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tinycozycomfort · 1 year ago

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made by hand

pairing: contractor!joel miller x housewife f!reader

day five of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: bondage -> read her day five here

summary: He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, bondage, unprotected piv, joel's pov, age gap (joel is 40s, reader is not), yearning, dom/sub dynamics, joel is mushy, fixation, pet names (sweetheart, honey, etc), infidelity (reader is married)

word count: 1.5k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: in the same universe as this one-shot but set far enough after to be readable w/out it!

main masterlist

Joel doesn’t know what he did to be able to have you like this—to be able to steal this time from you—when you have so much else.

Even worse, you’re a dream. Soft and gorgeous and strung up for him, belly flush to the mattress with your wrists laid over the knobs of your spine, gathered in a twist of baby blue.

He sits against the backs of your thighs, his own bracketing the swell of your hips, cock bobbing in a sticky pool over the smooth surface of your inner leg. You suck in a breath and punch out a whine each time you can feel the firmness of him, grazing over every slice of skin except where he knows you want him most.

He peers down, runs a hand across the link of your wrists, smiling when he sees the way you’ve tucked two fingers into the hollow of your palm—holding your own hand—like you have to discipline yourself one extra degree.

After taking his mouth and his fingers for as long as he’d pleased without too much push-back, your efforts don’t go unnoticed, “Go on and ask me what you want to ask me, sweetheart. Think you’ve earned that much.��

“Can you touch me?” He can see you tug against where you’re bonded, an extension of your plea.

Joel thinks it’s a sad thing, the made-by-hand contraption he’s used to restrain you—a wide loop of tall ribbon sewn through the center to leave a pair of loose cuffs. He’d originally crafted it because he wanted to give you something pretty—a gift that wouldn’t cause concern or raise any unwanted attention, perfectly mundane when stowed in the safety of your sock drawer. It was the first for-you-from-him that went beyond his body, something he selfishly hoped could also serve as a memento should he ever become just the past.

It took him one weekend to make and two months to bring to you, driving up that long stretch of unfinished pavement and pulling it out of his pocket, red-cheeked and anxious. The seams are jagged where he spent hours sealing them shut, barreling over each other in a weave to keep the integrity, the deep color of the thread more than a few shades off—steel against pastel. He had tried to hide the imperfections, smooth side up in his hand as he muttered some lame preamble about something nicer than using the underwear, sometimes. He remembers the face you made at him when you unwound his hold, no huff of laughter at his break in character like he thought, telling him you loved it.

It’s the only thing you use now.

“‘M already all over you; already put so much of me on you, in you. What do you mean, baby? Be more specific.”

“I need you—need it inside.”

He tugs on the center strip—the binding—rolling a finger over the lip to tighten the slack that allows the accessory to be slip-on. That feature, other than making the contraption reusable, alleviated the issue of markings; his stomach sinks when he’s reminded evidence is even a factor.

He bends down, initially careful to keep his cock at surface level when he hovers over you, the bristle of his beard behind your ear making him sigh, that spark of possessiveness bringing something hungrier, “Say it again.”

“Can you please put–”

“Don’t be smart. You know what I want to hear; say it again.”

Tipping forward on his knees, he lets the length of him run down the crest of your ass, passing through where he can feel your heartbeat, shining folds of flesh that beg to be parted—ever the fool who can’t deny you much for long.

“I need you.”

His chest constricts, heart dimpling underneath where you’re always holding it in your clutch; just the weight of your desire for him is enough to pull his body down through the ground, to the other side of the earth. He needs you, too, so desperately. Naively, in moments like this, with declarations like that, he sees success in all of this—sees keeping you.

Joel leans back, thumb sliding against the stripe of wet at your cunt, peeling back the seam to get a better look at the hole he wants so horribly to fill. His cock aches, heavy and hot and ready to take.

He wishes he could savor it—tries to every time—but he never knows how long this will last. How long it will be before you attend the couples counseling sessions your husband asks of you. How long before you decide that a house and kids and the life he can’t provide for you might actually be enough. How long it’ll be before you just tire of him. So he’s greedy, takes everything you feed him straight to the stomach; he doesn’t have the patience to chew, in fear of not being able to finish.

He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself.

And he does—uses that exploring hand to guide the head of his cock to the slip of warmth you so meanly demand him to enter, so sweetly beg him to stay in.

“Again.”

He rolls his other wrist to gather up more of that silk, dragging the mess of limbs higher up your back, both for leverage and to remind you he’s strong—worth that, too.

When he slides himself in, he can feel the squeeze run through to the very tips of his toes, the points of his ears—boiling, syrupy heat that forces his body to lock up, terrified to fall over and take his last breath as a result.

“I’ll give you as much of this cock as you want, honey. Just want to hear a few little words.”

He pushes in firmly despite his threats, and so easily does he meet the end of you, apex of your womb perfectly made to receive him, like you’d been fitted for each other. He pants as silently as he can, setting aside his pleasure in favor of yours, not even to be distracted by his own voice.

Joel forces as much of his weight as you can handle on the bundle at your back, swinging into you with the power of everything he’s too afraid to confess. He can fuck that reassurance into you, instead—make up for his inability to be confident in those more tender moments with the role he takes in this swirl of lust.

He can tell by the way you constrict around him that you’re close, the squelch of where you meet heightening every time he moves in to the hilt.

“I’m gonna come, Joel. Fuck.”

“Don’t like askin’ twice. C’mon, focus.”

He bows again, bracing his legs so he can wedge his right arm through the slot at your hip, elbow flat to the bed as he reaches down, in. Your clit is smeared in your slick, running down from where he’s giving you everything, and thinks maybe you understand what he’s trying to tell you without words. He pushes as best he can against the bead, fingers working rhythmically to bring you there, knowing he won’t be able to take much more.

You’re crying now, it seems, from the broken shape your words take as they fall out, “I-I, Joel. I need you. Please. I love you.”

He can’t handle that, the pulse of his orgasm almost immediate, the fierce curl of your cunt around him no help. You whine under him, and if it weren’t for the risk of crushing you, he’d take his mouth to yours.

He fucks you until he can’t, until he expresses his response to exhaustion. He’s heaving by the end, forehead to your shoulder where it’s glued down with sweat.

It takes him much longer now to come down, to shimmy out from over your body, to release and turn and fold you into his lap.

Cruelly, he keeps the silk in his palm, thinking he can force another memory into it by making it bear witness to all of this; another knot in your ‘relationship’—as close as this will ever come to being that, anyway.

Joel breathes at the crown of your skull, hair tickling his lips when he finally decides to break the silence, “Do you really?” And before it has the chance to be taken away from him, “I love you, too.”

#SORRY this is late im on .... v*c*tion #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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n0tamused · 5 months ago

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A/n: I sort of strayed a little with this one I feel like, but thank you sm for the request, and I hope you enjoy this!

Contents: Mortefi x GN!Reader, jealous reader, reader is very stubborn I must say, not proof-read. lemme know what you think!

Words: 3059

It’s suffocating. Uncomfortably warm and slimy. This feeling that roils within your chest and throat, you’re sure you’re about to start feeling sick from the thoughts spiraling within your mind. And the lab papers in front of you and the endless sound of the machine’s beeping is not enough to distract you.

Beep-beep-beep.

Have you done something wrong? What could it be? Only minutes prior were you looking at these papers with some sense of pride, imagination running wild with the possible outcomes of this hypothesis, positive ones. Yet, they were so easily shattered when Mortefi breezed by, catching a glimpse of the words printed on top, leaving several comments of where you could improve - how you should improve if you want to go through with this. Had you had a clear mind you would’ve done as he said, taken his words as helpful advice and not as an attack on your work. But his tone remained the same as always, it didn’t soften nor did it grow warm. So it made you wonder what he meant, or rather - what he really felt towards you. The latter was a question that occupied your mind for a long time.

He moved past you to the center of the lab, nearing one of the many lit computers, just where Baizhi stood. From afar you could see them greet one another and begin to talk. And that feeling in your chest only expanded further, pawing at your ribs and making you frown at the helplessness. Mortefi looked interested in whatever their topic of conversation was, and it lasted some odd few minutes. Odd minutes you couldn’t keep your focus until both of them left to their own stations, and far out of your sight.

A heavy breath fell from you, irritated but also… sad.

With your mind in a strewn about yarn, threads hanging, you began to think if this work was even worthy for you. God knew you wanted it, you signed up for it, you spent nights studying and working to be better and get better than that but all that effort seemed to fall short and small within Baizhi’s shadow. And you don’t even blame her, she is excellent in her work, you don’t hate her. But you’d give a questionable amount of things to have a fraction of that sweet attention Mortefi was giving her. Perhaps you were being unreasonable, irrational - and you don’t argue with it - you’re seeing green and red everywhere, and with hasty hands you collect your papers after making small adjustments, crossing out lines of text and noting down new words. And moments later you’re off to another part of the Academy, away from Mortefi and Baizhi.

What little glimpse Mortefi caught of you as you left shows disappointment and, and in the way you held yourself he saw traces of turmoil that he didn’t fully understand from that one look. He remained at his station, engrossed in his research and unaware of the burden you carried in your heart.

It wasn’t until the time for your report came and went. And when your break time came and went. And you were nowhere in sight.

That made an odd feeling settle in his chest, a vibration of an unknown bass playing amidst the bones of his ribcage, waves of it washing up to his neck. Unable to ignore it any longer, he bid farewell to his station for the time being, one hand buried in the pocket of his lab coat, playing with the lighter. Flick..flick..

There was not one spot in this wide and vast Academy that you could hide from him, not when he wasn’t particularly looking for you and even more so when he was specifically looking for you. He could spot you in a crowd by one lone look, to him you stood out like a flower amidst grass, how could he overlook you? Following the path familiar to him, he comes into a lab room smaller in contrast than the others, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the center room and the halls. It is clean, it is comfortable. His eyes land on your back, your nose buried in your papers, your hands hastily fiddling with the apparatus in front of you. You barely acknowledged his presence.

As if to avoid startling you, Mortefi clears his throat, but he fails and watches as you flinch at the sudden disturbance.

“Mortefi? Uh- What are you doing here? Did you need me?” the questions tumble out from your mouth out of habit rather than genuine curiosity. You turned to face him, brows lightly knit together and eyes regarding him with a mix of feelings and inquiries.

“I grew curious as to where you vanished off to. Has your research been so indulgent that you forgot to eat or report in? It’s been 3 hours and some odd minutes since you began on this project this morning” he began, the nail on his thumb grazing underneath the lid of his lighter within his pocket, keeping still, yet tense in his hand. His sharp gaze moves from your eyes and down to the table you were working at, noting the sharpie marks across your paper and thinner lines from your pen, and giving a small nod at them he said: “You made those adjustments I told you about, I trust”

This pulls your attention from him and at the papers, and taking his words as some sign to move freely you begin to stack pages back on top of another. “Yes. I made the necessary changes to it all. I just need to put it all into practice and, hopefully, get the results I want” you respond, clearing your parched throat. His gaze is intense, you can feel it at the back of your head like two sharp points of a stick.

“You’ve been pushing yourself today, unnecessarily so. I sense some growing frustration from you” he says, leaving the topic open ended, expecting you to explain yourself, but where do you even begin without looking like a fool? Like a child?

You sigh, looking around the table yet searching for nothing as you shrug your shoulders. “No, no.. I just haven't been sleeping too well lately, and it seems that all is catching up to me” you offer a empty excuse, before reaching for a blank sheet of paper, a part of you yearning to keep him here, and the other wishing him to leave you with your own emotional burdens. “If a report is what you need, I can only offer what I have from the experiment thus far, but it is not concluded, I apologize”

“Ah, yes.. sleep. One thing that is most underestimated in its importance” he mused out loud, tone flat and ignoring your latter statement for a moment too long. He was pressing deeper into the crux of the matter, not letting you shift the topic too easily. “The report for an unfinished work will not be necessary, it’s much more preferable if you take a bit longer to get end results than to hand over a half-baked product”, he sighed, pushing his golden rimmed glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Your dedication is admirable, but we can hardly expect progress if you're operating on insufficient rest and mental fatigue”.

You have to stop yourself from either chuckling or spinning around to stare at him as if he was speaking backwards. But no matter what you tried, you couldn’t stop your heart from hammering in your chest.

“Perhaps you should have Baizhi take a look at you. She can prescribe you some soothing medication to help you sleep. But as for work.. You’re done for today” he stated plainly, looking to the side and barely missing your shocked eyes.

“What? Are you dismissing me?” you blurted out, suddenly afraid you have done something wrong or that you offended him in some capacity. He’d never send you home, especially not when you were in the midst of a project.

“It's not a matter of dismissiveness, but rather a practical decision. If your exhaustion is hindering your ability to perform optimally, what benefit is there in insisting on your presence here?” he replied, his tone cool and detached. You blink at him owlishly, confused and, quite frankly, afraid. Previous anger, sadness and jealousy all melting away from your bones like wax over a flame. The flame being Mortefi himself. An eternal blaze that swallowed everything in its wake. You were wondering how it didn’t engulf you by now.

But in that thought alone you missed the point of it all. His flames didn’t touch you, didn’t scorn you because he willed them that way. The warmth of them kept you warm, kept you alive, kept you in this field and as his coworker, a place most others wouldn’t be able to handle. He would soften it all if he knew how, to show you he cares.

Sensing a shift in your emotions, Mortefi softened his gaze, a subtle nod of understanding replacing the usual aloofness he carried. He saw the confusion and fear in your eyes, and it pained him that he had inadvertently caused it. He knew that his words could often come across as cold and dismissive, but it was never his intention to harm or offend.

“Rest is not a punishment, but a necessary part of the work process. To push oneself to the point of exhaustion is unproductive. It only inhibits progress. Trust me when I tell you this."

Softness is undeniably present in his voice now, and your mind goes blank. Your mind was still stuck on this morning, on your project, but here he was breaking all illusions and thoughts by simply being kind.

“I can’t say I don’t appreciate your concern, but..” you look up at his eyes only to find a scowl curling the corners of his lips, and you sigh again, looking away in embarrassment. “I can’t argue with you either, can I?”

“No, you cannot. Now, go pack up what you have. I’ll go contact Baizhi and see if she can get a check up on you before you leave”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary..” you wave your hands before you, shaking your head simultaneously to deny the offer with your entire being. “I already have some tea at home that can help me with this, no need for a check up. I insist” you try, but only get a cocked brow from Mortefi, you can already tell what he’s thinking.

“Tea alone cannot be sufficient in treating issues related to poor sleep. Besides, it goes without saying Baizhi is well versed in medicine, and her prior check-ups of your health have been of great help to you, have they not? If tea was that simple of medicine, why have you not seen improvement?” he shot back sharply and you grew quiet, not wishing to prolong this argument further, but staying silent wouldn’t be the way to go either.

“I don’t want to see Baizhi right now” you said plainly, tone low and softened involuntarily. Your reply was met with a skeptical look, Mortefi’s head tilted in question. “And why not? Do I need to pull you to her office myself? You’re not a child, (Y/n)” he countered, not low on his arsenal of words and snappy remarks. He approached you closer, closing the distance between the two of you until he could peer into your avoidant eyes, making your heart skip a beat.

“I just.. Mortefi, I don’t know. I don’t want to see Baizhi and that’s final. Don’t make me go see her. I’ve seen enough of you two this morning” It slipped from your mouth sooner than you could pull it back, and immediately you regretted your choice of words, cursing the ability to speak. “Uh-”

Mortefi froze in his tracks, his sharp eyes widening subtly in surprise. The mention of Baizhi and himself seemed to strike a chord in him, and his stoic façade cracked just enough to betray a hint of confusion. “Hm? Have we done something to offend you to this degree of avoidance? I wasn’t aware of any discomfort inflicted upon you” he knitted his brows, looking at you for answers, his turn to feel on edge now. Were you implying he was acting out of line with Baizhi? He knew of how he behaved around others and he saw no flaws in his dealings with other colleagues, so it all left him in a more twisted maze.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, lips pressing into a thin line. “Mortefi- no. You haven’t done anything to offend me, I am not offended. I just.. uh.. No, it’s all too silly. I just meant that you two just seem to be too busy with your shared workload, and I just got tired of seeing it all” It’s a badly written lie, and the truth is bleeding through the cracks in neon colors. You’re cringing at yourself, really.. The lies you were uttering, however poorly woven, were evident in the way your face creased. He could almost hear your thoughts, almost see the jealousy and insecurity that plagued you through the lies you were trying to hide behind.

He paused for a moment, considering the situation carefully, before responding. "Is it really about our workloads, or is there something else that you're not telling me?" He asked calmly, his voice low and measured.

A pregnant pause befell your ears, only being interrupted by a distant hum of a machine outside of the room, and the footsteps of other workers in the halls. He does not push you to answer swiftly, instead he waits, patient as ever with you.

“I suppose…”

“You suppose..?”

It’d be a lie to say he wasn’t taut as a bowstring, ready to hear you out, anticipating your reply. His heart was squeezing painfully in his chest.

“Ugh..I just.. Promise me you will not be angry at me, and that you will not think ill of me after I tell you?”

“Well, this must be big if you’re asking that of me” he breathed out. Your hesitation was palpable, and the silence between them dragged on, only adding to the palpable tension. Finally, the words came, and he felt a strange mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

“I'll promise no such thing will come from me. Your words cannot change the way I feel about you” he replied, his voice tinged with a touch of irritation.

With a heavy breath you closed in on yourself, arms folded over your chest. “I was just.. watching how close you and Baizhi are this morning and for a long time now. You always spend so much time together, and despite you and I being direct coworkers and more than that outside of this Academy, I feel.. left behind”

“You are jealous?”

“If you wish to put it that bluntly - then yes. I am”

Mortefi’s coldness and stiffness seemed to melt, the answer finally clearing up the brain fog that had started to develop in his head. Things were looking clearer at long last, and with that he also felt as if he failed you. He has failed to make you feel appreciated as you deserved, and that makes his gut twist in on itself.

“I fail to see why you’d be jealous of Baizhi, even with the time we spent together. Baizhi and I are strictly work colleagues and nothing more. You are the one that gets to be in my presence, sharing stories and desserts after work hours..” Mortefi says out loud, moreso speaking to himself than you, as if trying to figure out your point of view. He wasn’t dismissing your emotions, but he failed to grasp them within his own two hands. He had been so preoccupied with his own work and responsibilities that he had failed to notice the toll it was taking on his relationship with you. His focus had been so singularly on his research, on his partnership with Baizhi, that he had unintentionally neglected the depth of the connection he had with you.

“I do have to apologize” he cuts you off before you can speak. “This.. area is not within my expertise, per se. If I had neglected you, I would’ve liked if you openly communicated this with myself” he offered, and the lighter in his hand feels like it will break apart under pressure. “And while I can’t limit my time with Baizhi, as it is all just work, I can accommodate you as well by spending more time with or around you, if that will help you feel more.. at ease”

There is clarity ringing its bell over your head as he speaks, already offering solutions to this problem you made out of irrational thought. Bless his heart, for all he is cold and aloof he is ten times more kind. Snappy as he is, he means well.

“Mortefi... Mortefi, I am sorry too. I did want to keep this with myself, it shouldn’t have come to this point where you try to resolve my issues by yourself”

At that he scoffed, almost chuckling but no laughter came from him. One hand perches itself on his hip and he looks at you with a look that screams of his desire to see this through.

“Oh, but how can I ignore it now that it is in front of me? No, that will not do. Especially since it is you who we’re talking about. You go ahead now, I’ll think of something until the end of my shift. I’ll give you a call later this evening”

Afterwards your company would leave his presence and the lab, having left with more reason than conflict, and with a mind full anticipation of his words.

And just like clockwork, by the end of his shift he’d give you a call, telling you to come meet him at your favorite dessert place.

Mortefi is special in his way of showing affection..

He is yet to learn his way with words when it comes to sweet nothings, but until then he can take care of you and help you out with work. Whatever helps you see that you, indeed, do matter much to him.

Tags: @pinksaiyans

#mortefi #mortefi wuthering waves #mortefi x reader #mortefi x you #mortefi x y/n #x reader #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuwa #wuwa x reader #wuwa x you #wuwa imagine #mortefi imagine #mortefi wuwa #gn reader

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dottores · 1 year ago

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HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine.

notes: GUYS THIS IS MY FAV CHAPTER IVE WRITTEN SO FAR HDFISHDFSUAFDSDF

THE TIES THAT BIND

It was him. Distantly, his words resounded through your head but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t understand what he had asked you—his words sounded garbled and clear at the same time, as if he was speaking in an ancient language you couldn’t decipher.

It was him, your soulmate, the man you had been waiting your whole life to finally meet, the man that the gods had tied you with.

The man that ignored you all of these years no matter how hard you tried.

The man that attacked you at the inn.

Any elation you might have felt whittled away the longer you stared at him, anger and anxiety beginning to take hold instead. What had he said? The Second Harbinger? You felt unnerved, you had a feeling that you would somehow run into your soulmate while trying to find the evidence to condemn your stepfather but you had no idea he would be… this.

This is good, the more logical part of you tried to push through the turmoil of emotions you felt, you can use his position, this is your in.

But nothing about you was logical right now—part of you wanted to pull away, part of you wanted to slap him, and part of you wanted to throw yourself in his arms and grant yourself the warmth you’d been denied for so long. The divide in what you wanted to do had you frozen in place, unable to do anything.

Dance with me, he had said—phrased as a question but somehow you knew it wasn’t one.

Thin fingers wrapped around your other arm, Artem forcing your attention back to him, a worried expression directed toward you. “You don’t have to,” he said, and you swore the temperature in the room dropped at his words—maybe it was just a figment of your imagination due to the eerily cold feeling that swept through you, something that was clearly his and not yours, but from the way Artem and his cousins tensed, you thought it might not be.

He was angry, you couldn’t see it on his face—you could barely see his face, his mask hiding it from view, but you could feel it in your gut, an emotion that wasn’t yours pushing to the surface and threatening to break through. But it was more than just anger: if you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought it was jealousy… a part of you wanted to feed into it to test the theory but you had a distinct feeling that would end with Artem being killed and he had been nothing but kind and helpful to you and you didn’t want to risk him like that.

“It’s okay,” you said tightly, a thin and unkind smile edging at your lips as you pulled your arm from his grasp and let Dottore lead you out to the large, empty floor in the center of the room, all eyes on the two of you.

Your chest constricted as the Doctor pulled you just a bit closer than the acceptable dancing distance as the two of you found a place on the tiled floor—one hand sliding behind you, fingers dipping low to the small of your back, while the fingers of his other hand intertwined with yours, a more intimate version of the palm-to-palm expected in the Snezhnayan Waltz.

You thought you should feel different. You thought that your chest should be light and you thought your heart should be skipping beats, adoring and enthralled, lost in the moment of finally meeting him… but all you could muster was a sense of dread. This man had never cared for you before—not to meet you, not to get to know you, not even to give into your childish desire to play the tugging game with him. In his eyes, you had probably forced his hand by coming here, even if it hadn’t been your intention.

“What game are you playing?” he asked, voice cold and unfriendly, but you were barely paying attention to him now, gaze wandering as other pairs began to make their way to the floor at the sight of you and Dottore, the necessary signal they needed to know it was now acceptable to dance. “Dance with me.”

“I am,” you replied, your surroundings blurring again as you focused back on him. “I’m not playing games.”

You were sure that the smile on his lips would not have met his eyes were they visible. “Yet you are here,” Dottore replied, the ensemble getting louder and the chatter across the floor masking your conversation from unwanted ears. “Somehow managing to track me down so you can force me into acknowledging you.”

You couldn’t bite back the scoff that rose to your chest. “How self important,” you said coolly. “Do you really think I have any interest in meeting you after all the years you spent ignoring me?”

You did, you corrected yourself silently, but he didn’t have to know that. It was humiliating enough to admit to yourself that even after all of the blatant neglect and lack of interest, you still had longed for meeting him, no matter how far down you might’ve pushed that desire.

His lip twitched—the only physical reaction you managed to draw from him thus far but even then, you couldn’t tell if he was irritated or surprised. “Then why are you here?” he asked and for a moment, you regretted your quick tongue. You should have gone along with the lovesick soulmate act so that you would have an excuse as to why you had come to Snezhnaya but you were more focused on your pride than your mission.

Now, you fumbled—a damning mistake—as you said: “None of your business.”

“Ah, but alas it is my business,” Dottore did not fumble like you did, an empty smile painted on his lips as he watched you from beneath the mask. You felt uncomfortable, you didn’t like not being able to see people’s eyes when you spoke to them. “You see, I was sent to figure out why you are here and if your answer is not to my liking, I am meant to… dispose of you. Now, if you would like me to help you, I suggest you answer my question.”

You took in a sharp breath—one that you couldn’t quite hide from him as you realized that you had been wrong. You had hoped that the eyes you had felt on you earlier were just him, that he had been the one to recognize you, but this confirmed that was not the case. The other Harbingers knew who you were and suddenly, the room felt all the more suffocating.

Dottore leaned down, lips brushing your ear and breath warm against your skin. “Don’t you feel their eyes on you?” he murmured. “They’re waiting for my decision, I do implore you to start speaking.”

He leaned back just a bit but now you couldn’t keep your eyes trained on his face, too aware of all of the gazes set on you. You could feel Artem’s eyes heavy on you from the other side of the room, they hadn’t left your body once since Dottore had led you to the dancefloor, following the two of you as you spun across the floor in step with the other partners, but he wasn’t the only one.

Your eyes flickered behind Dottore to where the dark haired girl dressed in white was sitting at the piano, fingers flying across the keys as she played an eerie tune that didn’t quite match the tempo or energy of the Snezhnayan Waltz—the lace over her eyes blocked them from sight but her head was turned in the direction of the two of you. A taller woman with silvery hair leaned on the instrument next to her, blatantly watching the two of you.

There were too many eyes on you—even who you could assume were newly promoted Fatui captains were glancing your way, the other pairs on the dancefloor kept sparing looks in your direction, giving you a wide berth. You thought you were used to the feeling of being watched, after all in Fontaine, you couldn’t even step outside your quarters without the eyes of justice bearing down on you.

Dottore suddenly cleared his throat, forcing your attention back to him. “Is it not common courtesy to give your dancing partner your full attention?” he drawled.

“Clearly you’re undeserving of my attention considering you can’t even hold it,” your tongue lashed before you could think. Instead of regretting your words, you doubled down. “It appears you’re not fond of being ignored, how fascinating.”

How hypocritical, you didn’t have to speak what you meant for him to understand. Dottore let out a huff of amusement but you knew very well that he was not amused if the way his hand tensed on the small of your back had anything to say about it.

“How ungrateful,” Dottore said quietly, the empty smile on his lips not faltering for even a second, “even when I’m going out of my way to try to make sure you stay alive.”

“We both know that you only want me alive for your own sake,” you countered, taking a small leap in speculation. You knew he didn’t care for you but the consequences of losing a soulmate could range from dire to lethal, if you knew anything about him, you knew that was not something he would want to risk.

“Clearly I did not ignore you well enough.”

The smile finally fell—he didn’t like that you could read him the way that you were, although you would argue that you weren’t reading him at all, just placing together the few puzzle pieces he had left for you to complete a small section, the majority of the puzzle was still empty.

“You-” you began, but you were forced to cut yourself off, eyes darting down as you realized that Dottore had purposefully taken a wrong step in the waltz—subtle enough so that others wouldn’t notice his fault, but just enough so that if you took the correct step, you would twist your ankle over his foot.

He’s trying to make a fool out of you, fury flooded you at the realization, shifting your foot just to the right so that you could avoid his. The next step of the dance, a half-spin of a turn, was jerky and sharp because of it, veering off track and into the path of a nearby woman and her partner, who were forced to scramble out of your way or risk drawing the Doctor’s ire.

Dottore’s lip twitched up when he realized that you hadn’t fallen for his trick and the waltz continued smoothly, returning to the graceful spins and turns and steps that the two of you had been dancing in tune with before his attempt at making you humiliate yourself.

“I’ve been patient enough,” he said. “It’s time for you to answer my question.”

Your lip curled in annoyance, searching for an answer to give him before your silence became prolonged and suspicious.

“I’m looking for something,” you said simply. This time, you didn’t have to look down to know he had taken another false step—instead of having to shift at the last second and fall into another jarring turn, you altered the direction of the turn, spinning out just a bit further than was expected of the dance and forcing him to follow.

“For what?” Dottore didn’t give you a second to recuperate or think and you forced yourself not to bite the inside of your cheek, irritated at the game he was playing no matter how much he might deny playing one should you ask. He was forcing you to focus more on the dance with his purposefully wrong steps so you couldn’t concentrate on coming up with coherent lies.

For what? That was the question. What should you tell him? The truth? What would he do with it? Could you trust him? You doubted it, but you could trust in his self-preservation at least—you didn’t think he would do anything to damn you because that would mean damning himself. But would he get in your way? Maybe, if only to see you stumble.

Finally, you spoke, and the words felt weighted on your tongue, mouth dry: “The Fatui killed my father.”

“And you’ve come for evidence. How noble,” Dottore mocked you—if he hated how you could deduce that he didn’t care for your survival beyond for his own sake, you hated even more that he had put together your whole reason for being in Snezhnaya just from the one sentence. “The Hydro Archon is so arrogant that she fails to see foreign threats within her own walls, forcing you to venture into a den of wolves to acquire the proof yourself. What a magnificent god.”

Again, you found sharp words leaving your lips in defense of your nation and Archon: “Perhaps the Hydro Archon is not the only god blind to threats,” you noted off-handedly at the hypocrisy, dancing around another targeted step and forcing another pair of dancers to dodge the two of you—the Hydro Archon might be blind the Snezhnayan spy that was your stepfather, but at least there wasn’t an entire organization working beneath her nose and in her court.

“What exactly does that mean?” Dottore asked—was that confirmation that the Harbingers were unaware of the masked group that had approached you and the aristocrats? Or was it just Dottore trying to figure out how much you knew? Or maybe it was both.

“Take it as you will,” you answered, eyes narrowing as instead of continuing the dance, he came to a stop in the middle of the floor.

His hand was still pressed to your lower back, holding your body close to his even as you tried to step away. You hated how you had to turn your head up to look at him and you hated the smirk that spread across his face as he looked down at you. Distantly, you noticed that the music had come to an end as the ensemble prepared for another dance.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said after a moment of silence, releasing your hand only to bring his to your face when you looked away. He used two fingers beneath your chin to tilt your head up in his direction, forcing you to look at him. “I’ll find you again.”

A promise or a threat? You couldn’t tell, throat thick and swollen as he stood straight again, stepping away from you and looking behind you. You looked over your shoulder, eyes falling upon Artem as he walked up to the two of you.

“Your second dance?” he asked quietly, holding his hand out toward you. You took the escape gratefully and yet somehow, a part of you felt empty as soon as you stepped away from Dottore, a primal and fundamental part of you knew you were meant to be with him and was unhappy with your decision.

You wondered if he felt it too.

“Are you okay?” Artem questioned as soon as your hand was in his and you stood in position for the next dance—an acceptable distance, unlike how close Dottore had drawn you in.

You glanced back to look at him as you murmured out a ‘yes’ to Artem, but he was already gone.

His hands were tingling.

This wasn't right, he wanted to spit out in protest of the way his body was reacting to you—itching to walk back over and rip you away from the Snezhnayan aristocrat who had the audacity to lay hands on what was his.

His. The word echoed through his head, condemning—he was already beginning thinking like them, like a mortal, an irrational beast that cared for naught but personal pleasure, latching onto someone with the barest interaction. But no matter how much he tried to deny the attachment, his body was betraying him, begging him to turn back for another dance so he could feel your skin against his again.

He thought it might be different, he had abandoned his original body for an artificial one. He thought it could lessen the effects of the bond but he should’ve known better—having an artificial body did not change the fact that his mark had appeared on him, it didn’t change the fact that there was a thread connecting him to you.

He should’ve known this would only make it worse.

Dottore didn’t dare look back, no matter how much his body ached for one last look, he needed to retain some semblance of control over himself and he knew that if he looked back now, he would not like what he saw. His teeth ground together at the thought, scraping against his tongue. He imagined the aristocrat’s hand inching down your back, his fingers intertwined with yours. He imagined your body pressed close to his—a slower song was playing, a more intimate one, one that he should be dancing with you to.

As soon as the final thought crossed his mind, he nearly rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he made his way toward the other Harbingers.

“You looked like you enjoyed yourself,” one said, voice cold and mocking, Dottore’s eyes lifted to Arlecchino.

“Thoroughly,” Dottore replied, dry and sarcastic to mask the fact that yes, he had enjoyed his dance with you.

You were not what he expected. Your tongue was sharp and violent whereas he had thought you to be a docile noble girl, sheltered in the palace of Fontaine City. He could still see that part of you, thinly veiled behind the anger in your eyes; the part of you that longed for the sanctity of the bond between a fated pair, the part of you that still had hope things could work out. He wondered if that was the part of you that you showed to everyone else, the gentleness and the kindness. He thought so, if the way you looked at Artem Melnyk had anything to say about it.

Then, he wondered if your violence was reserved only for him—for some reason, the thought left him pleased, smothering the way the corner of his lips twitched up.

“Well?” Sandrone said sharply, garnering the attention of the Harbingers in the area. To Dottore’s absolute displeasure, he noticed that both the Balladeer and the Friar had come closer to listen in, two wolves drawn in by the scent of blood.

You could keep up with him too, every attempt he had made to make you stumble, you caught and readjusted. He had never met anyone that could keep up with him the way you were able to—most didn’t even dare to try, backing down at the mere sight of him, and those that did tended to not be able to hold their bravado for long—even if it was just boldness because you knew that as your soulmate, it’d be unlikely he would do anything to put you at risk.

“A fawn,” Dottore told her coolly, “just as I said. You wasted my time, and my patience. You can explain to the Jester why I decided to leave the event early.”

Dottore thought you were closer to a wolf pup than a fawn, bearing your teeth against greater predators instead of fleeing because you thought yourself more dangerous than you really were—he wasn’t going to tell them that though.

Sandrone did not look convinced at his words. “Perhaps I should go talk to her,” she said doubtfully.

Unamused, Dottore turned his full attention onto her. “You doubt me?” he asked, an edge to his tone that he dared her to push further. Sandrone looked at him but didn’t respond, he continued: “All she cared for was her first dance with her fiancé being interrupted. Air-headed and dimwitted—whatever you think that girl is, she is not.”

Dottore studied Sandrone from beneath his mask, wondering if she would push even further, but she only shook her head and walked away in the direction of the Captain, clearly unhappy but dropping it, for now at least.

Perhaps the Hydro Archon is not the only god blind to threats, your words ran through his head again as Sandrone pushed past him. What did you mean? It was a dig at the Tsaritsa, that much was certain but what threat was the Fatui missing that was within their own walls? Could it be the aristocrats? If so, you were a fool to think that they weren’t addressing the more hostile families already… but somehow, Dottore knew that you were talking about something else, something far more worrisome.

… and that begged the question of how you even knew of it when they, clearly, did not.

Finally, Dottore’s gaze drew back to the dance floor where you were dancing slowly with the dark-haired aristocrat, arms draped around his shoulders as you swayed to the slow music. You were talking quietly to him, hushed, heads leaned into each other so no one could overhear the two of you. You looked far more at ease with him than you had been with Dottore, your shoulders lax instead of tense, your body loose instead of stiff. That feeling from before—ugly and green—resurfaced.

“Sandrone,” Dottore finally said, stopping the lower-ranked Harbinger in her tracks, “if you’re so suspicious of her, then why don’t we keep her in the palace for a few days under observation? That way, we can figure out whether or not Fontaine is declaring war or not and handle it duly.”

A risk, Dottore noted, they’re going to wonder why he cares so much, but he thought it was a worthy one. He could knock two birds with one stone: separate his soulmate from her apparent fiancé and try to figure out what the cryptic comment meant. He couldn’t help but notice the long look exchanged by Arlecchino and Brighella, as if they knew something that he did not.

Sandrone hesitated, eyes narrowing for a moment before she nodded, “I think that’s a good idea.”

“And who, exactly, is going to care for this girl?” Brighella, voice high and reedy, interjected himself into the conversation. “Heh… if you’d like-”

“I’ll do it,” another voice interrupted as fury knotted Dottore’s insides so intensely that he thought he might lash out at the vulture. Pantalone was the one to step forward, eyes turned upward and a thin smile pulled tight across his lips, “I’d like to pick at her brains for her thoughts on the aristocrats anyway. I’m sure she’ll have some sort of insight.”

Dottore watched Pantalone carefully, trying to figure out what sort of game he was playing. He made sure that she wasn’t killed on the spot before—not that Dottore would have let that happen, but he would’ve been forced to reveal who exactly you were to him and he didn’t want to open up that weakness. He wanted something and from the way his smile fell and his violet eyes went cold, looking at Dottore as the Harbingers began talking amongst each other, he knew it was nothing good.

Irritated, Dottore cast a cold look in your direction—one way or another, he was constantly being backed into a corner because of you. But looking at you was a mistake, evidently, because the annoyance swelled as he watched the aristocrat smile at you as you swooped under his arm in a dramatic spin.

Dottore shook his head as he looked away, rolling his eyes beneath his mask as he stifled the vile emotions rearing their head at the sight. As he turned his attention back to the discussion at hand, listening to them talk about the approaching missions, Dottore wondered if he should try to make his exit now, leave Pantalone to deal with her now that he had kindly offered to—the less interaction with her, the better, he thought, even though his body shrieked in protest—and he wanted to get back to the lab anyway. The Theta segment was down there alone and quite frankly, he didn’t trust him around his stuff.

Alas, he did not get the chance to slip away. As he moved to turn, he noticed that Pantalone was nodding for him to follow.

Dottore bit back a sigh—you, Pantalone, the other Harbingers—this was all going to cut into his research, he had a feeling that he wasn’t going to get anything done for quite a bit.

“What was that all about?” Artem asked you quietly as the music began to pick up again, masking your voices—it was a slower dance, one that was far less demanding than the waltz with the Doctor, who had you struggling to keep up mentally and physically.

You were lucky that Miss Elyna had been so strict with your dancing lessons, not only did she prepare you by teaching you all of the popular dances amongst aristocrats across the seven nations but she also forced you to know how to dance with an incompetent partner so that the you were not made to look like a fool in public.

Dottore was not an incompetent partner by any means, but he surely was a malicious one.

“They’re suspicious of me,” you said softly, watching his expression twist into one that bordered between shocked and horrified, confirming what you already knew—you were not in a good place.

But he didn’t know that you weren’t in the worst place, you couldn’t tell him about your relationship to Dottore. You didn’t know how he would react and you needed him on your side for the duration of this event. You figured that Dottore wouldn’t let them kill you, at least for his own sake, but there were fates worse than death and the thought of that made your skin crawl.

“After this song, we’ll head over to my father, I’ll ask him what to do,” Artem said, nodding to himself. “They can’t do anything, not without risking our support and our support is the only support they have amongst all of the Snezhnayan nobles. So unless they want every single aristocratic family against them…”

Your eyes drew across the room briefly, at the captains and the elite members of the Fatui lingering around the floor and dancing with their partners, at the Harbingers still lurking on the outskirts of the room, some still looking in your direction. There were so many of them and you didn’t have to face them in combat to know that they were all strong, the Harbingers alone reeked of power.

“... if you tell your father, he’ll be upset,” you finally said, voice low—you hadn’t phrased it as a question but you supposed it was one.

“He’ll be livid,” Artem confirmed, jaw tightening. “They… they all think that I’m going to propose to you soon—they were upset that I hadn’t introduced you sooner but they’ve been waiting for me to get married for three years now. If the Fatui try to do something to you…”

Maybe you shouldn’t say anything then, you wanted to say, but the words were stuck in your mouth. The Fatui were strong, you thought again. Artem had claimed that they host these events as a show of power, to force the aristocrats to understand just who they were dealing with, and even from this glimpse you knew that the threat the Fatui posed was beyond anything that the elites of the Fontaine court and the Hydro Archon imagined.

You wondered, then, why did they not take control of Snezhnaya through sheer force alone? They could do it, surely, the Harbingers themselves could probably handle it on their own. You figured that the aristocrats held a lot of sway amongst the common people—if it was anything like the structure of the Fontaine countryside where each town was centered around one of the aristocrats' estates—and from there, you could assume that the Fatui did not want to rule their own people through fear.

But you feared that if push came to shove, the Fatui would have no issue slamming their iron fist down upon the people of Snezhnaya and if that was the case, you didn’t want that blood on your hands because Artem had rushed to the defense of a girl he barely knows… especially because you thought if he knew who exactly your soulmate was, he wouldn’t be so quick to help you.

“Don’t tell them,” you finally said, mouth dry, glancing away as you continued, “whatever happens, I’ll deal with it. Don’t risk pissing the Fatui off even more.”

Artem’s brows knit together. “What?” he asked, voice hushed. “You have no idea what they’re capable of, what they’ll do to you and if the Doctor of all Harbingers is interested in you then-”

“I’m not a helpless girl, Artem,” you said sharply, careful to keep your voice low. “I will do what I must to survive, you need to focus on…”

Your family, the other nobles, this organization that’s pulling all of the strings. Let me deal with this, it’s my mission.

Artem didn’t look happy, shaking his head again. “I didn’t say you were helpless,” he said, lowering his voice even more as he leaned his head down to you. To all others, you thought it probably looked romantic, but you could feel his arms tense around you, “but you can’t do this alone. They’ll find you out and-and you don’t want to know what they’ll do when they do.”

There was a haunted expression on his face, as if he had personal experience with the Fatui and what they would do to the people that actively worked against them. There was a pit in your stomach as you looked away—guilt, anxiety, maybe something else or a combination of both, knowing who your soulmate was and how even though Artem was terrified of him, he still was trying to defend you against him.

“I need to use the restroom to freshen up,” you said, changing the subject abruptly—you didn’t want to talk about this anymore, if the Fatui were already onto you, you were running out of time to do what you needed to do.

You didn’t want to rely on Dottore, not if you didn’t have to.

Artem stared at you for a long moment before sighing, arm slipping around your waist as he guided you back to the front of the room toward the wide double doors that led to the entrance hall, “There’s only two ways in and out of here, the only other way…”

You glanced backward to another door on the opposite side of the room—the only way to get to it would be to walk past several Harbingers and that was simply not going to happen, not when a few of them were clearly suspicious of you already. You could only hope that they missed you slipping out of the hall but somehow, you doubted they would.

Reaching the doors, you raised your eyebrows when neither of the Fatui subordinates moved out of your way. Artem stepped forward, slightly in front of you.

“Is there an issue?” Artem asked coldly, motioning to the door. “Are the hinges not working properly? They seemed just fine before. My lady needs to freshen up.”

The two men exchanged a long look with one another before shifting out of the way, albeit a bit reluctantly. You looked back at Artem, squeezing his arm, “I’ll be right back.”

And if I’m not, don’t come looking.

“They’re a lovely couple, hm?” Pantalone smiled as the two of them walked the length of the ballroom. Dottore’s jaw clenched, irritation skyrocketing when he continued, “They look very happy together, don’t they?”

“Very,” Dottore agreed dryly, not letting the man get a rise out of him like he wanted, but unlike Pantalone, he did not look in your direction.

Instead, he kept his gaze trained forward, mind-racing as he tried to figure out what Pantalone might want from him. If he had to guess, it was going to be something with the residue research and creating a stronger delusion for him but the man was as unpredictable as the wind—there was no telling what demands would spew from his mouth.

“Do you think that’s why she was ignoring you?” Pantalone asked, trying to gossip like a pair of old wives as if they weren’t talking about his soulmate. “She finally found someone better and doesn’t want anything to do with you?”

Dottore didn’t think that was the case. He finally looked back over to where you were dancing with the aristocrat. You looked comfortable with him, but not happy, and you looked safe with him, but not hopeful—not the way you had been with him, at least. You had been tense and stressed but there was no denying that lingering hope that swam behind your eyes, as much as you tried to hide it with your sharp tongue and harsh jabs.

Dottore had never been able to read people well—he compensated with intimidation—but it came naturally when looking at you, probably because of the bond. He didn’t know whether or not to be appreciative of it or to resent it because you could clearly read him as well as he could read you and the thought of that left him uncomfortable.

“No,” Dottore finally said after a few moments of silence. “I think she was ignoring me to be petty.”

It appears you’re not fond of being ignored. How fascinating.

He had recognized the underlying message, calling him a hypocrite—he wouldn’t put it past you to have spent the past two weeks ignoring him after he finally reached out to you just to be spiteful.

“Not quite the air-headed and dimwitted fawn you described to the others then,” Pantalone drawled, smile widening as he finally looked at Dottore. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t say anything… but there’s no way the others will fall for the facade once they realize who she is to you. Anyone fated to you is bound to be closer to monster than man.”

That was unacceptable. His chest tightened at his words, a foul feeling swirling his insides. It was not about the implied insult to him, nor was it about the subtle threat of the other Harbingers finding out who you were to him—it was the insult to you, the mocking comment Pantalone made calling you closer to monster than man. That was not acceptable.

And then he realized what he was doing, getting defensive over you for no reason at all. Careful, he told himself, this was what he hadn’t wanted.

He pushed it away, again, focusing on the issue at hand.

“Was she everything you hoped?” Pantalone pressed, a sardonic smile twisting his lips as he watched you.

More, Dottore answered silently. You were beyond anything he had imagined, but he kept his answer to himself, “What do you want, Regrator?”

“Fair exchange,” Pantalone spoke of the policy he had lived by since the day Dottore met him and Dottore knew that he wasn’t going to like this. Pantalone’s eyes gleamed at the prospect of it, that thin thread of control waning as it always did when he got the upperhand on someone. “I am owed. Our previous exchange has been fulfilled—you brought me into the Fatui and helped me obtain my position, I gave you better funding and support in meetings. This is the start of a new exchange. Twice now, I’ve protected her and now, I’ve brought her in so that you weren’t exposed. I am owed.”

“What do you want?” Dottore repeated again, unperturbed by Pantalone’s demeanor, wanting to get this conversation over with. “The residue research? One of my segments to help with your missions?”

“The prototype for the new delusion,” Pantalone said. Dottore raised his eyebrows—it’s a prototype for a reason, on his lips but he decided against it. If the Regrator wanted to use the prototype, all the better for Dottore: he would be able to study how he reacts to it, and how it reacts to him. “And a branch of the Northland Bank in Fontaine City.”

Dottore tilted his head, “How exactly do you expect me to help with that? Just take one of the segments and tell them what to do.”

Pantalone smiled again but this time, it was colder—the same smile he directed at the other Harbingers when they pissed him off. His head turned in the direction of where you were dancing with the aristocrat and then he asked, voice amused: “You didn’t think I was helping her for your sake, did you?”

There it is.

Dottore stared at Pantalone emptily from beneath his mask. He had expected this from the moment he had initially offered his help in finding you, he knew there would be a catch but he did not think it would have to do with you.

A branch of the Northland Bank set up in Fontaine City. What would that entail from you? Information on the court that only the upper echelon of aristocrats would know? Weaknesses and holes in their defenses? Either way, it would entail betraying your nation and he had a feeling you wouldn’t do that… which meant he would somehow have to get the information from you to pass it on to Pantalone, which meant he would have to betray you. For some reason, the thought left him feeling uneasy.

“Very well,” he agreed. “Consider it done.”

Pleased, Pantalone looked back out to the ballroom floor.

“Oh?” he noted. “She’s on the move.”

Dottore’s head snapped to the side, eyes searching the floor until they landed on where the aristocrat was leading you through the hall and to the entrance of the room.

What were you doing? He had a bad feeling, exhaling as he waited. Were you really going to go out and try to find the evidence you wanted now? Right after he had told you that the Harbingers have their eye on you? You couldn’t be that stupid… unless you were trying to rush to do it before he could get involved but that would be ridiculous.

Dottore’s eyes followed you until the doors of the ballroom shut behind you and you were gone from sight. He didn’t bother explaining to Pantalone where he was going, turning on his heel and made his way to the door on the opposite side of the room, closer to where he and Pantalone were standing.

The Fatui subordinates scattered at his approach, allowing an easy exit for him. Pantalone followed, much to his distaste, but he supposed this way it didn’t look as suspicious. As soon as he pushed the door open, a rush of cold air met him—a welcome escape from the stuffiness of the ballroom and the endless chatter of the aristocrats and the music and all of the overwhelming noise.

The hall was dimly lit by candles mounted on the walls, there was no one in the hall besides them—Dottore assumed that you had turned down the hall on the right instead, heading to the washroom.

Was that what you were doing? Faking going to the washroom so you could slip away and search? Why weren’t their subordinates lining the halls to make sure people couldn’t do that?

“Are you going after her?” Pantalone asked, amused, slinking up beside him. Dottore gave him a cold look from the corner of his eye. “Relax, I won’t interfere.”

Dottore wasn’t sure how much he believed that but he didn’t have time to call him out for it. He wanted to get to you before you did something stupid. He gave Pantalone one last look before making his way down the hall in the direction of the washroom, turning left down two different halls until he was on the opposite side of the ballroom—just as he came to a stop outside of the door, it opened.

“There you are.”

REBLOGS APPRECIATED

#dottore x reader #dottore x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #dottore smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you

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hogwartsfirebolt · 6 months ago

Text

telepathy

“You never suspected?” Harry whispers into the curve of my shoulder. His skin is warm against my side, our legs tangled together in the cocoon of his sheets.

I know he’s thinking of the appointment I had earlier, of the diagrams I showed him that the healer drew for me, explaining that her scans showed my magic reaching out, touching her mind gently.

“That I’m a telepath? No. Legilimency always came easy to me, but I never suspected actual telepathy.” I close my eyes, lean closer so that his hair tickles my nose and I can smell the coconut scent of his shampoo, fresh and lovely. “Although … sometimes I did feel like I knew what you wanted, what you were thinking. In bed, specially”

He huffs a laugh against my skin, brushes his lips over a freckle on my neck that I only know is there because he mentions it all the time. “That actually explains a lot.”

A proud thrill shoots through my belly and I feel a smile threatening to spill into my face. It’s not that I didn’t know he wants me — he makes it so clear each time — but knowing for sure that he does and that I give him what he wants in turn makes me feel powerful in a way I’ve never experienced before. I reach out then, the path to his thoughts feeling easy now I know I’ve been treading it for years.

He’s running his fingers along my hip, the inside of my thigh, and his thoughts are simple, surrounded by lust and warmth.

All this beautiful milky skin.

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks hotly, and clear my throat. I’m helpless to the admission I want to make, feel it drawn out of me by the sheer glow of being in his presence. I say, “But sometimes I felt it after, too, whenever we finished. I just never thought … to tell you the truth, I just thought that’s how it is when you’re in —”

The embarrassment of saying it out loud feels unmanageable, but I would’ve pushed through if it weren’t for his green eyes widening, for the alarms blaring through my awareness of his thoughts. His lips cover mine swiftly in a pressing, achingly lovely kiss and he rests his forehead against mine.

He breathes out, “Shh. Don’t say it. Now we know why you always knew what I wanted.”

It stings for all of a minute, that he won’t let me, but then I realize that I can’t feel disgust or rejection in his thoughts, only fear. Simple, tangible fear. I huff, raise a hand up the back of his neck, tangling through his soft, beautiful curls. He relaxes once again, and I feel the soundless sigh against my lips before he kisses me again, close-mouthed and sweet.

He’s everything, nudges the edges of my consciousness. Then again, a golden thread of a helpless thought, Everything.

“Alright,” I whisper against his lips, and I can tell he loves that, loves the feel of my lips moving against his as I speak. I can tell he feels it all. So I venture, “That doesn’t mean it’s not true, alright?”

His guard has come back down as he occupies himself tracing my bottom lip with his tongue, following his own body down the path that will lead to desire very soon. Distractedly, he asks, “It doesn’t mean what isn’t true?”

“That I’m in love with you.”

Everything freezes, his arm where it was moving to embrace me, his breath, his mind. And in the center, red-hot fear once again. He pulls back a little, enough to run a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He’s wondering, Why is he doing this?

He’s picturing me running, turning away from us in fear of what it can become. I pull him closer again, cup a hand around his jaw and I know he can see it in my eyes: the truth. His eyes fall shut, his body in a vulnerable curl around mine.

“Jesus, Draco. You don’t even like me.”

“Of course I don’t like you,” I can barely recognize my voice, it’s gentler than I even knew I had in me. “But I am in love with you.”

God, me too. Me too, me too.

Our bodies are so close I can feel his heart pounding.

“Uh. I’m not sure I —,” he’s starting to say, but his mind keeps beating a stream of Me too, me too.

“You’re forgetting that I can quite literally read your mind, Harry.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” There’s a laugh building up in my chest and I let it escape, catching what he feels when he hears it, the way his thoughts soften, the way he sees me aglow like this, in his arms, because of him.

A warm hand comes up to my chest, resting over my sternum. Where, even though he can’t read my mind, he can find beating proof that I feel this.

“Then you already know what I’m going to say.”

I love you.

I nod, basking in the way my heart races, in the way I know that his heart is racing too. It all felt so impossible only this morning. Years of sneaking around, years of sleeping together and not talking, not daring to hope. And it had always been as easy as me reaching out, trying to connect, without ever knowing I could. But there’s something else, and the lingering dregs of doubt rise up in me when I realize this only speaks for now, for this moment in time.

“I can read your mind, but … I can’t see the future. I don’t know what this means for us, or where it takes us.”

He pauses, and I can tell he’s giving it serious thought. I can see futures he’s picturing, trying on as though trying on new clothes, playing out the idea of making me central to the path he sees for his own life. I can tell the thought feels new and exciting. His green eyes meet mine, and it seems it only took him these few minutes, because the fear is gone, replaced by burgeoning joy. He’s always been the braver one. I pull my awareness back, overwhelmed by the strength of his sudden conviction, and I’m once again just me inside my own mind, looking into his eyes, not knowing what’s behind them.

“To tell you the truth, I never expected we’d come this far,” he says. The back of his fingers is tracing my cheek, and there’s an edge to his voice, a soft kind of adoration that only really comes out when we’re like this, bare to each other. “I mean, maybe that was daft of me, seeing as it’s been four years of … this, but it seemed to me you never wanted to talk about it, and so I didn’t think to consider we could be anything more than what we’ve been already.”

And it’s true. I didn’t think we could ever have more that we already had, so I never gave myself the space to want it. Now, knowing what I know, I discover that the want was always there, that I unknowingly let it build up behind closed doors in my head, and that now that I’ve inched it open, it’s all come barrelling out, a flood tearing the dam to bits.

I nod. “I understand. But now my cards are on the table, and … I already know your answer too, so why don’t we stop fooling ourselves?”

“It’s not that, it’s just … we’ve spent our entire lives driving each other insane.” Not reading his mind anymore, I can still read him with the knowledge of a lifetime. I know him, can tell that he means it, that this is something that’s been bothering him. “Last week you almost throttled me when I suggested we saw that Divination expert before you went actually insane.”

It’s true that I had felt something off in my own head for months, that I wasn’t able to hide it from him because at times it felt like the whole world was pushing its way into my brain and I couldn’t channel it back out. The notion that I might be going insane was not infrequent, and he worriedly suggested alternatives before I finally decided to visit the healer today. But him suggesting divination could nearly have been the last nail in the coffin. I’ve never been a pseudo-science kind of man.

“Oh, you know damn well I’ve never believed in those things.”

Frustration tinges his gaze, turns the corners of his lips downwards. “Well, now it turns out you’re a damn telepath, Draco, so you better fucking start believing.”

I’m so scandalized I lose the ability to speak for a few seconds, and he can tell. Which makes him double down, “I — Merlin, do you see? I drive you insane without even trying. You’re driving me insane too.”

“Okay, okay,” I force out, fighting down the annoyance that he can bring up in me quicker than anybody else. My eyes fall shut and I take a breath, letting myself feel his touch on my skin, the length of his body against mine, the night breeze sharing our bed, around our bodies where the sheets have slipped off. I open my eyes, feel the proud bubble of elation that courses through my veins when he looks at me. “I know we always drive each other insane, but we always end up here, don’t we? Curled up in your bedroom.”

His eyes soften. “That’s true. And in the end I — I mean I do really —“

He still can’t say it. But I know it. I’ve seen it, his doubts, his love.

So it’s easy to be the one to voice it. “I love you too. And I’m also terrified at the notion of being apart, and I’m also sometimes horrified and disgusted to realize I feel this way, and I wonder how I even ended up here when I genuinely despised you back in school.”

“Went both ways,” he huffs. I can’t help but smile.

“I know.”

“But then I’m just — God, Draco, if you’re reading my mind, then you know what I have in my drawer right now.”

Alarmed, I can’t help but let my magic reach out so hard I’m left reeling, and I get an image, front and center. His dresser, third drawer on the left, between a bottle of cologne and an inherited jacket: a black velvet box, no bigger than a snitch. I see him in his mind’s eye, stroking the box, thinking of me. Of us. I see him putting it back in. Taking it back out another time, another day, thinking of me. Months passing, him taking it out on sleepless nights after I slipped away following a tryst, see him stroking it, thinking of me. And I’m afraid. I am. But there’s a stronger, unnamable feeling overpowering the fear by the second, dusting it in a golden glow with the certainty and inevitability of a sunrise. I swallow.

“I do know. But I’m not sure I understand. Didn’t you just say you never expected we’d make it this far?”

“I think it’s more that I didn’t think you’d be willing to try. The thing is that … right here, together, when it’s just us? It just works, I feel like we get each other perfectly. I like that a lot. But none of our friends know we talk, much less that we see each other twice a week. When you see me in public you roll your eyes and look away, and Nev told me the other day that you told Pansy you still hate me.”

I’m still in his mind, and I feel how this hurts him. Has been hurting him. But it’s hypocritical as all hell, he’s never been the sole victim of this. Like everything else between us, it went both ways. My temper flares.

“Oh, don’t start. Nev always tells Pansy that you go on and on about how unbearable I am, and … and I saw you flirting with Hannah last week at The Brewery!”

“What?” His volume rises, and he startles himself. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “I — Okay. Didn’t you read my mind then? All I wanted was for you to look at me, even though I knew you wouldn’t, because our friends were around. I’m tired of this, Draco, I’m tired of your walls coming up with me outside them whenever we’re not in bed.”

He’s thinking of that night, of me looking away when he tried to catch my eye, of me leaving early so he wouldn’t have the chance to ask if I wanted to go home with him. It’s too real, too revealing, I don’t know if I want to face having been part — or most — of the reason we didn’t have this earlier.

“I didn’t know I could read your mind back then, it was only last week. How was I supposed to know you felt any kind of serious way about me when —“

“What’s in my drawer, Draco?”

My heart pounds. “I know what’s in your fucking drawer.”

“And what are you going to answer? I can’t read your mind.”

I had been so calm, placing the ball in his side of the court at the beginning of the conversation, but he’s hit it right back at me, hard, and my heart is climbing up my throat. He’s asking, knowing I know everything inside his head, he’s asking because he doesn’t know anything inside mine, and he needs it out loud, needs it spelled out. I have to give it to him. It’s only fair. I swallow, try to force my heart back down.

“What do you think I’m going to answer, Harry? Look at me. You’ve ruined me completely, I’m — ”

“Is that a — ?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes”

Read on AO3

#drarry #drarry fic #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #mywriting #it’s no surprise to anyone that I’m obsessed with confessions #how nerve wracking they are even when you KNOW what the other person feels #so here’s another version of a confession for them #otherwise known as: the only way I think Draco would realistically be brave enough to say I love you first lmaooo

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teacasket · 11 months ago

Text

pink champagne

genre: fluff au: non idol au warnings: alcohol word count: 0.5k pairing: gn!reader x bang chan a/n: happy 2024, everyone!

A new year, a new city, a new friend. This is how trouble begins, you think, as you follow Chan through the crowds. Sequins and lamé glitter under the golden lights of crystal chandeliers, and premature confetti covers the floor. Waiters in dark, clean-cut suits carry trays of champagne, while guests drink, mingle, and take pictures in front of the famed staircase.

You climb up that very staircase, earning yourself a few disgruntled cries and disdainful looks. Chan mutters an apology but darts upwards before they can say anything. On the other hand, you linger to take in the beauty. They don’t have historic hotels or fancy parties like this where you're from.

The guests on the stairs scan you up and down. Sneakers and a warm coat aren’t wrong for this party, but scuffed canvas and loose, fraying threads are. You squeak out a jumble of incoherent words and run up after Chan.

He waits for you by the elevator and graciously gestures for you to head inside first. The doors shut, and the long ride to the topmost floor starts.

“Told you the lobby would be worth it,” he says, smiling as if you were against the idea in the first place.

“Shut up. You sure we can get on the roof?”

He pats his bag, heavy with illegally copied keys and other secrets. His friend used to work at the hotel, or so Chan said. You didn’t bother asking for more detail.

On the highest floor, he leads you down hallways of closed doors before stopping in front of a metal door with the words STAFF ONLY painted in red. He slides in his key, and the lock gives. When he pushes it open, you brace yourself for an alarm, a security guard hurtling through one of the dozens of doors, anything that signals that you and Chan aren’t permitted onto the roof, but there's nothing.

You tentatively step out, and the winter chill saps all of the warmth from your skin. Your breath makes wispy, summer clouds in the winter air as you take in the city below you.

Music and shouts intertwine like a sonata. Faraway windows glow, shining like the stars above, and crowds swell and ripple like a silver snake. There is so much light, it threatens to drown out the night.

“I love it,” you declare, spellbound by the view. You sit beside Chan, close enough to feel his leg shift as he involuntarily leans closer. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Yeah, no problem. Oh, I got a surprise.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out an unopened bottle of pink champagne. “Friend of mine stole it on the last day of work. He said it was expensive, so it’s probably good.”

“Is this the same friend who used to work here?”

“Maybe. Watch out.”

It doesn’t open with a pop and a flying cork but with a light hiss that is barely audible over the sudden thundering of fireworks. You stare in awe as the sky lights with gold and white, so blinding you have to look away. If you reach your hand up, you swear you could catch a spark in your palm.

“Happy New Year,” Chan says. He takes a hearty swig of champagne, exhaling with pleasure as he holds out the bottle to you. “Hope it’s a good one.”

“Me too. Happy New Year.”

As you put the bottle to your lips, you think this is what fireworks must taste like.

if you liked this, maybe you’ll like one of my older pics also centered around chan and new year’s: ringing in the new year

#stray kids #skz #bang chan #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #bang chan scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bang chan fluff #stray kids au #skz au #non idol au

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swifty-fox · 3 months ago

Note

❝ i want to deserve you. i’m trying to deserve you. ❞

For the outlaw au???

check my writing prompts tag for more prompts!

cw: previous injury, damage to teeth

"Just had to run your damn mouth didn't you John?" Gale hisses as he drags John's lip back with a bloody finger, using a hand flashlight to peer inside his mouth.

John, tongue flopping ineffectively to stay away from Gale's fingers, narrows his eyes at him.

Pressing around for a few minutes longer, straddling one of John's heavy thighs, Gale withdraws his fingers, "I think it's just the front one you cracked," he announces.

John rolls his mouth a few times, rubbing the red splotch on his jaw and the lip beginning to swell, "Did you get the tooth?"

The damage to his mouth makes the words come out more like 'didjoo ge' the toof'

"No I did not get the tooth, Bucky, Jesus, I was busy getting us out of there before the guy pulled a knife on us."

Scraping a trembling hand through his hair, he ends up fighting with the strands as they tangle around the base knot of his braid. It's half falling out, he can feel the flyaways all around his face. They'd ran after the confrontation outside a bar in Toledo, blood leaking from John's mouth until they'd shoved into an alley to see how badly John had been fucked up.

"A knife would have been excessive. All I did was tell him his patches looked like shit."

Gale snorts derisively, spinning on his heel and tugging on the end of his braid until he feels the ache in his roots, "I think the cars that way."

He takes off without waiting for John. He can hear him walking not far behind, cursing softly under his breath. It's 2 am and the streets are mostly deserted away from the main strip of bars. It would be unsafe, if they didn't look like they belonged, if they didn't walk like they carried. If they weren't carrying.

There's fury squirming in Gale's chest like a trapped cat, but there's something glass-like and fragile about it, as if it might shatter into something altogether more raw and wounded. His breath comes in short puffs, he can hear John sigh his name to the sky as if Gale were some nagging wife. It sparks him just right and he spins, a finger coming up to poke the center of John's chest.

"If you want to joke around and act like you don't know a fucking button when you push it that's on goddamn you John but I don't find it funny."

His breath trembles and he's shivering even though it's late spring and he does find that rather odd.

"Nobody's laughing. You've got no audience to impress."

John tilts his head, opens Gale's pages to read what he doesn't mean to write there, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He's still bleeding, a slow ooze that his red-stained tongue licks away every now and then.

"Talk about what?" Gale turns back toward the direction of their parked car, can see the red roof of it in the parking lot like a beacon.

It's a deflection, but he won't admit it. And John lets him fluff his feathers and walk ahead until they reach the car. The moment his hand touches the door handle there's fingers around his waist, a broad torso pressing against his back and a heavy head smelling of blood and ash and Four Roses whiskey hooking on his shoulder like a sheepish dog.

"Get off me. Give me the keys."

There's a clink as the car keys are dropped in his waiting palm. He almost drops them, his shivering is so bad and he's not cold but he's hoping turning on the heat will help. John can deal. He's angry at John.

"We can talk about it, if you want."

"Talk about what?"

"You're sitting in my bloodstain every day."

Gale freezes, his hands, his breathing, the beat of his heart. Even his shivering stops.

They'd covered it with a blanket. Some woven textured thing they'd picked up at some road-side attraction shop, the threads dyed a rainbow of cheerful colors. He can see it now, through the window of the car creased innocently in the shape of Gale's body. He can see the stain anyway, rusty dark and sprawling from midway up the backseat down to the right side of the cushion. A few handprints here and there where John had tried adjusting his position. He'd started sleeping in the driver's seat, on the nights it was too hot to sleep together and Bucky had the backseat.

"I'm alive, Buck. You saved me."

Gale drops his head onto the glass and exhales slowly, "I see you squaring up with those skinheads and all I see is you comin' outta that gas station bleeding. I think maybe this is the next time, this is the time we don't pull a miracle out of thin air."

"I'm sorry," John says, and it's awful how readily Gale believes him, "I forget sometimes it's not just me anymore. That I've got something worth being cautious for."

"I don't want ground you Bucky,"

John's arms squeeze him and Gale takes his first real breath in hours.

"I'm trying. I want to deserve you, I'm trying to deserve you."

#swiftywrites #chapel au #clegan #buck x bucky

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klbwriting · 9 months ago

Text

Broken Prism

Chapter 22

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: o boy, once again, death, murder, some body horror, angst, sad Tim

Summary: it's been a couple months but the murderers rise again, going after another member of the Batfamily

Gotham was quiet right now. Since first two murders it seemed as if the city were holding its breath. Crime was low, which let patrols be more dedicated to finding the killers than stopping criminals. In a way it was good, but it also haunted Jason. He kept seeing those kids, faces cut off, the closed casket funeral that Bruce had generously paid for, for all the victims that night. Jason was hanging on by a thread and that was only because YN was there, waiting for him to come back, and at the moment she was the only reason he wasn’t throwing himself off the top of the Wayne building.

Christmas was somber, and New Year’s passed with Jason sleeping at one of his safehouses, wanting to be in the thick of the city in case another murder was found. It was almost February now and he wasn’t sure how anyone was putting up with him. The nightmares were back, only now it was his dead friend and children telling him he couldn’t save them that haunted his nights. He was irritable, solemn, uninterested in anything but finding the killers. Bruce had told the media that Jason was struggling to reacclimate, which helped him avoid scrutiny when he had to go out into public, but it didn’t stop him from stomping a paparazzi’s camera and shoving him to the ground. He spent the night in jail before Bruce bailed him out, putting him on house arrest now. Why not? Jason himself had confined YN to the manor like a prisoner, why shouldn’t he join her?

Finally, just before Groundhog’s Day another murder happened. A senior center, the patients all in the community room, sitting and playing board games. All stabbed multiple times. 22 in all. All four of the Bats went to this one, but Tim stayed outside. This was a home he volunteered at for his senior work at school. These people were his friends, some of them like pseudo grandparents. He tried to enter but couldn’t when he saw the message on the wall, one of the older women posed to point at it, the woman who always was Tim’s dance partner when the senior center had Friday dances. None of your friends are safe Red Hood

Jason once again felt himself become sick, Batman having Gordon clear the room again so he could take off his helmet in a secluded corner and breathe. He looked over at the others and saw Tim’s face in the doorway, staring at him. Glaring. He blamed him. He should, this was all Jason’s fault. But right now, blaming himself would get them nowhere. He pulled himself together, put the helmet back on and got to work.

They searched the carnage, Batman examining the message, again in different handwriting, suggesting a third criminal. Jason took one side of the room and Dick the other. Tim stood back, scanning with his devices to see if there was anything in the walls.

“I found something,” Tim said. He walked over to the wall that had a group picture of the nursing staff and took the frame down. Behind it the wall was hollowed out and inside was a small suitcase. He took it out and checked it for explosives before opening it slowly. He jumped back, dropping it on the floor. Batman rushed over, kneeling by the case. They all stared. Inside was four clear plastic bags, one each for the faces of the first family murdered.

“This is fucked up,” Dick said, closing the case again. Tim walked over, scanning it more. He found a fingerprint and made a copy, planning on running it through the Batcomputer. He wouldn’t even look at Jason right now. “Why don’t you two head back, we have it here. Sun’s about to come up anyway, Tim, I’m sure you can take the day off school and Jason, just go home.” Jason opened his mouth, but Dick turned his back to him, and he knew dismissal when he saw it. He looked at Bruce who just nodded to him to leave.

At the cave Tim whirled on him the moment they were changed back into their regular clothes, punching Jason in the jaw. Alfred and YN stood, shocked. YN ran over to stop the fight, but Jason held a hand for her to stop.

“Go ahead Tim,” Jason said. Tim snarled at him and hit him again in the face, and again in the chest, wailing on him. Jason took it, feeling the hits getting weaker as Tim wore his anger out.

“Its your fault, all your fault,” he said, the boy looking very much like the child he still was he clung to Jason. Jason hugged him tight.

“I know its my fault,” he whispered. “I’m not going to stop until we find out who’s doing this.” Tim shoved him back, eyes red and hot with tears still.

“Don’t say that, you’re a murderer, even this is all on you. All of those bodies are on your hands! Why did you have to come back? Why couldn’t you stay dead?” Tim yelled, storming off to the tech lab. Jason stood there, head hanging. YN walked over, taking his hand but he pulled it away.

“You should go, run as far away from this city…from me as you can,” he said.

“I’m not going to leave you. Tim’s isn’t thinking straight…” she started.

“DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME!” Jason screamed, making her recoil, fear flashing in her eyes. He shook his head. “Go YN, get away from me.”

“Master Jason…” Alfred cut in. Jason turned on him.

“All of you just leave me alone! I am nothing. I should have stayed dead,” he said, eyes flickering to green. He put the helmet back on and jumped back on his bike and disappeared out of the cave.

You sat on Jason’s bed in the day, holding onto one of his favorite leather jackets, trying to figure out where he would go. You didn’t know all his safe houses and he wasn’t at any of the ones the rest knew. You wished he didn’t run, but you understood. Everything was going so well until the rug was pulled out from under him again. He couldn’t catch a break it seemed. You sighed and looked down at the black jacket, wrapping it around you and zipping it up. You put your hands in the pockets and froze, feeling something. You pulled out a small envelope. It wasn’t sealed and curiosity got the best of you, and you looked inside. There was a ruby ring and a note.

Will you be mine forever?

Want to be my Red Lady?

I love you, marry me?

You started crying all over again as you gripped the ring and the note. You got up, going to his desk, grabbing a pen and writing YES, setting everything on the desk in case he came back. You looked up when the door opened, hoping, but it was Tim. You wanted so much to be angry at him, to tell him that he shouldn’t have said that to Jason, that he hurt him again. But you didn’t. Tim was hurting just as much, and he was still so young. Fucking Bruce Wayne and his obsession with making children into soldiers.

“O, sorry, I saw the light and thought he came back,” Tim said softly. You offered him a weak smile. “I…I didn’t mean it.”

“I know Tim, you were upset, it’s a horrible situation all around,” you said. Tim laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “You know that its not your fault either right?” He looked at you and you could see the thoughts turning.

“If I didn’t volunteer…” he started, and you shook your head.

“What these monsters do isn’t on you,” you said. “Or me or Jason or Bruce or any of us. They are looking for things to hurt, innocence to destroy, what better way to do that then by taking away hope? And love? And friendship? They want to destroy Jason, and you, and Dick, and Bruce. We can’t let them.”

“I think I may know where Jason is,” Tim said. You perked up. “I’m going to find him.”

“Don’t go alone, please? Just in case?” you asked. “I’ll go with you.”

“No way, Jason will shoot me if I put you in danger like that,” he said. You chuckled and nodded, he probably would. “I’ll find Dick, he’ll go.”

Jason paced the one safe house he thought he had. It was rather macabre, making a safe house out of where you killed your greatest enemy, but he figured no one would come looking here for him. Imagine his surprise when his brothers jumped out of the track for the tunnel of love and came over, hugging him. What a sight, Nightwing and Robin hugging Red Hood.

“How did you find me?” he asked. Tim held up a tracking device. “I took that off…”

“There’s one on the bike too. And I also can route into your helmet whenever I need to,” Tim said. He was looking guilty. “Jason, listen…”

“You don’t have to apologize, you’re right,” Jason said. Dick shook his head, putting his hand over Jason’s mouth, despite it being under the helmet.

“No no, he talks, you listen,” his older brother said.

“I was wrong Jason. And you are too. We aren’t at fault for this, we do our best to give people hope and these guys they want to destroy that, to take all the good out of people’s lives. And I am devastated that all of those great people are gone but I know for a fact, because all of them told at one point or another, that the living shouldn’t become the dead just because their loved ones have passed. We should live and remember them so that they live through us. And we shouldn’t push away our loved ones, like you know, soulmates, in times of grief,” he said. Jason stared at him. “You’re my big brother Jason, I love you, and I want you to be there for me right now, not hiding in your Joker dismemberment room.”

“Are you sure?” Jason asked, voice hitching a little. Tim nodded. “Ok, and uh, not that I ever said this, but I love you idiots too.” Dick smiled and wrapped an arm around Jason and they followed Tim out to head back home.

#jasontodd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #redhood #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #brokenprism

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peterparkerluvr · 1 year ago

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2+2 | Peter Parker

(gif from @sacharinee)

mature content! 18+

pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Studying with Peter goes exactly right.

content warnings: steamy make out, swearing, sexual content, suggestive dialogue, Adam Sandler.

word count: 1620+

A/N: Hi! This is my first EVER smut, I hope you like it<3

It wasn’t my idea to study for Algebra, it never was. If I had a choice I would abolish Algebra from every school curriculum and burn every math textbook on the Earth, but of course that wasn’t possible.

“Ok, now that we have the x-intercept, we can just insert the y value from the center and finish the equation!”

“I have no clue what you just said,” Peter’s exasperated sighs fill my ears as I complain about his teaching, “I am just so sorry, I genuinely cannot do math.”

“Yes you can, you’re very smart and very capable and not everyone can add, so it is a-okay!” Sarcasm laces his tone, a humorous glint twinkling in his eye as he sends a cheeky grin my way.

“Ha. I know how to add, 2+2 is equal to 4!” He couldn’t hold in a laugh then, dissolving my prior confidence.

“On that note, let’s take a break!” Peter closed his open notes and pushed the notebooks to his side, stretching from his position.

As he lifts his arms above his head, the edge of his Midtown sweatshirt lifts upwards, exposing his skin and giving me a peek of the definition below. Lean muscle stretches across his abdomen, tensing with every move. His impressive v-line cutting into his torso, deep enough to lap water from-

“Uh, you okay?” his awkward chuckles interrupt my ogling,

“Yeah, yeah.” Spluttering out an excuse, I draw my eyes away from his very rock-hard abdominals and decide to intently stare at the thread hanging from his comforter.

“Let’s watch a movie or something?” He couldn’t hide his unmistakable blush as it crept from the round of his cheeks and flushed towards his chest, oh how I wish I could graze my fingertips across the pink tint on his upper body and-

“Good idea! What are you thinking?” I mention, focusing on his words and pretending to not be soaking wet for my best friend, I quickly dismiss the thoughts plaguing my mind.

“I feel like watching a comedy, take my mind off all the calculations,” He said while scrolling for the perfect piece of entertainment,

“Besides, anything will be better than those stupid graphing videos she forces down our throats.”

His soft brown eyes catch mine as they crinkle at the sides, his soft pink lips just begging to touch mine. Leaving me wondering just what other part of him wants to be touched, what other soft, pink things I can-

“Ahem, how about ‘Grownups’? I need a little Adam Sandler in my life right now.” I suggested, I need to rein in my thoughts and I need to do it ASAP.

“Perfect, just what I was thinking. Good job, you’ve found something you’re good at, movie suggestions!” Peter nudged me with his elbow as I moved to climb beside him in his bed.

His very small twin bed where just sitting side by side our thighs were molded together and I could hear his strong, steady heartbeat and his deep breathing.

This boy is going to be the death of me.

He pushes his pillows in an upright position behind us and moves an arm behind my shoulders to create a more comfortable position. His nimble fingers gently squeeze my shoulder as he looks down to catch my eye in an innocent smile.

He has to know what he’s doing to me.

He leans forward to press play on his laptop in front of us, slipping his hold from my shoulder to my waist, slightly pressing his palm into my torso. He shifts back into his former place, bucking his hips upward to settle into the bed.

Many expletives are running through my mind right now.

As the movie begins, all I can focus on are the curls of his hair resting against his forehead. The creamy red tint of his lips run through my mind as I imagine every place on my body I want his mouth to touch. I thought of his even breaths becoming aroused grunts and breathy moans, I imagined his soft voice becoming thick with pleasure and whimpering begs falling past his lips.

The taut string wound between my thighs pulled, threatening to snap as I let my mind run wild. I mindlessly rocked into the bed, yearning for friction to ease my discomfort.

Peter’s obnoxious laugh startled me out of my fantasy,

“I forgot how much I love this movie!” His pink lips pulled in a grin exposing his straight teeth, a sliver of his tongue resting between.

“Peter.” My resolve was weakening and I couldn’t resist the need to hear his name pass through my mouth.

“A-Are you okay, Y/N?” His gaze passes from my lips to my eyes, his voice becoming low and small.

“Can I just try something really fast?” My heartbeat quickened its pace as I struggled to gain the confidence to make a move.

His tiny nod my confirmation, I turned to face him and pulled my legs underneath me. Gulping down my fear and apprehension, I focus on the perfect boy sitting in front of me. His deep woodsy eyes boring into mine, his face twisted into one of confusion and a bit of excitement.

I move my fingertips to graze the crook of his neck, dipping into his collarbones and watching a soft blush erupt where my finger trails. I press my hands into his shoulders and lower my head to the crook of his neck. I hear his breathing increase as I move my tongue across the velvety expanse of his collarbone.

Peter releases another breath and latches a hand onto my lower back, slightly digging the tips of his fingers into the skin. I lean closer into him, scooting closer and moving my hand to his slender thigh. My tongue sucks on the smooth skin, warranting more quiet groans from Peter.

His hands push into my back, gripping my sides, faintly pulling my body into his. I push off of his shoulders and lift myself to straddle his legs, settling with our limbs tangled together, his thigh resting between mine. I move from his neck to pepper kisses along his jaw, my hips gently grinding on his thigh, easing the desperation in my clothed heat.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Peter grips my waist and guides my movement, moving a hand to my chin, connecting our lips. His needy tongue invades my mouth, moving his hand to the side of my head, lacing his fingers in my hair. His teeth nip at my lower lip as he continues grinding my cunt along his thigh.

“Peter,” his name slips from my tongue in whimpers as he continues to let me use his thigh for pleasure. His wet kisses trail down my neck to my collarbone, he kisses into the swell of my breast, sucking gently.

He gently lifts me up and places me directly on his lap, through my position I can feel his erection pressing into my clit through my jeans, applying needed relief to the ache and leading me closer to my peak. His movements become more urgent as he bucks his hips into me, his hardness rubbing against the wetness between my legs.

“You feel so good Y/N, fuck,” His deep beathing becoming throaty grunts, he ruts into my sex as he furthers towards an orgasm. His kisses become urgent as he pushes his fingers into my sides, moving his mouth back to my chest forming hickies and biting into the skin leaving purple bruises on my body.

“Please, Peter,” My head falls to his shoulder, sucking gently on his exposed skin, my nails scratching into his upper back.

“Yeah baby?” His lips move to my jaw as he grips my chin to move my eyes to his, my pupils blown from the pleasure, husky pants leaving my open mouth.

“I’m gonna cum, Peter, please,” His hot mouth connects to mine, connecting in a feverish kiss. Hot and needy, his tongue strokes mine, his hands wrapping around my neck, his fingers pulling me even closer.

“fuck, cum for me baby,” His hand roughly pushes my cunt into his lap, attacking my neck with his tongue. His name drops from my tongue in a chant as I near my orgasm. My moans increase in volume and peak in a whine, my head rolls backwards as my vision blurs. My limbs tense as I ride out my high, moaning Peter’s name, my sex pulsing as I climax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Y/N you’re so good baby,” Harshly digging his fingertips into my sides, Peter pushes his head onto my chest as he cums. His hips rut upward into me, his lips sucking on my chest in his pleasure; biting harshly at the exposed skin, his movement slows as he rests on my collarbones.

Our deep breaths mix as we come down from our high. My fingers move to his head, lacing my fingers in his soft brown curls, slightly wet from sweat. Using my chin, I lift his head, meeting large pupils and tinted cheeks. I kiss from his forehead to each side of his face, landing in a sweet kiss on his lips, licking at his bottom lip and chewing at the skin.

“Y/N,” His eyes fill with admiration as he licks the taste of my tongue off of his lips and gives a few kisses to my chest moving up to my jaw,

“God, you’re so beautiful.” His thumbs trace circles into my waist as he looks up at me.

I push lightly against his chest, turning away from him,

“Wait, have we gotten to the part at the water park yet?” My attention diverting to the laptop screen, awaiting the appearance of Steve Buschemi.

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milkgemini · 2 years ago

Text

Smudged

Pairing: Jake Kiszka X Reader Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ minors DNI. Oral sex, fingering (f receiving), language, eyeliner Jake. A/N: A little Jake eyeliner blurb for you all. Enjoy.

You could hear the roar of the crowd from his dressing room.

Sitting patiently, you waited for Jake to bust through the threshold.

They performed beautifully tonight.

You smiled to yourself as you picked at the hem of your skirt.

The thought of whiplash crossed your mind as your head snapped to face the direction of the door.

The handle twisted. His presence cascading warmth across the room.

He embraced you with his arms held out straight. You brought yourself to him. Your nose tucked into the crook of his neck, indulging in his natural scent.

With your arms still wrapped around his torso, you lifted your cheek from his chest to look up at him.

“Amazing.” you chirped to him, just above a whisper.

He gave a tight, humble smile back to you in response.

“You did amazing tonight, Jake.” The skin of your fingertips found his cheek bone, brushing lightly against him.

You scanned his face, your eyes flitting across it in every direction.

Your gaze stuck to his eyes.

His eyeliner was smudged. You ran your fingertips lightly over the skin where the makeup had smeared.

You gently place your hands on his shoulders, leading him to sit in the chair in front of the mirror.

“Let me see..” You reach behind him, then begin to untwist the cap of your liquid lipstick.

A bright red shade. You sloppily trace his lips with the applicator covered in red wet color.

You stand in front of him at eye length, rubbing your lips together. He mimics your actions, spreading the makeup across his lips.

You inch closer to him, standing between his legs. your neck cranes down to look at him below you.

With the pad of your thumb tracing his lower lip, you whisper:

“There.” as if to apply the finishing touch.

“Do I look pretty?” His round eyes twinkle as his voice croaks up to you, hoarse after the show.

Your fingertips leave his plump lips to trace the sharpness of his jawline.

“Beautiful, baby.” You answer his question.

The pad of your thumb smears the red lipstick down his chin.

Your fingertips lead a trail to the hair at the crown of his head. You bunch his brown locks between each finger, and tug.

He lets you without hesitation.

With his neck exposed to you, his Adam's apple bobs up and down with each swallow.

You lift your leg to plant your foot on the arm of the couch next to Jake, your other leg directly between his.

You lower your face to his.

“Let me make a mess of you.” You whisper down to him.

“Ruin your pretty makeup. You just look so good.” You speak to him through gritted teeth, using the grip you have on his hair to guide his face closer to your center.

You’re on your tippy toes, arching yourself to grind yourself against the tip of his nose.

He can feel your wetness through the thin mesh fabric.

Jake flattens his tongue and presses it against your clothed core, positioning himself still so you can continue to roll your hips against him.

“That's it, baby” you encourage him. “You want a taste?”

A groan rolls off his tongue and the vibrations flutter against your lower lips.

You tug him by the root once more, forcing him to look back up at you again.

“Words, Jakey. use your words.” you remind him in a smug tone.

You can see the whimper spread across his face the tighter you pull his hair.

“Please, baby. Let me taste you.” he sounds out of breath.

“Where do you want to taste me, Jake? Tell me.” you tease him.

“Please. Let me run my tongue between your lips. You always taste so sweet.” He points his tongue to you, begging to feel your wetness on his lips.

You scooch the leg planted between him closer to his crotch, while adjusting the other foot on the arm of the couch.

He sinks himself down the chair to get a better angle, his head tilted underneath your core.

You guide his head back, fingers threaded through the tresses damp with sweat.

He reaches with two fingers to pull your panties to the side. He can’t wait for you to pull them off of you, he needs you now.

His shallow breaths breeze past the wet skin of your lower lips. You feel yourself clench around nothing.

He watches from below as the rim of your entrance flutters before him.

Jake flattens his tongue as wide as he can. pressing the flattened muscle to your core, his eye contact remains on you. He runs his tongue through your folds, not wanting to miss a single drop of your taste.

He stiffens his tongue, allowing you to grind down against it. Drawn out moans fall past your lips. Neither of you care enough to quiet yourselves.

You continue to drag yourself against his tongue, holding his head in place with your grip at the crown of his head.

His eyes are round and doe-like as you watch him from above. His gaze already locked on you.

Jake’s hands leave the grip they had on his knees and begin to lightly trace the tender skin inside your thighs.

His touch leaves goosebumps in his path.

His middle finger runs delicate trails, up and down your sensitive lips.

As he reaches the rim to your entrance, his finger swirls in your wetness before entering.

He pushes the finger deeper inside of you, past your wet walls.

You tighten around the slight stretch he’s induced.

He can feel how good he’s making you feel.

He points the tip of his tongue, focusing directly on the bud of your clit.

He plays with the ball of nerves, flicking against it.

He wraps his lips around it, and sucks at the sensitive, wet skin.

Jake forces a second finger up inside of you, while simultaneously leaving open mouth kisses against your clit.

The volume of your moans increases. He whimpers at the pleasure mixed with pain each time you tug at the root of his hair.

With his tongue swishing the ball of your clit back and forth, his fingers begin to curl inside of you, the two of them swiping against the spongy wall tucked deep within you.

He feels your soft walls constrict around his two digits, the wet skin tugging on his fingers each time he pulls them out from you.

Your whimpers turn into high pitched squeals, signaling to Jake how close you are.

All morals go out the door as Jake feverishly pumps his fingers into you. His mouth leaves its place on your clit to coax you to climax.

“Give it to me please, baby. I want to taste your cum so bad.” he begs for you.

He pushes so deep inside of you until there’s nothing left to give. He spreads the digits apart, followed by the coaxing flick of his fingers.

He keeps a steady pace of both actions, one after the other. rhythmically.

“Jake, i- …. fuuuck..” you try to get the words out before your orgasm washes over you.

Jake carries out his pace as a stream trickles from inside of you, gliding down the curved muscle of his arm.

He curls his fingers faster, and watches as the stream increases. Your cum splashing to the tile floor between his feet.

“Yesss, thaankk you, baby.” he draws out his words, still focusing on the cum dripping down your leg.

The motion of his fingers slows inside of you.

He rides you through it until he feels the constriction of your walls cease.

Lifting your foot from the arm of the couch, you lower it back between his thighs.

Jake removes the two fingers from inside of you, and carefully inspects them. Your wetness glistening against them in the light.

You watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth. He spreads your wet arousal against his lips, smearing the red lipstick even more.

You’re in a trance as you gape at the sight of him licking the taste of you from his lips.

Lifting himself from the chair, Jake pushes you back slightly.

With your thumb pressed into one cheek, and your pointer and middle finger pressed into the other, you turn his face, side to side, as you analyze the smudge red lipstick all over his face.

“You did so good for me” you breathe onto his puckered lips before placing a soft kiss on them.

“Can I taste it now?” you whine to him.

Putting on your best innocent face, your eyes remain wide as you look up to him. You stick your tongue out and flatten it against your chin

You watch as a dribble of spit rolls off the tip of his tongue, landing in the center of yours.

You swallow in an obvious manner to him, showing him your bare tongue after, with pride.

His eyes darken at your actions. A wide toothy grin stretched across your face.

You hear the sharp inhale he takes through his nose before his lips crash into yours.

Sloppy. Messy. Fast.

You don’t even care.

He slides the tip of his tongue across your lower lip. You grant him access into your mouth, and he kicks into you.

The feeling of his wet tongue gliding against yours echoes a moan from you down his throat.

Suddenly, there are three loud bangs vibrating from the door of his dressing room.

“Jake! Leaving in 20!” someone shouts from the hallway bustling with crew members.

You both jump at the same time, pulling away from each other with frightened eyes.

You squeeze his cheeks together once more, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Not finished with you yet.”

Lust dripping from your lips with every syllable.

To Be Continued…

Taglist: @gretasimp @writingcold @wowkakashi @spark-my-nature @gretavanbear

#Jake Kiszka #Jake Kiszka GVF #jake kiszka #jakekiszka #jake kiszka x reader #jake gvf #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka one shot #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gretavanfleet

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punks-never-die205 · 8 months ago

Text

Souled Out

Fem Reader x Demon!Eustass Kid

CW: Blood, religious tones, original creation myth, ritual, violence, dubious consent, 18+

tags: @keiva1000 @ryuv1i

Chapter 8: Breathe

You couldn’t deny him, by the terms of the contract you had agreed to, he had access to you as he pleased. So long as your body was hale and whole when your soul returned, he could do as he pleased, but still you knew you could stop him.

Demon though he was, he had quite the preference.

You’d only said one word in the living room, and that had been enough. Now here you were, laid out on your own bed, Eustass Kid towering over you.

“No need to keep these.” He says, hands turning black as human fingers turn into something more feral. Sharp claws rip into the scrubs like they aren’t even really there, and you feel almost no resistance as they fall away, cut neatly down the center and leaving you exposed, save for the tatters of sleeves and pant legs left barely clinging to your limbs.

The action had rent something within you as well, like someone pulling cotton from your ears you were beginning to feel with more clarity. Not just physical, but you could feel the swell of emotions within you start to raise your heart rate. It wasn’t just the light shift of tattered threads against your skin, a nearly foreign sensation after decades of muffled senses, but it was the shiver in your body.

A shiver all your own, before Kid had even begun to prod at your soul.

He licks his lips, sharp eyes taking you in. “I’ll have to thank the freak,” he nearly growls the words, caught between his enjoyment of watching you and wanting to devour you. “Squirmin’ before I’ve even begun.”

Kid’s visage holds no pretense of humanity, long horns curled and crowned against his head. Obsidian black coats clawed hands and reaches to his elbows, the tendrils of liquid rock mingled with flawless marble skin. It was hard to be sure he was made of flesh and blood, given how ethereal and sculpted he was like this.

His eyes were bright, burning more like the sun than anything else, slit pupils held you so completely he had to prompt you to breathe, mouth pulled into a devious grin, full of teeth far too sharp to be safe.

How easily he could tear you apart. Consume you.

He pulls the tattered remains of your pants away, and you aren’t sure why until you feel his tail coil around your leg, pushing it aside as he grips your other leg with his hand. Holding you open he leers at you for a long moment, until you feel another sweet shiver curl in your gut and warm your chest.

“The important part of any good meal is to savor it.” He explains, tongue slipping around the middle finger of his free hand. “Every time.”

A strange concern, not quite fear, sits low in your gut and you aren’t sure what it is until you look down and notice the massive cock twitching and hard between your thighs. Wetness is already pooled at the tip, head red as his hair, shaft impossibly thick. The twitch of desire makes it look like it’s licking the air, hungry to give the same attention to you.

Nerves. You realize with odd clarity as you tear your eyes away from his girth, finding comfort in the delight of his gaze. You’re feeling nervous.

His wet finger runs against your labia and he hums. “Wet on your own,” he leans forward, pressing his finger into your entrance. You’re concerned about the risk of the claw, but there’s nothing sharp caressing your delicate skin. “Makes this a little easier.” He purrs, finger steadily pushing in deeper, as he holds your gaze.

Pleasure wells up inside you as he sinks in, your legs shifting against his tail and hand. The slow build suddenly zings through you without warning, and you grab onto his forearm as your body bucks from the sensation. A sweet, surprised gasp breaks your lips open, as your face twists in embarrassment.

“Fuck, look at you.” Kid husks, letting you wiggle against his finger. “I know I’m ramping it up, but you’re going to be exquisite when you get all of your soul back.” He rolls his thumb against your clit, grinning as your fingernails dig into his arm.

“Breathe, little mouse.” He commands, leaning over you enough to lick against your ear. “You’re not allowed to pass out.”

The air leaves your lung in a shaky huff, and you pull air back in greedily, shivering as his middle finger and thumb drive pleasure into you. Soft whines escape with your breathing, breaking against the air, and nearly shattering in your throat when his tongue stopped teasing your ear and moved down to your throat.

“Sweet thing,” his voice rumbles in his chest, a second finger pushing into your cunt, the wet squelch ringing in your ears.

The stretch makes you gasp, body tensing and shivering beneath him. Red lines skitter along marble skin as your fingers scramble to hold onto something.

“Eu-Eustass!” You gasp, pleasure rushing into your senses. You’ve long since forgotten how to handle such a feeling, and the sweet delight he had carved into your back before was nothing by comparison. It had been pleasurable, but this was well beyond that.

It wasn’t scary, it wasn’t too much, but it was far more than you had known. You weren’t sure you’d reached such a state even before your soul had been stolen. For a brief moment you were concerned at the idea of getting your entire soul back, unsure what madness you would find, shattered by the pleasure he could drive into you.

“Go ahead and cum,” he urges.

“Please, no, wait - I!” Your welling concerns are shoved aside as your body acquiesces to his demand. Pleasure dances through your muscles like lightning, crackling against your skin and forcing a euphoric cry past your lips.

The ‘f’ hisses against your teeth until the orgasm releases its grip on your throat and the broken swear finally makes it beyond your lips. “F-f-f-fah-uck!” You cry, drawing in a deep breath and nearly thrashing in Kid’s iron hold, as his fingers don’t relent. “I came, Kid! I came!” You cry, certain that he knows, and worried he wouldn’t be satisfied until you cried his name again.

“You did,” he agrees, tail and hand spreading your legs further until the muscles ached a little from the stretch. “One more to go.”

“One more?” Your addled brain tries to catch up and you shiver. It was so big, there was no way you could take him. Not just after two fingers, not just after one orgasm. It seemed impossible even if he spent hours stretching you open.

“One more,” he asserts, and you realize quickly it’s not his cock he means to bury in you. Pulling you the edge of the bed, he kneels down between your thigh, bright burning eyes focused on you. “You can hold onto ‘em if you want.” He offers, before running his tongue, hot and wet, heavy against your slit, spreading your labia under the pressure and slipping into the sweet crevasses beneath.

Swears slipped from your lips as you struggled to breathe, hands wrapped around his horns before his tongue even neared your clit. The anticipation was terrible, and the amount of pleasure was concerning. Maybe it was only because you had been numb for so long, maybe it was because he was enhancing the experience, and maybe it was because it was harder to control such feelings with a partial soul.

There was only one way to know, and it was your goal anyway. Your fate at this point.

“Scream for me, little contractor.” He demands, tongue and lips assaulting your clit. There was no build up, no sweet teasing. He refused to let you come down from your first high anymore than you already had, and what little savoring he did wasn’t worth the prize he was after.

The rush of pleasure was almost overwhelming. His name came out of your lips like a song, shivered and lifted into the air like an impromptu gospel, even though you were the one being lifted into the clouds.

Your body shuddered against his grip, your breath cascading against your chest as you curled in pleasure, pulling yourself up by the hold you had on his horns. The sweet song of pleasure turned into a harsh growl as he drove his tongue deep into your pussy, nose pressed into your clit as his tongue, probing and twisting inside you, assailed your senses.

“Wha-what the ha-ha-aahhell-!” Your brain scrambled to comprehend the way his tongue was moving, and you almost made sense of it until he pressed against something inside you and you nearly came off the bed from the jolt that bucked your entire body. A soft grunt from Eustass was all you heard before his tongue retracted, licking along your slit as you released his horns and sank into the bed.

You were slick with sweat, breathing hard from the exertion and lost a little in the pleasure of it. Your gaze looked around your room aimlessly, not really focusing on any one thing. You felt his hand on your shoulder just before his face came into view.

“Doing alright?” He questions and you nod a little dumbly. You don’t feel bad, just worn out from the back to back orgasms. A slip of a smile crosses his face before he lifts you easily, setting you so that you’re laying more comfortably on the bed, instead of leaving your legs hanging over the edge.

“Good. I’m gonna go fix things, I’ll be right back.” He explains before walking away.

You aren’t sure how long he was gone, but it couldn’t have been a few minutes. You didn’t hear him say anything, you didn’t hear much of anything except the click of claws against the floor. You came out of your euphoric haze slowly, and when he was coming back into the bedroom you were already in the process of sitting up.

“All done?” You question, looking him over quickly. He wasn’t showing as much of his demonic nature as he had been earlier. His hands and feet looked human, his marble physique was a little more pink and flesh-looking, though his skin was still very pale. He was still completely naked, but there was no ominous, twitching cock pointing at you. He was, for all it was worth, relaxed.

“Yep,” he answers, coming over to the bed and scooping you up into his arms before you can say or ask anything else. “Made a few improvements while I was at it.”

“Improvements?” You question, sounding and feeling curious.

“Yeah, probably not covered in the lease agreement, but who fucking cares?” He admits walking down the hall. Stepping through the living room area you see it and the kitchen are effectively unchanged, if he made any big changes in these rooms it wasn’t obvious to you right now.

You did notice that the second hallway was shifted. You couldn’t really grasp how it had happened, but when he got to the end of the hall you noticed the guest room was smaller, barely large enough for the bed and closet, and the bathroom was bigger.

Whirlpool tub and open face stone shower kinds of bigger.

“… why?” You ask after a moment.

“Because I could.” He answers, carrying you into the bathroom and setting you down in the shower. “Because I like the extra room.” He adds, stepping toward you until your back’s against the cool wall.

“Because it’s easier to clean you up, after I fuck you up, when there’s room like this.” He grins, and his tail turns the water on in the shower.

#Souled Out #eustass kid #x reader #eustass kid x reader #supernatural au #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #mdni #second verse but ON THE RIGHT BLOG THIS TIME.

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fakegingerrights · 1 year ago

Text

Paint Me a Picture

[a continuation of Shades of Blue. Rex x Reader, soulmate AU. Just wanted more fluff for him in this AU]

Your head snapped up as the door to your tiny, natborn quarters slid open, revealing the shadow of your soulmate framed with the light of the hall, blinking his eyes to help them adjust to the dimmed light in your room.

“You’re back.” You tossed your datapad and stylus aside in favor of hugging your… lover? Boyfriend?

Soulmate. Soulmate for now.

Rex returned your hug, tension he didn’t even realize he had melting away as you turned on the lights and pulled him into the room proper, shutting the door behind you.

Rex holds still patiently as you look him over for injuries, smiling as even the muted greys of your quarters appeared more vibrant when he was with you.

“I’m fine, Mesh’la. Your work is solid, and nothing went too wrong my first day back in the field.” Rex glanced at your datapad. “What were you working on?”

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. “Just looking at some photos. I have a collection of stuff I wanted to see before we ah… discovered each other. Like that pitstop on Felucia, I have a bunch of photos of the flora and landscapes we saw. They’re really pretty.”

“Can I see? Only if you want to that is-“ You cut Rex off before his anxiety got the better of him.

“Of course, Rex. I hoped to share them with you.” You grabbed your datapad and motioned for him to sit, which he did. As you flicked through your files, he hesitantly leaned closer to look over your shoulder. You chuckled softly, initiating contact and leaning into his side. Like the first time, that stolen night in his infirmary bed, you marveled at how the two of you fit together so perfectly, hard ridges of his muscles cradled in the bony slopes of your back and ribs.

The two of you oooohed and aaaahed over the photos, admiring the intricacies of color and hue and shading in their full glory on the screen of a datapad.

Rex paused on one you had asked Kix to take of you not long after joining with the 501st. It was a viewport down on the lower decks, looking out at a nebula that had been breathtaking even in achromatic hues, and now was even more brilliant.

Blue and turquoise and gold threaded through each other made a stunning visage, as you’re grinning out the viewport as you took it all in.

"I like this one." Rex said quietly. "I think blue is my favorite color."

You hum quietly and flip to the next photo, this one of a flower you had seen on Felucia. It was a pretty white, flecked with lavender. The throat of the flower was a deep crimson red, and thick sap clung to the petals in the center. It was... disconcerting.

"I don't think I like red that much." You murmur softly, quickly slipping past the picture and fighting down images of cracked plastoid, dark blood slick like oil slipping down between your fingers and in one shining moment blazing a glorious red that still made you shudder as you fought to make sure your newly discovered soulmate's heart was beating that-

The sound of your name jolted you out of your revery.

"Hmm? Sorry. I was lost in thought." You apologized. Rex was watching you with concern in his eyes.

“Are you ok?” He asked, sliding incrementally closer as he turned the datapad off. When you didn’t pull away he looped an arm around you and let you lean against him as you got a hold of yourself.

“I don’t think I like red.” You said after a second, laying your head on his shoulder. “Your blood is red. That was the first thing I noticed.”

Rex hummed softly. “It’s eh for me. I like it when it’s with other colors, but I don’t mind it on it’s own. I like the shade of the symbol on your armor.” He commented, relaxing at the contact.

“Wanna know something funny?” He asks after a second, picking up your hand and turning it over, running a thumb across the veins in your wrist. “I thought my blood was blue for a solid week after we found each other.”

This startles you so hard you snort. “What?” You ask incredulously, pulling back to look at him. Rex flushes softly.

“Well, look.” He holds his wrist up next to yours, pointing out the bluish veins. “That’s not red, is it? I mean, I always thought my veins were red when I saw in greyscale, and then I see them in this kinda blue purple color and I was so confused- stop laughing, I’m serious!” He pokes you in the side as you wheeze, dark cloud lifting from your mood rapidly. Rex rolls his eyes.

“Anyways, I always thought these were red, because blood was red, see? And my side where it was all stitched up was bruised this blue and black color, so I go to Kix thinking that something was wrong, just for him to laugh at me too and tell me that for whatever stupid reason, the walls of our veins are darker than the blood in them and that when blood pools under your skin it can turn blueish because of extra iron and coagulation and other medical words that are definitely not in my training. But yeah, I thought my blood was blue for a while.” He huffs, then chuckles with you. “Hey, that would be pretty cool though. Bleeding Five-Oh-First blue. I could brag to Cody that I bled my battalion color.”

You’ve rolled out of his grasp at this point, laying back on your bunk as you try to catch your breath. “You-hah, you seriously thought your blood was blue?” You giggle. Rex just pouts and elbows you fondly.

“Laugh it up, sure. I’ll bet you had a color that surprised you too.” He looked at you expectantly.

You think for a second, then make a face. “I dunno… I guess I was expecting the jedi to be more colorful with how they dress. Commander Tano aside. They’re all about serenity and hope, and colors are so pretty you’d think they’d wear more of them to make others smile but instead they wear black and tan and white.”

Rex nods along. “Right? They have a whole spectrum and they choose the most boring colors. Did you know even our white armor is actually really colorful even before we paint it?” He asks. You tilt your head at him.

“No, it’s white?”

Rex is already shaking his head. “No, see the Kaminoans can see into the ultraviolet spectrum, right? So while all we see is clinical white they apparently have all of Kamino all these shades of colors we can’t see. Our armor is something like eight different colors that tell our rank and what generation we are and what batch we were in, and so on. And Kaminoans are colorful too. Kix translated some of the pictures into the visible light for us and they’re covered in stripes and spots and markings and tattoos denoting their work and achievements in all these colors only they can see.”

“Ok” You admit, “For stub nosed, stuck up slave drivers, that is kinda cool.”

Rex laughs at this. “I know, right?”

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, him laying down next to you.

“You know,” You speak up after a stretch, breaking the warm stillness, “I don’t get the deal with pink.”

“Pink?” Rex looks at you, confused.

“Yeah. So apparently Pink is such a big deal to natborn girls. It’s supposed to be our favorite color and boys are supposed to like blue and I don’t get it. It’s either so desaturated it’s boring, or it’s so bright it hurts your eyes.” You complain. Rex thinks about it for a second.

“Well, I know I fall into the stereotype for liking blue, but I think pink is nice too.” He admits, looking over at you.

“Why?”

To answer your question, he leans over and kisses you. “Because that’s the color you turn when I do that.” He grins cheekily. You shove him playfully, mindful of his still healing side.

“Hey! I can’t control that! It’s a natural response when an attractive person kisses you without warning!” It’s Rex’s turn to flush, his copper skin skipping pink and going rosy red. Suddenly, Red didn’t seem like such a bad color. The blush suites him.

“I’m a clone.” He says after a moment.

“You think that having brothers who look like you makes you less attractive? If you didn’t end up being my soulmate I probably would have asked you out eventually anyways.” You admit, snuggling into his side. His arms wrap around you and it feels natural. Right. This is where you were supposed to be, with him.

“Really? Even if there was a more perfect person out there for each of us?” He asks, resting his chin on your head.

“Impossible. We would have made it work.” You say firmly. “Besides. The universe knew better than to separate us.”

“That it did.” He’s silent for a long moment, and you almost think he’s dozed off before he speaks softly. “I know it doesn’t mean much because we’re already soulmates, but I think I love you.” He whispers as you turn around in his arms so you’re pressed chest to chest.

“…My parents weren’t soulmates.” You reveal, nuzzling into the space between his shoulder and neck. “Their soulmates both died young. They always taught me whether you’re a ‘perfect’ match for a person or not, love is always a choice.” You tip your head up and kiss the underside of his jaw. “I love you too.”

“I like that sentiment.” Rex murmurs, fumbling for a blanket and yawning. “Can we nap for a bit?”

“Mhm. I’ll set an alarm for dinner.” You relax into his arms, enjoying this moment.

Taglist: @toomanybandstocare @backyard-bear @endo-bunny

#clone wars soulmate au #gingerwrites #clone wars #the clone wars #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #captain rex #tcw captain rex #tcw rex

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ask-elland-n-will · 2 months ago

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I'm greedy and want to know everything, but:

4) in a modern au, would your mc use social media? what would their preferred platform be? why is if their preferred one?

23) when designing your mc, why did you choose the appearance you did? has it changed at all since you first made them? would you change anything now?

🤓💜

[4. 🦊 Oh, you just know Will would be all over it! Everything! TikTok, Insta, Twitter... Perhaps not as much Facebook but he'd have an official William Abbott page, along with LinkedIn. Of course he had a MySpace back in the day and is secretly running a Tumblr blog with all his fandom obsessions. Well, not secretly from friends cause it's not like he's ashamed. I see him using Twitter the most since he always has so much to say!

🌙 Elland is more reserved, he doesn't really have any interest in sharing his life online. Most of the pictures of him probably are on Will's Instagram anyway, he always finds the best angles. He is prone to doomscrolling late at night when he cannon sleep. I can't decide one the platform. Let's say Will got him addicted to TikTok.

🌸 Lilith, being an exchange student, still uses a lot of Russian media. She doesn't really care for Instagram and influencers, she's into really niche communities. Probably is the kind of person to still go to forums (she likes the vibe) and can spend hours of Reddit and Discord.

🔥 Cyrus is into pretty things, so Instagram + Pinterest moodboards (Will probably does that, too). Goes to Reddit for firework related stuff, probably created a few popular threads with how obsessed he is. Not a TikTok person but can casually scroll through Twitter and absolutely has some NSFW tumblr somewhere. The Female-Presenting Nipple Ban back in 2018 hurt him deep.

5. 🦊 William was fully created in HL. I needed slick hair that a good boy would wear. And I love gingers. Freckles — a must. Eyes — usually I would've gone for green-green but it felt like some variety this time, so it's a warm kind of green, close to hazel at the center. Basically I was creating a stereotypical cute redhead I've always wanted to see. His appearance didn't change, apart from me drawing him a bit differently now. And I'm not opposed to him letting his hair fall freely in the mornings and before bed, as well as making it a bit naturally curlier when he doesn't style his hair for classes.

🌙 Elland suffered due to how meh HL hairstyles were, nothing fit his DnD version. I think the style I have for him now is somewhat in the middle, I don't make it as straight as in the game but he still isn't slicking them back as in DnD. But he was in his 20s in DnD and needed to look presentable. Him in HL is more relaxed and casual.

Another thing that changed were his moles. I still like his og design with moles more, but HL didn't have them in the right spots... So I went with light freckles. Now when I draw, I try to out his moles back on: 2 on the right side of his chin, 1 above his left eyebrow, 1 below his right eye, and one on his left cheek not too far from the mouth.

🌸 Lilith was somewhat based on me: I had pink hair at some point, and even this haircut, same with eyes. She has a mole, like I do (although I have way more beauty marks). She is strong because I wanted to be strong. Nothing really changed in her appearance.

🔥 Cyrus was a fire genasi in DnD, his skin was unnatural pink, eyes had red/orange iris and even the black at the center wasn't black but had a bright halo-like outline, and his hair looked a bit like the firecrackers are playing in it. I had to tone is down for HL, of course, but that's why making him a metamorphmagus was important to me in rp: I could explain his really bright hair and red eyes.]

#william #elland #lilith #Cyrus #[Thank you for your question!#I am not proofreading this or I'll be stuck on it forever hahh #I do love it when you're greedy~]

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sleepingsongbird · 1 year ago

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Alrighty so I’m finally getting around to writing some modern au One Piece fic so I figured I should probably share some background for it!

Everything is set in one giant city and I have put way too much thought into this

City is roughly split up between the “four emperors”

The Grand Line(NE-SW) is the main commercial street that runs through the center of the city where every large group has a front. It intersects Red Street(NW-SE) which divides the territories. The Hospital sits at the East corner of where the Grand line and red street intersect.

Big mom’s pastries

The Red Force bar - cocktail bar

Kids repair shop

The Amazon Lily - Boa Hancock’s strip club

Rayleigh is a legal consultant and the only piece of neutral territory on the grand line

Marinefold- the Town hall sits dead center of Red street

Lodge square - located in the center in front of city hall

Pacifista church - run by Kuma, large mega church

Etc.

The Heart territory is a couple blocks in the East side that spans from Law’s apartment to the employee entrance of the hospital

All of the Hearts work either at the hospital or the Heart Club

Hearts are highly territorial despite being in Red Hairs area

The Hearts have tattoos but no markings on their medical uniforms

The large hospital where Law works is neutral territory and pretty much every doctor/surgeon there is affiliated with a group

The white coats of the doctors each have the symbol of their affiliated group embroidered with white thread. Each major group has at least one doctor that is deemed safe to go to

Kaido is a Yakuza group and Kin'emon’s group is the remnants of the Kozuki clan that are trying to retake the territory

East side is Red Hair

Locations-

Baratie- restaurant Sanji works at and common meeting place of the Straw Hats

Water 7- Large mechanic shop, Franky uses one of the workshops there for personal projects and to repair their Van(The Sunny)

The Heart Club- A below ground nightclub owned by Law

Patty’s bar- Run by Makino and frequented by Shanks

Mihawk’s Dojo- Zoro frequently trains there

Elegia recordings - Run by Shanks and started to Publish his daughter’s music

Uta started as a streamer then starting doing live performances once her popularity grew, she is often out of the city on tour

She is a very active protester and has been arrested multiple times

Soul KIng - Music supply shop owned by brook

Brook who was a famous musician who faked his death and moved into town to avoid the publicity (still very recognizable)

The straw hats live friends style with 3 apartments on the same floor. They are the local menaces and are constant up in everyone’s business

North Side is Kaido

Locations

Onigashima- Formally called the Kozuki theater was taken over by Kaido and turned into a club. Run by Orochi but paid for by Kaido. The daughter of Oden works undercover as a dancer.

Oden restaurant - Named after the late boss of the Kozuki family is run by his friends and son, current front to the Kozuki Yakuza group

DonQuixote Inc. headquarters- Center of Doffy’s operations and front for the family

Dressrosa Casino - run by Doflamingo. Hosts fights at its arena. Formerly run by the Riku family, Viola Riku currently sits on the board.

Punk Labs- Caesar’s lab, Donquixote is their parent company. Was formally run by Vegapunk.

Cipher pol - Government intelligence. Has agents stationed in every region

-Local occult shop run by Hawkins. Perona works part time doing seances

West side is Big Mom

Locations

Germa 66 publishing company- a well known action comic publishing company owned and run by Sanji’s family

Thriller Bark - Haunted house run by Gecko Moria

Zoo - Run by a wildlife conservation group called Zou

Drum University Campus - known for its medical programs

South side is Whitebeard

Locations

Local Police station

Alabasta Gallery - an upscale art gallery. Formerly run by the Nefertari family has recently become a front for the Baroque Works gang run by Crocodile selling counterfeit art

The family heir Vivi is a curator trying to gain evidence to take down Crocodile and restore the Gallery to its former glory.

Museum - has previously bought works from the prestigious Alabasta gallery. Robin works as a curator and researcher there.

The yami - dive bar run by Blackbeard

The coast(East Coast)

Impel Down- High security prison located on an island off the coast

Enies Lobby- an old mansion island now used for major celebrity and political events

The big top - an amusement park and circus located on the boardwalk. Run by Buggy. Alvida runs the big top in his absence.

Buggy is the primary informant in the city and also works as a clown at the local hospital to cheer up the patients and gather information.

The Barto Club - a bar and exclusive club dedicated to the strawhats gang. Run by Bartolomeo. Invitation only.

The Polar Tang- Luxury Yacht that Is outfitted with a full medical infirmary owned by the Hearts

Outskirts

Cocoyasi orchards - citrus farm owned by Nami’s family run by Nojiko

Baltago Cafe - front for the revolutionary army, an anarchistic group opposing the government. Koala is their head barista. Militia operations run by Dragon. Sabo is a member.

Feel free to use this as inspiration or setting for any fanfic or art just tag me so I can check it out!

#one piece #one piece modern au #modern au #one piece writing #straw hat pirates #red haired pirates #beast pirates #big mom pirates #whitebeard pirates #heart pirates #trafalgar d water law #one piece shanks #big mom #buggy the clown #dracule mihawk #one piece headcanons

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bunnyboo77 · 5 months ago

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The Mad King's Bride Chapter 5

Aerys who is now in his own chambers sitting with his eyes fixed on the secret people through which he watched Francesca. She stood among the other servants, her beauty shining like a beacon at midst the mundane surroundings of the bathing area. Aerys obsession for her was growing by the day a twisted desire that consumed his every waking thought.

He watched as she was tended to by the other women, with their hands grazing her skin with a gentle touch that sent a surge of jealousy coursing through him. The king loved the thought of anyone else laying a hand on what he considered to be his, even if it was another woman. Watching every detail as the servants removed her grubby garments showed her soft gentle skin that was coated in patches of dirt. The very thought of dirt being on her skin was an absolute disgrace to her beauty. The king made note of every curve every freckle every blemish that lay upon her skin. As she gently lowered herself into the metal bath the King's vision was obstruct it from seeing francescas beautiful curves. The light moans escaping her mouth as she lowered herself peaked the King's ears as if it was music to him.

In his dreams Francesca haunted him her image imprinted on his mind like it was branded with a hot iron. She appeared before him clad in the colours of his house a vision of beauty that both entranced and tormented him. Her eyes shone with a light that seemed to Pierce through his soul igniting a fire of desire that threatened to consume him whole.

Abruptly the king was entranced with the scene before him women anointing her skin with oil as two washed up and down her arms and legs though he could see that she wanted to pull away as the servants got lower down her body.

“Ohh my darling soon no one will touch your beautiful skin only me and I promise you you will never want to pull away from me whether you like it or not”

Considering he had watched her long enough the king close the hidden peep hole. As he got up from his chair two servant girls entered the room their faces blank and devoid of expression. They were here to wash and dress the king as he himself was getting ready for the first of many nights with his darling Francesca.

________________________________________________________________________________________

As the servants washed and dried Francesca adoring lavish dress was then presented to her. The dress itself was mainly red with trimmings of black running through the center of the dress with golden thread. The dress itself was exquisite and fitted her body perfectly, and she ran her hands through the dress the silk was nothing she'd ever touched before in her life. It felt almost like a dream but she knew it was not a dream but a nightmare.

“This dress is it's beautiful” she said hoping to start a conversation with one servant girl.

Not getting any response back she dared not open her mouth again as even though she's with others she feels alone in this world. Guided to the vanity her hair was brushed and then gracefully half braided that was all hold together with beautiful pins of flowers. The flower pins reminded her of the flowers in the gardens she would secretly walked through when she was not busy in the kitchens or anywhere else. How odd she thought her favorite flowers though no one could have known this.

As the servants finished with her makeup and hair they said not a word and vowed exiting the room.

As she paced about the room her mind raised questions and doubts. Would she ever be able to escape the confines of the gilded cage in which she was trapped.

“Ohh what am I to do” Francesca muttered to herself her voice tinged with anxiety.

“How did I come to this fate to serve a king who sees me as nothing more than an object”

_________________________________________________________________________________________

The candles surrounding the table reflected the tearful eyes of the servents as they careful place each fork and knife in it place. The room was dressed as if it was expecting Lords of the land but instead it was set for the king and his new plaything. Aerys awaited Francesca in his lavish dining room a look for excitement in his eyes. He was eager to have such a beautiful maiden adore in his arm her presence a symbol of his power and wealth. As Francesca timely entered the room her eyes downcast and expression fearful, the King's gate swept over her taking in her beauty with possessive delight.

Francesca was now visibly wearing the sigil of the dragon the emblem of the King's house a stark reminder of her newfound position at his side. As the king drank in her body from head to toe he couldn't help wonder how the dress would look on his floor or rather that the table as he ripped pieces off her and took her right there and then. Fearing that she would reject him Aerys paced himself as he wanted her to want to be with him to be touched by him willingly. The depiction of her bouncing on top of him was his goal but he wanted her to want him in everywhere possible.

The king did not notice the fear in her eyes as he ushered her towards the beautiful lady table adorned with an array of sumptuous foods and wines, rose water Shimmered in the candlelight casting a warm glow over the room. Francesca and if curiosity rose her eyes never has she seen so much sumptuous items laid before her in one place not counting the time she was expected to serve people in the grand hall.

As the king made his way towards Francesca, he gently escorted her to the lavish seat beside his own. Seemingly he was acting with such kindness and grace that itself was unknown to even himself.

“Before we sit my darling I do have a gift for you I had it made especially for someone as beautiful and radiant as you” the king spoke while taking a box that was placed in front of her chair. Teen presented with a gift was something huge Francesca as she grew up in a poor village she was not one for receiving gifts other than the wooden toys that was crafted by her father that was given every name day.

Hesitant to open the box Francesca knew if she didn't she would risk enraging the king for not accepting his gift. Pulling the bow the box opened by itself and presented in front of her was a gold chain necklace of which had a three headed black dragon with rubies in their eyes.

Francesca's eyes widened at the gift that was presented to her.

“Your majesty this is such a thoughtful gift and I appreciate such a kind gesture that you have made towards me, but a servant like me could never except something like this from you”.

With those words spoken the hope in his eyes faded and were replaced by rage.

“Nonsense you are no longer a servant you are my personal companion and I deem what is worthy for whoever whether that be gifts titles or even sentences”

with that last turn of phrase Francesca knew she had to paint on a smile and accept the King's offering.

“My apologies your majesty I did not mean to offend you only that I was never gifted with anything like this before, please forgive my rude behavior”.

With that trouble sees turned calm and the king took the necklace from the box placing it around her neck. The touch of his fingers around her collarbone sent a shiver down her spine but she did not want to show a reaction. Francesca could feel the boniness of his fingers as he ran through down the back of her neck.

Want you not to scare her he graciously took her hand and placed a gentle kiss on it and spoke with such gentle words” shall we my dear the food is getting cold”.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been an hour into dinner and already Francesca spoke with simple words with the yes or no with the King's never ending questions. Where did she grow up did she have siblings what is her favorite and least favorite things.

“My dear have you any brothers or sisters” thinking spoke with Joey and his eyes.

“No your majesty”she said.

“Have you any interest such as reading writing cooking” he spoke.

“no your majesty” she spoke.

Growing rather tired of her simple questions the king rose from his chair grabbed her throat of which he brought his face close to hers their nose touching ever so slightly.

“My dear you interest me but I have to say my interest will disappear if you speak like a simpleton”

with that he released her throat and she began choking. The act itself made something stir in his breaches. A soft pinging which he remembered he felt when he gazed in her doe eyes.

“I know this life my dear may seem like a prison but I assure you the prisons that are in this world far worse than the ones you will have with me” he spoke sipping on his cup.

“I shall give you time but I will grow impatient and I want you willing to be mine in both mind soul” and leaning closer to her ear he spoke “and body” licking the corner of her earlobe.

“Please no” she spoke staring at the lust filled eyes

#story #hotd #house of the dragon #fanfic #mad king #yandere #game of thrones #obsessive love #possesive love #aerys targaryen #house targaryen

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