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forest-hashira · 7 months ago

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Bunnies & Bite Marks

i was able to hop onto @lorelune's spring fever a/b/o event super last minute last night, so this is my entry for that! (technically i did finish this fic before midnight but i didn't have the energy to format it then, so it's going up now, haha). i apologize in advance bc this is definitely the filthiest thing i've ever written. i don't know where most of this came from (i think the boys possessed me and ghostwrote it tbh). i was enabled by aleks to put this on paper, so... thank him lol

read on ao3 here | wc: ~8.1k | cw: a/b/o dynamics/omegaverse, hybrid au (fox geto, bunny reader, bunny gojo), gn afab!reader (afab anatomy terms used), alpha geto, omega reader, omega gojo, established stsg, oral sex (reader receiving), threesome, multiple orgasms, knotting, biting/claiming, mating bonds, intersex omega (gojo has a penis & a vagina), unprotected sex, creampies, gojo has a praise kink & a degradation kink, a little bit of voyeurism, multiple discussions of consent, i'm pretty sure that's everything! 18+ only, ageless/blank blogs & minors dni.

You were still trying to figure out how you’d ended up in this situation.

Growing up, your parents had warned you countless times about Big Bad Wolves, told you to watch out for their pointed lies and pointier teeth, but they’d never warned you about foxes and their silver tongues.

Now that you thought about it, your parents were probably being more metaphoric than you thought as a child, but it was a little late to come to that realization, seeing as you were already underneath a particularly sly fox and completely at his mercy.

But how were you supposed to not trust him, not fall for him? His dark eyes were so kind, his little smile so warm… and he’d had another bunny hanging off of him, inviting you to spend time with them, to get to know them. And somehow in just a few short months, you were coaxed into bed by that same welcoming bunny and kind fox.

A small tug at your ear brought you back to the present, and you blinked, looking up into those dark eyes, now a few shades darker with desire – hunger, your instincts told you, making your heart pound even faster in your ribcage.

“Where’d you go, little one? You left us for a second there.” Suguru’s voice was low and rumbling, but you could hear the genuine concern woven in with the lust that laced his tone.

“They zoned out because you’re taking so damn long,” Satoru retorted from behind you before you had a chance to say anything. He hugged you a bit closer to his chest, trailing his lips across your cheek as he murmured, “Maybe we’ll just have to start without him, hm? Who needs an alpha, anyways? They're just knotheads, after all.”

Despite his bravado, you could feel the way your fellow bunny’s heart rate picked up as you both watched Suguru for his reaction.

To his credit, Suguru’s composure was nearly unshakeable; the only outward reaction to Satoru’s half-threat was a slight twitch of one of his elegant black fox ears, and he cocked his head slightly. “Is that so?” he questioned, then looked away from Satoru to focus on you. “You can believe him if you want, little one, because I know you’ve never been with an alpha before, but you should know he doesn’t even believe that himself. You should hear the way he begs for my knot like a cheap whore, even when he’s not in heat.”

Satoru shuddered behind you, and a soft puff of air ghosted across your skin as his grip tightened further around your waist. You’d known he was aroused before he held you so tight, but now it was undeniable, his hard cock pressed against your back, and the size of it made you jump slightly; if he was that big as an omega, then what the fuck was Suguru hiding in his pants? You shuddered at the thought, and you couldn’t stop the hint of fear that tinged your scent.

Both men stopped then, detecting the change in your scent. They exchanged a glance, and Suguru’s entire demeanor softened as he spoke again, lowering himself so he no longer towered over you where you sat on the bed with Satoru. “Do you want to stop?” he asked quietly, tilting his head slightly. “We don’t have to go through with this if you’re not comfortable.”

“We won’t be upset,” Satoru added, lightly rubbing his thumb back and forth across your stomach in an attempt to soothe you. “If you’re not enjoying yourself, we’ll stop. Your comfort and pleasure are really important to us.”

Though you knew they were expecting an answer, you could tell they would be patient with you, even if it took you hours to decide one way or the other. You hesitated, taking a few moments to really examine how you were feeling, both physically and emotionally. The fear you felt was undeniable, but it was strongly rivaled by your desire, your prey instincts warring with your human wants.

And really, you knew you were safe with them, even if Suguru was a predator. His self control was stronger than anyone else you’d ever met, and even if he somehow did lose control of himself and begin to succumb to his instincts, you were certain Satoru would do everything he could to protect you; he was stubborn and aggressive, especially for an omega, and a prey animal hybrid on top of that.

Feeling comforted by that knowledge, you once again met the alpha’s gaze. “I want this,” you confirmed. “I want you – both of you.”

Almost before the words were fully out of your mouth, the smell of arousal grew thick in the air, so heavy it should have choked you, but really you couldn’t get enough of it. Suguru’s was more potent, but it just made his scent a little smokier. Satoru’s, on the other hand, was sharp, a burst of cinnamon against the syrupy sweetness of his usual scent. Everything combined was so heady, so overwhelming in the best way possible, that your eyes fluttered shut, and you bit your lip to keep from moaning out loud.

“Ah-ah, none of that,” Suguru chided, reaching up and squishing your cheeks together slightly until your bottom lip was no longer caught between your teeth.

Your eyes opened again at the touch, your pupils blown wide as you gazed down at the alpha in front of you.

“We want to hear you, little one. How else are we supposed to know if we’re making you feel good?”

“Sugu likes it noisy,” Satoru added, leaning in to whisper in your ear. He trailed one hand down your stomach to your thigh, rubbing little circles on the soft flesh of your inner thigh with his thumb as he spoke. “You’ll see soon enough, but he’s a talker… loves when I talk, too. Loves when he fucks me dumb and all I can do is moan and whine and whimper, all because of him…”

Though the other bunny was speaking to you, both of you had your eyes locked on the fox, all of you waiting for someone else to move first. Your heart pounded in time with Satoru’s, your bodies finding an odd, instinctual sort of comfort in each other; two prey hybrids against one predator.

Said predator’s gaze was still locked on yours, his lips curling into a hungry smirk, now that he knew that you wanted him – wanted them – just as bad as they wanted you. He shrugged slightly at Satoru’s words, and he pushed himself up from where he’d knelt on the floor in front of you, once again towering over you.

“Since you were so quick to insist that you didn’t need me,” he cooed, taking a step back from the bed. “Why don’t you two get started, hm? Get them ready for me, pretty boy.”

Before you even had time to fully process the alpha’s words, Satoru was moaning in your ear, then practically dragging you further up the bed with him.

A rather undignified squeak of surprise escaped you at the movement, but you were too taken aback to try and fight it at all. Next thing you knew, you were on your back, staring up at Satoru with wide eyes.

“You ready?” he asked, eyes glinting as he stared down at you.

“I, uh… ready for what, exactly?” You felt your cheeks burn with both arousal and embarrassment, your brain already feeling a little unfocused, and they hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Sex, duh,” he replied, but he couldn’t quite stifle the giggle that accompanied his words. The sound helped relax you a bit, and you smiled up at him.

“I’m pretty sure we’re wearing too many clothes to have sex,” you told him, a soft laugh escaping you, and he grinned, winking playfully at you.

“That we are, little bunny,” he agreed, tugging lightly on your ear. “But I’m gonna take care of that right now, don’t you worry.”

You wrinkled your nose at him, and it twitched a bit, the movement involuntary. Pulling your ear from his hold, you frowned up at him. “You’re a bunny too, y’know.”

“Ah, yes, good catch! I, however, am not small, in any sense of the word. So you’re my little bunny.” His smile sharpened into a smirk, and the sight, combined with the implications of his words and the outline of cock that had been pressed against you mere moments before, had heat stirring in your belly.

When you offered no further comments of protests, Satoru got to work ridding you of your clothes, so quickly you were worried he might tear them in his haste to have you naked beneath him. By the time he reached your bra, though, you batted his hands away.

“I’ll do this part, if you ruin this I’ll be very upset with you.” The bra wasn’t anything especially fancy, but you still took care of it as best you could, because you liked the way it made you look. “Besides,” you added, reaching around to undo the clasps. “Don’t you also have to be naked for us to have sex?”

Satoru pulled his shirt over his head as you spoke, and he huffed quietly when it got stuck on his ears for a moment. He smirked at you again afterwards, though. “Hmm, not necessarily, no. But I’ll be nice and get naked anyways.”

You rolled your eyes at his words as you tossed your bra off to the side, presumably in the direction all your other clothes had ended up. As you settled back against the pillows, you went to cross your arms over your chest out of habit, but stopped when you caught Suguru staring at you. He said nothing, but his meaning was clear: there would be no hiding from either of them tonight, or ever. You were theirs now.

In just a few seconds, though, your view of the fox was interrupted by your fellow bunny, who looked like he was ready to go all night with you and completely ignore his partner sitting in the chair across the room. “Lay back and spread your legs for me,” he encouraged. “I’m dying to taste that pretty little pussy of yours.”

His words came as a shock, and you felt your face burning all over again. “You don’t, uh. I mean, you don’t have to do that. Really.” You pressed your knees together as you spoke, unsure how to proceed. None of your former partners had ever expressed interest in going down on you, so you weren’t sure if Satoru felt obligated to do this, or what, but you didn’t expect him to frown at you.

“I know I don’t have to,” he confirmed. “But I want to. Like I really want to, if you’re comfortable with that.”

All you could do for a few long moments was stare at him, as if waiting for him to laugh at any second, for him to tease you for falling for such a silly prank, but he never did. His eyes were focused on your face, though they were now more black than blue because of how dilated they were.

“You can tell him no, little one,” Suguru assured from his seat across the room. “You’re calling the shots here. If you say no, it doesn’t happen.”

Once again comforted by his words – and baffled that you had so much control over this situation – you let out a soft, trembling breath, before looking back to Satoru. “If you really want to…” you agreed quietly, hesitating a moment longer before you complied with his earlier request, leaning back against the pillows and spreading your legs.

“I really do,” Satoru confirmed yet again, and as you spread your legs, his gaze instantly dropped to his prize. He was quick to settle down on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your thighs once he was eye-level with your cunt.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re dripping for us already.” He sounded almost in awe of you and your body as he spoke, and if his hold on your thighs had been any less sure, you would have slammed your legs shut again. As it was, you squirmed uselessly in his hold, face burning in embarrassment.

“Stop staring,” you whined, hoping you didn’t sound as flustered as you felt. “If you’re gonna use your mouth on me then get started already.” The attempted scowl on your face vanished as he bit down on the plush of your thigh, and you yelped. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Isn’t it?”

“Satoru,” Suguru chastised, and both of you froze at his tone. “Don’t be mean to them. Do what you promised, or I’ll have to punish you.”

Satoru’s ears dropped at the mention of a possible punishment, and he nodded slightly. “Yes, alpha,” he said, then pressed a gentle kiss to the spot he had bitten. “Sorry, little bunny,” he apologized quietly, holding your gaze as he spoke.

Still feeling a little baffled by how quickly Satoru had obeyed Suguru, you simply nodded your forgiveness.

He seemed to relax a bit then, and he dropped his gaze once again. His intense focus on such an intimate part of you had you feeling beyond flustered, so you leaned your head back into the pillows, staring intensely at the ceiling. You could feel his hot breath against your slick soaked skin, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what he was waiting for.

“It’s not very polite not to look at someone when they’re pleasuring you, little one.” Suguru’s voice had a teasing lilt to it, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely kidding.

Is that seriously what’s stopping him? you thought to yourself, but you didn’t say the words out loud. Instead, you replied, in a voice much smaller than you expected, “I can’t look at him.”

“Why not? Is something wrong?”

“No? I-I don’t… I don’t know,” you stammered. “Nobody’s ever gone down on me before. I can’t look at him while he does it.”

There was a beat of silence, then another.

“Can you look at me instead?”

That caught your attention. You lifted your head from the pillow once again, though this time you focused on the alpha across the room, rather than the omega between your legs. This is manageable.

“Hmm, there you are,” the fox hummed, giving you an encouraging smile. “Better?”

“Much,” you agreed quietly, and you were surprised to find that meeting his gaze was exactly the thing you needed to ground you.

“Good, I’m glad. You can start now, Satoru.”

The first swipe of his tongue up your folds had your whole body trying to jerk away from the touch, though the movement was involuntary. It didn’t feel bad – in fact it felt good, really good, as he pressed in closer, his tongue exploring places even your fingers had rarely touched. When he moaned against you, your head dropped backwards at the intensity of the feeling.

“Ah ah, little one.”

Suguru’s voice had Satoru stopping his movements, despite the fact that he wasn’t the one being spoken to. You whined pathetically as his tongue pulled away from you, and you couldn’t help but pout.

“Eyes on me,” Suguru continued, the words clearly directed at you, “or you don’t get to cum yet.”

Instantly your head shot up, and you stared at the alpha wide-eyed, breathing a little heavier than you had been before.

His expression was smug once you met his gaze, and even if you hadn’t been able to see his smirk, you would’ve been able to hear it in his voice. “Very good,” he praised.

With the confirmation that you were doing as you were told, Satoru was quick to get back to work, moaning into your skin as he licked up your slick. Some part of your brain was insisting that no omega should enjoy the taste of another omega’s slick, but Satoru had never been what an omega should be, so you shoved the thought aside.

Just as you pushed the thought from your mind, the bunny between your legs wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. It felt as if all the air had been sucked from your lungs, and your thighs clenched around his head, though that only made him moan louder into you.

Somehow, you managed to keep your eyes open and locked on Suguru, even if your vision was a little fuzzy around the edges. When he spoke to you again, though, it took a bit more focus to really hear him.

“You can touch him, you know.”

“Wh— oh my god — what do you mean?”

A small chuckle escaped him, and he tilted his head slightly as he gazed at you. “You can touch Satoru, if you want to. You won’t get in trouble, or anything like that. In fact,” he glanced down at the other bunny’s fluffy white head, “I can confidently say he wants you to touch him. Isn’t that right, pretty boy?”

“Please,” Satoru whimpered, barely pulling away from your cunt long enough to speak, and he was quick to dive back in, this time working his tongue into you.

You weren’t sure what the noise you made was, but you didn’t really care; all you could focus on was the feeling of his hot, wet tongue working you open. Without even thinking about it, your hands flew from the bedsheets to his hair, tangling the strands between your fingers and pulling, much harder than you’d intended to. There was no room for you to even attempt an apology, though, because the sensation had him moaning louder than before, and he rutted his hips down into the mattress.

“Told you,” Suguru chuckled, but neither of you really heard him, too lost in the way Satoru had his mouth on you, licking up your slick like he’d die without it.

When the other omega pulled his mouth away from you, you whimpered, dropping your gaze from Suguru’s to Satoru’s. Before you could form any sort of complaint, though, you watched as he released his hold on one of your thighs and pushed one of his long fingers into you.

Your brain short circuited at the sight, and you let out a strangled moan, unable to tear your eyes away from his hand. He worked you open carefully, first with one finger, then with two, and before you knew it he was curling three fingers into your sweet spot, the pleasure of it so intense you were nearly cross eyed, especially with the way he was still sucking on your clit.

“I told you to get them ready for me, didn’t I, pretty boy?”

“Yes,” Satoru answered instantly, the word muffled against your skin; the vibrations of it had you moaning quietly.

“And do you think your fingers are going to be enough for that?” His voice was a little darker than before. Not scary or overtly predatory, just… more intense, more focused; hungrier.

“N-no, alpha,” Satoru panted, thrusting his fingers faster, panting heavily into your pussy. “Want to taste them first, please? Wanna make them cum all over my face…”

There was a pause, somewhat tense as both you and your fellow bunny waited for the fox’s answer.

“Well, when you ask so nicely,” he practically purred. “Go ahead, Satoru. Make a mess out of them.”

That was all the permission Satoru needed. He latched onto your clit once again, alternating between sucking and tracing patterns against it with his tongue, his fingers abusing your sweet spot until you were seeing stars.

You barely recognized the scream that tore its way out of you as your own voice, too busy thrashing in his hold, thighs clamping down around his head once again. You gushed slick everywhere – all over his fingers, all over his mouth, all over the sheets – until everything was wet and almost sticky with it.

Though you had no memory of closing your eyes, it wasn’t long before you heard Suguru’s voice, now much closer than before, gently calling your name, asking you to open your eyes for him. Eventually you managed to comply, slowly fluttering your eyes open to look up at the fox.

“There you are,” Suguru praised quietly. “Pretty boy really did a number on you, huh?” He brushed your hair out of your eyes as he spoke, and you weren’t really sure if he expected you to answer him or not. You stayed silent, more focused on catching your breath and coming down from the most mind blowing orgasm of your life, and your silence didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“What about you, pretty boy. How’re you feeling?” You managed to follow the alpha’s gaze – albeit a bit sluggishly – as he turned his attention from you to the other omega, and what you saw had your face burning all over again.

The lower half of Satoru’s face was absolutely drenched in your slick, and you could see how it was beginning to run down his chin and jaw to his neck. His hand wasn’t any better off, either: there was slick coating him well past his wrist. You were mildly horrified that you’d done that to him, but it was clear by the look on his face that he was thrilled that you’d made such a mess of him. “Feelin’ really good,” he answered, a dopey grin on his face as he sat up. The bunny leaned over you a bit then, getting as close to the fox as he could without actually moving from his spot kneeling between your legs. “Wanna taste?”

Suguru smirked slightly at Satoru’s question. “Of course I do,” he replied. Then, he reached out, lightly threading his fingers through the hair on the back of Satoru’s head, pulling him into a messy, heated kiss; a kiss that he absolutely dominated, without any sort of protest from the other man.

As you watched them, still somewhat dazed, you realized that, at some point between getting up from his seat across the room and joining the two of you on the bed, Suguru had stripped himself of his clothes, leaving him just as bare as the two bunnies waiting for him. There was a part of you insisting on looking down, on getting a good look at his cock while you could, but you were too caught up watching the two men kiss.

Some time later – minutes or hours, you weren’t sure – they broke apart, both of them panting against each other. “Delicious,” Suguru murmured after a moment, licking the last vestiges of your slick from around his mouth. “I’ll have to get a taste first hand next time, but for now, pretty boy, you need to finish preparing them for me.”

Satoru nodded obediently, though a soft squeak escaped him as the other man reached around and tugged lightly on his tail, just to tease him a bit. The bunny huffed indignantly, but the effect of his reaction was lost when you saw that his pupils were still blown wide and his eyes were still slightly glassy as he focused on you.

“You ready for more?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at you. “Or do you need more time to catch your breath?” As he spoke, he reached down and began to stroke himself with the hand still coated with your slick, his breath stuttering a bit at the touch.

Thankfully you had managed to catch your breath by this point, and you nodded dumbly for a moment. “Yeah, I’m ready,” you confirmed, sounding more steady than you had expected, given your brain was still catching up to your body.

“Thank god,” Satoru sighed, then shuffled into a better position, hovering over you and propping himself up on the hand not currently occupied. “I’ll be careful,” he promised, his voice gentle and sweet.

You nodded again, trusting him to keep his word, and spread your legs a bit wider to better accommodate him. A gasp flew from your lips as he lined up with your entrance and slowly began to push forward. You’d known he wasn’t small, but feeling the outline of his cock against your back was not the same thing as feeling it pushing its way into your body. Your hands shot up to his shoulders, nails digging into the pale skin there as he slowly filled you, inch by impossible inch.

When you felt his hips finally meet yours, you both let out a shaky moan, and he dropped his forehead to yours for a moment, now propping himself up on his elbows so he wasn’t fully crushing you into the bed.

“Can I have a kiss?” he asked quietly after a few moments, and the question caught you a bit off guard, especially since he seemed a little nervous to ask.

Pushing on his chest a bit so you could get a proper look at him, you scanned his face to figure out what, exactly, his goal was, but all you found in his expression was earnestness and hope, and the tiniest hint of worry. “...Yeah,” you agreed after a moment. “Yeah, you can have a kiss.”

The little grin that tugged at his lips was more adorable than it had any right to be while he was buried balls deep in you, but you found yourself smiling back anyways, allowing your eyes to slip shut for a moment as your lips made contact.

Though the kiss started as a soft, chaste press of lips, it quickly devolved into deep, sloppy kisses, barely enough time to breathe in between each kiss. Your ability to breathe was well and truly stolen for a moment as Satoru began to move, gently rocking his hips up into you at first, then eventually beginning to properly thrush, pulling out a bit before pushing back into you again.

Each movement had you panting and moaning beneath him, one hand still gripping his shoulder as the other trailed up his neck to tangle in his hair. “Ho— o-oohhh — h-how is this preparing me for Suguru?” you asked, doing your best to focus on the omega above you, despite how good he was making you feel.

“He’s bigger than I am,” Satoru answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He noticed the way you tensed slightly and shuddered at his words, and he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay,” he soothed, and you could hear a quiet purr rumbling in his chest as he spoke. “That’s what this is for, ‘kay? I keep making you feel good, make sure you’re nice and ready for our alpha when it’s his turn.”

Apparently still able to scent your apprehension, the bunny pressed a few more soft kisses down the side of your face, still purring quietly all the while. “It’s ok if you don’t think you can take him,” he murmured. “If you need to tap out after me, that won’t hurt his feelings. He’s gonna fuck me either way. After you and I are done you can participate as much or as little as you’d like, little bunny. Whatever you say, goes.”

Something about the tenderness underlying his words, and the sweet way he called you “little bunny” had you practically melting beneath him. “Okay,” you murmured, turning your head to catch his lip in another soft kiss, letting the touch linger longer than was strictly necessary, simply enjoying the intimacy while you could.

“Satoru?”

“Yes, bunny?”

“I appreciate how gentle you’re being with me right now, but my guess is Suguru won’t be as gentle.”

A small laugh escaped him, and he shook his head slightly. “You’re right,” he confirmed.

“Then I really think it’ll be better for all of us if you stop moving like you think you’ll break me and just fuck me.” Even as you spoke the words aloud, you felt flustered, but Satoru just smirked.

“Your wish is my command.”

He shifted his position slightly, guiding your legs up to wrap around his waist. Once he was confident you were settled, he started moving again. The sharp shift in the way he was fucking you was enough to make you yelp, though the sound dissolved into an unabashed moan, your grip on him tightening everywhere, desperate not to get jostled away from him.

It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for you to feel another orgasm building, but you were powerless to do anything but hold on for the ride and moan the omega’s name as he brought you to new levels of ecstasy.

Satoru’s pace faltered a few moments later, his hips stuttering to a stop as he gasped. You whined softly, but shifted until you could look over his shoulder to see what had happened.

Suguru was kneeling on the bed behind Satoru, a hint of a smirk on his face as he gazed down at you. “Please,” he said evenly. “Don’t stop on my behalf. It’s absolutely delicious to watch.”

When Satoru shivered and moaned loudly in your ear, you looked down from the alpha’s face, not entirely unsurprised to see he was currently fucking Satoru’s pussy with his fingers.

“Awe,” Suguru taunted. “Is this too much for you, pretty boy? Do you need me to stop?”

“No!” Satoru answered immediately. “N-no, feels good… wan’ more, please, alpha?”

The fox seemed to consider for a moment, his ears and tail twitching in sync, before he came to a decision. He withdrew his fingers and landed a solid smack to the omega’s ass. “Make our little one cum first.”

“Yes, alpha.”

Clearly not wanting to disappoint Suguru, your fellow bunny resumed his relentless pace from before, hips stuttering a bit as Satoru began to fuck him with his fingers again, but he didn’t stop this time, and was easily able to regain his rhythm.

Ever a quick study, it wasn’t long until Satoru found your sweet spot, and once he found it, he adjusted his hips to make sure he nailed it with every thrust. He nibbled and sucked at your neck as you whimpered and writhed beneath him, thighs beginning to tremble where they were locked around his waist.

“You gettin’ close, little bunny?” he asked breathlessly, barely biting back a moan of his own as he waited for your answer.

“Uh-huh,” you whined, tilting your head to grant him further access to your neck. “Need more, ‘Toru, please…”

“I got you,” he promised. One of his hands snaked between your bodies, his palm resting on your lower belly as he reached down with his thumb, rubbing slow circles on your clit, the pace of his thumb a stark contrast to the pace of his hips.

“Cum for us, little one,” Suguru encouraged from above.

That was all it took. You wailed as you tipped over the edge into pure bliss again, your vision whiting out for a few moments as you shook almost violently in the throes of pleasure. Satoru was still rock hard inside you when you came back to yourself, though his thumb was – thankfully – no longer on your clit. His movements were more subtle now, more of a rocking motion as he moved back and forth into the wet heat of your cunt and the welcome intrusion of Suguru’s fingers.

“Please,” he whimpered, looking over his shoulder at the alpha. “Please, wanna cum, need to cum, please…”

“Shh,” the fox soothed. “No need to beg this time, pretty boy. You’ve done very well.”

The bunny whined at the praise, blush instantly coloring his cheeks as he rocked back onto the fingers in his cunt.

“Want you to cum inside them, yeah? Get them nice and wet for me…”

Satoru moaned the loudest he had all night at the command, and he nodded, moving his hips with purpose again now, though his movements were a bit uncoordinated. That didn’t matter, though, because soon enough he was pressing his full length into you one last time before spilling into you, simultaneously gushing slick over Suguru’s hand.

The sudden warmth filling you made a shiver run down your spine, and you moaned quietly at the feeling; it was much more pleasant than you would’ve expected. You were a bit surprised Satoru didn’t fully collapse on top of you then, but when you felt a larger, more calloused set of hands gently unwrapping your legs from around the other bunny’s waist, you realized it most likely because Suguru was planning to move him out of the way.

Your theory was proven right when, rather than falling down on top of you, Satoru flopped onto his back beside you on the bed, breathing heavily and staring almost unseeing at the ceiling. A moment later, a curtain of dark hair encroached on your vision, and you turned to look up at Suguru.

His narrow eyes crinkled around the edges as he smiled down at you. “Feeling alright, little one?” he asked gently, ghosting his fingers along the hickies Satoru had left down one side of your neck.

You hummed softly, giving him a slight nod, lashes fluttering and goosebumps raising your skin at the featherlight touch of his fingers on your throat.

“Good, I’m glad. How about a little breather, hm? Pretty boy over here will get all pouty if I don’t pay attention to him, too.” Though his words teasing in nature, almost taunting, the affection in the alpha’s voice was unmistakable.

His comment made you giggle softly, and you nodded. “Breather sounds nice,” you agreed. “I just get to lay here and relax?”

“Yeah, just relax,” he confirmed. “Roll over for me, I’ll help you get comfortable.”

You did as you were asked, flipping over so you now laid on your stomach, rather than your back. You jumped slightly as you felt him lift your hips with one hand, but quickly mellowed out when you realized he was just sliding a pillow under you.

“Comfy?”

“Very,” you hummed, unable to stop the purr that began to vibrate in your throat. “Go get him off before he starts whining.” You gestured in Satoru’s direction, eyes half closed as you allowed yourself to really relax.

That made Suguru laugh softly, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek before moving over to the other bunny, who seemed to be more coherent now, given that he looked displeased, and his bottom lip was jutted out.

“I don’t get whiny, and I don’t pout,” Satoru insisted.

“You’re pouting right now, pretty boy,” Suguru teased, smiling down at him.

Satoru said nothing, just huffed and looked away from the alpha above him. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Ah, but you like when I’m mean to you.”

“In bed.”

“Yes, pretty boy, I know. Only in bed.” Suguru began to press soft kisses down Satoru’s body then, pausing at his chest to take one of the omega’s pretty pink nipples between his teeth and tug lightly.

Satoru squeaked at the feeling, body jerking and gracelessly trying to swat the alpha in retaliation. “No fair! You promised you wouldn’t use teeth on them anymore.”

“Sorry,” Suguru apologized, not looking particularly sorry at all. “Won’t happen again.”

As they bantered back and forth, their affection for each other rolling off of them in waves, you watched silently from the sidelines, a soft, if slightly sad, smile on your face. Though you’d been in relationships before, you’d never had anything like what the two of them had, either romantically or platonically. Not until you’d met them, anyways.

They had always been so sweet to you, welcoming you into their world so quickly. You knew they never needed to pretend to be anything they weren’t when they were together, and the more time you spent with them, the less you felt like you had to pretend around them, too. It was nice to have people you trusted so much, and who trusted you the same; to love someone and have them love you in return.

Because really, you did love them, and you’d told them that before, more than once. It was a sentiment you knew they returned – they’d said it to you more than enough times for you to believe them – but the longer you thought about it, the more you realized that the line between romance and friendship with them had long since blurred, and that began to weigh on you.

Do I want what they have, or do I want… them?

Almost as soon as the thought crossed your mind, you shoved it aside; now was certainly not the time to be unpacking all of that.

You were quickly pulled back into the moment and out of your thoughts when you heard Suguru say your name. Only, he wasn’t talking to you, but about you, as he ground his hips into Satoru’s, buried to the hilt in the omega’s pussy. It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about, but eventually you realized he was talking about… biting you.

“They’d look so pretty with my mark on their neck, don’t you think, pretty boy? Let everyone know who they really belong to, who loves them more than anyone else.”

Satoru whined, though the sound wasn’t entirely pleasurable. “You said you’d bite me first,” he replied, voice quiet and smaller than you were used to hearing. “You promised, promised I’d be first, even when we fell for them. You promised.”

The pain that laced the edge of Satoru’s words nearly broke your heart, and before Suguru had a chance to say anything, you decided to cut in.

“Bite him first,” you said quietly, meeting the fox’s dark, steady gaze. “Keep your promise, bite him first. I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes flashed at your words, and an almost hopeful look crossed his face, before he looked back down at Satoru. “You heard them, pretty boy. They’re not going anywhere.”

The bunny smiled at the news, letting out a little chirp – the single most adorable sound you’d ever heard him make – at the news, though soon enough he was gasping and moaning again as the fox fucked him a little harder, kissing and sucking down his throat and pumping his cock in time with his thrusts.

“F-Fuck, alpha, gonna cum,” he whined, bucking his hips up into Suguru’s fist.

“Cum for me, pretty boy,” Suguru cooed. “Cum for me and I’ll bite you.”

The words had barely left the alpha’s mouth before Satoru was crying out, writhing and bucking his hips as he spilled over Suguru’s hand, coating his fingers in white.

At that same moment, Suguru fulfilled his promise, biting down hard on the curve of the bunny’s throat, sinking his teeth into the scent gland there and thoroughly claiming Satoru as his. Satoru tensed as he was bitten, but it was only for a split second before he went completely boneless beneath the alpha, whining and babbling his name until the alpha released his hold on his neck.

“Look at you, pretty boy,” Suguru murmured affectionately. “Even prettier now that you’re mine…”

Satoru’s answering hum quickly morphed into a whine of protest as Suguru pulled out, still rock hard and covered in the other man’s slick; he hadn’t knotted Satoru, which struck you as odd.

“It’s ok, baby,” Suguru rushed to soothe him, brushing the hair from his forehead and pressing a soft kiss to the sweaty skin there. “I’ll knot you later, alright? Gotta make sure little one’s all taken care of first.”

The words seemed to do the trick, and Satoru quieted down, nodding slightly as he rolled over to lay on his side, now facing you. “He’s gonna make you feel really good,” he murmured, reaching out towards you and taking your hand. “His knot feels incredible.”

You giggled softly at his words, though you were sure he was being entirely sincere as he spoke. You squeezed his hand gently, only pulling away when Suguru removed the pillow from beneath your hips and rolled you over onto your back once again.

“Hi,” he greeted with a small chuckle. “You ready to take me?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words died in your throat as you finally got a good look at him, your eyes going comically wide.

His cock was huge. Maybe not quite as long as Satoru’s was, but it was much thicker, which reignited your worries from earlier in the evening.

“Hey, look at me,” Suguru called, gently tilting your chin up until you met his eyes again. “We can stop right here if you want. If you’re not ready to take me, that’s okay. And if you don’t want to have sex but you still want me to claim you, we can do that too.”

Knowing you still had the option to back out, even now, and knowing neither of the boys would be upset with you if you did was enough to bolster your confidence. “I want to keep going,” you told him. “Want you to knot me, claim me as yours.”

“I can definitely do that,” he said, purring a bit as he leaned down and kissed you. Much like your kisses with Satoru earlier, the touch went from sweet and chaste to desperate and devouring in just a few short moments.

As the alpha broke the kiss and shifted to sit back on his knees, you whined and attempted to follow him, but he kept a gentle hand on your stomach to keep you down where you were. “Wanna see what a mess Satoru made of you,” he said, a wicked gleam in his eye.

You swallowed thickly and nodded, not protesting as he placed his hands on your knees and pushed your legs apart, staring down at your messy, dripping pussy. When he let out a low whistle at the sight, you whined in embarrassment and covered your face with your hands; you couldn’t believe he wanted to see all that, couldn’t believe you were letting him, couldn’t believe he was enjoying it.

“Pretty boy sure did a good job getting you ready for me, I’ll give him that,” Suguru said, wanting to have just a bit more fun teasing the two of you, his two bashful omegas, before he gave you what both you and he wanted so badly. “That’s good, though. It’ll make it easier for you to take me.” He rubbed his hands up and down your thighs for a moment, waiting until you peeked through your fingers at him.

“It will?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “The glide will be nice and easy, no dry friction or anything to worry about causing any pain. It’ll still probably be a bit of a stretch,” he added. “But it’ll be much easier on you this way.”

The tension bled from your shoulders at his words, and you nodded again, slowly pulling your hands away from your face. “What are you waiting for, then?” you asked him, biting your lip lightly after you spoke; you normally weren’t one to tea or speak so playfully in bed, but these two brought out a different side of you than any of your previous partners, and for that, you were glad.

“Well when you put it like that,” Suguru replied with a grin, spreading your legs a bit wider so he could settle between them more comfortably as he leaned down over you once again. He pecked a quick kiss to your lips as he lined himself up with your entrance. “I’m not waiting for anything anymore.”

He pushed in slowly, just as Satoru had, but you could feel your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You clenched around him involuntarily, and he hissed at the feeling.

“Deep breaths, little one,” he murmured, helping you breathe in time with him, which in turn helped you relax and release the tension in your body. Before you knew it, he was fully seated inside you, and you cradled his face in your hands as you both took a moment to breathe.

“Suguru?” “Yes, little one?”

“If you don’t knot me soon I think I might combust.”

A small laugh burst out of him then, and he easily captured your lips in a kiss. “I don’t think you’ll have to wait long,” he assured you. “I’m as desperate for this as you are.”

And desperate you were. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as you pulled him into another kiss, your fingers slipping through his silky black hair as you attempted to find something to hold onto, something to ground you as he fucked you, every movement deep and intentional, as if he had a mission to accomplish, because he did. Both of you were eager for him to knot you, to bite you and claim you as his just like he had done with Satoru a bit before.

You whined against the fox’s skin as you buried your face in his neck; he was making you feel amazing, but it wasn’t enough.

The feeling of another set of lips trailing down your arm to your shoulder had you gasping in surprise, and when you turned to see what was happening, you were pleased to see that it was your fellow bunny coming to help. He twitched an ear affectionately in your direction, and you did your best to return the gesture, a sweet – if somewhat fucked out – smile on your face as you looked at him.

Taking the gesture as an invitation, he leaned in and kissed you slow and sweet, his light purrs vibrating into the kiss and making you scrunch your nose as the feeling, but it wasn’t unpleasant. You allowed yourself to get lost in the kiss and the feeling of Suguru’s thick cock filling you better than anything or anyone else ever had, so when you felt two of Satoru’s dexterous fingers land on your clit and start tracing little infinity symbols, you gasped, beginning to writhe under the pleasurable stimulation.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warned, the words escaping you on a high pitched, whining moan, and you clenched around the cock inside you.

Suguru moaned in return, licking up the side of your neck left unblemished by Satoru before he spoke. “That’s okay,” he mumbled into your skin, placing hot, wet, openmouthed kisses haphazardly across your skin. “Let us make you feel good, don’t worry about anything else.”

You could only nod in response to his words, and seconds later you were falling apart, moaning high and breathless as you clenched around him, shuddering and shaking with pleasure. “Bite,” you begged quietly. “Please, alpha, claim me…”

A low, possessive growl rumbled in Suguru’s chest at the sound of you referring to him as “alpha”, and almost instantly he was sinking his fangs into your neck, in the exact same spot he had bitten the other bunny.

The breath was stolen from your lungs as you felt him puncture your scent gland, and while your prey instincts stiffened every muscle in your body for a split second, preparing you to flee for your life, the tension disappeared just as quickly, leaving you practically a puddle underneath your fox.

Just when you thought everything was done, that it couldn’t get any better, you felt Suguru slam into you one last time, flooding your insides with warmth; you also felt the way his knot swelled, stretching you out impossibly more and locking you together for a while.

You wailed at the feeling, nails scraping at his scalp until he released your throat from between his teeth. It was as if all the adrenaline and pain bled out of you from the new bite mark in your neck, and you certainly weren’t complaining.

A soft grunt slipped from your lips as Suguru collapsed on top of you, though he did what he could to keep his full weight off of you. When he deemed that task too difficult, though, he wrapped his arms around you, carefully rolling both of you onto your sides. Satoru was quick to snuggle up behind you, reaching across your body until he could rest a hand on your shared alpha’s hip; Suguru quickly did the same, and once they were touching each other again, they relaxed. You were sure their purring was involuntary, but it was genuine.

You’d certainly slept worse places than between two purring men who loved you.

yeah i.... don't really have anything else to say. this was not proofread so i apologize for any glaring errors. also i don't know how dicks work.

tagging: @lorelune @yutaleks @dr-runs-with-scissors @kentohours @fushigurro (not tagging my usual taglist bc uhh. this is not what y'all signed up for lmao)

dividers by saradika-graphics

#cw omegaverse #tw omegaverse #cw a/b/o #tw a/b/o #if i should tag any other cw/tw lmk & i will!#fallon's fics #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x gojo x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #hmmmmm yeah ik the tags are a mess so that's all i'm gonna do lmao

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wholemleko-art · 9 days ago

Text

comic adaptation of The Blackthorn Tree by boorishbint on ao3

page 24

first | previous | next

here we have the first page that i drew more recently since i picked up the project again! style evolution jumpscare! i drew like 200 pages of Bird of Death between the previous page and this one lol. guys underwent slight design changes

#moomin #blackthorn tree #boorishbint #comic #joxter #muddler #moominpappa #hodgkins #moomins #moominvalley #comics #webcomic #moomin fanart

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dawnagustd · 2 years ago

Text

hours || jjk

⇝ author’s note: she’s here, bitches!!!! lol thank you @m1sss1mp and @monvante for putting posters of this man all over my blog. this fic is for the both of you. thank you so much for holding my hand through it all. thank you @baljinciaga for beta’ing and screaming in the comments because you gave me the confidence to post this lol. listen, i’m rusty with the smut y’all so i apologize if it’s a mess. anyway, i hope you enjoy. this has been beta’d but there’s still probably some errors since i changed some things after it was beta read.

masterlist | permanent taglist form | read on ao3

drabbles: the unholy drabble | nails drabble | keeps

“So are you spending the night or…?”

Jungkook props himself on his elbow so he can see you. He uses his fingers to comb some hair away from his face, revealing his flushed cheeks and a horseshoe septum piercing. Ask yourself how many rounds you’ve gone, and you wouldn’t be able to give an accurate answer.

You came over at six, had a beer, did some karaoke, showed him some shit you learned in twerk class, and as some as the Netflix intro came through the tv speakers, your clothes were scattered all over his apartment and your ass was in the air while Jungkook fucked up your guts.

This is kind of a Wednesday night routine for you two. Has been for a few months. You’re just vibing and having fun with your hot neighbor, nothing serious yet. Right?

“As much as I’d like to stay—”

“Pussy.”

Your mouth falls open.

“Excuse me?”

He giggles until you reach for his hair and tug on his strands. You slide closer, trying to intimidate him but he keeps teasing.

“You’re pussy. You’re tapping out,” he repeats.

You scoff. “Boy, I’ve never tapped out a day in my life. Get the fuck out of here.”

Your thumb wipes the little smirk off of his face, but it returns seconds later.

“Your dick isn’t that good. Humble yourself,” you joke.

His cocky ass knows you’re dickmatized, but you still won’t admit it.

“Whatever. You know I’ve been holding back.”

“And who told you to do that?”

“You,” he answers. “Oh, Jungkook! Please, I’ll come!”

You smack his ink-covered arm drawing a chuckle from his lips.

“You’re so full of shit, Jungkook. Okay, let’s fuck again, and don’t hold back this time,” you request.

Jungkook begins shaking his head, laughing at your persistence.

“Love, the only one getting that kind of dick is my girl so…”

“So what are you trying to say?” you ask.

He shrugs. “You tell me. You know I’ve been trying to see about that.”

An eye roll from you follows his statement. “Whatever, I’ve already let you know how it is.”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you say when you’re not stuffed with cock,” he gripes.

“Well, come here then. I’ll say it in your ear.”

You call him over using your finger, but he doesn’t move.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me, love.”

You throw the covers off of both of you, kicking the comforter until your legs are free. Jungkook doesn’t move initially when you spread your legs. He stays in a sitting position, letting his hair fall in his face while he smiles menacingly. His Calvin Klein’s hug his thick thighs, creating creases in his flesh.

“Well, show. Teach me. Make me aware,” you tease, using your foot to caress his calf.

“Careful, baby.”

His throat growls those words, his voice dropping octaves so low your pussy clenches.

“Why? Tired, hm?”

“You know that’s not it,” he chuckles.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit your pussy gets wet just looking at him. Imagine being hot inside and out. That’s Jungkook. A gentleman, and the cutest weirdo immediately after. The sex is just the cherry on top.

You two just clicked, and the rest is history. Whether you need someone to act an absolute clown with or someone to fuck your brains out, Jungkook is that guy. You can’t keep your hands off of him, and he can never resist the chance to slide his dick in you.

“I don’t. So make me understand.”

“Ai yi yi,” he sighs. Then he looks at you and shakes his head. “...so much attitude.”

“Fix it for me.”

Jungkook nods then swiftly pounces on you. You start giggling, knowing you’ve struck a nerve.

“You’re pushing it, you know.”

“I don’t care,” you retort.

Jungkook smirks. “Oh, you will.”

He lowers his body, leveling his face with your pussy. You can feel small puffs of air leave his lips and come in contact with your center.

Jungkook brings two of his fingers to your entrance and prods teasingly, getting you riled up almost instantly. You grip the sheets and lift your lower body off the bed to chase his digits, but he doesn’t push in.

“Still wet for me?” he asks. Jungkook spreads your folds to examine your arousal, looking at you when he discovers that you’re soaking. “Damn, you are.”

The sound of your slick as your opening widens makes your cheeks burn with shame. You turn away, but Jungkook doesn’t like that.

“Uh, uh. You wanna get fucked, you gotta watch,” he says.

Reluctantly, you give him your attention and you immediately regret looking away. His messy hair and puffy eyes give you butterflies as you wait for his next move. You almost forget about how close his face is to your cunt.

Jungkook’s fingers slowly slip into your pussy. You gasp while they sink deep into your crevice. He knows the exact route and the perfect arch in which he must curl them to make your body quiver with pleasure.

Hearing your arousal filling the room entices both of you and Jungkook becomes eager to pick up the pace. Your hips buck and move in a circular motion to match his movements, creating a familiar build-up of pressure within your core. The sheets below you start to dampen from the juices dripping down your center.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers before he kisses your clit. “And you taste so good.”

Jungkook makes out with your bundle of nerves while his fingers pump in and out of your opening. His hair covers his face, much to your disappointment, so you gather it all and keep it contained in a makeshift ponytail.

Now that his face is visible, you can see the way his tongue swipes your pussy each time his lips part. You moan his name, swelling him with so much pride he can’t help but smile briefly. His fingers slide out of you but only so he can kiss lower and fuck you with his tongue.

The deeper he enters, the more pressure his nose places on your throbbing clit. His septum piercing tickles your center as he rubs his face in your pussy, creating a pleasant sensation that penetrates your core.

Quickly, you lose control over everything. You can feel your stomach tightening, hear your moans getting louder, smell the desire growing stronger but you’re unable to grasp the one thing you so desperately want. It’s so close, but then, Jungkook snatches it away.

“Fuck, you asshole!”

Jungkook suddenly stops just as you’re reaching your peak. He withdraws and leaves you a whining mess while he laughs.

“Oh, now I’m an asshole?” His smirk never fades while he removes his underwear and tosses them on the floor. “I think I’m a gentleman.”

He looks over at the nightstand and sighs defeatedly.

“Fuck, man.”

“What?”

“Out of condoms,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s fine. I’m on the pill. We’re good.”

“Are you sure? I can just finish—”

“No, just pull out, dude. I wanna get fucked,” you insist.

“Well, yes ma’am. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Jungkook hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you on his lap. He keeps one hand underneath your thigh while the other one grabs his dick. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch as he strokes his cock a few times, using your arousal for lubrication before he aligns with your center.

The tip probes your entrance until it’s nestled inside and he no longer needs to hold his shaft. He redirects his attention to your clit, and he massages your bud as he buries his cock inside of you.

“Shit!”

Your back arches and your fist punch the bed. Inch by inch he fills your pussy until he can’t fit any more of himself inside of you. The fullness you feel from his girth leaves you breathless and panting.

“Still so tight,” he whispers. “...feels so good.”

Jungkook hovers over you when you lie down again and kisses you, leaving the taste of your pussy on your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth and arousal coats your tastebuds. Your moans are muffled but are still clearly heard. His name escapes your lips repeatedly as you beg him to fuck you.

“Ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Another kiss graces your lips and then another for your chest. He moves to your breast and does the same to your nipples, but envelopes the right one between his lips and suckles it tenderly. Your arms wrap around him to bring him closer as he starts nibbling your sensitive bud with his teeth.

He starts to move, setting a pace that has your toes curling instantly. You bury your face in his dark strands and beg him to keep going.

“Jungkook, please don’t stop. It’s so good.”

“I’m not,” he promises, sending waves of vibrations through your areola. His mouth feels so warm and moist against your skin. Hair raises along your flesh caused by both the chill of the room and Jungkook’s gentle touch. It’s a contrast from the way he roughly thrusts inside of you, but it’s the kind of fire and ice that has your body yearning for more.

As if he can read your body language, he changes his position. A lewd noise pierces your ears when his lips release your stiffened nipple. The cold air makes your skin tingle due to the sensitivity and the presence of his saliva.

Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. His fingers comb his hair away from his face, revealing his flushed face, his pierced lip tucked between his teeth. The intimacy of the moment intensifies the pleasure growing inside of you, and your watery eyes begin to produce thick salty droplets.

“Feel good, baby?” Jungkook quizzes. “Does it really feel that good?”

“Yes, Jungkook. It…”

Your voice is so weak and raspy. You have difficulty speaking clearly, and articulating your sentences. Jungkook is very displeased.

“Speak up,” he requests. He slaps your tits, leaving you trembling and hanging on by a thread. Your pussy clenches around him, and he responds by squeezing your throat. “You feel that?”

You croak out a response. The best you can with your airways being constricted.

“Good,” he grunts. “That’s how my dick feels inside this tight fucking pussy.”

He loosens his grip and air finally refills your lungs, making you lightheaded. Your head starts spinning, your vision becomes blurry, and slowly the familiar feeling begins to form within your gut. Grabbing Jungkook’s arm, you try to warn him, but you are immediately dismissed.

“Nope. I’m not done.”

Jungkook opens your legs wider and his thrusts deepen. It’s like he’s trying to fit his entire dick inside of you, but each time he runs out of room.

You can feel him entering your guts over and over. The blunt outline of his cock is faintly visible whenever it lodges itself in your womb. Your muscles clench tightly as you try your hardest to keep it together.

One thing’s for certain, he has been holding back. Now you’re addicted to this new side of him, and there’s no other way you want him to fuck you. It feels like no experience you’ve ever had; you can’t get enough, but your body can only take so much before you lose control.

“Ah, shit! You’re fucking tight.” Sweat drips from Jungkook’s forehead as he struggles to hang on. He’s drawing this out; savoring the moment just like you are, but both of you are nearing your peaks, and it’s only moments before you topple over the edge. “I want this forever.”

“You have it, though. I’m not going anywhere,” you promise. “I’m yours.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Jungkook’s movements stutter when he hears your voice speaking to him through your soft moans. Your words are like a match igniting a flame deep inside of him. He begins fucking you harder, like he’s on a mission to ruin you.

“Shit. Come on my dick, baby,” he moans, probably waking the neighbors. “Make a mess.”

At his command, your body gives in and chases the pleasure it’s been longing for. You scream his name like it’s the only word you know. Your soul leaves you lying on the bed and elevates to the ceiling, probably even further. You tremble and shake beneath him as the coil snaps inside of you, sending ripples of pleasure shooting through your veins.

Your arousal gushes out of you with enough force to push Jungkook’s dick out of you. He slaps your pussy repeatedly, milking you dry while he strokes his shaft. As you lay there, squirting out the last of your orgasm, you slowly return to your body, but you’re still basking in your post-sex daze.

“Flip over.”

Jungkook turns you on your stomach and straddles your thighs. He strokes his cock while he stares at your ass, still tender from all the spanking he did early. He slaps it with enough force to get a muffled moan out of you. Your head remains buried in the pillow because your body refuses to move an inch.

“Softest fucking ass on the planet,” he mumbles. “And all mine.”

You relax under his touch as his large hand begins to massage your flesh. You become more exhausted as the seconds tick by. Jungkook’s pants and moans fill your ears as he chases his high, and soon his breaths become shallower, indicating that he’s approaching his release.

“Fuck.”

Moments later warm droplets of his cum paint your ass while Jungkook cries your name. He plops on top of you, careful not to use all of his weight, and leaves kisses along your shoulder. When his breathing settles, he gets up and finds a shirt to clean your body. He covers you with the blanket when he’s done so you aren’t cold.

“Are you still with me?” he asks, and you giggle.

“I’m here.”

“Well, I wish you’d say something.”

When you turn your head in his direction, you find him standing there in all of his naked glory, his dick slowly deflating, but still standing at attention while he chugs down his leftover beer.

“Maybe you should drink some water,” you suggest.

He puts the mug down and raises a finger. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll be back.”

When Jungkook leaves, the door remains open and someone else enters the room moments later. You don’t even flinch when Bam jumps on the bed, claiming his spot at the end. You’re just glad he’s finally warmed up to you. At first, you think he was a little jealous, but you guess he realized that with you in the picture, he receives two times the love and attention.

Jungkook’s footsteps make their way down the hall and he’s shocked by the sight of his pup lying beside you when he enters the room.

“I see you two have finally become friends,” he points out. He walks over to the bed and gives Bam some love while he whispers to him. “Don’t steal my girl, dude.”

You giggle and shake your head, as if Bam would ever leave his side. You’ve noticed that he has been more drawn to you lately, but you think it’s just him getting used to you being around. He knows you aren’t going to steal his dad from him, so now he’s more open to spending time with you.

“Did you bring me some water?”

Jungkook nods. “Of course.”

He gives you the water bottle and you sit up so you can drink some. Jungkook sits beside you and waits for you to finish.

You know he’s about to ask you something, so you quickly gulp down your water to get it over and done with.

On cue, he speaks.

“You still haven’t given me an answer.”

“Ah,” you sigh. “I don’t know, Jungkook.”

“That’s not an answer. I mean no is fine, but I just wanted some kind of idea about where this is going,” he states.

You’ve thought about it, and dating Jungkook isn’t a bad idea. You’re just nervous because this is going so well and you don’t want to mess it up. However, the advice your friend gave you a week ago still plays in your mind.

“If you really need more time, it’s fine but I feel like you’ve been holding back too. I want you in my life, Bam wants you to be his mom, and—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, fighting back a smile, but you fail.

“What is it?”

You set your water on the nightstand and grab his hand. You absentmindedly trace his tattoos, while you talk to him.

“I’m nervous because I don’t want this ‘honeymoon’ phase to end,” you start. You can see his shoulders droop because he thinks this is bad news. However, it's not. “But every day we grow closer, so why should I let my mind prevent my heart from being happy?”

“You are so fucking trashed,” he blurts out. “Did I really fuck you that good?”

“Jungkook shut the fuck up. I was trying to be deep. Leave me alone.”

You try to turn away and go to bed but he pulls you on his lap.

“Hey, I’m kidding. That was cute,” he says. “I got it. You like me, and I like you. Let’s just continue to take it slow.”

“Thanks.”

“Mhm. But just so we’re clear, you’re my girlfriend now by default because we just… Well, you know.”

“I’ll be that,” you reply. “As long as you’re my… boy boy b-b-b-b-b-boyfriend.”

When Jungkook rolls his eyes, you erupt with laughter, knowing he doesn’t want to admit he likes BTR.

“Whatever, go to sleep.”

“In my bed, or yours?” you ask.

“Don’t start.”

You both snuggle together on the dry side of the bed while Bam snores peacefully at your feet. Jungkook hugs you from behind and the two of you slowly drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight,” you whisper.

But your boyfriend has already tapped out. Looks like you’re the real champ around here.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and/or leaving feedback.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #thekpopuniverse #bangtansorciere #bangtanbathhouse #kvanity #jungkook fanfics #fic: hours #sugakookitty

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sundew199 · 3 months ago

Text

Times Two

a/n: good lord this is long and filthy. If you prefer to read it on AO3, it'll be linked. I've also never written a threesome before and tried my best, hopefully it isn't too horrible :)

words: 8,180

tags: Reiner x Jean x F!reader, rough sex, rough oral sex, Eiffel tower position, slight panty kink (Reiner), cum eating, Reiner and Jean are Bisexual, College AU, Reijean if you pay attention or care lol, pet names

What was it about Reiner and Jean that had you constantly glued to their hips? If you’re friends were to ask they’d say it was a double crush you were denying. If you asked your family their answers would vary from underlying crush, to enjoying being the center of attention or a close friendship. You personally didn’t think you were attached to their hips at first, but the more people started to whisper and theorize, you started to ask yourself the question. In reality, Reiner and Jean were your closest and longest friends, surviving multiple friend groups and growing up. You met Reiner in grade school, sat next to him on the first day of fourth grade and throughout the whole year due to the teacher’s assigned seating. The two of you might as well have been siblings, walking home together, eating dinner and playing at each other's house, even his mom and your parents were close after a while. Jean entered the scene later, seventh grade to be exact when he transferred mid year and as luck would have it the three of you shared almost all classes together. Reiner was the one who sought out Jean’s friendship and you became friends by proxy and from then on all the way to college the three of you were tight knit.

Attending the same university is what you think further solidified the glue between the three of you, swearing to everyone it wasn’t intentional to attend the same university together. Some believed you and others didn’t, but you really didn’t care. Thankfully rumors spreading about you being in a three way relationship with them ended going to college, high school was rampant. You’d admit that it did bother you, because why couldn’t you be really good friends with two guys? Why did everyone have to make it seem the other way around? Reiner and Jean never hesitated to defend your honor against the rumors, landing themselves in suspension once or twice when defending you turned physical. Even when you tried to blame yourself, they never allowed it.

Now when people questioned what the true nature of your friendship was with them, you’d play into the bit and come up with wildly different answers on how the dynamics of the relationship worked. Reiner and Jean both got a kick out of it as did you.

Junior year of college is what changed things for the three of you. Since you couldn’t room with them in the dorms since they were guys, all three of you decided to rent a condo off campus. You’d spent almost all your life with both of them so there wasn’t any harm in living with them, besides all three of you were just friends.

Towards the end of the first semester of junior year already and finals quickly approaching, you were buried in your books, studying like a madman to keep your GPA around or above a 3.5, needing the best possible grades to earn the degree you were working towards. Jean and Reiner had it easy in your mind, ashy haired man working towards a degree in Art History and the blonde meathead shooting towards that finance degree. In hindsight, they didn’t have it much easier than you, but they were also stupidly smart in their own respective studies. You envied them in a sense.

It was chilly out, keeping two blankets wrapped around you sitting at your desk and scrolling through the notes you took the other day to refresh your mind for the practice test on Monday. As much as you wanted to deny it, you need a mental break from school but wouldn’t allow yourself to take it, not when so much was riding on the line.

“Hey.”

Jumping in your chair at the sound of a gruff voice at your bedroom door, blinking and rubbing your eyes from staring at the screen for too long. Swiveling to face whichever one of them it was, you wrapped the blanket around you tightly.

“Yea.”

“Are you still planning on watching the season premier of the show later?” Reiner asked, tapping his knuckles on your doorframe and leaning into it. Your eyes refused to focus on his face and instead on the bulging bicep through the fabric of the long sleeve shirt he wore. Since when were his arms that big? I mean fuck you knew he worked out but you’d never noticed how ripped his arms alone were.

“Yeah if I finish going through my notes.”

Reiner scoffed, rolling his eyes and approaching you, reaching over you to slam the laptop shut, deciding for you if you were going to look over the rest of your notes or not.

“Reiner-”

“You’ve been holed up in here for almost two days. I know finals are important but I’ll bet your brain is fried to a crisp.” Defiantly declaring, crossing those beefy ass arms over his chest and waiting for you to give in like he knew you would.

Whatever. The premier of the new season of the show the three of you watched would only be an hour, and then you could return to forcing yourself to absorb as much information as possible. Sighing dramatically for effect and throwing the blankets off of yourself, you uncross your stupidly numb legs and ignore the sharp tingles running up from your foot as you stride over to the small closet to put on a sweatshirt. Reiner didn’t bother leaving as you tossed your t-shirt and bra from where you stood partially out of view to pull the sweatshirt over your head.

“Jean is picking up food and drinks - is that my sweatshirt that I haven’t been able to find?” Sounding hurt and accusatory as you brushed past him out of your room, looking back to nod with a smile, because yes it was his and it was his fault for mixing it in with your laundry. He muttered down the small hallway to the main area of the condo all three of you shared, pinching your shoulder when he purposely knocked past you, hearing the muttering replaced with chuckles.

One of them had taken the liberty to find all the blankets that were supposed to already be in the living room and tossed them all over the couch, setting up for the three of you to comfortably watch the premier. You could hear Reiner in the kitchen that flowed into the open concept living room, making a whole bunch of unnecessary noise in trying to find whatever it was. If you were being honest, living with your closest friends was turning into living with siblings, getting into pointless arguments and doing everything to get on each other's nerves. Would you change it to live with a regular roommate that could be a hit or miss in how well you got alone? Hell no.

Finding a spot on the couch while waiting for Jean, you decided to look through all the notifications you missed while studying for hours. Some of your classmates were checking in, or asking questions about the notes, contemplating on whether you should respond. They could wait, Reiner was probably right when he said your brain was fried at this point. Checking social media quickly turned into envy seeing some of your other friends enjoying the holiday break, done with their finals and celebrating by jumping from parties to bars or wherever they sold cheap alcohol. If only you were done with finals so you could actually destress, but that just wasn’t in the cards.

Jean came through the door after barreling through it, hands full with food and drinks. From the strong aroma, you knew he went to go get wings, always choosing the messiest option somehow.

“Damn out of your room finally? Swore you died or something.” Commenting with a smirk as he passed by the couch to get to the kitchen where Reiner was snickering at his comment. Rolling your eyes instead of lashing back, you joined them in the kitchen to plate some of the food and momentarily forget about the weight of finals.

“Please tell me you didn’t just get beer.” Approaching the center island of the kitchen, noticing the familiar white box in one of the bags that happened to be Jean and Reiner’s preferred drink of choice. If they wanted to give you a break, they would’ve at least gotten drinks that didn’t take four or five to actually start to feel the buzz.

“No, I got you those lemonade drinks.”

Ugh you could kiss him. As much as you loved Jean as a friend he had a tendency to forget to grab whatever you needed when he went out, always having to send you or Reiner back to the store to go grab it. Taking the glass bottle and popping the lid, the tingling fizzy drink left a slight burn as it went down your throat, just the right amount for you to down an entire six pack in a night and not regret your life choices in the morning.

“Shows about to start.” Reiner announced after checking his phone, taking his plate with him to the couch. You and Jean did the same, grabbing the drinks as well to keep from having to get up and get another if you wanted.

Sitting next to Reiner at a reasonable distance, Jean plopped down next to you and ended up sandwiching you between them. They were doing the absolute most to work every single one of your nerves, but you didn’t want to lash out again like you did earlier this week when one of them accidently ate your leftovers in the fridge. Tucking your feet under you as Reiner found the streaming service the show was premiering on, you actually didn’t mind being squished between them, their combined body heat doing more than the blanket over your lap would warm you up.

The host for the show gave a quick recap of last season, breaking down the drama and how it might affect this season. This dating competition game that you had started watching out of boredom surprisingly took the guys interest, somehow watching it with you when it was on to turning into offense when you’d watch the latest episode without them. Despite the show being corny and scripted and at times unbearable to watch, it was nice to do something like this with them.

“I swear to god if Jodi and that dick Preston aren’t broken up I might not watch the show anymore.”

Jean hummed in agreement with Reiner, guzzling down the rest of his first beer and reaching for another. “I know, he’s so fucking annoying and Jodi is either dumb or desperate if she hasn’t left him yet.”

Biting back a laugh as you took a bite of one of the wings, you looked at both of them to see they were being completely serious, so engrossed in this stupid show. The premise of this variant of a dating show was two people are paired up as a couple in the beginning and go through a series of challenges to see if they’re right for each other. Couples who continuously didn’t work together could get voted off or petition to break up with their partner. The downside was if there wasn’t another couple trying to split, you could be left without a partner and voted off, ya know all those stupid dating show rules that make you question why anyone would sign up to do it.

Finally beginning to destress while nursing your vodka infused lemonade, it all went to shit when the couple you were rooting for petitioned to split.

“Oh my god no! Why?! They were so good together!” Exclaiming and throwing your arms up, throwing your head back into the couch and pouting like a child.

“Man that sucks, but he did fuck Serena last season so I’d leave him to.” Reiner commented, grabbing your attention even more, failing to recall that important detail.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, they were getting each other off in that hallway, remember? Moaning so loud it's a shocker no one heard them.” Jean answered, laughing a little as he recalled the scene you’d clearly missed.

“Yea! She was standing there going ‘oh josh faster! I'm going to cum, oh my god I’m so close!’” Reiner took it upon himself to imitate the moans one of the contestants were making, and you wouldn’t have felt as uncomfortable if it wasn't for that throaty laugh he let out there at the end, turning your cheeks flush with pink and throwing back the rest of your drink to hide it. Jean found Reiner’s imitation hilarious, laughing a bit harder than you’d imagine he would if he wasn’t finishing his second beer already, grabbing another and throwing his arm behind the couch and slouching, lifting his hips in the air trying to get comfortable.

Suddenly the short commercial playing on screen was so interesting, taking small sips of the second bottle of lemonade and trying to drown out the sounds of their talking over you. Studying your ass off for the last couple of months left you little to no time to snag yourself a quick one night stand. You’d been able to ignore the urges and pour everything into your notes and reviews, but fuck it was harder than you expected. Espescially when you pick up on conversations between Reiner and Jean on their nights out, the girls they sometimes went home with and wishing you were getting fucked into the next semester. When all three of you moved in here, everyone agreed not to bring anyone home, unless clearing it with the other two that they’d be gone for the night. It hadn’t happen yet (that you were aware of) and you were glad, unsure how you’d feel knowing one of your best friends was getting their dick wet and having to listen to it.

Regular programming returned and tried as you did to focus on what was unfolding, you just couldn’t. Replaying Reiner’s laugh in your head and Jean’s hip motion, turning you warm all over and settling something funny yet familiar in your abdomen. You wouldn’t lie and say you haven’t though about fucking one of them, mostly they were just passing thoughts and that was it, but now? Jesus fucking christ your head was a mess. This what you get for turning down outings with other friends to study, leaving you hornier than a motherfucker. It’d be fine, the show only had about thirty minutes left and then you could go back to studying and rub one out if you really needed to.

“I wonder why there aren’t any same sex couples? I’d like to see how that plays out.” Jean’s words had a slight slur to them as he spoke, now reclined completely with his feet propped up on the coffee table.

“Wasn’t there one last season?” Reiner asked, in a similar position as Jean, one arm behind his head and his half drank beer between his thighs.

“Mm no, I think Zach and Marco made out on a dare but they weren’t a couple.” Giving them an answer after searching through your brain for that jaw dropping scene from last season that had everyone talking about on social media.

“Oh yea I remember that, that was hot.” Jean slurred, heat dripping in his words and causing you to raise an eyebrow. Maybe it was because he was drunk, that was what you told yourself instead of questioning how your friend really felt about that scene unfolding.

Every little movement either of them did drew your attention, watching as Reiner drank the last of his beer, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, only to be pulled away by Jean’s groans as he adjusted on the couch. They weren’t doing it on purpose and you were tipsy so that explained the clenching of your thighs to ease the throb, not because you were getting turned on by them.

A preview of next week's episode played at the end of the premier, taking the liberty to watch it before getting up and heading back to your room to get your mind out of the gutter. But as you walked away, Reiner grabbed your wrist, pulling you back towards him lazily.

“Leaving already?”

“I said I’d watch the premier with you guys and then study before going to bed.” Ignoring how large his hand looked around your wrist and how warm it was on your skin, taking in a sharp breath.

“It’s Friday though.” The blonde whined, the slight inebriation turning him a bit sappy.

“Play a game of cards with us and then go, please.” Jean chimed in, fluttering those hazel eyes at you, begging to spend just a little more time together.

Not giving it much thought, you let out a sigh and walked to the media console below where the T.V hung on the wall to grab the deck of cards. Surely there was a quick game the three of you could play that wouldn’t send your mind further into the gutter or put you in a compromising situation. Jean managed to get up and grab some water for everyone, tossing one to you and Reiner as he sat down on the floor behind the coffee table, leaning back into the couch for support.

“One round of B.S, alright?” Shuffling the cards between your hands and the table, repeatedly doing so that way everyone played fairly.

“Lame but alright.” Jean agreed, chugging some of the water and sharing a look with Reiner that you didn’t understand and didn’t care to acknowledge.

Dividing the entire deck between the three of you, now waiting for one of them to put down the ace of spades to begin the game. Reiner ended up having it and motioned towards you to go next. This game used to be a staple for you guys, playing every chance you got and getting into heated arguments whenever someone suspected someone else of putting down the incorrect card.

The game went quietly in the beginning, until you picked up on Jean and Reiner putting down cards that they ‘supposedly’ had, smiling behind your deck every time they called out cards that were in your deck, the only thing keeping you from calling them out was waiting until the deck got a little thicker.

“Two eights.” Reiner called out, looking at you to go next.

“Bullshit.”

“Ha! You sure? Cause I promise you I just put down two eights.” Reiner laughed, encouraging you to rethink your decision but also egging you on to check in hopes of watching you take the entire deck.

“Check it.” Jean motivated from beside you, pushing his shoulder with yours. Reiner still had that confident look on his face which did end up making you regret your call out a bit, second guessing if you were right to call his bluff. No matter what since you called B.S, you had to check and you were going to livid if it actually was two eights.

Reaching forward and thumbing apart the top two cards from the rest of the deck, you snuck a peak and saw what you didn’t want to see; two eights.

“Nevermind, I take it back.” Knowing that wasn’t how the game worked but hoping you could worm your way out of it.

“Uh uh, check.” Reiner insisted while standing up, coming to lean over you from behind, taking your arm and trying to force you to check the first two cards so the entire deck would go to you. Doing everything to resist, laughing as the man behind you snarled and laughed in your ear, still trying to force you to check with his hand over yours. Jean was leaning over to help, slipping an arm under the one that held your deck in the other hand, sandwiching you between them for the second time that night.

“Just check, it’s okay if you’re a loser this round.” The taller of the two sneered in your other ear, brushing his lips over the shell and letting out a breathy laugh. You instantly shivered and became much more aware of your position, Reiner pressed into you from behind and Jean from the side. Heat rose in your entire body, refusing to let yourself enjoy the firm muscular bodies rubbing against yours.

Resistance faltered completely as you got caught up in the overwhelming thoughts and sensations coursing through you, Reiner succeeding in getting your hand to flip over the top three cards, chuckling directly into ear.

“Now was that so hard?” So close to the side of your face, you couldn’t help but turn and meet him. His eyes were still a bit hazy from the alcohol but not enough for you to feel guilty for leaning in and pressing your lips to his.

Reiner gasped softly, giving into the feel of your soft plush lips on his and parting them when he felt yours begin to. You had absolutely no explanation for what spurred you to lean in and kiss what you considered your best friend, but you did and fuck did it feel nice. Reiner’s lips were surprisingly soft and the lingering remnants of his beer on his tongue kept you latched to his mouth.

Behind you, Jean watched intrigued, though not entirely shocked. He would feel left out if he weren’t enjoying his two best friends making out on the floor of the living room, noticing how his sweat pants turned a little tighter. He smirked when Reiner peeked an eye open, a silent invitation to join in while pulling away from you. Jean wasted no time grabbing you by the back of your neck and slotting his lips into yours, sighing delightfully and wasting no time moving them with his.

There wasn’t enough time for you to process that it was Jean you were kissing now, your other best friend, letting out a small moan when his tongue dipped into your mouth. He was slightly more insistent than Reiner was, moving faster and with a purpose but still reeling you in as your mouths stayed locked together.

Coming up for air, not even wanting to think about what had just happened, you stood quickly.

“C’mon,” Nodding towards what you think was Reiner’s room, knowing that if you gave yourself a moment to consider what you were about to do, you’d back out and hole yourself away in your room and never speak of this again.

Both of them were quick to follow, smiling victoriously behind you. The door shut and you sat on the edge of Reiner’s bed, looking at both of them and debating on how this should continue to carry out. Consequences could come later, right now you’d gotten a taste of what you’d been actively avoiding for the sake of a GPA and needing so much more.

“However you want to do this, I’m down.” Voicing your consent and ultimately putting all of your trust in both of them. You would admit this could be smoother sailing since you’d known both of them since childhood basically, but just not like that. There wouldn’t be much need to worry about keeping them in check like you would if it were someone you went home from the bar with and part of that excited you.

Out of the two of them, Jean approached first, standing between your legs and grabbing your face and kissing you again. Slowly as your mouths returned to motions from minutes ago, the taller man began to push you back into the bed, holding himself above you with his hands beside your head. The bed dipped in the sudden weight of another person, knowing it was Reiner.

Slender hands slipped under your sweatshirt, roaming around your skin and littering it with goosebumps. You gasped when the lith fingers brushed the underside of your breast, remembering you weren’t wearing a bra. Jean chuckled into your lips, humming as he dared to cup the flesh, sighing pleasantly when brushing his thumb over your nipple.

Abruptly his mouth left yours, leaving you dazed and sitting up to search for his lips, only to see hands that weren’t Jean’s pulling his shirt off. Reiner stood on his knees just behind your head, tossing the shirt to the other side of the room and giving a playful smack to Jean’s pectoral.

“Sharing is caring by the way.” The blonde rumbled behind you, scolding Jean and pinching his nipple teasingly, hearing Jean hiss softly before Reiner slipped his arms under your armpits and hauling you to face him. He was in nothing but his boxer briefs, the faint imprint of his half hard cock catching your eyes and widening at how big it looked beneath the fabric. Fuck you hadn’t even thought about how big either of them were, both impressively fit and no doubt having a dick to match the rigid muscles rippling over their bodies.

Falling with Reiner as he leaned back on the bed, you threw your legs over his torso and smashed your mouth to his, feeling another set of hands from behind you lift the hem of your sweatshirt until you were bare from the waist up. The man below you groaned when you sat up on his abdomen, running his hand across your stomach. Acquainted hands from earlier snakes around to your chest, Jean cupping both of your tits and softly kissing down your neck while circling his thumbs over your nipples.

“Fuck,” Reiner breathed from below, raising his hips as he watched Jean tease and stimulate your nipples in to pert buds. Mindlessly, you began to scoot down until you came in contact with the bulge beneath Reiner’s boxers, grinding in time with Jean’s circling thumbs. The blonde groaned again, bringing his hands to your hips and encouraging you.

“Eager huh?” A voice teased, pinching both nipples harshly and sucking the side of your neck. You couldn’t think of anything but the rising heat in your body, the teasing from Jean and the quieted groans from Reiner below. Maybe you were stupid for never giving this a shot before, both seemed eager and willing to please and show you what a good time looked like.

“Are these my sweat pants?” Jean asked, pulling off of your neck and slipping one of his hands to the waistband of said sweats, snapping the band against your skin.

“Mhm.” Unable to give any other answer as Reiner started rolling his hips up to yours, matching the roll of your own. Wasn’t intentional to wear either of their clothes but seeing how it looked now only made you more desperate for them and if that got you what you wanted, then where was the harm. Reiner began to tug at the waistband, sitting up on his elbows after hearing the short conversation between you and Jean, aiding him by lifting your hips and no longer straddling his waist.

Enough teasing, you decided, pulling down Reiner’s boxer briefs after he tossed the sweats aside, gripping the base and watching his face contort at the contact. He was thick from the base up, intimidating you from the sight and size alone. Jean chuckled, moving to lay beside his friend, cupping the side of his face and hovering above his lips. Interesting to see there was no resistance from Reiner when their lips slipped together, craning to reach the ashy haired man like he was desperate for his taste. Smirking while the two of them made out, you flattened your tongue over the top of Reiner’s cockhead, fluttering your eyes at the delicious groan that Jean swallowed from Reiner. It’d take some working up to taking his dick all the way down, girthy enough to know your jaw would ache when it was all said and done.

Sucking around the head and moaning when Reiner’s hand reached down to grip Jean’s dick still shielded by the fabric of his briefs, seeing his hand move up and down. Had they done this before? You couldn't help but wonder the more you took Reiner’s dick down seeing how they were both so comfortable with each other’s touch, and the slight jealousy of being left out. Jean’s hip rutted into Reiner’s hand, breaking their make out session to finally pull his briefs off and give you a look at what he was packing as well. It was slightly longer than Reiner’s, by an inch or two but not as thick, pausing your bobbing head to stare between his legs.

“I think she likes it.” Reiner hissed, bringing a hand to your head, pushing you further down his dick and letting his head fall back when the tip brushed the back of your throat.

“Haven’t met anyone who hasn’t.” Jean quipped back, moving off the bed and coming to stand behind you. You watched Reiner’s eyes follow him, a sly smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. Warm hands massaged your ass cheeks, gasping around the cock still deep in your throat when two fingers swiped over your clothed pussy.

“Fucking soaked.” He commented behind you, Reiner groaning approvingly as he still guided your head up and down on his dick. Jean then pulled your panties down, tossing them over to Reiner who shamelessly brought them to his nose, listening to him mutter a few words and pull you off of his dick to give you a break. Jean then took to spreading you apart, licking a strip from your clit to your entrance, squeaking out a moan and falling forward onto Reiner’s abdomen. The blonde pulled you forward until your tits dangled in his face, taking one into his mouth.

“Holy shit-” Gasping at the double stimulation, forgetting all shame and grinding back into Jean’s face, who appreciated the gesture with a firm slap to one ass cheek, dipping his tongue inside you, slurping obnoxiously. You were shaking, struggling to hold yourself up, moaning like the whore you felt like. Reiner managed to keep you steady above him, holding you so he could bite and suck at your over sensitive nipples. You knew both of them were experienced but fuck, they were intent on making it impossible to make any future hookups impossible to enjoy, hoping this wouldn’t be a one time thing.

Reiner suddenly bit down hard on your nipple, pulling off it with a tug and causing you to wince at the slight pain. Unsure of what would cause him to do that, you turned around to see one of Jean’s hands between your bodies, languidly stroking the blonde’s spit coated dick. This wasn’t exactly the right time to question the nature of your two friends' relationship, but the way Reiner was moaning and struggling to return to the task at hand, it continuously flashed in the back of your head. Jean was still buried in your pussy while simultaneously jacking Reiner off, pressing your forehead to Reiner’s and practically synchronizing your moans.

“Fuck, have you two done this before?” asking the man below you, watching his slow nod come before his answer.

“Yea - fuck - every once in a while.” panting as his hips grinded into Jean’s hand, and sitting up enough to where he could pry the man away, seconds away from cumming.

Jean took the hint, also pulling away from your pussy and stroking it affectionately. You winced at the final slap he gave to your ass, coming back to lay beside Reiner, taking the side of his face and turning it towards him.

“Pussy tastes fuckin’ devine.”

“Oh yea?” Bolding swiping his tongue over Jean’s bottom lip, speaking as if you weren’t there listening to them talk. You watched as they kissed again, yearning for the combined taste and chastising yourself for not noticing the signs for whatever they had going on sooner.

“Think I need a better taste for myself, lay down for me baby.” Reiner instructed, already moving to get out from under you. Jean chuckled deviously, pecking the side of your mouth and moving to the very back of the bed, reclining against the headboard, patting his inner thigh. Reiner immediately knew what he was wanting and waited until you were sitting between the other man’s legs to center him between yours.

“Keep’em spread for me.” Glancing up to the other man, running his palms over your inner thighs.

You were already so sensitive from Jean eating you out minutes ago, you were afraid you weren’t going to last much longer. Nevertheless, you let Jean hook your legs over his and watched on baited breath as the blonde examined your slick and puffy folds.

“Fuck, such a pretty pussy.” His voice so airy, breathing over your cunt prior to latching onto your clit. Your back arched off of Jean’s chest, whining at the intentionally harsh sucks. The man behind you held you down with an arm around your chest, chuckling right beside your ear. Reiner looked up, smiled against your tingling flesh and flicked his tongue over your clit while he continued to suck.

Jesus fucking christ, it was too much, you were already starting to feel yourself cum when Jean’s hand tipped your head back. “Don’t cum, not yet gorgeous.”

“Jean, I can’t.” Mewling pathetically, feeling the beginnings of tears at your waterline from the overstimulation.

“Sure you can.” Giving a slow grind of his dick on your lower back, the promise of a silent reward if you did what you were told. Keeping your head thrown back on his shoulder you shamelessly moaned and whimpered as Reiner alternated between sucks and swirls of his tongue, listening to his chuckles as you writhed against Jean. He finally pulled away only to shove his middle and ring finger inside, pulling you too look at him by your chin as he sat on his knees between your legs and furiously fingered you.

“Fuck look at you, so pretty baby.” He cooed with a smirk, running along the spongy part deep inside of you and giving a small tilt of his head, knowing you would take it as your indicator to cum.

You came on a broken cry, arched off Jean’s chest and pulsating around Reiner’s fingers. Both of them laughed endearingly at their combined success at getting you to come. Reiner pulled his fingers out, locked his eyes with yours and sucked the two digits clean. Jean was the one who moaned behind you at the act, dick still grinding into your lower back subtly.

“Think you’re okay to take one of us?” One of them asked, still delirious from your orgasm to tell who was asking. You gave a nod and sat forward, not really caring how but still feeling the ache in your cunt for more.

“Alright hands and knees then princess.” It was Jean instructing, hearing his voice vibrate in his chest that was still pressed to your back.

On shaky legs you sat on your knees, watching them move around as you positioned yourself on all fours. Reiner was still behind you, massaging your ass cheeks and letting out huffs of appreciation at your puffy wet folds, his and Jean’s handy work. Jean sat on his knees in front of your face, running a loose fist over his angry cock, using the pre-cum leaking from the slit to lubricate his motions.

“If it’s too much, pinch my thigh or kick the brute behind you.” Jean swooned, holding your head up to look at him as he spoke, stroking his thumb over your bottom lip, watching the anticipation blaze in his irises.

“We’ll take care of you angel,” Reiner pressed himself into your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear and sending a shiver down your spine. All you could do was nod, witness the shared glance between both of them and wait on pins and needles.

The fat head of Reiner’s cock started to slide between your folds teasingly, wetting the tip and making it hard to focus on your gentle kisses you were giving to Jean’s. It was good they were both aware of their size and knew they couldn’t just shove themselves in disregarding you completely, but holy shit, if your weeping cunt wasn’t enough to entice Reiner to slip inside you already then you weren’t sure what will.

A hand held your jaw when you enclosed your lips around the tip, sucking long and slow, tasting the salty pre that continuously leaked out. Jean’s head was thrown back, the defined muscles cascading over his body clenching the more you took in his cock more. You could hear Reiner chuckle on a low breath, pushing just the tip inside of you and giving a full body shutter. If their goal was to drive you insane with their pace, it was working, taking things into your own hands and pushing your hips back into Reiner until you were flush to his pelvis.

He choked, dug his fingers into your hip and somewhat growled with the ragged breaths he was taking. It was Jean’s turn to laugh now, the sound so disgustingly seductive you could feel yourself grow wetter around the cock you shoved yourself on.

“God you’re fucking tight, feels so good.” The blonde breathed out, pulling his hips back nearly all the way, returning the favor by thrusting forward and sending Jean’s cock deeper down your throat. The hand not holding your chin tangled harshly in your hair, looking down with parted lips and hooded eyes at the sight and little reaction you gave. They may have known you all your life but they didn’t know how well you could take dick, letting a small amount of pride surge through you at their astonishment.

Their rhythm synchronized quickly, settling somewhere in the middle of not too soft and not too rough, letting you adjust to their respective sizes. You knew it wouldn’t last before they abandoned it all and used you to find their pleasure, just from radiating restraint coming off of them, eventually fucking your throat and pussy like you were nothing but a hole to be filled and that thought alone was exciting.

“Shit, do that again.” Jean breathily exclaimed, enjoying the method of your tongue swirling around his shaft as he plunged in and out of your mouth, tipping your head back with the hand still in your hair. Giving him a hum, you repeated the action, felt your stomach flip in on itself as he moaned prettily.

There was a slight hitch in breath from the man behind you, faltering in his thrusts and seemingly regaining his composure. Something about Reiner experiencing the same surge of arousal as your were at Jean’s expression and action thickened the lust hanging in the air around you. He didn’t resume his pace like you were expecting him to, but yanked back into focus on Jean tightening his grip in your hair and pistoning his hips forward, fucking your throat with vigor, something snapping inside him.

“There you go, gorgeous.” Growling, inhaling sharply through his nose. Your eyes were welling up with tears, the ache in your jaw beginning but you didn’t want to stop, not until his cum was trickling down your throat, leaving you no choice but to swallow. Reiner palmed both of your ass cheeks, spreading them far apart and slamming into with the same force Jean was. This sudden switch up had your legs nearly buckling, tears rolling down your cheeks and pathetic whines and whimpers muffled. Your pussy fluttered around Reiner everytime Jean thrusted down your throat, the wet squelching noise turning obscene, your gummy walls sucking the blonde back in over and over, like your pussy craved to be stretched and fucked on his thick cock.

“Fuck she feels so good, so wet,” Reiner groaned, talking to Jean, again like you weren’t there.

“Mm, she sucks cock better than you.” Jean groaned back at the mental image his friend was painting, acknowledging your mouth felt just as good as your pussy probably did.

“Not my fault, you barely give me a chance before trying to get me inside you.”

Their banter of a conversation sending you into a new wave of arousal, images of their bulky bodies fighting over who would fuck who and never in your life did you think something like that would turn you on. Despite it being your two best friends fueling these fantasizing images, you couldn’t help but want to be in the middle of that from here on out. From the way both of them fucked you, there wasn’t any desire to look for anymore hook-ups, not when the two perfect candidates were right here.

“Gonna cum princess, be a good girl and swallow it all for me.” A husky voice drawing you back to reality, doing your best to give him a nod and look up at him with doe-like eyes, a trick that worked on just about every guy.

With a slow drawn out groan, Jean pushed the entirety of his cock into your mouth and down your throat, pressing your nose to the happy trail below his belly button. Hot ropes of cum shot down your throat, feeling him ease up and pull out of your mouth so he wouldn’t accidentally choke you with his cum. He gave you a lopsided smile, wiping away the milky liquid from your bottom lip and the corner of your mouth with his thumb, shuffling over to Reiner who was still fucking your pussy absolutely raw. You could only assume the blonde cleaned off the cum smeared thumb Jean presented him, based on the hiss and brief collision of mouths.

A heavy palm landed on the center of your back, forcing you off of your elbows holding you up and forming a deep arch in your back. From this angle, Reiner was able to sink so much deeper inside you, splitting you in half on his thick cock, crying out with a moan.

“Glad I held off, been dying to hear those pretty moans again baby.” He chuckled, putting more of his weight into the hand on your back, forcing you to keep the arch.

“Fuck Reiner, don’t stop.” Gasping, twisting the bedsheets in a tight fist, the tears welling up in your eyes again.

“Don’t plan to, sweetheart, I want to see you leaking by the time I’m done.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, unable to stop the constant moans and incoherent noises leaving your lips. Jean had come back into view, partially laying down beside you, keeping your hair out of your eyes and giving you a look of endearing smugness, like watching you getting fucked by Reiner was better than fucking you himself.

Skin slapping on skin echoed in the bedroom, your body coated in a layer of sweat and your limbs so weak that if it weren’t for Reiner holding you by the hips now, you wouldn’t be able to keep yourself upright. Your spongy walls clenched repeatedly around him after another orgasm, unsure of how many at this point.

“Doin’ so good, doll.” Jean cooed, pinching the nipple he had been messing with and muffling your broken squeak with a soft kiss, keeping you occupied. Reiner grunted, beginning to break his steady harsh rhythm and fucking into you furiously with abandon. His breathing turned into short gasps, letting out something of a whine, tipping his head back with two final slams of his hips before cumming inside of you.

A familiar warmth filled your pussy, moaning weakly into Jean’s lips, giving up on holding your position. Reiner pulled out slowly, groaning as he watched a glob of his cum drip from your hole. You collapsed on the bed, forcing yourself to turn over and lay on your back, placing your hands over your eyes to ease the dizziness you were experiencing.

Just when you thought all the nerve endings in your body were shot, you sprung forward when a flat tongue glided over your folds, seeing Reiner lap up the mess he made between your legs, smirking and moving out of the way so Jean could do the same thing.

“Fucking filthy.” Muttering at the sight of them both taking turns cleaning you up, your legs twitching and tingling from sensitivity. They both looked at you guiltless, even though you were shaking with overstimulation that didn’t stop you from pressing Jean’s head into your folds, watching as he eagerly lapped at Reiner’s cum. They switched again, Reiner being gentler this time, only running his tongue across your messy slit twice before using his middle finger to shove some of it back in.

Reiner moves out from between your legs to lay beside you, cradling the side of your face for the sole purpose of giving you a taste of his cum. You were just as shameless, moaning into the kiss and running your hand through his sweaty hair, feeling him smirk against your lips. He pulled away, grabbing Jean by the back of the neck and slotting his lips between his, kissing him rather tenderly.

With zero strength to make it to the bathroom, let alone your room to grab a change of clothes, Reiner and Jean took the liberty of taking care of you. Both of them pulling on their sweats thrown around the room, Reiner cleaned your inner thighs while Jean went to your room to grab you some underwear after tossing you one of Reiner’s sweatshirts. All three of you situated yourself into Reiner’s king bed, you of course in the middle of them both. There was so point in going back to your room and studying, not when you had several unanswered questions.

“So how long have you two been dating?” They both froze beside you, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“We’re not dating, we just fuck occasionally.” Jean answered, Reiner nodding to further reaffirm the statement, but you weren’t buying it. Their chemistry in bed was enough to convince you they’d been hiding a relationship from you.

“You just fuck? No feelings attached?”

“There’s obviously feelings when we’ve been friends this long, but we’re not exclusive.” Reiner responded, propping himself up on his elbow and looking in the direction of you and Jean. “We didn’t tell you because there wasn’t anything serious between us.”

Okay, that made more sense than you were expecting too. But experiencing what you just did created a longing inside of you, one that might’ve been there that you didn’t want to acknowledge before now. Jean and Reiner were your best friends without a doubt, but they were also so much more than that and in order to not ruin the friendship, you shoved that deep down inside of you.

“But,” Jean’s hands from behind turned you to look towards him. “We’re also not opposed to the idea of you being a part of this situationship.”

“You’ve talked about this?” Surprised to know this wasn’t a coincidence happening, sounding like they planned this in a way.

“Of course we have, do you know how long both of us have had a crush on you?” Reiner laughed, sending your mind into a flurry of confusion. They liked you? Like holding affectionate feelings beyond friendship for you?

“Huh?”

“Since junior or senior year of high school. We didn’t know we both felt the same way about you until after we had sex for the first time six months ago, agreeing that if it ever came to the point where you chose one of us over the other we would be okay with it.” Jean was speaking now, softly and almost lovingly, sending a blush to your face.

“And we’ll never ask you to choose, if you want only one of us that’s fine and if you end up wanting both of us, that’s fine too.” Reiner spoke with the same inflection Jean did, softly smiling and looking at you endearingly.

“I want both of you.” Blurting out without even thinking twice, hearing them laugh. But you knew you would rather have both than just one, it's always been the three of you.

“Don’t decide now idiot, we’re being serious.” Jean pinched your shoulder with a frustrated grunt, rolling his eyes while Reiner just laughed softly.

“We can talk about it more tomorrow, it’s late.” Reaching over to turn the lamp off on his bedside table, pulling you down under the comforter into his arms and kissing the top of your head. Jean shuffled behind you, pressing his chest to your back and kissing your cheek.

For a few moments you refused to close your eyes, trying to break down all the new feelings and emotions you were experiencing, from earlier when you were at their mercy, to the confession from them both. It was in a way exciting, and whatever ended up happening between the three of you, it would work out in the end.

#reiner braun #jean kirstein #reiner x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #reiner x jean x reader #attack on titan #aot reiner #aot jean #snk #reiner smut #jean kirschstein smut #snk smut #aot smut #smut

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mrsbarnesblog · 1 year ago

Note

I love your writing so so so much ! ❤️❤️❤️ I hope it's okay to shot you another idea cause I can't resist 🥺 I thought of something fluffy where it's snowing and Bucky used to hate winter due to his past but you ask him going outside with you and he can't resist you. So you end up building Snowmen and Snow angels and he enjoys it with you. Later you cuddle together in front of the fireplace, him holding you close and finally admitting how much he likes you and you kiss ? 🤗

snowman

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, Bucky is wrapped around your finger, slight insecurity, friends to lovers

Author’s note: it took quite a while to write, but I did it lol. After rereading this, I think that I sliiiightly changed your idea, but I hope you'll still like it🩷

“No. I’m not going there, doll.” Bucly looked down at you and that cute little frown appeared on his face again. “You know I hate snow.”

“No-o-o! Bucky, please! It’s the first snow this year, and I want to go outside with you. Do I often ask you for something?” His arms were crossed over his chest, and you desperately gripped his forearms, trying to give your best puppy eyes. “Please-please-please?”

"Can't you take someone else?” He was giving up—you saw that.

“No, I don’t want anyone else! I want you to go with me, Buck. I promise it’s gonna be fun.” You squeezed your hands, feeling both metal and warm skin under your touch.

For a few seconds, Bucky was just looking at you. Anyone else would’ve already felt intimidated, but you held his gaze without hesitation, knowing that Bucky just couldn’t resist you. You also knew that it was hard for him to survive during that season because it reminded him of that day when he had fallen and lost his arm. But you wanted to create new memories, to show that winter may be fun and full of happiness.

The fact that you had the biggest crush on your best friend and you had a good opportunity to cange something between you two was just a bonus.

“So?”

“Fine.” Bucky puffed and you screamed with happiness, wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him closer to you. You felt how he chuckled and hugged you back. “The power that you have over me..."

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, Jamie. I’m gonna get drassed. Wait for me here, ‘kay?” You gave him the brightest smile and Bucky couldn’t help but smile back.

He looked at the way you almost ran away and shook his head. You really wrapped Bucky around your finger, and he didn’t even try to fight. He would give you anything you wanted if he got your smile in return.

In a few minutes, you came back, dressed in sweatpants, fluffy socks, and a big hoodie, holding a pile of clothes in your hands. Bucky curiously looked at you but still reached for his jacket, ready to go out. Only for you to slightly slap his hand.

“You don’t think that I’ll let you play with me in the snow just in your t-shirt and jacket, right? " Leather, light jacket, may I add." You crossed your hands on your chest and strictly looked at him.

“Why not? I always dress like that.”

“Yeah, I know, and that’s insine. I know you are a big, strong, and scary super soldier, but it is still cold outside. So I bought you some clothes that you will wear.” You reached the pile of clothes, holding an almost similar gray hoodie to what you were wearing.

“So you’re thinking that I’m big, strong, and scary?” A slight one-sided smirk appeared on his face and you playfully rolled your eyes, stepping closer. “But I don’t need that.”

“You do. I know that you hate the snow because you get nagging pain in your shoulder and because of the memories. I want it to be fun. I don’t want you to be cold or feel any type of pain. Don’t be so stubborn, I’m just taking care of you, Bucky.” You said softly. Bucky stayed silent again, probably rethinking your words. He still wasn’t used to the fact that you were so sweet and caring to him. To anyone, to be fair, but he wondered if you did it because you like him more than just a friend.

He gave up again, just silently nodding and allowing you to dress him up. When Bucky didn’t even move, you understood it as a sign to do everything by yourself.

You put the hoodie over his head, then lifted both of his arms to get it on. Bucky stood there, pouting like a child, and you thought it was the cutest thing ever. The next was a jacket that was fluffy enough to keep him warm even if you spent several hours outside. You took a hat from the couch and put it on.

“I look ridiculous.”

“You look cute.” You laughed and quickly dressed up, handing Bucky the gloves. He threw another annoyed look at you, but still did what you wanted, following you out of the room.

It was amazing. The trees, buildings, the ground—everything was fully white. A thick layer of snow covered everything around you. You happily run down the stairs, dragging Bucky by his hand behind you.

You had the brightest smile when you stood in the snow and tilted your head back, so some snowflakes fell on your warm skin. It was something that you had been waiting for since last winter because this season always looked magical in New York.

Bucky looked at you as if he were hypnotized. Yes, everything around looked pretty, but the way your face was lit up with that pure and childish happiness and how you giggled when you looked up in the sky made his chest tighten with these unspoken feelings toward you.

He was dragged out of his thoughts when something hit him right in the chest. Bucky slowly blinked at you when he realized that you had just thrown a snowball at him.

“Did you–”

“I did.” You smirked and bent down to collect more snow in your hands. Another snowball hit Bucky in the arm.

“You’ll regret this, doll.”

After that, everything went on a spiral.

Bucky was much quicker and stronger than you, so just in a few minutes, you were covered in snow. You, laughing and screaming his name, tried to run away and hide behind the trees, but he was always a step ahead of you.

“Why are you hiding, doll? You started this and you wanted me to go outside with you, right?” You stayed quiet behind the tree, hoping to run away when he didn’t pay attention. Bucky slowly went towards where you were hiding, seeing the back of your jacket.

He was getting too close, and you knew that you'd lose immediately. So with all the speed that you had, you ran.

Bucky smiled to himself again. It was really cute that you thought you could win.

You ran through the snow, almost tripping over a few times, and you were sure that you were winning until you felt two strong hands on your waist and suddenly your legs weren’t on the ground anymore.

“No-no! Bucky, oh my god! Put me back!” You screamed and laughed when Bucky just threw you over his shoulder and went to the large snowdrift. “What are you going to do?! No. Don’t you dare, James!” You started wiggling in his hands but it did particularly nothing.

Without any further words, Bucky just threw you into the pile of snow. You sank there fully; the snow almost reached your face and for the first time today, you heard Bucky laughing.

“You know what? It’s actually kind of fun, princess.” You pouted at him just like he did when you were dressing him up.

“I hate you.”

“So you don’t need help to get out of there?” He raised a brow at you, and you mumbled ‘I do’ under your nose. “C’mon, doll, are you mad at me?” Bucky took you out of the snow, looking at how you were quietly rudding out the snow that started soaking through your clothes. “Hey. I didn’t want to upset you. I’m sorry.” He stepped closer, drawing your attention to him. You were not really mad; you just wanted to tease him, but from the look on Bucky's face, he felt terrible and probably thought he had hurt you.

“I won’t be mad if you build a snowman with me and then we’ll make snow angels.” You whispered while the smile started creeping into your face. Bucky’s eyes widened when he realized your little plan. Yeah, you got him there. He had no choice but to agree.

The next hour you spent outside, enjoying the snowfall and doing exactly what you dreamed about a few times. You both rolled up three different snowballs, and you found some rocks to make the eyes, mouth, and bottons. Bucky’s heart beat a few times faster when he saw how carefully you made the snowman’s face, even dropping to your knees on the snow to get a better angle. You looked so concentrated on that little task, biting your lip, and Bucky was almost ready to confess his feelings.

“Done!” You happily smiled back at him, but he was just stupidly staring at you in silence. Your smile slowly started fading when Bucky looked at you with that weird facial expression that you couldn’t even read or understand. “Are you okay? James? Something happened?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he wanted to say something, but it was not the right time, Bucky thought to himself. “Let’s make those snow angels and get back. Your clothes are getting wet and you might catch a cold.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? Is it your shoulder? Is it aching again?” You quickly stood up and came closer; your hand in a glove instantly reached his face, again knocking all of the thoughts except for you out of his head.

It was weird. It felt weird. You were too close. Your worried eyes were running around his face, and Bucky was unable to even say something. He didn’t know how much longer he would be able to survive around you this way. When everything he wanted was to hold you close, hug you, and kiss you in every possible moment, when his stomach was tightening every time you smiled at him and were this touchy.

You thought Bucky was going to kiss you. You swore you saw how his eyes slipped to your lips… But then he just blinked a few times, shook his head, and took your hand away from his face, interlacing your fingers. “I’m okay. Let’s go.”

You were so confused by what the hell just happened that making snow angels and returning to the building went kind of into a blur. There was clearly tension between you and Bucky; you looked at him more curiously, and he must’ve noticed it because he suddenly started stammering and nervously touching his hair. You managed to convince him to spend some time with you near the fireplace—now you had to find out what was going on. So while Bucky went in his room to change the clothes, you made two cups of hot chocolate and made a place with blankets on the floor.

“Sit with me, Buck.” You patted the place near you, eyes lingering on his form, standing above you nervously, almost shyly. He looked so cute and hot in those grey sweatpants, tight black t-shirt with dog tags hanging low, and now with fluffy and completely destroyed hair.

You both sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping your chocolate and looking at the dancing fire in front of you. Even without turning your head, you felt the tension in Bucky’s body and how he was too lost in his head. You put your half-empty cup down on the floor and turned your body to face him.

“What happened there?” Your soft voice pulled Bucky out of his thoughts and his face heated when he noticed how close to him you were sitting.

A mixture of feelings was bubbling inside of him. He knew that he had to do something, say something, to make a first step, but he just couldn’t. You were his best friend, one of the closest people in his life who was always there for him, no matter what others thought or said. It was so hard not to fall in love with you. Bucky accepted it a long time ago. But somehow today was different; it hit him out of nowhere that he needed you and that he couldn’t be just your friend anymore. And it hurt because he knew that he would never be able to atone for his sins or become worthy of your love.

“James, stop it. I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but I know that it’s not good. Just tell me, please.” You placed one hand on his stubbled cheek and made him look at you. His pretty blue eyes were so sad and raging with emotions.

“I love you.” It slipped out of his mouth so quickly that you almost missed it. “I love you so much and I did for a long time, but I can't hold it inside anymore. It hurts to be around you and not have a chance to touch you or kiss you the way I want to. Doll, I know that you are too good for me and I should stop—” Before Bucky could finish that sentence and put himself down, you tugged his face closer and connected your lips.

Your brain turned off within a second, as you were drowning in that warm feeling. Bucky froze under your touch, but you didn’t let him go, moving your body even closer and sliding your hand into his hair. When you gently pulled the roots, he unintentionally moaned into your mouth, and it was only then that he realized you had fucking kissed him.

The mug in his hand was put aside carelessly, almost spilling the liquid inside, but neither of you cared about it when Bucky finally gave in and kissed your back, placing his flesh hand on the side of your neck. He groaned from the uncomfortable position that you were sitting in. He suddenly slipped the metal hand under your leg, dragging you onto his knees.

He held you in place firmly, moving his hand up and down your thigh. Your lips were moving in a perfect rhythm while you both savored the taste of each other.

“Fuck, babydoll… You’re addicting.” You giggled at his words, pressing your foreheads together. “I wanted to do that for so long, and especially when we were outside. You looked so precious and cute while building that stupid snowman and I was almost ready to do it…”

“I was hoping that you would kiss me, James.” Your hands slid down his chest, gently playing with the dog tags. “I love you too.” You whispered.

He bit his lip, barely believing that it was real and that the prettiest girl in the whole world had feelings for him too. “I guess at the end of the day, snow is not so awful, right? I won’t let you go anymore, doll.” When you gave him a smile, Bucky drew you in close enough to lie on his chest and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. Enjoying the warmth of his body and the soft glow from the fireplace, you knew that it was the best place that you could ever wish for.

“I hope so.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader

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acerathia · 23 days ago

Text

Side-Character changes the genre! | S. Todoroki

Summary:

Waking up in a novel you have once read, you realize something of utmost importance: your favorite character is destined to die as a tragedy! So, you decide to help him avoid this bleak fate with your knowledge of future events, nothing more, nothing less, right?

Wordcount: 14.6k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Crown Prince!Todoroki Shoto / Jester!Reader

Tags/CW:

reader is a jester, royal au, but also, isekai, this is unserious, only small amounts of angst, failed assassination plot, pinning and getting pinned down, idiot x competent (both of them tbh)

Note:

I finished it earlier than i thought, this fic is unserious, and too long for me to edit with this headache, enjoy lol (shoutout to my derelict favorite o7)

The sky above you seems endless, as the clouds beckon you to just come closer. And oh, how much you want to, stretching your arm towards them in quiet desperation, straining against whatever force is pulling you down. The tips of your fingers barely brush the underside of the sky, too far away to ever reach again, when everything exploded in shards of pain and darkness.

*-*

A gasp shudders out of your body as you jolt upright, the blanket loosely thrown over your legs, barely covering you. It is almost like your restless body has refused the warmth of the slightly coarse covering. Taking a couple of breaths, your hand clutching your chest as if to support this tiny endeavor of gathering air. After you have exhaled a couple of times, the panic has finally subsided, leaving you with phantom aches and a dizzy mind. You don’t remember going to bed at all, the last moment seared into your mind is the motion of falling endlessly.

A sudden sharp pang drives through your skull as you try to remember more, making you gasp once again. Maybe this isn’t the ideal time to try and dive into the last memories. Rather, you begin looking around, trying to discern if this place is in any way recognizable to you. Because it for sure is not a hospital room. It seems like you have woken up in a tiny hut, one space containing the bed you’re currently residing in, a table with only one chair and a kitchen space. The bright windows show you the depths of the forest, leaves brushing against the pane of glass. There is nothing else, the place almost looking neglected, empty, unlived in. Who might have brought you to this place? You don’t remember any of your acquaintances mentioning anything about a cabin in the woods.

You brush the blanket fully away, sliding off the small bed. Your bare feet meet the ground, and you expect yourself to flinch at the cold touch, yet, your body seems accustomed to the slight chill against your skin. You furrow your eyebrows slightly at this, but you decide to ignore whatever your body is doing right now, especially as you in fact do not mind having a little more resistance to the cold than usual.

With careful steps, you begin to walk around the confined space, looking for any possible clue about your current whereabouts. But you find nothing but untouched dust, and a mirror. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you walk up to the mirror until you can see your reflection. And you see yourself as you’re used to. Only in different clothing, ones almost vintage, something one would wear at a renfaire, not at home. Brushing against the texture of the material, you decide that you quite like it, despite its rough style. Only you do wonder how you came to wear this piece in the first place.

Continuing to explore the nooks and crannies of the tiny space, you stumble across a newspaper. One folded neatly in a corner, almost like the person who put it there knew that you might find it. Your eyes immediately jump to the top corners, trying to look for a date. But the moment you find one, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to you. The numbers feel like they have been put there in a whole new context, one fundamentally different from the one you’re so used to. And rather than helping you decipher your current situation, it only made you a little bit more confused.

Yet, you do not have it in you to give up due to some jumbled numbers without meaning. So, you begin to leave through the newspaper. One page after the other, letting the paper slide against your skin. And you’re not even worried about papercuts, as the material seems to be soft around the edges, something of good quality, yet not high enough to warrant sharp edges.

Your eyes glance over the stories, never truly picking something up, the way the words are formed, structured feels familiar yet too foreign to truly properly digest. The only thing that catches your eye are two words: ‘Todoroki Shouto’

“What the fuck?”, you mumble to yourself, dipping your head closer to the paper to read the printed text containing that particular name. It takes you longer than you would have liked to finish reading it, but it still left you reeling.

Letting the newspaper sink, you stare out of the window, your thoughts running around into a chaos of your own making. There is no way that this is true, is it? That’s just an elaborate prank, it has to be. You could not explain it otherwise why apparently your favorite character of your favorite novel is real. Or rather, how you landed into their world.

A giggle escapes you. Running a hand through your hair you feel the need to rip at those strands, trying to feel if anything is real at all. There is no way that Todoroki Shouto is actually going to celebrate his birthday party in the next few days. Because even if everything is real, and the picture in the newspaper seems to tell you that it is, you could not have chosen a worse time to wake up to. Because as much as he’s your favorite character, Shouto is destined to die at the hands of his own brother, and soon. And with the usurpation of the throne by the so-called Dabi, the whole kingdom is going to drown in flames.

That means, not only is your beloved Shouto going to die, but you also are going to follow suit very soon. And you do not want to die before you even understand what has happened in the first place.

Slowly falling to your knees and clutching the newspaper to your chest, you curse the world. Why couldn’t you have reincarnated into a romfan? Or anything else with barely any conflict, why did it have to be a novel filled with intrigue and wars.

As much as you’ve always wanted to meet Shouto, you didn’t mean to follow him into the afterlife. This thought brings a sudden realization with it. Wait. If you’re in the same world as your beloved favorite character, not only can you meet him, but also, possibly save him from his future. You have poured endless hours into changing the canon in your head during your daydreams, if only to make him survive everything and have a happy ending. So why shouldn’t you dare implement those ideas into this world of a novel. And because this is the novel, everything you do is technically canon.

Another giggle, only to turn into slightly mischievous laughter. With this plot of yours, not only will you be able to save Shouto, but also yourself. Suddenly, all these hours reading canon-divergent fics are worth it. Now, what you need to do is actually trying to discern what parts of your memory are canon, and what are simply the illusions brought forth by senseless hope.

Standing up, you use the newspaper to dust yourself off, before you begin looking for a pen and any form of paper. For this, you had to dig deep in a couple of cabinets, their contents often nothing but dust. But you eventually found exactly what you are looking for. Taking your newly discovered writing utensils, you sit down at the only table in this place. And you begin to write everything you remember. During this undertaking, you had to strike through several points, as with deeper thought, they turned out to be parts of some of the fics you have read. And you can’t have that, as your plan has to depend on the actions of the canon, rather than the ones of the wishful thinking of yours.

The important parts of Shouto’s plot are easily recognizable. His mother has been residing at seaside to recuperate from the sudden illness King Enji has bestowed upon her, while his eldest brother, Touya, who once thought to be the rightful heir to the throne, that is until Shouto came and their father changed his mind for no apparent reason. Of course, he couldn’t simply give Shouto the title of crown prince, rather, Touya had disappeared suddenly during a border skirmish. As this was the perfect opportunity, they immediately declared him dead, now truly putting the younger Shouto on the pedestal of the crown prince. This new position of his meant that every assassination attempt has switched targets, attacking him at every corner. And the ones about to come will be the most vicious of his life, even leading to his eventual death.

You can’t have that of course. Exactly those assassination attempts are the ones you have to sabotage to ensure that he stays on top of everything when the final showdown begins. Only, during writing those points, you remembered that not only is Shouto incredibly beautiful and talented, deserving of unending happiness, but also that he is the crown prince. Which is honestly awesome, he manages to do all his training and education with such ease, nobody else deserves that title. The problem lies with you, of course. Because how are you supposed to protect Shouto from his demise, if you can’t even get into the palace? And you highly doubt that they would simply let you in, if you walked over to the gates and told the guards: ‘Uh, hello, his Highness, the crown prince Shouto is about to be assassinated, and I’m the only one who can protect him.’ That would be absurd, and land you into jail yourself as a prime suspect. No, you had to handle it in another way.

Your head meets the wood of the table with a hollow thud. There is no way to do that, it’s hopeless. You cannot even get into the palace, there is no way to manage that, how are you supposed to save your beautiful Shouto?

Worst of all, you begin to feel dizzy. As your mind is already spiraling about the future of your favorite character, you immediately assume that you’re dying, as not only does your head hurt but your stomach is also cramping. Until you hear a familiar grumble, and every single one of your thoughts come to a halt. And if your head weren’t on the table already, you would have considered hitting yourself again.

“Ah. I’m hungry…”

Getting back onto your feet, you begin to look through every cabinet and cupboard, hoping to have overlooked something during your search for your writing utensils. But exactly as you feared, nothing has appeared during the couple of minutes you have looked away. Leading to one shocking conclusion: there is no food in this entire place. You almost went to your knees once again, but you decided to be stronger than this. You will not allow yourself to starve to death, especially with such an important mission. Even if you have no idea how to muster any kind of food, when all you own are the clothes on your back and a dusty place.

With trembling fingers you open the last cupboard, a silent plea to the author to give you one chance to survive. But even your last hope is crushed when you discover it empty of any possible sustenance. The only thing inside the cupboard seems to be a small leather pouch, too small to contain enough food, if food at all. Still, you can’t ignore this random bag, and because your curiosity is stronger than any despair you might have felt, you grabbed the pouch and peeked into it. And the moment your eyes recognize the insides, you almost let it fall in shock. But your self-sufficiency stops you from doing so, eliminating any risk of losing this precious content.

Because the bag is filled with enough cold coins to almost last you a lifetime if you knew how to use it well. And well, as you plan on surviving as long as possible, you cannot risk even losing one single piece to the harsh environment. So, you only grabbed one single coin with the tips of your fingers before closing the pouch once again to safely stash it away. This one coin should be enough to feed you and for you to get some seeds to plant to grow your own garden, giving you the chance to not only be self-sufficient, but also the ability to sell your plants and get more money.

A grin spreads over your face at the thought of gathering more money for your future life. What these gold coins could do for you. You’d never have to worry about starving, and because you have this place, you will always have a home. With these gold coins you’re settled for life, and if you manage to get a bit more out of them, you could even get yourself some tiny luxuries.

Grabbing the gold coin firmly in your fist, which you shove into a pocket for extra protection, you make your way to the door, steadfast in your decision to get yourself some food and some seeds. In front of the door you find a pair of sturdy shoes, and you’re glad that there is no reason for you to venture outside with your bare feet alone. Without ever letting the gold coin go, you shove your feet one by one into their respective shoes and barely manage to tighten the cords to fit you properly. You’d hate to fall and stumble because you neglected to secure your feet properly. Every misstep could mean the loss of this precious coin.

After making sure that the coin is still deep in your grip, you finally venture outside the hut. Only to see nothing but the vastness of the forest beyond the little fenced in space. And for a moment you can’t help but hesitate in front of the small gate, as your mind tells you to not step any further, in fear of what might be lurking just beyond your door. Worst of all, you can’t even convince yourself to pull through because it seems like you have no memories about this place, about the way to the next village. There is no way for you to do this on your own, you have to turn back and find another way…

Your cheek burns with the aftereffect of your slight slapping. But the slight pain jolts you out of your slight panic. You will go through this forest now, you will get yourself some food and not starve to death, and you will eventually find a way to save your beloved Shouto. You will not allow a puny forest to get the best of you.

With this decision burning inside of you, you finally take the first step out of the gate. And the first thing you notice is a small way in front of you, paved by the time and the steps of the people. This little path is currently your best bet, so with a shrug, you begin to diligently follow it. Despite its rather small size, the path isn’t as bumpy or rough as one might have expected it to be, for which you are glad, as you’d rather avoid twisting your ankle because your mind is slightly distracted from the way in front of you.

It barely takes you any time to emerge from the forest unscathed, not even tired out in the slightest. You begin to feel a little bit stupid at your unnecessary panic earlier, considering how easy it actually was to arrive at this village.

For a moment you stay still at the edge of the woods, simply gazing at what’s front of you as the slight breeze brushes through your clothes. The sky seems to stretch endlessly in front of you, open and a brilliant blue, with only the palace poking its tip towards it, as if trying to grasp some part of the infinite. This immense building is but a shard compared to the size of the sky, of the land, and yet it is the biggest there is. And it is your future destination to deflect the worst possible future.

Seeing the palace in the distance only serves to solidify your motivation, your goals and desires. So, you take your first step towards the palace, towards the village, and you are filled with determination to do everything in your power to change the outcome, for Shouto, for yourself, and for everyone else.

Once you arrive at the village, you take your time to slowly discover this place. You wander along the streets, you peek into the windows of tiny shops, and you even enter several to get yourself a basket to fill with fresh food and the seeds you plan to plant in the near future. It feels a little stupid to have forgotten such a necessity like a basket, but you don’t have the time to feel embarrassed as you simply get what you desire and walk around with an unbridled curiosity.

After some time, you stop in front of a fountain, watching the water bubble and fizz with each second, and you decide to take a break right at the edge of it. You sit down and stretch your legs while watching the low buzz of people walking and talking. Your eyes never stand still, always wandering in every direction, slow and comfortable, with no real focus. That is until you catch sight of an announcement board filled with papers tacked to it. And for some reason you feel the urge to read through every single one of them, because no matter how much you try to avert your gaze, your eyes always wander back to it.

With a sigh you grab your basket and make your way towards the board, weaving between the masses, never in a hurry, but with a set destination in mind. Finally coming to a halt in front of the stacks of papers, you begin to read through them by simply glancing at the headline. Until one contains one of your self-input keywords ‘palace’. You immediately step closer and read the posting with much more focus.

‘Now hiring! We’re looking for a jester to join the troupe for the duration of the festivities for crown prince Shouto Todoroki’s birthday. This includes the ball and [… ] No prior experience needed.’

You immediately snatch the paper and clutch it in your hand. This is it, this is your chance to get into the palace and possibly save Shouto from the first assassination attempt. Maybe the author is actually gracing you with immense luck to survive this. Maybe they absolutely want Shouto to survive no matter what. Of course you’re supposed to take this chance, even if your humor may not be up to their standards, because you’re meant to survive. Nodding to yourself at this explanation of yours, you make your way to the address written onto the paper.

It doesn’t take long for you to arrive at the rather open space with a couple of people warming up and doing rather light tricks. Still, you couldn’t help but watch as these people play with fire as if it’s purely silk, and with silk like it’s water flowing out of their hands. And no matter how much work all these tricks seemed to be, they all appear to have a tremendous amount of joy, laughter erupting with every clumsy mistake, leading to nothing but a loud noise or a knot between their fingers.

After carefully wandering between these people, you try finding someone who does not look to be in the middle of a trick or a warm-up. And eventually you almost bump into two people simply having a conversation.

“Ah, excuse me? I’m here because I’ve seen you’re hi–”

“You’re hired! We’re so glad to have you on board, but you must know that you will carry the responsibility if the kind is angered due to any of your jokes. Now, let’s see, you can go grab the costume over there,” he points to a colorful cart, not even letting you have a word. “And then we’ll meet again here the morning of the ball to venture together to the palace, alright? Alright, great. See ya!”

He slightly shoves you towards the wagon, and you stumble slightly, as the barrage of information overwhelms you the tiniest bit, well a bit more than that. Still, you follow his directions and walk to the wagon, where you knock against the door, trying to get whatever you’re supposed to and maybe some more information.

A head pokes out of the opening door, and the moment you both meet eyes, the younger boy breaks out in a grin. The door immediately swings open and he jumps out, drawing a circle around you before he finally stops in front of you, hand outstretched.

“Well, nice to meet you, I’m Hide, the one responsible for giving all these people fitting clothes. I assume you’re our new jester?”, he grabs your hand and shakes it, as you introduce yourself with a name.

“Great, let’s see, we should have something that fits you just right,” and as fast as he appeared, he dips back into the wagon, and you hold yourself back from peeking in while something crashes inside.

It doesn’t take long for him to emerge once again, this time with a slight wobble in his steps. Once again, he just acts before explaining anything, pushing a bundle of fabric into your chest, and you hurry to hold it before it slips from your grasp.

“That’s your costume. You know, shirt, pants and even a mask. We don’t want to risk you getting arrested once out of your costume. The whole being a jester at court thing is dangerous enough as it is.”

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘dangerous’?”, you interrupt him, because that’s the second time someone mentions something like that, and considering that you only talked to two people this whole time, it is quite a lot.

He shrugs. “Well, king Enji is not famous for being a funny guy after all. Many are scared to perform because they think he might just get rid of them. But the court has certain rules, and a jester at court has technically some immunity. Even if not, well, absolute or anything. So, you kind of have to protect yourself, we give you the mask, you try to keep trouble minimal. We survive, yippie!”

You blink at his explanation and slowly nod. It does make sense, as kind Enji is feared due to his hot temperament and his mercilessness, but well you’d rather not risk your life to burn under his scrutiny. A sigh escapes you, well, what one does for love, or something. You really have no other choice but to pull through, because there is no way you would get into the ball otherwise.

So, you accept these clothes and consequently the role as the jester for this troupe, even if temporary. Stowing the bundle into your basket, you decide it’s time to go home. You bid Hide farewell and you make your way back, a sudden exhaustion creeping up your back.

Maybe you have bitten much more than you could chew. How could someone like you even think of changing the outcome of the plot. Even with your money, do you even possess a chance to counteract the numerous assassination attempts? Or are they going to catch you and blame you for everything in the end, making every single step of yours for naught? Oh, how much you desire your favorite character to survive and to live out his life in peace and bliss, but are you the right person to help him do so?

Maybe it’s just enough if you act as a stepping stone to his way to happiness. Maybe you should be happy with that, never wanting more than to see him truly smile after every adversity is overcome.

Maybe you will pull it off, even if barely, You will do anything for that smile, truly. A breath, the thud of the basket against the wooden ground, the rough wool touching your face, and you allow the darkness to overcome you.

*-*

As agreed, you meet the troupe at the same place at a later date. You’re in your costume already, the material softer against your skin as your usual clothing is. The colors are bright and inviting, perfect for the role of a jester, as you would have to pull everyone’s attention towards you. Normally you would hate to receive so much attention, all those eyes scrutinizing your every move, but the weight of the mask against your nose and brows help with ignoring those. Nobody would be able to recognize you outside of your attire, the cap ’n bells covering the rest of your head as the liliripes hang around your face. The costume truly is serving its purpose: to hide your identity.

Yet, during the walk towards the palace, you’re glad to be able to keep your own sturdy shoes. In case something happens, you still would have the right footwear to react, instead of the usual jester shoes with their curling toes.

Finally entering the hall, bypassing the guards by taking the servant’s entrance, you almost stop in your tracks as you marvel over the place. Red and white flowers flow down the walls, their scent tickling the tip of your nose. The huge tables framing the hall are filled with art made of food, and ice sculptures, ones that do not seem to melt no matter the temperature. As you continue to follow the troupe, your eyes wander to the ceiling, only to be awed by the paintings depicting some sort of story you’re unable to decipher, their colors still vibrant underneath the light of the huge chandelier, one seemingly made of pure stars.

You barely notice when the group stops to prepare their acts in their designated area. But once you do, you keep to yourself, standing at the edge and simply watching these people. As your role does not need any preparation or any special space, your thoughts wander while still looking around the hall. And you nod slightly. That’s how the rich live. Very extravagant. You wouldn’t mind experiencing life like them, but you’re also content with simply having a secure future. Well, that’s as long as you manage to successfully help Shouto survive.

Slowly, the hall begins to fill and the music sways through the air, inviting everyone to dance, or to simply relax. As for you, you begin walking around, saying a joke there, doing a tiny prank here. Just whatever is in your capacity without making a big deal out of your presence. Especially due to your lack of experience, you’d hate to commit an irredeemable slip up. So, you focus on simply changing up the mood wherever it’s needed. All while you are waiting for your favorite character to finally make his appearance.

There have been a couple other characters you recognize, if only by the way they mutter or bark their words. Yet, you don’t care for them in particular. Because you know that none of them can be a match to Shouto, be it in appearance or character. Your favorite character truly has the noblest soul out of all the existing characters, and you shall make sure that he can bloom to show his true potential, unlike the outcome of the novel.

You shake your head in disapproval at the simple thought of the novel which brought ruination onto Shouto. Cursing the author in your head, you almost miss the entrance of the crown prince.

“Announcing His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Shouto Todoroki,” the lord steward diligently does his job as he announces his arrival to the entire hall.

Immediately the whole mass of people turns to face the entrance, almost afraid to miss the chance to get a glimpse. And you’re no different. You even feel the urge to jump to get an even better look. But the thought is unnecessary, as movement sweeps through the people. bowing and curtsying, freeing the view towards him.

His appearance seems to strike you down. Even from afar you’re able to see the smooth, unblemished skin, the straight nose, plush lips and soft cheeks which slowly turn into a sharp jawline. His eyes look like the ocean at different times of the day, his lashes fluttering like a halo. His hair looks like a breeze is caressing him. He’s positively glowing, and you’re unable to move, until someone grabs you, pulling you down.

“Do you want to be beheaded?” the person, Hide, whisper-shouts at you and you realize that for a short moment you were the only one who didn’t greet him properly, practically risking your neck for a glimpse of him.

But his face is imprinted behind your eyelids and you doubt you could ever forget such a sight.

“Worth it,” you mumble, wincing when Hide strengthens his grip around your arm. But all you could do is stay silent with your lips slightly jutting forward. Because even if you don’t regret it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t a foolish thing to do. You only wish you had enough time to see the rest of him too. Maybe that’s the thing you’re actually regretting.

After Shouto has finished his walk through the hall, arriving in front of the dais to greet his father. And as expected, his greeting is short, curt, almost rude. But it’s known that despite him being the crown prince, he does not particularly like his father. Understandably so, if someone asked you for your opinion. King Enji is strong and is able to protect the kingdom with his own power, yet his destructive tendencies have affected a lot of the common folk, especially the ones living on the border of the country.

Of course, as you had read every tidbit about Shouto, you’re well aware how this piece of— this king had treated Shouto and his siblings. Such things aren’t common knowledge though, and you would not dare to utter such facts directly. Well, not as long as your life could be on the line. But even if you wouldn’t start some rumors about him, everyone will eventually know the truth once the allegedly deceased first prince returns.

But you hope to at least avoid it, because the appearance of the so-called ‘Dabi’ is in fact a massive death flag for your favorite character, and you’d rather have king Enji keep his reputation than risk Shouto getting killed.

You can’t help but giggle at the way Shouto immediately turns away to get away from his father. He takes a couple long strides towards the table, and you purse your lips when you notice how long his legs are, and how his thighs look in this particular pair of pants.

You keep your eye on him, not because you’re admiring his profile and how sophisticated he looks, no way, but because you still remember a certain plot point being carried out during this specific ball. But even if you do know that he is going to get poisoned, the novel never specified which glass or beverage had caused that incident. And you hardly could just go up to him every time he picks up the glass and takes a sip before he does, that would be ridiculous. How could you even think of indirectly kissing him, that’s bordering on being blasphemous.

So, all you could do is just keep looking at him and trying to discern if something is wrong with whatever is in his hand. That’s how you watch how he nods at something his conversation partner says, as he slowly raises the glass filled with deep red liquid. And for some reason you feel some sense of deja vu, a shiver buzzing down your spine, and you speed up your steps towards him, sincerely hoping that you might reach him just in time.

You realize too late that you wouldn’t be able to stop perfectly in front of him, so you end up bumping into him. But you take this chance to slap the glass out of his hand, continuing to stumble and to flail your arms, before acting like you found your balance again. You immediately put a hand in front of your eyes when you turn back in his direction, and you utter the first thing that comes to mind.

“Excuse me, your Highness, your beauty has simply blinded me,” you bow before you make your departure as swift as possible, hiding between the groups of people.

You’re tempted to curl into a ball and hide behind one of those heavily decorated pillars, but you reckon that would be too obvious and you would only stand out more than you already do. So, you simply continue to weave between all these people and do your job, this time without bumping into anyone.

Luckily, after some time, you realize that there are no guards looking to arrest and kill you and you start to relax. And as soon as the party begins to slow down, you prepare your leave too, wondering how you might infiltrate the palace once again to offer your help hidden in the shadows. Even if theoretically he does not need any help, because he did not get poisoned, which leads to him being more resistant to the subsequent assassination attempts. But the thing that worries you the most is, that this is a novel, who knows how it might retaliate if only to get to the destined end. So, you’d rather not risk stopping your helpful attempts at distracting the assailants.

Of course, you’re not implying that Shouto needs your help, he’s an amazing character, strong and noble, he definitely can handle himself. But you reckon that your in-depth knowledge of the novel might just give him a better advantage against his villainous brother. Even if you understand Dabi’s motivations, you cannot forgive him for making your favorite character suffer like this, that’s the way of a fan.

Slowly, you make your way towards the exit, the troupe probably assembling outside where there’s more free space to do so. Your attention is too focused on the problems of the future, your eyes trying to see if there’s a hidden servant's passage you could use sometime, you don’t notice the person in front of you until you bump into them.

You stumble slightly, barely catching yourself, and you prepare to either apologize or to say something so out of pocket, the other forgets about what just happened. Yet, the moment you look up, you freeze, as you encounter the beautiful face of Shouto. His beauty is enough to make a poet weep and lament, and sadly you’re no poet, so all you could do is stare. His features are much more insane up close, and even face to face, all you can see is him sparkling. His eyes lock with yours, and you feel like you’re getting swept up in an ice storm, and boy, you would have never been more glad to freeze to death if that’s the last thing you see.

Up close, you notice how broad his shoulders are, how his clothes show his lean, yet well-adorned silhouette, and you have to pull yourself together to not make your stare more noticeable. You immediately prepare to run away, but before you could even think of a way to escape, and you were almost tempted to jump out of the window, you feel his fingers carefully grab your wrist.

There’s no skin contact, as he’s been wearing gloves, but the warmth is the same nonetheless and you feel your veins boil and melt. His grip isn’t bruising, but also not something one can escape so easily. And even if you could, you doubt you would forcefully break the contact. (And you can’t help but be amazed at how a character could be so warm.) So, you follow him wordlessly to wherever he’s dragging you to.

Once you arrive at a secluded spot, he lets you go, and while you mourn the loss of the touch, you don’t let it show on your face. You simply face him and wait for him to say what he wants to say. And you sincerely hope he’s not going to give you the death sentence.

“I want you to stay at the court as my court jester,” he finally says, his eyes roaming over the mask on your face.

You cock your head in confusion, his sudden request something you surely did not foresee. But it is the ideal opportunity for you, as with an official occupation at the palace, you would have access to almost every part of it. Yet–

“Why?”

He slightly shrugs. “My father the king hated you and was annoyed by your presence, that’s reason enough to keep you by my side.” After Shouto explains his reasoning, which makes so much sense with his characterization, you can’t help but shudder at the thought of being at the risk of the king’s wrath. And he seems to notice it, so he adds: “You do not have to worry. I will ensure your safety. My father and his lackeys shall not harm you in any way.”

You cross your arms deep in thought. Shouto is the crown prince and he does wield rather impressive power in the palace. He could definitely keep you safe, but if he truly can keep you safe from his own father is something you can’t help but doubt. But you suppose that this is the only way to stay close to him without breaking in. And as long as you avoid direct confrontation with Enji you should be fine.

You don’t agree immediately, rather, you act like any person with a job offer would, you ask about the benefits, perks and the pay. And unsurprisingly, Shouto is rather generous with his offer, so you end up accepting after taking everything you could get your hands on. You had to make enough to survive after all this is over, and why be stingy?

With that, he leads you back to the exit of the hall, telling you that he’s expecting you tomorrow in the morning. You nod and bow before you hurriedly leave the place. Because no matter how you might’ve acted in front of Shouto, you’re still reeling from the direct experience of seeing him up close and even having a proper conversation. This is much better than simply reading about him.

Returning to the troupe, you make the walk back with them with small talk about how the evening has been for them. And even if you didn’t directly tell anyone about the offer from the crown prince, it seems like Hide is kind of aware of it, as he tells you to keep the outfit, as a parting gift. You thank him profusely, as with this outfit you might be able to keep your real identity a secret for some time.

*-*

The next morning you wake up at dawn, simply staring at the ceiling without moving an inch. You know, you should slowly make your way towards the palace, but you feel hesitant. Due to your interference yesterday evening, the plot has begun to change, but from your experience in reading novels, you’re aware that whatever force is controlling this world can forcibly change the plot back to how it was, especially if you continue to meddle. And you can’t help but worry. There’s no way you’re going to be a challenge for all the assassins or attempts. You’re just a random character now, with no abilities to your name. You would be worried about your life, but you remember that death awaits you either way, so you suppose it is better to at least help Shouto to the best of your capabilities.

With a jerk you sit up and begin to prepare for your departure. You reckon there’s no need for you to take your meagerly belongings with you, so you simply put on your costume and head out.

Arriving at the palace gates, you hesitate once again. He did tell you to come, but how are you to enter the palace in the first place? Did he tell the guards? Are you supposed to introduce yourself?

For a moment, you just stand there, probably looking a little lost, as one of the guards simply walks up to you and looks you up and down. And without a word, he puts his hand on your shoulder, sudden and heavy, to push you through the gate. Wordlessly he returns to his post, leaving you looking around, confused as to why that just happened.

But in the end, it doesn’t really matter, so you walk towards the palace. And instead of entering through the main entrance like you did yesterday, you make your way to the entrance for the servants, as you are technically one now, not a guest.

You find the servants entrance easily, and you thank every author for including maps in their novels. If you hadn’t studied the layout of the palace while reading to understand the details, you might’ve taken a long time to locate the inconspicuous door.

Entering the place, you look around for a moment, before you spot a maid. You did contemplate if you should just go to Shouto on your own, but you reminded yourself that this might look extremely suspicious, in addition to your behavior yesterday. Of course you can’t just wander around even if you know the palace, people might question why you know the layout in the first place.

So, you approach the maid, making sure to make some noise to avoid scaring her. You ask her to lead you to Shouto, and while she does give you a narrow-eyed look, she complies, but not without informing a guard first. You shrug internally at that. Very reasonable of her, if you’re honest.

You follow through the long halls until she tells you to wait as she knocks and enters the room. This isn’t his room, rather, it’s his workplace. And you can’t help but sigh, how could the cruel king give Shouto his work. He is the crown prince, but also, that’s not his job to clean up after the king. Worst thing is, that his underlings are pressuring Shouto, telling him it’s what he’s supposed to do. So, he ends up almost overworking. You can’t imagine how bad it might’ve been if the poison had been added to the overwork he experiences. (Well, you can, but you don’t want to. How could you even think about your favorite character suffering like that.)

After a short while, you’re allowed to enter the room, and as you do, you immediately bow at the sight of Shouto. Partly because you had to and partly because you want to mentally prepare yourself before looking at him directly. You might just freeze again if you see him in his normal attire. While staring at the soft carpet with the intricate details, you can’t help but imagine what he might be wearing at this very moment.

You don’t get the chance to let your imagination run freely for a long time, as he tells you to straighten up with a greeting. Your eyes lock onto him, and you sincerely hope that no one can see where your sight is looking, as you immediately notice the white and fluffy shirt, accentuating not only his broad shoulders and his lean physique, but also frames his revealed assets in such a way you cannot keep looking at this space without imploding.

Averting your eyes, you look at his face, and as you’ve seen him twice already, one time even up close, you thought the effect on you might lessen. That turns out to be not true, as you feel blinded by his beauty once again. So, you resort to simply looking over his shoulders, your eyes twitching as you want to look at him but also avoid looking at him at the same time.

You can’t tell if he notices your conundrum, but you hope he doesn’t. There would be nothing more embarrassing if Shouto of all people realize how you feel about him. At least nobody can hear your beating heart if they’re not too close.

The moment he begins to talk is the moment your strength almost crumbles and you barely hold onto yourself, not doubling over as you hear how smooth and calm his voice sounds. You were too nervous to focus on it when he had approached you last evening, but his voice reverberates not only in the silent room, but also in your chest cavity. It’s slightly husky, and you reckon it’s due to the lack of talking he had done today. You try your best to focus on his words rather than on his melodious voice.

He had begun to explain what is expected of you. Such as performances during events and occasionally during meal time. He explicitly allows you to make a fool out of the king, practically giving you the official jester’s privilege. Now you’re only missing a marotte, you giggle to yourself. Of course you don’t tell him that, as being able to get on king Enji’s nerves is your current job and your shared goal. Maybe you should sometimes imply to know some of his secrets, considering that you’re under protection, if only to get him a little more paranoid.

Outside of your public appearances you’re allowed to go as you please as long as you’re ready at a moment's notice. Food and lodging are of course included in your job, you just have to go to the kitchen at certain times to receive your meals.

This is more freedom than you had anticipated, but that’s even better. That way no one can suspect you as you lounge around the whole place, trying to pick up on possible assassination attempts. As long as you don’t get caught in the several secret passages throughout the palace. This job is such a good deal, you don’t even dare haggle about your salary and possible severance pay, rather you just thank him and leave the room, not only escaping your collapse at the prolonged sight of him, but telling him that you’re keen on exploring the place.

In the halls you take a couple of steps before you lean against the wall, trying to calm your heart. This can’t be healthy, you’re meant to watch Shouto from a safe distance, not this up close. You’re going to get heart palpitations if it continues like that.

You manage to shake this nervousness off, but just as you were going to continue your meaningless walk, you notice a sudden change of guards in front of his door. This is normal, if it were to happen at certain times, but as such change is supposed to happen at regular intervals, ones you’re aware of, this one is rather sudden.

Squinting, you continue to observe the new guard. The one who simply should stand in front of the door. Yet, he is turning towards the door, hand on the handle. Before you know it, you’re already by his side, ramming your foot into the back of his knee, making him lose balance. You don’t give him enough time to get it back, as you shove him down. He crashes to the ground and you immediately get onto his chest, squatting down to get a better look on his face.

The guard curses you and you just cock your head with a grin. And it seems like the noise has caught the attention of the people inside the room, as the door opens to reveal Shouto and some of his advisors.

You jump off of the guard and bow. “Greetings again, it seems like someone wasn’t satisfied with, well, I don’t really know what exactly.” You face the lying guard once again. “What did you not like about working at the palace? The view is impeccable if I may say so myself.”

With view you mean the ability to see crown prince Shouto on a regular basis of course. If you could see his face every day, you would never suffer from any illnesses for the rest of your life.

Acting you’re listening seriously as the guard curses you under his breath and you nod as if in understanding. “I get it, Your Highness, he has been plotting treason! Why else would he spout such nonsense even I cannot repeat.”

For a moment, all Shouto does is look at you, like he wants to know what’s going inside your head. Despite your weird behavior, he complies and lets the guard be dragged away, all while he’s shouting how the king has made a mistake. His cursing is evidence enough, even if you did fabricate some of it earlier, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Meanwhile you’re almost squirming under Shouto’s gaze, avoiding any eye contact, as you know the moment you directly look at him, your heart might just explode. Especially if he was doing something like leaning against the frame of the door, or holding his weight against it, or simply standing in front of the door, all confidence and strength. Your mind begins to imagine all different possible poses you might find him in.

Luckily, instead of interrogating you, he instead simply dismisses you and returns to his office without another word, sparing you a direct glance in his direction.

The door closes and you wait a couple of seconds before pulling out your hands from behind your back. A dagger is glinting when the light refracts against it, almost like a promise for its sharpness. This is something you have just purloined from the assassin. It’s a little hand trick to make it disappear from the sight of others, especially if they’re distracted by something else.

You’re thankful some of your skills remain, despite being in a strange world, as this short moment reminded you that even if you had managed to stop two attempts as of now, you’re actually completely defenseless without a proper weapon. And you couldn’t really ask the prince to hand over something so dangerous into the hands of someone like you, a mere stranger, only occupying this place for some momentary gain.

With a sigh, you push the dagger into your waistband, its tip dangerously digging into your thigh. You should’ve gotten the sheath too, but your fingerplay was simply not as fast as you were used to. Well, as long as you don’t move wrong, the chance of getting hurt is rather slim, so you’ll take it.

After making sure the dagger is not visible through the spacious and thick fabric of your costume, you continue your walk through the halls almost like nothing has happened.

*-*

Boredom is going to kill you at this point. Since your official employment, there had been no chance to actually work, as there were no events planned and Shouto was and still is swamped in his duties as heir. At least he’s healthy enough to work, you suppose.

At first, you didn’t even mind doing nothing, but at some point there truly was nothing to do. You have explored every possible nook and cranny of the palace, and it seems like the assassination attempts have ceased for the moment, because everything has been pretty quiet. Nothing was suspicious. Well, this might’ve been your influence, partly. Because you’re pretty sure the people behind those assassins probably did not expect their attempts to fail like that. So they’re backing up for the moment, if only briefly.

That’s what you thought, and the reason why you have started exploring the garden. You were enjoying the soft breeze and the smell of flowers it carries, until you accidentally stumble across a pavilion, one which Prince Shouto has been resting under, drinking tea on his own.

Coming to an abrupt halt, you immediately bow and begin to back away so as to not disturb him any further. But before you can properly disappear, Shouto locks eyes with you, and even if you don’t freeze up this time, you don’t get the possibility to get away, as he calls you to step closer.

“Please, join me,” he simply instructs as he gestures towards the empty seat opposite of him.

His words don’t seem like a command, rather they sounded genuine, and who are you to say no to snacking with a snack. So, you bow again and take a seat.

Despite being excited about eating with him, you can’t help but avoid directly looking at him, clenching your muscles at the mere thought of being perceived by him.

You’re not sure he noticed the mix of excitement and nervousness swirling through you, but either way, he simply tells you to eat whatever you want as he sips on his still hot tea. Peeking at him, your heart begins to race at the sight of him holding his cup so elegantly. Better said, his whole posture is absolutely regal and you think you might see rays of light radiate off of him.

Grabbing anything in front of you and almost clumsily stuffing it into your mouth, you try to distract yourself from the perfect being sitting right in front of you. You really can’t say anything rash in his presence, or you might regret it, not only for the rest of your life, but for all eternity.

That’s what you decided on, to be a calm rational person. Sadly, your body didn’t agree with you, because the moment your eyes meet his, the crumbs of whatever sweet thing you have stuffed into your mouth slip down the wrong path, and you begin to choke. At first, you tried to free yourself from their hold discreetly, and you sure are glad that the mask is covering your face, because you doubt your predicament isn’t visible there, but these particles of dough are determined to make your life worse and worse. Because at some point you could not hold back anymore and just began to cough. And it isn’t just a normal, ‘one cough and you’re free' type of cough, it’s a ‘you’re going to eject your lungs’ type of cough. You barely had enough time to turn your face and to bury it into the crook of your arm before the attack started.

Tears are running down your cheeks, and you’re pretty sure a big part of them are from your broken heart. How could you embarrass yourself in front of Shouto like that? This is even worse than being the jester, a person meant to make people laugh, this situation isn’t even particularly funny, just horrible. How could you show your face after all this?

A cup of tea is carefully put into the palms of your hands, the porcelain warm against your skin, but there’s another warmth much more potent resting against the back of your hands, guiding you to take small sips from the tea. After the aromatic drink frees the blockage in your throat, you take a deep breath, relishing in the way you can breathe again.

That is until you feel that kind of pressure on your hands, which should not be caused by a simple cup of tea. You almost hesitate, but when you finally look up, you immediately lock eyes with Shouto, but this time, he’s so much closer to you than you would have anticipated. If your mouth was still filled with something sweet, you likely wouldn’t have only choked, but probably even done something much worse, you don’t even feel the need to think about it.

In your haze of admiration and embarrassment you nearly miss the way he almost imperceptibly furrows his eyebrows. You immediately hurry to calm his worries.

“Your Highness! I’m totally fine now, please, do not worry. You might develop wrinkles way earlier this way,” the last part is mumbled, as you lift a hand towards his face. But before you could even press the pads of your fingers against the crease to soften them, you stop in your tracks. You really shouldn’t do this, as it’s not your place, you’re not meant to get close to him or to touch him. Even if he is more than a simple character to you, even if he’s the realest thing you would ever have in your life.

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not even sure what exactly, but before you could do something about this tension between you (his hands still clutching yours, he’s still crouching in front of you, looking up to you in worry, like you’re worth the worry and–), there’s a crash.

Something has flown past the both of you, barely missing your bodies and hitting the table filled with food. The table which now has an arrow embedded into its wood. There’s no time to hesitate as you let the cup drop, porcelain shattering on the ground at the same time as you throw yourself onto Shouto, pushing him to the ground. Another arrow grazes your back this time, only noticeable by the breeze and the sting of split skin.

There are no other arrows following, as the moment the first arrow has arrived under the pavilion the surrounding knights have immediately assessed the situation and began their own attack. But before they could catch the culprit, it seems like they escaped just after the second arrow had been shot.

Only when you’re sure about the safety of the situation, do you roll away, letting yourself fall onto the cold ground, far from the spilled tea. Pain shoots up your spine, but you ignore it as you watch the knights fuss over Shouto. Shouto who is safe and merely with some scrapes from the dodge.

Slumping against the cold marble, as relief floods through you. Nothing of importance has been harmed, they didn’t succeed, once again. And you hope that this whole ordeal will lead to the security around Shouto tightening. Even if it means you might lose your position due to your foggy, practically non-existent past.

You simply take a breather on the ground, trying to ignore the possible consequences affecting you, because if you get kicked out, how are you supposed to stay by his side, uh, to protect him. There’s no way you’d want anything more. Even if he is the most attractive man you have ever encountered in your whole life, but that’s another whole bomb to defuse, you’ve got bigger problems. At least the knights have taken Shouto inside already, not even giving you the chance to see him to say goodbye or to admire his face, you mean, to make sure he’s alright.

Silence coats the once rowdy pavilion, only you’re left behind. And you don’t mind, you shouldn’t, because in their eyes, you’re no one. No one but someone who’s supposed to bring them joy at the exact right moments. Nothing more. Even if you put effort into being more, it simply won’t matter. And you know it, you know it and you’ve accepted it. That’s why you slowly sit up again, your fingers trying to touch the torn skin at your back, barely grazing it before sharpness drills into you. Yet, the wound isn’t deep, merely a touch of the blade. Something you can simply leave to heal on its own. If it leaves a scar, then it does so, as there’s no reason for you to abhor or be scared of leaving marks on yourself. That is simply life.

Yet, you don’t immediately stand up to go back. You simply stay. Trying for a moment to forget the impending doom and the task of having to stitch your shirt back into one piece. You simply stay and let the air cool you down until the tips of your fingers feel stiff. Only then do you get on your feet, intent on finally going back. But before you could even leave the pavilion in the first place, a knight taps your shoulder.

Turning around to face him, you notice that he doesn’t have the air of a knight, rather one of a noble, with the way his green eyes sparkle and his equally colored hair is styled. You also notice his clothes, which do have some elements of an armor, yet too elegant to be truly one. He smiles at you.

“Excuse me, but Shouto would like to see you,” he tells you simply, but you can see in the way his eyes wander over you that many more thoughts are bubbling over in his head. He’s simply accustomed to keeping them inside, rather than sounding them out.

You simply nod, and you’re silently grateful he wasn’t expecting you to actually bow to him. Because it would be so embarrassing to do so, only for him to notice your ripped shirt. So, you’re readily following him back to the palace and to–

The door you’re standing in front of is not his office. You glance at the noble in front of you as he knocks on the door. It opens and he invites you in, yet stays outside himself.

A moment, a blink, and you do as you’re told, entering something akin to a parlor. And there he is, Shouto, in another set of clothes and impeccably clean, but safe nonetheless. He’s sitting on one of the couches, and you simply bow the moment you see him.

He murmurs your name and you look up. “Take a seat.”

For a moment, you hesitate, unsure if you’re actually allowed to comply, as sitting on the same eye level as royalty is not something you should actually dare (even if that would be your second time, but that only makes it worse, as it could develop into a habit. You don’t want that).

Yet, you follow his command, because he continues to simply look at you, and you could not bear to have his gaze on you for such a prolonged time. So, you sit down on the edge of the couch opposite of him.

But it seems to have been the wrong move, as a small furrow appears between his eyebrows, a small crease, barely noticeable on his smooth face. Upon seeing the change on his face, you tense, ready to immediately stand up and to leave, or do whatever Shouto wants from you.

Before you could throw yourself off the soft cushions, he stands up and walks around the tea table, only to take a seat by your side.

You turn to face him at such a speed, your mask almost got flung away. And you wish you could express yourself with speech bubbles instead of words to articulate ‘???’ properly. But alas, all that comes out of your mouth is a series of warbles, akin to a keysmash. You’re almost inclined to pushing yourself towards the farthest end of the couch, especially with the way his eyes wander over the lower half of your face and–

“Take it off,” he instructs you before you could do anything rash.

“My mask? Your Highness, I’m sorry, but I won’t comply with that, my identity–”

“I mean your shirt. Take it off.”

In a weird reflex, you cross your arms in front of your body. “Wh-What’s that supposed to mean, Your Highness?”

He glances at your arms before looking back at you with a new furrow between his eyebrows. “You got hurt earlier and need medical attention. I will just do that.”

“Oh.”

If the blood didn’t rush into your face due to your surprise, then embarrassment will do the trick just fine. How could you misunderstand him like that, Shouto would never do something like, like that!

You purse your lips, another thought popping into your head. “Your Highness, not to be rude, but why would you of all people do that?”

A slight tilt to his head and his hair falls beautifully onto his cheeks, and the sun hits at the right angle and he glows. You’re doing your best to not straight-up stare at him wide-eyed and amazed by his sheer beauty. You’re so focused on appearing normal, you almost miss his answer.

“Well, you did protect me, so I suppose the injury is due to me, and I cannot leave it just like that.”

You furrow your eyebrows. Technically it’s not his fault, it’s theirs and maybe a little bit yours for being reckless. But definitely not his. But you don’t know how to explain how you’re always on guard due to the rebels always targeting him and how you wanted to protect him from the very beginning. So, you simply comply.

Of course, you don’t take your shirt off, rather, you turn your back towards him with a murmured apology and lift the hem just enough for the wound to be visible. Clenching your teeth, you wait for his next actions.

A cold burn seeps through the edges of the wound and your skin feels hot and cold and tingly. This sensation continues in small jumps all over the open skin and you barely manage to breathe through it, hissing silently between your teeth when the worst part got touched by the cold fire of pure alcohol.

The dabbing stops and you barely feel his touches after that. Nothing but a ghost as the dressing is carefully taped to your back, covering the wound to protect it.

Only after the sensations of the tips of his fingers vanish (you think you might’ve felt them graze your skin a little bit more than necessary, but that surely is nothing but your wishful thinking), do you let your shirt fall back into place. Turning back to face him again, you smile.

“Thank you so much, Your Highness,” you say with a bow, trying to express your gratitude properly to him, but you suppose only actions will truly do that work for you.

For a moment, he just looks at you, gaze unfazed and calm. Just as Shouto opens his mouth to say something, does it seem like uncertainty is tainting his dazzling pupils. Closing his mouth again with a sigh and shutting his eyes, he simply dismisses you without any other explanation.

You’re almost keen to just stay and ask him for his motivations, but you know that no matter how close you feel to him, it’s all in your head and you’re nothing more than a mere subject of his future kingdom. So, you leave. Barely time for a simple glance towards him, meeting his eyes for a second, before the door closes behind you.

Despite your need to get away, to put some distance between you and him, you just stand in front of the door. The last attempt made you realize how close death could be, how precocious you have been acting, thinking that your mere presence could actually be of help to anyone, when actually all you were is an obstacle, standing between the assassins and Shouto. And while it might prove useful, to be a shortlasting barrier, the dull ache in your back made you realize that you want to be more, need to be more.

Something clicks in your mind, something that changes how you view this world, this world that once consisted of fictional beings merged into something more. A world filled with life and death and opportunities and missed chances. And you’re in the middle of it.

Straightening your back, you shove the rest of the implications to the side. There’s no time for you to actually dive deeper into this realization, what this could mean for you especially. Rather, you begin to walk down the hallway, towards the training hall, a certain objective in mind.

*-*

The sun is barely peeking behind the horizon, almost blinding you as you take a breather. At the beginning of your random training regime, you had barely managed to finish one lap around the training grounds before you started to lose your breath. Now, you just finished your second lap and your lungs started to burn towards the end of it. So, you suppose that you gained some stamina by just desperately putting one foot after the other. And normally, you would start another lap until you feel like you’re about to collapse, but today you want to try something new.

At least new to this body. You’re still not quite sure if this is your body or if it’s just one that looks like you. Especially because it feels like some muscle memory of your old life is still ingrained in you, but of a lower quality than you’re used to. That means you need to try everything with caution and act like it’s your first time to avoid any serious harm.

That’s why you had concentrated your efforts on building stamina and muscle with simple exercises. But today feels like you’re ready for a step up. So, after you catch your breath, you make your way to the rack filled with wooden weapons and grab one in the vague shape of a sword. It’s balance is alright and it’s comfortable in your grip. You actually don’t really want to wield a proper sword because it could be turned against you easily due to your lack of experience in actual fighting. That means that a wooden sword is just perfect. It gives you range and it can hurt enough to distract someone without actual injuries. (Unless you shove it into someone’s throat or stab it into their eyes or give them a heavy concussion or —)

Anyway, less harm but still quite effective for your endeavors of protecting Shouto in some way, even if it means to be a competent distraction.

You swing a couple of times to test your grip.

“What are you doing here?” a familiar voice sounds from behind you and as you almost jump out of your skin, you barely keep a hold of the wooden sword slipping out of your hand.

Hurriedly, you turn around, only to actually face Shouto. You immediately bow and mumble a greeting, glad that bowing to him makes him disappear from sight, because you caught a glance at the way his training pants hug his thighs and if you would have seen them for even one second longer your mind might’ve erupted.

Only when Shouto tells you to straighten up, do you fumble for an answer, eyes glued to the wooden stick in your hand.

“Uh, you see, I was just very curious about swords, uh, especially ones from wood. Just wanted to touch them, to feel their texture, uh,” with every word coming out of your mouth, you wanted to slap yourself so badly.

Even if you are supposed to be a jester does not mean you’re meant to be stupid after all. You really don’t want him to think of you as stupid.

You press your lips together to shut yourself up, you can’t even curse under your breath anymore. The heels of your feet dig into the dirt and you’re ready to speed away the moment he dismisses you, but–

“Then, let’s spar. Curiosity can only be satiated by knowing more than anticipated after all.”

He reaches past you, and suddenly his body is hovering over yours, his throat right in front of your eyes and you see as his soft skin dips into his fluttery shirt. If you lean towards him even the slightest bit, your lips would meet the tender spot where throat meets collarbones. Your hands are cramping by your side, one move and they would be able to reach him way too easily. The tips of his shoes tap softly against yours and his arm brushes your shoulder as he pulls back, a wooden sword in hand.

Only when he takes a couple steps away from you and towards the middle of the training ground do you release the breath you have been holding in. Despite your past inability to use your lungs, you notice how his smell still lingers around you. Some sort of mix between the smoky smell of a fire place and the refreshing one of mint, and you wonder if his lips taste like the mint he chewed–

You shake your head before the thought evolves and for a moment you want to excuse yourself and step back, but then you remember that Shouto had an almost fatal weakness. He continues to leave his left side open, and while his friends have helped him improve, sparring with people he’s familiar with will not help him grow. So, you decide to actually have a spar. Even if it’s just one.

Standing in front of him, you try your best to copy his stance. And as you’re only a beginner, he allows you to have the first move.

You rush towards him and he easily parries. Another strike, another parry. He stays on the defensive and you’re focused on getting to know how he moves. And then, you notice the opening. With a feint, you manage to get a hit on him. One that feels like it hurt you instead of him. But you can’t allow yourself to slack just yet. You continue to hit him on his left side every time he allows an opening. Until you take your chances to trip him.

While he’s falling, you don’t expect him to grab you by the wrist and pull you with him. That’s why you flounder and lose your chance to pin him down properly, as all you can think about is how you’re stradling him and how firm his muscles feel underneath your touch, weapon forgotten and limp in your grip.

If only you didn’t get distracted by the way he appears as he looks up to you from between the strands of hair and how the breath leaves his soft lips, and how much contact your bodies are making. If you had managed to react timely, then Shouto wouldn’t have had the chance to grab your waist to flip you over, pinning you underneath him. Your legs trapped between his and wrists caught in one of his hands. And due to the lack of support, he’s almost laying on top of you.

The worst thing is the look on his face as he glances down at you. He looks at you like you’re something to be astonished by, like you’re something truly worthy to wonder at.

The heat is slowly getting to your head and you quickly surrender before you blurt or do something embarrassing. Because there’s no way you would be able to stay still if he holds you any longer in that risquée position.

Shouto slowly pulls back, freeing you bit by bit, at such an excruciating pace, you almost try to pry your wrists out of his hold. But his soft skin against yours is something you want to continue to feel, the warmth of another person, of Shouto specifically.

After he straightened up, he still hasn’t let go of one of your wrists, gently pulling you into a sitting position. Still holding you, he lets his gaze travel over your covered face. (You refuse to pull off the mask outside of your assigned room, wary of the King and the rebel spies. That’s why you have been even wearing it during training.)

Still, despite the coverage it feels like his eyes are able to see you, to truly see the you behind the thin facade of the jester.

“I know what you’re doing,” he suddenly drops, and you stiffen up underneath his touch.

“What– What am I doing, Your Highness?”, you ask, afraid of the answer, no matter if it’s the right or wrong one.

A small sigh. “Since the moment you’ve stepped into my life, well, rather stumbled into it, you were always involved with the assassins around me…”

“Wha– No! It’s purely a coincidence! That’s all I do, stumble around!” you hurriedly try to deny whatever accusations are thrown your way.

Yet, none of your words seem to have any impact, he continues without regard for your protests. “You have been protecting me, why?”

That’s what makes you lose all words, all arguments. You can’t answer him. You can’t tell him that you have known everything from the very beginning. You can’t even tell him a half-truth half-lie, that you heard all kinds of conspiracies. None of these would work. Everything you might say will make you look suspicious. And you’d rather not lie to him.

So, you simply slip his hand off of you, and he lets you go without resistance, just with furrowed eyebrows at your motion.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter as you leave, avoiding answering him, risking breaking the fragile trust he has been building towards you. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is his survival, and effectively yours after everything is over. There’s no need for it to be more between you. (Even if you wanted to confess everything to him, to tell him how much you appreciate, even love him. But you can’t, you never will.)

(How could you tell him anything, to confess to him about you and your feelings when you’re all-too-aware of what’s about to come, what’s about to happen. You can’t afford to distract him during such a vital time, especially with all the effort you have put in towards making sure he’s alive and healthy… You might’ve accepted this world, but that does not mean that you have a place between its people…)

*-*

It’s supposed to be a simple meal with the royal family. That was the plan. Just King Enji with his children, trying to have some sort of get-together once again. It’s supposed to be simple, as normal as a family of their caliber should be. Shouto has even requested your presence during the meal, as a means to get the King to have an early death due to his blood pressure, maybe.

But you know. You know what’s supposed to happen. And you still came, still decided to have his back even during the climax of his story. One where he’s supposed to perish, but now won’t. Your interference has led to him still being strong and healthy as the Crown Prince is supposed to be.

He won’t lose. The story won’t end in a tragedy.

The door breaks. Pressure putting cracks into its hard wood and splinters fly everywhere. Surrounding knights immediately step forward, building a line of defense between the royal family and whoever is on the other side. Kind Enji barely glances from his meal, even if Shouto has risen to his feet, ready to protect his family if needed.

Your own fingers find the hidden hilt of the stolen dagger, still buried in the space of your clothes. But you don’t step forward. Your fate lies in him, no matter what happens, he shall rise triumphantly.

For a moment, only the clatter of silverware permeates the silence. Until footsteps echo through the hall. Their beat indicates a slight swagger, one confirmed once a black haired individual comes into your sight. You swallow back a gasp. The descriptions in the book would have never led you to believe the extensive scarring stretching over bones, barely healed burns with a shine of purple. Something of pain and suffering. Something a child never should have gone through.

“Ah, Father, did you miss me?” a raspy voice rumbles and fills the air, choking everyone who hears these words.

A crash. The chair resembling a throne has fallen with the vigor of movement from King Enji.

“Speak no lies! Touya has perished long ago!” his powerful voice on the verge of a crack, resembling a man standing at a cliff refusing to see the way down to his end.

“Father, dearest. Your words wound me so, I shall do my best to prove my worth to you,” Tou– no, Dabi clutches his chest dramatically, laughter tinting his voice, another type of crack, one that desires the jump oh-so-much.

Before any of the guards could react, everyone too shocked by the reveal in front of them, Dabi grabs a pitcher filled with water, water meant to be served to royalty.

Yet, he does not simply take a swig, rather, he lets the liquid pour onto his hair, staining his shirt with the blackness that once stained him, revealing white with such purity as snow, a white resembling the one the heads of the royal offspring.

This time, everyone else gasps, you think to see wetness rimming Princess Fuyumi’s eyes at the sight of her long lost brother. Worse even, Kind Enji’s shoulders seem to sack down, as if a sudden weight has returned to him after thinking he was free of the burden.

But no one gets enough time to process the dead coming back to life, as the whisper of metal death resounds. Dabi, who managed to get closer with each person shocked by his appearance, is now wielding a sword. The distance between him and the King is but a jump, one he’s eager to commit, even if it may lead to his demise.

“I’m remorseful, truly, but we have to say goodbye, Father, you possess something I desire and only your death shall allow me to bring it into my possession,” he grins, swinging the blade towards his very own father.

Before cold metal meets warm one, there’s noise of metal against metal. Shouto has jumped in front of Dabi and has parried his intent to kill with the will to protect. You watch as he glances towards the guards, the ones who had gotten busy with the barrage of rebels in the meantime, blocking any effort to try and defend against the true adversary.

But Shouto is still here, his sword steady in hand and mind as clear as his eyes as he locks not only swords but eyes with the brother he has never known.

“Well, isn’t it nice to meet the perfect little Crown Prince? The one who took everything away from me!”

The grin Dabi has worn turns upside down into a snarl, one filled with a different anger, an anger caused by what might have been, one that knows that everything was out of their control, yet why does he have to suffer so?

His attacks seem never stopping, only thinking about moving forwards, about defeating the opponent, barely noticing the way his skin strains, the way Shouto’s blade glides over him, making him bleed oh-so-slowly.

A slash towards the left side of Shouto, and you wince, but blood shall not be spilled and Shouto manages to parry it, even if barely with the touch of a feather. The metal clashes and vibrates, and it seems like the unending cuts and wounds, alone amounting to nothing, but together building a fountain, have started to make an effect. Dabi’s swagger turns into a stagger. His hands tremble as he holds onto the sword with all his might, still swinging and swinging and swinging. But never hitting.

You will never know what motivated Shouto, you will never know what the future holds anymore. But that’s a good thing. Nobody is supposed to know that much, and your lack of knowledge about the coming events means that doom has been subverted. So, you will never know why Shouto has simply decided to wound Dabi, to give him a last act of mercy as he saves him from himself. Maybe he wants to give him another chance, a life where he could be whatever he wanted to be, and maybe Shouto wanted a little bit more freedom. But those are your guesses, and this Shouto is the one you have known for such a long time, but a different one nonetheless.

But that doesn’t matter, you love him all the same, and with his safety secured, you don’t need to know more.

With silent steps you leave the hall, walking towards the room Shouto uses the most. With this ending, there is no need for you in this place anymore. And you should be content. But you can’t. You feel sorrow burying in your heart, digging itself into your veins at the thought of leaving him behind, of never seeing him again. But you must. How dare you stay for no reason at all? You’re not needed, and they –he– won’t miss a mere jester.

Opening the door of his office, you don’t look around, too afraid that you might change your mind at the sight of his belongings. You leave a letter, one to resign, but also one to say goodbye, and by its side you rest your mask, something that has belonged to you, but shall no more. You leave it behind to close this chapter behind you, to refuse to remember everything at its sight in your home.

And then the door clicks behind you and there’s nothing but home, nothing but the little hut in the woods waiting for you.

*-*

It has been some time since you have last visited the village. You’re going to be honest, you don’t need to. Despite the amount of money you own being enough for you to survive comfortably, you decided to make your own little garden, to cultivate your own food and to distract yourself, among other reasons.

So, of course you’re surprised when a couple of soldiers stop by your place, as most of the news never reaches your little place. They barely talk to you, rather, they ask if you live here and simply nod at your response before marching off again.

Scratching your head as you look after them, you shrug it off. As far as you’re aware, you’re not violating any laws or something. This is technically your property, so you suppose you would have a pretty strong standing if there’s a court or whatever they do around here.

What you did not expect is for another person to emerge. One that practically glows under the rays of the sun, his dual-colored hair shining like ice and fire as the breeze plays with them. At this sight you immediately drop whatever utensil you’ve been using to work in the garden. A curse under your breath and you push the hat you’re wearing lower in a weak attempt to hide your face.

Until the tips of his shoes appear in your vision and you can’t help but take a peek. Your eyes meet his and recognition flits through them.

Before you could utter any rambling excuse, Shouto kneels and takes your hand in his. He guides it to his lips. “My Savior”, he mutters against the back of your hand before he presses a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Ah, Y-Your Highness, please, stand up,” you fret over him, yet not pulling your hand out of his grasp, a part of you had missed his feathery touches against you, him being oh-so-careful every time skin touches skin.

He stands up and his free hand brings something to your face. You can’t help but close your eyes, only to feel a smooth surface against your face. Your mask. And his hand cups your cheek as he leans down. Your eyelashes flutter, his lips meet yours and you melt into him.

You fit into his touch as a mask fits a face, and you realize that this is where you belong, this is where you should be. Not only because fate has brought you to him, but also because he made you a place by his side from the very beginning. Love can be given and received, but a place to be loved has to be made, after all.

#shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto x you #shouto x y/n #shouto todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #xreader #ru writes

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mayajadewrites · 2 months ago

Text

Could've Been You (Aizawa x Fem! Reader, Hawks x Fem! Reader)

chapter thirteen

I'M BAAAAAAAACK! sorry for the long wait, but I wanted to be sure to provide you guys a good chapter that will help keep the story going. i'm probably going to change this more to aizawa x reader, since keigo has one foot out the door lol I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

✦ story synopsis: You're the new teacher at UA with a rocky past with one of their beloved teachers, Shouta Aizawa aka Eraserhead. You'd rather never see him again but alas, such is life. You also meet Keigo, aka Hawks, who is the opposite of Aizawa. Smiley, golden retriever energy.

✦ chapter content warnings: none

✦ relationships: aizawa x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader

comments are ALWAYS loved and appreciated <3

ao3

TAG LIST:

@come-away-with-me87, @kxshdoll, @evilsanzu, @friendly-neighborhood-turtle, @lili-pond,

@the-unhinged-raccoon @falling4fandoms @cherry-cosmoz @kkgraham @big-denki-energy @aphrodite-xoxo @keiweeny @minminroie @skazewrld @crimsonsaki @@smarty0029 @bokunokamijiro

"She's here, isn't she?"

There he was, Keigo, standing in Aizawa's doorway with a scowl on his face.

You keep your face behind the door, pressing your ear against the door hoping to hear more.

Shota is not one to back down from anything, especially when it comes to you. After all, he waited years to have you.

"And if she is?" Shota crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps pressed against the hardness of his chest.

Keigo looks at Shota, eyeing his stature, as if sizing him up. He puffed up his wings a bit, looking inside the room. "I need to explain to her what happened, that I-"

"You can save it, pretty boy."

"She moved on that quickly, hm? A shame that you had to have my leftovers."

"Leftovers?" Shota's voice got louder, and you can sense the tension in the room. "She isn't a piece of meat. Is that how you think of her? Since you slept with her, you think you own her?"

"I'm just saying - I've had her, and now you have too. I see those bites on your skin, I've had those too."

Shota was starting to get enraged. The thought of you, sleeping with Keigo before him makes his blood boil. No, you weren't together, but in his mind - you're his. He doesn't need a reminder of who's been inside you before.

You pull on a pair of Shota's sweats and a t-shirt, walking out of the bedroom quietly.

Your heart rate increased as you stepped into the living space. If looks could kill, you'd be dead from the look on Keigo's face.

"There's the woman of the hour." Keigo looks at you, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

"Keigo, please leave." Your usual strong persona was not present. Your arms are across your chest - you're uncomfortable.

"Not without me explaining myself. You can't just sleep with another dude because I left when you were sleeping."

"Sleeping with Shota wasn't a spur of the moment decision, Keigo. Actually, you were."

His face slightly changed, no longer with a proud smirk on his face.

"I've known Shota since we were in high school. We had a falling out, but he's always been a part of my life, a part of me."

"So our nights together meant nothing, hm? I was just there as a placeholder?"

You sigh, your hand pressing to your forehead. "No, I actually liked you. But when you left me without a word, something in my gut told me to leave you alone. And my gut was right."

Shota is leaning on the doorframe, watching you speak with a slight smirk on his face. Damn, that's my girl.

"I'm not the one for you, and that's okay. You need a woman that will fuel that giant ego of yours. More of a fan girl."

Keigo's face turned a bit red as he looked down at the ground. He's embarrassed, no doubt, but you had no choice.

Without another word, he turned around and walked away. His face was full of... hurt. Possibly embarrassment.

How could she want him instead of me?

His insecurities were starting to seep through his cocky exterior, which made him flee.

Shota closed the door, looking at you once again. He brought his hands to each side of your face, squeezing your cheeks gently as he looks at you. "Look at you standing up for yourself." His voice is soft as he caresses your soft skin.

Your hands wrap around his wrists, looking up at him as you stand on your tippy toes to eliminate any space left between you.

Shota's lips mended with yours, moving slowly as his thumb grazed over your cheek. "Are you sure I'm what you want?"

Your eyes flutter open as you look into his, nodding slowly. "There's no one else for me. Just you."

Months went by as you and Shota rebuilt your relationship. Almost like getting to know each other all over again, this time without the angst.

You basically live in Shota's apartment, yours almost untouched a couple of doors down. You spend your days teaching the next generation of heroes, and at night you belong to Shota.

"Kitten, can you pour me a glass of wine please?" Shota's on the couch, reading the newest novel he picked up from the bookstore.

You nod, finishing washing the dishes and grabbing him a stemless glass, filling the cup with the sweet liquid.

After pouring yourself a glass, you plop down next to him and hand him his.

"Thank you." His lips press against your temple, your body curling next to his as you press your chin to his shoulder.

"Your book looks boring." You sigh, skimming the pages.

"Actually, there was something I wanted to bring up to you." He closed the book, his attention now on you. You straighten your posture as you look at his face - this is definitely serious.

"There have been more villains around. And... I was thinking, you and I could be a part of the team that protects the city. I think both of our quirks would work-"

You freeze. The last time you and Shota fought a villain together, you ended up in a coma. Your friendship with him was done.

Shota could sense your anxiety, and his hands anchored you to him.

"Hey, I'm right here." His voice is soft as he caresses you.

Your whole body felt like it was frozen. Like there was absolutely no way you could move anytime soon. Your anxiety was palpable.

"Shota..."

"There are lives at stake, darling. This isn't a training session. I'm... I'm worried."

You force yourself to look into his eyes, your heart sinking as you watch him.

This might be the beginning of the end.

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takes1 · 6 months ago

Note

For a request, would you be interested in a bully Dabi x male reader (maybe in a college AU or something. You can decide if you want it to be in the LOV instead)? Reader is constantly picked on and demeaned by him, but one day maybe in a private area reader is cornered, some suggestive content goes on/maybe noncon depending what you want to do, and the reader speaks up when the situation almost goes too far (and normally he is quiet. He’s that nerdy kid afraid to disappoint his parents/and a virgin. So he is scared of what was going on in that scenario.) After, you can decide what goes on from there!

Also to add, my bad about asking make characters. I did read the rules but had no idea what afab of amab means, should of looked it up before asking lol 😂

you're okay! no worries :) i really liked writing this, it's very different from my other stuff. i'm so sorry this has taken so long! will write a part 2 soon and probably end it there!

warnings. barely sfw, slight noncon themes, creepy vibes

details. male!reader / college au / frat au / inexperienced!reader / loser!reader / corruptionkink!dabi / loser!reader / degradation / praise / power play / slight noncon / yandere!dabi / 1.2k words

🤍 scenario series. more dabi and others here.

more links. my ao3 / dabi headcanons / requests open

"No, mom--,"

You almost tripped over your untied shoelace for the third time in the past two minutes but continued to ignore it. Stopping to fix it was scarier than getting a face full of dirty cement.

"No, it's-, okay, uppercase L, did you try the uppercase L yet?"

A rush of adrenaline plumped your veins for a fleeting moment and you gripped your cracked phone like a lifeline. The sound of shoes other than your beat-up Vans scraped across the sidewalk. You turned and there was nothing but the drip of residual rain from gutters, and some trash brushing by a garbage can.

Of course, a Mcdonald's wrapper would be responsible for your fatal heart attack. Or your mother, who didn't understand how to capitalize a letter on her keyboard to enter her bank password.

There was another half mile to your dorm building. When she called you halfway through your journey back from your last late class, you were relieved to have something else on your mind other than the threat of seeing a Brother around.

Pledge Week was Hell. Actual Hell. This must've been your divine punishment for being such a giant fucking loser your entire life-- a cruel joke from God designed to say, 'Look at this dumbass! He's paying hundreds of dollars to get hazed for a week, then ostracized for the smallest hope of feeling like he's a part of something!'

"It's the left side, mom. It says shift on it," You sighed.

This was the first week you hadn't commuted home for the weekend. With no social skills to bank on, there was nothing to do on the weekends except drive two hours home. At least you could be comfortable there. Not necessarily wanted, until they had a technology issue that required a Cybersecurity major -or just any person with brain cells- to fix, but you had your own quiet room.

It didn't change the fact that the Brothers of Alpha Sigma Phi betted on you to join them as a joke. You didn't have any connections or lineage like the other Pledges, but it was funny to pick the scrawny kid and see how long he'd last.

You didn't know how you lasted this long. It was a sort of tolerance that you built up, because Alpha Sig gave you something to do, somewhere to be.

A semester as a Pledge; running errands, attending parties but not allowed to drink, getting shit on at every turn because that was just the culture here and you thought, maybe after you graduate to become a Brother in a couple of days, you would have some real friends.

Another thudding sound of footsteps much heavier than yours. This time, they didn't stop, and neither did you.

The orange glow of streetlamps every 15 feet became markers for your sanity. Only nine more to go before you were at your building.

Your stomach was in your throat. The hand in your pocket clutched your knife.

"You got it?" Your voice was uneven but your mother didn't notice. You wished she would stay on the phone longer, but there was nothing else to talk about.

Even the other seven Pledges didn't associate with you. If they did, they got screwed with more. This week had become a sick kind of lonely, fast.

It was like clockwork. As soon as your phone left your ear, a voice much closer than you anticipated shocked your muscles still.

"Hey, Pledge," It was by far the worst Brother imaginable; the one who seemed to take personal pleasure in your torment above anyone else, "The fuck do ya think you're talkin' to?"

You kept your hand in your pocket. Pulling a knife on him would erase all progress, possibly even make this whole semester's worth of work useless, but you weren't about to surrender your only line of defense when you weren't sure if it would get violent.

Dabi was deceptively glittery under the streetlamp. His piercings gave you something else to look at to avoid eye contact.

"My mom--," You could barely get your words out.

"You're not supposed to speak to anyone this week," He lowered his voice and approached slow because he knew you wouldn't move.

Narrowed eyes watched another student on the other side of the deserted street.

Two years ago, Alpha Sig had been under an investigation for hazing (rightfully so, you could imagine), so the older Brothers were careful about what they said and did in public. In private, everything was still on the table.

So far, the worst thing you were forced to do was the bottling line. This was an activity where they made you and the other Pledges stand in a line to drink an entire bottle of various combined liquors. Each of you had to drink a fair amount, or the last man had to drink whatever was left. You were the last man.

This was already after a knowledge test about the fraternity. If a Pledge got a question wrong about the history of Alpha Sig, he was forced to drink.

Eventually, they made you drink whenever somebody else got a question wrong because you were answering everything correctly.

You had never thrown up so violently at the end of one night before. You weren't sure how you made it back to your dorm, but you woke up at 3 in the afternoon the next morning and didn't bother going to the rest of your classes.

"That includes calling your mommy," Dabi mocked, close enough to be in striking distance.

Every Pledge knew to stay far away from this crazy bastard. He was joked to be so masochistic that he was the one responsible for the investigation in the first place.

But he sought you out so much you had almost seen him every day this week. Enough to count every piercing on his face, wonder what each of his tattoos meant and why he had so many.

He took a glance down to your hand.

"Whaddya got a hard-on or something?"

You shot your hand out of your pocket, knife-less, defenseless, and embarrassed, sparking a smirk across his face.

Your dick was not hard right now, but it wasn't opposed to getting off at the thought of Dabi's big hands, among other things.

It was worth wondering if they could all tell. You weren't flamboyant, but you supposed that not being straight wasn't their only reason to shun you.

You wondered if they knew about Dabi's equality tattoo, a small but mighty symbol under his arm that you managed to get a glimpse of at one party after staring at him too long. He made you his personal servant many times for that problem throughout the semester.

It gave you the chance to pick up on things that weren't so traditional about him.

In truth, it only made your staring worse because you were certain he was more similar to you than anyone would care to think.

He closed the distance between you and sized you up while you put your hands behind your back. You couldn't believe you had forgotten to until now; that was what your class was supposed to do when a Brother called on them.

Dabi's breath was warm and minty on the side of your face when he muttered, "You're gonna show me your dorm, Pledge."

A big, strong hand shoved you hard. Back into the direction you had been walking. There was not much you could do now, other than shakily guide him back to the one place you felt safe.

taglist:

none. reply to be added for part 2!

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causticjuice · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 6 — Frottage, Dubcon

Cardinal Copia x gn!reader

Notes: I decided to do Kinktober! I am using the official Kinktober 2023 prompt list. I plan to do at least 4 more after this one (look out on the 21st, I’m really excited for that one). These deadlines are doing wonders for me lol. This is a pretty short one, a bit of a warm-up.

Tags: smut (MDNI, 18+), frottage, dubcon (I think it's pretty mild but still there), somnophilia (kinda, in a way), established relationship

Word count: ~700

ao3

It has been such a long week. You barely got any sleep and you want to take a nap so badly. But you’re supposed to meet up with Copia soon, so you consider your options. You think you’re close enough by now that he won’t be offended if he comes to find you sleeping in your bed. You’re sure he’ll understand. Yes, he definitely will. You lie down and wrap yourself up to your nose, beginning to drift off immediately.

“Hello!” you hear the Cardinal yell at the entrance to your quarters. “Are you there, amore?”

You groan, turning in your bed.

“Oh! I thought we were going to lunch together! M-mi dispiace!”

“Hmm, come. Nap,” you mumble, half asleep.

“I- I’m sorry?”

“Come nap with me, Copia,” you say, trying your best to make the words sound clear.

“Ehh, okay…” he agrees apprehensively, unsure of how to respond to such a sudden change of plans.

“Pillow’s in the drawer.”

You can hear the drawer under the bed open and close and you lift up the duvet behind you, eyes still closed and body turned away from him. Then you can feel the mattress shift and a body presses against you, a leg slots between yours and a hand rests on your waist. You snuggle into the warmth, pushing back and tangle your fingers with his.

Just as you get comfortable, you can feel him rocking against your hips and his breath on your neck speeding up slightly.

“Mm, we were supposed to sleep,” you whine.

“I’m so sorry, tesoro. You just- you smell and feel so good.”

“Ugh, fine. Do whatever you want. But let me sleep.”

He replies with a timid “mhm” and positions himself next to you so that he is flush with your body. His hand is roaming over your waist, hip and belly, his crotch gradually pressing into you more insistently. You can feel his nose poking your scalp, occasionally inhaling deeply, getting drunk on your scent.

You aren’t quite able to fall asleep with him rubbing against you and his stifled groans and pants in your ear, but you drift into a trance-like state where it feels almost impossible to speak or move even though you can still very much experience what is happening. You can feel his arousal infecting you, silently hoping for him to touch you where you need him while he uses your body for his own pleasure.

He slots his clothed cock between your asscheeks, every thrust a little stronger but still careful. As his ruts become more vigorous, he slides his hand between your legs, maybe to make you feel good, maybe to stabilize himself. Either way, the pressure and slight movement are enough to turn your mild arousal into a fervent need.

His speed keeps increasing and all of his inhibitions are gone as he humps you with abandon. The whimpers and gasps he makes into your neck reverberate through your body and cause your points of contact to feel like they're on fire. He is completely lost in your body, his hand on your crotch rubbing intently but sloppily. In your mind, you are greatly affected, but the only way you show it on the outside is with the quickening of your sleepy breath.

He is so close now, moans completely unrestrained and bucks wild and deep. He stiffens up against you with a wail while doing his best to keep stimulating you but, frankly, failing. The first move you make since he started is to press on his hand and keep it still as you rock your hips to help him through his orgasm. You can feel your lower back getting damp, his cum soaking through his red suit pants and surely leaving a huge stain.

"Well, I'm definitely not getting any sleep now," you say while turning around to face him.

"I'm so, so sorry for being so selfish, amore. I just c- couldn't help it with-"

"Oh, don't you worry. I'm sure we can figure out a way for you to give back.”

#posting in the last half hour of the 6th in my timezone haha #still counts #smut #mdni #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader #cardinal copia #copia #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #ghost band smut #ghost band fanfiction #ghost band #ghost band fanfic #my fic

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wigglywormy · 7 months ago

Text

blurred lines, sharp twine [bakugou/deku, 5.6k, nsfw]

okay. so I haven't written a fic in over 5 years!! can y'all believe that? i used to be so active on this blog, pumping out fics day and night, but life got busy and before I knew it over 5 years have passed omg.

of course my first fic back would be something like this lol. this was written for @wreckingtickles who shares my undying love for bakugou getting absolutely destroyed. they prompted me with a fic featuring bakugou's stirrup leggings and that kinda spiraled into this huge monster of a fic.

please enjoy 8) (also i made an ao3 to cross-post my tickle fics on!)

warnings: nsfw, feet, intense tickling, bondage, veryyyy slight dub-con, minors DNI.

Izuku wouldn’t openly call himself a weird guy, but he definitely doesn’t really try to hide the fact that he’s a little on the strange side. He knows he’s a gigantic nerd (he’s thoroughly reminded of that fact by Bakugou everyday), he knows he’s a little awkward, and he knows he’s maybe even a little bit of a freak. But, through the years of trauma, war, violence, and near-death, he’s come to accept that life is much too short to deny who you are.

Moving in with Bakugou after graduation was something Izuku didn’t even have to think about. Bakugou set up a few apartment viewings, and it went completely unsaid that the smartest decision for both of them would be to stick together. Roommates equaled cheaper rent, and since they both were working under the same agency it was easy to align their schedules. Normally they patrol together (the Wonder Due didn’t get its name for nothing), but occasionally - especially lately - Bakugou has been picking up more shifts than usual.

Izuku can’t help but notice how tired Bakugou has been lately, especially tonight, coming home from his 9th day in a row of patrol. The door closes softly behind him - he must think Izuku’s asleep already as it’s around two in the morning, and Izuku turns slightly from his position curled up on the couch to watch Bakugou toe his boots off. He’s already changed out of his hero uniform, clad in only his leggings and a soft, worn looking hoodie that Izuku’s pretty sure belongs to him.

Bakugou leans his head against the wall in the foyer for a brief moment, sighing deeply, and Izuku’s heart aches at the noise.

“Late night?” Izuku asks, closing his book and setting it on the coffee table.

Bakugou jumps. “Jesus - shit, you scared the fuck outta me.”

“Sorry,” Izuku murmurs, a slight smile on his face.

“The fuck are you still doing up?” Bakugou grumbles, finally making his way over to sprawl on the opposite end of the couch, sinking into the cushions with a grunt.

Izuku shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Which, technically isn’t a lie, but. Still. Even when he lays in his bed at night during one of Bakugou’s shifts that he’s not partnered on, he finds himself teetering between sleep and wakefulness as he listens carefully for the front door to open and shut, signaling Bakugou has gotten home safe for the night. Codependency wasn’t something Izuku was planning on adopting after the war, but his heart just can’t seem to relax if he doesn’t know that Bakugou is home and safe. Breathing. Alive.

Normally it’s fine, but since Bakugou has been working himself to death the past few weeks, Izuku’s own sleep schedule has taken a toll.

Bakugou doesn’t look bloodied or bruised now, though, which is a good sign.

“I thought your shift ended at midnight?” Izuku asks, his eyes unconsciously skimming over Bakugou’s exhausted body as he slumps further down into the cushions. He folds his arms over his chest, burrowing into the oversized borrowed hoodie, and Izuku smiles because Bakugou is so loud and brash, but right now, here and safe at home, he allows himself to be soft with Izuku.

“It was supposed to,” Bakugou grumbles, rubbing a hand over his face. “One of the interns got caught up in a stupid bank robbery and ended up with a fuckin’ concussion, so I stayed late to help finish up some of his paperwork.”

“That’s sweet of you, Kacchan,” Izuku teases, and Bakugou rolls his eyes, stretching his legs out to rest in Izuku’s lap.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugou says, voice tense with exhaustion, “I’m a fuckin’ saint.”

Izuku let’s his hands fall onto Bakugou’s ankles, rubbing gently with his thumbs, and he swallows heavily as his eyes trail down Bakugou’s body, the black leggings hugging his muscles tightly, all the way down to the thin straps holding the stirrups along the arches of his feet.

Izuku wouldn’t openly call himself a weird guy, but shit, that’s another thing about moving in with Bakugou after graduation. Getting to see all of these new and exciting sides of him; tense and angry and bloody after a fight, soft and exhausted after a long boring shift, sleepy and comfortable on his day off.

But the damn stirrup leggings have Izuku trying desperately hard not to act up.

“Do you - uh, want a foot rub or something?” Izuku blurts out, his thumb pressing into the bone of Bakugou’s ankle.

Bakugou’s eyes narrow, and Izuku offers a small nervous smile, trying not to seem as if he’s too interested. He just wants to help his friend relax, okay? Nothing weird about that. It’s not like they haven’t massaged each other before after a long day of hero work. Bakugou’s great with his hands, and Izuku’s arms and shoulders get knotted up so tightly after hours of using his quirk.

Bakugou still has smudges of dark eyeliner around his eyes since he hasn’t washed his face yet since patrol, and it makes his gaze piercing in the low light of the living room. He’s quiet for a moment, contemplative, before shrugging eventually and folding his arms across his chest.

“Fuck it, I ain’t gonna say no to a free foot massage,” He shrugs, “Lemme take these stupid fuckin’ leggings off first - ”

“No!” Izuku blurts out, and he chuckles awkwardly as his grip tightens on Bakugou’s ankles. “I mean - um. You don’t have to, it’s fine.”

This time, Bakugou looks… curious, which is the only way Izuku can describe his gaze. He bites his lip a bit as he thinks, and when he wiggles his toes a bit, Izuku feels warmth pooling low in his belly. Bakugou’s feet are surprisingly slender, his arch defined beautifully, ideal for someone who has to be quick on their feet. His toes are slightly pink, as are the soles of his feet, and they look soft from being in his boots all day. Izuku swallows thickly, but god, he just wants to touch.

Is he into feet? Who knows, maybe, he honestly hasn’t thought too much about it until recently. Maybe he’s just into Bakugou’s feet? When Bakugou wiggles his toes again, Izuku finally glances up and catches his gaze.

“Well? What’re you waitin’ for,” Bakugou says, his voice softer than it’s been all night.

Izuku’s hands are large, tan, and calloused - a stark contrast against Bakugou’s pale skin, and at the fist press of his thumbs into the arch, Bakugou exhales quickly through his nose, body sinking further into the couch.

It’s a little difficult to massage his feet with the strap from his stirrups hugging his arches, but at this moment in time Izuku would rather die than ask Bakugou to take them off. He moves over to just one foot, pressing both thumbs into the heel of his foot, and he slowly works his way up, calluses catching onto the legging strap as he moves upwards.

“Did the bank robber get caught?” Izuku asks, hands firm but delicate, watching as Bakugou’s toes twitch when he digs in beneath them.

“What?” Bakugou replies, blinking his eyes open where they’ve fallen shut. “The - oh, shit. Yeah. Sero was actually patrolling nearby so he got him while I took the dumbass intern to medical.”

“Don’t be so mean,” Izuku chuckles, “We were dumbass interns once, too.”

“Interns, yes. Dumbass? No,” Bakugou shoots back, but then he smirks. “Well, I wasn’t a dumbass. Can’t say the same about you, nerd.”

Izuku rolls his eyes, and he can’t help it when his touch softens, hooking a finger underneath the stirrup strap to graze his nail along the delicate arch.

The reaction is instant - Bakugou inhales sharply and twitches, looking ready to pull his leg back, but Izuku holds onto the strap, preventing him from moving away.

“Deku,” Bakugou growls, and to everyone else on this planet, the expression on his face would scream angry, sharp, intimidating.

But Izuku’s known him since they were kids. Izuku can read him like a damn book, and right now underneath that glare, Bakugou looks nervous.

Izuku keeps his touch soft, one finger hooked into the stirrup strap, while his other hand grazes right beneath the blonde’s toes. His foot twitches again, his toes curling up tightly, and the only word that comes to Izuku’s mind is cute. His feet are cute, and apparently sensitive, and Izuku has no idea what monster has taken over his brain but all he wants to do right now is see Bakugou squirm.

He might be dipping into dangerous territory, but ever since they moved in together, Bakugou’s been much more open to physical touch. It almost feels like a game they’ve been playing, dancing around each other but never going to a place they can’t return from. They’ve fallen asleep cuddling on the couch. They’ve spent quiet days off with Izuku’s head in Bakugou’s lap, the blonde idly playing with his hair while they watch old reruns of All Might movies together. They’ve even spent a few nights together in bed, holding each other close when the nightmares creep up every few weeks.

But this? This might be a place they can’t return from. Izuku’s not sure what Bakugou’s feeling right now, but the lines are so incredibly blurred in this moment, and Bakugou’s cheeks are steadily turning pink, and Izuku knows he could pull away if he really, really tried.

But he’s not. He’s staying put, fingers clenched into the cushions of the couch, eyeing Izuku warily.

“You know,” Izuku says idly, moving one hand to grip Bakugou’s ankle, the other hand trailing his fingers up and down, up and down, so soft it’s barely there. “You used to be so mean when we were kids, holding me down and tickling me until I cried.”

At the word - tickling - Bakugou audibly swallows. “Not my fault you were so damn ticklish, idiot.”

“I could never really get you back because you were so much stronger than me,” Izuku muses.

“It wouldn’t have mattered anyways, I’m not fuckin’ ticklish,” Bakugou replies. His voice sounds sure and steady, but his eyes keep flickering down to where Izuku is still stroking up and down his sole. He’s tense, and Izuku can feel it - Bakugou’s trying so hard not to move, not to give himself away.

Izuku laughs quietly to himself. Of course Bakugou would see this as a challenge to himself.

“Of course you’re not ticklish, Kacchan,” Izuku says, “Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, it might actually come true.”

“It is true, you little shit - ah!”

He squeaks, his breath hitching, when Izuku flutters his fingers under his toes again. His other leg, the one Izuku isn’t holding by the ankle, jerks back, and Izuku thinks no, we can’t have that now, before tendrils of black whip shoot out, pulling his other leg back and twisting around the ankle.

“Okay, now that’s completely fuckin’ unfair,” Bakugou grunts, trying to sound unaffected, but this time Izuku can hear the shake in his voice. “The hell are you tryin’ do here, Deku?”

“Nothing,” Izuku says, a few more tendrils of black whip emerging to wrap around his other ankle so both of Izuku’s hands are free now.

“You call this nothing?” Bakugou tugs at his feet a bit, and black whip tightens to keep him in place.

Izuku ignores him. “I thought you weren’t ticklish?”

Bakugou frowns. “I’m not.”

“Then this is nothing,” Izuku teases, finally wiggling his fingers in earnest over both of Bakugou’s feet, now bound in his lap for him to do with as he pleases. The thought has his stomach flipping, molten lava settling low in his gut, and he can’t help his dick twitching in interest.

Bakugou’s reaction is beautiful, finally a small huff of laughter escaping him as he wiggles his feet as much as he can with black whip holding his ankles down. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and they keep alternating from clutching at the cushion beneath him to hovering in the air as if he’s fighting his instinct of reaching down and showing Izuku away. His eyes are averting, as if the thought of watching Izuku tickle him is too much, and oh, he’s so cute.

Izuku’s feeling a little nice at the moment, but Bakugou’s fighting his laughter, and Izuku wants to hear him, so he moves his fingers up, scratching underneath his toes. Bakugou does laugh this time, covering his mouth with one hand in surprise as the sound escapes him. His toes curl, trying to block Izuku’s fingers, and a few more tendrils of black whip slither out and wrap around each of his toes, effectively prying them back so Izuku’s fingers can burrow into the soft, sensitive flesh there.

“Wait - no, Deku - ah, ahah.” His laughter is light and staccato, little gasps in between his growls as he covers his mouth with both hands now, muffling himself as his eyes squint in mirth. Once again, he could get Izuku to stop if he really wanted to, but besides the tugging and squirming of his bound feet, he’s not doing much else to get away.

That thought intrigues Izuku, and his confidence grows as he scratches in between his toes, pulled back and vulnerable thanks to black whip.

“I always thought your feet might be sensitive, you know, with how much you sweat and stuff,” Izuku muses, gears turning in his head as he makes mental notes on where Bakugou seems to react the most to. Underneath his toes seems much more ticklish than between them, but the arch of his sole seems equally as sensitive, especially when he pulls back one of the stirrup straps and rakes all five fingers up and down.

Bakugou gasps. “Y-you’re a d-dick,” he growls, but the words melt into laughter as Izuku does the same thing to his other foot before letting the strap go with a snap.

He gives Bakugou a moment to breathe, and the blonde finally lowers his hands from his mouth. His face is extremely flushed now, and he’s looking at Izuku with a mix of murderous intent and… want?

“Still not ticklish?” Izuku murmurs, rubbing his palms over Bakugou’s soles. The blonde twitches again, tensing, before relaxing when Izuku just rubs firmly, soothing.

“Once again - you’re a dick,” he grumbles.

“And you’re ticklish,” Izuku teases back, scratching his nails up the sides of Bakugou’s feet this time before making their way back to the soft, pink skin right beneath his toes.

“Don’t - Deku, st-stop! It f-fuckin’ - ”

“It what?” Izuku’s feeling mean now, and having Bakugou squirming because of him has his dick hardening more in his sweats. “It tickles?”

“I - I c-can’t - ahahaha!”

“You’re so strong, you can take it, can’t you?” And oh, Izuku’s playing dirty, because there’s nothing Bakugou hates than being told he can’t do something, and if he admits he can’t take the tickling, it’d be the same as admitting defeat, and Bakugou Katsuki is not someone who’s ever been defeated.

Although, Izuku thinks, watching as Bakugou covers his mouth again and squeezes his eyes shut, tickling might just be the key to finally defeating this man.

Izuku doesn’t like how muffled he sounds, though, so he uses more of black whip to sneakily slide up and twist around Bakugou’s wrists, tugging them away from his face. A few tendrils slip up his arms and slide underneath the sleeves of his hoodie, and Bakugou’s expression turns to panic.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” He hisses, but his lips are still twitching on a smile which ruins the intimidation of it. “This is an awful fuckin’ use of your quirk - ”

“So was last week, with yours,” Izuku interrupts, “when you were too lazy to microwave the popcorn and tried to just explode it instead.” Izuku laughs, remembering how long it took them to fish out all of the popcorn kernels from every single crevice in the living room.

“At least that was for a good reason!” Bakugou protests, squirming when the tendrils of black whip slip higher into his sleeves, nearly grazing his underarms now. His breathing is short, body tensed and mouth turned down in a pout.

“You’re saying this isn’t a good reason?”

“What, so fuckin’ torturing me is a good reason to abuse your quirk?”

“It’s torture?” Izuku murmurs. “I thought you weren’t ticklish.”

If Bakugou’s face could get any pinker, it would, and he bites his lip hard when Izuku wiggles black whip into the hollows of his underarms, keeping it light and feathery. Bakugou can’t hold out for long, though, and soon he’s gasping on a laugh and wriggling as much as he can in the hold Izuku has him in.

This time though, Izuku fails to notice Bakugou’s feet squirming aggressively, and Izuku freezes and gasps when the blonde’s bound feet nudge against the very obvious hard-on in his sweats.

Izuku swallows, his hands darting down to grab a hold of Bakugou’s feet. His toes are still tied back with black whip, and Izuku resists the urge to brush his fingers along the skin because something is unraveling inside of him and having Bakugou like this is quickly becoming addicting. Instead, he ducks his head, words escaping him as he opens his mouth but not coming up with anything to say.

A few seconds pass, Izuku preparing himself mentally for an explosion to blast him away or for disgusted yelling and screaming to occur. He’s already mentally drafting the text to Todoroki to ask if he can move in with him when Bakugou inevitably kicks him out once he’s freed.

A beat passes. One. Two. The silence is deafening, and Izuku finally manages to raise his eyes up to glance at Bakugou, surprised at the curious expression painted there. Bakugou nudges his heels gently against Izuku’s dick again, and Izuku hisses and bites his lip, apologies already spilling from his mouth,

“I’m s-sorry, shit, um - ”

“I should’ve fuckin’ known you’d be into something weird like this,” Bakugou says lowly, tilting his head a bit, almost like a cat analyzing it’s prey. “You’re a little freak, ain’t ya?”

The words should be harsh and piercing, but Bakugou sounds like he’s…. teasing him. And not in the mean, bullying way that Izuku was expecting. Their eyes meet, and Izuku sees a small hint of a smirk when Bakugou presses his heels in harder, wiggling against Izuku’s clothed cock as much as he can in his restraints.

“Kacchan - ah,” Izuku sighs, cheeks burning. “What’re you - ”

“What is it you like about it, huh?” Bakugou asks, his voice low.

Izuku’s head feels like it’s going to explode. “I don’t… I don’t know? I didn’t even - I mean… I like….”

Bakugou raises an eyebrow. His arms are still held tightly with black whip, the tendrils under his arms twitch when Izuku stutters, making Bakugou squeak quietly and jerk in his hold. That has Izuku’s eyes darkening again, and Bakugou still hasn’t blasted him away. If anything he’s egging him on, and Izuku’s mind races with what this might mean.

“I like… you,” Izuku starts off slowly.

“Me?” Bakugou questions, and if Izuku isn’t mistaken, there’s a twinge of something akin to hope in his voice.

“Yeah, you,” Izuku breathes, all rational thoughts thrown to the wayside now. “But I also like… having you, like this,” Izuku plays with the stirrup straps on Bakugou’s soles, fiddling with the fabric, breathing hard when Bakugou squirms each time his fingers graze the skin. “I like feeling you squirm. Hearing you laugh. Having you all… y’know, vulnerable for me?”

As he speaks, a few more tendrils of black whip slip under the front hem of Bakugou’s hoodie, slithering up and tapping away at his ribs. That has Bakugou giggling again, and god, Izuku loves his laugh. This is different from his normal laugh, it’s softer and hiccupy and the sound sends white-hot heat straight to his dick. Shit, could he come from this? Just from having Bakugou squirming and laughing and bound up like a perfect little present?

“Jesus - Izuku,” Bakugou laughs, rubbing his thighs together, and Izuku’s eyes widen when he sees a bulge in his leggings, now visible from where his hoodie has ridden up.

Izuku’s brain short-circuits then, and he’s now laser focused on the other boy, fingers moving almost mindlessly as they go back to scratching beneath sensitive toes. Izuku keeps his eyes on Bakugou’s face, his expressions, every twitch of his brow, and the blonde chokes on a laugh and ducks his head, trying to hide his face since Izuku has his arms pulled aside.

“What do you like about it?” Izuku asks, growing bolder the more Bakugou squirms.

“Fuck, oh my g-god, I d-dont - !”

Izuku moves finally, and though he keeps Bakugou bound with his quirk, he crawls up until he’s seated, straddling Bakugou’s thighs where they’re squeezed together, and now Izuku’s just a nudge away from Bakugou’s own obvious arousal.

“You don’t like it?” Izuku says, and this time, he withdraws black whip from underneath Bakugou’s hoodie, instead sliding his own hands beneath the fabric to touch bare skin. His hands are warm and large, fingers curling gently over Bakugou’s deliciously tapered waist, and though he doesn’t do anything yet, Bakugou’s shifting and squirming beneath him already.

Bakugou’s eyes meet Izuku’s finally, and when Izuku flicks his gaze down to Bakugou’s cock, hard as a rock in his leggings, Bakugou groans and ducks his head again.

“It’s not - I don’t know!” Bakugou breathes out, frustration clear in his voice. “You’re just - fuck, it’s weird.”

“It’s not that weird, Kacchan,” Izuku murmurs, and Bakugou tugs helplessly at his arms again. Izuku hums, pulling his arms with black whip until his wrists are crossed, and then slowly - absolutely mean - he lifts Bakugou’s arms up and back until his elbows are bent, bound hands pulled behind his head and forcing Bakugou to lean back more into the arm of the couch. Izuku slides further up, straddling Bakugou’s thighs until their clothed cocks finally brush, and Bakugou breathes out a shaky noise.

“It’s okay,” Izuku breathes.

“Let me go,” Bakugou grumbles, but his eyes are averted, blush high on his cheeks, teeth gnawing at his lower lip nervously. And wow, having Bakugou nervous, beneath him where Izuku can feel the heat radiating off of his body, has Izuku grinding forward, rubbing their dicks together firmly.

Bakugou instinctively tries to buck his hips up, but with the way he’s bound up, he can’t get too much leverage. Once again, he’s still not blasting Izuku off into the sun with his own quirk, so Izuku drums his fingers against Bakugou’s bare sides, drawing little circles with his thumbs right beneath his ribs.

“Ah - ” Bakugou hiccups on another strained giggle, and Izuku grins at him sharply.

“What do you like about it?” Izuku repeats, tickling oh-so-gently, because now that he has his hands touching him, he can’t stop. He can feel every hitch of breath, can feel his body tremble with restrained laughter, and there’s definitely no going back from here.

When Bakugou doesn’t respond, Izuku creeps his hands higher, towards the upper part of his ribs. His hoodie is bunched up completely now, and although Izuku would love to remove the damn piece of clothing, he’s scared if he lets Bakugou go now, this electric bubble they’re both in will pop and Izuku will have missed his chance completely.

He grinds against Bakugou again, while at the same time finally digging into his ribs, and the explosive laughter that Bakugou lets out has Izuku groaning out loud.

“Okay - okahahay! Fuck!” Bakugou yelps, taking a breath when Izuku’s fingers finally pause. “I - fuck, I don’t know. I like… how it feels, not being… not being able to move or some shit, I guess.”

Bakugou looks like he’d rather die than tell Izuku all of this, but Izuku’s already gotten this far, and there’s nothing that would ever make him stop now. The blurred line is now vanished completely, and Izuku murmurs quietly,

“You like being tied up, Kacchan?”

Bakugou frowns, glaring at him, but doesn’t respond.

Izuku continues, smirking. “You like being tied up by me?”

Bakugou squirms a bit, staying defiantly silent.

“You like being tickled like this? Helpless, vulnerable, letting me do whatever I want to you while you can’t do anything to stop it?” Izuku has no idea where this filthy mouth of his came from, but he takes this newfound confidence and harnesses it, slipping a hand down to cup Bakugou through his leggings and squeeze.

“Nn - fuck,” Bakugou pants. “No, you asshole, I don’t like being tickled - ”

“I disagree,” Izuku says, and this time when he pinches at Bakugou’s ribs, he can feel Bakugou’s cock jump beneath his hand as the blonde gasps out a laugh. “I actually think you really like it.”

“Just - when it’s you,” Bakugou finally gasps out, giggling softly as Izuku crawls his hand higher. His words give Izuku pause, Izuku’s heart beating rapidly in his chest because oh. Okay. Just when it’s him? Because it’s him?

Oh.

“Kacchan,” Izuku breathes, a magnetic pull tugging at his chest until he’s ducking down and kissing the laughter right out of Bakugou’s mouth. The blonde moans, tilting his head to the side to kiss him deeper, and Izuku happily licks into his mouth, chasing the feeling of god, fuck, finally.

Bakugou jerks his head to the side though when Izuku’s hand creeps higher, fluttering dangerous fingers into his underarm, and he yelps on a laugh, squirming and bucking up into Izuku’s other hand still kneading at his dick.

“Oh my god,” Bakugou giggles, shaking his head back and forth, and Izuku takes a moment to duck lower and kiss his neck, licking up beneath his jaw, biting gently right under his ear. That has Bakugou squeaking again, and Izuku moans as he feels the blonde tremble against him.

“God, you’re so cute,” Izuku moans in disbelief. “How can you be so hot and cute at the same time?”

“Y-you should be - ah, ahaha - asking yourself th-that - fuck, Izuku, I cahahan’t!”

Izuku stops tickling him for a moment and grins. “You think I’m hot and cute?”

“Not right now, while you’re ti - ,” Bakugou cuts himself off with an embarrassed grunt, not even able to say the actual word, and Izuku takes note of that happily, “Also, fuck you, I’m not cute.”

Izuku doesn’t respond right away, instead opting for shoving Bakugou’s leggings down so they’re bunched around his thighs, freeing his dick, before settling back up where he was seated before. He pulls his own cock out of his sweats, and when he wraps a large, calloused hand around them both and strokes, squeezing perfectly tight, Bakugou throws his head back and moans.

Tendrils of black whip slide down his legs where his feet are still tightly held in place, and as they flutter and scratch beneath his toes more intensely this time, Bakugou actually lets out a small sob, his eyes tearing up as he simultaneously tries to tug at his legs while also squirming up into Izuku’s hand on their cocks.

“You’re feet are so sensitive,” Izuku muses, his pupils so dark his eyes look black, and although Bakugou can’t really kiss him back while he’s laughing, that doesn’t stop Izuku from swallowing up every little noise he makes, lips spit-slick and panting against Bakugou’s mouth.

“Izu - Izuku, plehehease - ah, fuck, fuck,” He sounds like something straight out of one of Izuku’s wet dreams, and Izuku leans back again to stare at his face. Bakugou’s eyes are screwed up now, tears leaking out from the corners, and Izuku coos at him.

“Baby,” he says sweetly, “Is it too much?”

“Y-yes, I can’t - Izuku please.”

“I think you’re stronger than that. It’s just tickling,” Izuku teases. Bakugou’s cock is leaking, and it’s making the slide of Izuku’s hand on them both so, so good. Izuku brings out some more tendrils of black whip, sliding them right back underneath Bakugou’s hoodie to return to the warmth of his underarms, and Bakugou screams.

“It’s so - ahhaha, it’s t-too much,” Bakugou whines, his breathless giggling mixed with moans that sound as if they’re being punched out of him, and his body is strung tight, so tight Izuku can feel how close he is to breaking.

There’s something so incredibly sweet about taking Bakugou completely apart like this. Izuku pants and grinds into his own hand, squeezing and rubbing the head of his cock against the blonde’s, and while black whip continues tormenting Bakugou’s poor feet and underarms, Izuku’s own free hand comes up to grip Bakugou by the chin, forcing him to look at him, eyes blurry through his tears.

“Tell me how it feels,” he whispers, his lips just a breath away from Bakugou’s, feeling the warm desperate noises coming out of the boy’s mouth.

Izuku swipes his thumb over the head of Bakugou’s cock, his own arousal forgotten as he slips down to squeeze at the base tightly, preventing the blonde from actually coming. Bakugou makes a guttural, desperate noise, and Izuku’s grip tightens on his face, keeping him there, watching him.

Izuku’s quirk is nearly everywhere by now, black whip slithering beneath the leggings to stroke behind his knees, a few more tendrils brushing and tickling at his neck, and even more settled beneath his hoodie, prodding and digging and relentless. The fight has completely left Bakugou finally, and he’s slumped against the arm of the couch, body shaking and fighting the plethora of sensations that are overwhelming him.

“Hey,” Izuku laughs a bit, “Baby, c’mon. Tell me how it feels.”

It almost feels evil, watching as Bakugou tries to speak, to come with something, anything to get Izuku to - what, to stop tickling him? To keep tickling him? To stroke his dick again until he comes all over himself? Bakugou’s brain is mush, and Izuku revels in the desperation painted on the boy’s blushing face.

“It - fuck, it f-feels like torture,” Bakugou manages to gasp out, but he bucks his hip up when he feels black whip dig into the ticklish dip of his hip.

“You like being tortured, it seems,” Izuku points out as Bakugou’s cock leaks another bead of precome, so red and hard it’s nearly purple.

“No - ” Bakugou hiccups on his laughter, eyes widening when Izuku raises a brow,, “I mean - fine, shihihit - yes, yes, I like it, god fucking d-damnit Izuku!”

“Shh,” Izuku soothes, but he doesn’t release his hold at the base of Bakugou’s cock.

“Please,” Bakugou whines, and Izuku nearly comes when he realizes he has Bakugou exactly where he wants him.

“Please what?” Izuku releases Bakugou’s chin and his hand slips under the hoodie, pinching right at Bakugou’s top rib, a place Izuku’s learned makes him absolutely lose it.

“Pl-please let me - ah, ahaha fuhuhuck - please let me c-come!” Bakugou’s crying in earnest now, ducking his head down to press his forehead against the crook of Izuku’s neck, and Izuku’s heart leaps when the blonde bites down on Izuku’s shirt, trying to muffle his noises in the fabric.

It’s adorable, and Izuku sighs happily. “Of course, Kacchan.”

He grabs ahold of both of their cocks again, this time stroking in earnest, fast and quick. It doesn’t take more than a few pumps of his hand before Bakugou is crying out against Izuku’s neck, writhing beneath him as he comes, and Izuku keeps tickling him through it. The sensation is electric, Bakugou’s body fighting to distinguish between pleasure and torment, and Izuku groans loudly as he uses Bakugou’s come to stroke his own cock.

“St-stop,” Bakugou giggles, completely breathless, “Too - too f-fucking much - please - ”

Izuku ducks back down to kiss the sweet helpless laughter right out of his mouth, finally coming, his own come mixing with Bakugou’s between them. Izuku heaves a deep breath, slumping against Bakugou as black whip finally retracts, disappearing back into his body and releasing the blonde from their clutches.

It’s quiet for a moment, Bakugou’s arms having fallen limp at his sides, head still buried in Izuku’s neck as he catches his breath. When he shifts, flexing his legs a little, Izuku leans back, sitting up and brushing Bakugou’s hair back from his sweaty forehead.

“Holy fuck,” Bakugou manages, blinking leftover tears from his eyes. “You’re fuckin’ evil, you know that?”

Izuku giggles nervously, still riding the high of whatever the hell just happened between them. Bakugou finally lifts his arms, wrapping them around Izuku’s waist loosely, and Izuku’s heart flutters when Bakugou leans up to press a kiss to the corner of Izuku’s mouth.

“You liked it,” Izuku says, turning to kiss him properly, now able to happily lick into the warmth without Bakugou’s laughter hindering him.

“Fuck off,” Bakugou murmurs into his mouth. “So what if I did, huh?”

Izuku just hums, because that blurred line being gone means that now he can kiss Bakugou whenever he wants, and that thought has him grinning widely and winding his arms around Bakugou’s neck.

“Ew, no, don’t get your nasty jizz-hands in my hair!” Bakugou protests, and Izuku laughs out loud, pulling his arms back quickly.

“Shit - sorry, sorry! We should probably get cleaned up, huh? Your hoodie is covered in come.”

“Good thing it’s not my hoodie, then,” Bakugou smirks. His cheeks are still flushed, and Izuku rolls his eyes as he takes his come-covered hand and smacks it right into Bakugou’s cheek before darting off of him and running away like his life depends on it.

Bakugou shrieks and scrambles to chase after him, and Izuku’s laughter echoes happily through their apartment.

#bakudeku #dekubaku #bnha #bnha tickling #tickling #worm writes #tickle fic

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xoxo-surfergirl · 11 months ago

Text

A Very Targaryen Holiday - Dark!Aemond x Strong!Niece

Part I

summary: Lucera and Aemond reunite with their families to spend the holidays together. Aemond wasn’t always nice to her when he was younger, but has he changed?

notes: the main pairing in this is aemond x strong niece, but I guess I did write it as aemond x fem!lucerys velaryon. Whichever floats your boat more! aemond is not the nicest in this, but this fic is a mix of fluff and smut (but none of the fluff comes from aemond, lol). Slight dubcon, rough oral sex, and attempts at humor. There are no physical descriptions of Lucera besides her having long hair. There is a second part, which I will be posting soon. I cross post on ao3, with essentially the same username (just without the hypen) xoxosurfergirl! I hope you enjoy!!!! <3

Lucera took a deep inhale, followed by a deep exhale. Indulging in her breath usually helped whenever her nerves began to get the best of her. Her suitcase was cracked open in front of her, waiting for her to stuff it.

A few fancy dresses. A few long sleeves—it could get cold there at night. Several pairs of pants. A tank top just in case. A swim suit for the hot tub. More underwear than she needed.

She ran back to her dresser to grab the last few items required to fulfill her trip, when her door swung open loudly. Baela was able to nearly leap from the door to the bed, causing her comforter and pillows to jump from impact.

Her curls splayed out onto the bed in a halo. “I’ve always loved your bed. It’s the softest out of all of ours, you know.”

Lucera looked at her, unease crawling its way through her stomach and up her throat. “Yeah, well. You can always ask mother for a new one.”

Baela softened her face. “Luce, I know this is weird for you.”

“No, no. It’s fine, really, it’s just been awhile.” Lucera folded her clothes to keep her hands focused.

“It’s not really fine. I know we haven’t talked about it for a long time, but I know how weird it must feel for you.”

Lucera sighed. “It’s just, everything might be completely normal you know? And I’m anxious about nothing.”

Baela sat up on the bed, making deep eye contact with Lucera. “Don’t discount your feelings. It’s been four years since we’ve seen them, and for very good reason. Let me remind you that after you accidentally maimed him, he did try to hurt you. On purpose.” Lucera looked away, but Baela continued. “The only reason why we haven’t celebrated Christmas with them is because there were so many close calls and mother noticed”

She remembered the “close calls”. If only they had known all of the times the calls weren’t so close, but no one was there to see it.

“I know, I just wonder sometimes if it’s all in my head. Nothing really happened,” Lie. “I’m the only one who actually hurt someone.” A deep sense of shame leaked through Lucera’s chest, one that she had been trying for years to tame.

But Baela wouldn’t let her stew. “It was an accident, Luce. It’s okay. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to understand it. But what he was doing was not an accident. Remember the year he locked you in Grandfather’s industrial freezer for half an hour? Any longer than that and you would have died. Remember last time he took an ornament and forced you to crush it with your hand so you’d get glass stuck in your skin? Remember when he tried to slam your arm in the oven but Jace stopped him? Remember that other year he almost drowned you in the hot tub? There are even more than this, Lucera. You are perfectly right to be nervous about seeing him again.”

The walls in her mind were crumbling with Baela’s narration of the past holidays. These were memories Lucera had done her best to stifle, but they always returned louder than ever. She would never tell Baela that she had let him do these things, or that there were several more incidents that no one else knew about, because she had always felt like he deserved some form of retribution for losing his eye at her hand.

Aemond had always taken a keen interest in her. He had always followed her, watched her intently. It wasn’t hard to take notice of it. Everyone had.

But everyone had written it up to be nothing beyond youth fascination. Children stare at each other all the time. There was nothing peculiar about Aemond’s behavior.

It was only after the accident that his attention on her took a slight new meaning. Although hesitant at first to resume the previous non-concern from the rest of her family, time had worn away the worry it had initially caused. It had allowed for much else between them to take place.

“Thank you, Bae. I am nervous, but part of me does think we’ve all changed a bit. I certainly have.” And she had. They are adults now. It would be weird if he was still into torture. Most kids grow out of it.

“Exactly. We were weird teenagers and now we’re actually older. I’m sure we’ve all changed a lot since then.”

------------

The snow crunched under their tires, a fresh coat not yet salted by the city. Lucera recognized the skyscrapers in the distance, and her face softened when she saw the telltale curves of the family company’s building peak around the corner. Although it had been some time since she had visited their family townhouse in the city, she remembered the streets like she had lived there her whole life. Happy Little Treats, the best bakery in the city. Blackie’s, the best diner on the East Side.

Her, Rhaena, Jace, and Baela had decided to drive separately from their parents, who also had Joanie with them, as well as little Aemma and Viserra. It was much easier to take two cars, especially when they knew they would probably want to go out at different times from their parents who had two little ones. Poor Joanie, too young to be with the older girls all the time, but also far too old to be stuck with Aemma and Viserra, was doomed to float between the two groups.

The radio was tuned to holiday music, and the girls delighted in singing along to every song that rang through the speakers.

As they were closing in on their destination, Baela intercepted the music with her normal speaking voice, the first to do so in over an hour. “What do you think they all look like now?”

Rhaena was the first to answer. “I’m not sure about Aegon or Aemond, but Helaena and I see each other at uni. She’s radiant and beautiful, as she always has been.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you've mentioned seeing her around.” Baela replied.

Rhaena smiled, and shook her head down. “Yeah, she’s the coolest, honestly.”

Baela laughed. “Out of those three? It’s no competition.”

Jacaera’s breath fogged up the window as she spoke. “I’ve seen Aegon and Aemond in passing at uni as well. They seem alright. Aegon is no longer the tall one.”

Lucera perked at this. Aemond? Tall? She shook her head. “I swear I forget we all go to the same school sometimes. There’s just so many people I never see them.”

“Aemond is tall now? Wow. I’ll have to see it to believe it.” Baela jeered.

Jacaera drew a heart in the fogged glass before turning and facing the rest of her sisters. “Yes! It was honestly shocking at first. I barely recognized him, but I saw the eyepatch and knew immediately.”

Oh right. The eye patch. Lucera sighed. Baela moved her hand to sit atop hers in acknowledgement.

A right turn here, a left turn there, and the chateaux-style massive townhouse came into view. The four stories were gaudily embellished by baroque trim, with a massive oak door calling attention to its center. Wreaths were attached to the base of every windowsill, and a candle placed in each window. They watched as Rhaenyra and Daemon pulled Aemma and Viserra out of their carseats, having arrived a few moments before they did. Joanie was looking up at the mass of the townhouse, most likely counting how many windows there were, trying to remember which room was what.

Two men Lucera didn’t recognize dressed in all black greeted her parents, and Daemon smiled and gave him his car keys.

Rhaena twisted the steering wheel to pull up right behind them, and the other man dressed in black immediately jumped to open all of their car doors. Lucera felt like she was moving in slow motion the way the man was everywhere at once, and by the time she had stepped onto the sidewalk, he already had the trunk thrown open and was lifting their suitcases next to her.

“Thank you!” Lucera said enthusiastically, trying to cut through his quickness.

The house—if it could be called such a humble thing, loomed above her. She felt as if she was stepping into all holidays past, where he lingered with the bitter taste of sadism.

The large doors eased open, beckoning them inside. When she peaked in, she saw Daemon’s black trench coat deep in the arms of her grandfather, Rhaenyra to his side, buried in Alicent with a beaming smile of delight. They let go, embracing one another in turn. Viserys could barely contain his excitement at the sight of the little ones, having crouched down to greet them. Lucera noticed the exact moment he caught sight of the rest of her and her sisters, and his joy multiplied ten times over.

“Oh, my girls! My girls.” He said, reaching in to hug each one of them. “I couldn’t be more happy to have all of my family in one place again.”

Greetings were further extended to Alicent. It must have been an exhausting process for Viserys and Alicent, she guessed, since there were so many of them.

Alicent addressed the group. “I was just telling your parents, the rest of them are lost in the house somewhere. I’m sure you’ll see them shortly.”

The girls nodded, and Joanie said something about being excited to see Daeron. The flurry of movement divided as everyone was sent to their rooms to unpack.

Alicent nodded to a staircase on her left. “I put you girls up in the kid’s wing.”

Jacaera laughed, playfulness in her voice. “Only some of us are still kids.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Alicent waved her hand downwards. “You’ll always be children to me.”

Climbing up three floors was exhausting without the bag, and Lucera could hardly imagine doing it with the extra weight in tow. She looked at the house staff carrying her and her sisters bags, and felt a bit sorry for them.

After reaching her rooms, she was delighted to see that she had a window overlooking the front sidewalk. There were fresh winter roses placed delicately in an opaque white vase on her bedside table, the blue jumping out against the walls of her bedroom.

Her nerves were reaching an all time high. She still hadn’t seen Aemond, yet he was here. But her thoughts were interrupted when Baela swung open her door.

Lucera turned to look at her. “Do you ever knock?”

Baela spun around and leaned exaggeratingly against the door frame before saying, “Not with you, I don’t. All of us girls are going to the hot tub. Put your bathing suit on.”

Lucera smiled, and unzipped her suitcase. “I’ll be ready in five. Wait for me?”

------------

The hot tub was roiling, jets pumping near blistering water against their backs. It was heavenly. Their hair was tied up in variations of buns and pony tails, the ends tickling their necks.

Rhaena had been intently looking at the back of the townhouse. “It’s so crazy to be back here after all these years.”

“It’s hardly changed since then. It feels like I’m stepping into a place frozen in time.” Jacaera marveled.

Helaena chuckled at their insight. “I’m sure it feels that way. I haven’t been to Dragonstone in forever either.”

Jacaera turned to her in revelation. “Gods that’s right! You should come stay with us for the summer. The beach is so warm then.”

“Yeah! Maybe when we all finish up our finals Helaena can just come home with us?” Rhaena said in agreement.

“I’d be happy if you had me,” Helaena replied. “What are all you studying anyways?”

Baela went first. “I’m studying business, with a concentration on finance.”

Lucera seconded her. “Me as well.”

Jacaera tagged at the end of Lucera's agreement. “Also me.”

Helaena laughed. “All you three planning to work for the family business, then?”

“Something like that. Jacaera, Baela, and I will take over after Rhaenyra and Daemon.” Lucera answered. “After Viserys passes, of course. It will be awhile, but there’s a lot to learn anyways.”

“Aemond’s going to do the same. Aegon isn’t interested in being a part of Hightower Associates, and neither am I, but Aemond is preparing to take over after our grandfather. Have you seen him around uni?”

Baela chuckled. “We were just talking about that,” she looked at Jacaera. “Only Jace has, really.”

“Hm. That’s funny considering he’s also in your department.” Helaena remarked.

“Right? I mean the library is huge, but it can’t be that large. I’m there all the time.” Jacaera pondered.

“Knowing him, he probably found a secret room and lives out of it”. Helaena sighed. “He doesn’t go out too much, and he’s really focused on his work.”

Lucera thought about the growing man Aemond had morphed into. One who was deeply integrated and committed to his family business, just as she. It only meant he had gotten more cutthroat. It’s the only way to survive in the world of finance they were thrust into. None of the top hedge fund managers, heads of banking families, or titans of brokers reached and stayed where they were because they were the most virtuous. To survive in this world meant being vicious at times.

A trait that ran in the family, clearly.

“We’ll probably run into him one of these days.” Baela acquiesced. “What are you studying again Helaena?”

“Studio art, concentrating on painting. Aegon is doing the same, but focusing on photography. We both much prefer it to the chaos of the family business.” She said proudly, until she realized the context of the conversation. “Not that I’m putting you down for choosing it, or anything.”

Jacaera giggled. “No, we get it. It is pretty chaotic.”

The hot tub had gone from the initial burn, to comfortable, to boiling again as the conversations ebbed and flowed through several different interests of theirs, such as their love lives and the semester's hook-ups, with extra time spent on the more embarrassing ones. It was truly Baela dominating the bulk of the conversation, hardly anyone else had anything to add apart from a meager makeout here and there.

Baela was also newly introduced to the term “situationship”, as the rest of them deduced she was most certainly in one with Adam Hull.

“Just because we sleep in the same bed most nights doesn’t mean we’re together.” She objected.

Helaena was set on getting her to admit it. “And does he stay in the morning? Do you do any other activities together?”

Baela scoffed. “We get dinner sometimes. And go to the movies every Tuesday, but that’s only because tickets are half-off on Tuesdays. And we go to the gym together. But it’s nothing, really.”

Helaena tried to ease her into it. “You do realize that is essentially a relationship, besides you have no direct commitment or any expectations? Someone is going to get hurt eventually.”

Lucera rolled her eyes. “And it’s probably him. Gods Baela, the man is probably in love with you and you are too daft to see it.”

All eyes on her, Baela was lost in the processing of this new information, until she remembered who and where she was, and quickly found a way to deflect it. “Oh shut up. Says you, you’re like the genuine version of a pick-me girl. Every man who looks at you falls in love with you.”

Lucera rolled her eyes. “You’re exaggerating.”

A smile crept across Baela’s lips, successfully removing the attention away from her situationship. “Um, no I’m not. What of Tyrek Lannister? Gerrick Greyjoy? Dorren Stark? And that’s only from this quarter.” She used her hands to prove her point, counting them on her fingers.

Lucera threw up her arms. “I can’t help it! Honestly! Besides, I don’t lead anyone on, just have maybe a kiss or two.” The rest of the girls sang a chorus of oos, bringing a blush through her cheeks.

“And who was the best out of them?” Jacaera coaxed.

“It hardly matters,” Lucera drawled, “but, it was Gerrick.”

“Hm. I’m surprised it wasn’t Stark.” Rhaena gave a side-long glance at Jacaera. “I’ve heard good things about Stark men.”

Jacaera’s face flushed, praying the heat from the tub would conceal her thoughts. Naturally, everyone noticed, but chose to spare their easily flustered sister.

Helaena looked her in the eyes, and threw her a trusting wink.

------------

As the day wore on, Lucera’s anticipation of seeing Aemond waxed and waned. She thought it would have happened by now—if they were still kids, it surely would have, being at the age where presence around the family was required. She thought of the many places he could be, the things he could be doing, but it was difficult to imagine someone she hadn’t seen in several years. It was nearly impossible to conceive of it, and it only raised her nerves.

Dinner passed along quietly, winter soup and charcuterie being served on a come-and-go basis in the parlor to account for the rush of her family’s arrival and the need for a little bit of flexibility in their schedule. Afterall, there was still much planned for the day: they were going to the ballet, and everyone would be attending.

In front of her vanity, Lucera examined herself in the mirror. She lifted the delicate silver chain to secure it around her neck, the deep crescent moon in its center sitting in the joint of her collarbones. She didn’t try to examine her reasonings for being extra fickle about what she wore, but it was hard to escape his presence in them. It had been so long, and she didn’t want him to think her ugly. He either had changed for the better and would no longer say his cruel thoughts aloud, hadn’t changed and would say that and so much more, or he had gotten worse. A shudder rippled through her as she tried to imagine how that could be possible, but what if it was?

She wanted him to look at her and see how much she had changed, that she was no longer a girl anymore. And perhaps, if he had any lingering thoughts of resentment, that could lend him to realizing that she was no longer deserving of his hostility.

Her nerves from earlier had thawed, and amongst the remains was a newfound confidence. Her mary janes clicked on the sidewalk, her self-assuredness carrying through her legs. She reached into the SUV where her family was waiting for her.

Rhaenyra, holding Aemma on her left leg, reached over and grabbed her hand. “You look radiant, darling.”

Jacaera patted the seat next to her. “Something got your spirits up?”

“Nothing in particular, just had a good day.” And it was true. The day had been knotless. She had been surprised by its ease, and delighted just the same.

Once the tires slowed and the doors slid open, she reached her hand around to grab the frame, the other taking Daemon’s hand to step out of the car. The marquee hung gaudily above them, its essence of performance steeped in its display. She looked around for the Hightowers, who had pulled in ahead of them. She found Alicent’s thick calico fur shawl, trailing to Helaena’s platinum hanging down her back, to…

Her throat seized. Was that really him? His back was set against her, but she could see Aegon’s side profile, meaning the other one must be him.

Jacaera was right, he is tall. She had never pictured him with his hair long. Her sisters poured out of the car to stand alongside her.

Baela was the first to acknowledge it aloud. “Gods, I hardly recognize them.”

The slamming of the car doors must have carried, and he turned around from his mother to face the rest of them.

His hair swung gently, and she caught the moment his eye landed on her. His eyepatch looked menacing, scar tracing just outside of it. While holding her gaze, he upturned his lips into a tight smirk.

Their families approached each other, not too far away to begin with.

Aegon looked delighted to see his cousins, endearing them each. His face had filled out on the edges, and he hadn’t grown an inch. Aemond upheld his apathetic image, looking slightly uninterested, but they knew him better—-he simply always looked that way. Her sisters took turns pulling each of them into hugs with their greetings.

When Aemond reached her, he regarded her for several moments, his dark smile returning. “You’ve changed, Luce.”

She straightened her back, ignoring the way he was openly sliding his eye across her from head to toe. “So have you.”

He surprised her by pulling her deep in his chest, bending his neck down to whisper in her ear. “I haven’t forgotten our little games.” Before she could respond, he released her.

Baela had witnessed the interaction from a few paces away, her eyes still on Aemond, who had gone to greet Rhaenyra. Lucera walked up to her.

She fell into step beside Baela, through the doors, tickets in hand. “What did he say to you?”

Back and forth, she contemplated telling her the truth. Through her childhood, she had never been fully honest through the extent to which he hurt her. Rhaenyra had questioned, Daemon had asked, and her sisters had pushed after her wellbeing once the accidents had been exposed as something more purposeful. Lucera knew her parents were smarter than she, but they also didn’t push the subject when she refused to yield.

She didn’t quite know why, though she supposed it was because she felt she owed Aemond her pain. It was the least she could do for taking his sight. He hadn’t permanently damaged her, afterall. Even though he got close, she reminded herself.

Her mind completed its process, and Lucera would continue her pattern with conflict as she always had. “Just that we all look older now.”

“Hm.” She grabbed Lucera’s arm, looping it in hers, voice quieting. “He looks like a fucking super villian.”

Lucera couldn’t bite back her amusement. “He really does, doesn’t he?”

She didn’t want to think about what else he looked like. Attractive, for one. It felt like a sin to even say it in her mind. Lucera was startled by how menacing he looked, but it suited him. His face was lined in hardness and brutality, his lone purple eye allowing for expression.

His walk bled dominance, something she could do without recognizing. But it was hard to ignore the complex grace in his movements, how every turn of his head and lift of his hand was controlled and measured.

Her eyes kept finding him unwillingly, absorbing the man he had become. Lucera couldn’t help herself, needing to remind herself to keep her gaze anywhere but him. He would notice. Baela would notice. Daemon would notice.

After getting their tickets scanned, she and Baela followed their entourage to their seats. The gilded plasterwork came alive from the walls, creating deep shadows, brightening the jewel tones that sat there. The lattice work was interladened with cherubs holding glowing sconces and foliated candelabras. Figurative and floral murals and abstracts curled and jumped from the ceilings, each framed by golden trim. The proscenium arch jutted out gently from the stage, red curtain dropped to hide the rest of the stage.

Their seats were hoisted on the second floor in the box on stage right. Lucera smiled to herself. She knew whoever had bought their tickets did so knowing that the best view would be from above, so they could see the aerial perspective of the dancer’s intricate formations. If she had to guess, it was probably Alicent.

She had sat in the first row of seats, between Jacaera and Baela, while he sat in the second, off to the side, closer to the stage. The curvature of the seats allowed for her to see him out of the corner of her eye, his side profile unmistakable. As she gauged where he was in relation to her, he caught her eye. He brazenly smirked towards her, and then looked away. She ran her fingers over the front of her dress, needing the movement to keep her grounded. Shortly after, the curtains opened and she breathed relief at the comfort that she would have something else to focus on.

It wasn’t as easy as she had hoped.

As they progressed through the suites, Lucera was trying to tame her gaze, pulling and forcing it to remain ahead on anything but him. There was so much to look at, too—the dancer’s tutus and tights, skin and hair was alight with glitter catching every ray of stage light. The way they moved, their arms pouring up and down, their legs fluttering across the stage. Glissade en arriere to arabesque. The live orchestra in the pit, the sliding of their bows, the dancing of their fingers. She had so much to choose from. And it worked for a time, until she remembered his presence, and she had to pull her gaze forward again.

He caught her once or twice, and returned her wandering eyes with the same haughty smile.

She didn’t know if it should scare her, but it definitely made her feel something. Like she wanted to push the button to reveal a secret. Perhaps it was curiosity; she was a woman now, and can’t possibly be pushed around like she used to. He wouldn’t kill her. Not now at least. It would have had to happen years ago, when he was still a child and could get away with “accidental” murder. At present, he’d go to prison for manslaughter. Right? He has to know that. And he himself is a man grown, who has risen above such ideas. Right?

The curtains were drawn, they stood from their seats, her family quickly ushering everyone to get back to the house as fast as possible.

Once alone in the comforts of her bedroom, she unzipped, unlaced, and undid every button and tie on her clothing, releasing more than just the tension it had held on her skin. The whirlwind of their evening had finally come to an end. She had seen him, and it had been somewhat eventful, but she had expected nothing less.

------------

The next morning after an uneventful breakfast, Viserys had called all of his grandchildren to the kitchens. He ensured they knew their presence was mandatory.

“You kids haven’t seen each other in so long. It’s time you bond again.” It was hard to tell what the room-wide cringe was from: being called kids, or being told they must bond over something of Viserys’ choosing.

Lucera looked around the massive kitchen, and knew immediately what they were going to be doing.

Viserys waved his hand. “I dismissed the staff early today. Instead, you all are going to be making our family’s holiday cookies!”

Joanie squealed in excitement, diverting the attention away from Aemond and Aegon, who both rolled their eyes louder than she’d ever seen it done.

“Why not. I love baking!” Rhaena perked.

Viserys stepped out to be more directly in front of them, looking at each of them intently. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Aegon and Jacaera, you two will do our peanut butter kisses. Aemond and Lucera, I want you two doing our sugar cut-outs. Daeron and Joanie, you two are in charge of snowballs. Rhaena, Helaena, and Baela, you three will do our gingerbread cookies. You’ll need the extra person since they’re a lot of work.” He gestured towards the back wall. “I’ve had the cooks set out all the ingredients, and there should be plenty of room for all of you.”

Lucera didn’t know quite what to do. Her intimidation of him was preventing her from moving her feet. Let alone, she didn’t know if Aemond hated this idea, and she didn’t want to feel his rejection. But then again, very little sounded better than fresh cookies.

Joanie and Daeron had practically run across the kitchen, as if it was a race to see who could finish the fastest. Lucera smiled at her youthful enthusiasm.

“Are you going to just stand there and look dumb?” Aemond’s voice cut through her thoughts.

She looked up at him. “No, no of course.”

“Of course you’re going to stand there and look dumb?”

Lucera grumbled. “You know what I meant.”

They walked over to the corner of the kitchen. Lucera knew this recipe by heart, having made it many times the past several years at Dragonstone.

“We need to work the butter, first. Cream it up a bit.”

She began unfolding the wax off of the butter.

“They’re quite simple. I don’t know why he wants the two of us to do it. A child could make these by themselves.”

Lucera took the flat end of the spatula and smashed the butter into smaller pieces in the bowl. “You know why he wants us to do it together.”

Aemond pulled out the bag of flour, dipping the cup deep in the bag. “I suppose. Funny thing for him to act like he cares so much about bonding time.” He swiped a knife off of the top of the measuring cup. “So this is what bonding looks like?”

Lucera scoffed. “It could be, if you actually acted like you wanted to be here.”

Across the kitchen, she could hear Jacaera scolding Aegon over the bag of hershey’s kisses. “You do realize we need some of those to actually make the cookies? Save some for the rest of us.”

Aemond paused, mulling over his next words carefully. “I could be doing something else.”

Lucera looked over at Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena, who were giggling over the molasses and brown sugar.

“And what might that be?” She questioned mockingly. While he poured in the sugar and flour, she began mixing in the butter.

“Working.” He turned to face her, dipping his head to look down at her from their close proximity. Sarcasm sat between his next words. “Ever heard of it?”

Lucera was slightly ruffled by this, and even though she caught on to his tone, wasn’t willing to go along with the act. “You don’t know the slightest thing about me.”

He stood behind her to grab something on the other side, and whether it was for stability or otherwise, he put his hand on her waist. She tried not to make any sudden movements to imply she was thrown off or affected by this gesture, and could not say if she was successful or not. His hand was large, fingers stretching across the right side of her lower back. Just breathe. She tried to tamper down her blush, not wanting him to know that he flustered her. It would only make her more of a target.

“Twas just a joke, Lucie.” He smirked, pulling away, and warping his fingers to the newly formed dough in the bowl.

She tried not to watch the way his deft hands worked the dough into a ball. Needing to prove she was not in fact bothered, she replied, “Regardless, I will have you know that I’m in the line of succession. Me, Jacaera, and Baela are all going to uphold Targaryen International Banking after Rhaenyra and Daemon.”

To her surprise, Aemond showed her possibly the first form of respect she had ever received from him. “It’s an honor to not only be a part of our family, but also uphold its greatness.”

Lucera pulled out the various cookie cutters, clearing her throat. They had been apart all this time, their secret torture games known truly just between them. She knew she should hate him, but she didn’t. And the unfortunate circumstances had decided that he must grow into a desirable devil. But she can’t think about that right now. Looking at her cookie shape options, she decided her favorite was the Christmas tree. “I heard you’re inheriting Hightower Associates.”

He smiled, and even though it was tight lipped, she could tell it meant something to him. “Yes. Otto most likely has another decade in him to run it, but it will be mine once he is no longer fit for it. Thank the gods, Aegon and Helaena would destroy it.”

Lucera looked over at her sister and Aegon. He looked at her with light in his eyes, while she double checked each dough ball to ensure they were the same size. As nice as the scene was, his momentary calm was deceiving. She laughed quietly in her throat imagining him being put in charge.

Their own dough had been rolled out, and they began stamping it with the cookie cutter. “I’m sure you will do the business much good. You can be…” Lucera looked for the right words, and wondered if it was even a good idea to remind him of his nature in the first place. “Quite intense. And cutthroat.”

He paused at her implicit acknowledgement of the past, looking at her directly once again. His chest was at her eye level, even though she pried her eyes upwards to meet his. The soap on his neck had a clean, sharp scent. “Yes. I suppose I haven’t changed much.” He waited for any kind of reaction, but she figured it best to not give him any. Lest he get any real ideas.

Lucera slid the cookies into the oven, the warmth heating up her arms. She vaguely recalled when Aemond had tried to shut her arms in the frame of the oven, and startled herself with his proximity.

He noticed her pulling away from the oven with fear in her eyes. “Relax. My days of trying to scar you are over.” Aemond poured a small stream of milk over the powdered sugar on the stove. “Besides, my hands are busy. And there’s people here.”

It wasn’t until she finished sliding the tray in the oven and closed the door that she processed his meaning.

She looked up at him, eyes widened. “You’re not going to…?” Lucera didn’t say it out loud, for she didn’t want anyone else to hear.

He continued stirring, the smell of the heated sugar between them. “We’re both adults now. I wouldn’t be so senseless.”

The tension she had been holding around him had faded, filled in with relief. “I don’t know why,” she chuckled, “I just didn’t know what to expect.”

His side-eye landed on her, but he was playing lighthearted. “You wound me Lucera. Surely I would hope you think higher of me than that.”

“Hm.” She smirked at him, wanting to joke with him as he had to her. “You’ll just have to prove how smart you are then.”

His face held an unreadable expression, but she still counted anything besides scowling as progress.

The butter, sugar, and flour were melding together in the oven, releasing a heavenly smell. Lucera released some of the tension she had held around him. Perhaps this new chapter of their lives could strengthen their family, instead of tearing it apart as their childhood had.

Reading the golden edges of the cookies, Lucera determined they were finished and removed them out of the oven without fear of Aemond shutting her arm in. The royal icing was ready, and she put them in the refrigerator so the cookies were able to cool before they could put the icing on.

A large guffaw of laughter exploded from the other side of the kitchen, where Joanie and Daeron were saddled with powdered sugar. It had lodged itself in the creases of their faces, deepening their smile lines. In their attempt to brush it off their faces, they only served to spread the sugary dust to every surface in their vicinity.

Daeron, upon realizing the blessing this was, ran to Aegon with his snowy sugared hands and started furiously wiping them on the back of Aegon’s sweater.

Having been attacked by the enemy in a blind spot, Aegon was initially at the disadvantage. But, once he turned around, he used his height and weight to throw Daeron to the ground.

This move might have deterred many from another attack, but Daeron was a Targaryen, afterall. He grabbed onto Aegon’s leg, not letting go. It was an advanced move, leaving the victim—Aegon—unable to do much else than furiously try to peel him away.

Joanie made a jump to his other leg despite Aegon’s protests for her to not get involved. The two clung to his calves, anchoring him to the floor, giggling in victory. Aegon ceased his complaining and sighed in defeat.

“Anyone want to help me?” Aegon moaned.

Jacaera was busy pressing what was left of the hershey’s kisses into the cookies. She shrugged. “I can’t, I have to do this while they’re fresh out of the oven.” Besides, she was too amused by the situation.

“Sorry, I don’t want to get powdered sugar all over my new pants.” Baela shouted from across the kitchen.

Aemond was also pleased by his brothers, and after hesitating a few moments too long, began long strides towards the scene.

He had nearly reached Aegon, but once Daeron had peeked his head around Aegon’s knee to see the long legs of his other brother coming towards them, he flung himself off of Aegon and skittered across the floor. Joanie was quick to follow.

Once the cookies were all primed and pretty—to the best of their ability, at least—Lucera padded up the steps with a giggling Jacaera. In the parlor, Rhaenyra was drinking tea with Alicent. They must have heard of Viserys’ plan, as they looked at Lucera with concern, subtly checking over her limbs and face for any signs of harm as they had done when she was younger.

Alicent leaned over with furrowed brows and express interest, Rhaenyra had worry in her eyes. “How was baking my darlings?”

Knowing that they truly wished to know of her wellbeing, Lucera was relieved that for once around the holidays, she could tell them the truth. “It was good! No unlucky burns or anything! Just tasty cookies.”

They brought a plate over with all of their treats.

Rhaenyra beamed at her daughters. “I see gingerbreads, sugar cut-outs, and—?”

Jacaera leaned forward. “Peanut butter kisses. Aegon ate half of the hershey’s chocolates, so we didn’t have enough to put on top of all of them. Those ones are just plain peanut butter cookies.”

Alicent rolled her eyes through her smile, lovingly joking. “Of course he did, the little twat. I’m sure they’re still delicious.”

“Once he stopped eating the candy and started participating, he really enjoyed baking. Does he ever go down to the kitchens to bake?”

Lucera raised her eyebrows. She knew exactly what made Aegon so interested in baking earlier, and it wasn’t the sweets.

“He’s never thought it interesting before. Perhaps he was just happy to see everyone.” Alicent had toned down her surprise at the idea that he enjoyed the experience, having a mother’s sense of what was really at play. Her and Lucera shared a knowing glance, Jacaera none the wiser.

“And you Lucera?” Alicent had turned to face her.

“Oh yes! Aemond and I got along quite well. He’s an arse, but it suits him.” The sense of relief she glimpsed earlier had returned, and the weight of lying no longer chained to her. She was able to be genuine without having to pretend. It was a welcome feeling.

“He’s a proud man, that’s for sure. I still don’t know where he inherited his arrogance.” Alicent chimed.

Rhaenyra was put at ease with the grace of her features, always knowing the truth of her daughter. A shadow of skepticism remained, but she was optimistic that their maturation had changed things. “I’m glad you had a good time, darling.”

At least for the time being, any fears she had could be put to rest.

It had been a hard period of time when she had lied to her, both of them knowing that there was something much deeper to her words. It had been why, without too much evidence, Rhaenyra had decided it best that they spend a few holidays alone at Dragonstone. Viserys had insisted that they return each year, believing that it best for the family to be together when there was tension. Namely, after the accident where Aemond lost his eye, and his consequent aggression towards Lucera. Rhaenyra could only look at the truth in her daughter’s eyes for so long.

He hadn’t done anything out in the open, but he was occasionally sloppy. He was only a child after all, and was still learning how to keep a victim silent. He was lucky it was Lucera, who in her docility and self-blaming from the accident, let him act as he saw fit.

Her least favorite memory was when he held her head over the tub in the basement filled with water. He had grabbed her hair and held her face under water, keeping it there until her squirms softened to near limpness. He would then pull her up again, allowing for her to catch her breath before repeating the cycle. She had silently trusted him to let her live. It didn’t make the moments she spent choked underwater any less terrifying.

That had been the last time she saw him. Rhaenyra had remembered her coming up the stairs, face flushed, edges of her hair wet. Lucera recalled telling her that she slipped and fell in the snow outside, but her eyes had given her away. Even after much pressure, Rhaenyra still wasn’t sure what had happened, but she knew Aemond was involved and that Lucera looked like she had been through a torture sequence. Which, of course, she had.

But those days were behind them. He had said it himself.

------------

Later in the evening, after a light dinner, a particularly competitive game of Scrabble that nearly ended with Daemon’s knife at Aemond’s throat, and a Hallmark movie that Viserys claimed would “calm everyone down” (which it hadn’t—not entirely—although the two had slowly united across the one hour and thirty five minute screen time against their hatred for such movies), the family had dispersed and found their ways to bed.

Lucera was tucked in, nearly drowning in the comforter, just how she liked it. There was just one thing—she needed water. Her eyes had closed, her body tired and unwilling to go downstairs. But her throat was scratching for relief, and no amount of willing herself to sleep had changed it.

She skimpered down the steps, her long fuzzy socks lightening the blow of her feet. All of the lights had been turned off, and she relied on the underlights of the cabinets to light her way.

Under the fridge light, she filled up her cup.

The silence was broken by the stream coming from the fridge, and then by footsteps coming near. Lucera tried to cover up what little she could, as a simple t-shirt and underwear had been all she needed in the privacy of her room. She hoped whoever it was wouldn’t look too closely or scold her for being so indecent.

She would be gone in a moment anyway.

Putting her water glass in the sink, she turned to go down the hallway when she saw the illumination of platinum hair in the dark.

“Aemond.” And even though she whispered, the surprise was not lacking in her voice.

“Lucera. It’s getting late.” He was stepping closer to her, his voice soft.

“I was just a bit thirsty. I’m going back to bed now.” She tried to step around him, but he blocked her way with his arm against the wall.

“You know, before I saw you I wondered if I’d continue our little games.” He glazed his eye over her near-nakedness. “I thought I might not. And then I saw you, this pretty little thing, and I realized that we can have so much more fun together.”

She knew what he meant by it, but tried to ignore it for the moment. “But I thought you said you wouldn’t—”

“I said I wouldn’t scar you. I never said I wouldn’t do other things.” He grabbed a lock of her hair, twisting it between his fingers. “Oh how you’ve grown, Lucera.”

She tried to grab at the wrist of his hand in her hair, but he only grabbed onto her wrists instead, pushing her backwards towards a door in the hallway. He fumbled with the knob before throwing her in, the force of it landing her on the floor.

Lucera pulled her hair out of her face and stood up. “You didn’t need to be so rough with me.”

He grabbed her chin domineeringly soft. “Look at me, Lucera.”

Her lip quivered and she looked up at him, her large doe eyes unable to prevent her from looking nothing but innocent.

He looked deep in her eyes, commanding her submission with nothing but a look. “You always let me torture you, sweet little thing.”

All breath in her body halted, every movement, every beat of blood. The silence around her grew louder, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

“But now I want to do other things to you. I’m still using your body, of course, just in a different way. And you’re still going to listen to me, just like you always have?” Aemond tilted her jaw upwards to the right, then moved it to the left, as if he was examining her face from every angle.

The blood moving through her veins got thicker, her heart quickening its pace. Lucera quietly admitted to herself that she was excited at the idea that he could want her that way. Did he really think her attractive enough to want? He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant. Did he? Surely he didn’t want her like that.

He sneered in her face, clearly finding her dumbfoundedness amusing. “Look at you. Big eyes just looking up at me, waiting for validation. I knew you’d do anything I’d ask. Hells, you’ll probably enjoy it too.”

Lucera didn’t know how he had such a hold on her. How could he get away with talking to her like this? Why did she let him? Why was her belly aching with heat? She could feel her arousal dripping along her slit, sitting warm in her panties.

She pulled every last string of dignity together and tightened her hold to say, “No, Aemond. You’re not allowed to treat me this way.” and tried her hardest to turn away from him.

But, he was quick to react, and immediately pulled her backside flush against him, arms locked across her neck and midsection. “Squirm all you want. I see how your eyes hold nothing but submission for me, they always have. Is it guilt? Or something else?” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I don’t believe you wouldn’t enjoy every last drop of anything I give you. I’ll prove it to you right now.”

He moved his hand knowingly across her hip bones, giving them a hearty squeeze before sliding his fingers down her thigh to hike up her skirt. Her panic was felt immediately as she put her back and shoulders into every push and shove she gave him. “No, no no no, don’t—”

“Why? Are you worried about what I’ll find?” She wasn’t able to break out of the cage that was his strength, and his fingers gently trailed across the thin fabric hiding her entrance. What little barrier she had did a poor job of concealing her heated wetness.

He began lightly circling her clit, bending his face into her neck. “Tsk tsk tsk. Just as I thought, Lucie.”

She whimpered. “I just, I just am confused.”

“Hmm? I don’t think your body is confused. Your body wants me, Lucie. It wants me inside you. It’s all soaking and ready to take me.”

“You’re just so mean to me. I can’t let you do this if you’re mean to me.”

Aemond chuckled, feeling her melt into his touch as his deft fingers pleasured her. “You’ve always been so good at letting me take out my frustrations on you. This is no different, Lucie.”

She whimpered in his arms, unable to control the profound pleasure he was thrusting upon her. And it was him. There was something so enrapturing about his presence. She wanted to be engulfed in it, to feed off of it. But he had too much power—it wasn’t fair, he had always had the upper hand.

He slipped his fingers underneath the constraints of her underwear, immediately finding her slick folds. He gathered some of the wetness he found there and brought it up to her clit, where he rubbed gentle circles against her. “You’re soaking for me Lucie. I want to hear you submit to me. Your body is begging you.”

She whimpered again. The pleasure was too great, his weight pressed against her from all sides. Lucera needed more. Her resolve and rationality were slipping, disintegrating into a state of utter obedience, the teasing becoming too much to bear. It was like he was drowning her again.

“Anything, I’ll do anything, Aemond. I need this,” her voice squeaked from under his arm.

He laughed darkly in her ear before licking it, the warm sensation filling out through the rest of her body. “You will listen and do as I say, yes?”

“Yes. I swear it.” She cried.

“Good. On your knees, sweet girl.”

Her eyes got even bigger as she received his command. Lucera hesitated, looking up at him in his utter assertiveness. The look in his eye alone made her knees buckle.

Softly finding the most comfortable position she could on her knees, she tilted up her chin, attempting to hold as much dignity as possible. He grabbed both of her cheeks with each hand, fat pudging out between his thumbs and forefingers.

“You’re going to swallow my cock, do you understand? And when I decide I want to fuck your throat, I will.” He moved his right thumb down to her chin. “And if you bite, we can play one of our old games.”

She wouldn’t have bit him, but she was old enough to realize he got off on the power he had over her. And yet, she didn’t have to fake her submission. It was real, and it soaked her through.

With that, he let go of her face and gave her a playful slap on the cheek.

His hands remained at his sides, and she took that to mean that she must be the one to remove his pants.

Lucera tried to conceal the hesitation to approach his cock, but she couldn’t help herself. The bulge reaching across his leg was considerable, and she was unsure about trying to stuff something so large in her throat.

When she finally collected the courage to pull down the flannel in her fingertips, she was truly faced with the reality of such an act.

He was beautiful. Of course, even his cock has to be perfect. She took her hand, and worked the warm skin up and down, twisting her palm ever so slightly.

“Suck.” He said bluntly.

“I’ll try, but I don’t know how I’m going to—”

“If you can’t figure it out, I think pounding your throat will do the trick.” He interjected, his hand landing in her hair firmly.

This drove her to action, as she wanted to maintain as much control in the situation as possible. She pushed the head past her lips, his salty precum landing on her tongue. Her jaw expanded as much as it could, and she pushed herself to swallow his length.

Lucera could already feel the sides of her mouth being triggered to wetness by the intrusion, and she was thankful for it. She held onto the base to steady herself, and she began slowly moving back and forth, lathing her tongue on the bottom of his cock.

She could feel his hands shift in her hair as he played with it gently, combing his fingers through.

“You’re such a good girl, Lucera”

His voice felt like pure encouragement, and his validation was something she had never felt before. Lucera decided she liked that feeling.

She pushed herself deeper on him as her throat warmed up, but was still unable to fit it all. She tried using her hand to make up for what she couldn’t reach, and although she wished she could deep throat him, she was proud that she had made it this far.

He grabbed her hair a bit more assertively, and guided her up and down with a touch more of force. “You’re taking it so well, your throat wraps around me perfectly.”

Her eyes had begun to slightly water, but she still tried to connect their eyes. She had read in a magazine that boys liked that.

He began to move her head even more strongly, and pushed her throat further on his cock. She gagged, but he only moaned in his chest, the sensation squeezing his cock in her throat.

Lucera could hardly see, her tears clouding her vision. Her saliva gathered around her lips and slopped down her chin as she felt him push deep into her throat.

“Look at you, on your knees for me. This is where you belong.” He thrust into her mouth, holding her by the back of her head. As rough as he was, Lucera found that she just wanted to impress him. To show him that she wasn’t weak, and that she was capable.

“Fuck, Lucera.” He moaned above her, his breath deepening. With animalistic impulse, he worked her throat with lewd hunger, before pulling her as hard as he could towards his hips.

She knew what was about to happen, and although she was still choking on his cock, braced herself. Lucera felt his length throb in her mouth as he unloaded down her gullet and straight to her belly.

Having ceased his brutal thrusts, Aemond brushed her hair gently. “Swallow all of it, Lucie.”

She subconsciously tried to swallow around it, but it was difficult to move much of anything.

After holding her there for a few more moments, he released her. She stuttered backwards slightly, coughing and gulping for air.

He tucked himself back beneath his waistband, and bent down next to her. He took her shirt and wiped off the excess spit that had gathered around her chin, and then moved it up to wipe her eyes.

“You’re gorgeous on your knees, you know that?” His hand dragged languidly against her inner thigh, towards her underwear. She inhaled deeply at his movements, canting her hips to meet his hand.

“You’re so needy, aren’t you?” He tilted his head, looking down at her below him devilishly. “My cock down your throat only made you more soaked, hmm?”

His words burned into her pleasure, and Lucera couldn’t help but whimper. His fingers on her moved in light circles on her clit, warping the pleasure building inside her.

“Tell me how it felt in your throat.” His voice poured over her. She drank in each syllable of every lewd word spitting out of his mouth like ambrosia.

“You felt heavy on my tongue,” Lucera said, her breathing erratic. “I didn’t know how I was going to take it.”

“Hmm, that’s right.” He drawled. “It’s not easy taking a thick down your throat is it?”

“N-no.” She mewled.

“But you did a good job,” he brushed his thumb above her stomach. “You didn’t miss a drop.”

She panted as he loomed above her, playing her body like an instrument. She had already been so worked up, so much ache already inside her, that she knew her orgasm was coming. Aemond must have noticed too, for he picked up his pacing to the exact tempo she needed.

“Cum on my fingers, Lucie.”

She didn’t need anything further than his voice to send her over the edge as her eyes rolled back in her head, orgasmic pleasure bursting deep in her belly. She did her best to hold back the amplitude of the cries in her throat lest someone hear her.

The euphoria rippled through her body, and she could feel his satisfaction at her pleasure. After a few more moments, the lingering contentment was joined by a new wave of drowsiness.

It was late.

Lucera opened her eyes. Aemond stood up, pulling her up with him.

“Sleep well, Lucie.” He opened the door, gave her a quick slap on her ass, and walked towards the kitchen.

Her haze carried her to bed, where she unceremoniously slung herself under the covers, half-unconscious already.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x lucera velaryon #aemond targaryen x female!Lucerys Velaryon #smut #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x Fem!Lucerys #aemond targaryen fanfic

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dulcewrites · 1 year ago

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Fool Me Once (part 10)

Summary: As tensions arise in King’s Landing, you make moves to assure the safety of your children. Final breaths are taken, pacts are made and broken, steel is drawn and the dragons dance.

Warning: mentions of stillbirths/pregnancy issues, allusions to self harm, some unreliable narrator if you squint. In our f&b bag fr!

A/N: you guys 🥺 we are finally on the last part. First, I want to say I am sooooo sorry about how long it took to get this one out. By the time I’m posting this I’m sort of like, do people even still care lmao 💀. Life has been hectic and tbh I’ve been putting some focus onto other things. Shameless plug to my other, more happy Aemond x oc series, on ao3. As well as I’ve gotten so much amazing feedback and interactions about this fic that I was slightly worried about how people would take the end. Speaking of feedback, and moving on to the more sappy stuff. My writing side blog has grown exuberantly since posting part 1 of fmo last year. It genuinely makes me emotional thinking about the little community that’s come from it. I hope to continue to make more stuff that I’m not only happy with, but further pushes said community ❤️❤️ if y’all have any hotd request let me know. Please reblog, like, and comment. As well as come chat in my inbox if you see something you like.

Slight housekeeping, though if you made it this far you probably already know. This fic does change the dance for self indulgent reasons (lol) and for the narrative of it all. This started as a cheating story and has sort of spun into something entirely else.

Fmo masterlist

Blog masterlist

Ninth moon of 129 AC

Rhaenyra’s voice could be heard from down the hall.

You wanted to reassure yourself that you had heard those screams before from Helaena, or even from yourself giving birth. But there was something so terribly guttural about the ones Rhaenyra was making.

As if outcome of the birth hung in the air. Lingering with the ghost of the past death that happened in the Red Keep. You try not to focus on the sheer look of panic on Jace’s face once you leave him at the door.

By the time you got to her chambers, Rhaenyra is already surrounded by midwives as she is hunched over, palms spread out against the wall. Midwives, and Alicent, whose face was terribly pale. Almost as drained of color as Rhaenyra. Her normally straight blonde hair wavy and stuck to her forehead with the sheen of her own sweat.

Alicent spots you, and gets away from her position from around her. She pulls you over to the side, but before she can even speak you interrupt her. The midwives begin to move Rhaenyra from her standing position to on the bed.

“Has this happened before,” you watch as Rhaenyra pleas lessen and lessen, her state becoming more sedated than what is probably normal.

Alicent shakes her head. Her auburn curls had been released for the night from the tight updo they were in earlier.

“No, at least not the first three,” she swallows hard before coming closer to you. “I fear - I fear this labor may go awry. I think we need to make preparations for if…”

The words catch in the back of Alicent’s throat. She is here with Rhaenyra; she has always been with Rhaenyra. Even when they were at odds; two ghosts haunting each other’s memories. Two sides of the same coin, causalities of the cruel fate. You want to feel sorry her; knowing that she is watching a close… companion go through this, but your mind has been elsewhere since earlier that day.

“Your son has made preparations,” you cross your arms. “All of them actually.”

Alicent brows furrow in confusion, and it dawns on you that Aemond and Aegon never clued their mother in on their little plan.

“You do not know, do you?”

“No, I do not know what your husband has been getting into. I rarely do these days.”

You and her both.

Rhaenyra lets out another groan.

“Where is Daemon,” you ask as Rhaenyra begins to mumble things incoherently to the midwives.

“He took one look at her, and left the room,” Alicent frowns. “She called for him but he went to get Jacaerys instead.”

And Jace came for you on the behest of Alicent. Tis the way of men you suppose. Often, they are absolute nuisance in situations like this, but you could not help but think that mayhaps if Daemon had stayed to seen her in this state, he would not put her through such things again. But that is giving him far more credit than you know he deserves.

“Alicent,” Rhaenyra manages to mumble out the name louder. Her eyes fluttering open and shut.

Alicent instantly rushes over, dropping the conservation she has started with you.

As you watch Alicent coax Rhaenyra through this, her words ring out. Though she did not elaborate on what those plans should be, she was right. Aemond had taken the reigns from your hands plenty times before. Safety will not be completely ensured until any threat is taken out. You have never been to battle nor war, and even you know that. A slightly morbid thought creeps into your head.

If Rhaenyra dies, Aegon could descend the throne.

It was laughable for Rhaenyra, or anyone who supports her claim, to believe known bastards would follow her in the line of succession. Or that Daemon would not bypass Rhaenyra’s first three boy in order to ensure power for her last two. It would mean an all-out war between Aegon and Daemon… but maybe it did not have to go that far. Not if plans were made to undercut whatever moves you know Daemon could put into place.

They are all back in King’s Landing, no longer under the false tranquility they tried to spin at Dragonstone. Amongst their patrons who already have much to say about Rhaenyra’s still short reign.

Aegon on the throne would ensure the safety of all of the kids. And not only the kids, but the kingdom as a whole. A war of succession, especially including dragons, would only bring destruction. Rhaenyra’s boys would have a chance to swear obeisance after Daemon is out of the way, and if not, their presence will not be needed. Bastard blood being spilt is nothing compared to the life your children.

They could go back to Dragonstone and live their lives out there with young Egg and Viserys. With the possibility of Daemon for a father, they would be better off for it.

Your thoughts are broken by the midwives telling Rhaenyra to try and push.

There was already a significant amounts of blood trailing where Rhaenyra had been. Her pushes do little to soothe the position she is in. In frustration and pain, eventually Rhaenyra, much to the chagrin of the midwives and Alicent, shoos them all away. Reaching down to pull the babe out herself.

Letting out an already grief-stricken scream as she does it.

The air is sucked from the room as a gush of blood rushes out of Rhaenyra, followed by a tiny body.

A tiny… silent body. Wrapped in scales and slightly deformed.

No one speaks as they watch Rhaenyra pick up the baby from between her legs and rocks it as if trying to lure it into crying, into breathing. But nothing comes. Just silence, and the aches of a daughter stuck in the self-fulfilling prophecy of a mother that is no longer around.

It is not proper nor lady-like, and you can hear your own mother’s voice in the back of your telling you how rude it is in a time like this, but you just turn and leave. Without a word or peep. Suddenly feeling sick you go back down the hall, back to your chambers. Ignoring Jace who calls your name out in confusion by the sudden silence coming from his mother’s room.

By the time you make it back to the room, Aemond had gotten himself ready for bed. Completely casual as if the events earlier meant nothing to him.

“What’s happened,” he notices your ashen face.

You take one look at your husband, you think of your children away in a place foreign to them, and the stillborn baby Rhaenyra clutched in her arms.

The bile comes up quick. So quick you barely make I to the basin on the other side of the room. The dry heaving reminds you that you barely ate anything today, too worried about the task at hand.

You flinch when you feel a cold hand on your back. Shrugging Aemond’s hand off, you turn head with a glare.

“You made your move,” you mutter. “I’ll give you that. But now we are going to this my way. And Aemond, so help me, a single hair on those kid’s heads is harmed and I am not with them, I burn it all to the ground, you with it.”

You don’t know how and when, but you would do it for them if it came to that. You’d do anything for their safety. It may be time for others to realize that.

— — —

Princess Visenya Targaryen is set on the pyre a day and a half later. A small swaddled body lit on fire once Rhaenyra croaked out the words. Syrax blowing a mighty flame to burn Rhaenyra’s only little girl.

She was advised to stay in bed. Though her outward physical ailments had started to heal, it was clear Queen Rhaenyra was sick. Pale skin still prickling with sweat despite the cool air outside, dark bags starting to form under her eyes as she leans gently against the cane she was given.

You stand next to Aemond, Helaena, and Aegon. The only warm you feel from the fire in front on you.

It was slightly shocking when Helaena came up to you before the funeral with guilt written over her soft features.

“I just had… a funny feeling about the kids being here. I’m sorry.”

She knew.

You were not happy about once again feeling like you’re on the outside looking in with people you are supposed to call family. At least Helaena had the decency to feel ashamed by the omission. The decency to apologize. Guilt and Aemond is laughable being in the same sentence, and Aegon had been avoiding you. A thing that has not happened in months. Helaena was always right about these things; the scary part is that you all never really knew till the outcome already happened.

You run your hand over your black mourning dress. Peering out from under your veil, you make eye contact with Daemon across the fire.

Normally mirth filled eyes, and folly written all over his face had been replaced by an emptiness that scared you. Often, you had felt the unearned confidence and ambition around you was just noblemen living up to an expectation put on by others around them. But a Daemon, already known for his rogue behavior, feeling emboldened by the death of his brother, daughter, and the newly weakened state of his wife, made you nervous.

Only compounded when you think about the conversation shared at Dragonstone. Your loyalty was not expected, but even demanded. You can’t help but wonder if the kids not being around has only put a fiercer target on your back, or even on theirs.

You look over at Aegon - messy hair, bored expression, purple circles under his eyes. But he is no worse for wear compared to Rhaenyra.

If it one thing you have learned since being around this family, it is appearances often make up for everything. Slap a smile and nice outfit on, and people tend to believe what they see versus what is underneath the surface.

The funeral ends, and you make a sharp beeline towards Otto.

“I need to run something past you.”

You rake your knuckles against Aegon’s door, and get reply in return. You do it again, this time with more vigor, slightly embarrassed at Ser Arryk just watching you pound away.

“He is in there,” you question, turning to him.

“The last time I checked, he was my lady.”

The last time he checked?

You supposed not ever sworn protector can be as diligent as Quinton, and not every subject can be well behaved.

“Aegon,” you knock once more.

Blowing out frustrated air through your mouth, you turn to go but the door eventually swings open.

His hair is crumpled on one side, shirt unbuttoned, and reeking of wine. It had not hit you that he may be with someone.

“If you are… predisposed, I apologize. I can come back”

A dopey grin breaks out of face, before he hitched the door open wider. “No one is with me. Oh, dovelet were you worried about that?”

You look over to see Arryk raise a brow at you. You push at Aegon, further annoyed. “Go.” Forcing him back into his chambers.

“Everyone is so touchy today.”

You were there, before the funeral, when Alicent fussed at him about going to it. About trying to look engaged, which he clearly did not. You think about the conversation you had with Otto in his office.

“He is not going to like it. He has long come to terms with not wanting to be king.”

“But his wants are of no concern to you now, are they?”

When put that way, you can’t help but feel a bit bad. But it is true. What Aegon wants right now means little to you. He will eventually learn to like it, and if not like it, he will learn to tolerate it. The way others have to tolerate their fate in life. We are all stuck in the same miserable cycle; the only difference is some of us will not be able to call ourselves King of the Seven Kingdoms.

“We need to talk about some things.”

“Black is one your colors,” he changes the subject. “You should wear it more often.”

“Aegon, I’m serious,” you pinch your nose.

“Is this about the kids? I thought you would be happy they are out of harm’s way.”

“They are not out of harm’s way,” your voice raises, and this is not going the way it was supposed to.

You must push him with a gently hand. A woman’s touch.

There was a something slimy about how Otto ended the conversation. Sending you to Aegon to enact a woman’s touch… whatever that meant.

“But they could be,” you lower your voice. “If - If there was someone else at the helm. None of us would have to worry about their safety. About our safety.”

Aegon give you a funny look before flopping down on his bed.

He is drunk so he may not remember any of this by next morning. You sit next to him on the bed.

“There is no running from this. Despite what you may say, you know you would not be able to live with yourself if you left your family, your kids. Aegon, you are too smart not to know what this is all coming to.”

Though not something you voiced yourself, running was an option that crossed your mind. Finding a way out to Oldtown, grabbing your kids, and running. The logistics seemed all to wash away when the word dragon comes along. Traveling with two young kids would be difficult enough, managing to travel discretely with a giant dragon would not work. You don’t know how you would tell Daella to leave Vermithor.

And then a chill would run up your spine. Where could you go where he would not find you on dragon back?

The two of you sit in silence before Aegon sighs softly.

“Share a drink with me,” Aegon whispers. “Before we all die.”

It makes you laugh. Because that is all you can do at the folly that is your life. You nod softly.

The wine is a Dornish Red. Sweet, warm, and sultry tasting drink. It reminds you of the look Aegon is giving you.

Alicent peaks her head into the door.

“Rhaenyra,” she sees baby Aegon and Viserys sitting on their mother’s bed. Both babbling away over each other. Rhaenyra weakly waves her in. Both Egg and Viserys give Alicent tiny little bows. They do it to everyone, even those who technically do not have the same amount of power toddlers do. Bowing at guards, nursemaids, and court members alike.

The boys are eventually escorted out by one of the maids, but not until they both tell Alicent about the flock of lizards they found in the garden. It’s sweet, Alicent thinks. Reminds her of when her kids were that age. Not yet tainted or disrupted by the life around them. Alicent supposes she also has herself to blame for that when it comes to own children.

Both boys not understanding the position their mother is in. She knows that Rhaenyra is grateful at least two of her kids are not aware of her vulnerable state.

“How are you feeling,” Alicent sits at the edge of the bed next to her, taking in scattering of notes around Rhaenyra. Members of Rhaenyra’s small council have written notes for Rhaenyra to read while she is abed. From things as simple as the mouse problem in the Red Keep to things more serious. Like the Shepherd’s continued teachings; this week sermon’s going as far to say the death of the Visenya was an act of the Gods. That this is Rhaenyra’s punishment. Punishment for the dragon, the incest, the Targaryen of it all.

Alicent makes sure to only visit Rhaenyra when she knows she will not run into Daemon. He flaunted around the castle as if he has never left. Still the same air of arrogance and fire, only now swathed under a layer of coolness. The passing of Viserys, clearly leading him in a quieter path.

So many awful things lead back to that man. Alicent is sure of it.

All Rhaenyra can do is give a small smile and the shake of the head.

“A bit better now that you’re here.”

Alicent just ducks her head shyly.

Rhaenyra was always good at that, making Alicent feel like she was a girl again. Ten and four and completely out of her depth when it came to her feelings. An issue she worries she still has not gained control over.

“I am thinking of naming Daemon protector of the realm,” she then croaks out. “I do not know how much I can get done while in this bed. Watching it all crumble beneath me.”

Naivety. It is the only word that comes Alicent’s mind when it comes to how Rhaenyra handles Daemon. Ironically, it is the same way Otto describes her relationship with Rhaenyra. Her father never forgets a chance the remind her the nostalgia of girlhood, and security she wraps in Rhaenyra. The same way Alicent does not know if Rhaenyra has convinced herself that Daemon’s will head her council above anyone’s else is her true feelings, is the same way Alicent does not know if she holds onto the good parts of Rhaenyra because they still exist. Or because without holding onto them, she would be again flailing and alone. Once again left with the cold, empty feelings that comes with duty above else.

The only person Alicent saw ever cut Daemon down to size is now dead, rotting and finally silent. If Rhaenyra thinks the bond, she had with Daemon is anything more than him trying to hold onto the last semblances of Viserys he could find, she has been sorely mistaken.

“Mayhaps, you should speak that over with the rest of your council,” she pushes the duvet further over Rhaenyra. It is not her job to advise. She doesn’t know if she has it in her advising another clueless monarch. Another seemingly well meaning, but headstrongly clueless monarch. Rhaenyra gets her same propriety from her father.

Rhaenyra is not a bad person. The same way many people would say Viserys was not a bad person. But when all things are said and done, Viserys will be remembered as peaceful. Alicent worries history will not give the same charitable read to Rhaenyra. Who fumbles and doubles down on her bad actions in the way she learned from her father. Terribly misguided in each path they take, paying no mind to the carnage left behind.

Too much trust in Daemon. A fault both will have to live with or die by.

“Everything will be fine, once I recover,” she takes note of Alicent’s distant eyes. “It will be alright.”

You look so much like your father when you lie to me. So much like him with false hope and no tact. They riot in the streets over your reign already, and you are sure it will be alright.

Alicent just squeezes Rhaenyra’s hand. The way she used to when she used to get the urge to pick at her hands. She looks around the room. Rhaenyra, now laying in the same bed her father did before her. Alicent just hopes the morbid memories of Viserys do not haunt her in the way Aemma’s ghost still haunts Alicent to this day.

Aemma was right, and they did not even know it at the time. The birthing bed was their battlefield. And it feels like it is all catching up to them.

It has been a few minutes since your parents welcomed you into their parents, and in those few minutes your mother has done nothing but pick at your hair and fret over your outfit.

The sun was at its height in the sky, brightness peaking through their windows. This morning you woke up, and did what have for the past couple of days. Remember your children are not there for you to kiss and hug, and look over at your sleeping husband. Multiple ways of smothering him popping into your head.

“Wearing your hair back makes you look so severe, my darling,” she fiddles with bun. Your hand goes up the move it way. “And grey is not slimming on everyone.”

“Yes mother,” you try to grin and bear like you have always done. Your resolve faltered when she gushed about how lovely of a father Aemond was for wanting the kids to spend more time with their uncle, the excuse the both of you had parroted whenever someone asked here Daella and Alaric were.

“I think it may be best, if both of you go back home,” you sit both of them down. “I just worry that things may get a bit hectic, and I would feel better if you both were far from it.”

They both give you a curious look. There is only so much you can say without giving all away. Your father gets up and pulls you to the side.

“There has been… rumblings,” he mutters. “About the Queen and her state.”

He chooses his words wisely. As if he was worried others are listening.

“I want you to know that whatever path may arrive. The full backing of the house is behind it. Your uncle and I will make sure of that. If there was a change in power.”

Tears pinch and sting your eyes. It should be reassuring but it only makes you realizing that backing comes at the whim of others. This will always come back to who is ruling, and who people think should rule.

That is why you married Aemond right? To be put in the best position for your house.

“Thank you, father.”

He kisses you on the cheek, before leaving. You turn towards your mother who sits on the bench in front of the bed.

“I do hope your little excursion has renewed your spirit,” she gets up. “Your husband seemed just beside himself after you left. No wife, no children around. I can only imagine how hard that was for him.” You just stand there as she comes towards you. She stares at you for a moment, taking in your new dark dress, and hair. You cannot tell if the look is unimpressed, or filled with sadness. Your mother’s faces tend to blur together into nothingness.

“Of course, that is what you took from it,” you mutter.

“What was that, lamb?” Another hand runs over your hair.

“Nothing, mother.”

Your mother laughs a bit, in that cold, jilted way she does. The joy never reaching her eyes.

“It’s always been that way. Sweet with him, distant with me.”

You stare at her in slight shock, slight mortification when she leans back. Is that how she’s read the situation? You choosing your father over her. Not the paralyzing fear that came with having to please her. The heart arching want to make her proud of you, even at the expense of your own wants.

“You made it that way. I - you sent me away to - to this place and -“

“Oh, here we go. You got married to a Prince, you had your babies, and I am still the evil mother.”

She bows her head as is she about to cry. Initiatively, you put a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re not evil,” you don’t understand how the conversation how switcher so fast. How now you have to the one to comfort her. “We just don’t see certain things the same way.”

An understatement.

“Mayhaps, I was never meant to be a mother,” she looks up, eyes dry. She says it so casually.

“What?”

“I should have taken the hint after the first miscarriage. But your father just begged and begged about wanting a child.”

You just watch in horror.

She runs another hand over your hair, nagging on the bun and frowns.

“Some women just aren’t meant to be mothers. Too headstrong for it, too weak for it,” there is an air of pity when she says it.

She leans in, and her breath hits your ears. “Be careful, my lamb. The softer the heart, the harder the fall.”

You swallow hard. She’s fed a poison that is hard to be weaned off.

— — —

Leaving the room, in a slight daze. Softly shuffling the opposite way of your chambers, and up the large stairs. You had promised Rhaenyra you would come see her soon.

The only thing that breaks you out the trance is the heavy footsteps of Daemon. You stop and lower your head in acknowledgment.

“My prince, I have not been able to catch you to give my condolence.”

Daemon hums. You’ve noticed how he walks around with Dark Sister attached firmly on his hip. Sometimes sheathed, other times unsheathed as he leans against as some sort of crutch.

“I suppose I should be sending you sorrows too,” a small smile on his face. You tilt your head in confusion.

“Your children.”

Your blood runs a bit cold.

“They are just with their uncle. Taking it the beauty of Oldtown. We want them to see many parts of the realm.”

“With Vermithor?”

You just nod. “You must know how important the bond is between dragon and dragon rider. More importantly during these early stages.”

Daemon’s mirth grows as he comes closer. “I do remember our conversation. About how your loyalty would be not only expected but rewarded. I would absolutely hate to see anyone get hurt, especially as our queen is recovering.”

You smile, brightly and sound.

“Of course, it would be quite a shame if anyone was putting their own needs ahead of Queen Rhaenyra’s. Those close to her must be diligent, and kind.”

The two of you exchange more fake smiles before he steps around you, sword glistening under the flicker of flames in the hallway.

Trying to compose yourself as you make your way to the master chambers. You are slightly relieved by the changes that were made by the time Rhaenyra arrived and settled in. The model Viserys spent even his last days speaking about that collected dust had been removed. Different drapes that let the sun in, the furniture moved around a bit, and the smell. Thank Gods, the smell was different.

The smell of rotting, and noxious air replaced by something a little sweeter. You know that Alicent would come in daily and light different incense for Rhaenyra.

The guards let you in, and she is still in the same place she, day after day, the large canopy bed. The bed you see Viserys lay in as you visit him with Daella and or Alaric.

“Rhaenyra,” you pull back the certain a bit, to let light in. “Have you eaten today?”

You walk over and lay a hand on her forehead. She is burning up. Her fever spiking again. All you get is a groan and the shake of the head.

“Rhaenyra, you need to eat something.”

She just gestures toward the table. Different tonics, drinks, and glasses on top of it. You walk over to see tea as well as a familiar milky substance on it.

You remembered seeing how Viserys was when he was on milk of the poppy. Hells, you understood the strength of it, and you only took it while having Daella and Alaric.

It was the beauty and ugliness of the drug once it was taken too much. The pain was gone, but then came a new problem - the grogginess of the mind and withdrawals.

“The Queen only needs five dops of it,” said the maester, a sour look on his face once asked to leave when you visited her a few days ago.

In all her paranoia, Rhaenyra had asked only those closest to her to help administer it. Not trusting the maesters the very same way she did when it came to Viserys. Out of part guilt of what she just went through, and frankly fear, you agreed when she asked you. But now, as you feel the tides changing once again for the battle for power, your hands shake a bit applying the remedy to her tea.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five….. Six. Seven. Eight.

Before you can change your mind, you a twist cap back on the milk of the poppy.

You walk back to the bed, giving a pale Rhaenyra a strained smile. “Let’s sit you up.”

Rhaenyra winces, eyes in a faraway stare as you help her lean up in the bed. The same bed she had been beholden to for the past week. You bring goblet to her lips and watch her all but chug most of it.

A part of you wants to say a prayer to the Father. Perhaps he will forgive you for all that will happen beyond this point. Understanding how stray animals often act when they are backed into a corner. Teeth bared and fighting for their lives.

She will name him Protector of the Realm if she stays abed any longer. Despite the mistreatment, Daemon has always had a way about him when it came to Rhaenyra. I have no way to stop it. Did not back then, and do not now.

Guilt only mounts when you think about the sadness in Alicent’s eyes when she said that. But then you think about your daughter’s laugh or the wide-eyed innocence of your son, and the guilt fades. All that is left is resentment. A deep hole where you think your heart used to be.

You have to shudder thinking about anyone from this family sitting the throne but at least you know some options are more… malleable than others.

“I can come back to give you more when you need it,” you brush a stray hair behind Rhaenyra’s ear. “Maybe I can read to you too.”

She gives you a tired smile, and nod before her eyes begin to flutter. You watch as her breathing labors as she drifts into a hazy state. In and out of sleep. Here she lays, a victim of the birthing bed like her mother. Ill equipped, and far too foolish to see the damage she will leave behind like her father.

“What is all of this?”

You walk into your chambers to find a table of food in the room. Aemond hops up from the bed. You take a look at the array of breads, and sweets on the table.

“All this for me,” you question, popping one of the lemon candies on a lemon cake in your mouth. “How romantic. The last time I had the pleasure of such a spread, you were telling me you got your mistress pregnant and it sent me into excruciating labor.”

Aemond face falls, and for a moment you understand what it has been like for him the past few years of marriage. To hold power over him, even if it is small and fleeting in the moment. Dangling kindness in front of his face to rip it away for no reason other than you can.

You continue to pick at the food, as Aemond just stares.

“Are you gonna say what this all about or just stare with that silly look on your face?”

His face flashes from sad stoicism something a bit angrier. Ah, that’s your husband.

“I am trying to mend things with you, and all I ge-“

“Oh, that is your first mistake,” you hold up a finger. “Well, not the first. You know your first. But trying to mend something that was never there to begin with? And with food that I could get myself. You’re smarter than that Aemond,” you tut at him.

“So, what now? We spend the rest of our days hating each other?”

If we even get that far.

“It has worked for others,” you shrug.

“It won’t for you,” he rebuts. “The hate will eat you alive. You’ll be miserable.”

Promise?

He speaks as if he is so sure of it. As like Helaena does at times, he has seen into a murky future, and pulled this out. You utterly miserable as you let that dark voice in your head play out all your morbid desires.

“But you would like that, wouldn’t you,” you think about the look he gave you when you wanted to reach for his knife. “Why else would you put through all of this but to make me as miserable as you are?”

It hang on the tip of your tongue. You could push you luck again, and tell him that she is gone, and never to be seen again. Twist the knife that you already have point at his back. But then you would have to be sure of things yourself. Dreams have dissolved into nightmares. Blood mixing the salty water of Dragonstone.

Then you wake and Otto’s words ring in your head. He took care of it. Now you are left trying to sort out the mess of memories that makes up your head. Guilt, anger, and sadness all managing fuck with your head in ways you could not imagine.

You eye the wine on the table. As much you admonish Aegon for it, you do get why he turned to it from such a young age.

The few hours of solace it gives is wonderful. Fleeting but necessary when everything else becomes too loud. Too much.

“It was not an absence in you. It was one in us… in me,” he looks so young when he says it. It almost reminds you of him when he ten and five. Fresh off a growth spurt. Terribly shy, terribly distant. But that was before. Before the expectation of marriage, of children and semblances of loyalty and care.

That boy is gone, and you are surely not the girl you were once you came to King’s Landing. You mourn that girl, the way you mourn the boy Aemond was before he lost his eye. You did not know him then but you always wonder what strings in him broke when that happened. An unjust act with no reconciliation to follow. If any of that led up to the man standing before you today.

“Well, at least that is something we can agree on,” you look down, trying to get rid of the hot tears in your eyes.

You have spent time trying to build up an armor in front of him. You’d hate to have it crack now.

“My grandsire told me about your little plan.”

It makes you look up. Aemond’s arms are crossed in skepticism.

“Your sister’s health is declining rapidly. Aegon needs to ready himself for this.”

“And he has agreed?”

“Your brother will fall in line as he realizes this is the only way to keep those dear to him safe,” you fiddle with the chocolate tart. “He already has actually.”

Helaena and him took a trip to one of the orphanages down in the Red Keep. It is about time people outside of this castle get a look at those in power. Aemond still does not look convinced.

“Does that upset you? The thought of him being king?”

“No more than it does having my useless sister or foolish nuncle on the throne.”

“What, no mention of the bastards technically in front you for the throne right now,” you think the joke falls flat till Aemond narrows his eye, and tilts his head to side in merriment. You have to do a bit of double take at the slight smirk on his face.

“You danced with one of those bastards.”

So, he remembers that.

“A tactical move,” you roll your eyes. “And when I advise Rhaenyra and Jacaerys that he should go back to Dragonstone as the new heir to the Irone Throne and Prince of Dragonstone, it would have payed off.”

“Leaving Rhaenyra as she’s abed, and stuck with Daemon? How would you manage that?”

“I can be quite convincing,” you shrug. “Not that you would understand.”

He takes another dig on chin, uncharacteristically good natured this day, but he gives you that look. The look where you don’t know whether he wants to skin you or kiss you. No one really has ever looked in the way Aemond has. As if he sees nothing of what you’re really made of while managing to look right through you at the same time.

“Better yet, I may even tell Baela and Rhaena that they should take this time to be with grandmother and grandfather, especially as Corlys may stand a similar fate as Rhaenyra.”

“What about the other one,” Aemond frowns.

Your brows furrow in confusion before it dawns on you. Both him and Lucerys had done a good job of avoiding each other since you all came back from Dragonstone. But you can tell the tiptoeing has created strain and awkwardness for everyone.

“If Baela and Jace are gone with Moondancer and Vermax in toe, that just leaves a clearly petrified Luke and Arrax. I think Vhagar, Sunfyre or Dreamfyre can handle that, no?”

Aemond raises a brow. “You want them to die?”

“I don’t want anyone to die,” well that’s not entirely true, and the look Aemond gives you lets you in that he does not believe that as well. “As few casualties as possible is the goal. They can swear to Aegon when the time comes or be put the King’s Justice. As of now, we should take advantage of the uncertainty that rest amongst everyone.”

Aemond laughs, like really laughs. It takes you for surprise, and only upsets you. He laughs as if he finds your thoughts funny in the way seeing a squirrel run up a tree is funny. “What?”

“Nothing…. Lady Hightower.”

You scoff and throw the pieces of the fruit on the table at him. “Fuck off.”

“You make those faces and turn up your nose at Aegon being king, but you and I both know you will be the first to defend his throne,” you throw a strawberry at him but this time he catches it and eats it. “This is all for the kids, right? It is why they are not here, away from their mother?”

“They are away from their father as well. For their safety.”

You just hum.

“I want to write to them. They did not even get to say goodbye.”

“That could be dangerous.”

“I do not care, Aemond,” you raise your voice.

There is a knock at the door and Quinton comes in with a note in his hand. He eyes the food on the table as you read the note. It is from your father, assuring you about your parents soon departure back to the Riverlands.

“Are you alright,” he whispers. You nod softly. Quinton had been hovering somewhere in the background whenever Aemond was around, especially with the children gone. Clearly not trusting him around you.

Quinton should probably be more worried you around him. His cape swishes behind him when he goes to leave the room.

“You can write to them when the timing is better,” Aemond continues once you two are alone again.

The timing is never right. Not with him, not the with situation you are in.

The end of ninth moon of 129 AC

As you walk down the hall, a soft hand brushes against your arm.

“Are sure you are alright,” Quinton’s voice rings in your head, and tickles your ears softly.

“Of course,” you give fake smile, tilt of the head. He stops in the middle of the empty hall. Though he is your sworn protestor, you feel it is best to keep Quinton on the fringes unless needed otherwise. The less he knows, the safer he is you assume.

“I know you are not well without your children around,” he sighs. “But I would not want you to… sully yourself with things before you can get back to them.”

Sully. You take a long look at Quinton. There is something sweet about the way he views you. Entirely too earnest at time but sweet. You wish you could tell him he had nothing to worry about, and meant it. The pedastal he puts you on, my would it be a hard and long fall.

“I appreciate the concern, but I am ok,”’you reach up to touch his cheek. “You will be the first to know.”

He gives a half-hearted nod before then both of you continue your way to Rhaenyra’s chambers. When you get there the maidservants are beginning to place lights out in the hall for the night.

When you walk in, Rhaenyra is perched where she has been for some time now. Fiddling with the books on the shelf in the corner of the room.

“Maybe something a bit more upbeat. A love story,” you whisper. You go sit next to her on bed, flipping through the large brown book in your hand.

Rhaenyra begins to mumble as you shush her softly.

“It’s ok,” you reach over for the cup next to her bed. Sniffing the cup, you take note of how differently it smells compared to the tea and milk of the poppy mixture you used to.

The tonic seems different, stronger than usual. You put it to her lips and watch Rhaenyra drink it. You wipe her mouth. Even if this weakened state, you find her tragically beautiful. Like a fallen Angel. She resembles her siblings in that regard.

“I need - I need,” her eyes flutter open and shut. “The Prince that was Promised.”

You frown.

“Aeg- Aegon…”

“Your brother?”

“Tell Jacaerys.”

She trails off. Your back straightens as you watch as Rhaenyra’s eyes close, and her breathing slow.

The Prince that was Promised… Aegon.

You lean down and kiss her forehead. Mayhaps, in another life things could’ve been different for her. For her siblings, for her children, for you… for your kids. Climbing off the side of the bed, you gently tuck Rhaenyra in.

When you walk out, you see Quinton standing at attention. You motion for him to come with.

“I need you to do go get Otto,” you mummer. “We have business to get to.”

You cannot see the look Quinton gives you as move to walk ahead of him, and to that you are grateful.

Sullying is your only other option.

In the tenth moon 129 AC, the bell connected to the Royal Sept tolled for thee.

The death of Queen Rhaenyra, First of her Name, sent ripples through the Realm. But that was just beginning of the great strife that would follow her passing. A years peaceful period of reign for the Targaryen family ended by infighting.

Histories will say the first problem came the moment the then Princess and heir decided to sire bastard heirs. Others would say it began the moment, Rhaenyra left her succession vulnerable to her young brother. Not ending his line the moment she had the chance to.

Throughout her short reign as queen, there were festering rumors of usurping. That Lord Otto Hightower would hold secret meetings planning for the best moment to strike to get his grandson son on the throne. Others dispirited this claim, saying that the Dowager Queen Alicent’s afflictions for Queen Rhaenyra would never let that happen.

Ironically, it was not the death of the Rhaenyra is not the official start of what would later be called the Dance of Dragons. Instead the death of Prince’s Aemond One-Eye Targaryen’s lady wife’s parents triggered the domino affect. An escalation of plans.

Most would say the overflipped carriage was a tragic accident, but others whispered about something more serious. An inside attack from a member of the Targaryen family themselves. It was this tragedy that led to a public outcry from the members of the house in the Riverlands, coupling with the public crowning of a new king.

It was Ser Criston Cole, member of the Kingsguard, who crowed King Aegon, Second of his Name, in a private ceremony. Only flanked by his new crowned Queen Helaena, Prince Aemond and his wife, and Lord Hightower. King Aegon was crowned in front of the septon of faith, dawning his namesakes crown.

Back on Dragonstone, Jacaerys Velaryon recieved the news of not only his mother’s death, but also the usurping. Except it was not allies with the news, but foes. Jacaerys was slain at the footsteps of the castle.

It is still debated which side has more to gain to having Jace out of the way. King Aegon or Prince Daemon. But in the end, it was the later who eventually set up him home base at Dragonstone. Fleeing under the watchful eye of his spies in the Red Keep. With only two of his sons with him.

Both sides strategizing their moves. Daemon labeling Aegon and his supporters traitors to the realm, while Aegon set out to kill his uncle himself in given the chance. Under the insistence that it was him who accerlated Rhaenyra’s already bad condition.

Support the amongst the realm split as some supporter the efforts of the new king, far more open to his tactics than one of the Rogue Prince or Rhaenyra’s Bastards. While others scoffed at the boldness of Aegon the Usurper.

Those called on the opinions of the sons that remained at King’s Landing. Rumors of the Lucerys and Joffrey Velaryon being chained arriving. But it was not Daemon who negotiated the release of the boys. It was members of House Velaryon.

But there was one condition. It would be Baela and Rhaena, of both House Targaryen and Velaryon, that recieved equal titles after the passing of Corlys. Lucerys would be stripped of title of heir to the Driftmark Throne. It was rumored that this was not a cruel twist of fate from team green, but instead a plea from Lucerys himself.

It was Rhaena Targaryen, in all her wisdom, that worked through the terms. With a heavy heart, and no more bloodshed in her pleas. The more bold sister of the twins, Baela, had other plans. Sensing the release of Lucerys and Joffrey was a trap. She climbed on top of Moondancer, despite the calls not, and made her way closer to King’s Landing herself. But she was not alone. Her grandmother was with her.

Never one to sit from a battle himself, it was King Aegon who climbed his dragon to take them both on. All three dragon and riders fought diligently. Moondancer sustaining life ending injuries, while both Sunfyre and Aegon were injured at battle. But the most costly lost came at the hand of the One-Eyed Prince himself. Taking out Rhaenys and Meleys before further injury could come to his brother.

Enraged at the news of the death of Moondancer, and the almost costly lost of Baela, Daemon began his March. But he also had other plans at play. In efforts to lure the new Prince Regent out of the castle, he sent spies to Oldtown. Where not only Prince Daeron worked with all of Reach to support King Aegon. But also where the young Prince watched over his younger nieces and nephews.

There was an attempt to take the Jaehaerys Targaryen, son of Aegon and Alaric Targaryen, son of Aemond. But the plan was thwarted by a terrible beast. Vermithor lurched and lured over Oldtown like a tower himself. His flames as green as the Hightower Beacon. Highly protective over his new rider and those close to her. At just six and seventh month, Daella Targaryen was feared as her father.

Still not wanting to be outdone, Daemon sets his sights towards not only Harrenhal, but another certain house in the Riverlands. His march pillaging those close to Aemond’s wife. Still grieving the lost of parents and seperated from her children, it was rumored the lady became more quiet, drowning herself in her cups.

It was she, with Queen Mother Alicent and Queen Helaena, who pleaded for Aemond to not take the bait. But it was too no vail. After he heard of the attempted kidnapping, he set out with men of his own.

His march mirroring his uncle’s not only through the Stormlands but as well as the Riverlands. There were whispers of inhabitants at Harrenhal. It is still speculated by both Daemon and Aemond did not burn the structure to the ground, when they had to chance. Tales would be written of a certain magic soiling the ground. Keeping safe from harm.

Though those tales are all rumors, what was undeniably true, is that two Targaryen princes breathed their last breaths over God’s Eye on the sixth moon of 130 AC. No one saw the battle, but the sound of snapping dragons and the sight of green and red flames that called attention.

Vhagar and Aemond both fought a valiant effort but it the wounds to both proved to be to substantial. Aemond Targaryen died on top of his crowned dragon. The burns from Vhagar burning Daemon beyond repair.

When their deaths made it back to the Red Keep, the halls recount the Queen Mother tearing her hair in anguish, calling for the deaths of not only everyone who supported Daemon, but Aegon the younger and Viserys alike.

A story of crowns and iron thrones whittled down to death and fire. The grief felt by team green only compounded by the body of Aemond’s lady wife found charred in their chambers. It was Ser Quinton, her sworn protector, who lived to tell the story of having to fight off several guards before it was too late. In a matter of days, Daella and Alaric Targaryen missing from their places in Oldtown.

Both jobs speculated to be last minute plans carried about for Daemon Targaryen, done by his loyal Gold Cloaks. It is said that King Aegon never fully recovers from the death of not only his brother, but his good sister. Punishing those he deems responsible once he comes to.

But there are merchants in Essos that believe they have spotted a beautiful lady hand in hand with her children. One with sparkling white hair, the other with blonde streaks through her dark curls.

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#im truly screaming crying throwing up about this being done #I hope y’all enjoy this and thank you again #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #aemond fic #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x you #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond x y/n #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #aemond x oc

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tunaababee · 7 months ago

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we will be everything we say - a feysand friends-to-lovers AU 💖

masterlist // fic playlist // read on AO3 // overall rating: e // wc this chapter: 2.3k // updates Mondays (aest)

Feyre Archeron has been best friends with Rhysand Sterling ever since she moved onto the same street when they were kids - the two became absolutely joined at the hip, with nothing able to come between them.

As they get older, life gets more complicated and things get harder. Not everything comes as naturally as it once did. People change, things happen, friends... drift.

But after drifting apart, maybe life can push them back together again, in time.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

welcome to my very first feysand longfic! this fic is planned to be eight chapters long. while the fic is rated e overall as smut will eventually happen (spoilers i guess lol), this chapter is as clean as it gets haha.

i hope you all like it! as always, big props to my beta reader @climbthemountain2020 who is forever and always my favourite cheerleader!!!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Chapter 1: five and six

The sunlight beat down warmly against the soft, plasticky material that covered the entire expanse of the playground. Kids yelling and chatting, scraping knees, throwing balls and playing with toys. Parents murmuring and chuckling amongst themselves, reading books or watching intently. It was a beautiful day for a Sunday in the town of Prythian and it seemed that nobody was going to let it go to waste. The flowers and shrubs that surrounded the edges of the playground were on full display, spring in full bloom around them.

Little Feyre Archeron had mixed feelings about these days. She did love them sometimes, sure - the sun was very nice against her skin, and the flowers around them were very beautiful. The bright and sunny day did make the colours of the playground look bright and enticing... But at the same time, she very much preferred to fill in her colouring book to her heart’s content inside. Feyre didn’t have to worry about losing her favourite crayon colours or pencils in there, nor did she have to share them with anybody but her sisters if they were at home. Nesta and Elain didn’t even really use them that much - it worked out great! However, Feyre did love any excuse for her father to take her and her sisters out for the day, especially when it meant ice cream afterwards. So she sat at a picnic table, a fierce intensity in her little frown, as she tried to make the prettiest Princess Ariel anybody in this playground had ever seen. Elain was busy playing shop with Nesta underneath one of the play structures, Nesta making sure that nobody was trying to cut her younger sister an unfair deal or push her around while their dad kept Nesta in check about being too mean to any of the other kids.

Feyre barely paid attention to her sisters, let alone any of the other kids on the playground. She was going to create a masterpiece.

That is, until, a slight shadow was cast along the bottom of her colouring page, shading Ariel’s feet and preventing Feyre from seeing it properly.

“Hey!” She grumbled, turning around before meeting the gaze of a little boy with a mess of black, slightly curly hair atop his head and deep blue eyes. He was slightly taller, slightly older, but not by much. “Your shadow is getting in the way of my Ariel picture.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He stared down at his feet a little, shuffling to the side and out of the way of Feyre’s colouring book. “Um. Can I sit here too?”

“If you want. But you can’t colour in on this page, this one’s mine! My sister Nesta already coloured another page of mine and it was very rude.” Feyre huffed slightly at the memory before returning attention to her page.

“That’s okay.” He shuffled onto the bench, sitting right up next to her and watching intently with a little amazement in his eyes. “Wow, you’re really good at colouring. It’s all in the lines and everything!”

Feyre couldn’t help but feel a large sense of pride swell in her chest at that - nobody ever paid attention to how much care she put into her colouring in. It was her favourite thing to do, and she wanted to draw pictures just as pretty as the ones she would colour in when she got older. She gave the boy a big, toothy grin.

“Thank you! I’m almost done, I just need to finish her shoes. You can colour the next one with me if you want. You just need to be careful with the crayons, they’re my special ones.” She looked back down at her page with the same intensity as before, but with a little more excitement about her as she scrambled to finish the picture so she could partake in the next with her new buddy.

“I will, I promise! My name is Rhysand, but I like to be called Rhys. I’m six!” He held his little hand out with enthusiasm, his skin a warm golden brown and a face full of hope. “Maybe we can be friends!”

Feyre paused a moment, taking care to place her colouring implements delicately on the page before taking his hand and shaking it up and down furiously. Just like all the serious grown-ups do, right? “My name’s Feyre, I’m five so I’m nearly as big as you. I’d really like to be friends with you - I haven’t been here very long, so I don’t know anybody else yet. My mommy and daddy said we had to come here for daddy’s work.”

She let go of his hand to put the last touches on Ariel’s shoes, taking a triumphant look at it before turning the page. A stark black and white depiction of Aladdin and Princess Jasmine - him in his normal outfit and Jasmine in her princess outfit, of course. Rhys let out a little gasp of excitement, searching excitedly through Feyre’s crayons before pulling out a purple one. “Oh, Aladdin is my favourite! He looks just like me!”

“Aladdin is pretty cool. I think Jasmine’s clothes are sooooo pretty, and she even gets to have a pet tiger! She’s really brave.”

They both set to colouring in, Feyre taking her time and trying her best to impress her new friend even further with her awesome colouring skills. Rhys wasn’t as great at staying in the lines as her, but that was okay. They were having fun together, and Feyre felt a little less alone than she had when they had first arrived at the park. She loved Elain and Nesta, but they always stuck together and it could make her feel a little left out. But Rhys? Rhys was her friend. She hoped they could stick together just like her sisters did, too.

The two chattered away incessantly as they coloured, even moving to do their own little drawings all around Aladdin and Jasmine and trying to make a silly story out of the whole thing. Rhys said that he knew a lot of kids, but not many of them really talked to or played with him very much. His dad was really busy, but his mom always did her best to make him feel special. They went out together a lot, and it was always the favourite part of his day. Feyre told him how her sisters were 7 and 8 years old and they always thought she was a bit too little to play a lot of their games with her, which was SO unfair because she’s a big kid too! She talked of how her dad liked to treat them to ice cream after their park adventures, and how her mom never, ever really liked taking them and always seemed to be a bit cranky, but that was okay. We can’t be happy all the time - she knew that from when she couldn’t get her drawings to look just like how she wanted them to or when her and her sisters were playing Barbies and it wasn’t going how Feyre thought it should. Why can’t her Barbie have cool superpowers AND live in the dreamhouse?

It definitely made Feyre feel more than justified when Rhys wholeheartedly agreed with her.

Soon enough though, the peak sunlight of the day had started to wane a little, beginning to hide behind the few clouds that decided to rear their heads in the sky. Her dad began to walk over to her, Nesta and Elain holding each of his hands. Nesta, unsurprisingly, looked a bit cross while Elain was jumping for joy.

“Feyre, honey, it’s time for us to go so we can get some ice cream. Come on, pack up your book and your crayons so we can take them home.”

Feyre pouted furiously at her father, bottom lip getting slightly wobbly as she crossed her arms.

“But I don’t wanna go yet! I wanna stay with my friend!”

“Your friend might have to go home soon, too. We should let him get back to his parents.” Her father looked exhausted, already tired of this fight and wanting to simply take them back into their regular routine.

“I don’t wanna! He won’t have anyone else to play with!”

“Feyre, honey-”

“Rhys? Rhys, baby, where’d you go?” A woman with hair as pitch black as Rhysand’s came walking over with a smile across her face as her son waved at her from the other side of the park. There was no way this could be anybody but his mother, and she seemed so kind and warm in her demeanour right from the start.

“Mama! I made a new friend! This is Feyre!” He went bounding over to her without a second thought, babbling excitedly to her about everything they had talked about earlier. His mother had kneeled down to be eye level with him, before turning her gaze on Feyre with that same warm smile.

“Really? Well, it’s lovely to meet you Feyre.”

“...N-Nice to meet you.” She was a little shy around grown-ups she didn’t know, but if it was Rhys’ mother, Feyre could will herself to be brave. Feyre’s dad waved at Rhys’ mother, reaching a hand out to make introductions.

“Hey there. I’m Gerald, Feyre’s dad.”

“Rebecca, I’m Rhysand’s mom. Nice to meet you.”

Feyre’s dad gave her a polite, if not slightly strained, smile before trying to urge Feyre to come with him despite his full hands and her open defiance.

“Come on Feyre, if you don’t use your listening ears, we won’t get any ice cream.”

“But can’t Rhys come? He’s my friend! He should get ice cream too!” Feyre pointed at her friend with a stubbornness that ran through the Archeron women that wouldn’t be diluted, even in childhood. Rebecca couldn’t help but look at Feyre with a softness in her eyes, glad that her son was finally starting to make friends.

“We don’t get to choose that for him, baby. Come on-”

“Oh, I think we might have some time to go for ice cream. What do you think, Rhys?” She grabbed Rhys’ hand as he pumped a little fist in the air, Feyre beaming at him before she took that free hand with gusto.

Feyre’s dad mouthed a ‘thank you’ at Rebecca, her giving a wave in a universal indication of ‘no problem’. The group of six took up the entirety of the pathway, the two parents hanging back a little bit to chat whilst the four rambunctious kids led the way. Rhys led the charge, knowing the way to the ice cream parlour like the back of his hand while he and Feyre swung their hands together between them. The two avoided cracks in the pavement, nearly falling over each other several times, but the air was filled with laughter and probably the most talking Feyre had ever done since they had moved to Prythian in the first place. After a few careful reminders not to cross the road without their adults, to look both ways and to not be silly as they crossed the few stretches of road that laid between them and the ice cream parlour, they arrived at their destination. The minute they were inside, Feyre practically pressed her face against the glass of the service counter to look at all the flavours they had.

“What flavour are you gonna get?” Rhys mumbled to her, staring with just as much want and hunger in his eyes at the gallons of ice cream before them.

“Choc mint. That one’s my favourite. What about you?”

“Choc mint is okay, but I like boysenberry the most. It even has all the cool swirlies in it!” He pointed excitedly through the glass, Feyre making a small face.

“Mm. That’s a good choice. It’s really pretty.” Feyre pulled away from the glass to lightly tap at her father’s arm, relaying her order as Rhys did the same with his mom before they all sat down at the biggest booth they had available.

“Since you two walked to the ice cream parlour with us, are you just parked here or do you live nearby?” Gerald asked Rebecca, the kids too busy waiting impatiently for their orders to be delivered to their table to pay attention to what they were talking about.

“We’re not too far from here, just a block or two over on Orion Avenue.”

“Ah, same street as us then.” Feyre’s ears perked up at that.

“Oh, you’re the ones who moved into number 31 then? We’re a few doors down at 25.” Rebecca mussed up Rhys’ hair with a grin, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as the two ever-excitable children looked at each other.

“You’re at number 31! That means we’re almost neighbours! We can play all the time!”

“I can show you all my cool toys!”

“I can show you all my toys too! This is so awesome! Mama, can I go play at Feyre’s one day?” Rhys’ little face was full of wonder as he looked up at his mother, practically pleading with her.

“One day, yeah! But her parents have to say yes, too. I think after we have our ice cream we’ve all had enough adventure for one day, though.”

As if she had spoken it into existence, the heaped cups of ice cream were placed in front of everyone and they didn’t hesitate to dig in.

After ice cream, the group proceeded to walk home together in the reddened rays of a setting sun on a beautiful afternoon, the two fast friends holding hands the whole way home. Before they had to go their separate ways though, Feyre and Rhys shared a tight hug.

“You’re my best friend now, so we have to play together all the time, okay?” Feyre whispered to him, like it was a secret just for the two of them.

“Okay! I’ll see you later, Feyre!”

Rhys and Feyre waved at each other before walking into their homes, not knowing that in that moment they’d found a soft place to land in one another for years to come.

#feysand #rhysand x feyre archeron #fanfiction #rhysand #feyre archeron #acotar #acotar fanfiction #friends to lovers

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shadowkoo · 1 year ago

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The Taste of Sin

→ Summary: Following his sister's passing, Taehyung faced a daunting battle within himself, one where he eventually succumbed to the enveloping shadows that gripped his soul. Your task is to free him from the clutches of the black magic that now consumes him. The only problem? He doesn't want to be saved.

↠ taehyung x f.reader | 6.7k words | 18+ ↠ genre: angst, horror, strangers/enemies to lovers, smut, black magic au, warlock/witch au

→ Warnings: Read at your own risk! Includes scenes of abduction/kidnapping, minor and major character death & dead bodies, murder, stabbing, knives and other weapons, blood, rituals and witchcraft (duh), slight torture / exorcism-like behavior? idk how else to describe it askldjf;skljdl, illusions to scars, burning skin, unprotected sex, explicit sex, angry sex, fingering, choking, oral (female receiving), teasing, begging, rough kissing, magical fucking? (we’re making that a thing lol), deep dicking, creampie

→ Author note: Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. If you would prefer to bookmark and read it later on AO3, you can find it crossposted here.

Long ago, every instance of magic served a positive purpose. According to the tale, the cosmos gave rise to two mighty entities, Kai and Nyx, after many years of stagnant magic. For magic had been around for centuries by this point, but no one truly had mastered it.

When the culling eliminated many witches and warlocks, the magical line of descendants began to diminish. Kai and Nyx would become the light that the survivors could look to for guidance and protection.

They grew in unison, fostering and educating their apprentices about the complete potential magic can provide and how to harness their talents. Nyx was beloved by the people, and Kai’s gifts were powerful enough to keep them safe from those who dared to harm them.

Over time, Kai's feelings of resentment towards Nyx and his responsibility to safeguard only grew. He yearned to be worshipped. The affection that was once mutual turned into malice, and a sinister shadow wrapped around his soul. It tickled his spine, twisting around through his veins, until he let it take over and embraced the darkness within.

That was the day Black Magic was born.

In the present day, those who are gifted with magical powers are either deemed Sacred or Sinful once they’ve matured. It’s common knowledge that all witches and warlocks are originally born Sacred. Evil isn't born. We know that to be true. It's a learned behavior, created over time. However, the path someone follows in life can change everything.

It's not a matter of what side a witch chooses, but what side chooses them. And unfortunately, it's not as simple as good versus evil, light versus dark, or right versus wrong.

It boils down to a witch's determination to defend themselves and the length their loved ones will go to in order to resurrect the person they once knew.

But black magic doesn't discriminate. It shows no concern for your family lineage, your economic status, or your future aspirations.

It's patient.

It bides its time until your vulnerability allows you to embrace even the slightest taste before it creeps into your soul, waiting until you make the choice to devour it completely.

At that point, you can no longer tell where the darkness ends, and a witch begins. They are now one.

So when the Kim family unexpectedly lost their sweet boy to the Sinful, they knew it would be nearly impossible to get him back.

The only way his soul can be saved is by someone who is accustomed to the taste of black magic helping to remind him of who he truly is.

"This is a photo we took on his eighteenth birthday. That was five years ago. We didn’t know it would be the last photo we would ever take of him..." Mrs. Kim hands you the photo and sniffles, a sign that she’s attempting to keep her composure.

'Please don’t cry, please don’t cry.’ you repeat to yourself. For being upper-class witches, they sure are some of the more sensitive ones. You can tell that they truly care for their estranged son.

Deep down you know that they have all the right reasons to feel this way, but your lack of certain emotions, specifically sympathy, makes it a little difficult for you to feel compassion in moments like this.

Ever since you were rescued from the darkness you've had a hard time understanding emotions and sensitivities. You don’t like either. They make you vulnerable, and vulnerability is dangerous for someone like you.

You are an exception to the rule, neither completely Sacred or Sinful. You’re a part of the Saved; a group of witches that have been brought back from the Sinful. Of course, you can never get rid of the darkness completely. It lingers in your blood, but you’ve learned to control it.

"So do you know what happened that allowed him to let the darkness in? I know that your family is one of the stronger bloodlines, so it couldn’t have been that his powers were limited. And he's not a half-blood either?"

Mr. and Mrs. Kim share a look, debating if they should disclose the reason to you.

"You're right. He was strong up until his sister died. He abandoned his powers and lost interest. We would have to plead for him to do anything remotely related to magic, and even then he put up a fight."

'That would do it. An emotional, grieving warlock that refused to use his powers would be an easy target.'

You rest your hand on Mrs. Kim's in an attempt to console her. "You know this is going to be difficult, right? He's been gone for so long. Are you sure your son is still in there?"

"I know he is. He has to be," she urges, her eyes begging for you to help them.

"Okay..." you say softly, "Were you able to track him? Where was he last?"

"On the east side of the city. We used a spell to pinpoint his exact location, and he was spotted three days ago on camera outside of this mini-mart." Mr. Kim hands you the blurry image.

"Well, it looks like I’ve got some work to do. I’ll keep you two updated."

Taehyung gazes at the street lamps' reflection on the wet pavement. Unaware of the earlier rain, he stares at the puddles left in the wake of the storm.

His daze breaks as he catches the familiar sound of a woman's heels approaching. He closes his eyes, envisioning the woman within the shadows of his mind.

'She'll work,' he decides, watching her walk quickly in his general direction. Astral Vision is just one of the perks of turning dark.

He waits until she’s closer, then conceals his body before she can see him lingering in the shadows outside of the bar. The spell took less than a second to manifest, and then he grabs her. One hand over her mouth and the other pushing her towards his car.

The woman is terrified, rightfully so, and Taehyung feeds on her fear. Her pale face, wide eyes, and fast pulse excite him.

He would have preferred to keep her lucid, but she wouldn’t stop screaming. Her high-pitched shrieks still echo in his ears. Thankfully, the sleeping spell he casts knocks her out, making the car ride enjoyable for the most part.

If only there was a spell that silenced the constant whispering in his ear…

It doesn’t take long for them to arrive at his place. This part of the city was known for being the center of the dark arts, so when the woman's body trails behind him in the air, no one questions it because everyone is used to seeing some fucked up shit. Hell, last week someone set a captured spirit loose and kept walking through the walls of the old apartment building.

As they enter the dark lair, Taehyung waves his hand around and his magic carries the woman’s body to the worship room and gently lays her down on the makeshift altar table.

At the snap of his fingers, she wakes and frantically glances around at her new surroundings. A fireplace full of black flames, candlesticks everywhere she looks, pentagons and other unrecognizable sigils painted across the walls, and a mysterious man walking toward her with a devilish smile.

"Blood is old. Blood is powerful. Blood is exactly what the darkness wants." He starts chanting, making his way around her body, circling her.

"No, please!" The woman yells as she struggles against the restraints that suddenly appear from thin air. "Please. I beg you," she cries, "I have a child. She's two. *Please!*" The woman continues to sob as he lifts the knife in the air

"Shut up. This will go by faster if you just shut the hell up."

It wouldn’t matter if she was pleading as if her life depended on it. In this case, it did, but that’s irrelevant. Nor does the look in her eyes when she realizes she was going to die tonight.

Taehyung doesn’t care. He just wants the whispering to end, and the only way to make that happen is to do what it told him.

So he did.

You listen quietly as Taehyung completes his incantation, completely drawn in by the way he handles his power. The unlit candles that fill his room all ignite when he finishes, signaling that your cover is close to being blown now that you’re no longer hidden from plain sight.

The girl notices your figure and wails out when your eyes manage to lock. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she saw you already, you weren't sure when, or how, you were going to make your presence known.

That's how easily the darkness can get to you. You didn’t even realize when it had you paralyzed in time. And if a witch isn't aware at all times, they have a higher chance of being taken over.

"Please save me! I see you, help me!" Her shrill voice pierces through the empty room. You duck by a bookshelf and wait to see if he spots you too.

Taehyung pauses to glance around; he doesn’t sense anyone so he closes his eyes and continues with his plan.

When you step out of the shadows she repeats herself, begging to be let go, begging for you to help her.

You take another step closer, moving slowly while racking your brain for how you’re going to get her out of here when suddenly the dark flames quit dancing in the fireplace. Every candle in the room turns toward you and the room becomes too quiet.

Someone taps on your shoulder. Startled, you turn your head to find no one there. And when you move to face the woman again, a tall figure stands in your way.

"Who the hell are you?" Taehyung demands, a mere few inches from your position.

If you weren’t slightly concerned about what he was going to do to you next, you probably would have laughed out loud. That blade is pointless. You both know that he can do a lot more damage with his powers now that the darkness is on his side.

Speaking of which, his other hand twists at his side and you guess he’s trying to inflict pain on you somehow.

You know this must be true when he frowns, clearly confused as to why you aren’t on the floor in crippling agony.

"Oh, yeah. That doesn't work on me babe, clearly not human." You admit rather smugly. His demeanor tenses as you close in on him. "You should really put the knife down. You don't want to accidentally hurt her, do you?"

"That's exactly what I want to do," he hisses, using his magic to send his knife flying through the air and into her chest before you can even process what’s happening.

The second the blade touches blood, every candle in the room is extinguished.

You somehow manage to hold in your surprised gasp, despite not being ready for that.

This job isn’t for everyone. You’ve witnessed a lot of death in your short time as Saver. If it wasn’t for the good pay and the sense of accomplishment, (not to mention the high probability of making Nyx proud) there was no way in hell you would willingly put yourself in this traumatic position.

That's what you remind yourself of anyway. Especially since it’s hard finding anything else with your label. Damn witch society and their stupid social standings for making everyone believe that a Saved witch is any less of value than a Sacred one.

It’s been a while since your last assignment, and after how badly that one had ended, you’ve been contemplating if it was a mistake to come so soon - just like your coworkers had presumed.

You brush those thoughts aside and remember why you’re here, to save.

"Did you have to kill her? Was that really necessary?" you prod.

"Yeah, it gets them off my back," he huffs, "What do you want?" He peers at you, trying to figure you out.

One ‘perk’, for lack of a better word, of being one of the Saved is that when a Sinful reads you, they catch onto the lingering darkness and assume you're one of them. It makes it easier for them to trust you, which inherently makes your job easier.

"Need a place to crash for a week or two. I sensed you from outside. Thought it was safe here since we're the same and all that." You had rehearsed this part, knowing you would need a valid excuse to get close to him. And it was normal, the Sinful did usually group together. Everyone is stronger in numbers.

"Does this look like a boarding house to you? Get the fuck out." He turns back to the dead woman's body and catches her blood in a vessel filled with ash and other unrecognizable ingredients.

"What kind of ritual is this?" You ask, ignoring his demand and following him around the room as he throws other components into the blood pool. "Looks very...ancient?" It looks disgusting if you’re being completely honest, but you have to play along. "Need help?"

"Why aren't you leaving?" He questions. "Did I not make myself clear? Get. Out."

"What if we make a deal," you suggest, starting your plan. "I'll clean up your messes and stay out of your way and you let me stay here. I'm a newbie, if you can't tell. So far I'm really enjoying how much I don't care. I can do whatever and go wherever I want. Well actually I can't, I think I'm being hunted-" Your rambling trick works and he interrupts you, clearly irritated. and doing whatever he can to shut you up.

Taehyung rubs a hand over his face when he realizes he can't get rid of you, "Okay! Okay, I really don't give a shit. Stay here then. Whatever. Just stop talking. Fuck."

It’s rather easy getting him to cave, but in retrospect, that's not a good thing. It just proves how far gone he is. For example, who doesn't care if a random person - specifically a person who broke into their home - stays with them for an uncertain amount of time? He just doesn't care. And that's scary.

He walks towards the door, the vessel still in hand, and turns to you to say, "I'll be back later. Take care of the body."

Lovely.

3:00 AM

There’s a reason why this time of night is called the witching hour. That's when witches and warlocks are the most powerful.

So here you are, cross-legged and floating above the floor, getting ready to do something rather invasive, but effective. You aren’t sure if there’s a specific name for what you’re doing, but you’re basically putting yourself into Taehyung’s dreaming mind to pull the memories out of their hiding spots.

When the darkness takes over, it pushes everything aside and fills your mind with disturbing thoughts instead of your own, and it does this so quickly that you forget almost everything about yourself in a matter of minutes.

It’s also tricky because you aren’t able to detect what the memories are until after having drug them out from the deepest pockets of his mind. You have a 50/50 chance of this working in your favor, and you really need it to.

Being inside someone's dream is like being underwater. You don't move as fast as you usually do, and everything's a little fuzzy to look at. Thankfully Taehyung is smart enough to have his memories boxed away, so it isn’t hard to find them. You reach for the nearest one to you, then proceed to open the lid.

The first memory that you pull is one from Taehyung's childhood. You watch his family run around the beach, laughing and splashing around in the salty ocean water.

You reach for another, and suddenly it's autumn. Older Taehyung and his younger sister are kicking the leaves around in the park. A crisp breeze carries the leaves away in the wind while they play.

The next memory leaves you chilled. Taehyung is driving through a snowstorm on his way home after picking his sister up from school. He didn't want her to drive in this weather. You watch in horror as a deer runs out in front of them. He swerves and the car spins on the icy road before rolling several times. They're knocked out for a while, and when Taehyung finally comes to he notices that she's no longer next to him, and there's a giant hole in the windshield.

You return to your body, which is covered in a cold sweat. 'What a terrible way to watch a loved one die. No wonder he let the darkness in.'

You’re ready for your next plan of attack the following morning when Taehyung finds you in the kitchen. His face twists when he notices your bowl, he’s not-so-secretly judging your choice of food.

"What? A witch has to eat." You say, defending the sugary cereal. "Plus, it was in your cabinet. You bought it."

"Didn't buy it. Also not my house, I'm just ahhh - renting it for the time being." He grins, obviously satisfied with his response.

'He's in a rather decent mood. Especially compared to yesterday. Does that mean the memories worked? There's only one way to find out...'

"So," you start, even though you know Taehyung isn’t paying attention to you, "How did you sleep?"

"I relived my sister's death last night." 'Yeah. That one's on me. My bad.' "But I also dreamed about this breakfast cafe near my favorite park that my family used to eat at every time we came to the city."

Your eyes grew in size when you realize that he remembered a memory all on his own. This is really good. Really, really good.

Taehyung wakes up feeling different, but he can’t place how. For the first time in a while, he doesn’t hear whispering, and he can’t help but wonder if you have something to do with that.

'It must be', he decides. 'You, for whatever reason, keep the whispering at bay.'

And then it clicks. You're one of them. And he doesn't know what to do about it.

You're here to fix him. But he doesn't want to change. To go back to a normal life. Well, as normal of a life as a warlock can have.

He sits up in bed and opens his palm. The smallest flame appears and he watches it dance in his gloomy room. He doesn’t want to miss this. Without black magic, Taehyung is nothing but a weak man, incapable of protecting the people he cares about.

He plays it off when he sees you in the kitchen, choosing to talk about his dreams last night, and watches your face light up when he threw in that last one.

"Do you want to visit that place today? It sounds like it's nice," You suggest before getting up to put your empty dish in the sink.

Taehyung's face drops, he’s right. You’re one of the Saved.

"You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you? It's too bad that place doesn't exist," he hisses before driving you backward. Your head bounces off the wall and he doesn’t hesitate to push the knife he had hidden earlier against your windpipe.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? I know what you are," he seethes. His rage deepens as his face lowered to yours. His eyes burn into yours, "You're Saved. And now you're trying to save me. Correct?"

You swallow slowly and nod. This is a serious situation. At any point, Taehyung could snap. Then who would save him?

Both of you proceed to look at each other, waiting for the other to do something stupid. He presses the knife further into your skin, fighting with himself to end your life. But he can’t, for some reason, he’s intrigued and wonders ‘What if?’

"Fuck it," he breathes, having made up his mind, and closes the gap between you. His lips move against yours in a fight for power. The forgotten knife drops to the floor and his arms move to hold you tightly between his body and the wall.

You’re in shock. This isn’t supposed to happen. Definitely not a part of your plan. You don't sleep with the people you're supposed to save; you're pretty sure there's a rule against that somewhere. But strangely enough, you aren’t complaining. He’s a good kisser.

'This really shouldn't be happening.'

No matter how wrong it may be, you let things continue. He has you shoved up against the wall, his lips covering yours.

Taehyung’s magic massages along the sides of your body, before joining in the middle and going right for your center.

He knows exactly what you want before you do, touching the right places, and bringing goosebumps to your skin's surface with every motion.

He’s addictive - whether it’s because of the taste of sin on his skin or the taste of the black magic vibrating through his veins - you can’t get enough of it.

Practically every nerve in your body is on fire and you haven't even gotten to the fun part yet.

You moan when the pressure between your legs grows, and bite your lip in an attempt to keep them in.

"You should be running in the opposite direction right about now," he purrs before leaning to drag his tongue along your neck.

"Oh please, I'm not going anywhere. Not until I get what I want." You pant.

"And what do you want?" he questions with a sly smirk.

"You." 'And to save you.'

He doesn’t hesitate to tear your clothes off before removing his own.

"Please," you beg, needing to be touched by him. Your insides ache for more of him.

He brings a hand up and closes it around your neck, "No talking. Got it?"

You nod again, secretly enjoying the slight pressure and the tingling feeling the lack of oxygen creates.

He lifts one of your legs and you wrap it around his waist, opening yourself up for him. His fingers sink into your heat, moving at a pace you can’t keep up with, preparing you for what’s to come next.

Another moan leaves your swollen lips as he pushes into you without hesitation. Your back arches involuntarily and you squeeze your eyes shut at the amount of intense pleasure running through your body.

Taehyung holds firmly onto your sides and he pounds into you relentlessly. His deep thrusts have you close to seeing stars. The magic he’s using simultaneously leaves behind sensuous, shadowy caresses upon your skin as he takes you to another dimension.

“Fuck,” he growls before placing lingering wet kisses along your neck. You marvel at how he stretches your insides out in the most delicious way.

“Don't stop. Keep going,” you choke out, unable to stay silent any longer, “Please keep going, oh god!” You’re so close to the edge. A few hard thrusts later and you’re shaking as the coil deep inside you snaps, sending waves of white heat throughout your body.

You whimper when he continues to pound into you, his release not far off. Taehyung moans one last time before releasing into you, and your convulsing walls suck in his warm seed.

You shudder when he slowly pulls out of you and dropped to his knees. A small gasp slips out when his parted lips meet your center. Your fingers grasp onto his hair as his tongue dove deep into you.

Taehyung indulges himself in your sweet taste. For whatever reason, he can’t get enough of you. It isn’t until you’re pleading for him to give you a break that he releases your already sensitive nub.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, and once he has he stands back up. Both of your chests are moving at the same pace as you look into each other's eyes, almost asking, what now?

"Okay. Well, um, I'm gonna shower... I'll see you later?" Fuck, you don’t know how to talk to him after that. Are you supposed to thank him for the best sex of your entire life? Do you just quit your job and run away?

Taehyung, on the other hand, is in awe. He isn’t sure what kind of spell you have over him but he’s already craving more.

He doesn’t care enough to argue about the fact that you lied to him. Not after that.

Plus, sex is sex. If he has to put up with your annoying habits and attempts to 'save him' for a while longer for good sex then he will. Simple as that.

With his decision made, he accompanies you into the bathroom. "I hope you're ready for round two."

Honestly, you aren’t sure how long you’ve been with Taehyung. The days tend to blend together, particularly due to your inconsistent sleeping schedule.

You still have your mission in mind, but it isn’t something you desire to finish right away. The small sliver of darkness inside of you rejoices when you push your duties aside.

The second Taehyung becomes Saved and is returned to his family, you have to say goodbye. And that's something that you aren't prepared for. You know now that your heart has gotten involved, which is a dangerous game to play.

This is exactly why they say to never mix business with pleasure. It makes such a mess of things.

Taehyung keeps you in bed for most of the day, for reasons most can assume, and your exhausted body isn’t tired of this routine just yet. Habit has it that you usually fall asleep, phone in hand. So it’s no surprise that when you awoke to it vibrating you already knew what to expect.

After rubbing the sleep from your tired eyes, you squint at the bright screen in an attempt to read what it says.

Unknown Caller

Your heart sinks, and you crawl out of bed. 'This isn't going to be good.' You hurry to make it out of the bedroom before answering.

"Hey, Taemin-"

"It shouldn't be taking you this long to track a Sinful." Your supervisor interrupts, "What the hell is going on? Are we losing you?"

"Nothing's going on, I swear. I tracked him at first but then things got complicated. I even managed to break into his place." Your excuse is half-true. "I’ll keep you updated on my progress-"

"It’s been over a month. You have 48 hours to bring him in, or we're giving the case to Dino. My advice is to get the Sinful bastard on a leash and *bring him in.*" He hangs up on you and his words echo in your mind. 48 hours. 48 hours until someone else is taking him from you.

"Who was that?" Taehyung asks with a scratchy voice when you crawl back into bed.

"Wrong number. Go back to sleep," you whisper. You wait for his breathing to even out and take the risk of projecting into his mind once again. It’s dangerous to flood him with so many memories this fast but you don’t have a choice. You pluck memory after memory out of those damn boxes, hoping that it’s enough to make him come back. You’re running out of time.

The following morning, you realize just how dangerous it can be. Taehyung is in a sour mood from the second he wakes.

"Why can't you just stay out of my mind for one night!" he hollers, climbing out of bed and trying to get away from you as fast as possible. "I know you were in there. Why do you have to remind me of her." His voice cracks and it pains you to see how much he’s hurting.

You can’t stop though. Even though he’s in pain, he’s still feeling, and he needs to feel to get better. “Because your memories are important-”

"Stay out of my fucking head!" He rages, cutting you off and disappearing before you can say anything else.

It's now been several hours since you saw him last. Maybe you were pushing him too hard and the darkness realized that it's being forced out. They call it a flare-up; it’s like the last straw. The darkness will do anything to stay in its host, even if that means harming them.

Once Taehyung returns, you try not to panic when you see the bruises all over his body. Not normal purple-blue bruises, but deep green and black ones. Serious ones. Especially for a warlock. These kinds of bruises are caused by magic. Strong magic. Typically black magic.

"Oh my god, what happened?" You rush to him the second he steps in the door. He’s shirtless, hands all bloody, and covered in those god-awful bruises.

"I don't- I don't know. Blood everywhere. The bodies. I don't know."

Your hands rest over his and you close your eyes, focusing on retracing his steps with your gifts.

You’re transported to an alley, where you watch as Taehyung attacked a mob of the Sinful. You wince when he snaps the first man’s neck and then consumes the darkness seeping out of the slumped body. He claims the additional power for himself, as he does with the rest of the people that you see left lying around.

You pull yourself back to the present and look at Taehyung. With more black magic running through his veins, heat radiates from his body and his muscles tense, hoping to be used in another battle shortly.

"Taehyung, I know it hurts to remember and feel these emotions but I really need you to keep them. Don't let the darkness take them away. Please, Taehyung. It's important." His eyes meet yours and you can see the fight he’s putting up from the inside.

"I'm trying. I really am."

Your fingers trail down his cheek, "I know. I know how hard it is, and I know how strong you are. You can do this."

"I can't." Tears stream down his face, "I'm nothing without it, I'm weak. I have to let it in again. I need it."

His entire demeanor changes after saying those words, not realizing the weight that they carry. He’s so close, and now it’s back. He’s rid of the darkness for just a few short minutes and he’s so broken. There’s no way you can save him all on your own.

"You," He says, his voice deepening to something sinister, "Don't you know when to give up? Haven't you realized he doesn't want you to save him?"

"He wants to be saved. You just won't let him go. I'll get him back, and I'll get you out for good," you spit out.

"It's been too long, he's never coming back," the voice gloats, although the darkness that spills through his lips doesn’t match his eyes. "How pathetic it is that you have feelings for this weak warlock. Don't you know that he will never be the same? He won't love you. He doesn't even know what love is. Stupid girl."

"That's a lie." You remind yourself that this isn’t Taehyung talking. This was the darkness. “He’s capable and worthy of so much love, unlike you.”

Even though you know better, there’s a small part of you that’s scared it’s true. 'What if it’s impossible for him to love? Even after he comes back?'

Taehyung can’t help it. He really tried. But it’s just too strong of a fight for him. He doesn’t have the energy.

And you don’t have time to waste. Grabbing onto his head, you stare into his eyes, "I'll get you out of there, I promise." He tries to pry your hands off but you hold on strong. "I promise, Taehyung. Please hold on just a little longer."

You hate to leave him, especially after a momentary breakthrough, but you need help. So you dial the one person you know you can depend on.

"Hey Dino, how fast can you and the others get here?"

It's been different since you've left.

Taehyung doesn't understand why he feels this way, or why he feels at all. He doesn't care, at least that's what he's telling himself to get through the past couple of days. Although he can't help but wonder why you left, and if you’ll ever come back.

It’s thoughts like these that have him so distracted, that's why he doesn’t sense them. That's why they’re able to capture him. Once again, Taehyung is nothing but a weak warlock - even with black magic on his side this time.

Whoever it is, they’re strong enough to cast a sight spell. He can’t see anything. He doesn’t know where he’s being taken.

When they finally release the spell, he's confused by his surroundings. He was almost expecting to see more Sinful wanting to suck the rest of his powers out for their own benefit this time.

To his genuine surprise, it's you.

You and a crowd. All Saved witches and warlocks. Even though he knows what's coming, he's terrified. Not many make it through this part.

"I know you're smart, so I don't need to explain to you that this is going to hurt like a bitch. But I need you to hold on. The darkness is going to want you to give up, and I swear to god Taehyung, if you let that happen I will kill you. You need to hold on."

The group circles around his body and began chanting the spell while you prepared to do the worst part. You refuse to let anyone else do this.

It’s horrific, to say the least. No one enjoys burning protective sigils into another person's skin, especially when that person is someone you love. You know better than to look at his face when you do this, but his screams remind you of how terrible it hurts, and the scars on your arms ache having been in this exact position. The smell of melting flesh is enough to make you sick to your stomach, let alone the combination of all of these things.

Hell is nothing compared to what a witch goes through to be Saved. The rush of everything that you have done but technically didn't do, the people you murdered, the emotions and memories that come flooding in. It's a lot to be overwhelmed with. And sadly, not everyone can handle it.

You pray to Nyx that Taehyung is capable to make it through this.

'I'm okay, keep going.'

Raising your gaze to him as his voice sounds in your mind, he reassures you that this has to be done.

'Whatever happens, keep going.'

You nod, holding back tears when he lets out another blood-curdling cry.

You don't know what happened. An eerie sensation washes over you as you try to make sense of the scene in front of you. Someone screams. Who’s screaming? You don’t recognize them to be coming from you, but it has to be. The only thing you’re able to focus on is someone dragging you away from his cold, limp body.

Dino holds onto you through your endless fighting, "He's gone. We need to move. You know we're all at risk with that kind of dark power floating around, unseen."

And that’s the last time you saw Taehyung.

Life after leaving the city is hard.

You refuse to talk to anyone about what happened, but they all have their own assumptions. Even your supervisor wants you to take more time off but you’ve been declining. Surrounding yourself with work is the only distraction capable of taking your mind off everything else.

You’ll gladly do anything but sit at home where you actually had time to think.

The assignment you recently returned from had been really underwhelming; you brought back and returned the woman to her husband in less than a day. A new record for you. All it took was a handful of wedding photos and snap - she was back. Granted, this one was only gone for a fortnight, so it was an easy job compared to... You let that thought end abruptly, refusing to say his name.

Unlocking your front door, you take a step inside and drop your bag at your feet, your magic closing and relocking it for you.

'Something is wrong.'

You feel it, someone else’s presence. You have no idea how or why - but someone is in the next room over. Your magic can sense theirs.

Nobody knows where you live, not even the other Saved witches. You need to have your safe haven in case anything ever happens. Your house is spellbound to keep the Sinful from entering. However, if a Sinful took in an absurd amount of darkness, it isn’t impossible for that to happen. And you’re terrified to find out who is waiting for you.

It isn’t common for them to hunt you down but in the rare event that it does happen, you have certain protocols to follow, or else things can get very dangerous. Scared to death, you keep your hands at bay and pull yourself mostly together before walking into the living room.

"Why are you crunched over walking like that?"

Letting out a yelp, you immediately turn to your left. “Taehyung?" Your hand rests on your beating heart. 'He's alive?'

"Before you ask, yes I'm alive, and yes it's actually me." It takes you a moment to register his words, which he completely understandable. He knows you must have been through a lot these last couple of weeks. Especially since everyone assumed he was dead.

"There's no way... It’s not possible. Dino checked before we left, you were dead. I don't know how you are here right now."

'You're hallucinating. That's the only realistic answer. You're going crazy and imagining all of this. There is no way Taehyung was alive this whole time. You would have known.'

"Well, apparently he didn't do his job very well because here I am," he chuckles. This is so not the time for chuckling and happy reunions.

You know it’s cliche to do so, but you really just had to poke him in the chest to check. Magic-wise, you can tell he’s alive. You can also tell that he’s still a warlock again, blessed with the gifts of Nyx, but you can’t place any darkness within him.

"How is that possible?” you mumble to yourself, reading his soul again. All Saved have a trace of darkness...but he has none.

"This might be a wild assumption, but can it be due to the fact that I died and came back? I don't think the darkness could withstand that."

"That seems logical." You’re still weirded out by this whole ordeal but that answer would work for now, at least until you brought him to the base tomorrow to be checked out. "So then why were you hiding in the corner?"

His lips curl up, "What can I say, I learned from the best."

"Okay, so then why are you here? In my house?"

"I needed to see you. I didn't believe it at first either when I first woke up. I thought maybe I turned into a ghost or something, that my spirit was trapped since I died dark. But people noticed me on the streets. And for the first time in years, only my own thoughts were in my head. No whispering." He rests a hand on your cheek, "You saved me."

“It was my job,” you blurted out, not knowing what to say. This is absurd, everything that had just happened made absolutely zero sense.

He gives you a look, knowing better than to believe that was the only reasoning for why you pushed so hard to bring him back.

"And can I just say for my personal well-being that I never wanted to hurt myself more than the day when fake-me said that it was impossible for me to love you. You have no idea how hard I was fighting to come through and say the exact opposite."

Taehyung steps forward and pulls you against his body, "Because I do, I love you."

Your heart nearly bursts having heard him confess the truth. Raising your hands up to his head, you pull him down into your waiting kiss, where you pour love and light into one another.

While you’ve become accustomed to the taste of sin on his lips, you’ve got to admit, the taste of love is so much better.

#taehyung #kth #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #warlock taehyung #bts x reader #bts fanfic #taehyung au #bts au #bts smut #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung fic #taehyung oneshot #bts oneshot #kth fanfic #kth smut #kth x reader #300

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inquisitornocturn · 2 months ago

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≪─ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ: ᴄʜ. 14 - ʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴏᴡɴᴛᴏᴡɴ ─≫

⋟ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Sebastian LaCroix/f!reader the Ventrue neonate

⋟ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: y/n etc is not used, rating - E, praise kink, smut, PiV, choking, fingering, vampiric bites, blood drinking, asphyxiation, creampie, chokehold, vaginal fingering, fluff.

⋟ 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: From climbing the corporate ladder to being told you need to feast on human blood - this is your new life, Fledgling. The world has changed for you so drastically, you know you will need time to adjust and your new so called "boss" is not making it easy. He's sending you on tasks that feel like they were designed to get you killed. It makes you furious: at Sebastian, at your vampirism, at your lowly position in this brand new society you just stepped into. Still, LaCroix is just the type to get under your skin with ease, and he does it well. Too well. You are not too sure if you can resist his pull.

⋟ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5,697

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: and i'm back with a new chapter! it was an arduous journey to put this fic through new editing phase, but i'm so glad that it is done at last and what's a better way to celebrate than with new content! now, i have been a bit in a rut lately and writing feels a little strange after that, so don't judge me too hard if the chapter is not perfect. i did enjoy writing it because Sebastian is just so much fun lol. anyway, please do enjoy♡~

⋟ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: [link] | on AO3 [link]

Not again, you think to yourself as you crane your neck upwards and gaze upon the height of the Venture Tower. How many times you will stand here like this, reluctant to step inside for one reason or another. Your fingers clench into fists, your breathing pauses for a moment and you finally exhale, then walk through the door, mustering all determination you have. You saw the Prince last night, he spoke about his feelings, and now you’re here to confront him about your Embrace, about Sebastian’s plans, possibly ruin everything in the process, but… this time you don’t care. Well, you do care, but you need answers, once and for all.

Your footsteps echo through the empty lobby as you approach Chunk and he rises his eyes to you with a slight frown.

“Sorry, miss, no one is allowed, LaCroix’s orders.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t know.” He seems a bit on edge, like he’s startled, and you wonder if Sebastian spoke to Chunk about what he and Mercurio heard yesterday. If that’s true, then it looks like the Prince didn’t hesitate to put the fear of God into this security guard.

You don’t have time for this.

“Let me up.” You command, mustering your powers and Chunk at first looks like he’s going to resist, then his head slowly swims on his shoulders as if he’s a bobber cast in a lake.

“Yes, miss, of course miss.” Like in a dream he leans in to push a button and you stall for a moment longer before you march away from him. You can’t stop, hesitate, can’t doubt.

Yet the elevator feels like it’s taking fucking forever and it begins grating on your nerves, swears of all kinds swimming through your head as you try to will it, unsuccessfully, to go faster. However, when the ding sounds out at your arrival to the Penthouse floor, you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Damn it.” You swear at yourself this time and step out the moment the doors open.

Walking to the door of Sebastian’s office now feels like walking to your execution. He’s most likely aware you went through Chunk despite his orders not to be disturbed, so you can most likely presume that the Prince is not going to be in a generous mood. You remind yourself that he rarely is anyway, so why does it matter if he’s not happy now.

By the door you linger yet another moment, trying to decide if to knock or not, but hearing no voices inside you just push the handle and enter. At first you don’t see Sebastian where he usually is, by his desk, but then you notice him on the couch by the fireplace and when he sees who dared to disturb him - the Prince frowns.

“You? What are you doing here?” Strangely he doesn’t sound upset but rather confused and that gives you enough strength to feel brave.

Without speaking just yet, you close the door and approach him, his icy gaze following you the entire time and when you sit next to him, noticing some sheets in the vampire’s hands that he puts aside, either to give you attention or to hide the information printed there, he crosses one leg over another.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

“I want to ask you some things.”

“And I assume you are not going to ask about Gary or how to find him, then.” Sebastian’s brows furrow slightly and you nearly cave, nearly give him a sheepish smile, but no, you can’t succumb under his scrutinizing gaze just yet.

“No, I want to know details about my Embrace.”

Sebastian looks at you with his expression unreadable, as if it’s frozen on his face and your jaw tightens. A moment passes, then two and he looks to the alight fireplace while tapping his fingers on a knee.

“And why, pray tell, you are suddenly interested in talking about something you very well remember yourself?”

“I remember after, Sebastian. I remember your calculated choice to placate the Anarchs by sparing me, I don’t remember… becoming this.” You gesture to yourself, the answer evident, and run a tip of your tongue over the fangs that you still sometimes find odd. You wonder if the Prince actually knows anything, but then…

“Hmm.” A small sound, he keeps tapping his fingers and your anxiety begins to rise. Usually he’s fast to respond, with either a lie or a half-truth, sometimes with a hit if you’re insolent, but tonight Sebastian seems to pick his responses very carefully. You haven’t seen him like this before and your throat contracts on instinct. “Why do you assume that I know anything about your Embrace?” He looks at you and you wet your lips with your tongue.

“Well…” You trail off, because you actually didn’t think of why. You came here because Tung told you to, pretty much. That’s all you have, until suddenly, with your thoughts spinning in your head like a mad hamster on a wheel, realization comes. “You… Your people… They came into the room just as I woke and…” You swallow again, stress tightening your chest with a vice-like grip. “How did you know that something was happening?”

“As a Prince of LA, it is my job to know.” Sebastian scoffs, but the rapping of his fingers increases. Is he trying to hold back his emotions? Maybe his anger to which he turns when things don’t go his way?

“Yes, but so soon? How did you know that my Sire was there, in that shitty room with me, killing me?” Because Sebastian’s reactions are subdued you feel emboldened and he looks away from you again, this time to his sleeves at which he plucks with his fingers, straightening the fabric out.

Suddenly, he chuckles and your raise your eyebrows at that, meeting his gaze when it’s once more cast onto you.

“Are you really surprised that my enforcers knew? The Camarilla has its ways to know, dear.” He seems amused that you’re here, asking these questions, wasting his time. “Truly, I wonder why you’re not on your way to Hollywood. I thought I have given you a task?” With these words, the Prince’s eyes dangerously harden, but you’re not done yet. You need to know.

“You didn’t tell me how you knew. Be it Camarilla or something else, I want you to tell me what you know about my Embrace.”

A muscle twitches in Sebastian’s face. It’s so minor that it almost escapes your notice, but then, suddenly and surprisingly, he smiles and leans in your direction. He gets closer, invading your personal space and you can smell his perfume that has become so familiar to you over the encounters that you had with him so far. Encounters, or a relationship? You can think about that later.

“You’re a curious little mouse, aren’t you, Childe?” He hums with a smile, Sebastian’s tone suddenly gaining seductive undertones, like the ones you heard when you were on the phone with him while on the way to the museum.

And you suddenly find yourself incapable to think properly. You lick your lips again and look into his eyes, searching your brain for an answer.

“I just want to know how I came to be, Sebastian, it’s not an unreasonable thing to wish.” Even you hear how words become breathy whispers at his proximity and you tell yourself to stop being so weak, to stop being so easily affected, but when the Prince places one hand by your thigh, the couch dipping under his weight, and with other reaches to your face, a single finger trailing your jawline, near all the fight flees you.

“No, it’s not unreasonable.” He croons the words in a way that makes a shiver run down your spine. “But with some things… it’s better if you don’t know them just yet.” A promise of information, but you know how fleeing his promises are and you clear your throat, giving it one more push.

“Sebastian, no. I want to know now, I want to know who my Sire was, why did he pick me, why he didn’t get permission from you to turn me, I want to know. I need to know.” As you speak, you reach for Sebastian’s hand and grasp his fingers, pulling them away from your face. You don’t want him to distract you, even though he already nearly succeeded in that.

The Prince, instead of pulling his hand away, takes your fingers and brings them to his lips, placing a chaste kiss to your knuckles and effectively provoking a shocked expression on your face that you can’t quite hide. He chuckles again.

“You want clarity, I understand that, but you know that some things cannot be easily revealed.” Another kiss, this time on the skin above the knuckles, and then one more, almost at your wrist.

“Why you’re not answering me?” You try to sound angry because anger has come so easy to you before, but not right now. Sebastian never really attempted to charm you, not like this, and you try not to give in, but what chance do you have when there’s yet another gentle kiss as he turns your hand and presses his lips to the inside of your wrist, making an even stronger shudder tickle your back.

“You don’t sound like you really want an answer.” Sebastian moves, a knee on the couch, a foot on the floor and he cages you with his arms, cornering you between the armrest and the backrest with a smirk. “What you do sound like…” He leans in and vampire’s breath fawns over the side of your face when he leans to your ear, then he whispers. “… that you want to be mine again, dear.” You feel his nose nudging your hairline above the shell of your ear and then he deeply inhales. “Did my words make your little, unbeating kindred heart swell with hope?”

It has. You despise how well he seems to read you and for a second you chew on your bottom lip, trying not to allow your hands to rise, to pull him in, to have a kiss, to find his belt buckle, then the zipper of his pants. No, you came here… right, you came to get answers. Tung, Embrace, your Sire.

But all these thoughts fade when Sebastian pulls back just enough to look at your face and his lazy, confident smile makes your knees go weak even though you’re sitting.

“I…”

Your attempt for a coherent reply quickly fails when the Prince leans closer, his piercing gaze becoming your entire world and then, at last, his lips push against yours, a tip of his tongue runs over your upper teeth and you grant him access into your mouth, kissing the Prince deeply while your fingers clutch the fabric of the couch under them. It either lasts eternity or just a second, but when Sebastian pulls back, you realize you’re out of breath even though you don’t need to breathe at all, but the reaction is so instinctual, so familiar, that you simulate it subconsciously.

With a satisfied chuckle, the Prince leans back, releasing you from the imprisonment of his arms and grabs your thighs, pulling you lower. You watch him lift the hem of your shirt and undo your belt, then the fly of your pants. You glance at his face, seeing careless concentration. God, he’s so beautiful, especially with his face so calm, yet confident.

“I am quite disappointed that you’re not looking for Gary, but... Since you’re here, that can wait for a little while longer.” Sebastian speaks as he tugs at your pants and you obediently lift your hips to make the attempt easy for him. The fabric peels down your legs and he only briefly stops to pull off your shoes before removing your pants completely. It’s almost clinical in how he performs the task.

“I was… I will…” You try to find the words, but your mind is blank. Instead you reach for him, pulling buttons of his jacket free as you try to sit up, to get closer, to earn another kiss. The tightness in your chest that you felt earlier is gone like it has never been there.

“I know you will, you’ve been such a good, obedient girl for me, haven’t you?” Sebastian’s words are like the sweetest honey and when you try to pull his shirt open, he catches your wrists, making you look at him. On his face you see a smirk. In his fingers – you feel warmth.

“Sebastian-“

“Shhh.” He hums and you can’t resist a glance to his crotch, seeing hardness strain against the dark fabric of his pants. Your throat convulses again, swallowing on instinct, remembering the taste of him, the feel of him.

After he releases your wrists and sits down, you get a flash of doubt. Is that it? That’s all he wanted? It gnaws at you, because even with his small assurance yesterday, that he might feel something for you, the worry that he only said that to manipulate you does not want to go away easily.

But no, in a half a second that your doubt brimmed to the surface, he grabs your arm, pulling you into his lap. You attempt to position your body better, to straddle him, all the while you joyfully let the powers activate your dead cells, make your skin warm to the touch, your heart beating once again, and wetness poll between your legs, but Sebastian has other ideas. Instead of letting you turn, he slides a hand under your shirt and cups your breast, then with a small sound of disapproval he tugs the bra cup down and embraces the soft mound with his fingers.

“You are obeying, not resisting, not shouting. I am pleased, Childe.” The Prince whispers while you hold onto his shoulders and exhale slowly, feeling him toy with your nipple, roll it between his fingers, pull at it, let go, then do it all over again. “You have a fighting spirit, I know that, but you don’t need to fight me.” His lips brush against yours and you nod eagerly, watching his expression, and you have no doubt that your gaze betrays your growing need. “Good, I hope that from this point on I won’t have to lecture you on how to behave.” Sebastian smiles and his fangs now call for you to beg to have them in your neck. Under your thigh you feel his erection, hard and unyielding. Oh how easily he makes your resolve become soft like butter.

“No, you won’t… I will try.” You gasp against Sebastian’s lips, a genuine promise that comes from your yearning for him to want you in more ways than just physical.

“Will you?” It’s a teasing taunt and it makes your heart race, the hand from under your shirt emerges and he begins to unbutton it, Prince’s gaze slipping from your face to the task at hand. “I very much hope so. You will become my Childe soon, you have to stop fighting me at any chance you get just because you don’t understand grander schemes at work.” With that he pulls open your shirt and cups the naked breast, dipping his head and capturing it in his mouth. You gasp and run your fingers through his blonde hair.

“But I want to understand.” You huff from under intensity of sensation that is brought by Prince’s lips and tongue working your hard peak, followed by passionate sucking that creates electricity which makes every cell in your body come alive. Then he rises his head, leaving your moist nipple to cool in the room’s air.

“You will, one day, But you have to be patient, my dear. That’s what you lack most disappointingly – patience.”

“Sebastian, I want-“

“Exactly what I mean.” He chuckles and you bite your tongue because you nearly begged him to fuck you and he’s right, you are impatient, except you never thought of yourself as such until now.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur sheepishly, desire is roaring within you and you can’t stop yourself from trying to touch his erection that’s under you, only for him to grab your wrist and give you an amused look.

“Tsk tsk. Do I have to teach you lessons in patience instead of obedience now?” He teases and you blush, his words only stoke the flames higher. You try to pull your wrist free, wanting more action and less words, but Sebastian has other ideas.

He does release your wrist, but then grips your hips and turns you, making you press your back to him. Disappointed at being denied to look at his face you turn slightly to meet Prince’s gaze that finally betrays his own desire, but there’s also cool dominance in the small smirk that doesn’t seem to go away.

“Up.” A simple word and for a moment you don’t understand what he wants, but then it comes to you and you try to lift your hips. “Higher.” You try it but don’t achieve much and Sebastian pats your hip. “I said higher.” Not wanting to disappoint him and driven by your overwhelming arousal, you glance around yourself, looking for anything you could use for purchase and finally put a foot on his thigh, lifting yourself at an angle. “Good.” He smiles and while you struggle to keep yourself in this uncomfortable position, he undoes his pants.

You wrap your right arm around Sebastian’s shoulders and kiss him, unable to resist the siren call of his lips. He smiles into the kiss, but responds eagerly to it, letting his hunger show through actions rather than words. The moment his cock is freed from confinements of his pants, it nudges the underside of your thigh and you gasp.

“Now follow my lead.” Sebastian whispers into your lips and snakes his left arm around you, pulling your panties to the side. He spends a moment to run two fingers alongside your moist slit and sighs in appreciation. “Always so ready for me, it’s almost intoxicating.” He hums, spreads your folds making you gasp again, then his touch urges you down. The moment velvety tip of his cock presses against your open entrance, you capture his lower lip with your teeth, making him inhale sharply. “Take it all, my dear.” He says in a tone that’s authoritative and commanding, and you immediately sink down, taking his entire length into you with ease because you’re so aroused it has already started seeping down your skin.

The moment Sebastian is fully sheathed inside of you, you moan.

“Shh, we were heard last time.” The Prince smiles slightly and his other hand moves between your breasts until his fingers wrap around your throat and you look into his eyes at last, gripping his forearm for support and seeing the mist of desire cloud his otherwise sharp gaze. “Move.”

You do as he says and begin to move. With your hand across his shoulders and your foot still on his thigh the movements are quite easy and you quickly pick up a fast, needy pace, listening to the sounds of your body squelching every time you take him in again with a wanton moan. And then Sebastian makes you moan even louder because he releases your panties and moves under the fabric, finding your swelling clit and beginning to rub it in gentle, practiced circles.

“Fuck…” You gasp and your paces wavers, your thighs shake with strain, but you can’t stop, won’t stop.

Suddenly a flash of lightning fills the room and quickly following it – a thunder crack so loud it sounds like an explosion. You flinch at it and Sebastian grins.

“How wonderfully you tightened around me just now, ma chérie.” He breathes against your lips and you grip his arm tighter because he makes you sink down particularly hard, a deep kind of thrust that makes you cry out and which he cuts off with a squeeze of his fingers around your throat.

You pick up the pace again, going faster, repeatedly descending onto him harder and Sebastian’s lips move from yours to the side of your neck. At first you just feel gentle kisses, then his mouth opens and a deliciously sharp pierce of his fangs make you clench around him once again. He hums with approval as he draws your blood into his mouth and rubs your clit faster, urging you, chasing his release already.

Another thunder crack, you flinch again and Prince’s fingers pause when he lets out a swear at the sensation of your body tightly gripping him. Quickly the rain begins peppering the windows of the Penthouse, but neither of you pay any attention. The coil in your abdomen begins to tense and your muscles stiffen both from strain and imminent climax.

“Sebastian…” You gasp with eyes closed, letting your fingers dig into his jacket sleeve as you hold onto him tighter. You’re so close and the way his length stretches your inner walls makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Harder.” He demands and you don’t know if you can grant this wish but you still try, even while Prince’s fingers begin to squeeze your throat, cutting the air that you don’t even need. You whine meekly through the choking and with a shudder let go, not able to stop yourself.

With a strained moan you tremble while you try to keep going and then you unravel again because Sebastian’s fingers don’t relent until you’re spasming over him again. With a groan of his own, right against the bloody side of your neck, he spills himself the moment you sink down onto him one last time. Your body contracts, milking him for every last drop he can gift you, and your foot slips from his thigh as you collapse against his chest, your own heaving with breaths after he releases your throat.

You listen to him let out silent moans and then cup your breast with the hand that so roughly has squeezed your neck just a moment ago. He holds it and brushes the pad of his thumb over a pert nipple, making you flinch in response then smile.

“It’s raining.” You whisper with your throat feeling rough and dry, and Sebastian chuckles then you feel his cooling tongue lick up the blood that has leaked out of the bite wound that he didn’t close.

“Indeed it is. Unfortunate, because we have to go to the roof.”

“We have?” You open your eyes and look at the man for whom you feel like you could destroy the entire world, at least in this blissful moment, and he gives you a look that is laced with mischief.

“I have something to tell you and I have to do it there.”

You swallow dryly and want to ask what it is but instead Sebastian releases your breast and grips your jaw, kissing you and keeping you in place just in case you get an incomprehensible idea to pull away. But you don’t, of course you don’t have such ideas. You kiss him back, tasting unique metallic flavor of your own blood until he moves your face from him and glances down at your body. At an angle that you have slipped in his lap he can see your arousal and his seed seeping from where you two are still joined and leaking down his shaft, lower, to where neither of you can follow with your gazes.

“Beautiful.” He hums, but then pats your thigh, urging you to get off him and with a sigh you gather yourself and stand between his spread legs. “Stop.” Sebastian suddenly demands and you freeze, half bent with your back to him. You feel him caress the mound of your rear, then slightly pull at it with his fingers, together with your panties, so that he can clearly see his own handiwork overfilling you, then he gives a short spank, making you chuckle. “Dress up.”

You shake your head slightly and give Sebastian a sidelong glance, briefly observing him as he tucks his softening shaft away and redoes his zipper, then belt, but as he stands, not bothering to button up his jacket, you hurry to finish pulling on your boots. You are still so full of his release and it seeps into your panties, making the sensation far from pleasant one, especially now that your body is swiftly cooling down, but you don’t mind. In a way – you even appreciate the feeling of being claimed in such an intimate way.

“Are you done? Come with me.”

Sebastian gives you only a short glance before he pushes hands into his pockets and walks towards the office door. As you skirt around the couch, you glance at the papers he was reading, noticing only numbers that tell you absolutely nothing, then hurry after him.

“What is it that you want to tell me?” You ask while the Prince leads you to the elevator and he smiles slightly.

“What did I tell you about patience.” He runs a hand over his hair, smoothing his slightly disheveled appearance, and presses a button to call the elevator. Since you were the last to use it, especially at this hour of the night, the ding immediately rings out and the doors slide open.

You’d blush if you could, slightly embarrassed that he keeps pointing out your eagerness to know things fast, but walk with him into the cabin and watch the doors close shut after Sebastian presses a button for roof access.

“You… avoid my questions.” You huff, murmuring more to yourself than to him and the Prince looks at you, but says nothing, then he looks at the changing numbers on the floor panel until with another ding, the view of the roof opens up before you both.

It’s pouring down, especially so because the Venture Tower is one of the tallest skyscrapers in the area. You scrunch your nose at the sight of rain washing over the rooftop with true fierceness of nature.

“Come.” Sebastian makes a step towards the open door and you give him a look with a raised eyebrow, skepticism etched in your expression.

“You can’t be serious.”

“You kill kine for food and you’re afraid of a little bit of rain?” The Prince teases with laugh, then steps into the downpour. You pout, watching his shoulders and hair almost immediately get drenched, but step after him, squinting when raindrops begin pelting your face, washing it from sweat that you worked up earlier under the Blush of Life.

Trailing after your future Sire, you follow him deeper into the area until he stops by the end of it, a simple iron railing preventing accidental falls from such height that you are not sure if even a kindred could survive. When you join Sebastian’s side he nods to the view that opens before you: countless spires of buildings, innumerable lights in windows and down in the streets from lights and cars that are crawling like tiniest fireflies. Before you can ask him why you’re here, getting drenched, the Prince puts an arm around your waist and pulls you to him, your back against his chest once more. You feel him press a wet cheek to the side of your hair as he puts both arms around your waist, his presence, despite being physically cold, feels warm against you.

“What do you see?” He whispers into your ear and you consider the question while your eyes sweep over the night panorama of Downtown. How many kindred are down there, trying to survive? And you’re spending your night fucking the Prince of LA. You smile to yourself with pride while your chest swells with victorious gloating.

“A city. LA.” You pause, thinking for a moment. “City to be ruled.” At the addition Sebastian gives a slight nod, then his left hand finds its way under your shirt only to slip past the waistline of your pants, into your panties, into your still drenched folds. You inhale slightly as his fingers begin to lazily toy with his spent seeping out of your cunt.

“You’re quite right about that.” Again Sebastian’s tone is sweeter than sugar and you try to turn your head, to look at him, but he prevents you but swiftly rising his right arm and putting it around your throat, holding you in a chokehold without the choking, at least for now. “But there’s more. Don’t look at me, look at the city.” Prince’s tone is a bit harsher and his fingers give your clit a pinch that makes even your dead body react with a shudder and a strangled moan.

What do you see? Your mind is distracted and without even noticing you activate your body once again, if only to experience Sebastian’s affection with full range of sensations.

“Naughty girl.” He chuckles once he feels you warm up under his touch, but he says nothing else, giving you time to both relish the ministrations of his fingers and think upon the question.

But as Sebastian’s fingers trail between your folds, going up and down, teasing your clit and then slipping into your entrance as a tease, no coherent thoughts come to you.

“I don’t know.” You admit, your voice sounding a tad whiny from pleasure, and you shudder against his chest. The wetness of clothes that are now clinging to your body makes it an uncomfortable sensation but his fingers… oh what his fingers are doing to you. Yet at your answer the arm under your jaw tightens slightly, applying pressure as his muscles strain against his own wet clothes.

“You don’t know. Now, let me make this a point.” Sebastian’s fingers touch upon your swollen bud again and give it a tiny squeeze while making you gasp in response. “You don’t know because you’re still awfully inexperienced. You think you know how this world works, but you really don’t.” Another squeeze, a harder one and you grip at his arm around your throat, your fingers digging into his forearm and muscle.

“Sebastian-“

“No, listen carefully. This is a lesson. Let’s say it’s a first one from many that I now see I will need to teach you once I’m your Sire.” Another pinch and you cry out. It’s still pleasurable, but at this point it’s more painful and your attention focuses on the vista once again while you rack your brain for an answer. Nothing comes. “You are asking too many questions, Childe.” Again his arm tightens and you cannot breathe any longer. Thankfully, you don’t need to, but it’s still uncomfortable and you grimace, then whimper when Prince’s fingers stroke your clit gently. “I need you to learn some patience. Answers will come when the time is right. Do you understand?”

Maybe, before tonight, you would’ve argued, demanded to know what he’s hiding, pressing him for answers that he seems unwilling to share, but after yesterday… after his words and gentle touches just earlier on a couch… You find yourself unwilling to fight. He’s ought to be your Sire soon, you should be patient. You have an eternity after all. So you nod and the chokehold relents, letting you inhale if you wish so while Sebastian’s fingers stroke your cunt gently once again, making you shudder against him.

“Wonderful, such a good girl. I think I figured out how to make you comply.” The Prince chuckles and you blush but when you open your mouth, all that escapes it is a soft moan because he’s rubbing your clit again, faster this time, his fingertips gliding over the sensitive nub with ease because he dipped them in your arousal and his seed.

“I won’t… question again…” You barely manage because your voice is strained with the mewls you are trying to keep down and Sebastian kisses your cheek. You feel a smile on his face when he does it.

“Such a good girl.” He repeats in a whisper and the vision of the Downtown begins to blur as your climax approaches, making you shiver and gasp, then moan louder until you cry out, shuddering and only standing straight because his arm around your throat keeps you upright.

“Shh shh.” The Prince croons as his fingers massage you for a moment longer, helping you ride out your pleasure to the fullest, and when he finally feels your body relax, he slips his fingers out of your pants and pushes them into your open mouth.

You suck on them while you breathe fast and heavy through your nose. At last Sebastian’s arm releases your neck and holds you against him by your waist once again, turning your face to him so that he can look into your eyes with a smile.

“I’m glad we resolved this little situation. You will go Hollywood now, yes?” It’s not really a question but you nod anyway, reaching up to touch the side of his face, feel the cold wetness of his skin, washed by rain.

“I will.” You promise with your heart full and yearning at the same time. Sebastian releases your jaw and brushes a drenched strand of hair from your forehead with a smile.

“And you will succeed.”

“I will.”

“I expect nothing less from you.”

His fingers cup the side of your face and he kisses you tenderly. There’s no urge this time, no passion, just strange… comfort and acceptance. As you kiss him back while you both stand at the edge of the roof, with the world covered in a blanket of rain, you wish to be nowhere else. Being like this, in his arms and with his touch still lingering on your body, you are truly fulfilled. You haven’t felt this way since you woke up from the agony of your Embrace.

Sebastian makes you feel things that you haven’t expected to feel since you became a kindred. It’s a dangerous feeling. Because you don’t know how far you will go to preserve it.

You hope it won’t be too far.

#vampire the masqurade bloodlines #vampire the masquerade #vtmb #vtm #sebastian lacroix #sebastian lacroix x reader #reader insert #x reader #female reader #sebastian lacroix fic #my vtm fics #a minute to midnight

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