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takingchences · 10 months ago

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𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐩𝐭. 𝟗

A descendant of a legendary quirk longs to separate herself from her family name, but first she'll have to confront villains, ghosts from the past, and her growing attraction for Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x OP!fem!oc

Warnings: mature language

series masterlist + my masterlist

After the attack, U.A gave the students the following two days off to rest and recover from their traumatic ordeal. Their first day back, Sana was horrified by the state of their homeroom teacher. Mr. Aizawa was wrapped head to toe in gauze, his eyes mere slits, with both of his arms in casts.

He looks like a freshly dead mummy.

She applauded his badassery and dedication, but after hearing from the others how serious his injuries were, she'd assumed (like a normal person) that the Pro Hero would at least be on bed leave for a few days. Considering how sleep deprived he seemed all the time, she thought he'd be thrilled. Apparently not.

He reminded them that the world famous U.A Sports Festival was drawing closer, and after recent events, all eyes would be on them. But no pressure, right? She balanced her chin on her fist.

Classes resumed like normal, as though USJ never happened. It wasn't until the final bell rang that things got, well, strange. Students from all grades and classes swarmed their classroom door, blocking them in. Shinso made a dramatic appearance, where he proceeded to declare war on their class and challenge the entire Hero Course for a spot. He'd made his intentions of joining the hero course clear very early into their friendship.

From how her classmates had described the entrance exam, people with quirks like Shinso's were doomed from the start. He never stood a chance making it into the Hero Course... until now.

He was determined to get noticed this time around, and Sana was willing to help him reach his goal however she could. She gave him tips to improve his training regimen and offered to spar with him whenever he wanted. The two had lunch together at his usual spot two or three times a week, and spent the majority of it exchanging memes and gushing over cute cat videos. Shinso was funny in a dry, sarcastic way that she appreciated. He was easy to talk to and his laid back attitude put her at ease.

He wasn't ready to join her at her table just yet, but she always kept a seat open just in case.

After finishing her homework, showering, and eating dinner, Sana set her grand plan in motion. Stretching out across her bed on her stomach, with her phone in one hand and a piece of paper in the other, she started typing.

Sent 8:03pm

Hey hotshot

Sent 8:06pm

The fuck

Sent 8:08pm

How the fuck did you get this number

Sent 8:09pm

I'm surprised you're still awake. You walk around like a grumpy old man with arthritic knees so I figured you'd be in bed by six

Sent 8:09pm

WHO THE FUCK IS THIS

Sent 8:10pm

If I told you I'd have to kill you

Sent 8:11

I'd kill you first

Sent 8:12pm

Good luck with that considering you have no idea who I am

Sent 8:13pm

Fuck you

Sent 8:13pm

How the hell did you get my number

Sent 8:15pm

I gave Midoriya an offer he couldn't refuse

Sent 8:16pm

FUCKING DEKU! ILL EXPLODE HIS ASS

Sent 8:16pm

That's kinky

Sana smirked down at the screen as the message bubbles danced, anticipating his reply. She giggled quietly to herself, picturing him stomping around his room throwing a fit. She could practically hear his demonic screeching through the device.

Irritating Bakugou brought her a special type of joy. The only other experiences that could compare were rebelling against her father, or cracking Shoto's mask of indifference. The ability to provoke such intense emotions in someone was addictive.

It took a few minutes for the boy to respond.

Sent 8:21pm

I'm losing fucking brain cells talking to you

Sent 8:21pm

Well I know you only have so many to spare so I'll make this quick

Sent 8:21pm

Train with me

Sent 8:23pm

The fuck

Sent 8:25pm

You know that's not technically a question right?

Sent 8:26pm

Meet me at Yoshida Park at 10:00am

Sent 8:26pm

Fuck off

Sent 8:27pm

You're right. What could you possibly teach me? I'd be better off asking Midoriya

Sent 8:27pm

YOUR ASS BETTER NOT BE LATE OR ILL FUCKING STRANGLE YOU

Sent 8:28pm

Another kink? I'm learning a lot about you Bakugou

Sent 8:29pm

FUCK OFF

Sent 8:31pm

Lmao

Sent 8:31pm

Good night hotshot

The blonde tossed his phone across the room, screaming curses at the unknown number.

"Shut up, ya damn brat!" His mother's loud voice scolded him from downstairs. "Isn't it past your bedtime?!"

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

Bakugou walked with purpose towards Yoshida Park. He was familiar with it, having spent most of his childhood exploring the grounds with his followers. It was a short walk, but he'd had all night to plan. The unknown number had disrupted his sleep schedule after all.

First, he'd go to the park and murder whatever extra had been unlucky enough to mess with him. Then, on his way back, he'd pay Midoriya a special visit.

He had a list of suspects he'd been going back and forth on. First on the list was Shitty Hair, but Bakugou quickly realized it couldn't have been the spiky-haired boy. The redhead was putting in a lot of effort to befriend him—even more so after their team up during USJ—but the boy was far too shy. Second and third on his list were Dunce Face and Scotch Tape. They shared one brain cell between them, and both were confident enough to say such provocative things, but not so dumb that they'd ask to meet him face to face afterwards.

They had to know it would only end in bloodshed... theirs to be exact.

That left Raccoon Eyes or Flashlight. He hadn't interacted much with the pink-skinned girl, only in group settings, and even then, she'd barely stop to acknowledge him before getting into shit with Dunce Face or her "wifey."

One by one he marked names off until only one dumbass remained.

He stopped at the entrance of the park, spotting said girl leaning against a tree. Thick lashes fanned out across her cheekbones, her arms loosely crossed. A red and white gym bag was slung over her shoulder. She wore black leggings paired with a cherry red sports jacket, her hair held back by her signature ribbon. Bakugou himself sported his usual baggy black sweatpants and low cut black tank.

Her eyes fluttered open, the jewel-like irises sparkling in the morning sun. "Right on time." She pushed off of the tree. "Have you stretched?"

"I'm not here to train." He glowered down at her, their faces inches apart. Sana's expression remained neutral, but her amusement was obvious in the curve of her lips. "I'm here to kick your ass-"

"Again with the ass thing," Sana tutted, shaking her head in disapproval. "Is that all you can think about?"

"Shut the fu-"

"Language, asshole." she hissed, smacking his arm as a family of four walked by them. Sana gave him a coy smile. "There are children present."

Bakugou was seconds away from blowing a fuse, crackling sounds filling the air as his palms smoked. "Come on," she slid her hand down his arm with a soft, feather-like touch to grab his wrist. "Let's get started."

Bakugou muttered threats and curses under his breath, but continued to follow her to a secluded area with a dense tree line. A few feet ahead, the trees parted to reveal a decent sized clearing. "How did you get that damn nerd to give you my number?" The blonde grumbled, ripping his arm from her grip.

"Oh, that?" She shrugged. "I bribed him with a limited edition All Might collectible." She remembered how flushed the greenette became after she cornered him after class the other day. He'd been a sweaty, stuttering mess until she'd unzipped her backpack and shown him what she'd hidden inside. Seeing Bakugou's pissed off face now, it was definitely worth all the yen.

"... which one."

Sana blinked. His gruff voice was so quiet that she nearly didn't catch the words. The boisterous blonde she'd come to know was now scowling passionately at a tree, but his mouth was... is he pouting?!

Her lips split into a chesshire grin. "My, my. Is the mighty Bakugou secretly a fanboy?"

His brows furrowed even further at the teasing. "Do you ever shut the hell up?" His hair seemed to puff up even more in anger. Cute. "I'm nothing like that nerd!"

"Aren't you the nerdy one, though?" Sana tapped her chin with her pointer finger, eyes rolled upwards as she pretended to think. "I'm pretty sure you scored higher than him on last week's test."

She smirked in delight as Bakugou's body began to vibrate in anger, his nostrils flaring.

She stretched her body, warming up her muscles in preparation for what was probably going to be one of the hardest training sessions of her life. Bakugou wasn't the type to do anything without giving it his all. It was as admirable as it was daunting. She rolled her shoulders back, her neck popping with a satisfying crack. "Ready?"

The blonde smirked, his hands sparking to life. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

Fighting Bakugou proved to be even more of a challenge than she'd anticipated. He was strong and fast, every movement well thought out and well executed. He was also relentless, refusing to give her any time to recover or even think. It was purely instinctive, forcing her to rely on her reflexes. She was suddenly grateful for the decade of combat training Endeavor had instilled in every fiber of her being.

It was different, to say the least.

She was so used to going up against Shoto. Back when they were still talking, she'd been able to anticipate his movements with one look. Maybe that was part of the problem. Were they so intune with each other that there was no longer room for improvement? Had they reached a point in their training where they were unable to learn from each other going forward?

Sana groaned, returning to the problem at hand. She threw the blonde a dirty look for the particularly hard kick he'd just delivered to her side. He huffed a laugh, his lips parted in a crooked smile. "Not so cocky now, huh?"

"That's funny coming from you." She lunged, finally landing a hit to his jaw. They'd been at it for hours now, and Bakugou showed no sign of stopping anytime soon. There was no way he wasn't as exhausted as she was, but she knew he'd rather die than admit to such a thing. As if being human was equivalent to him being weak.

After another half hour of this, she finally gave up.

"Okay, okay." Sana backed away, holding her palms up in surrender. He stopped mid punch, his eyes narrowed. "Let's take a break."

He clicked his tongue, watching as she approached the gym bag she'd abandoned in the shade, walking back to him and dropping it at his feet. The pastel teen crouched to unzip the bag, removing two towels, some protein bars, and two water bottles. He caught the towel she tossed him with ease, swiping the fabric across his face and jaw. She plopped down on the ground, motioning for him to do the same. With an annoyed grunt, he complied, snatching the water and snack out of her hands.

She shook her head in amusement, knowing he wasn't nearly as frustrated as he pretended to be. "So dramatic," she muttered under her breath.

Surprisingly, the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. It was actually pretty nice. She could hear the small sounds of nature around them: the low buzz of insects and the soft rustling of tree branches above their heads. It was something she'd never associated with Bakugou before...

Peaceful.

After practically inhaling their protein bars, the two teens laid down on their backs in the grass. The sky had darkened to a dark blue, a few stars already visible.

Sana turned her head to peek at the boy next to her. Both of their chests were heaving lightly, their skin dewy with sweat. He had his arms folded behind his head with his eyes closed. As if feeling her gaze, he cracked one eye open and grimaced.

"What're you staring at?" Even in the limited light, she could've sworn his cheeks were now dusted in a rosy hue.

"Nothing," she averted her gaze, her own face burning under his scrutiny. "It's just... I'm glad you stayed." Sana admitted softly. Never in her life had she felt so bashful. It took everything in her not to squirm uncomfortably as she waited for him to say something. Anything. Bakugou scoffed, his eyes hooded as he watched the sky slowly darken. Sana joined him in stargazing. After a few minutes, the blonde cleared his throat.

"I guess it wasn't a complete waste of time."

Sana snickered. "That was really hard for you to admit, wasn't it?" A tch was his only response, but in the limited light, it almost looked like he was smiling. They stayed like that until the sky glittered with stars, like diamonds against midnight velvet. The two teens climbed to their feet, dusting dirt and grass off of their clothes. Sana called out just as Bakugou made to leave.

"Wait." The blonde turned to glance over his shoulder. The solar-powered girl riffled through her gym bag before pulling out a medium-sized package. "Here," she held it out for him to take. Bakugou removed his hand from his pocket and took the box. Flipping it around, his eyes widened. His jaw loosened in shock.

"The hell...?"

Sana rubbed her neck, avoiding looking directly at the blonde. "I figured I owed you for coming down here." She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. "You don't have that one, right?"

Bakugou clutched the box containing the limited edition Silver Age All Might figurine tightly. He remembered demanding his parents for one as a child. How they'd waited in line outside the store for hours, only for the shelves to be completely empty once they made it inside. How every store they went to was the same: the toy having sold out nationwide just hours after being released.

But here one was, after a decade of searching, in perfect condition... right in the palm of his hand.

"Bakugou?"

He slowly lifted his head, vermillion eyes clashing with dark pink. A million questions raced through his mind. How had she known?

Sana bit her lip to contain her giddiness. She inched closer to him until there was hardly any space left between them. She inhaled the sweet scent of caramel and cologne that always clung to him. "Your number isn't the only thing Midoriya told me," she lifted herself on the balls of her feet, her breath hitting his cheek. "Katsuki."

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

They met up the next day, and the day after, until it became almost routine for them. They'd meet at Yoshida Park, or make the trip together straight after school if neither had plans. It came as a surprise to them both how well they got along when no one else was around. Sure, they still had the occasional spat, but it was mostly playful bickering and teasing to rile the other up. They both had a dark sense of humor, an almost unhealthy competitive streak, and a punch first, ask questions later approach to situations.

One afternoon, Bakugou had to leave earlier than usual. He'd grumbled something about 'dinner with the old hag' before storming off. Sana figured his grandparents were in town or something and decided to take off early too.

She texted Mina, asking her if she was free to hang out. The pinkette responded to her message at lightning speed, sending her the address of a cute new bakery she'd been dying to try. The walk took fifteen minutes or so. She spotted Mina waiting outside, the pink-skinned girl squealing as soon she noticed her. They shared a hug before entering the shop, quickly ordering drinks and a few desserts to share. Mina led her over to a table by the window, her hands clasped under her chin.

"So," she narrowed her black and yellow eyes suspiciously. "Where's your shadow?"

"My what?" Sana leaned forward. Mina followed suit, lowering her voice as if her next words were top secret.

"Bakugou, duh."

"What?" Sana fell back in her chair with a laugh.

Mina waved her hand around dismissively. "You know what I mean. Wherever you are, he's bound to show up sooner or later." The waiter appeared with their order, interrupting the energetic girl before she could go on.

Sana reflected on her friend's words as she sipped on her bubble tea. It was true that Bakugou always seemed to be around whenever she needed him. He'd helped her during the stampede in the halls, as well as telling off that reporter for her. He'd been by her side before the class was separated by the warp villain. While she'd been recovering after the USJ attack, Shoto had briefly mentioned something about her helping Bakugou, though she didn't remember much. The blonde hadn't said a word to her about it, and she'd been too preoccupied with not thinking about USJ.

"I guess I..." she answered softly. "I hadn't noticed."

Mina paused mid-sentence, having already moved onto another topic. Some third year gossip she'd heard from Hagakure, who'd overheard some upperclassman whispering about it during break.

She'd noticed how her friend had been pushing herself harder since the villain attack. How busy she was with training. Mina hadn't been there with her when she was attacked, but she'd seen the damage inflicted on the villains. Afterwards, Kirishima mentioned how strange Sana had acted right before the teachers' arrival. "You'd tell me, right?" Mina pressed, her pretty face troubled. "If something was wrong?"

It was odd hearing the bright, cheerful girl suddenly sound so serious. It didn't fit her character at all. Sana forced a radiant smile, wanting any doubts about her or their friendship to disappear. She trusted Mina, she really did, but she didn't want to burden her with her problems, especially when she was still trying to figure them out herself.

"Of course," Sana assured her. "We're best friends after all."

A scarred, yet handsome face came to mind. She wondered if it was normal for best friends to hide things from each other. In Recovery Girl's office, Shoto had implied that she'd betrayed him in some way. If only she knew what the hell he was talking about.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #bnha x reader #boku no hero acedamia #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugō #bakugou fluff #bnha oc #bnha fluff #bnha shoto #shoto todoroki #aizawa shouta #bnha eijiro kirishima #mina ashido #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakusqaud

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carnis-scriptorivm · 2 years ago

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Knighted Imps Entry

Log #110

Scholar Garrow Trundar of Silarutan College of Naturalism

Expedition into Fathilian Forest “woodland devils”, funded and fully sanctioned by Naturalis Academic Threen of Silarutan College of Naturalism

It’s the fourth day now. I write this as a record before my mind becomes too muddled from mead and exhaustion. Barnabas and Parthenon bought me some time while I managed to write a report.

Fathilian Forest. I heard rumors of “woodland devils” from this particular forest. Speaking to the local villagers, Fathilian Forest was apparently haunted by “devil looking creatures” whose shadows could be seen dancing. They were also heard making horrendous sounds of clanging, screeching metal throughout the day and night. Since then, the locals claimed it was haunted and no one had entered.

With permission, I was allowed a small escort to Fathilian Forest. Accompanying me is Sir Barnabas of the Knight’s Guard, and an apprentice wizard whose name currently escapes me. Apologies, I do think it rhymed with Parthenon (it was Thranan).

Within the first day of the expedition we found something strange. In the middle of these thick woods lay a castle of some kind. The craftsmanship was surprising, even Sir Barnbas was impressed. He noted that it was a fine keep, though strangely small for a fortification, even its drawbridge was smaller than a normal sized person. Parthenon made sure to remind us that although the keep was oddly shaped, it was also an oddity of where this keep was. Isolated in a forest with no flags we could recognize.

Before we were able to discuss, we were greeted by the loud sounds of instruments and the small drawbridge opened before us. Small creatures, the size of a child, marched out together in unison. They were in a strange little parade with small instruments and banners. They were covered head to toe in plate armor with room for what appeared to be small, furry horns and tails. Sir Barnabas went to draw his blade, as I heard him mutter some old knight’s prayer. Luckily, I managed to stop his immediate aggression (fellow scholars do learn how to deal with the type to kill before asking questions when hiring an escort) as they appeared non-violent. Their leader, “The Noble Comedian” Syr Mythril Ting, spoke to us in what I could only describe as the Common language mixed with the sounds of pots and pans being bashed together.

Apparently we were invited into Steed Keep, the Keep of the fastest Steeds in the land, as proclaimed by our guide. The castle was of intricate, albeit crammed, construction. Though we noticed a lack of steeds or any mounted animal for that matter. My companions were nervous of course and failed to see the grandeur of this discovery. A full society of undiscovered woodland beings with a strange love for knighthood. Not only that, they could speak and describe their cultures and norms! Barnabas lacked my enthusiasm, saying that it was an affront to all knights. Though his tune certainly changed when the creatures asked him all manner of things about knighthood.

Speaking of, Barnabas was the center of attention and the reason we were invited in. The creatures were overwhelmingly joyous at the rarity of seeing a real knight come into their castle. They swarmed Barnabas with offerings of drink, food, and even the odd trinket or two. Barnabas appeared like a father teaching his children about the ways of being a knight.

And this is what started it. The celebration. Syr Mythril Ting and Syr Gold Donk were excited to announce a knighting celebration. They lined up in front of Barnabas to be officially knighted by a real knight. Barnabas tried explaining the validity he held, but he was far too kind to let his “horned children” know the truth. By the way, the horns are not real horns, they are simply ears that appear as such. In fact, I asked Syr Mythril and he was horrified at the prospect of devils. As he put it:

“Devils are the number two enemy of knights!! Dragons are number one! Evil Knights are number three! Party poopers are number four!”

I am currently writing this entry on the fourth day of the Knighting celebration. Apparently, since Barnbas knighted ALL of them, they must celebrate each one’s knighting individually. There are currently 23 of these creatures. Parthenon has sung the same song nearly two days straight now with none of these creatures tiring from it. Barnabas has participated in several jousting matches. As it turns out, their “incredible steeds” are the creatures themselves. They took turns riding on the shoulders of their greatest steed yet; Barnabas. I had the honorable duty last night of entertaining the creatures in all manner of naturalist discoveries. To be fair, they were more excited than the average senior student at the college. This expedition has been a success, though I caution all those that come across these creatures.

Befriend them at your own discretion.

#dnd stuff #ttrpg #dnd5e #dnd monster #monsters #Fantasy #writing #creative writing #dnd

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sigmadolos · 2 years ago

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@bitterseadrop said: the searing pain she was anticipating did not come. in fact, there was nothing at all. her eyes went wide with bewilderment as she noticed what had happened — sigma was the one to save her from tragedy.

things were certainly not going according to plan and she had to admit, if it were anyone else she probably would have taken the chance to get herself to safety first. but him? she‘d be lying if he wasn‘t a person she was treading on eggshells around and she was sure the feeling was mutual. it didn‘t change the fact that she was in his debt though. if it weren‘t for him, she probably would have bled out in a back alley on that fateful day where a port mafia lackey had gotten the spring on her.

" oh you fucking idiot, " she cursed underneath her breath, all the while trying to stop his bleeding. her plan wasn‘t the only one that didn‘t go down as expected, as the perpetrator made a run for it when he noticed that he hadn‘t shot his intended target. underestimating him would be a mistake though, as the most inexperienced lackeys were usually the more dangerous ones.

there was no time to ponder on that now. she could hunt his ass down later and make him regret his actions, but for now she ( quite literally ) had more pressing matters on hand, " don‘t you dare die on me now, bastard. "

MY MUSE TAKES A HIT TO PROTECT YOURS FROM A FATAL ATTACK, SEND YOUR MUSES REACTION

It’d been a swift step into Death’s path, but not a blind one. Nor a careless one, not truly. What better way to prove something of genuine good intention than taking the hit? There hadn’t been TIME for any other option if he wanted to spare her life. So the manager had taken a step into the role of guardian angel to see that the string of her life was not so abrupt cut short.

Pain explodes through his chest, ripping through him as Sigma wavers in his spot for a moment before he tumbles to the ground with long stands of hair and coat trailing behind him like feathers from a down bird as he collapses ono the ground. His lips part, drawing in ragged gasps of air - yet he does not cry. He does not scream or wail or thrash, but lays quietly with only his shuddering breaths despite the immense amount of pain that he had to be enduring. Perhaps there is something horrifying in that fact if someone were to reflect on it, that he can endure so much pain and stay mute, still force a wobbly smile as if it doesn’t matter. Not many professionals could, let alone a supposedly average person.

He’s endured so much pain over the years that he is no stranger to it. Even to this intensity, it is not his first time. Had he wanted to cry out, Sigma was not sure he COULD have. Too often even a mere whimper brought excruciating additional pain or the threat of starvation by those who’d once help him captive. Now he endured his pain in silence.

“ A thank you would suffice. “ He chokes out with a weak laugh, only to wince in pain when it forces another wave of fresh blood out of the open wound. His chest feels alarmingly warm and sticky while his fingers and toes feel cold, as though winter were reaching out to touch them. “ It’s- It’s okay. If you need to go. Don’t waste it on me. “ He swallows the pain clenched behind his teeth, tries to offer something like a reassuring smile but he’s certain it falls flat. If only because the white of his suit makes the blood all the more pronounced and visible to the eye.

His lips tremble slightly. It hurts. The wound hurts, her hands hurt, but the pressure is necessary to stop the blood. He needs to stay conscious, that is important. And so the wounded angel still fights, with crimson stained breast and shaky breaths, he refuses to fall into the embrace of the unconsciousness.

“ I don’t- don’t plan to. “ Sigma struggles to form the words, they feel heavy and odd in his mouth, but still he manages to speak. Each breath brings a fresh wave of agony but breathe he does. Because that is life, breathing and fighting through the struggles and pain. “ S- Sorry. He got away because of me, didn’t he? “ The usual light of his silver eyes turns grey with misery, a light snuffed out to their spark even as he still endures.

#bitterseadrop #:) nothing like a severely injured man #saying not to WASTE time on him #sigma honey nooooo #blood tw #also love the reference to the other thread #*Chefs kiss*#and your formatting was just fine !!#ic || the angel of the aerial casino

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charnelhouse · 2 years ago

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you'll be waiting in vain

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Stark!F!Reader Wordcount: 3.2K Warnings: smut. jealousy. daemon being daemon. Semi-Outdoor handjobs. Summary: “Go back to Dragonstone, husband,” you order coldly. “You’ve spilled your seed.” A/N: Someone requested a reader being daemon's reluctant bride like his first marriage. sexual tension. hatred. insinuations that daemon can't get it up. Title from eyes on fire by blue foundation

The first time is a shock to both of you. He had come to linger at Winterfell though he had hardly visited since your wedding. The marriage had been a failure from the start. The ceremony silkily resplendent, and the bed empty. The following day, Daemon had sent you home.

Now, he only visits because of his King. Caraxes loathes the cold, and so does the hot-blooded Daemon. One does not go without the other.

Daemon, by his own arrogant creed, despises everything you are.

The long-faced Starks. The North even though their lineages are just as old as Targaryens. Valyria. Brandon the Builder. The First Men. Dragons. Direwolves.

He comes without notice, the high-pitch whistle of Caraxes is the first battle call to announce his arrival. You smooth your gowns and fiddle with your hair before you glide out of the castle to greet him. Caraxes lands brutally, claws sinking into mud and shattering a few wheelbarrows of chickens. They shriek before going silent, and you grimace, knowing that it won’t reflect well on you.

As if you had invited him here. As if you did anything with your prince. The bright red dragon’s lean, enormous body shudders in the wind. His gleaming eyes register your presence, and you’d swear there is curiosity circling the pupil, a glimmer of recognition before he twists his head to look at his rider.

Daemon, in leathers and his ridiculous helmet, slides from his mount. His black velvet clothing is threaded in scarlet. The Dragon. The Rogue Prince. He is handsome and terrible with his violet irises and silver hair. The Northerners despise him, utterly bereft that their Stark Lady has married Targaryen filth. He removes his gloves as he saunters toward you before he stills. He cocks his head, eyes trailing from your toes to your brow.

“Why are you here, husband?”

“Have you grown taller?” He steps closers, looming over you with a sharp, observant glare. “You look different.”

You cross your arms over your chest and square your shoulders. “Why are you here?”

“Prettier,” he mutters. “Tell me, is there some great Northern oaf fucking you? Making you bloom like this?”

Horrified, you draw back as if he’s slapped you. The question is outrageous, and instinctively you lift your hand before he snatches your wrist.

“A jest,” he drawls, mouth quirking. “As for my arrival here? My brother wants me to fulfill my husbandly duties and seed you, wife.”

You can’t control your expression. Starks are not well trained in courtly etiquette, and your shock screams across your face. Daemon fully grins; it is the first time you’ve ever seen it.

He taps your chin to force your mouth closed before he brushes past you. “Don’t worry, sweetling,” he says over his shoulder. “We can keep up the farce. Just order my rooms ready, and I will ask nothing else of you.”

Bastard.

You wrap your arms around your waist, suddenly freezing. You watch Caraxes rise slowly before flying away, blotting out the white sun to hunt, sleep, or whatever dragons do.

His wings shake the ground.

***

Daemon does not ask for much. He keeps to himself, reading books and studying the lands outside Winterfell. One morning, you dare to climb the battlements to catch a glimpse of him.

It’s dawn. The air is cold and biting. The sky is purple, flushed with pink and red. It reminds you of the heart tree and Caraxes’s scales. Daemon, tall and imposing, is leaning against the wall. His silver-blonde hair is braided away from his face, rest of it falling in a mess of curls and tangles like the weather has whipped it up. The rising sun gilds his profile and, for a moment, you are struck dumb at his beauty.

You are so used to his dry sarcasm and guarded countenance that you don’t expect this: his distant, vulnerable gaze adrift on the horizon before him. He seems lost in a memory.

“Planning where to build your castle?” you ask, splitting the silence.

He drops his head, smiling and you should have known he sensed your presence the second you’d stepped into his space. “The Northmen would have my head, darling one.”

You bristle at the sweet name, but allow it as you have allowed all of his transgressions. “When will you leave?”

He glances at you over his shoulder. “When I have sated my pleasure.”

You scowl. “There is no one here for that.”

His eyes brighten and he stands before strolling toward you. “No one?” He cocks his head. “My dear, there is a lovely little house just beyond the gates. I’ve made quite a impression I think.”

You’re stunned. You did not realize that he’d been entertaining himself at the brothel where your own bannermen have no doubt seen him. Your cheeks burn hot at the humiliation. The entire reason Daemon has flown to Winterfell is to fuck you and he’s made it glaringly obvious that you haven’t sufficed. You’ve had enough of his pompous attitude, his princely sentiment. He thinks he owns the North simply because he’s married you.

You lift your chin, narrowing your gaze. His brow furrows as if he recognizes the imperceptible change in your demeanor. You’ve only been the winsome, docile wife. The subserviant lady.

You will show him. You will show your bitterness.

“Daemon.” you purr as you grip him by the shoulders and drag him backwards into the entrance of the watchtower. It’s cold here. The stones are wet and the torches unlit.

“Aroused, are we?” he taunts as he allows you to guide him. “Did jealousy do the trick? The thought of me fucking some whore with my-”

You abruptly grasp him over his trousers and he chokes on his tongue. Quickly, you undo the laces and slip your hand past the band. You feel him - hard, long, and pulsing. You squeeze his length, slide your thumb over the head as he begins to grind into your touch. With your other hand, you tangle it into his long hair. Your nails dig into his skull and he buries his face into your throat, his lips are warm on your skin as he groans. He croaks your name and oh the power of it…to feel him trembling in the cradle of your palm.

You fist his cock with a roughness to match his ugly exterior. You twist and rotate your wrist as you keep an even pace. You lower your gaze to watch, mesmerized every time the fat blushed head peeks between your curled fingers as you stroke down.

“Like this, my prince?” He is pinning you to the wall with all of his weight, his thigh locked between your legs as his hands fly to your waist. He smells like Winterfell and burning coals. He makes a broken sort of noise from the middle of his chest. You thought he’d be louder, but he appears to even control the volume of his pleasure. Guarded. Severe. Daemon.

You notice the vein in his throat rolling with his heartbeat and the wolf in you desires a taste. You lunge and sink your teeth into it. Daemon rumbles, jerking violently against you as he spills into your hand.

The seed is warm in the cold and you imagine that if you raised your hand to the air, it would steam like a hot pool. You say nothing as Daemon tries to calm his ragged gasps.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, unlatched from its usual wicked reserve. “You’re a plague,” he accuses.

You laugh as you pivot out of his embrace. You’re slippery and empty, hunger pawing between your legs as you meet Daemon’s hellbent, almost-furious, gaze.

“Who knew the cold, frigid Starks could be so welcoming,” he remarks dryly as he tried to elegantly step away, tucking himself back into his trousers. He’s shaken, vulnerable because you’ve unhanded him. You take the moment to deal a kill shot.

You lift your fingers, sticky with his seed, and taste it, lick it like you’re savoring lemon icing. His eyes widen a touch and you count it as a win against him.

Shocking Daemon Targaryen is your latest game. You are not the frigid wolf girl he believes you to be. He has put you into a box and you have decided to burn it down.

“Go back to Dragonstone, husband,” you order coldly. “You’ve spilled your seed.”

***

Daemon is gone for a month before he returns. It is a new record for him. He has always left for whole seasons, sometimes a year.

You hear Caraxes’s shriek. It wakes you, makes your heart stutter. Inexplicably, something molten trails down your belly before settling in your core. You think of Daemon out there, waiting for your arrival and being refused. You think of his spend on your tongue. The salty nip of it. Your nipples pebble and your back arches and you dip your hand between your legs and sink two fingers into your cunt.

You think of Daemon’s red, throbbing cock. You add a third finger. You stretch yourself, rub your clit and whimper into the blankets. You can hear him in the hall, boots echoing like fallen statues. He’s shouting something to the servants. He’s terribly angry. You quicken your pace, your pleasure builds into a howl before you fall over the edge.

He throws open the door. His face is covered in grime and he stinks of a battle.

Who have you been fighting, dearest? Who have you been trying to conquer?

You coyly sit up, attempting to look shocked. He’s standing there, staring and there is a tangible tension between you that rings like a bell. You slip from your bed and glide over to him. His eyes catalogue every piece of your body to note what new change you have to present. The bare skin, the white, fluttering sleeping gown. You touch his cheek with the hand you stuck in your cunt not a few minutes before.

For a second, you think he knows…he can smell you. He flushes, the pink dazzling his pale milk-skin.

He steps away from your hand and shifts on his feet as his violet gaze wanders everywhere, but your face.

“Would you like to touch him?” Daemon asks hesitantly. He’s in a linen shirt and coal black trousers. His dirty boots.

You frown. “Who?”

“Caraxes.”

It is absurd. Daemon has arrived with no warning. He has stormed into your room without any sense of courtesy before nervously asking if you’d like to pet his dragon.

“Oh,” you smile with real emotion. “Oh, yes please!”

***

“He likes you.”

Daemon’s features are twisted into incredulity. He watches as your fingers stroke Caraxes’s long snout.

Your stranger-husband had been uncharacteristically protective, putting himself in front of you before taking your hand and placing it on Caraxes’s hide. When Daemon was distracted, you’d gradually creeped toward the enormous jaws intending to peer the red dragon in the eye.

Daemon had nearly had a fit, rushing toward you before stopping dead in his tracks. Caraxes was purring, rumbling under your ministrations.

“I do not-”

“The Starks have a way with incredible creatures, Daemon,” you explain, amused at his horror. “We have magic in our blood just as Targaryens do.”

“I’ve never heard of a dragon submitting to a Stark,” he argues, sounding slightly disturbed.

“He doesn’t submit to me. He’s tolerating me,” you clarify. “A Direwolf would be another story.”

Daemon huffs before moving behind you. His broad chest touches your back, his chin grazes the side of your temple. He hovers over you before his hand clasps the top of yours and you both caress Caraxes’s snout. He lowers his head so that his warm breath tickles your ear. “Would you like to fly?”

***

You didn’t care for the flying. The air was too cold and you didn’t have the proper attire. Daemon had to wrap his larger body around yours in order to keep you warm.

Despite yourself, you had enjoyed that part. You enjoyed the way he spoke to you about how to fly Caraxes: what he tells him, how they move with eachother. He’d pressed against your back with all of his lean, tough muscle. He said something to you in old Valyrian that you could not parse, but figured it was either crude or an insult.

When you land, your guards lose their minds.

You are freezing, my lady.

You could have fallen!

You cannot ride a dragon.

Your husband has endangered you.

Daemon, with all of his syrupy contempt, rolls his eyes.

“Of course, I brought my lady wife up to the sky to catch her death,” he drawls. “You’ve caught me.”

“Daemon,” you warn before pinching the back of his arm. He abruptly stops so that you stumble into him. He smoothly reaches back, his calloused hand catching your hips to steady you. His bones are firm and he’s still blazing hot from riding Caraxes. Before you can stop yourself, you lean forward, mouth against his cheek.

“It’s not a bad plan, my prince. Winterfell could be yours.”

He turns, nostrils flaring as he levels you with a steely look. “Not until I’ve had the Lady Stark.” His voice so full of suggestion, it nearly hurts. “Not until then.”

***

For all the Targaryen flair, Daemon is a warrior at his base. He does not mind the mud, blood, and shit that a soldier’s life offers. The longer he stays, the more he seems to relate to the Northerners.

Your people are unyielding and unbreachable. They speak to him with respect, but are difficult to woo. Daemon tries his best before finally utilizing his wit at the expense of the old North houses to entertain himself. He is gleeful as he converses in double-entendres that go over Lord Mormont’s head.

“Everyone is so rigid,” he bites as he sprawls out in a chair by the fire. He’s drunk on Northern ale and you are already in your bed. No one will say a word that you’re sharing a room. Sometimes you forget that you’re married.

“They’re a cold sort,” you agree.

“Winter is coming,” he slurs with disdain as he drops his face into his hand and stares unseeing at the fire. He watches the flames crackle for a long time before he finally speaks. “Yet you are full of heat. Fire. Blood.” He looks to your bed. “I did not see you on our wedding night..I did not see you at all. You were entirely forgettable.”

You flinch, hurt by the reminder that he had abandoned you that night to roam, drink and fuck. He’d never consumnated the marriage and you had sobbed in your gown because you did not understand the rejection.

“Go to your lovely little brothel then,” you growl and his head snaps to attention.

“You do not hear me,” he protests as he stands.

“Leave,” you snap with all of your loathing and bitterness. He has slapped a nerve, hit you where you are raw and weeping. He had ignored you for years, forced you to rot in Winterfell. You were married, but remained untouched. It spills out of you - so much ice. “Go stick your cock in another, prince,” you sneer as you dig your nails into your thigh to keep from crying. “If you can even get it hard enough for the deed.”

His teeth audibly clench, a tiny muscle in his jaw flexes. “As you wish then,” he declares in a cold, severe tone before he storms out of your room.

You burst into tears, stricken with grief at your own actions. Your brother has gone to war. Your parents dead. You are alone aside from your guards and the Septa who raised you. You only have Daemon, the delicious promise of the rogue prince to ease the repetitive, unending boredom. He scares you. He leaves you soaked and feverish. He makes you want to devour everything, fight him tooth and nail until he nails you down and conquers you like Aegon himself.

You do not want to be the forgettable girl in the box. The girl not allowed to ride dragons.

***

He enters your room in his clothes from the night before. You regard him cautiously, embarrassed at your outburst. Your blatant jealousy.

“Daemon...” you begin haltingly.

He wordlessly stalks forward, both hands grasp the hinges of your jaw before he kisses you fiercely. It is bruising. He forces your back against the window, pins you with his thigh as his tongue plunges past your lips to stroke inside your mouth in the reflection of a fuck. You push at his shoulders, shove at him before pulling him back to you.

“Lift your skirts,” he demands in a soft voice between kisses. “I will prove you wrong.”

“I won’t touch if you have laid with others.” Proud, despite the way you’re arching into him, rub yourself against the velvet of his tunic.

He draws back to hold your gaze. “I did not,” he swears. “I drank in the crypt until morning.” He ducks his head, expression almost sheepish.

You laugh, unable to stop yourself. The thought of your arrogant dragon prince sullenly drinking beneath the ground. He rolls his eyes and presses his mouth to yours again. “I want you, wife.” His lips slide down your jaw to your throat as he speaks to you, seduces you. “I have thought of nothing else but that Northern cunt since you licked my seed from your fingers.”

His voice is rich and low, grazing your skin and your bones and the deepest part of your womb. You fist a hand into his hair to wrench him closer. You want to ride the dragon.

***

He handles you well, observing your gestures and reactions. What do you like? What will you like once he teaches you to like it? He teases your sex with his fingers, stroking and petting as he nurses his thumb against the bud at the peak of it. “That’s it,” he croons. “Relax into it, lady love.”

He takes your knees in hand and forces them back against your breasts. He spreads you as he guides his cock into your slick heat. It is difficult, but he works his way inside as you bloom around him. He does it slow, controlled. He teases the head, pushing it past your entrance, smearing it against your folds, before drawing back. He drives in an inch, then two before removing himself completely. You cry, digging your nails into his tapered waist, the flesh of his ass. When he finally buries himself, it is a shock. He groans into your mouth, marveling at the tightness, the near pain of trying to fit himself. It is the only time he is loud…the only time he cannot smother it. You take it as a victory before you become a mess.

As he braces his weight above you, he fucks you slow. Each burning drag of his cock forces a sob from your mouth that he steals away with his lips.

‘Hush, darling,” he murmurs. “Wouldn’t want to terrify your guardsmen.”

“Don’t stop,” you beg. “Please.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grins as he grasps your ass to lift your hips. The angle changes and he thrusts down so that the head of his cock batters against your womb.

He snatches your chin, his blunt nails bite into your skin. “The cold works for you,” he husks. “My Northern beauty.” He lowers his mouth a breath from your own. “My little wolf.”

Your chest tightens, your belly warming under his praise. Daemon’s appreciation is a rare thing. He fights everything offered to him. He bullies himself against the world until he cracks his own skull. You feel his hand catch the nape of your neck, grip it firmly. He traces the tender flesh that stretches around his cock, flicks and pinches the bead that sparks pleasure through your limbs. You shiver, thighs locked around his waist.

“Do you feel it?” he asks as you clench around him, walls pulsing as your lower muscles bear down. Even beneath him, you’re riding the dragon. You’re digging your knees into his ribs to straddle the beast. You hold his face between your hands as the warm, golden song dances beneath your skin, it simmers until it bubbles. It grows and grows and then you fall to pieces, cunt knotting around him, sucking him to your throat like it was your own desperate mouth. “Fuck,” he growls with another sharp pump of his hips. “Fuck - you feel it.”

He continues, possessing you in short, frantic strokes. The bed creaks. A log in the fire chars and hits the stone floor. Caraxes roars in the distance and you momentarily feel the blood of the dragon shoot through Daemon’s veins. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder just as he sheathes himself to the hilt, his body blanketing your own. The sweat from his brow hits your tongue. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his fingers clutch the sheets as if to anchor himself, bind himself.

“This feels…this feels…”

You are nailed to the ground, a ready sacrifice. A marriage. You are connected, tangled, wolf and dragon. Ice and fire.

“We have magic in our blood,” he realizes, scraping his teeth along your collar bone. Inside your core, he throbs like a beating heart. “I taste it on you.”

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen fanfic #hotd #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #daemon targaryen fanfiction

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valdomarx · 4 years ago

Text

Aard

“Jaskier, down!”

Jaskier doesn’t think, doesn’t question, just drops to the leafy mulch covering the forest floor. He sees Geralt gesture with his left hand and a whoosh of air thunders over his head.

The shockwave slams into the huge, hideous arachnomorph that had been scuttling towards him, lifting the creature off its legs and sending it flying ten feet through the air. It hits a tree trunk with a sickening crunch and falls, twitching, to the ground.

He’s still in shock when Geralt comes over, picks him up and sets him on his feet.

“What was that?” he asks, heart pumping furiously.

“Giant spider,” Geralt says flatly.

“No, the -” he gestures by flapping his hand about. “- thing you did. Was that Witchery magic?”

Geralt scowls but indulges him anyway. “It’s not mage’s magic. It’s called a sign. That one was Aard.”

“Huh. Handy.”

Yrden

“Show me another of your signs.”

“They’re not party tricks, Jaskier.”

Jaskier pouts. “I have the natural curiosity of an artist, and it’s cruel to deny me the sustenance of knowledge.”

Geralt glares at him. “You want to see another sign? Fine.” He inscribes a round shape with his fingers and a line of purple light glows in a wide circle on the floor around Jaskier.

“Tingly!” Jaskier grins.

“Now stay right there.” With that, Geralt disappears off, silver blade in hand. Jaskier twiddles his thumbs, pretending he isn’t bothered by the muffled sounds of something inhuman shuffling around the old castle or the distant blood-curdling shrieks.

Out of the corner of his eye he’s sure he sees something pale and insubstantial flit through the air, but when he turns to look directly at it, it’s gone. Then there, again, more shapes moving in the dark corner of the room, then another by the window.

“Geralt?” he calls, determined not to let his fear show in his voice. “Um.”

One of the shapes draws closer, still wispy like smoke until it crosses the threshold of the purple circle and all at once solidifies into a twisted nightmare of a human skull, flesh tearing away from the bone in filthy chunks.

“Geralt!” he screams as the figure approaches him, all thoughts of bravery forgotten. “Geraaaaaaalt!” The figure is inching closer, bony hand outstretched to claw at Jaskier’s face.

As he thinks this is it, this is how I die, Geralt leaps from the darkness with blade in hand, slicing the wraith’s head clean off. Its body collapses and its head rolls to a stop in front of Jaskier’s horrified hands.

“You used me as bait? You absolute brute!”

Geralt shrugs one shoulder. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Igni

Jaskier shivers, looking morosely at the cold bath. They’d been trekking through the snow for days and every part of him was frozen from his nose to his toes.

He’d got through the freezing nights by promising himself a lovely warm bath when they finally reached an inn, but they arrived late and had been lucky to find accommodation at all.

He’d insisted Geralt take the bath first to have the benefit of the lukewarm water. He needed it more after the hunt. But by the time he was clean, the water was stone cold.

Jaskier braces himself. Needs must, though he dreads the idea of becoming even colder for the sake of getting clean.

As he contemplates the bath, Geralt slips up beside him. He looks him over, seems to make a decision, and waves one hand.

There’s an orange glow, and then the water is steaming and Jaskier can feel the heat radiating off it. He could honestly cry.

“How did you...” he looks at Geralt. “Never mind. Thank you, Geralt, really.”

Geralt grunts and goes back to cleaning his armor.

Axii

The pain is unlike anything he has experienced before. The gash in his leg is deep and ugly, but the tearing of the rent flesh pales in comparison to the agony of the arachas venom racing through his veins.

Every muscle in his body feels like it’s on fire, a blazing explosion of acid which leaves his lungs heaving for breath and his voice hoarse from crying out.

“It’ll be okay, Jaskier,” Geralt says, his voice clipped and tight. “We need to get you to a healer.”

Through his panic Jaskier catches sight of Geralt’s face, frowning deeply. He longs to wipe his sad expression away. But his body is wracked by another jolt of pain and he can’t stop screaming long enough to respond.

As his vision begins to swim and fade, he sees Geralt gesture with one hand and his mind goes suddenly, blissfully blank. The pain and the worry and all of his thoughts dissolve away, leaving him floating in empty space.

Feel no pain, Geralt’s voice echoes through his mind, and everything in him yearns to obey. Sleep.

The pain is gone. His eyes drift shut and darkness descends.

Quen

Jaskier barely has time to register the gang of bandits that appears on either side of the ravine they’re travelling through before a hail of arrows descends on them, sharp death incoming on the end of every shaft.

Geralt swears and moves faster than lightning, grabbing Jaskier and pulling him close, throwing one hand upward. A shimmering gold shield fizzes and pops into place around them both, the arrows bouncing harmlessly off it.

Jaskier looks up at Geralt with wide eyes, seeing him cast in a golden glow as the shield thrums around them. The bandits yell and growl, but within minutes they give up their assault and slink back into the forest in search of easier prey.

Geralt’s arm is still around Jaskier’s waist and their bodies are pressed together. Warmth blooms everywhere they touch.

“You okay?” Geralt asks, voice gentle.

Jaskier is breathing heavily, and it’s not due to the close call. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Thanks to you.”

Geralt's face pinches and Jaskier can see the refutation forming, so he distracts Geralt by taking his chin in his hand. The golden shield holds, keeping the world at bay for a few precious moments.

“My hero,” he says, and means it.

“You don’t have to -” Geralt says, turning his face away, but Jaskier keeps a hold of his chin and turns it back.

“I know I don’t have to,” he says, sliding his hand around to cradle the back of Geralt’s neck. He leans in until there’s nothing more than a breath between their lips. “I want to.”

#geraskier #the witcher #my writing #love those signs baby #prayer circle for geralt to use igni in s2

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iknewyoudunderstand · 3 years ago

Note

omg thanks for understanding! I feel bad because I want to support everyone’s work but sometimes I can’t read it :/ but if you’re taking requests, what about Hotch accidentally walking in on Spencer talking to Penelope about his crush on Hotch?

“I know something you don’t know!”

“Statistically unlikely,” Spencer says, his voice thick from the early morning and the copious sugar in his coffee. “But it’s possible.”

Penelope, a shock of pink on an overall beige day at work, bounces on her toes. Her chunky jewelry clinks and clatters as she jumps around. If his brain wasn’t still sleep-addled, it would be too much for him, but he’s been up all night and his coffee hadn’t kicked in yet and he wasn’t prepared for a conversation so early in the morning. Right now, his senses are coasting on him barely being able to process the stimuli. The sun is barely even up. He has to summon a lot of energy to even make his mouth move.

“What do you know?”

“It’s a secret!”

He sighs. “Garcia, it’s 7:30 and you’re going a million miles an hour. Can you just tell me?”

She stops bouncing, arms dropping to her sides. Something like a scowl, an over-exaggerated imitation of Hotch, settles on her face. “Reid, that’s no fun.”

“Why does it have to be fun?”

“Because I love fun! Everyone knows this—it’s one of my best and most obvious features. Now ask me!”

“Ask you what?”

Penelope lets out a loud, put-upon sigh. “You’re killin’ me, whizz kid.”

“You’re killing me!”

“I would never.”

“What’s the secret?!”

“It’s your secret.” Her eyes flash and her smile turns devilish. “I know who you have a crush on!”

Spencer stops cold. “Garcia, I’m twenty-four. I-I don’t have a crush. I don’t have crushes. I haven’t had crushes since I was thirteen. No adult has crushes—”

“You absolutely have a crush. You’re stuttering, you’re doing that hand thing—” Spencer stuffs his hands in his pockets to stop himself from wringing them. “Uh huh. I’m not a profiler, but I know the signs! You have a crush.”

“So?” His voice cracks so loud he winces. “Listen, it… most adults spend a minimum of 1,680 hours in the office per year.” Penelope scoffs. “Exactly. So there’s not really anyone else for us. It’s very normal to be attracted to people you spend so much of your time with! There was a study in 1968 where college students were shown photos of faces, and some photos were shown up to twenty-five times while others were only shown once or twice, and the most liked faces were those that had been seen more. Prolonged exposure leads to increased attraction, so it’s normal that someone like Hotch would be—”

“You have a crush on Hotch?!”

Spencer throws his arms up. He probably won’t need a second cup of coffee, because he could run a marathon—as long as he is running in the complete opposite direction of this conversation. “Everyone has a crush on Hotch! It’s simple psychology! People are attracted to authority; in evolutionary terms, a person in a position of power is seen as someone with resources and abilities that will create viable offspring—” Garcia’s eyes go wide and Spencer feels like he’s dying. His face is so hot, sweat is beading on his upper lip. “Not that—I’m not saying that, I’m saying that’s where it comes from. It’s an instinctual attraction.”

“Spencer—”

“Plus, plus, I mean, he’s also… I mean, as a person, he’s…” The words are stuck behind his teeth and under his tongue. This is the first time he’s ever said any of this out loud, and these feelings have been rattling around in his head for so long it’s strange to let them out. “There’s obviously more dimension to him than just as an authority figure. He’s intelligent, he’s compassionate, he’s passionate… the intensity created in a work situation can mirror the intensity we experience in sexual relationships, so… oh, God—”

“Reid!” Penelope hisses. She grabs his arm, her fingernails sharp like talons, and stops his train wreck of thought.

“Everyone has a crush on me?” Hotch asks, his eyebrows almost at his hairline. Briefcase in hand, obviously having just walked in, Spencer can’t tell if he’s horrified or amused or concerned or any combination of those because Spencer cannot look at him. Spencer is five seconds away from curling up on the floor and transforming into a pile of confetti, with “IDIOT” inscribed on every shred of paper. Penelope seems to be five seconds away from hyperventilating. “I think that’s a little generous.”

“Hotch, I am so sorry—”

He holds up a hand. Spencer nearly swallows his tongue. Penelope’s nails just might draw blood.

“I’m very flattered,” Hotch says softly. “In the future, there are more appropriate places to have conversations such as these—as I have already told you several times, Garcia.”

“Sorry,” she squeaks.

“In the meantime, everyone will be here shortly; we’re being called in to Oregon for a series of missing children cases.” They lock eyes. As always, it sucks the air right out of his lungs. “If you feel comfortable, Reid, we can discuss this more once we return home.”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah.”

Hotch smiles. It’s small, but the hint of a dimple on his cheek and the crinkling at the corners of his eyes spell out genuine… something. Something genuine. Spencer refuses to let hope bubble up in his chest, just like he refuses every time they brush fingers or shoulders or Hotch looks at him for too long, or when he notices Hotch listening intently to his rambling or laughing at his obscure jokes. He squashes it down every time Hotch shows how much he cares—more than any boss would—and, yes, every time Hotch shows exactly how capable he is, in the field and at containing and responding to all Spencer’s chaos and fragility… that’s just who Hotch is. Everyone has a crush on Hotch because he does that for everyone. Spencer refuses to foster hope—but hope settles in him.

Hotch smiles at him, and then he walks away.

“What just happened?” Spencer asks.

“I think I just got you laid.”

#hotchreid #heid #aaron hotchner/spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #cm fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #sorry this took so long i literally got home from work and took a four hour nap and then i needed my adderall to kick in dfjkhdskf #please send me more requests i want to write so bad #also ive never used more em dashes in my life

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2-cute-4-school · 4 years ago

Text

𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮

Group : NCT

Pairing : Griffyndor! Mark Lee x gn! Reader

Genre : hp au, rivals to lovers, light angst to absolute fluff

Word count : 4.4K words | M.list

Warnings : injury, swearing

Summary : ‘He had nightmares of you slipping right past his fingers and him failing to catch you. He relives that moment.’

a/n: thank you for 1000 followers you absolute cuties!! sending lots of smooches and snuggles your way!!

“Aren’t you going to ask how the coolest champion is feeling about tomorrow’s match?”

You watched Donghyuck, your fellow housemate and best friend since you first stepped onto the Hogwarts train, expectantly. He spared you a quick glance as he plopped down beside you on the couch in your shared common room, too busy to munch on his chocolate frog to give you any further attention.

“I’ve already asked Mark.”

You would like to be able to say you were surprised at his answer, but his teasing character has become an usual by now

It still baffled you how you managed to even tolerate each other, much less get to share a bond as deep as the one you developed along the years. You two had next to nothing in common other than your cunning wit. While Donghyuck delved deep into his love for astronomy, which you despised with a burning fervor, you dedicated your time to Quidditch entirely.

You loved the sport dearly, it offered you that adrenaline rush you were born to chase, that quickened heartbeat as you rushed to catch the Golden Snitch. You spent every spare moment you could find in your hectic schedule on the pitch with the wind threading through strands of your hair and your hands clenched so tightly onto your broomstick your knuckles turn white. And you adored every second of that. But what you definitely didn’t adore was Mark Lee.

“And worst best friend award goes to surprise surprise Lee Donghyuck!”

He shrugged unimpressed by your weak attack and focuses back on his damned frog.

Mark Lee. Unfortunately for your sanity, you had to see him almost as often as you decided to practice on your own. If there was one thing you shared with him and you respected him for was his own commitment to Quidditch. More often that not, you’d have to share the pitch with him in your spare time, taunting each other for the entire period of time you spent practicing. He was the beloved Seeker of Gryffindor, their pride and joy and your rival ever since you were both accepted in your respective teams.

“So what’s your score against him?”

“It’s a draw.”

Yes, you were that petty. You and Mark kept the score on how many times you defeated each other in matches. It didn’t actually matter which team actually won, the only thing that mattered for your childish competition was who managed to catch the Golden Snitch.

“That’s why you’re so tense?”

“Bingo, smartpants.”

“What even is the big deal about your little game? It’s not like either of you actually gets something out of this.”

“I gain the right to stick my win in his face and vice versa.”

Teasing between you and Mark often stretched your patience to its maximum and ended up in one of you snapping like a chord under pressure. Donghyuck shivered as he remembered the final match of your fourth year when your house lost against Gryffindor due to Mark catching the Snitch before you. He could vividly remember the blood rushing through his veins in fear at the sight of you battling Mark shoulder to shoulder at a dangerous speed, arm stretched out so far he believed you’d topple over at any moment.

He doesn’t want a repeat of the miserable image of you he saw at the time, a defeated you, slumped on the bench in your changing room, head lowered in ultimate shame and disappointment as bitter tears rolled off your face, splashing against the floor as Donghyuck watched worriedly through the half opened door. Mark had really done a number on you that day.

“You have to win, Y/N.”

“Why the sudden change of heart, wasn’t our competition meaningless for your highness?”

“I don’t give a frog’s toe about your competition, but I want to spend time time with you this summer. And not just to watch you practice until you drop.”

You scoffed. You knew that he was referring to the summer after your horrifying defeat against Mark. Donghyuck could barely get a hold of you since you spent all day on your broom, tiring yourself out to your limit.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on losing.”

“Already wetting your pants, Y/L/N?”

You didn’t have to turn around to put a face to the taunting voice behind you.

“I don’t know, Lee, should I? You must know since you have more experience than me.”

Mark’s face scrunched up at the reminder of his first year when he lost control of his broom and he quite literally saw his life flash before his eyes. Not very Gryffindor from his part.

“Whatever, we both know how this is about to end. Save your cheap defense until after this final. My team will win this year’s tournament and I’ll beat you individually too.”

The reminder of the stakes of this match weren’t soothing your nerves at all, especially mere hours before you were facing Mark on the pitch. You curled your fists and kept a straight face, not daring to show him any weakness from your side.

“Shove that pointless confidence up your ass until you prove you’re worthy of it, Lee.”

“Oh so fourth year isn’t enough proof?”

The corner of your lips twitched and your eyes narrowed. zeroing on his tense featured in a chilling glare.

“You said matches don’t count, didn’t you? You were the one insisting that you didn’t consider anything a victory other than catching the Snitch before me. And in that aspect, last I verified, we’re equals.”

His lips moved soundlessly, trying to come up with a retort, but you didn’t spare him enough time to come up with anything, turning on your heels and marching away to meet Donghyuck.

“You’ll see, Y/L/N, you’ll never be my equal.”

His voice followed you tauntingly through the busy corridors, your rushed footsteps taking you anywhere but close to the only person who could make your blood boil.

It took three pep talks and four ‘friendly’ attacks of your personal space from Donghyuck to make you gather your spirits and stop the tremors shaking up your entire body. He walked you to the changing room’s door, patting you roughly on the back one last time

“Give your best, I’ll be watching from the stands. I trust that you won’t let me get bored. Also, remember that if you lose you’re sleeping on the mat in front of the entrance in our common room.”

And with that he skipped away, hurried to find a good spot in the stands that were already starting to fill up with students. You sigh, used to his weird way of encouraging you and stepped inside the room, greeting Jungwoo, your captain and your fellow teammates, starting to change into your Quidditch uniform.

As soon as you set foot on the familiar pitch, your eyes met Mark’s who stood straight and proud side by side with his own captain sporting his Gryffindor red cape and holding his broom, the newest Nimbus model.

You Keeper was talking your ear off about the ‘amazingly efficient’ polish he found, but you couldn’t seem to rip your gaze away from Mark who in turn seemed to burn through you with his gaze. He threw you a smirk as if provoking you to lose your cool. But you decided you wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction.

The stands were already roaring to life. Any match between you and Mark was very sought after by everyone in your school due to the intensity it held each time. Despite the already loudness surrounding the pitch, one high pitched screech couldn’t help but catch your attention.

“KICK SOME ASS, Y/N! Or the mat is waiting for you!”

Count on Donghyuck to be the embarrassing mom rooting for you at her child’s every sport event. You shoot him a warning look to which he only responded with an over dramatic wink and an even louder ’whoop’. You could only sigh, appreciating his support despite your lack of reaction to it.

“I’ll kick your ass, Lee Donghyuck.”

You muttered, trying to stop the smile forming on your lips. A snort came from the side, making your head snap in its direction.

“Try your best, Y/LN, too bad you’ll still disappoint lover boy over there.”

“Jealous, Lee?”

“You wish.”

Madam Hooch interrupted your banter with a shrill whistle, stepping in between the two teams while holding the Quaffle.

“Alright, boys and girls, mount your brooms.”

Within seconds all players were high in the air, adrenaline pumping through your veins, your heated gaze locked with Mark’s. It became kind of a tradition between the two of you, intense stare downs before the official start of the game. Madam Hooch’s voice which carried the same words every time sounded far away as she bent down, ready to throw the Quaffle.

“Alright, I want a clean and fair game, hear me? Good luck and may the best win.”

The long deafening whistle signified the start of the match and Chasers whizzed past you, speeding towards the Quaffle. You and Mark broke eye contact, each of you getting immersed in the game, your sole focus being on catching sight of the Golden Snitch.

The weather worsened as the game progressed, the unpredictable May weather acting up. The clouds darkened, completely shutting out any ray of sunshine trying to sneak past them, a thickening fog suffocating the school grounds. Slowly but surely, what started as a few scattered rain drops soon turned into a full blown storm, a cold shower falling atop of you, the harsh wind whipping your capes back and forth. The stands were barely visible, the cheers from below inaudible over the wind and the players’ yells.

If it wasn’t hard enough already to spot the small, golden ball, now it seemed close to impossible. You could make out Mark’s silhouette flying around, but you didn’t linger any longer on him, focused on catching sight of the Snitch. Bludgers were flying everywhere, the Beaters’ efficiency decreasing because of the lack of visibility, another worry to add to the list.

Gryffindor was in the lead with 20 points, the score remaining tight as the match dragged on and on. You had already been playing for a while, your uniforms were already soaked and your skin paling from the biting cold of the unforgiving rain, but the conditions only spurred you further. You had to catch the Snitch.

Just as your patience was running thin, you caught sight of a fast-moving golden spot, hovering on the sidelines. Without a second thought, you sped towards it, your surroundings blurring as your eyes focused solely on the already moving Snitch. Mark noticed your forceful actions immediately, whizzing past the others players and nearing you.

“And Y/L/N seems to have finally spotted the Golden Snitch! Both Seekers are bolting after it, I can barely keep track of them!”

The crowd exploded, cheering louder than ever, but you couldn’t hear anything, pushing yourself to the limit as Mark caught up to you and you battled side by side once again. The Snitch seemed to be angrier than ever, jerking furiously at every corner, but you didn’t let yourself be caught by surprise, keeping up with it.

Until it started speeding in a straight line, stopping its irregular twists and turns and you knew that was your chance. You flew at top speed, stretching your hand in front of you so much that your muscles almost protested and Mark followed suit. You were shoulder to shoulder with him, subtly knocking into each other in an attempt to make the other lose their balance.

“Move! It’s mine!”

His hoarse voice yelled right by your year, only making you grit your teeth harder.

“Fuck off, Lee!”

Your fingertips were a breath away from the Snitch, Mark’s arm pressing into yours, the cold wind biting at your cheeks. Desperately, you shifted your weight from your bottom to the hand clutching your broomstick, leaning forward on your arm and before Mark could react, you lurched forward slightly, encasing the running object in the palm of your hand, clutching it so tightly it left marks into the skin, but you didn’t care.

You did it. You caught the Golden Snitch.

“Y/N!”

Before you could regain your stance, a Bludger knocked into your broom forcefully. With your already unsteady grip on the broomstick, you toppled over in an instant, the broom slipping from under you, but you didn’t dare unclench the fingers trapping the Snitch in your hand.

Mark’s desperate yell seemed to be the only sound echoing in your ears as you plummeted. The last thing you saw before you knocked loudly into the ground with a sickening crack were Mark’s distressed features, a hand stretched to its full extent in front of him as he rushed to get a hold of you, your own outstretched fingers slipping right past his.

Surprisingly, as soon as you managed to crack your eyes open you weren’t hit with a blinding light. It still seemed to take a great effort to keep them open for longer than a second, your hand twitching in an attempt to bring it to cover your sensitive eyes, but being stopped by a weight forcing it down.

“Y/N?”

You groaned, scrunching up your face as soreness hit your body full force at your attempt to move.

“Merlin, Y/N, can you open your eyes?”

You could recognize Donghyuck’s voice anywhere, but the almost desperate tone he used was quite foreign to you.

“Come on, babe, open your eyes. Madam Pomfrey! ”

You realized the weight on your hand were actually his fingers which now squeezed yours encouragingly as his other hand came up to smooth strands of your hair away from your face. You clenched your teeth, forcing an eye open.

“Stop fucking yelling, punk.”

At your annoyed retort, he let out a relieved sigh, wrapping his arms gently around you while trying not to jostle you too much.

“Thank Merlin, you’re back.”

After Madam Pomfrey checked on you and updated you on your injuries which were a bit more serious than you expected, she left you with Donghyuck once again. He leaned back in his chair, a lot more relaxed than in the past days he’s had to spend by your bedside. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“The match. We won the match right?”

Donghyuck snorted as your first question was about Quidditch instead of your own health, but it didn’t even surprise him anymore.

“Yes, you crazy hag, you won.”

“Yes! We did it! We won!”

You’ve never felt more relieved in your entire life. You finally proved to yourself that all the time and work you’ve put into Quidditch wasn’t for nothing. And if this was the elevation you’d feel after winning cups, you were ready to spend the rest of your youth chasing the Snitch.

“You should eat some chocolate, gain your energy back.”

Now that he mentioned it, you finally focused on your nightstand that overflowed with sweets. You grabbed the closest one, a chocolate frog, not hesitating to stuff it all in your mouth and collect the card inside. Another Nicolas Flamel, you already had two of those.

“Those are a lot.”

“Tell me about it. Don’t worry, I’ll help you finish them.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Hyuck, tell me, did Jungwoo cry?”

“Should’ve seen him, like a baby. I’m pretty sure he filled half of that cup with snot-”

“Ewww, I didn’t need all the gross details. Ah, I’m sorry for missing that. And Lee’s face, I bet I’d sleep like a baby for the next 10 years if I had the chance to see that.“

Donghyuck’s lips were suddenly pulled into a smirk, eyes glinting with a dangerous mischief.

“You should see one of your beaters, damn nice nose Mark delivered.”

Your munching slowed down, gulping down the sweetness loudly.

“What do you mean? Did that petty git start a fight?”

“Wouldn’t say it was out of pettiness actually.”

Mark was the first to land beside your crumpled figure, dismounting his broom faster than ever and crouching hurriedly before you. His hand ghosted over your cold cheek, too scared to touch you in case he did more harm than good. His shaking pupils fixated on you, running a hundred miles per hour over your face, hoping, praying that you’d open your eyes and celebrate in his face.

“Hey, wake up, don’t play games on the pitch, you already won! Y/L/N!”

Mark knew deep inside that you had no games left to play after a fall like that, but it was his first time seeing you so small, so hurt, so defeated despite the shining Golden Snitch still clutched loosely in your limp hand. It scared him.

“Bloody hell, wake up! Madam Hooch! Help! Anyone, help!”

His head snapped around trying to catch sight of anyone coming to your aid, eyes scanning through the fog crazily. The rain seemed to fall faster and faster, the chill settling deep into your bones. Exhausted, Mark lowered his head in defeat, his forehead gently leaning on yours, his nose nudging against yours. One of his hands still touched your cheek, lightly caressing it, thumb running over the apple of your cheek as his other hand curled into a fist against the ground.

Jungwoo landed next, almost tripping over his broom as he rushed over to you and knelt next to you, opting to ignore the position Mark was in and focus on your well being. Mark’s head didn’t even turn as he spoke lowly.

“Do something for Merlin’s sake. Get Madam Hooch, or Pomfrey! Anyone dammit, just to something!”

Mark raised himself at the lack of response from Jungwoo who seemed rotten to his spot, freezing at the sight of you.

“Are you deaf?! Fucking help!”

That seemed to snap Jungwoo out of his frozen state as he jumped to his feet, sprinting towards the stand where teachers usually stayed during matches. One by one, your teams landed and gathered near you as Mark’s yells of help guided them to you.

“Merlin, that doesn’t look good.”

Mark’s burning gaze settled on your beater who stood a few meters away, leaning on his broom.

“It would have looked better if you did your part right.”

The beater rolled his eyes at Mark’s harsh remark.

“Relax, man, I just wasn’t playing attention for a moment.”

“And you think that’s a proper excuse?!”

Mark was fired up by now, lifting himself to his feet as one of your Chasers, a year younger than you crouched by your side, gripping your hand. He sauntered over, coming face to face with the beater who didn’t seem that interested.

“I’m just saying it’s not my fault their own incompetence landed themselves in the hospital wing, I’m not pulling anyone’s wight al-”

He didn’t get to finish his mocking words as Mark’s fist met his nose with a loud crunch, Mark’s powerful swing sending him to the ground as blood started dripping from his nose steadily.

“Don’t you ever talk about Y/N like that. Not ever again. If I hear one bad word about them coming out of your worthless mouth, I’ll hex you into next year. You’ll never be half of the player Y/N already is, remember your place, asshole.”

Madam Hooch was already tending to you by the time Mark turned back to you, deeming it safe enough for you to be moved to the hospital wing. Donghyuck, who sprinted out of the stand as soon as he heard your name coming out of Jungwoo’s mouth, held your head in his lap, smoothed down your hair, pushing away wet strands that covered your eyes.

Mark strode over to you, taking off his cap and laying it over your body as he slotted an arm under your legs, his other coming around your back. He lifted your body, cradling you against his chest as Donghyuck also stood up to fix your position in Mark’s arms into a more comfortable one.

“Off to the hospital wing,now. Quick, quick, quick!”

Mark didn’t waste another moment before he hurried inside the castle with you in his hold and Donghyuck quick on his heels.

“Mark Lee stood up for me? The same Mark Lee who hates my guts since we first got in our Quidditch teams?”

“Do you know another Mark Lee? Maybe he didn’t hate you that much after all, or…not at all. After all, all these chocolate frogs are from him, said something about seeing you exchange some cards with his Griffyndor friend in class or something.”

“He visited?”

“We wouldn’t be able to get rid of him sometimes. He opened up to me once when we met outside the door trying to sneak in one night.”

“Why were you even sneaking in?”

“I was bored, okay? I had no one to tire me out during the day.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, he said he had nightmares of you slipping right past his fingers and him failing to catch you. He relives that moment.”

“Did it really affect him that much? Accidents happen all the time.”

“Not to you, Y/N.”

“Maybe, but I’m just another player from the opposite team., right? …Do you think he…?”

Donghyuck brought a hand up to his head, massaging his temples as he sighed with annoyance.

“You’re too dense.”

“How could I have known? ”

“Look, just talk to him as soon as you can. That boy needs to finally sleep properly, even my grandma’s bag has a lighter color than his eye bags.”

You just nodded, a bit skeptic.

You were discharged on that same day. Jungwoo almost cried again when you met in the common room, hugging you tightly, praising and scolding you at the same time with a brotherly smile.

You first saw Mark Lee in the halfway, after your Potions class. He was sitting on the ledge of a large window, staring seemingly into space. Donghyuck’s words echo in your mind as you decide to approach him and hop onto the space beside him, settling comfortable against the window behind you.

“Woah, Lee, Donghyuck was right, you could really use some concealer.”

Mark jostled as if he only noticed you now. His wide doe eyes racked over your smiling face and he seemed to panic internally.

“Whe-When did you get here? Why are you out of bed?”

“Because I was discharged?”

“What? Since when?”

“Earlier today.”

“Oh…”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, eyes running wild everywhere but in your direction. You chuckled.

“It’s okay, I already know how much the almighty Mark Lee worried over poor little me.”

Mark scoffed, his embarrassed behavior vanishing.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I see that hit to your head didn’t help with your sharp tongue, disappointingly.”

He swiftly moved away, starting to walk away from you until your hand clasped around his wrist, stopping him mid step.

“Wait, I just… I wanted to thank you.”

Mark seemed confused now, turning back to you with furrowed eyebrows.

“Thank me? What for?”

“Standing up for me and uh, you know, taking care of me.”

Mark’s face darkened at the memory of your beater.

“That git was just asking for it and I barely did anything.”

“Then at least let me repay you for the chocolate frogs you brought me.”

Now he seemed to choke on a confused ‘huh?’ with a bewildered expression that just melted your otherwise cocky demeanor.

“W-what? How-”

Mark’s words died in his throat as you slotted your lips against his in a teasing kiss, your hand holding the nape of his next affectionately and pulling him closer you. Mark took a few moments to realize it was actually happening in reality, not just an illusion from the lack of sleep. His hands came up to your waist, wrapping you in his embrace and pulling you against him impossibly closer. Years of pushed down passion and longing were exchanged in that moment, dizzying both of you.

As you pulled away from each other for air, Mark could taste the faint sweetness of chocolate on his lips. He smiled and his whole rival image turned into a lovesick teenage boy with a smile brighter than the sun. He laughed quietly, thumbs caressing your sides gently.

“I see you enjoyed your chocolate.”

You leaned more into him, pulling his face so close to yours that your noses brushed against each other’s, your ravished breath fanning across his lips as you whispered.

“I did. I’m glad I’m so interesting to you that you observe me in class enough to know that I collect chocolate frogs cards.”

You expected a blush to paint his cheeks red, an elbow in your side or at least an annoyed huff but you got none of that. Instead, one of Mark’s hands came up to cradle your cheek as he stared deep into your eyes with an unreadable look.

“Excuse me but it’s hard not to look when I have the prettiest person I’ve ever seen who also happens to be my crush since 3rd year.”

Your eyes widened, searching his for any hint that he may be just lying or teasing you. But all you could find was pure, unadulterated fondness, a withheld fire burning low in his eyes. He leaned down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear and sending goosebumps across the expanse of your skin.

“It’s been so hard not to just pull you aside and snog you senseless, especially in your Quidditch uniform.”

You decided to play along. You brought your fingers to his heated neck, running them faintly over his skin and you smirked seeing him shiver at your touch.

“Having a kink for uniforms, Lee?”

Mark screeched lowly, pulling away from you as if burned. He smoothed down his robes, fixating you with a glare that made you laugh.

��Y/N, I’m serious, though. I like you, I really really lo-….like you.”

You noticed his stutter, but it only made your smile widen as you stretched out a hand to intertwine his fingers with yours and pull him along down the corridor.

“Hm, I’ll need some more proof of that.”

Mark squeezed your hand in response, chuckling at you sweetly. He leaned over, pressing a feather like kiss to your temple.

“Don’t worry, you’re nowhere done with your payment back to me. And I only accept it in the form of kisses and cuddles.”

You smiled at each other, your hearts finally settling satisfied in your chests after years of internal turmoil that finally burned out.

“That can be arranged easily.”

422 notes · View notes

sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years ago

Text

The Emperor: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Being a servant of the Emperor is a unique position that requires multiple positions.

wc: 1.7k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

As you stare at the pink moon hanging low in the sky, you try to remember every single moment that brought you here to the Imperial Palace.

Studious.

You had been a girl who sought to put her head in books instead of learning how to be a wife. There had been five of you in your little group of young girls who sought to improve their minds instead of improving their station by marriage.

And the girls who sought to marry well were not wrong for doing so. Neither were you wrong for wanting to improve your mind with the other men, with who you would never be caught dead socializing. As far as everyone knew, you would not subject yourself to the torture of being affiliated with dalliances. No, you didn't have time for that.

But...

Then you had been snatched from the halls of the library and drug back to your home, the hands of the Imperial soldiers carrying you past your mother and father, who chased after you - horrified and tearful.

At first, you thought you had committed some unfathomable crime and would be punished by the Emperor himself. All signs pointed to you being a criminal due to how the soldiers threw you into a dingy and cramped carriage, one that was not fit for even a lowly citizen to ride in. But when you arrived at the Palace less than an hour later, you stepped into an uncertain future.

With tall walls covered in flowers you didn't know the names of - yet - and fountains in a courtyard made of azure tile, you were sure that you had been deposited in a place too grand for a criminal. There was no way the men who dropped you from the carriage and into the garden were going to kill you. And after a man with long, blonde hair and a bored look approached your stunned figure in the midst of all of the beauty, he held out a hand, called you by your name, and told you he would be your attendant.

But despite the fantastic set of arrangements, the reason why you were now in the palace of Emperor Fushiguro set in before anyone told you.

"Concubine." The word floated around your town when the Emperor's wife died several years ago, but to your knowledge, there had been many women picked for His Holiness's pleasure after that. You'd be the first in over six years, as far as anyone was aware.

And you were.

You are.

You're reminded of this when there's a knock on your door, startling you out of your reverie and bringing you back to the present.

"You may enter," you whisper, pulling the pins out of your hair. Emperor Fushiguro likes your hair down. The large man enters the shadowy room silently, his robes swishing about as he approaches. You stand from your bed and exhale softly, eyeing the green-eyed royal as his feet step to your own.

"How have you been since I last saw you?" he wonders, tilting your chin up with his index finger. "Are you sleeping well?"

"I'm fine, your Holiness," you reply, touching his hand tenderly. "I am well. How are you feeling?" Toji looks at the moon outside, the scar on his lips twitching up slightly.

"I am exhausted," he admits, shoulders slumping.

"Tell me about your day," you encourage him, motioning to the bed. "I am here to listen." And Toji begins regaling his day to you as you rake your fingers through his hair and hum at the appropriate times, letting him be heard in the dim light of your bedroom. When he finishes (usually him just trailing off and staring at the ceiling), you press a kiss to his forehead.

"I will go to the temple in the morning and pray for a resolution to your issues, your Holiness." Toji reaches a hand up to caress your bottom lip, looking into your eyes.

"You are the only concubine who has extended such kindness to me," he breathes. You know this is not true and that's he's just buttering you up for what comes next. Though, you're not sure why.

Because every time you lay underneath him, beside him, on top of him, however he desires to have you that night... you enjoy it. You genuinely enjoy it.

And as Toji disrobes you carefully, fingers raking across your skin like the breath of the wind, you tangle yourself around him, holding his face in your hands, holding him close, holding him for as long as you can, which he adores.

Tonight, you hold him against you as he kisses your lips, your fingers tugging his short black hair as your body squirms underneath his massive frame.

"Eager," he hums against your skin, and you moan as two fingers dip into your core, playing with your slick while the other grabs your breast. Whether it's his practice with the other concubines or his deceased wife, you don't know. But it seems that Toji can play you to his liking, drawing sounds out of you like a skilled harpist. And every night he'd come to visit you, it would be the same way - he'd make a small symphony, then leave when the sun came up to return to running the country.

Toji reminds you of his skill as he rubs your clit repeatedly, lips latching onto your nipple and toying with it before moving to the other.

"Your Holiness," you exhale, but the Emperor whispers,

"Please. Call me Toji while I am with you, y/n." You nod as he kisses down your stomach and lifts your legs over his broad shoulders, hands roaming over your thighs as he spreads them apart. When his cool tongue sinks into your cunt, you stiffen, grasping one of his hands for leverage.

"Toji..." you moan, but he doesn't answer you as his tongue flicks back and forth, preparing you and tasting you at the same time. His eyes flick up to watch your face, which makes your toes curl. Just like he knew they would.

As he toys with you, you can hear his soft grunts of pleasure, feel the kisses, touch his soft hair as his head moves around, and watch him devour you earnestly. All of your senses light up at once, bringing you to a climax you didn't expect when his hands tug your nipples until you're overstimulated and shaking underneath his mouth.

"Oh, gods," you cry out, and Toji hums, speeding up his movements. "I'm going to cum," you pant in response, but he doesn't let up, tipping you over the edge with his ministrations and making your body quiver violently.

You only stop shaking when you feel his cockhead at your entrance, and you wonder how long you'd been trembling as he shirked off his clothes.

"Oh!"

Toji slides into you easily, his girth the only one you'd ever felt in your entire life. When he bottoms out inside of you, he moans, then leans down to capture your lips in his.

"Slow, slow..." you whisper, pressing your hands against his shoulders.

"I know... Shh, shh, shh..." he replies, kissing down your neck and removing your hands tenderly. "I know you like my own mind, my little nightingale." You exhale slowly, legs still shaking as he pumps into you carefully. "You're the only one that sings for me like you do." Another kiss is pressed to your lips. "The only one that attends to me like you do." And another. "The only one I can trust."

His words sink to the pit of your stomach, and you feel some sort of emotion welling up inside of you. But it's quickly pushed down when Toji's teeth sink into the fleshy part of your ear. You jerk a little, clenching around him, and he hisses before chuckling. "Works every time."

And you love it, every single moment of this. Toji speeds up his strokes, making you moan and pant in time with him.

"You're the only one that really enjoys this," he breathes, sweat dripping down from his forehead. You look into his eyes and nod, biting your bottom lip. "I even took your maidenhood and you never resented me for it."

"Never," you agree, nodding again before shuddering. "Toji, just like that! Please..." Toji obeys, silencing himself as he pumps into you even faster, almost reaching his climax with you, hips stuttering and jerking as your walls clench around him rhythmically. Toji groans loudly, his body heaving as he comes down from the short high and then rolls onto his back after pulling out of you.

"Come," he whispers hoarsely, tugging you close to his side and drawing the sheets around your bodies. He nestles his face into your hair and murmurs, "You are the only concubine I feel close to. Only because you love and cherish Princess Tsumiki, and you tend to my needs when you see me."

"It is my duty, is it not?"

"You could be resentful like the others."

"And they let you touch them?" Toji grunts once.

"I touch them, then I leave. It is unbearable at times, but... it's my duty to produce a male heir at some point." You look over your shoulder at him and smile.

"And you will have it."

"I'm hoping I will have it by you so that I can get rid of these other women." The implications of his words are so startling that you flinch in shock. "No?" Toji wonders, frowning as he touches your cheek.

"N-not no, but... Me? From concubine to consort? No other concubine will give you a son?"

"No other concubine can give me a son. That was why I picked them in the first place," he sighs, pulling you even closer. "But now... I am ready for another child. A son to take on the Imperial reign. Through you." He splays a hand across your belly, rubbing it tenderly before yawning loudly.

"Sleep well, your Ho- I mean, Toji." But he's already asleep, nose tucked into the crook of your neck and arms around your frame. Just like you like it.

Concubine to consort? You think to yourself in the moonlight. With an Imperial son?

A smile creeps its way across your face at the thought of being pregnant with Toji's child. Toji's son. To be the vessel of such a treasure... it would make your worth in his eyes that much more.

You fall asleep with that thought, and add "pray for a son" to your list of petitions to the gods.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGGING: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @r-i-m-f-009 @leanne-tamashi @rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @savantsoulfinder @chilledlucifer @kontentious @flare-on @meena-in-a-nutshell @falling-through-pages @naoyasdarling @vabybizzle @fiona782 @debevv @suguruswaifu

#toji fushiguro x reader #jjk smut #toji smut #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen

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maschotch · 3 years ago

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Skskdjjvsv I’m so glad I’m not crazy for seeing the foyet thing too. First time watching 5x01 with my sister we were both super quiet for the stabbing scene, and then we talked after and we like “shit bro we thought Foyet was gonna SA Hotch.”

I think the strange part of it is that they were willing to draw that parallel for the female character, that character being Elle, to her attack being related to r*pe but refuse to do so with Hotch. Even though Foyet is a confirmed sexual sadist?? And like watch the scene bro it’s creepy as fuck (I’ve seen honestly a surprising amount of people that agree with me).

All in all, I’m kinda glad they didn’t take that route cuz I don’t trust the writing of this show to handle it well (especially for hotch lol), but they did write the male SA storyline with Morgan fairly well so idk. It ended up just leaving the scene with strange vibes that the show doesn’t address (ok I do remember Foyet in 100 saying some shit like “be gentle? Like I was with you?” And my skin CRAWLED. Legitimately sounded like some shit a r*pist would say).

Ironic that this is popping into my mind right as ur about to start Omnivore lmaoo

"be gentle.. like i was with you.." chills aksjdhflajk i forgot about that line and honestly its one of THEE most horrifying things said on the show

im talking out of my ass here akjshfd bc idk anything ab tv networks or ratings or the production process, but i think there may be some kind of limit on what they were willing to put the characters through? there's no limit on what they'll do to the victims and side characters, but it's like they have a line they can't cross when it comes to what is currently happening with the characters...

they have their story about morgan's history (which really was a good episode? im sure it had lots of problems, but the general themes of the story seemed genuine and like they were trying to keep it respectful) but they don't really show the characters now going through anything like that. they toe the line.. they get close... they reference it to varying degrees in certain arcs.... (elle and the fisher king, hotch and foyet, emily and doyle when he kidnaps her, jj and hastings) but they don't quite make it there. i'm not sure if it's because they didn't want to deal with it, bc they weren't allowed to talk ab it, or bc they didn't want to handle it poorly. (which i mean. when has that ever stopped them before??) its not just something they do with sexual assault, it's something they also do with reid's addiction. they show the initial injections, but they never show him doing it himself or going through the process of rehab at all. they mention it, they reference it, but they never show it

maybe this is me giving the writers too much credit, but i like to think it was very intentional that they gave foyet Those Vibes. they didn't follow through with it, but i think the implication still holds and its one of those things thats left to interpretation: you can see it that way or you don't have to. but its definitely there and its there for a reason. especially with all the parallels to elle... honestly that's what its about for me more than anything. he's experiencing the same thing that broke elle, like the universe is asking if he could handle it too.

#tw sa #asks #tbh one thing i DID have issues with w the whole foyet thing was how quickly he killed haley?#like ik he wanted hotch to hear it so the gunshot was the obvi choice but... hearing her screams wouldve been just as sinister?#and again this is an unsub who almost exclusively stabs his victims #he gets off on torturing his victims... killing her quickly just wouldve give him anything #it would also definitely add to jacks' trauma.. hearing his mothers screams..#idk i just think its another one of those things where they didnt want to cross a line w a main character #bc it makes no sense for foyet to just shoot her like that

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nagipops · 4 years ago

Text

SWEET NOTHINGS, BITTER ENDINGS PART II.

SUMMARY: in which your precious life is ended through a cruel twist of fate by your beloved brother.

WARNINGS: blood, profanity + SPOILERS for KNY chapter 115

A/N: link to part one.

He heard a deafening roar cry out from a distance away as crows frantically flapped out of the trees and into the sky above.

A demon?

Sheathing his blade, the hashira began to sprint to the source of the noise coming from the east.

The first scent he picked up on was blood. It was faint, but it was there. But it wasn’t demon blood.

Human blood?

As he continued to travel east, heart racing, he heard crashing up ahead and quickly dove into a nearby bush to scout out the intruder. Narrowing his eyes, he spotted a flash of pink and green. Mitsuri?

He cautiously searched the area for any signs of demons before following after the pink haired girl.

“Kanroji!” he barked as the girl’s head perked up at the sound of her name. She whipped around, her green eyes lighting with relief.

“Sanemi!” She bounded over to him, grasping his shoulders tightly with shaking arms. "Sanemi, where did (Y/N) go? Did you meet up with her?"

His veins turned to ice. The human blood he smelled. The spine-chilling roar he heard.

Sanemi opened his mouth to speak, but all he could manage was a petrified shake of his head.

The light green eyes facing him widened with fear. "Oh, god... oh god oh god oh god..." She snapped out of her horrified trance as another pained howl pierced through the midnight air and her eyes locked with the wind hashira's once more. Steeling their gazes, the two pillars sped off to the direction of the noise.

If there was one thing Sanemi wished to erase from his memory forever, it would be the sight of his mother, a feral demon ripping her own children to shreds with her own fangs and claws.

If there was another thing Sanemi wished to erase from his memory forever, it would be the horrific scene splayed out in front of him.

Thick ash billowing into the air. The rancid stench of rotten flesh and blood.

The sight of his little sister crouching on the ground.

With pearly white skin.

With raking, hooked claws.

With red, watery eyes.

With glinting ivory fangs.

With the scent of a demon flowing from her body, her limbs, her breaths,

Her blood.

The wind hashira stood paralyzed to the ground, mortified at what he was seeing with his own two eyes.

His little sister.

A demon.

This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

“S-sanemi...” a soft whisper sounded from his right. He slowly turned his head to find the love hashira’s horrified gaze locked onto the demon in front of her. “She’s— she...”

Mitsuri began to collapse to the ground, but not before Sanemi could wrap his arms around her frail, trembling body, his mouth still agape.

“What do we do?” she whimpered weakly, still staring in shock at her sister— no, the demon in front of her. “Sanemi, what do we—”

“I don’t know!” he snarled, vengeance and frustration bubbling within his body. Not again. This was not happening to him again. Setting down the girl onto her feet, shuddering hands moved to the sheath of his blade. “She’s— she’s a demon. We... we have to.”

“No!” Mitsuri cried, tackling him to the ground. “Stop! She’s our sister!”

Sanemi clenched his teeth with such resentment that you could hear them scraping against each other. “You think I don’t know that?!” he shouted at his comrade, his harsh voice breaking in his throat. “You think I want to do this?!”

Tears spilled from the green eyes hovering over him, but no words escaped her lips. Her head shook softly, unable to grasp the fact that this was reality. This was real. This wasn’t some cruel nightmare. Her sister was a demon.

Mitsuri fell to the ground as the white-haired pillar shoved past her shoulder, drawing his blade as he stared down the growling demon in front of him.

“(Y-Y/N)...” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the handle of his sword, gritting his teeth. “You idiot...”

Just then, a flash of purple materialized in front of him and the scent of flora clouded his senses.

“Shinazugawa-san,” the lilting voice warned. “Please step back.”

Sanemi growled, his furious eyes clouding with the urge to shove away the small girl in front of him.

An iron grip suddenly clutched at the sleeve of his haori.

“Stop.” The wind hashira heard the voice he loathed so much speak resolutely into his ear.

“Piss off!” he barked, snapping his arm to release it from the water pillar’s grip. But it was no use, as the hashira’s hold stayed firm. “I’m the only one who can do this! None of you have had to kill your own family members before!”

Giyuu’s eyebrows furrowed with bitterness as he pinned his comrade’s arms behind his back. “That’s enough. We’re taking her back to headquarters to consult with Ubuyashiki. The mission is over.”

The rest of the hashira stared down at the demon in front of them in horror.

The determined eyes, the confident smile, the warm aura of a little sister...

It was all gone.

“A demon...” the stone pillar wept, clasping his hands together and sending a silent prayer to the heavens for their lost sister.

The youngest pillar narrowed his eyes at the demon. “She’s not human at all any more, is she?”

Giyuu pulled on the rope restraining her, shaking his head. “She was... she was trying to speak while we brought her here,” he said softly, recalling how painful it was for the hashira to hear her pained screams and cries as they carried her home. “It seems like... she isn’t able to fully speak yet.”

The demon with the rope around her neck thrashed and snarled, baring her sharp white fangs and clawing at the hashira standing around her. Her catlike pupils dilating, she lunged forward at the flame pillar with a roar. “Rrrahh! He— hckk...” Giyuu tugged on the rope once more, stopping her just a few inches from Rengoku’s chest as she went limp.

“Rengoku-san!” Mitsuri cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. None of the hashira knew what to do with their sister. This monster in front of them.

How were they, the pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps, whose duty is to slay all demons, going to kill their own sister?

Did they have to?

“H-he-lp...”

All heads whipped to their sister crawling on the ground, her mouth agape and her red eyes watering.

“H-hel-p... end... m—”

Something shifted in her eyes. As if she was finally able to see clearly for the first time.

Her crimson orbs widened, her claws reaching to her pale face as though she was making sure she was real. She sat there, knees folded underneath her, touching and patting her demonic body with wonder.

The hashira locked eyes with each other in concern.

Has she regained consciousness? Would she turn malicious? Will she recognize who we are? Does she know we’re her siblings?

A broken sob pierced through the air as all of the pillars turned to the center of the circle once again.

One gnarly claw sat over her heart, the other covering her pale mouth. A steady flow of tears poured from her glistening scarlet eyes as she kept her gaze trained on the ground in front of her.

“I-I’m...”

Giyuu gazed at her with sorrow. Shinobu’s eyes filled with sympathy. Mitsuri clasped her hands over her mouth, letting out a sob. Obanai lightly touched her shoulder. Gyomei’s tears began to flow faster. Sanemi stood paralyzed with shock.

“A... de... mon...”

The wind hashira raised a shaking finger, pointing at his sister kneeling on the ground. “O-oi...” he started, his voice trembling. “She can— she can talk...”

Moving to crouch in front of the demon was the insect pillar who tentatively reached a cautious arm onto her bony white shoulder. “My little butterfly... Can you hear me?”

Crimson eyes slowly slid over to meet violet ones, tears still trickling out of them. Her head nodded at an excruciating pace, seemingly sapping all of her energy.

“Good. I am your older sister, Shinobu, and these are all of your siblings, you see?” Her soft, kind voice unwavered, as though she had comforted demons like this countless times during her life. She turned and swept one arm out to the hashira standing before her, the other trained firmly on the younger girl’s back.

Staring before you were the nine pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps. Your nine older siblings locked their grief-stricken eyes with yours. You could barely hear your sister's voice over the thumping sound of blood rushing through your body.

You were so thirsty. You were so tired. You just wanted to sleep. Forever.

“... friends, okay?” the soft voice carried you out of your thoughts. “(Y/N)? Are you still with us?”

You felt your lips part, but no sound came out. Panic rose throughout your body as you tried and failed, and tried and failed again to speak.

The hashira before you looked at each other in concern before the one behind you piped up. “Use your body to speak if you can,” the calm voice spoke. “I’ll keep her on the rope just in case.”

Your stinging eyes moved to meet with pained dark blue ones as his pale hands wrapped firmly around the rope your frail body was attached to.

Nodding slowly— gods, it was so painful— you reached a hand over to one side of your rope-bruised neck and dragged it over to your other side, making a cutting motion.

The hashira gaped at you in horror.

“You... you want us t-to kill you?” The white-haired male yelled, the pulsing veins in his blank eyes straining as they peered into yours.

They were red.

Blood.

You needed blood. You craved it so, so badly. You could feel it bubbling in your gut and spreading from the tips of your clawed toes to your pale white skull. You couldn’t live without blood.

Human blood.

It was everywhere. In a quarter of a millisecond, it was everywhere.

Blood.

Gushing out from a white haori-covered shoulder.

Right underneath your glinting fangs.

Oh, it was delicious.

Terrified screams and the clink of metal cried out from all around you.

But all you could focus on was the taste of blood.

Human blood.

A crack.

You were thrown onto your back. A rope pulled tautly around your neck. The butt of a sword staked right onto your chest.

You cheeks were wet. Why were they wet?

Your eyes stung so badly. Why did they sting?

A strained noise escaped from your throat against your will. “Do— it!”

The voice wasn’t your own.

This body wasn’t your own.

Who were you?

"DO IT!" a voice shrieked from inside you. "DO IT! KILL ME!"

Who... who was saying that?

Nine horrified pairs of eyes stared down at you. Who were they again?

"Please!" the voice was hoarse now. "Please, before I hurt you again!"

The handle of the sword pushing into your chest trembled. You turned to meet the wide eyes of the man with the white hair...

Who was he again?

Oh right, he had the most delicious blood...

But there was something else about him...

Your vision grew red as you remembered the pure ecstasy of drinking in his blood, quenching your never-ending thirst for just a moment...

You craved it again.

Thrashing your body about underneath the sword, you lunged forward, clawing at the man's pale neck.

Petrified gasps sounded from all around you.

A searing pain flooded through your entire body.

There, piercing right through your neck, was a nichirin blade.

And directly in front of your eyes was the green sword hilt of the wind pillar.

Wind pillar.

Your eyes widened in realization as all of your memories of your human life came flooding back into your head.

Shinobu teaching you how to concoct various antidotes and poisons. Mitsuri helping you fit your official Demon Slayer Corps uniform. Rengoku helping you up after a difficult sparring session. Giyuu patting your head before sending you off to the Final Selection. Himejima giving you charms of luck before your first mission.

Sanemi, who had supposedly died to the demon who turned you, in front of you now, with his sword buried into your throat.

“N-nemi—” you managed to croak out, your vision growing dark. All you could focus on was the horrified gaze staring back at you.

"Fuck, (Y/N)!" Sanemi barked. "Why the fuck did you go and do that and kill yourself! Shit! You're gonna fucking die now!" You could see tears on his scarred cheeks.

A tiny, sorrowful smile spread across your face. "Don't cry, Sanemi..." All of your energy poured into this one smile, this one smile to say your goodbyes. "Hey— Nemi... remember, you always said... humans... always get the last laugh, huh?"

The last thing you saw before your vision went black was Sanemi’s frightened eyes.

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated. feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! thank you <3

#kny #kny headcanons #kny imagines #kny x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer angst #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #kny angst #sanemi imagines #mitsuri imagines #shinobu imagines #giyuu imagines #rengoku imagines #uzui imagines #angst

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blacktofade · 4 years ago

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pls oh god of fics pls grant thee touch starved Shane and oblivious Ryan in shyan ship *bows down* (i sent one before and donno if u actually got it cuz it showed error so im sending in another try)

I didn’t get your other ask unfortunately, but this is an idea I’ve been wanting to write like 10k for, but I know I’ll never have the energy. So it’s a little ficlet instead.

CW: Includes post-kidnapping, malnutrition, and an embarrassing lack of touching for a touch-starved prompt.

Shane disappears on September 17th. Ryan only remembers because they’d been scheduled to shoot an episode of Weird and/or Wonderful World and he’d had to eventually make the uncomfortable call to the Los Angeles County Arboretum and Botanic Garden to cancel their tour and interview.

It had been funny at first with Shane’s habitual lateness. They’d all assumed he’d slept late, forgot what day it was, and completely blanked on the filming schedule.

It’s less funny a week later when a missing person’s report is filed and Shane’s parents fly out to stay with Scott while they wait for any kind of news.

Detective Flores finds him two states over, a month and a half later. There are six hostages in total, as part of some elaborate heist that’s foiled before it comes to fruition. Shane’s kept in hospital for almost a full week, treated for malnutrition and a few general injuries, the news passed to Ryan through Scott via a DM on Instagram.

For the first time since Shane’s disappearance, Ryan sleeps through the whole night.

On the Saturday following Shane’s return, Ryan wakes to a phone call at eight in the morning.

“Hello?” he answers, voice rough from sleep, brain barely online.

“I’m sorry,” Shane apologizes, but his voice alone is enough to wake up Ryan the rest of the way. It’s the first he’s heard from him. He’d been trying to give the family space and knew Shane would find him once he was ready. Apparently, now is that time. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Sure,” Ryan agrees instantly, shoving back the covers and getting out of bed. “Where are you?”

“My apartment,” Shane admits and Ryan pauses from where he’s trying to dig out a pair of clean pants. “I just need a break.”

“Sure,” Ryan repeats. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

It’s quiet on the other end of the line before, quietly, Shane says, “Thanks, Ryan.”

Shane’s waiting at the curb when Ryan pulls up.

Ryan unlocks the door and watches Shane fold himself into his seat, waiting a moment for Shane to settle before reaching over to set a hand on his knee, squeezing gently.

“Hey man,” he says gently. “Long time no see.”

Shane startles at the touch, but glances over, offering a small smile in return.

He looks different. His face is thinner, his cheekbones a little more prominent, and there’s a new scar on the right side of his forehead that disappears into his hairline.

“Hey,” Shane replies, buckling his seatbelt and giving Ryan a view of his right hand, which has two fingers splinted together. “Thanks for coming.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

Ryan stares at him incredulously and eventually Shane looks away, out the passenger side window.

“It’s just hard being surrounded by everyone right now,” he says, clearly talking about his family. “I need a break.”

Ryan checks over his shoulder and pulls back onto the road.

“Is my apartment okay? Or did you want to go somewhere else?”

“Your place is fine,” Shane tells him, and from the corner of his eye, Ryan sees him turn his head, staring as though Ryan won’t notice.

At the next red light, Ryan glances over. “How are you doing?”

Shane looks away, clearly caught. “Getting tired of people asking me that. It’s all anyone asks these days.”

“Guess they just want to know you’re okay.”

Shane glances back towards him. “Could be better,” he says bluntly and Ryan can’t help but let out a quiet huff of laughter.

“Yeah, no shit. But the hospital cleared you?”

“Yeah,” Shane sighs. “Apart from a few broken fingers and some weight loss, I’m okay.”

“I missed you,” Ryan admits. “It’s probably the longest I’ve gone without seeing you since we started at BuzzFeed.”

Shane frowns like he’s thinking and then the frown deepens. “Jesus, you might be right.”

Ryan laughs again. “Horrifying thought, huh?”

“Puts things in perspective.”

“Didn’t you miss me?” Ryan asks jokingly, but Shane doesn’t answer, just laughs quietly.

“It’s weird,” Shane says. “I was never alone, but it feels like I have to relearn how to be around people now.”

Ryan had read the news after Shane’s rescue. There had been five others saved alongside Shane, so he suspects they might be the reason Shane wasn’t alone.

Ryan shrugs gently. “Adjusting is hard, and I’m sure it’s even harder with your family refusing to let you out of their sights.”

Shane shakes his head. “You have no idea. I was in the shower for twenty minutes this morning and they started knocking on the door to see if I was still alive.”

“Rough,” Ryan laments. “Well, you’re welcome to chill at my place for as long as you need.”

“Can I move in?” Shane jokes, but Ryan just shrugs.

“If that’s what you want.”

It’s silent for a moment before Shane says, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Ryan offers him a smile. “Of course, dude. It’s what I’m here for.”

It’s quiet for the rest of the drive until Ryan pulls into his usual parking spot and glances over. “You good?

Shane nods and carefully unbuckles his seatbelt. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

Ryan’s chest tightens watching Shane limp his way towards the front door, but he knows the last thing Shane needs is more helicoptering.

“Can I get you anything?” Ryan asks as he shuts the door behind them, watching Shane glance around as though he expects Ryan to have redecorated during his disappearance, but ultimately Shane shakes his head. “Okay, well, make yourself at home. You know the drill. I’m gonna go grab a drink.”

He knows Shane can find his own way to the living room, so he moves around him, heading in the direction of the kitchen instead.

“Ryan?” Shane questions and Ryan pauses, turning back.

“Yeah?”

Shane hesitates like he doesn’t know how to get the words out, but after a moment, he takes two steps closer and draws Ryan into a hug instead.

Ryan isn’t entirely expecting it. Shane’s not a touchy-feely guy, which means Ryan can probably count on one hand the amount of times they’ve hugged. But Shane folds around him so tightly that it startles the breath right out of him.

“I did miss you,” Shane mutters and Ryan lifts his hands to reciprocate, holding Shane as hard as he dares when everything feels so fragile.

“I was really worried,” Ryan admits. “I thought you’d been killed.”

He finds himself rubbing one hand along Shane’s spine, trying to soothe him as Shane tucks his face against his shoulder.

“You were gone for a long time,” Ryan continues.

He can feel the warmth of Shane’s breath through his shirt as he exhales shakily. “They broke my fingers when I tried to escape.”

Ryan holds him tighter, needing them both to understand that Shane’s safe again. Having the weight of Shane leaning against him is grounding in a way he never knew it could be. About a month into Shane’s disappearance, Ryan had gone through a mourning period, assuming he’d never see Shane again. He finds tears prickling his eyes as the relief hits him solidly in the chest.

“God, Shane,” he murmurs and he’s not sure who’s comforting who.

The warmth of Shane spreads through him, all the way down to his toes, like a cup of hot soup on a cold day. Except that Ryan never realized he was too cold until this moment. He feels alive and whole again, and he knows he can’t even begin to understand what Shane experienced. The fact that he can feel every ridge of Shane’s spine as his hand passes along it says enough.

When he finally starts feeling like Shane’s probably ready to let go, he loosens his arms and shifts, one foot lifting to take a step backwards.

“Just a little longer,” Shane requests and Ryan’s more than happy to comply, a noise of agreement escaping as he nods.

“I’ll stay here as long as you need,” Ryan tells him. “It’s just good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back,” Shane replies and tightens his grip again like he might never let go.

To be honest, Ryan’s okay with that. He holds on just as tightly and settles against Shane, finally feeling happy again for the first time in months.

#thing wot i wrote #fic #shyan #prompts 2021 #benaya-trash #benaya trash

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negasonicimagines · 3 years ago

Text

Revelation; Part Two (NSFW)

All the warnings and details you'll need are in part one. Enjoy!

As soon as they return to the mansion, Yukio and Ellie immediately go to their room. Wade gets up from where he was sitting on the floor, slowly stepping aside. The girls rush in to comfort you but a wall of scent leaves them dizzy with pheromones.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so glad you’re here,” you weep. The scent of your slick seems more intense, but maybe you’re just more aware of how turned on you are. The girls strip off their super-suits, joining you on the bed.

You practically tackle Ellie, burying your face in her neck.

“Mm, even better than I imagined…” you moan, starting to roll your hips so your soaking cunt can get the friction it needs on her thigh. Ellie carefully pushes you off of her, and you recline in the position you were before.

“Easy, sharpshooter. What the fuck happened? How are you in heat?”

“S-suppressants, not antidepressants, fake father, Wade,” you slur, explaining as best as you can.

“Wade,” Ellie and Yukio realize in unison.

“So, right now, you’re having not only your first heat, but a heat after years of taking suppressants,” Ellie fills in the blanks, and both she and Yukio look horrified.

“Mhm,” you confirm, “Need you. Both of you.”

“Of course, baby,” Yukio accepts, looking over you. Neither of them have seen you this stripped down before.

“Wait,” Ellie stops her, and you. “How do we know you actually want this? You’ve been really uncomfortable with the idea of sex until now, what if it’s just the heat? You literally said you don’t want to have sex today, like, two hours ago.”

“You don’t trust me?” You question, looking absolutely devastated.

“Y/N,” Ellie groans. “Of course I trust you, I just don’t want to hurt you. I love you. We love you.”

“It hurts. Please love me, Alpha,” you beg.

“Look at her, Ellie. She needs us,” Yukio adds.

“Fine. But we start out slow. Very slow. And if I get even a whiff of doubt or discomfort, we stop. Understand?”

“I need…” you whimper, clutching at your stomach as it continues to twist in pain.

“What is it, baby?” Yukio asks.

“I don’t know,” you sob, burying your face in your hands and squeezing your thighs together. “Just need it so bad, please.”

Both girls quickly shed their underwear, like the urgency of the situation is finally hitting them.

“So, the roses I smelled earlier…” Ellie trails off, feeling even worse. Not only is it not some other omega, it’s your heightened state of emotion, a sign of how much you want her and Yukio both.

Yukio gasps.

“Oh, Ellie, we can finally…” Yukio trails off.

“You’re gonna have to give a little more detail than that, Yukes. We’ve been looking forward to a lot of different things.”

Yukio whispers in Ellie’s ear, and the girl turns red before nodding.

“What are you gonna do to me?” you wonder.

“Well, if you want, we could both use our mouths on you at the same time,” Ellie reveals.

“Please,” you try to convince them to give you what you need. “Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” Yukio teases, like it’s not taking all her strength not to knot you right where you lay, propped wide open for the taking. It’d be so easy, and she could even try to have you to herself all week, and even though it’s probably impossible, you might have a baby. Oh, they’d be just the cutest, the perfect combination of her and you. What if you had twins? Or triplets? She’d never be able to tell them no once they flashed her your signature puppy eyes.

“Yukio,” Ellie snarls. “You’re panting. And drooling. She’s mine, too, remember?”

“Trust me, I remember,” Yukio snaps back.

“Alphas,” you whimper, and it’s like a switch flips. Their tongues battle for dominion over your most sensitive place, and your hips roll forward, desperate for more.

Ellie eventually concedes, giving your inner thigh some special attention that makes you squirm while Yukio devours you. The completely new sensations cause a tension to build in your stomach that you’ve only heard of.

“Oh my gosh, Ellie, Yuki- Ah! Ellie, Yuki- Ah! Ellie, Yuki- Oh, oh, oh!” you moan, embarrassed at how quickly you come undone.

“Oh, wow,” Ellie says. Yukio continues to lick up, well, everything, making the aftershock even more intense. “I- I didn’t realize you’d be that sensitive.”

“Never, ever, um, even by myself, ‘cause I never had any interest, because suppressants, so…”

“So, Yukio got to give you your first… Ever,” Ellie clarifies.

“U- Um,” you stutter, feeling a bit guilty for not making that clearer.

“You’re so adorable...” Yukio sounds almost reverent, and you taste yourself on her lips when they meet yours. You moan into the kiss, face burning under Ellie’s gaze and Yukio’s touch.

Ellie’s gaze turns into a glare as the kiss draws on, and soon that glare is joined by a growl that makes you gush. You pull back from the kiss, panting.

Yukio growls back, and your arousal intensifies even further, distracting the girls from their beginning turf war. You can’t help but wonder how many hickies you’re going to get in the next week.

“You really are an omega,” Ellie taunts.

“You like it when we growl?” Yukio adds.

They look like they’re ready to tear you to shreds in the best way.

“I guess it’s your turn,” Yukio remarks, sitting down next to you. “It’s still her first time, even if it won’t be the first time she-“

“Shut up,” Ellie snarls before going in for the kill, using her tongue to make you squirm and moan. She holds your hips down and your legs thrash around her, making you look the part of prey even more.

“Calm down,” Yukio suggests to you, stroking your hair. “It’s not like it’s ever gonna stop.”

“Oh fuck,” you whine, bucking your hips despite Ellie’s grip on them.

“That’s a good girl, fuck her face,” Yukio praises, taking one of your hands and putting it on Ellie’s head, holding the other. “She really likes having her hair pulled,” Yukio whispers in your ear. You get chills, but you do as she says.

Ellie groans into you, and at this point you really are fucking her face, your other hand having found its way into her hair.

“Oh my gosh, fuck, Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you whine before unraveling again, hips still rolling like your life depends on it.

“Fucking called it.” Ellie grins proudly. “And she called me it. I think I win.”

“Oh, whichever way you slice it, I’m the one that ate our brave little be- omega first and made her fucking weep slick, so… Whatever small victories you can find, I suppose,” Yukio giggles.

“Yeah, but I’ll be the one to fuck her first,” Ellie counters.

“You really think so? I think it depends on who can get a condom on faster,” Yukio retorts.

“You trust me to pull out, don’t you, omega?” Ellie wonders, winking at Yukio.

“O-Of course. I mean, with the suppressants, even if you didn’t, it’s a one in a billion chance,” you remind her.

“Can I use my fingers to help you get ready?” Ellie asks.

“Uh-huh,” you agree, nodding as she slides one in, pumping, followed by another. Your breathing gets heavy again as she hits that divine spot over and over.

“Imagine my fucking cock hitting right there,” she breathes to you.

“Don’t wanna imagine, wanna feel it,” you plead. She adds a third finger. “S-so full, alpha…”

Yukio hands trail along your body carefully, as if you’re a priceless artifact she’s trying to appraise. She seems okay with letting Ellie have this, despite the fight she put up before. It’s probably the best compromise, you all know, because your first orgasm is something Yukio has that Ellie can never, now.

“Is this still okay?” Ellie wonders as she slips her fingers out of you, sliding them into Yukio’s mouth. The girl moans, cleaning them off eagerly.

“Yes, I promise,” you agree, and Ellie positions herself, unintentionally teasing your entrance. “Ellie, please.”

Her hips snap forward, but she’s careful not to push her rather swollen knot in. It throbs every time it presses against your entrance, where every nerve in her body is begging her to shove it in.

The two of you sync up so quickly it’s almost romantic, you meet her thrusts perfectly and her cock does feel amazing when it pushes up against that spot deep inside. She’s practically got you folded in half as you whine and whimper and moan.

You instinctively start to rub your clit, but Yukio pulls your hands up and away.

“You’ve had your turn, let us have ours,” she tells you rather calmly.

“B-but it’s too good, I need…” you weep.

“Oh- Oh f-“ A strangled noise catches in Ellie’s throat and you feel her cum spurt into you as she hastily pulls out. “Uh- Oh. Oh, wow.”

Yukio moves around you to get a look at whatever Ellie’s blushing over.

“You should be ashamed,” Yukio teases, playfully popping Ellie’s shoulder. “Giving our innocent little omega a creampie her first time. She looks really cute with you dripping out of her, though. Almost good enough to eat. Almost.”

Yukio pulls out her own member, and you watch her stroke herself, Ellie mouthing at her neck between their passionate kisses. Her strokes speed up gradually until ribbons of her orgasm splatter right onto where you’re starting to feel neglected, with a soft little moan from her that makes you throb even more.

“Fuck, it’s so pretty. Sit up, Y/N, look,” Ellie encourages. Her cum has mostly flowed out of you and onto the sheets, while Yukio’s paints you. Speaking of Yukio, she trails a finger up your tarnished slit, sliding it into your mouth. You taste the salty sweetness of all your juices combined and give a pleased hum, almost not wanting to let her finger go.

“Hmm… Now it looks good enough to eat,” Yukio confirms. “Wanna try to share again?”

“Absolutely,” Ellie agrees. The two girls lick up the mixture of their cum and your arousal as you tremble, squeaking and whining more than you actually moan, too sensitive to do much of anything other than lie there and take whatever they want to give.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and your toes curl as you’re finally allowed release once more, but they don’t stop, despite your shaking.

“A-Alphas, what are you… What… I… Oh, oh, please,” you weakly implore them, so far gone that you’re not even sure if you’re asking them to stop or keep going.

After another orgasm, they come back up to check on you.

“So- So much,” you say, in response to “Are you okay?”

“So, I’m gonna go with water break time,” Ellie chuckles, opening up a bottle before opening your mouth with her hand. You let her help you drink.

“Good girl,” she praises, and you blush as Yukio stares you down.

“You should have a bath, too,” she suggests. “We can all take it together.” The jacuzzi sounds great for your aching muscles.

“Can you walk?” Ellie asks. She wasn’t particularly rough with you, but considering nothing that big’s ever been up there before…

You nod, already starting to feel normal, or, well, at least at what’s probably the baseline of this whole heat thing. You get up from the bed and immediately collapse into a heap on the ground, knees having turned to actual jelly at some point over the past hour.

The girls can’t help but snicker before helping you back into bed.

“I’ll go draw the bath. Your cuddle time got cut off earlier,” Yukio remembers.

“You’re doing amazing,” Ellie praises you once more, fingers running through your hair and stroking your face. “Such a good girl. Such a good omega. My omega.”

“My alpha,” you whisper back, before burying your nose in her neck. Ellie tightens her embrace.

“Thank you for letting us take care of you like this. You’re being so brave, sharpshooter, I- I know you were really nervous. I want you to know, y’know, as happy as I am you’re an omega— And that’s really, really happy, by the way. —I’d be just as happy right now if you were a beta. I love you. We love you, and we’re so grateful you trusted us with this.”

“Thank you. You smell good and I love you,” you tell her, not able to articulate much beyond that.

“You too,” she chuckles.

Yukio emerges from the bathroom, and Ellie helps you hobble over, both girls giggling and giddy at your stumbling.

“So, we’re probably gonna have to take another week off, huh?” Yukio notes, trying to sound sympathetic, but both girls can’t help their proud grins at how they’ve already fucked you to pieces and they’ve barely even started. This week is gonna be great, and so will the next, blissful and full of aftercare.

“Mhm,” you whimper. The girls help you into the bath, stripping off their remaining undergarments before joining you.

The warm water is such a comfort that your eyes involuntarily slip shut. Its embrace soothes your sore muscles, and your breathing slows. Yukio starts carefully scrubbing your arm with a lathered up loofah, holding your wrist like it’s the most fragile, priceless thing in the world.

“Hm?” You open your eyes, but Ellie slides your eyelids down with two fingers, stroking your cheek after.

“Shh… Just let us take care of you, okay? You’re always protecting us, keeping the den tidy, and you took us so well… Just relax, now.”

You do as you’re told and relax.

Ellie joins in washing you while Yukio hums softly.

“You’re so fucking pretty…” Ellie murmurs, the soft washcloth she’s using drifting down from your sensitive neck to your far more sensitive chest. You give a shallow, shaky sigh as each girl cleanses a breast, chills spreading throughout your body. Your heart flutters when Ellie’s washcloth meets your inner thigh under the water.

Yukio’s hand rests against your stomach, more specifically, your uterus.

“Yukes…” you sigh.

“I know,” she says quietly. “I was just thinking.”

It’s a bittersweet moment, but Yukio ends it before the bitter overcomes the sweet by gently washing your stomach with the loofah she was holding before. The girls switch positions and you whine needily. Your infertility can be discussed later, when tensions aren’t quite so high.

“Oh, sweetpea, are we doing something wrong?” Yukio questions teasingly.

“N- No,” you admit, brows furrowing. “I just- I-“

You’re already too blissed out to string together a coherent sentence, but you need more.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Ellie understands. You keep your eyes closed as fingers slip up and down your slit, leaning into the touch. The steam of the bath blends yours and your alphas’ scents, clouding your perception of where each girl is. You try to get a peek, but Ellie quickly, gently reminds you: “Eyes closed.”

Your chest is slowly, sensually massaged, the palms of whichever girl is doing so rubbing up against your nipples perfectly.

The alpha who was teasing you below the water before now slides her fingers inside you, making you gasp softly.

“Hmm… Good omega,” Yukio murmurs, closer to your ear than you thought she was, before nipping at it. You yelp in surprise, but the sensation has you feeling even tinglier. You lean towards Yukio, wanting to obey their limitation of your sight, but needing the comfort of knowing where each of them is. You cling to her arm, she’s now only massaging one breast and using the other hand to stroke your face.

The fingers inside you, which you’ve determined by process of elimination are Ellie’s, curl into that spot, hard, and you moan before you can quiet yourself.

“I think someone’s starting to feel ignored…” Yukio jeers, and you hear an indignant “Hmph!” from Ellie. “How about this?”

Yukio pries you off of her, and you hear movement in the water. Soon after, she pulls your back to her chest, allowing you to recline. The feeling of the alpha’s skin against yours is heavenly. She starts to massage your chest again, and Ellie resumes her activities as well, now from in between your legs.

“This is perfect,” Ellie agrees. “You are. Both of you.”

“Thank you,” you and Yukio both sigh.

You start to get restless as the girls continue to stimulate you, letting out little whimpers that sound more like impatience than pleasure.

“What is it, love?” Yukio wonders, so close to your ear again. You shudder before answering.

“Want, um… Um… Y-you… You know.”

“To cum?” Ellie asks.

“Y-yeah, but…” You rock against Yukio’s hardness, which is pressed against your back.

“Ngh, oh, okay, yeah,” Yukio agrees. “Lean back.”

You lean back, moving up and bracing yourself against the rim of the jacuzzi before sliding down onto Yukio’s dick, eyes rolling back as you’re filled by an alpha once more.

“W-wait, with this position, we could…” Ellie trails off, and you can sense Yukio’s smirk.

“I know.”

“W- What is it?”

“Well, uh, if you’re okay with it, Yukio and I could try to fit inside you at the same time,” Ellie suggests.

“That sounds nice, but…”

“But?”

“First time having Yukio,” you quietly say.

“Oh… Okay, babe, that makes sense. Maybe later?”

You nod eagerly, and Yukio starts to move a little, hooking her hands under your knees to maintain more control over you.

“E- Ellie.”

Yukio growls.

“N- No, I just… Ellie, could you rub my-“ You’re cut off by a moan that’s a mix of pleasure and pain as Yukio thrusts harder, resenting the lack of attention. “A- Alpha, I’m yours. I’m yours.”

“I- I know, sorry. Such a good omega,” Yukio quickly apologizes, sprinkling kisses all over your neck and shoulders as she takes it down a notch. Ellie summons the courage to touch you despite Yukio’s possessive burst, and you’re on cloud nine once again. “You feel so good.”

Eyes still closed, you’re caught off guard when Ellie kisses you, but you respond quickly, tangling your fingers in her hair and moaning into her mouth.

“Love you,” Ellie whispers against your lips before kissing you some more.

“El, go faster, I think she’s close,” Yukio tells your shared lover, and she obeys. Your moans rise in pitch and volume but due to your position there’s not much you can do other than take what you’re given.

“Yukio, Yukio, Yukio,” you whine in sync with her thrusts, squirming in an attempt to meet both Yukio’s motions and Ellie’s hand.

You don’t last much longer, and the way you tighten around Yukio causes her to finish as well, burying her face in your neck and groaning; likely resenting the fact that she can’t bury her teeth there, not yet.

“Well, so much for gentle aftercare,” Ellie chuckles, stroking your cheek, which honestly feels as sensitive as the rest of you.

“S-sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

Ellie helps you off of Yukio, and you nuzzle into her, embracing her.

“You two are the best alphas ever,” you mumble, eyes growing heavy again.

“We’re the only alphas you’ve had,” Ellie skeptically responds. You whimper at the perceived rejection. “Oh, but thank you. You’re sweet.”

“More than just sweet,” Yukio argues, pulling the plug on the jacuzzi. Ellie holds you as the tub drains, so you don’t get too cold, while Yukio hunts down some towels and your robes. Pink satin for her, black flannel for Ellie, and a plush F/C one is yours.

The girls assist you as you get out of the tub, wrapping you in your robe and helping you to bed before equipping theirs.

Being bundled between them is enough to keep the worst of your heat pains at bay.

“Can I open my eyes now?” You wonder, and the girls chuckle endearingly.

“Yes, Y/N,” Ellie permits, but it seems as though you could’ve done so or at least asked much sooner, based on her tone. “I said yes.”

Your eyes stay closed, so heavy that you don’t even wanna bother yet.

“Babe, stay awake. We need to talk,” Ellie insists.

“About what?” Yukio asks curiously.

“The, uh.. The thing Wade stopped her from doing.”

“Jus’ thinking about it,” you correct.

“And the Supreme Court is ‘just thinking’ about overturning Roe v. Wade. It’s still a fucking problem,” Ellie argues.

You shake your head.

“I have real medicine now, I’ll be fine.”

“You still hid it from us,” Yukio says softly, tearfully. “We- We failed you. You didn’t feel like you could tell us, your alphas.”

“Being my alphas is what made me not want to tell you. Because you can’t- Because- Because I knew it would be torture for you both if I had a problem you couldn’t fix; a need you couldn’t provide. I just wanted to protect you.”

“Sharpshooter…” Ellie looks heartbroken, and the devastation that both girls reek of makes you want to lock yourself away (or worse) so that you’ll never hurt them again.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I never meant for you to find out.”

“That’s not the problem here,” Ellie disagrees.

“Isn’t it? If you two never found out, you wouldn’t be unhappy about anything right now. I ruined this.”

“No,” Yukio snarls, wrapping her arms tighter around you, as if they can protect you from yourself. “You’re good. We�� I told you, we were the ones who made you feel like it wasn’t safe to be honest with us. We’re proving you right the longer we talk about this before you’re ready to. Don’t you agree, Ellie?”

Ellie nods, seeming to finally understand.

“Can you at least promise that if there’s any other time you feel like you did then, you’ll talk to someone you trust, even if it’s not us?” Ellie requests.

“I can do that,” you concede.

“Thank you,” both girls reply, and Ellie moves a little closer, maneuvering her arms so that she’s embracing both you and Yukio, who’s spooning you.

Between the drowsy scent of petrichor, the nostalgic scent of a campfire, and your own relaxing lavender aroma, the three of you are finally soothed, and able to rest before continuing to contend with your first heat.

The next week is nothing short of an absolute fuckfest. Sure, you all take breaks for food, water, showers, et cetera. But, on what should be the final night of your heat, something causes you to stir.

The absolute need that came with your heat had waned over the week, but now it seems to be back with full force. You squirm in your half-sleep, trying to ignore it, but sense that your girls are already awake.

“Baby,” one of your alphas whispers. You’re draped across them both, all of you naked and entangled. You’re not even sure where you end and they begin right now, let alone which is which.

“Can we touch you?”

“Mhm,” you agree sleepily.

Their hands wander comfortingly, making it easier for the sandman to lure you back into his arms, but one of the alphas is bold enough to slip her fingers inside of you, sliding them right back out for some reason.

“Wow…”

“That is… A lot of slick.”

Oh.

You whine, spreading your legs for whichever one of them will touch you, it really doesn’t matter. You’re guided into one of their laps, whoever it is feels huge with no prep.

“Please just knot me so we can sleep, s’not like I can get pregnant anyways,” you request.

“Mmkay, sharpshooter, if that’s what you want.” So, it’s Ellie fucking you. That’s nice. Hers is a little shorter than Yukio’s, but she’s thicker. You fidget around, adjusting to her girth before finding that perfect angle and just bouncing.

“You look so pretty riding our alpha like that,” Yukio quietly praises, making you shiver. She plays with your nipples, hardened in the cool night air, while she touches herself. You resent your current position for limiting your sight of the other alpha, but you wouldn’t trade Ellie’s embrace for anything. “Touch that clit for us, won’t you? Cum all over her cock. Maybe you’ll even squirt again. That angle is normally what does it for you, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Daddy,” you sigh, obeying.

“No, baby, Ellie’s your daddy. I’m your mommy.”

“M-Mommy,” you whimper, continuing to squeak and moan for your two lovers as you clench harder and harder around Ellie, sinking your teeth into her scent gland as you three finish, nails digging into her already scratched-up back. When you relax, Ellie pushes her knot in. “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to without asking,” you apologize, pulling away with a mouth full of blood that both girls are just dying to taste.

“No, babe, you know I wanted you to do that.” Ellie kisses your lips, cleaning them. “Don’t worry. Can you bite Yukio, too?”

“Of course! But, um, how am I gonna get to her?”

“Don’t worry, I can wait,” Yukio reassures you both.

“But- But you’re mine, too,” you insist. “I’m yours, remember?”

“Baby, of course I remember. Maybe- Maybe I could just bite you for now, and then you can bite me and Ellie can bite you in the morning? That way everyone has a turn.”

“When are you two gonna bite each other?”

“We can do that in the morning, too,” Yukio explains. In her drowsiness, she’d forgotten that part. “Are you ready?”

“Y-Yes, Alpha,” you stutter, because while you’re ready, you’re still nervous. Yukio picks a spot with her teeth, gently pressing, as if to ask you and Ellie, ‘Right here?’

You nod.

“That’s good, Yukes,” Ellie agrees, and the other girl sinks her teeth in deep.

You moan in pleasurable pain, and Ellie’s hands grab at your hips, feeling you flutter around her.

“Fuck,” she snarls, tensing up with you until Yukio’s no longer clamped down on your neck. The pink-haired girl licks up the blood, and you start to writhe, turned on all over again.

“One more time?” you request meekly, like Ellie’s dick isn’t literally locked inside of you.

“Of course,” Ellie consents, needing it just as much as you do.

Despite your now-limited range of motion, you carefully gyrate your hips. Yukio presses against you from behind, embracing you but also letting a hand slip down, fingers rubbing circles on your clit.

“That’s it, ride that knot like a good little omega,” Yukio taunts you, and you can feel her touching herself again.

“Your good little omega,” you moan.

“Ours indeed,” Ellie reminds you both, fucking up into you as you continue. Your breathing deepens and you clutch Ellie’s shoulders tighter, burying your face in the crook of her neck once more. “Close, sharpshooter?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, the three of you entangled once again as Yukio strokes her cock and your clit, the heat radiating off of all of you intensifying your scents. “So close, wanna cum so bad,” you beg.

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” Yukio encourages. “Cum all over her.”

You whine as Yukio’s strokes become quicker for the both of you. Feeling the hand she’s using to get herself off brush against you turns you on even more, just knowing she’s getting off on this makes it even better. You can feel Ellie pulse inside you as her breathing also becomes labored.

“Cum with me, omega, please,” Yukio murmurs against the back of your neck, and you shudder, finally finishing. “Good girl… Good omega… Good girl…” Yukio sighs praise as she comes undone as well, Ellie’s orgasm falling somewhere in between yours and Yukio’s.

Ellie reclines with you on top of her, with Yukio nestled between her arm and her body. Both alphas embrace you, and the three of you finally fall back asleep.

#a/b/o #yukisonic #yukisonic x reader #yukio x reader #ellie phimister x reader #negasonic teenage lesbian #negasonic teenage warhead x reader #yukio imagine #yukisonic imagine #negasonic teenage warhead imagine #ellie phimister imagine #poly x reader #poly imagine #wlw x reader #wlw imagine #omega!reader

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xenia-cenia · 4 years ago

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Chongyun x Fem!Reader - Strength

A/N - I forget how many days since I finished the Mondstadt part of this series... I had to start Liyue with my boi. My beloved. He <3

Also fan fact: Chongy means gum in Britain so it double works for Chongyun cuz he’s so dang good :)

Trigger/Content Warnings: ghost mention, bad parents, food mention, we hurting Xingqiu today lads, fear, light swearing, kidnapping (kinda?)

Word Count: 2,937

Request: No

Summary: You’ve been plagued by demons your whole life. He’s never seen one. What will happen when you meet?

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Ghosts, spirits, and demons.

You were no stranger to the unknown. They often whispered secrets of their lives into your ears as you slept. Many exorcists had come and went. They all charged thousands of Mora, only for their promises to fall short.

Your family was desperate. These whispering strangers grew stronger with each passing day, they began to claw and destroy your family. In one last-ditch effort to keep the (L/N) legacy alive, you were thrown to the streets.

Many weeks passed, your survival depended on the kindness and naivety of strangers. They invited you into their homes, promising happier times and brighter futures.

But just like before, they lied.

The whispers turned into yells, the yells into shrieks. It was positively unbearable. Madness constantly danced at the edge of your vision, you wanted nothing more than to give in.

It all changed, however, when a boy with light blue hair and cat slit pupils paused at your trembling form.

“...are you okay?”

Your head snapped up and you looked the boy up and down. He looked nothing special, light clothes and a melting popsicle in his hand. Your eyes focused on the popsicle and you unconsciously licked your lips as you imagined how good it’d feel to have real food in your mouth after... 4 days? 5? You’ve lost count.

He looked between you and the popsicle for a few seconds, sighed heavily, and handed it to you. As you nibbled on the popsicle, he uncomfortably shifted his weight between his feet and waited for you to finish.

When you were done with it, he cleared his throat and began to rifle through a small bag that was slung over his shoulder. A few moments later, he pulled out a trinket that was engraved in gold.

“You’re (Y/N) (L/N), right?” His voice was soft as he handed you the item. “Take these. It’s a talisman, it should keep the demons at bay.”

Taking the talisman in hand, you flipped it over a few times and considered the boy carefully. Hundreds- no, thousands- of exorcists have tried their hand to free you from the demons who chose you to haunt. What would make this boy any different?

“It’s not like they’ll ever leave.” You mumbled to yourself.

For a moment he looked almost excited, but quickly hid it with a stoic expression, “Can you still hear them?”

You paused. What an odd question. Of course, you could still hear them, why, they were...

“...silent.” You looked up at him, partially horrified, partially euphoric. “They’re silent.”

He sighed to himself, “I see.” The boy stretched and began to walk away, believing his job to be done.

But the moment he left your eyesight, the voices came back louder than ever.

“Why did you try to get rid of us? Don’t you love us? We love you! Stay with us. Stay with us. Stay with us.”

“Stay.”

A scream fell from your lips, you gripped and pulled at your hair, trying to regain the peaceful silence you had mere moments ago.

Cold hands on your shoulders, heavy breathing, and the scent of various herbs and old paper. You opened your eyes and saw the somewhat panicked cat slit eyes staring at you.

“They came back.” You breathed.

He sat next to you and went deep into his thoughts. For half an hour, the two of you sat there in silence. You relished it, taking in and memorizing every hint of life you hadn’t been able to hear before. He hated it, remembering each time his pure positive energy stopped him from performing his job.

“Can I...” you finally spoke, breaking the silence, “come with you?”

The out of the blue comment surprised him, but not a hint of that surprise showed on his face, “Why?”

“They’re quiet when you’re here. I never realized how good the quiet was.”

He considered it for a moment, looked at you, “Fine.”

You sighed in relief, “Oh, thank the Archons...”

“But.”

“Oh no.”

“You have to help me get my friend Xingqiu back.”

You blinked at him. ‘Get him back’? Was he in danger? Was he kidnapped somehow? You knew a bit of fighting but not enough to go raid a camp full of stronger, more trained adults.

“He keeps pranking me. I need to get him back.” The boy shook his head solemnly, “Every day he tells me that I’ll finally see a demon. Every day he makes fun of me when I get back.”

“Oh!” You tried to fight the smile that was building on your lips, “Okay. Yeah, I can do that. I, uh, sure. Okay.”

He stood and shook the dirt off his clothes, “We aren’t too far from Liyue Harbor. That’s usually where he stays. It’ll be about uh... a 12-hour walk.”

“12... hours...” you squeaked. You shook the nervousness away and managed a shaky smile, “You never told me your name.”

The boy paused a moment, “Chongyun.”

You and Chongyun walked in synchrony after hour 3. He kept his distance but always made sure to be close enough so the voices wouldn’t return. Chongyun found you to be eerily calm considering your situation.

Xingqiu told him that you’d been abandoned by your family after years of the spirits gaining strength and losing patience. For the first time, Xingqiu seemed panicked. He begged Chongyun to set out to find you.

Who was Chongyun to say no?

His original plan was just to give you the talisman and leave but... this might work out better. The way Xingqiu had described you, it was obvious you were someone close to his heart. Maybe he’d be happy to see you relatively safe and sound. Chongyun liked the idea of that.

“...yun?”

Chongyun turned to face you, barely feeling your hand grip onto his sleeve.

“What is it?” He internally winced at how cold he sounded.

“Thank you.” You let go of his sleeve and ran your hands up your arms, “It’s been... ah. Just, thank you. Could you tell me more about your friend?”

“Xingqiu? He’s... hm. He’s really smart. He helps me think of ideas to finally see a demon-”

“You’ve never seen one?” You interrupted him. “Why would you want to see one?”

He slightly puffed out his chest, “It’s my duty as an exorcist to continue the family lega-”

“Screw that! You’ve been blessed! I wish I had that.” You kicked a small rock that lied in your path.

Chongyun sighed heavily. He’s seen this reaction many times over the years, “It makes my job harder.”

“How? Just sit still and bam! Demons gone!”

“I have to draw and describe them in The Field Guide to Demons and Beasts. Not being able to see them makes it... hard.”

You exhaled, “I still wish I had that power.”

“It’s...” he shook his head. “Nevermind. We can talk about it later.”

The two of you walked the rest of the way, with some snack breaks, in silence.

As you arrived in Liyue, you caught sight of a navy blue haired boy anxiously pacing in front of the entrance. You paused, narrowed your eyes, thought for a moment and when the realization set in, you cried out in glee.

“Xingqiu!” You yelled. The boy looked towards you and quickly dashed in your direction. As he came to a stop, he gripped your hands and smiled happily at you, “Oh, Archons, how long has it been?”

“4 years? When I heard how your family sent you out, I knew I had to do something!” He tightened his grip on your hands as his smile fell. “Are you alright? Are you injured anywhere? Are they...?”

You sighed and let your grip loosen, “I’ve been better. They’re a lot quieter when I’m with him.” You nodded towards Chongyun who was awkwardly standing while chewing on a popsicle.

“Did you get to see them?” Xingqiu asked Chongyun.

“No,” he spoke dejectedly. “There’s has to be at least one demon who isn’t as strong as it, right?”

“It?” You looked between the two boys.

“My ‘power’.” Chongyun specified.

“Ahhh,” you nodded, “well. I’m utterly exhausted. Xingqiu, can I stay at your place tonight?”

“Su-”

“You can stay at mine.”

You and Xingqiu both looked at Chongyun, surprised by his sudden offer.

“It’s only to make sure the demons don’t come back during the night.” He spoke, digging his toe into the dirt and suddenly very interested in a nearby bush.

“Can Xingqiu stay with us? I just... well, I don’t really know you.” You nervously laughed, “I’d just feel more comfortable if he were there.”

“In that case, let’s just skip the walk and stay at my place. I’m sure Father wouldn’t mind.” Xingqiu looked between the two of you. You looked at Chongyun, who was still entranced with a nearby bush and waited for his response. After a few moments of silence, he nodded his head.

The three of you walked the streets of Liyue, the further you got the more familiar it felt. Dogs who always licked at your heels, tourists surprised at the food, children laughing and chasing each other.

You stopped walking and looked around in awe. The boys, caught up in conversation, hadn’t noticed.

Is this how it feels like? To not be afraid? You almost didn’t believe it. No, you definitely didn’t believe it. They were gone, it was quiet. You couldn’t feel their warm claws digging into your shoulders, nor their cold breaths on your cheek. Anything you wanted to do you could. The voices and demons would never bother you again as long as-

“Why do you keep trying to leave us?”

You gulped, sweat beading at your brow as you spun around. No, this isn’t right.

You got rid of them. They’re gone. It’s been half a day and you hadn’t heard them, you’re free. So why...

“Listen to us. We just want to keep you safe. Don’t you want that too?”

...why were they back?

Why did you feel their nails beginning to pierce your skin as rose petals slipped down your shoulder? Why could you hear their melodic hums in your ears as their tongues tied and twisted around you?

Your eyes were unfocused, your legs were shaking, you swallowed every bit of spit that lingered in your mouth but your throat still ran dry. You could almost hear pounding footsteps; could almost feel a boy with navy blue hair pushing through the crowd until his hand wrapped around your wrist and yanked you forward.

Your feet were moving. That much you knew. Where you were going and why they were moving were two separate matters entirely. Slowly, the voices were replaced by panting and their burning claws melted into cool metal.

“...huh?” you spoke as you gathered your senses. Why were you sitting on the streets of Liyue? You looked around and felt your shoulders immediately relax as you saw Xingqiu. “Xing... Xingqiu?”

He was holding your left hand tightly, trying to manage a reassuring smile despite his panicked eyes. You looked to the boy pressing the cold circular object against your shoulder.

“What’s...” you yawned, “What’s happening?”

“I, uh, we got wrapped up in the conversation. We thought you were right behind us.” Xingqiu looked at the ground guiltily, “You just about passed out.”

You looked up at Chongyun, taking note of the determination in his eyes. “I guess I’m kinda stuck to you for a while, huh?” You laughed sadly.

He froze and looked down at you, his eyebrows knitting together as his lips turned into a tight frown, “I don’t think that makes me stuck to you.”

“True, you could always drop me off at... well, anywhere.” You rested your head against the wall you were propped up against, “It’s not really you who's stuck.”

Chongyun shook his head, “That’s not what I meant.”

A soft blush covered your cheeks, “Oh.”

Xingqiu looked between the two of you and quickly bit his tongue.

“Don’t interfere, Xingqiu.” He chided himself. “Your childhood crush is nothing. It’s been 4 years! They just met anyway.”

He shook the anxiety away and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. All old crushes die out eventually, he’ll be fine.

He was not fine.

It’s been 2 months since your arrival and he’s found himself as head-over-heels for you as he was 4 years ago. He took every opportunity he could to spend time with you. He was jealous of Chongyun, and he hated it.

Chongyun got to spend all day with you. Chongyun spent hours training with you and planning ways to beat your demons.

Chongyun was his best friend! It’s fine! Your just his friend, it’s okay! He’s okay with that!

“Mmm, okay I think I get it.” You spoke, pointing at a book that was spread between you and Chongyun, “This is for healing and that’s why we need it.”

“We also should bless it in pure rainwater.”

“Chongy, do we need to wait for it to rain here? Who knows how long that’ll be...”

Chongy.

A nickname. You gave Chongyun a nickname. Why didn’t you give him a nickname? Xingqiu found he could no longer ignore the feelings building in his chest. He tore through every book in his collection, nearly memorized every declaration of love.

For 20 minutes a day, you were alone. You and Chongyun were testing your tolerance and slowly but surely, it was growing. That was good news all around. Xingqiu took these measly 20 minutes as an opportunity. He knocked on the door to your room and waited for a response. A few minutes passed and he grew anxious. He announced his presence and let himself into your room.

It was eerily clean. Xingqiu called your name a few more times and grew more and more confused as he couldn’t find a trace that you had ever been there. He sat on your bed and jumped when he heard something crunch beneath him.

Right where he sat, a note was lied out.

Chongyun and Xingqiu -

I’ve decided I’m going to try to go back home.

I know you’d try to stop me... so I figured it’d be best to just run for it. I think I’m enough now. Enough for them.

I’ll use the skills we went over and I’ll control the demons! They’ll be so happy.

Thank you for helping me.I’ll write again when I arrive so you know I’m safe. Feel free to visit!

-(Y/N)

Meanwhile, you knocked on the door of your family's home. The entire trip over you’d been practicing what to say to them. Your mother opened the door and gasped when she saw you.

“(Y/N)?” She whispered, her eyes wide. “How are you...?”

“I’m back.” You sheepishly smiled. “I, ummm, I spent a lot of time getting control of them. I think I’m better now. See? They’re not even here!”

“S-Stay here...” she half-jogged deeper into your house and didn’t return. You awkwardly stood around, twiddling your thumbs, not even noticing the shovel about to hit the back of your head and knock you unconscious.

When you woke up, your hands were tied behind your back and you were surrounded by the damp scent of rotting wood. It was dark and your head hurt.

Where were you? This isn’t right. You had been going home. No, you were home. You saw your mother. Why are you here? Are they afraid? No. No, that doesn’t make sense.

You did your best. You thought it was enough... wasn’t it enough? The voices had stopped. You made friends. You...Tears bloomed in your eyes as you harshly bit into your lip.

You thought they’d love you if you came home the way they wanted. Why didn’t they love you? Where was Chongyun? Where was Xingqiu?

You missed them. You wanted Chongyun to sit next to you like he always does. You wanted to hear him enthuse about exorcism. You wanted to lie your head in his lap and tease him. Just like you always do.

“Chongy...” you muttered to yourself. “I lo...”

A loud crash upstairs forced a gasp from your lips. In horror, you sat silently and hoped the house wasn’t getting robbed. The yelling, banging, and screaming wasn’t easing your nerves.

You sat as still as you could, hoping that whoever was up there wouldn’t hurt you. Praying even. Light flooded the room which made you wince and turn away. “(Y/N)?” A familiar voice called.

You looked in the direction of the voice and let the tears fall loose. There, at the top of a staircase, stood Chongyun. The light behind him made him look like an angel.

“Ch... Chongy!” You yelled. He raced down the stairs and looked at you. “Chongyun, Archons, I’m so happy to see you.”

He worked quickly, untying your hands and letting you collapse into his arms. “Xingqiu and I came as fast as we could...”

You gripped onto his shirt and held him closer, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I thought... I thought they loved me.”

“I know.” He drew loose circles on your back with his finger, “I know.”

You rested your head in the crook of his neck and let the scent of various herbs and old paper engulf you.

Xingqiu, who had just finished fighting your parents, stopped at the top of the stairs and smiled at you two. It was the first time he’d seen Chongyun able to touch someone without his congenital positivity overflowing...

Maybe you were helping him just as much as he was helping you.

#also some slight xingqiu angst but its cool #chongyun x reader #chongyun x you #chongyun genshin #chongyun genshin impact #xingqiu #xingqiu genshin impact #xingqiu genshin #chongyun #chongyun genshin impact x reader #chongyun genshin x you #fanfiction #x reader #happy endings #oneshot #one shot #saved by chongyun

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