#Predator X Reader Oneshots | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meatsaint · 6 months ago

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The Genius, Michael Gavey.

Michael Gavey x Reader.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, masturbation, foul language, loss of virginity, cum control.

English is not my first language, so I hope you will forgive me if there are any mistakes.

oneshot.

Michael’s good at a lot of things, and he knows it. Brilliant, really. Genius, if we're being honest. Maths? Please—he’s never even touched a calculator. Numbers are his domain, his sanctuary, the one place where he feels entirely at ease. Books too—though never fantasy; he’d rather lose himself in something real, something concrete. But everything else? Social skills? A complete disaster, really. Painful to watch.

It’s not as if anyone’s queuing up to see what’s behind those smudged glasses or that same red sweater he pulls on every Monday. And that's fine. Honestly, it is. He's made peace with it. It’s their loss, isn’t it? That's the mantra he clings to, the thread keeping his fragile ego intact: They're the ones missing out. And God, doesn’t he need to believe it.

When you arrived in Oxford, it hit him hard. Why? Because even when he was buried in the silence of the library, there you were, watching him. Always watching. Maybe intending to read a book—upside down, no less—or lounging with your legs thrown over a table, headphones blaring as if you couldn't care less about the world around you.

Michael Gavey isn't used to being seen. For fuck’s sake, he’s Michael Gavey. Nobody. Invisible, as he’s always preferred. But then you came along, and suddenly, invisibility wasn't an option. You became something else entirely: a problem, a distraction, a bloody nuisance he couldn’t seem to get rid of. And maybe, deep down, that’s what scared him most.

So, naturally, his response was to start staring back. Maybe if he leaned into being a proper weirdo, you’d back off. But no, of course not. You didn't flinch. You just stared right back, unwavering, unbothered. It didn't take long for one of the teachers to step in, warning him, of all people, to knock it off. And you? You just smiled. Smiled like you'd won some secret, twisted game, baring all your teeth like a predator who'd just cornered its prey.

When he squinted at you, furrowing his eyebrows in some attempt to decode whatever the hell was going on, you simply glanced at the table, still grinning like you had a secret you were dying to keep.

What was your problem? Were you planning something? Was there a game being played here, something sinister he couldn’t quite see? The questions clawed at him, gnawed at his focus, and yet, no answers came. Only that smile. God, he hated it.

Things weren't improving, no, they were deteriorating rather quickly. And it all took a turn for the bizarre when, in the dead of night, he awoke still half hard, with his shorts drenched in cum and his mind? Cluttered with vivid memories of a particular dream from the previous night. Never had he scrubbed a piece of clothing with such fury in his life; this treacherous body was doing him in. And the most egregious part? His cock was a bloody jest, because even after such mortification, he had to wank off once more just to make the torment subside.

That day, the Oxford corridors felt like they were smoldering beneath him, each step fueling the inferno inside his chest. His sneakers might as well have been on fire for how much he burned with rage. And then he saw you, loitering by your locker, looking infuriatingly calm as always. It was like you wanted to drive him insane.

He stormed over, slamming your locker shut with a single hand, his nostrils flaring like he was ready to tear you apart—not literally, of course. Well, maybe a little. He was unraveled, utterly tormented, and you? You were only making it worse.

“Stop.” The word came out flat, almost pitiful, his voice cracking under the weight of his irritation. His blue eyes, usually so sharp, were clouded and bloodshot, as if they’d been scorched by his fury.

“With what?” you asked, tilting an eyebrow, that insufferable smirk tugging at your lips. Carefree. Effortless. It made his teeth grind in pure frustration. He didn’t even understand why he felt so unhinged—just that he did.

“What the hell do you want?” he barked, his voice echoing down the corridor. Heads turned, a few people pausing to glance at the scene, but you didn't so much as flinch. No fear, no embarrassment. You just leaned lazily against your locker, staring at him down like you had all the time in the world.

“Your number, to start with, would be great.” The words hit him like a physical blow. His pupils dilated so fast it felt like the world had tilted. If darkness swallowed everything right then and there, he was convinced he’d still see you.

And that’s when everything shifted. You weren’t messing with him—not in the way he’d thought. No, you were interested in him. The realisation hit Michael like a slap, and even then, his perpetually self-loathing brain struggled to piece it all together. For once, his stupid mind was just that: stupid.

But then the messages started, tentative at first, and something clicked. You actually got on—really got on. It was strange, almost unnerving, how much you seemed to have in common. You liked some of the same nerdy things as him, and he found himself listening to bands he’d previously written off because you mentioned them. Slowly, the conversations moved out of his phone and into the library, where you started sitting at the same table.

People noticed, of course. Curious glances trailed after the two of you, some even daring to linger when Michael—Michael Gavey, of all people—was caught smiling. Not a smirk or a grimace, but an actual smile, albeit half-hidden behind his hand. But it was there, and for once, he didn’t mind. Not entirely.

And then, on a Friday night when everything seemed eerily serene, the text message arrived. 'Do you want to come to my dorm?' Panic ensued. Perhaps it's a tad presumptuous to assume you want to fuck him, isn't it? Yet, he was presuming precisely that. But the truth is, Michael has only kissed one girl in his entire life; otherwise, his knowledge comes from pornography, books about the human anatomy, and the hushed conversations in the men's locker room. And it's not that he didn't want to; in fact, he wanted to, desperately so, but the truth was that no one seemed sufficiently captivated to offer him the chance. But you, you were offering. Maybe. What does one do with that?

He took a shower, donned his usual jeans and a white shirt, slipped on his sneakers, and even spent time before the mirror wrestling with his blond hair, to little avail, of course. He decided he wouldn't be a coward; he had this chance, maybe, and he wouldn't squander it with timidity. He made his way to the girls' dorm on campus, garnering more than a few disdainful looks from the passing girls. It was just because it was him; if it were Felix sneaking in, they'd be all smiles. But who cares? There was only one person he hoped would truly appreciate his presence. He reached your door, his breath caught in his throat, and knocked so feebly that perhaps he thought you wouldn't even hear. Pathetic, honestly.

But you heard him, and when you opened the door, he froze for a moment. You'd just taken a shower; your skin was still slightly flushed from the hot water, wearing an oversized shirt, once black but now faded to grey, and some pajama shorts that honestly looked more like his underwear than actual shorts. He swallowed hard, managing a crooked smile. You leaned against the doorframe, your smile much more genuine.

"You came." The words slipped from your lips with such ease, rolling off your tongue with a genuine satisfaction that straightened his crooked smile.

"Yeah, well. It's not like I have anything better to do, of course." His reply lacked the sharpness he'd rehearsed in his mind, accompanied by a glance at the floor and a stupid, silly smile.

"Yeah, of course." You laughed, rolling your eyes, and turned your body to give him space to enter, if he wanted to, though he looked as if he might bolt at any second.

But he didn't run away; no, he actually stepped inside. The room was like most others, yet he was struck by how orderly it was. Like any typical dorm, there was the TV, the two single beds, a small table, and in the corner of an adjacent smaller room, the bathroom. The scent of cleaning products lingered, indicating you'd taken the time to tidy up before inviting him over. This shouldn't have pleased him as much as it did, but it did.

"Just take off your sneakers before you lay on the bed," you said with that nonchalant tone of yours, picking up the TV remote from the table.

He glanced at the paused movie on the screen before turning his attention to the bed. His mind wasn't exactly racing as he sat down, beginning to untie his sneakers, but his focus soon shifted to the side of your face. He was transfixed by how your hair framed your features, how your lips were so perfectly shaped, and how your eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. He had to run a hand over his face, nearly knocking off his glasses, to bring himself back to reality, blinking several times to refocus on removing his sneakers.

"I chose 'Evil Dead,' but they didn't have the classics." Your voice drew his gaze upward again. You casually made your way to the bed beside him, practically throwing yourself down, causing the mattress to bounce. "Is that a problem for you?" you asked, turning to look at him, your eyes locking with his.

His throat visibly tightened as he swallowed, while you didn't even blink. For a moment, he found it a rather amusing jest. What could a girl like you, with the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, with lips that curved into the brightest smile he could imagine, possibly want with him? He was either the luckiest bastard in the world or the biggest delusional of the year. But that was fine, at least for now.

"No, it's not a problem at all," Michael mumbled, unsure if he was referring to the movie choice or something else entirely. But it would suffice either way.

He saw you smile widely, and you felt you should, noticing his blue eyes dilate behind his glasses. Looking down where you had crossed your legs beneath you, you tried to focus and simply pressed play on the movie. The low noise from the TV soon filled the room, the colors of the film painting your faces and reflecting in Michael's glasses. The silence was comfortable, as always. The sounds of calm breathing filled the space, but well, his eyes weren't really on the TV; they were on you. To the point where he had to rest his hand on his face, just to appreciate it, perhaps.

"You know, watching a movie works better when you're looking at the screen," you commented, your eyes still fixed on the screen, though you felt the heat from his gaze on your cheek.

"I prefer to watch you." His words were barely above a whisper, but they reached you, making your smile widen even more.

Your eyes flicked to him, while his remained steady, though he felt his palms sweating against his cheek. He was nervous, and his attempt at an impassive expression wasn't fooling you. The words that left his lips were just truths, and seeing you smile, it was good to see you smile, it brought a subtle curve to his own lips. Sighing, you drew your knees up to your chest, resting your chin there, unsure of what to make of his words or of him. Just as he was unsure of what to make of you or how much you unsettled him.

"I hate almost everyone here except you." Your words mirrored his in tone, quiet, perhaps too intimate to slip out.

They made him pause, just looking at you, wondering. Time seemed to stand still, the screams from the movie not reaching your ears; things were quiet, almost silent. And that's when his hand rose, wrapping around the back of your neck, perhaps with the most courage he'd ever mustered in his life. Your lips parted slightly when you noticed him shifting on the bed to get closer, and you responded in kind, leaning towards him, your hand hesitating before also reaching up to the back of his neck, slipping between the golden strands to hold him firmly. Bringing your faces close, your breaths began to mingle, and soon all that was reflected in his glasses were your lips, all his attention focused solely on them.

"You're trouble, and you want to know why?" Michael whispered, your gaze falling to his lips as they formed the words. They were thrown at your face, raw and direct. "Because it seems like after I met you, there's been something wrong with my brain." He lifted his thumb to trace your bottom lip, as if to commit it to memory.

"Yeah?" Your response lacked strength, not truly. "That's good, because it seems like after you I'll never be the same." Whispering another confession, now it seemed more than fitting, even with your breathing too rapid to say much more, or what you truly wanted to.

A faint smile touched Michael's lips, perhaps an attempt at composure before he leaned in closer. Tilting your heads in opposite directions, your noses brushed against each other, the taste of each other's breath mingling on your lips, shared. His lips were the first to part, capturing your lower one slowly, almost tentatively, until yours responded, capturing his upper lip. The kiss started slowly, your lips moving together with an unhurried grace, despite your quickening breaths at the contact. His free hand found your waist, attempting to pull you closer, while your hand tangled in his hair, gripping it almost in a fist.

But it wasn't enough, far from it. Leaning forward, Michael guided you both down onto the bed, supporting himself with each hand on either side of your head, positioning his body between your legs, which parted to welcome him. One of his hands slid down to your thigh, lifting it and pressing it against his side, your hips naturally seeking each other, and his already hardened cock brushed against your increasingly aroused intimacy. Sounds escaped between kisses, your hands sliding to grip his back, when Michael pressed your bodies together again, rolling his hips and drawing out a sly moan from his own lips, making it difficult to continue kissing you.

Your hands reached for the hem of his shirt, attempting to pull it up, but his hands caught yours, pinning them above your head, fingers intertwining there, as he pulled back just enough to look you squarely in the eye. His heavy breathing made his chest rise and fall, sweat causing his glasses to slide down his nose.

"I..." the words seemed reluctant to escape as he gazed down at you, your lips flushed and your chest heaving. He didn't want to dissuade you, but he had to say it. "I've never done that."

Your only response was to lift your head from the bed, seeking his lips and succeeding in a gentle capture, with him lowering himself to return the kiss. Though not deep, your teeth nipped at his lower lip, tugging gently, perhaps trying to draw him closer. Your fingers pressed against his above your head, yearning to be free, you just wanted to touch him, feel him, it didn't matter if he was inexperienced, if you had to guide him step by step, or if this was all you would have, feeling him like this above you.

"Just touch me, I don't care," you murmured against his lip, without the strength for more words, which in response prompted him to roll his hips against yours again, closing his eyes with a moan, just as your head tilted back, lifting your hips to meet his movement.

His hands released yours, and you quickly grabbed his shirt, pulling it up and off him, and he reciprocated, lifting yours inch by inch until he could pull it over your head. Without a bra, your breasts were bared to him, making him pause. His lips went dry as he took in the sight of your hardened nipples, ready for attention, despite his momentary hesitation. You saw it in his eyes, in how they flickered to meet yours, and your hand reached to caress his cheek before grabbing the back of his neck, gently guiding him toward your chest, arching off the bed to ensure he understood your consent.

And he understood more than clearly, leaning down to kiss the space between your breasts before moving to one, enveloping it with his mouth entirely, using his hand to squeeze it firmly. The sensation of your skin against his mouth elicited a low sound from him that vibrated through your body, prompting you to grind your hips against his already hard cock. His tongue followed, swirling around your nipple, sucking as if his life depended on it. His mouth salivated, saliva running down your chest, glistening your skin with his essence. His free hand went to your other breast, squeezing it tightly, his lips trailing kisses to the other side, his tongue sliding along until it reached your other nipple, circling it with fervent enthusiasm.

"Fuck," you murmured, your intimacy throbbing, squeezing as you leaned on the bed to create friction against his erection, making him to bite the nipple in his mouth to stifle a loud moan.

His lips left your chest, observing the glistening, swollen flesh from his attentions. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, going straight to his core. He looked down to where his hardness met your shorts, stopping himself from climaxing right there, taking deep breaths.

"Tell me..." his words trailed off, his lips struggling to draw in breaths. "Tell me how to be good for you." His whisper was broken, he was too far gone to really care about it.

You smiled, even in the throes of your overwhelming need for him. One of your hands took one of his, slowly guiding it to your core, and he watched intently as you slipped it inside your shorts and soaked panties, biting his lip as his expression contorted with pleasure. Slowly, you positioned his fingers perfectly over your clit, starting to move them in circles, making your breathing quicken further. Fortunately, Michael was a quick learner, or perhaps just desperate enough. Your fingers left his as he took over, moving them faster, circling over your soaked clit. You tried to reach for his hardness in his pants, but with his free hand, he caught yours and pinned it to the bed.

"Don't." The words came out swiftly, a desperate command because he knew well that if you touched him, he would cum right then and there.

You accepted it, not attempting to touch him again. Feeling his fingers slide over and over your most sensitive spot, the sounds began to fill the room, the wetness so intense it seeped through your pajama shorts, and he could hardly believe his incredible luck. His eyes moved to your face, noticing your parted lips, your cheeks flushed red, and your breasts, still glistening from his saliva, seeming to beckon him. One of your hands gripped his wrist, and he could see from your expression how close you were. The hand that had been holding yours to the bed released it, moving to the back of your neck, lifting your head to make you look down.

"Watch," he murmured, sliding his thumb perfectly over your clit, and you felt like stars were bursting behind your eyes even as you complied and stared.

You saw his hand moving inside your shorts, the veins in his forearm pulsing with the effort, the muscles there flexing. His hand held you tightly, almost encompassing your neck. And when his fingers started moving side to side, you knew you were finished. Your lips parted completely, a groan trapped in your throat escaped, you tried to throw your head back but his grip prevented it, and then, your walls clenched, he could feel the pulsing around his fingers, your belly flexing as you reached your climax, clamping your legs around his forearm.

Your body goes limp on the bed, your thighs still trembling as his hands slide from your neck down to your thighs, smearing his taste there. He grips the hem of your shorts, pulling them down along with your panties. When his eyes meet your pulsing, glistening pussy, a sigh escapes him, eyes closing momentarily to regain control. You hear the sound of his pants being unzipped, him kicking them off along with his underwear. Your eyes open just in time to see him grip the base of his cock, bringing the head to your sensitive clit, eliciting a tight, desperate moan from you.

"You're so beautiful." he murmurs, dragging the precum-slick tip of his cock across your clit, making your walls clench as he watches. His free hand runs down the inside of your thighs, ensuring they're coated in your own wetness.

He squeezes his eyes shut in pure ecstasy, rubbing his cock from your clit to your entrance, gripping the base tightly to stave off his climax. Your thighs tremble, your hands gripping the sheets, but nothing seems to alleviate the intensity, there's no escape. You're consumed, completely. Your hips start to move desperately for contact, even as your body protests, your fingers threatening to tear the sheets apart. He rubs once more, the almost sinful sounds echoing off the walls, mingling with his low moans and the contractions of his stomach. You can tell he's doing everything in his power not to cum.

"Can I?" He opens his eyes to whisper, looking directly into yours, and with no strength left to speak, you simply nod.

He sighs deeply before positioning himself at your entrance and pushing inside, feeling your walls resist yet yield as he presses in until fully seated, your groins meeting. A drawn-out moan escapes your lips as his head falls back, a soft groan leaving his throat followed by a sequence of breaths that made his entire body tremble. Michael pauses, trying and failing to calm his racing heart and the overwhelming sensation of your hot, tight insides. Leaning forward, he rests one hand on the bed while the other removes his glasses, setting them aside. Your hands rise to the back of his neck, bringing his forehead to yours, holding it there as he makes the first thrust. Both of your lips part, your moans and breaths mingling.

His thrusts were deep, yet slow. He would withdraw almost completely before sliding back in, each time making your eyes squeeze shut tighter and your head press against his. The sweat on your foreheads seemed to meld you together, turning you into one entity. His eyes opened, burning into your face, and you met his gaze, your eyes filling with tears of pure pleasure as he thrust even deeper.

"I like you," he murmurs, cupping your cheek as his other hand grips the headboard, making the wood creak. A smile graces your lips, almost cut off by his cock sliding in deeper.

"I like you too," you manage to reply between ragged breaths, your fingers tightening around the back of his neck as if it's your lifeline.

He brings his lips to your forehead, giving you a long, lingering kiss, his breath warm against your skin. Then, he brings his hand to your mouth, and with that signal, he starts thrusting with all he has, making you scream into his hand, which hopefully muffles the sound. He rests his own mouth there to also muffle his moans, feeling sweat run down every part of his body, mixing with yours. The bed bangs against the wall, your eyes roll back when he hits that sweet spot inside you, your hands lifting to dig your nails into his back. As your walls clench around him, he feels your climax spill out, soaking the sheets and his lower abdomen. With a louder moan, he quickly pulls out, his cock spilling his cum over your belly.

He releases your mouth and the headboard, letting his full weight rest on you, his head finding solace in the crook of your neck. Your arms encircle his neck, keeping him close as your entire body trembles with the aftershocks of pleasure. Both of you are exhausted, both satisfied. Michael's thoughts drift back to the early weeks of knowing you, how he wished you would vanish, and now, how he dreads the thought of you leaving, like everyone else. The irony might have drawn a bitter laugh from him if he weren't so physically spent.

"I wasn't bluffing," you hear him murmur into your neck, capturing your attention amidst the sensations still coursing through your body. You slowly turn your head towards him.

"What?" you whisper, perhaps fearful that even a slight increase in volume might make this moment slip away, just as much as he is. His eyes, those blues that most people overlook, capture your senses.

"I really like you." Hearing those words again, this time not in the heat of the moment, did something different to you stomach, perhaps quickened your heart more than the entire act itself, burned your skin more than anything else.

Drawing him closer with your hand, you adjust his position so he lies on your chest, where he places a gentle kiss. Your fingers delve into his hair, and you cast a brief glance to the side where his glasses still rest. A smile graces your lips because the truth is, you are utterly and hopelessly in love with the genius Michael Gavey. The irony is that he doesn't seem genius enough to realize it.

#smut #michael gavey #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #aemond targaryen #aemond #house of the dragon #oneshot #saltburn #fanfic #x reader #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

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knavcsblade · 2 months ago

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haiiii! i love you works sm and i was wondering if i could request a subby!transfem!arle x f!reader oneshot wherein we ride her to oblivion? it’s totally fine if you dont wanna^^ but if you do, thank you sm!

surrender.

+18.

cw: transfem sub!arlecchino x reader. praise. dom arle turned sub. choking, if you squint.

wc: 2.0k

summary: arlecchino is awfully exhausted, so you help her unwind.

a/n: well, this was interesting to write… it’s hard for me to see arle as a sub, so i gave it a little twist, i guess... also hi! i'm back

Morning, afternoon, evening—they all blurred into the same dreadful hell for Arlecchino. Whether it was the moon or the sun high in the sky, it didn’t matter. She always found herself stuck in drawn-out journeys across Teyvat to carry out her missions.

Yes, her job as a Harbinger was practically her entire life. But if she were to be realistic, she was still human despite the powers she wielded and took pride in. It all managed to leave her drained. Weary. She would be lying if she said it didn’t drive her mad every now and then.

And here she was, after months away, dragging herself into her private study at the House. Her limbs felt like lead, every step a silent battle against gravity which threatened to pull her down. It wasn’t physical exhaustion she felt, no. She had the endurance of a warrior forged in battle. But she felt hollowed-out. Depleted beyond the bodily sense.

As Arlecchino sank into the plush material of the artfully designed chair behind her desk, which sighed and dipped beneath her weight, her shoulders slumped. She was home, at last.

She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep going like this—but she always did, out of habit more than will.

Her mind buzzed with static, thoughts coming slow and disjointed as she analyzed her performance back in a distant nation. But then, as if on cue, the door creaked open.

Her expression remained sober as you stepped inside. It was as calculating as that of a predator sizing up their prey, as it usually was. It belied the fact that she felt like a limbless creature at the moment. The sight of anyone, including yourself, interrupting her vulnerable musings… It wasn’t something she enjoyed much.

“Is there a reason you’re awake at this hour?” She asked after a stretched-out silence that threatened to consume the room.

“I was waiting for you.”

The statement made her eyebrow arch. She hadn’t exactly informed you of her arrival. Perhaps it was your own intuition that had led you to stay up, as if somehow you knew she would be returning that night.

To clear any impending questions she saw coming her way as you opened your mouth, she spoke again. Her voice was rough, unusually so as she interrupted you. “I’m doing fine.”

She gauged a singular reaction from you. A long exhale. She could already see the gears turning in your head, the way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other like you wanted to protest.

Which you did.

“Are you, now?” You asked, quiet concern lacing those three words.

Arlecchino already knew you weren’t the easiest person to deceive. No, not at all. Somehow you managed to see past her dismissals and refusals like they were nothing more than a fragile wall of glass blocking your path. As much as it served to infuriate her, it was a nice change of pace.

She studied you for some time. Those red crosses examined every last inch of skin your robe exposed, her forefinger tapping a staccato rhythm on her crossed leg. She took in the sight of blemishes, scars, and tender flesh silently. You were a pretty little thing. If she hadn’t felt so jaded, she would’ve given you what her body was already aching for.

When she met your gaze once more, her eyes narrowed. It was an imperceptible thing, barely a twitch of her eyelids. She still was unused to the way you didn’t mind defying her so brazenly. “It seems you are quite… observant,” she remarked. “I lied. I’m fatigued.”

You nodded at her admissal, already feeling triumphant deep down. As much as you wished to celebrate this win, since Arlecchino oddly revealed such things, you couldn’t. Not when you could now see it.

The woman had stamina for days—years, even. Seeing her there, sitting on her chair, gave you pause. You saw the way her eyes hooded slightly, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed like her throat was dry, the way her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.

You now knew you had a duty to care for her, just as she had been caring for you for months. As unconventional as this relationship of yours was, it wouldn’t be one-sided.

“I see,” you eventually said, your bare feet already beginning to lead you towards her.

She watched, transfixed, as the silky fabric rode up your thighs with each step. She was beyond caring for being discreet. As if she hadn’t had you moaning and writhing beneath her before. As if she hadn’t felt every ounce of your being under her palms and tongue in lazy mornings. There was no point in hiding her desire, and there never had been.

Once you gently guided her legs to unfold so you could straddle them, she snapped out of her daze. Your weight pressing down on her made it so her eyes flicked back to your face, all just to take in your lightly determined expression.

This was new.

Arlecchino always took the reins. She always guided, always led. This position is compromising, she thought, but she didn’t find it in herself to stop you. As uncharted as the territory was, she… liked it. As much as she could really like anything.

“What is this about?” She breathed out, her darkened hands finding their spot on the armrests of the chair the moment she felt that well-known stirring in her tailored pants.

Maybe she’d lost herself in the moment an awful lot. The tiredness she felt seeping into the back of her mind, adding the unexpected surge of want, produced a heavy cocktail in which she slowly began to drown. If you had given her an answer, she wouldn't have heard.

Not even the warmth of your hands pressed on her chest broke her out of it. Time blurred and warped right before her very eyes, and the throbbing ache she felt due to your closeness was more like a distant discomfort she couldn’t—didn’t—want to shake.

It wasn’t like anything she had experienced before. Every second of your open-mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin of her neck was divine in its own right. It was reverent. It was all she needed and never thought she’d deserve.

And then, the sudden heat enveloping her cock hit her like a stampede.

She blinked back the remnants of her trance. She could see your barely covered body, the way your robe had fallen open to reveal the tantalizing form she had worshipped inside and out several times. She saw it in a new light now.

She took in the valley of your breasts—which she had trailed her hand through like clockwork whenever she found enough time in her schedule—. The sight of your abdomen. The way in which your pussy engulfed her length and didn’t seem to want to let go anytime soon.

The faint glow of red her eyes cast upon your features only made you look more like sin and temptation rather than the human she had grown strangely fond of. And now, Arlecchino’s usually calm heart stammered in her chest for some unknown reason, like a caged bird flapping its wings and hoping to fly away.

“Don’t worry,” you murmured, voice filtering through her ears like a purr that sent a shiver down her spine. “I’ll take care of you.”

Then you moved, and her composure shattered to pieces.

The first roll of your hips was her undoing. She gasped, softly. It was barely audible to those without keen ears, but you heard it. You always did. It was as rewarding as a soft breeze on a warm summer afternoon.

As soon as your soft hands cupped her jaw just to close the distance, you gauged another reaction. A quick whimper. It was a brand new sound. A perfect, needy sound that sent a rush of desire coursing through your veins.

Arlecchino, on her end, was dissipating. She melted against your lips like ice cream under the scorching sun, like wax that sat too close to the flames and didn’t mind burning. The taste of that sweetness in your tongue was almost like an aphrodisiac to a woman like her—a sip for the parched.

Every delicious noise that escaped from her mouth, you swallowed it greedily. You bounced on her lap leisurely, which would’ve made her lose her patience on a regular day, but this wasn’t one. This was otherworldly. The feeling of your delicate fingers around her throat didn’t feel like a threat, but like the caress it truly was.

Once you picked up the pace, she moaned. Once. Twice. Then she was fully letting go. Then she was looking at the spot in which you two became one and let her hands fly to grip your hips. It was usually the controlling gesture she would give when in the throes of passion, but it was different this once. It was more relaxed.

“You’re beautiful.”

The suddenness of the comment made her gasp. Had she ever been called that? Had she ever been seen in such a vulnerable state, but didn’t feel like fighting?

She held you close, but didn’t lead. She surrendered beneath you and let you do as you pleased, because she was enjoying it. Because she could feel the knots she carried along with herself every day slowly untangling.

So there she was, eyes half-lidded as she watched her cock disappearing inside you with each movement, throwing her head back from time to time as the tip rubbed deliciously against your velvety walls. All you had to do was watch and stroke her pulse point with the pad of your thumb.

Each and every clenching sensation around her shaft made her nails dig into the flesh of your hips, merely as an instinctive reaction. She heaved, her vision blurry as she focused on the way your tits bounced so close to her face. She reached out, of course, strong hand cupping the swell of one of them before you grabbed her wrist and guided it back to your hip.

She was stunned for a beat. How dare you? She always touched. Always grabbed. But, oh my. This was thrilling. You were almost lucky she hadn’t the energy to protest.

She wouldn’t have, either way.

Even as you smirked down at her and then bit your lip to stifle a moan. Even as you leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss without permission once more. She held onto the pillowy globes of your ass and allowed you to suck on her tongue. If anything, it drew a sharp exhale from her.

Before Arlecchino even knew it, the usually silent study was filled with the sound of moans, deep breaths, and the creaking of the chair beneath your combined weight. She felt drops of sweat dripping from her temples and down her face, all just for them to disappear somewhere between where your palm met her neck and the column of her throat.

Then your movements grew erratic as your thighs trembled against hers, and she was already feeling like a live wire ready to snap. The coiled tension in her belly was almost unbearable, and so was yours.

All it took was just another roll of your hips. Just one singular movement that drew a sharp cry from the depths of your chest and a shaky moan from Arlecchino. Then you were spasming on top of her, and her cock sprung free from the tight grip of your cunt just for it to spurt thick ropes of cum.

Now you were fully drenched in more ways than one. Your body jerked in the aftershocks of an all-consuming orgasm that dripped onto the fabric of her pants, and her own fluids cascaded slowly down your abdomen.

It was an awfully erotic picture she wished to capture and never forget.

“Was this… your attempt at looking after me?” She breathlessly asked after a long pause.

You chuckled as your eyes flicked down to take in the mess you had created together. “Yes.”

She hummed. “Well… Nicely done.”

#–𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞'𝖘 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌.#genshin x reader #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x female reader #arlecchino x y/n #arlecchino genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin impact #arlecchino smut #genshin women x reader #genshin women smut #wlw #sapphic #lesbian #genshin wlw #x reader

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shiorihyugawrites · 3 months ago

Text

Velvet Heat (No Regrets!Levi x Reader Oneshot)

Before Levi Ackerman ever wore a uniform, he was the Underground’s most dangerous man—untouchable, cold, and utterly lethal. But one night at a lounge, a bold little dancer climbs into his lap with a smirk that dares him to lose control. And Levi? He takes the challenge personally.

He doesn’t go easy. And you don’t want him to.

18 + Only | Minors Do Not Interact

The air in the lounge was thick with smoke, sweat, perfume, and whispered sins.

A low hum of conversation murmured beneath the seductive melody of piano and strings, the notes floating like silk through the haze. Candlelight flickered along polished brass railings and red velvet drapes, casting golden shadows across the faces of criminals, smugglers, and nobility who liked to pretend they weren’t slumming in the filth of the underground. But even here—in a city without sunlight—there were stars.

One star, in particular.

Levi Ackerman leaned back in the worn leather booth in the farthest corner, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but those who knew him understood the truth: he was always ready to kill.

The infamous Levi. The underground's deadliest blade.

People whispered his name with fear, respect, and jealousy. A man who slit throats like it was second nature. A ghost with knives for hands and no soul to speak of. And tonight, he was here for one reason:

To see you.

“Oi, is this really worth the trip?” he muttered to Furlan without turning his head. “She better not be just another girl in fishnets pretending to be a dancer.”

Furlan chuckled softly. “She’s not just a girl. She’s a fucking legend down here.”

“Tch.” Levi’s sharp grey eyes flicked to the stage as the house lights dimmed. “We'll see about that.”

And then… She stepped out.

You.

Wrapped in crimson sheer silk that shimmered with every sway of your hips. The lingerie dress clung to your curves like it had been painted on, exposing your legs, waist, and just enough cleavage to tempt death itself. Thin straps slid off your shoulders like you didn’t care who watched.

The entire room silenced.

Your hair spilled down your back, and your face—gods, your face—looked like it had been sculpted by an artist with a love for sin. Lips painted scarlet. Eyes laced with mischief. A smile with dimples so deep it made hardened criminals shift in their seats.

But Levi didn’t shift. He stared. Unblinking.

The music started—slow, sensual. You danced, your body twirling through the stage like a blade of light. Effortless. High. Ethereal.

Levi’s jaw clenched.

You didn’t look at him right away.

You twirled. Danced. Let your body become the music. Graceful, fluid, seductive. Like a fairy dipped in wine and wicked thoughts. Every man in the room leaned forward like moths drawn to flame.

Then your eyes locked with his.

You didn’t smile.

You smirked.

And Levi, that deadly bastard, raised a brow. Just one. Like a challenge.

You accepted.

Your bare feet padded silently across the stage and down the short set of velvet-covered stairs. Each sway of your hips more deliberate now. Every movement calculated. A predator in sheer red lace. You crossed the room slowly, a siren weaving her spell.

Levi didn’t look away.

He never did.

When you reached his table, you climbed onto it—graceful as a cat—and straddled his lap with your thighs spread wide over his, ignoring the stunned gasps and growls of envy from the crowd.

Furlan nearly dropped his drink.

Levi didn’t move.

You leaned in close, your voice a soft, wicked purr near his ear.

“You look bored.”

His eyes narrowed just slightly. “You’re bold.”

“And you’re beautiful,” you whispered, dragging a fingertip down the bridge of his nose. “I don’t usually do this. But I think I’ll make an exception.”

You kissed his cheek slowly, deliberately, your red lips smearing against the sharp angle of his face.

A perfect lipstick mark.

He caught your wrist just as you started to pull away. His grip was strong—but not cruel.

“I don’t like games,” he said flatly.

You smirked, twisting your wrist free with a dancer’s finesse. “Then follow me. Let me show you how I play.”

You gently grabbed his hand and lead him towards the back on the lounge. The private room was lit only by a chandelier of dying candles. Crimson velvet lined the walls and chaise lounge. A soft fur rug lay beneath your feet. You locked the door with a click.

Levi stood just inside, silent.

You didn’t speak.

You just danced.

Slow. Sinful. Seduction distilled. Your hips rolled, your bare feet gliding over the rug. The sheer silk flowed around you like mist. Your hands slid over your own curves, drawing his attention to your waist, your thighs, your breasts—everything men dreamed about and never touched.

He watched. Breathing steady. Face unreadable.

But you saw it in his eyes. Hunger.

You turned your back to him, letting the red silk slip down your arms. You looked over your shoulder, lips parted, breath shallow.

“Touch me,” you whispered.

He was on you in an instant.

Levi’s mouth crushed yours, his kiss rough and greedy. You answered with a moan, throwing your arms around his neck. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into flesh. You kissed him deeper—tongue, teeth, passion. You sucked on his bottom lip, then licked the corner of his mouth just to tease him.

He growled.

You laughed breathlessly and pushed him toward the chaise. He let you.

You climbed into his lap again, kissing down his throat, nibbling just beneath his jaw. His pulse jumped under your tongue.

“You gonna kill me?” you teased, voice soft as silk.

“Not tonight,” he muttered, dragging his lips along your collarbone. “Not unless you ask real nice.”

You rolled your hips over his, slow and deliberate. You felt him—hard beneath you, the tension in his muscles coiled tight.

“I’m sure you’ve killed for less,” you whispered.

He gripped your ass with both hands, pulling you tighter against him. “Don’t tempt me.”

But you did.

Every sway. Every sigh. Every flicker of your eyes as you stripped for him, peeling away the last sheer layer of your lingerie, baring your flawless skin beneath flickering candlelight.

You were a goddess made flesh.

And he worshipped you in silence—with his hands, his mouth, his body pressed against yours like he was starved.

You kissed again—slow this time. Tender. Deep.

You guided him down onto the chaise, your body hovering over his. Hair cascading around your face, your dimples deepening as you smiled down at him with a sultry glint in your eye.

You had him.

Levi’s cold, calculating gaze never left yours, even as you straddled him like you owned him—like you’d always meant to. His body was deceptively still beneath yours, but you could feel the tension in him. Like a beast barely leashed. Like something wild that hadn’t decided yet if it wanted to devour you or let you keep teasing.

He stared you down, a predator in human form.

And you… you stared right back.

Your smirk was slow, sultry, teasing.

Daring.

Your hands moved with purpose, curling around the delicate straps of your sheer red lingerie and sliding them off your shoulders, letting the fabric drift down, inch by inch. His gaze didn’t waver—yet. He was trying to prove something. Maybe to you. Maybe to himself.

But then—

The silk slipped low enough to reveal your breasts, and that was when he broke.

His eyes flickered downward.

Just for a heartbeat.

Just long enough for you to feel the victory pulse like electricity through your veins.

You didn’t say a word. You reached for his hands, rough and calloused from years of violence, and guided them to your chest. You pressed them to your bare skin, slowly… deliberately.

He didn’t resist.

Didn’t even blink.

His fingers curled, squeezing your breasts with slow, deliberate pressure, thumbs brushing over your nipples like he was testing the texture. His jaw tensed, nostrils flared. Still quiet. Still unreadable.

But his hands stayed.

You began to move again—hips rolling, body winding. A private dance made just for him. You moved with purpose, grinding slowly, sensually, until you could feel it—him. The hard, growing bulge beneath you.

You felt him twitch through his pants, and your hips rocked harder, more confidently, feeding the heat between you. The air was thick with your breath, the scent of candle wax, and the sharp buzz of Levi’s restraint fraying at the edges.

Then, without warning, you leaned forward and kissed him.

He didn’t pull away.

His lips were dry but warm. Soft but firm. You moaned against him, deepening the kiss. His hand slid from your breast to your lower back, gripping you tighter, anchoring you against him as he kissed you back—slow, hungry, like he had been holding back for too long.

And then, in a blink—he moved.

His grip on your waist tightened, and before you could react, he shifted his weight and flipped you beneath him in one smooth motion. You let out a small gasp as your back hit the velvet chaise, his body now hovering above yours, knees planted on either side of your hips.

His hands pinned your wrists above your head, his body pressed flush to yours, hard and unrelenting.

He was fast.

Strong.

Dangerous.

And yet… he wasn’t hurting you.

His face hovered inches from yours, eyes dark and stormy, studying you like you were something fragile—something rare.

“You think you’re in control?” His voice was low, rasping, a growl dragged over gravel.

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t look away.

Instead, you tilted your head, smirking again, breath hot against his lips. “Aren’t I?”

Something flickered in his eyes. Lust. Annoyance. Admiration.

“You’re bold,” he muttered, voice thick. “Too bold.”

“And you’re hard,” you whispered, shifting your hips beneath him just enough to remind him exactly where your body met his.

His jaw clenched again. His hands slid down from your wrists, dragging slowly over your arms, until they settled at your sides. His fingertips dug into your hips like he was trying to decide if he wanted to leave bruises.

He leaned closer. His lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You shivered, heart racing.

“I know exactly what I’m asking for,” you whispered.

He exhaled slowly, his breath hot on your neck, and you felt the smallest shudder run through him.

“I don’t go easy.”

“I don’t want easy.”

Levi pulled back just enough to look at you again. His hair hung slightly in his face, the dim candlelight catching on the sharp angles of his jaw. His eyes were dangerous—full of promises you weren’t sure you were ready for, but completely unwilling to turn down.

One hand rose to cup your cheek, thumb brushing just under your bottom lip.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he said quietly.

You nipped at his thumb with your teeth and grinned.

“Then make it worth it.”

His mouth was on yours before the last word left your lips—devouring, dominating, taking. You moaned into the kiss, your hands fisting in the back of his shirt as your legs wrapped around his waist.

He pressed his hips into yours, grinding slowly, deliberately, making you feel every inch of his arousal through the thin fabric between you. You gasped, arching into him, your fingers clawing at his back.

He broke the kiss with a low curse, staring down at you again like he was about to commit a crime.

And in that moment, you were more than willing to be his next sin..

You were flushed, lips parted, body trembling beneath his weight. You couldn’t move, not with the way he pinned you down with nothing but his presence, his hands, his voice.

And then—

He moved lower.

His hand slipped between your thighs.

You gasped, hips twitching, but Levi didn’t let up. He used two fingers to push aside your lingerie underwear—slowly, carefully, like he was unwrapping a gift. His touch was rough, calloused, but his movements were maddeningly gentle, teasing your folds with deliberate strokes.

“Shit…” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re soaking through already.”

You whimpered. “Levi—”

He slipped one finger between your slick folds and dragged it through your heat, smearing it across your clit with a slow, lazy circle. You bucked beneath him, but he pressed his forearm against your hips, holding you still.

“You wanted this, remember?” he said, tone dark and smooth. “Climbed into my lap like a little slut... dressed like that... teasing me in front of a whole damn room.”

You gasped at the vulgarity of it—but gods, you liked it. Too much.

“I bet you thought I’d be rough right away. Thought I’d rip your panties off and fuck you into the chaise.” His voice dropped lower, lips brushing your ear. “But that’s not how this works.”

And then he slid one finger inside you.

Your back arched as the sensation bloomed white-hot. He watched you, expression unreadable except for the way his eyes darkened, flicking down to watch your body take him in.

“You’re tight,” he growled, slipping in another finger beside the first. “Hot. Fuck.”

He curled them inside you, rubbing against the spot that made your thighs tremble. Your legs tried to close, but he shoved them open with his knee, never once looking away.

“Keep ‘em open,” he ordered, voice like gravel and smoke. “Don’t make me tie you down.”

Your walls clenched around his fingers, and his smirk grew wicked.

“Yeah, I felt that.”

He started moving his fingers—slow at first, then faster, deeper. You cried out, breath catching, body bucking under the force of each thrust. He added pressure with his thumb against your clit, circling it in time with his pumping fingers.

You were unraveling.

Your hand flew to the cushion behind you, the other gripping his shoulder as you moaned his name, loud and broken. He leaned down, lips brushing your neck, whispering filth in your ear.

“You love this, don’t you? Me inside you like this... fingers deep, pussy gripping me like it’s desperate.” He chuckled darkly. “You’re gonna cum already? That easy?”

You were so close. So fucking close.

And then—

He stopped.

You let out a broken cry, hips chasing his fingers. “No—! Why did you stop—?”

“Because I can.” His tone was low and cruel, but his eyes sparkled with lust. “I told you—I don’t go easy.”

Before you could protest, he moved down between your thighs, dragging your underwear fully off with his teeth. He tossed it somewhere behind him and stared at your dripping core like it was the most decadent thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re a fucking mess,” he muttered. “Look at this—fuck.”

His breath ghosted over your heat, and then—his tongue was on you. Lapping. Sucking. Devouring. You cried out, thighs trying to close around his head, but his hands held you wide open as he feasted on you like he was starving.

You were shaking. Writhing.

His mouth was relentless. Every flick of his tongue pushed you higher. His teeth grazed your clit just enough to make your vision blur. Then, without warning, he slid his fingers back inside, curling them with precision while his tongue circled your clit.

You screamed.

“That’s it,” he murmured into you. “Make those pretty sounds. Let the whole fucking Lounge know who’s got you like this.”

You were right at the edge. Your walls clenched, legs trembling. The orgasm crept up your spine, white-hot, merciless.

But just as you were about to fall—

He stopped. Again.

“No—Levi! Please!”

He sat up slowly, licking your arousal off his fingers with maddening calm. “Goddamn, you taste good.”

You were panting, tears stinging your eyes from the sheer denial.

“You’re cruel,” you whispered.

“Yeah?” He leaned over you, dragging the head of his cock along your folds through his pants, just enough pressure to make you shudder.

“Then beg for it.”

You blinked up at him, breath hitching.

“Beg for what?”

“Everything,” he growled, gripping your jaw with one hand. “Beg me to ruin you.”

Your body was shaking. Slick with sweat and arousal, skin flushed, lips swollen from his kisses and your own bitten-back screams. The chaise lounge beneath you was damp with your arousal—your thighs soaked, your core pulsing and aching from the relentless teasing.

Levi leaned over you again, his voice low and cruel in your ear.

“Dripping all over the fucking chaise,” he muttered, running his fingers along the mess you were leaving. “You’re gonna clean that, brat?”

You whimpered, nearly sobbing. “Please—please, Levi, I can’t—”

“You can.” He grabbed your chin and tilted your face up to meet his. “You’re gonna take everything I give you.”

He pulled back and stood for a moment. You thought—hoped—he might finally give you what you needed.

Instead, he chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “You're so desperate. That little act back on the floor—straddling me like a bitch in heat—this is what you wanted, right?”

You were too dazed to answer, but your body betrayed you, arching and trembling in need. That smirk on his lips deepened as he ran a hand down your spine.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered.

You obeyed—barely—your legs wobbling as you turned and braced yourself on all fours atop the chaise. He spread your knees wider with a rough hand, his other gripping your hip like a vice.

He gave you no warning. No softness.

Just a rough, deep thrust that stole the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck!” you gasped, crying out as he filled you all at once.

“Quiet,” he growled, leaning over your back, teeth grazing your shoulder. “You don’t get to scream unless I say you can.”

He pulled back and slammed into you again—harder. Your eyes rolled back.

“I should’ve fucked you on that stage in front of everyone,” he hissed, pistoning his hips. “Let them all see what kind of filthy little thing you are.”

You were crying, moaning, unable to stop the way your hips rocked back to meet his every thrust.

But when you squirmed too much, trying to wriggle out of the overwhelming pressure and pleasure, he snarled.

“Can’t even stay still.”

In one brutal motion, he yanked his belt from his pants and grabbed your wrists. Before you could process it, he’d looped the leather around them and tied you up—wrists bound behind your back like a plaything.

“Nowhere to run now, yeah?” he breathed against your ear.

He gripped the end of the belt for leverage—and used it.

He fucked you.

Hard. Unrelenting. Brutal.

The slapping sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the room, mingling with your choked sobs of pleasure and his ragged breathing.

Your body rocked forward with every thrust, your tits bouncing, your knees struggling to hold you up. Your cheek pressed against the velvet cushion, lips open in a silent scream as he pounded into you from behind.

“You feel that?” Levi groaned, snapping his hips forward. “This is what happens when you act like a fucking tease.”

You could barely speak—barely think—but you nodded, whimpering, “Yes—yes, Levi, please—don’t stop—”

He tugged the belt tighter, slamming into you harder, deeper, like he wanted to mold your insides to the shape of his cock.

“Fucking dripping,” he grunted. “I can feel you squeezing me. So fuckin’ tight.”

You were gone. Slurred moans fell from your lips, tears slipping down your face as your body shook violently.

“You like being used like this, huh?” he sneered. “Tied up. Fucked dumb. Just a needy little hole for me to ruin.”

You nodded furiously, mouth open, drooling onto the cushion. “Yes, Levi—please, I need it—I need you—”

He bent over your back, still thrusting, now grinding deeper. “You’re gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you? Just from getting fucked like this?”

You clenched around him, crying out, the pressure in your belly snapping like a rubber band stretched too tight.

Your orgasm hit you like a wave—violent, overwhelming, shaking. Your vision whited out as your whole body spasmed beneath him, held together only by the grip of the belt and Levi’s hands on your hips.

“Fucking hell—” Levi groaned, voice cracked and low, “—that’s it, cum for me—fuck—”

He didn’t stop.

He kept going—faster, rougher, chasing his own release as your body twitched and convulsed from the overstimulation.

The only thing you could do was moan brokenly as he used you, mouth wide open and drooling, eyes glassy.

Then you felt him—his hips jerking, the rhythm breaking—and with a harsh groan in your ear, Levi slammed into you one final time and spilled deep inside you.

His grip stayed locked tight, fingers bruising your hips as he rode out his high, chest heaving against your back.

For a long moment, the only sound was your combined breath and the occasional, accidental twitch of your trembling legs.

Finally, he leaned over and kissed your shoulder. The belt slipped loose from your wrists, and his hand found your cheek, thumb wiping your tears.

“Did I break you?” he murmured, voice rough, but… gentle.

You let out a hoarse, satisfied sigh.

“I hope so.”

He chuckled low, biting softly at your shoulder. “Good.”

Your body felt like jelly. Used, full, and entirely boneless—folded into the chaise like you’d melted there.

The room was silent now. The glow of the candles had dimmed, flickering low, their golden light casting soft shadows over Levi’s face. His eyes weren’t sharp anymore. They were softer now. Still intense, but unreadable in a different way—like he was searching for something on your face that he wasn’t brave enough to ask for aloud.

You blinked at him, tears dried on your cheeks, lips swollen, pulse still fluttering in your wrists.

He finally moved.

Without a word, Levi pulled out of you carefully, steady hands on your hips to guide you down. You whimpered at the sensitivity, but he hushed you instantly with a thumb brushing along your thigh.

“Easy,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

He untied the belt from around your wrists, letting it fall to the floor. Your arms ached with relief, and before you could slump forward, he caught you—pulling you gently into his lap.

You were a mess—legs trembling, body soaked with sweat, smeared lipstick, and still full of him. But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t push you away.

Instead, he wrapped an arm around your back and pulled a throw blanket from the chaise, draping it over your shoulders. Then he held you—silent, solid, grounding.

You pressed your forehead to his chest, dazed and buzzing.

“I-I can’t feel my legs,” you mumbled, half-laughing, half-crying.

“Tch.” His voice was gruff, but his hand rubbed your back in soothing circles. “I told you I don’t go easy.”

You giggled weakly, nuzzling closer. “You’re a menace…”

Levi tilted your chin up, thumb brushing your cheek. “You good?”

His voice was quieter now. Rough, yes—but laced with something gentle. Something careful.

You nodded, eyes glassy. “Yeah. Just… floating.”

He stared at you for a beat. Then he shifted, slipping a hand between your thighs and gently brushing over your core.

You flinched.

“I know,” he murmured. “Too much. Sorry.”

He wiped you with the edge of the blanket—slow and gentle, surprisingly so. You watched him in a daze, heart swelling at the contrast. The same hands that had just wrecked you now handled you like you were porcelain.

Once he was satisfied, he pulled your legs across his lap and reclined back against the chaise, cradling you to his chest. One hand stroked your back, the other ran through your hair—slow, grounding motions.

“You didn’t have to be so gentle,” you whispered.

“You didn’t have to look at me like that,” he replied, voice low.

You blinked. “Like what?”

“Like I’m worth a damn.”

The silence that followed was thick—but not uncomfortable.

You nestled closer, resting your cheek against his collarbone.

“You are,” you whispered. “Even if you don’t think so.”

Levi didn’t answer. But his arms tightened around you just a little.

And that was enough.

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shadyfestivalperfection · 1 month ago

Text

So be it…. ~Oneshot

Summery: Bucky gets jealous when he sees Y/n’s co worker Crew Lincoln flirt with his precious girlfriend.

Characters: Yandere!Bucky Barnes x girlfriend!reader

Warning: Dark Obsession,Yandere, murder

||Master List ||

The hum of the office was quiet at this time of day. Most people were packing up, grabbing coats and bags, murmuring half-hearted goodbyes as they made their way to the elevators. You were still at your desk, fingers flying over the keyboard, trying to finish an overdue report.

You didn’t notice Bucky Barnes standing just inside the door, watching you.

He had planned to text you — ask if you wanted to grab dinner — but when he got to the building, something told him to come up. A gut feeling. Maybe it was habit, maybe it was instinct. Whatever it was, it planted him there, silent and unseen, his body half in shadow as his steel-blue eyes locked on you.

And on the man standing far too close to you.

Crew Lincoln.

Bucky’s jaw tightened.

Crew was laughing at something you said, flashing you a grin like he had some kind of right. His hand lingered on the edge of your desk, leaning in, invading your space. Bucky saw the way your shoulders stiffened, how you smiled politely but kept shifting back in your chair, trying to create distance without making a scene.

You were too sweet. Too soft.

Too vulnerable.

Mine, something deep inside Bucky snarled.

He didn’t move yet. He simply watched. Memorized. Studied.

Crew leaned even closer, dropping his voice low in that fake, charming way that made Bucky’s fists curl.

“You know, Y/N,” Crew was saying, “we should grab a drink sometime. Just you and me.”

You laughed awkwardly, shaking your head. “I’m… actually seeing someone.”

Crew smirked. “C’mon, he doesn’t have to know.”

Bucky’s vision went red.

Without thinking, he stepped forward, boots heavy on the cheap carpet, the sound enough to make Crew glance up. His smirk faltered.

You looked over too, and your entire face lit up in relief. “Bucky!”

You pushed back from your desk, standing up fast. Crew straightened, a slight frown forming between his brows.

“Hey,” Bucky said casually, voice low and even, though every muscle in his body screamed to act. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” you said quickly, coming around the desk to stand beside him. You were so unaware of the storm brewing under his skin, so trusting. You slipped your hand into Bucky’s without hesitation.

Crew’s eyes flicked to your joined hands. His jaw clenched.

Bucky smiled then — a sharp, dangerous smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You must be Crew,” he said, voice dripping fake politeness. “Y/N’s mentioned you.”

Crew shrugged, trying to recover his cocky composure. “Yeah. We work together. I was just… offering to help her out with a project.”

“Offering a lot, weren’t you?” Bucky said smoothly.

You tugged on Bucky’s hand gently. “It’s fine, Buck. I’m ready to go.”

But Bucky didn’t move immediately. He tilted his head slightly, studying Crew like a predator deciding whether or not to pounce.

Finally, he gave a slow nod. “Good to meet you, Crew.”

The unspoken won’t be seeing you again hung heavy in the air.

As Bucky led you away, he kept his arm tightly around your waist, guiding you through the building with careful, possessive touches. His mind wasn’t on dinner anymore. It wasn’t on the cozy night he’d imagined curled up with you.

It was on Crew.

On the way he looked at you.

On the way he talked to you.

And most of all — on the way you hadn’t even realized how much danger you were in.

You were his. His to protect. His to keep safe from men like Crew.

And tonight, Bucky decided as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple while you unlocked your car, tonight he was going to make sure Crew Lincoln understood exactly what that meant.

Once and for all.

___

Crew Lincoln didn’t know he was being followed.

He whistled to himself as he crossed the office parking lot, fiddling with his phone, texting some girl he barely remembered meeting last weekend. His car sat at the far end, parked under one of the tall, flickering light posts. The lot was mostly empty at this hour — just a few stragglers heading home.

The perfect place for a conversation that wouldn’t be interrupted.

From the shadows, Bucky watched him.

His breathing was steady. His movements controlled. Every instinct honed from decades of being a weapon now sharpened toward one purpose: eliminating the threat.

Crew fumbled with his keys, dropping them once and laughing under his breath as he bent to pick them up.

When he straightened, Bucky was there.

Standing between Crew and the car. Silent. Still. Like a nightmare given shape.

Crew startled, stumbling back a step. “Jesus, man—what the hell?!”

Bucky didn’t speak at first. He simply stared, the cold metal of his left hand glinting under the sickly light.

“You and me need to have a little chat,” Bucky said finally, voice calm. Too calm.

Crew squared his shoulders, trying to play it cool. “About what? Your girl? You really that insecure?”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched. “You touched her.”

Crew scoffed. “Barely. She didn’t seem to mind.”

“You don’t get to talk about her.”

Bucky’s voice dropped lower, rougher.

“You don’t get to think about her.”

Crew’s cocky mask faltered. He glanced around — the lot was empty. Just him and this guy with murder in his eyes.

“Look, man, maybe you should talk to her,” Crew said, backing up toward his car. “If she’s looking for attention—”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Bucky moved faster than humanly possible — a flash of black jacket and metal. He slammed Crew into the car door with a bone-rattling bang, one metal hand closing around Crew’s throat with terrifying precision.

Crew choked, struggling, fists beating weakly at Bucky’s arm.

“You don’t get to talk about her like that,” Bucky hissed, leaning close, breath hot against Crew’s ear. “You don’t get to even exist near her.”

Crew gasped, “You’re crazy—!”

Bucky smiled.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I am. Crazy about her.”

For a second, he almost let go. Almost decided a warning would be enough.

But then Crew made the mistake of sneering, even while pinned, and rasped out:

“She’s a tease anyway. Bet she flirts with everyone when you’re not looking. Bet she—”

Snap.

Bucky didn’t even register the decision — it happened somewhere deeper, more primal than thought. His metal hand twisted sharply, brutally. There was a wet, ugly crunch as Crew’s neck broke.

The body slid down the car door and crumpled at Bucky’s feet.

Bucky stood there for a long moment, breathing hard, staring down at the corpse.

No fear. No regret.

Only peace.

Crew Lincoln would never touch you again. Never look at you again. Never breathe near you again.

Bucky crouched, smoothing Crew’s shirt almost tenderly, like he was tucking a child into bed.

“Nobody hurts my girl,” he murmured.

The lot was silent. Not a soul in sight.

Bucky wiped his hands casually on a rag he pulled from his pocket, then turned and walked away — vanishing into the night like he had never been there at all.

The night air was cool against Bucky’s skin as he walked, hands shoved into his jacket pockets like any other man heading home from work. Calm. Unhurried. Invisible in plain sight.

The blood on his hands — figurative and literal — didn’t faze him.

He didn’t even feel the slight sting on his knuckles where Crew had struggled. His mind was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere warmer. Safer.

With you.

Crew was gone now. Erased.

No longer a threat.

The world was a little better tonight. Cleaner.

Safer for you.

Bucky pulled out his burner phone — not the one you knew about — and sent a quick message. A few contacts he still had from old days he didn’t talk about. People who could make a body vanish in a blink. For the right price.

He barely read the reply.

Just one word: Done.

Bucky tossed the phone into a trash can as he passed an alley, never breaking stride.

He was already thinking about you. Wondering if you were home. Wondering if you were waiting for him, curled up on the couch in that oversized sweater he loved, the one that slipped off your shoulder just enough to make him insane.

His pace quickened unconsciously.

He needed to see you.

Needed to touch you.

Hold you.

Prove to himself you were real — that you were safe — that you were still his.

When he got to your apartment building, he entered the code you’d given him without hesitation. Walked the familiar halls. Every step, the tension in his body eased.

The moment he opened your door and saw you standing in the kitchen, barefoot, hair messy, microwaving leftover pasta — something inside him broke and healed all at once.

You turned and smiled the second you saw him.

“Hey, you,” you said warmly, grabbing a second plate from the cabinet. “You hungry?”

Bucky just stood there for a moment, drinking you in.

His sweet girl.

So perfect.

So oblivious to the darkness that clung to him like a second skin.

Finally, he crossed the room in two long strides and caught you in his arms, pulling you against his chest. He buried his face in your hair, breathing you in like you were oxygen after a lifetime of drowning.

“Missed you,” he muttered.

You laughed softly. “It’s only been a couple hours, Bucky.”

He didn’t answer. Just held you tighter.

If you noticed how hard his heart was pounding, you didn’t say anything. You just leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder, trusting him completely.

Bucky closed his eyes.

You didn’t know.

You would never know.

He would keep you safe.

He would kill a thousand times over if he had to.

As long as you kept looking at him like this — like he was your hero, your safe place — he would do anything.

Anything.

Later, after you had both eaten and you were curled up against him on the couch, half-asleep with your legs draped across his lap, Bucky traced lazy patterns on your skin with his fingers.

You murmured something soft and sleepy about work — about how you were relieved the big project was finally over. About how you hoped Crew Lincoln would stop bugging you now.

Bucky smiled faintly in the dark.

“You won’t have to worry about him anymore, doll,” he whispered.

You shifted closer, mumbling a contented, “Good,” before slipping into deeper sleep.

Bucky tilted his head back against the couch, staring into the dark apartment, the rise and fall of your breathing anchoring him.

Crew was gone.

You were safe.

And if anyone else ever so much as looked at you the wrong way—

Bucky’s metal fingers flexed gently against your thigh.

—he wouldn’t hesitate to paint the world red all over again.

For you.

Always for you.

___

Morning crept slowly into your apartment.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains in dusty gold streaks. Somewhere far off, a bird chirped half-heartedly. The city was waking up.

You stirred under the covers, groggy and warm, blinking sleepily at the unfamiliar weight wrapped around you.

Strong arms.

A solid chest pressed against your back.

Then the faintest hint of stubble scratching your neck as a kiss pressed into your hair.

Bucky.

You smiled to yourself, relaxing instantly.

He had stayed the night again, even though he hadn’t planned to. You loved when that happened — when his protectiveness made him linger, when he couldn’t seem to bear leaving your side.

If you could have heard his thoughts, you would’ve run.

But you didn’t.

You only sighed in contentment, curling closer, feeling safer than you ever had in your life.

“You’re awake,” Bucky murmured, voice rough with sleep.

“Mmhm,” you mumbled, half-buried in pillows. “You stayed.”

“Course I did,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He shifted slightly, his metal hand splaying across your stomach under the covers, holding you possessively against him. The cold of the metal against your warm skin made you shiver, but not from fear.

You loved his touch.

You trusted it.

Bucky closed his eyes for a second, overwhelmed by how perfect you were — how good you were. How lucky he was that you let him love you, even if you didn’t know how deep that love really ran. How dark it could be.

He pressed another kiss to your hair.

“Got the whole day free,” he said casually. “Thought we could do something. Just us.”

You smiled, still not fully awake. “Like what?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

He meant it.

He meant it in the most terrifying, absolute way possible.

Whatever you wanted — whatever would keep you happy and safe and smiling — he would do it. Burn the world down if you asked. Bleed for you. Kill for you.

Hell, he already had.

Bucky sat up slowly, propping himself against the headboard, pulling you into his lap. You went willingly, yawning, snuggling into his chest.

The soft morning light made you glow, and Bucky had to clench his jaw to keep from losing it entirely.

You were so beautiful.

So pure.

And now that Crew was gone — now that the last visible threat had been erased — Bucky could focus completely on you. On building the life you deserved. On making sure no one ever touched a hair on your head again.

“You’re quiet,” you said after a moment, looking up at him with concern.

Bucky smiled gently.

“Just thinkin’ how lucky I am,” he said. “To have you.”

Your eyes softened, and you reached up to cup his cheek.

If you noticed the slight tension there — the wildness buried just beneath his skin — you didn’t mention it.

You just leaned up and kissed him.

Sweet.

Slow.

Bucky’s hand tightened around your waist instinctively, as if afraid you might vanish if he didn’t hold you tight enough.

You tasted like sleep and trust and the kind of softness he didn’t deserve.

But he would do anything to keep it.

Anything.

After a long moment, you pulled back and smiled that sleepy smile he adored.

“C’mon,” you said, slipping out of bed. “I’ll make coffee. You can tell me about your plans for today.”

Bucky watched you move around the bedroom, humming to yourself as you grabbed a hoodie and pulled it over your head, the hem of it barely brushing the tops of your thighs.

You were so unaware.

So trusting.

So safe, because of him.

Bucky leaned back, hands laced behind his head, a slow grin spreading over his face.

No one would ever take you from him.

No one would ever hurt you.

Not as long as he breathed.

Not as long as his hands could still kill.

You were his.

Forever.

And if that meant bloody hands and dark nights…

if it meant broken necks in parking garages…

if it meant building a castle of bones around your delicate little heart—

So be it.

Bucky Barnes would be your shield, your sword, your home.

Your monster in the dark — who only smiled for you.

Always for you.

Always.

-the end

#marvel #fanfiction #romance #shadyfestivalperfection #female reader #sebastian stan #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #yandere #yandere bucky barnes

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Note

I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

EDIT: PART 2 HERE

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place.

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts.

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay.

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle...

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages.

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue.

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox.

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots.

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom.

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger.

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious.

Why would you say that?

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion.

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass.

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you.

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile.

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur?

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you.

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts.

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly.

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you.

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.”

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears?

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat.

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to…

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels.

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats.

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use.

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want.

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man.

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone.

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out.

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand.

He wants you to guide him to his father.

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years.

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens.

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you.

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is.

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh.

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out.

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely.

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory.

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand.

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission.

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm.

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be.

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.”

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick.

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.”

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x fem reader #konig x reader #könig #könig cod #konig x you #cod konig

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chloeriversongwrites · 1 month ago

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Requests are...

Requests are open!

However, I'm only accepting two requests at a time, for those who requested previously; I am working on your requests!

Rules - Here

Fandom List - Here

Request Form - Here

#Fandom X Reader Oneshots #Fandom X Reader Inserts #Mortal Kombat X Reader Oneshots #Mortal Kombat X Reader Inserts #Requests are oepn #Predator X Reader Oneshots #Predator X Reader Insert

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yanyandam · 3 months ago

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Heyy!! 🩷 can i ask for a Tenjiku!Rindou in a secret relationship with Reader? she has connections with Toman (idk she’s related or close friend of someone like Mikey or Mitsuya). like a fluff or angst scenario, as you see this scenario better.

THANKS FOR REQUESTING!! Okay. This was supposed to be some angsty hcs and then BAM! It ended up as a longass oneshot. Stay with me now. I chose MITSUYAAA as the close friend

UNSERIOUS. - Tenjiku!Rindou x fem!Reader

Midnight had already passed, and yet, here you were, sitting on the cold, uncomfortable seat of the last tram of the night. The flickering fluorescent lights above cast a dim light, while the city blurred past the window, a mosaic of neon signs slipping through the alleys. Tokyo never truly slept, but at this hour, it belonged to the restless souls.

And you? What the hell were you doing here?

Oh I see, a guy huh? A strange kind of delinquent, someone caught between respect and fear. That one name whispered in the darker corners of the city, known for both his sadistic streak and his undeniable talent as a DJ. A dangerous game.

You had met him barely two months ago. A simple encounter, at least on the surface. A warm summer night, a park in the middle of the city, you and your friends laughing under the streetlights. And him, leaning against a railing, watching the crowd with a lazy gaze, like a predator feigning boredom. He had noticed you. Said you were the prettiest one there. You had felt his stare before he even approached. He had charmed you effortlessly, not with sweet words, but with something else. Something unpredictable.

And just like that, everything had happened too fast. Too damn fast. Two months of stolen moments, of diving headfirst into something you no longer had control over. He had a way of pulling you into his world without warning, making you lose all reason without even trying. Proof? He had sent you a single message.

"Wanna meet up?"

And without thinking, without hesitating, you had grabbed your phone, your bag, and hopped onto this goddamn tram past midnight.

—

He was waiting for you.

Standing in front of the train station, leaning casually against a sleek black motorcycle, Rindou Haitani exuded effortless cool. His arms were crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed, but his sharp, intelligent eyes flickered with something unreadable as he watched the arriving passengers step off the platform. He spotted you. You dashed towards him, your steps quick and eager, your heart hammering against your ribs with excitement. The moment your eyes locked onto his, a bright smile stretched across your lips. “Rindou!”

Without hesitation, you threw yourself into his arms, wrapping him in a warm, enthusiastic hug. His body stiffened slightly at the sudden affection. He wasn’t the type to openly reciprocate such gestures, not out of cruelty, but simply because it wasn’t in his nature. Still, he let you hold him, his hands staying at his sides, his only response being a small, amused exhale through his nose.

After a second, he pulled back slightly, tilting his head down to look at you, his lips curling into a tiny but sincere smile.

“So, my pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice smooth, teasing.

Your eyes immediately drifted to the motorcycle parked beside him, its polished chrome gleaming under the soft glow of the setting sun. Your excitement bubbled over as you pointed at it. “Ohh, you have a motorcycle?! You never told me that!” Rindou let out a small chuckle, reaching up to adjust the round sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His fingers slid through his blonde-and-blue hair, pushing back a few strands that had fallen into his face.

“Tell me,” he said with a smirk, “what’s the first word in ‘BIKEr’?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Pfft, don’t act all intellectual with me.” Your gaze drifted downward, finally noticing the outfit he was wearing. The long coat, the crisp black fabric, the embroidered kanji on the sleeves, it screamed gang affiliation. Your brow furrowed slightly as you eyed it. “What’s with this weird uniform you’re wearing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rindou followed your gaze, glancing down at his attire as if he’d momentarily forgotten what he had on. Then, he shrugged. “What, you don’t like it?”

“No, no…” you hesitated, then offered him a small, genuine smile. “You actually look really good in it…”

Before you could finish your sentence, he cut in, a habit of his. Not out of rudeness, but because he had a way of controlling conversations, steering them in the direction he wanted. “It’s Tenjiku.” His tone was casual, but there was weight behind the words. “My gang. Make sure you remember that name, alright? If anyone ever gives you trouble–”

You didn’t even let him finish before jumping in excitedly. “I just tell them my boyfriend is in Tenjiku!” you said with a triumphant grin.

Rindou blinked, the amusement in his eyes growing as his smirk widened. “Your boyfriend, huh? So we’re already at that stage?” A playful laugh bubbled from your lips, and you tilted your head at him.

“Haha… I mean, not seriously. Not yet, anyway.” Before he could throw another teasing remark your way, you stood on your tiptoes, pressing a quick, feather-light kiss to his cheek. It was soft, barely there, but it was enough to make his breath hitch just for a second. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if debating whether to react, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he exhaled, shaking his head with an amused chuckle. “Hop on,” he said, patting the seat of his motorcycle.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you swung your leg over, settling behind him. The leather seat was firm but comfortable, and the feeling of the powerful machine beneath you sent a small thrill through your veins. You wrapped your arms around his waist instinctively, pressing your body against his back. He stiffened slightly at first, still getting used to the physical closeness, but then he relaxed. With a low rumble, the engine came to life beneath you. The vibrations hummed against your legs as Rindou revved the throttle, his fingers expertly twisting the handle. The headlights cut through the early evening haze, illuminating the road ahead.

He glanced back over his shoulder, his voice carrying over the soft growl of the engine. “Hold on tight.” And with that, the motorcycle lurched forward, carrying the both of you into the fading light of the city.

The wind whipped past your face, tangling your hair and sending an exhilarating rush through your veins. The world around you blurred into streaks of neon signs, car headlights, and distant city sounds. You could feel the steady rise and fall of Rindou’s breathing beneath your hands as you clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his Tenjiku coat. There was something intoxicating about this.

Rindou was silent for most of the ride, focused on the road, but every now and then, he would glance at you through the side mirror, his lips twitching in amusement at how wide your eyes were, how your excitement was practically radiating off you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of weaving through streets and alleys, he pulled into an empty parking lot overlooking the city skyline. The motorcycle came to a smooth stop, and he let out a breath before cutting the engine. The sudden silence was almost deafening.

You hesitated for a moment before loosening your grip around his waist, your hands sliding away as he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows against the handlebars. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared out at the horizon. You swung your leg over the bike, standing beside him as you took in the view.

“Wow…” you breathed, “this is amazing.” He hummed in agreement but didn’t turn to face you.After a moment, Rindou finally broke the quiet.

“You really meant it, huh?” he asked, his voice lower than before.

You turned to him, confused. “Meant what?”

He exhaled again, tapping the ash from his cigarette. “What you said earlier. About me being your boyfriend.”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, but you held his gaze, a small smile playing on your lips. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at you, as if trying to decipher something. Then, with a soft chuckle, he shook his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He smirked, flicking the cigarette away before turning fully to face you. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softer this time. “I guess it was.”

The night air was cool, wrapping around you in a soft breeze as you and Rindou sat together by his motorcycle. The city lights twinkled in the distance, casting a warm glow over the horizon. It was quiet, until your phone buzzed in your pocket, breaking the stillness. You pulled it out without thinking, unlocking the screen to check the message.

Taka: "Hey, can you babysit the girls tomorrow? I’ll owe you one."

A small smile tugged at your lips. Rindou, who had been leaning back against his motorcycle with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow at the way your expression softened. “Who’s that?” he asked, his voice casual but laced with curiosity. You glanced up at him briefly before replying.

“Oh, just a friend. A really close one, actually. He asks me to babysit his little sisters sometimes.” Rindou’s gaze flickered with something unreadable. He exhaled sharply through his nose, tilting his head slightly. “Babysit?” he echoed, narrowing his eyes.

You nodded, thumbs flying over your screen as you typed back a quick response to confirm that you were available. “Yeah. He’s got two little sisters, and he’s always busy, so I help out whenever I can.”

Rindou’s expression remained neutral, but his posture shifted ever so slightly, tense. Something about this didn’t sit right with him. “What’s his name?” he asked, keeping his voice steady.

You didn’t hesitate. “Mitsuya. Mitsuya Takashi.”

Everything stopped. For a moment, you thought even the wind had died down. Rindou’s entire body went rigid, his relaxed stance disappearing in an instant. His fingers curled against his arms, his jaw tightening. Mitsuya. A division captain of Toman, the Tokyo Manji Gang. Tenjiku’s rival. One of the people Rindou was fully prepared to kill if it came down to it. And you were close to him? Babysat his sisters? Cared about him? There was no way. No way in hell he could be seen dating someone with those kinds of ties. If anyone in Tenjiku found out, it wouldn’t just be trouble, it would be a full-blown disaster. His position in the gang would be questioned, his loyalty doubted. Worse than that… if it ever came to a real fight between Tenjiku and Toman, and he was the one who had to take Mitsuya down, where would that leave you?

He exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing himself to stay calm. He needed an excuse. Something to put distance between the two of you before this got messy. But he had to be careful. If he made it too obvious, you’d start asking questions. So, he kept his voice light, tilting his head at you with an exaggerated look of boredom.

“That’s annoying.”

You blinked at him, confused. “Huh? What is?”

He rolled his shoulders, looking away like he didn’t care much. “You hanging around some other guy all the time.”

You snorted. “Oh, please. It’s not like that. Mitsuya’s basically like a brother to me.” Wrong answer. That made it even worse. Rindou hummed, pretending to think it over. He needed to come up with something believable. “Still…” He frowned slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t really like it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What, are you jealous?” you teased.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Not jealous. Just don’t like it.”

You tilted your head at him, sensing something deeper in his tone. “Why, though? You don’t even know him.” Yeah. That was the problem. He did know him. And if he ever had to, he wouldn’t hesitate to put Mitsuya in the ground. This wasn’t about jealousy, it was about danger. Rindou took a slow breath, schooling his expression into something unreadable before glancing back at you. “I dunno. Just feels off, y’know?” He shrugged, playing it cool. “Doesn’t sit right with me. You babysitting some dude’s sisters all the time.”

You frowned slightly, crossing your arms. “Well, tough. I’ve been helping Mitsuya for years, and I’m not about to stop just because you think it ‘feels off.’” A sharp flicker of irritation passed through Rindou’s eyes, but he didn’t let it show on his face. He needed to get you to back off from Mitsuya, without making it obvious why.

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Whatever. Do what you want.” But his tone had changed. It was subtle but there was something different about the way he said it. Cold. Distant. Like he was already pulling away.

That was intentional.

Rindou knew exactly how to play this. He wasn’t going to tell you the real reason he suddenly had a problem with this. No, he was going to make you think you were the one ruining things. He started turning away slightly, like he was already losing interest. “Just don’t come crying to me when this guy starts getting in the way.” His voice was flat, dismissive. “I don’t do second place.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Wait—what?”

He shrugged. “You heard me.”

You stared at him, trying to read him, trying to understand what just shifted between you two. A few minutes ago, he had been teasing you, smirking, flirting. But now? Now, it was like he was withdrawing. It wasn’t outright rejection, but it felt like one. Your chest tightened slightly. “Rindou, are you seriously upset about this?”

He sighed, tilting his head like you were just so much trouble. “Not upset. Just done talking about it.” And with that, he swung a leg over his motorcycle, gripping the handlebars like he was ready to leave. You knew what this was. This was him pushing you away. Making you feel like you had done something wrong. And the worst part? It was working. You clenched your fists. “I don’t get you.” He smirked at that, just a little, just enough to let you know he had won this round. “Yeah,” he said, revving the engine. “You wouldn’t.” And with that, he left you standing there in the dim glow of the city lights, the sound of his motorcycle fading into the distance.

You didn’t know the real reason for his sudden coldness. But he did. And it had everything to do with the fact that you were close to someone he was willing to kill.

The silence was unbearable. For two full days, you hadn’t heard a word from Rindou. Not a single call. No teasing texts. Nothing. At first, you told yourself it didn’t bother you. You weren’t going to be one of those people who stared at their phone, waiting for someone to reach out. But, as the hours stretched into a full day, and then another, you couldn’t ignore the small, nagging ache in your chest. Had you really messed things up?

You replayed the conversation over and over in your head, trying to pinpoint the exact moment things went south. Was it when you told him about Mitsuya? It made no sense. Rindou was the one acting weird, like he had a problem with something that shouldn’t even concern him. And yet, somehow, you were the one feeling guilty. Then, on the second night, just as you were about to give up and fall asleep, your phone screen lit up.

Rindou: "Hey. Sorry about the other day."

You stared at the message for a long moment, biting your lip. Then, another text popped up.

"I was being an asshole. Let me make it up to you."

And another.

"Tomorrow. Just you and me."

A part of you wanted to be stubborn, to make him wait, to punish him for pushing you away without an explanation. But another part of you, the bigger part, just missed him. And so, without overthinking it, you typed back:

"Fine. You owe me."

His reply came almost instantly.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

You couldn’t see him, but you just knew he was smirking.

The next evening, Rindou showed up outside your place, leaning against his motorcycle like nothing had ever happened. The golden glow of the setting sun caught in his hair, giving him an almost ethereal look. He was wearing his usual casual-but-effortlessly-cool outfit. But his expression was different this time. Softer. When you stepped outside, he looked up at you and exhaled a small breath, almost like he had been holding it in.

“Hey.”

You crossed your arms. “Took you long enough.”

He let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah. I deserved that.”

A pause. Then, “You still mad?”

You wanted to be. You really did. But seeing him again, seeing that tiny flicker of something in his eyes made it impossible to stay angry. So instead, you sighed dramatically. “I’ll think about forgiving you.”

Rindou grinned. “Fair enough. Get on.” And just like that, it was as if nothing had changed. You wrapped your arms around him as he took off, the familiar hum of the motorcycle vibrating beneath you. The wind tangled in your hair, and for the first time in two days, you felt something light again.

He took you to a quiet place on the outskirts of the city, a hidden little spot near a river, where the streetlights reflected off the water in long, golden streaks. You sat on a bench together, sharing a bag of snacks, AND BEER, from a nearby convenience store. It was simple. Comfortable. And then, out of nowhere, Rindou spoke.

“We gotta keep this quiet.”

You turned to him, frowning. “What?”

He exhaled, stretching his arms over the back of the bench. “Us.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “No one can know.”

Something in your chest tightened. “Why?” Rindou was silent for a moment, drumming his fingers against his knee. Then, he shrugged. “It’s just easier that way.” Easier? You stared at him, something cold creeping into your veins. “So what, you don’t want people knowing you’re with me?”

He groaned, tilting his head back. “It’s not like that.” You narrowed your eyes. “Then what is it like?” Rindou turned to you then, and for the first time since you’d known him, he looked… conflicted. Like there were a hundred things he wanted to say but couldn’t. Finally, he exhaled sharply. “Just trust me on this, alright?”

You frowned, searching his face for answers. But he wasn’t giving you any. “Fine,” you muttered. “Whatever.” For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, Rindou nudged your knee with his. “Hey.” You glanced at him, still sulking.

He smirked. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Shut up.” And just like that, the tension melted away. For now.

The night had been perfect. But the moment you arrived back home, that perfect feeling vanished. Because Mitsuya was there.

Waiting. He stood in front of your house, arms crossed over his chest, a dark look shadowing his usually calm features. Your stomach dropped. Oh, no. Thank God I’m not you. Rindou pulled up on his bike, but the second he spotted Mitsuya, his body tensed. His fingers gripped the handlebars a little tighter. “Who the hell…” he muttered, trailing off.

You swallowed hard, quickly swinging off the motorcycle before things could get worse. “Mitsuya?” you called hesitantly. His gaze snapped to you, and his expression darkened.

“Inside. Now.”

Rindou scoffed behind you. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

Mitsuya ignored him completely. His sharp violet eyes stayed locked on you. “We need to talk.” Your heart pounded. You hesitated, glancing back at Rindou, but he was already slipping into that unreadable, cold version of himself, the one that masked every emotion. The tension in the air was suffocating. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Fine.” Rindou watched as you followed Mitsuya inside, but he didn’t leave. No, he stayed right where he was, sitting on his bike, jaw clenched, watching like a predator.

–

The second the door closed, Mitsuya turned to you, his fists clenched at his sides. “Tell me it’s not true.”

Your stomach twisted. “Tell you what’s not true?”

His jaw tightened. “That you’re messing around with Haitani.” You inhaled sharply. So, he knew. “Who told you?” you asked carefully. Mitsuya let out a bitter laugh. “Does it matter?” You opened your mouth, but he didn’t let you speak.

“Do you even know what kind of guy he is?” His voice was rising now, his usual composure slipping. “Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into?”

Your heart pounded. “Mitsuya—”

“He’s a killer.”

The words hit you like a slap.

You froze. “What?”

Mitsuya’s eyes burned with something between fury and desperation. “You heard me. He’s not just some gang member, [Name]. He’s already killed someone. He went to juvie for it.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Mitsuya took a step closer, his expression fierce. “And you think it’s a good idea to be involved with someone like that?” Anger surged through you.

“That’s none of your damn business, Mitsuya.”

His eyes widened slightly. “None of my—? [Name], I’m trying to protect you!”

“I don’t need protection!” you shot back. “And you don’t get to decide who I see!” Mitsuya stared at you, disbelief flashing across his face. You took a shaky breath. “I’m not a kid, Mitsuya. Stay out of it.”

The silence between you was deafening. Then, finally, Mitsuya exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re making a mistake.”

Maybe. But it was your mistake to make.

At first, it was just murmurs. A few stolen glances in the hallways, whispers barely loud enough to catch. People had started talking. You noticed it at school, on the streets, even in places where no one should have known. It spread like wildfire, the rumors about you and Rindou Haitani. And then, the whispers became glares. At first, it was just from the usual people, Toman members, friends of Mitsuya. People who cared about who you were seen with.

But then it got worse. It wasn't just judgment anymore. It was resentment. Hushed voices turned into loud warnings. Friends started avoiding you. Even strangers would throw you dirty looks if you so much as walked past them. It became impossible to ignore. You and Rindou had tried to keep things quiet, but nothing stayed a secret forever. And in a world like this, your relationship was a problem. And it was only a matter of time before things exploded.

You should have seen it coming. The tension between Toman and Tenjiku had been bubbling beneath the surface for months, but now? Now, it had boiled over. Gang fights weren’t unusual, it was just part of the world they lived in. But this? This was different. Because this time, it wasn’t just some random fight in an alleyway. This was planned. One by one, Toman’s division captains were attacked. Different locations. Different times. All in one night.

And one of them was Mitsuya.

The moment you got the call, your blood turned to ice. Mitsuya was in the hospital.

You didn’t hear the rest. You barely even remembered grabbing your phone, barely remembered breathing as you started calling Rindou over and over again.

Ring. No answer. Ring. Still nothing.

Rindou, pick up! Pick up. Ring. Oh?

The call connected. “What the fuck do you want?” His voice was sharp, annoyed. Like he already knew why you were calling. Your hands were shaking.

“Rindou,” you breathed. “Tell me it wasn’t you.” Silence. Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“...So what if it was?” It felt like the floor had vanished beneath you. You nearly dropped your phone.

“You—” Your voice caught in your throat. “You attacked him?”

“You really exploded my phone for this?”

Rage ignited in your chest. “Because it’s Mitsuya!”

“So?” Rindou snapped. “What do you want me to say, huh? That I feel bad?”

“You—” Your voice cracked. “You put him in the hospital!!”

“He’s not dead.”

“That’s not the fucking point, Rindou!”

“Then what is the point?” he snapped. “What do you want me to say? You’re acting like I had a choice, like I woke up and thought, ‘Oh, yeah, let’s go beat the shit out of Mitsuya for fun.’” Although that alternative scenario wasn’t impossible.

Something inside you shattered. “Was it because of me?” A heavy silence.

Then, Rindou let out a laugh. “Are you serious?”

Your stomach twisted. “Just—just tell me.”

“You really think the whole world fucking revolves around you?”

His voice was sharp. Angry. Your breath hitched. He never spoke to you like that.

“You think I did this because of you?” he continued, voice laced with irritation. “News flash, princess, this has nothing to do with you.” He wasn’t finished. “You think you’re that important? That I’d risk my gang, my life, over some girl? Get over yourself.”

Your heart clenched. “Then why was it you?” Your voice was smaller now. Weaker. Rindou sighed, annoyed. “I got assigned. That’s it. A fucking coincidence.”

A coincidence. Mitsuya’s blood, on his hands. Instead, your voice broke. “You’re a monster.” The line was quiet. He had hung up.

Rindou hadn’t stopped thinking about her. No matter how much he tried to shove it down, drown it in the chaos of gang wars and grudges, her voice still echoed in his head. The way she had sounded over the phone: hurt, betrayed, disgusted. And yet, the thing that stung the most? She had called. She had cared. Even after everything, after all the whispers and warnings, after knowing what he was, she had still called him first. But she had also called him a monster. And he couldn’t even fucking blame her. Because wasn’t he?

He had hurt someone she loved. He had stained his hands with blood, not thinking about the consequences, not thinking about her. And now, she hated him for it. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe that was what needed to happen. Because if she hated him, then she wouldn’t be thinking about him anymore. She wouldn’t be looking for him. And she wouldn’t get caught in the middle of something that would end with him in a cell or a coffin. But still.

He missed her.

She should hate him. She wanted to.

After everything, after hearing him admit it so carelessly, after the way he had spoken to her, like she was nothing, like her feelings were nothing, she should have wanted nothing to do with him. But she didn’t. Instead, she found herself replaying that conversation, searching for something, anything, that would make it make sense. Rindou had never been cruel to her. Not like that. Sure, he could be an asshole. He was blunt, cocky, and sometimes reckless. But he had never spoken to her like he wanted to hurt her before.

And that’s what didn’t make sense. Because if he truly didn’t care, if she truly wasn’t important, then why had he even picked up her call in the first place? Why did his voice sound so hollow when he laughed? Why did it feel like he was lying? She wanted to believe there was an explanation. But maybe it didn’t matter anymore. Because no matter what she told herself, no matter how much she tried to justify it, Mitsuya was still in the hospital.

And Rindou was the reason why.

Two days before the war, Rindou finally reached out. A voicemail.

“Meet me. Now.”

It wasn’t a request. It was an order. She hesitated, thumb hovering over her screen. A part of her told her to ignore him, to cut him off the same way he had cut her down the other night. But she knew herself better than that. She needed closure. So, against her better judgment, she went.

He was waiting for her in an alleyway, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His jaw was tense, his usual lazy smirk replaced with something sharper. Harsher. He barely looked at her when she approached.

“Wow,” she muttered. “No hello?”

He scoffed. “The fuck do you expect?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re the one who told me to come.” Silence.

“I’m ending this.”

Her stomach twisted. “What?” Rindou exhaled, like this was exhausting for him. Like she was exhausting. “You and me. It’s done.” Her heart clenched. She had known it was coming. But hearing it still hurt.

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because I don’t fucking want you anymore.”

She took a step back, like he had just hit her. Rindou saw it, the way her face crumbled for just a split second before she forced herself to glare at him. And it killed him. But it had to be this way. If she stayed, she’d get dragged down with him. He had already done enough damage to her life, to her heart. She deserved better. Someone who wouldn’t pull her into a bloodstained world. So he clenched his fists, forced himself to look her in the eye, and went for the final kill.

“You were just something to pass the time.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re lying.”

He smirked coldly. “Am I?”

For a moment, she just stared at him. Then, she turned around and walked away. She didn’t yell. She didn’t cry. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. And as soon as she disappeared down the street, Rindou finally let himself breathe. Finally let himself feel the ache in his chest, the way his hands shook, the way his vision blurred for a moment.

And he told himself again and again, It had to be this way.

–

Two days later, the war erupted between the two gangs. 10:00PM. It was bloody. Brutal. Young deaths. The morning after, she turned on the news.

And there it was.

BREAKING NEWS: TENJIKU MEMBERS ARRESTED AFTER VIOLENT GANG CONFLICT.

Her breath caught in her throat.

There he was.

Rindou Haitani. Handcuffed, being dragged into the back of a police car with his brother, his head slightly lowered, his blonde-and-blue hair a mess. But what shattered her wasn’t the sight of him arrested. It was the look in his eyes. Because for the first time, he looked tired. And for the first time, he didn’t look like a monster. He just looked like a boy. A boy who had made too many mistakes.

A boy who had lost.

#rindou haitani #tokyo revengers #ran haitani #haitani brothers #haitani rindou x reader #rindou x reader #rindou x you #rindou haitani x reader #rindou fluff #Rindou angst #mitsuya takashi

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ranikyani · 2 months ago

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The Richmond Archives 🏛️ I [A-I]

A collection of fics centered around Terry Richmond as a main character, exploring different stories, relationships, and adventures.

💌: Make sure you read warnings before engaging + Take care of yourself while reading, mwah💋

🏡: Return to Daddy's Library or…

💬 Readers Remember: Supporting our writers goes beyond just liking a post! Yes, likes are cool but comments/reblogs and kudos can be incredibly meaningful and make a huge difference! Many talented writers feel discouraged by the lack of engagement and recent foolishness, so let's uplift them by showing appreciation for their work. Don't make our favs beg for a crumb of attention!

✍🏾 Writers, this is a work in progress... but if anything needs to be changed or removed immediately pls lmk.

Status: Completed 🏁 - Ongoing📝 - Hiatus ⏸️

Length: Drabble✨ - OneShot 🎯 - Series 📚 - MiniSeries ⌛️- Universe 🌎

Note: Summary will be provided for stories without one included. If anything should be changed pls lmk. I haven't read 1/2 these fics yet… will continue to update summaries/emojis as I make progress.

Act Right 🎯

Summary:

Author: @nayaxwrites

After Hours ⌛️

Summary: terry does his damndest to let you know those whispers in your ear in his office weren't meaningless.

Author: @kenshisluvrgirl

Aligned ⏳

Summary: Right place, right time. When Cleo meets Terry, the rugged pretty boy, at the club on a celebratory night, it seems like the first in a string of divinely twisted moments. But will fate be enough to move their love along, or will they have to weather some storms before their happy ending?

Author: @venusincleo

All I Want Is You 🎯

Summary: Terry’s had his eyes on you for a while, like predator to prey, watching, waiting to strike. The only problem was that you were slippery, hard to get a hold of, he was gonna have to work extra hard to catch you.

Author: @mrsknowitallll

Assistance 🎯

Summary: Aaron is head of an architect firm who just hired a new assistant who is very nervous yet severely attracted to him.

Author: @mymindisneverhere

Around The Park 🎯

Summary: Essence had always found solace in Meadows Park, where the scenery, gentle sounds, and lively community events provided the perfect escape. Whenever life became overwhelming, she knew the park was her safe haven. But what she didn’t anticipate was an encounter with a mysterious, handsome stranger, whose presence not only drew her back to the park time and time again, but to him as well. And he to her...

Author: @enticingmelanin

The Art of Moving 📝📚

Summary: Noelle “Noa” Jameson knows what she wants—success, love, and the freedom to live life on her own terms. But when ambition and romance collide,she learns that not everything can be planned.

Author: @onherereading

Baby Mama 🎯

Summary: terry asks amina a question.

Author: @keyaho

Bad News 📝📚

Summary: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC "Bella"

Author: @theereinawrites

The Beast in the Woods ⏳

Summary: Don’t let the wolf in through your back door…

Author: @nayaesworld

Bed Rest 🎯

Summary: Injury, light swearing, implied smut.

Author: @purplelily247

Big Mama 📝📚

Summary:...

Author: @theereinawrites

Bundle of You. 🎯

Summary: See Ask. You and your husband Terry just had your little one, and happily married. However you're having a hard time adjusting with everything, your mom babysitting. But your husband comes to the rescue.

Author: @notapradagurl7

Brat 🎯

Summary: Sasha is a brat. On purpose. Now Terry is mad. Big mad.

Author: @uzumaki-rebellion

Bunny & Her Man 📝⏳

Summary: in which Terry is head over hills for his girl, and shows it.

Author: @theblacklewinsky

Buttery Soft N' Sweet 🎯

Summary:...

Author: @2neaky

By Your Side. 🎯

Summary: You were a gifted professor for all black magic academy, teaching your students alongside Terry, where you discover a strange flower and leaves you alone with him.

Author: @notapradagurl7

Break A Sweat 📝⏳

Summary: Terry ‘TJ’ Richmond was recommended to you by your brother who is a Marine. He’s now your personal trainer and Krav Maga teacher.

Author: @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Can I Take You Out? ✨

Summary: neither lovers or friends, but he'll always treat her as his woman.

Author: @saturnville

Can We Talk 🎯

Summary: Whenever Friday night rolled around, you were right back to World on Wheels with your best friend, Elle. The intoxicating mix of lights, music, skates, and vibes ensured a good time always. But that wasn’t all there was to see. Terry ‘T-Bone’ Richmond took to skating like he was born for it. He had women fainting left and right. You would too, but he singles you out to dance with him and you can’t miss your chance.

Author: @megamindsecretlair

Can't Fake It 🎯

Summary: At your last family reunion you said you were done with, tired of the constant questions about your love life. You told a little white lie about having a boyfriend, enlisting your friend and roommate Terry Richmond to pretend to be your boyfriend, only for a few days. But you didn't expect the former Marine to be this nasty on this trip.

Author: @notapradagurl7

Clearwater Bay 📝📚

Summary: A woman returns to her childhood home—a coastal military town —after years of being away. Her family left the town abruptly under mysterious circumstances when she was young. Now, she’s back to investigate a recent string of murders — and whether she likes it or not, she’ll have to rely on her reclusive, former military neighbor, Terry Richmond, to help uncover the town's dark secrets.

Author: @onherereading

Clocking In 🎯

Summary: Terry Richmond x blackfemreader

Author: @slippinninque

Come and See Me 🎯

Summary: “sexually reserved men are THE best. Well behaved, won’t steal a kiss, won’t touch you inappropriately but boy if you give them consent? FINISHED…”

Author: @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Crimson Obsessions 📝📚

Summary: After a steamy encounter with a sinfully handsome man in New Orleans, Camille DeWaterson returns to her life as a soon-to-be-married paralegal in Houston, Texas. But the incident becomes difficult to forget when the otherworldly stranger waltzes into her law firm, bringing a series of strange and enticing events with him. Terrence “Terry” Richmond, is an incredibly disciplined, calculating, and ambitious individual, at least… that’s what he is to the average mortal. But in reality, he’s a bloodthirsty supernatural with a keen interest for money, power, and beautiful women. When the gorgeous Camille DeWaterson slips from his grasp one fateful night in New Orleans, he vows to track her down and make her his bride. It doesn’t matter to him that she already has a fiancé or a commitment to join two families together. He isn’t going to rest until she belongs to him�� body, mind and soul.

Author: @ch33z3grits

Dance In The Dark 🎯

Summary: One drunken night, you giggle with your friends as you dared each other to sign up for a fetish dating website that matched your kinks with others. The site took its reputation seriously so you knew that the man on the other side of the screen was real. And he really was that gorgeous. Terry acknowledges that it's time to meet and he makes sure this Halloween is unforgettable.

Author: @megamindsecretlair

Dancing with Terry ✨

Summary: slow dancing with terry richmond in the kitchen after he comes home from a long day at work.

Author: @kenshisluvrgirl

Daughter of Akasha 🎯

Summary: akina longs for companionship and terry isn't sure it should be him.

Author: @keyaho

A Daughter's Plan 🎯

Summary: Terry Richmond is a lonely single dad caring for his ten-year-old daughter, Pilar. When Pilar's mother re-marries and moves overseas to start a new job and family, the pre-teen thinks her dad needs to find someone for himself, too. Unbeknownst to Terry, his clever daughter has her sights set on the new neighbor, Allegra, who might be the perfect match.

Author: @uzumaki-rebellion

Debt Collector 🎯

Summary: Reader’s boyfriend steals money from his boss. When he’s caught, his boss teaches him a lesson starring you.

Author: @nayaxwrites

Deliver Us From Eva 🎯

Summary: In a rush to stake her claim in the bedroom, Eva unknowingly signs a deal with the devil…

Author: @nayaesworld

Divine Indeed

Summary: Divine Wells, an autistic seamstress, deals with waves of change after she picks up her life and moves to San Diego for a new job. She thought she’d finally found peace in her new normal; until Oshun decided to push her path to collide with her fine ass neighbor, Terry Richmond.

Author: @mermaidchansons

Do It Scared 🎯

Summary: Aaron left your shared apartment in New York three months ago to film the biggest movie of his career, and every day since, the distance between you has grown. When photos surface of him looking a little too comfortable with an actress at an event, you hit your breaking point and decide to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Author: @lifeisbutadream444

Doppled Distraction 🎯

Summary: With the rising population of doppleganger attacks in Yohnville, Drea is a little past worried when her boyfriend Terry doesn't make it home on time.

Author: @simplyzeeka

Double Team 🎯

Summary: Terry invites his best friend David over to chill while he’s in town. After noticing his “girlfriend” Ava’s fondness for David, Terry lets Ava give his friend a happy ending before he leaves.

Author: @mymindisneverhere

Drunk Off You ✨

Summary: Terry Richmond x Black!Reader (Solai)

Author: @dxddykenn

Echoes In The Heights 📝📚⏸️

Summary: In the quiet town of Riverside Heights, Terry Richmond seeks a fresh start, but his growing connection with the guarded Elara Taylor forces him to confront the past he’s tried to leave behind—and the future he’s afraid to embrace.

Author: @saturnville

The End 🎯

Summary: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Author: @theereinawrites

Exhale 🎯

Summary: The last leg of your world tour has finally arrived, and you find yourself suffering from burnout. Thankfully, your boyfriend knows just how to rejuvenate you.

Author: @dpennedit

Fantasy blurb ✨

Summary: professor!Terry

Author: @ripeandsoft

Favors 🏁📚

Summary: Terry starts a new job at a warehouse after losing his life savings. He becomes acquainted with all of the workers except for one… the boss’ daughter.

Author: @mymindisneverhere

Finding Refuge 📝📚

Summary: Surviving a Zombie Apocalypse with Terry.

Author: @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Fontaine Street 🎯

Summary: kyra returns to her hometown after ten years away. she ends up braiding the hair of the one man that had and still has her heart.

Author: @keyaho

Frazier 🎯

Summary: plus-sized!Billie Frazier x Terry Richmond

Author: @zillasvilla

From Over the Cubical Wall ✨

Summary: In which a coworker ships it

Author: @slippinninque

Get Back 🏁⏳

Summary: Tension develops between you and your baby’s father when he discovers you might be moving on. Terry’s unhinged ass is going to do whatever he can to get her back.

Author: @writingsbytee

Give Me Everything 🎯

Summary: Thanksgiving Day was always a hustle and bustle of activity and noise, two things you don’t usually like even coming from a big family. While you flitted around checking in on everyone, you couldn’t help feeling a little selfish. After sending Terry a sexy picture while he was seated next to your father, you sneak off to your childhood bedroom to fulfill a little fantasy of yours.

Author: @megamindsecretlair

Good & Plenty 🎯

Summary: Terry stops in a small town for a late-night bite to eat and ends up moving on with more than he expected.

Author: @planetblaque

Grapple ✨

Summary: In which Terry lends a hand

Author: @slippinninque

Happy Birthday, Mr. Richmond 🎯⏳

Summary: Happy Birthday, Mr. Richmond. 😘 You plan a sweet and sexy surprise, presenting Terry with a small cake in nothing but an apron. Terry treats himself to his first present, your delicious body.

Author: @megamindsecretlair

Happy Birthday, Terry! Love, Havana ✨

Summary: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Author: @theereinawrites

Happy Birthday Terry Richmond 🎯

Summary: Terry Richmond x Charlie Richmond

Author: @novahreign

Helpful Neighbors 🎯

Summary: You confront your noisy neighbor about his loud late night company, he allows you to retaliate.

Author: @theblacklewinsky

Hematology 🎯

Summary: psycho!surgeon terry richmond x surgeon!black oc

Author: @keyaho

Hidden 📝📚

Summary: You’re running away from an abusive ex when you meet Terry working in one of his clubs.

Author: @writingsbytee

Hot for Teacher 📝⌛️

Summary: terry's daughter has been raising concerns for her teacher, prompting a parent-teacher conference and a potential match for her father.

Author: @kenshisluvrgirl

House Calls 📝📚

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his cousins bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Author: @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

The Hotline 🏁⏳

Summary: Set in the early 2000s. Taking your best friend’s tipsy advice, you decide to call a sex hotline for help with dirty talk and your overall insecurities surrounding sex. When you call your local sex hotline, you get more than what you bargained for when Terry pics up the other line.

Author: @writingsbytee

I Get Filthy 🎯

Summary: sanai and terry go out with their friends. between shot and music, terry let’s loose, or was it all a game?

Author: @keyaho

I Love You 🎯

Summary: The reader and Terry say ‘I love you for the first time’

Author: @writingsbytee

I Need Your Lips On Mine 🎯

Summary: While Terry’s away on a special teaching assignment, you decide to be a little gremlin and not listen to him. You wear your sexiest dress out with your girlfriends to a rooftop bar. But Terry comes home early to ring in the New Year’s with you in a very special way.

Author: @megamindsecretlair

I Still Don't Want You To Go 🎯

Summary: A prequel to “I Swear I’ll Never Leave”. Four months ago, things came to a head for you, the loneliness getting too loud for you to ignore. You wanted your husband home, safe and sound with you. As you reminisce about the good times, it’s the bad times you can’t get over. And though your timing sucks, you have to finally tell Terry what’s really on your heart.

Author: @megamindsecretlair

I Swear I'll Never Leave 🎯

Summary: See Ask. When Terry comes to pick up your daughter, you can’t help picking a fight with him. He sends your daughter outside to wait with Mike while he makes sure you understand a few things.

Author: @megamindsecretlair

In Your Arms 🎯

Summary: Terry and Sienna share a peaceful, intimate Sunday morning in their cozy country home.

Author: @planetblaque

Is My Love Enough? 🎯

Summary: After spending all day racing from task to task, Terry knows exactly what you need.

Author: @megamindsecretlair

The Itch 🎯

Summary: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Author: @theereinawrites

It's Always Been About Love and Hate 📝📚

Summary: Terry Richmond x black!o.c

Author: @sillyteecup

#ranireads💌#aaronpierre #aaron pierre #terry richmond #aaron pierre x black reader #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x black reader #rebel ridge #aaron pierre x black!oc #terry richmond x black!oc #aaron pierre smut

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arvandus · 1 year ago

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FICS FOR GAZA

Hello everyone, I've decided to join the @ficsforgaza fundraiser. I've had a couple people express interest, and I think that every little bit helps. I will be offering WIP donations as well as drabble requests.

Donations are to be submitted to a vetted fundraiser. Do NOT send donations directly to me or to @ficsforgaza. Once you have completed the donation, send me a private screenshot of proof of the donation. Once I receive proof, I will update my WIP and request list and begin writing!

If you have any questions about the donation process, please view the pinned post for @ficsforgaza. If you have questions about the WIPs or requests, please reach out to me.

Total funds raised (after dollar conversions) : $73.29 USD

REQUESTS

$2 donation = 100 words

1k word maximum ($20 donation)

Send me a character/characters and a dialogue prompt, trope, or just an overall idea that's been plaguing your brain lately and I'll write a short drabble/ficlet for you!

Fandoms I will write for: BNHA, Obey Me!, Wind Breaker, JJK, Haikyuu, Blue Lock, Black Butler, AOT, Bleach, Tokyo Revengers, Bungo Stray Dogs

Characters I will write for: Any! Bring it on, I love a challenge.

Will write: x reader (any gender), character ships, OCs, aged-up characters; SFW/NSFW, dark content (noncon/dubcon, yandere, etc). NSFW & dark content requests must provide proof of being 18 or older (request made off anon with age indicator in your tumblr bio). Note: If you want to make a NSFW/dark content request but remain publicly anonymous, send me a private message OR the same request off anon so I can verify. I will respond to your request using only the anon submission once you're verified.

Will not write: pedophilia; NSFW minors (even if no adult character is involved); anything involving bodily fluids that aren't saliva, tears, or blood; eggs, oviposition; a/b/o. If you're unsure about your request, you can message me privately and I'll be happy to answer, no judgment. :)

REQUESTS COMPLETED:

The Art of Looking (Haruka Sakura x f!OC)

REQUESTS PENDING:

Picture Perfect (Haruka Sakura x f!OC)