#The Fox Bride AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

holybibly · 16 days

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𝔐𝔶 𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔈𝔪𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 | Seonghwa x reader

Pairing: Emperor Seonghwa x Virgin Bride reader Summary: You dreamed that your love would be like a cherry blossom - tender and beautiful, but instead you are going to get married to the Great Emperor of the Park Dynasty - the cruel and depraved "Lunar Dragon" Park Seonghwa.

Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, historical!AU, arranged marriage!AU, s2l, Royal!AU, Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 11.6 k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, deflowering, corruption kink, first time, virgin kink, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, praise kink, and more.

net: @cultofdionysusnet A|N: Bunnies, as promised, I am going to spoil you with something absolutely glorious and wicked at the same time. Elegant depravity, that's what this is. Although I struggled to make this work, it has turned out to be absolutely amazing. I hope you're going to love Emperor Seonghwa as much as I love him. Have fun, bunnies, tonight is the night of the fall of the stars.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing

"Mom, I'm so frightened..." You barely whisper as you sit in front of the luxurious, heavy, gold-framed mirror as servants scurry about you, combing your long, jet-black hair and gathering the smooth, silky tresses into a traditional wedding hairstyle. Massive gold jewelry set with rubies and topaz framed your head and secured your long scarlet veil—the veil of a virgin bride. You stared at your reflection in the mirror with large, wide-open eyes full of anxiety, your hands trembling nervously as you clasped the thin silk of the white robe in your lap. Your whole body was slightly shuddering with a sense of fear and dread that bound your chest like stems of icy roses full of sharp thorns, which wrapped around your delicate, pale bones and prevented you from taking a full breath. It was so natural to be afraid, not only of the fact that in a few hours you would be the wife of a great and powerful man, a man who had power over everything in your world—the greatest emperor of the Park Dynasty, "Lunar Dragon" Seonghwa—but also of your first wedding night.

"You should be proud of the fact that the Great Emperor has chosen you out of a million other girls, Y/N. His Majesty Emperor Seonghwa wants you and only you, and you must obey his wish without questioning and be the wife he would admire. You have my meaning, Y/N." Your mother said. She looked at the magnificent crimson robe, richly embroidered with gold thread, that the Emperor had chosen for you. The robe was magnificent, a perfect embodiment of His Majesty's exquisite taste and the ancient traditions of the ruling Park dynasty. Only surpassed by the brilliance of the great stars themselves and the hypnotic glow of Emperor Seonghwa's dark feline eyes were the stars and moons embroidered on the seemingly endless tail of your wedding gown. "After all, the empress must be a virgin when she ascends the throne; that is the tradition, and your purity and chastity will give the emperor a strong heir." Your mother's voice was calm and unemotional. It was as if she were talking about the most mundane of things, not your virginity.

Your mother had explained to you many times how things were going to go down on your wedding night. She hadn't gone into great detail, only saying that you should do your best to please the Emperor. But now you had a good idea of what would happen when you were alone with the Seonghwa, and it couldn't help but frighten you.

The marriage contract between your family and the ruling Park dynasty was made almost immediately after the birth of the current Emperor Seonghwa. Your family had many daughters, each one more beautiful than the one before. You never thought that you, the youngest of them all, would be the future wife of the Emperor. You had only met Seonghwa once, and then only briefly, remembering only his blowing in the wind silk robes, turquoise, and his long hair, the most beautiful shade of sakura blossom.

But you have heard many gossipy stories about Seonghwa, and they filled you with fear and kept you awake at night.

He was a cruel ruler—overbearing, selfish, proud, and arrogant. And Seonghwa was also absolutely insatiable; all the servants in the palace whispered about what a huge sexual appetite the emperor had and that his poor virgin bride would not be able to properly satisfy his hunger and desires. He had a huge harem of girls and handsome, exquisite young men who rotated in and out of His Majesty's chambers with an enviable frequency. Seonghwa never fucked the same concubine more than once. He could point his finger at anyone who interested him, and that person would be in his bed in no time. And tonight you will have to share his bed, and unlike the concubines who spend the night with him and then disappear into the luxurious gardens of the harem to continue their lives, you will have to stay by his side until death do you part, serving and worshipping him as your emperor and husband. And, of course, you will have to provide him with an heir—preferably more than one.

The purpose of your life is the continuation of the dynasty.

You were intensely jealous of all your sisters, who were free to choose their husbands, who were free to marry for love, now that you would be the bearer of the unbearable burden of the crown. You never asked for it; you never wished for it. Seonghwa was extremely wealthy; he was the most powerful ruler in the world. He enslaved and conquered lands as if it were child's play. Even though the Emperor showered you with jewelry and gave you lavish gifts to marry, you didn't care. He would never love you, and you couldn't imagine a world where you could have love and desire for a man who knew nothing but the flames of war and debauchery.

"I'm very scared of him, Mum..." You said again as you watched one of the maids place a golden hairpin set with a black onyx into your hair, given to you by one of the Seven Great Generals of Seonghwa, Choi San.

The dark-eyed demon had given it to you personally this morning, and looking at the man's otherworldly beauty, you couldn't help but think of the rumors that the generals were bound to Seonghwa not only by the battlefield and the hot blood that ran down their arms like scarlet rivers, but also by the silk sheets of the emperor's bed. And perhaps the devilish gleam in San's eyes as his plump, soft lips pressed sensuously against your wrist in a sign of respect meant that you would be able to confirm or deny the rumor in no time at all.

Right now, all you wanted was for your mother to make everything better for you, to spare you from the fears and terrible thoughts that swirled around in your head like a swirl of falling sakura petals, the color of which reminded you of Seonghwa's hair. You were a grown girl, hours away from becoming Empress, but there was a small part of you that longed to be safe and comforted by your mother. You wished with all your heart that she would be able to make Emperor Seonghwa change his mind and choose one of your sisters instead of you.

But it was impossible to do that. No one in this world had the right to go against the wishes of the great Emperor 'Lunar Dragon' Park Seonghwa. He chose you without even bothering to explain why, simply pointing his finger at you as you spent time with your sisters in the Imperial Garden during one of your family's visits to the palace.

"She will be my Empress. She will be mine." Seonghwa said, and you saw the eyes of your mother glisten with tears that had not been shed.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Your mother whispered to you. "But perhaps the Emperor will be a good husband. If he wants to have strong and healthy heirs, he'll have to treat you well."

Your mother tried so hard to be brave for you, and you were forever grateful to her for that. In your family, it was always believed that a man had to treat his wife well if he wanted her to bear him a large number of children. And your father really did idolize her, judging by the fact that your mother gave birth to nine children. You could only hope that Emperor Park would follow this wisdom, but you really had doubts that Seonghwa would make any effort to honor and follow your family's traditions. He probably didn't care about anything except increasing his power and satisfying his animal sexual desires.

Seonghwa was a true dragon, not only by blood but by nature. A predatory beast dressed in silk robes and glittering jewels.

"I will do my best to please him." You murmured, and you immediately heard the soft chuckle of a maid tucking a veil into your hair. You cast an angry glance at the slender girl, and her cheeks flushed in an instant. But you could understand the reason for her laughter. What pleasure could a virgin give an experienced and lecherous emperor, whose luxurious bed was warmed by the most beautiful and seductive girls and boys in the empire?

It was a bit of a delusion on your part to wish for that. Most likely, Songhwa would see you as just another beautiful thing in his collection, spending the rest of your life bearing children and sitting on a velvet cushion. Once the wedding ceremony was over, you would be nothing more than his next great conquest.

"Give me your hand, My Lady." Another of the maids spoke to you politely, and you reluctantly held out your cold palm to her. The girl carefully placed a heavy gold bracelet on your wrist, engraved with a dragon with rubies glinting ominously in its eyes; it was more like a shackle, another gift from the General, this time given to you by the magnificent Kim Hongjoong.

As you knew, Hongjoong was not only one of the seven generals and Seonghwa's confidant, but also his close childhood friend, with whom he grew up and shared everything in his life. Hongjoong was also the one who visited you more often than the other generals. He had a devilish gaze and a sly curve of blood-red lips, and he instilled in you the same animal terror as Seonghwa himself. You thought that everything he touched or said had an ulterior motive, and frankly, you didn't really want to know the true meaning of his actions, but the smile he gave you last night when he handed you the bracelet left you no choice. Sooner or later, you will find out, but by then, it will be too late to try to escape the Golden Emperor's cage. Your life, like your body, will belong to Seonghwa from now on.

You swallowed hard as the maids began to remove the robe from your shoulders. It exposed your sun-untouched skin.

"My Lady, it is time..."

You could hear your mother sobbing softly as the bloody silk flowed down your body. She seemed to be holding back the tears from all of them for your sake. Your heart was beating faster, and your fingers were starting to tremble. You were only a few hours away from your inevitable destiny and several miles of ceremonial procession, at the end of which would be the Great Lunar Dragon, Seonghwa Park.

The anxiety of it all almost made your stomach hurt.

The wedding ceremony was grand; your golden palanquin was carried solemnly down a street strewn with flowers and silk ribbons to the cheers of the crowd welcoming their new Empress. The flash of his cherry blossom hair and the firm, possessive palm of his hand that took yours before leading you up the great staircase 'to heaven' are all you can remember of Seonghwa. It was all a blur to you—the rich scent of incense and flowers making your head spin and a nervous knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. Your hands were cold in the Emperor's hot palms as you made your marriage vows. Your lips trembled as you swore to be his precious wife and to carry the burden of a great empire on your shoulders as his Empress. Tears welled up in your eyes.

Songhwa's soft, velvety voice whispered in your ear, "You belong to me.".

Nothing in the universe could have prepared you for his kiss - fiery, passionate, and hungry, it seemed as if Songhwa wanted to drink your soul through that kiss, to consume you whole, to turn your will and your desires to ashes. You heard the rapturous cheers of the seven generals and other cronies of the ruling Park dynasty. The Emperor's graceful palm encircled your neck from behind and pulled you closer to him. Your knees buckled, and you could barely breathe as Songhwa's long, hot tongue took possession of your mouth, wrapping around your own tongue and sliding across your palate and the inside of your cheeks. His thumb pressed lightly against the pulsing vein in your neck, your pulse racing beneath his soft fingertip as his teeth dug into your plump lower lip, almost biting to the blood.

You wanted to scream in pain, but there were too many people around—too many angry tongues dripping venom—just waiting to start gossiping about you. So instead, you tried to distract yourself from the pain and focus on something else.

But instead, your eyes were captured by the seductive gaze of the siren belonging to none other than General Jung Wooyoung. His full, sensuous lips parted as if he were enjoying the kiss itself, the sharp tip of his tongue sliding across the soft, red flesh of his lower lip, leaving him glistening and moist. You had the feeling that his dark, almost black eyes were gliding over your body. His gaze was shamelessly undressing you, while his friend, his Emperor, was devouring your mouth with a hungry, passionate kiss. You looked away in shame and embarrassment.

When Seonghwa finally let go of you and allowed you to take a long-awaited deep breath, you felt like you were going to faint. Just a small glimpse of what awaited you on your wedding night sent shivers of fear down your spine.

"You belong to me. Forever." Seonghwa whispers again, and you have a full understanding of the meaning of his words. Yes, you really do belong to him right now.

When it's time for you to leave the ceremony and prepare for your first wedding night, you almost start to gasp. You catch San's dark, demonic gaze as he leans over to whisper something into General Kim's ear. His words cause Hongjoong's blood-red lips to curl into an evil, almost devilish grin. Even through the many layers of heavy silk, you can feel the flames of his gaze burning through your skin.

"Your Majesty..." You turn your head to the side, only to find yourself facing the goddess Aphrodite herself, in the form of a man. General Kang Yeosang has always held a special place in your heart. Gentle and elegant like an exotic flower, his speech always soft and soothing, and his deep, velvety voice like the call of a chamois. Seonghwa's hair may have been the color of delicate sakura petals, and his eyes may have been brighter than all the stars in the endless midnight sky, but that was just a facade to hide the lustful and cruel devil that lurked inside. Yeosang, on the other hand, in spite of his wicked beauty, was the very embodiment of an angel. You will have heard the servants of the palace call him the Black Swan of the Empire.

Yeosan's soft and gentle nature might have reassured you and even given you some semblance of comfort before Seonghwa ravaged your body and took what was now his—your virginity. But the sensual curve of his plump lips and the hungry glint in the dark eyes of the siren, General Jung Wooyoung, who now extended his palm to you in an inviting gesture, sent an icy shiver down your spine. You rarely saw Wooyoung, and when you did, there was always a decent distance or several other people between you, so you had never felt his presence as close as you did now, and you had never been so fascinated by the sharpness of his face or the small mole under his eye, and this feeling frightened you as much as it frightened Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

"Your Majesty, it's time for you to go." As he turned to you, Wooyoung's voice was sultry and hoarse. It made you feel as if the flames themselves were licking at your body or at the lips of your lover in the heat of a forbidden caress.

"I...my maids should see me out. General Jung, thank you." You bite your lip nervously and look around, hoping to find your maids and avoid the two generals' eyes on you, but instead you see Seonghwa watching you intently, his head tilted slightly to the side, a few soft pink strands falling onto his gorgeous face. If he could only have a breath, it would be majestic. Seonghwa was indeed the true embodiment of the divine Lunar Dragon.

"His Majesty, the Emperor Seonghwa, has ordered us to escort you to his chambers in person." It was Yeosang's voice this time. Something about the way he said your husband's name aroused you, and not in the most pleasant way.

"I... I'm not quite sure, General Kang." You have an almost pathetic look on your face, an attempt to delay the inevitable, and to be honest, you had no desire to be in the company of any of the seven illustrious generals right now.

Wooyoung just grinned mischievously at your words, obviously finding you very amusing. As he leaned closer, his lips almost touched your earlobe, and you could smell the scent of sandalwood emanating from his caramel skin.

"Don't make him wait, dear. Seonghwa is an impatient and passionate lover; the longer you resist him, the harder he will be with you, and we don't want a jewel like you to be injured, do we?"

"Stop it, Wooyoung; you're scaring her." Yeosang hisses, but does nothing to contradict the words of General Jung.

You swallow noisily and silently place your cold, clammy palm in Wooyoung's hand, letting him and Yeosang escort you to the Emperor's quarters. The last thing you notice as you leave the Ceremonial Hall, where the noisy festivities of the Imperial Wedding will continue until dawn, is the sensual curve of Seonghwa's luscious, plump lips as he smiles at you and the glimmer of ominous rubies in the eyes of the golden dragon on the very same bracelet you wear on your arm, jingling on Hongjoong's slender wrist as he lazily waves goodbye to you.

"You don't have to worry that hard, Y/N." Wooyoung says as he pulls the heavy silk of your wedding gown off your shoulders, and you might have resented the familiarity with which he addressed you if you hadn't felt the glide of his fingertips over your bare skin. The whole situation was confusing, to say the least. Completely beyond any conscious explanation, two great generals of the Empire are now acting as your personal maids, helping you change your dress, removing your jewelry, and unraveling the intricacies of your wedding hairstyle.

Letting them treat you like a doll, undressing you layer by layer, and exposing more and more of your body to their dark gaze, you didn't know how to react or what to say. Wooyoung's breath was hot on the back of your neck, while Yeosang's cold fingers brushed over your collarbones as he removed the massive gold necklace. They continued their actions until you were left in the thin white dress that was the base of your outfit, and the only jewelry you wore was a black onyx stud given to you by San and, as it turned out, a paired bracelet from Hongjoong.

"Everything will be alright, Your Majesty." Yeosang gently ran his thumb over your wrist, the feel of your pulse racing under his touch. He liked the fact that he was making you nervous; your reaction brought a smile to his beautiful lips. Wooyoung's arms wrapped around your waist for a second, and his firm, hot chest pressed tightly against your back. You could swear you could feel his heart beating through your skin at that moment; he was so close to you.

"We will leave you now, my... Empress." It was almost as if he whispered the last word into your skin. "Enjoy your night." His touch was gone as suddenly as it had appeared, and you could feel the cold air of the room now caressing you as General Jung's hot body moved away from you.

"Try to relax and let Seonghwa take care of you; I promise nothing terrible will happen to you." Yeosang leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on your cheek before following Wooyoung out of the room, leaving you all alone—completely confused, frightened, and not knowing what to expect from Seonghwa if his generals could afford to treat you like this.

"Lunar Dragon" - the great Emperor Park Seonghwa is standing in front of you. His luxurious long hair, the colour of sakura petals, was still partially gathered on his head by long crystal hairpins. Teardrop-shaped crystals were dangling from them. He had replaced his heavy ceremonial robes with a light mantle of the most beautiful snow-white silk you've ever seen - dragons embroidered in silver and turquoise danced on the fabric like in the clouds. You can see his naked, chiseled torso, his muscular chest rising and falling to the rhythm of his measured breathing. Seonghwa's appearance is completely relaxed, but everything about him is a scream of the majesty and power he has over this world. He notices the way your eyes slide down his body, his lips curling into a satisfied, smug grin. You blush and lower your eyes to the floor.

Your heart is beating at breakneck speed against your ribs, and you have the feeling that Seonghwa can easily hear the sound. Your mother told you that you might feel aroused when you were alone with the Emperor, that you would want to touch his body, taste his lips, feel his hot hands on you, and maybe even feel his mouth on your private parts, but you... you didn't want to. You didn't feel aroused at all. You were afraid of Seonghwa, and after what Wooyoung had said to you in the ceremonial hall today, you were even more afraid of him, and no amount of assurances from Yeosang that everything would be all right could change your mind. You were afraid to even look him in the eye, and you clutched the fabric of your dress nervously in your hands, trying to calm yourself.

"My Emperor, are you going to hurt me today?" You were so stupid, good Lord, you couldn't think of anything else to say? Apart from the wedding vows, these were the first words you'd ever spoken to him directly, and you couldn't think of anything else to say: "Will you hurt me?" For some strange reason, you expected that after the wedding you would magically feel like a different person, that after saying your vows, your animal fear of Seonghwa would disappear. It didn't happen at all. You continued to feel frightened and ignorant, and completely at the mercy of the Emperor.

You could feel the weight of his heavy, hypnotic gaze on your skin as he silently scanned your body through the thin, transparent dress that you wore. He was looking at you shamelessly and greedily, and it only served to increase your fear. Seonghwa's long fingers cupped your chin and lifted your face. The soft pad of his thumb is pressed against your lower lip. You hesitantly met his gaze, your eyes instantly held hostage by the magnetic, bottomless eyes of the Emperor. Sharp and soft, demonic and angelic, sparkling like eternal stars and impenetrable like the thickest darkness, you had never met anyone with such eyes. His almost black irises flickered like flames, as if they were absorbing the glow of the candlelight.

"Is that the way you are supposed to address your husband, hmm? Call me by my name." Seonghwa's command to you. The sound of his voice was like liquid silk. Seonghwa grabbed your chin with his graceful hand and tilted your head even higher. You had to strain your neck to hold his gaze with your eyes.

"M-my Emperor..." Your voice trembles, and in spite of the clear command, you say something completely different from what Seonghwa wants you to say.

His finger presses harder against your lip, the sharp nail digging into the soft flesh in a painful way, and your mouth opens automatically.

"I want to hear you say my name, my love. And you need to obey without questioning, darling. You don't want to upset me. Do you?" Seonghwa's tone of voice is still soft and velvety, but you can hear the small hint of a hidden threat in his words. And it is scaring the hell out of you right now. To be honest, you don't want to say his name at all. There's something about it that feels like an irreversible end, like if you say it out loud, you're going to lose any semblance of controlling your life. But there can be no disobedience, especially not now.

"Seonghwa." It's easier than you thought, but for some reason, his name still leaves a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue.

He turns away from you, instead walking over to the luxurious bed and lowering himself smoothly onto it. The flaps of his robe swing further open, and the wide silk collar slides off his shoulders as he sits down on the soft feather bed. You can't help but admire the Emperor for a moment as strands of pink hair fall across his handsome face.

His eyes narrowed predatorily for a second. His gorgeous, god-like face takes on a sharp, animal beauty, but it's only for a moment before his expression becomes majestically relaxed again.

"There you are, good girl." His praise is as condescending as if he were addressing one of the many maids in the palace instead of his Empress. Without taking his eyes off you, Seonghwa pushes his thumb fully into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue's soft, slippery surface. Your eyes widen at the action. "Lick it." He gives the order again, and you weakly run your tongue along the pad of his finger, leaving a thick trail of saliva on it. Then he pulls the finger out of your mouth, takes a step back, and, looking you in the eye, pushes the wet finger into his mouth. His plump lips close in an erotic way around the long appendage as he sucks weakly on it. Heat floods your whole face at this seemingly innocent act, but when Seonghwa does it, it looks so damn lewd and lascivious.

"Strip for me." Seonghwa's voice commands you.

The cold air of his chambers was now licking at your skin, causing your sensitive nipples to tense and swell in response. Embarrassed, you covered yourself with your arms and crossed your legs slightly to hide your pussy from the dark, burning gaze of the Emperor. At that moment, Seonghwa reminded you of a huge, contented cat that had gotten the cream. He leaned back slightly on his hands on the bed, arching his back and tilting his head to the side, making the muscles in his long, thin neck tense. Seductive wasn't a strong enough word to describe the way the Emperor looked right now. Depraved? Vicious? Devilish? Maybe it was all of those things at the same time.

Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment. His command was clear and precise, and the fear of being completely vulnerable in front of him made your heart beat even faster. Your fingers trembled as you reached for the wide waistband of your dress. It had all happened so very quickly. Your mind had barely had time for a moment's reflection. You knew that it was best to obey him and not question what he wanted. Carefully, you unbuckled the belt, and the dress slid gently down your body before it spilled out in a puddle of silk on the floor at your feet.

"I-I... do you like it?" You asked him. Your voice was barely above a whisper. God, it was so embarrassing. Would this happen every time you shared a bed with him? You lowered your eyes to the floor, unable to bear to look at his hungry, lustful gaze.

"Ain't you a pretty little jewel, huh? It was so sweet of you to ask me that. Now take your hands away, so that I can see the whole of your pretty body."

His words caused you to let out a soft squeak, as you were completely shocked. It was humiliating, to say the least. It was one thing to be lying naked under someone else, but it was a lot more vulnerable to find yourself completely naked in the middle of the room. But there was no way you could forbid the Emperor to look at your body the way he wanted to. The words he had spoken earlier were still running through your mind: "You belong to me." So you obeyed him once more, even though everything in your heart was telling you not to.

"What's a gem? Are you so embarrassed already?" Seonghwa laughed grimly as he looked at your naked body; his eyes lingered on your pussy as he sensually ran the tip of his long tongue over his plump, sensual lips. "Come closer to me, darling."

God, it seemed like it couldn't get any worse, but obviously the Emperor had thought a lot about how to make you squirm without even touching you. You took a couple of steps forward until you were standing between his legs as they spread apart.

"Now turn around for me." His voice dropped a couple of octaves, the velvety tone getting darker and more husky. Your face turned even more red, and your lips began to quiver. You slowly turned away from him so that he had a good view of your bottom. You could feel his predatory eyes on the small of your back and his greedy gaze on your crotch. You almost screamed as you felt his hands on your hips, pulling you down with all their might until you were sitting on the bed between his legs. Seonghwa pressed his body against your back, and it reminded you of Wooyoung, but that thought disappeared as quickly as it had appeared when his hands cupped your breasts and his full lips were pressed against your ear. "You're supposed to please me, you know." He said. His hot breath flowed over the soft skin of your ear with each letter of the word he spoke. It sent a shiver down the length of your body. "Remember this." He squeezed your breasts roughly, causing you to give a soft whimper.

"Yes, Your Majesty…" You breathed out.

Your breasts were terribly sensitive under his rough and skilled hands, and you were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you collapsed completely into his arms. You had no idea how pleasurable it could be; you'd never played with your boobs before. As Seonghwa's long fingers brushed lightly over your swollen nipples, a soft moan of pleasure escaped your open lips.

"You're so sensitive, my little jewel, and that's what I love about virgins; you're all so sweet and shy, you blush and whimper at the slightest touch. But do you know what it is that I love the most?" Seonghwa asked you as he gently twisted your nipples with his long, thin fingers, making you moan and shake your head in a negative way. "Most of all, I love to see the look on their pretty faces when I stretch their tight little cunts with my big, thick cock. I love the sound of them moaning my name as they cum on my tongue." God, that was just too much.

The combination of the Emperor's deep, hypnotic voice and how dirty and disgusting his words were almost made you whimper pitifully. His hands continued to play expertly with your heavy, plump tits, massaging and squeezing the flesh as his fingers tweaked and pulled at the hard, sensitive nipples. The tender skin of your breasts reddened under his firm grip. Unconsciously, you rested your head on his shoulder, becoming more and more lost in the sensation of his touch on your body.

"But you are my shining star; you are special to me, unlike those whores who live only with the thought of being filled with Imperial sperm. They will never be able to stand in your shoes, and none of them will ever be the mother of my heir. None of them will ever be my Empress." One of his hands slid down your belly until his hot palm cupped your pussy in a possessive way. His long middle finger pressed between your labia to feel the moisture that had accumulated there. Your breath caught in your throat as Seonghwa pulled roughly on your nipple, his palm pressing even harder against your cunt. "I'm going to fuck that virgin pussy until your belly swells up with my heir." His lips brushed against your ear again, and he whispered in a sultry voice. "And maybe it won't just be mine, if you know what I mean."

Seonghwa began to kiss your neck, leaving scorching, open-mouthed kisses on your skin. His lips were plush and moist as they glided over the sensitive veins and nerves, which flowed in bluish, translucent rivers beneath the pallor of your skin. You moaned and unconsciously pressed your pussy harder against his hand as Seonghwa's teeth bit into a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. The Emperor ran the tips of his fingers along the silken folds of your cunt, the moisture clinging to his fingers.

"I-I...oh..." Endless moans echoed through the room as Seonghwa's finger pads pressed against your sensitive clit. The light pressure on the swollen bundle of nerves sent waves of pleasure through your body.

"Can you feel it, my star? Do you have a sense of how swollen and wet your pussy is?" The Emperor's words caused another moan to escape your lips; your mind was hazy and distant, and Seonghwa's voice was luring you deeper and deeper into the trap of lust and pleasure. "I can feel your desire, my jewel; your little cunt wants to be filled with cock so desperately." He said. Lost in the sounds and sensations of your own body, your hips twitched as his fingers began to circle your clit. Your breathing came and went, each exhale punctuated by a soft moan of pleasure. "Your virgin pussy is throbbing under my touch, my little star. I want to see you sink into ecstasy; I want to see that shy, innocent facade shatter as you cum and wriggle under my touch." Seonghwa removed his hand from your breast, then wrapped his fingers around your chin, turning your head sideways so your lips met his. "Under my tongue." He whispered before you had the taste of his kiss for the second time that night. You were so mesmerized by the feel of the Emperor's soft, luscious lips on yours that you didn't notice him pressing his hips against you.

You were whimpering into his mouth as you felt the hard, hot length of his cock pressing down hard against your arse. Your eyes widened in fear, and your mouth opened to allow Seonghwa's tongue to enter your mouth and wrap around your tongue in a sensual way.

Seonghwa's kiss to you at the wedding ceremony was nothing in comparison to the kiss he was giving you now. The impossible, hot-tight, sinful, shameful, pleasure-filled kiss that made you gasp and whimper against his lips. A low, guttural moan escaped from his lips, becoming almost animalistic in nature as his fingers slid deeper and deeper between your folds. Seonghwa growls and pulls his lips away from yours, swollen and tortured after his caresses them. You moan loudly as his fingers circle around your clit, your juices making it slick and slippery, and that just adding the stimulation. Mindlessly, you buck your hips against his touch, and he lets you do it, enjoying how desperate you are already looking. The Emperor was right. Virgins are always so easy, too pliable, and eager to be touched. And you, his precious little Empress, are no exception.

His eyes were the trap of vice, the bottomless pit of lust and wickedness, but you couldn't look away from them. They were lustrous and almost black, like the onyx in the jewelled hairpin San had given you. They seemed to penetrate your very soul, making you shiver. A seductive grin played across his devilishly handsome face as his fingers continued to play with your pussy, making it more and more wet and in need of attention. You gasped for breath as you felt your little hole squeeze on nothing, and a thick, gooey drop of slime poured out of you.

"Ahm-aah...Your Majesty...ahhhh...Seonghwa." You were at a loss for words and had no formula. Pleasure curled up at the core of your being, and you rolled your eyes in delight.

"Yes, that's right, my star. Does it feel good? Do you like it when my fingers play with your little virgin pussy, when you feel them on your throbbing, swollen clit?" He asked. The silk of his voice was a breath that was a tickle to your ear.

"Your Majesty... It's... It's so embarrassing."

His eyes flashed with pleasure, and the grip he had on your face was like a vice grip. You felt his hips jerk forward, and he pressed his cock harder against the soft flesh of your ass. His excitement was obvious. Suddenly, his fingers stopped teasing the folds of your cunt. Seonghwa brought them to his mouth instead. His eyes sparkled like jewels, seductive and dangerous, as his long tongue darted out of his mouth to lick the viscous fluid that ran down the long appendages.

"You're sweet—maybe too sweet for your own good." Seonghwa wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you closer to his beautiful face, so that his lips make contact with yours once more. "And there's something you should know about me, my star: I have a horrible sweet tooth." Instantly, he releases you from his grip and changes position so that you're on your back, spread out on the beautiful sheets, his lithe body hovering over you. His hair is completely disheveled, long strands of pink falling haphazardly across his face, and you can see a faint blush on his cheeks and his luscious lips, swollen from kissing and taking on a darker shade. God, he looks like a true deity, and you can see why they call him the 'Lunar Dragon'; mere mortals can never be so majestic and seductive; they are not given that magnetic pull that draws everyone to this dangerous creature like a moth to a flame.

Seonghwa slides down your body until his hands are cupped around your thighs, pulling them apart so that your juicy, wet cunt is exposed to his hungry gaze. He runs his fingers gently down your thick, soft thighs, squeezing your flesh together for a moment, the sharp tips of his nails digging painfully into your thighs, and you make a squeal at the rough caress. It was a terrible shame to lie there, completely naked, with your legs spread wide open, while Seonghwa towered over you, still fascinating and powerful, even if he did look a little disheveled. And what was even more humiliating was that you were already so wet for him—your juices were constantly flowing from your hole and dripping between your cheeks onto the silk of the sheets—but you didn't have time to think about that when Seonghwa pressed down on your clit without warning, making you gasp loudly. You almost screamed, your legs twitching in a feeble attempt to squeeze together as he skillfully circled the sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingernail lightly scraping the tender skin.

"You have such a sweet little cunt, my star," Seonghwa whispered as he pushed your swollen labia apart to expose the soft pink inside. He bent his face over your pussy and let his hot breath flow over the sensitive flesh, causing even more fluid to spill out of your hole. "I will only say this once, my precious. You will be a good girl and take everything I give you. I will eat that sweet virgin cunt for as long as I want. If you dare to refuse, I will fuck you without any stretches at all, and believe me, unlike you, I am going to get a lot of pleasure when my cock rips that tight cunt in half. Do you understand me?"

"I-I, yes, I understand, Your Majesty."

The first licks from Seonghwa's tongue on your juicy pussy made you arch your back and roll your eyes. The sensation was too overwhelming for your words. As soon as the Emperor had tasted you on his lips, he began to eat you with a hungry ferocity. Seonghwa plunged his tongue into your tight, wet hole, almost biting your tender, quivering folds, his teeth clawing at your swollen, sensitive clit, making you writhe and squirm as his hands gripped your thighs tighter.

Seonghwa lived for the pussy, and he'd tasted a lot of it over the years, but your sweet virgin cunt tasted the best of all. His little Empress had the most amazing cunt of them all—a pussy that was worthy of an emperor.

"I can't wait to get my tongue inside you, my star. Do you like it, my Empress? Tell me. Do you like my tongue in your slutty virgin pussy?"

"Uh, huh... I... I... it feels so good... your Majesty..." You moaned.

Your viscous slime and his own saliva now coated Seonghwa's chin as his mouth pressed greedily against you, licking and lapping up all the juices flowing from you as if they were divine nectar. Your tight hole was twitching under the caress of his tongue, begging for filling. And who was he to refuse to give it to you?

Seonghwa slid his finger into the throbbing warmth of your vagina, feeling the slight resistance of the muscles as the long appendage stretched your virgin entrance. He did it slowly, but you moaned in spite of himself as his finger filled you. His lips circled around your clit, slowly sucking at the sensitive cluster of nerves, and Seonghwa felt the warm, silky walls of your pussy tighten around his finger.

"Y-Your Majesty... that's a lot... I" You found it hard to speak; hot excitement was flowing beneath your skin, making you helpless and pliable for him, but a sharp slap on your thigh made you cry out loudly. The mark of his hand bloomed like a rose on the milky surface of your skin.

You continued to whimper as you responded to the rough and vulgar words the Emperor spoke to you. Not daring to take his eyes off the way your hole was absorbing them, Seonghwa added another finger. Your walls clenched around his fingers, trying to hold them in, even though the burning sensation of stretching made it difficult. To make it easier for Seonghwa to move his fingers in and out of your pussy, you tried to relax as much as possible. A lump of saliva landed on the top of your pussy and spread over your delicate folds.

"My Name. I need you to moan out my name and nothing else, my star. I want to hear you say it out loud as I destroy you with my fingers and my tongue. Your hungry cunt swallows my fingers so well, my little

Empress."

"Look at you, my star; you're so wet for me; you literally drip into my mouth. You are not so clean and pure any more, are you? Who would have thought that a beautiful lady would like to have her cunt licked?" The squelching of your wetness and Seonghwa's saliva as he slid two fingers in and out of your tight hole was loud and disgusting. Seonghwa was mesmerized by the way your pussy clung to his fingers, his tongue circling the edges of your vagina, slipping inside slightly each time his fingers came out of you.

You arch your back and feel a strange, crushing tension build up in your lower abdomen, and you clench the silk sheets in your fists. It's frightening, but somehow you have a desire for it to consume you completely.

"Seonghwa, I... Oh God... I, I don't know, this feeling inside me..." Your breathing is ragged, with each word coming out of your mouth with difficulty. The Emperor lifts his hypnotic gaze up to you, his mouth still pressed against your pussy. His eyes are so dark and hypnotic—glimmering black stars in the lacy frame of his eyelashes—and you swear you see a flash of golden glow in them before it fades, leaving only lust and insatiable hunger.

"My little Empress, you are about to cum for the first time, are you? Jewel, you must wait until I say so." Seonghwa growled as he squeezed the soft flesh of your thigh harder and harder, and you could already see the purple and black bruises that were beginning to form on your skin. "Your slutty cunt won't be able to come until I tell you to." You whimper pitifully at the command of authority in his velvety voice, your pussy clutching onto his two fingers.

But Seonghwa doesn't seem to have had enough and decides to stretch you even further, trying to push a third finger inside you, causing you to squeal and jerk your hips in an attempt to avoid the stinging sensation inside you, but it has the exact opposite effect. Your abrupt movement forces his fingers deeper into you, hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside, and you gasp at the sharp sensation of delight that rips through you like a bolt of lightning. You are so lost in pleasure that you don't even notice the tip of his third finger as it enters you.

Seonghwa is sucking on your clit in an almost lazy way, stretching and stimulating you at the same time.

"S-Songhwa!" You almost start to cry, your eyes filling with tears from the mixture of feelings and emotions. This is too good to pass up, but at the same time, too much for you to bear. "Please, Seonghwa, Your Majesty."

"Hmm, are you beggin' me already, my star? My little Еmpress, if you can't take my fingers, then you'll never be able to take my cock, and that is literally your only responsibility in life. To lie here in my bed and to fuck me like this. Your husband and your Еmperor. Seonghwa replies, licking the broad stripes between your trembling soft folds and pulling her fingers out of you to suck on your clenching, flowing hole.

"I'm sorry... I'm t-trying to be a decent wife to you... I'm so sorry." You stutter.

The Emperor slid three fingers back into your pussy, stroking your velvety walls and pressing the pads of his fingers against your G-spot as he did so.

"You're so sweet, begging and crying like a pretty little girl, but you're not a girl anymore. You're my wife, my Empress, so be damned obedient to me and take everything I give you without objection." When he had finished speaking, his lips were around your exhausted clit again.

"Oh, please, Seonghwa! P-please, I need...I want...please let me come...I promise I'll be so good to you." Tears streamed down your face as your whole body began to shake a little, and you lifted your hips to press even harder against Seonghwa.

Seonghwa seems to have decided to spare you this time, enjoying how desperate and needy you look—all that crying and whining, and he hasn't even fucked you properly. But it's not over yet.

"If you want it so badly, darling, you can cum." As soon as those words fall from his flushed, swollen lips, it feels as if your whole body is completely attuned to his every command or desire, and you arch up almost immediately, rolling your eyes and experiencing your first real orgasm on Seonghwa's long, slender fingers. Seonghwa lets out a deep, low moan as he watches you writhe in pleasure as he continues to finger-fuck you until you begin to whimper and beg him to stop.

"I'm not done with you yet, my star." Seonghwa whispers in a grim voice as he pushes his fingers into your wet and sensitive pussy. You're almost incoherent at this point, shaking with excitement as he pulls his fingers out of you and crawls up your body to pull you into a hot, dirty kiss. His lips, chin, and cheeks are wet and sticky with your juices, but he doesn't care; he doesn't bother wiping, preferring to fuck your mouth with his tongue.

As Seonghwa pulled away from your lips and allowed you to take a full breath, the look on his face took on that predatory animal look that you'd seen on him before tonight, and it was crystal clear to you what was going to happen next. Fear and excitement at the prospect of finally losing your virginity mix together in your heart. You weren't sure if the feeling was one of relief or horror, but your body was already on edge with anticipation. You could feel your stomach twist with desire and excitement, and you were absolutely shocked that your body reacted in this way even after an orgasm.

"And now, my little Empress, I would like to show you what it means to be the wife of the Emperor. His beautiful cock sleeve." Seonghwa gets down from you, but only to take off his silk robe and to pull his trousers down over his long legs until he is completely naked. His hair is now completely loose, long strands the color of sakura petals falling freely over his shoulders and chest. You would want to admire how beautiful his face looks framed by his pink silk hair if your eyes weren't focused on his cock pressed against his flat, embossed belly. Like everything about His Majesty Emperor Seonghwa, his cock was just as magnificent and attractive: the hard, thick length was slippery and glistening with pre-cum flowing from the dark pink head, the vein bulging with tension stood out on its velvety girth, and overall, his cock made you inexplicably want to run your tongue over it and taste its flavor. You swallowed loudly, turning your head to the side, a crimson blush of embarrassment mixing with the lust that now filled your veins with something intoxicating and forbidden and spreading across your rounded cheeks.

Your mouth opened to say something, but you quickly shut it when you noticed that he had raised his perfect eyebrow in a slightly mocking expression. His movements were slow and elegant as he crawled across the bed towards you like some mythical beast. Long fingers wrapped around your ankle before he pulled you towards him until his body was between your spread legs. He towered over you—magnificent, almost divine—making you feel small and fragile. Strands of his long, sakura-colored hair fell around his slender body. His smooth skin shimmered like liquid gold in the soft, diffused light of the candle.

His graceful hand slid up the curve of your thigh, caressing your soft skin where the marks of his possessive touch had already blossomed, and higher and higher until it reached your full breasts. Seonghwa squeezed your breast before running his fingers around the swollen pink nipple. A pitiful moan escaped your lips as his luxurious, juicy lips connected with another hardened bud and sucked it roughly into his hungry, beautiful mouth. You meowed in response, the new kind of stimulation causing you to arch your back in pleasure and unconsciously push your breasts closer to him. He purred velvetily, flicking his tongue over your tender nipple until it was glistening and wet from his attention.

Without hesitating, the Emperor lifted his knee between your hips, forcing them to spread further apart, allowing him to slip between them. Your hands rose hesitantly and floated in the air for a second before you found them lying on Seonghwa's strong shoulders. His skin felt warm and soft under your fingers. Your body tensed, and a small cry escaped your parted lips as you felt Sonhwa's teeth bite into your chest, and soon a mark resembling a shining crescent moon formed where his teeth had been. Suddenly, the Emperor grabbed hold of your wrists and lifted your arms above your head, restricting your movements and locking you completely into the cage beneath his body.

"And now you would like to touch me, my little Empress?" Seonghwa grinned grimly. "First of all, I want to take what is rightfully mine, my star. Beg me for it." He let out a growl. Like a dark, forbidden caress, the low, vibrating sound of his voice went through your body. The heavy, velvety length of his cock pressed against the inner side of your thigh. You wanted to run away, to hide from that bottomless, hypnotic gaze of lust and hunger, but at the same time you wanted more of him, to feel everything you'd never felt before. The thought of how Seonghwa would enjoy you, how he would use you for his own pleasure, and how he would make you his own, subjecting you to his will and his power, made you long for that feeling. You desperately wanted to belong to him.

"Please, my Emperor, Seonghwa, take me. I belong to you." You barely managed to whisper the words, but the Emperor was able to hear them clearly. Embarrassed, you turned away from him, exposing your slender, delicate neck. His hot body merged with yours as his head sank into the curve of your neck. The swollen, wet head of his cock pressed against your trembling pussy. He was still holding your wrists tightly above your head, his sharp nails digging into your skin, but your hips were lifting to meet him as Seonghwa moved forward, weakly, and rubbed the head of his cock against your clit. A low, languid moan escaped from his throat as your soft labia parted a little, allowing his cock to slide into the warmth of your wet cunt.

"You are so impatient, darling. And that's another thing I like about virgins—once they've tasted pleasure, they stop controlling themselves and start asking for more. Look at you; you're so desperate for me to fuck you, little Empress. Can't you wait for my cock to be inside of you?" He looks so smug, his ego shining brightly in his dark eyes, and a lecherous smile has blossomed on his plump lips. Your natural essence thickly coats his thick cock, allowing it to slide easily through your warm folds, the head of his cock touching your sensitive clit with every move he makes. He is laughing at you, at the way your body is haunting him at every moment. Once again, the Emperor is proving you to be right—you really are hungry for more. You want to feel him all over you.

Seonghwa loves the way you look underneath him—your flushed face, wet from the tears you shed earlier from your orgasm, your skin covered with bruises and his bite marks, and of course, your wet little cunt begging to be filled to the brim with his cum. Maybe that's why he can't hold himself back any longer and slowly begins to push his cock into your oozing hole. You moaned loudly as his cock pushed deeper and deeper into you, and although you had been prepared for it, the way his thick girth stretched your silky walls made you squeeze your eyes shut and feel a slight burning sensation. Seonghwa's cock was too big and thick for you, at least for now, but somehow you didn't doubt that he was going to fuck you until you could easily take his whole length at once.

When his cock was all the way inside of you and his balls were pressed against your plush arse, he let out a guttural, almost growling, moan as he nuzzled his face into the back of your neck. Your cunt was everything he'd imagined—tight and hot and silky—divine. A small shiver of pleasure went through his body as he felt your walls tighten around his cock. Your answering moan was an unrestrained one, grateful for the hot, thick length of it as it displaced your emptiness, stained your chastity, took away your purity, and filled you instead with an insatiable need.

He hardly gave you time to adjust to the size of his cock before he began fucking you mercilessly. Obscene sounds filled the air with each of his hard and deep thrusts, mingled with your whimpering and long moans, as well as his enthusiastic purring of satisfaction as he tormented you. His warm breath filled your mouth, forming a subtle contrast to the uncompromising demand of his tongue as it penetrated your mouth and tasted you as you moaned and whimpered. Seonghwa feels that he has become a little bit dependent on you and that he will probably never be able to satisfy this hunger that he now has for you. Your slippery pussy tightened around him impatiently and greedily, hot and wet, squeezing him so hard that Seonghwa let out a low moan of pleasure.

Seonghwa lets go of your hands and wraps the palm of his hand around your thin neck instead, squeezing it lightly. His grip on your throat makes you gasp, and your moans are hoarse and soft.

"You are all mine." He growls, watching as his cock enters and exits your tight, pink cunt, a thick vein stretching along your silken walls with every movement of his beautiful and skilled hips. Seonghwa can't help but marvel at the way your juices are coating the velvety length of his cock as it plunges deep into you. Your hands dig into the sheets, crumpling the fabric between your fingers as you do so. "Who is your husband? Your Emperor? Tell me, my little star!" Seonghwa demands as she presses her fingers around your neck more tightly.

"Y-y-you!" You screamed, but the sound of your voice was so distorted that it was barely audible. Your thighs began to ache from Seonghwa's relentless thrusts, but you didn't know if you wanted to ask him to stop when his cock kept hitting the most pleasurable spot inside you, making you feel every cell in your body heat up until it was white. Stars started to dance in front of your eyes, exactly the same—mesmerizingly sparkling stars like the ones in Seonghwa's eyes. "Seonghwa, that's you! You are my husband, my Emperor!"

"That's right, you treat me so well, my little Empress. I am going to fuck you until you are swollen with my heirs and until your little pussy is dripping with my cum day and night. My beautiful star, don't you think that we should give the seven great generals a taste of your divine cunt, as well? Let them saturate you, let them breed you, and let them shower you with caresses and praise. They are magnificent lovers, my star—passionate, tireless, and demonic—and they crave you so much. And here's something else you should know about me, my little Empress: I share everything with them—the battlefield, power, life, bed, and of course, I will share you with them, my beautiful wife." Seonghwa stops what he is doing and looks down at your trembling, delicate body lying underneath him. You can feel how his demonic gaze is burning into you before he grabs hold of your waist and quickly forces you down on all fours, lifting your bottom up into the air. His hand slides along the curves of your inner thighs, running his fingers over the warmth of your cunt and oozing sticky nectar. Two slender, long fingers rub your quivering hole, and you clench involuntarily at the tantalizing sensation of his fingers.

"Say it once more." He orders you as he presses down on your clit and begins to rub it in rapid circles. You let out a shrill cry, your voice echoing through the luxurious imperial chambers.

"Seonghwa! I am yours. You are my Emperor. You are my magnificent husband."

The Emperor let out a purr in response to your words, which sound silky and almost sinful. He pressed himself against you once more, thrusting his cock inside of you. Your face was pressed against the pillow before a graceful hand pulled your hair and pressed you against his wet, hard chest. He never stopped his hips from moving. His pace was sure and persistent, his lack of mercy cruel to your tender, sensitive cunt that had never known such sensations before, but still you moaned with pleasure.

"You are going to cum on my cock, my beautiful star." His teeth graze across your ear before Seonghwa bites down on the lobe of your ear. All of a sudden, his fingers find your swollen clit and make slow half circles over it, stimulating you even more. Immediately, you feel yourself tightening around his thick cock; your mouth falls open, and your lower lip begins to quiver as you feel that sweet tension at the bottom of your belly. Your orgasm is like a starburst of sensations—the pleasure exploding beneath your skin, stinging you like sharp shards of broken stars—and you almost lose yourself in the sensation. You moan so loudly that you swear the servants outside the door can hear you loud and clear, but whether it's the servants or perhaps one of the seven handsome generals, you have no way of knowing.

Seonghwa lets go of your hair and grabs your waist instead, digging his nails into your flesh until it bleeds. The squishing sound your pussy makes every time his balls slap against the soft plush of your arse draws a deep animal growl from Seonghwa's throat, the great dragon inside him coming out. The warm, sticky liquid slowly seeps out between your thighs as you shiver and melts into Seonghwa's arms as he holds you upright, your head resting on his shoulder. But it doesn't last long. In a second, you're on your back again, facing the godlike Lunar Emperor.

He stares down at your emaciated face and at the glistening beads of sweat on your brow. His smug smile was devilish and vicious; he spread your legs again, watching the heat of your tiny, squelching cunt as it greedily swallowed his cock.

"Oh, your pussy is so beautiful, my star. A perfect little cunt to be filled with the emperor's cum, to be a breeding." Seonghwa's words are nothing more than the sweetest praise wrapped in pure sin.

Holding your breath, your body feeling boneless and tired, you nod recklessly at his words.

"You will cum again, my star. You're going to scream out my name so loud that everyone in this palace will know just how good a fuck I give you." He lifted one of your legs and pressed it up against the side of your chest. In this new position, you felt stiff and small under the Emperor's exquisitely elegant body, yet your pussy continued to greedily milk his cock. The vulgar, disgusting words that Seonghwa spoke to you in his deep, velvety voice made your head spin around. It made you feel so soft and sweet.

Seonghwa fucked you in a deep and rough way. You could still feel the remains of your orgasm boiling in your belly—so sensitive, almost painful. As the head of his cock kissed your cervix, your body tensed, and every muscle in your body tightened like a silk ribbon. Yet, as if it's his only purpose in life, Seonghwa continues to split your heart. You roll your eyes, your lips quiver, and your chest shakes with sobs. You look completely fucked up as you lie there, taking everything the Emperor gives you.

"Who do you belong to, little Empress?"

"I-I, yours, Seonghwa..." You let out a gasp as you felt the tingling sensation of a new orgasm flutter around your pussy. Your soft walls clenched hard, almost restricting Seonghwa's movements, contracting and pulsing around his thick cock.

"Louder!" He crashes his hips into you, your skin reddening where his thighs made contact with yours.

"S-Seonghwa, I belong to you, only to you... ah!"

You feel like you're drowning—falling rapidly and irreversibly into the depths of a bottomless ocean of pure pleasure as Seonghwa's fingers press against your swollen, torn clit. Your orgasm is all-consuming—your vision disappears for a second, your breath is trapped in your chest, and all you can hear is the raging roar of the blood in your veins. You scream—piercingly loud—but the sound barely reaches you. You're shaking, your whole body twisting and writhing from the wild intensity of your orgasm as Seonghwa continues fucking you relentlessly. Seonghwa's skilled fingers move over your clit, matching the rhythm of his hips, making your body shake around him as you go through blissful orgasm. Your juices rush between the two of you, spilling over and down the silk of the sheets.

"I can't... I can't take it anymore. Please, Seonghwa..." You cried out, the tears running freely down the sides of your face.

Seonghwa leaned forward and captured your lips in an incredible kiss, his hips pressing hard against you as he began to pour his cum as deep as he could, savoring how hard and greedily your pussy milked his cock, your silky walls trembling around him. After a few moments, he slips out of your exhausted pussy, lets go of your leg, and lies down next to you on the bed, his head dropping to your chest as he cuddles closer to you, listening to your heart pounding furiously beneath his cheek. The Emperor intertwines your fingers with his own in the most intimate and tender of gestures. Still in a daze, you lie motionless on the bed and allow him to do whatever he wants to you.

The Great Lunar Dragon is curled up beside you like a purring, cream-fed cat. He looks completely relaxed and peaceful. Your eyes wander aimlessly around the luxurious chambers, trying to collect your thoughts, but it's only for a moment before your eyes widen—frightened and in disbelief—as you meet the gaze of none other than the great, demonically beautiful General Choi San. Your soft scream attracts the attention of Seonghwa, and his eyes are lazily open to see what it is that has upset you so much.

"Ah, Sannie, you have frightened my star." Seonghwa reluctantly gets up from you and lightly covers your body with the sheet, but it does little to help the situation, as you can feel the general's sultry gaze burning into your skin. "You should have waited until the morning at the very least; you are too impatient, do you know that?"

"My precious Empress made a sound that was too tempting for me to resist, Hwa. I am nothing more than a male slave of my most beautiful mistress." San purred, got up, and crept towards the bed like a big cat of prey. He moves clean and elegantly, and you can't help but be enchanted by what you're seeing. But the spell is broken as soon as you feel the bed begin to sag under the weight of his body. In an attempt to shrink and hide your body from this breathtakingly handsome man, you pull your legs up. Seonghwa notices this and gently puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him and giving you a light kiss on the cheek.

"My star, you have no need to be afraid of San; he is as gentle as a kitten. You will have fun playing with him, I assure you." Seonghwa's voice was like melting honey on your skin, and you wished you could relax, but the whole situation was just wild; this is totally not how you expect a first wedding night to go. "But first we need to bathe, and then we can go and play again, my little Empress; the night is still so young." Seonghwa literally sings, letting you go and moving around the bed until she is next to San. You watch in silence as the emperor's plump, sensual lips touch the sharp cheekbone of the general for a moment before he rises from the bed and pulls a silk robe over his naked body. "I trust everything has been prepared." It is clear that the question is not directed at you.

"Of course it has; Wooyoung and Yeosang have taken care of it." San extends his hand to you. It is the same inviting gesture that General Jung used before leading you to Seonghwa's chambers. "Come with me, my precious Empress. Your servants are waiting to please their mistress."

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melancholymetropolis · 2 months

Text

Exchange

plot: In which a Bridesmaid finds out she accidentally got married in Vegas months prior.

pairings: Clan Leader!Gojo Saturo x Lawyer!Reader

genre(s): Second Chance; Accidental Marriage

warnings: unedited (mostly). Golden Retriever/ Fox Au. Gojo is a goofball and makes Y/N laugh a lot. She is very much anti-marriage, but open to love. COMEDY. Couple's Banter. Lots of fluff. Gojo fell first and hard. New Love.

a/n: this will be a mini series with weekly updates.

w.c: 3.5k

“You have gotten even more beautiful since the day you left me.”

My eyes immediately widen from the sentiment. The air in my throat had become thick and my hands had begun to shake. I almost didn’t recognize his voice. Its cadence was a distant memory; one I had left behind months ago. In Vegas, of all places. It was the way he said “beautiful” that transported me back in time. It was the first thing he said to me. In a dark club, under neon lights and a cloud of smoke. He didn’t use basic, sexually charged words to get my attention. He was respectful, I liked that about him. He had been the only guy to introduce himself and offered to pay for my drink properly. He called me things like “beautiful”, “gorgeous” and “breathtaking”. Those three little words had meant more to me than whatever bullshit the other guys were doing.

His electric, blue eyes seemed to glow in the low light. They never wandered anywhere else but my face when we talked. He seemed genuinely interested in everything I had to say. From me saying that it was my first time in Vegas to how much I hated crowded spaces. I had only come to the club to celebrate a friend’s engagement and was labeled the designated driver for that night. If I recall, he said my job was “honorable” and applauded me for taking it seriously.

And, in an effort to make up for our lost drink, he gave me his number. Told me to call him when I was free.

Gojo’s eyes were just as I remembered. So bright and powerful— almost inviting to look into. He wore a navy blue suit to compliment the intimidating orbs and brighten his pale complexion. His unruly, white hair had been combed back with a singular curl setting in the middle of his forehead. The silver watch on his wrist looked heavy and vintage— possibly a family heirloom of some sort. I had forgotten how tall he had been. Even though I had worn six-inch heels, he still was a few inches taller than me. And I definitely was not a short woman.

“I left you?” I said, finally coming back to earth. “I don’t recall ever doing such a thing.”

A sly smirk began to form on his face. “Oh really?” He replied, taking slow steps towards me. “That’s mighty convenient on your end.”

“How so?”

“It relieves you of any guilt.”

A painful silence fell between us. Our eyes locked in a heated exchange, while our hands remained by our sides. I couldn’t deny the connection we had—couldn’t forget the spark.

“Bride or groom?” I asked, turning my back to him.

The tall man grew closer to me. He took his stance about two feet away from my spot on the balcony. He placed his forearms on the edge and leaned forward. There was a painful aura lingering above his head. Something was wrong. It was more than simply not seeing me for a few months. It wasn’t my habit of escaping in the middle of the night. It was complicated and conflicting.

“Groom,” he sighed, looking at the beautiful countryside of Japan. “I'm guessing you're here for the bride, given the Bridesmaid dress.”

I hummed in disagreement. “I know them both, actually. We worked at the same law firm for a couple of years. I believe I introduced them to one another, all those years ago.”

“Oh, okay,” Gojo snickered. “A divorce lawyer playing cupid. And I thought I saw everything.”

A quiet giggle fell from my lips. “That's right. Consider me a walking paradox.”

“That you are,” he replied sweetly.

The tension from earlier had broken and was replaced with a sense of familiarity.

It was nice.

A few breaths later, Gojo opened his suit jacket and pulled out a white envelope. He handed it to me.

I gave him a questionable look. “What's that?”

“Open it and you'll see,” was all he said before placing the envelope into my hand.

I lifted the tab and pulled out a folded piece of paper. At the very top was the letterhead for the Clark County Department of Records in Nevada State. The letter read:

Dear Mister Gojo Satoru,

We are pleased to inform you that your marriage license has been processed successfully and your certificate will be arriving at your residence in 3 to 4 weeks.

As of April 25, both you and Ms. Y/N L/N are legally m—

“Nope,” I said, folding the letter and shoving it back in the envelope. “No the fuck we aren't.” I handed it back to Gojo. “Over my dead fucking body.”

“You hate me that much, sweet pea?” he chuckled.

“I don't know you to hate you,” I replied, stuffing the envelope in my clutch purse. “And I would like to keep it that way.”

“You're breaking my heart, Y/N,” Gojo replied. His tone was still playful but there was a twinge of sadness in it. “Surely being married to me couldn’t be that bad.”

I scoffed and plucked a flute of champagne from the waiter’s tray. I took a big gulp of the bubbly beverage and sighed deeply.

Fate must've had something against me. I must've done something extraordinarily vicious in my past life to warrant such treatment. Marriage? The whole thing felt like a nightmare. I spent my whole life running from the false institution that was called “marriage”. It's a contract that almost always ends poorly. From spouses cheating on the other to emotional abuse and gaslighting— I had seen the most stable of unions crumble after a few decades. Families broken apart by secrets, betrayal and unfortunate circumstances. Men and women alike pleading for one more chance to correct their mistakes. And if that doesn't work, greed takes over. The desperate struggle for power between the couple and how it always ends badly.

Marriage wasn't something I was particularly fond of. I didn’t see my sentiment changing any time soon. Even if the tall drink of water before me was legally my husband.

I finished the rest of my beverage and placed it on a different waiter’s tray. I took several more deep breaths and turned my back to the white haired man.

The alcohol had sedated the raging storm of emotions swirling in my being. A somber feeling eased into my heart, but I quickly shoved it back down. The blasting music in the background had made it abundantly clear that we couldn't do this here. Not now. Not at my best friends’ wedding.

“I just need time to think this over. Figure out my next move,” I reached in my purse and pulled out a business card. I placed it on the railing. “Call me tomorrow afternoon and I'll tell you how I'd like to proceed.”

“Wait, Y/N—”

“Goodnight, Mr. Gojo.”

I didn't even look back as I walked away from him.

“Come on, Jessica,” I practically begged. “There has to be a way to end this shit sooner.”

“I hate to break it to you, Y/N,” my colleague sighed. “But there isn't. As you could imagine, a lot of people accidentally get married in Vegas. The number is close to about 50,000 couples. And a little less than half of them get their union annulled. Meaning, divorce court is overloaded with requests, follow ups and cases. If you file your paperwork today, you probably won't get a response for 1 to 3 months. Even then, the annulment might not even go through.”

“Because I was already married to him for six months without me knowing?” I said, pinching my nose bridge.

“Yup. To the judges eyes, it might not look like a mistake. He can still deny your annulment.”

My head was pounding and my mouth dry. An unknown fear started creeping up my spine. When I thought of the goals I set out for myself, for my life, marriage was never on the vision board. Especially not an accidental one. And definitely not one with a white haired, blue-eyed, Japanese man. However, he seemed to be awfully giddy about the union. Gojo sent upward of twenty text messages asking me how I was feeling or if I needed anything. He, also, suggested having lunch together to talk everything over.

I looked out the cab’s window, watching the restaurant come into view. The place was clearly exclusive and very expensive. The right side of the establishment was made entirely of glass, overlooking the ocean just below the cliff. The sun was high in the sky and the clouds danced across her warm light. Waiting patiently in the front of the establishment was a familiar flock of white hair. The taller man had been shrouded in black this time. His overcoat perfectly matched the crisp suit underneath. The stark white shirt seemed brighter in the light; it made his chest glow.

He looked entirely too perfect. As if he wanted to deflect my attention from something else.

“Okay, Jess,” I said, pulling my gaze away from him. “I would like to survey all my options before I make a final decision.”

“Take all the time that you need, Y/N,” she replied in a sympathetic tone. “I will assist you in whatever way I can.”

“Thank you,” I smiled. “I will ring you soon.”

The car came to a gentle stop at the restaurant’s doors and I quickly ended the call. I thanked the driver once more and opened the car’s door. I barely had time to place my high heel on the pavement before a flock of black appeared in front of my door. A pale hand flickered in the doorway with outstretched fingers. I could only see his glowing chest and black attire from that angle. Not his face. I swung my other leg out of the other vehicle and took hold of his hand. The taller gentleman takes a firm grip and aids me out of the cab. As I rise from the leather seat, my eyes ease up his glowing chest and broad shoulders. They cascade up his broad shoulders and slender neck. His sharp jawline was relaxed and his plump lips in a soft smirk. Round sunglasses rested on his nose, covering his electric eyes. His white hair was messily styled atop his head and, also, seemed to glow in the sunlight.

With my bag resting on my shoulder, I used my hand to close the car door behind me. Gojo held my hand tightly as he started to walk to the restaurant. The fingers were warm against my cool ones. It felt nice and. . . comforting. I didn’t have the desire to pull away from him. The realization we were still holding hands didn’t dawn on me until he dropped my mine.

“Let me take your coat, Mrs. Gojo.”

And just like that, the cocky bastard ruined a perfectly good moment with a couple of words.

I allowed him to slip my trench coat from my shoulders and settled in the seat before me. The taller gentleman slips off his jacket and takes the seat across from me. A toothy grin plastered on his lips as he eased the round sunglasses off his face. His eccentric eyes were already glued to my face. His gaze was unwavering. It was almost like he was waiting for me to say something in response to his little comment. The white haired man was ready for battle.

Unfortunately for him, I left my bulletproof vest at home.

“Do you come here often?” I asked, bringing a glass of water to my lips.

Those bright blue eyes flickered to my lips. They darkened at the sight of such glossy softness and lingered on them even after I had placed the glass back on the table. It was almost like he was in some sort of trance. Lost in a memory that he treasured and never wanted to part from.

I cleared my throat. “Mr. Gojo?”

“What gloss is that?” He questioned, abruptly breaking his gaze from my mouth.

“It’s from Juvia’s Place,” I answered with a raised eyebrow. “Why?”

“It just looks so good on you,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I want to buy you a lifetime’s supply.”

“You’re laying it on a bit thick there, don’t you think?

“That’s what you do when you’re on a date.”

“This is not a date,” I deadpanned.

“Sure it is,” Gojo chirped. “I mean why else would we be in such a romantic establishment.”

The wife joke seemed to be a warning shot in hindsight. The taller gentleman was trying to test the waters to see just how far he could push me. I left him stranded the day prior. In mid sentence. He was not able to plead his case, explain his side of the situation. I had laid my intentions out to him loud and clear. I wanted zero parts in this relationship. Our union was supposed to be limited anyhow. A vacation fling that went on a little too long for anyone’s liking. At least for my liking. The marriage was clearly a mistake and one I wanted to rectify quickly. However, any time I clearly displayed my disinterest in our union, Gojo was quick to deflect with a quip. That meant he wasn’t going to take anything I said or did seriously. I would have to approach this matter from a new angle.

I would have to play his game and play it well.

The waiter walked over to the table and set down our menus. “Is there anything I could get started for you?”

I hummed sweetly and looked over at Gojo. “What do you recommend? I’ve never been here before.”

The man’s chest practically swelled at the sentences. A new source of pride pumping through his veins. A sly smile fell on his lips as the words started to pour from his lips. In Japanese.

“What dishes do you have without shellfish? She’s allergic.”

The question caused my eyebrows to shoot up.

I didn’t remember disclosing that information to him. At least, in the past twenty-fours that we had reunited. That could only mean that he remembered the little tidbit I shared all those months ago. Six months to be exact. He carried that information with him for half the year, almost like he intended to use it again. His memory must’ve been impeccable, which was why he was able to recognize me at first glance at the wedding. Looking back, I didn’t even notice him until he approached me on the balcony. I had been seated with the rest of the wedding party, practically on a stage overlooking the venue and I still didn’t spot him. He would be hard not to notice. He was one of the only people I knew with stark white hair and was under the age of eighty. Along with those electric blue eyes that pierced me like a needle. The chemistry we had was undeniable and I knew we shared a mutual attraction to one another.

Would that be enough to have a fulfilling marriage?

The waiter skated away with our orders and Gojo’s eyes locked back with mine.

“So, how long are you in Japan for?” He asked, bring a glass of water to his lips.

“Originally, I was supposed to only stay two weeks for the wedding,” I answered, tapping my hand on the edge of the table. “But, a potential client just called and asked for a consultation. They are from New York but live in Japan temporarily. So, the answer is a little unclear for me at the moment.”

The taller gentleman sighed, amused. “It seems like I have a little bit of time before we part ways once again. The heavens have truly blessed me this time.”

“And just what do you intend to do with that information, Mr. Gojo?”

“I’d like to convince you to remain Mrs. Gojo for the rest of our days together.”

“As in for the time being? While I am in Japan?”

Gojo smirked at that comment. “As in for the rest of your life, sweetheart.”

I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. “And how exactly are you going to get me to do that?”

Gojo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His pink lips spread into a full blown smile. Those blue orbs sparkled dangerously as they flickered over my face. He seemed to be brimming with excitement. He wanted nothing more than to display his nefarious plan and keep me entangled in his spider’s web.

“Originally, I planned on going the traditional route,” he conceded. “Showering you in gifts, expensive dinners and maybe a romantic weekend trip to Nokonoshima Island.”

“Buying a woman’s love? That is very traditional.”

“I know, but you are not a traditional woman,” he observed. “You are a divorce attorney. You are used to men attempting to buy a woman’s affection.”

“Very true.”

“So I came up with a proposal.”

“Do tell.”

“As you said, you don’t know me to hate me. Which means you don’t know me to like me either. And I, personally, think I am pretty fucking awesome.”

I chuckled, loudly. “You’re that confident, huh?”

“I am. Which is why I am suggesting that, for however long you are in Japan, we hang out.”

“Hang out?”

“I would like to use this time to get to know each other. Continue what we started back in Vegas. Before you left me.”

“I didn’t leave you.”

The white haired man scoffed and leaned closer to me. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s not lie to each other. You practically ran your pretty booty out of my hotel room the moment the sun came up.”

“That’s not true!” I interjected with a smile.

“It is true! And you had the nerve to leave me a couple of twenties on the nightstand like I was sorta cheap whore you met on the street. I never felt so violated in my life.”

A fit of giggles burst from my lips, shattering the remaining wall we had between us.

“That was never my intention! I just felt bad for ripping the buttons off of your Armani shirt. So I gave you some cash for dry cleaning.”

“There’s no need to explain yourself, Y/N. Your message was loud and clear,” he sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair. “I was just your sexy little secret for the weekend. No plans of marrying me. You just wanted to hit it and quit. Leaving me to deal with the pain of your absence alone. Not even a cover to keep me warm, just the memories of our last rendezvous.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” I laughed, shaking my head.

“However,” Gojo replied, completely ignoring my comment. “Unlucky for you, I have decided to get revenge by blackmailing you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“If you don’t hang out with me while you’re in Japan, I am gonna tell everyone you snore in your sleep.”

“I do not!”

“And you are a blanket hogger!”

“Blasphemy!”

“And you got me pregnant while we were in Vegas.”

A slew of laughter erupted from my being and I could feel tears beginning to prick the edges of my eyes. “ That is not even scientifically possible."

"It is so!" He laughed. "Why else would I have morning sickness and swollen ankles?"

"Gojo, please. I cannot breath. . . !"

"How could you attempt to abandon your child, Y/N?" He crossed her arms over his chest and playfully shook his head. "I am not fit to be a single mother and take care our baby alone."

"Well," I paused and attempted to catch my breath. "You should've just kept your legs closed and this wouldn't have happened."

The taller man let out a dramatic gasp and placed a hand to his chest. "Did you. . . did you just try to slut shame me? After you basically paid for my services? How dare you?"

I lifted a glass of water to my lips; a weak attempt to calm my explosive chuckles down. I gulped the cool drink down and placed the glass back on the table. In the same instance, the waiter started to place our meal before us. There had been a collection of small plates carrying different items on them. Some had stir-fried vegetables and garnish, while others had different kinds of sauces. The bigger plates had anything between sashimi and grilled fish to sauteed pork and beef. Once the waiters were done plating, our table was suited for royalty. All the different dishes came together to create a marvelous spread and their aromas were simply magical together.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a little bit of everything,” Gojo replied, meeting my gaze over the food. “I hope that’s okay with you.”

Like a light switch, the playful (borderline pain in my ass) was tucked away from view and replaced with a dashing gentleman. Familiar feelings started to bubble in my chest. Ones I had tucked away months ago. A small wave of adoration danced between our beings. Along with attraction. The little exchange, our unorthodox banter, had lightened the tension that was between us since we reunited. It made room for why we were originally drawn to each other. His playful, almost youthful, side was almost like a cushion in my high-stress daily life. He breathed cool air into my hot tempered mind and gave me a sense of mental clarity I never experienced. It was easy for me to like him. To be attracted to him. To lust for him. But to love him?

That seemed like a different story.

“It’s perfect.”

---------

Part II

a/n: don't fight me y'all! i've been adulting something fierce. as previously mentioned, this will be a series and i will post updates regularly. if you would like to be on the official taglist, let me know.

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sarahowritesostucky · 4 months

Text

📖"Jilted" - part 2

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Tags: boyfriend's dad au, left at the altar, father-in-law, hurt/comfort, forbidden attraction, silver fox Steve, age gap, size kink, strength kink, Dom/sub elements, daddy kink, fingering, oral sex, grinding, sex, dirty talk, cheating

Summary: You may be a jilted bride, but you don't feel like one for long when Steve soothes the hurt in unexpected ways.

Part 2 - "Taken to Bed by a Man" (Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!)

Only hours ago, you were walking to the altar to marry a boy, and now you’re being taken to bed by a man—that very boy’s father. The reality of it becomes very clear as Steve walks into his bedroom with you in his arms and sets you down. Your toes dig into the room’s soft carpet.

“Turn around,” he whispers.

You obey, shivering as he steps in close behind. You can hear his breathing, can practically feel his desire for you. Somehow, he seems more tangible than he ever has before. More real, more solid, and you’re painfully aware of how close he is. “S-steve,” you breathe. “I—”

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, cutting you off. “I’m sorry I never told you. A woman like you should hear it every day.”

You want to say something, tell him that this is wrong, you can’t do this. He’s … he’s Pat’s father, decades older than you. He’s Captain America, for Christssakes. You shouldn’t want him the way you do. And now he’s got you doubting everything, every interaction you’ve ever had with him, every lingering glance, every brief touch, every polite word. From that very first time Pat brought you home to meet his father, the famed “man out of time.”

Steve doesn’t age normally, that much is obvious. You know about the serum, know that he was in his late twenties when they defrosted him back in the ‘nineties. And thirty years later, he doesn’t look as old as he should. His body and face are still those of a forty year old, betrayed only by the edges of his eyes, by the grey creeping into his hair and beard. He’s a total daddy, a thought that you’ve been shamefully repressing for the past two years. You’ve been so embarrassed by it, thought you were being such a creep, thinking about Pat’s father that way. Has Steve really been looking at you too all this time? You open your mouth to say something, offer some protest or reason why you can’t—

“Ask me to take your dress off.”

Your whole body clenches at how deep his voice is, how close he’s speaking to your ear. You tremble, able to feel the heat of his body behind you. “Steve, I …”

“Ask me,” he whispers, fingers skimming over your neck and shoulders. “Come on, Honey. Ask me. I promise I’ll only make you do it once.”

God. You manage to choke out an overwhelmed, “Please,” and thankfully it seems to be enough for him. His fingers find the laces of your dress and begin to delicately undo them. He goes slowly, almost like he’s relishing the act of removing your wedding gown. He peels off the dress that his son was meant to remove from your body that night, the fabric falling to the floor in a quiet ‘whoosh’, and his hands landing on your waist.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, sounding amazed. You whimper and try to move away, skittish, but he stops you, pulling you back firmly against his body with a tut. “You’re okay,” he soothes, arms wrapping around you to hold you close and calm you down. “Shhh. I got you.”

“S-steve,” you breathe, overwhelmed by how wrong this is, how turned on you are when he touches you. “We can’t, I shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” his hot breath fans out against your ear, then he starts kissing your neck and his hands slide covetously over your body. “Wanted you for so long, Sweetheart. Wanted to give you what you were aching for.” You whimper and try to pull away, but his hand slides over your tummy and pulls you back. “It’s okay. I’ve known. You think I didn’t know? Think I didn’t see you looking at me?”

“I – I didn’t …”

“Shh. There’s a girl. Let me touch you.” He’s so effortlessly strong and it feels so good to be held still by him. He rubs your belly and his other hand slides up your ribcage. “So beautiful.” He cups your breast, fingers dipping under the cup of your bra. “God, Honey. Look at you.”

You look down and exhale shakily, your cunt pulsing at the sight of his huge hand against your skin and the delicate lace of your bridal underwear. “Steve,” you breathe, shaking from nerves and arousal. “I want …”

“What do you want?” he whispers, lips trailing over your neck. He places a kiss on your pulse point, feels how fast your heart is beating. “Want me to take control?” he offers softly, almost kindly, like he can sense how overwhelmed you are. “I can do that, Sweetheart. Make it easy for you, make all the decisions. Is that what you want, hm? Want me to lay you out on this bed and do all the work?”

It’s pathetic, how fast you whine and nod, wanting that so badly. “Yes,” you say, grabbing at his hands where they’re feeling you up. “Please, Steve. Yes.”

He chuckles, low and with just a touch of condescension, the sound going straight to your core. You squeeze your thighs together to try and get some relief, but it doesn’t do any good. “Come on, then,” Steve says, moving you with capable hands. He guides you over and pushes on your shoulders until he’s got you sitting on the edge of the bed. You’re left staring at him, standing there in front of you in his tux, looking obscenely handsome, confident, and—oh …

His cock isn’t even fully hard yet, and it’s still a healthy bulge at the front of his slacks. You feel your cheeks heat as you can’t help but stare at it. It is right there, after all. You flush all the harder when he notices you looking and chuckles at you. One of those enormous hands brushes up against the front of his pants, and you nearly moan at the sight of him touching himself.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he purrs. “You’ll get it. But first …” he sinks down to kneel in front of you, reaching for the straps of your bra. You tense when he starts to pull them off your shoulders, moving to reach behind yourself and unhook the bra, but he hushes you and stills your hands. “Shh, no. Let me do it, Honey. I want to do it.” He gets your bra off and tosses it aside, groaning as he kneels in front of you and looks his fill. “God, you got no idea,” he murmurs, sounding distracted by what he’s seeing. “No idea how long I’ve been wanting this.” His hands make an abortive move, as if he doesn’t know where or how to touch you first. “Shit, lookit you.”

“How long?” you ask on impulse, surprising even yourself. His eyes shoot up to your face, and you swallow heavily under his stare. “H-how long, have you wanted to?” you breathe.

He smiles, then his eyes trail back down and he sighs happily. He reaches out and just sort of … pets the tips of your breasts, brow pinching with want as he watches your nipples harden into firm peaks. “Jesus.” He shakes his head, like he can’t believe he’s getting to touch you. “Oh, Doll ... Since I met you.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” he says distractedly, big hands cupping your tits, making them look small and delicate against his rough palms. You’ve never noticed how masculine his hands are …

“S-since—”

“Since the first time you came in my house looking like you do, yes,” he growls, giving your breasts a squeeze. “Shit.”

His soft cursing makes you flush, feeling warm and exposed and needy and seen. “Steve,” you say, voice warbling with audible worry. You wait until his blue eyes come up to meet yours—God, are his eyes ever blue. You swallow heavily.

“What is it, Sweetheart?”

You chew your lip. “If we do this …” you fret, thinking about the wedding, about Patrick, about how fucked up this is going to make your life.

Steve’s hands smooth over your thighs. “Do you really want him back?” he asks you—knowingly. He meets your gaze without doubt, shaking his head the barest bit. “No going back,” he murmurs. You whimper, and he hushes you. “I know, Honey, I know it’s scary. But you can trust me.”

Delicately, he reaches for the clips of your garters and begins undoing them, one at a time. You’re stuck watching, helpless, as he looks you in the eye and gently eases your stockings down your legs. They’re the real deal: silk, seamed, non-elastic, and a strange feeling rolls through you as you watch Steve’s fingers move over them deftly and you realize that he likely knows what he’s doing because these were the sort that girls wore back in his day.

“Don’t worry, Angel.” He kisses the inside of a knee. “This isn’t just for tonight. I have every intention of keeping you.” His eyes flash upwards again, and you feel heat course through you at his face being right there between your legs … And at his words. He sees your face pinch with doubt and he nods. “Yeah. I told you you’re mine, now. I don’t say things like that unless I mean ‘em.”

“But …” you falter, not sure what you’re even planning to say. But I’m supposed to be engaged to your son. But I’m supposed to be married to him. But people will know, people will—

He slides his hands over your hips and starts edging your panties down, maintaining that all-consuming eye contact as he does it. “But what?” he purrs. “You worried about what people will say?”

You shake your head in denial, but the truth is that you are. Buzzfeed and CNN had been at that cathedral, goddamnit, and there’ll be articles tomorrow about what happened. What on earth will the headlines say when word gets out that you’ve traded in Captain America’s son for the Captain himself?

“You worry too much,” Steve says, easing your panties down your legs and guiding you to let them slip from your feet. He lifts your calf and kisses the inside of your ankle, smirking. “I’m Captain America, Everybody loves me. And I’m allowed to have nice things.” His gaze slides down to the vee of your legs, and you watch as his eyes rapidly darken to something greedy and ravenous. He makes a gruff sound in his throat, utterly possessive, and the next thing you know he’s shoving your knees further apart and forcing his way in, arms hooking underneath your thighs and wrapping around to hold onto you.

You squeak as his broad shoulders push your legs apart and you tip backwards. You catch yourself on your hands and prop yourself back up in time to watch the inaugural press of his mouth against your sex. And oh, it feels almost as good as it looks. You inhale sharply and your hips jump up of their own volition. He’s only pressed a chaste kiss against you, right up high on your mound, but the sight of Steve Rogers’ face between your legs, his head of silver-blond hair and his dark lashes resting against his cheeks as he noses against your most intimate place … it’s enough to have you clenching hard on nothing, slicking up so much that you can feel it getting messy and wet.

You whimper in arousal and impulsively reach with one of your hands to try and hold his head. “Jesus, Steve,” you whisper, turned on beyond belief. It only gets worse when he looks up at you again. You exhale shakily, belly heaving at the way his eyes scald you in their intensity.

“Tell me,” he rasps. “Tell me what you want me to do with my mouth.”

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s not fair. You whine and pant down at him. “Nnn, Steve …” You can’t. You can’t.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” he coaxes, voice like sin. “I know what I promised. And I meant it. I’ll take control. I’ll make it easy for you, and so goddamn good you won’t remember your name.” He turns his face and kisses the crease of your thigh, so close to where you want it. “But I want to hear you say it, first. Please. Just do that for me, Babydoll, and then I’ll make you feel so good.”

You swallow thickly, turned on beyond belief and knowing that if you want him, you’re going to have to put your big girl panties on and do this one thing for him. So, despite the fact that most of your brain cells have liquified and run out through your ears at this point—and despite the fact that you are not one for dirty talking in the bedroom—you look him right in the eyes and croak out a breathless, “Kiss my pussy, Steve. Put your mouth on me and lick it, suck—ogn …” You cut off in a moan when he seals his mouth right over your clit and sucks hard. “Oh my god.”

“Mmhm,” he groans. He sucks your folds into his mouth and flattens his tongue, rubbing it firmly against your clit and working methodically at it until it’s puffy and swollen. “Mmm. Mmph.” His sounds of enjoyment only make it filthier, and you can’t hold back your own choked off little moans and gasps at the eager way his arms grab onto you and haul you in for more, the way he purposefully grinds his face against you and uses his nose to give you more pressure from above your clit.

You wind up sobbing and tossing your head back as you feel yourself gush, and for a long moment you don’t even realize how much you're humping his face, rubbing yourself off against him, trying to get more of that sucking mouth and that lashing, sinful tongue. “Oh, shit. Holy shit …”

You should be mortified by your own desperation, by the sounds you’re making. Maybe you would be, but for the way that Steve responds to it. He growls and jerks you in harder against him, grinding his face into your cunt, sucking and slurping and then hurriedly freeing up one hand to push his fingers into you.

You cry out sharply as he tries to start with two but quickly halts when he can tell that it’s too much. He softens and slows down, kissing your clit in gentle apology, slipping one finger inside your drenched pussy instead. “There we go,” he hums in response to the pleasured sigh you give and looks up at you while he works his finger gently. “That feel good, Sugar?”

You’re gonna die from the fucking pet names, and that is perfectly okay. You nod dumbly down at him, eyes glued to his gaze once again as he fingers you. “Y-yeah,” you say shakily. “Steve …”

He kisses the hood of your clit and drags his lips over it. “Has it been awhile?” he asks, with all the tender concern of a lover who wants to please.

It makes your belly swirl just as hard as his mouth on you had, and you whimper and nod, working your hips down a little against his finger. “I h-haven’t,” you stutter, “Nn … not, oh, not in a while.” You don’t elaborate, and you sure as shit aren't going to admit it now, but the truth is you’ve been avoiding sex with Patrick the closer the big day got; telling yourself that it was to make the wedding night more special, when in reality you suspect it was something else entirely. You whimper and shake your head shyly, and Steve seems to understand that you don’t want to talk about it.

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing your thigh again as he keeps working his hand against you so gently. “That’s okay. We’ll take it slow. We’re not in any rush, ain’t that right?”

You can only whimper and nod, and he coos and smiles at you and how you’ve gone nonverbal already. “Yeah,” he purrs, smiling. “Don’t even worry about it, Babygirl. Daddy’s gonna treat this pussy right. Gonna make you feel so nice, get you real good and relaxed, teach you things you didn’t even know you could do.”

You cry out at how excruciatingly intimate those words are, at the way he kisses your hyper-sensitized clit and changes the angle of his hand, finger dragging up against your walls slower and more purposefully and firm. Your eyes clamp shut and you toss your head back with a pitiful keen. “St-eve, oh, please, please …”

“Mmhm.” He keeps going, still gentle but picking up on what you like, figuring out what makes you get louder and squirm harder. He fucks you on his hand and nurses at your clit in a constant, pulsing rhythm—steady, steady—reading your body’s cues and committing himself to the task, breaking away every once and awhile just to murmur little things against your cunt:

“That’s it, Sweetheart, just like that. Such a good girl. Keep going baby, yes. Let it come, let it happen for me.”

When you get close he stops talking, sealing his mouth to your pleasure and humming his praise straight into your skin instead. And it’s so good, building and building, and he’s doing it just right, holy fuck …

You fall to your back on the bed, Steve following right after you as it makes your pelvis tilt up, never breaking contact, never faltering as your hands scrabble and claw at his hair and your cries get louder and sharper. He holds you down as you start to thrash, desperate for the edge you can feel so close, so close …

Your legs wind up around his head and your heels dig wildly into his back, and still he doesn’t falter, grunting and slurping against you, giving you what you need so good that you sob.

“Oh please, please, Steve! I’m gonna cum, I’m–I’m gonna … ohhh …”

He groans right along with you as it happens, keeping that same exquisite pressure and pace in such an ungodly competent way that you just about scream from how grateful you are. He’s perfect. You sob as the pleasure crests and wanes so sharply, leaving you trembling and gasping breathless little “thank you’s” at him over and over again as he eases off and climbs up your body.

“Shh, sh sh. There we go. Aww, I know, Angel, I know. It’s okay. Did that just feel so good?”

He coos a rhetorical litany of gentle praise at you as he climbs up and rearranges your body fully on the bed, telling you how beautiful you are, how good, how much he wants you. His hands are everywhere, attentive and comforting, petting your legs and smoothing over your belly and chest as he gazes down at you adoringly. It’s romantic, intimate, and like nothing you ever had with Patrick.

You sigh happily and whisper Steve’s name instead, which only seems to please him more. He sidles up alongside you and slots one thick thigh between your legs. That’s when you realize that he’s still completely clothed and you make a tiny noise of protest. Though there is something deliciously dirty about him clothed and you bare, the fabric of his tux over the firm muscle of his thigh pressing up against your soaked core, you still want to feel him. “Steve,” you breathe, pulling at his shirt impatiently. “You too, please.”

He chuckles and nods, hushing your protests as he continues to luxuriate in smoothing his hands over your body. “Hang on, Sweetheart. I will, I will. Let me do this. I’ve always wanted to. Always. Don’t make me rush.”

“Steve,” you sigh.

“Shhh. Good girl. Just let me have this first.” He continues on, heedless of his own body and fully intent on yours, keeping you on that cloud of hazy, post-orgasmic pleasure.

It’s as he’s hovering over you like that, pressing you into the sheets and kissing tender affection all over your face—worshiping you, for lack of a better word—that you realize:

He’s treating you like a groom treats his bride.

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Square D2: "I've always wanted to do that"

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Card: sarahyellow AC1105

Square: FREE SPACE (wedding night)

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hanilessa · 1 year

Text

HALF AN HOUR FOR LOVE — Childe

⸝⸝ ⌗ _ CHILDE X F!READER

— genre: modern!au, ceo childe!au, romance, angst, hurt/comfort

— warnings: smut, nsfw ( MINORS DON'T INTERACT ). warnings will be added as the story progresses

— summary: He is a typical son of a rich father, who in the future should have a whole company at his disposal. Tartaglia doesn't take all his responsibility seriously, arranges parties right in his office, invites his rich friends and orders girls from a strip club, simply because he can afford it.

You get a good job and hope it helps you get your little brother into a good academy. And you never expected to work for someone like Childe. You and he are from different worlds, and you, sometimes furtively take a look at him, think that you and he aren't destined to cross paths.

One day, by chance, your and his paths converge. Will this meeting be one of the most ordinary ones or will it be the beginning of something more?

— chapters: 0.1 You, him and his Mercedes Benz

0.2 Your name

0.3 Wedding attractions

0.4 Second fire

0.5 Toy and toys

0.6 (Not) close people

0.7 From his side, from your side

0.8 His bride's brother, her fiance's girlfriend

0.9 Three little foxes

10. You|she

11. Academy

12. Teenage crush

13. The world of privileged people

14. Pinky promise

15. First love

16. The woman he wants to see in a wedding dress

17. Business trip

18. Love room

19. Dreams of each other

20. The path that I will walk next to you

21. Picket fence

22. In the name of love

23. Broken promise

24.

25.

— taglist: @httpmitsuya @gojoandelsalovechilde @duckyyyx @i-x4o @chishiyawifesworld @ajaxstar @kiryoutann @xiaosonlybeloved @aloveablechaos @obervation-subject-753 @beyaaaafr @silverbladexyz @funicidals @simpfully-heartbroken @r0ttenhearts @cocoanvt @5sausefandom @yevene @hamsuigok @stxwpid @childeismylove @chickoritasy @randomhumans-blog @nxwiqv @kiokiee @lillunna @pookiebearcave @shanieveh

Also this fanfic is published on AO3!

please, don't copy or plagiarize my fanfics. if you want to translate my works, ask my permission.

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heliads · 5 days

Note

Newt x reader Bridgerton AU. Reader, the diamond of the season, is the Duchess of Hastings. She wants to marry someone who likes her as a person and isn’t after her money. Newt, son of a widowed viscountess, needs to marry to save his family’s reputation because his sister Sonya was seen alone with her fiancé Lord Aris before they were engaged. The anonymous writer Lady Whistledown is Ava, a widowed modiste who has her nose in everyone’s business, and Aris is the only one who knows.

'foxes and hounds' - newt

masterlist

The start of a new social season, although intended, supposedly, to be a cause for joy, feels rather more like a fierce uprising of dread, not celebration. Across the ton, young maidens find themselves new entrees– or, entrants– to the marriage mart. This game of rings and dances, men with ambition and women with more, will end in blissful happiness or deepest discontent. And all will be witnessed by every worthy family from one corner of the country to the next.

If all goes according to plan, an eligible would-be bride will find herself engaged to a man she loves, a man in possession of a handsome fortune and a sterling reputation. If luck slips past her, she’ll settle for someone decent, or someone without any income at all. If nothing goes in her favor, her first year in society will not be her last as a single woman. She will have to repeat her attempt the next year, this time without the glimmering aura of a new arrival, and hope that something within her has changed enough to attract a proposal. Otherwise, she will sink to the bottom of the pile of dance cards, ignored, abandoned, and grown up into a spinster. All that hard work gone to waste.

You’ve heard many young women discuss the marriage mart with nothing short of absolute terror in their voices. A good opening season can seal a girl’s fate forever. Attracting the eye of a worthy man is an impossible task for all but the best of the rosebuds, or so it seems. Most of us will settle for something halfway decent– a tidy sum per annum but nothing extravagant, a man with casual disinterest but nothing harsh. Something that can be shaped into something good, or at least ignored in favor of not being alone. Such is the romance of a married life.

You, however, hope to extract a little more out of the whole affair. As the Duchess of Hastings, you have no need for money. A marriage would be nice, the final touch on the portrait of a successful lady, but you do not require the financial stability of a husband. You have plenty of money and plenty of friends. You will inherit your estate. If you look for a husband, you will look only for love.

One would think, then, that entering your first season among the eligible women of the ton would be bereft of the panic permeating through most of your friends in search of husbands. However, when you line up with the rest of the young women to be presented to the Queen at the start of the season, you find that it couldn’t be less true.

Your stomach is in knots, even as you sweep confidently through the corridor to wait outside the door. The white feather in your hair stands tall and proud. Your dress is crisp and finely stitched, the highest of fashion yet never gaudy. You attract stares wherever you go– from the other girls, envious and jealous and heartsick, from the men, longing and cutthroat and mercenary– but pretend they don’t phase you in the slightest. As duchess, you’ve had plenty of time to grow accustomed to onlookers. You won’t allow them to interfere with you on this all important day.

At last, your name is called, and you enter the throne room, your mother behind you. You keep your steps small but light, and seem to float towards your queen. When the time is right, you sink into an elegant curtsy. The moment seems to last forever, your knees bent, your hands shaking slightly, but when the queen calls you to stand, you look up to find her smiling benevolently at you.

“I believe I have found my diamond of the season,” she announces.

The room erupts in polite applause, and you do your best to smother a smile that’s entirely too giddy to be proper. As you retreat from the room, you gaze at the faces surrounding you, trying to remember which ones look genuinely happy for you and which seem to be identifying a prize pig for the slaughter. When the town gossips all gather later to share their thoughts on today’s proceedings, you’re certain that some of them will attempt to discredit you, saying that of course the queen would choose the duchess as her diamond, but you know just as well as all of them that you deserve the honor today. You were the best of everyone here, and it’s plain to see.

Among all of them, your gaze catches on a singular man, almost lost in the crowd from all the bodies packed together but no less entrancing. What strikes you the most is that his face seems kind, and his eyes sparkle with pride as they watch you go. Pride for you, for your accomplishments. As if he couldn’t be more delighted that you of all people were named the season’s diamond.

Then you’re gone from the room, and the kind man is no longer before you. Still, you puzzle over the encounter long after your carriage takes you home. You don’t believe you recognize him, but that doesn’t mean anything to sway you towards any decision. An image of the young man swims in your mind– short, dirty blond hair, an upturned mouth, dark eyes, his face almost spritely. Clever, for sure.

You know better than to mess with clever men. Clever men are the type to try and twist your mind, convince you that they only love you then attempt to make off with your money. You know full well what marriage to you will offer any would-be suitor. This season, you may be looking for affection, but every man in the room will be after your fortune. The task of finding someone who truly cares for you will be a difficult one indeed.

So, clever men or not, you’ll have to keep your heart under close guard. When the first ball of the season comes to be, you don one of your finest dresses, and firmly admonish yourself to be careful. The game of hearts is not one that you lose. Either you win, or you destroy yourself.

You time your arrival carefully, so as to make the best entrance, and your efforts are rewarded. From the moment you’re announced, all eyes turn to you. Were it not for your extensive experience with being scrutinized in the grand magnifying lens that is the ton, you’d be nervous to have that many people looking at you. Even still, you can’t pretend you don’t feel a small flutter in your stomach.

It gets easier once you sweep further into the room, once people start smiling at you again, when the conversation picks up and you’re asked for your first dance of the evening, which you accept. Your partner is a charming man named Minho– dark hair, witty eyes, an excellent sense of humor. He’s athletic and a decent dancer, and by the time the music stops, you’re back to your usual self again. You can’t stop yourself from mentally sizing up your dance partner. He seems nice, and you wouldn’t be bored around him, at least. His family owns land. Although he’s not of your precise social standing, few are, and he’s close enough to you that it would be a respectable match.

Still– still, you think to yourself, as you move away from the center of the floor once more to consider your dance card, it’s not quite enough. You want love, you want a spark, and you didn’t quite get that with Minho. There are plenty of eligible suitors here, though, and many more balls to come. You’ll have other opportunities to select a match.

A few dances later, though, your feet are beginning to feel heavy and you’re still no closer to finding someone of interest than you were at the start. A good lady of extensive training such as yourself should have no problem dancing the entire night through with a pleasant smile on her face, but you’re still human, still tired, and your charming demeanor is beginning to pinch at the seams before long.

The music for the latest dance ends, and you curtsy to your partner, praying silently that no one else will be looking to fill your dance card for the next rotation. However, when you turn around, you’re greeted with the sight of many anxious faces. Something inside you wilts, perhaps your endurance.

Before the mobs can descend upon you, however, a figure appears in front of you. You sigh in relief to see one of your closest friends, Miss Teresa Agnes. “Teresa! And here I thought I wouldn’t have a single good friend all evening.”

Teresa laughs, her dark hair shining. “I would never abandon you. Certainly not when our diamond is sparkling so spectacularly tonight.”

You smile at her. “I’m not the only one who’s sparkling, Teresa. You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” Teresa says sincerely. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce someone to you. This is Viscount Newt, a good friend of mine. I met him through Thomas.”

You smile to yourself as Teresa turns to beckon someone towards you. Teresa has been harboring a not-so-secret admiration for Thomas since you were all small. This is her first season in the social circles, too, and if she doesn’t come out of it with a proposal from Thomas, you’ll think the sky has fallen. Even now, he’s watching her fondly from across the room, trying to pretend as if he isn’t pining madly while Minho teases him for it.

“Here he is at last,” Teresa says, and all of a sudden you can’t think about Thomas’ case of lovesickness for a second longer, because Teresa has brought her friend before you, and you know him. It’s the stranger from your presentation to the queen. The nice one, the clever one. The one that caught your eye, and then your imagination.

You curtsy automatically, and Newt bows. Once the two of you straighten up, you’re able to observe him more closely. You’d only gotten a fleeting glimpse earlier, but now you can drink in the sight of him, and you do. His eyes are dark, but catch the lights like stars. His mouth has a habit of twitching up at the sides, as if he’s always thinking of a joke but just barely managing to keep it at bay. When he looks at you, he really looks at you. You’ve been stared at all night by would-be suitors, but their gazes never went farther than surface level. Right now, it’s as if Newt can see through to your very soul, and most intimately of all, appreciates it.

Teresa gives you a confused look, and you realize you’ve been standing in silence for longer than is probably courteous. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say.

“I must return the sentiment,” Newt returns. “Teresa has talked about you many times. I’ve been quite eager to meet you.”

“I hope I’m worthy of what she’s told you,” you say.

Newt smiles again. “I believe you’re even better than that,” he tells you.

Teresa is looking at you with an odd smile. “I believe I’d better let the two of you get to know each other, then,” she says, and sweeps away before you can stop her.

Newt laughs. “She’s been wanting to set us up for ages. For a friendship, I mean,” he breaks in hastily. “Apparently, she thinks we have a similar sense of humor.”

“I look forward to finding that out myself,” you smile.

Newt’s eyes flash with mirth again, delighting you. Behind you, the music picks up again. Newt extends a hand towards you. “Would you mind if I shared a dance with you? Unless, of course, you’d rather sit for a while.”

“I’d love to dance,” you say quickly, and it’s true. All of a sudden, the pain in your feet is gone, as if it had never existed at all.

Newt smiles and takes your hand to lead you to the dance floor. The orchestra begins its melody, and you start your dance. You make a mental note to ask Teresa a little more about Newt later; he dances like an aristocrat, but he speaks so freely to you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced in a suitor before.

Newt arches a brow as he steps through the dance. “Sizing me up, are you? It may be improper of me to ask, but I do hope I’m meeting your requirements.”

Your cheeks heat up. “I’m simply appreciating your mastery of this dance. Nothing more.”

Newt laughs easily. “Of course not. It’s not as if everyone else here is doing the same thing right now. Every dance partner is a strategy meeting. In just a matter of minutes, you’ll walk away knowing if I am a worthy wager, and I will do the same. This ball is full of hounds and foxes, my lady. We all know our parts.”

You glance at him, feeling a curious grin tugging at your lips. “And which am I? Fox or hound?”

Newt returns your proud gaze. “I suppose we’ll find out at the end of the season, won’t we?”

You laugh, feeling oddly triumphant. Newt has this way about him that you find enchanting. It’s almost breaching impropriety with how candid he is around you, but it only makes you trust him more. The dance ends far sooner than you’d like. Newt relinquishes you to the storm of suitors outside, hopefully with just as much reluctance as you.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Newt is truly the only one that stands out to you. You don’t have a chance to dance with him again, but you keep making eye contact as you dance with other partners. You can practically hear his clever words in your head, catching you in the act of evaluating the suitors in front of you. Fox or hound?

When the ball ends and you return to your carriage for the ride home, you’re blissful, practically dreamy. You’ve had enough time with Newt to dream about it until the next ball, where you’ll likely repeat the same cycle over and over again until the season ends.

However, your golden mood is shattered when your chaperone sits down across from you. Her face, by contrast, is twisted with disappointment. “Do you have any idea what sort of trouble you’re getting yourself into?” She asks once the carriage pulls away.

Still caught up in the heady dream of a merry boy who smiled the brightest when he danced with you, you don’t realize the trap descending around you until it’s too late. “What trouble?”

Your chaperone’s lips purse. “You’re meant to be dancing only with eligible gentlemen, my lady. I should hope that you’d be able to recognize the suitable candidates from the unseemly by now.”

The veil is pierced, and you’re beginning to be brought back to earth. “What are you talking about? I thought I made perfectly reasonable choices with my dance partners.”

Your chaperone shakes her head, a quick, sharp gesture. “All but one. Goodness, haven’t you heard about the trouble with that one family? I can’t believe Miss Agnes had the nerve to introduce him to you, but perhaps the fact that she’s so besotted with Lord Thomas is upsetting her mind.”

Your heart freezes in your chest. “You can’t mean to say that the Viscount is not a suitable bachelor? What else could he be?”

The other woman sighs. “You don’t know, do you? My lady, I would not interfere if I did not feel the need, but I can assure you, his motives with you are purely mercenary. That man is desperate for something to cover up the follies of his family, and you, my dear, are the perfect gilded shield.”

You feel cold. “What follies?”

“His sister, Miss Sonya, was seen alone with her fiance,” your chaperone murmurs at last. “Lord Aris. I would think you would have heard his name, although perhaps not connected it with Viscount Newt. Miss Sonya and Lord Aris were happily engaged, and by all accounts it was a fine union, but they were seen together without a chaperone past dark. Quite the scandal. The Viscount knows it and is eager to get the ton talking about anything but his sister’s misdeeds. Entering into a courtship with you would do just the trick.”

She’s right, and you know it, and you hate it. “He seemed so genuine,” you whisper, and instantly know how foolish it sounds.

Your chaperone, to her credit, is kind enough to take pity on you. “He did,” she tells you, “and you looked happy together. You would be less happy, however, when you found out the truth. I would rather you know now and stay away. Men like that are nothing but trouble.”

You nod solemnly, turning your head to watch the dark landscapes rumbling past. The sun is already beginning to rise, a hallmark of a late night out. It had been a beautiful night up until this, and now the entire evening is ruined in your mind.

“I feel for Miss Sonya,” you whisper. “She was already engaged. They were just talking.”

“She knows the rules of society, and so do you,” your chaperone reminds you. “We all have our roles to play.”

And the consequence of setting a foot outside your role is instant public mortification. Yes. What a forgiving world. You immediately plant your exhausted body in your bed when you return, hardly sparing the time to wash and dress, but the only things to bloom from your rest are troubled dreams of the boy that could have been yours. Now that you know the truth– that Newt was only trying to use you for a better reputation– every interaction with him is tainted.

You’d meant what you said in the carriage, though. You did think Newt was genuine. Hadn’t he laughed more than usual when he was with you? Hadn’t he regarded you with that fierce pride of his, as if he’d finally found a mind that was an equal to his? Hadn’t he watched you with something akin to jealousy when you danced with the other men that weren’t him?

Hadn’t you wished he would only dance with you? And don’t you wish that you could truly do what you promised yourself and marry only for love, never mind the rest? It is a simple dream to think that love is easy. Marriage is not simple, not in the ton, not in your lifetime. Every one of your days will be shaped by the whims of society, even when they take Newt away from you.

When it comes time for the next ball, you do your best to strengthen your spirits before you go. You intentionally avoid him, making sure to always have your dance card full whenever the music ends. It’s easy enough to find a crowd large enough to hide you from him, and yet you still catch glimpses of Newt from across the hall, several partners down, in a carriage many behind yours. You successfully go two balls, then three, without seeing him, but it aches like a knife in your ribs when you think about what could have been.

As it turns out, you’re not the only one wishing you were with him. At the fifth ball of the season, your attempts to distance yourself from the viscount are foiled at last. Newt tracks you down, signing his name on your dance card before you can stop him before leading you out to the dance floor.

“That’s a rather abrupt way of asking a lady to dance, don’t you think?” You ask as you curtsy.

Newt bows. “I felt it was the only way of guaranteeing that you would dance with me.”

“A lady never declines a gentleman in need of a dance,” you remind him.

The music picks up, and the two of you begin your paces. “A lady also never avoids a gentleman as thoroughly as you have at the last few balls,” Newt says. “Were it not for the fact that I know you to be as perfectly agreeable a duchess as there could ever be, I would say that it was personal.”

You can’t look him in the eyes, even with his hands on you, guiding you through the steps. “It’s not meant to work out, my lord. Us, I mean. We cannot forget the rules.”

When Newt speaks again, his voice sounds hurt. “Why not? Forgive me, my lady, but I remember what it was like that first night. You were happy. We were happy, and happy together. What changed?”

At last, you risk a glance towards him, and instantly regret it. Newt’s eyes are filled with genuine hurt. Are you wrong? Did he actually want you as more than a cover-up? “I heard about your sister,” you say as delicately as you can.

Still, Newt flinches as if you’ve hit him. “You don’t know the full story,” Newt says raggedly.

“Then tell me,” you beg him. “I would choose you if I could, but everyone seems to think that you are only interested in me to advance your station. Give me a reason to believe in you, not them.”

“I can’t say it here,” Newt whispers.

“I can’t go somewhere with you alone,” you tell him quietly. “Especially not after what happened to your sister. You must tell me now, or we will never have another chance.”

“Alright,” he says at last. “But you mustn’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”

Once you agree, Newt begins to speak in a hushed whisper hardly audible to you, let alone the other couples around you. “Sonya is deeply in love with Lord Aris, and he is in love with her. So much so to the point that he has been battling a deep rage ever since that awful gossip rag, Lady Whistledown, slightly disparaged her last season. He took it upon himself to find out Lady Whistledown’s identity, and somehow, he did. The only problem is, Lady Whistledown is not someone Sonya would consider a friend. He wanted to warn her about the dangers of being anything less than perfect around that insidious writer, and he didn’t want to waste a moment. He called on her to meet with him as soon as possible. He didn’t think they would be seen, but they were, and of course Lady Whistledown ran with it to discredit them in case they would reveal her.”

You suck in a harsh breath. “It was never anything wrong, then. He merely wanted to protect her.”

Newt nods. “Lord Aris is a good man. He never would have done something like this if he realized how it would backfire. He regrets it daily, even though all he wanted to do was keep my sister safe. The ton knows their characters, too. Neither of them would do anything unseemly. The rumors diminish by the day, and soon, it will all be over. They will be happily married.”

He sighs and looks at you again. “I tell you this to explain myself, and to clear my name. I have nothing to hide from the situation with my sister and her future husband. In fact, it is only because they directly asked me not to spread this information that I haven’t gone public with the identity of Lady Whistledown herself to spare their reputations. I have nothing to fear, my lady. Certainly nothing that would make me risk the happiness of my marriage on a good rumor. I would court you because I have never met anyone like you before, nor do I think I ever will. You are utterly entrancing in every possible way. If you do not wish to be with me in that fashion, I would understand.”

You shake your head quickly. “I do want that, my lord. I want you.”

A careful smile slips across Newt’s face. “Do you mean that?”

“I do,” you tell him. “I have wanted you since the moment I saw you at my presentation. I would have found you no matter what lies they spread.”

Newt grins. “I believe I have decided something important, my lady. About your inner nature.”

You arch a brow as he spins you. “And what is that?”

“You’re a hound,” he informs you matter-of-factly. “Sharp and bright. Brave, too. But, then again, I am a hound as well. We make quite the pair, I think.”

“I think so too,” you tell him. In the days to come, rumors will abound about the viscount and the duchess. At first, there will be surprise across the ton, but then, even the most tenacious of gossips will realize that this makes perfect sense. The most clever of men and the most ambitious of women, bound together in holy matrimony. Even the best of poets couldn’t concoct a story that beautiful.

requested by @thornyrose463, i hope you enjoy!

the maze runner tag list: @blondsauduun, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver, @il0vebeingdelulu

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 9 months

Text

Promises Five: The Hunt

Dark!Morpheus x (female)reader, fantasy/medieval AU, 18+

Master List

Dream of the Endless had been promised a bride.

A/N: I'll offer song recs to folks who are interested in asks! Still dealing with some mental health issues, but pushing through. HOLY SHIT THE NEXT CHAPTER. 0,0 Liking is sweet, commenting is divine. Talk to the lonely hermit, people. Her dog is tired of her shit.

The hounds sang after the hinds, and their masters followed them under the trees.

In the distance, the high castle sat like a toy house from which all the dolls had escaped, spreading their games and pageantry through the forest with bells and horns to warn away the deer and fox. Huntsmen released other deer, fox, and fowl from prearranged cages out of sight of the king and his swarm of courtiers, so the dolls could play pretend at feats of skill.

The bard kept to the back, holding a tight rein on her grey mare – who didn’t understand why she couldn’t stop and graze if the bard insisted on moving so slowly – in the company of the ladies Alder. Eilwyn, who’d visited the bard’s chamber two nights past, glimmered and glowed, illuminated like a piece of art in the dappled sunlight and the eyes of a few dozen would-be suitors. Officially, no one could pay court until the Endless had his pick. Unofficially, Eilwyn had received six declarations of love, five bad poems about her eyes, one good poem about her hair, and an uninspired puzzle box containing a gaudy necklace without a single gem of value.

Eilwyn loved it all, of course.

But as the younger woman amused herself snaring hearts for her collection, the bard conversed with the Dowager Alder, Eilwyn’s grandmother.

“The city lights are unbearable,” the elder Alder insisted. “My eyes are bad enough as it is, but when every street and tavern glows like the moon, I can hardly make out the planets with my telescope, let alone the fainter stars. With the travel time, I’ll lose whole weeks of work, and gods know if I’ll be alive to note my calculations this time next year.”

Manly shouts and howling dogs suggested something ahead had died, or was about to. The bard wondered how many of these fools in their fine furs would discover the material cost of bloodsport when they couldn’t scrub the stains from their velvets in the morning.

“You say that every year.”

The Elder Alder, on her aged palfrey, squinted at the green canopy shielding her beloved sky and tutted.

“And one year I’ll be right, like I always am in the end.”

The woman was an astronomer, a mathematical magician, and the idea of death hadn’t scared her since the bard first met her as a young maid. The wheel of the heavens moved before her, and it would move after, and that was well enough if she could just understand the damn thing before she shuffled off this mortal coil. She’d written books, and papers, and more books, and the bard wondered if Death would really hold off until the universe held no more mysteries. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Of course, Lady Alder.”

Arthritis had long-since gnarled the lady’s hands, and they twisted over the saddle pommel and a hank of her horse’s main like knobby cypress knees, straining with the roll and sway of her palfrey’s gait.

“How far is the damned camp?”

Another lady – one of the fools hoping to wed her daughter to the Endless riding very far ahead near the king – seized the reins of her precious child’s horse and passed the odd trio. She did not look to the side. She did not look at anything. She lifted her nose far too high. And she nearly trotted over her own servants in passing.

The bard waved, and the daughter gawked with wide eyes as she was spirited away from poor influences and dangerous words. Really, any damage was already done, and fleeing the scene of battle only showed weakness. What kind of lesson would the girl really learn besides the fact that her mother enjoyed making a spectacle of her piety? Parents really had the strangest ideas about children.

“Grandmother!” Eilwyn exclaimed, clearly delighted.

The bard, equally delighted, couldn’t help herself. “Such language from so fair a lady. Shocking.”

The Dowager shifted in her saddle, face puckered in discomfort. “Hush, the both of you.”

Oh, if only she could. She laughed to imagine how much pain and trouble might’ve been saved. And how many adventures missed. They never would’ve been friends at all if the bard kept her own counsel.

“You expect a bard to hold her tongue?”

“The sun will freeze first.” The Dowager made a point of staring down her granddaughter, though, and her granddaughter made a point of smiling very prettily in reply. A lord several lengths ahead called for Lady Eilwyn’s attention, and she brokered an armistice by riding out of her grandmother’s line of sight entirely, leaving the two old companions to fight their own wars.

“My old bones are not made for riding.”

A jolt of pity seared the bard’s belly like the pain after eating a rotten fish. She’d rather purge it and be done, but the prickling discomfort would only grow with age. There was no course but to swallow it down and imagine it hurt much less than it would in time.

“Why didn’t you take the coach then? It could’ve brought you in comfort.”

Swollen knuckles flexing, the lady scoffed. “With the rest of the invalids? Don’t insult me.”

“But it’s so much fun, old friend.”

“Old,” Lady Alder muttered. “Yes. I am that.”

The bard shifted in her own saddle, wondering if she could stomach any of the inevitable banquet awaiting them.

“That wasn’t the word I’d hoped you’d echo.”

An eye sharper than any hawk’s pinned her from the side, and she felt like a child caught sulking. “If you need reassurance as to that, then you are not half so clever as you make yourself out to be.”

She seized on the opportunity for levity and smiled with all her teeth. “You’ve known me for a fool many years, have you not?”

“Aye, but a clever one.” The lady considered. “Most days.”

“Such praise you give me.”

“You fished for it so often the lake is empty.”

“Unfair but not untrue.”

The lady hummed her affirmation, welcoming in a moment of calm as they road in the wake of the hunt’s chaos.

Ahead, those most eager to prove themselves brought down smaller prey on their way to the day’s camp. Once all had a chance to refresh themselves with wine as their horses grazed, most would sally out again in the name of dead beasts. Dusk would bring them back, and they’d spend the night drinking, feasting, and debauching one another just outside the safe ring of torchlight, pretending to be very daring and wild for fucking someone in a bush. A bit more hunting in the morning for those who could still sit straight in the saddle, and then all would return bloody and victorious to the castle.

The bard struggled to understand those who found the prospect of a royal hunt… thrilling. None worried to go home hungry, and the creatures they met in the wood came hobbled, with teeth filed and tusks blunted.

Rushing down a winding stair risked greater peril.

Bored by the day’s excitement, she let her thoughts spin out in wider and wider passes, circling the crux of the drama.

What did the King of Dreams dream of?

Revenge, she suspected. Vengeance on the king that may boil over on the land he ruled, and she must guide her favorites out of the flood’s path. Those practical answers satisfied the part of her that always craved a direction, a purpose, the next challenge to conquer, but the Dream King’s retribution sat like a wax seal over a longer letter. She would very much like to read that letter, even if it was dangerous, and unwise, and entirely reckless.

The Prince of Stories must have depths unfathomable, millennia upon eon of secrets and experiences carved into his bones. She wanted to dismiss her curiosity as nothing but interest in a vision of her future. Would she be like him in another thousand years? No. She’d still be human, and he was Endless. All the lifetimes of the Earth couldn’t teach her to understand one such as him.

But that didn’t mean she had no desire to try.

From farther up the line, a runner came jogging, peering up at the faces of the mounted company. He looked from one to another, seeking the right address to receive his message. The bard paused, recognizing the Everard house colors on servant’s tabard. Her horse stamped, whickering around the bit as her rider leaned out of the saddle to catch the young man’s eye. He saw her and darted to her side quick as an arrow.

“Is all well?” the bard asked.

“My lady Alis Everard and my lord Tomas Everard request you ride with them.”

The bard looked to Lady Alder. She hardly needed her friend’s permission, and none of the Alders were the sort to cherish grudges over perceived slights. But the bard didn’t want to leave her to ride alone, either. She needed good conversation and someone who cared enough to notice if she swayed on her horse.

“Oh, go tend to your nervous foal.” Lady Alder waved her off. “My own proud filly will see you pass and return to keep me amused. We favor different arts, but she has a sharp enough eye to see trouble riding by.”

“Thank you.” The bard pulled out of the column of riders, careful to avoid the servant at her side. “I’ll see you at the camp.”

Whatever Lady Alder replied was lost to the wind. Finally given her head, the bard’s mare leapt into a canter, her hooves thumping a second heartbeat that rattled up and through her rider. Old loam and the sharp green scent of freshly broken twigs gathered around her like a cloak as she moved just left of the path, removed from the rock and dust of the road.

The bard knew what colors to look for, and she let all definition blur as she moved past lords, ladies, knights, and their scores of attendants. They all looked so strange and out of place in the tunnel of green woods, dressed to stand out in a part of the world where blending in more often preserved life.

Near the front of the cavalcade, she found the Everards. Alis stared with wide eyes as the bard pulled even with her, mare prancing and snorting in frustration as her run came to an end. Her dramatic entrance pulled other eyes, and the king – only a few riders ahead – glanced back with frustrated disgust. Perhaps she should apologize that she wasn’t a stag. For all of the ruckus she’d heard from afar, she saw precious few carcasses dangling from the hunters’ belts.

“Thank you for coming in such haste,” Lord Everard said. Stifled amusement plucked at his lips, trying to lift them into a broad, laughing gale. It would be bad manners to laugh too loudly too near the king over a jest to which he wasn’t party, but Everard clearly struggled.

She answered with the grin he’d tried to school away. “Best way to travel. Now, what is the matter?”

Lord Everard gestured to his daughter, and she in turn tried to sink into the mud of the forest track. She hunched low, like she could melt into her boots. Her complexion had gone pale, despite the flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, and her gloves creaked as her dainty hands squeezed into fists. The bard let the merriment fade, looking and listening beyond the girl’s silence.

Alis’s doe eyes flicked towards the shadow who rode beside her king, and the bard understood.

Dream of the Endless wore his customary black, with the blood-red ruby shining on his breast like a heart he’d ripped from his prey. His nightmare mount had teeth where it ought to have eyes, and it laughed with a man’s voice. He carried a raven on his shoulder rather than a hawk on his glove, and anyone who hadn’t met his sister may mistake him for an aspect of Death. Or something worse, perhaps.

Lord of Nightmares indeed.

“He frightens me,” Alis whispered, leaning close. “I’ve had nothing but bad dreams since I came to the castle.”

As she should. A glance at her father confirmed he thought the same. Just because he’d been forced to bring his child to this storm didn’t mean he didn’t fear the lightning. He had too much sense for this farce and too big a heart to let the girl suffer. If his wife were not busy running the estate, she’d be here to shelter and comfort their little girl, but in her absence, he must ask the bard to fill the role, and she gladly pulled Alis’s attention from bad dreams to simpler truths.

“And you’ve never had a nightmare before?” She didn’t chide. She reminded. Even in the security of her own bed in her own home, the girl had touched the darker shores of the Dreaming. Its king would not reach out to swallow her now, even though he prowled so near in the Waking. “Alis, believe me, you are safe.”

Alis pulled her spine straight, taking a deep, intentional breath that shuddered on the way in and trembled on the way out.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise that if I’m wrong, I’ll find a convenient sword to fall on, and you can say you told me so. Does that make you feel better?”

“A little.” Realizing what she’d said, Alis blanched and rushed to add, “But only because I know you’d come back!”

This time her father did laugh, and the bard reached to reassure her with an honest to gods giggle, when chaos erupted at the front. The king and his companions came to a dead stop, and without warning or order, those who rode behind struggled to halt in time. Rearing horses and shouts of alarm rolled down the line like a breaker, and in the wave of confusion that followed, the bard once again left the road to circle forward.

They’d reached the camp.

A glory of golden stitching over swaths of emerald, the vast tents might cover an entire town, and smoke rising with the smells of rosemary and stewed venison hinted at the delights within.

The display paled behind the entity waiting at the edge of the woods, however.

Golden eyes like licks of flame from the sun’s heart smiled over ruby lips. Welcoming and menacing and all-too pleased with themselves.

Power perfumed the air, like honeysuckle and ambergris, clashing with the winter-cold snap of Dream’s clear displeasure. The King of Dreams had lost the veneer of humanity, and he set himself against the intruder like the deepest hour of the night resisting the dawn.

Few creatures could stand up to the king’s guest. Even fewer commanded the presence of function beyond personification. The bard did not know who the stranger was, but she knew what they were.

Another fucking Endless.

Every inch screamed of passion, romance, obsession. Golden hair and loose-fit silks that flowed like water into a garment that was neither tunic nor gown inspired sensual curiosities. They rode a unicorn, a bay mount with cloven hooves, a lion’s tail, and a goat’s beard. The russet horn glinted with flecks of gold, like treasure winking through a smear of blood.

The King of Dreams sneered, lip curling as he shared a frigid greeting.

“Sibling.”

The Endless in their path laughed, bright as bells and smooth brandy. It sounded to the bard’s ears like trouble. “I hope you don’t mind if I join in your hunt. Big brother.”

#fic: promises #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus x oc #female reader #morpheus x original character #dark!morpheus #fantasy!au

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rayshippouuchiha · 1 year

Note

Fox Bride AU. Can you tell us what Sarutobi did that's gonna have Kakashi trying to re-kill him? Does Naruto's presence in kakashi's territory have something to do with why the war started?

🐸

Let's just say that the thing Orochimaru supposedly stole? The one the war started over?

Well its been a lot closer to Kakashi's home than anyone realized this entire time.

#The Fox Bride AU #Naruto #KakaNaru #RayRambles

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bi-buckrights · 1 year

Text

Our Love is Like a Storybook Story (But it’s as real as the feelings I feel)

rated: m | buddie | word count: 6.3k | chapter: 1/7 | read on ao3

“Farm boy.” Buck says quickly, realizing he’s never actually called Eddie by his real name before and feeling overwhelmed at the thought of it. Time stands still as Eddie turns back to face him.

“Fetch me that pitcher.” He says softly, nodding towards the pitcher hanging above his head along with other kitchen appliances. Eddie doesn’t look away, taking slow steps towards Buck until he is so close that Buck can feel Eddie’s breath on his face. Buck’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest as Eddie reaches for the pitcher, leaning closer into Buck’s space to do so. This close, Buck can see flecks of gold, like honey, in Eddie’s warm brown eyes. Eddie lowers the pitcher, placing it gently in Buck’s hands causing their fingers to brush.

“As you wish.” It comes out as a whisper, and Buck feels lightheaded at the softness of Eddie’s voice.

Or, the princess bride au that nobody asked for

#it's here!!#so excited to be sharing this #buddie #911 #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #911 fox #911 fic #princess bride au

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quietplace26 · 2 years

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Fox Bride au (6)

Akito woke up completely terrified, and in his panic state, he began to struggle violently.

Akito still thought he was in Hannya's clutches.

He lets out a cry of fear when arms wrapped around him, tugging him back into someone's chest.

"Akito!"

Akito stops trashing around. "KK...?"

Squirming around, Akito sees that it was KK!

Akito slumps into KK's arms, finally feeling safe after his horrible ordeal.

The feeling disappears after he remembers something important.

He jerks back up, fear back on his face when he spat out his panicked question. "Are Ed and Erika okay?! That man- He-!"

KK shushes him, gently coaxing him back on the futon he was orginally sleeping on.

"They're okay. You're all okay. I took care of that bastard."

He explains to Akito that he brought him, along with Ed and Erika, to his temple to healed.

"I'm not going to lie, it was bad. I thought you were going to die in my arms, Aki..."

Apparently the wounds on the humans were so bad, they had to take extreme measures to make sure none of them would die.

Whatever those extreme measures were, it worked, as Akito and the others were healed, but there were side efects...

Akito stares at his refection in shock. Reaching up to his head, Akito tugs on one of his new fluffy fox ears. His attention then goes to his behind, where a equally fluffy fox tail sways behind him.

Akito was a kitsune now!

It wasn't just Akito who changed, Ed and Erika changed as well.

Erika was now a pure blooded cat yokai like Rinko.

While Ed was neither a kitsune like Akito, nor was he a cat yokai like Erika. Instead, he was now a rabbit yokai.

Akito, Erika, and Ed took to their new life quite nicely at KK's temple quite easily.

Ed made himself at home in KK's library, while Erika was spending quite a bit of time training with Rinko.

Akito had the pleasure of seeing a cat!Rinko carrying a cat!Erika around like a kitten.

Akito ended up following Erika's example and started training with KK to get use to his new powers and form.

Fully shifting into his fox form for the first time was an experience for Akito, as he was so tiny compared to KK.

With his training nearly done, Akito felt excitment begin to build up as he looked at the date.

His wedding was tomorrow! He and KK were finally going to be married! No more being called KK's 'bride'! He'll be KK's husband!

"Or wife. Wife could work as well." KK was giving him a lazy grin from their bed, clearly very proud of what he said.

Akito just smacks his face with a pillow.

#ghostwire: tokyo #ghostwire tokyo #akito/kk #kitsune au #Kitsune!KK #Fox Bride au #Kitsune!Akito

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rwrbficrecs · 8 months

Note

hii! first of all thank you for this amazing blog! it’s been helping me find a bunch of amazing fics & authors! <3 i wanted to ask if you knew any fanfics inspired by famous movies or books or other pieces of media in general? thank you ❤️

Hi! So glad you’ve found the blog helpful ❤️ I’ve put what media each fic was inspired by, though some are more loosely inspired than others so keep that in mind!

All the Old Showstoppers by @cha-melodius (great british bake off) As You Wish by @bibliothesoph (princess bride) Crowning Glory by schmulte (princess diaries) “I wonder how we’ll fit into the History of Magic” - A Hogwarts AU by @the-amber-fox (hogwarts/hp) I'm Taking A Ride With My Best Friend by @cultofsappho (the last of us) In Any Universe by @sprigsofviolets (heartstopper) it's you and me by @smc-27 (the summer I turned pretty) Maybe. Probably. by What_Is_A_Mild_Opinion (WIP) (marvel) Not Even At All by ifigo (10 things I hate about you) Not Like This by @illiteratemaya (new girl) Red, White & Ocean Blue by @bibliothesoph (the little mermaid) Rogue's Gallery by @orchidscript (white collar) Rule Number Nine by @clottedcreamfudge (kissing booth) SNL | Season 45 Episode 2 | HRH Prince Henry & FSOTUS Alex Claremont-Diaz by @xthelastknownsurvivorx (SNL) The Duke Who Loved Me by @annnesbonny, Inareskai, schmulte (bridgerton) The Holiday by @dracowillhearaboutthis (the holiday) we’re right here for a reason by @smc-27 (how to lose a guy in 10 days) Why Do We Even HAVE That Curse? by @cricketnationrise (the mummy)

Huge thanks to my lovely team of volunteers for helping collect these recs ❤️ If you’d like to help out too, check out the Volunteers Page 🥰

#famous media #movie/tv show #rwrb fic recs #book #rec request

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m-jelly · 6 months

Text

@ladycheesington <3

A sweet offering

Levi x fem!reader

Hybrid AU, Future/modern AU, romance, fluff, falling in love, kitsune Reader, wolf Levi, talks of mates.

Levi hasn't found his mate yet and he is lonely. He wants to find his mate, the love of his life, and everything, so he does something his friends recommend that is slightly a joke. He goes to the forest and presents a basket of offerings to gain a woodland wife. He doesn't believe it will work but is shocked when you turn up. It is love at first sight for you both.

I might make this a long fic one day

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @notgoodforlife @demonsimp6 @nbinairyn

Ridiculous. Silly. Fool. Hopeful.

A mix of emotions rushed through Levi as he considered the situation he was in. Love was something he wanted so much. He has seen his friends gain their mates and he had yet to find anyone. The longing inside him to find his mate was strong.

Friends had told him that there was a very ancient way to find a bride. A heart filled with longing could enter the enchanted forest and find the opening. Within the circle opening, he must present a basket full of selective treats and wait for a bride to take them.

So that's what he did and it was the reason why he was sitting in a bush in the afternoon. He was pouting slightly as he gazed out at the basket of sweet baked goods he had made. He didn't think he would meet a bride, but he was hopeful enough that it would happen so he remained.

His wolf ears twitched on his head when saw the bushes rustling. He leaned closer as his tail flicked. He gasped a little expecting someone like him to come out, a human-looking person with animal ears and a tail but instead, a pretty fox jumped out and ran over to the basket.

His heart sank a little when he thought he had only attracted an animal, but he was surprised. A beautiful cloud of smoke appeared and then the most divine woman leapt out. You.

He admired every inch of you and felt his heartthrob in his chest. You were his mate, there was no question about it. You more a beautiful off-the-shoulder robe that shows off your chest. The wrap was done just right so your legs slipped out sometimes. Your fox ears were so pretty on your head and your tail was so fluffy. You were adorable and beautiful beyond words.

As you shoved the sweet baked goods into your mouth and moaned in delight, Levi was moving closer as if pulled by something on a deep level. He walked across the grass as he admired you sweetly. All he could think of was the word mate in his head getting louder and louder. It was clear to him now why he had been so lonely, it was because his true mate was in the enchanted forest all this time.

You stopped eating and looked up to see the most handsome man you had ever seen. The word mate throbbed inside you as you took him in. He wore a tight smart shirt with fitted trousers and ankle boots. His raven hair was so pretty and his face was perfection with the button nose, plump chubby cheeks and kissable lips. His silver-blue eyes were hypnotic.

You knelt and twisted your body to look at him. "Did you give me this offering of sweet things?"

He sat on the grass in front of you. "Y-Yes."

Your tail wagged fast. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yes."

You gasped in delight and smiled when you introduced yourself. "Who are you?"

"I'm Levi."

You crawled closer to him and sat right in front of him, your faces close making him blush. "Levi, I keep hearing the word mate when I look at you. Do you hear it too?"

He blushed hard and nodded. "Y-Yes. I hear mate. You are my mate, my true love."

You squealed and dove into his arms making him fall back. "Mate!" You nuzzled your face against his chest and hummed in happiness. "Finally."

Levi growled in pleasure as he felt your heat merge with his. He wrapped an arm around you as he used his other to lean on. "Yeah." He smiled at you with soft and gentle eyes making your heart flutter. "Finally." He chuckled. "I've been searching for you for so long."

You gripped his shirt tightly. "Does this mean I am yours and you are mine?"

He nodded. "If you want it. I do."

You hummed a laugh and kissed him. "You're my mate, mine."

"Mine."

"So, do you want to come over to mine?"

He blushed bright red. "I w-would like to take you a d-date."

You sat up on his hips and smiled. "I would love to! I've never been on a good date before. A lot of people use my kind, which is why I live out here. I'm so glad I met you. My real mate." You welled up a little and smiled so sweetly. "You care about me."

"I do." He sat up and wrapped his arms around you. "I really do. So, a date."

"Yes, but I want to take you home!" You jumped up and yanked Levi to his feet. "I want to cook you dinner as a date! I want to show you my garden and my things."

He chuckled and grabbed the basket. "I would love to." He held your hand tightly and walked with you. "I know we have a strong connection and it is like we've known each other for a lifetime, but I still want to date you and woo you, if that's okay?"

You nodded as your heart swelled with joy. "Yes! I want the same. I want to spoil you."

He lifted your hand and showered it with kisses. "I will treasure you."

You snuggled up to him. "Me too."

He smiled at you and just gazed for a while before a cute home with a lush garden caught his attention. "Holy shit. what a beautiful home."

"This is my home!" You dragged him to your home. "It is yours now too 'cause'cause we're mates!" You giggled. "I hope you like it. I grow a lot of fruit and veg. It's very cosy inside." You helped him inside and showed him where to take his shoes off. "I also have a lot of books. I like sitting on my porch with a book and tea."

Levi purred. "I love that too."

You gazed up at him. "May I kiss you?"

He nodded and leaned closer. He softly pressed his lips against yours and sighed. "May I stay with you for a few days? I want to go on many dates and just connect on a soul level with you."

"You can stay as long as you want."

He hummed. "Dangerous thing to say. I won't want to leave."

You giggled. "I'm okay with that."

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weirdozjunkary · 10 months

Text

I made another small fic for the movie version of the MVA AU cause I think its fun. It might evolve into its own thing unrelated to MVA, but I really like this funny au of an au

Wedding crasher

(Another movie MVA AU fic oneshot)

The sun beamed down on the beautiful Hawaiian beachside. It was a beautiful day for a wedding. Beautiful it was. But maybe too much.

Triiiing—Triiiing! Triiiing—Triiiing!

Toms phone began ringing before Rachel and Randal could exchange their vous. “Sorry! Sorry! My bad! I thought it was on silent!” Tom nervously chuckled as he shit off his phone. He revived daggers from the bride who already hated his guts.

Triiiing—Triiiing! Triiiing—Triiiing!

“So help me, Thomas!” Rachel shouted at him.

“Sorry! Sorry! Let me just take this! I’m so sorry!” He said and ran off to the side to take the call as silently as he could. “What?!” He silently shouted at the hedgehog from his phone. “This better be an emergency, or so help me I’ll…. What’s that noise?”

“Oh uh… there is a little bit of an emergency!” Sonic sheepishly said. The wind blowing wildly into the phones receiver.

“What’s going on? Why are you so close to the camera? Did you get into trouble again?”

“You could say that….” He had no idea how to tell him what had happened. I mean, how do you explain that you grew 50-feet in one knight, turned blue, an angry echidna has teamed up with a man that you both thought was dead by now, and now you are again running away from them with an unconscious fox in your palm because they want you dead. Actually, knowing Tom, he wouldn’t really be that surprised by any of this.

“Oh my god. Do I really need to come home, now?

“No no no! You’re good! I just need you to throw the ring I gave you, like right now!”

“What? Why?”

“Listen, I got only one ring on my right now, and it won’t be big enough! I need you to throw it, NOW!”

Big enough? What the hell did he mean by that? Was he bringing a truck through or something? “Okay, just hold on a minute! How do I even do this?!”

“Just picture where you want the ring to go! Now picture this!” Sonic struggled to turn the phone around to face the front of him. There, what Tom saw was the massive snowy mountains of Siberia.

“Why are you in Siberia?!”

“JUST THROW THE DAMN RING!”

At the alter, though trying to enjoy the moment, Rachel noticed Tom, silently yelling to the hedgehog whom she suspected to be at the other side of the phone. She sighed. Of course, that little devil had caused enough destruction to her life, even if it was minor. What was he even doing now? Oh god, was he really bringing that little idiot here? Now of all times?

She watched as Tom threw the ring he had in his pocket and created that familiar golden portal that she had seen Sonic use at least once before. But what she didn’t expect was for it to suddenly double in size. The sight managed to catch everyone’s attention.

Screaming came from it. A booming scream that grew increasingly louder and louder, and Tom grew increasingly more and more shocked. He jumped out of the way just as a giant hedgehog fell through it. The ring disappeared not long after.

“Ugh… ow…” Sonic groaned, slowly sitting up from the now ruined grass.

“S-Sonic?” Tom said warily. “Are…. Are you alright?”

He waved a hand to him. “Hey. Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good, good… because YOURE IN SO MUCH FUCKING TROUBLE!”

“Language!”

“DONT BACK TALK TO ME! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?! YOU GREW FIFTY FEET IN TWO DAYS?!”

“Actually like five minuets.”

“WHAT?!”

“Okay, Tom! You need to calm down!” Maddie said, putting a hand on him. She pointed to the hedgehog. “Now YOU! Talk! Now!”

“Okay, long story short. I got hit by presumably this magic emerald which caused me to be like this. Robotnik came back with this echidna name Knuckles and now they’re trying to kill me! I grabbed Tails and- wait- TAILS!”

“Wait- Tails? Who is Tails?”

Sonic looked around him and lifted up the still unconscious fox from the dirt. He poked him with a finger. “Tails, please! Please wake up! Come on!” He lightly shook his hand.

“Sonic. Give him to me.” Maddie said.

“O-okay. Alright.” Sonic stammered. He gently placed the fox on the ground in front of her. God, he was really banged up. “Please, Maddie! He has to be alr-AH!” Sharp pain stuck into his shoulder. He put a hand over it and looked at what had hit him. Sleeping darts. Hundreds of them. Heavy duty ones too.

“Sonic?” Tom called out in worry.

“Wait! No…. I have… to…” A drowsiness came over him almost instantly and he struggled to keep his eyes open. “No… Tails…” He crashed onto the ground with a shaking thud, his hand falling into the altar beside him. Just after, various men across the crowed had drawn out guns they had kept hidden in the wedding ceremony.

“What the hell?!” Tom cursed.

“Randal, why do all your friends have guns?” Rachel said.

“It’s okay everyone, we’re federal agents.” Said a man holding up a badge. He turned to Tom and Maddie. “You really should have brought me up on that brunch Mister and Misses Wachowski.”

Tom squinted his eyes. “Olive Garden guy?”

“Correct. Though you may call me by my credentials. My name is Commander Walters, and as a federal agent, I’m calling jurisdiction on this site. We knew you still had the hedgehog in custody, Wachowski, but we knew you would never hand him over willingly. So we decided to create ‘operation catfish’.”

“Operation catfish?!” Rachel shouted. “You mean to tell me, that this ENTIRE WEDDING was a SET UP?!”

“Rachel, please. Listen to me.” Randal calmly said.

“IM DONE LISTENING!” Before she could do anything, she was held back by two men.

“I’m so sorry.” Randal said sombrely.

“Hey wait!” Tom shouted as he ran towards the army men who began to pin sonic down with rope, lots of it. “STOP IT! LET HIM GO!” He punched one of them in the face before two more pinned him to the ground. “GET OFF OF ME!”

“What are you doing?!” Maddie exclaimed. “Sonic isn’t a threat! He’s on our side!”

“He’s an uncontrolled extraterrestrial, and right now he is over 15 meters because of some ‘emerald’. He is more of a threat now than he has ever been!” He turned to the men, who now had Sonic, Tom, and the unconscious Tails in their custody. “Secure them here until the copper arrives.”

The rest of the men shooed everyone else away from the scene. Even Maddie and Rachel, who now had to figure out how to save the three of them.

#textpost #fanfiction #sonic fanfiction #tumblr fanfic #sonic au #MVA au #sonic movie #g/t #sfw g/t

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littlemisspascal · 2 months

Text

Rockford & Roan Pt. 8

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: The idea of it, of this outing being classified as something more than just two roommates getting breakfast, isn’t entirely unappealing to ponder. There’s actually a tiny bit of a thrill unfurling in your stomach.

Rating: T. Heed the warnings y'all!

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, crime-solving, Princess Bride reference

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford. Reader is mentioned to have hair

Author Note: Thank you always for the kind support💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Breakfast

Rockford slips into the kitchen the next morning while you’re preparing Banjo’s food. The little mutt barely turns his head to acknowledge the man, his hunger outweighing his love of ear scritches. Your roommate’s freshly showered, curls fluffed up and slightly damp, wearing a casual waistcoat over his white button up and a pair of dark pants. He looks like a college professor, you think, setting the pet bowl on the floor for Banjo to dig into with relish. All Rockford needs are some elbow patches and he’d fit right in amongst the Ivy League elites.

He’d left last night shortly after you’d retired to bed. Like usual he didn’t stop to tell you his midnight plans, and also like usual his absence dwindled in your thoughts right up until sleep washed over you. Where does he go? What does he do? If only you could take a magnifying glass to the entire city, look for a trail or clues to follow. Knowing Rockford though, he’s too smart to leave traces behind. No, he can be a mere shadow of a human just like his brother.

“There’s a nice breakfast spot about a five minute walk from here.”

With your head half inside the fridge staring at a near-expired carton of milk, it takes a beat for you to realize the comment was directed at you. You shut the fridge door, turning to find Rockford staring at you expectantly.

“Isn’t Inspector Dorrance coming over to pick up the suitcase?” you ask, although you have to admit, the idea of a stack of pancakes drowning in syrup sounds extremely appetizing to your empty stomach.

“Keziah may have been able to successfully substitute cigarettes with candy, but nothing on earth will ever replace his love of coffee.” Rockford sounds more amused than annoyed at the fact.“It’ll be several cups before his soonest convenience delivers him to our doorstep.”

“Well, in that case,” a grin grows on your face, “breakfast sounds wonderful.”

Stacked and Served is a bustling hive of activity when you and Rockford arrive, full of tasty smells and Fox Leap citizens eagerly tucking into their food. If dogs had been allowed, Banjo would’ve levitated off the floor due to the speed of his wagging tail. You’ll have to make it up to him when you return home with lots of belly rubs.

The interior is earthy colors, complementing shades of blues and browns, with a wooden bar lined with stools of happy customers chatting and dining. Throughout the restaurant are oversized, yet cozy-looking chairs arranged around tables, all occupied except for one marked with a reserved sign. It’s positioned next to the front window looking out at the busy city street, all walks of life beginning their days, some strolling along the sidewalks while others shout for cabs.

Before matching with Rockford, you tended to avoid crowded places like this. All these people, all their shades of emotions, would have brought down an avalanche upon your empathy, overwhelming and suffocating. With the stability of the bond to rely on, their feelings are still detectable along the edges of your mind-gift, but no longer sharp and grating. Muffled like you’ve put on headphones. Ignorable white noise unless you choose to tune in.

Rockford makes a deadline for the reserved table immediately, gesturing for you to take the window seat before he claims the lone dark blue chair for himself. You slowly sit down, eyes flicking between your match and the sign, wondering if he’s going to acknowledge it, when a man in a flour-stained apron and marked with at least a dozen tattoos in thick black lines along his forearms steps up beside the table with a warm, delighted grin.

“Rocky,” he greets, voice deep as a canyon and booming over the encompassing chatter. The two men shake hands, clearly familiar with one another, and then you’re being given a menu that had been tucked under the man’s arm. “And you must be Roanie, yeah? Keziah said you were pretty, but seriously you’re way too gorgeous for this asshole. Do me a favor and let me know if you ever catch Kez with a smoke, alright? He’s a sneaky bastard when he wants to be and usually I’d find that hot as hell, but nothing’s attractive about cancer sticks. I’ll staple ‘em to his balls if he ever touches those damn things again.”

You blink. Once. Twice. “Um.”

The man stares back at you for a moment, blue eyes taking in your awkwardness. Then he slowly turns to Rockford, lips pursing into an unimpressed line. “You didn’t tell her who I am, did you.”

There’s no inflection in his voice. Definitely no question mark at the end.

“Even if I had, it wouldn’t change the fact you have a habit of running your mouth and making terrible first impressions,” Rockford replies, but his gaze is focused outside the cafe, sweeping the streets in search of something.

He earns a well-aimed slap to the back of his head as a result. You wince in sympathy, feeling the sharp pop of pain in sync with your match who rubs at the spot tenderly.

“Lest you forget, Rocky, I’m the one who makes your food here. Don’t tempt me to spit–”

“So,” you pipe up, fumbling for a quick way to diffuse some of the brewing tension before it gives you a headache. “How long have you worked here…um.” It belatedly occurs to you that you’ve still yet to learn his name.

The tattooed-man takes mercy on you and offers a beaming smile just as warm as the one he’d initially approached with. Must’ve mastered it working in the food industry, you reckon. Or maybe warm and sunny is his natural temperament.

“Elio. And I’ve owned the place for…” he idly scratches the underside of his jaw, and there’s another flour stain there on the tendon of his neck, “oh just about three years now almost. It became mine after dear old Rocky here helped me prove to the police my old boss was skimming the cash register. Our paths should’ve split after that except then he went and introduced me to the love of my life.” His smile changes at the corners. Softens. A feeling sugary sweet and wispy flutters above your empathy, and you don’t need to bring it into focus to know it’s love.

“Introduce is a strong word,” Rockford interjects wryly. “As I recall, you saw him across the room and immediately lit up like a glow stick. I was then forced to explain to Kez you weren’t a criminal trying to escape incarceration by blinding the entire force.”

“Still ended up in handcuffs later that night.” Elio winks, but it’s the teasing, faint pulse of glowing skin that surprises you more. Reminds you of fireflies you used to see in fields back in your hometown.

“On that appetizing note,” Rockford grimaces, but there’s nothing but amusement coloring his mood, “think you could whip us up two stacks of your specialty pancakes? It’s Roan’s first time here.”

“Oh, a first timer! My favorite kind of customer!” Elio presses a hand to his chest, looking absolutely thrilled at the news. He steals the unread menu back from your hand quicker than you can process. “Leave the food to me. And I’ll see if I can find a candle or something for the table–make this date a little more romantic.”

All you can do is sputter at that, choking on your own spit as the man scurries away.

Date?

This isn’t–

You didn’t think–

No. No way. You fiddle with the silverware, thoughts spinning, unable to bring yourself to look at your match quite yet. A quick check of Rockford’s mood reveals he’s unruffled by the remark, not even the faintest blip resembling the line of exclamation marks running through your head. Does that mean you’re overreacting? Underreacting?

If this really was a date, you would like to think you’d know that with absolute, 100% certainty. Surely you’re not that oblivious, or so you tell yourself, at least. So, with that in mind, Elio was mistaken with his labeling. This is definitely not a date.

Still. The idea of it, of this outing being classified as something more than just two roommates getting breakfast, isn’t entirely unappealing to ponder. There’s actually a tiny bit of a thrill unfurling in your stomach.

Or that could just be hunger pangs.

Definitely plausible.and a lot less complicated to analyze.

You give your head a little shake, finally summoning the nerve to glance at Rockford. Except, low and behold, he’s looking out the window. Again. Not out of avoidance of your attention, no, you can tell by the roaming of his eyes taking note of every passing figure he’s keenly searching for something out there he wants to find real bad.

Your patience runs out five minutes later after another waiter has dropped off a pot of coffee and a glass bottle of water for the table.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, pouring yourself a drink and taking a sip.

“We know now our killer abducts his villains,” Rockford answers without preamble. “He drives them to secluded, private spots where they swallow the cyanide. But there’s been no reports of abductions, no witnesses of suspicious behavior, which suggests the victims go with him willingly. They don’t put up a fight.”

“Maybe he’s got a weapon?” you suggest, resting your chin on your knuckles. “Tells them if they scream he’ll shoot?”

“Perhaps,” is his preoccupied mumble, still looking outside, lost in his head.

Outside, the street is still full of commotion. A gray-headed businessman carries his briefcase in one hand and the morning paper in the other. Farther down the way, a pair of women point at something in one of the antique shop windows. Everybody’s got places to be, things to do. Oblivious to the dangerous predator skulking about.

Goosebumps rise up along your arms, like ice has found a way under your skin, imagining the killer out there right now. Hidden in plain sight, watching the goings-on. Hunting their next victim.

The pot of coffee goes cold. Untouched.

The Reason

Elio’s whistling when he brings the pancake stacks to the table. They’re golden, fluffy, and fucking huge, almost as round as the whole plate with a fat square of butter on top. He brings a candle with him too, which you studiously ignore, focusing instead on cutting off a small bite with your fork and dipping it in a cup of syrup.

“Ohmygod,” you utter around your mouthful, manners forgotten in the wake of tasting pure deliciousness. Elio looks very pleased with him, puffing out his chest as you all but inhale another bite. “It’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” Elio says, eyes crinkling. “Wanna know the secret ingredient? Self-confidence in oneself.”

“More like an extra helping of cinnamon sprinkled in,” Rockford says, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Oh hush!” Elio swats at his arm without heat, clearly holding back a chuckle. “Enjoy the food guys. On the house.”

You spare a moment to swallow and thank him properly before he leaves. These pancakes really just might be the best thing you’ve ever eaten in your whole life, your mother’s famous triple chocolate cake officially bumped to second place.

Your fork scrapes against the plate as you cut off another bite-sized piece to soak in the syrup. Tastes like rich maple on your tongue, a faint hint of vanilla when you lick your lips. You glance at Rockford, wondering if he’s going to ignore the food the same as he did the coffee, but you watch as the man rolls up one of the pancakes like one would a poster or a rug, delicate and precise. Three bites, that’s all it takes. Three bites to devour the entire fucking thing without even a single drop of syrup.

“Something on your mind, Roan?” he wonders, wiping at his mouth with a napkin.

Blinking out of your mildly horrified daze, you start to shake your head no, but stop yourself. Truth is there is something on your mind. And it’s not the efficient way he consumes pancakes or where in the city the killer will strike next.

“You don’t sleep at home.” It feels a little strange (and a little scary), to voice the concern that’s been a thorn ingrained in your thoughts since the first week you moved to 445D Albatross Lane. Hard to say if it was the change of scenery or good food that gave you the needed boost of confidence to finally bring it up. Perhaps it was both.

Rockford frowns, initial surprise shifting into a narrow-eyed wariness. There’s a change in his posture too, a subtle straightening of his spine you only notice because you’re watching him intently. “You noticed that, huh?”

“It’s kind of hard not to,” you admit with a small shrug. “I feel the absence of your emotions when you leave at night. You also don’t ever nap around the apartment either.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while.” It’s an observation, not a question.

“Yes,” you answer slowly, uncomfortably aware of the sudden sensation of walking on thin-ice. “I’ve been worried. Thought maybe…” You bite the inside of your cheek, warring with yourself over how much to reveal, but you’ve already come this far might as well take it to the finish line, “I thought maybe you didn’t trust me enough to fall asleep when I’m nearby.”

God, it sounds so stupid said out loud, doesn’t it?

Sure enough, Rockford is as blunt as ever when he confirms, “That’s total bullshit. We share a home, Roan. Of course I trust you.”

“Then where do you go at night?” You look at him, trying to understand if it’s not about trust then what is it about? “Do you have a secret girlfriend I don’t know about?”

That earns you a sharp bark of laughter, head thrown back and dimples out in full force. “A girlfriend? No. Not really my area.”

Oh.

A short pause follows, reassembling your thoughts.

“Okay,” you say, chewing your bottom lip. “So, do you have a secret boyfriend then?”

Rockford arches an eyebrow, and it’s deliberate, you can tell it is, the way he nudges your empathy. Judgy and bemused all at once.

“It’s totally fine if you do.” You hold up your hands, fork aimed at the ceiling, a defensive gesture that has Rockford’s other eyebrow rising to join the other, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“I know it’s fine.”

“So you do have a boyfriend then?”

“No, Roan.” He shakes his head, a low grumble. “I don’t have anybody. Not looking for anybody either. Relationships like that, they’re a distraction to my work.”

That settles it then, you realize with a faint sinking feeling. Definitely not a date.

“But what about when the work’s over?” you ask softly.

“The work’s never over.”

You frown, something awfully painful pinching in the center of your chest when his emotions don’t waver. He honestly believes that notion, as true a fact as water is wet. “Alright,” you murmur, reluctantly deciding not to push the subject further. “Explain it to me, please. Why don’t you sleep at home?”

“Because I can’t,” is Rockford’s succinct response doing absolutely nothing to clear up your confusion. “My gift won’t let me.”

Your fork slips from your fingers with a clatter, tongue tripping over words, “Wh-what? How does that even–? People die if they don’t sleep.”

He wags a finger in the air. “That’s actually incredibly rare–”

“Rockford.”

“My brain is in a constant state of perception, absorbing information from my senses and my environment,” your match tries to explain, his eyes settling on the coffee pot with a disgruntled glare like it’s personally offensive. “I can’t fall asleep like a regular person. Getting the rest I need requires locking myself in a sensory deprivation tank. There’s a health center with one not far from our apartment. I've been going there for years.”

“That’s where you go every night?” you ask, eyes widening in surprise.

Rockford toys with his napkin, avoiding your gaze. “No. Not always,” he admits, sheepishness creeping into his voice, clouding his aura. “I really do have chronic insomnia, that wasn’t a lie. Sometimes I go to the police station, point out the flaws in their filing system. Or during exam period, I spend the night at Rosasharn’s when she’s up to her eyeballs grading papers to keep her company. Usually though I set myself up at one of the dozens of twenty-four hour cafes in the city with my laptop or a good book and hang out until sunrise.”

“You…” You blink at him, completely thrown for a loop. “Seriously, you'd rather spend the night at a twenty-four hour cafe than your own home? Good lord, Rockford, why?”

“You deserve to sleep peacefully, Roan. And you can't do that with my emotions keeping you awake,” he answers. His voice is soft, yet the words slice through you all the same, boring straight into your heart.

The reason for his leaving is the same reason Rockford had separated himself from you at the crime scene. Your empathy is deeply attuned to the ebbs and flows of his emotions, the bond growing stronger with each day he allows you full, unhindered access to his mind. Dozing for a half hour on the couch in his presence is one thing, when the afternoon sunlight’s bathing the living room in streaks of gold and your empathy keeps watch. Operating on its own battery. A side effect of spending too much time behind enemy lines.

Nights are different. The battery must recharge, weary from the day’s strain of processing, filtering, blocking on loop, or else risk incurring migraines. But in the darkness, the thin line between dream and reality becomes blurred, sometimes indistinguishably so. In the service, surrounded by fellow soldiers witnessing the same horror and traumas, nightmares were commonplace. Creeping out of their mindscapes into your own, twisted horror scenes absorbed by your psyche as if it were a sponge soaking up water.

Worse were the nights your nightmares unintentionally became theirs.

You had tried to contain your empathy on nights where there was blood in your hair, under your nails, hell, you could taste it on your teeth. Chain your mind-gift up in a corner same as a mad dog. Dr. Odair hadn’t been pleased when you told her, dropping her perfect mask of poise and professionalism to level you with a look. She told you tactics like that caused unseen damage, a tipped over domino in the chain reaction leading to the necessity of matching to prevent your own self-destruction.

Shutting off your empathy isn’t a healthy solution, and neither is Rockford blocking you from feeling his emotions. Yesterday’s misunderstanding proved how much you both rely on the bond’s stability. To cut it off night after night…it feels dangerous even contemplating it, heart lodged in your throat.

Doesn’t come close to the guilt pressing down on your rib cage though, threatening to crush you from the inside out. Rockford’s been putting your needs first, uncaring that doing so means being driven out of his own home. And he’s been doing it every night all because of your specific mind-gift.

“It’s ok,” Rockford says, a steadiness to his voice you’re envious of, and he reaches out his hand across the table towards your own. You don’t know if it’s his perception that tells him you’ll shatter under his gentle touch or if you’re subconsciously broadcasting your tumult, but either way something makes him stop before he makes contact. “I don’t mind. Honestly.”

There’s something magnetic about the mere centimeters of space separating your fingertips from his, unable to tear away your stare. “You should,” your voice miraculously doesn’t tremble like a leaf, “it isn’t fair.”

All Rockford has to reply to that is, “Life isn’t fair, Roan. It’s just fairer than death, that’s all.”

For a second time you feel his unwavering belief in his own words. And you could leave it be, let the moment pass. Nothing changes if nothing changes, your mother used to always say.

Rockford starts to pull back his hand, only for you to latch onto his wrist. Your grip isn’t tight, you both know he can easily slip free if he wants to.

You both know he doesn’t.

“I’ll find a way.”

He blinks, the slightest tilt of his head.

“I’ll find a way so you can stay,” you vow. "Everything will work out one way or another."

And Rockford smiles, lopsided and dimpled, warmth pressing against your empathy expressing more gratitude than speaking out loud could ever manage.

“Better finish your breakfast,” he says, returning to the art of pancake rolling, ignoring the disturbed wrinkling of your nose at him. “You’ll break Elio’s heart if you don’t clean your plate.”

#tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x ofc #tim rockford fanfiction #my fic #pedrostories

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