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silverflqmes · 6 months

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Hai!! I was wondering if you’d be able/want to/feel comfortable with writing a nsfw cloud x reader? Maybe something sweet, like their first time together as a couple. If you don’t like the request is fine ! I hope you’re having a great day :]

໒⦂ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

notes. hi anon, i have not written nsfw in some centuries so i hope this is decent cuz i definitely lost my touch😭 i wrote the reader as female since that’s what i’m used to writing, given i’m.. well, a girl😵‍💫 hope that’s okay with you</3

genre. nsfw + fluff

tw. virginity loss, hand job, fingering, riding, slight uh pillow princess cloud in the beginning..

disclaimer. uncomfortable with smut or younger than 17? please dni.

cloud strife x fem!reader

it was quarter to midnight and the blond still could not find it in himself to sleep. not that he ever could, anyway.. but since he’d gotten with you, sleep came just a little more easily and the nightmares became less frequent.

tonight, however, was a slightly different case.

“cloud..” you mumbled sleepily, lifting your head from his back when you felt him shift against your hold. “still can’t sleep?”

remembering your presence, he blinked in the darkness, feeling your hand on his stomach, which he gently took ahold of, kissing the back of it. “sorry, having a hard time..” he paused to think of a vague excuse, if only to mask his embarrassment. “getting um, comfortable, right now.. nothing to do with you, though.”

his cheeks were twinged with pink under the sliver of moonlight that spilled into your shared bedroom through the curtains, but thankfully hidden from your stare.

while he had said it was strange for him to be the ‘little spoon’, part of him was grateful that he was now..

a pout came to your lips as you urged him to turn over, but he wouldn’t budge — adamant on not being seen. something was.. off. really off.

“cloud, come on- you can tell me. you know i won’t judge you for whatever reason that’s preventing you from sleeping.” you assured, smoothing the hand he wasn’t holding over his arm, comfortingly.

he shuddered unknowingly at the touch, hyper aware of your proximity to him — the way your body had pressed against his back and your light breathing on his neck now.

the fabric confinements constricted in protest, and he willed himself not to make any noises that gave away his sensitivity. why did it have to hit him tonight so suddenly? was it that lack of battling, with his arch nemesis no longer threatening the planet?

“i-it’s nothing.” he shook his head, attempting to steady his tone, but his facade was faltering. “just.. go back to bed, i should fall asleep in a moment or — a-aah.. aaah.”

panic crossed your features at the noise he made as you let go him within seconds, finally catching a glimpse of his expression to see he was not wincing out of agony.. but of pleasure?

curiously, your eyes slid down to his lower half to find him squeezing his legs together for dear life. oh.

“c-cloud, are you — ”

“yes-! fuck, i am..” he breathed out, turning his head to hide his shame in the pillow, but you turned him back over without harming him, pursing your lips together.

“y’know,” you began, heaving a sigh. “you could’ve just said you were feeling things- it’s a normal thing.. instead you had me thinking you had a bad dream again or something.” you shook your head, relief washing over you despite your scolding.

the former mercenary kept his gaze elsewhere, grumbling quietly under his breath. “it’s not so easy to say ‘i’m horny, do something about it’. feels awkward, okay.”

you found yourself rolling your eyes before you pushed yourself up, lavender colored sheets sliding off your body as you moved to situate yourself between his legs. “i suppose it’s blunt, but i don’t mind it. we’ve been together for over a year now.. and have known each other for several more.” you reminded him tenderly, leaning down to peck his lips softly. “if you needed ever needed to.. indulge.. i’m more than willing to do so, at your consent.”

cloud found himself shuddering at the words that spilled over his rosy appendages, rouge splashing across his his nose and cheeks at your boldness. while you had been confident, in contrast to how he behaved and presented himself.. this was a side he had yet to see from you — and goodness.

“but- it’s late..” he muttered back, aware that you had to wake up early to help tifa out at seventh heaven by daybreak. it was tedious work and he knew you weren’t one for getting up at first light.. cutting into your sleep felt criminal.

however your expression seemed unchanging, having made up your mind already, from what he concluded.

“and?” you pressed, hovering over his face. “i won’t be that long, and besides — we live in a society where coffee exists.” you reminded him, clicking your tongue before placing a hand on his hip. “i’ll be fine.”

his back nearly arched at the light caress, but he forced himself to be completely still, eyeing you with furrowed brows for a moment longer before exhaling. “are you.. sure about this?”

a quiet laugh tumbled past your lips as a knowing smile crossed your lips. “would i be offering to help if i wasn’t?”

it was a fair point, and although cloud wanted to continue denying himself for the sake of you getting rest.. he found himself succumbing to his intrusive thoughts the more he stared up at you.

“i guess not.” the blond concurred after a brief silence on his end, averting his mako tinted hues. “you’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

the eager shake of your head was enough of an answer as he closed his eyes in defeat. “okay, fine.. just take it easy on me, it’s..” he paused, pursing his lips together.

“your first time?” you finished in a hum before letting out a giggle when he didn’t answer. “it’s okay, i thought so.” you assured him, hooking your thumbs onto the waistband of his boxer briefs. “if it gets too much, you can tell me.”

a nod of confirmation was all that was needed for you to fully tug down his undergarments, a hiss leaving your lover’s lips as the frigid air caressed his most intimate part.

gingerly, you wrapped your hands around his shaft, never missing the gasp he failed to suppress as you pumped him slowly.

cloud’s hand flew to cover his mouth, eyes squeezing tighter as wave of ecstasy washed over him — gradually erasing the previous discomfort he’d felt.

in all his years, other than that massage back at the wall market of sector six, he’d never been touched in a way like this. a manner that sent bolts and sparks of pleasure down his spine, electrifying him in every possible way.

but the spiky haired male was too shy to ask for help on the rare occasions that he’d found himself pent up. all that fighting quelled any need for sexual release.. but now, with little to no battles to partake in these days, those late nights he’d spend away on deliveries were often occupied by his hand.

“f-fuck, y/n..!” he breathed out, feeling his legs tremble from the pleasure you had created.

you continued at an even pace, sliding your attention back over to boyfriend’s features when he called your name out. “does it feel good?” the answer was abundantly clear, though you felt the need to ask, anyway. couldn’t hurt to be safe.

he nodded his head rapidly, flushed skin glimmering under the glow of the moon. “ngh- f-faster, a-aaah~ please..” he whispered back pleadingly, tears gathering at the corners of his lashes.

it was truly a sight to behold — a part of cloud no one else had witnessed but you. and you had been the reason for his expressions, the noises he made — his reactions.. all of it was by your work.

wanting him to reach his high, to see the stars you had hoped he would see on your first time together, you quickened your ministrations, rolling your thumb over his tip. it was a little adventurous, but his moans was all the encouragement you needed to continue.

in an attempt to address your own aching heat, you slipped two fingers into the thin fabric of your panties, dragging them over your aching bundle of nerves before sliding them into your entrance.

a prolonged sigh escaped your lips, feeling your walls loosen around your fingers with each thrust while your partner became undone at the mixture of his own euphoria and the mere sight of you.

it made him strangely jealous, as he wanted to be the one to please you.

with a shaky breath, he reached down into the drawer of his nightstand for a familiar packet, carefully tearing it open when your breathing transitioned into panting.

you hadn’t even noticed that the self proclaimed ex-SOLDIER removed your hand from his cock, nor had you caught sight of him sliding a condom over himself.

no, it wasn’t until he grabbed your hips and brought you forward that you’d removed your hands at the brush of his tip against your clit, grasping ahold of his shoulders as a whine left your lips. “h-haahh~ cloud..” you drawled out in a needy beg, arching your back just slightly.

and that was all he needed to take you at last, sheathing himself slowly into your warmth.

he brought you impossibly closer to him at the squeeze of you against him, a staggered pant spilling past his appendages as he buried his face into your neck. “s-shit — was that too much?”

“n-no!” you refuted a little louder than planned, shaking your head. “j-just, one second.. a-and you can move..”

despite his worry, he took your word for it, exhaling lowly as he felt you shift.

with another sigh, you rested your chin on his shoulder, allowing yourself to nod. “o-okay, i’m good..”

cloud took it as a sign to continue as he pulled out slowly before plunging back into your core at an equal pace, steadily falling into an appropriate rhythm.

the stars you had thought of before in regards to cloud’s pleasure entered your vision at last when he nailed that special spot of yours.

“a-aahh~! cloud-!”

your whines and cries of his name was fueling enough to continue hitting that same spot, feeling you crash down on him harder.

“almost.. t-there..” he reassured you quietly, and perhaps even himself as well.

the knot coiling in your stomach was on the verge of snapping, one thrust away from unraveling completely.

in light of that, cloud captured your lips in a climatic kiss, swallowing your cries of elation when you met your end at last.

covered in a sheen of sweat, the blond gave you two more thrusts before removing himself from your dipping heat, allowing you to collapse against him.

his breath was far from even, yours no better than his own as he gazed up at the ceiling, eyes half lidded. “we should.. probably clean up..”

a tired laugh escaped you, having put together several other phrases he could have started with.. but then you reminded yourself that this was cloud strife — your very awkward, but adorable boyfriend.

“don’t w-worry,” you assured, sucking in another dose of air. “we will..”

notes. good grief i haven’t written smut in ages, i hope this was decent.. i feel like i’ve lost my touch😔 but wishing you a great day too, anon! along with anyone else reading this filth🫡

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hamsternella · 1 month

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maybe headcanons of Bill Cipher being obsessed with us for being Ford's wife, but at first he feels jealous and gradually that changes as he finds we have equal things (e.g. we are blind, and that makes Bill start to want to get more intimate with us as he has with Ford because he finds that we have also been despised/put aside because of that difference), and maybe he wants to make a deal with us but we refuse out of loyalty to Ford and that makes Bill jealous- but now of Ford, not of us lmao sorry if that is confusing or too specific.

Are you going to write any Gravity Falls fanfic on the side? I've seen your poll and I'm very excited

HELLO, and no problem. Here it is, I hope you like it.

As for the fanfic, I do plan to write one. Actually, it's in drafts; I just need to correct what I have written. I don't know if I should make it long or cut it and put it in chapters.

Bill Cipher being obsessed with you [headcanon]

cw: fem!reader, non-con touching, possessed body, jealousy, maybe a bit of ooc(?

The reason Bill begins to feel his plan is threatened is because of you. As much as Ford has him on a pedestal, you are still the main reason for his early accomplishments. The special person who has been with him since his college discovery years.

You're not like McGucket; your judgment carries paramount weight in Ford's most decisive decisions. You're not a mentally dazzling woman, not like him, but your claws keep you firmly entrenched behind Sixer's back. Bill repudiates that—it makes no sense at all!

As if that weren't enough, the affair culminates with you being blind. Can there be anything much more repugnant than a romance fueled by misfortune? Ford is drawn to your sincere heart, and you support him unconditionally because beyond your husband's obsession, your love for him seems to break down the most terrifying walls. And how can you be afraid of something you can no longer see?

Bill feels he has the enemy breathing behind his back. For the first time he thinks he can't solve everything with a kick to the rock in the middle of the road.

The closest thing to a tantrum you get from him —unknowingly— are regular nightmares, a weak body and constant paranoia about unfamiliar sounds and sensations. Your home is suddenly a new world; frightening and strange. Because of this you become clumsy and unpredictable, and even your husband doesn't understand what it is that has you so off track.

Bill can't use his influence on your reality at all, but through Ford and other extensions, as well as fine print manipulations, he manages to reach you without arousing suspicion.

''I've told you many times, Bill,'' sighed Ford with his back turned, both hands placed on his journal. ''I don't think I can go through with this completely until I manage to find a way to help my wife.''

''Isn't this a sign that it's time to get her out of your way?''

"Excuse me?’’ The man turned his attention to the demon; his eyes laden with bitterness and desolation. ''What do you mean by that? I can't abandon my wife, Cipher—she would never do something like that to me.''

''Well,'' Bill chuckled, ''it's not like she's really done anything for you all this time. This project is our thing, Fordsy, and it shouldn't be interrupted by a little stumble that doesn't even belong to us. Or are you going to give up everything you've sacrificed for this?''

''You have understood me like no other, Bill; I admit that there is no person or creature existing on this planet who can do all that you have done for me,'' admitted Ford solemnly. ''But she's my wife—she's been around even before you, when I was nobody. When I had nothing. And even when I came to Gravity Falls and left everything behind she was always there. Bill, I... I can't, I'm sorry.''

Bill held back another complaint, beginning to notice that things were not working out the way he had wanted. Your clumsiness didn't kill Ford's patience or control, but what little sanity —if any— there was in him. It was humiliating; Bill Cipher losing to a human being, a random woman—blind, to make it worse.

The demon was beginning to withdraw in on himself, frustration rising to anger, when Ford's voice from the entrance to the room drew his gaze back. There was a different gleam in his companion's, and Cipher understood with annoyance where the conversation would end up now.

Your husband introduces you to the possible solution to all your problems: Mr. Cipher, a doctor and close friend of Stanford. A mysterious man with a booming voice that makes your hair stand on end, but at the end of the day a man of studies and degrees. Of course you were going to trust your husband's recommendation.

''What a coincidence that you happened to be passing by, sir! Thank you for offering to help me. That's very kind of you.''

Bill starts pretending to be your personal doctor in search of a miracle solution to your problems. It's not hard to avoid contact with you to hide the truth; Ford tries hard to keep the situation straight.

If the demon hated you before, now you better start praying.

Cipher understands that he needs to play along with Ford if he wants the project to stay on track, even if that means starting to help you heal while containing his desire to get rid of you.

Maybe if he possessed Stanford and took advantage of you during your naps.

Maybe.

But he knows better than that—Ford isn't stupid. Not stupid enough, at least.

It was humiliating to have to take care of what he himself had caused, but it's not as if Bill could afford any other way to get back on the project. Ford was all he had. Where was he going to get someone else capable enough? This had been fate; interrupted at the last minute by the appearance of a bad third. This was all your fault. Blind little rat—woman busybody with a sweet smile and giggly voice. Cipher understood why Sixer was where he was with you, on the one hand. On the other it was all the same: a whim that cost dearly. Who needed someone like you? What was the benefit? Sex, maybe? But Bill Cipher was a thousand times better than something so banal! Please…

Bill rolled his eye, snapping his fingers to undo the nightmare you were in. As soon as your dream was undone you let out an exclamation of surprise, jumping on the bed. You brought a hand to your face, feeling the sweat, and almost immediately moved your body to where he lay. Cipher held back surprise, finding himself genuinely intrigued.

''Doctor,'' you whispered hoarsely, ''good afternoon. I... Forgive me, I think I fell asleep—it was sudden, I don't know what came over me...''

''Did you know it was me here with you?''

The smile you gave him threw him off. A ''Well, yes, isn't it very obvious?'' kind of grimace.

''Does your husband know that you have these nightmares during our therapies?''

'Therapies' sounded fancy, but it was shorthand for the tortures Bill forced you to go through; a theater of supposed recovery to cover up his need to hurt you.

“He doesn't know, doctor. I haven't told him, if I'm honest,'' you replied. ''Please don't tell him anything.''

''It would be unethical!''

‘’Pretending to be a doctor is also unethical, sir,’’ you laughed. ''I am blind, not stupid.’’

Killing you was going to be the only solution to all of this—although from that day on nothing else ever happened.

Bill has to accept that you have a lot of tricks up your sleeve. You're not just any woman anymore; being Ford's wife had to have been warning enough for him.

You continue to not remind him of his charade and allow him to continue 'treating' you, while your husband resumes the plans for the portal.

Surprisingly, Bill seems to have found interest in something much more striking.

You.

The nightmares subside, your mood and judgment improve, and Cipher finds a strange pleasure in this new side of you: much more alert, more talkative and wittier. You have your charm.

But it's your husband who pulls the reins. Bill gets it right away.

Evenings with you aren't exactly revelatory like they are with Ford, who always has enough data and information to surprise everyone with. With you it's different; it's something much more intimate and almost forgotten by Bill. He knows so much that it would be impossible to be taken by surprise—but you manage to do it.

He is overcome with a nostalgic and unpleasant feeling, but which ironically keeps him alive as he decides to lie to Ford.

Bill doesn't want to let you go. It's strange. Maybe he got used to another glaring presence besides Sixer? Torturing you a little more in silence to keep you under his care should not be a stupid thing to do at all.

Cipher encounters another particular feeling: curiosity. He needs to know why you know what you know; and what it is, above all else, that keeps you here.

What keeps you with so much power over him, Bill Cipher.

''Are you saying that I have tricks up my sleeve? I don't get it, doctor...''

''Oh! Oh, please,'' Bill interrupted, thunderous laughter bouncing across the room. ''You know I'm no doctor; the title is ridiculous.''

''Should I call you 'Mr. Cipher' instead?''

Bill held back a sigh, rubbing his eye for a moment before orbiting around you. If you had noticed, you didn't say or do anything. Your eyes, white as opaque pearls, remained fixed on a corner of the room.

''Since when did you know I wasn't a doctor? No, better yet, since when did you know I wasn't human?''

''Well, it's not quite like that either,'' you replied under a soft laugh. ''You just revealed to me that you are not human. As for the doctor thing... Well, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think that dream therapies and transverse snoring with citrus scent induction while dipping my feet in spoiled milk is something a professional would recommend.''

Bill pretended not to be offended.

''Besides that,'' you continued, ''I know my husband very well. I know that he hides dangerous things down there, where I cannot reach by myself, just as I know everything that has been happening is not the product of chance.''

''Did you know all this time that your nightmares and fears have been my doing?''

‘’No, not really. You just confessed it to me.''

‘’Oh, come on!’’ Bill shook his fists in the air, abruptly remembering that you couldn't see him. It was strange, you seemed to know the world you inhabited even though your eyes wouldn't let you. The thought made the demon orbit around you again, returning in front of you. Opaque pearls; gaze lost in the open. "I've had a majestic revelation at this very moment! Do you want to hear it, or will your big, bold woman brain let you know in advance what I have to say?”

"I have a slight feeling you don't like me.”

“Yes or no!”

“Of course, tell me.”

"I have to assume you weren't born blind; this must be the product of an accident," Cipher began to say. "That would explain why the hell you do everything you do, and why the fuck you know where I am.”

"That's right, Mr. Cipher," you nodded. "I've had an accident, though I suppose you know that because you've infiltrated me. Either that, or my husband told you.”

"So you did know that I'm a demon?”

“You just—”

“Oh, shut up! Don't fucking say it again.”

Your coexistence with Bill becomes pleasant, despite the early revelation of his nature and his having been the cause of your misfortunes.

Cipher comes to believe that he may have been wrong; maybe you were stupid after all.

But that would be crazy! Unlike with Ford, with you the feelings are extremely nostalgic and warm. There is no trace of some kind of farce or genuine morbid interest behind your words. You believe everything you say.

Bill, who despite not sleeping or dreaming, being haunted by the memory of screams and an old distorted and flat reality, finds in your company a comfort zone that makes him delirious.

Sadly, your heart and your judgment is still tied to Sixer—as if that brainiac cared at all!

Bill begins to drive Ford crazy; he feeds him extensive knowledge, possesses him more often to enjoy the benefits, and then alters his memories, making it difficult for him to know what is truth and what is a lie.

Where he can no longer meet your needs, Bill is always there to dazzle you.

You jumped in your seat, feeling your husband's warm hands wrap around your neck. Fingers, rough from machines and dust, caressed your skin awkwardly, drawing a chuckle from you. His breath came to you from above, as if he had just sighed in delight at your reaction. When you felt him rest his hands on your shoulders, you slowly brought one of yours to caress the back of his. You felt him tremble.

''I thought you were sleeping?'' you asked with genuine interest. ''Is everything all right? All these days you've been doing the same thing.''

''Do you mind, beautiful?''

You stifled a laugh.

''No, Ford, your company would never be a bother to me... Are you smelling my hair?''

‘’I just can’t get enough of you.’’

You felt him circle your body, delineating one of the chairs near you so he could relax his body in it. You didn't last long without his hands—as soon as he resumed his seat, you felt his fingers intertwining with yours. This time it was more consistent and comfortable; not like all those days where it seemed like your husband had forgotten how to use his own body.

''Oh, dear! Seeing you with these two orbs of nerves and membrane is amazing! You look even more dazzling.''

Although the comments without any context or sense were still there.

''I'm not that great,'' you said with a small laugh. A little shy. Ford didn't used to give you so many compliments. “How's your project going?’’

‘’That thing? Good, very good. Excellent, my dear! Maybe you could see for yourself—oh, well, you can't,'' he guffawed. ''Right. Whatever! Hey, uh, can I ask you a question?''

‘’Y-Yeah, sure, honey.’’ You cleared your throat. ‘’What’s the matter?’’

''Hypothetical scenario. You're married, but you're not quite fulfilled. Suppose someone comes along who is much better than your husband,'' he explained. ''He's smart, funny, multifunctional, powerful, extra-dimensional, or very soon will be, and also very stylish!'' Silence. Moments later an exclamation. ''Do you have a favorite color? His favorite color is yellow!''

‘’I… I mean, sorry, but I actually don’t understand at all where’s the question.’’

‘’Don’t be silly! Would you leave your husband for this entity—excuse me, for this person?''

‘’What?’’

‘’The heck.’’

Another booming laugh, and though you tried to accompany it with your own, the sound that came from you was choppy and awkward. This exchange was strange.

''I can't find a reason to leave my husband for this so-called mystery person,'' you replied. ''I am supposed to have married him for a reason which should be more than enough. Ford,'' you rushed on, ''is this regarding Mr. Cipher?''

''Why?'' he asked at once. ''Why do you think of him all of a sudden? Do you feel something forbidden about him in this marriage?''

''But of course not!''

''What do you mean ‘no’?!’’

His hands let go of yours. The chair in front of you seemed to be dragged, the wood against the floor squeaking with the sudden friction. The movement had taken you by surprise.

‘’Ford?’’

''Why are you so happy? Why, huh?'' he sighed, frustrated. ''Haven't I abandoned you every night in a freezing bed, while I prefer the company of machines? Cipher has been very kind to you and kept you company!''

''Ford, what are you—wait. Wait a moment... Bill, is this you?'' You covered your mouth, terrified at the discovery. Your companion didn't respond and you simply let out a shaky breath. ''Are you possessing my husband?’’

‘’Damn, that was fast.’’

‘’That’s awful!’’

"There was full consent!" added Bill with a chuckle. "This is a man-to-man thing, my pretty little fleshbag. Something between colleagues, plain and simple. You needn't fear—Bill Cipher is taking care of everything.”

"But it's horrendous anyway!" you exclaimed with your voice splitting. "It all makes sense now... The words, the touches, the way you acted—it was all a sham! You were using my husband!”

"Oh, please, little one. Wasn't it you who dreamed of being able to touch me?”

"You, not a substitute class using Stanford's body! Have you two been doing these kinds of exchanges all along?”

"It's just that there was a change of plans!”

“A change? What—”

“I mean, I tried to kill you; but it's not that easy now,” he laughed.

You tried to calm your breathing. Your heart was beating painfully against your chest, and your whole body was trembling. This wasn't right, obviously. It was like a vivid nightmare.

“Not that I want to do it, of course.”

“Why?” you asked after a long silence.

You felt the presence of your husband's body very close to you. A pair of hands rested on your cheeks, caressing them with his fingers very softly; the touches getting lost under the trembling of your figure when you heard again a sigh of delight. Something was up.

“You know,” he whispered, “I think we could make a deal. A little, pretty one, and just for you.”

“A deal? A deal with a demon, you mean. No, thank you.”

“Oh, come on! It will be fun!”

“And it makes no sense.”

Bill turned away from you, returning to his chair to take a seat across from your body.

"What exactly is it that Ford gives you that I can't manage to satisfy? Because very soon the little project will be complete, and I will have full disposal of many wonderful tricks to take care of you, my dear," he continued. "An eternity together! We'll be able to create and tell thousands of new stories; to travel across the world and let you experience hundreds of new sensations. We'll be unstoppable! Incomparable!”

"That's not the way things work, Bill…”

"Things work because of the strongest. I will soon be the only one with that title.”

"What will happen to Ford?" you asked haltingly. "What will you do to my husband?”

"He's my co-worker, dear.”

"You're hiding something from me.”

"So what if it is? He doesn't matter here! It's our time... You're mine.”

The way your husband's voice was beginning to distort sent a shiver through your body. You loved Ford—you missed him. The idea that you had been kissing the lips of a man possessed a couple of days ago was turning your stomach. Your silence seemed to feed something inside the demon; his voice thundered, totally changed, across the room.

"A few weeks ago you said you missed the stars," added Bill. "The last time you saw them was when you were a teenager. I miss the stars too—the ones I saw with a different eye. It's not the same anymore. Nothing is, since..." Silence. You didn't dare interrupt the creature who seemed to be drowning in bitter memory. It took him a while to pull himself together; a split laugh piercing your ears like an arrow. "Oh, the misery! I thought it repulsive the way you two looked so united over something so pathetic. Anyway, what does the past matter now, what does misery matter! There's no such thing being with Bill Cipher. You'll want for nothing.”

"I refuse, Bill.”

"And I refuse too," he laughed. "See? We can play the same game, silly. I don't recommend testing my patience, though.”

The touch of palms against the warm skin of your neck took you by surprise. The roughness of those fingers you loved so much were now forbidding you to breathe; the softness of moist lips pressing against yours, taking advantage of the way you parted yours to find a sliver of air. You soon struggled against your husband's body, desperate to deny the foreign tongue that flicked unseemly and inexperienced inside you. Bill was drowning in an unfamiliar feeling that felt too good. You were soft, fragile. Your flesh was tender and warm, quivering like an animal about to die—he was going to devour it to the bone. Was this what Ford had been doing with you? You liked it?

He could kill you. He could end your life when the portal was complete; he could take advantage of Ford, as he had been doing all this time, and keep the prize all to himself. Why was it so hard? What was it you had done to him? Was Ford a victim too? The thought burned like a fierce fury at the back of his mind—jealousy once again. The need to own even the crumbs. Ford wouldn't have the right to be your victim anymore. This feeling was too good for that brainiac to understand, surely he never did.

But Bill understood everything. He was incomparable. He could dominate your life and hold the reins as well as Ford had been doing. No. Cipher was going to do better! Did you miss your husband's domination? Bill would be your ruler; he would destroy obstacles and build better ones to keep you in check. Maybe a little training and you'd become a beautiful little bag of flesh and muscle—tight, warm and obedient. And who knows if you'd end up exceeding his expectations! Who knows if a little gift occupying your orbs would give you the chance to enjoy the same star-studded sky together.

"Don't think too much," whispered Bill pantingly. "There's plenty of other things to do than something as dull as that. Don't worry your pretty little head.”

You shook your head, surrendered to crying. Your husband's hands had left your neck, but now they wrapped around your wet cheeks, offering shy caresses.

"From now on you're going to use it when I say so. Everything will be that way, and you know why?”

A crooked laugh vibrated against his chest, reaching you through his hands.

"Because now you will be my new pet. A special one! The best of them all… You could say ‘muse’, even. Isn't that beautiful, dear?”

A cold kiss. The last one.

“Aren't you, above all, beautiful too?”

#fanfic #reader insert #reader #obssesion #yandere #angst #bill cipher gravity falls #bill cipher x reader #bill cipher #gravity falls stanford #stanford pines #gravity falls

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lordprettyflackotara · 2 months

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Hitchhiker SFW & NSFW Headcannon’s:

a/n: getting my wisdom teeth out in like ten minutes so imma be offline and recovering for a few days. enjoy these head cannons until i get back <3

Tim | SFW:

-lives off of coffee & cigarettes. half the time can’t digest regular food & ends up throwing it up from stress :( poor bby

-despite being a proxy for years, still has reoccurring nightmares that keep him up at night. certain things trigger ptsd episodes, specifically memories of jay or brian (who brian used to be before the operator came along)

-rough exterior, doesn’t believe he’s even worthy of being in your presence or anyone else’s. firmly believes that anyone he interacts with The Operator could and would kill just to fuck with him

-major anger issues that he mainly keeps under wraps, masky’s the one who REALLY shows that side of him

-memory is spotty, but he puts more of an effort to remember things since meeting you

-drinks straight black coffee, absolutely despises cream & sugar. its a miracle this man has any water intake at all

-overly protective, to an intense degree

-enjoys bands like the smiths, the neighbourhood (idc bite me), and cigarettes after sex

Tim | NSFW under the cut:

-tim wants to absolutely worship you. a shameless munch who wants to do nothing more than make you cum on his face

-prefers missionary, wants to bury his face into your neck as he pounds into you

-This man loves nothing more than to hear your pretty noises

‘Fuck, keep moaning my name princess’

-doesn’t care too much about receiving head, would rather please you

-ADORES watching your facial expressions as you cum on his fingers. the little o shape your mouth makes drives him feral

‘Yeah? Gonna cum on my fingers?’

-best after care on the PLANET. baths, snacks, cuddles. whatever you want he’s got it ready for you.

Brian || SFW:

-vegetarian (loves tomato soup because it reminds him of what his mom used to make him when he was sick)

-distrusting; even though he tries to attempt from speaking his mind is absolute madness

-lots of ptsd, genuinely fears what happened to him will happen to you

-depressive tendencies. allows hoodie to front when he starts getting too upset

-he doesn’t allow himself to have too many interest or too much of a personality. he lives in constant fear anything he may grow to like or show interest in will be destroyed by the operator

-you instill an unknowingly amount of happiness into his life. an amount so much that he fears he may be beginning to claw his way out of the trenches of despair

-enjoys bands like linkin park, papa roach, and green day

Brian || NSFW

-a TEASE

-this mf wants you to beg for his touch just to turn around & give you what you want & more

-adores the feeling of your nails digging into his back. he gets so turned on by it, it’s borderline nauseating for him

-praise to the absolute MAX

-‘you can take it pretty girl, such a good girl for me’

-possessive & determined to make you feel better then anyone else, especially in group activities

-‘go on, tell tim how good i make you feel’

-loves to overstimulate you to the point of no return. if you aren’t a squirming mess on the brink of passing out from pleasure, he feels like he didn’t do his job right

-wants to manhandle you. something about picking you up as if you weighed nothing to readjust you into the position he wants you in is so addicting to him

-good aftercare, thinks more about cleaning you up than anything else

Masky || SFW

-he’s so tired of being the ‘leader’

-like seriously, he’s sick of it

-firm believer since Hoodie came around first he should be forced to lead the band of misfit toys but he digresses

-thinks tim is a big softie and borderline pathetic, but after he saves you, he thinks more highly of his decision making skills

-when fronting he is absolutely not sleeping. real life is terrifying enough. the last thing he needs is the creativity of nightmares haunting him too

-carries wads of cash in case he’s in a bind. will just throw them at people before storming out of where ever he is

-did i mention anger issues? like to an unhealthy concerning degree? masky believes in punching or shooting his way out of any situation that pisses him off

-delusional but in the best way, imagines you and him to eventually become a bonnie and clyde like duo

-enjoys more edgy bands like three days grace, skillet, and hollywood undead

Masky || NSFW

-there is not a submissive bone in this man’s body

-spitting, spanking, slapping, and choking you really gets him going

-humiliating you and degrading you turns him on so much it’s unbelievable

-‘Fuckin slut. Get yourself off on my tongue. Get on with it before I change my mind’

-Either overstimulation or orgasm denial. No in between

-Gun play. I said what I said. You giving him head while he points a loaded gun at your head drives him feral

-‘Suck it harder or i’ll pull the trigger. Dont think I won’t. You’re not special’

-if you’re into it as much as he is, he’d like to fuck you with his gun🫣

-Lowkey is kinda cruel, enjoy the idea of putting his cigarettes out on you but won’t since he shares you (he doesn’t want to argue with toby/hoodie/brian/tim)

-leaving you covered with bruises in particular is satisfying to him. the shapes of his fingers digging into your waist being there the next day make him hard all over again

-decent aftercare. if we’re being honest you’ll be too dazed to remember most of it. he won’t necessarily cuddle you but he’ll at least clean you with a washcloth before putting you to bed

Hoodie || SFW

-silent but aggressive

-doesn’t enjoy fronting unless it’s to complete a mission or task for the operator

-enjoys stalking his victims just to see what they’re doing before they’re killed🙈

-that ski mask? yeah prefers that mf to stay ON. things that involve you are the only exception he’ll make once he grows fond of you

-him & brian are in an agreement having any real interest is too much risk. of course, they combat this narrative once you come along

-will tell you he doesn’t like music but secretly enjoys shinedown, breaking benjamin, and seether

Hoodie || NSFW

-sadist

-orgasm denial. the sight of you squirming beneath him while begging to cum? euphoric.

-cnc (sorry mom)

-‘shut up and take it. pathetic whore’

-breath play. likes choking but he’d prefer to have you on all fours with a belt around your throat if he’s being honest

-loves recording you. not only to watch back later, but to threaten you with the blackmail

-‘you better behave or i’ll show everyone how much of a slut you actually are’

-hair pulling. whether you pull his hair or he pulls yours. the whimpers that come from it are like heroin

-bondage. if hoodie could have it his way he’d have you tied up and spread out like a starfish on a bed so he could play with you until you break

-probably the worst aftercare out of everyone on this list. doesn’t care for it, thinks it’s your problem. at most will just tell you to pee

Toby || SFW

-toby is pretty much your loyal guard dog. he’s at your disposal and you don’t even realize it

-he never really got an opportunity to be a teenager. now that he’s roughly 21-23, you make him feel like the flustered horny teenager he never got to be

-before you he’s extremely unhinged. toby didn’t have a lot of motivation besides the thrill of a kill. now that you’re around and practically a ball of sunshine, you make him feel something other than blood lust or boredom

-has nice curls but never knows how to take care of them so they always turn out straight since he immediately brushes his hair after a shower

-out of the three proxies he’s the most content with the situation. he views tim and brian as his best friends, even if they don’t feel the same way

-don’t let any of the fluff headcannons deceive you though, there’s a reason he’s a proxy. the unknown strength this man has is concerning. chopping up bodies doesn’t tire him

-enjoys russian roulette. masky and hoodie will play with him on special occasions

-likes to play with fire. if he has an opportunity he will commit massive amounts of arson

-his music taste bounces around everywhere, similar to his personality. top three is violent vira, grimes, and bones

Toby || NSFW

-hardcore switch leaning towards sub

-toby has his dominate moments, most of them just enjoying seeing you blush from his teasing

-‘you like m-me fucking y-you huh? such a p-perfect pussy’

-likes to see you take control.

-i’m sorry but despite being a sub he’s very vanilla, minus a few very specific kinks

-hickies. wants tim and brian to see you’re just as much as his as you are theirs

-cream pies. not even necessarily contributing to a breeding kink, he just likes to watch his cum drip down your abused cunt

-pulling his hair drives him feral. he can’t necessarily feel pain but he feels your eagerness and that’s enough for him

-considering toby can’t feel things his sex drive is extremely high considering it’s one of the few things he can’t actually feel

-one of his fantasies is fucking you with the handle of his axe

-aftercare is peak. he’s just as exhausted as you, but will wait on you hand and foot to ensure you’re taken care of

Nova || SFW

-her dad was a detective, she simply followed in his footsteps

-her parents were very academic driven. praise and affection was only shown to her when she excelled academically

-bi sexual. leans more towards women

-protective, blunt, and head strong

-working in a field that’s pro dominantly men, she ensures to be full of bark AND bite to make sure she’s taken seriously

-became a detective to help people. despite her tough exterior, she genuinely just wants to bring people peace through her work

-obsessive tendencies. once she starts a case she has to finish it. will not rest properly until it’s done

-has a fantastic memory. memorizes all the little details of anyone and everything

-out of the three proxies she likes tim the most, but will never admit she likes any of them

-enjoys hozier, asap rocky, and adeline troutman

Nova || NSFW

-THE BIGGEST SWITCH TO EVER EXIST

-either wants to be called mommy or a good cum dump

-an absolute freak in the bed

-this woman has a chest of sex toys at home of all varieties and sorts

-pegs men

-‘your whimpers are so cute baby boy’

-either wants to put YOU in handcuffs or have you put handcuffs on HER. either way she wants them involved

-doesn’t believe in vanilla sex. if she’s fucking she’s going all in. no lovey dovey shit. just pure feral behavior

-on the other end of the spectrum, loves being fucked into the mattress until she’s dizzy

-‘please keep going, fuck, i’m so close’

-has attended several bdsm sex parties on the down low

-aftercare is peak. she doesn’t gaf ab herself. you’re the star of the show

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temporaryrose200 · 1 year

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✩My Soon-to-be husband✩

✟pairing: Claude X Fem Reader

✟genre: Yandere

✟warning: Yandere, mention of murder, keeping someone under their own will.

✟scenario

✟fandom: Who Made Me A Princess

✟summary: Weeks of searching for a way back to you world was becoming was becoming slimmer and slimmer. A week before your wedding day, Claude calls for you.

✟a/n: This is another part to this headcanon I made a while back. If you haven’t read part one, you should!:)

Narrow eyes scanned the bookshelves of the palace library, desperately trying to find a book. A book of magic to be precise. Having only been staying at the palace for a month now, you had been desperately trying to find some way back to your world. In only a week, you would married to that demon man, Claude. As soon as you arrived to the palace that day, Claude had wanted the wedding to take place the next day, obviously scared about this information, you begged the emperor to wait a month or so to at least let you settle. After a bit of persuading, he finally agreed, unknowingly giving you time to find a way out of this nightmare. But as days passed, escaping began to feel hopeless.

Picking up one of the many books on the shelf, you quickly skimmed through, eyes searching for certain words. Like many other times though, nothing came up and with a frustrated sigh, you closed the book and stuffed it back onto the shelf. Having been in this library every chance you got, you had nearly been through every single spell book the palace had to offer and nothing came up!

Hearing the sound of the door opening, heavy footsteps followed suit, you had a slight inkling feeling who it was. “What is it now Felix?” You questioned, eyes continuing to scan the dark oak shelf. The tall crimson red-haired guard was either here for two reasons. Reason one: To check up on you and see if you haven’t escaped or planning an escape, and then reason two: To call for you…

A shudder went down your spine at the thought of seeing that cold-hearted emperor, praying to the gods for it to be the first option. “I apologise for disturbing you Miss [name], but his highness has summoned you” Felix spoke softly. Glaring down at your clenched fist, you didn’t have a choice in the matter. Claude didn’t care if he had to order someone to drag you to him, as long as you’re brought to him without a single scratch on your body. And he will check. So not wanting to put another poor guard through what happened the last time you refused, you obligated. Carefully stepping down the ladder steps, Felix under you making sure you don’t accidentally fall. Reaching the final step, the redheaded guard with a firm grip on your wrist, guided you down. Feet now on the ground, you and the Royal guard made your way out of the comfort of the library to the vicious lion’s den.

Following slowly behind with Felix leading the way, you could feel the eyes of passing servants go by, pity filled in their eyes. You tried to ignore them, but soon it became impossible when they began mumbling to one another. Muttering softly about the “disappearance” of your maid. But you know, everyone knows that she didn’t disappear! It was Claude who murdered that poor girl…

Finally stopping in front of a pair of white doors, Felix stepped forward and knocked lightly but still louder enough for someone to hear. It was dead quiet, nobody answered and you let out a relieved sigh. Felix knocked again, this time louder, waiting for some kind of response. You tried hiding your excitement, you really did but it was too damn hard. You didn’t have to see that monster. Backing away from Felix, you gave the redhead a shrug with a fake pout. “Aww, looks like he’s not in.” The pout then morphed into a giddy expression and you waved over to the confused guard. “Well, see you.”

About to dash off, Felix grabbed your wrist, lightly pulling you toward him. “He could just be sleeping” Felix reminded. Placing a hand on the door handle, the man opened it. Your breath hitched and you cringed watching the door eerily open, reminding you of the horror movie you used to watch before you were trapped in this nightmare of a world. Eyes pleaded for Felix to let you go back to the library, you would have got on your hands and knees if it wasn’t for the royal guard pushing you into the dimly lit room. “You’re his fiancée, I don’t think he would mind if you woke him up and anyway, he did ask for you.” And with that the oblivious man closed the door, leaving you all alone inside the lion’s den.

Thoughts plagued your head, eyes scanning the room for any sign of Claude. Checking the comfy plush bed of your soon-to-be husband, you see no Claude. Wanting to believe that he had more pressing matters to attend to, you knew that hope was just a pipe dream. Even if his kingdom was on the brink of war, the emperor would still make time for you, and probably (definitely) even start a war for you. It horrifies you to the core to think a man like him could be that obsessed with someone. A man who killed his own flesh and blood…

E/C eyes landed on a nearby figure laying peacefully on an elegant white and golden couch. Approaching the man you would find yourself captivated by the sight. Even if he was a horrible man, you do have to admit that Claude was breathtaking to look at, though you would never say that out loud. A bit of his golden locks lay against his face, covering his soft smooth face. You don’t know what compelled you to do this next thing, moving a hand towards him, you push a few locks of hair away from his face and behind his ear. In this state, he looks peaceful. You found it weirdly cute, making you forget all the bad stuff he’s done to you and the people around him. An emperor that would kill thousands in your name now reminded you of a sleeping child. But soon that would change. Not wanting to disturb him, you pushed yourself up and as you were about to move away, a hand grabbed your arm with a tight squeeze. “Where do you think you’re going?” A chill went down your spine and you mentally cursed at yourself. How long had he been awake, was he really asleep or was it some sort of trick?!

The tight grip on your wrist would surely leave a bruise. Stuttering out a response, you tried coming up with something to get you got off this shitty situation. “Umm, W-well you see…I um-“ Becoming pissed with all this stuttering and stumping, Claude rolled his diamond eyes pulling you onto him. Falling onto his chest, an arm slithered around your waist. You knew fighting him would be futile and it would only anger him, so you stayed, your head resting against his chest, hearing the light thumps of the emperor’s heartbeat. Tears welling up In your beautiful E/C eyes, sobs escaped from your mouth and salty tears stained the blonde clothes. Was this your life, to be the wife of this monster? You had a second chance at life, which not many people had and it was already going down the gutter.

Claude on the other hand ignored your cries, instead, he imagined a perfect life with you. Just the two of you together forever, maybe even a child, if Claude was kind enough to share you. Who knows what the future will hold…

#who made me a princess #wmmap #who made me a princess x reader #wmmap x reader #yandere claude x reader #yandere claude #claude de alger obelia #claude de alger obelia x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #manhwa #manhwa x reader #yandere manhwa #yandere manhwa x reader #wmmap claude #x reader #wmmap fanfic #🌸

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garbinge · 13 days

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NO WAY TO LIVE

Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader // Word Count: 3.7k Summary: When Logan has another nightmare, it opens up the wounds you've been pushing down for so long. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angst. Blood. Logan hurting reader (but nothing fatal), light nod to smut? but like not really? just nudity lol. intimate moment I'll say. hurt/comfort. nightmares. reader backstory. mentions of torture and not wanting to endure it anymore. angsty but happy ending. A/N: I cannot get Logan out of my mind. First time writing for Logan in the Xmen world!

“Logan, wake up.”

The sound of his painful screams got louder as he shot up out of bed, flipping over and letting the adamantium claws out against you. The second he came to, they were retracted and his painful screams became worrisome pants as his eyes jumped around seeing what he had just done.

“Oh God.” He repeated it a couple times before you brought one hand up to his face and the other to your chest where he had just unknowingly stabbed through your skin.

“You can’t hurt me.” It was whispered so softly, as your body regenerated. Your mutant ability sewing the holes in you back together within seconds, leaving no sign on your body that anything happened.

The relief in him still was no match for the stress. The sweat glistening on his body and pooling around his neck and forehead was nothing compared to the rise and fall of his chest. It was getting faster by the second so you moved your hand over his heart. You wished your powers worked on him, but healing someone who already had regenerative powers was impossible. What you were doing right now, was all strictly mental, just looking in the eyes of your husband and trying to calm him down with a simple touch to his bare skin. His eyes looked down at your hand, he took one more large breath before placing a swift kiss to your hand and falling back over to his side of the bed.

“This is the third time this week.” His breaths were still heavy as his body caught up to his brain. He wasn’t wrong. It was becoming a common occurrence for the nightmares to torment him to the point of violence. Even more common for them to wake him up in a panic.

“Come on, let me warm you a bath.” As you moved off the bed, you moved the sheets with you, letting them drop to the side of the bed so he couldn’t see the blood stains.

“I’m fine.” He argued immediately with you, just earning him one simple look over your shoulder. One that he wasn’t able to argue with, or at least knew better than to.

Walking into the bathroom, you placed two towels on the sink before moving over to the tub that sat in the middle of the riverstone room. It was currently soaked in moonlight coming through from the windows that took up the entire back wall. Turning the handle connected to the tub, the waterfall shower head began filling it and you used your hand to test the temperature before making your way back out to retrieve Logan from bed. To your surprise, you walked right out into him. He brought his hands up to steady you, placing them on your arms, and then moving one over the rip in your tank top where one claw cut through.

You brought your head down to leave a quick kiss to his hand, similar to what he had done earlier, it was your way of letting him know again that it was okay. “I’m going to make you tea. Let the bath fill and get in.” You moved by him quickly, not making much noise but that was just a product of your newly acquired power. It was who you were. What you were.

Making your way to the kitchen, you took a quick detour to put the sheets in the wash and grab a change of clothes for both of you out of the folded laundry that was waiting to be put away. As the kettle sat over the fire on the stove, you looked out the large windows in the cabin you moved to years ago. The moon was shining through similarly to the windows in the bathroom. This was everything you wanted. Your home in the middle of nowhere, off the grid where you could sit in nature all day and read all night. Now you got to share it with your husband, in your mind there could have been nothing better. But there was always that one single thought that you’d bury in the back of your mind every time it jumped to the front. The thought you were never ready to face.

Your eyes fell on the bookshelf next to the fireplace seeing a photo of you and Logan at Charles’s school, where you two met the day you showed up for his funeral. Charles was the one that saved you after you acquired your new powers, you weren’t sure how to harness it–the energy, but Charles made it possible. Saying goodbye to him was something you knew you had to do back then, even if it meant blowing your cover. Little to your knowledge at the time, saying goodbye and blowing your cover also meant meeting your future husband. Smiling briefly as the memories flooded your brain, you went and grabbed the book that was next to the frame. East of Eden.

You fully expected Logan to be sitting on the edge of the sink, in full protest of the idea of getting in the bath but to your surprise, he was submerged in the tub, his head resting against the edge of it. A smirk played at your mouth as you took a few extra seconds to look at his body, his muscles glistening in sweat, now from the hot bath water.

After you placed the book down next to the towels, along with your new clothes, you squatted down next to him, leaning partially on the tub as you did.

“Barely heard you come in.” His eyes were still shut as he laid back in the tub.

“I have that effect.” You smiled as you said it, holding the mug in front of him knowing the smell would get him to hold the mug himself.

“I wasn’t going to get in.” His hands were rising from the water and he grabbed the mug before sitting up a bit, his eyes open now.

“But?” You dropped your elbows on the side of the tub, moving from a squat to a kneel, waiting for his answer, letting your head rest on your hands.

“Couldn’t take the blood on me.” He took one sip and gave you the tea back.

It was then that you saw small remnants of your blood on him that the bath water didn’t remove when he got in. You were going to get in shortly, but needed to remind Logan again of the same thing you had been doing all night.

“You know you can’t hurt me.” Leaning over the edge of the tub, you drank from the mug yourself, not going to let a perfectly good cup of tea go to waste.

“But they can.” His eyes were glued to you.

They. The group that had been after you for years. The group that stole Stryker’s documents and injected you with a metal just like they did Logan. Except they didn’t use adamantium on you. They used vibranium.

“And if I don’t kill you, they will.” Logan hated hurting you. Even though it never mattered. Even before the vibranium in your bones you were born with the ability to heal. It was your mutant gene at work. Now, with the vibranium skeleton inside you, you were able to harvest kinetic energy and heal others. Except Logan. Healing people with their own regenerative powers was impossible. Which in theory didn’t matter, but Logan’s regeneration sometimes was… slow.

“Well it’s a good thing that you can’t kill me, so when they come to do it you’re able to stop them.” It was the same conversation every time but with how calmly you spoke to him, it never felt like it.

“This isn’t a way to live.” The sound of the water was splashing as he sat up fully to look at you.

There it was. The thought that you were never ready to face. Which is why this was normally where the conversation would get… tense. “A little late for regrets, Logan.” As you stood up he caught your hand. Your eyes moved down to see where he was holding you, his fingers just below the opal gemstone embedded into your arm. That gemstone was what Professor X worked on to help you harness all that kinetic energy that was originally roaming around your bones causing you immense pain.

“No one said anything about regrets.” His grip wasn’t harsh, in fact you could have slipped out of it when he initially went to stop you. “I’m just saying, let’s go kill these assholes, then we can go anywhere, we can go back to the school even–you love the school.”

You did love it. But you loved it here, too. This is what you wanted. Away from people. No one knew where you lived, what you were doing. But there was that fucking thought. This isn’t a way to live. You had this new power, this ability to help people and you loved it. But even though you loved it, you made this decision to live off the grid where you weren’t really able to use it. But you couldn’t deal with the fact that wherever you went, even if you were able to help people, you were putting them in harm's way with this group after you.

“No matter where we go Logan, we’re going to have this same exact conversation every single time.”

“We won’t.” His voice growled, like he was trying to convince himself with those two words just as much as you.

You leaned back down, your hand moving to cup his face. “You break my heart every time we have this conversation.”

“I don’t want us to live in hiding.” He was pleading with you. His own hand reached up to yours grabbing it with both of his as he removed it from his face.

“When we met, I told you this was my life. When you told me you wanted to marry me, I told you this was my life. I told you I didn’t want to put you in the position I was in. I gave you an out, Logan. Multiple times.” You felt your voice starting to grovel. Remembering each time you basically told Logan you weren’t good for him. The irony because every night he stabbed you with his adamantium claws you spent the night convincing him you were his perfect match. I mean, someone who could heal from The Wolverine’s unexpected violent rage?

“I don’t want an out, bub. I want this life without the fear of losing you.”

You didn’t have words for that. You hated fighting. Hated fighting with Logan, hated hurting people and putting them in harm's way. You were re-created in a lab, against your will, to fight and you hated it. Your mutant gene was a healer, they took you because of that and turned you into a fighter. And now you wanted to avoid fighting all together, even with the people that did this to you. But then there was that damn thought again. This isn’t a way to live.

Without saying anything, you stood up and removed your clothes. Tipping your head so he knew to move up and allow you room to step in, you moved your feet into the water that was still pretty hot and slid down behind him, moving his body to lean against yours. On the other side of the tub was a cloth that you took and began to clean the blood that was still on his shoulder. Your hands gently moving along his skin caused him to let out a groan in approval. Feeling him collapse more into your embrace, you brought the cloth in the water and rung it out over him, letting the water trickle down on him.

“What was the nightmare?” It usually was a rotation of a few but lately it was the same one. Ironic how the nightmare of you dying is what was causing him to repeatedly stab you in his sleep. The others tended to just cut your sheets up or land knuckle deep into the mattress.

“Them, doing horrible things. Tortuous things. You, screaming. Like I’ve never heard you scream before. Begging.” His eyelids opened as he said it, like he couldn’t keep them closed as the words left his mouth because they’d paint a picture on the inside of his lids.

Despite the heaviness of words, you smirked at them. Thinking of making a sexual joke in response but hearing how fast his heart was beating just from the thought of the nightmare, you opted out.

“For my life?” You were caressing him without the washcloth now, just easing his tensions with your bare hands. Your hands moving along the crevices of muscles, your mind still dancing in this dangerous space while his was in a completely opposite world.

“For someone to take it.” His words made his body rigid, and yours as well. Every dirty thought of yours disappeared as you felt the tension of his body on yours. Bringing your hands over to his chest, pulling him closer to you, you couldn’t help but wish, this should have been intimate, peaceful. He should have been flipping over and pulling you closer to him, lifting your legs apart to have his way with you but no. It was then you realized why you always had this thought in your head, because as much as you wanted this life to be the one you dreamed of, it never could be until you dealt with this.

“You sure you’re not getting visions of when they took me?” Your eyes moved away to the book on the sink. “They tortured me for weeks before they dropped me in the water and stabbed me with those drilling needles. I begged for them to kill me everyday.” Logan was one of the only people in the world that could get you to talk about this. Not even Charles got the full story out of you, although you were sure he saw plenty in your mind. It was easier that way, for everyone.

“You have your wedding ring on in it, every time.” Logan hated talking about it too, not only because it reminded him of his own experience, one that would come back in small floods, but because the idea of them hurting you, taking you against your will made his blood boil.

As you pushed the memory back to the depths of your mind, where it’d go to be forgotten, you moved your head over his shoulder, resting your chin on it so you were right next to his ear, your arms moving under his arms and resting on his abdomen, bringing him in a tight hug.

“I’m here. I’m okay. As long as I’m here with you, I’ll be okay.” Despite knowing he was right, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Not because it bothered you that you were wrong, but because right now being in denial was easier than dealing with things. At the end of your words you placed a kiss on his shoulder, then his back, and fell back into the bath, closing your eyes letting the water and Logan’s body take away the tension you now had in you.

“What’d you bring the book for?” Logan’s hands were moving up and down your legs now, clearly picking up on the fact that you were done with the conversation.

“Because when I fall asleep, you’ll need something to keep you occupied.”

He let out a chuckle, a noise that made everything in you happy. You could hear the vibrations in his body and the wave lengths brought you a small amount of energy in your bones especially when he was resting on you like currently.

For Logan, you knowing him so well always made him feel something warm inside. Like a reminder that not only did you love him but knew him. Logan would have fought sleep until he couldn't tonight, the idea of going back to that dream would haunt him until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

“How’s your shoulder?” You felt his body melt a little more into you when he asked, knowing he was responsible for the question even needing to be asked.

“I ever tell you we were made for eachother, Wolverine?” Your lips kissed the top of his head, his wet hair starting to frizz up slightly as it air dried against your chest.

“Once or twice.” He hummed, taking your arms that were wrapped around him up and letting his hands caress them. “Didn’t answer my question though.”

“But I did.” You tapped his chest, signaling for him to sit up. As the water dripped off your body and into the tub, you moved to go grab the two towels, one for Logan and one for you. You were quick to wrap yours around your body and then bring the second one over with open arms. “I can heal Logan. Always have been able to. You can’t tell me that we aren’t perfect for eachother.”

He stood up and grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist. “On paper, sure.”

You smirked at that and raised your eyebrows. “Stryker’s papers at least thought so.”

The group that kidnapped you had taken all of Stryker’s research and altered it to use vibranium in replacement of adamantium. You were essentially chosen and then re-created in an effort to contain The Wolverine–go against him as a better version of him–although you ended up just being a different version. There was extreme irony in the fact that you two had fallen in love, and some might even say you two were meant to find each other.

“I meant marriage certificate, bub.” He leaned down to place a kiss on your head before grabbing the book and walking back to your bedroom.

—

Logan eventually fell asleep pretty early in the morning, book across his chest, blanket draped over him. 4 hours of sleep, he’d take it, it was probably the most he’d gotten this week. As he woke up, he instinctively reached for you, his eyes opening to search for you when his grip came up empty. He didn’t bother marking his place in the book when he moved it to nightstand and tossed the new sheet to get up.

He called your name out a couple times, resulting in nothing back but silence. Now he was starting to worry. With a little bit more of speed in his movements, he was searching in all the rooms for you, still calling out for you. He tried to listen for you, stopping in his steps to focus on any sound that would give him a clue but still nothing. It wasn’t unlikely that he just wasn't able to hear you, opposite of him and the adamantium, the vibranium in you made you more swift and silent in your movements compared to his hot and heavy footing. His mind immediately went to the worst, were you taken? Was he asleep when they came in and took you? He’d be hours behind them now. Suddenly he had filled himself with such self-hate to let this happen, it almost made the events from last night feel miniscule. Key word: Almost. Not only could he not protect you from himself but not even the threat. He was grabbing his phone, dialing the school so Charles could search for you, he could get more people ready to go on the hunt.

Logan opened the front door, and that’s when he saw you sitting in the passenger seat of his truck.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty.” You called out, taking your headphones off.

Logan immediately hung up the phone and just stared at your for a few moments, standing perfectly still on your front porch letting his heart catch up to his brain. “You don’t hear me calling you?” The worry turned into anger, it was apparent in the tone of his voice.

All you did was wave the headphones and shrug your shoulders.

Logan’s head dropped and he took a large breath before making his way over to the passenger door. As he approached, he rested his hand on the open window and leaned down to get a good look at you.

“S’good look on you.” You nodded your head at him being shirtless with his sweatpants falling low enough to show his V line.

With another drop of his head and deep breath, he looked up at you through his thick brows, “What the hell you doin’ out here?” He completely ignored your comment, still trying to understand what was happening and why in the world you were hanging out in his truck.

“Waiting for you.” It was said like he should know what that meant, like you two had made plans the previous night that he should have been well aware of.

“You gotta give me a little more, bub.” He was laughing now, probably his way of trying to control the urge to scream in frustration.

“Packed up our stuff.” Your thumb pointed to the bags in the back. “We got a job to do.”

“What jo–” Logan stopped mid sentence and looked at you as it began to click. There was no way you were actually in the car, packed, and ready to go find the people who were after you.

“We can’t have middle of the night baths every night. Our water bill will be crazy.” Sarcasm. But Logan would take it because it meant you finally were on board to handle this situation instead of run from it.

“When we kill these assholes I don’t think I’ll give a fuck about a water bill.” He was smirking up at you. “I’ll take all the middle of the night baths with you I want.”

It was time. It was time to eliminate the thing that was like a dark cloud over both of your heads. This wasn’t a way to live. Logan was right about that, the nagging thought in the back of your head was right about it. But now? After this? Maybe you two could start some sort of life that was a way to live. Middle of the night baths and all. With a smile you reached for his hand, squeezing it quickly before tilting your head towards your home.

“As much as I hate what I’m about to say,” with a smile you reached for his hand, squeezing it quickly before tilting your head towards your home, “go put a shirt on so we can get out of here.”

Dividers by @realitycanbewhateveridesire <3

🐺 Logan Taglist: (using my all writing taglist currently since this is my first Logan fic!) @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989

#logan howlett #Logan Howlett x you #Logan Howlett x Reader #Logan Howlett Fanfiction #wolverine #the wolverine #Wolverine x Reader #Wolverine x You #Wolverine Fanfiction #My Writing #Garbinge

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luvinescent · 10 months

Text

Entangled Fates

Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!Targaryen!Reader

Summary: The Targaryen name has brought nothing but misery to Y/N— her half-blood placing a curse upon her. She's observed the toll her presence takes on the people she loves; no longer wanting to form a close tie with anyone. Nevertheless, her heart steered its own course. And it steered towards a certain man.

Warnings: angst. allusion to r*pe and death, nothing descriptive. a steamy make-out scene but nothing crazy. not really book or show accurate but f it we ball. also fluff. also reader has dark hair so just pretend u do if u don't xoxo.

Word count: 10.1K (beginning just has lots of background lore pls bear w/ me)

In life, there are those destined for lavish living and those made to struggle to see their next day. From a young age, Dorea knew she fell into the second category. She grew up orphaned; never knowing the love of a mother or a father. Despite the fact, Dorea was strong willed; she found her own kind of love. Love for herself, love for her friends, and love for her life. She knows that she did not have the best life; her dresses had holes in them, she had to work from dawn to dusk, and she often would need to go days without eating. That ultimately changed the day a close friend of hers had come to her with a new line of work.

“One of the castles maids was executed, so her position is open to take”.

Looking back, she should’ve said no from the way a chill went up her spine. She had heard the rumors of the king having gone mad; but at the time, that was not her problem. Being a castle maid sounded a lot better than being a candle maker. All she had to do was clean the chambers and mind her business and pay would be given to her. The task sounded easy— it should’ve been easy. Dorea had ways of not drawing attention to herself. That is how she has made it this far in her life; from hiding. The peace of obscurity brought her comfort; being anonymous was a safe refuge that protected her from prying eyes and the entanglements of wicked connections. The girl was pure and innocent.

Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans.

She truly had done all she could to stay out of the eyes of the royal family. She should’ve been more careful, more attentive, more aware of the eyes that followed her unknowingly when she walked the halls. Her foolishness had caught up to her one day when a guard had dragged her to the throne room; thrown to the ground to kneel in front of the king, Aerys II Targaryen. Dorea was ready to open her mouth and beg for forgiveness on whatever crimes she had committed but was silenced in fear. “You will meet me in my chambers tonight”, he said. Dorea could do nothing but nod as she could not go against the kings’ words. The only thing she could do was look to the Hand of the King for some form of help, but they stood muted. Moments later, she was whisked away by some female servants— some of them her own friends— and was prepared for the event. She was washed and dressed properly; never have been so physically clean yet so dirty internally.

Later that night, her virtue and gaiety of life was destroyed when the king came and took her. She had prayed to the Gods that it was only a one-time thing. But the Gods seemed to find her plea a joke. The king would request her presence many more times and many more nights afterwards. Her position as a maid in the castle vanished overnight. Now, she stood as something different; still, she did not know exactly what. All Dorea knew was she felt shame as those working in the castle started to treat her different, with more respect and caution. She dreamt every night for this nightmare to end, but it only continued.

“The girl is pregnant, your grace”. The maestar told the king. Both fear and relief spread through her body. Fear in the sense that the king would have her eliminated to hide such sin, and relief that he might just send her away forever. It had to be one or the other; from what she has seen, the queen is currently pregnant as well and due in a few moons. Furthermore, he already had two children born, why would he need her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the third alternative she had feared the most, “You will continue to stay here. You will have the child”. Later that night, Dorea prayed once more for all this suffering to end. Finally, her prayer had been answered in the worst way possible.

She had heard the talks of the rebellion, but she never thought it would come to where she resigned. The king’s heir was now dead, along with his wife and children. The queen was now dead; dying from childbirth. The middle child and newest member of the royal family had been sent to exile. And the Mad King was now dead as well; stabbed by a member of his own Kingsguard.

Death and misery surrounded Dorea everywhere.

For her own safety, and her chance once again at freedom, she did what she knew she had to do. She ran away.

Dorea took refuge in a small village that resided in the Reach. Selling all the gifts and jewelry the king had bestowed upon her; she and her unborn child were set for life. A few moons later, Dorea gave birth during a warm summer night. As she held the newborn in her arms, she thought the Gods had finally decided to take pity on her and grant her some kindness. For starters, she had given birth to a girl. Dorea was thankful in the sense that the child would not be seen as a threat to the line of succession of the Iron throne. Additionally, the babe had no features of a Targaryen. Caressing the small amount of hair on her daughter’s hair, she was given hair as dark as night instead of the silvery-gold feature of her biological father. Dorea let out a sigh of relief once the girl opened her eyes— no violet eyes either. Pulling the babe closer to her chest, she gave a quick prayer and smiled down at the sleeping babe.

Dorea named her Y/N.

As time passed, Y/N quickly grew before her mothers’ eyes. Both her and her mother were beloved by the village folks— Dorea giving money to those who were in need, and her daughter who was tenderhearted and befriended all. No one in the village had known about Doreas’ past or Y/N true linage. And Dorea wanted to keep it that way. She, however, knew that one day it would all come back to bite her. Despite having run away, she knew that there were some people who knew of their existence. It did not help her case more when Y/N had begun to show a great fascination with fire; something the mothers of the village made jokes about, but Dorea knew the truth.

“You have dragon blood within you”, Dorea had whispered to her daughter one quiet night. “You are part Targaryen, but you must keep this a secret. I am only telling you this for your own safety. There are people in this world who will want to hurt you, to take you away from me. Do you understand darling?”. At just the age of eight, Y/N was smarter and brighter than her peers. Hearing such solemness in her mothers’ voice, she nodded, “Yes mother”.

Such a topic was dropped and never brought up again— that was until Y/N turned ten. Since Dorea had the funds, she had hired a tutor for the young girl. Y/N’s instructor was a retired tutor who had taught many kids from noble homes before moving to their village. The old man was just supposed to teach her simple things like language, arts, music, and maths. Without her mothers’ knowledge, Y/N brought up the topic of history to her teacher, particularly the history of the Targaryen household. And that’s where everything started.

It was one calm afternoon in their shared bedroom when Y/N had asked the question. “Mother, am I cursed?”. Dorea, puzzled, stopped brushing her daughter’s hair and turned towards her, “What kind of question is that?”. Y/N looked sheepishly to the side and confessed everything, “I have been learning history with my tutor. Targaryen history”. Before Dorea could respond, the young girl continued, “You say I am half Targaryen, and based upon their history, I must be cursed”. Dorea questioned what she meant and then let out a loud laugh at her daughters’ answer: “I have black hair mother”.

Dorea caressed her daughters face, smiling and shaking her head, “Darling, your hair color does not mean anyth- “.

“But its true mother!” Y/N exclaimed, “It is shown all over their history. Rhaenyra Targaryen’s eldest sons were born with dark hair, and they all died before they could reach adulthood. Rhaenys Targaryen was known as the “Queen Who Never Was” and saw the death of her two children in her lifetime. Rhaegar Targaryen’s daughter was killed in the sack of Kings Landing. Valarr Targaryen was- “.

“What does any of that have to do with you?!”, Dorea shouted out, startling Y/N. The young girl felt tears come to her eyes as she hid herself in her mothers’ embrace, muffling her words, “They were not pure Targaryen. I am not a pure Targaryen, mother. I do not wish to fall to such misfortunes”. Dorea felt her heart break at the sound and thoughts of her daughters’ troubles. Shaking her head, Dorea raised Y/Ns’ head and looked straight into her eyes, “You are not cursed. Their misfortunes are not yours. Do you hear me girl? This is your life, and you control it”. Y/N could do nothing but continue to cry. "It's okay, sweetheart," her mother whispered, her voice a tender melody that carried reassurance. Dorea cradled the young girl, whose sobs softened but still lingered, the remnants of a storm that had raged within her fragile heart. “I will protect you no matter what”, she declared.

Y/N would forever remember that loving moment, amongst the many others she shared with her mother. While Dorea had said she would do anything to protect her, Y/N should’ve said the same thing back. Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans for the daughter. Not even a month later, Y/Ns’ mother died, succumbing to a mysterious illness that took her in a matter of days. It felt as though the moment she acknowledged the said “curse”, her world only came to be filled with hurt.

Being only ten years old and now orphaned, the people in the village were kind enough to take the girl in. Specifically, it was a family of three that consisted of a father and mother and a son her age who took her into their home. The boy, named Tomas, had always been a close friend of Y/N. The two would spend many days together, playing and running around in the meadows. He would pick flowers for her and in return she would do the same. There was even one early morning when the two stood by their village’s lake and shared a kiss with each other. Despite still being a child, Y/N felt as though she was feeling the love that was described in the fairytale stories her mother used to read to her.

Sadly, that love was taken from her as well. At the young age of one and three, Tomas had somehow fallen and drowned in that same lake. Y/N had never heard such a devasting scream as Edith, Tomas’s mother, held her dead son in her arms. The village was both in mourning and in query; Tomas had been taught to swim at the age of four, how could this have happened? No explanations were thought of, but Y/N had her own belief.

I’m cursed, she would toss in turn in her bed at night, I am cursed.

Two more years would pass by, and no other unfortunate incidents would have occurred. But there is always calm before the storm. One day, something within Y/N had made her go explore the small forest that was near her village. It was nothing out of the ordinary; she had done it many times before. Yet, she stayed exploring for hours before that same voice within her told her to return. Upon seeing her village within the distance, Y/N should’ve never listened to that voice. She wishes she could’ve stayed back and continue being ignorant of everything. Her village— the homes, the crops, the trees, everything, was up in flames. Running down the dirt paths, Y/N did not have time (nor did she want to) to acknowledge all slaughtered men, women, and children that laid on the grounds. A small amount of hope had sparked within her when she saw that her home was not ablaze. That hope died upon entering the residence— Y/N crying out in distress at the sight of Edith, the women she had come to see as her second mother, dead on the ground. Her sadness was turned to fear when she spotted a large man in the corner, angry and hungry for blood. Before the crazed man could run at her, he was tackled to the ground by Lance— Edith’s husband and her adopted father. He was clearly injured; covered in blood from head to toe but still had the strength in him to scream at Y/N, desperation laced in his voice, “Run girl! Run and do not look back!”. Y/N, not wanting to witness his clear end, quickly listened to his order and ran out the door, trying her best to stay out of sight of all the other savage men as she made her way out the village.

She must’ve ran for hours before she knew she was no longer in danger. A day or two of traveling passed by before she took residence in a small city. That same night, under a dirty bridge, she finally acknowledged all hell that had occurred to her within the past forty-eight hours. The dams broke as she cried and screamed out in sorrow and pain. She cried, and cried, and cried until she had no more tears to let out; now consumed by numbness. Her mother, her first love, her caretakers, her childhood friends, her home; had all been taken from her. What had she done to deserve this? With her heart broken into millions of pieces, Y/N decided that she wouldn’t live like this. Never would she fall in love and never would she form a deep connection with anyone again. She wasn’t going to let herself be tied to the Targaryen name, to its blood, nor its curse. She wasn’t going to let this curse win and see her suffer again.

And so, she did; well, she tried her best at least. With the little money she had on her, Y/N jumped from village to village, city to city, and made sure not to socialize with anyone. There were some instances of people trying to get to know her, boys trying to court her, but she wouldn’t stay very long and would be gone the next day. It was a lonely life, a life she despised but knew she had to endure. That changed a bit when she came face to face with a woman with a fair complexion and silver hair.

Daenerys Targaryen. The “Mother of Dragons”. Her older half-sister.

Daenerys had always known about her half-sister’s existence; her older brother one day rambling that the throne belongs to a true Targaryen and not the current usurper, nor the “Targaryen-bastard filth” their father left behind. At first, Y/N was wary of the girl but soon found herself becoming fond of her presence. Daenerys felt the same way; with no family left on either girl’s end, they quickly found solace in each other— treating one another as the sisters they are. It was strange at first for Y/N; getting used to now having family once again and the companionship of dragons that came with it. Initially, she was terrified at the sight of the foreign creatures but quickly came to love them and their beautiful nature. She became quite close with the one called Rhaegal, favoring the dragon over the overs. Rhaegal doted and protected the girl the same; but still recognized Daenerys as its’ rightful mother. Y/N could say she just held the title of “favorite aunt” now amongst the creatures.

The thought of the curse still weighed heavy in the back of her mind, but Y/N hypothesized that whatever superstition was out to get her would not harm her sister; a true (and last) Targaryen. Y/N immediately recognized Daenerys as her queen and vowed to help her reclaim her throne. For some time, Y/N felt happiness once again entering her life as she spent more time with her sister and her allies. That bliss, however, turned out to be false hope.

“When the time comes and I reclaim my throne, I will legitimize you as a Targaryen”, Daenerys spoke to her one night. Y/N wanted to decline right away; she was content with not having a household name and did not want to be associated with the Targaryen name. Before Y/N could speak, Daenerys looked shamefully down while holding her sister’s hand, “There is a reason why I came looking for...”. Y/N felt a chill run up her spine and quickly encouraged the Mother of Dragons to continue. “I am unable to have my own children. When the time is right, I will need you to find a man, any man of your choosing..”, Daenerys sternly said as she looked into Y/N eyes, “I will need an heir to inherit the throne and continue my family name. Do you understand sister?”. Daenerys felt guilt creep up inside her as she finally confessed her true intentions from the start of meeting Y/N. She was asking too much of Y/N but, she, however, was on a mission to reclaim her birthright no matter what. Y/N stared agape at her, no words coming from her mouth. She wanted to decline even more— but, looking into Daenerys eyes, she saw the graveness within them and the true tone behind her words. She was not asking this of her as her sister. She was commanding this of her as her queen. And Y/N would do anything for her rightful queen.

“Yes, sister. I understand”. Y/N now found herself tied to the Targaryen name. Something she vowed never to be but couldn’t escape.

As time passed by, Y/N kept her promise and stood by Daenerys side as she continued her conquest; now finding herself at Dragonstone, her sister’s ancestral home. The preparations and campaign for Daenerys claim to the Iron Throne was in full effect but was interrupted momentarily.

“The King in the North?”, Daenerys questioned one of her advisors who came bearing news. “Yes my Queen. He sent a raven— detailing that he wishes to speak with you”. Y/N, standing off to the side, expressed her thoughts and question, “I had heard that the King in the North was dead”.

“As did I”, Daenerys said sharply. The man before them nodded his head, “Yes. There was an incident that had occurred that made everyone believe he was dead. But he is very much alive”. Daenerys raised her eyebrows up, skeptical about this so called “King in the North”— “And he trusts me with the information of his false death?”

“Well, according to his letter, yes.”

Y/N and Daenerys turned, staring into each other’s eyes, speaking with them. Not much emotion was shown behind Y/N eyes, but she was able to express with them, “What harm is there in seeing what he wants”. Sighing, Daenerys nodded her head and agreed with her sister.

“Send a message back. Invite him here and let him know I agree to speak with him”.

A few days later, Y/N stood on the shores, waiting to welcome her guests on the request of Daenerys. Once she saw the boats pull up on the beach, she made her way but stopped in amazement. Out from one of the boats came a large, thick furred animal— a dire wolf. She had only ever heard about the mythical creatures and now she was in close distance with one. Dragons and now dire wolves; she held a small smile on her face at the uniqueness that was the world. Clearing their throats, the two guards behind her had snapped her out of her daydream, reminding her of the task. Standing tall, Y/N put on her best welcoming smile and stood in front of the party, “Welcome to Dragonstone. I have been sent by our rightful Queen to give our greetings”.

Y/N voice had started loud and clear, but slightly quieted down towards the end as she made eye contact with a man. A very handsome man to be exact, she thought to herself. He stood tall and strong, a lean build with dark curls and blue eyes as blue as the water behind them. He smiled at her and before he could open his mouth, the older man next to him spoke up. “I present Robb Stark. Heir to the Stark household and King of the North”. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the discovery of the handsome stranger being the King in the North. Turning to him, she held a sort of mischief but harsh attitude in her voice, “Is the King in the North unable to speak for himself?”

The men in front of her were clearly taken back. Except for Robb Stark who let out a small laugh. “Forgive me, my lady, I am very capable of speaking. I am Robb Stark”. He held out his hand and was charmed when she firmly grasped it and shook it; opting out of giving her his hand to kiss.

“I am not a lady. Please, call me Y/N”. Robb was preparing himself to compliment her name but was cut off by the same man next to him. “She’s the Targaryen bastard, your grace”. Though it was meant to be a whisper for only Robb to hear, Y/N was in close enough proximity to have heard it as well. Robb swiftly turned to his advisor next to him, giving him a crude look before turning back to the girl, “Forgive the rudeness of- “

“No, it is quite alright” she waved her hand, “It is all true anyway. I am THAT Targaryen bastard”. Robb nodded, gulping as he tried to ease the tension, “I have heard a lot about you...and your sister too, of course”. Y/N wanted to let out a chuckle at the sight before her; a gorgeous man trying his best not to insult her. “And I have heard very little about you,” Y/N voiced, “Other than the fact that you were supposedly dead, which I can see you are very much alive”, looking him up and down with her eyes. Robb smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, “It is a long story”. Y/N let out a “hmm” sound, looking off towards the side to the dire wolf. “Is he yours?”

“Yes. His name is Grey Wind. I’ve had him since he was a pup”. Y/N nodded once more, noticing just how well behaved the wolf was, “He’s very beautiful”. Robb thanked her for the compliment, grinning widely, “I can see you are fond of animals. Do you have any of your own?”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head, “No. I have children.”

Robb was clearly taken back by her words, a stuttering mess as he questioned her statement. “O-oh? You have children?”. Y/N could sense some disappointment in his voice towards the end as it cracked. Smiling, she shook her head. “No. But I do consider them children. Just not mine. I am just an aunt”. All the guests in front of her were puzzled by her words but ducked down in fear at the sound of a roar from above. Looking up, she smiled at the sight of Rhaegal and Drogon patrolling the skies.

“Seven hells!” she heard one of Robbs’ men yell out. Turning back, she playfully spoke “My children. Beautiful, aren’t they?”. None of Robbs’ men were able to agree or speak; still in shock. Robb, still looking up to the sky, laughed earnestly, “Well, they sure are an eccentric sight to see”. Y/N smiled more at his honesty, clapping her hands together, turning and speaking to the entire party, “Well. I believe that is a sufficient way to welcome you all here. Now, I must welcome you into the castle. Please come, the Queen is curious to known what it is you wish to speak about”.

Upon greeting the Queen, Robb Starks’ words and terms were clear to her. He wishes to ally with her in her conquest to take the throne and create a fairer and just realm. “We both have a clear enemy,” he spoke, “I want the Lannisters dead for what they have done to my family, and you want them off the throne entirely”. Every so often, Robb would cast his eyes off to the side to look at Y/N; something she tried her best to hide her reddening face from. “My men, though small numbers, will be yours to use. We ask that in return, once you take your rule, you allow the North to maintain a degree of self-rule. We will recognize you as the rightful Queen, but we wish to keep the North the way it is”. Daenerys nodded her head, asking her advisors for their views on the matter, and taking Y/N by surprise when she asked her as well. “As I perceive it, the North is biggest land piece in Westeros. It would be better to keep them as allies instead of fighting them off. They recognize you as Queen, and the Stark household keeps the North in check for you, sister”. Daenerys responded with another nod, showing to be clear in thought at all the opinions given to her. The Queen stood up, still not fully convinced, but could not deny all the positives of the compromise, “Very well. I will continue to think about the matter. I will let you know that my thoughts are leaning more toward yes than it is no. For now, your men must be tired. Allow my people to escort them to rest”.

Later that night, Y/N made her way down the dark halls to the one place in the castle that brought her peace. She almost let out a small scream at the tall shadow that appeared around the corner, “My lady?”. Placing her hand to her chest to control her tachycardic heart, she saw that the dark shadow was Robb Stark. “Your grace. You almost scared me to death”, Y/N laughed, “And please, I am not a lady of noble birth. Call me by my first name”. Robb returned her laugh with his own, apologizing for scaring her. “Forgive me, my lad- Y/N. I was just curious as to why you are out so late”. She nodded her head in the direction she was originally heading in, “I can not sleep so I was heading to the library to bore myself with some reading” she joked, “Is it not late for you to be awake as well?”. Robb gave a similar answer; unable to sleep and practically full of energy. Y/N looked down at the ground for a mere second before glancing into his eyes, “Would you like to join me?”. He agreed to her invite, thankful for the darkness of the night hiding his blushed face.

Dimly lit by flickering candlelight, the shelves towered, laid with books that held centuries of knowledge and wisdom. Robb made himself comfortable at one of the chairs available while Y/N opted for the window nook. “Do you come in here often?” Robb asked. Y/n offered a silent yes, trailing her fingers against the rim of the book she had chosen, “I have not been here that long, but yes. I come here every night; I tend to have trouble sleeping”.

“Why is that?” Robb questioned.

“Nightmares”, Y/N replied. Her dreams were always filled with visions of her dead loved ones.

After a pause, Robb gave a “hmm”; silently admiring the girl for not being afraid to show vulnerability. “That’s something we both have in common” he gave a warm smile. Another quiet pause passed by until Y/N looked up at him, “You say that you being alive is a long story— can I listen to it?”. Robb gave a slight nod, standing up to sit next to her in a close but comfortable proximity.

“I was to marry the daughter of someone who I thought was my ally. I agreed initially but something within me told me not to carry out my word”. He slowly reached over for the book that was in her hands, both hands brushing slightly as he took it out of her grasp, now distracting himself with it. “The wedding still went on; I supplied another man in my place. But, there was bloodshed, and I was betrayed. I barely made it out alive, along with a few other men of mine”. Inhaling sharply, he continued with his outpour, “And I’m thankful I did. I have sources that tell me that even if I went along with the wedding, I was to be killed no matter what. The Lannisters long ago forming allies with the people I thought I could trust”. Coming close to a finish, he looked into Y/N eyes, softly smiling, “I guess it was fate that saved me somehow”.

Breaking eye contact, Y/N scoffed at his words. “Fate” she said with repugnance. Her reply caught him off guard, raising his eyebrows in surprise, “You do not believe in fate?”.

Y/N took in a long sigh, shaking her head, “No I believe in it”, she gently whispered the last part, “We just never have seen eye to eye. My fate only brings me bad luck”. Robb took in her words, trying to calculate what he should say next. “I believe fate can bring both good and bad luck”, he began with, “One can say it was my fathers’ fate to have been killed, or my sisters’ fates to be held captive”, Robb swallowed thickly before continuing, “But, it is my fate to avenge and save them. It is fate that has brought me this far; that has brought me here and to you”, he slowly spoke while staring deep into Y/N eyes. She quickly looked away, hoping her face wasn’t red and was successful in controlling her facial expression. Clearing her throat, she spoke firmly, “You must be confused; I believe you are trying to woo the wrong sister, Stark. Is it not my sister who you need as your ally?”.

Robb let out a low laugh, grinning widely, “That may be true, but”, he slowly scanned the room in a playful manner, “I believe that I don’t see your sister in here at all. So, no, I am not confused. I am speaking to the right sister”. A third pause passed by as the two continued staring, wating for one of them to speak or do something. Y/N was the first— standing abruptly, she moved her hair behind her ear and let out an awkward ahem. “I believe I must retire for the night. It was nice speaking to you Stark”. Before she could make her way out the door, he called out to her.

“It’s Robb”. Turning, she questioned what he meant. Smiling, he spoke, “You can call me Robb. You say you come here every night?”. Y/N nodded her head. “Would you allow me to see you here again tomorrow? Or even spend some time with you come morning?”.

Y/N wanted to say no. She needed to stop whatever friendship (or relationship) was forming between the two before she got too close. Before her curse got to him. He had already suffered enough. Despite the fact, deep down, her own selfish desires won over. She hadn’t felt like this in forever— she wanted this feeling to last forever.

“Yes. Of course, Robb”.

Come morning, they spent the entire day together, including the night. The next day was the same. Daenerys had granted Robb and his men a longer stay as there was much to discuss. It was late in the morning that he and Y/N were walking along the shores, discussing the most random of topics. Both were making a great effort to make the other one laugh: sprouting different jokes and funny stories. They both loved hearing the sound of laughter coming out of each another’s mouths. A gentle breeze roamed the air, blowing through Y/Ns’ dark hair. Robb stood silently still, stuck in a daze and awestruck by her appearance. Swiftly, he removed his fur cloak and placed it upon her exposed shoulders. Robb gestured to the area around them as Y/N looked at him in confusion, “I thought you might be cold”. She let out a small chuckle, shaking her head but not returning his cloak back. It provided her with a sense of ease. “No,” she confessed, “I don’t run cold that easily”. Resuming their walk, Robb gave her a look of admiration, “You would do great in the North then. Have you ever been there?”.

She answered with a clear no, stopping in her path to match Robb’s sudden cease of movement. Slowly, he placed his hands upon the cloak, further wrapping it securely around her. “I believe you would love it there. Maybe one day, you can come with me to Winterfell. I would love to give you a tour and introduce you to my mother, and hopefully my sisters too. I’m sure they would love you”. No further sounds were made; the distant sound of crashing waves serving as the only soundtrack to their wordless communion. Y/N leaned slightly into him — his closeness felt like a forbidden sanctuary, a place where she found solace and belonging but knew she shouldn’t enter. Y/N only response was a gentle nod and smile.

Many heart-fluttering moments continued to happen between the two. Stolen glances from across the table, hands brushing as they took their walks, laughter and smiles shared in the dark of night. There was an occurrence in the library when Robb had urged the girl to go to bed; taking notice of her eyebags forming from their long night of talking. “I can’t go to sleep that easily. And even if I can, I just have bad dreams I can’t wake up from”, she disclosed. They sat intimately close, sharing an intense gaze, both their features illuminated by the light of the candles in the room. Y/N could see every detail, every pore, every small scar that graced his beautiful face. She was caught by surprise, her breath hitching when he gently grabbed her hand, drawing small patterns into it.

“You can sleep here if you wish. I will watch over you and wake you at any sign of discomfort”. She wanted to decline, but there was something in his eyes that was persuading her. Y/N then found herself in his warm embrace, laying her head gently on his chest. She could hear every breath he took, every beat his heart made. Sealing her eyelids, he was the sole occupant of her dreams. She had never slept better.

Daenerys was no fool to what was happening before her very eyes. Sharing a private dinner with her sister, she brought up the topic.

“So, you and the Northern have been spending some time together”. Y/N nodded; not being able to lie since there was clear evidence in front of Daenerys. “He is a good man,” she smiled, “Very kind to his men, to his wolf”, she smiled even further at the memory of Robb introducing her properly to Grey Wind. She could still hear his laughter and the concern that replaced it when Grey Wind had tackled her to the ground with wet kisses. “We don’t want to get that pretty face all slobbered up now, do we?” fondness had colored his expression as he helped her back up. The smile upon her face slipped away, a frown and more serious look taking over.

“He’s very kind to me…I don’t think I will be spending much time with him anymore though”, she held her fork tightly in her hand. Daenerys questioned what she meant by her words. “Personal reasons”, Y/N said in a somber tone, “He will be leaving soon, and I plan to stay by your side”. Daenerys nodded her head, a part of her knowing that Y/Ns’ excuse was not the full truth. It’s not an exaggeration— Daenerys wasn’t a fool. She was well aware of Y/N’s standoffish attitude; practically a hermit as she kept to herself, or Daenerys. She saw the reasoning behind it— having an understanding of her past hardships. Additionally, Daenerys once tried to comfort Y/N during a nightmare of hers, hearing the word “curse” coming out of her mouth every few seconds. She badly wanted to comfort her sister, let her know that she was not cursed— life was just not fair to everyone. Daenerys, however, said nothing. Y/N was the only family she had left, and she did not want to lose her so soon, especially to some man. Forcing a smile upon her face, Daenerys tried to hide the distaste she felt towards her own selfishness. “That is good. Family must stick together”.

As the hours slipped away, Y/N and Robb were spending their last night together in the library. Robb and his men were set to leave tomorrow— all discussions and plans made with Daenerys were finalized. Robb, sitting across the room, was enamored as Y/N read to him out loud. It was a couple nights ago that they created this little routine; Y/N would read to him, and he would give his input at certain scenes. Right now, however, he was not paying attention to what was happening in the story. He was trying to memorize her gentle sweet voice, the way her lips moved with each syllable she said. Finishing a passage, Y/N put the book down to ask Robb his view.

“I can not lie to you. I was not paying attention”. Mouth agape, she pretended to be upset, throwing the small pillow she had next to her. Robb caught the cushion, letting out a hearty laugh that rumbled deep within his chest. Standing up, he walked across the room to her, placing the pillow behind her back. He knew she liked to read in comfort. Y/Ns’ smile was warm, spreading even more across her face at the words Robb spoke next, “You have a pretty voice”. Shyly looking down, she quietly thanked him. Robb’s compliments towards her only continued, “And a beautiful face”.

Biting her lip, she was readying herself to change the topic, but he only continued more. “I remember when I saw you for the first time”, he sat down beside her, sharing body warmth now, “I truly thought I had never seen a more beautiful woman before in my life”. Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes softly and replying in a joking matter “And then you saw my sister and I was the second most beautiful woman you had seen in your life”. Her heart quickened up when she looked up at him, no humor present on his face, only showing seriousness. “No”, he whispered, “you were still the most captivating and breathtaking beauty I’d seen”. Silence filled the room. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers interlacing with hers. “I leave tomorrow”, he spoke of the one thing they both had refused to acknowledge. “That you are”, Y/N said, her main focus placed upon their hands. Drawing small comforting circles into her skin, he asked her what she had planned for her future.

“My future is a mystery”, Y/N sighed heavily, “Regardless, I will continue to stand by Daenerys and be with her when she retakes the throne. She told me that she was going to bestow the Targaryen name upon me, but I’m not sure that is what I want”. Confusion etched Robbs’ features, questioning her meaning. Her face gave away a gloomy look, “I have never really been fond of my Targaryen blood. Daenerys is the only good thing that has come out of it”, she said truthfully, “I’ve gone long enough without a household name, so I don’t see the point in having one”. A smile graced her lips as she looked at him, “I won’t lie, it is a small yearn of mine. To belong somewhere and become a part of something special”.

A pregnant pause filled the room. The only sound being heard was the burning of the fireplace. Y/Ns’ laughter echoed through the room; Robbs’ next statement finding humor within her.

“You can become a Stark”.

Shaking her head, almost wanting to wipe the imaginary tears in her eyes, she continued her fits of giggles. “And how can I do that- “

Robbs’ next sentence caused all laughter within her to cease, her breath getting stuck in her chest. “By marrying me”, he said.

Another pregnant pause. Y/N stared at him in shock, becoming a stuttering mess, “R-Robb, I…”. Before she could finish, he cut her off, taking both her hands into his now, “I plead that you allow me to speak first”, he smiled but looked ready to cry, “I have never felt the way I have when I am with you. You truly have stolen my heart, and I don’t plan on asking for it back. Come with me to Winterfell— become my wife, my queen”. With affection, he raised her hand and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on it, “Grant me the wish to spend the rest of my life with you”. Robb had poured his emotions out into his speech, mistakenly only imagining what he wanted her reply to be. He was not prepared for what Y/N said next.

“No.”

Furrowing his eyes, he dropped one of her hands but still held the other. Shaking his head, he began to apologize profoundly, “I-I’m sorry. I thought maybe there was something between us. Did I ask too soon?”, he looked desperate in front of her, “I can take back the proposal. I can court you properly if that is what you wish – “

“No. No, Robb”, Y/N let her hand drop from his, both now becoming colder by the second, “I can’t marry you”.

The tension crackled in the air as Y/N words hung between them, heavy and unresolved. The room felt suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity. Robb’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the ground, struggling to contain his emotions and appear unaffected, “Can I ask why?”. Y/N bit her lip, her own emotions consuming her, never wanting more than to cry. “Robb,” she sobbed, “marrying me— being with me would only bring you hell”. Shaking his head, Robb grabbed ahold of her face, staring into her eyes, “What nonsense do you speak of? That can be far from the truth”. Y/N wanted to push his hands off her but was brought warmth by his touch, “But it’s the truth. My presence alone carries a curse. All those I have cherished have been harmed and taken from me”, he delicately removed the tears that were dropping from her eyes, “I’m not supposed to fall in love with you”.

Robb didn’t know what to say, how exactly to comfort her. His only reply being, “there is no such thing as a curse”, which angered her to some extent. Standing abruptly, she screamed out in sorrow, “Yes there is! My mother, my first love, my home— everyone suffered because of me!”, she started hyperventilating, burying her face in her hands, sobs echoing through the room, “You have suffered enough Robb. I do not wish to cause you more misery”. Robb sprang up quickly and encircled her with an arm, drawing her in for a reassuring embrace. As she cried, he felt her body quiver against his chest. He rubbed her back in gentle circles, giving her a feeling of comfort and safety. “Shhh…”, he tried soothing her, “Even if there is a curse, I won’t let it get to me, or you. I will protect you with entire life; you will never be subjected to such pain”, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her head, “I can’t let you go— living out the rest of my life thinking “what if?”.

Shaking her head, she gently pushed him away, “No, Robb”. Y/N stared at him, her eyes reflecting her inner sadness, “This is for my protection and yours. I would not have the strength in me to live if something happened to you”. Walking swiftly towards the door, she ceased her movements when Robb called out to her.

“Y/N. You deserve better”, he spoke truthfully and with sorrow, “You can’t live like this. Someone as extraordinary as you deserves to be happy. To be loved”.

She gripped the door handle, almost hurting her own hand from the pressure. Turning her head, she offered him a pained smile, “Maybe you’re right”, she opened the door, “But such fine things were not made for me in this lifetime”. And she was gone.

Y/N was unable to sleep the rest of the night, tossing and turning in her bed. Come morning, she mentally prepared herself for a conversation she knew she had to make. Standing in front of the chamber rooms Robb occupied, she knocked. A few seconds later, he opened the door, clear surprise on his face at her presence.

“Hi”, she spoke softly. Robb did not verbally reply to her greeting; opting to nod to her instead. “May I come in?”, she asked, and Robb moved to the side to allow her to enter. Looking at him, his tunic was unlaced— a clear indication she had interrupted him in the middle of dressing up. Y/N was informed that Robb and his men were to leave early morning; all they had to do was suit up and prepare their ships, and then he would be gone.

Facing him entirely, she gestured to his packed supplies in the corner, “I came to wish you a safe journey. I enjoyed our time together”. Robb registered her words, taking a deep breath, “Thank you, my lady”. She didn’t have the strength to correct him. All the while, Robb was struggling to tie up the last laces of his tunic. His hands were shaking. Walking slowly to him, she reached for his hands, moving them away to replace them with hers, “Allow me”. Robb felt a fire ignite inside him as her gentle touch sent a chill down his spine. Focused on her work, Y/N laced up the complex pattern, her breath quickening as her fingertips touched his bare chest. Finishing up the last lace, she patted his chest and smiled up at him, “There. All done”. She only took one step back before Robb wrapped his arm around her waist, pushing her back to him. Y/N gaze softened, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. Slowly and hesitantly, she placed her hand upon his cheek, caressing him. Stretching her neck, she placed a small kiss on his lips, pulling away in mere seconds before either of them could comprehend it. Robb did the same; the two now sharing their second kiss.

For a while, they stood in each other’s embrace in silence. Robb took the next step, closing the small distance and cupping her face in his hands. With a mixture of yearning and desire, she leaned into his touch, gazing up at him as her heart ached. Reaching down, he kissed her with longing and tenderness. Y/N reciprocated right away, moving her mouth with his to match his rhythm. This kiss was longer, both wanting to savor the moment a bit more. The kiss had started off slowly but quickly came alive as they both deepened it. Robb fingers wove into her hair, pulling her closer to him; despite being as physically close as possible. Y/Ns’ body felt on fire; Robb’s touch both gentle yet firm as he traced her body with his other hand. Gasping into his mouth, she was taken by surprise (but did not fight off) at Robb picking her up by the thighs— walking to the small table in his room and dropping her on it. Opening her legs widely, he stood between them, both breathing heavily as they’re lips continued pressing together. Y/N did not know what to do with her hands, moving them all across his body and landing upon his hair, tugging slightly at his roots. Robb was the same; still opting to trace his hands across her thighs and up her breasts— igniting a moan out of her moth that he swallowed with his. Both their lips parted slightly, allowing them to slip their tongues into each other’s.

The room was heating up by the second. The only sounds that could be heard were their muffled groans and heavy breathing. Parting away, Y/N went to work to unlace his tunic— undoing her work. There was some urgency in the way her hands moved, Robb staring at her, intoxicated by her face contoured in rapture. He went straight for her dress, moving the fabric down to expose her shoulders, planting kisses on her. Y/N let out a loud whimper; the feeling of Robb biting into her neck sending a jolt of pleasure and goosebumps over her body. Grabbing his jaw, she returned her attack on his lips; their kiss now getting sloppier by the second, teeth almost clashing against. Y/N was readying herself to further pull her dress down but was interfered by Robb pulling away. Almost desperate like, she chased his lips but was denied.

“No,” Robb spoke, almost sounding to be in pain. His breath was ragged, chest moving up and down and fist clenched to his side, “Not like this”. Y/Ns’ common sense returned, slightly embarrassed that her hunger for him had taken over her completely. She was thankful that Robb had the strength and respect to keep her virtue safe. A few moments passed and their breathing became stable once again. Y/N watched as Robb gazed down at her, his lips red and bruised. Taking a hold of her face in his hand, Robb placed his forehead against her, “I love you”. Y/N could do nothing but nod, wrapping her arms around his torso, “I know”.

He smiled sheepishly at her, caressing her cheek, “Write to me at least. Please. Write to me about anything…even if you have nothing to talk about. I will always send a reply back. I promise”. She gave him a tight-lipped smile, kissing his hand lightly, “I’ll try”. Robb knew she was lying. As they held each other’s gaze, time appeared to stop and the outside world became less significant. With one last kiss to her temple, Robb picked up his belongings and went out the door.

Y/N waited a decent number of minutes to pass before she exited the room— making sure there were no prying eyes around. She was hurrying towards her own chambers; wanting to be alone and allowed let all her tears fall free. She didn’t make it far, stopping in her movements at the sound of someone calling her name.

“Y/N”, Daenerys called out at the end of the hallway. Approaching her, she offered her sister a happy smile, “I was looking all over for you. I came to see if you wanted to bid the North men a goodbye- “, Daenerys stopped talking momentarily. Her eyes taking in Y/N disheveled appearance, and the obvious love mark on her neck. “But I can see you must’ve already given your farewell to the King in the North”, she teased.

Y/N nodding, staring down at the ground with her hands picking at the skin around her nails, “Yes, I have. So, I have no need to bid them a further goodbye. If you excuse me, I will retire for the day”. She was barley able to turn her body around before Daenerys grabbed hold of her forearm. “Hold on”, Daenerys said letting out a low chuckle, “It is still early morning. Why would you retire so soon- “. Her amusement dwindled into silence, fully grasping the emotions displayed on her little sisters’ face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”, she inquired anxiously and hastily, “Did that Stark boy do something to you?”, now anger appearing in her voice. Y/N was quick to deny her accusations, “No. He did nothing. It’s what I’ve done to him”. The queen placed a comforting embrace around her sisters’ figure, soothing her hair. “He offered me a marriage proposal, Dany” she sobbed into her shoulders, “And I told him no. I broke his heart”. Daenerys said nothing to the information given to her. A short interval of silence ensured; disrupted by Daenerys taking in a deep breath.

“Do you love him?”.

She hadn’t expected such a direct question from Daenerys, especially about something she had been trying to conceal. Y/N hesitated for a moment— deciding there was no use in denying it, “I do”.

The older sister pulled away, smiling down lovingly at her, “Then why not go be with him?”. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, stumbling over her words, “Because I promised to stick by your side. To help you,” she defended. Staring back at the floor, Y/N inhaled deeply, “Because I am cursed- “

“That is a load of shit”, Daenerys cut in. Y/N gaped at her older sister in disbelief for her vulgar language directed at her. Daenerys persisted with her speech, “You are not cursed, Y/N. Our history might show that our ancestors without the inherited Targaryen traits suffered greatly, but that does not mean all of them will”. Putting both hands on her shoulder, she reassured Y/N, “I know that in their lives they were still able to experience contentment and love. And you should too”.

Whispering softly, Daenerys hold on her sister tightened, “You've gone through a lot, and life has made it difficult to look past your own suffering, I won't deny that. But you need not forget the positive impact that you have on others around you. You undoubtedly brought happiness and love into the lives of your mother as well as those from your pas, and me toot. I'm even more positive that you introduced that into Robb Starks' life as well”.

Daenerys took a moment to recover after her extended address; watching Y/N register every world she spoke. Placing a gentle hand on her face, Daenerys gave her final say, “So, why not go be with him?”.

Y/N expression mirrored her surprise at what she heard. Shaking her head, she repudiated, “B-But what about you? My promise to you- “. She was cut off once again. “I’ve been thinking it over”, Daenerys began, “And I’ve asked too much from you. You are my only family and I wish to keep you by me, but your life is not mine. You control it”. Y/N held her breath, a small tear forming in her eyes. A sense of déjà vu had come to her— those were similar words her own mother had told her. Daenerys smiled widely at her, taking both her hands into her own, “If I am to be a good queen and rule with fairness”, she gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “I should let you live your life. As your queen, I give you the order to go live a life of happiness with the man you love”. She sustained the cheerful curve of her lips, “Go to him— go be with him in the North. A change of scenery can be good, don’t you think?”.

Y/N didn’t answer her question; instead, she sprang and encircled her sister in a warm hug. “Thank you, Dany,”, she expressed her heartfelt thanks. Daenerys words had opened her eyes; Y/N was not brought into this world to fear it— she was brought in it to appreciate its gifts. The gifts being family, happiness, and love. Daenerys suppressed a laugh that wanted to escape her lips. Pushing the girl slightly, she encouraged her further, “Now go and tell him. Rhaegal will be sad but he’ll live”. Y/N was quick to turn and follow after Robb, but stopped abruptly at Daenerys calling out to her.

“Don’t marry him too soon”. Panic coiled in the pit of her stomach at the thought that Daenerys was taking back what she said. The older sister waved her hand, shooing the girl away, “I just meant that I wish to be present at the wedding. Now, go”.

Robb stood beside a couple of his men and advisor at Dragonstone’s port. He watched his men load up the ships, trying to listen to what his advisor was saying but his mind was elsewhere. He came here to acquire the Dragon Queen as his ally— and now he leaves with that success and a broken heart. He traced back the memory of their times together, the warmth of her hands completely enclosing his, the way her eyes sparkled with every grin. A longing buried deep in his chest arose with every thought of Y/N. It was a bittersweet anguish. His advisor next to him cleared his throat, grabbing his attention when he nudged Robbs’ side, “Your grace”. Following the direction of his advisor’s eyesight, his own landed on Y/N— clearly out of breath and showing urgency.

“Y/N”, he called out. Robb was quick to grab ahold of her forearms, inspecting her body for any signs of injury, “Are you okay? Is there something wrong?” he asked, concern shown deep in his eyes. Y/N nodded her head, calming down her breathing as she watched his men leave to give them privacy. Staring up at him, she confessed, “I will not write to you”. Robbs’ brows drew together in a frown, feeling as though she was taking a jab at his sorrows. A normal reaction would be to spit fire back, but he was too in love with her.

Swallowing thickly, he responded, “I figured that already- “

“No, let me finish” she interrupted him, “I will not write to you…because I am coming with you”. His eyes widened in disbelief at the statement— not given time to properly respond once again. Swallowing the lump in her throat, her palms grw clammy, “Robb…I love you”. At last, he managed to respond, "You do?" with a tone that hinted at both surprise and joy. Y/N nodded, vulnerability showing in the blush of her cheeks and grabbing a hold of his hand, “Yes. I should’ve told you from the start and I should’ve said yes to your proposal- “, she sucked in a trembling breath, “I care about you deeply and I’ve never felt this much love for anyone”. Y/Ns’ heart raced as her words lingered in the crisp morning air. With a subtle shake of her head, she redirected the conversation. “Though I’ve come to see the foolishness in it; I still don’t know if my curse is real or not. All I know is that I wish to spend every minute— every second of my life with you”. Biting her lip gently, she broke eye contact with him, “It is a big risk, I kno- “.

“A risk I am willing to take”, Robb finally cut her off, “I would do anything for you.” In their moment of confession, they wrapped each other in a tight embrace. With their foreheads resting against each other's, a warm yet hesitant smile spread across Y/N face. “So,” she spoke shyly, “is that tour of Winterfell still up for grabs?”

Robb reciprocated her smile with his own, gently lifting his hands to touch her bottom lip. “Yes. It still is” he breathed out, “And my proposal too”. With a gentle tilt of her head, Y/N moved in closer, “Then I say you take me to Winterfell and make me your wife”. Their lips meet in a tender and heartfelt kiss— all their troubles now resolved. A quiet vow of eternity was spoken as their lips moved in rhythm. A familiar roar was heard; Y/N breaking the kiss and laughing as she took notice of Rhaegal in the sky. Robb found himself smiling even more at the sight of her joy; pulling her closer to him.

A cheeky grin formed across her face, “I think Lady of Winterfell has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”

Robb chuckled, caressing her face, “I think Queen of Winterfell sounds nicer. I also think the title of “Robb Starks’ Wife” suits you even more”. Y/N jokingly jabbed her elbow into his side, slightly squeaking as Robb reclaimed her lips in his. They both were filled with excitement and anticipation for what their future together awaited.

#robb stark #game of thrones #robb stark fanfic #robb stark x reader #robb stark x y/n #robb stark x you #robb stark oneshot #richard madden #robb stark imagine #got x reader #got scenario #got imagines #asoiaf #robb stark x targaryen!reader #robb stark x fem!reader

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ereardon · 3 months

Text

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Fourteen

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child?

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Ducky and Jake have a breakthrough

WC: 1.2K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

You held up a pair of baby Nikes. “What about these?”

Phoenix shook her head. “Don’t even bother with newborn shoes, they grow out of them right away it’s a waste.”

“How do you know?”

“My sister has three kids,” she said, roaming down the aisle of the baby store.

“Aw, Auntie Natasha,” you cooed.

She grimaced. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

You laughed. “Try and stop me.”

Phoenix rolled her eyes. “So, where did you two leave off?”

You groaned. We just awkwardly said good night and when I got up this morning he was gone on a run.”

“Got it.”

You turned to her, one hand on your stomach, the other resting against a bookshelf. “Am I being insane? Or is it crazy of him to ask me to move into a house together?”

“Both,” she replied. “You’re stubborn, and he’s stupid. A really phenomenal duo.” Natasha leaned in toward your stomach. “Your parents are doo-doo heads, baby.”

“He doesn’t want me, he just thinks it’s what’s right. To Jake, it’s all about the logical next step. But nothing about this is logical.”

“Have you two actually sat down and talked?” she asked. “Since you moved in together.”

You paused. Natasha was right. You and Jake hadn’t had a productive conversation in months. And the clock was ticking. You still had baby classes to sign up for and books to read and hospitals to tour. Not to mention all of the unknowns. What was going to happen when you had the baby? How was coparenting going to look?

“You’re annoying,” you replied, putting a baby bottle in the cart.

Natasha laughed. “Only because I’m always right.”

***

The faster Jake ran, the less space he had in his head to think of you.

As his feet hit the pavement, he tried to push the thoughts that had taken up residency in his mind to the fringes. He was tired of not knowing where the two of you stood or if you cared about him or if you were simply going to disappear one day, never to be heard of again. He was too tired to hide what he wanted any more.

He wanted you.

He wanted you and he wanted the baby and he wanted everything that came with it. But wanting you was more complex than it seemed. You were like a wild horse, spooked easily. He had spooked you before, when he mentioned the house. That was too fast and too big.

He had to take a step back and let you breathe. But Jake wasn’t used to small. He was all about big gestures. He was trained to go fast, and that trickled down into his everyday life.

For the first time in his life, Jake wanted to go slow with someone.

***

You woke up to screaming.

It had been months since Jake had experienced a nightmare. And still, the yelling made your skin start to prickle with cold sweat. You were slower to get out of bed this time, bump barely covered by the thin tank top as you rushed down the hallway, swinging his door open.

Jake laid on the bed, thrashing. You approached carefully, reaching out and trying to grab his shoulder. His hand came out and smacked you, hard, across your upper arm and a gasp escaped from your throat. Jake’s eyes shot open and you dug your fingers harder into his flesh, holding onto him.

“Y/N,” he choked out, green eyes wild.

“It’s me,” you whispered. “I’m here. It’s just a dream. You’re alright.”

His bare chest continued to heave, heavy thick breaths. You smoothed your fingers over his upper arm, across his shoulders.

“I’m here,” you repeated.

“Stay with me,” Jake asked quietly. You frowned but he turned and there was a sadness buried along each crevice of his face. “Please?”

“Scoot over,” you whispered. Jake inched over and opened up the blanket. You laid yourself down with a small grunt, the weight of the baby sitting on your uterus, and turned to your side to face Jake. He was still on his back, chest glistening with sweat, staring at the ceiling fan that whirled in a tight circle. “What happened?”

His lips were pursed tightly. “It’s always the same,” he murmured. “I’m in the air. And then I’m not. And I’m just falling and falling.” He turned his head. “But this time, I had time to think.”

“What were you thinking?”

“That I would never get to meet our daughter.”

Without thinking, you found yourself nestling into the space next to Jake, your head resting between his shoulder and arm as his fingertips landed on your back, your belly pressed up against his side. “It was just a dream,” you whispered.

“Do me a favor,” Jake said softly.

“I’m already giving birth to your child but sure, what’s another favor.”

“Don’t take her away from me.”

You looked up, but Jake wouldn’t meet your gaze. So you reached up, placing your hand against his jaw, tilting his head toward you. “You’re her father. Nothing is going to change that.”

“If you’re gone, so is she.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” you asked. “That I’m going to keep her from you?” Jake nodded. Your fingers traced softly down his jawline. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Jake was quiet for a moment. Then, “That’s only part of it.”

You frowned. “Hmm?”

“I’m worried about losing both of you,” he murmured.

“Jake,” you whispered.

“I know you want to see other people, but I don’t want you to.”

“But you’re seeing other girls.”

“I stopped,” he said and your breath caught in your throat. “That’s not what I want.” Jake reached out and hovered his hand over your belly. You caught his hand in yours and placed it, gently, on your bare stomach. It was the first time in months that Jake had touched your belly. It was larger now, properly rounded and stretched, and you felt his breath suck in as his fingertips grazed over your warm skin.

“Alright,” you whispered. “We give this a try. If that’s what you want?”

“It’s what I want.” Jake’s eyes focused on yours. “But is it what you want?”

You reached up and lifted his face toward yours, sliding your thumb across his lips. “I think so, yeah. Worth a shot, right?”

And then you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@blue-aconite @withahappyrefrain @wkndwlff @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @gigisimsonmars @xomrsalliej4787xo @myfaveficrecs @mycobrakai1972 @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @justanothermagicalsara @je-suis-prest-rachel @shanimallina87

@rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me @kmc1989 @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @bbyvanessaa @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @boiolay @sometimesanalice @na-ta-sh-aa @bobfloydsbabe @kmc1989 @rosiahills22 @palepeanutponyshoe @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @mel119g @daggerspare-standingby @grxcisxhy-wp @mrsjobarnes @csmt-m @rockbottompunk-blog @joaquinwhorres @xoxabs88xox @spinning-away @bobfloydsbabe

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themultifanshipper · 4 months

Text

“You utter cunt!”

“Fuck you!”

That was how karting usually ended when you two were involved. No matter where either of you started on the grid, you and Liam always found a way to crash into each other.

I blacked out, and an hour later this monstrosity was born! Hope you enjoy

Also I used alpha tauri bc i refuse to put Visa Cash Card Paypal App Racing Redbulls in my goddamm fics.

Warnings: gn!reader, rough sex, lots of swearing, rivals to lovers, daddy kink, corruption kink, smidge of angst, like 2 seconds of fluff before it descends into madness

“That was my line!”

“You call that a line? Ha! My blind grandmother can see that’s a shit line!”

And you were only thirteen then. Now you were both in formula 1. But unfortunately, the insults hadn’t matured, and neither had you.

“You absolute wankstain! What the fuck was that?!”

“That was me having to crash into my teammate! Because my teammate is a shit driver who doesn’t leave me any room, you fucking prick!”

“Oh, dear! Looks like the alpha tauri duo are having a trackside screaming match... again.”

Crofty sighed. At this point it was almost a weekly occurrence. You and Liam were bitter rivals on track and had been since you started karting all those years ago. It always ended in a screaming match that usually lasted well into the evening, and sometimes all the way up the corridors of your hotel rooms, and one time, it ended with Liam shoving you into your room and fucking you right there on the carpet.

That was one time. And you and Liam had never talked about it. The next day you’d bickered on the private jet, as per usual, and just like that it was forgotten.

Except it wasn’t, not really.

The problem was that Liam had unknowingly taken your virginity that night. And it was, by default, the best sex you had ever had. But your relationship stayed the same and the two of you never even acknowledged what happened. You weren’t obsessed with the concept of virginity either of course, it was what it was, and he was you first, whatever. But it would be nice if he stopped being such a huge prick, you know?

Then came the end of season celebrations in Abu Dhabi. You’d been drinking heavily to forget this nightmare of a season and the fact that you (just you, not Liam) had essentially been threatened to stop fighting next season or you would be out of a seat faster than you could say ‘hypocrisy’.

You tried your best to avoid him all evening. But he kept appearing in your line of sight, on the dancefloor, getting drinks at the bar, shuffling off to the toilets every now and then. You kept drinking so that your vision would hopefully go so blurry you wouldn’t be able to see him at all, but of course with those drinks came the need to pee.

So, there you were in one of the stalls thinking about the face of the man you were trying hard not to think about. Then, said man walked in, crossed the room and the sound of him undoing his zipper was heard.

You knew it was him from his stupid shoes that you recognised very well, as he had once thrown them at your head. That was an incident worthy of getting fired....

Anyway, for some obscure reason (about 7 tequila cocktails) you thought it was a great idea to voice that thought out loud.

“I never told you, but those are the ugliest shoes on the fucking planet”.

There was a pause as he zipped his fly back up.

“Jesus, are you stalking me now? The fuck are you doing in there?”

“Pissing, obviously”

Another pause.

“Right” he said “anything else you want to tell me? Or can I get back to having fun now?”

You rolled your eyes “Yeah actually, you need to stop crashing into me, dickwad”.

He snorted. “And why the fuck would I do that”.

“Because I’m out of the seat next time we crash, and because you fucking owe me, so please just cool it with the- !”

“Wait, why the fuck do I owe you anything? It’s not my fault you can’t drive!”

“Because you fucking took my virginity Liam!”

Okay maybe you weren’t completely over it.

You could’ve heard a pin drop. You desperately hoped there wasn’t anyone else in the stalls.

“What?!”

You were so embarrassed you tried to get out of answering by flushing the toilet and waiting for him to leave.

Obviously, that didn’t work.

“Unlock the door, please” He sounded almost winded, which confused you so much you actually opened the door. He was leaning against the wall and as his eyes snapped to yours, you could see there were tears in them.

Your bewilderment must have been visible because he immediately wrapped his arms around you in a tight bear hug.

“I’m so sorry you’re first time was like that... I’m so, so sorry...”

You pushed him off enough to be able to breathe again “The sex was great Liam, what the fuck are you sorry for?”

He stroked your hair as he spoke, refusing to meet your eyes. “Because... I thought you hated me so I... Your first time shouldn’t be, you know, hate-sex. I thought that was the only way I would get to do it with you so I- I didn’t know you’d never done it before- it was a spur of the moment thing”.

You were even more confused. “The only way you’d get to do it? What the fuck does that mean?”

He finally looked at you and he seemed so weirdly vulnerable, so heartbroken that your brain started to catch up, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Do you...” your heart was beating fast as you scanned his face for a reaction “like me?”

He had a pained look on his face and just looked down at the floor. He didn’t like you. It went deeper than that.

“Liam look at me” He did. You didn’t know what to say so you just stared at him.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that night, you know” he said softly.

“Neither have I” you whispered, and your eyes met as he looked at you in shock.

You both moved at the same time, crashing your lips and bodies together as the years of tension finally washed away and you were on the same wavelength for the first time.

As you both caught your breath a minute later, he chuckled. “Come on, let’s get back to the hotel. I owe you a do-over”.

And do-over he did.

As in, he did you, over every surface.

It started out sweet enough. He carried you to the bed, undressed you slowly and took his time fucking you slowly, almost maddeningly so. But you both quickly realised that he’d already corrupted you the first time, and now you liked it rough. So he gave it to you. First he flipped you over on the bed, grabbed your hair and pushed you face down into the sheets as he pounded into you mercilessly from behind, occasionally leaving hand prints on your ass, then he took you standing up against the glass windows, one hand around your throat, the other sneaking down to touch you where you were making a mess of yourself.

“Fuck, you like it like this don’t you? You’re basically dripping onto the carpet”.

Then he flipped you and lifted you up, your legs hooking over his arms as he entered you again, the position giving you no choice but to just take it.

“Yes, take it baby, fuck- so tight around me, take my fucking cock” he growled and bit into your shoulder, making you moan. “You’d take anything I give you right? Such a fucking slut for it my god”

His hips stuttered as he had a thought.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it? My fault that you take it like you were made for it, fuck” his thrusts became even harder as you both felt your highs quickly approaching, your hands were scrambling for purchase on his sweaty shoulders, settling in his hair to give it a sharp tug, his answer was a deep thrust that knocked the breath out of you.

“Fucking made for me. Only I get to see you like this now, don’t I? My little cockslut, all for me. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded quickly, but he made a noise of discontent.

“Words baby, I need words or I won’t let you come. Who do you belong to?”

“You Daddy, please I’m gonna come” you couldn’t help it, the name slipping out as his hips stuttered and he made a punched-out noise.

“Shit- say that again baby, that sounded good”.

You huffed out a whine, now was not the time to be embarrassed “Daddy please, please I need to come so bad”.

He groaned “Okay baby go ahead, come on daddy’s cock, now.”

You came so hard. All over yourself, and it ran down onto his thighs and the feeling of you dripping everywhere sent him over the edge, thrusting a couple more times before stilling, deep inside you as you felt him fill you up.

He carried you like that into the bathroom, setting you down gently in the shower, legs and hips sore from the position and you both spent an eternity in there, soaping each other up and kissing tenderly, trying to make up for lost time.

As you got into bed with him, you checked your phone and saw two things: the alarm for your flight was in 2 hours, and a text that read “does this mean you two will be cooperating from now on?” from your performance engineer.

Your cheeks burned red, she had the room right next door.

#my thots #liam thots #f1 #formula 1 #liam lawson #liam lawson smut #liam lawson x reader #gn reader

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justporo · 4 months

Text

By candlelight

A/N: Ah yes, you know the drill by now. I play barbies with @velnna's Staeve. And quite often so lately. If you followed me for Astarion, guys, I'm so sorry - but at least he's always in here as well! So this was inspired by something @reijenhere said, namely something along the lines of: what if Astarion notices Staeve has grown first grey hairs. So here we are, thanks again @velnna for letting me play with your son and @reijenhere for the inspo, mwa!

~~~

Astarion woke up in the middle of the night - shaken by nightmares like he sometimes still was. No matter how many years had passed.

The candle on the nightstand hadn’t fully burned down to its butt yet. So warm light still spilled from it, drawing long shadows on the pale elf as he slowly sat up with a silent moan leaving his lips, trying to not wake his partner beside him.

Staeve was sleeping peacefully on his stomach, one arm absentmindedly wrapped around Astarion’s waist, even in his dreams. As if he had felt that his love might need an anchor tonight.

The vampire felt the comforting weight of it as he pressed the balls of his hands to his eyes, leaning his head back against the wooden headboard. With deep breaths, he tried to let the unsettling memories and fear be washed away - piece by piece with every wave of air. Unknowingly adjusting to the calm rhythm of Staeve’s body rising and falling beside him.

And when his tension had eased enough to feel rooted in the present once more, he lifted his hands from his eyes and let them rest gently on Staeve’s arms. One wandered up over it, fingers tapping over the hairs and freckles softly before they wandered further over his shoulder and neck, then his jawline and one pointy ear before they lightly curled in dark green hair.

Astarion observed how the softly flickering light from the candle painted his lover’s skin and added a warm orange sheen to his hair. How it reflected on their matching pair of silver bands on their fingers.

He kept caressing his unaware lover, counted some freckles on his arm while feeling the fine hairs there beneath his fingertips, with his other hand curling strands of silky moss green around his fingers. Astarion’s shoulders slowly relaxed, the steep wrinkle between his drawn together brows flattened as crimson eyes kept wandering over the form of the resting half-drow, along with pale, light fingers.

Then all at once his eyes and hands came to a stop.

The vampire’s eyes were suddenly trained on a single strand of Staeve’s hair twirled around his fingers.

Something there wasn’t catching the light quite like the rest.

In fact, now that he had spotted it, it was blatantly obvious: a single hair that shone brightly in a sea of green. Silver, like the wedding rings on their hands.

Astarion stared at it, eyes wide, his whole body right back to being as tense as it had been moments ago, the wrinkle between his brows deeper than before.

It was hard to spot, even for a vampire and his heightened senses, barely more than a needle in a haystack. Staeve probably hadn’t even noticed.

But once noticed it was impossible for Astarion to overlook.

When he finally dared to let his eyes move further he quickly spotted more: single, painfully light hairs peeking through; on his arm too.

As another kind of dread than before slowly rose up within him, Astarion’s gaze jumped to his lover’s face. And he saw it there too, now that he was aware of it: how the lines around those lips and eyes had become a little deeper, more threatening to be drawn soon.

Staeve was inevitably growing older. While Astarion was doomed to never change.

Thankfully, at this moment the candle died out as it reached its end. It left the room in merciful darkness, forcing the vampire to lose sight of this harsh truth.

He sat there in darkness for a few more moments longer with his mind racing.

Then, void of anything else to do, Astarion softly took Staeve’s arm as he laid down beside him again. Unconsciously in his sleep, Staeve groaned lightly, turned to his side and drew his partner in closer with his arm looped around him until they were neatly cuddled up on their sides.

Astarion was left with his thoughts running through his head.

But he felt the steady rhythm of Staeve’s heartbeat and his warmth slowly sleeping in, his smell and the reassuring weight of the arm wrapped around his waist.

Despite himself Astarion noticed how he was softly pulled back to hopefully more pleasant dreams, his body slowly falling victim to his lover’s calming presence.

Something that, despite anything else, hadn’t changed yet.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #fanfiction #astarion x tav #staeve #astarion x staeve #drabble #bg3 #staevstarion

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jm-2406 · 6 months

Text

Summary - Tommy Shelby has been slowly drifting away from his only son after losing his wife. You are a nurse specialising in children's wards. When Frances comes running to the hospital with little Charlie in her arms, you decide to give a piece of mind to the bigshot gangster.

Words - 1.5k

Note - this is silly. I wrote it in less than one hour. It features an OOC Tommy Shelby and a daring reader who doesn't fear him like others.

Tommy Shelby, MP OBE was not used to getting calls between meetings, especially from his loyal housekeeper who knew when not to bother him. He was busy dealing with some important people, drowning himself in work like he usually did after Grace passed away. It was not that he didn't care for his son but sometimes looking at him was too difficult for him, the little boy had so much of Grace in him. So imagine his surprise when instead of Frances it was someone else on the other side of the telephone.

"Mr Shelby, I'm not Frances. My name is (Y/N) and I'd like to let you know that your son is not well. You should come as soon as possible to the hospital." You informed him without any hesitation, the concern for Charlie made your nervousness take a back seat plus not looking directly at his blue eyes also helped in retaining your confidence.

"What happened to him?" His lazy drawl came as a reply. "Well if you insist…" You tried to stall, tried to get under his skin so that he'd come to see his son but his silence made you speak up. "Mr. Shelby, I understand that you are grieving but so is your son. He was having a nightmare and needed someone to hold him close, to soothe him. I'd say he needed his father, not his nanny or Frances. Help yourself and your son by being there for him." Without thinking about the consequences, you pour your heart out and immediately hang up.

• • •

It has been a few days since the incident. You were worrying about Charlie and went to meet him directly at 'Arrow House'. [Yes, you are daring and a risk taker]. You knocked gently, arranging the basket of freshly baked cookies for the three-year-old cherub in your arms.

"Who are you?" A deep male voice caught your attention. Looking up, your breath got caught in your throat. Standing in front of you was the man of the house himself, Thomas Shelby. "What are you doing here?" You questioned foolishly instead. In your defence, you did not know that he'd be home at eleven o'clock since it was a Tuesday. He merely raised his eyebrow at your remark.

“If you didn't know Miss, this is my house. I live here.” Your cheeks reddened and you turned around to escape when a high-pitched voice stopped you. "(Y/N)" shouted Charlie. "Call her inside daddy. She's my friend." He said - more like ordered - his father who complied with a small "as you say, son." You felt a sense of comfort seeing the father and son interacting almost normally after that phone call incident.

Nervously, you stepped inside and Frances immediately took your coat as well as the basket of cookies. Charlie ran inside to get his colouring pages and asked you to wait for him. You were looking here and there, avoiding the dark-haired man but he had other plans.

"Thank you," Tommy said. You furrowed your brows in confusion. He cleared his throat and elaborated. "For making me realise that I was unknowingly neglecting my son, pushing him away from me. I love him, I really do. Thank you for making us come closer." He was not a man of words, especially praises but something about you got him talking, was it your kind nature, your non-judgemental eyes or your stern yet concerned voice when you called him that day that made him open up to you, he didn't know… but that is a topic for later.

"You're welcome, Mr Shelby. Charles is a sweet boy. I wish well for him." You blushed, no one had said such kind words to you. "How about you join us for dinner? Charlie would like that." Tommy said unexpectedly. Just as you were about to deny it, considering it rude to intrude, Charlie came running to you asking you to stay and colour with him. You couldn't say no to that adorable face.

And that's how you spent the evening, laughing and enjoying the company of two Shelby men, happier than ever.

• • •

[PART - 2]

It has been almost half a year since that evening you spent in the company of the Shelby men and you couldn't help but feel lucky. Everything went uphill after that, luckily.

You found out that you and Tommy had a lot in common which was surprising in itself. You both were mostly emotionally detached but were willing to cross any line if it meant saving your family, you both liked to read though Tommy was secretive about it for reasons you still didn't know, and nothing could surpass the love you had for horses, those strong yet gentle beasts were the only faithful friend you had… except for each other.

While your thoughts started to roam in dangerous territory, you were still unsure of Tommy's feelings on the matter. You have heard that the man was ruthless and incapable of feeling affection but you saw a side of him that was hidden from the world, his gentle and loving sight, his respectful side… you were certain that what you felt for him may not be love but it wasn't anything less. You decided to ignore this newfound feeling, unsure of what he felt.

The sudden knock on your door pulled you out of your thoughts. "What-?" You were confused about finding a drunk Tommy Shelby on your doorstep. "(Y/N) How are you my angel?" He continued to stare at you making you realise that this was an actual question and not a rhetorical one. "I - uhh - I am fine Tommy. What are you doing here at midnight?" You pulled him inside.

The sight of a drunk Tommy Shelby lying on your cheap broken sofa with the bottle of Irish whiskey clasped in his hand was unusually tempting and soft, as he gazed up at you with his bright blue eyes.

"Charlie loves you (Y/N). Did you know he was calling for you earlier today?" He whispered and gulped the remaining of the whiskey immediately after.

"No Tommy. I am sorry. I was busy today." Your heart broke hearing about the little boy calling for you and not finding you by his side. "Yeah. Being a lifesaver is not easy, eh?" He said rhetorically this time, placing his hands on your waist. The cool of his hands seeping through the thin material of your nightgown.

"I asked him to be a well-behaved little boy and I'll bring you to him… maybe permanently what say?"

You gasped hearing his words, not knowing what he was suggesting. "Tommy… you're drunk. We'll talk about it in the morning if you still remember what you said." You pushed him to your bedroom, tucking him in like you'd do for Charlie. taking the spare pillow and blanket, you laid down on the sofa.

• • •

"You alright Mr Shelby?" You asked giving him a painkiller. He looked at you with wide eyes, just like Charlie would… The resemblance between them always melted your heart.

He cleared his throat before addressing you. "(Y/N) about last night - uhh - I meant what - what I said." You gawked at him, The Tommy Shelby stuttering in front of you. You were definitely special to him.

"I - you mean - what exactly did you mean by 'permanently' last night?" Your cheeks reddened, little hair on your neck stood as you awaited his answer.

"I didn't plan for this to happen so spontaneously but we gotta do what we gotta do right?" He paused and you held your breath for his next words. "I'm not good with words so beware. Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) I am grateful for your help in more than one of my life problems. My son loves you and calls out for you all the time, I adore you and your strength. Will you do the honour of making me the luckiest man in Birmingham by marrying me?" Tommy pulled out a small jewellery box from his coat pocket and held before you a simple but elegant and beautiful princess-cut diamond ring.

You sobbed. "Is that even a question?" You nodded, unable to speak as he placed the ring on your finger. You jumped up, unable to control your excitement and hugged him with all your might. And for the first time in many years, Tommy Shelby was finally feeling peace. He felt a wave of hope… for himself and your future together.

• • •

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #cillian murphy x reader #tommy shelby #fanfic #𝐣 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

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villain-crown · 3 months

Text

neutral | @jegulus-microfic | words: 1,309

critical care, part 9 (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8)

* a small amount of explicit content!!

a Jegulus nurse!AU

Regulus Black was an absolute nightmare.

James knew this because he was watching the evidence of it in real time, in awe of the sweet-looking Slytherin who he knew to be anything but.

After the heart attack-inducing moment when Sirius has unknowingly advised James to have dirty, unprotected sex with his precious little brother, James knew he was going to need something a lot stronger than coffee to get through the rest of this shitshow of a day. Since injecting vodka directly into his fucking bloodstream wasn’t in the cards, he’d begged, bribed, and bullied most of Gryffindor to order takeaway drinks with him from the nearest boba shop. He was just relaxing into the peace of his first sip when who else but the menace occupying his thoughts came sauntering up to the Surgical ICU nurses’ station.

James choked.

“Hey, Reggie!” Sirius sang from near his elbow, rifling around the cardboard cup holders containing twenty plastic containers. “I have your order here.”

Taking advantage of his best friend’s momentary distraction, James couldn’t stop himself from checking Regulus out. He looked as fit as ever in his cute forest-green Slytherin scrubs, tilting his head with a devastating smirk when he caught James’s eye.

The Gryffindor could feel his face redden as the other man’s eyes drew a long, heated line from his face, to his chest, to his waistband, and then finally, to his—

The suggestive look vanished like it was never there, replaced by something much more neutral when Sirius straightened up, holding a purple drink.

“Here you go, kid.”

“I don’t want that one,” Regulus said with the most adorable pout James had ever witnessed in his life. He suddenly couldn’t figure out where to look or what to do with his hands when Regulus turned that look on him. “What did you order, Potter?”

Sirius raised a finger immediately as James tried to remember how words worked. “No. Don’t tell him, Prongs! No, you’re not getting your way this time, you little brat. You wanted the taro, I bought you the taro, you’re having the taro!”

Meanwhile, James thought he might pass out from the sheer intensity of Regulus’s undivided attention.

Fuck, he’s pretty.

“James,” the petite Slytherin cooed, and damn he was so screwed as Regulus bit his lip just so, his dove-gray eyes wide. He stepped closer so that his smaller build seemed even more obviously so compared to James’s height and muscle. Regulus’s powdery, amber scent was almost too much to resist as he tilted his neck, as though to show off the soft, unmarked skin there. “Please?”

“I… I already put my mouth on it,” James said stupidly, his lips oddly dry.

“Oh, I don’t mind.”

That only prompted James’s imagination, which supplied a fantastic picture of Regulus not minding where else he put his mouth. For instance, Regulus with two of James’s fingers stuffed past his lips, coating them in saliva and teasing him with the warm, wet twist of his tongue.

“Ugh, here, just take mine, Reggie.”

James was jolted back into awareness by a takeaway cup labeled Sirius being thrust into Regulus's line of sight.

Panicking, James nearly tripped over himself for the opportunity to offer his sugary milk tea to him instead.

“No, wait! Here, Regulus, try mine! It’s okay, really!”

Sirius rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t encourage him, Prongs. It’s bad enough he’s got me wrapped around his stupid little finger. There’s still time to save you.”

No there bloody isn’t, mate.

“I’m supposed to be reinforcing boundaries with you,” Sirius added to his little brother accusingly. “And I didn’t have to buy your drink order, you know. You’re not even floating here.”

“Thank you,” Regulus offered with the loveliest combination of wicked eyes and innocent smile that James had ever seen on anyone.

Sirius sighed, folding immediately as he shook the drink labeled Reggie vigorously before stabbing the plastic top with a thick straw. “You’re bloody lucky I’d do anything for you, you little monster.”

That pulled a real smile to Regulus’s lips that made James want to melt.

“I’m going to bring Remus his. He’s about to admit a liver bomb and you know how busy that will be.”

Sirius wandered off, nursing his new drink, leaving just James and Regulus standing there, staring at each other.

“What did he mean by that?”

Regulus blinked. “What?”

“That he’s supposed to be reinforcing boundaries with you.”

The Slytherin sucked at James’s straw, unconcerned. The Gryffindor watched him do so closely, imagining Regulus’s pretty curls framing his cheeks as they hallowed to suck the fluid from James’s cock.

“Our therapist told him that.”

“Your…?”

Regulus looked at him like he was an idiot. “Therapist. You don’t survive our family without needing one. You’re his best friend. I figured he’d told you we were in family therapy.”

James couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. While Sirius had not in fact told him so, it wasn’t that much of a surprise. From what he’d gathered about Sirius and Regulus’s parents’ underhanded and emotionally manipulative tactics, it sounded like Sirius had a hard time letting people see any sort of vulnerability, despite their years of friendship.

But James had seen it.

He’d seen it in the way Sirius bought his little brother boba and in the way he’d called him “kid.” It seemed like a poor repayment of their friendship, James turning around and railing Regulus in his bed for as long as the other man wanted it and his stamina allowed.

But Regulus… fuck, he was stunning and mean with an unexpectedly wicked sense of humor that was definitely going to get James killed.

Maybe if I just fuck him once, I’ll get it out of my system, James thought desperately. Sirius doesn’t have to know.

“What’s this?” Regulus asked as he examined the white board next to them, oblivious to how his mere presence was twisting James’s thoughts and feelings into pretzels.

It was a busy board, boasting the day’s nursing assignments as well as the names of the interns, residents, fellows, and attendings staffing the unit for July. At the top of the board in Doctor McGonagall’s severe cursive was the riddle of the day: her way of connecting with the Gryffindor staff, who James secretly thought she viewed as her own children.

“It’s the unit riddle. You text McGonagall the answer if you think you know it, and she gives you a prize if you’re right.”

“Wouldn’t people just Google the answer?”

James gaped at him, offended. “That’s cheating!”

Regulus laughed, a real, genuine laugh that made his heart stutter in his chest. A faint blush of pink dusted across the Slytherin’s fair cheeks, giving him a truly beautiful glow that was even more appealing than crowding him up against the wall of an elevator or watching him verbally overpower Tom Riddle (though it was a damn close call).

“Let’s see. ‘I have cities but no houses, mountains but no trees. I have water but no fishes, and islands but no breeze. What am I?’ Did you guess it yet?”

James was so wrapped up in the sheer pleasure of listening to Regulus speak that he didn’t answer immediately. “Oh. Yeah, but I wasn’t right about the answer.”

Speaking of riddles, if Sirius did hypothetically find out, he should only be too grateful that it was James Regulus was seducing instead of someone like Tom Riddle, who was honestly the most arrogant doctor James had ever had the displeasure of knowing. He still couldn’t believe Regulus had tolerated the man long enough for them to couple.

Sirius hates Riddle, James told himself as Regulus contemplated the puzzle, smirked to himself, and pulled out his phone—presumably to text McGonagall his answer.

So I’m basically doing him a favor, sleeping with his brother.

((Click “keep reading” for the answer to Dr. McGonagall’s riddle! 🫶))

Answer: a map 🗺️

#marauders nurse!au #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #sirius and regulus #sirius black #james loves regulus #jegulus microfic #villain crown microfics #ao3: critical care

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readychilledwine · 1 year

Text

Requiem for a Dream

Part one - Home

After 50 years without his mate, Rhysand is finally free and Home.

Warnings - Rhysand's SA trauma is alluded to, depression is alluded to, terrible self care is seen from Rhiannon the OC. Oh, and as always unedited 💜

A/n - this ended up being a 4 part thing, and they are all scheduled to be posted 2 days apart (because I don't want to make you all wait when I am PROUD of the final smut scene) Each jumps is month into Rhysand being home. Each part gets spicier with time. Each part was also written with different songs involved and in mind. "Home" by MGK, Bebe Rexha, and X Ambassadors was trapped in my mind during this part

Part Two Part Three Part Four

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

Rhys collapsed on the floor of the House of Wind. He was panting before finally breaking down. His arms wrapped around his torso as sobs tore through him. "Rhys?!" The sound of heels slapping against the floor came before arms were around him. "You're home."

He found himself clinging to Mor, head buried into her neck. "Mor, what happened?" A deep voice came into the room followed by heavy foot steps. "Rhys? Az!" Mor pulled away, allowing Cassian to fall before Rhys and pull him into another tight hug. "Let's get you inside, brother."

Rhys allowed him to support him and move him into the living room. Shadows had begun to scurry, moving with a purpose as Azriel appeared in the room and then froze. He walked to Rhys as if he was seeing a ghost, his scarred hands holding his face before his own tears began to fall and they embraced.

"Why are we all gathered in the living room? Food is that-" Amren stopped mid sentence, dropping the flute of blood she was holding. Azriel released Rhysand, backing away to be held by Cassian as the ancient being approached. "Do not ever scare us like that again, boy."

Rhys couldn't help but to laugh and nod before feeling shocked as Amren buried her face into his chest and held him. The Inner Circle stood in silence and tears. Before the question Rhys had since landing finally came out of his mouth. His voice was broken, confidence leaving his body as he asked, "Where is my wife?"

—------------

Rhiannon was hunched over a desk. She was reading through countless reports that had suddenly shown up once the barrier broke.

She refused to go to dinner, choosing to instead distract herself with work. The House had tried pulling her chair from under her, a shadow had tried dragging her out of his office, and the faelights had flickered indicating to her someone had entered her home, but Rhiannon didn't move.

She'd rather work herself to death or starve than get her hopes up that her mate was finally home. She'd rather be burned on an Autumn Court Pyre than allow her heart to break any further than it had.

50 years. 50 long years without Rhysand. Without hearing his laugh. Without the smell of citrus and salt. Without feeling his hands on her body, his lips on hers. 50 years without hearing the sound of his voice. She was broken. Broken from the nightmares he unknowingly sent down the bond. Broken from his last words to her being a command to stay in the House of Wind. Broken from feeling the bond they had never closed grow colder than ice.

Another shadow came, Weaving into her hair to let her know her true brother, Azriel, was thinking of her. That he wanted her to come downstairs and eat. "Tell your master I will eat later. I'm busy reading 50 years of reports from Illyria."

—---------

Azriel sighed deeply, looking at Cassian and shaking his head. "She's going to work herself to death." Cassian whispered as they watched Rhys stare at her chair. "He needs her."

Azriel stood. "I will be right back." Rhysand shook his head, standing next.

"You stay. I'll go." He took his whiskey with him, moving out of the room. "I'll be back soon. I'll just pull rank on her."

—-------

Rhiannon sighed in annoyance as the door opened. "I told you I'd eat later, Az. Fuck off." Rhys watched her. Her long dark brown hair was falling in waves to her hips. Her hazel eyes were reading through paper after paper, marking things she had questions over before moving to the next.

She was wearing a beautiful black dress that dipped low in the front, allowing him a view of her tan skin, of her full breasts, her toned stomach. She was thinner than when he had left, causing his heart to ache. He sat across from her, slightly shocked when she didn't look up. He wanted to pull her into his lap, to hold her, to cry into her shoulder. But he would wait. Wait until they had spoken about the choices he made.

"Just say what you want to say and leave, Azriel. I'm genuinely not in the mood."

He chose then to open the bond. It flooded both of them, causing Rhiannon to drop the paper she was holding. "There's 50 years of things I'd like to say to you, wife." He took a sip of his whiskey as she was taking uneven breaths to try to regain stability from the emotions taking over her own. "I'd prefer to eat first though, and then we could speak later tonight at the River House. Away from everyone else." She gave him no reaction. Shock was sitting in the middle of their bond, blocking him from her feelings, her mind, her needs.

"Please come eat with us. I-" His eyes squeezed shut as her emotions began to hit him. Her longing, her love, her needs, her stresses. "I need us all to eat together. I need family dinner. The papers can wait. They've waited 50 years, darling."

Rhiannon stood, moving to be directly in front of her husband as he stood. She had not spoken. Hands shaking as she lifted them to touch his face before stopping. He realized slowly that she already knew. She knew what had happened to him. What he had done. "You were actually there in those dreams, weren't you?" His voice was broken as he tried to step away from her before her hands shot to his wrists. "Rhi-"

"Please don't pull away from me. I won't touch you without your permission. I'll do whatever you need. Just please don't do what I can feel you thinking about."

Rhys nodded. His own hands trembling as he laced their fingers together and took a deep breath. "It might be awhile, Rhiannon."

She shook her head rapidly. "I don't care. It doesn't matter as long as you are here. I'd wait forever for you." The sentence was all it took for him to pull her into his arms, releasing a sob of relief as she whispered how much she loved and adored him.

#acotar x reader #acotar #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar #rhys fic #rhysand

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fauustic · 1 year

Text

don't cry, my treasure.

soft miguel o'hara x gender-neutral reader drabble

had to write this and get it out of my brain before i post my miguel series..

summary: you accidentally stir miguel awake while you're dealing with insomnia, he decides to take care of you. fluff. comfort.

warnings: brief mentions of previous injuries (fighting crime is serious business!!), just miguel being a silly little thing.. i love sleepy miguel sm.

words: 3k

Sleep came in waves, pushing against the lid of your eyes and taking you away in its current just to spit you back out into reality.

You were always tired, you've realized as you stretched your aching bones and rubbed your swollen cheek– spider suit catching your eye as it was thrown haphazardly on your bedside chair like an afterthought.

And nightmares, nightmares kept you up like a stalker always two steps behind– waiting, preying on your frazzled mind like a parasite constantly leeching off your sanity. So here you were, grasping at the sleeveless sleep-shirt as it clamped onto your sweat-sleek stomach like a second skin.

Shallow breaths escaped from your trembling lips like you were just dumped into a pool of ice-cold water, spider senses lit aflame with the abrupt, irrational fear stabbed through your heart.

You tried to stay quiet, you didn't want to be any more of a burden when you knew how much your lover struggled through insomniac nights as well– he had just gotten back from countless hours stove away in his dim and dark lab after a few days of power naps and caffeine. Miguel was downright exhausted, snores meeting your ears whenever you'd wake up from a dark turn in the dreams you do have.

But this time was different, as you shied away from his back that you were latched onto like a koala. Your skin peeled off his, and if you were with anyone else you would have thought it was gross. But Miguel loves closeness, the affection you just can't help but give and he takes and takes like a starved man. His muscles on his shoulders rolled and neck cracked as Miguel stirred, a breathy little groan hissing past the fangs he unknowingly had on full display when he shifted on his back– scarlet gaze screwed shut as his hands reached towards your usual spot on your shared bed. The pads of his fingers melted into your hip, little claws kissing the unveiled flesh from the lack of control he had over himself from still ebbing away the sleep hazing his mind.

Your name rolled off his tongue like a blessing, raspy and a bit puzzled; "Everythin' alright?" Miguel slurred, face barely leaving the pillow as his tied-back hair came askew; the little tendrils, that usually would never see the lines on his forehead, brushing against his eyebrow and curling ever so slightly. Call you love-struck, but you swear the curl shaped a little heart. "Miss you so close already," he huffed into the domestic atmosphere, thumb swirling imaginary shapes into the canvas of your skin.

With every month passing by, the intimacy came easier; Miguel's thoughts came and went in the bubble of security you brought him. The clinginess you never would have expected from the man who has the Spider Society at his beck and call rivalled the mimicry of a grizzly bear secretly being a very soft teddy bear. And with you, he was nothing less than a man who acted as if every drop of love you had for him was his last.

It took a long time for him to open up his heart for you to create space for yourself, but as you leaned back into his space to cup your palm into the angle of his jaw– everything felt worth it. Like you belonged here.

"Bad dream." Was all you said, kissing the ridge of his nose like Miguel was the most fragile thing in the world. And he practically became putty in your hands, eyes fluttering open accompanying a subtle frown. Drool pooled at the corner of his mouth, sharp canine peeking through the plush of his lips. Though he looked like he had just woken from hibernation, his features glazed with gentle understanding.

"That's no good," He murmured into your touch like a prayer, sitting up until the duvet pooled in his lap. Miguel hogged most of the bed unintentionally with his almost seven-foot self, the height that had many opposed to him on their knees in angst, but when he sat up and leaned towards your form like a magnet– Miguel was nothing more than a man who worshipped you. "Déjame cuidarte, ¿de acuerdo? (Let me take care of you, okay?)"

Before you even had the mind to protest, he pulled forward until his lips met the damp hair curled against the back of your neck. "Migs, you need rest–" you began but to no avail, he was already adjusting his boxers and shuffling towards your bathroom with a slumped posture. It had your stomach churn with butterflies even after all these months, the sweetness he's learned all over again despite the trauma he's endured leaking into your daily life and becoming something you absolutely adored about him.

Silence enveloped the apartment amidst the sleepy fumbling from within the washroom, flashes of vibrancy peering into the curtains you had against the windows that took up the wall closest to the busiest flow of air traffic. A memory was brought to mind as you peeked through the fabric, met with the city of stars and man-made comets passing by the skyscraper your home is within.

Funnily enough, you had wanted to live in the underground district of Nueva York, finding yourself more enraptured by the architecture that hid machinery and structures that kept the top afloat. But that was before you met Miguel and was thrown into the ring of being a part of the Spider Society– so you just made Miguel come along with your weekly trips to the landmarks hidden away.

"C'mere, muñeco." The fallen angel on your mind interrupted the delicate quiet of your home, calling through the cracked door after a moment of the water running, warmth seeping into the bedroom and tickling the flesh peeking out from your loose-sleepwear.

When you pushed through the threshold and granted with the presence of Miguel bent over the tub and testing the temperature of the water mumbling to himself, you were already in the process of ripping off your shirt– but you couldn't help but stutter to a halt in a flustered mess when he turned his attention to you– glasses framing his sleepy eyes like a weapon within itself. Breath hitched and sweat coating your palms in lovesick anxiety, you fumbled into the dim light of the washroom.

Clumsily, you bumped your hip into the counter as your shirt finally came off, an uncharacteristic yelp coming from you and surely you expected to meet the cold tile floor until a pair of hands settled on the curves of your hips– claws indenting on the skin barely above his boxers holding into your figure for dear life.

"Easy now, mi sirenita." Miguel practically cooed into your ear, kissing the shell of it before trailing down the column of your neck– nibbling into the blemished canvas of your clavicle. A faint bite mark etched your skin like oil paint, muddied with purple and red hues. Just as it was fading away, Miguel's lips grazed the dent with admiration before settling his blunt canines into the desired point and biting down. You gasped breathily, heat pooling your cheeks and your knees threatening to give out.

The unspoken desire of his want to care for you was written in your hips when Miguel caressed into where you had hurt yourself from your clumsiness, yet his lack of self restraint was symbolized through the bite just below your neck– very rarely absent without the pierce-marks of fangs. But he wanted to be delicate with you tonight, treat you as one of his most prized possessions when he truly just loved you a little too much.

Pushing him away with the palm of your hand on his chest, a gentle scold resting on your tired expression like an empty threat. "Ew, Migs. That's too cheesy." You whined, allowing him to slip the briefs from your body before taking your hand in his and leading you to the tub. You sunk down into the sudsy, bubbling water with a splash that had him sighly fondly. Drips of bubbles coated his frames and before he had the chance to wipe them off, your hands wrapped around his neck just to tug him closer to the edge of the tub.

Miguel furrowed his brows at your antics as you kissed his cheek, his hands finding purchase on the edge so he didn't take the risk of slipping into the bubbly water. The thought makes you giggle as his fingers cup the angle of your jaw, calculated and a bit sorrowful. Miguel hated seeing you hurt, so knowing that your miscalculations in a mission with him had a right hook land on your 'good side,' he felt as if he had failed you. Didn't change the fact he pummelled the pesky little anomaly in your honor – but you didn’t miss the misty eyes he held so sadly for you as he patched up your bleeding nose.

And here he was, kissing the corner of your lips with so much delicacy that you could almost cry.

A faint whimper left his lips as they grazed the sudden wetness dripping down your cheeks, the sleepy look in his eye blanketed with haste concern as he checked your body for any other sores inflicted from the bad feud– and as Miguel’s kisses were met with bubbles and blemished skin, he whispered against your flesh like a saint worshipping their holiness. “No llores, tesoro, por favor no llores.. (Don’t cry, treasure, please don’t cry) Hate seeing that look on your face, can’t stand it.” He breathed into your neck, any care about getting wet was out the window of your apartment when a strangled choke erupted from your throat like a hiccup.

“Just missed you,” You admitted as you shifted into the water that submerged your legs, leaning into his warmth as close as you could. A sniffle had Miguel folding into your damp hair, his own tied-back curls kissing your forehead.

Miguel shuddered, the stoicism he was able to keep up in your presence throughout the daylight behind black sunglasses and a subtle pout in the rare moments where he leaves his lab crumbled the moment he heard you express your craving for him. “I.. missed you too. Shock, I missed you too–” Miguel breathed into your lips, his face angled towards you in a way that ruined everyone else for you. His lashes drooped addictively as you let out a stifled giggle at his lingo he’s never been able to shake.

“Come join me,” you murmur as you escape his space and instead sink lower into the bathtub. You swear he practically whined, his fang peeking just slightly into your view as Miguel’s face scrunched into displeasure. His bottom lip rolled against the pointy canine, something he was always a bit self-conscious of– but with you it was like he never needed to think that he was anything different.

“You know last time– I could barely even fit in the damn thing,” He complained yet he still stripped off his loose sweatpants nonetheless, shameless as his free hand, middle finger specifically, pushed his frames up with a steadiness that proved alone he was the leader of such a "pretentious" society. Had you mentioned the thought aloud, Miguel's signature frown and deadpan stare would have replaced that sweet look in his eye in an instant. So you just smiled and opened your arms in a warm welcome.

Miguel grunted in response, faux annoyance coating his tone when you could depict the subtle curl of his lips– he was always more than content with himself whenever he was able to get as close to you as possible. You scooted forward to allow some kind of space for him, and soon enough his chest was used as a pillow for the back of your head and your hims were encompassed by his legs, feet dangling from the tub because he was right; Miguel’s stature was never fit any anything deemed for the average person. And Miguel was anything but normal, and he hated himself for that.

You could hear the mumbles of curses that slipped from his tongue when he slipped further into the bubbly water, shoulders hunched and arms resting on the cusp of the tub. It was a tight fit, your back nestled into the heat of his abdomen as his chin rested on the top of your head– and by the way Miguel shifted and oozed with insecurity you could tell your wishes he so easily obliged was backfiring from his poisoned trauma. From the mirror in the washroom, you could see the scrunch of his nose as he laid his glasses aside, atop the lid of the toilet just beside where you two sat intertwined.

Reaching back, you found his hands and clutched onto them as if he was a fading star, gentleness contrasting the explosion rumbling in his throat as his thoughts laced with venom swarmed his very being. It reminded you of the first glances you got of him when you first was recruited to the society, a downcast stare always miles underneath the horizon and a frown that never left his face. But as your fingers found comfort within his bruised knuckles, washing away the tainted sin the moment you brought the bruises to your lips and left fluttering touches– Miguel melted into your bared soul like a stray desperate for love and affection.

To you, you were his food. He feasted on what you gave, that warm feeling that curled into his ribcage and soothed his aching heart and whatever else is rotted in that dark imprisonment. Miguel took and took and took, nestled into your physicality as you ceaselessly gave and gave and gave.

But for you, all you needed to see his eyes blink into reality, grounded by what he was so depraved of growing up. Miguel’s tension left his cheeks, softening as you intertwined your hand into his and the other brushing against the fat of his thigh– squeezing reassuringly. Like a switch was turned on, Miguel devolved into a puddle around you as a huff of relief caressed the shell of your ear.

Miguel’s shins kicked up water, splashing your nose and drenching your nostrils with the scent of bubblegum. And you laughed heartily as his chin met your shoulder– nibbling so softly as if he was chewing the stress from his mind. His arms that once rested on the edge wrapped around the underneath of your arms, cupping your waist before he finally settled his hands on the core of your stomach. His deep breaths filled the silence of the bathroom, and you could practically hear snores before you broke the sweet quietness.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured into his cheek when you turned towards the chin digging into your shoulder and then you feathered your lips onto the bone of his cheek, “such a pretty thing. My sweet thing.” Praise rolled off that sleepy ooze of warmth inside your heart, and when you felt Miguel shift and his mouth that once formed an “o” contort into an upside down close-lipped smile, you knew you hit gold.

He shook his head in disbelief, breath meeting the nestle of your neck when his cheeks lit aflame and sputtered in broken Spanish. A whimper rumbled against your bare skin, and soon enough purring vibrated your back like a cat knowing it’s being spoken to. “Sabes, eres... eres increíble. Too much, you’re too much. Christ.”

Bubbles popped around the two of you, the lights set on the lowest option so Miguel didn’t develop on one those terrible migraines that pounced the moment he was at his most vulnerable: a rare dinner date he had reserved, making out in the luminescence of his lab’s technological panels, the first time you had spent the night at his own apartment before you had moved in together.

You hummed as he begrudgingly separated his hands from you, only to lather the shampoo you love in between his fingers and starting on your scalp. He was too tender with you tonight, but you needed this treatment more than anything. Your love for him leaked from your pores and intermingled with his muscles, relaxing the both of you without even needing to say anything. But you felt the urge to tell him, to tell him everything on your mind that very moment. Yet, sleep was a fickle thing and you were exhausted, so you only huffed out a whisper before submitting to the skilled massage on your muscles.

“Love you, honey.” You breathed into the domesticity of it all, his claws peeking from the pads of his fingers just the way Miguel knew you liked against your scalp. The purring in his chest only increased tenfold, scooting closer to your back if that was even possible. The both of you hold these memories close to your intertwined hearts, knowing you only had so much time together outside of your shared second lives. You haven’t been able to reassure your feelings for him in quite a few days, and despite not needing to really say your affections aloud– Miguel preferred physicality anyways, you still caught on that vocalizing your feelings for the other had you running laps around his mind every minute and every hour of the day.

He only kissed the back of your head, just upon the mole you didn’t know you had. Without a word, the sudsy kisses trailed further down until it met where your spine began, and he bit down just faintly.

“I’m so glad I found you,” He murmured into the soap pooling down your shoulders, soft but echoing around in the walls of the bathroom like a promise, a truth that will forever hold its meaning. Within this city of stars, the only celestial he had eyes on were you.

“Te amo, mi tesoro. Te amo mucho, cuidaré de ti para siempre (I will take care of you forever).”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara comfort #x gender neutral reader #x comfort #x fluff #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara drabble #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #miguel ohara x reader

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lordprettyflackotara · 9 days

Text

decode || ticci toby

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: face fucking, bear death?, reader is extremely oblivious/naive

You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

It had been ten days. Ten long agonizing days since you had seen him.

You had been wondering in the forest. Aimlessly of course, searching for some connection with nature you could never quite obtain. Civilization was a couple of miles away, sticks crunching beneath your boots. You had heard what sounded like footsteps behind you. Normally you weren’t a paranoid person, but the consistent sound made you constantly glance over your shoulder. This distraction led you to what seemed to be the end, a grizzly bear rising on two legs to glare down at you. Unknowingly you had stumbled upon it feasting, blood covering its snout and a deer carcass behind it. The corpse was long forgotten, its beady eyes centered on you.

All safety measures you had been taught went out of the window. Every bit of flight or fight completely vacant in your mind as you stared up in fear. The bear could practically smell the terror dripping off of you. You began to walk backwards, doubting your ability to outrun a bear. It was then you tripped, an overgrown tree root causing you to land on your ass. You gasped as the bear towered over you, a low growl sending shivers down your spine. You were sure that was the end, your heart pounding in your chest. That was before an axe went flying into the bears neck, the blood splattering across your face.

Your savior, an odd lanky man with goggles and face mask ran over to the bear, yanking the thrown axe out of its neck. You were surprised at how fast the animal fell over, its breath ragged and shallow. You blinked, the brunette man turning to you, his skin a grayish white you couldn’t quite make sense of. From the color of his skin you’d assume he was deathly ill, yet he seemed more in shape than you. His appearance was frightening and unsettling. He should’ve scared you, especially after just slaughtering a full grown grizzly bear. Yet his presence put you at ease. He stepped over the fallen animal, standing over you. He extended his hand, his palms covered in soiled bandages. Hesitantly you accepted it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. You tried to see his eyes, the reflective bright orange goggles staring down at you. He was far taller than you, your head forced to tilt upwards to look at him. “Thank you,” You say softly. The forest seemed to fall silent, the only sound audible the bear slowly bleeding out.

“Go home.”

His voice was jagged and rough, causing your eyebrows to raise. You wiped yourself off, the pine needles that had attached themselves to your jeans falling to the forest floor. “Can I at least know your name?” You asked. The brunette seemed hesitant, before slinging his axe over his shoulder.

“Toby.”

After that he glanced over his shoulder, as if he heard something you couldn’t. “Go home kid,” He huffed, jumping over the bears corpse and running in the opposite direction. You listened to his request, turning around and heading straight back the way you came.

Ten days. It had been ten days since Toby had saved you, your mysterious savior haunting your dreams. You had dreams of him saving you repeatedly. Those dreams were short lived, followed by nightmares that caused you to wake up screaming. In some he would attack you with the axe, in others he would feed you to the bear. You feared and craved him all at the same time. This lead to you making irrational decisions. You called out of work regularly, spending all of your time in the forest. You felt like you were going insane. After you had washed the blood off of your face, you had no evidence he ever truly existed. Were you going crazy? You couldn’t be. Your determination to prove your sanity led to you back in the forest once more.

You were searching for him. Searching for evidence he ever existed. Originally you had searched for the bears corpse, only to find it gone. You swore you could’ve recalled the exact spot, even finding the exact overgrown root of the tree that caused you to trip. Yet there was no corpse. No sign of anything at all. You found yourself in the same spot again, searching the pine needles that covered the forest floor. There had to be something. A bear that size surely couldn’t evaporate into thin air over ten days. You’d still be able to find its skeleton or dried blood. The circle of life was fast, but not fast enough to make a creature that large disappear. You kneeled down to the ground, pushing a pile of the pine needles aside. You frowned in disappointment when you found nothing but dirt. It was then a chill ran down your spine, the eerie feeling of being watched causing your body to tense. Hesitantly you stood up, looking around.

“Hello?”

Your voice seemed to echo through out the endless trees, the wind causing leafs to fall from the highest branches. It was only then Toby revealed himself, dressed in the same dirt covered attire he wore when you last saw him. “W-why do you keep c-coming back here?” Toby questioned. His tone was harsh, causing you to flinch. You felt overjoyed at the sight of him, his presence alone proving to you he was real. But his tone was chilling, his words dripping with a deeper meaning then you realized. “I keep having dreams about you. I don’t understand it, but you’ve left a mark on me somehow,” You admitted. Your words hardly meant sense to you, yet they seemed to register for Toby. He rounded the tree he was standing behind, approaching you. “Y-you should’ve just forgotten a-about me,” He said coldly. You were stunned, noting he now had two axes, both tucked onto holsters. “How could I? It’s not everyday a guy slaughters a bear for you,” You argued. Toby seemed frustrated, his shoulders tensing.

“I’m not your everyday j-jo. I c-can’t wine and d-dine you. I’m not like every o-o-other pussy you’ve ever let fuck you,” He spat. You glared at him. Your dreams meant something, you knew they did. They had to. “My dreams mean something don’t they? That’s why you’re trying to scare me off!” You said accusingly. Toby approached you, towering over you. His pace was aggressive, causing you to step backwards against a large tree. You felt the bark scrape at your jacket, swallowing at Toby caged you against the wood. “You d-don’t know what y-you’re getting into k-kid,” Toby snarled. You shook your head. “You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t. I don’t care. There’s something drawing me to you. I can’t ignore it,” You confessed. You bit your lower lip, causing Toby to tilt his head to the side. You could tell he was thinking, his mind racing as he stared down at you.

“How s-strange. I can’t tell if your i-i-infatuation is caused by boss n-not,” He mused. He lifted his hand, gently brushing the side of your face. His hands were dirty, yet his finger tips grazed your skin as if you were made of glass. You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks, Toby suddenly leaning away. “I-I’ll come back for you,” He decided. He turned away, causing you to follow behind him. You grabbed his arm, Toby stopping dead in his tracks. “Where will we meet? Here?” You asked. Toby looked over his shoulder at you. You wished you could see his facial expression, his words seemingly cold and calculated. “No. Never c-come back h-h-here. I’ll find you,” He ordered. He shrugged your grip off of him, beginning to stalk away. “Oh and while you’re at it kid, i-it’s in your best interest to f-find a way to repay me,” Toby said flatly, before disappearing once again.

Your simple conversation played on repeat in your head. Looping round and round. Who was his boss? How could his ‘boss’ cause the dreams? The nightmares? The infatuation? You stared up blankly at the ceiling at night, your inability to sleep resulting in your job threatening to fire you from calling out so much. Everything seemed to be crumbling around you and you didn’t understand why. It was a night like the rest of them, your eyes blankly staring up at the ceiling. You had managed to count every spec, your eyes becoming crossed. You had stared for so long you swore you were beginning to see shapes and patterns. Maybe you were hallucinating. Maybe you were going insane. Could surviving a grizzly bear attack drive you mad? Or maybe you didn’t survive at all. Maybe you were dead and this was some weird purgatory. Maybe Toby didn’t exist at all and your mind made him up to avoid processing the extreme trauma. Maybe-

Your thoughts were disrupted by a knock on your window, the sound causing you to jump. Scrambling to throw off the covers you jumped out of bed, rubbing your eyes before yanking your curtains open. Toby gave you a simple wave, his axe slung over his shoulder. You opened the window, watching him climb inside. “I have a front door you know,” You said. You watched him shut the window, yanking the curtains shut. “D-draws too m-much attention. B-besides, this won’t take long,” Toby said. He dropped his axe down on the floor, shoving his goggles on top of his head. His chocolate eyes met yours, staring down at you. “I need you t-to know you don’t want this, I-I need you to be afraid of me,” He growled. You didn’t understand, slowly taking a step backwards. “Why?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Toby followed you slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. “I-i’m not the good guy. All of these b-b-bullshit fantasies you’ve cooked up-p are wrong,” He spat. You felt your face turn red, your eyes widening. How did he know-

“I’m n-not your savior. In e-every other scenario, i’m the bear,” He growled. There was something about his voice, his eyes, the way he stood over you. You hated how attracted to him you were in this moment. “I don’t believe you. You won’t hurt me,” You whispered. In a swift motion his fingers were wrapped around your throat, your back colliding with the nearest wall. The air was knocked out of your lungs, your hands flying to his wrist. He glared down at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

Toby didn’t have it in himself to kill you. He was in deep enough shit with The Operator already, just by saving you. Proxies were designed to be ghost. They operated entirely by invisibility. They were never there. They never left any trances of their presence or work. Toby had a small solo mission, one that didn’t require Masky or Hoodie monitoring him. His mistake was traveling through the forest on foot, just trying to make it back to the mansion as swiftly as possible. He had noticed you way before the grizzly bear. You were quite pretty. Plump lips, soft eyes, gorgeous skin. Toby couldn’t help but allow himself a rare pleasure just for a brief moment. He couldn’t recall the last time he had been around a girl that wasn’t a designated target. In all fairness, Toby hadn’t seen the grizzly either. He was too focused on you and your beauty, his survival skills temporarily subsided. When you ran into the bear he didn’t have time to think, only to act. He felt an odd urge to protect you. Whether or not The Operator would forgive him for acting on this urge was a different story.

Toby was permitted to see you one final time, to finish the job. Masky and Hoodie had removed the bear corpse and any signs of Toby’s presence. Proxies weren’t allowed to leave evidence or witnesses. The Operator would’ve been mildly satisfied with allowing you to believe you were going insane. The supernatural being stayed lurking in your thoughts, sprinkling fear through out your persistent dreams. He turned them into night terrors. Toby felt guilty, knowing that your sanity would eventually turn into mush. He monitored you closely, watching you return to the forest. He feared The Operator’s influence was only encouraging you to continue your investigation. Toby knew he had to put a stop to it. For your future would become far more tarnished if you continued to anger The Operator. So he took it upon himself to attempt to fix the situation. What he hadn’t accounted for was your faith. You had raw uncensored faith in him. Toby couldn’t quite understand why. He needed to scare you away. Your interest in him needed to fade away from your memory.

Yet it didn’t, your eyes widened as you stared up at him in awe. Your lips were parted, your heart pounding as he squeezed your neck. He shoved his knee in between your legs, a small gasp escaping your lips. He blinked, confused at the erotic sound. “I-is this how you w-wanted to repay me?” Toby asked. The idea made his head spin. The idea that something as pure and innocent as you would want him. Your face was turning a darker shade of red, your tongue tied. He loosened his grip on your throat, watching as you gulped large amounts of oxygen. “P-please,” You sputtered, gulping. Toby’s pupils blew with lust, his hand falling from your throat. All of this time he wanted to scare you, yet you were willing to let him fuck you? “You’re not scared of me?” Toby asked hesitantly, You nodded, refusing to break eye contact. “Good k-keep that in mind,” He ordered. He shoved his face mask aside, quickly pressing his lips against yours. He ignored the burning embarrassment that radiated off of him as he kissed you. His eyes were screwed shut, while yours were wide open.

He knew you were staring at the gash that sat on his cheek. The sight alone was scarring, nevertheless unforgettable. You could see his teeth, the skin around the wound healed and scared over. You wanted to ask questions, but his eager hands grabbing your forearms distracted you. The man before you looked deathly ill and had somehow survived losing a major part of his face. His kisses were hot and heavy, desperate to regain your focus on him and only him. Not his imperfections he kept hidden from the outside world. He couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed anyone, the mint from your tongue dancing across his tastebuds. As he inhaled through his nose deeply he recognized how good you smelled. When’s the last time he had ever smelled anything besides dirt and blood? Toby pulled away, his cheeks a light tint of pink as he stared down at you. You looked so cute and flustered. The man before you was enchanting, a supernatural creature you knew you couldn’t understand. All of that mystery only made you want him more. You sank to your knees slowly, keeping eye contact with the man before you.

Toby wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Doing this, allowing this with you was wrong.

It didn’t matter how much Toby wanted this to happen. It was wrong. The Operator would skin him alive if he knew the devious acts he was committing. He was supposed to be killing you, not watch you unzip his pants with those stupid big eyes of yours. But Toby couldn’t help but feel selfish. He had never felt so possessive before, so desperate to keep something all to himself. But with you, he absolutely did. He did everything for everyone else. For The Operator. For Masky and Hoodie. He hardly ever did anything for himself. As a proxy you’re meant to be a vessel, a working part in a moving machine. You’re apart of a unit, not an individual with wants or desires. Yet without thinking twice he broke away from that mold, by saving you from the bear. The brunette decided that he deserved one thing and that one thing was you.

You shoved his boxers and pants to the floor, his hard cock presenting itself in front of you. The sight of salivating, your lips wrapping around his tip. Toby’s hand found its way to your hair, tangling itself in your roots. “F-fuck just like that,” He groaned, subtly pulling you towards him. You whimpered as you began to bob your head up and down his shaft, the man in front of you borderline shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good. Meanwhile you were a mess, your thighs attempting to rub together to create some friction while you sucked his cock. You felt your nipples harden under your shirt, your eyes struggling to stay open. His large hand on the back of your head guided you to go faster, his tip scraping the back of your throat. “My f-fucking fuck!” Toby groaned. You were so perfect. So pretty and usable. And better yet? You were all his. His hips began to snap faster into your mouth, his cock now face fucking you. You gagged on his shaft, his girth far larger than you had anticipated for.

You gripped at his thighs, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth as he abused your throat. “Such a good fleshlight,” Toby moaned. You felt tears begin to flood your waterline, your jaw forced to go slack. Toby’s thrust were relentless, the brunette obsessed with chasing his high. “A-awe you look so adorable drooling on my c-cock,” Toby cooed mockingly, relishing in the sight of the fresh tears dripping down your cheeks. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge, his fingers yanking at the roots of your hair. You moaned around his shaft, the vibrations enough to send him over the edge. He thrust inside of your throat one final time, his seed spilling down your throat. Satisfied, he watched as you struggled to swallow his load. You gagged as he pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp down oxygen as you wiped the saliva from the sides of your mouth. Toby knelt down in front of you, cupping your cheek with his large hand. He wiped away one of your tears with his thumb, leaning in to kiss you. Just as his lips were about to graze yours, the overwhelming sound of static flooded his head.

He cursed as he leaned away, his hands gripping his head. “What is it? What’s wrong?” You asked. Toby shook his head. “Boss is calling, gotta go,” He said dryly. He began to redress himself, rising to his feet. You awkwardly joined him, wetness dampening your panties between your thighs. “What about me?” You asked softly. Toby hadn’t considered your needs, his eyes widening as he turned back to look at you. Your face was flushed, your hair a mess. Your lips were red and plump from his abuse, your thighs rubbing together as you stood in front of him. Toby unsurely tucked some stray hairs behind your ear, pulling his mask over his nose. “Dont wait up for me, but i’ll be back,” He said. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, tangoing with the devil that was beckoning him. He felt a brief moment of sympathy, noting the sadness in your eyes. He shoved his goggles over his eyes, throwing himself into the night. You watched him go, leaving you to decode everything that just happened.

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kaciidubs · 8 months

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hi hi hi!!! today i offer to you: inexperienced!puppy!chan who's so so so eager to learn everthing you teach him. like imagine teaching him how to fuck you properly and he excels at it but in true chan fashion he has NO idea how crazy he's driving you. like imagine him burying his fingers deep into you, finding your sweet spot without even trying and moving his fingers in such a way that has your toes curling and back arching. and then he asks in the most sweet and innocent voice, "is this how i should do it? am i doing it right?" also puppy!chan (or any kind of chan for that matter) THRIVES on your praise so call him your good boy once and he's doinh everything you tell him to. like just imagine training puppy!chan how to pleasure you and he takes in that information in SO quickly and applies it so quickly too. i'm just–yeah🥴

Hi hi, my darling! Puppy! Chan gets my gears going, but inexperienced puppy! Chan?? Yeah, this is a need. ❣ Word Count: 1.8k ❣ Warnings: Puppy Switch! Chris, Switch! Reader, fluff, smut, Dom/Sub dynamics, guided sex, praise, open ended ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, Puppy, Reader is referred to as Baby, Love

Chris was a pleaser in every sense of the word, and you were no exception - if he could do something to make you happy, he'd do it in the blink of an eye.

So, when it came to the concept of being intimate with you, he was more than willing to start from ground zero; learning what touches made you shiver, where you liked being kissed, and how he could get you to melt into him without even getting your shirt off.

Through this experience you happened to learn that he was very eager to be bossed around - brown eyes watching you intensely as he listened to every syllable that left your lips, directing his body to do as you said like the good boy he was.

Of course, he had needs of his own - ways he wanted to see you fall apart that haunted his waking thoughts like a beautiful nightmare.

"I... I'd really like to finger you, love."

You had to stop yourself from lovingly laughing at his timidness, clocking the blush on the tips of his ears from a mile away - ever the earnest lover.

"Okay, baby - want me to show you how?"

With his eager nod more than sufficient for confirmation, you tossed your phone to the side and began setting the stage - your bed - for his personal lesson.

"I'm sure you don't need a formal introduction to my pussy, do you?" You giggled as you laid on the bed, a pillow propped under your head for support as you watched him wiggle his way between your spread legs.

If there was a way to describe his face during moments like this, it would have to be awe inducing - no matter how many times he'd seen you naked, intimately or in passing, he looked as if his world had stopped and you were the only person that mattered.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as slightly faded orange curls brushed his forehead, "No, I don't." Parting your folds with his index and middle, a shiver ran down his spine at the faint shine of your arousal, "Hi, beautiful."

Within your time together, he was considerably acquainted with your cunt - keeping his head between your legs for so long you could still feel the phantom touch of his tongue days later - but he was insistent on taking things slow so he could treat you the way you deserved when he had the proper chance to, and you weren't complaining at all.

Where he wanted to learn how to pleasure you in ways that didn't directly involve his dick, you wanted to see just how well he would put his lessons to use down the - unknowingly short - line.

It didn't take long for the slow, languid curls of his tongue, and the subtle pressure of the tip of his nose bumping against your clit, to have you melting like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

"Y-You can start using your fingers if you want, baby," You breathed, threading your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly grazing his scalp earning you a low groan in return.

Chris pulled away a second later, looking up at you with lust blown eyes, "Are you sure?"

"If you don't use yours, I'm gonna use mine, Christopher."

Taking your threat to heart - and pocketing it for a future session - he dragged his index finger through your spit-slicked folds before gently prodding at your slit.

"Tell me-"

"-if it hurts, I know - it's just the first finger, it'll be fine."

And you were right, his finger parting your walls with ease due to how wet you were already - the both of you letting out matching sighs of relief and awe.

"You're so warm." He seemed to talk more to himself than to you as he slowly pumped his finger in and out, eyes trained on the way his skin shined with your arousal.

If this were the past you would've been embarrassed from the intense stare and almost curious prodding, but with Chris things were different - you welcomed the curiosity sprinkled into his tone, and the awe that sparkled underneath the warm adoration he exuded.

"You know," you hummed, easily catching his attention, "instead of using your index finger, you can use your middle and ring fingers, puppy - it's more comfortable that way."

Nodding dutifully, his finger left you slowly, only to be brought up to his mouth and slip past his plush lips.

Sure, you've seen him lick your arousal from his lips plenty of times before, but watching the pure euphoric flutter of his eyes as he sucked his finger clean had you clenching around air - he was going to be the death of you, and you could only imagine how it would be when you two finally took it to the next level.

He released his finger with a satisfied moan, "Have I ever told you how fucking delicious you taste?"

A teasing smile curled your lips, "Hm, once or twice."

"Well let's make it three times," bringing his hand back to your pussy, he traced his fingers around your entrance once more, "you taste delicious, baby - I don't think I can survive without it at this point."

You wished you could attribute the roll of your eyes to his dramatics, but as his thick, knobby fingers stretched your walls, your head fell back against the pillow as a moan floated past your lips.

Even with just two fingers he was able to reach spots you could just barely get to on your own, and this fact alone had you twitching in anticipation.

"Should I..." Chris licked his lips, mesmerized by the snug fit on his fingers within you, "Can I keep going?"

"Yeah, yeah- god, it feels amazing already."

Soon his fingers were gliding in and out of you at a decent speed as he got used to the motion, going faster as your breathing picked up before slowing down just as your moans became frequent - continuing this dance of push and pull that kept you in a delicious limbo.

A particular curve of his fingers on an outward drag had your hips jolting, a shocked gasp breaking through a breathless moan.

"Oh- Fuck!"

"Are you okay?"

Your eyes snapped open, looking down to shoot him a confused look until you were met with innocent worry - he hadn't done it on purpose.

"I'm- I'm okay, you just- Ah!"

Despite his apparent worry, the movement of his hand didn't stop, and you were yet again subjected to the graze of his fingers against your g-spot.

"I found it, hm?"

You could only reply with frantic nods, melting against the sheets as he kept his pace steady with the occasional curl of his fingers to keep you on your curled toes.

"B-Baby, faster."

"Faster?"

Feeling the bed shift slightly, his lips left a fleeting kiss on the inside of your thigh before you felt his body partially hover over yours; lips now seeking home on the crook of your neck.

This reprieve was short lived as his rhythm sped up without warning, your back arching as moans vibrated your vocal chords. Your hands scrambled for purchase on the t-shirt he shockingly kept on, gripping the cotton in your fists.

"O-Oh my god, Chris!"

His panted breaths rolled along your neck while muted grunts caught against your skin; the sounds of your breathless moans and slick squelches of your arousal filling his ears.

"You can- Fuck- U-Use your thumb to rub my clit, puppy."

"Yeah? But I won't be able to go as hard..."

"It's okay - please, I just need more, baby."

Pulling his head from your neck, he took in your fucked out expression as he stilled his hand to press his thumb against the small bundle of nerves, rotating in small circles just like he usually did with his tongue.

When you flinched he pulled away, the beginnings of an apology forming on his lips until you stopped him in his tracks.

"No, no - you're doing great, Channie, just - not too hard, and move your thumb a little to the left."

He nodded, adjusting his thumb with a tilt of his head, "Right here?"

A small giggle escaped you, "My left, puppy."

Noting the blush darkening his ears, he made the change yet again and the result was more than he could've ever expected; your pussy clenching around his fingers as your eyelids fluttered, a familiar haze fogging your eyes.

"Like this?" He mused, curling his fingers in a 'come hither' motion for additional stimulation, "Am I doing it right?"

You keened, tears of pleasure stinging your eyes as you nodded, "M-Mhm, you're doing s-such a good job, puppy- Oh, fuck- you're amazing, baby."

His heart swelled at the praise - much like his dick currently confined underneath his boxer briefs - and he focused his efforts on adding minute thrusts of his hand while keeping up the flicks of his thumb.

Unfinished sentences fell from your lips like breaths of air, a jumble of praises and half-baked thoughts breaking up whimpers and moans that you had no intentions of holding back.

"You're so pretty like this," he breathed softly, drinking in the furrow of your brow, the faint glisten of drool at the corner of your lips, "fucking beautiful, baby. You're squeezing my fingers so tight - you're close, yeah? Gonna come for me?"

You made a noise, something you hoped was a sound of agreement underneath the endless whimpers of his name.

Chris leaned down to brush his lips against yours, a soft, tender motion that had your heart soaring and your orgasm rocketing you into outer space without so much as a warning.

Your back arched as you pulled at his shirt - at this point, you'd be surprised if it hadn't torn from the force - as your cum soaked his fingers and the curve of your ass.

His hips bucked against your thigh, moaning against your mouth as he fingered you through your high with gentle strokes.

It didn't take long for you to come back to your senses, a breathless laugh shaking your shoulders while you released your death grip on his poor wrinkled shirt.

"You... You are way too good at that," blinking up at him, you narrowed your eyes playfully, "are you sure you haven't fingered anyone before?"

That wonderfully high pitched, squeaky laugh escaped him, "I swear I haven't!" Slowly pulling his fingers from your fluttering walls, he made a show of licking the pads, "I guess I'm just a fast learner, you know?"

Grabbing his wrist, you slipped those same fingers into your mouth, moaning at your taste around his digits and licking them clean before releasing them with a soft pop.

"In that case..." You lifted your leg slightly, brushing your thigh against his hard on with a sly grin, "Can you teach me how to use my hands?"

[unedited]

#✧. ┊ kacii answers #✧. ┊ lovely bahng-chrizz #skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bangchan x reader

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