runs towards it and throws herself onto the pillows and cries her heart out. She hasn’t even realized that it has already started snowing outside signifying the start of winter.

About a couple of hours later, There was a soft knocking on the door. Y/N who was too busy crying hears it and softly says “who is it ?” She then hears a man’s voice “Its, Peter” Y/N approaches the door and quietly opens it and peers outside. She didn’t see anyone until she saw a serving cart with a tea pot and a small cup. “Oh wow you’re very pretty ma’am” he says politely with a smile. “I thought you would like a small cup of tea” Y/N backs up surprised at the sight and bumps into the wardrobe. Hearing a voice from the wardrobe she looks at it in shock “ooh, watch it ‘ere mate” Y/N backs up to her bed and sits down surprised. “B-but, this is impossible!”

“I know mate, but ‘ere we are. Oh and the name’s Hobie” Y/N looks around in awe and surprise and just sits, processing the whole situation. The little teacup then spoke, “I told you she was pretty daddy!” Peter chuckles and pours some tea into his daughter “alrighty May, go and hand it to her, gently without spilling” Mayday happily hops to Y/N and waits for her to pick her up. “Why… Thank You” Y/N takes it softly. She then takes a sip of the tea and hums softly, enjoying the taste. “Wanna see me do a trick ??” Mayday then giggles as she breathes in and blows bubbles into the tea. She gets scolded quickly by her father though.

Peter chuckles and looks at Y/N. “Y’know, that took guts kid,” Hobie nods and agrees with him “the whole castle’s buzzin ‘bout it.” Y/N sighs in disappointment “but, I’ve lost my father, my dreams, I’ve lost almost everything..” Peter smiles and gives her a warm smile “aww, don’t worry kid, things always turn out better in the end.” Peter then realizes that he’s still supposed to be in the kitchen “oh crap, i forgot i’m supposed to be helping in the kitchen.. Anyways it was lovely meeting you” he says as the serving table wheels away from her room and leaves.

“Well now, let's get somefink good for youse to get dressed for the old geezer ‘ere.” Hobie then opens his drawers and sees some moths fly out “m’bad dovey” He then pulls out a nice dress for her and says “ ‘ere ya go, somefink pretty for you dovey” Y/N looks at the dress and smiles softly “oh, that’s very kind of you Hobie, but i’m not going to dinner” Hobie then shrugs and puts the dress back inside his drawers “aight then, youse definitely gonna make that geezer more laughable” he says. A small pattern is heard walking inside the room, Jess walked in and took a breath. “Come on honey, dinner’s waiting” she says trying to lighten up the mood.

Down at the dining table however, Miguel is pacing back and forth anxiously waiting for Y/N’s arrival. He then growls annoyed “What’s taking her so long ....I told her to come down…” He then looks at Miles and a smaller candle who’s named Lyla. “aww come on Miguel, you do realize that she’s literally lost her freedom and her dad like last week” Lyla says, stating the obvious. Miles then nods and says “soo uhh, Sir, Haven’t you thought that this girl.. Might be the one who could break the spell ?” MIguel looks up to the two candles “OF COURSE I HAVE..I’M NOT STUPID” Miles then smiles and says “Then you fall in love with her, sheee falls in love with you, and POOF! We’re human! We should be back to normal by midnight !” he says with a confident smile. Peter on the table however, digresses on the situation. “Miles buddy, it's not that easy y’know… these things take time” Miles then frowns and softly says “but, Peter ...the rose is already starting to wilt..”

Miguel then looks down and sits on all fours and grumbles “Oh, it’s no use..” he runs a paw through his large mane “it's just that she’s just so beautiful, and i’m well.. WELL LOOK AT ME” he says with a snarl. Peter then sighs and looks at Miguel “aww come on Miguel, you have to help her see through all of that” Miguel then growls lowly “I don’t know how” he says as his ears flatten to the sides. Lyla then grins and pitches in “then how about a quick lesson on how to be a gentleman 101: Sit up and try to be kind.” Peter smiles and also shares a few thoughts “oh then don’t forget to give her a sweet smile, come one show me one Migs” Miguel then proceeds to give the most toothiest and quite horrible smile, even Lyla had to step back a little out of surprise. “Now don’t scare her, charm her” Peter says. Miles then blurted out “Oh, OH and impress her with your intelligence!” Miguel looks at all four of them trying to absorb the information, his mind whirling at almost everything that he has to do, that just seemed utterly impossible. The quartet continued to bombard him with a whole bunch of manners until they all said at the same time “and the most important of all, CONTROL YOUR TEMPER!!!” Miguel wipes his face from the small bead of sweat that was forming.

Then, the sound of a door is heard opening, Miguel looks up in anticipation but is met with only Jess coming inside. “SO, evening everyone..” she says nervously. Miguel then raises an eyebrow “Well ? where is she ?” Jess takes a deep breath in, just knowing how Miguel is definitely going to react “soo, she’s…yea she’s not coming”

“WHAAAAAAAAAAT ??!!!!”

Outraged, Miguel leaves the dining room and runs as quickly as his legs and hind legs could take him, all the way upstairs and into the east wing. Peter yells out “Nononono, WAIT MIGUEL !”

Miguel manages to outrun them and make it to Y/N’S door and basically smacks it as hard as he could “ I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO COME DOWN FOR DINNER” y/n behind the door responds to him “I’m not coming” she says with a little huff in her voice. Miles, Lyla, Peter, and Jess just facepalm and shake their heads in disappointment. A sigh was even heard from behind Miguel from the huge letdown. “YOU BETTER COME OUT, OR I’M- YO VOY…VOY A ROMPER LA BENDITA PUERTA !”

Miles whistled and just said “so, just a quick suggestion , but uh….that really isn’t the best way to impress a girl..” Jess nods and sighs “Miguel just for once, can you actually just be polite to her?” Miguel gestured to the door “But, she is being so DIFFICULT” Peter then comes beside him and softly says “gently Miguel, you’re spooking her..” Miguel groans and lowers his tone at the door “Will you come down for dinner ?” he closes his eyes hoping that she would say yes to this tone in his voice. “No!” Y/N says.

Miguel’s eyes widened and his ears shot up in surprise and he gave a look pointing to the door as he tried to prove his point to the servants. Miles then says “suavemente y gentilmente…”

Miguel then takes a deep breath and tries again, “It would give me a great pleasure, if you would come out and join me for dinner.” He looks up to the door slightly hoping that she would come out this time…although his temper is starting to boil.

Jess coughs “COUGH- we say please- COUGH”

Miguel rolls his eyes and softly says please

Y/N simply says “NO, THANK YOU !” Everyone watching the interaction watches in shock as they know he’s going to blow.

Miguel then belts out “YOU CAN’T STAY IN THERE FOREVER”.

Y/N on the other side of the door yells out “QUE SI!”

Miguel snarls and roars out “FINE THEN GO STARVE FOR ALL I CARE PINCHE DESGRACIADA”

He looks down to his servants “IF she doesn’t eat with me, then she doesn’t eat at all” Miguel then growls out and runs off away to his room into the west wing. He opens the door annoyed and just grumbles to himself “I ask nicely but she refuses, like que quiere?? que yo hago? BEG ??” In a flurry of rage, he goes to a table where the enchanted rose is encased in a glass dome. Beside it is his magic mirror that was gifted by the enchantress. Miguel then grabs his magic mirror and looks into it “ensename la niña”

The mirror then glows a greenish blue color and shows him y/n sitting in bed being comforted by Hobie. “Aww come on Dovie, the old bloke ain't so bad..” Y/N however was sitting in bed dejected and not too convinced. “I don’t want to though...I don’t even want to do anything with him!” Miguel, shocked, puts down the mirror as he feels that same familiar feeling of hopelessness takes over his mind “who am I fooling…she’ll never see me as anything other than .... than a monster” he says as his voice shakes. He looks at the rose and sees a petal that slowly fell down and wither making the castle shake and crumble a bit.

“It’s hopeless…”

taglist: @cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles, @xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @m4dyy, @freehentai, @synamonthy, @razertail18, @s0lm1n, @badbishsblog, @faimmm, @opalwitchart,

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #spiderman miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel 2099

408 notes · View notes

coconut-dreamz · 11 months ago

Text

delicate

"is it chill that you're in my head?" || tom blyth x famous! reader

a/n: it's my first time writing for tom blyth and i've been obsessed with him and taylor swift songs lately so i wrote this! i hope you enjoy ! slightly angsty, ambiguous relationship between reader and tom

my reputation's never been worse

so you must like me for me

ever since the news came out that you and your a-list celeb ex broke up, negative comments filled your comment sections. all you wanted to do was turn them off, but your pr team was vehemently against it. they wanted it to seem like you didn't care about the criticisms, you didn't, but it was getting out of hand now.

there were rumors on those stupid gossip sites that you had cheated on him and that it was what caused the downfall of you two. that couldn't be further from the truth, but he and his pr team decided to not comment on it and therefore your management team decided that it would look like you were just trying to cover your ass by denying the accusations.

but, just when you were in the deep of it, you met tom. he didn't care about what people were saying about you. you had met at a mutual friend's new years party. he hadn't even heard about the rumors about you until you mentioned it. he was a breath of fresh air.

dive bar on the east side, where you at?

phone lights up my nightstand in the black

you had moved to new york recently to escape the toxicity that plagued your every move in la. you didn't have many friends there, all of them left behind in la. tom had taken it upon himself to show you the best spots in town.

you were wallowing in self pity, watching dumb rom-coms on a random tuesday evening when your phone lights up on your nightstand. you pause your film and move to pick up the phone. it was tom, asking if you were busy. you quickly reply with a no. he invites you out to a nearby dive bar with him and some of his friends.

you were hesitant at first, feeling comfortable in your bed. but, tom managed to convince you to come out. you quickly throw on a pair of jeans and a nice shirt, hailing a cab and heading to the bar in question.

the moment you walk into the bar, tom shouts your name, waving you over to him and his group of friends. "i'm so glad you could make it! this is rachel and josh, they're my costars for my most recent project."

is it cool that i said all that?

is it chill that you're in my head?

you laugh at tom's ridiculous dancing, you were on facetime as he was on set for tbosas and you were still back in new york. you keep laughing at his antics, shouting out "oh my god, i love you!" you immediately throw your hands over your mouth, eyes widened. did you seriously just say that? "oh my god! you didn't just hear that!" you shout at tom, your face flushed a bright red. you immediately hung up, too embarrassed to face his reaction yet.

you couldn't lie, tom was always on your mind. you didn't want to admit it, but you were falling for the brit. your thoughts constantly led to him. you could be thinking about tuna and you would somehow end up on tom.

your phone starting ringing, shortly after you hung up. it was tom. you realized you had to face him either way and answered the call. "i love you too," he admits once the call connects. any shred of embarrassment left your body hearing that. a smile graced your face and a newfound warmth filled your body.

third floor on the west side , me and you

handsome you're a mansion with a view

do the girls back home touch you like i do?

you had originally gotten a rinky dinky apartment when you first moved out here, not expecting to stay long. but the new friends you made helped you fall in love with new york. so, you decided to get a new apartment. this time, on the upper west side. tom was kind enough to help you move from your first apartment to the new one.

after a long day of rearranging the new furniture you had gotten, you and tom were laying on the floor of your living room. he sat up and stared out the window of your new apartment, the view was a lot better compared to your previous one, which was just a brick wall. as he admired the city lights, you admired him.

you move to hug his back as the two of you enjoy the view of the city below you. the two of you didn't have a label. sure, you told each other that you loved each other, went on dates and even double dates, but you had never called him your boyfriend and you, his girlfriend. you wondered what was stopping either of you from taking the next step and making it official.

was he this way with the girls back home? were you different from the british girls from his past? thoughts of self doubt plagued your mind. "what's on your mind, beautiful?" tom's voice breaks you out of your reverie. "huh? oh, nothing." you try to avoid the reality. "don't lie, i can tell something's bothering you."

you sigh, taking a breath, "do the girls back home touch you like i do?" you ask him. he's confused at first, "my home's here, with you." and those five little words were able to dispel all your thoughts of self doubt and insecurities. you simply kiss him in content at his words of reassurance.

it didn't matter if you two didn't have a label yet, you were his home, and he was yours.

long night with your hands up in my hair

echoes of your footsteps on the stairs

stay here, honey, i don't wanna share

after a long night of bar hopping, you two stumble into your apartment. too tired to even take off your street clothes, you both collapse on the bed, quickly falling asleep. it's around 6 am you stir awake. you can hear tom walking up the stairs to your room. "are you leaving?" you ask as he enters the bedroom. "yeah, i have a shoot in a couple hours." he searches around for his missing sock.

you frown, hearing this. "come back, just for a few minutes." you plead. you weren't ready to let him go yet. to share him with the rest of the world. right now he was just yours, and you wanted it to stay that way. "fine, but only for a little," he agrees, abandoning his search for his missing sock. and instead climbs back in bed into your open arms.

sometimes i wonder, when you sleep

are you ever dreaming of me?

it was another night where tom slept over in your apartment after a night out on the town. you couldn't fall asleep, instead staring at tom's peaceful face as he slept. he had a small smile on his face as he slept. you wonder what he's dreaming about. you hope that it's you and if it wasn't, you didn't want to know. you snuggle in closer to his warm body and decide to try to fall alseep.

sometimes when i look into your eyes

i pretend you're mine all the damn time

you were at your friend's new years party, it had been a whole year since you had met tom. the two of you were dancing wildly to the music playing, tipsy off the champagne. as you stared up into his eyes, you envisioned a future together where you didn't have to question your relationship status with him.

#tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #coriolanus

498 notes · View notes

pseudowho · 11 months ago

Text

Infiltration, Chapter Six: Exposed

Nanami Kento and the reader must pretend to be married to infiltrate a deadly Curse-user cult and take it down from the inside.

*SMUT/NSFW/18+*

A slow-burn fic with fluff/comfort, angst, smut and heroics from our favourite salaryman.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

In the dead of night, as you slept, warm and dreamless and naked in Kento's arms for the first time, the village centre flurried. Its residents (shopkeepers, tearoom staff, enthusiastic knitters) were as ants abandoning an anthill, a hive of activity. Their queen, powerful and renewed, was to lead them to a new hive; for the old colony was in danger, infiltrated by two who were not of their kind.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Wake up." A gravelly whisper against your neck brushed the surface of your wakefulness, and a soft nip to your nape penetrated deeper. You rose as if from a deep dive, blinking and warm as you met sunlight. Wrapped in strong, scarred forearms, you felt so profoundly safe as you pushed back tenderly into Kento's strong body. He hummed his approval as your soft legs slid between his.

Tipping your head back on the pillow to look at him, his nose met yours, rubbing gently before his lips planted to yours in a pliable morning kiss, warm and musty and sincere. As Kento moved to pull away, you wound one arm upwards around his head and neck to pull him back. He chuckled against your lips, evolving into a low, slow moan as your tongue slipped against his, his broad-palmed hand sliding up your waist to cup your breast, his thumb grazing appreciatively over your pebbled nipple.

"Part of me was worried," Kento mumbled against you, voice sandy with sleep, "that I'd wake up and you'd be gone." You nipped Kento's lower lip intently punishment, and he groaned into the sting.

"Never," you whispered, sinking your fingers into his hair, scratching lightly against his scalp as he shivered against you, his cock solid and smooth against your lower back.

The warm tumble in the sheets evolved naturally, uninterrupted by clothes or duties. Kento hooked your leg up and over his hip, reaching round you and pinning you back to him with one large hand pressed over your belly, as he pressed into you, thrusting gently against your soft sighs, neither of you yet willing to let go of the night.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You were unable to wipe the smile off your face as you whisked eggs in the kitchen. The muffled pattering of Kento in the shower, and the feeling of his t-shirt alone on your deliciously aching body, had you breaking into blushing grins, with the memories of your first night together flickering over your vision as you tried to make breakfast.

You heard the dull little bleepbleep, bleepbleep of your pager behind you, and, laying the eggs aside, you rustled in the pocket of your coat to find it. A reply from Ijichi, you noticed, having sent him information regarding the six outlying cult members only the evening before. His response was in decipherable code.

1 X, 2 X, 3 X, 4 X, 5 X, 6 ???

You inhaled deeply through your nose, slipping the pager back into your pocket as you returned to making breakfast. All but one of the cult members eliminated with ruthless efficiency...it was only a matter of time before number six was taken out.

The bathroom door opened, steam tumbling out into the living room. Kento stepped out, a towel hung loosely around his waist, steam still rolling off his shoulders as he bent to rummage in his suitcase, thick downy-haired thighs flexing as he squatted. You ogled him openly, eyes rolling over the taut cords under his broad shoulders, the batwings of muscle between his armpits and ribs, the stretch of his abs trailing downwards. Your eagerness to feel it all beneath your tongue and fingers was fresh and adventurous, and you ached for him as if he hadn't already had you gasping his name in bliss for half the night before.

You looked away as he looked up. Kento's eyes burned up the back of you. The gentle curves of your legs to your round arse, all too visible in the light fabric of his t-shirt. His t-shirt. While you made him breakfast. The domesticity of it all was now no pretence, and it thrilled Kento in a way that he would never have understood in his teens. His eyes darkened to wonder how wet you were, if his cum was sticking your thighs together from his relentless overnight attention. He approached you slowly, light-footed and predatory. Breakfast can wait, he thought as you gasped, his fingers slipping into the slick of your pussy from behind.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Ken-- toooo-- aaaaah!" Squeaking every time Kento pounded into you, his thrusts felt like he was bypassing your pussy to hit your belly instead, and you gripped onto the counter he had you folded over, gasping as your hips rucked forwards and your toes scraped the floor.

"'Aaaah!'" He mocked lightly, pitch raised in imitation, "Never seen you-- so-- aah-- speechless," he gasped, revelling in the bounce of your arse every time his hips slapped against it. You squealed, reaching back for support, and Kento gripped your hands, lacing your fingers with his. His hips increased in pace, Kento smirking as he continued imitating your delightful little noises as you blushed, mortified.

With a particularly harsh snap of his hips, you mewled, begging for release and Kento huffed out a laugh, kissing your shoulder in apology for teasing you, reaching under you to stroke practiced light caresses on your tender, overstimulated clit.

"You brought this on yourself," Kento growled, landing a sharp smack to your thigh as you trembled and whined, your noises shooting jolts of arousal through him.

He surveyed you, eyes clouded with lust and panting with his approaching orgasm as you squeaked and whimpered beneath him. Kento gripped into the fat of your hips, chastising you as he watched his cock, soaked in your arousal and his own pussy-warmed cum, plunge into you again and again.

"I just-- in my shirt-- making eggs-- what the fuck did you-- haaaah-- expect me to do?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Do you want some company in the shower? It can be...lonely."

"Shut up and eat your omelette, Kento."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"What are you doing?" You giggled at Kento, watching him stretching gingerly over the cloudy onsen water to reach his discarded trousers from the night before.

Kento grumbled at you, "My pager. It's gone. I bet it's still in there...or at the bottom of the water." Kento snagged his trousers-- "Aha!" -- as you remembered the message from Ijichi.

"That reminds me," you explained, sitting at the table to eat your own breakfast as Kento slapped his wet trousers to the stone, beginning to rustle through the pockets, "I updated Ijichi yesterday with the information from the library. He messaged back-- they've already taken out five of the six we told him about."

"Amazing," Kento announced abruptly, sincere in the rare praise of his colleagues, "that's the kind of efficiency I can get behind." You hummed in agreement, blowing steam off the surface of your mug. Kento huffed, a frustrated low growl as he stood, shaking water off his arms as he frowned down at his trousers.

"Not there," he rumbled, rolling the sleeves of his knitted jumper down as he sat opposite you at the table. His brow furrowed in thought, he reached one hand absentmindedly across the table, plaiting your fingers in his, brushing his thumb over the inside of your palm. You lowered your mug, thoughtful.

"You really can't find it?" You enquired, worried about the loss of your only shared means of communication. Kento shook his head.

"Like I said, unless it's at the bottom of that onsen, it's gone." Your lips pursed as you got up, walking to the onsen yourself and retrieving the long net used for its maintenance. Silently, you scoured the onsen. After five minutes, you admitted defeat, shaking your head at Kento with a grimace.

Kento pressed his forehead to his fingertips, mentally scolding himself. He shot you a dark look-- "You go nowhere alone, unless it's to get you to safety. Promise me." Your grimace turned to a gently chastising frown, your mouth opening to argue; Kento, sensing your disagreement, crossed the room in a few long strides, clutching the sides of your arms and lowering himself to your eye level, as he stared into you.

Completely disarmed by Kento's fear for you, you grimaced again, nodding slowly as your hands came up to cup his cheeks. Kento sighed through his nose, rubbing it against your palm and placing a soft kiss to your inner wrist.

"I can't...I couldn't bear the thought of you in danger even before we came here, but now, I-- I don't think I'd--"

Kento broke off, cold fear gnawing away at him, the stakes suddenly so much higher now you had both fallen into this promised life together. You shushed him gently, pulling him close to you, pretending to be brave, but deeply terrified by how far Kento would go to ensure your safety.

"We've got this," you urged to Kento, "all we need to do is take out the Fathers, and deal with whatever it is they've got hidden in their dirty little shrine, and we're done. You know what these cults are like...once the figureheads are gone, they basically dismantle themselves."

Kento grumbled into your hair, disquiet in his soul as he remembered the Cursed-energy he had felt approaching the shrine, still infuriatingly unable to place where he had felt it before, grasping for the memory but unable to gain purchase. The Fathers, Kento was confident he and you could manage; the thing in the shrine was such an unknown entity, that approaching it with no back-up was obscenely foolish. Kento knew that fortune did not favour the unprepared.

"Listen," Kento toned, leading you back to the table and sitting opposite you again, each with one hand clasped across the table and one hand wrapped around a warm mug, "before we make our move on the Fathers, we invite the other Sorcerers in. We don't know how many of the cult will stick around for combat, and we don't know what level the Curse in the shrine is at. Or if it even is a Curse...everything we know about it so far is based on what we felt on our way to the shrine."

You nodded slowly, eyes distant as you partook in formulating a plan, "Alright. We can page Ijichi when the time comes. We can make our move against the Fathers tonight." Kento nodded in agreement, playing with your fingers as he took a swig of his coffee.

"With everyone else in the village asleep, as long as we're sly, the back-up will arrive by the time we're ready to deal with the Curse," Kento declared, sounding confident but still plagued by uncertainty. With a moment of clarity, he glanced at his watch.

"We're expected at the village meeting first, though. Do you think you could pretend to be in love with me for a little longer?" Kento teased, eyes glimmering at you with devious affection. You bit your lip, foot sliding against his leg under the table.

"I can manage it...if we practice a little bit more, first." Kento huffed a quiet laugh, raising his eyebrows at you as he cracked his knuckles.

"It will be my pleasure," he rumbled, leaning over to take your lips against his again.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I'm upset that we're putting clothes on, at a time like this," Kento grumbled, only half-serious, shrugging his coat over his broad shoulders. Eyeing him unashamedly, you were delighted to see him dressed casually, in a knitted grey jumper and jeans, hair styled loosely,with thick-soled boots. He approached you with a twinkle in his eye, and took your hand, raising it to his face to breathe deeply against your palm before placing a soft kiss to its centre.

His intimacy bold, but understated, he slipped your gloves onto you, pinching the ends of the fingers to position them perfectly. Pinching your chin affectionately, Kento pondered out loud.

"So, what do we know?" He mused, eyes distant, "What have we learned?"

"That you like it when I lick your--"

"No," Kento snipped, flicking you lightly on the nose as you laughed a dirty laugh, "bad. Stop it. Behave yourself. We are--"

"--professionals," you said together, parroting him. He nodded mulishly at you as you continued.

"The Fathers' quarters are on the top level of the Temple. There's...something in the Shrine, and they performed a...a ceremony yesterday?" You and Kento both grimaced, "Which is...alarmingly vague." Kento rumbled at you, pulling his gloves on at the wrists.

"It's the Village meeting today, so we can pick out the main threats...I suppose Emi and Keisuke will be there." You almost shuddered at the memory of your bloody fight with the venom-spitting Curse-user at the party on your first night. Kento felt your trepidation, slipping his arms around you to hold you close while you mused aloud.

"So...act normal. Call the cavalry. Kill the Fathers. Take out whatever's in the shrine...and straight on 'til morning."

You nodded, reassuring yourself that you and Kento were close to the end, your heart thrumming with excitement for your bright new future with him, once the mission was complete. From how he gazed down at you, his eyes glazed over with saccharine warmth, Kento was feeling the same. You leaned up, grabbing his face firmly and pressing a kiss to his lips, hard. Kento kissed you back, enthusiastic, before leaning away slightly, rubbing his nose against yours-- "ow," he whispered, his smile lopsided.

"Sorry," you insisted, still pressed tightly against him, "cute aggression."

Kento felt his heart thud against his ribcage in a burst of affection so strong, he had to resist crushing you in his arms. Teeth gritted as he gave you a restrained squeeze, Kento felt the icy trickle of fear down the back of his neck, memories of the dead never far from his thoughts. Gulping them back, he smiled tightly at you, and opened the door into the crisp winter afternoon.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The lower hall of the temple opened directly into its courtyard, its peaceful gardens sullied by the bitter afterthoughts of violence. You tucked your arm deeper into Kento's elbow, reaching your hand up to squeeze his bicep, a self-soothing action; he responded in like, pressing your hand firmly between his upper arm and ribs.

The hall was full, with a dozen six-person tables arranged in a circle around a little stage, set up for congress. You were amiable as you moved to sit down opposite Kento, smiling warmly to other couples around you, catching a few familiar eyes, but not the ones you were searching for. Kento covered your corner of the table with his hand as you bumped against it, distracted by the absence of Keisuke and Emi.

Kento was mathematic in his assessment of the room; plenty of Cursed power, but none of it particularly strong. Probabilities ticked across his vision; with none of the strongest sorcerers you had encountered so far being present, Kento felt how acutely exposed he and you were, outliers in a room of Grade Threes and below. Opposite him, fingers tapping lightly against the table, he saw you reaching the same conclusions.

The room buzzed with low conversation for some time, the stage remaining curiously empty. Ten minutes, turned to thirty, grew to fifty. Kento was a patient man, not unnerved by the passive passing of time. The sun sat low in the sky, and was quickly blotted out by thickening clouds, threatening a deep wintery gloom as the first flurries of snow blew on a breeze into the Temple. As the whistle of the wind died, hollow footsteps approached the hall.

An older gentleman, pale and rheumy, accompanied by a now familiar figure in a kimono, skirted apologetically onto the stage, bowing in a crescent to all of the attendees before beginning to speak.

"You've all been so patient, and for that, the Fathers send their most gracious thanks. You do all, of course, know that you are here today to pay your respects to our benevolent Mother on the hill." The gentleman gestured wanly towards the Shrine, obscured by skeletal tree limbs up the winding hill. Kento's eyes narrowed, and you felt uncertainty bubble up in your gut.

The pale-eyed man continued; "Your companions, the first half of our blossoming community, have already enjoyed their visit. I am pleased to say, they have found themselves overwhelmed by the Mothers' power." He stepped from the stage, gesturing invitingly towards the crowd, "If you would all follow me to the Shrine, you too can share in our glory."

The crowd rustled to life, man and wife sharing excitable glances, and Kento moved smoothly to you, ducking his head to whisper to you, before being gracefully interrupted by the kindly old woman in the kimono.

"I hope you don't mind," she cooed, sleeve rising to cover her lower face, "but Father Tatsu has asked to see you personally, Mr.Tsuda." Kento blinked slowly, cool and questioning.

"Oh?" Kento inquired, feigning disappointment, "That is a shame," he lied coolly, "we were quite excited to meet the Mother." The kimono lady demurred, head inclined in gentle apology.

"I am sure the Fathers will be pleased to give you a personal introduction, in recognition of your sacrifice on this occasion. I understand you have not had the opportunity to display your abilities to the Fathers, yet?" Kento nodded sagely, appearing to be in enthusiastic agreement. He leaned down to kiss you on the forehead.

"You go home then, my love," he insisted smoothly, and you felt panic bubble up in your throat; separating had not been part of the plan, and you felt an urgent fury as Kento swept the rug from beneath your feet, "I'll see to Father Tatsu. You always know how to keep busy without me, anyway. Stay warm."

While you knew Kento meant to keep you out of harm's way for long enough for you to send the "Rescue" page to Ijichi, you felt the rope pull from your hands as he confiscated your choice to stay with him, to help him. Your nose stung with tears as you were forced to nod and smile, desperate to kiss him goodbye but corseted by company. He pressed one last, lingering kiss to your forehead before turning and walking away with his guide.

Kento fought the urge to turn back and pull you into his arms, but he could not ignore the visceral instinct that he was about to walk into a deadly fight. Every nerve in his body screamed out against the wrongness of leaving you behind.

Bile rose in your throat, fearful and bitter. You walked calmly through the gusty Temple, flurries of snow turning heavier, and your steps quickened as soon as you stepped over the threshold into the path leading down to the village. Single-minded, you headed home, fingering the cold plastic pager in your pocket, ready to send a message to Ijichi as soon as you closed the door. You could not make Kento's sacrifice count for nothing.

You walked through the village, which was still curiously quiet, windows shuttered. You felt a sickening realisation that your original assumption that the shopkeepers were all attending the village meeting, was certainly wrong-- not one of them had been present. The cold snap of snow on your cheeks only made you feel more naked, more exposed, and a dry sob heaved out of you; Kento's absence felt like losing a limb.

Your final thoughts before crossing into the lost sanctuary of your house, were only of Kento. A moment of silence passed as you felt for the light switch. A single agonising crack to your temple pushed the earth up towards your feet and your vision blackened from the edges, your hand reaching out hopelessly for your absent lover.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"You really are quite deadly, aren't you, Mr.Tsuda?" Father Tatsu eyed Kento shrewdly from his seated position in the garden below his quarters, steam idly wisping up from his coffee, untouched.

Kento breathed heavily, overcoat flung off on the floor, a fine sheen of sweat across his forehead from the hoops he had been forced to jump through for the past hour. Weaponless, his raw strength had been assessed from every angle, and he was surrounded by stacks of extraordinarily heavy barrells and rocks, some intact, some roughly hewn and broken by his bare hands. Kento felt the sting of irritation as he swept one broad hand back through his hair, peeling strands off his sweating forehead.

"I wouldn't know, sir." Kento turned on thick booted heels towards Father Tatsu, his dark broad figure blotted, imposing against the drifts of snow. Father Tatsu laughed, lowering the coffee he was about to sip.

"You've never fought? I'm afraid I don't quite believe that." Kento remained impassive, unreadable, as he sat opposite Father Tatsu. Father Tatsu appraised Kento.

"My older brother and I...were considered freaks in our backwards little ditch of a hometown." Father Tatsu's fingers pattered in fleeting remembrance, dank memories clouding his vision. Kento remained still, silent.

"Common, in communities like that, unfortunately. But Shinzu is...we are special. And She proved it to us...when She chose us." Father Tatsu stood, his coffee abandoned, and he paced.

"Here, She-- the Goddess-- offered us all the bounties of her nature, to breed a community of sorcerers like none other before. While others out there do good deeds of ridding our land of the scourge of normal people," Father Tatsu spat, his pacing more frenetic now as he beseeched Kento, "we, the chosen ones, can multiply, ready for a new age of sorcery."

Father Tatsu stopped, one hand in the pocket of his dark suit. He paused for a moment, thoughtful, before bringing out a small black device. Kento's stomach swooped. His pager.

"Until your lot showed up, that is. Five of our members killed in just one night, last night, you know?" Father Tatsu said conversationally, "The sixth member, thankfully, remains in gainful occupation at your dirty little school. He let us know some time ago that we were to expect guests from your end. We had our eye on a few of you...but I was very pleased when our librarian found this in his store cupboard. It did rather give the game away."

Kento was on his feet now, floor creaking under the strain of his boots, Cursed energy rolling off him in waves, chin dipped downwards. Father Tatsu appeared completely unaffected.

"I've accepted that our dream for a perfect community will never flourish, while those in charge of our population fight for the wrong team," said Father Tatsu, bitter and resigned, "But it matters not. Our Goddess is revitalised, powerful, well-fed for the first time in generations. And I...I am well-fed, too." Father Tatsu slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket, and Kento felt a torrent of Cursed-energy slam into him, strong enough to slide him backwards a few inches as the Tatami floor shredded beneath his boots.

"The rest of the community can go hang, as far as I'm concerned. It was my brother's dream, more than mine. He has quite the ability, Mr.Tsuda, and it complements mine quite beautifully." Father Tatsu turned on Kento, whose fists were rolled in a white-knuckled grip.

"You don't want to fight me, Mr.Tsuda. You see, my brother can steal Cursed-energy from one living thing and transfer it into another. That is how we released the Goddess from her earthly confines in the first place. And I...I am the perfect vessel. I'm still not certain what my limit is," Father Tatsu mused aloud, gazing at his open hand and the very air around it distorting with brittle energy.

"You and your wife are the only ones left, Mr.Tsuda. The goddess, in her new body, is surely devouring the weaker members of our community as we speak. The others...well, after my brother had donated their Cursed-energy to me, they were only fit for a meal, too. We knew you would be after us...and we are ready."

The room hung in ringing silence. Father Tatsu's lip curled, observing Kento, expecting some response to his impassioned monologue...but receiving none. Kento simply watched the hands of his watch tick round.

"Well?" He boomed, furious at being denied, "Have you nothing to say?"

Kento sighed, all exasperation and delicate exhaustion, as he finished rolling up his sleeves.

"I'm off the clock, which is unlucky for you," Kento toned, low and smooth, "and I don't play with my food."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Chapter Seven: The Captive Goddess, LINK HERE!

@angelofthorr @nn-hh192 @vxmethyst @moonmalice @daisynik7 @heyitsmirae @black-swan-blog27 @vocosys @mischiefmanaged71 @silkspunweb @deegausserr

Phew. Two more chapters to go ♥️ Sorry for the delay, for anyone who's been waiting...

463 notes · View notes

lee-laurent · 13 days ago

Text

Beaten and Bruised - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke and Sylvie struggle to find their soulmates

content: soulmate au! injuries, bruises, blood, fainting, a bit of angst, fluff!

wc: 5.6k

notes: enjoy guys!! trying to get back in the groove of writing :) not proofread

Sylvie Williams had always wondered what kind of person her soulmate might be. The thought of having someone out there--a complete stranger with a connection so deep they could feel each other's pain--was thrilling yet terrifying. She had gotten used to the faint bruises, and occasional sharp stabs that would catch her by surprise--reminding her of their existence.

She could still remember when she first learned of the bond. She was a little girl, waking up with a nasty gash on her cheek, blood on her pillow. She'd stared at herself in the mirror before bursting into tears. How could that have happened in her sleep? She had sprinted down to her parents room, barely able to contain herself between sobs. Her parents knew exactly what it meant, though. They'd sat her down and explained what was happening to her in the way only parents could.

"Somewhere out there," her mother said softly, "you have someone who will be with you for life, someone who will be there through everything. Thick and thin. You're meant to be together."

At first, it sounded magical--a storybook kind of connection, where she and this mysterious other person were linked to live happily ever after. But over the years, as the scrapes and bruises began to add up, Sylvie learned that fate wasn't always gentle. Her soulmate was clearly living life in the fast lane, and they seemed to collect injuries like they were Pokemon. Sometimes it was as simple as a dull ache in her side that lasted a few hours. Other times, she'd wake up with sore ribs or throbbing knuckles, feeling as if she'd just lost a fight. And one time, she woke up with a broken ankle... that one was fun.

She used to try and imagine what he was doing. Had they been in a car accident? A bad fall? She'd picture them as an adventurer or someone with a dangerous job. But was time went on, she learned not to dwell on it. She couldn't stop them from getting hurt, and the constant worrying became exhausting. Instead, she liked to think that each bruise was a sign that they were out there living their best life.

The constant random injuries had become so much a part of her that her friends had adapted to joking about it, especially her roommate Mia.

"Another bruise?" Mia asked, spotting a fresh mark on Sylvie's shin as she emerged from the bathroom. Sylvie looked down, barely surprised.

"Oh, yeah. Probably nothing," she replied with a grin, rolling her eyes as she rubbed at it. "They must be busy this week. Either that or they've taken up skateboarding."

"Or cliff diving," Mia smirked. "Maybe they're a stunt double."

Sylvie laughed, though it did seem her soulmate had a limitless capacity for injuries. It didn't bother her most days, it made them feel real. She felt them in the faintest aches and though it did hurt, the mystery was comforting. They were out there somewhere, even if they felt worlds away.

For Luke Hughes, pain was something he'd come to tolerate pretty well. As a hockey player, a professional one at that, taking hits and bouncing back was part of the game, an occupational hazard he gladly accepted. But for all the pain he endured on the ice, there were always the other bruises--the ones that weren't his.

It wasn't something he talked about much, even to his brothers, who had all grown up experiencing the same thing. They would occasionally joke about it, but Luke rarely mentioned it. He tried not to think about his soulmate too often, chalking it up as one of those things that just came with being human. But when he was alone, on late nights or long flights after away games, he couldn't help but imagine what they'd be like.

He figured they had to be as accident-prone as he was--maybe more. He remembered his first high school game, how he'd come home sore, only to feel a strange, unearned ache in his ribs a few days later. It seemed like they'd traded injuries without even knowing it.

"You got a twin out there taking hits for you, Rusty?" Nico teased as Luke winced, a dull pain radiating up his side like he'd just bumped into the corner of a counter.

"Must be my soulmate, I guess," Luke shrugged. "Either that or I've got a ghost that keeps beating me up."

"Poor girl," Nico snorted. "I'd hate to be the one taking all your hits."

"I'll try not to break anything this season," he muttered as he tied up his skates. He really wished he could apologize for the pain he'd caused her, but then again... she was serving it right back at him.

Sylvie wasn't the biggest sports fan ever. She'd gone to occasional football game in high school, but hockey was foreign to her, something she associated with people fighting just because they felt like it. It had never occurred to her to watch a professional game, but this was about to be about "new experiences"--Mia's words, not hers.

"C'mon, Sylvie!" Mia pleaded, pulling her along outside Prudential Center as they joined the sea of red-and-black jerseys streaming into the arena. "You never do stuff like this! It'll be fun."

Sylvie laughed, letting herself get caught up in Mia's excitement. "All right, fine. But if I get hit with a puck, I'm holding you responsible."

"Oh, relax. We're nowhere near the ice," Mia dismissed her. "Besides, the only thing you'll get hit by is a serious case of hockey heart eyes. I mean, have you seen these guys? Just wait 'til you see Luke Hughes. You won't regret it."

"I think you underestimate my resilience to heart eyes," Sylvie joked, pulling her jacket a little closer to her body. The arena was packed and she couldn't help but make a face as she was jostled trying to walk through the doors.

They made their way to their seats, a decent section with a clear view of the rink, but not close enough she'd get hit. Sylvie had never experienced the atmosphere of waving foam fingers and signs with players' names on them, and she began to think she might actually enjoy herself.

"Look, there he is!" Mia said, nudging her roommate and pointing toward the players on the ice.

Sylvie squinted, watching the players skate in circles. They were like video game characters, moving so fast she could barely keep track of who was who. But then she noticed him--Number 43, Luke Hughes, the tall denfenceman with light brown hair curling under his helmet. He stood out, as if he demanded her attention without even trying.

Mia leaned over, whispering excitedly. "Total dreamboat, right? Wouldn't you be lucky if he was your soulmate!! I mean, yours is always getting hurt, right?"

"Please. What are the chances he's a pro athlete? Knowing my luck, he's probably a rock climber or something."

But Mia's words did plant a tiny seed of curiousity in her mind. Hockey was an incredibly physical sport, filled with endless risks and injuries. Her soulmate always seemed like he led an active life. She shook her head, laughing it off. It was ridiculous to even consider.

The lights dimmed, and the music kicked up, rattling the arena. The fans roared as the game officially began and Sylvie felt the excitement ripple through her. The players skates carving up the ice with sharp precision. She tried to keep track of who had the puck and where it was going, but her eyes kept drifting to Luke. He moved awfully gracefully for such a rough game, his every move controlled.

Then, it happened.

Sylvie didn't even see the first hit coming. She was finally watching the puck when Luke collided with another player, slamming hard into the boards. A loud thud that made her wince--and then, a sharp sting in her shoulder, a burst of pain that caught her off guard. She gasped, reaching up to rub the sore spot.

What was that?

She tried to ignore it, shaking her head. Probably just a coincidence. Maybe she'd slept funny. But a few minutes later, Luke took another hit, this time falling to the ice as he scrambled for control of the puck. And again, Sylvie felt an ache in her side, like she'd fallen over.

She shifted in her seat, her fingers absently brushing the spot that throbbed with pain. No way, she thought, her heartrate picking up. She tried to dismiss it, but the connection was too uncanny, too perfectly timed. She looked at Mia, who was busy cheering.

"Mia," she whispered, trying to sound casual. "Do you... do you ever feel pain when someone else gets hurt? Like, weird, out-of-nowhere pain?"

"Uh, only when my soulmate is being clumsy. But he's usually fine," she paused, noticing Sylvie's uneasy expression. "Why? You feeling something?"

She nodded slowly, not wanting to seem insane. "It's just... Every time that guy--Luke Hughes--takes a hit, I feel it too. Like... really feel it."

"Oh my god. You think he's your soulmate?"

"No! No, it's probably just a coincidence. It has to be."

But it became impossible to ignore. Every hit that Luke took, every time he went down or got tangled with another player, Sylvie felt a corresponding jolt of pain. By the second period, she was clutching her seat, trying to process it.

"This can't be real," she mumbled, though the evidence was impossible to deny.

"You okay?" Mia asked, watching her with growing concern.

"I... I don't know." She looked back at Luke, watching him as he skated down the rink. Part of her was exhilerated, the idea of her soulmate being someone so cool, so driven. But another part of her was scared. If it was real, he had no idea how much he was putting her through.

And then, as if on cue, everything fell apart.

In the third period, Luke took an extra hard hit. Sylvie saw it coming--she saw the player rushing at him, the brutal speed of the collision as Luke went down. The crowd gasped as Luke lay on the ice a moment, collecting himself.

But Sylvie didn't see what happened next. The instant he hit the ice, a searing, white-hot pain flared in hre chest, unlike anything she'd ever felt. The shock of it ripped through her, consuming every thought, every sense, until all she could feel was pain.

She barely heard Mia's shout of concern as her vision blurred, the edges of her world fading into darkness. The last thing she remembered was the sting of the hit, and then everything went black.

The next time Sylvie opened her eyes, she was lying under bright, sterile lights, quiet beeping filling the room. She blinked, trying to piece together what had happened. Her body felt heavy, her chest aching as though she'd been run over.

"Oh, thank god. You scared the life out of me."

"What... happened?" her voice was hoarse.

"You fainted. At the game, after Hughes took that hit," Mia explained. "Sylvie, I think he's really your soulmate. The timing, the pain--it all lines up."

Sylvie's cheeks flushed, and she tried to laugh it off despite her shaky voice. "You think Luke Hughes is my soulmate?"

"Just saying that it makes total sense! I mean, think about it. The hits, the pain, the last one that made you fucking faint, Sylv!"

Sylvie laid back, trying to take it all in. Deep down, she knew Mia was right but she didn't want to believe it. His life was a worlds away from hers. And the thought filled her with exictement and dread. Lots and lots of dread.

After Sylvie was discharged, she and her friends gathered at her apartment, eager to plan their next move. Mia, Jenna, and Casey were practically bouncing in their seats as they went over ideas, each one wilder than the last.

"So, first thing's first," Mia began, "we need to get you close to him. Figure out if your bruises match."

"Yeah, but how?" Casey chimed in. "Not like we can just show up at the rink and expect him to be all, 'Oh hey, you must be my soulmate!'"

"What about a fan event?" Jenna scrolled through her phone. "The Devils do meet-and-greets, right? I bet we could get tickets to one of those."

Sylvie's eyes widened. "Are you serious? You guys actually want to try and... meet him?"

"Why not? Mia grinned. "It's perfect. If he's really your soulmate, we can test it out in person. See if he reacts the same when you're face-to-face."

Sylvie laughed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I don't know. I mean... it sounds a little... stalkerish? Like, we don't know if he'd be open to this at all. He has no idea who I am."

"Come on, Sylvie! This isn't some stranger," Jenna argued. "This is literally your soulmate. Fate, destiny, all that shit. You can't just sit here and wait for him to stumble across you, can you?"

Part of Sylvie wanted to dive in, to test the bond, to finally meet the person she'd been connected to for so long. But she also felt grossly unprepared, like stepping into his world would be an invasion.

"I just... I don't want to freak him out. If he's really my soulmate, I want to meet him naturally, not... not like some crazy fan ambushing him."

"We get it, Sylv. But there's got to be some way to find out for sure."

After a moment of silence, Casey perked up, snapping her fingers. "What if we watch another game? You know, see if you feel anything. That way, we're not being weird or invasive... just testing the theory. You can watch from a safe distance, and if it happens again, we'll be sure."

Sylvie's eyes brightened as she listened to her friend. "That actually sounds... reasonable."

"There we go! Next game's on Saturday. We'll grab snacks, make a night of it. And if you start flinching or passing out again, then we'll have our answer."

That Saturday night, the girls settled into the couch, snacks and drinks ready, the Devils game queued up on the TV. Sylvie tried to relax, though her nerves were super on edge. She wasn't sure what outcome she was hoping for. Maybe neither. Maybe she'd just got to bed and pretend none of it ever happened.

The game began and the camera panned to the players, the crowd roaring, and Sylvie felt her heart skip when she saw Luke, tall and confident.

"Look at him," Jenna said with a wink. "You got lucky in the soulmate department."

"Shut up," Sylvie blushed.

As the game progressed, Luke took a few minor bumps, the usual hockey stuff. But each time, Sylvie felt it.

Mia's eyes widened when Sylvie winced, giving her arm an excited squeeze. "It's him. It's really him, isn't it?"

Then, toward the end of the second period, Luke took a fall, tripping over nothing in particular. Sylvie gritted her teeth as pain shot through her ribs. She doubled over, clutching her side, her breathing shallow until the ache subsided. Her friends hovered around her, their concern mixed with awe.

"You okay?" Jenna gently rubbed her back.

"Yeah... just hurts like a bitch."

Mia leaned back, her expression triumphment. "Well, I'd say we got our answer. Luke Hughes is most definitely your soulmate."

It was real. He was real. The constant reminder of someone else's presence had a face, a name, and a story. And now, all she had to do was find a way to tell him.

Luke's ribs were still sore from his stupid fall as he leaned against his stall, unlacing his skates with careful, slow movements. The hit he'd taken the other night was beyond brutal, even for him. He'd gone down hard, and though he'd been able to shake it off, falling again just made it worse.

The locker room buzzed with their usual post-practice chatter, but today there was a new current of gossip, something that Luke couldn't ignore.

"Did you guys hear about the girl that fainted the other night?" Jack said, dropping onto the bench next to him.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "What girl?"

Jack leaned forward, his eyes lighting up. "So get this--apparently some girl in the stands fainted right when you took that hit. Like, right in the middle of the third period. Security had to carry her out. Everyone thinks it was from you getting rocked."

The rest of the team chuckled, but Luke rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Maybe she just had a thing for seeing people get hurt. Or blood."

"I'm serious," his brother insisted. "I'm telling you, man, she saw you hit the boards and dropped like a rock."

Luke tried to laugh it off, but it made his pulse quicken. He was used to having fans--hockey was a thrilling sport and people loved watching it. But the timing was... strange. He'd taken loads of hits before but he never imagined anyone fainting at the sight of it, not unless there was more to it.

"Come on, guys, lay off 'im," Nico clapped him on the back with a wink. "She was probably just some hopeless romantic. 'Oh, my hero, Luke Hughes, so tragically thrown into the boards!'" He put a hand on his forehead dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah, very funny," Luke muttered, half-listening as his teammates continued to crack jokes. Fainting at the exact time he hit the boards? The coincidence as uncanny. It was probably nothing, but... what if?

Could she be...? No. The odds were so small, and it was crazy to even consider it a possibility. Jack was just pulling his leg. It was all just some stupid joke at his expense. There was no way... unless...

Luke couldn't shake the idea for the next few days. He thought about it during practice, while watching film, even on the drives home. His usual routine felt off, as if something was missing, and he found himself looking out into the stands during games, scanning the sea of faces for one he wouldn't even recognize.

It was strange, looking for a person he knew so intimately without having met. The idea of meeting her, of actually seeing her face and finding out who she was, was... terrifying.

In the days that followed, he took any excuse to be where fans would be, hoping he might spot her. He'd sign autographs after practice, spend longer at fan events, stand near the entrance after games. Each time, he'd hope for a sign, an instinct that would pull him to her. Tell him, there she is. That's her. But the crowds just blended together, each face unrecognizable and not comforting in the slightest.

His teammates started to notice. Jack in particular seemed to find it hilarious, trailing after Luke wherever he lingered, making sly comments.

"Looking for someone, Rusty?" Jack asked with a knowing grin as Luke craned his neck to look at the fans leaving the stadium. "Maybe that girl from the game?"

"Yeah, yeah, keep laughing." Luke felt the frustration gnawing away at him. The whole thing felt ridiculous. He didn't even know if the story was true, if the girl was really out there, but he couldn't let it go. No matter how hard he tried, he felt a pull as if she were waiting for him to find her.

Jack laughed, clapping him on the back. "Dude, I get it. You think she's your soulmate, don't ya?"

Luke looked away, trying to play it cool. "I don't know, maybe. I just... I just want to know who she is."

Jack gave him a sympathetic smile. "Hey, don't worry. If she's out there, I'm sure you'll find her. And if not, we'll get a whole fan campaign going-- hashtag find Luke's soulmate or something. The media would love it."

"Please no campaigns. The last thing I need is to look like some desperate romantic."

"Who's desperate?" Nico chimed in. "Looks to me like you're finally taking an interest in finding your soulmate."

"Alright, alright," Luke shook them off. He wanted to believe his teammates were right, that somehow, fate would make this happen without him forcing it. But each day that passed without a glimpse of her only made him more determined.

Weeks went by, and his hope began to wear thin. He tried to push it to the back of his mind, focusing on hockey, his training, his routines. But every so often, he'd find himself searching the stands during warmups. The spark of excitement he'd felt at first had faded, leaving a persistent ache that had nothing to do with injuries.

"Maybe she's playing hard to get," Jack mused one afternoon. "You could always start hanging out at local cafés. Who knows? Maybe she's right under your nose."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Maybe I'll just put an ad in the paper: 'If you fainted during that one game, meet me in section 103.'"

"That could work. You'd have half the girls in Jersey showing up though."

"Not really what I'm going for, but thanks."

By the end of the month, Luke had begun to accept that if might be a long time before he found her, if he ever did. Some people never met their soulmates, spending their lives with only the reminders of someone else's existance. In fact, Luke knew people that got married even though they weren't soulmates because they'd given up. He didn't want to worry about that, but since the fainting incident, it was hard to ignore.

Sylvie hadn't expected much from a girls' night out, but that was part of the appeal. After the last few weeks of "Operation Find Luke" (or "Operation Don't Stalk Luke" as she called it), she was ready to leave the soulmate drama at home for the night. The recent bruises had done nothing to calm her nerves, and she was desperate for a break. Tonight, it would just be her friends, drinks, and lots of laughter.

The chose a cozy bar, crowded but not packed. Sylvie ordered a cocktail, letting herself sink into the moment, a little thrill building at the idea of forgetting everything for a night.

Mia nudged her as the drinks arrived. "Here's to no more swooning over mysterious hockey players," she teased, raising her glass.

Sylvie laughed, clinking her glass with Mia's. "To a drama-free night."

The girls settled into a fun night, oblivious to anything outside their circle. But, as fate would have it, that peace didn't last long. Not ten minutes into their second round of drinks, Jenna's eyes went wide.

"Oh my god," Jenna whispered, elbowing her friends. "Isn't that... Nico Hischier?"

Nico Hischier, captain of the Devils, was leaning against the bar with a group of friends. Seeing him there made everything feel real for Sylvie again, like the whirlwind of the last few weeks had come rushing back at once.

"Oh god," she muttered, quickly looking away. "Act normal. If we ignore him, maybe he won't notice us."

"Fat chance of that," Mia teased. "D'you know what the chances are? This is fate!"

Before Sylvie could stop her, Mia slid out of her seat and strolled over to the bar, striking up conversation with Nico like they were old friends. Sylvie watched in horror as Mia introduced herself, gesturning back to their table with a smile. Nice glanced their way, nodding politely.

"Mia's actually talking to him," Sylvie whispered half to herself. "We're fucking doomed."

Jenna giggled. "Relax. What's the worst that could happen?"

A few minutes later Mia returned with a triumphant smile. "Okay, ladies, don't freak out, but I invited Nico and his friends to join us."

"You did what?"

Mia shrugged casually. "What? He was nice! And it's not everyday you get to hang out with the captain of an NHL team. Besides, I may have mentioned that we've been trying to get in touch with a certain Luke Hughes..."

Sylvie's jaw dropped. "Oh my god, Mia. No."

"Hey, thanks for letting us crash girls' night," Nico smiled. "Mia tells me you're a fan of the team?"

"More or less," Jenna said with a grin, shooting Sylvie a look. "Sylvie might be a little more invested than the rest of us."

"Oh, you know... casual fan." She shot a look at Mia, who merely smirked in response.

Nico chuckled, catching on with a knowing smile. "You know, Mia mentioned you've been looking for Luke. Something about... maybe being his soulmate?"

"Oh, I... I mean..." She fumbled for words, feeling horribly exposed. She hadn't planned on spilling her entire, complicated soulmate saga to Nico Hischier in a bar.

Nico's expression softened. "Look, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, but... if this is legit, I think Luke would want to know. He's been looking for someone, too."

"He... has?"

"He doesn't say much, but he's been acting... different. Like he's got something on his mind. We all just thought he'd met someone who might be his soulmate."

Before she could process any of his words, a new voice joined the conversation. "Hey, Neeks, you're hogging all the fun over here."

She turned and froze. Standing next to Nico was Luke himeslf, towering and unmistakably familiar even in regular clothes. He wore a small, curious smile.

And then their eyes met.

It was like the rest of the world faded away, the chatter and music melting away. There was something pulling them to each other. It felt like meeting someone she'd known her whole life, someone who lived happily in the quietest corners of her mind. A look of recognition crossed Luke's face.

Neither of them moved, too caught up in the intensity of the connection. Then, almost as if compelled, he took a step forward, reaching his hand out.

"Hi... I'm Luke."

"Sylvie," she managed, her hand slipping into his.

A current ran between them, a strange, electric feeling filled the space between them.

"Wow," he murmured. "This... this is real, isn't it?"

She nodded, too overwhelmed to say much, a giddy smile breaking across her face. "Yeah... I think so."

"We'll leave you guys to it," Jenna smirked.

"Wanna head somewhere quieter?" Luke offered, earning a nod in return.

Luke held Sylvie's hand, leading her through the crowd and out onto the quiet sidewalk. The air was cool, refreshing compared to to the warmth inside. Outside, things felt a little more real.

This was Luke--her soulmate, her literal other half--and he was standing there, looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

"So," Luke began, "I guess we should start by saying... it's nice to finally meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, mystery man. I can't believe this is happening."

"Me neither. I was wondered who you were. I mean, I grew up with all these bruises and aches. Half the time, I thought I was making it up." He chuckled, shaking his head. "But it was you. It was really you."

"Same here. I tried to imagine you, what your life was like, where the bruises and cuts came from. And then, when I started to piece it together, I kept thinking I'd never actually meet you. But apparently, fate had other ideas."

"Guess we didn't have a choice, huh?" Luke teased, grinning down at her. "You've had your fair share of bruises, too, you know. It was like trying to keep up with my own clumsy twin."

"Hey! I'm not clumsy... usually. But you--my god. You have no idea how many times I've had to explain away your injuries to my friends. They practically staged an intervention."

Luke laughed and the sound made her heart skip a beat. "You can blame the Devils for most of the recent ones. If you've seen me on the ice... Sorry I haven't made this easy for you."

"I survived. So did you. I guess that means we're both pretty tough... what did you think I'd be like?"

"Honestly? I thought you'd be... well, I guess I thought you'd be someone strong. But I didn't think... I didn't think I'd feel this connection, this fast. It's like I've known you forever"

"I know exactly what you mean," she whispered. "It's like... everything just makes sense now."

Sylvie felt an undeniable pull toward him, something so deep it was impossible to resist. She knew, without a doubt, that this was where she was meant to be. As if reading her mind, Luke stepped closer, his hand reaching up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. She shivered as his fingers lingered against her cheek.

"Can I ask you something?" he whispered.

She nodded, her breath catching. "Anything."

"Do you feel it too? Like everything's perfect?"

"Yeah. I do. I've never felt this way before. I didn't think I ever would."

Luke's gaze flickered down to her lips. "I... I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you."

The moment their lips met, it was fireworks, filling her with a sense of belonging she'd never known before. It was soft at first, a delicate brush of their lips that quickly deepened as he pulled her close, cradling her cheek. Each moment was a silent promise, a confirmation of everything they couldn't put into words.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless and smiling, she looked up at him. She felt weightless.

"Wow," she mumbled. "That was..."

"Amazing?" he finished for her.

"Yeah. Amazing."

"I can't believe you're real."

"But I'm here. And I'm not going anyway," she reassured."

"So," he smiled playfully, "what's next? Do we just... walk off into the sunset now?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "I don't know. But I'm not ready to say goodnight yet."

"Good. Because I want to know everything about you, Sylvie. All the stories, all the moments... everything."

The city had grown even more quiet as Sylvie and Luke walked side by side, their hands intertwined. Luke's mind was racing, still reeling from the evening's events. Finding Sylvie, feeling the spark, sharing their first kiss--it felt like a dream he was afraid to wake up from.

"Wanna come back to my place?" he asked tentatively. "I mean, only if you want to. I just... I feel like we could talk for hours."

"I'd love that."

They continued toward Luke's apartment, each step filled with quiet excitement, and just as they reached the building's entrance, Luke spotted a familiar figure leaning against the wall: Jack. Jack's head perked up when he noticed them, his eyes flicking between the two of them, taking in their clasped hands with a look of surprise.

"Whoa, hey, Lukey! Didn't know you were bringing home... company." Jack's tone was teasing, but his eyes were curious as he looked at Sylvie. "I don't think we've met?"

"Hey, Jack," Luke rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "This is, uh, Sylvie. She's..."

Sylvie chuckled, "Hi, Jack."

"Well, hi, Sylvie. Nice to meet you, I guess?" He turned to his brother, a sly smile on his face. "So, are you going to fill me in, or is this a mystery?"

"It's... kind of a long story." He glanced at Sylvie, who nodded encouragingly.

Jack crossed his arms, examining them. But just as Luke was about to open his mouth and explain, Jack's gaze dropped to Sylvie's arm, where a faint yellow-ish bruise matched one on Luke's forearm--a mirror image, perfectly aligned. Jack's eyes widened, glancing back and forth between their arms, piecing it together. His mouth fell open, a look of astonishment spreading across his face.

"No way. No fucking way!" He practically shouted, pointing an accusatory finger. "Don't tell me... she's the one? Your soulmate?!"

Luke's cheeks flushed but he smiled. "Yeah, Jack. This is her."

Jack whooped, throwing his arms around Luke in a brotherly bear hug. "This is insane! Dude, this is... you found her! Your actual soulmate!" He turned to Sylvie, eyes still wide. "You're real!"

"Last time I checked, yeah," she giggled.

"Oh my god, Quinn's gonna lose his mind!" Jack practically vibrated with excitement, pulling his phone from his pocket and frantically dialing Quinn. Luke barely had time to react before he heard his oldest brother on the other end.

"Jack? It's like past midnight there. Why are you calling me?"

"Quinn!" Jack yelled, making Luke wince. "Guess who found his soulmate?!"

There was a beat of silence, and then Quinn's voice came through, more alert than before. "Wait... you're serious? Luke found her?!"

"Dead serious. She's right here. Her name's Sylvie. And she's awesome."

Quinn laughed. "No way. Luke, man, that's... that's incredible."

Luke could hear the genuine happiness in Quinn's voice and his own excitement bubbled over. "Thanks, Q. And yeah... she's real. She's... she's here."

"Can't wait to meet her. Take care of her, okay?"

"I will," Luke promised.

Jack finally hung up, eyes still wide as saucers. "Okay, I just need to say it--you seem like the coolest! I mean, it's so weird to meet you. You guys were like... made for each other."

She chuckled nervously. "Thanks, Jack. You're... not exactly what I expected."

"Glad I can surprise you," Jack replied, throwing an arm over both of them as they headed for the elevator. "But seriously, I'm so pumped for you guys. You're about to be the most iconic couple in hockey history. Imagine the headlines!"

Luke rolled his eyes, shrugging Jack off. "Alright, alright, Jack, that's enough. This isn't gonna be a media circus."

"Oh come on," he was unfazed. "This is huge! People love a good soulmate story!"

Luke grabbed Sylvie's hand, leading her down to his bedroom, where they settled side by side on the bed. They talked well into the night, sharing stories, dreams, and quiet laughter, each word solidifying their futures together. And as the city lights flickered outside, they held each other close, knowing that all the bruises, all the years, had led them here, to where they were meant to be. Together.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine

83 notes · View notes

ellitx · 10 months ago

Text

Pussy Drunk | Venti x Reader

masterlist

art belongs to: 1o8k_

word count: 1.4k

warnings: fem!reader, nsfw content ahead

A warm sensation, trickling wet and warm breath, was what woke you up. You could hardly see in this dark room, with only the faint light from your window being the source, but you could see a dark tousled hair and hear faint hums.

You tried to focus your sight in this dark but once again found that there was something between your legs. That, and your moans had increased since your brain had finally awoken from its deep slumber.

Then your eyes opened fully. You immediately shut them, feeling embarrassed by what you were seeing.

Were you dreaming? Perhaps, but it felt too real to be a dream. A tongue was pushed inside your pussy and you moaned deeply. The other hand found its way to your breast and began kneading it slowly.

You recognized those hands, the way he’d reach up to your chest and fondle them yet you forced yourself to shut your eyes tightly. Venti continued eating you out, moving his face closer to yours until you felt him biting your clit. He must have taken off your panties because now you felt the cool air coming from outside.

And then he lifted his head and looked into your eyes as he smiled wickedly. “The princess finally woke up,” he said with a hint of teasing tone in it.

It was difficult to look at him in the eyes when there were your juices staining his lips and dripping on his chin. He licked his lips, savoring your taste before diving back to his haven.

“Don’t mind me. I was just getting my daily dose of you,” he whispered against your weeping sex. “Did you know you taste so good?” His blunt question made you red, warm, and hot at the same time, you deliberately convulsed.

You didn’t reply but a whimper. Venti smirked and trailed his fingers down your belly to your dripping lips.

He gave it a quick lick before shoving two fingers inside your cunt. You tried to hold back, you wanted him to do it properly but he already seemed too lost in his own pleasure.

“Hmm,” he moaned. “Could do this all day to you, princess.” He thrust his fingers in and out while he lapped your insides. You held onto his head, squirming and shivering and he opened your legs wider to get more access which allowed him to run his tongue upward across your slit—filling his mouth once again with your intoxicating taste.

Reaching your clit, he swirled his tongue around it several times before giving it the light-sucking motion he knew would drive you absolutely crazy.

Not slowing down, he pulled his head back slightly and began to truly eat you out, his tongue flicking over your folds in rapid succession. At the same time, his two fingers deep inside you curled to stimulate your G-spot while his tongue attacked your clit. Venti was determined to make you cum like crazy, to drive you completely insane in a fog of pure pleasure.

Your moans turned loud and louder, your breaths short and ragged. Your climax was almost here, your body trembling.

“Venti…I’m gonna cum!” you gasped as the orgasm hit you. You arched your back, forcing your body forward as your legs gripped Venti’s head.

Venti ravaged you like a madman, leaving no drops behind as he drank all of them. The noisy slurps, the moans vibrating against you, his fingers digging into your skin— it was all too much. You gripped the bedsheets and buried your face in the pillow.

To be woken up like this startled you but that orgasm felt too good. You were so warm and hot, that not even the night breeze was enough to cool your burning post-orgasm body.

But you’re too sheepish to admit it to him, more so to beg and ask him to ravish you more until you won’t feel your legs anymore.

He cleaned up your juices with his tongue before covering your lips in kisses. “You’re so delicious, angel,” he murmured between your thighs as he licked his way up. His hands roamed over your curves, tracing each contour, enjoying the sensation of your soft skin against his fingers.

“Look at me,” though a mess, you hear him faintly. “Look at me, [Name].” He repeated and so you obliged reluctantly, meekly gazing at him below you. You saw his face as his breathing calmed, calm despite the fact he spent minutes on you— probably even hours— and was probably exhausted from lack of sleep.

His gaze went back to your eyes and he let go of your thighs, letting his arms drop to his sides. He crawled over you and lifted your shirt until it rested above your chest.

You shivered from the cool air hitting you, your breasts now in their glorious bareness to him. Venti stroked them gently and moved lower until he reached your core. With one long finger, he dipped into you and you cried out.

“There, there…that feels so good. Let’s see if we can make it feel even better,” he teased you. He slid his finger inside, rubbing around your walls and feeling your inner muscles spasm. Your breathing became heavier and harder as your arousal built up.

He continued, moving his finger deeper each time. He bit your shoulder hard enough to leave marks but he didn’t stop, he simply intensified it. “Gods, you are so fucking cute,” he muttered as he nipped your earlobe.

You moaned, hiding your face in the crook of his neck while you wrapped yourself around him. He softly kissed your jaw, littering it with small kisses and bites, then he traveled downwards to your chest, treating them the same as before but with an added groping and squeezing from his free hand.

With one finger, he circled your nipple and took it between his lips. They puckered instantly at his rough kiss, another moan escaped your lips.

Licking and sucking every inch of them, he teased your nipples constantly switching one to another. He sucked them firmly, tugging lightly while his fingers worked in and out of your slick pussy. The pleasure was building and building, the knot in your tummy beginning to tighten the further he stimulated you.

Venti’s voice was husky, full of lust. “You don’t know the things you do to me,” he groaned when he felt your insides flexing in his fingers. “Sleeping beauty will never sleep again.”

You tightened your grip around his hips, moaning as he circled your sensitive bud. “You love this, right? Love what I’m doing to your body?” he asked, watching you intently as he switched to your other breast.

A soft cry escaped your lips. You couldn’t speak. All you could do was pant and gulp for air as your body racked with tremors. You screamed when he moved his fingers faster and harder in your gummy walls, opening and motioning them in every possible way he could think to reach your depths.

You held onto his shoulders for dear life, tears streaming from your eyes as you cried his name. “Ven—Venti— oh! Hah… Hmm, good. S’good...”

You babbled every praise your poor head could think of amidst these lust-filled thoughts. You crave more of him, more of his mouth and his hands; you want his dick inside of you, pumping away to your clit until you have a mind-blowing orgasm that leaves you limp and helpless on the bed.

Venti kept going, his fingers thrusting into you again and again as his tongue continued to lap, swirl, and lick. The words coming from your lips died off, turning instead to a constant, vibrating moan as your body shook from orgasm after orgasm.

Sweat dripped down on Venti’s forehead. His whole body ached and his limbs were numb. But he didn’t stop moving. He went faster, harder, until you were in a toe-curling state of pleasure from merely his mouth and fingers.

Until you coat his fingers with your cum.

Until he eats and drinks and gulps down all of your womanly essence.

Until his dick throbbed in his shorts from arousal, hardening and dripping with pre-cum.

Until he could fill you with his seeds till the end of the day.

Oh, to turn you in this kind of state is an achievement only he could succeed. In the end, he couldn't help but revel in the satisfaction of his sweet angel begging for the great reverie of her beloved archon.

#elliwrites #genshin impact #venti x reader #genshin impact venti x reader #genshin impact venti #venti brainrot #genshin impact x reader

331 notes · View notes

shadeysprings · 1 year ago

Text

YOU

—Art Collector!Steve Kemp x F!Reader

Summary — Your unexpected meeting with the famous art collector takes a dark turn when you learn the secret of his private collection.

Warnings — oral (female receiving), dismembered bodies, disrespect to the dead, entrapment, plots of killing, serial killer vibes, Steve being a calm psycho. There may be more I haven't mentioned but please read with caution.

Word Count — 5.4K

A/N — Story #1 for my FREAKtober Fest. The fic was heavily inspired by the movie itself and House of Wax. I'm happy to finally explore Steve's character in writing and I must say, I enjoyed every bit of it. The title was taken from the song You.

Gif by the amazing @steve-kemp

Shout out to @vellicore and @sgt-seabass for bouncing ideas with me and being my beta.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

They didn’t come.

It was all you could think about as almost 2 hours had passed since your grad show started. Despite your parents’ — mostly your mom’s — disapproval of pursuing an arts program, you still invited them to the show. You hoped that if they saw what you were truly doing, they would understand your passion for paints and charcoal.

But it was a long shot, and you knew that. Though at least you tried…right?

You envy your classmates who carry bouquets while they present their artwork to their families and strangers alike. You were lucky enough to have a few come by your cubicle, delighted to explain the medium and process of your work. Some seemed genuinely intrigued while others, you can tell, only came by and endured your talk for the free stickers you offered at the end of your spiels.

Another hour passes by and you look up front when you hear an announcement being made by your instructor; a class photo. You’re reluctant to join, seeing no value in such a thing to be done as it’s obvious that once the day ends, they will be strangers once again. But another adamant call from your instructor has you heading to the front, a frown forming on your face when you’re pushed at the back, towered by your classmates—unseen once more.

As parents and several others grab the opportunity to take a photo, your eyes suddenly divert back to your cubicle when you see someone looking over at your main art piece. You can’t put a pin on his face but you know you’ve seen him before.

Once the group photo has ended, you immediately head back to your spot, catching the familiar stranger taking one of your stickers as well as a business card that sits beside it. It’s when you finally recognize him—and you’re in utter shock that he would be looking at your work. He finally notices you, a smile on his face as he holds out his hand.

“Hi.” He begins, “I’m—”

“You’re Steve Kemp.” You finish for him, the confidence you suddenly displayed startling the both of you. But you push on when you see a smile of amusement on his face, taking his hand to shake. “You’re the famous art collector.” You wouldn’t have known it was him with how dressed down he looked with the corduroy jacket and navy jeans, but you’ve seen his face several times in art articles that you wouldn’t miss it.

“I wouldn’t say I’m famous.” He humbles himself but he lacks the conviction to make it believable. “I think I’m just skilled in finding pretty things—like this one.” He gestures towards your charcoal painting, the look of interest evident on his face. “What compelled you to incorporate a whale and an astronaut? What’s the story behind it?”

His question makes you smile. Maybe he is interested, you think to yourself and look towards your artwork before diving deep into your answer.

“The artwork was inspired by the 52 Hertz Whale.” You begin. “Just to give you a little background; out of all the whale species, it’s the only one that makes a call with such a distinct pitch. Researchers had guessed that it could be a hybrid of two whale species but any attempts to search for the creature for further study have failed. Though some have been saying that it’s not a whale but an entirely different animal.

“Loneliness was the main theme of the piece—just like the whale, if it truly exists, it is alone in the vast sea; with no family to call its own and with it being different from the others, no one would listen or understand their cries. Akin to the lonely astronaut floating in the endless void of space. Though the flowers and the seagull represent hope and freedom—that one day, everything they thought to be true would change, that someone is there to listen and welcome them in their arms.”

You feel yourself shiver and your heart race as you end your interpretation. How the art piece truly mirrors your life and your cry for recognition from the people who truly matter. You try your best not to shed the tears that well in your eyes, presenting the collector with a smile and hoping he sees it as passion and confidence.

But the look on his face startles you; there’s no judgment but you see a hint of amusement in his sapphire eyes. You think he’s about to say something, to comment on what you said, instead, he looks back at the artwork, seemingly appraising it.

“How much?” The question stuns you. Did you hear correctly?

“I’m sorry?”

“I want to buy your art piece.” He expounds. “How much are you selling it for?”

That’s the last thing you expected to be asked in a college grad show. Was he seriously wanting to purchase it? You try to answer, to tell him that you’re not really looking for buyers nor expecting to sell any of your work but no words come out of your mouth, still taken aback by his surprising inquiry.

“I don’t—” You stutter. “I’m not really—”

The chuckle he makes has you pulling on the cuffs of your oversized flannel, feeling slightly anxious at the thought that he’s making fun of your state of shock. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He says with a smile, one that you mimic if only to ease the tension building within you. “But I am serious. I do want to buy it.”

Still, you don’t know what to say. Do you just give him an amount and call it a day?

“Why don’t you sit on it? Let’s say two days and I can give you a call for your price.” He holds up your business card between two fingers, the smile on his face turning into a playful smirk. “What do you say?”

Under-dressed.

Not that it was a concern you realistically should have but the patrons of the bar made you feel as such with the men clad in suit jackets and the women, either in dresses or whatever you call the style of attire that was classier than your hoodie-jeans-sneakers combo. At least you brought a coat—that’s fancy enough, right?

You nurse your Bellini cocktail and thumb through your phone while waiting for Steve, popping your conversation thread with him every second or two just to assure yourself that he confirmed, or rather, planned the night of drinks to discuss your “Lonely Whale” piece as he coined it. It seemed odd at first but his determination was what compelled you to agree to meet him.

The hiss of the straw fills your ears as you suck the last dregs of your drink. You shouldn’t have come early, you tell yourself, then you wouldn’t need to order another glass to accompany you on your wait.

“Need a top-up?” A familiar voice from behind startles you and you look up to see Steve, decorated in a maroon wool sweater and that tantalizing smile he seems to always have. “I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad coming here to this part of town.” He says as he takes a seat beside you in the booth.

You scoot over to give him room, surprised that he didn’t take the one across from you. “Please, don’t be sorry. I wasn’t waiting long.” You assure him with a soft smile, tapping a finger on the rim of your glass. “The drink kept me company.”

“Are they any good?” He asks but he’s already called the attention of a server before you can even reply. He orders a Bloody Mary—quite peculiar, you think, but you’re not one to judge someone's preference. “And the lady will have another, please.”

Silence envelops the both of you as you wait for the drinks to arrive, feeling shy and anxious when he rests his arm against the back of the booth and turns in his seat to face you. You’re not used to being seen yet here’s this man, well-known in the field you didn’t think to excel in giving you such unwarranted attention.

“Uhmm, so I asked my instructor about the painting,” you begin as you try to break the ice, “and he said that—” but stop when he shakes his head and lets out a gentle laugh.

You think he’s playing at your lack of knowledge of these types of transactions that it makes you second-guess your words. Maybe you should have come off more confident and prevented showing him an inkling of your cluelessness. But the smile he sends your way speaks of something different. There is no presence of ill-intent yet you still keep your guard up.

“We can talk business later. I’d like to get to know the artist more first.” He says and for some reason, it could be how comfortable he seems to be around you, that you nod at his request, a soft smile forming on your lips.

“Well, what do you want to know?”

Giggling.

It’s been a while since you’ve done it but you guess after 4 glasses of the Bellini and a sip of his Bloody Mary, anyone would be in a lighter and more carefree mood. Just like how you are.

The anxiety that filled you when you first walked into the bar seems non-existent with how well Steve carries a conversation. He listened to you complain and laughed at your sarcastic comments, throwing back another to keep the exchange alive. There was no dull moment to be recorded, only understanding when you shared the struggle of an art student living in a fast-paced environment. He’s probably the first person in your life who knows almost everything there is to know about you and even if he is a total stranger, he feels more familiar than any other.

The night rolls by quicker than you’d hoped and the next thing you know you’re in his car, the alcohol messing with you as you begin belting out garbled lyrics to an Adele song. You’ve never felt so free and relaxed, and who would have thought you’d find it in someone who simply wants to buy your art project?

You arrive shortly at your apartment building, a curious thought passing through your head as you don’t recall typing in your address in the GPS. But it goes just as quickly as it came when the passenger door is opened and Steve holds out a hand to help you out.

He says your name, the syllables rolling like honey on his tongue and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the way the moon shines against his face, but you truly notice how his sapphire eyes glow brighter with how close he stands to you, his cologne permeating your senses and his warmth mixing with yours, keeping away the cold autumn breeze of the night that surrounds the both of you.

“I had a lovely evening.” He breathes, allowing him to take your hand in his. “And I don’t want it to end just yet.”

And it doesn’t.

You invite Steve into your apartment for coffee, something to help completely sober him up and drive home safe. But as soon as you close the door and toe off your shoes, his hands are on your face and his lips capture yours, a soft grunt escaping you when he presses you against the door. You’re too stunned to process that he’s kissing you, only finally realizing it when he breaks the kiss and looks at you with his eyes so blue.

You think he’s about to speak, to apologize for his forwardness, but instead he smiles while his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek. You don’t understand what he sees in you to warrant such soft affection, or to even consider you as someone to kiss.

He leans closer once more, this time you sense the apprehension in his movements and with the way his eyes linger on your face. You shut your brain off completely, not wanting reason and rationality to stop whatever force that was pulling you together. So you meet him halfway, hands resting against his chest when you press your lips against his, a moan escaping you as when you feel him pull you further into the kiss.

To say he was a good kisser was an understatement with the way his wet muscle caressed your own and how his lips wrestle you into a passionate exchange. He chuckles when he bumps against a side table while walking backwards, blindly into the living room, hands pawing at each other, groping, touching, and you lift up his sweater as the desire to feel his skin blooms in your head.

But he doesn’t give you that chance as you drop back onto your loveseat couch, Steve’s hands pushing up your hoodie to expose the tank top hidden within. His fingers tickle your skin, teasing, taunting, and in one swift move he pulls down the cups of your bra having your tits spill out from them.

Mewls and moans are the only sounds that leave your lips, coherent words nonexistent with how his lips wrap around a mound, sucking, licking, and dampening the fabric to expose your stiff nipples which he gives his undivided attention to. You try to reach for him, to at least make sure that this is all real and not a dream, but his hands take yours, preventing you from even running your finger through his dark hair, the act only heightening your senses further.

But his venture to your breasts eventually stops and you look down at him when he trails butterfly kisses against your stomach, hands releasing yours only to undo the button and fly of your jeans. The garment flies but your panties stay, and you swear you could almost combust just from the way he looks at you—his eyes swirling with hunger, eagerness, and desperation for a taste.

Slowly, he trails kisses against your inner thighs, lips, and teeth meeting skin, not hard enough to hurt but enough to feel. The nervousness swirls around you like twine, making your heart beat loudly against your chest as everything feels too new, too alien, despite this no longer being your first. But you’ve never encountered anyone as captivating as Steve and you feel as if he would run away once he sees you completely.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers into the air, his warm breath grazing against your heated core.

It’s only then you comprehend what he’s done, your panties pushed to the side to expose you completely before him and all at once you feel your body burn when he laves his tongue against your pussy lips, gentle at first, testing the waters which shift to intent as he pushes them apart with his fingers, your sacred bud caressed by his expert tongue.

You whisper his name as he begins delving into your pussy, strong hands keeping your thighs apart and pushing them down against the couch with his groans of pleasure filling your ears and fueling your desire for him. You reach down to run your fingers through his hair which you end up grabbing as a gasp is pulled from your lungs when he begins to suck your clit.

The room feels like it's spinning with the ecstasy that climbs higher within your body, your senses no longer feeling like your own as Steve pushes on with his pursuit, his mouth dancing beautifully against your clit, his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. But he stops, and a small wave of panic arises in your chest. Though it washes away like footprints on the sand when he ventures lower, his thumb taking purchase of your clit, rolling and adding pressure while his mouth ventures lower, teasing your slit at first before slowly pushing inside.

Oh, how your body sings. Your back arches from the coach and you call out his name, louder this time, turning into a moaning mess as his regard to your cunt never wavers. You then feel the dam filling up at the pit of your stomach and all you can do is buck your hips against his mouth, encouraging—no—pushing him to pull you over the edge.

“Steve—” It’s all you manage to say, your breath catching in your throat.

His actions then become erratic, as if he can feel you teetering towards your peak, pulling you more to his mouth and devouring you whole. Sloppy, wet sounds of his mouth echo from below your waist, Steve letting out a low and guttural growl which only sets you ablaze. His thumb pushes more onto your clit, the pressure digging into your pelvis and finally having the dam at the pit of your abdomen burst.

Your body shakes and you grab onto Steve as your pussy walls flutter from your release, choking a sob as your sweet essence flows out of you. His awaiting mouth then laps each and every drop you offer, the sensation making you shiver yet at the same time cocoons you in euphoric bliss.

The alcohol in your system then appears, mixing with the pleasure that continues to loom around you, and your eyes begin to droop, a smile forming on your lips. Your limbs ache deliciously, cunt buzzing from the orgasm that has taken over. You feel tired all of a sudden but happy at the same time and you forget all, even Steve, as you’re ready to end the night with such a good note.

But a tap on your thigh pulls you from the serene moment, startling slightly to see Steve looking down at you with a grin painted on his face. “Stay awake, Baby.” He says, his hand running up your side and grabbing the hem of your hoodie. “I’m not yet done with you.”

Nervous.

It’s all you feel as you stand outside of Steve’s home—if you could even call it that. With the modern exterior and floor-to-ceiling windows of the one-story home, you’d think you’re about to enter a museum. But it’s only reasonable for him to have such a lavish abode; he is an art collector after all.

“You okay?” You turn your head to the side to face him when he stands beside you, his warmth brushing against your skin as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.

“A bit—but more excited really.” You tell him, the giddiness of seeing his private collection dominating the restlessness you felt earlier.

“Only the people who matter have seen it.” The smile he gives you is so contagious that you give one back and follow him inside his home.

After the night spent at your apartment, your life slowly revolved around Steve. Mornings begin and nights end with him and his attentiveness—one that you found more endearing than suffocating, as what some people you assume would say if they knew of your relationship.

You don’t even know if you both have a relationship as neither of you discussed anything about labels, simply enjoying each other’s company. But you know that Steve has rooted himself deep in you, and you know that no matter how hard you try if anything comes that would sever you both, you’d have a hard time letting him go. Steve is the only one who has truly seen you and accepted you as you are.

A chill brushes your skin when you pass through the threshold of his home which has you pulling your knitted jacket more around your frame for warmth, and the first thing you see are the gallery lights mounted on the wall, with each one shining down on art pieces of different forms. The ones that stand by the door are wax figures of a woman’s pair of legs, one on each side. You look at it closely, the craftsmanship so intricate that you’d think it was real. The ones that come after it are different sets of arms and hands of women, again, each one posed differently and elegantly, as if welcoming you further down the hall.

It gives you pause with how unusual of a collection it is—women’s body parts—but you suppose that the world of art is filled with oddities. There was even one you heard who collects glass eyeballs, not caring if it was worn or not.

What greets you next are several paintings—if you can even call it as such—that litter the wall just the same, though you’ve never seen anything like it; one is of a canvas that houses different strands of hair that form into waves. You’re in awe with how they mimic the raging seas and how detailed and time consuming it must have been to complete. There’s even an image of a boat topped over it, as you inspect closely, you assume is made of leather.

There’s another like it, though this seemed more like a showcase of all types of tresses, spaced out perfectly in rows of five. Each one portrayed a distinct person, with colors ranging from blonde to black and textures from curly to the straightest you’ve seen. The urge to touch it grows strong, wanting to check if they’re real or not.

“They’re real,” Steve answers your unspoken question, and you turn back to face him, feeling shy all of a sudden when you see him staring at you. “I call it live art.”

“You made this?”

“Oh, no.” He smiles as he nears the artwork, Steve’s hands tucked inside his pockets while he looks up at it. “I had it made. Though I did provide the materials—volunteers donated the hair.” His explanation has you thinking; you never knew people would donate something so personal for art. “I’m hoping to add more to the collection—a prized one that can be my center of attention.” He says and you catch him looking at you from your periphery.

“What kind of prized piece?” You ask, curiosity nipping at the back of your head.

“Something I could never get tired of looking at.” The smile he gives you sends a chill up your spine but your mind flows out into a daze when he steps forward and takes your face between his hands, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. “Like you.” He whispers and you can’t help but feel your face heat up with how beautiful he makes you feel.

“Come on. There’s more in the living room and I wanted to show you where I would place your painting.” He says, giving you one last kiss before taking your hand and leading further inside. But you don’t miss the piece that sits just at the end of the hall; a torso of a woman, the composition almost similar to Alexndros’ Venus de Milo, except this one was missing its head.

The living room is a sunken living room and it’s just as exquisite as the front of the house with paintings and figurines scattered in an organized fashion. Two couches sit on either side of a low table with a small cart that holds an array of spirits. You look around, mesmerized at the beauty he keeps within but stop when you notice a small greek style column sitting in the corner of the room.

“What’s that?” You ask, pointing at the unusual fixture.

“That’s just a chair a friend of mine made.” He responds while pouring the both of you some drinks. “It’s pretty cozy even if it’s made out of stone. Why don’t you try it out? Pretend you’re an art piece.” He urges and the giddiness you feel allows you to humor him.

Soft jazz music then begins to play as you run your hand against the top, having a feel of the material before you take a seat, grabbing onto the sides to properly set yourself on top of it. The smile you catch on Steve’s face is wide as he approaches you and hands you your drink, his hand reaching up to caress your face.

“You look perfect on it.” He sips on his drink and so do you.

You can’t help but look at his eyes, how soft they look yet full of amidst the muted lighting that surrounds the both of you. You feel his hands continue to linger on your skin, resting gently on your shoulder with his thumb caressing the expanse of your neck.

“Dance with me.”

It’s all he says and you don’t have time to respond when he takes the glass from your grasp, setting both of them on the shelf that stands nearby and he reaches for you, his hands taking yours and placing them over his shoulders while his own finds purchase around your waist.

It feels like you’re walking on clouds with how he sways the both of you, his movements in sync with the music that fills the air. He holds you close, feeling his fingers drumming lightly on your back and how your feet follow him aimlessly, blindly with each step he makes. You’re suddenly aware of the intimacy that slowly winds the both of you, much different from the times he’s slept on your bed, and you feel shy, eyes casting down to stare at the edge of his navy turtleneck.

“Don’t hide from me, Baby,” He breathes softly, tilting your head back when he pinches your chin and feeling the warmth of his breath ghost against your lips. “I want to see you.”

Giddy.

It’s the only feeling you describe as soon as you wake up, your body sore but in a good way and the sheets atop the mattress warm, not just because of you but from the man that sleeps soundly at your side. You turn to face Steve and examine his face, his beautiful pointed nose and his dark hair askew from the pillow underneath his head.

You couldn’t believe your luck that someone like him would find interest in someone like you. You must have done something good in your previous life to feel such happiness that the neglect and disapproval you once received from the people you expected to love you is being provided by someone you’ve barely known for a week.

Good things come to an end, you hear the pessimist in you say but you push it down, deep down where you cannot hear its cry. You’re going to enjoy this, whatever this is, and if time comes that it should indeed come to a stop—well, you’ll cross the bridge when you get there.

You move to cuddle closer to Steve, wanting to feel more of his warmth but it’s interrupted by your need for relief that you settle on placing a kiss on his forehead before turning to leave the bed and find the restroom.

Washing your hands when you finish, you find a robe hanging at the back of the door and boldly take it, putting it around you to shield you from the cold that continues to circulate within the house and venture back to his room—back to Steve’s arms. Except the lone light that shines in the darkness catches your eyes and you glance towards the bedroom. You don’t want to be caught snooping but the call of the void is too strong for you to ignore.

Silently, you pad down the hall and find yourself face to face with a staircase that leads to a closed door. Must be the basement, you think to yourself, taking one step at a time, you descend to your destination. You hesitate to hold the knob, not wanting to spoil your welcome but you soldier on, pushing through the barrier.

A row of yellow muted light illuminates the entryway, and you see nothing but several black barrels neatly pushed against the wall and a few scrubs hanging from mounted hooks. You thought you would see more artwork but are left disappointed, deciding to turn back but the white light at the end of the room stops you, curiosity once more taking over your senses.

Fear then grips you tight when you step into the light, hands flying to your mouth and a gasp unwillingly escaping you when you see a woman laid down on a metal table with her lower half missing and her head free of her scalp. What hangs on the wall makes your stomach turn even further, body parts—arms, legs and a severed head coated in something you can only assume to be wax.

You run. Your heart beats hard against your chest as you make it back again to the door and close it as quietly as you can, not wanting to awaken your host—a monster you never thought him to be. Carefully, though quickly, you climb the steps and the only thing you could think of is to leave and run as far as you can where he cannot find you.

Relief slowly washes over you when you get to the last step. Now all you have to do is go—call the authorities and—your thoughts take a dive when you feel someone grab you by the waist, trapping your arms along with it and a hand covering over your mouth as well as your nose.

“Where were you, Baby?” Steve’s calm voice forms from behind and your panic only rises further. You struggle against his hold, flailing as much as you can for him to let you go but he’s too strong and you feel the tears spill from your eyes as you think that this is the end. He’s caught you. You’re going to die.

“You never should have seen that.” He simply says and you grunt when a stabbing pain forms on your neck, a cool sensation flowing through your veins.

It’s then that he lets you go, your hand flying to where you felt the sting before turning to look at him. What did he do to you? You notice the syringe in his hand. Is it poison? Your vision almost instantly goes blurry, your limbs heavy and you drop to the floor, eyes cast to the ceiling as you try to make out your current state. The last thing you see is Steve, a sinister smile on his face and incoherent words coming from his lips before everything goes dark.

You’re dead.

It’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you come to. Everything slowly comes into clarity; the room you’re in is somewhere you’ve not been and the cool metal you feel around your ankle only solidifies the fact that he’s successfully trapped you in the hell he dwells in.

A door opens and closes and you curl up small on the bed you lay in to hide yourself from him. You’re crying once again a multitude of emotions surge from within—is it fear? Hopelessness? Anger? Towards him for lying to you or to yourself for believing him.

“I never wanted you to find out this way.” He sighs. “I never wanted you to find out at all.”

“Are you going to kill me?” You can’t help but ask, even though you know what the answer is.

“Not yet.” His calm in his voice brings a chill to your spine. “Despite what you believe, I meant what I said; you matter to—”

“Stop lying to me!” You shout and sit up from the bed, grabbing the pillow on the bed and throwing it at him. “Why are you doing this?! What did I do to deserve this?! Why me?!” You shout, the anger that was settling in your bones turns into a raging fire. You go to lunge for him, wanting to rip his skin with your bare hands but the cuff on your foot stops you, making you fall to the ground in front of him.

He tuts and you see his leather shoes in front of you. A groan then leaves your tongue when he grabs you by your face, your hand taking hold of his wrist as you try to pull away from him. But he only pinches tighter, making you shout in pain that fades all too quickly when he shakes you and makes you face him dead in the eyes.

“The more you fight, the harder it’ll be.” He snips. “I enjoy you a lot—don’t make me kill you so soon.”

“Just fucking do it!” You spit. “Do it! Kill me now!”

The laugh he gives you is menacing. He shakes his head, his other hand moving to run his finger on the side of your face. You see the darkness swirling around the sapphires of his eyes and you question yourself why, for the many times he’s stared at you, you’ve never seen it before.

“Soon.” He promises. “For now, I’ll keep you. I don’t mind that column being empty just a little longer.”

#steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x f!reader #dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #you #fresh #fresh the movie #sebastian stan characters #dark fic #horror fic #beanie's freaktober fest #freaktober fest #shadeysprings fics

518 notes · View notes

love-toxin · 2 years ago

Note

re4remake leon got me acting like a WHORE. i want that man carnally.

(cws: the nasty, coming home sex, barely teetering on the edge of obsessive!leon, gn!pov)

ok but re4make Leon gets me extra hard bc he's in that stage where if someone comes on to him/asks about his lovelife he just grins and tells them he's got the prettiest little thing waiting for him back home, he mentions you by name every so often and recounts a story or two now and again to Ashley or Luis while they're venturing around bc usually he's thinking of you when he's not occupied with the mission. so people get this image of you as this little angel that could do no wrong and is absolutely the purest thing alive, it's adorable even when one of them sneaks a look at his wallet to see his photo of you/it gets taken or falls out of his pocket, and how annoyed and possessive he gets as he fights to get it back--Leon's obviously whipped, so he must treat you like an absolute princess or prince or just plain royalty. even Ada's jealousy is a little palpable when he mentions your name bc you know he's dodging her advances like the plague out of pure respect and devotion to you.

but then he goes home to you and just absolutely goes feral on your poor body--I'm talking barely a hello on his way in, slamming the door shut, throwing you on the bed and moaning an "I missed you so damn much" into your mouth as he starts tearing off your clothes and his. he just totally takes you to the cleaners and doesn't let go of you long enough even to breathe; he's constantly losing air and having to pant to catch his breath in between kisses, but dives right back in because he just can't get close enough. you have no idea just how bad he missed you, how many times he wanted to just say fuck it to the mission and come right back home to you--but you'll get a picture of it once he's folding your legs back and straining to fit his cock as deep as he can go, his mumbling filthy and downright obsessive as he comments on how tight you are and how he knows you haven't been looking for someone else in his absence--"you're such a good partner, you know that? you're the most loyal and you deserve the world and I never want anyone else but you. how can you be so sweet and fuck me so good too? you're perfect. you're my perfect angel and you're mine for as long as you live."

and even when he's cumming and has his forehead pressed to yours, sweaty and chest heaving as he plants his hips firm and makes you take every warm, thick shot he has for you, Leon doesn't slow down as the afterglow sets in and pulls out only so he can spread you apart with his fingers and watch his cum leak out of you. he's strong, he knows he can give you more, more to the point of making you pass out where you lay. but to see you have no qualms about that and pull on his shoulders to tug him back up, for you to peck him on his kiss-swollen lips and ask him if he can remind you one more time of how dearly you were missed--Leon couldn't be more in love. the sex is always great and he always misses it when he's away, but nothing compares to how sincerely he adores you in the purest way, and how lost he knows he would be if he could never come back to you like this.

he meant what he said; you're his forever, and nothing short of hell swallowing up the world will ever break him apart from you. hell, even then, he'd find a way to get back to you--if he can survive RC, Plagas, and every other shit thing that's happened in his short life just to survive, then he can battle an apocalypse for the sake of someone he dreams every night of waking up next to.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4make #resident evil 4 #resident evil #spicy writing #ellie writes #anons

2K notes · View notes

seren1tyhaze · 1 year ago

Text

scent

PAIRING: jaehyun x afab reader

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

SUMMARY: you are ready to catch your inconsiderate neighbor who keeps smoking below your open window and what you find surprises you

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I owe you all Dive Part 2, I know. Things have gotten in the way of me writing but I am ready to get out of my own head about it. I'm here now and I'm happy to be writing. I'll have Dive Part 2 very soon because most of it's written and a lot of it is in my head, but for now, please take this peace offering of one of my favorite Jaehyun visuals to exist <3 Thank you for all the new followers and the continued love for Dive.

WARNINGS: cigarette smoking, weed smoking reference, explicit smut, carbon copy of Jaehyun from his I Like Me Better cover but hot neighbor version

PLAYLIST: I Like Me Better by Lauv (Jaehyun cover), Cigarette Daydreams by Cage the Elephant, Cigarette by offonoff, Tablo, Miso

A familiar scent tickles your nose, causing you to sneeze violently, three in a rapid fire succession. You slam your knitting project down on your coffee table and peel yourself off the couch and over to your glass sliding door that leads out onto your small apartment balcony. Ripping open the screen door, you lean over the shaky railing to see a strong trail of smoke floating up towards you, knowing the inconsiderate cigarette smoker must be standing below your window at this moment.

For months you have been unable to leave your windows open consistently because despite your building’s policy against smoking, someone has still taken it upon themselves to smoke directly next to the building. You used to enjoy sunny afternoons on your balcony with a glass of lemonade or being able to leave all your windows open for weeks at a time during the pleasant fall months.

You aren’t one to hate on someone else’s relaxation methods - you yourself loved a bong filled with the favorite indica blend your friend grows or a couple gummies on a lazy Saturday in the park. It’s just the scent of cigarettes filling your apartment, clinging onto your clothes and hand knit sweaters air drying in your living room that got on your nerves. Your cat seemed equally annoyed, scrunching up his delicate features whenever the scent would waft in.

You quickly slide into shoes near your door and run down the back stairs of the building, hoping to finally catch the person in the act and give them a piece of your mind. You push open the emergency exit door abruptly and almost run head on into a tall figure, causing you to stumble back and almost fall. A hand is suddenly gripping your forearm, steadying you.

“Whoaaaa, you ok?” comes a low and gravelly voice as you lift your eyes up to meet his.

What you see is startling and not what you imagined. A handsome face with a sharp jaw and lightly styled lavender hair hanging over sparkling eyes looks back at you. His shoulders are broad, covered by a black t-shirt with a small silver cross dangling on top. Black denim is tight on his thighs with slits at the knees, held up by a belt with silver accents. He has a dark sweatshirt draped over his shoulder and he adjusts it slightly as he releases your arm.

“Um…” you start, unable to find your words before the anger flares up in your chest again, seeing an almost finished cigarette held gently in his fingertips.

“No, I’m not!” you continue, pulling your arms tightly across your chest. “Do you have to smoke right below my window almost every day?” you find your voice raising more than you had intended, cheeks flushing deep red as you speak.

He chuckles lightly, taking a final drag from the stick before dropping it to the ground and stamping it out with the toe of his sneaker. He brings the same hand back up to run through his silvery locks, taking a step back to pull the hoodie over his head, tugging the hood up to cover his hair.

“It’s about time you said something,” he mutters, taking a step closer and closing the gap further between you two.

It’s only now that you recognize him. With the black hood covering his hair and silver rings adorning his fingers you realize it’s the same man who always holds the door for you when you arrive home from work at the same time each evening. You often see him heading out to his car early on the weekends and swear you’ve even seen him at your local gym on occasion. You had never caught a whiff of the smoky scent from him before, and now as he invades your personal space, you breathe in deeply.

Despite you having barely spoken with the man, he had become a comforting figure in your life, noticing when he didn’t walk from the parking lot with you and especially when you struggled to balance all your grocery bags and iced coffee at once. Occasionally he would compliment your sweater, scarf, or beanie and you would joke back that you could make him one. The times when you really appreciated his presence were the winter nights when the sun set earlier and you had to make the dark walk from your car. He would always walk in front of you, giving you a warm smile and wave before doing so to reassure you. He would then linger while you checked your mail but not too long to let you go to your door in peace.

You didn’t even know his name or what unit he lived in, but that didn’t stop you from thinking of him late at night when you were bundled up under the covers or during steaming showers in the morning. Your delusional mind had sent you through countless daydreams of him draped across your lap as you made him a dark green beanie to match the hoodie he always wore or gloves to cover his large hands.

Something about the way that his cologne laced hoodie mixes with the cigarette smoke is intoxicating and inviting. The way his eyes are sparkling in the afternoon sun is making your heart race and every trace of anger leaving your previously perturbed mind.

“You…you always hold the door for me,” you mumble back, feeling your legs shuffle you forward even closer.

“I’m your neighbor, Jaehyun,” he replies, flashing a toothy grin that forces adorable dimples to appear on his cheeks.

“Now that I’ve finally gotten your attention, why don’t you let me make it up to you so I don’t have to keep standing out here smoking,” he replies quietly, placing a hand on the side of your neck, thumb brushing up against your jaw gently.

Your lips are on his and kissing with a sense of urgency you didn’t realize you held. His mouth greedily opens for you to slide your tongue in, tasting the bitter tobacco mixed with mint, unable to get enough of the menthol flavor. You slide your hands into the pocket of his hoodie, pulling him closer before slipping them down to grip his ass through his tight jeans.

He smiles against your mouth, applying pressure at your neck with his fingers and finding the hem of your shirt to slide under and stroke your waist gently. As your bodies meld together you feel his hardening length through his pants and groan as he presses into you. Your thighs press together, desperate for friction as he keeps kissing you deeper and deeper, leaving you gasping for air when you finally break apart.

“I thought you were going to make me a beanie,” he laughs against your lips, looping a strong arm around your waist before pulling open the nearby door, peppering your neck with kisses as you both stumbled up the stairs to your apartment.

Once inside, his hands are all over you, ripping at your t-shirt and pulling your sweats down to the floor before pulling you up into his arms. You wrap your legs around his middle tight, sinking your teeth hungrily at his lower lip, eliciting a deep moan from him. You laugh against his mouth, dropping your legs down and letting your feet dig into your hallway carpet again.

“Let’s see how this goes and then we can talk about the beanie,” you reply between kisses, ripping his hoodie and shirt off his body in one motion. Your brain short circuits briefly at his tight abs and broad chest before you turn on your heel and head back towards your bedroom, unclasping your bra as you walk, letting it fall to the ground.

A few hours later your cheek is resting against his bare chest as your cat jumps up on the bed and howls in surprise at the man under your covers. He paws over and starts swatting at his hair, scrunching his nose at the scent held there. He moves to you, sniffing at your skin and finding the same smell, eliciting an annoyed sound he usually made when you were taking too long opening his can of food. You laugh at the cat and push him gently to the edge of the bed where he begrudgingly curls up into a ball with a flick of his tail as a warning.

“Guess he doesn’t like me,” Jaehyun laughs, pulling you closer to him to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

His lips on your skin brings flashes of how it felt to ride him just moments before, your lips pressed against his as you pulled your body slowly up and down his cock. His large hands had found a home at your lower back, making circles there with your thumbs. He would occasionally drop his mouth to your neck, biting there before moving lower to suck one of your nipples between his soft lips, teeth grazing lightly. You could feel him moan against your skin and pull you closer to him, spurring you on to move faster in his lap.

Pulled back to the present, you shake your head in reply, breathing in deeply as the faint scent of cigarettes fills your nose, mixed with the lingering notes of his peach body wash. Somehow, the way he smells isn’t offensive to you, it’s quite the opposite.

Maybe you didn’t hate the smell of tobacco after all.

#nct x reader #nct smut #nct fanfic #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun fic #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x you

375 notes · View notes

myangelhaven · 1 month ago

Text

These are my recommendations of OT8 fics! It will be updated once in a while for new stories I have read. Hopefully the links work (lemme know if it doesn't)

Credits to the authors!! All information written is taken from the authors' post and has not been modified. Reminder that some fics are NOT for minors, so please read the key and avoid 18+ contents.

HAPPY READING!!

KEY

[❀]: fluff [𖤓]: angst [☄]: sad [☾]:smut [⟡]:smau [𖦹]: humour [✮]: my favs

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮---------------OT8----------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

☆ TEXTS

Skz as dads by @sunboki [❀]

Just Best Friend!Stray Kids being flirts by @maeleelee [☾]

Selling my boyfriend w/ skz by @luvyeni [❀][𖦹] NEW

baby daddy!skz vs your baby bump pics by @strayflowersstarsandlove [❀] NEW

sending boyfriend!skz a nude and then saying wrong person by @imagine-a-life-like-this NEW

accidentally flustering bf!skz by @strayflowersstarsandlove NEW

caught simping for them by @shoverse maknae line NEW

Stray Kids Reaction to You Not Saying "I Love You" Back by @jsabimi [❀]

SKZ TEXTING YOU by @luvyeni [❀]

"WHAT POSITION YALL IN?"

best friend!stray kids by @diddybok [❀]

finding out from another member that you have a crush on them

bf!skz random texts by @seungbinbin [❀]

sassy man apocalypse edition

POV: SKZ try to flirt with you by @thevampywolf [❀][𖦹]

Telling boyfriend!Stray Kids to imagine if you were dating by @imagine-a-life-like-this [❀]

best friend! stray kids when you ask them if you can suck them off by @multiland [☾]

SKZ TEXTS — you forgot to like his instagram post. by @hyunverse [❀]

Jealousy, jealousy by @chan4evurrr

Pranking skz by @binchanluvrr [❀]

"your mum hasn't paid me to date you this month" by @jinhyun [❀]

dad!skz random texts by @seungbins [❀]

bff!skz asking you out over texts by @lixie-phoria [❀]

caught simping for them by @shoverse [❀]

Boyfriend!Stray Kids @imagine-a-life-like-this [❀]

text you when they wake up alone after your first time together by

Kiss me through the phone ! By @aakomii [❀][𖦹]

skz reacting to a guy giving you their number

You go to another group's concert by @jinhyun [❀]

🛒 SKZ TEXTS — “what if i told you i was pregnant” by @sunboki [❀]

Best Friend!Reader asking Stray Kids for a divorce by @imagine-a-life-like-this [❀]

you accidentally send a nude to another member by @jinhyun [❀]

📱"Would you date other people if I wasn't born?" w/ BF!SKZ📱by @feelbokkie [❀][𖦹] NEW

asking boyfriend the very serious question of if they would date someone if you weren't born

ASKING BSF!SKZ TO BUY YOU A SEX TOY by @luvyeni: maknae line

texts w/ supernatural stray kids by @taeiun: part I || part II [❀]

notes: chan & changbin are werewolves, minho & seungmin are witches, hyunjin is a vampire, han is a fairy, felix is an angel, and jeongin is a fox shifter

Skz forgets to pick up Bestfriend!Reader from the airport by @skzfairyy: Hyung line || maknae line [❀]

Friends with benefits by @shhuuga [𖤓][☄]

how fwb!skz deal with the morning (sorta) after

BF!SKZ ACCIDENTALLY REVEALS YOUR RELATIONSHIP DURING A LIVE by @lixie-phoria [❀]

prompt : your boyfriend accidentally flashes thousands of viewers his lockscreen - you - during his live after a concert.

OBSESSED, stray kids finding an old fan tweet abt them ♡by @strlstlvr [❀]: hyung line || maknae line

of course you were always their biggest fan, too bad they took a deep dive and found out how obsessed you actually were

Skz reactions to by @tinystarsthing : hyung line || maknae line [❀]

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖!!

Guess who? by @stayndays [❀][⟡][mystery][soulmateau]

“Welcome to Y/N’s Soulmate Group Chat. There are 5 people in this group chat: Y/N, and their 4 potential soulmates. You all have 24 hours to figure out which one of you is Y/N’s soulmate. At the end of the 24 hours, Y/N must make a guess and say goodbye. Y/N only has one guess. If Y/N guesses correctly, them and their soulmate will live happily ever after. If Y/N guesses wrong, them and their soulmate will never meet, and never fall in love. No matter what though, the 3 others will be removed from the group chat, and only fate will bring you all together once again. Your 24 hours begins when everyone reads this message.”

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄more to come!⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

☆------------OT8's masterlist || skz masterlist-------------☆

#skz recs #OT8 #skz masterlist #OT8 x reader

104 notes · View notes

tokyo-debunker-idk · 5 months ago

Text

A Song of Ice and Aneurysm | 01

Summary: Jin Kamurai might be feared and respected as the wintery King of Frostheim, but even he is no match for a cursed honor student denser than any iceberg known to mankind.

Pairing: Kamurai Jin x Reader

Genre: Humor, romantic comedy, fluff, Jin struggling to emote, eventual smut, COMPLETE

18+, minors DNI

~~~~~

Jin: You better have a good fucking explanation, peasant

You gulp when you read the text sent by Frostheim’s haughty, commanding, somewhat terrifying Captain. It's barely been an hour since you've returned to solid ground from the terrifying foray into the sea, and part of you wants to dive right back in to avoid whatever confrontation Jin is expecting. You should have known that with your horrendous luck, something would go wrong during your mission with the Jabberwock ghouls.

Being taken to an illusory sunken ship in the guise of an undersea palace on the back of a talking turtle that ended up being progeny of a terrifying anomaly probably wouldn't have been your first guess, but being MIA for an unfortunate amount of time shouldn't have been outside the realm of expectation.

And, given the trend of everything in your life going atrociously, perhaps you should have considered the consequences of asking the Captain of the most prestigious house in Darkwick for such a huge favor, on such short notice.

Not only had he agreed and provided you with a boat (yacht, nearly) with only a day of turn-around time, but he had even staffed the craft with employees that had likely panicked upon your disappearance beneath the waves.

It wasn't exactly your fault that Towa had so impulsively leapt off the literal deep end, or that a strange wave had knocked you into the water after him. But then again, none of the disasters that have happened to you have been directly your control. You could have at least tried to prepare, or figured out a way to send communications, or had some sort of contingency plan. At this point, you should know better.

But alas, you are twice (Thrice? Ten times, at this point? Too many, definitely) the fool for being caught with your metaphorical pants down again.

You know that ignoring the text or giving feeble excuses will only piss Jin off further, so with a sigh you begin trotting towards the Frostheim dormitory, dread weighing down every footstep.

Well, at least you'll get to admire his perfect cheekbones while he yells at you.

~~~~~

"Why would I give a fuck about the boat?"

For some reason, Jin looks even more pissed than when you entered, and you feel your apprehension beginning to unravel into panic. Had you fucked something else up you can't even remember? At this rate you're going to be laundering the Captain's shirts until your curse kills you.

Though then you might be able to snag a couple for sleeping. Your premeditation of possible theft is only due to the fact that the material is the most luxurious your broke ass has ever felt, and that Jin's rich enough not to notice.

It's definitely not because his cologne smells masculine and delicious. That would be creepy.

Jin heaves an exasperated sigh, and your thoughts wander back to the reason you're currently here, at his mercy. Well, what you thought that was the reason. Now you are at a loss.

As if reading your confusion, he scowls and elaborates.

"I can always find another boat. Other things aren't so easily replaced."

Agonizing seconds pass as you wrack your brain for whatever could be so important that the Jin Kamurai, corporate heir, would have trouble replacing it. And then, finally, you get it.

Your sudden comprehension must show on your face, because his own relaxes. Thank goodness, too, because while Jin is gorgeous when he's angry, he's downright ethereal when he's not.

"Oh," you breathe, giving him a smile of understanding. "Don't worry, that dress you sent me is safe and sound in my dorm!"

Considering his background and the exquisite gowns of the other Frostheim ladies at the ball, it must have been very expensive, perhaps hand-made and thus more valuable than a factory-made vessel. You can't imagine it having sentimental value to him. To you, however, the lovely dress is not only a symbol of your first completed mission, but an indicator that some here accept you. You stomp down the hopeful part of your heart that wishes it was more than just mere acceptance, because that would be too unrealistic, too greedy.

The safety of the dress also does not seem to be the cause of his ire, however, because his expression is now so blank it's actually scarier than his anger. Deathly silence stronger than any anomalous sound-proofing begins to permeate the room as the regal ghoul stares at you, and you begin to sweat in spite of the cold. Perhaps he's upset that it's still in your possession?

You immediately feel like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. Of course it hadn't been a gift for you to keep, but rather, a loan.

It's obvious in hindsight – he needed to show that he was still the powerful man in charge of Frostheim, and you were a conveniently neutral party he could dance with to draw more eyes.

The realization stings a little more than you thought, and not for the first time you curse yourself for developing an attraction to someone so clearly out of your league. Thank god you've never let it show, soothing your pride if not your emotions.

"I-I can return it now, if you need it back!"

Your voice cracks a little, but you're otherwise able to keep your tone stable. You're a big girl, you can take a hint. It's pointless to feel an attachment to something that was never yours to begin with.

The offer does not appear to soothe the beast before you, however, because frosty silence emanates from Jin in ominous waves. You wonder if it might have been a good idea to write your will before your mission.

"Er, of course I'd have it dry cleaned first…?"

A muscle twitches in his (very well-defined) jaw, and you begin to pray.

~~~~~

Tohma Ishibashi is having what might be the best day of his entire life.

He watches silently as the illustrious, dauntless, emotionally constipated Captain of Frostheim malfunctions in the face of guileless misunderstanding. Is it really that difficult for the man to simply tell you he was worried?

You glance backwards to meet his gaze, and your own holds so much terror at Jin's oppressive silence that Tohma clears his throat to suppress a laugh.

"I believe, Y/N," the Vice Captain interjects, regretting the need to break the magnificently suffocating atmosphere, "that our Captain means that there are certain members of our house who would have been most upset had anything happened to you."

Tohma had almost decided not to interfere, because the Jin Kamurai's wordless suffering due to his own inability to communicate is a delicious treat. But all good things must come to an end, and prolonging such an entertaining scene would only take away the sweetness of the memory.

And that bashful smile of yours, surprised and a little bit grateful at the understanding that you are important to them, is worth it all on its own.

~~~~~

Jin doesn't know who to kill first. You, Tohma, or himself.

Not only have the meaning of his words flown over your head despite him practically announcing that he's grown rather fond of you, but the twitch of Tohma's lips shows that the Vice-Captain is enjoying this situation entirely too much.

He almost forgives his second when the bespectacled asshole finally deigns to clarify the situation, because your smile is warm enough to thaw the angry chill that's coated his heart.

"Ah, I see… I'm so sorry I didn't realize," you murmur, looking contrite and a little embarrassed. That's more fucking like it.

You had fucking disappeared, into the fucking ocean where humans famously cannot breathe, where there was a monster tearing fish and other anomalies apart. You were in danger, alone but for the Jabberwock rabble, and Jin was stuck here with no idea where you were and no way to get to you.

You should be sorry for making him wonder if he'll ever see your stupid ass again.

So many social climbers are willing to read far too much into a single look, a moment of eye-contact, one mere hello. He's shown you far too much favor already, even if part of it can be written off as repayment for giving him the ability to use his stigma again.

Why the fuck would he want the dress back? Do you think he wants to fucking wear it? He got it for you, tailored to your size based on the measurements in Darkwick's records. He doesn't remember what they are because they were only important to ensure the gown suited you perfectly.

You're an idiot. An irritating mixture of meek and headstrong. Someone who will take stupid menial duties from him without (much) complaint, like a doormat, but then the same day will also investigate paranormal murder with no promise of safety other than what others can give you. You're an open book, easy to read and impossible to understand.

You have grown on him, a sneaky tumor whose cells now circulate through his veins and invade his thoughts. Do you really think that just anyone has his contact information? Or has the privilege to be allowed to call him? And on top of that, be able ask for a fucking favor without immediately being blocked?

You needed a boat, so he got you a fucking boat. A big one. If one day you need the moon, he will find a fucking rocket. And eventually, he'll catch the damn flower that cursed you.

It is ridiculous that it's taken Tohma practically spelling it out for you to realize–

"I didn't know Kaito and Luca would be so worried about me that it would impact you."

You can not be fucking serious. Something dies inside of Jin, and he thinks it might be his sanity.

"It's really sweet of them, I never thought anyone would care enough about me to notice I was gone, but still. They're adults, and they need to understand the reality of my situation and their own responsibilities."

First, he's going to murder you for being this fucking stupid. Then, he is going to off the first-year brats because you think they're sweet. Next on the list will be Tohma, who has just let out what, from any less refined individual, would be classified as a snort.

And then he's going to kill every fucker at Jabberwock for putting you in danger in the first place.

"Shut the fuck up."

~~~~~

This is not going well.

In fact, if you were still on the boat Jin apparently does not care about, you would say it is currently sinking. And, true to form, you have no lifeboats prepared.

"Get out."

Ah, but one has been fortuitously offered to you, and with immense relief you turn to escape.

"Not you. Him."

You knew it was too good to be true, yet you still give Tohma a pleading glance as he bows gracefully. He meets your eyes with a calm smile. Then, like the cold bastard he is, leaves you to your doom without a backwards glance.

The heavy doors close behind him with an ominous thud, and you eye Jin nervously. His threats from your first meeting echo in your head like an alarm.

"My room has anomalous soundproofing. You can scream and cry all you like. No one's gonna hear you."

Oh god. You're fucked. You're so, so fucked.

"Come here."

Jin can't use his stigma without you, and yet you find yourself obeying, his commanding tone impossible to resist. Your legs move until you're standing before him.

Even though he is lounging on his luxurious couch and you're on your feet, he still manages to look down on you. His icy blue eyes pierce into your own, and despite the nervous thrum of your chest alerting you to danger, you're unable to look away. You've never been able to stare back at him so blatantly.

Somehow, the longer you look, the more beautiful he becomes.

You're close enough to catch hints of his cologne, and it clouds your senses as if beckoning you forward. You dazedly wonder if you should be admiring your potential murderer. But it's not your fault that he has such full lips, or beautiful silvery hair that looks perfect for running your fingers through.

It's not fair for that to be all you can think about when you're this close to evisceration.

"You're a fucking idiot."

His blunt words slice through the confused haze in your mind, and indignation restores your self-awareness.

"Excuse me? That is so ru–eep!"

He grabs your wrist to tug you closer, and you let out an embarrassingly inelegant noise as you lose your balance. And perhaps your grasp on reality, because you have somehow tumbled into Jin Kamurai's lap, practically straddling him.

No, you've definitely lost your sanity, because instead of pushing you away or lopping off your head for your transgression, your body seems to believe that one of his hands is resting on your hip, and the other is brushing hair out of your face. Perhaps you have already died, and this is actually heaven. You must have done enough good in the world to outweigh all the tampons you flushed down the toilet in the past.

Jin's thumb trails gently over your cheek, and you automatically lean into his warmth. He's normally so harsh with his words, aloof in a way that shuts others out with thick walls of ice. Yet that hidden, secret side of him is evident in the softness of his touch.

"J-Jin," your voice quivers, a whisper because for some reason it feels like you shouldn't speak any louder. If against all odds, this actually is reality, you don't want to break whatever spell is being woven around you. You don't want this gentle moment to ever end.

There's something you don't understand in those mesmerizing eyes, and his pretty, pretty lips of his curve into what, for Jin, is a smile. It spills into your chest like sunlight through the clouds, and for a moment you wonder why you were ever scared.

"Bianerus."

~~~~~

Part 2

#jin kamurai #kamurai jin #kamurai jin x reader #reader x kamurai jin #tokyo debunker fanfiction #tokyo debunker fanfic #tdbk fanfic #tdb fanfic

144 notes · View notes