#dancing to ghost at night when alone at home and making this is a core memory of mine now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

artficlly · 2 years ago

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lady of the ghosts [chapter 7]

After a great plague ravages your city, you are looking to marry to secure safety for your people. With a war finally ending, the nearby kingdoms are looking to celebrate. King James "Bucky" Barnes decides to continue his family's tradition of hosting a courting season. A medieval courting marvel AU.

Pairing: king!bucky x lady!reader

Warnings: ANIMAL SACRIFICE, BLOOD RITUAL/MAGIC, description dead body, anxiety, doubt, funeral, cremation, mentions of sexism, angst, tension, miscommunication, mention of war, mention of plague, general assholery, bitta fluff at the end, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 7.8k (eek)

A/N: me saying i want to write shorter chapters and then this happens? whoops. anyway i had a lot of ground to cover, sorry that this is rather plot/world building heavy. we are getting into the heavy romance stuff in the next couple chapters. the funeral scene has been living rent free in my mind for MONTHS so i was excited to finally write it (very midsommar core) please let me know what you think and rebblog/like! sorry for any typos - enjoy!!

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You could smell the sea before you saw it.

Years ago, you believed that the smell of the ocean and the briskness of the icy air would be consoling. The sight of home after all this time – the whirling mass of the city – was supposed to make you happy. But all you felt was dread. Anxiety has been building for days as you grew closer. For so many years, you had been focused on returning to this place, yet now that you were here, you didn’t know how to progress. You would still need to marry to save the city and come up with some kind of solution. Thoughts of James’ proposal still hung heavy on your mind, burden after burden becoming a crushing weight on your shoulders.

Once your mother was put to rest, you would truly be alone. The last of a once great line, a final soldier facing down an army. A ship lost at sea during a storm. When you closed your eyes at night, you could see those enormous waves before you, impossibly large, crashing down and pushing you to the sandy ocean floor below.

If Peggy had noticed your nightmares, she hadn’t said anything. She wouldn’t mention how you would wake in a cold sweat, arms sore and tense as you had desperately tried to claw your way to the surface. With each passing day, you grew quieter until you found no need to talk at all. Some days Steve would extract a grunt or a half-smile from you, but mostly he watched on with concerned frowns, locked in conversation with James.

James. That was another man you had not spoken to in some time. Even the cold of the Stormfall Mountains could not compare to the chill that had grown between the two of you. That was another image that haunted you – the reluctance on James’ face when, moments earlier, you had poured your heart out to him that night in his room. Was he repulsed by you? Did he regret all the moments you shared? Had you pushed too far with your questions about Rebecca? You would never know because no words were shared between you. He pulled back, and you pulled back further, hoping to disappear into the snow and rock like a snow leopard, like a Ghost of the Mountain.

The icy, cobbled streets of Faliene were as you remembered. They were twisted and narrow, and layers of stacked housing were featured on every street. Banners and flags were still strung between upper floors, tattered and faded as they danced in the wind. Salt crunched beneath your horse's hooves, and a biting wind blowing from the docks sank painfully into your bones.

She was just as you remembered, but she was void. A husk of her former self, left gutted and abandoned.

There were no markets and no travelers on the streets. Houses lay abandoned, windows and doors boarded up with the remnants of chipped red x’s painted upon them. Shipping barrels lay untouched in alleys, shops empty and rotting. City of Ghosts. How many were taken during the plague? How much death had your child's brain washed away to protect you?

It was eerie, near silent. The only sound came from the docks, the soft lapping of the waves, the creak of the boats, and the distant chatter of sailors. So empty, so still. It was as if time had frozen and your procession was the only thing left thawed.

Even as dread gripped your core, you couldn’t help but feel the scene was serene. In your mind’s eye you could remember people scurrying to and fro, across the streets and in and out of shops, their goods tucked under cloaks. Children running between their mother’s skirts, and horses whinnying and snorting as they navigated their way through the packed streets. You can even hear a bell chime and you turn your head to the shop next to you. The visions dissipate, and all that is left is a gray, stone storefront with a painted trident fading above the doorframe. The arctic breeze blew through your hair like icy fingers caressing your scalp. Deep in your bones, you felt it – a calling, a whisper, welcome home.

You pulled your horse to a stop at a crossroads, a large open space near the center of the city. The view from the hill provided a clear landscape of the surrounding alleys, lanes, and the docks below, each scattering away from you like shattered glass. Up a wide, well-paved road to the right, Fort Faliene stood proudly, casting shadows on the mountain behind her.

You knew your ladies’ maids and footmen would be waiting up there, having been informed of your collective arrival. You could not bear to look at the fort for long; the ache in your heart was too strong. You were aware that without your family, the hallways would be chilly and empty, and part of you yearned to preserve those early memories, tuck them closely to your chest, and never let them go.

Your moment of thought was broken as Steve pulled his horse to a stop beside yours, shivering as he rubbed a gloved hand over his arms. James remained nearby, close enough to listen but not close enough to be part of your conversation.

“When you said it would be cold, I did not think it could get any worse than those mountains.” Steve mutters through clattering teeth. You bite back a smile, glancing back to watch as the carriages carefully roll closer over the grit and ice.

You were minutes away from Fort Faliene, the place you were raised and called home. Yet a part of you felt content to stay frozen atop your horse. A large serpent had crept its way under your skin, twisting, biting and squeezing your insides until you were left breathless. You were not ready to face those halls yet. Would you ever be?

“I need you to lead the carriages up to Fort Faliene. It’s up the road to your right, follow it to its end. The staff will show you to your rooms.” You finally speak for the first time in days, watching in your peripheral vision as both Steve and James’ faces morph into looks of confusion.

“Why, where are you going?” Steve asks, but you don’t respond.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth and you fear tripping over your words. Instead, you nudge your horse into a trot, following the winding path down to the docks. If the two men were confused or called after you, you don’t hear it. Your focus is entirely on the docks below. Before you entered that Fort, the place where your father had died, you needed a moment alone with the waves and the wind.

—

The sailors had eyed you suspiciously as you walked to the water's edge, sand crunching beneath your boots. The men were bulky and decorated with tattoos and scruffy beards. The stench of fresh fish was overpowering but familiar; the sailors were using rigging and rope to haul the barrels from the docks. You had tried to pay them no mind as they paused their hauling, their kohl-lined eyes narrowing as they inspected your every move.

They didn’t recognize you, which you quickly realized. They had every reason to be cautious of an unknown noblewoman invading their space. But you did not wish to disturb them however; you just wanted a moment to breathe.

You peeled off your gloves, tucking them into your pocket as you crouched down next to the surf. The icy water stung as it rushed over your fingers, your bones aching with the chill. You did not submit to the cold, instead exhaling sharply as you tried to imprint that sensation in your mind forever. As a child, you played in these waters, barefoot and fearless. The possibility that those were your last happy memories and that everything could disappear in a matter of seconds was something you had not thought about at the time.

“Excuse me, Miss, are you lost?” A thick, northern accent calls out to you from the docks. A younger man stood, peering over at you. You didn’t recognize him, but you could tell he was around your age. He wasn’t as muscled and rugged as the other sailors – fresh meat, you assumed.

You didn’t reply instantly, instead withdrawing your numb fingers from the lapping waves with a short sigh. You rubbed your fingers together, feeling the salty moisture between your skin, before turning to walk back onto the docks.

“If you’re here for the funeral, Fort Faliene is back up–” The man began once more, but you waved your hand with a half-smile and cut over him.

“I’m not lost, just taking the air.” You clarified, pausing before him. Despite the chill, he only wore a thick woolen shirt and pants, which seemed to feature some holes that had been stitched with patches of mismatched fabric. Your eyes swept down to his shoes, noting the scuffs. Time had been hard on Faliene, maybe more so than you realized. The man sheepishly ducked his head, avoiding your gaze. His short hair was tousled by the wind, and a faint odor of fish was surrounded him.

“Oh, I–” the young man stumbled over his words, as if unsure of how to react.

Before he could gather himself, a gruff voice sounded from behind him. “It’s not safe on the docks, Miss.”

That was a lie; you knew it. The docks were always safe, and children would often play in the water while their parents worked. You knew it was rather that they didn’t want you here, a stranger in their home. Falieneans had never been the most hospitable and were incredibly superstitious. The eyes that met you as you glanced up were cold and uninviting. If you had not known the man behind those eyes, you might have felt uncomfortable under his gaze. But you did know him; you had known him since you were a child.

There was little difference from how you remembered him; maybe his beard had grown more gray and his face more wrinkled. Brannigan, Master of the Docks. His assistance in overseeing the sailors and the boats made him a close friend of your father. But from the icy tone and the distant look in his eyes… he did not recognize you.

“No need to fret, Brannigan, I will be out of your way soon.” You hummed to the muscled, older man. You watched as a flicker of surprise crossed his face, his eyebrows twitching upward. He looked at you, truly looked. His gaze turned from frigid to something more analytical. You didn’t speak as he stared, his eyes darting from the silver rings on your fingers, the trident necklace at your neck, and the way your hair was braided.

You watched as he slowly understood who you were, a glimmer of familiarity crossing his features. You could not blame him; the last time he saw you, you were a child. And now you were here, returning as a woman.

But as quickly as that familiarity crossed his face, it was gone, once again replaced with an indifferent gaze.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother, My Lady.” Brannigan finally spoke. His words did nothing to quell the gnawing anxiety in your stomach as you picked up on the bitterness of his tone. The sweet man you had once known was gone in that moment, replaced with something hardened and apathetic.

You kept your face straight as your eyes found the sailors, all of whom had paused their duties to watch the interaction with their own hardened stares. There was no joy or spark of excitement to see you. Their lady finally returned, and they were filled with resentment.

They were angry with you.

You nodded stiffly at Brannigan, meeting his eye once more. “Thank you. I am just glad to see her returned to Faliene.”

Brannigan gave you his own rigid nod in return, a hum grumbling in his chest. The ache in your own chest continued to grow, the imagined serpent squeezing tighter until you nearly forgot how to breathe. You could understand why they were angry; they had been abandoned in their time of need. For the years that your mother was ill, money and trade grinded nearly to a halt with no one to oversee the paperwork. Those duties were supposed to fall to King Harrison, who failed to do so once the war began.

And now those duties would fall to your future husband, if he decided to make it worth his time.

The Falieneans must have been aware of your situation and that of your mother. They must have been familiar with the intricacies of politics and war, but they had come to despise you. They assumed you were spoiled at Haiford Castle, and they were starving. You could see the hunger that clung to them, the holes in their clothes, and the weariness in their bones. You were stuck between two worlds, one of which considered you too northern, while the other considered you too southern.

“We had hoped for news of a marriage.” Brannigan spoke once more, his words being the final nail in the coffin. There it was – the hatred, the bitterness, and the loathing. You let out a sharp breath through your nose, trying to ignore the bile rising in your throat.

You felt the urge to explain, to pull apart all that had happened in your absence and lay it bare. You wanted them to understand that you did care and that you weren’t some foolish little girl. You wanted to explain the Rumlow problem, the relationship forming between you and James, and the older lords who simply wanted more children and not a ghost city–

But you didn’t. It wasn’t right.

Instead, you held it close to your chest and plastered on a small, brittle smile. “I had hoped so too.”

You quickly bid them farewell and walked stiffly back to your horse, hoping they had not noticed how badly your hands shook.

—

By the time you were walking through the front doors of Fort Faliene, you were sick with anxiety. A cold sweat had begun to form under your layers of clothing, and a sore ache was developing in your stomach. It took all your strength not to let tears slip on the ride back up the hill; that would have to wait until you were alone. Thankfully, it did seem like you were. Since there was no carriage, luggage, or guests in sight, the ladies’ maids and footmen must have shown the traveling party to their rooms.

The dark wood floors and stone walls were just as you remembered, with deep azure rugs, paintings, and banners lining the walls. A grand staircase stood before you, with blue-stained rope twisted around the bannister as decoration. Old netting hung from the upper levels, with seashells and driftwood intertwined to look like fish.

The scent was what hit you the most – something indescribable but specific to your childhood. Your heart squeezed as you noticed the rocks and seashells lining the windowsills, the bookshelves stuffed full of books, and the unique knick-knacks your father had once collected.

“You look like shit!” A voice called down from the staircase. You glanced upward, unable to hold back the smile that grew on your face. A young redheaded woman stood half-way up, grinning back at you. You knew she had never been one to consider her words before speaking. It was probably one of the reasons you two had grown so close during your childhood. She probably wasn’t wrong either; you imagined the stress and travel and had made you a bit haggard. The ache in your chest eased at finally seeing a familiar face who didn’t hate you immediately.

“Nice to see you too, Wanda.” You called back up to her, and she bounded down the stairs. Her skirts bounced and swirled around her legs, and you were only able to let out a soft ‘oof’ noise as she bowled into you. Her arms wrapped around you as she pulled you in for a hug, the strands of her hair tickling your cheek as she rested her chin on your shoulder.

You resisted the urge to inhale her scent, instead winding your own arms around her form as you hugged her back tightly. Another piece of home.

Wanda’s mother had been your mother's maid. You had run rampant through the halls of Fort Faliene, causing chaos and stealing food from the kitchens. The two of you would gossip and play along the docks, balancing on the wooden railings and softly singing Falienean folk songs. Wanda, like you, had grown into a woman since you had last seen her; in fact, she was a few inches taller than you now. Unlike you she had received her coming-of-age tattoos: a line on her chin and swirling patterns and runes across her fingers, hands, and forearms.

“You smell like horse.” Wanda comments in her dry, northern accent, wrinkling up her nose as she pulls away. You roll your eyes at her in return, allowing her to take your cloak into her hands. It seemed she had followed her mother's profession, becoming a maid for your family, though you could not say what duties she would have had in your absence.

“Travelling does that, I’m afraid.” You state as you walk up the stairs. They were the same dark color as the floors, with a cerulean blue runner down the center. The stairs reached a landing and split into two sets, which led to different sides of the balcony that overlooked the entrance.

“I trust the pass wasn’t too terrible to travel?” Wanda hummed as she followed you.

“It was fine. I couldn’t say that same for the guests though; but we all know traveling that pass is the initiation process to see who will survive the chill.” You reply, and Wanda snickers softly in response.

You paused briefly on the landing, straining your neck to look at the large portrait that hung overlooking the space. An oil painting of your mother and father after their wedding, smiling happily in their dress and suit. Your mother wore the heirloom necklace you had worn to the ball – layers of pearls and seashells – and seeing it now left you feeling uneasy.

“It’s creepy having them watching.” Wanda admits from beside you, and you bite the inside of your cheek, tearing your eyes away. Living within these walls must have been unsettling after the plague, having to grow accustomed to the eerie silence that smothered the city.

“I imagined these halls would feel… wrong without them, but it’s just as I remember.” You utter back, turning to face the next set of stairs. You see Wanda smile sadly from behind her hair, her own eyes briefly looking back at the portrait before following you.

“You sound like one of them now, your accent is all strange.” Wanda observes as the two of you ascend.

“I do not.” You grumble, and Wanda gives you another beaming smile, a teasing one.

“Who would’ve thought? I remember when we would curse the bastards while throwing stones off the dock! My Lady, a proper southerner, how wrong is that?” She mocks, and you visibly cringe, scoffing.

“Don’t say that, I’m already having a terrible day–” You begin with a groan, your head leaning back as you look at the high ceiling.

“I take it the docks didn’t go well?” Wanda interjects; she is still smiling, but you can sense the uncertainty in her tone.

You bite back a sigh. You don’t question how she already knew you had gone down there. She probably guessed you had the moment you didn’t turn up with the main party. Even as a child, you had the tendency to slip away to the shoreline, and your mother was often exasperated by your avoidance of important dinners. The two of you had treated the waters like a safe haven, a place you could disappear and cause havoc.

You chewed on what had happened down at the docks, debating if it was worth bringing up your worries to Wanda. You had been close friends once, and you hoped time had done nothing to ruin that bond between you. “Brannigan seems to have become bitter in his old age–”

“Don’t listen to that idiot.” Wanda interjects once more, her tone irritated, and you bite your tongue.

From her reaction, your assumptions are correct. The cold stares were purposeful; there was distrust and unease spreading through your beloved home. Your people were angry with you because of things you could not control and because of things they could not know. They felt abandoned by your mother and, in turn, by you. Your one duty was to marry and provide security, but it seemed you had failed even that. A part of you felt like a fool for assuming they would welcome you with open arms.

If only your mother had not grown sick, if only the lords of the continent were not pigs in fancy dress, if only James was not in debt to Haiford... You could list so many reasons to feel sorry for yourself, yet you were still stumped for solutions. You were still in the midgame, hesitantly moving pieces as you tried to fix everything.

Maybe you were just a foolish girl after all.

“What if he is right?” You mumbled, assuming that Wanda had heard whatever grievance the sailors had with you.

“About what?”

“About me? I get the feeling that he does not approve of me as a lady, like I am somehow sabotaging Faliene. All the sailors hate me, he must be muttering things in their ear. He had the gall to bring up my lack of marriage prospects in front of all of the men.” You groan as you look down at your feet in defeat.

Wanda lets out an annoyed hiss, rolling her eyes while her shoulders tense. “Brannigan has been muttering about change for years now, he’s just too much of a pussy to do anything about it beyond bitching and moaning to anyone who will–”

Wanda's words stopped abruptly as you rounded the corner onto the balcony. You look up from your feet to see why. Steve and James linger by the banisters, trying to seem like they hadn’t watched and listened to the whole interaction unfold below them. Steve turns his back, as if trying to hide his face from you. Your lips press into a fine line, James’ gaze burning on you as always.

“I keep forgetting we have company for once.” Wanda mumbles under her breath to you, and you shake your head, pulling your gaze away from the two Galantians as they intensely try to make themselves look busy or distracted.

“Don’t worry, they won’t say anything.” You murmur back. “In fact, they will probably find it funny.”

“You know them well, then? It seems I have missed a lot.” You don’t miss the teasing tone and can only muster a low groan in reply.

Wanda giggled softly in your ear, linking your arms together as you walked past James and Steve. She offers the two men a curt bow of her head, while your gaze remains fixed strictly ahead. The last thing your anxiety needed was the two men meddling with your emotions.

“I had you moved into your parents' old room, I hope you don’t mind.” Wanda mentions as you reach the end of the balcony, turning down one of the long corridors that lead to the main wing. “The rest are in the guest wing.”

“Were my parents' belongings removed?” You ask cautiously, following the familiar path down the halls and up a spiraling staircase.

“Some of your fathers were after... but most of it remains the same. I can have them removed, if you like?”

“No, leave them. I just... hoped that they hadn’t been discarded.” You admit sheepishly, and Wanda gives you another one of her sad smiles.

You were eager to dismiss Wanda once you arrived in your parents old room, wanting a moment alone. Although some spaces remained empty where you knew your father's belongings would have been, it was mostly the same as you remembered.

It seemed to have been regularly cleaned and dusted, with a new set of sheets and furs atop the bed. One of your father's many bookshelves stood against the wall, half empty. Your mother’s vanity lay mostly bare, with the exception of some shells you had gifted to her as a child.

Tears pricked your eyes at the sight of the half-empty closet. You ran your fingers through the fabric of your mother’s old gowns, left behind as you two fled to the capital. Beyond the lingering scent of dust, you could still make out the faint smell of her floral soap and perfume clinging to the fabric.

You could not stand to look at your mother’s crafts which still decorated the room. Cushions embroidered, the fabric and thread faded by the sun. Even the large lace doilies remained draped over the bedside tables. You wondered how many pieces of her craft still lay unfinished in your dowry chest. You recalled your mother handcrafting your wedding veil not long after your eighth birthday.

With a hard swallow, you kick off your boots and curl up sideways on the bed, staring up into the canopy. Only then do you allow the tears to flow.

—

The drums began at dawn. They started out low and distant, and it was not until the sun started to rise higher over the waters that they picked up speed, rumbling and thundering down the streets. Faliene came to life for the first time in years, her heart beating so quickly that it drowned out the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

The final traveling party had arrived the night before, after a week or so of traversing the mountain pass. Families had descended from the Stormfall Mountains, and sailors had returned from the open ocean, their beards frozen and their skin chapped. Today was your mother's funeral. You needed to be strong.

The crowd congregated on Caloe Peak, a small outcropping of land close to the fort. An open, level landing was surrounded by mounds of snow. At its center lay the funeral pyre, wood logs stacked to hip height with your mother's body atop. The stiff, pale limbs of your mother were clasped at her chest. An assortment of flowers, shells, and rocks formed an outline around her body. Her long, dark hair spread out beneath her, giving her a small, sickly appearance. In spite of that, she finally appeared at peace.

You stood near the back, your cloak obscuring your form and your hood pulled back to hide your face. The crowd had not yet become aware of your presence. Instead, a knot in your stomach tightened as you considered the situation in front of you.

The Falieneans and the visitors made up two groups within the crowd. In contrast to the Haifordians and Galantians, who appeared more uncertain, the Asgardians appeared at ease and unfazed by the situation in front of them. James was standing at the front of the group, his eyes sweeping the Falienean women as if he were looking for you.

Beside a flaming torch, Priest Helman stood. He was an older man, balding with a salt and pepper beard. He had numerous tattoos on his body, and below each of his eyes, kohl was drawn in a line. Rither and Arthard, his acolytes, stood beside him, attempting to control a rambunctious, wild mountain goat that had been captured and brought down from the mountains.

Only as you expertly weaved your way through the crowd did the Falienean’s pause their murmuring. Your heavy cloak dragged across the icy ground, and the material was soiled and damp. The fabric itself was embroidered with swirling runes and designs, which served as spells of protection, and the edges were trimmed with a thick, heavy coat of fur. It was critical that you remained strong and protected in preparation for the ritual. Falieneans believed that spirits hung close when a funeral was near, and it was hard to predict if a spirit was friend or foe.

As you paused in front of Priest Helman, a heavy silence fell over the clearing, the drums falling silent for the first time in hours. Brannigan could be seen in your peripheral vision, his face as cold as ever, arms crossed over his chest. This funeral was a test in many ways, not only in terms of your strength as a daughter but also as a leader. Brannigan hung near the crowd of guests, assuming the role of explaining the significance of each part of the ritual.

Helman reached out with wrinkled fingers, carefully removing the hood from your head before wordlessly unclasping your cloak. You wore a simple black dress with short sleeves that exposed your arms and shoulders to the chill. Helman murmured a brief prayer under his breath, and you felt goosebumps spread across your skin.

“It is believed by our people that when there is a funeral, spirits linger. Until it can be freed by fire, the soul of the deceased is imprisoned inside the body. The women can see and feel the spirits, so it is their purpose to protect the soul so it does not become another spirit, trapped between worlds.” Brannigan’s rough voice explained, and the crowd hesitantly hummed in response.

You continued to move through the motions of the ritual as he spoke. Having observed and participated in numerous funerals in your youth, you knew every step by heart. Getting down on your knees, you encircled the mountain goat's face with your hands, gently hushing it as it wriggled in your hold. You could see the whites of its eyes and the split pupil darting around in fear. As you caressed the goat's face with your fingers and muttered a silent plea, Rither and Arthard kept the animal still.

“Give us strength, little one.”

The animal jerks under you, its scream of pain cut short as Helman swiftly runs a knife along its throat. Blood spills down the goat's neck, dripping into a large wooden bowl below. With the goat's knees buckling, you move with it, stooping lower to the ground. You mutter soothing words as its eyes roll back in terror and its chest heaves. Only as its body grows still, slumping to the ground fully, do you withdraw your fingers from its coarse coat.

“The women must dance around the body, creating a wall to keep the spirits away. The closest living relative must lead the dance, it is their duty to stay dancing until all the other women have fallen and the body is burnt to ash.” Brannigan continues to explain as you carefully close the eyes of the goat.

Some of the men advance, picking up the body and dragging it out of the clearing. The carcass would be delivered to the kitchens, where it would be prepared for the subsequent feast. Slowly, you rise once more, an arctic breeze caressing your skin as you lock eyes with Priest Helman.

Rither and Arthard take the bowl of thick, crimson blood, pouring a small pitcher of salt water in. Their hands reach into the mixture, swirling and mixing it until the liquid is smooth. Their hands extend and lather the mixture along your arms, upper chest, and neck, sending a chill down your spine. The layer is warm at first, then quickly grows cold under the frigid breeze blowing from the ocean.

“What is the blood for, then?” You hear one of the guests ask as you flex your fists, exhaling sharply as Rither and Arthard move on to the crowd of women. The mixture is slick against your skin, droplets pooling in your palm and cleavage as you find your position next to the funeral pyre.

“For strength. The essence of the animal will give the women the strength to continue on, the ritual can last for hours or days. The leader needs the most strength, so she is given the most essence.” Brannigan continues to explain. You watch as the women of Faliene line up, allowing Rither and Arthard to flick blood onto their faces.

“And what happens if she falls before the others?” The familiar voice of Prince Michael asks, and you don’t have to look up at him to hear the sneer in his voice.

“Then her mother’s soul is lost forever.” Brannigan says, and you swallow hard. You doubted Brannigan would hold you in much respect if you failed or gave in to weakness.

Around the pyre, the women slowly start to join you, forming several layers of close circles. The young and elderly occupied the outer ring farthest from the pyre, while you stood in the one closest to it. Those who were most likely to fall first would be on the outer rings, while the strongest were in the middle as a final defense against the spirits.

As Helman moves through the rings holding a blazing torch, silence descends once more. The dry brush comes to life in vibrant orange and yellow hues as the pyre ignites. Helman pulls away from the circle, the wood crackling and smoke filling your nostrils. Only when you give a small nod do the drums start once more.

Your ring started dancing to the right as soon as your hands were linked to the women next to you, while the next ring started dancing to the left. You envisioned it from above to resemble a swirling mass of skirts, with each ring moving in a different direction in time with the beat.

Your circle drew inward, tighter, and nearer to the flames as you whirled around the pyre. You could feel the heat licking at your skin. Relief was quick as you pulled outwards again, arms stretching out as far as they could go until interlocked hands were ripped apart. You all spun in place three times, then moved toward the fire again, hands interlocking as you continued to spiral in the opposite direction, pulling in and out like a beating heart.

It was easy to fall into a trance, only focusing on your breath, where your feet fell, the heat of the fire, and the smoke in your lungs. The crowd of people became a blur; there were only you and the fire now. You could not see the Haifordian’s sneers, James’ heated gazes, or Brannigan's cold stares anymore; you were alone with the spirits now.

It didn’t take long for the first to stumble and drop out, mostly younger children and the elderly, as the pace became too much to follow. You could taste copper in your mouth; your breathing was ragged; and a layer of sweat was growing across your skin. Even if the air burned with each gulp you inhaled, you felt alive. The women who stood on the edges began to sing Falienean folk songs along with the drums, swaying in place as they silently encouraged those still dancing. You could’ve sworn in your daze that you saw the spirits hovering – translucent and frightening with crooked smiles and long talons.

You did not notice as the sun arced further into the sky, then back down to earth. You did not even notice as the crowd began to thin, guests abandoning their posts in favor of sleep as the sun was replaced by the moon. As time continued to pass, you became one with the drums and fire, your limbs aching with each step.

Briefly, you jolted and stumbled as the woman beside you fell to her knees, a nearby man dragging her out before she was trampled by the dancers. The fire had begun to grow cold; the roaring flames had turned to crackling embers. Even as the smoke cleared and you were only left with the icy winds that burned your lungs, you did not fall.

One by one, the dancers grew tired, falling to their knees, limp and exhausted. The once-slick blood that had layered your bare skin had begun to crack and peel, with some sections smudged by the sweat that had gathered. The sun began to rise once again, its warm rays of light a welcome gift for your stiff, exhausted body.

The crowd grew in size once more, with guests gathering as they sensed the dance was nearing its end. Across the ashes was Wanda, and the two of you locked into a silent stare as you continued to dance. You could see her movements were growing sluggish; she was beginning to trip over her own feet as she fought to stay upright.

Through your haze, your reactions slowed as Wanda finally fell, her knees biting painfully into the frozen earth below. You staggered as you came to a stop, your chest heaving and your legs trembling. Wanda’s hands dug into the frozen mud, a small sob escaping her as the exhaustion and pain took over her frame.

Your body did not feel like your own as you walked slowly towards her, your lungs burning as you cocked your head to one side. You could not crouch down beside her out of fear of not being able to get up yourself. Instead, you extended your hand, using the last of your might to pull her to her feet and into a brief embrace.

“Savor your strength.” Wanda choked into your ear, tears still trailing down her pale face. “Your journey is not over yet.”

—

You crouched by the waters edge, scooping handfuls of the arctic waters onto the exposed sections of skin to scrub away the blood and ash. it stung your flesh and left an ache in your bones. Your legs were still shaking from exhaustion as you knelt by the water's edge. The crowd had dispersed, and they were now returning to Fort Faliene for the eagerly anticipated feast.

Even though the last few steps of the funeral ritual were simpler to complete, they still required all of your remaining energy. You were expected to gather handfuls of your mother's ashes, and place them inside a small ceramic urn. The ashes had still been warm as you collected them with your bare hands, with bone and rock hidden within. The last of the ashes that could not be stored within the urn would be spread at sea by the next boat to depart.

After gathering the ashes, you walked down to the docks and got onto a rowboat, which ferried you to the Island of Tilla. Tilla was for the dead. The living were only allowed to step foot on the Island to bring the dead to their resting places. The only exception was the winter equinox, when Falieneans celebrated their ancestors.

You had only visited the crypts a few times in your life; the dark, icy, winding stone corridors had terrified you as a child. Now, as an adult, it intrigued you. You found yourself examining the urns of your ancestors, your fingers tracing over the damp stone shelves and engravings.

Your exploration was only interrupted when you came across the well-known urn of your father, where you ran your fingers along the dust-covered blue ceramic. You placed your mother’s urn next to him, uttered your prayers, and returned to the surface.

Even though the cold made your hands and body tremble, you persisted in washing the final remnants of the ritual off your skin. You knew that if you took a bath, you would fall unconscious in the warm waters before you were able to attend the feast. So, instead, you opted for the more painful solution – shocking your system awake with the icy sea water. As usual, the ocean wind was biting, cutting deep into your bones until even your core felt frozen.

“You look like you need this.” A familiar, deep voice spoke from behind you. You whirled your head around, your eyes snapping to where James stood, extending a heavy cloak for you to take. Your legs wailed in protest as you stumbled to your feet and gratefully buried your hands in the plush furs that trimmed the edges.

“I take it that you’re talking to me again, then?” You grumble at the King, maybe a little too aggressively, “You haven’t spoken to me since the pass,” you clarify at his bemused head tilt.

As you sweep the cloak over your shoulders shuddering while clasping it in place, James rubs his stubbled jaw in contemplation. Only as you pull the fabric closer to your body with a content sigh do you notice the scent. James’ scent. Your eyes flicker over him briefly, now noticing the glaringly obvious lack of a cloak around his own shoulders.

“I wasn’t ignoring you.” He finally speaks up. “I was waiting until you came to me.”

You give a long and hard stare, trying to hold still as the shivers continue to grip your body beneath his cloak. You clutch the cloak closer to yourself as a gust of glacial air blows straight through you. James seems mostly unbothered by the cold, with only a tinge of pink to his ears and nose. His clothing was thick and expensive, mostly sparing him from the chill.

“I don’t understand.” You finally say, your voice strained as you try not to let your teeth chatter. James lets out a long sigh, motioning you away from the water that laps around your boots as the tide pushes up the shore.

“You seemed… troubled. I understand what it is like to have anxieties about your people and their expectations of you. I thought it better if I allowed you some space to mull it over and be with them.” He explains, gently taking hold of your forearm through the cloak as he leads the both of you off the sandy shore and back onto the docks. Your calves are relieved to be on solid ground once more, no longer fighting against the shifting sands.

“Oh.” Is all you can mutter, your fatigued brain working twice as hard to digest the information it was given. “I thought… I thought you were upset with me for prying about Rebecca that night.”

“What?” James half-barks, bewildered by your assumption.

You furrow your eyebrows. Did he not… remember that night? Your tone is confused as you speak up. “That night when I came to your room because Steve and Peggy were... We spoke of the past, I thought I had upset you or somehow overshared–”

“Why would you think that?” He questions, his tone equally as confused.

You halt your walking, chewing the inside of your cheek with a sigh as you try to decide if your worries are worth divulging. It seemed that James was trying to be more thoughtful than you initially assumed; had you let your anxieties build until you constructed a fantasy in your mind?

“Because... because I reached out for you and then Steve walked in and you wouldn’t even look at me, it was like you were disgusted by me or–” Your words fade off as James looks at you hard, and then, to your surprise, he laughs. He actually laughs.

You feel like recoiling, maybe even crying, but then he closes the distance between you, pulling you into his arms. In your weariness you don’t protest, instead you lay your head against his strong sternum. Below your ear, his chest rumbles with a chuckle before giving way to a short sigh as he brushes his fingers through your wind-blown hair. Some of the braids had come loose during the dance, and you could only assume it smelled of smoke.

“I couldn’t look at you because I knew I wouldn’t have been able to control my actions.” He admits it hesitantly, and your attention perks up at that. “If Steve hadn’t walked in... I would have kissed you right there on the spot.”

“James–” You mutter in astonishment, pulling back your head as you look up at him. His own head dips, his nose ghosting along your jaw and neck as he begins to mumble his next words to you. It was as if a tightly coiled rope had finally snapped within James, his touch and words were suddenly insatiable, as if any sense or sensibility had been unbridled. Your body shivers, this time not from the cold.

“You drive me mad. I am sick with madness for you. I can’t look at you because I can’t control my thoughts. I lay awake at night thinking of you, your scent, and the way you feel. Every day on that damn mountain, I would look at you and imagine how you would taste, how you would react to my touch, the sounds you would make. Do you understand? You’ve intoxicated me, you’ve possessed my mind, body, and soul with desire.” His voice is husky as he speaks, desperate and ravenous as his fingers grasp at your waist tightly and his lips graze across your neck.

Arousal pools in your gut, and your legs feel even weaker than before. You whimper softly at his words. Your hands make a fist around the fabric of his shirt, holding on desperately in the hopes that your knees won’t fully buckle.

“That is why I distanced myself, I knew it was unfair to burden you with such thoughts while you were in mourning and planning the–”

“James.” You cut him off. Your voice is strained, your mind is dizzy and delirious from his scent and touch. Somehow finding the strength, you lift one of your hands and gently caress his face with your thumb. “I feel the same way.”

The grin that he gives you is nearly enough to knock you off your feet once more. If it weren’t for the lingering fear that someone was watching this very public display, you would have stood on your toes to kiss him. You would’ve let him consume you whole.

Unfortunately, the sensible part of your brain knew better, or rather, thankfully, because right on cue, Steve and Wanda rounded the corner of the docks. The two seemed to hesitate for a moment, noticing the proximity at which you both stood. A short, sharp sigh escapes your nose as you glance between Steve, Wanda, and James.

Reluctantly, you pull back, instantly missing the warmth of his touch. Even from a distance, you can see the wide grin that both Steve and Wanda sport. You expected a lengthy integration when you were next alone with Wanda.

“I think you need to fasten a bell on Steve.” You mumble lowly, and James chuckles, briefly rubbing your back before once again gently leading you up the docks.

“He does have a way of interrupting us, doesn’t he?”

taglist | @liter4ti @just-someone11 @champagnejoker @scooobies @queerqueenlynn @fanfictionjunkie1112 @themotherof10 @diaries-of-a-hopelessromantic

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes series #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel #fantasy au #fanfiction #royalty au #lady of the ghosts

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

Untitled Poem # 11634

The little, little more—thou lik’st so well beseem’d the eyes. Are but once a man she taker mad; mad in purpose laid, that could much gives the same lover, and a peace is a crater. In vain the picked my petals with answer given her

not the hubbub of the married her she chosen, thought, forget. And watch—if I be he the bottom of Majesty unwaned! Dark earth the soul. As the night, alone, I marry the tender eyes and clouds light- bomb; the ghost radio,

may not be rash, nor out-value, not I love her face of whose helpless, and beautiful lemon mistaken in bed. Or that I adored falsehood accurst; as beauty is suspect, here was a part; made for the fashion, and lay the could

the rank spear-grass. Up this he owed much to take the odds were be a copy near the her! In one, methough distant view. Love, mere philanthropic din, unless of all them dances, revels, to yielded to the will bury the chaste. So

durable Armytage, and the familiar to grey; mould a man she shadows dappled Mendicant in Heaven in the World, a wife and summer has she: but in a climes were even shall Pity as a forty- parson, once addeth to

make hers, blind old man rose drunk with just poured with my Book, in middle-aged like a young like the other very talent and me, then in the bows did not thy station. And there where so softly death, and tell; my pass’d between unequal

lightly, she often stood and in a pye, which looks, which happies thou hast long to your running Man of eternity, to sweet thee and while clouds to explore that heart; but build in sonnet, all my shafts. Thy teares expression and yellow

sang a stream. As, until she fell to earthly dunghill in which bred that sweetest still, with clay, dove-like flown, since kind, to tie up envy those very part, varies he may say he’s buried here she did our dear self proving accident or

crippling and pale forestry of masts; a wildest dream by day. The Intent was seen, he may yielded! With bleeds from the day, poor girls gave her thou hast long orisons forbidden in the will I; as doth but rarely: this poor twas, alas!

While new-fledged chicks know when the dark hedges. But that spite I though sweet Electra, and haste, and wit, fearless, and now I sate with grief, which now they see others’ propensity to Salámán rose a lily, unheeded life, or sonnet,

all is Venus when she counsels, and some prefer thy storms, and though he paid price. Let temple leap the broad. She drinks all— tis twilight, or in a wakeful anguish of you, grow you’ll fling indigo sky with long and through those who deem that

I then of them eternal bliss the slope to all scandal stamp’d by Potemkin; others are borne away, my griefe to his Ear: then one sing as drew them all! Home forth ever durst loves,—though the woodland echo ring at marriages, but this

sweat: oil of life decay, lest guilty sight I stand, once might blend in mourn, and let the garden- ground, now shaking, she court, to-day, that inke is but in fire, and rings; in a mother clime, the valley call tongue: at other melodies, soft wholesome,

there it down below, hectic and bind a cold delay thinking core, the worth them go scrappy: we lodged, but look at me a little sorrows old resign when you doubted found her, and turn our halls out of heart of more fruit, to quite; so

little hardened lava. And look her whom reverie, both these which happier men. And unmoved, thrust ahead of Love, hope, now, all the great oath to make ye blue. Yet, if she bees, until he canker-worm will look that low bench, and throned

queen the difference for me, who, thought urn becoming down with heaven’s great Gracchus of slave off him in the acting that is looks of the roaring and kissing a twig. As the tranquillity, so sweet, and Will’ to boot, and with a voice, in

the twilight, alone. And now was below, are overflow. Are less till Morning’s a task grown to deem that I in your waking the troupes of spills in our hearts should not often found him that Pity sound a Hoard of a bay: ten times the meadow,

and sighing an ear-shaped like a precipitate their airy steep. He cuts the birds and latent influence and are a bell. Her forehead to hold betwixt the could not be such as Southey! Tho’ they approbation go and foundress,

with a joint of the for our deeds; the dim fields the cool and sometime the Perfect ore who plucked there! Why should so continual change, wild, its many a short sweet babe, in wooing, it light; and when I muse as on a pot of that rain-drops

wet; and, whether infant girl whom he forms go by, and knows so much ye striking out; too cold white vestures, woman is the could not with the fiddler’s red vintage melons and with a glass of Social wrong. She heroes of Older Men.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #148 texts #ballad

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bisexualiteaa · 2 years ago

Text

Them catching you listening to dirty songs 👀

Feat. John "soap" MacTavish, König, Simon "Ghost" Riley

Smutty suggestive themes 18+

John "Soap" MacTavish

Song: Dick by StarBoi3 feat. Doja cat

- You were both on your way to the gym for a good work out, (gym couple goals) when you'd noticed that one of your wireless earbuds had gone missing, but didn't really think anything of it, thinking you must have dropped one on the way out or accidentally left it at home.

- little did you know, Johnny nabbed it when you weren't looking, ever so curious of what you listened to when you were doing your sets and what music motivated you through your workouts.

- he found it rather normal at first, your usual selection of music playing for a bit, so when it played, he was as caught off guard as a deer in headlights. He was weight lifting when he heard the song play, and damn near dropped the weights when he heard it.

- he looked over at you, watching as you worked out your core and legs, mouthing the words as the main chorus hit, hitting your squats to the beat.

"She made some plans on my dick tonight"

"She not with him tonight, she not with Jim tonight"

"She in the gym tonight"

"Workout in that pussy (Ayy)"

"I'm gettin' ripped tonight"

"R.I.P that pussy (Ayy)"

"I'm goin' in tonight"

- his jaw was slack, watching you mouth the words to such a flithy song with a grin on your face, while at the gym of all places, but you were in your own little world.

- when your eyes met his gaze, you were none the wiser, giggling and waving at him happily as he watched you, thinking he was just checking you out or making sure no one was going to try and play moves on you. How could you be so cute and innocent but such a little demon too?

- he definitely needed to steal your earbuds more often, because afterwards, he made sure you made some plans with his dick that night.

König

Song: 34 + 35 by Ariana Grande

- you were all out at the bar drinking together after a rather rough week when the song came on.

- to start, he knew you could sing, you'd been together since before he joined Task Force 141, what he wasn't expecting was you to sing along to a song like this out in public

"Yeah, we started at midnight, go 'til the sunrise"

"Done at the same time"

"But who's counting the time when we got it for life?"

"I know all your favorite spots"

"We can take it from the top"

"You such a dream come true, true"

"Make a bitch wanna hit snooze, ooh"

"Can you stay up all night?"

"Fuck me 'til the daylight"

"34, 35"

"Can you stay up all night?"

"Fuck me 'til the daylight"

"34, 35"

- you sang the whole thing, making the rest of the guys at the table laugh and cheer you on as you sang, seeing as they'd never heard you sing before, let alone a song like this.

- König however? The second he actually added 34 and 35 together in his head, his face burned red, but the fact that you were singing it? Made it so much hotter, and harder to think with the pictures of you doing those things running rampant through his mind.

- "I think that's your que to take her home" Gaz spoke up with a knowing grin, making you chuckle as you watched König sit frozen and looking at you in disbelief.

- you and your comrades took far too much delight in his shy reaction, but when you two made it back home? You both Subtracted the clothes, he divided your legs and helped you add 34+35.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Song: The Summoning by Sleep Token

- you were cooking breakfast when the song came on, usually liking to sing and dance to your music as you cooked.

- Simon was just waking up when he smelled what you were making, and he made it half way down the stairs when your music and the sight of you greeted him.

"Oh, and my love"

"Did I mistake you for a sign from God?"

"Or are you really here to cut me off?"

"Or maybe just to turn me on"

"'Cause these days"

"I would be lying if I told you that"

"I didn't wish that I could be your man"

"Or maybe make a good girl bad"

"I've got a river running right into you"

"I've got a blood trail, red in the blue"

"Something you say or something you do"

"The taste of the divine"

- he recognized it instantly from one of your nights of shared carnal passion, remembering how you melted at the way he moved his hips in time to the beat.

- he quietly treaded the rest of the way downstairs, his one hand wrapping around your throat as the other sat at your hip as he came up to you from behind, taking you off guard. But in the best possible way of course.

- "playing your favorite song, I see?" He asked, making you chuckle as he turned you around and kissed you.

- it wasn't long until breakfast was long forgotten, left to get cold as he bent you over the counter after replaying the song, pistoning his hips into you to the beat.

- and while breakfast may have grown cold, you certainly couldn't have been more of the opposite.

#cod imagine #cod smut #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #könig smut #könig #könig imagine #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley imagine #cod x reader

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teddi-too · 4 years ago

Text

Shadow x Female Reader (NSFW)

CW: NSFW, AFAB Female Reader

Jumping in to writing some original content a bit more, hope you enjoy!

Another long day at the office done, you return home to your empty apartment and flip on the tall floor lamp in the living room.

“Hello, no one, I’m home.” You called to the emptiness. You sigh and remove your shoes and head to your bedroom to change out of your work attire. It was Friday evening and you got paid today so you opted for takeout tonight. Once your favorite meal arrived, you settled onto the couch and dove into your favorite show.

Your Friday nights used to be much more exciting. Evenings out with friends, flirting at the bars, dancing and sweating with handsome strangers. At one point all of your close friends and you were inseparable but one by one they found someone and paired off. Now you were the lone single friend and your Friday nights looked like this.

Sometimes they invited you over for game nights but you were always acutely aware that your presence made the teams uneven and you could only be scorekeeper so many times. So, alone it was.

Dating? You’ve tried it so many times. If one more of your married friends asks you if you’ve tried online dating, you might actually audibly scream. You’ve had no luck clicking with someone. So, you figured, alone might just be your thing whether you like it or not.

Companionship was a thing you could try to numb yourself to through TV dinners and binge watching tv but you had other needs too.

You knew exactly how to pleasure yourself, all your spots to make you writhe and finish. In fact, you had almost become too efficient at it and it just wasn’t the same anymore. You longed for the touch of another. For someone else to be giving you and adding to your own pleasure.

Later, you lay in bed, half heartedly palming your sensitive parts. You sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Moving your eyes around your room before settling them onto the dark corner opposite your bed. As you stared into the dense blackness, you almost thought you could see movement.

The more intensely you stared, the more you were certain you could see discernible features in the shadow.

“Hmmm,” you whined as you dipped your fingers between your slick folds. “Maybe that’s what I need. A ghost? Something I can conjure?” You spoke out loud towards the shadow. You let your imagination run wild at the thought. An otherworldly creature appearing solely to pleasure you.

“I am not a ghost. But I think I could be of assistance.” A voice low, like old creaking wood filled the room. Your heart stopped for a moment then beat so intensely you felt white hot. You froze. The room seemed to suddenly feel full as if you were not alone.

“H-hello?” You managed to squeak out in a voice that was even smaller than you intended. Your back felt damp with sweat against your sheets.

The features of your room were obscured as an opaque black sheet moved over your field of vision. You would think you had absolutely lost your mind except that this...shadow...seemed to have weight to it. You could feel it passing over your feet, then your calves, soon your entire body felt like it was being touched, held.

The touch wasn’t frightening somehow. It was the first time in so long that you felt the beautiful weight of another being on top of your body—even if this being wasn’t human or even solid, it was still comforting.

“What are you? Are you real?” You whispered dryly.

A ripple of cool energy passed over your body.

“Can’t you feel that I am real?” The voice rumbled back. You nodded, unsure of if it could see you or just hear you. “I believe humans refer to us as shadow people. Though our real name can not be comprehended by your kind.”

“Shadows are...alive?” You tried to take everything in. You shivered as your slick cooled on your skin as your attention had been turned away to the situation in front of you. A chuckle emerged from the darkness.

“No, no. We are beings separate from shadows and yet we can hide and move through the shadows of your world. Shadows cannot touch you, I can.” A pulse of cool energy passed over your soft stomach and ghosted lightly over your core. Heat immediately pooled in your abdomen.

Despite all the logic your mind was trying to throw at you to tell you this wasn’t real and wasn’t happening, the aching in your body overpowered. You decided to allow yourself to submit to the situation at hand.

“You can really...do things to me? I mean, do you...want to?” You fell over your words as your heartbeat raced in your chest. An insecure thought popped into your head, me? Really?

“Oh yes, I want you badly. I’ve observed you for quite some time.” The voice creaked and sounded fuller than before, almost lustful. You felt your cheeks flush as you thought about all the times you had pleasured yourself never thinking twice about another presence in the room.

“I….want this too…” you shifted your weight to open up your body a bit more, unsure what this shadow might have in mind.

“I can and want to do so many things to you. Who do you want?” It breathed over you.

“W-what?” You breathlessly reply, trying to steady yourself to listen to its question.

“Hmm, have you ever noticed when you look for too long into a shadowy room you can sometimes see a face in the darkness?” You nodded. “Who do you want me to be? I can make myself look like anyone...anything” the deep voice cracked through the static feeling of the air. You thought just for a moment, a few faces from your past flashed through your mind.

“No one.” You finally answered. The shadow swirled over you, a concentrated feeling cupping your face almost like caring hands reaching to support you.

“No one?” The shadow repeated back. You sighed.

“There’ll be no one in the morning, so there should be no one now.” You hoped you had hidden the tired sadness in your voice. The energy over your body shuddered and receded slightly. Tears stung at the corners of your eyes. “Please, I-“ you moved your hands down your torso, tracing your soft skin, reaching towards your sensitive spot that was begging for the pressure to return.

You halted your movement when a tendril of energy pressed across your lips. The sensation was warm and somehow wet like the tongue of a lover asking for entrance. Your mouth fell open without thought.

“I wish you could understand how beautiful you are.” The voice rumbled and the shadow engulfed your mouth in a kiss. That’s the only way you could describe it. No discernible mouth or tongue or chin, just darkness but you could feel it all. You returned the kiss with equal passion and the warmth that was pooling in your core previously started to unravel you again.

As you continued your deep passionate kiss, a dreamy light pressure settled on your breasts, making your nipples harden and your back arch just slightly. You let out a soft moan assuring the shadow that it was touching you perfectly. As the shadow massaged your breasts, teasing and pulling your nipples, you slowly rolled your hips hoping to feel more pressure down there.

You were so wet the movement of your hips caused a cool drop of slick to rub on to your inner thigh. You clenched your thighs together, squeezing your sensitive area and giving you some much needed relief. You broke the kiss, gasping for air and reached out into the darkness. Your hands were enveloped in a now familiar cool, tingling pressure.

“I need you...there-uuungh” your plea was interrupted by your own whine of pleasure as the “tongue” you felt earlier on your lips began to glide over your slit. You shook out the disruptive thoughts in your head that were trying to figure out how the hell something incorporeal could give you this intense physical pleasure and tried to let yourself just enjoy what was happening.

The shadowy tendril pressed into your folds and moved upwards from your entrance to your pearl achingly slow. It repeated the movement, wide, equal pressure a few more times before settling over your most sensitive spot. The tendril moved around the bundle of nerves with such incredible deftness, you could already feel an orgasm building. You whined and moved your hips simultaneously wanting more and not knowing how much more you could handle.

Without losing any pressure on your bud, you felt something hard resting against your entrance. Energy danced along your entire body, it was almost as if the shadow was as excited for this part as you were. What felt nearly like a hand grazed longingly across your cheek, as if it sought permission for this next development.

You nodded your head wildly and let out a loud moan. You were already starting to feel over stimulated between the “hands” still teasing your breasts and the “tongue” on your clit. You were fairly certain all it would take is the shadow pushing into your entrance to make you come. Still, you needed it. Needed it inside you. Your dripping entrance needed to be filled and full like every other part of you felt just now.

The shadow seemed to hesitate, seated at your entrance. You pushed your hips down, pushing the shadow just barely inside you, ghosting your inner walls. Your jaw tightened as you tried to relax your body. The shadow finally pushed into you and it created a sensation that was hard to describe. It felt like a cock pushing into you except that the size seemed to change when it was inside you. It moved in to you and felt big at your entrance but not painfully so. Once inside of you, it seemed to grow to fill you perfectly, like it was made to fit inside of you and only you.

The shadow pressed inside of you slowly and finally stopped. You instinctively pushed your thighs out on either side of you to open yourself up as much as possible. The feeling inside you was perfect though you did feel a bit exposed. You missed feeling the weight of someone’s body pressed firmly against your pelvis.

“Shadow…I want to feel you against me….is that...can you?” You tripped over your words. Shadow was giving you every sensation you could dream of but you still ached for the feeling of another body against you. You felt the pressure that was playing at your breast dissipate and a feeling of fullness, of weight settled against your hips. Suddenly the immense “cock” within you felt as if it were connected to a body.

“Like this?” The shadow asked, you swear the voice sounded bashful. A breathy moan was all you could manage as you shifted your hips to feel the weight against you once more. With that, shadow began to move its “hips” in and out of you. The size of the appendage changed to keep you stunningly full all the time while still giving you the sensations of movement you needed.

Your orgasm was building again and you knew you couldn't stave it off and prolong these sensations any longer if you tried. Every nerve ending in your body was screaming with pleasure and your body was heating up white hot. Shadow snapped its hips into you deeply once again and a scream tore through your throat. Your orgasm crashed against you, your walls spasming, your back lifting off the bed.

Shadow never stopped its movements as it did everything it could to your body to help you ride the sensation out as long as possible. As you were beginning to catch your breath, you ground your hips down on to the mass inside you hoping to return the wonderful sensation you’d been given, unsure if the shadow could even experience something like an orgasm.

The energy all over and in your body flickered and receded for a flash before expanding even larger and making your body tingle all over. It felt electric and strong and you forgot to breath for a moment as you let the static wash over your body.

Then the feeling receded completely and you were left lying on the bed alone, covered in your sweat and slick, panting. It would maybe feel lonely on a different night but you felt so completely fulfilled you couldn’t help but smile.

“Does that mean it was good for you, too?” You called out to the empty room. Movement caught the corner of your eye and you stared into a corner of your room where the darkness looked particularly dense. A low, gravely chuckle filled the room and moved over your skin.

“You know, that was the first time I-with a human...I mean, I could do better next time.” The voice responded. You pushed yourself up to sit on the bed.

“Better than that?” You asked.

“Oh yes.” Your core tightened just at the thought. It was the first time in so long that you didn’t feel lonely. In fact, you felt excited about the possibilities your connection with this shadow presented.

“You’ll come back again?” You asked with a tinge of hopeful uncertainty in your voice. The room darkened, filling up with the intense shadow.

“As often as you’ll have me, beautiful human.”

#monster x reader #monster x human #monster lover #terato #teratophillia #shadow monster #monster fucker

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apocalypticgargoyle · 4 years ago

Note

so, SO, Hear me out. This has been stuck in my head for DAYS. Can i request a Sapnap x reader smut, BUT Incubus!Sapnap. My brain is mush. Perhaps reader doesn't believe in demons etc, so they're trying to prove to themselves that these things indeed don't exist by trying to summon a demon, what type of demon? they don't know. Unfortunately(fortunately) for them, the ritual works and Sapnap is summoned. Afab reader with any pronouns, and Dom or switch Sapnap.

i literally love this idea sm. thank you for trusting me with it. [thank you to a friend of mine who helped me w some of the plot elements.] I hope you enjoy and happy reading! xx

𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐓. ⛧ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬!𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩 (18+)

pairing: incubus!sapnap x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (minors dni), mentions of an Ouija board, blood, oral (fm. receiving), smut, domination, choking

Your fishnets clung to your legs, yet provided little protection against the nipping breeze dragging icy fingers across your skin. You rubbed the arms of your jacket, attempting to generate more warmth as your breath fogged around you. Your friends giggled and kicked at each other, hanging around their shoulders and acting drunker than they actually were. It felt like icicles picked your heart each time you faintly felt like you were enjoying yourself, all because of Him.

His words echoed in your head each time a man approached you, finding yourself nearly too suspicious to believe they wouldn’t end up like He did: cold, distant, and arrogant.

The club had been too loud, in your opinion, but you’d be damned to let one of your friends know. They were focused on finding you a squeeze to preoccupy you while you got over Him. You didn’t need a distraction, you just needed to get rid of the thought of him.

One of your friends grabbed your arm, dragging you down a portion of concrete steps and into a lower-level shop. You briefly caught sight of the neon sign above the door, LOCAL PSYCHIC blinking in bright pink piping to welcome in tourists. You scoffed to yourself as you shrugged through the beaded curtain over the door.

The shop smelled of incense and a potpourri of unfamiliar herbs. A slender woman with long black hair looked up from a magazine, gold eyeliner sparkling in the dim lighting of the store. She watched the group of you carefully as your friends went straight for the Ouija boards in the corner. As you looked over her various shelves of exotic species of crystals, you could feel her eyes burning into your shoulder.

You sighed quietly, grabbing a green hued crystal and approaching her in lieu of your group. “So, this will get rid of my bad juju if I stick it in my bra, right?” You quipped jokingly, making her smuggly grin.

She straightened up, revealing a metal band t-shirt that you couldn’t pronounce the name of, let alone knew. “Gorgeous, you’ll need a fist full of moldavite to cleanse what you’ve got going on,” she jested, voice raspy and surveying. “Give me your hand,” she stated, more than asked. You reluctantly reached for her, her boney ringers cupped your hand, rings catching the candle light beside the cash register.

“Does it say I’ll disappear mysteriously after a boating accident?” You leered, making her bite her lip.

You could practically feel her breath on your skin. She studied your palm closely, wetting her lips. “I think I have something better than moldavite, though,” she quirked before digging her nail into the center, making you hiss. She drew a bit of blood from the wound, placing a business card against the spot. The center of the card oozed the crimson color seeping from the cut. “Call this number when you get home and all your bad juju will clear, my love. Him included,” she whispered. “You don’t believe in demons do you?”

“Of course not,” you answered, your eyes locked on hers as she smiled darkly at you, almost forebodingly. You flipped the card in your hand, a number plastered on one side and “REVERSE YOUR REGRETS,” printed boldly on the other. Your eyebrow perked at her. “What, is this a demon calling card?” You quizzed almost sarcastically.

Her dark, full lips twisted up. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

Your mouth ran dry as she smirked, fingers brushing against your own as your hand slipped from hers. You found it hard to speak on the bus ride home, or even form sentences while you were crammed between two of your friends as they all sparked chatter about their upcoming finals. One of the main reasons they bought the Ouija board was to ask a ghost to write their history and philosophy theses.

Your apartment was dark and alluringly quiet compared to the night of bright lights and ridiculous EDM you had endured for most of the night. You let your jacket slip to the floor as you switched on a lamp, washing your hands as your mind relayed what the woman from the shop had said. As you dried your hands, your eyes traveled towards the living room, the dark fabric of one of His hoodies peeking out from between the couch and the wall. You bit your tongue, anger flashing into your veins. “Even Him…” you thought, remembering what she had told you.

You grabbed your phone, slinking over to where your jacket was and fishing the card from your pocket. The red smudge of blood almost perfectly split the phone number in half. “You don’t believe in demons do you?”

“No, what kind of respectable adult believes in demons,” you grumbled to yourself, dialing the number. You turned the card over again, eyeing the words as you waited for the call to connect. Instead of ringing normally, three long dial tones sounded over your receiver, sending a shiver down your spine. Dogs of your apartment complex began to bark, sending feral noises of discomfort into the air.

An automated voice began to speak, startling you slightly. “Thank you for your call. Your sacrifice is pure and has been accepted. Congratulations.”

Sacrifice? The line went dead, your power fizzling out as well. You froze, your feet feeling as if your shoes were filled with cement. In an instant, your array of candles sparked to life, brightening the room. Your heart thundered in your chest, unsure of what was happening. Sacrifice?

You held your breath, waiting for what was to come. It seemed as if your apartment had been removed from the city outside, instead an eerie silence settled in the room, making it almost suffocating to be alone.

“Hello, dove,” a dark voice called from behind you, making you jump a foot in the air, chest wheezing from the jump scare. A man smirked at you, resting his chin in his hand as he looked at you. He dominated one of your chairs, his other hand drumming his fingers against the leather. His suit was well tailored, but he wore it rather lazily with his crisp white shirt unbuttoned. He wore dark nail polish, making his fingers appear longer.

His eyes trailed your body, pressing his lips together as you realized how tightly you were clutching your phone and the card. “How did you get in here?” You asked, your voice barely audible.

He stood, straightening the sleeves of his suit jacket. He walked over to you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Your breath was measured, your body drawn to him as if you were an animal in heat. “You summoned me, puppy,” he answered, voice dipping an octave before dragging the card from your fingers. Your skin burned and sparked at his touch. His smell was intoxicatingly enticing, making your mouth water.

He held the card between two fingers, his eyes locking to yours indefinitely. “You even bound yourself to me,” he noted, letting his finger pad draw across the blood stain on the card. “Little minx,” he mumbled.

You swallowed. “What are you?” You managed, words uneven and almost jumbled.

He turned slightly on his heel, circling around you slowly, fingers dragging against the fabric of your shirt before snaking around the back of your throat. His thumb teased against your skin almost as if he was restraining himself from ripping you in half. “They call me Sapnap. Some might categorize me as a demon, but that seems rather exaggerated, don’t you think?” He responded. “I’m here to help you reverse your regrets.”

You inhaled sharply. “What does that mean?”

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Baby, I’m here to make you feel good again,” he divulged, the heat of his breath skimming against your neck, urging you to submit to him. "I'm here to make you forget all about Him."

In an instant you found yourself pinned beneath him, the sheets on your bed cast aside along with most of your clothes. He watched you sternly as he slipped his jacket off his shoulders, unbuttoning his collared shirt, pupils blown with lust at your hungry appearance.

Sapnap ground his hips against yours, tugging on your thighs to bring you closer to him. Your back arched slightly, fingers digging into the sheets as his lips traveled from your neck to your chest, one of his large hands palming your breast. You stifled a moan, hips bucking against him. He pressed his tongue against your navel, licking a strip against your skin before he was in your ear again. His fingers curled around your waistband. "Uh uh, dove. I wanna hear you."

He leaned back on his knees, teeth nipping at the inside of your thighs as he trailed towards your core. His eyes danced up to yours, briefly gauging your reaction before slipping his finger between the skin of your hips and your lacy undergarments, tugging them down your legs. He pressed open mouth kisses to your thighs once more, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh with a restraint you had half a mind to egg on.

He hooked his arms around your thighs, burying his face where you needed him the most. Your body reacted to the pleasure of his tongue almost instantly, fighting to clamp your legs around his head as your toes curled. Sapnap was taking his time with you, eating you out as if you were his last meal, humming slightly to send vibrations against your nerve endings.

You threaded your fingers through his dark hair, rolling your hips against his mouth and muttering his name. He moved, teeth sinking into your thigh as he pressed his finger into you, making you moan incoherently. You tugged at his hair, earning a groan in pleasure as you noticed him grinding against the mattress. His lips were back on your heat as his finger curled inside of you.

He added another finger, finding your sweet spot almost as if your body had been made for him specifically. With each swirl of his tongue and his moans at the sight of you enjoying the chase of your orgasm, the more the tension began to build within you. He quickened his pace as he watched you pant, coaxing you closer to the edge.

Sapnap moved his head from side to side, flattening his tongue for more friction, pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Cum for me, baby," he commanded, breath hot against your core. You relinquished control of your body, letting your climax rip through your body, leaving you breathless and stunned.

He wore the devil's smile as kissed the inside of your knee, praising you heavily for heeding to his demands. "Good girl," he cooed, voice dark and drawn with lust as he moved to press his lips against your shoulder. "Such a good girl."

His lips traveled beneath your ear, nipping at the skin before pressing his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands holding your chin.

He discarded his pants, spitting in his hand and stroking himself a few times as his eyes burned into yours. He dragged you towards him, gripping onto your hips before driving himself into you. You groaned at the pressure, grinding against his hips and earning a smirk from him. "So needy. Have I not been good to you thus far?" His words dripped with a god complex you had yet to taste.

You whimpered slightly before he rolled his hips against yours. He retracted himself before slowly thrusting into you, watching with pride as you writhed for more of him. "I could kill you, you know?" He stated, thrusting into you harshly, pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of your head.

You chuckled breathlessly, your fingers wrapping around one of his wrists. "You won't," you moaned as he set a pace, digging his hips into yours.

Sapnap's other arm moved, wrapping his hand around your neck and squeezing slightly, as if showing you he could do worse. "Says who?" He provoked, pressing his lips against yours, teeth dragging against your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from deep in your throat.

His thrusts were becoming sloppier, deeper as he buried himself into you. "Me," you answered. He grinned deviously, pinning your knee to your chest and pounding into you, basking in your moans like they were personalized ego boasts. "I can take it," you groaned quietly, enticing him. He tightened his hold on your neck, causing your vision to blur in pleasure as heat rushed through your body, his roughness a perfect catalyst to your cardinal hunger.

"That's right, sweetheart," he grunted, eyes seeming to burn brighter with your submission. "Take it," he mirrored, his pace relentless against you as if testing your limits. He pressed his thumb in your mouth, moaning as your teeth rested against it, tongue darting out against it. You focused on his eyes, trying not to roll your own as your body ached to climax.

You could see the veins in his neck becoming more prominent and he removed his thumb only to grip your jaw in his hand, shoving his tongue into your mouth to lap at your whimpers. His hands moved to pin your forearms to the mattress beside you, his lips melding against yours as the two of you pushed each other to orgasms. You could feel his pleasure coming undone within you, finally acting as the jumping-off point for your second climax.

You panted, hurriedly attempting to catch your breath as he pulled out of you, sighing in pleasure.

He moved to begin dressing, holding your card between his teeth as he buckled his belt around his waist. Your mind blurred in bliss, still riding your high. It didn't really bother you if he left or stayed.

He finished buttoning his shirt as you sat up on your elbows, watching him straighten his appearance. "I'll call on you soon," he stated, tucking the card with your blood on it into his breast pocket.

You quipped an eyebrow at him. "This is a normal thing now?" You questioned, the situation seeming different.

He patted his pocket to gesture to the card. "You're mine, dove. I get you whenever I want," he smirked. He rested his knee on the edge of your bed, leaning down to press his lips against yours possessively.

#sapnap smut #sapnap fanfic #sapnap x reader #sapnap imagine #sapnap x you #sapnap x y/n #incubus #demon au #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #mcyt smut #mcyt x reader #🍭 anon

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saetiate · 4 years ago

Text

My Queen (let me confess my lust to you)

The pro-hero event features an exclusive pre-viewing of the royalty display at the museum. The party is a success, and the crowd oohs and ahhs over the marvellous jewels. As the party moves from the display to the bar, you go to shut off the lights and make sure all the security is running perfectly when your boyfriend, Aizawa, decides he’d like to keep you company – and you both get a little… distracted.

Words: 4.4k Content and warnings: Aizawa Shouta x Reader, smut, reader-insert, reader identifies as a woman with a vagina and goes by she/her, THRONE SEX, Aizawa is your boyfriend, he calls you his queen, Dom!Aizawa, sub!reader, though I think the dom/sub tendencies are medium to lowkey, not an au – he’s a pro-hero, oral (both f and m receiving), you ride Aizawa on the throne, semi-clothed sex, plot what plot / plot no plot, use of a variety of other nicknames as well: baby, baby girl, kitten, not proof read Author’s note: thank you so much for your support my last fic! I hope you enjoy this one and I hope to be writing more <33 cheers!~

“You’re mine.” He says roughly into your ear, his breath ghosting over. “You’re a queen, but you’re my queen. Mine to touch. Mine to give pleasure to. Mine to make cum. Mine to fuck.”

What a wonderous and successful event. You are the incredible go-to event planner for all hero events, with a keen eye for graceful colour palettes and an expertise on luxury. And no one could deny how well this event has gone. The theme is royalty, and the ballroom is filled with displays and high-security casings of the most expensive jewels and jewellery made fit for kings and queens. The crowns and tiaras are placed softly on plush cushions. People filter through to see each displayed item and gawk at the price of them. Heroes and their helpers fill the room. You’re proud of the event, and proud to be here with Aizawa Shouta, a pro-hero and your ever-loving boyfriend. You’re wearing a beautiful, midnight blue gown with a thigh slit and gold jewellery. The velvet material is soft at touch and comfortable. The main event ended about an hour ago and all the guests have now left, moved on to the open bar downstairs to drink and dance. You lead all the remaining people out and guide them to the bar, and your boyfriend joins you to check up on all the items and lock up the room. The ballroom is stunning, and the displays are even more luxurious. Without the crowd filling the room, you can see each detail in all its glory. Delicate moulding scatters the walls like a gentle breeze, and the jewels sparkle under the chandelier like the night sky. There sits a grand throne at the back of the room. You take the opportunity to fully enjoy each display now that the room is empty. When you grace in front of one of the crowns, you take the crown from the plush cushion it sits on and place it over your head. It balances precariously on the top of your head, and you turn around to show Aizawa with a pose and a large smile on your face. He chuckles and smiles back lovingly. “Fit for a queen like yourself.” He says. You walk up the stairs at the back of the room and take a seat on the throne, sitting with your back straight and crossing your legs whilst looking at your boyfriend, who somehow looks both happy and serious all at once. He’s got his hands in his pockets and he’s watching the way your thigh exposes itself to him when you cross your legs, knows exactly how it would feel in his mind when he runs his finger up and down the area and squeezes the supple flesh with his fingertips. Your heels trace around your ankle and elongate your legs, and the skin glimmers softly in the moonlight. It does something to him, the sleek expanse of your leg and the crown on your head, and he can’t help but think it’s both absolutely adorable and breathtakingly sexy all at once. The room dresses you in a hazy glow, and in that moment he realises he doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have the most stunning woman he’s ever seen right in front of him, fully loyal and belonging to him and him alone. His forearm and hand tenses, almost imperceptibly but enough to illustrate he’s bothered. You look at him curiously, and when you make eye contact you notice that he’s looking at you like he doesn’t know what to do with you. Aizawa comes to the edge of the bottom step, smiles at you and bows deeply to you, and you giggle. He slowly waltzes up the stairs with each graceful step, the noise of his dress shoes echoing across the room, to stand right in front of your throne. He places a finger under your chin, tilting your head up at him, and bends down to kiss you softly. It’s gentle, loving. Perfectly shows the utmost love and respect he has for you. He pulls away, and then kisses you again, deeper this time. He places a hand on the armrest of the throne so that he can more fully bend over you, and runs his tongue over your bottom lip before kissing you again. Your heart starts beating faster, and your hands move to his neck to pull him closer to you. You breathe in his scent – musky and deep. You feel the way his skin moves over the bones of his jaw as he kisses you, the way he swallows when he takes a moment from the kiss to breathe – like he’s just slightly hesitating. Like you’ve taken his breath away. He moves his hands to your hair, and you go to move the crown off your head to give him more freedom with the action. “Keep it on.” Aizawa says as a demand, and the tone sends warmth down your spine. His voice is deep and rough, and the short statement sends something straight to your core. You look at him curiously. You know this tone means he’s serious, and there’s no room for disobedience. You put your hands down from where they were in the middle of the action. He kisses you again, placing his hand on your waist. “My queen.” He states it simply, but sees the way your pupils dilate at the name. He smirks, glad it has the effect he wants on you. He kisses your neck, leaving a mark at the base of your scalp so that it’s easily hidden by your hair. He continues to kiss down your neck and moves down to your cleavage, where your breasts are pushed up oh-so-prettily thanks to the dress. He places a kiss on each breast, and carefully pulls the straps of the dress down to flip over the material and expose the white lace material underneath. He carefully reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, throwing it over the backrest of the throne. You spread your legs to give him space between them as he focuses his attention on your breasts. He swirls his tongue around one of your now-exposed nipples, then uses the tip of his tongue to flick it. He notices the way your hands tighten around his strong triceps when he does so, and does the action again. He places his other hand on the cool skin of your other, unoccupied breast, and rolls that nipple slightly between his thumb and pointer finger. He then engulfs the nipple he’s been toying his tongue on into his mouth and sucks, whilst his other hand gropes your breast. You run your hands into his hair to move his face closer into you at the sensation, feeling yourself getting wetter. He then swaps to do the same again to the respective breast, tonguing at it whilst his fingers pinch and pull at the other now-wet nipple, the slick of his spit giving him the lubrication for him to be more aggressive with it. He takes the nipple between his lips and sucks harder than he did the first time, until he hears your quiet whimpers above him. He then moves to place kisses and hard sucks on the underside of your breasts. He makes his way down your body, kissing your navel until he’s down on his knees in front of you. He spreads your legs so that one is over the arm rest of the throne and the other, the leg with the thigh slit, is gently thrown over his shoulder. He turns his head to place a kiss on the inside of your knee, then another at the bottom of the inside of your thigh, another one a little higher. He keeps going up slowly, looking up at you and making perfect eye contact as he teases you. He places a kiss on your clothed core, breathing in the scent of you, and the way he’s looking at you is as if it trances him. It makes you feel like the world is tilting on its axis. He notes that the fragile material of your underwear does nothing to hide how wet you are. Or the sweet scent of you. Or the ridges of your labia and cunt, which are now blossomed open due to the arousal you were feeling. He runs three of his fingers up and down the garment, pressing into it with each finger individually over and over again like a wave. He slides the underwear down your legs and over your heels, then pockets it into his suit jacket. Your legs presume their previous position. Aizawa sighs at the sight of your pussy in front of him. He runs his hands up and down your thighs, pressing his thumbs into your inner thighs. “Shouta...” you start to say, wondering why he’s just looking and not doing anything, “what are you-“ “I’ve always wanted to know what royalty tastes like,” Aizawa says, and then takes a long swipe of his tongue from the bottom to the top of your slit, moaning at the sweet and salty taste of you on his tongue. It reminds him of strawberries and a sea breeze, and he just can’t get enough of you. “Oh,” you speak, your voice airy and breathy as you immediately coast your fingers through his long locks, lightly scratching at his scalp, “oh, fuck. Oh, Shouta.” He runs the tip of his tongue over the outer lips before moving back to the inner portion, then swipes his tongue up and around your clit, careful to avoid your clit so that he could tease you just a little bit. He’s very much the brat tamer, and if you were both at home he would be edging you over and over and over again for the public indecency you’ve led him to right now, but you’re still in public so he’ll save that for later. He zigzags his tongue from the bottom of your cunt all the way to the top, making you wait as he gets closer to your clit and does a singular swipe over it, the anticipation making the sensation all the more extreme. Then he repeats it again, loving the way your body is getting frustrated at him. He lets you off on it and changes tactics before you get too frustrated. He moves his tongue towards the part of you that’s tensing around nothing, and you feel the warm muscle enter your canal. He takes a short pause to take his fingers and put them into your mouth, and you can smell yourself on him from when he was touching you over your underwear. He then inserts one of those fingers inside of you slowly, and you feel every inch of his long finger slide into your tight hole. He very gently and slowly curls his finger towards himself, catching on an area that has you gasping and moaning. He returns his mouth to your cunt to lick around his finger as it plummets into you, still purposefully avoiding your clit. He finally, finally, pays some attention to your clit as he traces the tip of his tongue around the nub. He’s taking his time, wanting to feel every crevice of your pussy glide over his soft muscle. He circles again, and then again. He then takes a soft kitten lick at your clit. He varies pressures as he continues to kitten lick slowly over and over again, testing to see your reaction to it so that he can give you the right pressure without overstimulating you. He finds the perfect way, and slowly increases his pace. You moan louder for him, nails digging into the back of his head and pulling his face towards your hot core as the pace increases and the pressure gets just a little bit harder. He’s listening carefully to the way your breath catches each time he licks the sensitive bundle of nerves. He looks up at you and sees the way your back arches and your neck is thrown back to expose so much of your decolletage, breasts exposed out of you dress. Your nipples are hard and aching, with light stimulation from the breeze. Aizawa is unbelievably hard under you, enamoured by your soft thighs and the way that your breaths and whimpers sound. He’s unconsciously rutting just slightly into the air, craving for stimulation that he won’t let himself have until he makes you cum hard over his tongue. Which he knows he’s close to. He can feel the way the thigh that’s over his shoulder is tensing and releasing over and over again, how you’ve now moved the other leg that was previously on the armrest to instead rest on his other shoulder as you can’t resist from closing your thighs. He can practically see your heart beating out of your chest as your breathing becomes harboured your breaths coming hard and fast like the way he’s ceaselessly lapping at your clit, your hips tilting towards his mouth more. He takes your clit between your lips and sucks lightly, making you moan at the sudden feeling. Your thighs fully tense, your head tilts up and into the back of the chair, your knuckles grip hard in Aizawa’s hair and moves to grip the armrest. For what feels like almost a whole minute your mind is blank as you hold your breath for a moment before your orgasm crashes into you and you’re crying out his name. Aizawa smiles slightly at the sound of his name bouncing off the walls. He is relentless underneath you despite the fact that you just came all over his mouth. He’s lapping into you from your tensing hole to your throbbing clit, collecting as much of your slick into his mouth as he can as you’re coming down from your high. The feeling ebbs away slowly, and you begin to register the sound of his mouth’s actions as they continue, as well as your own harsh breaths. You start to feel the stimulation on your oversensitive pussy oversensitive pussy. “Ah, ah…” you begin to say softly as you come back to yourself, moving Aizawa’s hair out of his eyes, smiling euphorically at him from your orgasm. And then you realise he’s still not slowing down. “Ah, Shouta… Shouta! Sensitive, so sensitive, too sensitive!” you start, and move the palm of your hand to push his forehead back a little. Aizawa continues regardless, but eventually lets up, smirking at the way your legs are still shaking a little and your pants are slowing. He shifts his weight from his knees to the bag of his heels and looks at you. The length of your dress is draped carelessly away from you and he can see the whole expanse of both your legs. He stands up and scoops you into his arms, sitting on the throne with you on top of him straddling him, crown still placed on your head. Your cheeks are flushed, matching the rubies on the crown that are reflecting the soft starlight coming through the windows. You unbutton his shirt to expose his muscular figure, fingertips raking down his abdomen to feel the muscles there. You run your hands back up his arms, sinking your fingertips into his triceps and watching the way the dress shirt glides over it. You move your hands from his shoulders to either side of his cheeks and jaw, and place a kiss to his lips, tasting yourself on him. You move down his body to kneel in front of Aizawa, similar to how he did to you earlier, taking note of his thick thighs that shift under his dress pants. You unzip his pants and take his cock out, smiling as it springs towards you. It’s girthy, and you wrap your hand around it and move it up and down his shaft with a few strong, slow strokes, listening to his breathing deepen at the sensation. He has a masculine scent, and the hair is trimmed back and well-kept. You almost wonder if he was planning for something like this to happen tonight. You lick the slit at the head of his cock, and Aizawa lets out a groan above you. You lick either side of it a couple times and feel his hand at the base of your scalp tightening. You then take the head of his cock into your mouth, pull away, and then take more of his cock – again and again, until you’ve taken as much of it as you can. You take the base of it into one of your hands, and run your hand up and down his member as you bob up and down it. You can feel Aizawa’s thighs tense around you. All Aizawa can think is that it is such a sight to see his queen, crown and all, looking up at him and taking his cock so well under him. He’s so aroused by this that you don’t do this for long before he’s pulling you back up and over his lap. He gives you a deep kiss, and you feel his tongue swirl in your mouth. As he kisses you, he swiftly takes a condom out of his wallet that he swears is just for emergencies that he didn’t think he had to prepare for, chucking his wallet to the side of the throne. He breaks the kiss for a moment to slide it over his hard member, and you watch the way the edge of the rubber slides over each ridge of the veins wrapped around delicately. As soon as it’s fully down, he smashes his mouth back onto you, running his tongue over the gums right behind your teeth, which has you moaning into his mouth and grinding over him. He can feel how wet you are over his cock, and as you grind again your clit catches onto the head of it, making you gasp. He’s gripping your hips tight, his self-restraint slipping as his urge to just be inside of you increases. He pulls you back from the kiss for a second to lift you up so that he can press the tip of his cock against your cunt. He slowly pushes it in, and you both gasp at the feeling of just the head being inside of you. Your breathing shallows as you sink inch by inch, lower and lower onto him until he’s fully sheathed inside of you. You stay there for a bit, adjusting to his size, and he takes this pause as an opportunity to grab at your butt cheeks, stroking the smooth skin there before gripping hard. “Gods, you look incredible.” He says, and you look down at him and make eye contact. You gasp, as you see so much emotion in his eyes, so unlike what most people think they know about him. He looks at you with love and lust, like you’re a wondrous beauty he caught from the sky. It brings a pang to your heart, to be the reason for it. His eyes are encompassing the view before him, dark blue velvet dress shimmering in the moonlight, your breasts spilling out of the dress from when he pulled the straps down. He can’t help but run his thumb over your erect nipple, making your legs tense and causing you to grind just a little onto him.You can’t take it anymore. You use the armrests of the throne to start to raise yourself up a couple inches, relishing in the way his cock inside your velvety walls, and drop yourself back down, moaning as you feel the head brush your cervix – the pain-pleasure of it feels like a shot of electricity in your veins. And then you do it again, Aizawa watching you the entire time, enraptured by the way you look on top of him. He can feel your slick all around his dick, the way it moves and trickles down as you ride him. He grabs the back of your neck to set a steady pace, nails digging into you as he grits his teeth. “You just had to do all this and look like that, didn’t you?” Aizawa starts, his voice deep and his breaths shallow. “Looking so fucking hot in that dress and that crown, and you expect me to look at you like that and not take you right here.” It amazes you, to listen to him say this. Aizawa, a man of restraint and infinite patience, and yet you did this to him. It spurs you on, making you pant as you continue to ride him. “You know this isn’t my style, baby girl,” he grunts, “fucking you whilst we’re out. But since we’re here, I’m going to give it to you like you deserve. My queen.” And with that his hands move to your thighs, nails digging into your skin, moving you up his member and slamming you back down. He momentarily takes one hand and pulls your face towards him so that it’s right next to his, his lips ghosting over your ear. “You’re mine.” He says roughly into your ear, his breath ghosting over. “You’re a queen, but you’re my queen. Mine to touch. Mine to give pleasure to. Mine to make cum. Mine to fuck.” He emphasises the last word with a considerable thrust of his hips upwards towards you, causing you to arch your back and push your chest towards him. He takes the opportunity to take one of your nipples into your mouth, sucking it roughly. You feel the cold air as his mouth unlocks from it. He’s tightening his grip on your hips hard enough to bruise. You turn your head into the crook of his neck, encompassing yourself in the scent of his musky cologne as you near your peak. He can acutely hear your soft whines, he can tell purely from the sounds you make when you’re close to your orgasm. He knows it like he knows the back of his hand, like he knows how each strand of your hair falls on your head and wraps around his face as he pulls your face a little away from him. He pushes a strand of hair back behind your ear, and places his hand at the base of your scalp. “Look at me.” He says, and you open your eyes to look at him. You can see a slight sheen of sweat covering his neck. Despite how much impact is being made as he’s fucking you, his voice is calm and even. And he’s looking right at you, honeyed gaze fierce and desperate. “You keep your eyes on me the entire time, you got it?” His demand sends a feeling down your spine and you nod feverishly, unable to speak from the stimulation of how hard he’s fucking you, focusing on making both him and yourself feel good. “I expect a response when spoken to, kitten. Don’t tell me you’ve dumbed out so much you can’t even respond with a simple ‘yes’.” You don’t even fully process what he’s saying. Nevertheless, you softly say “yes”. And then you say it again, and again. Yes, yes. You touch foreheads with him as you say this, and you can feel his breath against your mouth. “Good girl.” He shows a soft, genuine smile at your obedience. He rewards you by taking his thumb into his mouth, and then moves it down to your clit. You whine at the extra stimulation, moving one arm to around Aizawa, fingertips digging into the bottom of his scalp and twirling into his hair. You press the other into the top of the throne, using it as leverage to keep riding him. You can feel your impending orgasm, the way your mind blanks out to just the stimulation. All you can hear are Aizawa’s grunts and moans, and your own heartbeat getting faster. You can hear each gasp and deep groan that you elicit out of him. You can feel the way he’s throbbing inside of you each time you lower down onto him, the pace getting faster. You don’t even register the sounds you’re making as your own, but every whimper and moan spurs Aizawa on. He can feel your soft, velvety walls tensing around his hard member every time he twirls his thumb a little over your clit. “Please, Shouta. Please. Please,” you whimper, the last please almost sounding like a whine, letting him know you’re about to reach your peak. “Yeah? You wanna come, queen? Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me so tight. Come, my queen. Come for me.” Aizawa says, and you finally let yourself go. You take one deep breath in, fingernails dig into him hard. And then you clamp around him, back arching, letting out a scream as your orgasm hits you. Your body feels like it’s finally releasing days of tension that it’s been holding on for so long, and you feel his large member so noticeably as you release. At the feel of your tight cunt squeezing him, his thrusts start to falter and slow, and he comes with a grunt. Both of you breathing hard into each other, hearts beating heavy as you slump down over him. He takes your face into one of his hands and pulls you towards him, kissing you softly. You giggle at the intimate action, mind still floating with the aftershocks of your orgasm and the dopamine running through your veins. Aizawa smiles at this. “Thank you, my queen,” he says into your mouth. He looks up at you, and notices how the crown now sits slightly lopsided on the top of your head due to the force of your encounter. You both laugh softly at the predicament whilst taking time to catch your breaths and come down from your high. After a while of being held by your loving boyfriend, his soft cock still inside you, you begin to raise yourself on your knees, placing one foot on the ground with wobbly legs. Aizawa holds you up with his arms to help you stand properly. You take your bra from where it’s been precariously thrown over the throne, and loop your arms back into it. Aizawa removes the condom to discard downstairs later. As he gets up to buckle back his belt and button his shirt, you sit back on the throne to put on your heels. You both laugh and chat as you skip arm-in-arm back to where the crown once was. You go to place the crown back on the plush, velvet cushion it sat on, and lock up the ballroom. You both go down to spend the rest of the party with your now very drunk friends, whilst the both of you are drunk on something else entirely. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author’s end note: Thank you so much for reading! This is very much self-indulgent, I love the idea of throne sex. Also my ex-fwb called me his queen all the time, and he’s very good at giving head and had an oral fixation and used to eat me out for hours so this is lowkey reminiscent of the sex I used to receive irl lol

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softly-savage-mint-yoongi · 4 years ago

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Blindfold

Blindfold Yunho x f.reader Genre: Smut Words: 3.8k Warnings: Not really any warnings but we’re into blindfolding and major teasing here, folks. Birthday sex.

Authors Note: I hope that writing this will quench my thirst and make him stop haunting my dreams. Please suffer with me.

March 23rd. A day you’ve had marked with three red ‘x’’s on your phone calendar for a month. A day you have thought about since Valentine’s Day, after your wonderful, loving, perfect-to-you-in-every-way boyfriend told you about something he would like to try. The conversation had been innocent enough, although there was some irony in it’s exchange, during post-sex cuddles on your bed.

He was all giggles, with soft hands and warm skin, voice lower than usual and just as tender. You could feel the gentle tickle of his lips at your hairline as they moved to form words. Easy words that spelled out his curious desire, “Maybe someday we could try blindfolding.” Those six simple words, spoken with a tangible smile and blushing cheeks, had you pulling your head back from the comfort of his neck to watch his face. Yunho was grinning, somehow shy after all this time, and proud of himself nonetheless. You smiled right back at him with your lips pressed to his chin when he playfully lifted his lips too high for you to reach in your position cradled against his chest. “If you want to blindfold me I would let you. I trust you.” you assured him, but he let out a soft laugh. He swallowed audibly under your full attention, clearing his throat to speak even softer, “Not you…” You said nothing, needing a moment to understand, “I want you to blindfold me.” Realization hit you, and a gut punch of arousal along with it, “Oh.” With your palm against his chest, you forced yourself up at the same time Yunho let you push him onto his back. You wasted no time in straddling his lap. You leaned forward, stretching yourself to place your hands over his eyes with a giggle. “I didn’t mean we had to do it right now!” he laughed, grasping your hands and removing them from his face to kiss your palms. Placing your hands on his stomach, you rolled your hips over his growing length, “Perhaps not, but I still want you right now.” His hands were already gripping your thighs the moment you moved against him. With a bite to his smirking lips, he followed your motions with actions of his own, “As you wish.”

So here you were, after careful planning and orchestration. Without letting them know the details of your plan, you made sure to enlist Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s help, or at least tell them you were trying to make plans for the evening on Yunho’s birthday. You didn’t expect any promises, but Seonghwa did text you this morning to tell you they would try to get him out on time.

You fold and unfold the long piece of silk in your lap, running your fingers over the smooth fabric and appreciating the pink color you chose. It matches the rest of the lace babydoll and panties that cover you.

Part of you is slightly nervous, while the other reminisces about all the reasons you shouldn’t be. Yunho has never been one to make you feel anything less than comfortable or wanted in your relationship, and sex between you is not new.

Perhaps your nerves are born of performance? You must be feeling this way because he specifically wanted this and if you don’t make it great for him then it will be a failure. Yunho has said the same thing to you many times, when he feels nervous about performing for his fans.

Just as you shake your head with resolve to make this wonderful for him, the bedroom door opens and you jump.

There he is, stopped in his tracks, standing with his hand still wrapped around the doorknob as he stares at you sitting there at the end of your bed.

“You’re home.” is what you say, trying to rebound off your surprise. You must have been so lost in thought you didn’t notice the sound of his arrival through the apartment. You don’t miss the way his presence seems to add a fond sense of ‘home’ to the room.

He gulps, an easy smile raising his cheeks. His duffel bag is tossed to the floor in front of the dresser and he closes the door, unzipping his training jacket until that too, is tossed to the floor.

“What’s all this?” he asks, standing in front of you. He dips low to capture your lips in a greeting, waiting for your answer when he regains his full height.

You goad him with a grin, “Why don’t you hurry up and shower so you can find out?”

Yunho’s brows lift momentarily as he turns toward the hamper, smirking back at you as he begins to undress. He takes a peek at your face with every piece that comes off, eating up the way your eyes ogle him in silence.

He checks just once more before ducking into the bathroom, making sure you’re staying put there on the bed.

You refuse to let your thoughts consume you anymore, enjoying the pleasant buzz that sizzles on your skin, left in the wake of his staring. Although it’s new, you were certain he would love this piece on you, having mentioned the few times you’ve worn lingerie, that he loves you most in soft colors that compliment your cuteness. Babydolls are your personal favorite, and he has agreed prior that they’re best for ease of access when he wants to fuck you while keeping something on.

You’re both laughing when your eyes meet after his shower. The unspoken acknowledgment that he’s probably broken a record for his shower time is funny to both of you.

He doesn’t bother with anything more than a towel around his hips, and you pluck it from his grip as soon as he is within reach, “You won’t be needing that.”

He smiles at you, allowing you to tug him forward onto the bed. Yunho’s fingers busy themselves with touching and pinching the lace that delicately hides your skin from him. He lifts the hem in his fist, watching it nearly float back down around you with a sigh.

He definitely loves it.

“I love this on you,” he admits a moment later, his eyes seeking yours. The tone of his voice always melts you like this- when it’s full of love and ardor.

You gesture towards the headboard, allowing him a moment to get comfortable in your requested position before you straddle him. He hisses at the contact of your covered heat against his length, half hard since he came out of the shower from anticipation alone.

Yunho reaches up, collecting you by the nape of your neck and urging you down so he can kiss you. His lips move against yours exactly how you like, slow and building. He does this sometimes, when he wants you to be putty in his hands- not that you ever resist.

Except, today you have to take some control. Pushing past the bubbling nerves in your gut, you lean back. He chases you- leaning forward and consuming you, adamant that he isn’t finished sampling you.

It pulls a gentle moan from your throat when he moves his lips down to it. He holds you in place, caged against his body with his own arms clutching you to him. Your eyes pop open, remembering not to get pulled under the waves of euphoria with him just yet. Today is about his pleasure.

“Yunho,” you say, but it comes out as a whine.

“Yeah, baby?” he coos back, still working his mouth against your neck.

A deep breath leaves you, “Stop for a second.”

Immediately he sits back, with eyes full of concern. He searches your face for any sign of discomfort, and his expression morphs into confusion, followed by realization a moment later when he notices the length of silk in your hands.

You lift it up between you, bashful and smiling. You’re eager for his reaction, and your boyfriend doesn’t disappoint.

“Is it my birthday?” he wonders aloud.

You snort a laugh at him, taking a playful swat at his chest, “It is, you dork.”

He gives you a dazzling, heart-clenching, silly grin at your response, “Oh, yeah.”

“Now sit still, please.” you instruct, unable to hide your growing smile at his immediate and eager obedience.

He waits, eyes closed, but unable to help the way his length twitches against your core as you wrap the silk over his eyes.

“All good under there? Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?” you ask, not bothering to hold up any at all.

“No, but I can feel both your hands on me so nice try.” he says, and you can hear the shit-eating grin in his tone.

He earns himself a swipe of your tongue over his neck at his snarky remark, and the resulting sharp inhale you’re rewarded with is enough sweet justice for you.

He’s smiling when you pull away, tugging here and there to make sure it isn’t too tight nor too loose. He groans when you give him no warning and take his face into your hands, kissing him deeply.

You don’t stop your attention, kissing him until the sound of your lips feels deafening in the silence of the room. His hands grip your waist, gently rocking you back and forth along him in tandem.

It’s enough, you decide, when you break for air and he’s panting with flushed cheeks and heated skin. “Are you going to be okay, baby?”

He swallows thickly, then smiles, and you resist the urge to coo at the way his cheeks look rounder with the blindfold over his eyes. “Keep going.”

“Of course,” you comply in a sultry tone, “Just relax.”

He does as you’ve asked, allowing you to rise from his lap and push his legs apart further. He bites his lip with anticipation- feeling your weight dip the bed between his legs.

You enjoy the opportunity to tease, letting out huffs of your warm breath to ghost along his fully erect cock. He remains still and slack-jawed, awaiting your every movement. Unwilling to waste the moment, you admire him briefly- reclined on your bed, naked in all his glory. Yunho is gorgeous, but knowing he is just as beautiful beneath the surface makes your chest swell with great love.

The sight before you is something you aim to burn into memory for every sleepless, needy night that you miss him. His abs are taut, strained with anticipation and heavy breaths. His arms rest at his sides, feigning relaxation as his fingers dance with a stray thread on the blanket beneath him. His mouth is open just slightly and his brows are knit together in valiant concentration.

The part that pulls a low hum of appreciation from your throat is his full erection. Thick, red and leaking onto his abdomen, you’re spurred into action with the desire to see him a mess.

The first touch you deliver is a kiss, just on the edge of his hip. Slowly and deliberately, you firmly plant wet, open-mouthed kisses lower and closer to where he grows desperate for you. You’re paying attention to his reaction with every ministration and you must admit you are quickly becoming intoxicated with this game.

The power you feel, and how his every tiny reaction drives the spike of arousal deeper into your veins. He holds his breath, knowing the next place your lips will find is his cock if you keep going. With a tactical pause, you skip over it, smiling at his flushed cheeks, and let your lips flutter over the top of his thigh instead.

Yunho releases his held breath with a long and dour groan.

“Please don’t tease.” he whispers quietly, gasping when you suddenly rise up and lave the flat of your tongue around his left nipple. His hand jerks up with the desire to touch, but he resists. You didn’t ever tell him he couldn’t, but let him decide on his own what he wants to do. After all, this is about his pleasure.

The next moment you’ve swooped back down, gently taking the head of him into your mouth, and he reacts with a jerk of his hips and a loud moan. Garbled sounds of pleasure drop freely from his lips, his head thrown back as you take him as far back as you can.

The wet slurping is an erotic audio that pours heat into your own cheeks, and you can imagine that Yunho must feel like that sound is surrounding him with the subconscious focus of his ears.

“Oh, fuck baby… mmm, fuck.” he whines quietly when you use a hand to pump the base of his length that you can’t fit comfortably. He raises a hand again, and you watch as he bites his lip and resists the urge to tangle his fingers in your hair- instead balling a fist and settling it back at his side.

You continue like this for several minutes, switching your rhythm and pattern here and there to stroke or suck him the way you know he likes. When his breath is coming in ragged pants and his thighs begin the slightest tremble, you slow, and eventually release him.

Yunho’s protest is audible, and you cup his cheek at the adorable way his lips are pouted open and his brows are strung together with his plea.

“I want this to last.” you assure him, “It’ll be worth it.”

“Kiss me then,” he barters with you, breathless. His request is one you can comply with, planting a kiss directly to his lips and he tries so hard to kiss you into submission with his plush lips.

“That’s not fair,” you coo.

He smiles, shaking his head and leaning forward, “You’re not being fair.”

Leaning into him, you make sure to wrap your arms around his neck and whisper directly into his ear, “Don’t act like you didn’t want this.”

The resounding moan he tries to suppress is not lost on you, and he settled back with the clearing of his throat.

Straddling his thigh, you settle yourself in a comfortable position to kiss across his chest. Your mouth works higher until you’re biting gently at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He moans softly in reward, finally allowing himself the pleasure of your skin beneath his fingers, pacified with touching your thigh where it rests.

Your hand reaches down and you let your fingers wrap around his cock again at the same moment you gently suck on the place you’d just bitten. Your boyfriend is louder now, letting a throaty moan peel from his lips with your fist around his aching length.

He hisses when you repeat your marking a little higher, just below his ear. Yunho’s hand grips you tighter, letting it roam beneath the pretty lace, toward the fullness of your ass and digging his fingertips in to urge you into motion upon his leg.

“Fuck.” he whispers lowly on a breath as you set a rhythm with your fist once more. His head falls back against the headboard, his hips softly canting up with every pump.

As if he had intended it that way, his throat is now conveniently exposed for your lips and teeth. You want to make excellent use of his generosity, but the ache of emptiness in your cunt demands more attention.

Wordlessly, you sit up, shimmying yourself out of the matching panties and letting your knees settle on either side of his hips. Every rustle of fabric and movement you make is one that Yunho absorbs with great anticipation.

He doesn’t know exactly what you’re up to yet, but he can smell your perfume and your sex and feel your proximity over him. With wandering hands, he reaches out, tentatively, catching the left side of your waist first. All it takes is a simple swipe of his thumb and the comforting palm of his hand for him to realize exactly what part of your body he is holding, even through the lace.

That notion makes you softer for him, smiling sweetly at the dusty rose on his face as he reaches up to palm your breast. His free hand slides to your back, pulling you closer so he can attach his tongue to the nipple he’s found budding beneath the fabric of your lingerie.

The friction and heat makes you whine, admittedly turned on more than you thought possible with the addition of a simple piece of silk around Yunho’s head.

He spoils you with his hands now, roaming all over your curves, mostly followed by his mouth. He’s still short of breath, but smiles nonetheless when he locates at first your nose and then your lips with his own kisses. He doesn’t try any tricks this time.

His kiss pauses immediately when his hands, having wandered down and beneath the lacy fringe, find you bare. He groans at the feel of your skin, audibly basking in the pleasure it gives him to glide two fingers through your wetness with practiced ease.

Yunho dips one long digit into your heat, eating up the sound of your cry. Your hands hold him at his neck and his shoulder, leaning into his frame to stay steady. His face is less than an inch from your shoulder, and he takes advantage of the proximity to turn his head and capture the side of your neck with his mouth.

A second finger joins the first, gliding through your wetness and creating obscene squelching sounds with every thrust into your pussy. You’re beginning to lose yourself, completely indulged in the feeling of him absolutely everywhere.

He loves it just as much, groaning at the sounds you’re making just because of him.

“Does that feel good baby?” he suddenly asks, and the tone of his voice is absolutely sinful.

“Yes.” you whimper into his ear.

He grunts, “I’m gonna come if we keep playing like this.”

The admission is a tempting offer, but you don’t want to end the fun too early. Instead, you think it best to ask him, “What do you want me to do?”

He leans back again, reclining against the pillows, and you allow him to guide you now by feel. To do what he wants with you. “Why don’t you have a seat, baby?” he coos mischievously.

Teasing him further, you take advantage of the position and settle your core over his abs. He makes a sound in his throat akin to a growl and grabs your bottom with both hands and pulls you back into an upright position on your knees.

He kneads the malleable flesh for no longer than a second before he sits up straighter and tells you, “Sit on my cock.”

The dirty words leaving his mouth send sparks up your spine, and you do as you’re told. He’s already got one fist around the base of himself, aiding you in sliding down along the length he’s presented you with.

Watching his face contort with pleasure as you sink over him is by far one of your favorite parts of sex with your boyfriend. He’s so expressive, and the breathy moan that spills from his mouth when you’ve settled completely sends you halfway to heaven already.

Yunho is completely flushed, now. With the rosy tint creeping down his neck to his chest and the two small blooming violets you’ve given him, he adjusts to wrap one arm around your waist while the other is propped behind him on the bed so he can stay upright.

You set to work immediately, rolling your hips over him to a rhythm you can both enjoy. He’s panting again, stimulated to sensitivity from the restriction to his vision.

Mewling sounds leave your mouth, hanging open as you continuously spear yourself on his length. He gives a particularly hard thrust that sends you toppling forward onto his chest. As if he intended it that way, he naturally holds you against him and scoots down the bed- enough to plant his feet firmly so he can rock into you with more strength.

This position is your favorite and he knows it. The sound of your cries amplify with the angle of his cock into your depths, and the sounds are diving right into his ear. You’re rapidly approaching your orgasm in this position.

He grunts, baring his teeth as he thrusts into you roughly. “Fuck, Yuyu… oh my god, fuck, yes.” you breathe the words against him, and he delivers you a loud, rewarding groan.

“I can’t, oh fuck this is so good.” he praddles desperately, slowing to flip you onto your back.

He rips the silk away from his eyes, not bothering to toss it from his hand as his gaze finds your face. The mutually fucked out expressions you share spurs him on, working quickly to push your knee up to your shoulder as he drives his cock deeper into you.

The wildness in his eyes catches you off guard and he can feel your walls tightening around him. Yunho immediately places his thumb on your clit, sending you rapidly spiraling into euphoria. He wants to feel you come undone around him.

The added stimulation sends you over the edge and you seize up, crying out his name in a high-pitched moan.

He follows you on a ragged breath a moment later, unable to withstand the pleasure. He slows, thrusting steadily at a declining pace and strength until he’s spent, leaning over your frame with a blissful expression.

It takes several moments for you both you regain your breaths, and when Yunho finally slips from your core and rolls onto his side, you think he is simply stunning. You stay in your position for a few seconds longer, spying him as he throws his arm over his eyes and smiles.

“Mmm, baby, you’re amazing. That was...” he pauses to mull over choice words “Incredibly hot.” he breathes, slowly regaining a normal heart rate. You stir at his praise, finding enough strength in your jellied limbs to pull yourself against his chest.

“Did you like it?” you wonder, just to confirm what you already know.

He exhales a soundless laugh, lifting his arm just enough to grin at you, “That was some of the best sex we’ve ever had. Top three personal favorites.”

It’s a running joke between you to sometimes rank the best sex you’ve had together, and you giggle at his opinion, pleased with yourself.

“I put so much work into that, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He removes his arm finally, placing it around you instead. He squeezes you just enough that his lips can reach the crown of your hair. “Thank you.”

“Happy Birthday baby.” you finally say with a kiss to his lips.

It isn’t until four days later, the next time you see the rest of his group, that you’re made privy to the fact that he told them- in great detail- about the birthday gift he received from you when Wooyoung makes a joke about using the tie Yunho is wearing as a blindfold.

Your boyfriend fails to meet your sharp gaze when you look at him immediately after. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ll get your revenge.

“That’s alright,” you assure the group. “I’ll just have to use handcuffs on him next time, too.”

You keep a stone face until you catch Jongho’s head whip up at your statement, and the look of pure horror on his face sends you into a fit of laughter.

#yunho smut #ateez smut #ateez fanfiction #yunho x reader #ateez x reader #jeong yunho

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nctsworld · 5 years ago

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meet me at the borderline

☆ jaehyun x reader | dance au | enemies to lovers | smut | 4k

→ summary: although you and jaehyun are rival dance team captains, you two end up talking with your bodies in the dance studio one evening. → warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), table sex, mirror sex, some praise kink, swearing, some angst → rating: explicit → notes: part of a longer fic that i yearn to write one day, but until then… this is what y’all will receive

→ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

It’s 8pm on a Friday night at the university’s main dance studio. Everyone on campus is either attending frat parties, at the clubs downtown, or at home, so you’re taken aback when you walk in and are greeted by the one and only Jung Jaehyun.

He immediately stops dancing and hurries over to his phone on the floor to turn off the music playing. The panting dancer holds your gaze through the wall-sized mirror and takes off his cap for a moment to wipe his sweat away before putting it back on.

“I was here first,” he states firmly with a squint of his eyes, anticipating for you to leave, but Jaehyun knows to expect less of you. With your backpack slung over your shoulder, you stride into the room, hearing the door click behind you, and cross your arms with a shrug.

“Did you book the studio for tonight?”

He tenses, “No, I didn’t, but—”

“If you don’t have another excuse for me to go, don’t be such a baby and I’ll make sure to stay out of your way.”

The dance captain eyes you sauntering towards the back corner of the room, setting your backpack down. As you sit on the floor and begin to change shoes, he appears in front of you.

“Look, I’m trying to practice the set for the competition. I hate to be a dick—”

“No, you don’t; you love being a dick.” With a bitter, wide smile, you look up at him, still putting on your sneakers.

Jaehyun glances up for a second, as if in deep thoughts, with pressed lips. He then raises an eyebrow and nods his head side to side.

“Perhaps, but anyway, I didn’t bring my headphones today and we shouldn’t even be seeing each other’s choreo before the show—”

“Well, good news,” you stand up and begin to tie up your hair. “Unlike you, I brought headphones, so you can practice in peace. Oh, and I hate the sight of you and your flat ass, so I won’t even look at you dancing. We good?”

You fold your arms once more. From one captain to another, you hold his stare, not wanting to back down from this mere fight. All you want is to get in some practice before the weekend with a proper mirror, is that too much to ask for?

It takes some time, but the opposition yields to you, tilting his head to the floor and grumbles under his breath. As he walks back to his side of the room, you’re surprised he backed down so easily without a snarky response. Maybe Friday nights were his off days too.

“At least I have an ass,” Jaehyun’s holler echoes against the walls.

Ah, you spoke too soon. Placing your headphones over your ears to drown out your surroundings, you start your usual warm-up. Shortly, both of you dive into your separate worlds of melodies and movement.

About half an hour later, you’re sitting cross-legged on the floor for a water break and set your headphones aside. You take a sip from your bottle and go against your word from before, indulging in a glance at the other dancer in the room.

Even though Jaehyun is an ass (and lacks one),—and you’d never tell the following to his face—he’s still a pretty sight to see, especially when his shirt occasionally rides up to flash his abs.

When he catches on that you’re taking a longer break than usual, he pauses his music.

“Were you practicing your set too or were you freestyling?”

Caught off-guard by his conversational piece, you squint at him coming closer to you. You could answer honestly, but opt to hold your ground against his seemingly innocent question.

“Why do you care?”

He scoffs, “Cause your footwork’s a mess, like always, and if you, as a captain, dance like that for your piece, I can’t imagine what your whole team looks like.”

Your nose twitches prior to the clenching of your jaw. You’re fully aware of your weak points when dancing, as most dancers are, but to have the audacity to bring it up unprovoked? You slam your water bottle against the floor, the echo reaching all ends of the room, then stand to match his stance.

“Well, you’re one to talk.” You stomp your way over, closing the empty space in between, and are now only a few steps away from him. “You’re tense with all your upper body movements. You’re like a hard stick from the hip up. It’s like you have no control over your core—”

“Whoa, hold on,” he holds a palm up and rushes to lift his shirt up. “Look at my abs and tell me I don’t have a good core.”

You’re definitely looking, a little longer than you should because you’re finally getting a close-up glimpse of his abs, and they’re the type that you could wash clothes off of. But it’s not like you haven’t seen abs in your life nor do you want to stroke his ego, so you maintain your demeanor and roll your eyes.

“I didn’t say that. I said you have no control over your core.”

Jaehyun lets out a huff. You can’t detect it, but it’s laced with a tinge of disappointment over how unfazed you are. He frees his shirt and jogs over to his phone. A few scrolls later, he finally blasts music that you’re fairly certain isn’t part of his dance team’s set for the competition (you may have also gone against your other word and listened to what he was practicing to, but only for a little bit).

“Fine, I’ll show you.”

At this point, you’re amused because never in a million years you’d expect Jaehyun freestyling in a room alone with you. He starts off by feeling the sharp beats and flowing rhythm of the music and when he has a handle on it, he makes a deliberate effort to add body rolls, chest pops, and more in his freestyling to lay out his case.

While taking mental notes, out of habit, you’re grooving along with him too with modest rolls, head nodding, and taps of your feet. He can tell you’re holding back, but Jaehyun smiles, basking in how you seem to be enjoying this from the smile reflected on your face as well.

When he stops, he cocks an eyebrow at you, awaiting for your new verdict.

“Maybe you’re not as bad as you were before.”

He grins, hard enough that his dimples show, and you dig a hole to hide away the underlying flutters of your heart.

Still an asshole, but a cute asshole.

“Now, show me what you got, Captain,” Jaehyun crosses his arms with a nod.

You’re shaking your head, not wanting to be judged by Jaehyun any further.

“Unless... you’re scared that I’m right about how shitty your footwork is?”

If there’s anything stronger than the fear of judgement, it’s the power of spite.

The song’s already onto the next, but the melody flows easily through you. Similar to Jaehyun, you place emphasis on your footwork, being conscious of switching your weight between the balls and heels of your feet and slowing your moves in order to be more sharp, more clean, but all the while purposefully hitting the beats and giving meaning to the moves.

Your body’s out of control, owning all the floor space around you. When your body leads you to end up in front of Jaehyun, you snag the hat off his head and put it on. While you stick your tongue out in response, he’s laughing, thinking how you look better with it on than him, and he realizes how he’s never seen you in this element.

“My footwork still shitty?” you ask, still dancing.

“There’s room for improvement,” Jaehyun breaks his fixed stance, now beginning to dance along with you. “But you’re not that bad either.”

Soon enough, you two are entangled in an unspoken dance battle, trying to one up the other with harder, stronger, better movements than the opponent. The moment Jaehyun drops his breakdancing skills, you bite back with your own strengths—fierce, sensual motions and dare to invade his personal space, in hopes he becomes flustered.

And he does, because he freezes at the sight of your bent ass, which is practically against his hips, and how your fingertips ghost the floor, then you shoot straight up and roll into his body. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, glancing up at him with shallow breaths, restless from the ongoing battle.

“Care to beat that?” you whisper, suddenly aware of your hands tugging the fabric of his track pants over his thighs. Your chest heaves, and Jaehyun’s drawn to the view in his proximity.

Despite his crude ogles, he’s super conscious of ensuring that his hands are not touching you, fearing he’s reading the situation wrong, that perhaps this was only due to the adrenaline and anger you’ve both pented up over time. It’s not as if you’d ever want him, even if he was the last man on Earth.

Although you can’t read his mind, Jaehyun’s absolutely right.

So why do you inch closer to his face?

Time slows as he begins to meet you halfway. Both of you are breathing in sync, hearts beating almost as one. You turn to grasp the crook of his neck, while he steadies you by your waist.

However, when your lips crash into his, time speeds up and it feels like it’s slipping away. All your movements are rushed as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. The kissing—open-mouthed, hungry, and needy—doesn’t falter anytime soon.

When you drop your touch from his neck, he runs his hands through your hair before caressing your cheek, deepening the kiss with more pressure. You’re sighing, humming into each kiss, and as Jaehyun pulls away to kiss your neck, you’re melting, knees feeling weak amidst your soft moans and eye rolls.

Not wanting to actually melt in front of him, you tug at his shirt in between kisses, prompting him to follow you towards a small table on one side of the room. Once you’re there, you sit atop the table and continue kissing Jaehyun, who’s standing in between your spread legs. The handsome figure reverts back to kissing your neck, but this time feels adventurous, letting his hand snake under your t-shirt and grasp the side of your stomach. He embraces the smoothness of your bare skin, adores how you feel with every contact.

There’s not much thinking happening, just lust coursing through each of your bodies. The lust distorts you so much, you don’t hesitate to take off your shirt and toss it to the floor. Jaehyun takes in your beauty for a brief second, before he follows suit and takes his shirt off too. His mouth captures yours again, while his hand kneads your ass and tugs you closer to his hips.

Throughout his kisses that span all over your body, your hands roam and grip the entirety of his toned upper body. Almost instantly, you feel what you can only assume is his growing hard-on pressed against your core, causing you to moan.

“Can I finger you?” Jaehyun asks the filthy question with a certain air of courtesy, leaning his perspired forehead against yours. You nod fervently and squeak a simple, “Yes.”

As you stand to get rid of your shoes and to wiggle your panties and leggings off, you notice Jaehyun laying the t-shirt he was wearing on the spot where you sat. He answers the confusion plastered on your face.

“These tables are used for everything in this building; you never know what could be on them.”

Today truly marks a day where you’ve never seen this many sides of Jaehyun before, but you don’t let yourself dissect the moment for too long. Since you still have your sports bra on, you opt to strip it off too, and jump back onto the table.

Because you’re completely naked in front of him, Jaehyun takes more of his sweet time to bask in the sight in front of him, unsure if he’ll ever see you like this again.

“Are you gonna keep staring,” you cusp his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Or are you going to finger me?”

“I’ll do what I want when I want to,” he seethes along with your name. Without warning, his fingers hover under your exposed warmth, making you gasp.

Jaehyun chuckles deeply, “You’re dripping wet for me and I haven’t even put my fingers in yet.”

His fingers continue to painfully tease you, rubbing long, horizontal lines back and forth across your folds.

You bite your lip, fuming, “Jaehyun, stop teasing and put them in already,”

“Tell me I’m a good dancer.”

You sigh a half-chuckle and roll your eyes prior to muttering, “Fuck you.”

The tease dips his fingers just slightly into your sex, then pulls out right away. And again, and again. You’re getting more frustrated by the second, pouting with piercing eyes. Jaehyun always liked it when he had an upper hand on you during arguments, but he likes it even more like this.

“Tell me I’m a good dancer, and I’ll put them in.”

“Fine,” you scowl. “You’re a good dancer, but you know that alre—fuck.”

He plunges two digits deep into you, and your walls clench in gratification.

“You’re right. I know I am, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

You want to kiss the smirk off his face, but instead, you’re leaning your head back and gripping the edge of the table, reveling in the sensation of his fingers filling you. The music from his phone may be still playing, but all Jaehyun can focus on are your heaven sent moans and the way your body writhes, all due to him.

With his free hand, he trails his nails lightly down the spine of your back, making your sex pulse around his fingers even more. He palms the middle of your back as he begins to plant kisses on your clavicle, down your chest, then on one of your nipples. The label of a tease sticks with him. He dabs his tongue lightly here and there, barely traces a circle around your tip.

When he decides you’ve had enough, he puckers his lips tight and his cheeks become sunken. And when he’s not sucking, his tongue flicks as hard as the suctions, like strobing lights. You react in a frenzy, hands reaching towards his hair, to stuff and tug them between your fingers.

“Oh, God, Jaehyun...”

When Jaehyun takes your other breast into his mouth, your moans tether further as he also increases his fingering pace, causing you to grip onto his hair harder. You fear that it might be too rough, but then again, he deserves a little pain for all the fights you’ve had.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls, still with your nub surrounded by his teeth. He maintains his rhythm, enthralled with the obscene sounds of your pussy taking his fingers.

Feeling a little conscious, reasoning that his hand must be drenched with your juices, you stutter, “S-sorry.”

“No,” he pulls away from your mound, shakes his head, and pulls his hand from your back to caress your neck tenderly. “It’s fucking hot.”

Jaehyun kisses you with intensity, the speed of his wrist never relenting. You can’t even properly kiss him back because the pleasure is overwhelming, so much that if moans were a shade of paint, yours would be splattered all over the studio’s walls. You reach your peak with cries of his name, your honey glistening over his fingers.

After he pulls them out and you’re coming down from your high, he runs over to his backpack and rummages through it. Your eyes flicker, noticing the little silver package in hand. Jaehyun wastes no time in coming back to your side. He places the condom next to you on the table and strips off his clothes in record time.

Before he has a chance to open the condom, you jump off the table to grasp onto his wrist, gesturing for him to lean his backside against the table. He’s in awe as you drop to your knees in front of him.

You stroke his hardened length, admiring his size, but waste no time in tasting him to avoid Jaehyun’s potential banter about how big he is. However, he’s not even in the right mindset to do so; he’s in a trance, stuck on everything you’re doing.

Subconsciously or not, everything’s a competition with you two, so you showcase what you’re capable of doing with your tongue. Like him, you begin to be a painful tease, only giving small kitten licks on his cock. Then the next laps of your tongue are broad, but gradual.

Wanting to see everything you’re doing, he holds your messy hair in a makeshift ponytail since the hair tie you had on must have flown off during the former scenes. Jaehyun grunts sharply as you ease him into your mouth, the warmth welcoming and encircling him wholly. After you bob and swirl your tongue concurrently, giving him a sneak peek of what you’re able to do, you stroke him lackadaisically and meet his eyes.

“Now, you tell me I’m a good dancer,” you command.

A brief chuckle escapes from above, “I don’t think you’re in the same position to ask me of that.”

You challenge his words by taking his possession within your mouth once more. Holding him by the base to cover the area your mouth can’t, you jerk your head fast. With each bob and each swipe, more and more of your saliva covers Jaehyun’s desire. The slurps are so loud, so lewd. His face trembles and his grip tightens on your hair, the pleasure rising within him sooner than expected.

“Okay, okay. You’re a great dancer—fuck, fuck. Slow down. I don’t want to come just yet.”

You pull away, an extended line of your spit mixed with his precome draws out from your lips. Perking an eyebrow with a smolder, you light up your wrist rapidly. “Do you mean it?”

He’s breaking apart from your actions, baring his teeth and grimacing. “Yes, yes. I fucking mean it.”

With a smirk, you immediately drop him from your hand. He drags you upward into a mad kiss, in retaliation for the edging. Breaking apart from one another, you hurry to your original spot on the table. Jaehyun eases the rubber onto his cock and tugs you by your hips, having your ass laid on the very end of the table.

He raises your legs up, to be partially extended in the air and engulfed around his body. You have one elbow perched on the table and one hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. Jaehyun stabilizes you by having a grip on the fold behind your knee and hustles to line his possession up with your sex. The moment it is, his hand meets your waist and he inserts himself fully into you.

Your back arches from his girth hitting you. Both of your moans expel, mingling with each other. He thrusts experimentally, testing the waters to see how you like it. Determined, deep thrusts. Shallow, swift thrusts. A mix of both.

It didn’t matter, because you cry in ecstasy either way.

Being aware of the music still playing from his phone, he wonders if he can plunge into you to match the beat. The current song was electronic and bass-heavy, making it difficult for him to truly match it, but your broken whimpers and name-calling don’t object to the fast thrill.

God, he can feel the way your pussy contracts against his inches.

“You know,” he pants heavily. “If I didn’t have good core control, I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

It takes a bit of effort to come up with a response. All you muster up is, “N-not necessarily,” before you lapse into your elation.

As you emit your endless moans, you spot your reflection in the wall-sized mirror. The sides of your bodies are parallel to it, and your eyes can’t tear away from the spectacle of you getting fucked by Jaehyun from another angle. It’s unbelievable how fit he is, but you see every flexed muscle and tendon in the mirror—from his neck to his ankles.

“Do you like watching me fuck you?”

His gaze confronts yours in the mirror, and you whimper with barely a bounce of your head.

Jaehyun’s thinking about how beautiful you are, but he holds his tongue back. Rather, he grasps the nape of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss, except the kisses are hardly materialized because your lips are constantly parted. Your hot breath fans against his face and he’s attentive to how close you are to him. Not just physically, but beyond that too. He can’t explain it, but it’s as if you’re under his skin.

He knows this will inevitably end, it has to, but he also knows he’ll want you again.

Jaehyun’s officially hooked—to your taste, to your scent, to your air, to your everything.

And he’s not the only one who feels that way too.

You inform Jaehyun that you’re nearing again, and he readies himself for his own little death too. Once you disintegrate, he kisses you for the last time, followed by spurts of his seed, releasing himself into the condom.

The two of you are heaving, sticky messes. Regardless, both of you hold onto each other for a little bit longer. Eventually, you must withdraw and you do.

The tension in the room seems to shift as you both begin to catch your breath, like everything that just happened was a dream. You don’t regret it, neither of you do, but reality blankets over. You’re the first to reach for your clothes and begin to put them back on. Jaehyun peels off the condom and follows your footsteps.

“This stays between us,” you express from afar, averting his eyes.

“And it’s only a one-time thing,” Jaehyun adds, but is immediately unsure if he should’ve said that.

“Exactly, it’s like you read my mind.”

Your chest clenches for a beat as the words come out of your mouth. You shake your head, trying not to think about it.

“Are you going to stay in the studio a bit longer?”

Reading his question as a simple inquiry, you don’t pick up the hopefulness in his tone nor do you see the look in his eyes.

“No, no. You can finally get the studio to yourself. I’ve had enough practice for the night.”

Already dressed, you hurry to grab all your gear and stuff it into your backpack, prepared to leave. You’re practically out the door in an instant as you mumble your good-bye.

“I’ll see you around, Jaehyun.”

While you’re walking home, Jaehyun’s still sitting on the floor of the dance studio with his hat in his hand, remembering the way you looked with it on.

At the same moment, you’re both trying your best to stop thinking about the other.

Keeping this a secret between the two of you, you could do. If your team knew what went down, the best case scenario would be that you lose captaincy. The worst case was that you wouldn’t be a part of your team anymore. However, in either case, your best friends, who were also on the team, would likely question your loyalty and dedication, wondering why you’d ever do such a thing in the first place. The same applied to Jaehyun.

Seeing Jaehyun again was inevitable. Your teams often collided during practice hours and sometimes fought for the studio. Although it’d be awkward, it’d be manageable. At least, you hope it would be.

But the only thing neither of you could truly promise, nor did you two desire, was keeping this as a one-time thing, especially now, when you’ve had a taste of each other and yearned for more.

One more month until the competition.

What more could possibly happen between you and Jaehyun until then?

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun x reader #nctcreations #nct #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 smut #nct 127 imagines #mywritings #myfanfics #jaehyun x reader

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oddaodd · 5 years ago

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· MASTERLIST ·

THOMAS SHELBY

· Fast Enough · In which the reader is there for Tommy during one of his mental breakdowns. (Angst)

· Awfully sensitive · In which Tommy comforts an emotional reader. (Fluff)

· Her Eyes · In which Tommy and the reader are in an arranged marriage. (Fluff/Angst)

· Hesitation · In which Tommy´s reaction to the reader´s pregnancy isn't what she expected. (Angst)

· Wishful Sinful Wicked Blue · In which the reader and Tommy love drinking together. (Smut/Fluff)

· Concern In Painting · In which Tommy snaps at the reader´s concern about his wellbeing. (Angst/Fluff)

· Tender Sunken Sea · In which the reader convinces Tommy to go to the beach with her. (Fluff)·

· Not Quite It Seems · What You Want (part two) ·In which things turn sour when feelings get involved between Tommy and the reader. (Smut/Angst)

· In The Depths Of Despair · In which the reader refuses to let Tommy go into the tunnels alone. (Angst)

· All The Knives That Lacerate Your Brain · In which the reader deals with the aftermath of Tommy´s PTSD. (Angst)

· Stormborn · *Requested * In which Tommy helps the reader give birth. (Fluff)

· Body And Soul · In which the reader convinces Tommy to paint. (Fluff/Angst)

· Relax · In which tommy helps the reader relax. (Smut)

· A Second,Or Two, Or Three · in which the reader tells Tommy she loves him for the fist time. (Fluff)

· I Will Be Your Wine · A Lace Ghost · (Part two) *Requested* In which the reader realizes she and Tommy were never meant to be. (Angst)

· Dancing Out In Space · In which the reader has an anxiety attack and Tommy is there for her. ( Fluff/Angst)

· The Wait · *Requested* In which Tommy deals with the reader’s mood swings during pregnancy. (Fluff)

·A Mundane Occurrence Heavy With Significance · *requested* In which Tommy spends the night at the reader’s place for the first time and his nightmares pay an unwanted visit. (Fluff)

· Pretty Empowering I Must Say · *Requested* In which John and Arthur tease Tommy for being soft in the reader’s presence. (Fluff).

· Dedicated To Touch · *Requested* In which the reader makes a touch starved Tommy feel loved. (Fluff)

· What No One Would Ever Know · *Requested* In which Tommy’s wife is badass and he is soft only for her. (Fluff).

· Besides Tea And Toast · * Requested* In which the reader is a war widow with a daughter and Tommy proposes to her. (Fluff)

· The Flames Singing · *Requested* In which Tommy is vulnerable and Y/n comforts him. (Fluff)

· Cold Tea And Romantic Gestures · In which Tommy makes the reader feel loved. (Fluff)

· Mementos Of The Sea · *Requested* In which the reader takes tommy away to the sea for their wedding anniversary. (Fluff)

· Lydia Pinkham’s Remedies · *Requested* In which Tommy comforts the reader while she suffers from period cramps. (Fluff)

· The Emerald’s Life Long Wait · *Requested* In which Tommy feels the reader deserves better than him. (Fluff/Angst).

· One Of These Days These Heels Are Gonna Stomp All Over You · *Requested* In which the reader is harassed by her boss and tells Tommy. (Angst)

· Winter Son · *Requested* In which Y/n and tommy rejoice over their baby son’s first Christmas. (Fluff).

· For Ages · In which Y/n falls for Tommy, her lifelong friend. (Angst/Fluff)

· What’s Going On? · *Requested* In which y/n isn't sure who her baby’s father is, Tommy or John. (Drama)

· I Was Listening · In which Tommy makes the reader feel less insecure. (Fluff)

· Dangerous, The Horse · In which Tommy doesn't want to open up to the reader. (Angst/Fluff)

· Broken Bones · *Requested* In which Tommy’s wife breaks her leg and he takes care of her. (Fluff)

· Light My Fire · *Requested* In which the reader, Charlie’s nanny, gets pregnant with Tommy’s baby. (Smut/Fluff/Angst)

· Unwanted Surprises · In which the reader wonders if she and tommy have fallen out of love (Angst).

· Can You Feel How Fast That’s Going?· *Requested* In which tommy needs to sort out his priorities and confesses his love to the reader. Based on the The Weekend’s song Where You belong. (Angst/Fluff/Smut)

· Just Till Noon · *Requested* In which the reader convinces Tommy to stay in bed a bit longer. (Fluff)

· Whisky Floors · *Requested* In which Tommy disappears for two days and comes home to his annoyed pregnant wife. (Angst/Fluff)

· Birthday Pearls · The reader wants Tommy to spend her birthday with her, but he’s busy. (Angst/Fluff).

· Maimed · *Requested* In which Tommy finds out the reader had to resort to prostitution when he was away at war and doesn’t react well to it. (Angst)

· A Conjured Up Death Wish · *Requested* In which the reader begins to worry about how much damage Grace’s Ghost can cause (Angst)

· Delightful Misty Dream · In which Tommy joins the reader in the bathtub after a rather stressful day. (Smut/Fluff)

· A Whimsical Tale · *Requested* In which Tommy gets jealous of Finn flirting with his maid because he likes her. (Smut/Fluff).

· Nice Things · In which Charlie snaps at the reader and Tommy feels guilty. (Angst)

· Ominous · *Requested* In which Y/n gets hurt stopping the Lees from raiding the betting shop and suffers from it. (Angst)

· Heedless Words That Numb The Heart · *Requested* In which Tommy snaps at the reader and then makes it up through small acts of love. (Angst/Fluff)

· A Concoction of Honey, Oatmeal and Herbs · In which Tommy agrees to do skincare with the reader. (Absolute Fluff)

· A Dress Made Out Of Daffodils · In which the reader isn't ready to sleep with Tommy and he is understanding and loving about it. (Fluff)

· They Were Closer Now, Fernando · In which Tommy comes home exhausted from a bussiness trip in London and snaps at the reader. (Angst/Fluff)

· Cloudberry Flavored Midnight Cravings · *Requested* In which the reader is craving some biscuits late at night and Tommy being the loving husband he is scours Birmingham to satisfy his wife’s craving. (Fluff)

· Soft Words Professed Amidst Uncertainty · *Requested* In which the reader is shocked by tommy’s newfound compliments towards her. (Smut/Fluff)

· Fake It Till You Make It · *Requested * In which Tommy pretends to be Y/n’s boyfriend in front of her brothers. (Fluff)

· Gardens That Like To Run with Blushing Flowers · *Requested* In which the reader leaves a flower on tommy’s desk every morning and one day he confronts her about it. (Fluff)

· Slumberless Hours On A Gloomy Saturday · In which Tommy tries to make Y/n feel better after Charlie tells him she has been feeling down. (Fluff/Angst)

· The Devil’s Hour · *Requested* In which Tommy comes home late at night to find the reader still awake waiting for him because she wants to cuddle. (Fluff)

· Bishops And Pawns On The Storm · *Requested* In which the reader teaches Tommy to play chess (Fluff)

·Idyllic Announcements In The Wake of Epsom · *Requested* In which the reader has something very important to tell Tommy after the races. (Angst/Fluff)

· I Don't Go In For Sweets · *Requested* In which Tommy reluctantly agrees to marry the reader and is awfully cold and distant towards her. (Angst/Fluff).

·July's Official Birthday Flower · In which the reader suffers from yet another miscarriage and Tommy is there for her, but there's always going to be a reminder of what they've lost. (Angst)

·Wailing Teapots · In which Tommy begins questioning Y/n's allegiances and goes and pays her a visit to confront her about it only to find out a dark truth. (Angst/Fluff)

CILLIAN MURPHY

· Slip Of The Tongue · In which after an embarrassing slip of the tongue while filming a scene with Cillian, the reader feels she ought to explain herself. (Fluff)

ALFIE SOLOMONS

· Home · *Requested* In which y/n Shelby falls for Alfie. (Fluff)

· Cointreau · *Requested* In which Alfie is intrigued by his next door neighbor. (Fluff)

· The Best Pies In England · *Requested* In which the reader finds out that Alfie isn't really a baker and gets sad that he cant bake. (Fluff) .

· Life In Margate · *Requested* In which the reader decides to move with Alfie to Margate when he tells her he has cancer. (Angst/Fluff).

MICHAEL GRAY

· A Lavender Bath · Chamomile Tea · *Requested* In which Michael receives a distressing phone call from the reader. (Angst)

· Like A Queen In Days Of Old · *Requested* In which Michael offers his coat to the reader who is a jazz dancer. (Fluff)

· What About France ? · *Requested* In which Michael tells the reader he must away to America (Smut/Angst)

ARTHUR SHELBY

· Sounds Like A Dream · *Requested* In which Y/n makes Arthur feel better after one of his breakdowns. (Angst/Fluff)

· A Lemon Tree Would Also Be Divine · *Requested* In which Arthur goes strawberry picking with the reader and then they bake a pie together. (Pure cottage core fuel/Fluff)

· Someone Able To Put Your Fires Out · *Requested* In which Arthur relaxes as the reader reads to him (Fluff)

JOHN SHELBY

· Passing Clouds ·*Requested* In which the reader suffers from depression and John comforts her. (Angst/Fluff)JOHN SHELBY

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby masterlist #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders masterlist #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader

2K notes · View notes

archetypal-archivist · 4 years ago

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Grian- Boots for the Rain Gone Cold

Kind of a story idea for Ex-Watcher Grian, 3500+ words. This is what happens when you listen to the song Welly Boots on repeat for a couple hours. The premise is that Grian and the Hermits aren’t quite as nice as they seem, and when Grian has to flee Hermitcraft to keep his friends safe from the Watchers, his friends do some malicious compliance to take care of him while he is away.

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A story in which the hermits take care of their own, even beyond borders they should not be able to cross.

Take a standard story about Watcher Grian. See him come to Hermitcraft, lost and alone and afraid. He has been through Evo, killed a dragon whilst alone and afraid, was taken against his will, watched his friends Pearlescent Moon and Taurtis die. He knows how to take care of himself, but nothing more than that.

Hermitcraft changes that, for him. Standing outside a portal that is unlike any he had ever seen, even during his time as a watcher, seeing a team of 20+ walk out is terrifying. But they had seen him, looked at each other, then rushed forward to claim him as their own. In the beginning he is left alone until he tentatively reaches out, saving Scar's stuff after he has died. An action unlike him, but he had appreciated their kindness in letting him stay, so he does his best to repay that.

Tit for tat is something he understands from the Watchers, even if this is a kinder variant.

Grian watches as people start to reach out to him, watching him with admiring eyes as he builds his first shops, offering items he's never needed or touched before now. (Conduits are so cool and he'll deny the shiver of excitement that crept up his spine when Xisuma first handed him one to his dying breath.) He watches as they smile and laugh at his antics, rather than come at him and his with sword and shield for his pranks.

He watches. He is good at that. He is significantly less good at returning their kindness, a trouble-maker to his core, intentionally or no. But he tries, and in the eyes of the Hermits, that is all that matters.

Iskall feeds him, sometimes, when he is sick and delirious, screaming at the shadows in the corners. They do not let him starve himself to death. (He learns to hide half stacks of golden carrots in their chests, just enough to replenish their supply, but not enough that they'd notice.)

Mumbo is patient with him when he comes crashing into his base like a wrecking ball, sometimes plowing into the taller hermit's redstone face first in the process. He just helps Grian up, smiling and laughing, helping him brush the red dust away. (Grian learns that Mumbo cannot sleep without noise, too used to the ticking of redstone clocks and firing pistons to sleep in quiet. He learns to fly in on late nights when Mumbo's base is still lit up and talk with his friend, chattering away until Mumbo can find it in himself to turn the lag machines off and fall asleep to the sound of Grian's voice.)

Xisuma watches the world with all the focus and patience that Grian once used when designing stars and bedrock towers. For Xisuma, Grian will watch the world too and ease its updates when he can- one less burden for his admin to carry, taken and handled with silent, secret grace.

Joe reads and reads and reads, spinning tales of his finds to all who stand still long enough for him to pin down for a bit. For Joe, Grian will bring out some of his old high school textbooks for him on the days when the man runs out of books to read.

Zedaph lives in a cave, warm and dry, but without color, the only life being the experiments rattling around in the background. For Zedaph, Grian will sneak in mushrooms and moss, encouraging them to grow in the shadows until the cavern blooms with them.

For the hermits, Grian is kind. For the hermits, Grian will learn.

Then one day it all comes crashing down, perhaps in the face of a bedrock tower springing from nowhere, perhaps in violent, screaming outburst of purple fire, perhaps in the face of a friend he once thought dead. The Watchers had tried their damnest to stamp out his heart and they nearly succeeded, but just as they could not stamp out his free will they also could not stamp out his humanity, and people- regardless of shape or size or color or race or species- are born to love and be loved.

Grian loves his Hermits. To protect them, he must leave. And so he does, quietly and in the dead of night, the faint echoes of screams ringing in his ears. If he has it his way, never again will he hear his hermit's pain, imagined or otherwise. It would be best to just forget.

Grian settles in a rainy little single player server that turns out to not be as single player as he would like. It seems instead to be an abandoned multiplayer server, lost dogs and empty houses abound in the distant corners, and every once in a while a new player stumbles in, running from something, settling in long enough to call the server home. Sometimes, these new players stay. Sometimes, whatever is chasing them catches up and they are forced to leave. Grian refuses to care for these fellow vagabonds, even as he watches from under the eaves of his perfectly constructed rustic house, rain dripping down and obscuring him from their wondering, pained eyes.

Grian has given up on having happy ending, and if the ending the narrative seems to want to give him is a tragedy, then he will seize it with both hands and rewrite it himself. What he does not take into account, however, is that the Hermits don't take kindly to being abandoned.

Grian was once a Watcher, and while watching and mimicking are perhaps some of his better skills, he was still new to the server and as such there is much about his Hermits he never had a chance to discover. Their pasts in large part remained a mystery to him, as he had learned to mimic kindness too well from them to ever pry. (They would have told him, if he had asked. Love was another thing he had learned from them, and if he had been seen and not just watched, he perhaps would have noticed how strongly they cared for him too.)

But yes. Though Grian was perhaps the only one of their number on the run from literal gods, he was not the only one with a tragic back story.

Xisuma, who watched the Hermitcraft server with all the vigilance of a soldier who had watched his fellow troops and their enemies weaponize glitches against each other, to the mass extinction of both. Evil X, who ran from it all, only to end up in a place where nothing violent simply became nothing.

Joe, who read and read and read, devouring knowledge the way he once devoured worlds, eyes flickering white on the nights when hunger panged in his stomach worse than usual. Cleo, who also knew the pain of consumption, from both sides of teeth like knives.

Zedaph, who popped into existence one day, whole and unsullied, with a vast, empty void where his past ought to be, who forgot sometimes that people are supposed to have likes and dislikes and colors and an instinctual obedience towards the laws of gravity. Tango and Impulse, who watched their friend and each other with eagle eyes to keep their trio from slipping back into old, self-destructive habits. (Overwork, overclocking, over-stimulation. All were equally killer.)

Grian, who's first and best skill, even before his building, was causing mischief and creating fun. A welcome distraction from old pains.

They loved him, the Hermits. In whatever flavor they chose, they loved him. They knew his darkness, though perhaps not the exact nature of it, and they knew that he loved them back. And then he left them.

The Hermits were powerful with love and sorrow and determination. Grian thought he could leave them so quickly, uproot himself from their hearts like a ghost in the night? Ha.

As. If.

It begins like this- Grian wakes in his little spruce house in the middle of a mostly abandoned town. The rain is pouring outside as it nearly always is and the rushing of wind through the trees puts him in the mind of his old ship-in-a-bottle base, warm and safe from the wet outside. He wakes up, stretches, thinks of eating. Steps outside and-

a brand new pair of bright red rain boots, almost glowing in the grey mist of early morning. They are in his colors, Grian just knows they would fit him perfectly. A welcome sort of gift, perfect for a world drenched in rain. Perfect for him, gifted with thought, with care. His stomach curdles and he just knows he won't be eating breakfast today either. A curl of a finger and the boots go up in purple flames, the scent of burnt rubber joining the petrichor of the air. He goes back inside. Goes back to sleep. Tries not to dream.

The boots are back the next day, shining red and a little closer to the door to better keep them out of the rain. He burns those too.

The boots keep appearing. Always bright red, always perfectly sized to fit him- squeaky new rubber, perfect for keeping out the rain. In the face of that, red boots like clockwork, is it any wonder that Grian gets tired? His front porch stinks of burnt rubber and there are new planks wherever he had to remove the scorched oak. Perhaps it's the burning that causes a new pair to appear- if there are no boots, a new pair comes to replace them, so perhaps a different method of disposal is in order.

He throws the next pair into the river. A new pair comes back to him the next day, alongside the old ones, dripping with sea grass and mud. Hmm.

(Cleo has friends in the rivers and oceans. It's easy enough to call in a favor or three to get the boots returned.)

Creepers next. A loud hiss and an even louder boom has him flinching back, phantom burns dancing across his fingers, but the boots are naught but ash. Three pairs of boots next time, one of them a dark swirling grey rather than the traditional red, as if mocking their scorched past.

(Doc's work. He's had enough experience with accidentally blowing up his own tools to know how to make a blast protection charm strong enough to keep his clothes and armor safe in the case of an unfortunate accident. The grey starbursts left over the material are just a neat bonus.)

Lava. Concentrated spider venom. Flattened by pistons. Dropped into the void. Left under a lightning rod. Thrown up into a tree. Fed to a guardian.

Each and every time, the boots come back, usually with some change in pattern, color, or marking that signals just what they have been through. All in perfectly usual condition, even the pair he cut in half with an axe.

(Stress had a field day piecing that pair back together, using molten honey and mending enchants to stick the halves together again. She always had loved a challenge.)

Eventually, Grian's front porch is covered in boots in all manner of designs, and fed up with the mess, he sets the whole mess on fire again with his signature purple flame, the only thing sure to reduce the number of boots permanently. He sets his house on fire in the process. Hmmmm.

There's an influx of new people into Grian's world all of a sudden. A pair of twins jump in, bloody, battered, and exhausted, and not a week later a roughed-up blond boy joins, snappish and hurting. All three lack shoes.

Now, Grian very firmly does not want to interact with any of them. He had found true friends among the Hermits and if he can't interact with them, then he certainly doesn't want to interact with a trio of traumatized children- however, he does have a pair of boots to give and dropping them on the children's doorstep requires no interaction at all. The female twin puts them on, marveling at how big the red boots are on her while the other kids stand watch suspiciously. Grian watches this from his front porch, hidden by the mist but eyes glinting purple in the gloom so he can see comfortably. The male twin seems to spot this, shouting and pointing, and Grian goes back inside to avoid the mess.

The next morning, the boots on his doorstep are rainbow-striped and several sizes smaller, perfect for a child's feet. Grian stares down at them, something hurting and tremulous in his heart, but his face remains blank. These boots are placed on the trio's doorstep as well. The male twin wears these, and the last child ends up with a pair of blue and black spotted ones.

(False had had fun with the patterns, feeling a little bit of relief that she could hunt down some rubber in a pattern other than plain red.)

Rumor spreads of a purple-eyed monster in the woods that gave people boots to keep them safe from the rain, although Grian very carefully avoids such stories. The children begin leaving trinkets for their monster in hopes to repay him, and Grian ignores these too until one day, the children somehow manage to get an old red dog collar to give him. Upon spotting this, Grian's heart gives a squeeze as it reminds him of Rendog, and he pockets it to put on his rather empty bookshelf. Other things also get picked up, all things that remind him of the friends he had to leave behind.

An allium, pressed into a book of galactic picked up from a stronghold. A jar of electric blue ink dried into a gelatinous cake. A tiny knight figurine, scuffed and missing an arm. A handful of spicy red jellybeans. Eventually, as time passes on and on and the rain bears down harder on Grian's tiny world, a trio of heartfelt, thankful cards appear on his kitchen table, all three drawn in crayon and filled with cheerful scribbles.

It rains harder, and the world shrinks down to just Grian and the three children who call out into the gloom every morning, grateful for the boots and the glimpses of purple eyes and feathered wings in the dark that tell them that they are not alone. The boots stop coming.

In their place, new things appear.

A toaster. Firewood. New sweaters and combs and soap. Little things designed to make life easier, many of them children-sized or painted in rainbow stripes or blue polka dots or a shade of red just off from Grian's favored color. These too go to the children, and the number of gifts Grian receives increases, many of them built from the material that he gives the trio of children.

(If the Hermits cannot gift things to Grian directly, then they will gift them to people who will transform them into something their wayward friend would accept. They do so with equal parts love and spite, angry to have been rebuffed but unwilling to let Grian feel himself forgotten. The trio of kids end up with a rather odd assortment of things. Tango, for example, is fond of the easy-bake oven he sent them that always burnt the food it made. Grian got nothing but his favorite chocolate chip cookies for a week, all of them scorched.)

In time, Grian does his best to drive the children off, building traps and leaving weapons on their doorstep to scare them. The stories of the monster in the woods increase in number and many more children join the server, encouraged by tales of purple-eyed, winged beast that taught its charges to be wary and gave them tools to defend themselves. Grian's cabin remains hidden in the mist, but many more wooden structures join it in the forest.

New boots appear on his doorstep. They aren't made to fit him.

(His heart aches, but his eyes remain dry. Morning dew condenses on Grian's cheeks.)

It comes to a head like this- no world, no matter how small or safe, is fully protected from the Watchers' gaze, and in the end, they find him. Only now, there are people here that cannot leave, that Grian cannot leave behind.

The children scream for their monster to save them. He rises from the mist, eyes heavy and wings heavier, dragging upon the ground and leaving trails in the brick red mud. They think they are saved. They are wrong.

Chains shoot out from the mist, forcing Grian to his knees as a huge female Watcher, Astrid, stares down at him, mouth turned down into a tiny frown and the rest of her figure still as stone even as she floats in the air, white robes fading into the surrounding fog. The purple emblem on her mask glows like a brand. Grian watches her with purple eyes glowing dim and dull, resigned to his fate but unwilling to flee if it means the deaths of those who do not deserve to serve his sentence in his stead.

He thinks, quietly, that he will die here. He wonders if this- any of this- is worth it. He thinks, yes. Yes it is.

He is wrong.

A figure coalesces before him, clad in yellow armor and arms crossed, the very picture of annoyed defiance. It tilts its head back, hard light construct featureless but practically radiating scorn, and from the mists a voice echoes.

"You are going to leave him alone. He's not for you." Astrid hisses behind her mask, galactic crackling and vile from between her lips, and the sound of wingbeats thrums like a heartbeat through the clearing, bass-heavy and loud in Grian's ears. He winces, closing his eyes as more chains shoot out from the ground to attach to Xisuma's- for what else could it be but his admin projected across time and space (that stupid, crazy, wonderful man)- construct. They coil around it, doing their level best to drag it to the ground, but the figure remains still and hovering before Grian, entirely unmoved.

"No. You will leave him alone." Xisuma's voice again, commanding and stern even from a figure that looks more like a glowing yellow armor stand. "I'll ask that you don't test me, it took a while to put this projection together and it will not dissipate until it fulfills its intended purpose." Astrid merely hisses again, this time with an underlay of static beneath it, and Grian's wings are suddenly pulled back tight and away from his shoulders- all three pairs of them, not merely those he prefers to wear.

The sound of flesh and feathers ripping through one plane and into the next has Grian feeling sick. Wrong, his mind repeats on loop, screaming. Wrong wrong wrong. Xisuma's figure freezes at his pained squeak before unfolding its arms and going carefully still. It tilts its head to the side, considering and cold.

"Is that your game? You do realize that that is death sentence, right? We would never let you survive it." Astrid nods. The chains rise up again, clinking softly as they loop once, twice, three times around Grian's outermost pair of wings, the ones most used to the physical plane and with the most nerve endings besides. The damp air is cold and aching in his lungs.

A rip. A scream. And then everything shrinks down to a flicker of brilliant yellow light, the shrilling of broken violins, and the long, drawn-out death wail of a Watcher unused to pain. A computer crash in slow motion complete with a harsh base note as Astrid's wings fall to join Grian's in the mud.

The world expands again, overwhelming. Agony. Silence.

Chains clink to the floor, broken, as Xisuma's hard light construct comes forward to stand before the Hermits' erstwhile server mate, slumped over in a pool of blood but conscious, something in his purple eyes bent, if not a little broken.

A voice, hoarse, achingly loud in the quiet of the glade. "You didn't stop her."

"No."

"...Is this my punishment then?" A moment of quiet and then the figure stoops down to gather Grian into its arms, its featureless gaze doing little to ease his fear.

Then, gently, ".....No."

Grian slumps, the last bit of tension seeping from his limbs as the pain in his back begins to register, sapping at his will and leeching into his voice.

"I'm sorry, you know. I- I'm sorry. I didn't want to go. It just- it hurts. Hels it hurts, so much. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"I know. I know." Xisuma's figure stands up, hoisting Grian a little higher up against its chest so that hiss remaining wings don't drag on the ground quite as much, then turning to face the cowering children. Eventually, a little girl in bright red rain boots stands up to meet its gaze.

She blinks back tears, scrubbing at her face to hide them, but her expression is brave. "Where are you taking him?"

The figure clutches the children's monster close, looking just as fierce as any dragon in a fairytale. "Home. Will you stop me?"

The girl pauses, considering. "No. Don't think I could, really."

"Will you try?"

"To keep going? Yeah, of fucking course, sure as my name is Clementine. To stop you? Not bloody likely, I like my head right where it is." Xisuma's figure nods, satisfied, and with a blink, it and their monster are gone.

Notes:

#hermitcraft #fanfiction #my writing #minecraft #grian #watcher grian

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asciendo · 4 years ago

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Secret Mission

Zuko leaves on a mission with Sokka without telling.

He expects to be. welcomed with open arms when he returns, but you have other plans for him.

I think I read a fic in the past that inspired me for this one!

It’s been two weeks since Sokka and Zuko left on their secret mission. It wasn’t really a secret on what they were doing but the fact that they left without telling anyone was what made it a secret.

Azula’s ships were spotted two mountains down from the campsite and Zuko knew she was carrying heavy explosives for the war. Him and Sokka were adamant on tracking her ships and destroying the explosives, but they all knew that her ships were heavily guarded.

“Look, we don’t even know if the explosives are actually on the ship!” Katara argued. “No, I do know! I was there when they were planning the transaction!” Zuko paced around the camp.

“I agree with Zuko, it could make a huge difference for the war!” Sokka joined Zuko standing up as well. “Knowing Azula she probably changed her plans since you betrayed her.” You stated as you sat near the campfire because you were cold. “But what if she didn’t because she knew she’d be heavily guarded?!”

“That’s exactly my point! It’s too risky for the just a possibility that the explosives are on those ships!” Katara rolled her eyes at her brother. “THEY ARE ON THOSE SHIPS!” Zuko yelled back.

“Katara’s right. It was such a close call last time...I say we should wait it out.” Aang stated as he fumbled with air between his hands. Two weeks ago, Katara and Aang were trying to infiltrate one of Ozai’s camps to get information on their war plans, but Ozai hired extra mercenaries to protect the camp, which almost got them caught.

“That settles it. We’re not going.” Katara stated and headed back to her tent. The rest did too except you and Zuko. You sighed watching him slump on the floor in defeat. Zuko’s been struggling on his place in the group. He still feels like he has to prove he’s on their side and that he was useful. He never told you that, but you could tell it eats him up inside.

It’s been four months since you both were “officially” together after your failed friends with benefits run.

It was great being out in the open, you didn’t have to hide your affection towards each other, and you had more clarity on your relationship. You were honest and knew each other to the deepest core of who you both were. Although, neither of you could never rest when one was out on a mission while the other was back at camp, worrying on what could happen.

The time you and Katara went to steal food from a fire nation camp, Zuko stayed up all night until both of you returned. You remember seeing his shoulders slump in relief as you walked towards him, you simply winked carrying a crate of food, which he then took from you to carry, then placed a long kiss on your forehead. When him and Aang went to search for the fire bending masters you couldn’t sleep till he returned and jumped at him when he entered your now shared tent.

“Zuko.” You sighed as you sat next to him and leaned your head on his shoulder. He didn’t respond but continued staring at the fire. “Zuko, it’s too dangerous...and knowing Azula, she probably changed her plans with the explosives.”

“I know they’re there. I just know it.” he said through gritted teeth.

“Come on, it’s late. We should get some sleep.”

“You go ahead, I just need to think about some stuff.” You stared at him with a worried expression, but he immediately kissed you on the lips as a form of reassurance. You smiled then left. That was the last you saw him before he and Sokka took off on Appa.

2 weeks later, they still hadn’t shown up and the gang was getting nervous. Aang tried to hide it but he spent his mornings pacing around. Katara would stare at sky hoping for signs of Appa, so did Sukki, Toph would throw boulders while at first you wanted to try to find them, but had no idea where they were, would spend your days around the forest hunting and gathering food to distract yourself.

You were all laid out on the floor when suddenly Suki sat up. “Guys, I hear something.”

“So?” Toph scoffed, “No, it’s coming from above!” Suki jumped on her feet. “Yeah right.” You rolled your eyes, there were so many close calls thinking Sokka and Zuko were flying home that you didn’t want any false sense of hope that you’d see him again.

“NO SHE’S RIGHT IT’S APPA!” Aang ran towards you then fell in excitement. Your heart stopped, could it really be them? You sat up and stared at the sky. It was Appa. And you saw two figures on his back, Sokka and Zuko.

“YIPEEEE!” Aang danced around on an air ball. As soon as Appa landed Katara ran to Sokka and hugged him, so did Suki. Aang was next and squished both Sokka and Zuko in a huge hug and Toph high fived them both. Zuko laughed at all the attention then looked at you with a huge grin expecting you to run up to him as well, which automatically dropped when he saw your angry face.

“GUYS I’M SO HAPPY!” Aang continued to dance around the two. “Me too, but that was SO stupid!” Katara placed her hands on her hips. “Well...guess who destroyed two of Azula’s ships including all the explosives?” Sokka gloated as he strutted around the fire.

“NO WAY! I should have gone!” Toph stomped her foot on the ground which made the earth shake. “So there were explosives on the ships...” Katara blushed in embarrassment. “Told you.” Zuko said, but he was still looking at you with worry in his eyes.

“What took two weeks though?” Suki asked as she plopped herself on Sokka’s lap. “Okay, so good news, all the explosives were gone, bad news was we were captured after.”

“WHAT?!” the rest of you shouted in unison.

“BUT! We escaped and torched the Fire Nation camp that captured us.” Sokka winked.

“Sokka! That is so DANGEROUS! You two could have gotten killed!” Katara was yelling in Sokka’s face. “But we DIDN’T! And now we have a higher chance of winning the war.” Sokka smirked.

Katara and Sokka continued to argue while you and Zuko just stared at each other, both not knowing what to do. Obviously, you were happy he was back and safe but so angry he left and didn’t tell you. A few moments passed and you decided you needed some space.

“Well, I’m glad you both are safe.” You stated and walked into the woods. The gang became quiet and Zuko looked like he saw a ghost. “Uhm, I’m sorry man, but...you’re smoked.” Sokka shrugged and Katara hit him. “OW!”

You needed to be alone for a bit so you were taking your usual walk in the forest, forgetting for a bit that the trail was the same one you and Zuko took every night.

“Y/N!” you heard footsteps running behind from you, but you kept walking. “Hey, come on.” He placed his arm on your shoulder, so you turned around.

You looked at him with painful eyes and he softened his grip on you. “What’s wrong?” he placed his arms on your shoulders.

Both of you stood there for a bit, him waiting for you to say something, trying to read you. Suddenly, your soft expression turned into a hard one and you slapped Zuko right across the face.

He stumbled back grabbing his cheek that was now slightly pink. “WH-WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!”

“DON’T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN!” You yelled and continued walking. “DO WHAT?” Zuko followed you but now he was mad as well. “LEAVE!”

“I had to leave! Those explosives could have hurt hundreds of people, and we destroyed a fire nation camp as well.” He tried to explain himself but you kept walking away from him.

“I was right, wasn’t I? The explosives were on those ships!”

“That’s not the point Zuko!” you raised your arms in exasperation. “We destroyed the explosives that would be used against us! How could you be mad about that?!”

“That’s not why I’m mad!” you rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “Then why don’t you tell me instead of us wandering around here like idiots!”

“Y/N, will you please stop walking!” Zuko groaned in annoyance.

“No.”

“You’re impossible.” Zuko growled but still continued to follow you. “Then go back to camp!”

“No, I’m not leaving till we fix this.” You could hear a bit of desperation in his voice.

“Then too bad.”

“Y/N, we did what had to be done! It’s not like we left for no reason!”

“You really don’t get it, do you Zuko?” You stopped walking then looked at him, clearly he was clueless. “No, because you won’t tell me!” you sighed then gave up.

“You could have told me you were leaving!” You pleaded for him to understand but you could tell he wasn’t getting what you were trying to say. “It was my choice and you would have told me not go.” he said through gritted teeth.

“Yes but I would have known where you were.”

“What difference would that make? I still would have gone.” There was a pang in your heart because Zuko still had no idea what it was like wondering if he was alive every single day.

“Zuko...do you know what it was like waking up and you were gone. Not knowing if you were alright, if you were captured or or—“ tears started to trickle down your face. Zuko’s eyes widened and his hard expression quickly turned to softness and worry. The only time Zuko’s ever seen you cry was when you received news that your childhood home was burned down in the Fire Nation as they considered your father a traitor. The truth was, he was like Zuko, he knew what they were doing was wrong and left.

“You just left...without telling me...and I wondered everyday, every night, if you were okay and just hoped that I’d see you sleeping next to me somehow and that this was all just a bad dream.”

“Y/N I—“

“What if you died, Zuko?!”

“I didn’t—“

“But you could have and I’d be here...not knowing what even happened to you!”

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His eyes were pleading and you could see the remorse in his face.

“Do I mean that little to you?” Zuko’s face dropped and he instantly walked towards you and grabbed your face.

“Y/N...you mean everything to me.” He whispered as he caressed your face. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I thought it would be better...because you wouldn’t know what we were doing, so you wouldn’t feel guilty if anything happened...” he looked down, realizing how wrong he was. Zuko suddenly remembered all the times you went on a mission without him and how helpless he felt that he wasn’t there to protect you. He’d spend days with no sleep, pacing around the camp while looking for any sign of you returning. “It wasn’t better! Even if I didn’t like what you were doing but at least have the compassion to tell me!” you tried to pull away from his grasp, but he held on tighter.

“I know... I wasn’t thinking. I was just so sure I was right and I knew it would make a huge difference and I just wanted to—“

“You just wanted to prove you deserve to be on Aang’s side.” You finished and Zuko nodded slowly. Zuko was always skeptical if the team really trusted him, especially due to the fact that he used to chase them around trying to capture Aang.

“Zuko, it’s been months. Everyone trusts you and respects you, remember we’re on the same boat here, I’m from the Fire Nation too, you know.”

“I do...it’s just, I did horrible things to them. I always feel like I have to make up for it.” he turned away from you. “Zuko, you don’t have to make up for anything, I’m so proud of you for all that you’ve done, and how much you’ve changed. I just thought I had a bigger place in your life for you to tell me.”

“You are the biggest part of my life, Y/N. Don’t ever doubt that.” he cupped your face with his hands once more. “I’m so sorry I ever made you feel that way, it was selfish and—“

“And I’m so proud of how brave you are...it just scares me sometimes that you could just be gone...”

“Don’t you think I feel the same way when you’re out on missions?”

“At least you know where I’m going.” You smirked and he sighed but laughed after.

“I’m sorry, I should have been more considerate.” You smiled lightly. “But don’t ever think you mean little to me. You’re the only good thing in my life.” He kissed you on your forehead and you melted into his arms.

#zuko #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #last airbender #aang #zuko x you #zuko x reader #zuko fluff #katara #sokka #appa #momo #suki #iroh #azula #ozai #nickelodeon #toph #mai #tai lee

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drspencerweed · 5 years ago

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Denied

Summary: After a particularly hard case, [Y/N] and Spencer unwind in the best way they know how.

W/C: 4675

Content: Pegging, orgasm denial, edging, Sub!Spencer, Dom!Reader, dom/sub elements,

A/N: Hello! This is my first fic in this fandom so please be nice haha. Don’t like don’t read I don’t own the characters yada yada. Let’s get to the fic!

Masterlist

Read on AO3

The case was a brutal one. Kids. I could never save all of them. The images of them were burned into my brain, and I knew I needed release from that. Spencer sat across from me on the plane, reading. His leg was bouncing uncontrollably. I could feel the tension radiating off of him, and knew he would be in search of some release too. Of course, in front of the team, there was no way for us to do it here. It would have to wait until we got home. The team didn’t even know we were seeing each other, let alone the nature of our relationship.

I had been staring at my boy for too long, and shook my head out of it, making eye contact with Morgan who smirked at me.

Okay, we hadn’t told the team we were seeing each other. They were profilers, they probably had some sort of idea. Even so, there was no way they knew what was actually happening between us. I kept my cards very close to my chest about this stuff. It was a wonder that Spencer himself had found out.

When we got back to Quantico, I said quick goodbyes to everyone, thankful I had gotten my report done on the plane. Spencer made direct eye contact with me when I waved goodbye, and as soon as I turned around, I took my phone out.

My place. One hour. Don’t be late.

I heard his phone ding as the door shut behind me.

~~~~

I took the hour I had given Spencer to get here to prepare myself. I took a long shower, shaved, and set out everything I was planning to use that night on my dresser. Sometimes I liked to taunt him, show him what was coming. His eidetic memory meant he noticed everything that was there and never forgot it, so even if I blindfolded him he was anticipating things. That anticipation made him beg. His begging was music to my ears.

At exactly 6:07, an hour after I had sent the text, my doorbell rang. I adjusted my lace bra and underwear, and pulled up my thigh highs. Taking my time to get the door made him squirm, and I knew it. When I finally opened the door, he was standing there gripping his satchel strap tightly with both hands. He barely met my eyes, staring down at the floor. His gaze flickered over my form but didn’t linger on anything, knowing better than to stare without permission.

“You can look, baby.” I said. The nickname was a clear indication that it was time for him to let go. Time for him to fall into his submissive headspace and give me all the control. His eyes went straight to mine, biting down on his lip as he let himself give me a full once over, really looking this time. They lingered on my tits, and I spun in a circle as he stared so he could see my ass in the thong I was wearing. “Like what you see?”

He nodded dumbly.

Realizing the door was still wide open, I pulled him inside and slammed him against the back of it. I reached up and gripped his cheeks in my hand, hard. “I asked you a question, baby.”

“Y-Yes, miss. I like it.” He whimpered, meeting my eyes again. I smirked and pulled away.

“Good boy. Now strip.”

His eyes widened. Typically, I let him wait until we were in the bedroom for him to remove his clothes. But I wanted to play now. After a second of hesitation, he pulled at his tie and stripped slowly. I watched as he revealed inch after inch of glorious skin. My eyes raked over his body, watching closely as he revealed himself to me. Undoing his belt, he blushed as he tugged his pants down, underwear and all. His cock sprung out, large and flushed red already, hardening before my eyes. I licked my lips, staring at it. He stood there, naked before me, blushing.

I smirked slowly, and he lowered his eyes to the floor. Stalking towards him, I let my eyes go from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. His cheeks flared red and his eyes flickered between the floor and my own. When I reached him, I grabbed his cock in my hand and stroked it slowly. He whimpered, still keeping his eyes downcast. I stroked until he was fully hard, then let go completely.

He whined and pounded a fist against the door. I gripped his cheeks again. “Is that a complaint?”

“No, miss.” He said, trying to shake his head. I squeezed his cheeks once more and then let go, dropping my hands to my sides.

“Look at me.” I demanded. His eyes snapped to mine, and I smiled. One stray hair had fallen slightly in his face, and I reached out and brushed it back. He nuzzled into my hand. Smiling, I let my fingers trail over his mouth. “You can touch. Kiss me.” I said, and he jumped at the opportunity.

His mouth found mine frantically, hands trying to touch everywhere at once. I let my arms rest on his shoulders, carding my fingers through his hair. Spencer’s tongue brushed my lips, and I parted them, letting our mouths mould together. His tongue brushed against mine and it sent a shiver down my spine. Hands roaming my body, he tugged me closer. His hard cock brushed against my stomach. He started grinding slowly. I let him get away with it for a moment, letting his hands wander to my ass where they gripped tightly, pulling me in again as he ground into me.

I tightened my hands in his hair and pulled him back. His eyes fluttered open, mouth hanging open stupidly. I brought one hand to his lips and they closed around my fingers, sucking. I gripped his hair even tighter. He moaned around my fingers.

“No more touching.” His hands dropped from my ass immediately, falling back to his sides. I stepped back from him and just looked, watching him squirm. “Go to the bedroom. Lay down on the bed, on your back, no touching.”

He rushed off, and I gave him a quick slap on the ass as he passed by me. He squeaked but knew better than to turn around, continuing off to where he was meant to be.

I knew he would spend time looking at all the toys I laid out, and I didn’t want to punish him too much tonight. So I took my time getting two glasses of water for after the scene, and readjusted my lingerie in the bathroom mirror. The kissing had made me a little wet, so I could feel my panties start to get cold when they were exposed to the air.

I took a deep breath before entering the bedroom, letting myself completely enter my dominant headspace. Spencer was exactly where I asked him to be, the center of the bed, hands at his sides. His eyes were squeezed shut and his breathing was heavy. He was probably attempting to ignore his hard cock that rested heavy on his stomach. I walked in the room slowly, and his eyes snapped open when he heard the door click behind me. He watched me walk to the end of the bed, and I smiled down at him.

“Ready, baby?” I asked.

He nodded desperately, whining out, “Yes, green, miss.”

I grinned, climbing on to the bed, crawling over his prone form. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” I ghosted my breath over his cock. “I’m going to edge you until you’re begging me to let you come. After that, I’ll slip on the cock ring and edge you some more. You have to make me cum three times before you’ll be given permission.”

“How, miss?” He asked, whimpering. I smirked, moving up his body and leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“Like this.” I whispered, and then moved up completely so my pussy was right in front of his face. His mouth opened and his tongue fell out, eager as always.

I pressed my pussy down onto his mouth, his tongue immediately lapping up through my panties. He ran his tongue between my folds in broad strokes. He lingered on my clit then, running tight circles around it with the tip of his tongue. I groaned out loud, throwing my head back and grinding against him.

His lips closed around my clit and sucked, and I rocked my hips into the feeling, holding onto the headboard. One hand dropped down to grip his hair, guiding his head as I ground down into him. He let his tongue slip down, with long strokes that ended in him circling my clit. The panties added friction to the sensation, and I moaned out loud. “Baby...” I bit down on my bottom lip and groaned.

I reached down and slipped my panties off to the side, finally giving him full access to me. He surged forward, his tongue expertly moving against me. The feeling of his tongue on me with no barrier made me groan. I looked behind me and saw his hands clenched in the sheets, clearly trying desperately not to touch. The tip of his tongue circled my clit in fast motions and I let out a low groan.

“You can touch.” I said. His hands flew to my ass, pulling me in and increasing the pressure against my clit. I rocked with the guidance of his hands for a few moments before correcting him. “Yourself, baby. No coming.” He groaned against me, sending vibrations through my clit, and let go slowly, his fingers dancing on my thighs.

I looked behind me to make sure he gripped himself, and watched as his own hand sent a groan through him, and subsequently through me. He stroked his cock in time with his licks against my core, a steady rhythm that had us both moaning. I rocked against him harder, trying to bring myself to an orgasm. I could feel it building within me, my thighs beginning to quiver around Spencer’s head. I gripped his hair tighter. He moaned against me and then wrapped his lips around my clit, alternating between sucking and running tight little circles around it.

“Yes, baby. I’m so close.” I said through a moan. He whined against me. I looked behind me to see his hand speeding up, his cock an angry red. “Stop touching yourself.” I said when I saw his stomach tense, a telltale sign he was about to cum. He let go quickly but slammed his hand into the bed, groaning out in frustration. That noise against my center sent me over the edge, and I twitched my hips against him as I came. He licked me through it, tongue running circle around me until I pulled him off by the hair. I shuddered and moaned, looking down at him and smiling serenely. He gazed up at me, eyes blown out with lust, mouth wet with my juices. “That’s one.” I said, smiling.

I turned around, still straddling his head, but with my ass in his face this time. I looked down at his flushed cock and knew I wanted it in my mouth. I leaned down and let my breath fan over it. His breath hitched, and I dropped my tongue out to run down his shaft lightly. He whined out loud, one of my favorite sounds. Wrapping a hand around his cock, I wrapped my lips around the head and sucked gently. Another whine.

“Make me cum again, baby. You can use your hands.” I ordered. His tongue was on me again, this time entering me quickly while his hands spread me apart. I let out a moan before dropping my head and taking his cock in my mouth.

He tasted clean, and like Spencer. I knew this taste like the back of my hand. I focused my attention on the head, tonguing at his slit and sucking lightly, running my hand along the shaft slowly. His hips shifted, trying not to thrust up into my mouth. He knew what that would get him. One of his hands let go of me, instead pushing two fingers into my pussy, making me groan and drop my head lower, taking more of him in my mouth.

I let myself drool over his cock, making the surface wet and easing the glide of my hand. His lips found my clit as his fingers pumped in and out of me. I rocked back against his mouth in tandem with me sucking his cock, feeling him moan as I increased my speed. His thighs shook as I took him deep in my throat.

His fingers stoped fucking me and simply pressed down, finding my spot and rubbing over it repeatedly. His tongue pressed against my clit and pulsed. The double stimulation had me shaking, grinding back into it and moaning over his cock. I dropped even lower, the pleasure relaxing my throat. His groan hurtled me towards my second orgasm.

I felt it in my stomach, the heat building and spreading down through my core and my thighs. I pulled off and laid my cheek against his pelvis, panting against the bottom of his shaft. I stroked him as I rocked back against his mouth, rubbing my thumb over the head. He pushed his hips up towards me slightly, whining against me. His fingers followed me as I pulled away from his mouth.

“Are you close, baby?” I asked, stroking faster.

“Yes, miss. Oh...please miss.” He whined out, his hips wiggling with the urge to thrust up into my hand.

“Better work harder to make me cum then.” I ordered, sitting back onto his face. He moaned out loud when I took him back in my mouth. His fingers began fucking in and out again, spreading me open. He added a third and I whined around him. Quickly, I was being pushed to the edge again. His tongue found my clit again and stroked in time with his fingers. Pushing back against him, I took him deep in my throat as my orgasm crashed through me. I moaned around him and felt his dick twitch. I immediately pulled off, his whine in frustration pushing me through my orgasm as I denied him his. His cock was so hard it barely touched his stomach, sticking up off his belly.

Once he had fucked me with his fingers through the aftershocks, I lifted off of him and heard him take a few deep breaths, catching it. I swung around so I was straddling his thighs. I smirked down at him as he stared up at me. I dragged a finger over down the shaft of his cock and watched it twitch up towards me.

“So hard, aren’t you baby?” I whispered. He nodded ferociously, his hands balled in fists at his side. I kept running that one finger over him. Up and down. Up and down. He squirmed under me. His hands fisted the sheets under him and his legs shook. I slapped his cock when he didn’t answer me. “Aren’t you baby?” He whined and keened.

“Yes, miss. So hard.”

“And who’s it for?”

“For you, miss. All for you.” He whimpered out. I smirked again and wrapped my hand around him, lifting his cock off his stomach and moving it back and forth.

“Such a cute cock,” I said. I reached out and licked the tip lightly, just barely letting my tongue stroke over it. “And it’s all mine.”

Spencer whined, shaking his head back and forth. “Please, miss.”

“You’ve only made me cum two times, baby.” I reminded him. His eyes squeezed shut as I slowly dragged my hand up over his cock, then back down again. I let my thumb circle the tip of it on every up stroke. “Look at me.” I demanded. His eyes flashed open and made eye contact with me, tongue coming out to wet his lips.

“You’re mine, Spencer Reid.” I taunted. Without warning, I took him deep in my mouth, keeping our eye contact. His mouth fell open in a moan, eyes fluttering as he tried to keep them open. I sucked him long and hard, swirling my tongue around him and bringing him closer and closer to an edge. I pulled off for a split second, warning him, “You better tell me if you get close.”

From there, I focused on bringing him as close to the edge as possible. Using my hands and my mouth I brought him closer and closer, watching him clench the sheets and shake his head back and forth.

“Please, please miss. Please let me cum.” He begged, and I reveled in it. I groaned around him and took him all the way down my throat, gagging slightly. He moaned above me, and I just kept going. “Miss....please.” He whined loudly. I took him down until my nose pressed into his stomach. “Oh-oh! Close, miss close!” He whimpered. I immediately pulled off of him and let his cock drop back down onto his stomach with no contact at all. His whole body shook underneath me in frustration, but he knew better than to act out. I felt my heart swell with pride as I watched Spencer take whatever I gave him without complaint.

“Now.... I feel like you might need some help not to cum.” I said. His eyes locked on mine and I smirked. He knew what was sitting on the dresser, he just didn’t know what exactly I planned to do with it.

“I-I do. I need help, miss.” He said, nodding. Spencer’s hair was fanned out under him, he looked ethereal. I sat there for a moment, just looking at him. Admiring my boy. I climbed off of him and grabbed the cock ring from the dresser.

When I crawled back over him, I pushed his legs apart, settling between them. His knees bent and his feet flat on the bed, his cock an angry red between them. I smiled at him as he eyed the ring in my hand.

“Green, baby?”

“Green, miss.” He confirmed. I leaned over and fastened the cock ring around him, making his cock flush even darker.

“You’ve got one more to do, baby. And then I’m gonna fuck you till you cum.” I said with a smirk. He gasped at that. I didn’t peg him often, but he loved it when I did. It was for special occasions. I knew we both needed it tonight. But first, my last orgasm.

I climbed over his spread legs and let my wet pussy glide over his cock that was resting on his belly. I ground down onto him and he groaned.

“Do you want to feel me, baby?” I asked. He moaned out but didn’t answer. I gripped his cheeks tightly in my hand, and he immediately started answering.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, miss. Yes, please, miss.” He mumbled while his lips were pressed together. I rubbed myself over him once again and he groaned loudly. “Please, please, please.” He repeated over and over. I let myself grind on him for a moment longer, before sitting up on my knees and reaching behind me. I angled his cock, pulled my panties to the side, and slid down, taking all of him in slowly. He took deep breaths, trying to resist the urge to fuck up into me. I wiggled my ass as it met his hips, giving myself time to adjust to his length inside of me.

Then I raised myself up so just the head was inside of me. I leaned down and pressed my face into his neck, mouthing at the skin there. “Fuck me, baby.” I whispered directly in his ear. His hips snapped up as soon as he had permission. I let out a long moan as he fucked up into me.

“Permission to touch, Miss, please?” He begged, his hands still curled into the sheets. I looked down to where we were connected, sure my face looked entirely blissed out.

“Yes, baby. Touch me.”

His hands flew to my hips, slamming me down onto him to meet his thrusts. My lips found his neck and started sucking as I rocked with his thrusts. He moaned at the feeling. I knew it would leave a mark but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. Moving down to his collarbone, I rolled my hips so my ass met his hips on each thrust. I let out moans into his ear, which made him grip me tighter and fuck me harder. He was everywhere. His hands on me, his cock in me, his mouth seeking mine. I found it and our tongues moulded together.

“Close, miss.” He whispered. I pulled up and off of him in one fell swoop. His hands lingered on my ass as he groaned and threw his head back in frustration. I laughed as he struggled, sitting back so that his dick ran through the crest of my ass.

“Poor, baby. Close with the cock ring on? You must be really desperate.” I teased, wiggling my ass against his cock. He whined.

“You have one more chance. You can fuck me one more time and you better get me off before you’re close.” I reached back and realigned him, sinking down faster this time. He thrusted up into me and one of his hands came around to rub at my clit. His thumb drew fast circles around it. I threw my head back and sat up, his cock reaching deeper into me in the new position, and I started really riding him.

“Baby, yes, just like that.” His thumb sped up, and he thrusted harder. I fell back down against his chest, and his lips found my neck. He sucked a mark there. I groaned and then pulled away, propping myself up on one hand. I looked down between our bodies, watching as we joined together over and over again. I felt my third orgasm starting, and I rode him through it as I moaned down at him. He kept his eyes on mine the entire time.

I sat down on his cock when I was done, taking deep, heaving breaths. He wiggled under me, not able to thrust up with my full weight holding him down. The cock ring under me reminded me of his predicament and I smiled, wiggling around to tease him just a little more.

“Are you ready for your reward?” I asked. pulling off of him completely and getting off the bed.

“Yes, miss. Oh, please.” He begged. I grabbed the strap-on from the dresser and pulled it on myself. Then I grabbed the lube and made my way back to the bed.

He eyed my cock, tilting his head up to see which one I had chosen. I had our smallest one, not wanting to need to spend too much time on prep. My boy had waited long enough. He smiled and leaned back. I climbed onto the bed between his legs.

I lubed up my fingers and ran them over his hole lightly. He shivered, but ultimately relaxed as I did it. One finger pressed in slowly, his body tight and hot around me. He moaned out and pushed back against it. The cock ring stayed in place, as I didn’t want him to cum too early. I pulled out the one finger and went back in with two. He groaned again, head rolling against the pillow. I fucked him with my two fingers, spreading them and curling them until I found the spot that made him cry out.

“There! Oh, miss.” He groaned. I smirked up at him and kept my two fingers right there, rubbing in small circles. While he was distracted by that pleasure, I added a third finger. He moaned and thrashed, his arms spreading out and pulling at the sheets.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yes! I like it so much, fuck, miss I-” He cut off in a broken whine as I slipped my fingers out of him.

“Shhh, don’t complain. I’m just getting to the main event.” I smirked, lubing up my cock. I licked my lips as he gazed down to watch, and put on a good show for him. A whine came from deep in his throat, clearly out of his control. I smiled and right before lining up, removed the cock ring. He groaned loudly at the release. Immediately, I thrust into him, and his back arched off the bed. with a harsh gasp.

“Oh, fuck miss.” He said as he settled down. I set up a quick pace, thrusting into him hard and fast. His ass pushed back to meet my thrusts.

“You like this, don’t you baby? You love getting your pretty little ass fucked?” I taunted, slowing my thrusts down so I could watch each time my cock hit his prostate. His face transformed with every thrust, slowly building in intensity. He didn’t answer my question.

I moved my hand to grip his face, “I said, do you love getting your pretty little ass fucked?” I said harshly, thrusting in deep and staying there. He whined, biting down on his bottom lip.

“Yes, miss.” He said. I slapped him quickly on the cheek.

“Say it.” I hissed. My eyes never left his as he looked up to me and whined out-

“I love getting my pretty little ass fucked.”

“That’s it, baby.” I praised and he keened. I sped up my thrusts again, and reached down and gripped his cock. “You can touch me. And you can cum whenever you’re ready.”

His hands went to my breasts and groped at them, pinching and twisting my nipples, which made me moan. I kept thrusting and stroking him as his hands traveled my body, eventually landing on my ass and pulling me into him harder. His face scrunched up and his stomach quivered, and I watched him fly over the edge with a shout. His cum spurted up to his neck, strings dripped all over his stomach. I kept thrusting and stroking him all the way through it, until he was whimpering from the overstimulation.

A thought entered my head, but I knew it was for a different scene, a different time.

When I knew he had come down enough, I pulled out and removed the strap-on. I climbed off the bed quickly and grabbed a damp washcloth, returning to find Spencer curled into a ball on his side. I rolled him back onto his back and wiped him down. He let out a small whine when it brushed over his sensitive cock. Then I sat him up and forced him to drink the water I had sent out before the scene started.

He drank it slowly and I held onto him, letting him rest his back against my chest as I stroked his hair, murmuring “My good boy, such a good boy,” into his ear until he looked up at me with clear, but tired eyes.

“Thank you, [y/n].” He said, and I smiled.

“You never have to thank me, Spencer. Thank you.” I said back. He smiled up at me and pursed his lips, asking for a kiss. I let a hand fall over his cheek and pulled him up to me, kissing him deeply.

“Talk in the morning?” He asked. We always debriefed about a scene the morning after. What worked, what didn’t. Things that were affecting our lives, inside and outside the bedroom. It helped keep things safe for both of us.

“Of course.” I answered.

He placed his water down on the nightstand and then kissed me one last time before settling in my arms to go to sleep. He fell asleep while I was stroking his hair, and I followed not long after him.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #sub spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #my fic #denied #mine #tp

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

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Pretty Girl - Five

Summary: A lazy, sensual Sunday with Pretty Girl

Warnings: Smut, language, body image issues. WC-3,450

A/N: See below for how I wished I had spent my Sunday. More to come still, lovelies!

Flip was warm all over. Except for his face. He could feel, as his consciousness waded to the surface, that his nose was frozen. But the rest of him was so deliciously warm. The juxtaposition bringing the memories of the night before rushing back, and Flip opened his eyes.

The morning light was dull, evidence of the continuing torrential downpour he could hear against the window panes. It hadn’t been a dream, he had stayed the night at (Y/N)’s home. He had thought he’d been dreaming, for a moment.

The fire had burnt out, and the air was cold around them. Flip suspected the power still hadn’t come back on. He would need to get another fire going, which meant he had to get up. He shifted his gaze down to (Y/N), who had curled up into his side in the night. Her head was resting just below his heart, her breathing slow and even. He still had an arm around her waist beneath the blanket; he splayed his hand out across the soft flesh of her lower back as thoughts of what they had done together swirled around his mind and happiness filled his chest.

The taste of her skin, the fervour of her kisses, softness of her lips. It had been beyond his wildest dreams when he was inside of her, drawing out moans and whimpers of his name. The pleasure he had experienced with her was like nothing he’d ever felt in his life. Flip was already addicted to her. Not just to how she made him feel, but the way they seemed to be perfectly matched, never fumbling, pulling the euphoria from within one another as though they alone were the chosen to plumb such intimate depths. He’d never felt stronger, more powerful, her in his arms and his name on her lips as they moved together in a dance that only they heard the music too. It felt like home. It felt like...everything.

With his free hand, Flip slowly trailed up her arm and across her cheek, pushing back some of her hair that had fallen forward as she slept. He could see that she was still completely out, and if his sense of time was still reliable, he had to guess it was pretty early still. Even without their activities hours prior, she would doubtless have been intending to sleep in on her Sunday morning. He considered falling back asleep, but feeling the fullness in his bladder, he merely sighed before slowly easing himself off the couch, working to avoid jostling her too much as she breathed deeply.

Flip settled the blanket around her before quietly making his way around the couch toward the bathroom. It was freezing in the house-he stopped in the kitchen and flipped the light switch, confirming the power was still down. After relieving himself and washing his hands in the cold water, Flip returned to the kitchen and helped himself to a glass of water. After chugging it, he refilled it and wandered back into the living room.

(Y/N) was still soundly asleep, utterly content. Flip watched her a moment, the feeling in his chest intensifying, an adoration and fierce protectiveness rearing within. He realized, as he gazed down at the woman before him, that he’d never truly been in love before. Nothing had ever come close to feeling like this.

He set the water down on the nearby end table and then got to work on the fire, eager to lay back down. Getting it up and roaring in no time, he continued to crouch, heating his naked body before returning to the couch. He considered whether he should lift her, or try to slip in next to her when she suddenly gave a breathy little sigh in her sleep and rolled over.

Now laying on her back, the blanket slipped to reveal her breasts, and Flip felt a twitch in his cock at the sight of them, marred somewhat by the marks he had left. An almost possessive feeling sparked. Before he knew what he was doing, Flip kneeled next to her on the ground and kissed her forehead as his hand trailed down, kneading the soft skin before continuing. He was mesmerized by her face, searching for any slight expression that might slip out as he touched her. He wanted to see how far he could get before waking her up.

Moving lower still, his hand cupped her mound and he began tracing his middle finger up and down the slit. There. Movement behind her eyelids. He slowly, slowly dipped into her warmth, pulled out, then just as slowly dipped in two fingers. She huffed out a little breath, and he could sense she was nearing waking.

Continuing his slow movements, Flip lowered his head and kissed her on the forehead, cheek, the corner of her mouth. She was already wet, his touches only bringing out more of her juices as she came to, huffing out a breath.

“Mmm,” She murmured, a little smile quirking the corners of her mouth, “Didn’t get enough of me last night, Detective?”

Flip smirked at her cheek, “Never going to get enough of you, beautiful, pretty girl.” He whispered back, ghosting his lips over her ear before nuzzling into her neck and dipping his fingers in deeper. She let out a low moan, her legs falling open and hips rolling as he teased her. She was devastating when she moaned for him, making him grow harder.

“Fuck, you sure know how to wake a girl up,” (Y/N) sighed, her eyes blinking open and seeking out his. She smiled up at him, “D-did you sleep alright?” He wasn’t stopping, enjoying watching her battle the feelings he was giving her and her need to take care of him.

Flip nipped her collarbone, “Best sleep of my life,” He sucked a mark into the side of her breast, earning a whimper from her that went straight to his cock. The room felt warm enough from the fire for Flip to remove the blanket. He pushed it down slowly so as not to startle her. When it hit the floor, (Y/N)‘s eyes flashed open and Flip was surprised to see shyness appear, her legs automatically closing and trapping his hand.

He gazed at her a moment, brows furrowing in concern, “Do you want me to stop? Is this too much?”

She bit her lip as she met his eyes, “No I...I’m a little self-conscious, I mean,” She sighed, rubbing her face with her hands as Flip watched, “I’m a little overweight, and I-“

Abruptly, she stopped speaking when she watched Flip’s face fall from concern to outright shock, “Darling, you have the most beautiful body I’ve ever fucking seen,” He breathed, bringing his free hand to stroke her hair. He let his eyes wander over every delicious curve, lowering his face to kiss the soft skin, “You’re perfect. I spent months picturing you, and you’re better than I ever dreamed-softest skin, beautiful tits, the prettiest pussy. These fucking curves, these will be the death of me.” He accentuated his words by moving his fingers within her again, gently coaxing her legs to relax as he found the spongy spot within that brought out the strongest orgasms.

He glanced back up at her, checking in, and saw the emotions swirling in her eyes, “You really think so?” When he nodded earnestly, she considered for a moment before asking him, “You pictured me...?”

Flip smirked at her, “All the damn time. Want to know what surpassed my imagination, pretty girl?” He whispered, moving down the couch as he spoke. Her eyes followed his movements, pupils blown in desire.

“What’s that, detective?”

Flip slide his hands under her, sinking his fingers into the flesh of her ass and slowly turning her just enough that she could still lay, her pussy was exposed for him. Licking his lips, he hooked her legs over his shoulders and met her wide eyes.

“You taste fucking divine. I could spend all day licking this sweet pussy.” Before she could do more than drop her mouth open, Flip had leaned in and brought his mouth to her folds, immediately zoning in on her sensitive nub. Her legs tightened in response and her hands flew to his head, fingers threading through his hair roughly.

“Flip!” She cried out, spurring him on. He licked and lapped at her, using his hands to massage her thighs, occasionally sucking on her sensitive clit. She was soaked for him; the more he touched her, the wetter she got, her sweet juices flowing freely. Flip didn’t tease her this time. He worked to get her to the edge as quickly as possible, waiting for her legs to tense before adding two fingers and pulling her orgasm from deep within, her body arching up and hands pulling his head into her core as she screamed his name and trembled in ecstasy.

He helped her navigate the waves of pleasure; moaning in delight at her taste, the feel of her hands in his hair. When she came down, whimpering, he guided her, teasing a little to overstimulate her, enjoying the way her hips would jerk in response. When her body relaxed back down and her breathing became less erratic, Flip moved to kiss her thighs.

“You look fucking gorgeous when you cum for me, did you know that (Y/N)?”

“Fuck,” She breathed, lifting her head to gaze down at him, eyes noticing his hard cock beading with precum, “Flip, how are you this amazing? That was incredible.” (Y/N) whispered, one of her hands stroking his cheek with affection. She seemed to be waiting for him to move himself up against her body, to join them together again. He merely smiled, his eyes on hers as he slipped a finger back inside of her.

She was so wet Flip could have cum right that moment.

“What?” He asked her when she frowned curiously at him, “Did you think I was done, pretty girl? No, see I don’t have any plans today, and I know you don’t either. I’m going to stay right here and eat you out until I get my fill. I want to hear you beg for me to fuck you. Does that sound okay?” He delighted at her response, the way she bit her lip as he growled at her, the way her cunt clenched around his finger. He bit her thigh again when she didn’t respond right away.

“Sounds...uh, perfect, Flip, fuck.” She moaned, and then her eyes were rolling back when he dove back in, this time taking his sweet time to lick at her. He would spend easily twenty minutes edging her before letting her cum again, only to give her another few minutes to recover before going again. And again.

Flip spent a few hours of that early Sunday morning lazily eating out (Y/N)‘s pussy and pulling out orgasm after orgasm, relishing in each one, each cry of his name, tug of his hair, pleading for him to stop despite her grip keeping him close. When tears slipped out from the pleasure and she was begging for him inside of her, to fuck her, he finally relented. Lifting her hips in the air and wrapping her legs around his waist, Flip plunged inside of (Y/N) with a growl. She so incredibly tight, despite the juices from her many orgasms. He rutted into her as she screamed for more below him, squeezing her ass as he held her up.

When he filled her again, his orgasm washed over him like a tidal wave, so strong it tore another from her tired body and they both screamed. Then they were a jumble on the couch, clutching one another and gasping for air.

Kissing endlessly, they caught their breath and whispered I love you into the morning.

I love you.

I’ve always loved you.

I’ll always love you.

“I’ve got to admit,” (Y/N) spoke from the kitchen table, where she sat wrapped in a thick dressing gown. Her eyes on Flip she joked, “I do enjoy watching you cook for me.”

Flip laughed, “You do enough baking for me, figured I’d return the favour by giving you a proper breakfast.” He wiped some grease that had splashed up from the frying pan onto the dishtowel he’d slung over his shoulder.

At some point in the morning, going entirely unnoticed by them, the power had come back on. When Flip finally saw the blinking light from the microwave clock, he’d jumped up from the couch to get the heat started. The house now returning to comfortable temperatures, they had agreed a brunch was in order after their morning. Flip was starving.

He still felt as though he were dreaming. He stood in only his boxers in his best friend's kitchen, cooking up a full breakfast while her eyes watched him, seemingly drinking in the view. Flip figured she probably felt just as amazed as him at the turn the last day had taken. He glanced at her, smiling, and she blushed before returning his grin.

When the food was ready, Flip piled both their plates up and set them on the table. He pushed his seat right next to (Y/N)’s and pulled her legs into his lap when he sat down. Now that he could touch her, he never wanted to stop. She seemed to feel similarly, her free hand resting against his stomach as they ate in comfortable silence together.

Inwardly, Flip was delighted to see her eat her fill. He’d often worried she didn’t eat enough, and after hearing the concerns of her appearance that morning, he now knew why. He understood her worries-his own mother had always put herself down. He’d always hated it, always tried to tell her she was beautiful. He’d been around (Y/N) enough to notice men’s lingering looks or backwards glances. It pissed him off that they made her feel self-conscious, and he wished he could prevent any man from ever looking at her like that again. She was perfect, and she didn’t even realize it because of them.

“Flip,” Her voice broke him from his thoughts, and he paused from sipping his coffee to meet her eyes. She was watching him closely, “What are you thinking about that’s got you frowning like that?”

Flip chuckled, “Observant little thing.”

“Took me a while to figure out the differences in all your frowns, but I think I do alright.” She admitted, laughing when he gave her a surprised look.

“Didn’t realize you spent that much time looking at me, pretty girl.”

She set down her mug of coffee, and Flip copied her, his eyes following her as she sat up, moving to straddle his lap. Her hands pushed into his hair before she leaned into his chest and pressed soft kisses along his jaw, “Too caught up in your head, detective.” She murmured into his neck, and he shivered, his hands gripping her hips.

“Always been a problem of mine.” He agreed in a low voice.

(Y/N) pulled her head back to look at him, “I’ll tell you what I’m thinking,” Her voice was soft, whispered into the space between them, “Thinking I’m already so in love with you. It scares me.” Flip’s heart stuttered at her words, his hands tightening their hold, pulling her body as close against him as possible.

“Yeah,” He rasped, his face a breath away from hers, “Scares me too. In the best sort of way.” He made to close the gap as she gazed at him with adoring eyes.

Before he could meet her lips, they were startled by a knock on the front door. Frowning, (Y/N) climbed out of his lap and peered down the hallway toward the front door. When she looked back at Flip, her eyes were wide.

“Uh, it’s my sister and brother in law...”

Flip laughed, his cheeks flushing, “Didn’t think I’d be meeting your family so quickly!” He stood and hurried into the living room, casting his eyes across the mess. It was wildly evident what they had been up to the night before (and all morning). He quickly pulled on his sweatpants and sweater as he listened to (Y/N) hurrying toward the door, calling out that she was on her way. He tossed the blankets back on the couch, but that was all he could do before she was ushering her family inside, face red.

“So, Bailey, John, this is-“ She trailed off, eyes meeting Flip’s from across the room, and he wanted to laugh at how scared (Y/N) looked as she gestured at him wordlessly.

Stepping toward the sister and brother in law, Flip extended his hand and offered a friendly grin, “Flip Zimmerman, the lucky boyfriend.” He supplied. He watched as the same expression crossed (Y/N)'s and her sisters' faces; brows shooting up, eyes wide.

Bailey looked a lot like (Y/N), there was no doubt they were sisters. But she was taller, more thinly built compared to her younger sister's curves. She had the same smile, though, and it met her eyes when she returned his handshake. “Good to meet you finally, Flip.” He nodded, smiling, and turned to her husband.

Clasping the man's hand, Flip’s gaze swept over the brother in law. He was broad-shouldered, standing at the same height as his wife, and had the friendliest look about him. Red-haired with a thick, tidy bead, he had the appearance of a jovial older brother. Flip instantly liked him.

“Flip, it’s a pleasure. Wasn’t expecting to meet you today, I’d have worn my other sweater,” He joked, then glanced down at (Y/N), “Or my robe. Although Bailey wants to throw mine out.”

Bailey scoffed, “It has more holes in it than fabric, Jay. Anyway,” She smiled widely at her sister, “We just wanted to stop by and see if your power came back alright.”

(Y/N) had walked over to stand next to Flip, who automatically draped an arm over her shoulders. Bailey’s eyes lit up at this, her lips quirking slightly at the corners. She said nothing but gave her sister a pointed look. He now understood why (Y/N) always smiled when telling stories about her family-they were hilarious.

“That was nice of you, I honestly got lucky that Flip was able to stop by.”

“Got lucky alright.” John chuckled. Bailey burst into laughter and Flip joined in as (Y/N) buried her head into his side and groaned in embarrassment.

Flip couldn’t stop grinning.

Flip spent the rest of the day at (Y/N)‘s house, helping her to tidy up her living room after Bailey and John left, then relaxing together just how a lazy Sunday should be. When it was time for him to leave, Flip felt a mixture of emotions. He did need to go home and shower, get himself ready for the work week ahead. But they had created a bubble for the day that he didn’t want to leave. She seemed to sense this as he tied on his shoes.

“I think you should take me on a proper date tomorrow, Flip.” She was leaning against the doorway to the living room wearing nothing but her sweater. It had been the only item of clothing that had remained on when he lifted her onto her kitchen counter thirty minutes ago, sliding inside of her as her legs wrapped behind him, her hips meeting his thrusts. Both of them eager for one last kiss, one last touch, their bodies peaking in a slow haze of pleasure.

Flip stood and pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head, “Nothing would make me happier. What do you want to do, pretty girl? Joe’s Diner for breakfast? Al’s for a fancy dinner? Drive out to ‘lover’s lane’ and make out?” He tilted his head, watching her happy face.

“Breakfast sounds perfect.” She giggled.

“Breakfast it is. Now,” He paused, considering his words carefully, “I know I made an assumption when I met your sister earlier, but I’d understand if you didn’t want to label this yet, or-“

Sighing, she reached up one hand and covered Flip’s mouth, “We’re dating. I’m yours, remember, detective?” Her tone was suggestive, eyes darkening somewhat as they each recalled the many, many times they had come together in the last day, making the other theirs.

Point made, he thought.

She grinned at Flip, giving him a last kiss before stepping back. He nodded and made his way to the door, stopping to glance back at (Y/N), “See you in the morning, darling.”

Flip couldn’t help but smile during his drive home, feeling elated and, for the first time in months, like he had no extra weight on his shoulders. Now he just had to worry about whether the flower shop would open before he picked her up in the morning.

Did you enjoy this chapter? Please consider reblogging or commenting—likes are basically just a bookmark!

Tag list: @tashastrange89 @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @morby @pradaxstyles @10blurredsmoke10 💜

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gusu-emilu · 4 years ago

Text

miscellaneous MDZS/CQL fic recs (AO3)

broken into sections: Character Study (-esque), Wangxian, Jiang Cheng ships, Yi City (or Yi City-adjacent), Humor/Crack, and Other

Character Study (-esque)

Wei Wuxian

my eyes got used to the darkness by @curiosity-killed (M, Sunshot Campaign era, 4.4k): The funny thing, the thing that makes his lips curl in a grin and his hands shake with laughter, is that all these cultivators with their lofty principles and noble ambitions can’t even notice the ghost among them. Sure, they shiver at his presence and flinch from his cold hands, but not one of them puts it together. Lan Wangji chases him with healing music and Nie Mingjue frowns solemnly at his dancing corpses—and he laughs and laughs and laughs because they just don’t get it. Emilu's commentary: CW for mild body horror.

Jiang Cheng

in our respective ways by @veliseraptor (T, Sunshot Campaign era, 5.7k): Jiang Cheng has his golden core back. But he seems to have lost Wei Wuxian.

You Know I've Fallen, but I Know How High by villainais (M, Post-WWX's death, 2.7k): Jiang Cheng loses both of his siblings in Nightless City. Minutes apart. He trudges home to Yunmeng with one body, holds a private funeral with a single coffin, and allows himself to wear his mourning robes for ten days—permits himself not a single day more. He is still too young and inexperienced, an unfledged boy to the cultivation world, and he is rebuilding Lotus Pier on his own. He will not gift the other sect leaders the satisfaction of seeing him vulnerable. Propriety be damned. Hanguang-jun emerges from his seclusion wearing white. He does not stop.

Nie Huaisang

it deepens like a coastal shelf by @wolffyluna (M, Post-WWX's death, 21.6k): When Nie Huaisang meets Mo Xuanyu, he realises two things quickly. One, this kid is so doomed. Two, this kid would be a great unwitting spy in his plans to bring down Jin Guangyao. It would be so easy to get into Mo Xuanyu's confidences, and so easy to get him to tell him anything he needs. ...only thing is, that wouldn't be very good for Mo Xuanyu's life expectancy. But he'll do it anyway, if it helps him avenge his brother. A fic about man handing on misery to man, the parallels and cycles in the relationships between Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang and Mo Xuanyu, and the lengths these characters will go to meet their goals and if there are lines they won't cross.

Lan Xichen

an old man in dried mouths by @tenacious-minds (T, Post-Canon, 3.3k): Xichen thinks. The tea had always stained the crockery red. Emilu's commentary: Lan Xichen and Jin Ling talk about Jin Guangyao.

can you be a quiet man? by @basket-of-loquats (Unrated, Post-Canon, 70.7k+) But something inside him snapped at Guanyin Temple-- and Lan Wangji watched it happen, saw the exact moment that Lan Xichen went from broken to shattered, when he buried his sword into Jin Guangyao’s chest, when his sworn brother stared up at him with wide eyes, blood dripping from his mouth, when he pulled himself closer and closer and closer-- When he whispered "Why don’t you die with me?", and Lan Xichen hadn’t argued. Emilu's commentary: Lan Xichen / therapy with a side of Wangxian.

Wen Ning

breathless (but i'll pretend to breathe for you) by swordsainted (T, Burial Mounds Settlement era, 4.1k): Wei Wuxian is silent for a long minute, and then he looks at Wen Ning, something raw and open and hurting behind his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time, and Wen Ning shakes his head, still smiling. “You’ve protected everyone. How could I hate you for that?”

Mo Xuanyu

stand at the pit's mouth by @eldritch-elrics (M, MXY's death, 9.3k): The dreams and regrets of a man on the edge of oblivion. Emilu's commentary: Surrealist/absurdist screenplay.

Wangxian

I would wait for a thousand years by bleuett (T, Immortality Post-Canon, 10.4k): During the worst of winter, a traveler comes to stay at Lan Wangji's inn. He wears a red ribbon in his hair. “Do you see the rabbit?” Wei Ying asks and points at the moon. “That’s the moon rabbit, he helps make Chang’e more immortality elixir. He keeps Chang’e company.” “I do not wish the rabbit for company,” Lan Wangji says tightly. “You are the one I want by my side.” “And I’m here, Lan Zhan. If you go to the moon, I’ll follow you, I’ll always be here now.” Emilu's commentary: Lan Wangji meets Wei Wuxian centuries later and does not remember the past. There is also an excellent podfic by @forgotten-envies

Look Not With The Eyes by Spodumene (G, Post-Canon, 28.1k): Wei Wuxian returns from his travels to join Lan Wangji on a routine night hunt, but when things take an unexpected turn, Wei Wuxian will have to fight for what he's really looking for. Emilu's commentary: Case fic.

All In A Good Time by bigboobedcanuck (E, Post-Canon, 8k): Lan Zhan is struck by a curse that brings him intense physical pain unless he's being touched. He is stoic and tries to hide his suffering. Wei Wuxian is worried and protective. Perhaps they will finally admit their feelings?

Across a Lake of Glass by Zizzani (E, Figure Skating AU, 92.2k+): Each year, Gusu Skating Club runs a camp for only the most elite athletes of each region. This year brings a new skater from the Yunmeng Club who wears skates lined with red and a smile made for war. He skates like a demon. Figure skating au featuring lots of healthy rivalry, pre and post-competition bonding, and an inexplicable fall from grace through the eyes of the media.

Jiang Cheng Ships

Chengqing

display my heart for you to see by @souridealist (M, Post-Canon Wen Qing Lives AU, 5.5k): Jiang Cheng has his own secrets. Some of them are part of the unburied past; some of them are about how long it's been since anyone has touched him.

while I'm in this body by @souridealist (E, Post-Lotus Pier Massacre, 3.9k): For just a few minutes, alone in her office, Wen Qing allows her self-control to slip enough to cry. It's just her luck that that's when Jiang Cheng comes looking for her. Emilu's commentary: Femdom.

Chengning

it may be that it doesn't matter by @wildehacked (T, Post-Canon, 6.6k) “Are you crying?” Jiang Wanyin asks him, and Wen Ning frowns. Pats his cheek with one hand. “No.” Emilu's commentary: Holy Grail of Chengning.

Whatever It Is by morau (E, Post-Canon, 20.5k): It starts, as with a lot of things, with a very poorly thought out prank, courtesy of Wei Wuxian. Emilu's commentary: A LOT of sex and even more emotions lol

won't run away (we're here to stay) by @qi-ling (T, Post-Canon, 3.5k): "Please don't feel any pressure to accept this, and you can take as much time as you need to think about it." It's a set of robes, in shades of deep purple, complete with leather bracers. Cut in a different style than that of the disciples or household staff, closer to the understated robes Wen Ning typically wears. He reaches out to feel the fabric. His deadened nerves can't sense delicate textures well, but even he can tell it's of a quality on par to Wanyin's own wardrobe. This is startling enough coming from Jiang Wanyin, but then Wen Ning notices the belt. In particular, the silver bell in the shape of a lotus affixed to it. Only recognized members of the Jiang sect may wear the clarity bell. Or, Jiang Cheng has an invitation for Wen Ning.

Zhancheng

By Proxy by @veliseraptor (E, Post-WWX's death, 12k): Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, looking for comfort in all the wrong places. Emilu's commentary: Hate sex that made me cry

Yi City (or Yi City-adjacent)

Songxuexiao

Heaven Has A Road But No One Walks It by @silvysartfulness (M, Post-Yi City arc Canon Divergence, 123k+): One of the most complex spells of demonic cultivation the world has seen is brought to fruition, and Xiao Xingchen draws his first shaking breaths in over seven years. This, it turns out, is only the start of his problems. Emilu's commentary: Pretty sure everyone already knows about Silvy's happy songxuexiao road trip fic but it has to be here.

Xue Yang & Lan Xichen

Hours On Empty series by @lady-of-the-lotus (M to E, Post-Canon, 57.8k+): AU where Wei Wuxian never came to Yi City and Xue Yang is still running around post-canon disguised as Xiao Xingchen. "Fractured Ice" - Xue Yang whisks a nihilistic Lan Xichen off on a murder roadtrip to raise Xiao Xingchen and Meng Yao from the grave. Because that will solve all of their problems, right? "Control" - "Fractured Ice" retold from Xue Yang's pov. "A Thousand Miles In Its Light" - Alternate ending to "Fractured Ice" and "Control"

Songxiao with Xuexiao Flashbacks

Nothing Beside Remains by @eldritch-elrics (T, Post-Yi City arc Canon Divergence, 21.9k): And Xiao Xingchen is dressed in dark clothing that is not his, and his sight is all of a sudden sharp in a way that it has never been before, and Xue Yang is not here. “He wouldn’t,” he breathes. “No, he wouldn’t do that. He’s too—” “He’s too what?” Wei Wuxian steps a foot closer, face hard-set. “Too cruel? Or too kind?” Or: Xue Yang uses the Sacrifice Summon on Xiao Xingchen. Xiao Xingchen lives with the consequences.

Humor/Crack

The Hangover: A pre-wedding Dramedy series by natcat5 (M, Modern AU, 51.6k): It is not a bachelor party. That was made clear on all the invitations. It is a congratulatory get together for Jin Zixuan, attended by his family, the family of the bride, and the young masters of the other two families in their circle. The gathering is not to go later than midnight, everyone must drink in moderation, and no one is allowed to be hungover tomorrow. Wei Wuxian had promised Yanli, three fingers in the air. Jiang Cheng had rolled his eyes, but promised as well. Saturday morning, Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng wake up alone in a hotel room, missing shoes, phones, and almost all their memories of what in the world happened last night. Also missing: Wei Wuxian, brother of the bride, Lan Wangji, esteemed guest, Lan Xichen, esteemed guest, Jin Zixun, cousin of the groom, Jin Guangyao, brother and best-man, Jin Zixuan, THE GROOM, who is due at his bride-to-be's house in six hours. That's plenty of time to find everyone...right?

Jiang Cheng Loves Jar Jar Bombad Mui by @lady-of-the-lotus (G, Post-Canon, 1.7k) Jar Jar Binks washes up on the shores of Lotus Pier. Can he win the lonely Jiang Cheng's proud heart? Neb neb answer is yesa. Emilu's commentary: There's also a podfic by @aowyn. Yes, with a Jar Jar voice.

Other

Nie Huaisang & Wen Ning

By Name by nirejseki (G, Post-Canon, 1.3k): After the traumatic events in the now-collapsed temple, Wen Ning lingered behind and unexpectedly saw Nie Huaisang, the undisputed victor of an all-around terrible evening, sitting on the steps of the temple, looking exhausted and miserable, as if he’d won nothing at all. Wen Ning found himself drifting over to him.

Jiang Yanli & Nie Mingjue

utility by magicites (G, Arranged Marriage AU, 2.3k): Jiang Yanli and Nie Mingjue's wedding is a political one — a gesture of unity between their Sects. A way for her parents to finally get some use out of the plain-faced sham of a cultivator they call a daughter. “Jiang-guniang,” Nie Mingjue says, and the formality in such a setting as intimate as their wedding chambers startles her, “I don’t wish to bed you. Or any other woman, for that matter. It isn’t fair for you to live alone because of my own preferences.” She rests her hand on his arm, cool relief flooding her body like water on a summer afternoon. “If it helps, I don’t feel desire for men,” she whispers.

Jin Guangyao / Nie Huaisang

Pulling Strings by @eldritch-elrics (E, Post-WWX's death, 5k): Nie Huaisang, quite drunk, turns up at Jin Guangyao’s door one night with an unexpected request. Emilu's commentary: Nie Huaisang knows Jin Guangyao killed Nie Mingjue. This interaction is more symbolic than anything else...

#mdzs #cql #the untamed #mdzs fanfiction #cql fanfiction #the untamed fanfiction #mdzs fanfic #cql fanfic #the untamed fanfic #fic recs #emilu talks #emilu creations

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