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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 1 month

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The Prince - Chapter Six

A/N: Hello hello! Here I am with more pain for you, my friends! Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your support on this fic! We are over halfway done with the story and I hope you all stick it out until the end. As always, keep the likes, reblogs, and comments coming, and let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.3k Synopsis: Jace and the reader bask in the glow of finally acting on their feelings, only for that light to be stomped out as Jeyne arrives in King's Landing and Baela learns of their relationship.

Tag List: Hi all, it seems like the taglist is being wonky (thanks tumblr) so instead of tagging you all here, I'll tag you in the comments, that way I know it actually gives you the notification!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Jace awakes early that next morning, his first thoughts immediately of you. As he dresses for the day, he is thinking only of ways to steal a moment alone with you, and what he’ll do when he does. He passes one of the servants on his way out the door, foregoing the breakfast they are bringing in.

He moves down the hallway quickly, no particular plan in mind, except to run into you somehow. However, when he turns down the next hallway from his own, it’s not your face he sees, but his mother’s.

“Jace,” she says with a smile, “You’re up early.”

“Yes,” he says, stopping in front of her. She brushes a hand to his cheek, studying his face for a moment.

“Any particular reason for your early morning?” she asks. The look in her eye says that she suspects but is giving him the opportunity to deny the events of last night.

“Just eager to start the day,” he says with a half-smile. She nods her head, completely disbelieving him.

“I’ve given thought to your request,” she says, taking his arm in hers. He walks in pace with her, towards her council chambers. “I want to give you my blessing, Jace. You have proven yourself time and again, especially during the war, to be a perfect heir. You deserve to be happy,” she says, looking at him.

“So why can’t you?” he asks.

“Baela,” she says simply.

“Our family is already well connected with the Velaryons, through your marriage to Daemon,” he says, “What advantage to our line is there if we marry?”

“She fought alongside me as well,” Rhaenyra says. “She expects to be queen. She's earned it.”

“I know,” Jace says on a sigh.

“I can’t in good conscience cut her out like that,” she says. They fall into silence for a moment as they near the council door. “Has something happened, Jace?” she asks. “You seem . . . changed.”

“I am,” he says with a smile. She searches his face with a furrowed brow.

“I will keep considering it,” she says, “I don’t want to hurt you, or Baela. I am afraid that whichever way I chose, I am heading towards that path, anyhow.”

“Baela doesn’t want to marry me either,” he says. Rhaenyra gives him a disbelieving look. “Really. She feels the same as me.”

“If that’s the case, I will happily relieve you of this betrothal. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Jace,” she says, “Baela would be giving up the crown, not just you.”

“What are you smiling about?” Joffrey asks.

“What?”

“You’re smiling,” he says, gesturing towards the wall you had been staring at. “At nothing.”

“Sorry,” you say, averting your gaze from him, and back to the book in front of you. Joffrey had requested your aid in helping him learn about his future seat, Driftmark. You have maybe read a page, so distracted are your thoughts.

“Did something happen?” he asks, leaning in closer. His eyes meet yours. “With Jace?”

“What?” you ask quick, shaking your head. “Of course not.”

“Your blush says otherwise,” Joffrey says.

“Why are we talking about me at all?” you ask, “I thought we were learning about . . .” You glance down at the book in front of you, picking the first word you read, “High Tide.”

“Tell me what you know about the building of High Tide,” Joffrey says, a smug look on his face. You open your mouth, planning to bullshit your way through an answer, but Joffrey starts laughing. You roll your eyes, trying to hide your own smile.

“Just tell me what happened,” he says.

“Nothing happened!” you say, a bit too loudly. You both peer around the library, making sure no one turned their attention to the two of you. When you’re sure they haven’t, you say again, “Nothing happened.”

“I’ll pretend to believe you,” Joffrey says, sitting back in his chair. For the next ten minutes, you sit in quiet, actually reading the words in front of you, just to ensure that Joffrey can’t catch you daydreaming again. He is the first to break the silence.

“Hello, brother,” he says. You exhale through your nose, not lifting your head.

“Not funny, Joff,” you mutter.

“Good day, Y/N.” You lift your head, a blush already forming across your cheeks, as you see Jacaerys standing next to you.

“Your Highness,” you say breathlessly. Jace has a smile on his face that he seems to be trying to hide. Joffrey looks between the two of you, a giddy look spreading across his face.

“Right,” he says, looking to you, “Nothing happened.” You glare at him, but Jace only laughs at his brother.

“What brings you to the library, brother?” Joffrey asks.

“I wanted to see how your studies are going,” Jace says with a shrug.

“I am here every day,” Joffrey says, “You’ve never once come to check upon me.”

“Well then, all the better I’m here now,” Jace says, his hand nervously clutching the pommel of his sword.

“Lady Y/N could tell you better than I,” Joffrey says, “She’s just read up on the forming of High Tide.” Their attention turns to you, and all you can do is glare daggers at Joffrey.

“I regret ever offering to help you,” you say, flipping the page back to High Tide.

“As do I,” he says, “You’ve been of no help.”

“You’re right,” you say, closing the book, “I’ve been a distraction.”

“You have,” he says, smirking, “But really, I think it’s more my brother’s fault than your own.”

“Joff,” Jace warns.

“You both should probably leave and attend to other matters,” he says with a wave of his hand. You are equally annoyed and enamored to him. He can clearly see that something has changed, and although he is being a jerk, it is for the two of you.

“Good luck with your studies, My Prince,” you say, standing. Jace is suddenly so much closer than you realized, and you both take a step back quickly. Joffrey lets out a tut of laughter.

“Can you put these back?” he asks, gesturing to the books littering the table. “I’m sure Jace would be happy to help you.” You exchange a look with Jace that sends dragon fire to you.

“You are incorrigible,” you mutter to Joffrey, picking up all the books. “I don’t really need your help, Your Highness,” you say to Jace. He gives you a small smile and nods.

“I’d like to help, nonetheless. At the very least to show you that not all the princes are as horrible as this one,” he says, glaring at Joffrey. The younger boy just smiles.

Jace follows you down the long hallway in between the stacks. You keep your back ramrod straight, as if just his close proximity sends a chill over you. You turn down the aisle where the books initially came from, and Jace takes the books from you seamlessly. One by one, you put them back in their respective spaces.

“What was he on about?” Jace asks quietly.

“Just being insufferable,” you say with a smirk.

“About what though?” he asks, a smile on his face to match your own. You look down for a moment, laughing to yourself. Jace takes your hand in his own, drawing your eyes up to his.

“He thought something might have happened between us,” you whisper, the smile never leaving your face.

“I see.”

“Obviously, I told him he was imagining things.”

“Is he?” Jace asks, a playful look on his face. Slowly, he leans in closer, his lips just brushing against yours. You sigh into the kiss, into the taste of him that you have craved since last night. A hand to his shirt, you pull him into you. Jace grips your waist, smiling against your mouth as he presses you into the stack of books.

At that moment, the library becomes your new favorite spot in the castle. Secluded in the rows of books, no one hears the slight whimper you make when Jace kisses along your neck. The shelves are so abandoned, the sound of Jace’s frustration when you break away from him, your teeth pulling on his lower lip as you do, is heard only by you. He lets out a breath, laughing softly.

“What?” you ask.

“I’ve never needed someone like this before,” he says.

“Me either,” you say. His hands and yours are still on each other.

“Joffrey is going to be very smug if we’re back here any longer,” you say.

“Let him,” Jace says, kissing your lips again.

For the next few days, every moment you and Jace can find to get your hands on each other, you take. Whether its meeting him in the dark hallways that lead to the sparring grounds, pulling you into a servant’s hallway, or your midnight meetings in your quarters, you can’t seem to get enough of him. All thoughts of suitor hunting have fled your mind.

Sometimes, after he leaves your quarters, or when you’re returning to your own, guilt seeps into you. Not only are you not doing what Jeyne requested, but you are going behind the backs of the family who brought you here. At night, you tell yourself that it must be the last, until you see Jace the next day. It was true – he was ruining you – but you were gladly letting him.

Jace lips are on yours the next day. Even though you spent the night before together, your need to be with him only seems to be growing.

“Y/N,” Jace says against your mouth.

“What?” you ask, in between kisses.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning back from you.

“Nothing,” you say, reaching for him. He takes your hand but stays back from you.

“You can tell me anything,” he says, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin.

“I know,” you say.

“So, tell me," he says. You sigh, looking down at your entwined hands.

“I love you,” you begin, “And I love being with you, but I also know that we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Y/N,” he says softly, pulling you closer. “There might still be a way this all works out.”

“Maybe,” you say, giving him a soft smile, “Logically, though, I know there is a greater chance that this all burns down around us.”

“Do you want to stop?” he asks, his eyes filled with pain.

“Not at all,” you whisper. You brush a hand over his face, bringing your lips together.

“I love you,” Jace says when he breaks away, “I’m not going to give you up without a fight.”

Jeyne arrives later that same day. You had know of her arrival for months now, but still her presence surprises you. Too long, your thoughts had lied only with Jace, and unfortunately, Jeyne had fallen to the back of your mind.

Queen Rhaenyra invites you both to a dinner with her family, wanting to officially thank Jeyne for sheltering her sons and Rhaena during the war. Seeing her makes you realize how much you’ve missed her.

As always, she is the center of attention, regaling the group with stories from the Vale, embarrassing anecdotes about you, Rhaena, and the boys. Multiple times in the evening, you catch her eyes lingering on you for a long moment, or glancing between you and Jace. You even catch her looking at Balea, looking to see if the princess can see what Jeyne herself was seeing quite clearly.

“So,” Jeyne says, flopping into a chair in your quarters after dinner, a smile on her face, “Tell me of all the excitements of King’s Landing.”

“I think you saw a great deal of it tonight.”

“Yes, I did notice some things,” she says, meeting your eyes with a knowing look. You try to hold it for a moment but too quickly have to look away. “The prince’s attentions seem to not have strayed from you."

“You think so?” you ask, sitting in the chair next to hers.

“Everyone at that table should think so, I presume. What they might not have noticed, though, was the look you gave the prince in return.”

“Jeyne,” you say quietly, a smile growing on your face. She furrows her brow at you, studying your face, until her face clears and a grin grows instead.

“You return his affections?” she asks.

“Yes,” you say, whisper soft. This is the first time you have been able to voice these feelings aloud, other than with Jace.

“Y/N!” she says excitedly, taking your hand in hers. “Your letters hinted that you were enjoying his attentions more than you had in the Vale, so I thought it was a possibility, but then your letters started coming less and less.”

“I’m sorry about that,” you say, “Things just got away from me.”

“Clearly,” she says with a cocked eyebrow. “So, what has happened between you two?”

“I love him, Jeyne,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “I don’t know how it happened, I was fighting it for so long and then sort of all at once I couldn't, but . . . I love him,” you say with a shrug, meeting her eyes. There is nothing but happiness on her face.

“Well, I can’t blame you for your changed feelings,” she says, “He has had quite the transformation since he came to the Vale.”

“He has,” you say, heat growing along your cheeks.

“Does anyone else know?” she asks.

“Joffrey, I think. Mostly, he’s just suspiciously accurate,” you say. “And, the prince has at least told the queen of his affections for me.”

“He means to break his betrothal?” Jeyne asks, her face immediately changing with interest.

“It won’t happen,” you say with a shake of your head. Suddenly, the fear from before is back, the crippling guilt.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Rhaenyra is not going to cut her husband’s daughter from the throne,” you say, “No matter how much she loves Jace.”

“Jace,” Jeyne says with a smile at the casual way you say his name. You let out a breath of laughter. “Does Rhaena not know then? Baela?”

“Neither of them knows,” you say. “Which has left me feeling awful, after all the work they’ve gone through to try and find me an appropriate suitor.”

“They have to be blind, to not see the way he looks at you,” she says. “I noticed it the very moment I met him, and again, when I arrived here. He loves you.”

“Regardless, the betrothal to Baela remains.”

“Well, how about the pursuits of your own?” she asks. “Anyone standing out?”

“No,” you say. “Not like Jace, and ever since I gave into these feelings, I have completely forgone the mating hunt.” A strange look passes over Jeyne’s face, one that dulls her good mood, but before you can ask about it, she jumps up from her seat.

“We need wine. This is the first I have seen you in months,” she says, gesturing to your lady’s maid. “And I only want to hear about the good.”

“Jeyne,” you start.

“No details until we have wine,” she says. When it is brought to the two of you, you thank Brigitta and pour the both of you a glass. Once Jeyne’s is in hand, she takes a hearty drink.

“So, tell me everything.”

The next morning, you are still feeling the effects of the wine. You forgot how much she likes to drink, and it has been a long time since you've kept up with her. Regardless of that, you feel lighter that morning. Keeping Jace a secret had been eating at you, and even though nothing had changed about the circumstances, you felt better just voicing your feelings.

You get out of bed, the morning light just beginning to pool into the room. You hear a soft snoring, and turn to your couch, where Jeyne had fallen asleep the night before. You had completely forgotten she was here, but just the sight of her makes you smile.

Brigitta enters into the room, startling you slightly, but a welcome addition altogether.

“Good morning, My Lady,” she says.

“Good morning, Brigitta,” you say. “I think we’ll need a few extra pastries this morning,” you say, rubbing your forehead. “And maybe that tonic from the Maester.”

“Of course, My Lady,” she says, “Before I fetch that though, I should tell you that the prince is waiting at your door."

“He’s what?” you ask in shock, a smile creeping its way across your face.

“At the door,” Brigitta repeats, with maybe a ghost of a smile on her own face. You move quickly towards the door, swinging it open so fast, it startles Jace.

“Sorry,” you say.

“That’s alright,” he says, looking between you and Brigitta, who is standing behind you. She shuffles by the two of you once you step out of the way. You beckon Jace into your room, making to tell him of Jeyne’s presence, but before you can, he grabs hold of you, wrapping you in his arms. His face burrows into your neck. You squeeze him just as tightly.

“Hi,” you say, when he pulls back enough to look at you.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you say, “It’s been so long that we haven’t spent the night together.”

“It was torturous,” Jace says. You laugh as you lean in to kiss him softly.

“Believe me, it was good to catch up with Jeyne, but I agree, it was quite torturous without you.”

“Glad to hear it.” You both snap your heads in the direction of Jeyne, who is sitting up on the couch, a smirk on her face. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she says to Jace. He is blushing furiously but nods his head to her.

“Lady Arryn.”

“You two are very beautiful together,” she says with a smile, “And I hate to part you, but I should remind you that Rhaena is meeting us for breakfast this morning.”

“I completely forgot,” you say, breaking from Jace’s arms. “You need to leave.” You begin to usher him towards the door, Jace laughing and coming up with half-hearted excuses to stay. At the door, he turns back to say something else or kiss you, but you only look at him sympathetically as you shut the door in his face.

“Thank you for reminding me about Rhaena,” you say, sitting down in the chair across from Jeyne. Brigitta walks in a minute later, a tray of pastries in her hand, and a pot of tea. You pour a cup for yourself and another for Jeyne, but she waves you off.

“Tell me, what did you mean by spend the night together?” Jeyne asks. “Don’t tell me you’ve bedded him.”

“Jeyne!” you scold, your cheeks flaming. “Of course we haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?" you ask in disbelief. "Because I am to be married, and most likely that husband is not going to be Jace.”

“Men can’t tell if you’ve done it before,” she says with a shrug. “Also, by the way he looks at you, he wants to badly.”

“It doesn’t matter if he does,” you say, taking a greedy, anxious bite of a pastry.

“It’d be good, I reckon,” she says, continuing, completely oblivious to your growing shame, and the fact that the door opened on the opposite end of the room. “With how much he loves you, he’d do you right.”

“You are shameless.”

“What is there to be shameful about!” she declares with a laugh. “Just sleep with him!”

“Stop it,” you say with a shake of your head.

“Why? I’m the one that saw your love from the start! That puppy dog look never left, it just got hornier, and it spread over to you, too.”

“What are you talking about?” Rhaena asks.

She stands in the entry way of your chambers, a smile on her face. She thinks this is another one of Jeyne’s jokes, that she’s talking about one of the suitors that she looked so hard to find for you. This is your worst fear coming true, and you see it all happening before it does. No gods come to stop it, no matter how hard you beg.

“Rhaena,” you say, standing quickly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly,” she says. “Were you talking about . . . Jace?” she asks, looking between the two of you. “Joffrey said Jace was acting differently,” she says, brow furrowed, “He was teasing him, about falling in love. A puppy dog look . . .” she ponders, “They were referring to you.”

“He’s not in love with me,” you say quietly, knowing it’s a lie. Jeyne focuses her attention into her cup of tea.

“I know we used to joke about it,” Rhaena says, shaking her head. “I just never thought . . .”

“I promise you, nothing has come of our feelings,” you say, speaking too quickly to realize that you’ve slipped, in trying not to do so. Before you can correct yourself, Rhaena takes a step back.

“’Our’ feelings?” she repeats.

“Rhaena, I . . . What’s going on with Jace, it’s . . .” You give up trying. There is no explanation, because you can’t explain to yourself what’s going on with him. There are no steps to the dance you two are doing, no instructor to stop you from waltzing to your destruction.

“I need to go,” she says softly. “Good day, Lady Arryn.” She only gives you a look in parting as she walks back out through the doorway. You watch the closed door for too long, regret seeping into your bones.

“She’ll get over it,” Jeyne says, gently.

“She’s going to tell Baela!” you say, spinning to face her.

“If she doesn’t already know, she’s going to make a terrible wife,” she says with a sad laugh. You look at her in confusion, which makes her laughter stop. “Every nobleman cheats on his wife. If she doesn’t see it coming, she’s the one at fault.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say. About them both.”

“You think you’re the first wrong girl a prince ever fell for? It is an age-old story. They are bound by duty, they’ll produce heirs, but their hearts and their cocks still lie within the ones they truly loved,” she says sagely.

“And what happens to the girl?” you ask, “The one they really loved?” Jeyne looks at you for a long moment, her face falling even further. She swallows before speaking.

“Lord Blacktyde is a bachelor again,” she says softly. "His wife . . . died under mysterious circumstances."

“What?” you ask, your voice dropping as you do, too, into the seat across from her.

“I just got word a few days ago. I thought about writing, but it felt like something better shared in person."

“Of course,” you say with a shake of your head.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Jeyne," you say. "How long ago?"

"My source thought maybe two months back. Obviously, they've kept details about her death quiet," she says. She sighs as she meets your eyes. "I'm afraid he'll come looking for you again."

“I should be able to protect those of my house,” she says firmly, her eyes watering. “If he does come, I will do everything in my power to keep you from going with him. I won't stop--"

“I know you won’t,” you say carefully. “I'm so foolish for not finding a match quicker, we knew this was a possibility, I—”

“No, you are not foolish. At all.” She looks at you plainly for a long moment. “Fuck the prince, Y/N. You might never get the chance to be fucked by a man who loves you as much as he does. You deserve it at least once.”

“What about Baela? About—”

“What could she do?” she asks with a sad shrug. What fate, worse than Blacktyde, could she sentence you to, her words seem to mean. “She’ll get to fuck him her whole life. Only fair to give you a turn.”

Baela and Rhaena are standing in your room, talking in low, urgent whispers, when you return to your quarters, that night. When the door creaks open, they quiet and look at you. Rhaena’s expression is anxious, her eyes wide and watery. Baela’s is the exact opposite. Dragon fire is ablaze in her eyes, and you are smart enough to be nervous.

“Before you say anything,” you say, “I just want you to know that—”

“I don’t wish to hear what you have to say,” Baela says quickly. "No more lies, Y/N."

“I never lied to you,” you say. She lets out a tut of laughter.

“Maybe not to my face, but you certainly went behind my back with Jace.” You say nothing, because apologizing won’t do anything right now. “I don’t have to remind you of what the kingdom has just gone through. Another fight for the crown will end us all, I fear.”

“I want no fight, Baela. Jace and I haven’t done anything. They are feelings only, and ones I do not wish to act on.”

“Why not?” she asks, her eyes narrowing.

“What?”

“Why don’t you wish to act on them?” she asks. You scrunch your eyebrows, but shake your head.

“Because I care about you and your sister,” you say, looking to Rhaena. “And because I know that no matter what, I am not good enough for the prince, and never will be.” Baela studies you for a long moment, some of her anger washing away.

“The prince and I need to sort things out,” she says, when she does speak again. “I think it’d be better if you weren’t here when we do.”

“What?” you ask, panic shooting through your body. You look to Rhaena.

“I don’t want you in the Red Keep anymore,” Baela says, lifting her chin regally. “But seeing as Lady Jeyne Arryn is here, I will not send you home. Dragonstone should be a fine location until we can get this all settled.”

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of dragon fanfiction

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moonpascaltoo · 24 days

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SIRIUS BLACK

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all sirius black stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) <3

MASTERLIST • THE MARAUDERS • 09/01/24

SIRIUS BLACK ONE

@mischievousmoony ✰ if you love something… Your boyfriend, Sirius Black, hasn’t been faithful and you can’t stand it anymore.

@saturnitystar ✰ date

@moonstruckme ✰ slytherin!reader ✰ princess!reader ✰ fwb!sirius part 2 ✰ fwb!sirius ✰ flirtation when Sirius won't stop tormenting you with pet names, you think to take revenge, but he doesn't react as you expected ✰ tattoo artist!sirius

@wolfmoonmusic ✰ misunderstandings Sirius and reader have a kind of an off and on flirtation/situationship thing going and he sees her going on a "date" with Frank Longbottom

@astralee ✰ untitled

@kquil ✰ his future wife ✰ his favorite neighbor part 2 because of his ambition for music, sirius drives many of his neighbours to near madness until they eventually move away and then you move in...

@appocalipse ✰ right where i want to be it's only when lily accidentally spills amortentia on you and all you can smell is cigarettes and dog fur that you realize you're in love with sirius — probably the only person in the world you shouldn't be in love with.

@ddejavvu ✰ animangus!reader

@bellatrixscurls ✰ two ghosts (w/ james) part 2 lily rejects james many times, until he finally gives up. but y/n and sirius are there for him, in more ways than one.

@vivwritesfics 10 things i hate about you Lily Evans isn't allowed to date. Not until her big sister does. At least, James Potter thinks so. What better way to rectify this than to get Sirius to date her. That shouldn't be hard, right?

@ellecdc ✰ lovesick!sirius ✰ Hardass chef!sirius x mixologist!reader

@randomoutsiders ✰ neglect part 2 part 3

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #sirius black smut #sirius black angst #the marauders #sirius black fic recs #sirius black fic rec #sirius black fic #padfoot

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daisynik7 · 1 year

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test drive

Pairing: ex-boyfriend!Eren x f!reader

Word Count: ~4.9k

cw: exes-to-lovers, a breakup scene (flashback) established past relationship, fluff, some angst, smut - car sex (cowgirl), blowjob, cunnilingus, face-riding, 69 position, sex with no condom, multiple orgasms, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, princess, baby)

Summary: You’re moving back to your hometown of Paradis after completing two long years of grad school in Marley. In desperate need of a car, you’re surprised to hear from your ex-boyfriend Eren, who graciously offers you one. Author’s Note: Had this in my head for a while, brain is a little fried at the moment, but I just had to get this out! Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated! Header image found on Pinterest, mdni divider by @/mikeykuns.

“Eren, do you think we should break up?”

The two of you are in your bedroom, finished packing the last of your luggage before you fly out to Marley tomorrow morning. It’s near midnight on the last day of summer. The windows are open, and the chirping of crickets is loud amidst the silence of the night air. He zips your suitcase closed, peering at you, confused. “What?”

It’s been the lingering question on your mind the past couple of weeks, but you were too afraid to mention it. Maybe you were hoping that the thought would go away on its own. You didn’t really want to break up. You love him. The idea of being apart scares you, though. The uncertainty, the unknown. Two years isn’t very long in the grand scheme of life, but who’s to say you don’t end up deciding to remain in Marley for good? Eren has already made it clear that he has no intentions of leaving Paradis. Would staying together be a waste of time when the future is so unpredictable?

You bite your lip, nervous to elaborate, voice timid. “I’ve heard that long distance is really hard.”

He stands up, crossing his arms over his chest. “So? We’ll get through it.”

“Will we, though? I’m going to be busy with school, and you’re starting your new job. Plus, Marley is so far away. When are we ever going to see each other?”

He stares at you as if you’re sputtering nonsense. “We’ll make it work,” he answers, definitive.

“It’s not going to be easy.”

He scratches his scalp, frustrated. “I don’t understand. Do you want to break up?”

You stay quiet, contemplating. When you don’t respond right away, he says, “You do, don’t you?” He sounds like he’s been betrayed, which in retrospect, he has been. By you, of all people. The person who’s supposed to love him.

Breathing staggered, tears welling in your eyes, you murmur, “I just don’t know if we can do it.”

He begins pacing the floor, voice increasing in volume, rightfully upset. “You don’t know if you can do it. Me? I’m all in. You’re already giving up before we try.”

“I just don’t want either of us to get hurt!” you cry.

“What do you call this, then?!” he yells, tears rolling down his cheeks. “This fucking hurts! Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way sooner?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t sure! I was scared.” You sob into your hands. “I’m sorry, Eren.”

He’s shaking his head erratically, fists bunched in his hair. “I can’t believe you’re doing this right now. After all we’ve been through. You don’t even want to give it a shot.”

You swallow hard, wiping snot from your nose. “We can try it out. Let’s try it out,” you plead with him, regretting it.

“No. It’s too late now. You already set us up for failure. Since you’re not confident about us, then maybe this isn’t going to work out after all.” He sounds spiteful. Daggers piercing through your heart in the form of harsh words. And while you struggle for breath, drenching the fabric of your t-shirt, you can’t blame him for reacting this way. You spent an amazing summer together, and the night before you leave, you drop a grenade like this. What were you thinking?

“Eren,” you beg, sniffling

“I gotta go,” he mutters, grabbing his keys, avoiding your gaze.

“Eren, wait!” you shout, following him out the room. Down the stairs. Through the front door. In front of his car. “Eren! I’m sorry! I take it back!”

“Have a nice life in Marley,” he spits out, getting into his car, slamming it shut, and reversing out of the driveway without another word. Headlights reflect off the shimmer in your eyes, watching him leave.

That’s the last time you saw Eren. The next day, you boarded your flight to Marley and moved into your new home. You tried to call him, text him, even pestered friends and family to urge him to reach out to you. He never did. And all the while, you still don’t blame him for reacting the way he did.

The two of you were happy. You loved each other. And when an inkling of hardship reared its ugly head, you ran for it instead of facing it. There’s no way you could have predicted that your relationship would fall apart. In fact, there’s many times that you’ve considered how much stronger the two of you would have gotten if you did stay together. Distance makes the heart grow fonder. If you had believed that sooner, you wouldn’t be living with this remorse.

It's been over two years since that day. Life continued, though it was tough not having Eren around anymore. He was always your biggest supporter, the anchor that kept you afloat. Grad school wouldn’t have been as stressful if you had him by your side, but you managed to scrape by. You made new friends along the way while maintaining your relationships from home. Mikasa and you would chat regularly, and on occasion, she would mention Eren’s name in passing. You received little footnotes of his life through her, but overall, he’s a stranger to you now.

That being said, you’re shocked to finally hear from him after that fateful night two years ago.

Following graduation, you secured a job in Paradis nearby your hometown. For now, the plan is to move in with your family until you save enough money to move out. Unfortunately, you don’t have car. So, in an unexpected turn of events, you sit in the rear of a taxi, on your way to Eren’s.

Eren: Heard you’re home and you need a car.

Those were his first words to you after two whole years of radio silence. After telling you to have a nice life in Marley. Of course, you were stunned when his name popped up on your screen in the first place, even more so to see his offer to help you. Most likely he was informed about your current situation by Mikasa. Nevertheless, it shocks you that he wants anything to do with you.

You actually want to meet with him. It may be no more than a business transaction, but to see him in the flesh will be nice. Will it fix what happened? Probably not. It’s worth a shot, though, for some peace of mind. Maybe this is his own way of telling you that he’s over it, and that the two of you can finally put this to bed.

So, you arrange a time to meet at his place. He gives you an unfamiliar address; it seems he moved out of his parent’s house not long after he started working. Mikasa had mentioned that before. What she’s never disclosed with you is if he’s been dating. On your way to him, your belly begins to fill with dread. Could you handle seeing Eren with another woman? Living together, happily in love? You want him to be happy, but with someone else? Deep down, you still love him. You never dated anyone seriously during your time in Marley. No one even came close to him. He’ll never get back together with you, not after what happened. In fact, you’re positive he’s already found someone, a person who will appreciate him and love him for all he is. Someone who isn’t afraid. It’s better he’s with someone else; you actually hope you see that today, so that you can finally move on.

The trip takes over half an hour. You recognize the route being taken; the same one you would take on the way to Paradis University, where you and Eren met for the first time. During freshman year, Mikasa, your roommate at the time, introduced you to him. The two of you became fast friends, even faster lovers. The spark was there the moment you shook his hand, the moment he gazed into your eyes, flashing that charming smile at you. It was casual at first, no labels, no strings attached. Two horny college kids fulfilling their sexual desires exclusively with one another. Kisses and sex soon became something more, something special. By the time you were sophomores, it was official: he was yours and you were his.

The driver enters a quaint neighborhood, pulling up to the front of a modern apartment complex. Once you pay the fare, you step out, inspecting the building. Eren lives on the third floor; each unit has a balcony overlooking the neighborhood, the nearby cityscape in the near distance. It’s a beautiful location and your curiosity gets the best of you. Who is he currently sharing his life with? Do they watch sunrises together from their grand view, sipping their morning coffee in domestic bliss? Should it be you instead?

Before you get carried away with your imagination, you retrieve your phone from your bag, texting him that you have arrived and are waiting outside. There’s no reason for you to head up into his apartment, right? You’re here to check out his car; that’s it. You can’t help thinking that it would be fun to check out. For research purposes, of course.

He replies quickly, mentioning how he’ll head down to you. You take a few deep breaths, mentally preparing yourself to see him for the first time ever since your bitter goodbye. Do you hug him? Keep your distance? Should you say anything personal or keep it strictly professional? All of these conflicting feelings are fighting with each other in your head. There’s so much you want to tell him: your life the last two years, how sorry you are for the way it ended, how much you miss him. At the same time, you want a clean slate, almost as if you’re strangers meeting for the first time.

As he steps out from the lobby, you freeze on the spot, dazzled by his presence. What strikes you initially is how long his hair has gotten; it’s enough to put up into a small bun, with a few stray strands scattered around his face. His eyes are as brilliant as ever, barely visible dark circles underneath from age or stress, most likely the lather; it hasn’t been that long. There’s still that youthful charm about him, though. That will never fade.

He's dressed in a plain white t-shirt and black sweats pants, an outfit reminiscent of his college years, laid-back and casual. You’ve always liked this look on him, always found it sexy. Too many memories of you stripping this exact attire off him, hasty to make love in the twin bed of his dormitory. You try to shake these thoughts away as he approaches you with a rigid disposition, hesitant and a bit awkward. He clears his throat before saying, “Hey.” His hands are in his pockets as he greets you.

You respond with a gentle smile. “Hi.”

This is going to be harder than you thought.

~~~

Two years. That’s how long it’s been since they broke up, since he last saw her. Two whole fucking years.

Eren didn’t want to break up. The thought never even crossed his mind. He was determined to be with her the rest of his life, of their lives. That’s why he got so upset when she suggested it. They spent an entire summer together, perfect in every possible way, and she had the nerve to ask that question the night before the big move? Do you think we should break up? He couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. They were supposed to love each other forever.

It doesn’t excuse the way he behaved to her afterwards. Instead of discussing it like a mature adult, he exploded, too caught up in the storm of emotions raging in his head. His ego was hurt, pride shot down, heart betrayed. Following that night, Eren was too ashamed by the whole ordeal; he thought it’d be easier to ignore it and move on.

Move on. Yeah right.

He replays those scenes constantly. Her pleas of We can try it out. Let’s try it out. I’m sorry! I take it back! ringing in his ears like a broken record, reminding him that if they talked about it, if he had just turned around to work it out, maybe they’d still be together. They’d be happy. It’s the biggest regret of his life; not fighting for her and letting her slip away. A fleeting moment of weakness and fear leading to their ultimate demise. A tragic ending to such a beautiful story. Can they ever get the happy ending they wanted?

He tried to date other women; it never amounted to anything serious. Eventually, Eren gave up on the dating scene all together, focusing his energy on other priorities like his career and friendships. He was hoping that one day, he’d magically be over her.

When Mikasa informs him about her move back to Paradis, he knows immediately he needs to meet with her. Seeing her one last time might be the key to moving on once and for all. So, he finally decides to be mature and contact her, under the guise of giving her one of his cars. In his defense, he’s been meaning to sell it anyways. He never could quite let it go, though, considering it’s the car he drove all throughout college, with her. Late night drives to Maria’s Point, holding hands and kissing beneath the stars. Fast food runs at their favorite drive-thru, her feeding French fries to him from the passenger side, cruising through the empty streets with their favorite music blaring through the radio speakers. Even the backseat has seen plenty of action during those years, the foreground to many naughty trysts away from campus. Every corner of it carries a memory of her; that’s why he’s been so reluctant to let it go. He still loves her. But that’s all in the past. This car will be the final peace offering that will allow him to move on. He’s got it all planned out.

What he’s not prepared for is the rush of emotions that flood his chest upon seeing her. This is definitely not part of the plan.

When he greets her, she smiles at him, the same radiant smile he’s yearned for the two years of her absence. One that instantly warms his soul. He does his best to maintain his composure. Keep it together, he thinks to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets while he clenches his fists, bursting at the seams. This isn’t part of the plan.

He kicks the ground with his heels, fidgeting. “So…it’s been a minute, huh?” He does a mental eye roll to himself. Did he really say that? Idiot, idiot, idiot.

She giggles, and he nearly combusts. How is it that a simple laugh can ignite every fiber of his being? He’s a fool for assuming he could get through this unscathed. “Yeah. It has. How are you?” Her expression is sincere; he always loved that about her, how intently she listens, how much she cares. Even after their harsh breakup, that sincerity remains. She’s making this much more difficult than he expected.

He shrugs, nonchalant. “I’m okay. You?”

She mimics him, raising her shoulders. “I’m alright.”

He chews his lip nervously before asking, “Well, do you want to check out the car?” Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan, he reminds himself.

She nods, following him to the parking garage to his designated spot. Her eyes widen when she sees it. “You want to sell me this?”

“Yup.”

She inspects it, mouth parted, surprised. “Wow. The Titan.”

He busts out in laughter, amused that she remembers the silly nickname they came up with freshman year. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

She turns to look at him, eyes twinkling, lips curled into a warm smile. “How could I forget?”

He swallows hard, saliva thick on his tongue. Fluttering in his core, tingling through his fingers. The question stumbles out quickly. “Want to take it out for a spin? A test drive?”

Eren’s aware that this is dangerous territory. The two of them, enclosed in the small space of his car, memories in every crevice of the interior. It’s his chance to properly apologize for what happened. That’s how he justifies it, at least. Part of him also wants to recreate their past together. Riding in his car, fingers laced together on the center console, singing their favorite songs with the windows rolled down, wind blowing on their smiling faces. It’s infeasible; he doesn’t even know if she feels the same way. There’s that tiny portion of him that holds out hope; she did agree to meet him. That means something, right?

She contemplates for a moment. “Sure. Can you drive, though?”

“Still the passenger princess, I see.”

“Some things never change, right?” She gives him a wink before stepping to the side of the car, waiting for him to unlock the doors.

He gulps, thrilled and jittery at whatever adventure they’re about to embark on. In the corner of his mind, all he can think is

Fuck the plan.

~~~

You weren’t supposed to get in it with him. The idea was to meet him and do the exchange, simple as that. When you recognize the car, all the memories you shared flood into your mind. You let your emotions get the best of you; you want one more special moment with Eren. It’s only fair to your relationship to end it on a good note, right? You weren’t expecting anything more than closure, which was what the both of you needed.

He doesn’t tell you where he’s driving to, but he doesn’t have to. By the time you’re on the highway, you watch the sun set in the distance from the rearview mirror. You pass by multiple signs, indicating Maria’s Point in x number of miles, the amount decreasing the closer you approach it. The two of you chat, condensing all from the past two years into a half hour car ride. You describe your experience in grad school, he talks about his full-time job. It’s cordial, like two old friends catching up after a while being apart. Except the both of you are fully aware of the elephant squished in the backseat of The Titan. Neither of you mention anything about it.

He drives up the familiar hill leading up to the panorama at the top of the cliff. This spot of Maria’s Point is often secluded, which was perfect for you and Eren back in the day. He parks away from the edge, the last rays of orange and pink hovering on the skyline. With a twist of his keys, he shuts off the ignition and it’s silent. Suddenly, after effortless conversation, you’re shy, unable to speak.

Luckily, he does. “I actually want to talk to you about something important.”

You snap your seatbelt off, adjusting to give him your full attention. His hands remain on the steering wheel, drumming his fingers nervously. “I’m sorry for the way I acted that night.” He doesn’t need to elaborate; you know exactly what he’s referring to. You’re caught off guard from the apology, so you keep quiet, waiting for him to continue.

After a deep breath, he explains, “I blew up, and I shouldn’t have. I got upset because I thought you had given up before we even tried. But I know you were scared; I was too. Regardless, it wasn’t right and I’m sorry. For that and for avoiding you after.” He slides his hands around the wheel, dropping them to his lap. His eyes are forward, avoiding you.

When he doesn’t have more to add, you respond. “Thank you. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have blindsided you. I should have told you how I was feeling instead of ignoring it until the last minute. Like you said, I was scared, so I ran away from it without even giving it a shot. It wasn’t fair to you, and it wasn’t fair to us.” He’s focuses on you now, listening carefully as you talk. “Just so you know, I never blamed you for how you reacted. I deserved it.”

He shifts his body towards you, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t deserve that. I didn’t even say goodbye.”

You blink away the oncoming tears from your eyes. “It’s okay, Eren. We can do that now.”

The stillness that follows is concerning. He studies you with an unreadable expression, contemplating. Then, he leans closer to you, elbow resting on the center console, his breath tickling your cheeks, whispering, “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

You gravitate towards him, lessening the space between you, gazing at his lips. “You don’t?”

“I never wanted to in the first place.”

Drifting forward, you rest your forehead to his, the skin-to-skin contact rekindling the spark that burned so brightly not too long ago. “Eren.”

“I miss you,” he confesses. “Every fucking day.”

His lips graze yours, eyes watching you, waiting. Unable to hold back any longer, you kiss him, melting into him seamlessly. The two years of remorse vanish in an instant, and you’re transported in time, as if you were never apart. You touch your palm on his chest, his racing heartbeat thumping against your fingertips. He slides his hand around the nape of your neck, cradling you gently, deepening the kiss. His lips are soft on yours, prudent and delicate, careful not to overbear you.

You pull off to catch your breath, clutching at his t-shirt so that’s it’s bunched into your fist. “I missed you, Eren.”

He swallows loudly, eyes half-lidded in a daze. “I missed you so fucking much,” he mutters, driving his tongue inside your mouth, kissing you desperately now. He drinks you up like he’s dying of thirst, the only cure to his drought. You match him, opening wider, swirling your tongue with his. His lips trail to your neck, sucking on the pulse point beneath your chin.

“Eren,” you moan, running your fingers through his hair.

“I love hearing you say my name. Fuck,” he swears, licking at the spot. He marks you on the other side, nibbling lightly at your skin with his teeth. “Did you ever think about me?”

“Every day,” you admit, eyes closed as he moves to your ear, pinching your lobe between his lips. “And you?”

“All the time,” he answers. He breaks away, cupping your cheek tenderly in his palm. “I’m still in love with you. I love you.”

Your breath hitches, throat tight with emotion, though you manage to utter, “I love you too.”

He beams at you before suggesting, “Should we get out of here? Go to my place?”

Tugging at his collar, you shake your head with a smirk. “I can’t wait that long.”

Understanding what you’re implying, he suggests, “Backseat?”

You give him a wet smooch and a nod. He chuckles, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Are you that needy for me, baby? Can’t even wait to go home?”

Glancing at his lap, the evident bulge protruding from his sweats, you scoff at him playfully. “Don’t act like you aren’t either. Look how big you are already.”

He grins, exiting the driver’s side and quickly sliding into the backseat, spreading his legs wide, hoisting his shirt off to reveal his chiseled torso. “You’re right. I’ve been waiting two years, please don’t make me wait any longer.”

You follow him to the rear, shrugging your blouse and pants off hastily until you’re down to your underwear. He marvels at your bare figure, licking his lips while you kneel beside him. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, scanning you up and down, almost in disbelief. “Would you think about me whenever you touched yourself?”

Nestled to his lap, ass sticking out, you nod, rubbing your face on the erection straining against the fabric. “I only thought about you, Eren.”

“Fuck,” he groans, mesmerized. He pets you, brushing his thumb across your cheeks. “Me too, sweetie. No one makes me come the way you do.” He lifts his hips to slide his bottoms and boxers down his legs, exposing his hard cock standing stiff and pretty, glistening with precum leaking from the tip.��

You’re salivating, spit coating your entire mouth, hungry for his cock. Without wasting another second, you swallow him, surrounding him in your wet heat until he hits the back of your throat. He bucks up slightly, thighs trembling beneath you. “Fuck,” he swears, trailing your spine, gliding to your ass. “Always so good to me.” He slips beneath your panties, teasing your entrance. “Can I fuck you with these fingers? Please?”

You nod with his cock in your mouth, slurping the drool trickling on his shaft, bobbing on him. He slides one in, then another, pumping them in and out of you as you moan around his dick. He wriggles inside you, stimulating your sweet spot, gushing on his digits with your first orgasm. His follows immediately after, his load spurting onto your tongue, guzzling every last drop of him.

You release him, turning over so your head is resting on his lap, peering up at his face. His hand is between your legs, rubbing the soft plush of your thighs, smiling down at you. He teases your clit, flicking his wet fingers on it, causing you to whine.

“You still like it when I play with you like this,” he purrs, watching you twitch from the pleasure. “My good girl always comes so much for me.” He caresses your forehead gently, toying with your swollen bud. “Can you give me another one, princess?” Too many times do you remember him pleasuring you, sitting in the passenger seat, you gripping to his wrist, directing his hand to your pussy. Tonight is no different; he’s just as relentless, tapping away at you until your creaming for him once more.

“I need to fucking taste you,” he growls, slipping his fingers past his lips, licking them. “Sit up, sweetie. Ride me while you make me hard again.”

It’s clumsy maneuvering in the cramped space, but eventually, you get into position. He’s below you, slurping at your sopping pussy as you’re bent over his cock, licking the head as you stroke him off. The windows begin fogging up, the air sweltering and humid. Your knee digs uncomfortably into the cushion, the other hangs off the edge of the seat, foot planted to the floor. Eren manages to fit his impressive stature, one leg angled and stretched towards the driver’s side, the other laid across the backseat, enough space for you to blow him while you ride his face.

“I missed this sloppy cunt,” he muffles, spreading his tongue on you. He spits, smearing his frothy saliva across your clit, puckered around it, sucking.

Once he’s hard again, you beg, “Fuck me, Eren.” You’re close to another climax and you’re desperate to come with him in you this time. “Please.”

He laughs, lifting you off, his face glossy with your slick, covering his nose, mouth, and chin. “Whatever you want, princess.” He sits up against the seat, legs splayed like a throne for you to sit pretty on. You straddle his lap, rubbing your pussy on his cock before guiding it into your entrance.

You both drawl out, “Fuck,” kissing messily, arms wrapped around each other in a snug embrace. You ride him feverishly as he fucks up into you, gripping onto your hips tightly, bouncing you on his dick. You’re both sweating immensely, the temperature in the car sweltering, but neither of you mind it, too concentrated on each other’s orgasms, too addicted to the high you’re chasing together.

“Fuck, baby. I’m so close,” he groans, picking up the pace, his thighs slapping lewdly against your ass.

“Come inside me, Eren. Fill me up,” you whimper, pushing the hair away from his sweaty forehead.

“Yeah? You want it? Take it then. Take it sweetheart.” His eyes are shut tight as he shoots his load, thick cock pulsing inside you. You ride out your orgasm with him, scattering delicate kisses on his face. He grins, gazing at you with a hazy expression.

“What’s that look for?” you ask, booping his nose.

“Nothing,” he replies, cheeks rounded into a bigger smile. He squeezes your face between his palms. “I’m just happy. So unbelievably happy right now.”

You place your hands over his, leaning into his touch. “Me too.”

You stay comfortably like this for a few minutes, Eren cracking the windows open to let out some steam. You joke, “So, are you still going to sell me this car?”

He chuckles. “How about I give it to you. I was going to anyways.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. It was supposed to be a peace offering. But I like this outcome way better.”

“Me too. But I’m not going to just take it from you. Let me pay you for it.”

He tips your chin to look at you, grinning wide. “How about you move in with me instead?”

“What?” you giggle, unable to contain your smile, thrilled by the suggestion.

“Move in with me,” he repeats, nuzzling his nose to yours.

“Isn’t this is a little too soon, considering we just got back together?”

He stretches his arms out, relaxing into the seat, smirking at you. “We already wasted two years without each other, I’m not wasting any more time.”

You scoot closer to him, kissing his cheek, then his lips. “Okay, you’ve got a deal.”

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lovelybucky1 · 1 year

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Dirty Money- Tommy Shelby x Reader

masterlist

warnings: very mild dub-con, guns, canon-typical violence, dom/sub dynamics, humiliation, degradation, clothed sex, office sex, semi-public sex, name-calling, unprotected sex, mentions of prostitution, rough sex

The chatter from the party room (if this occasion could even be called a party) lessened as you made your way down the halls of the Shelby house. The Peaky Blinders were having a celebration- another shady business practice gone in their favor, earning them a large sum of money. You are just a pretty face to the Blinders. You get in close with the arrogant, sleazy men who the Shelbys often have dealings with, get information, and maybe pickpocket occasionally, but that is the extent of your duties.

Your position means you don’t get any of the money they earn from deals; all they provide you is free drinks at the Garrison. The Blinders are just a stepping stone along your path. You knew they had money, and if you could get an in with them, then you could have access to some of that money. And really, who would notice if a small fraction of that money was taken?

Your dress flows at your feet as you creep down the hallway towards the boss’ study. When you reach the door, you press your ear to hear any voices; when you deem it safe, you twist the handle and push it open.

Thanking God the hinges don’t squeak, you shut it behind you and take in your surroundings. The room is dark, the light filtering through the windows from the street is barely enough to see by. You approach the solid oak desk that likely took the whole family to move into the office. Atop the desk are a few letters, a pen, a set of lamps, and a figurine of a horse. The rest of the office is similar; sparse with decoration, but bits of Thomas’ personality shine through.

You don’t know much about your boss, despite interacting with him frequently. You’ve been his date on various occasions, all with ulterior motives, of course. Even when he is acting vulnerable, you know it’s a farce. Everyone knows Tommy Shelby is all about business, and he never takes a day off.

You walk around to the other side of the desk and pull at the top drawer. Inside, only stationary, so you close it and try the second drawer, which is locked. You take a pin from your hair and bend it before inserting it into the keyhole. It’s been a while since you’ve picked a lock, but you eventually get it open without too much difficulty. When you open the drawer, you find two stacks of money sitting next to a gun and a pack of smokes.

You pick up one of the stacks and flip through it. Two stacks, each one thousand pounds. You’d be set for life with this amount of money. You could get out of this shit, smog-filled city, buy yourself a nice house in the countryside, a car. You could have everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and it was all in your hands at this very moment.

You were jolted from your fantasy about your future life by the lamp near the door clicking on. You whip around, money still in hand, to face the door. Illuminated by the golden light stood your personal grim reaper, the very man you were stealing from.

Tommy has his hands on his hips, eyebrow raised, and his weight leaned onto one leg. His stance screams what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Your stomach drops when you meet his piercing blue eyes, and a wave of fear washes over you. Tommy stares at you until the weight of his gaze makes you tremble, and only then does he speak.

“I’ve had many people try to get close to me for their own gain,” Tommy pauses just to make you sweat. “But none of them have ever been stupid enough to steal from me in my own home.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you say as if there weren’t stacks of money in your hand.

Your voice cracks when you speak and you’d curse yourself for your lack of composure, but it’s hard to remain calm when you’ve just gotten on the bad side of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.

“No?” Tommy asks. “That’s a good thing then, because if you were stealin’ my money, then we’d have some problems.” Tommy stalks forward toward you, eyes never leaving yours as he crosses the room. He takes the money from your pliant fingers; you have enough sense of self-preservation to not put up a fight right now. He places the money back in the drawer and when you look down, you see his fingertips brush against the gun- a reminder. When you look back up, his face is inches from yours and he is looking down the bride of his nose at you like you’re nothing but a pathetic animal. “So why don’t you tell me what you’re doin’ in here, eh?”

You inhale shakily as you try to come up with a convincing lie. You figure that he will see through any of the bullshit you say, but it’s better than admitting your crime. “I lost my ring and I thought I might have left it in here.”

“You might have lost your ring… in my locked drawer?” He asks, tone suggesting he is simply humoring you.

“If you found it and thought it was valuable, I thought you would put it in a safe place,” you explain, trying your best to look innocent.

“I see,” Tommy says, putting his hand on the desk next to your hip and leaning on it. “Now, if you’re done lying, I’d like to hear the truth.”

You swallow thickly as you resign yourself to the fact that you were caught. “I was taking money from your desk.”

“I’m not fuckin’ blind, am I? What’s the money for?” Tommy asks, voice even and steady, though you know he must be simmering with anger.

“For me.”

“Two thousand pounds, all for you? You have no affiliations?” you shake your head. “You’re not working for anyone?”

“No, sir. I wanted all of this for myself,” you confess.

“Hm,” he considers your words. “I’m surprised you were able to put together this little plan, so I doubt you’d be able to pull off bein’ a double agent all this time.” The way he talks down to you makes you want to hide your face in shame, but in the position he has you in, you have nowhere to go. “What were you going to do with all this money?”

“Move out of the city. Find a place for myself. Start a new life. A good life,” you say. Your tone must have been sincere enough for Tommy to believe you because he seems to relax a little.

Tommy shifts on his feet and he looks distantly over your shoulder as if he is lost in thought. You stare at his face, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You wouldn’t be surprised if he killed you, he’s killed others for much less.

“So,” he starts, “You’re not working for anyone else, but you’re still a thief and a traitor.” His intense gaze is back on you and your skin crawls with anxiety. “I don’t think I have to remind you what we do to thieves and traitors.”

You shake your head, knowing full well the fate that all who have wronged the Blinders have met. They’re not deserving of a quick death; they beg until they are too swollen to beg, they pray until God has been beaten out of them, they break until there is nothing left whole, they bleed until they’re dry. A traitor to the family suffers. They’re a spectacle to keep all others in line.

“But that would be such a waste of a pretty face,” Tommy says, the unexpected compliment makes your heart stutter in your chest. “You always did do good work for me. The races, the parties I went to with you on my arm. Sometimes I wished they were for leisure rather than business.”

You furrow your brow slightly at the admission. “What do you mean, Mr. Shelby?”

“I quite fancied you,” he says with a slight smile. “But then I caught you in my study with my money, and I came to my senses.”

He stands up straight and reaches into the drawer, taking out the gun. You take a step back, frightened once again. He doesn’t point the gun at you, only holds it, but you are still no less threatened.

With a sigh, he speaks again. “I don’t trust you not to bring down the rest of us if I turn you in to the coppers. So because I held such a soft spot for you, I’ll let you pick. I could cut your hand off to make sure you won’t steal again, I can send you far away without a single penny to your name, or I could give you over to the Italians as a peace offering.”

Your stomach drops when he lists off your options. For some reason, you thought he was going to let you get away. But seemingly despite his soft spot, business comes first, as usual.

“Please, Mr. Shelby, there has to be something else,” you say, voice watery with held-back emotion.

“What kind of businessman would I be if I let my employees steal from me?” He asks eyebrow raised mockingly.

Feeling desperation cloud your mind, you take a step forward, despite the gun. You reach out and place your hand on his shoulder, the rough material of his suit jacket rubbing against your skin. He looks down at you, his face a mixture of shock and amusement.

“I will do anything, sir,” you say, voice vulnerable and weak, hoping that will appeal to his baser urges. You know it’s a bold and risky move, but you don’t have many other options.

A laugh escapes Tommy’s throat, a rare and usually pleasant sound when it’s not being directed at you. “Are you looking to add prostitution to your list of crimes?” he chuckles.

“No, sir. I am not a whore.”

“You’re offering yourself up to me like one,” he smirks. “Why don’t we make a deal, then?”

“What are the terms?” you ask, trying to add strength to your voice that you’ve lacked since you saw him in the doorway.

“You let me fuck you like the whore you claim not to be, and you get to keep your job with us,” he says casually like he’s talking about the weather.

“That’s it?”

“Well now, don’t sound so ungrateful. If you’d prefer, I could give you away to those animals out here,” he gestures towards the door. “I’m giving you a chance to keep that pretty smile of yours.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “I am grateful, sir. Thank you.”

Tommy puts the gun down on the top of his desk and closes the space between you. His hard chest presses against yours as he brings his hand up to gently stroke your cheek.

“Greedy little thing,” he says, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. Your lips are parted just so, looking soft and pliant, just the way he loves. Tommy’s hand trails from your face down to your throat, where he plays with the simple goal pendant that rests against your skin.

Tommy leans in and brushes his lips to yours, making your heart stutter and your breath catch in your throat. You can feel a slight smile on his lips before he presses them together in a claiming kiss. He smothers you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When you part, his lips are pink and glistening with a mix of your saliva. His light eyes are blown with lust and you feel small in his arms.

“Are you clean or am I going to have to fuck your mouth?” he asks, the dirty words a sharp contrast to his gentle hands on you.

“I’m clean,” you say, voice no more than a whisper.

The only response you get from him is a shark-like grin. He grabs your hips and pulls you flush to him. Even through the layers of your dress, you can feel the hardness in his pants.

It’s almost hard to believe that right now, Thomas Shelby is hard for you. You’ve imagined this countless times; when you were his arm candy, when he’d drink with you at the pub, and even sometimes in your own home. You never thought you’d actually get to have him in such a way, especially not when it wasn’t for business.

“What are you waiting for, dear?” he asks, looking into your eyes and then down at his trousers.

You lean back, putting enough space between the two of you to undo his belt and unbutton his pants. You take out his cock and give it a few dry strokes. The size makes you nervous; you’re no virgin, but you’ve been so caught up with work that you haven’t been seeing anyone.

Tommy shrugs off his jacket and tosses it haphazardly onto his desk chair, clearly unconcerned that he is wrinkling a very expensive suit. Taking his undressing as a hint, you ask “Should I take off my dress?”

“It’s not our fucking wedding night,” he huffs. He grabs your waist and pushes you towards the desk, You brace your hands on the surface and look back at him while he hikes up the skirt of your dress. He piles the bunched-up fabric on your lower back and bends down to admire the view. “Though these knickers suggest otherwise,” he chuckles, slipping his finger under them.

It’s humiliating to be bent over your boss’ desk while he looks at you like you’re a piece of meat, As much as you wish you were more upstanding, that this whole situation repulsed you, the burn in your abdomen is undeniable. You’re getting off on whoring yourself out to your boss.

Tommy grabs the waist of your knickers and pulls them down, letting the white satin pool at your feet. Now bare to him, Tommy inhales deeply, taking in the scent of your arousal. He swipes his thumb through your folds, gathering your wetness and smearing it on your thigh.

“Mr. Shelby, please,” you whimper.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like me teasing?” he chuckles.

He rubs his hand over your pussy, his cold fingertips burning from the heat of you. You wiggle your hips a bit, silently begging him for more, and in return, he gives a sharp slap to your cunt.

“You forget this is a punishment. I could leave you here desperately and wet for hours and there’s nothin’ you can do ‘bout it.”

You let your head hang between your shoulders with a sigh. You don’t doubt his threat; Tommy can be a cruel man and you wouldn’t put it past him to torture you in such a way. No matter what, though, this is better than the alternative.

You feel a long, thin finger prodding at your entrance and you force yourself to relax. Tommy slowly pushes his middle finger into you, and from behind you, a quiet groan can be heard. He pulls his finger out only to quickly replace it, along with a second digit. The fingers inside of you slowly work back and forth to loosen you. Despite Tommy’s rough exterior and degrading words, when it comes to the act, he’s more caring than you anticipated.

The slow drag of his fingers makes you dizzy, desperate for more to fill you as you open up. Seemingly have read your mind, Tommy pulls out his fingers and places his wet hand on your ass.

For a long moment, nothing happens. Tommy stands behind you, both hands on you, but unmoving. You look back to see him watching you expectantly.

“Do you think I’m just going to give it to you?” he asks. You furrow your brow, not understanding what he’s getting at. “Clearly you’ve never been properly fucked,” he huffs. “Beg me for it.”

Of course, how could you be so stupid? A man like Tommy Shelby loves power and control. He wants to own everything and everyone, especially his conquests. You’ve already submitted yourself to him, but he wants you to relinquish the rest of your pride for him.

“Please, sir, I want it,” you try, the idea of begging for sex unfamiliar to you.

“Surely you could do better than that, eh? I’ve heard the things you’ve told our associates. I know your mouth is dirtier than your pretty white knickers let on.” The smirk is evident in his voice and it makes you burn with shame. The things you tell whatever man you were ordered to seduce were all acting. You separated yourself from it, from them, but now you were doing to be deep in it.

“Please fuck me like the whore I am, Mr. Shelby. I’m yours to do whatever you want with. I want you to forgive me.”

The words feel foreign on your tongue and Tommy seems to recognize that. The grin on his face tells you the begging was more for your embarrassment than his enjoyment.

“That’s better, my little whore,” he says as he grabs ahold of his cock and rubs it through your folds. He pushes in slowly but steadily, easing you into it but not hiding his desire until the head is inside. Like a gentleman, he lets you accommodate the stretch before seating himself fully inside of you.

You lay atop the desk limp and pliant, like you’re a toy for Tommy. He grabs your hips tightly, possessively, before he starts to rock his hips against you. The friction of your ass against his hips doesn’t do too much to satisfy your sexual need, but the feeling of his skin makes you burn from within.

“When you first joined,” Tommy speaks up, “I had to make a rule. Don’t fuck the other members. Never had that problem before, but I knew the boys would tear you apart the second they got the chance.”

Tommy’s fingers press into your skin as he begins to slowly thrust into you. As he did with his fingers, he makes the drag of his cock slow, ensuring you feel every inch of his length. Your pussy gripped him like your body knew you were made for him.

You let out a small, involuntary hum when he reaches the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You had fantasized that Tommy would be a good lover, but you never imagined that he’d light all of your nerves on fire.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you moan as his steady pace builds up the pressure in your abdomen.

“It’s Tommy now, eh? Where’d those manners go?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby.”

You’re certain Tommy is going to kill you, despite your deal after you disrespected him. Maybe he’d be merciful since you let him have you… or maybe that would make torturing you even better.

“Say it again,” he says, voice gruff with lust.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.”

“Tommy,” you whisper, hesitant.

His blunt nails dig into your skin, leaving crescent-shaped indents behind. The speed of his hips increases slightly, but he doesn’t slam into you like some previous partners have. He seems to understand your body; to be rough in some ways but caring in others.

“If I punished every thief like this, I’d have far fewer enemies,” he muses as he slides his right hand up your back, then rests it on the base of your neck. “But you’re lucky.”

The hand on the back of your neck moves to the side of your head, where Tommy presses down. There’s not much force behind it, but your head is pinned to the desk. It’s degrading to have him hold you down, preventing you from seeing what’s to come. His fingers twist in your hair and his trusts become increasingly irregular.

“Tommy,” you whine.

“This cunt’s divine,” he says, and for the first time, his voice has an edge of desperation to it.

“Tommy,” you say again.

“What?” he breathes.

“Fuck me.”

With an airy chuckle, Tommy pulls you closer to him by the hips so you can meet each of his thrusts. Your body jolts each time his thighs slap against yours, completely at his mercy while he fucks into you. You feel him shift behind you and suddenly there is a weight resting on your back. Tommy is leaning over you, holding you impossibly close with his mouth next to your ear.

“You’re my fuckin’ whore,” he says, his hot breath and gravelly voice making your skin break out in goosebumps. “You understand me?”

All you can do is nod, but that answer seems to satisfy him because he is standing back up and fucking you sloppily, a stark contrast to his steady pace from earlier. After a handful of strokes, he pulls out and you’re left cold and gaping on the desk, brain lagging to catch up with reality.

You hear a strangled moan from behind you, and then you feel drops of scorching liquid hit your thighs. You squirm on the desk once you realize what has happened. Tommy Shelby has just come on you, effectively claiming you as his own.

He rests his hand on your back as he catches his breath, chest heaving with exertion. He steps back, out from between your legs, and wipes the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve. You look back at him with lustful, half-lidded eyes and he gives you a soft smile. You push yourself up so you can stand, and when you turn to face Tommy again, he looks confused.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“We’re done, aren’t we?”

Tommy chuckles and steps forward again, picking your skirt back up and pushing the bunched fabric into your hands to hold.

“You poor thing,” he says. “You haven’t gotten yours.”

His words surprise you. You wouldn’t say Tommy is a selfish man; self-interested is a better term. You expected this to be over once he was finished, but it seems that equal satisfaction is of importance to him.

He reaches between your legs and slips two fingers into your cunt, then rests his thumb on your clit. You gasp when he touches your bud, which is extra sensitive from the lack of attention. Tommy’s other arm wraps around your waist to hold you close, his lips brushing against your temple.

“Tommy,” you whimper when he curls his fingers inside you.

“So fuckin’ good for me. Guess all it took was a cock to keep you in line. God knows I would’ve done this ages ago if I knew. Think about all the times I could’ve had this sweet cunt when I settled for some whore,” he says, voice thick and sweet. “But now you’re mine.”

His possessiveness, combined with the perfectly placed touches under your dress, makes your head spin with pleasure. You let your head drop forward to rest on his shoulder and he pushes his face into your hair. You reach up to grab at his vest, needing something to ground yourself, lest you collapse into a puddle of pleasure on the office floor.

“I-I’m close, sir,” you struggle to get out between moans.

“What do good girls say?” he asks.

“Please.”

“Cum for me, dear,” he whispers.

As if he pulled a trigger, your release washed over you. Your muscles tighten and relax as the waves of pleasure rock you. Tommy rides you through it, not giving up his assault on your soaked pussy until you are squirming and pushing his hand away.

You lean back to rest on the desk as you find your breath and let your skirt drop down to the floor, covering up the mix of cum that wets your thighs. You watch as Tommy straightens out his clothes and fastens his belt, feeling slightly disappointed that you didn’t get to see more of him.

He joins you by the desk, reaching into the formerly-locked drawer and taking out the pack of smokes, as well as a matchbook from his pocket. He lights the cigarette and tosses the burnt match into his ashtray. He holds it with the two fingers that were inside of you and takes a drag, exhaling a plume of white smoke that swirls in the air in front of you. Tommy offers the cigarette to you but you decline with a shake of your head, and he doesn’t press.

“Do you smell that?” Tommy asks, breaking the silence. You sniff the air, mainly smelling smoke but there is the underlying musk of sex, as well as the intoxicating scent that Tommy wears. “That’s business,” he says, answering his own question.

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning to face him.

“We had a deal. I fuck you and you get to stay here, all your limbs intact.” You nod slowly, not quite understanding what he’s getting at. “I’d like to offer you a promotion.”

You perk up at that. Not an hour ago you were certain Tommy was going to shoot you where you stood, but now he’s offering you a higher-ranking position within the Blinders.

“I want you to be my personal assistant,” he says, a slight smirk on his lips. “No dirty work, no men. It’s an easy job, making my breakfast and bringin’ me whiskey, sorting my mail, writing my letters. Making appointments for me, keeping track of my calendar, making small talk with incredibly dull people I can’t be bothered with.”

“So I’d be your maid?”

“If maids get the added benefit of fuckin’ their bosses, then yes, you’ll be my maid,” he grins. “And you know what the best part is?” You shake your head. “You don’t get to lay a finger on my money.”

You look away from him, embarrassed. Tommy grabs ahold of your chin and makes you look back at him, his blue eyes boring into you once again.

“You can live in my house, I’ll buy you fancy things or whatever the fuck you wanted to do with two thousand pounds, and the only thing you’ll have to worry about is cleanin’ the blood from my shirts.”

You pretend to think over his offer, but really, there’s no question. This is better than any life you could attempt to start on your own, and you have the added bonus of being in the boss’ favor.

“I accept your offer,” you say with a smile.

“Good. Now let’s get out of here before you find another thing to steal,” he says, placing his hand on your lower back and leading you towards the door.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders fanfiction #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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abbyromanoff · 1 year

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Hi 👋🏻 could u write gpWanda x reader x gpNatasha where Wanda is r gf and she doesn't know how to fuck reader properly so she ask Nat for help and N fuck r while W is watching?

I'm sorry if there are mistakes, english isn't my first language

ACQUAINTED

PAIRINGS: Wanda x reader, Wanda x Nat, Nat x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,697

WARNINGS: therapist/patient relationship, perv!Nat, nat and Wanda have dicks, subby!Wanda, Miss (N), threesome, exhibition, voyerisum, degrading, praising, breeding, therapist!Natasha, pet names, smut (obvi), pining, cunnilingus, dry-humping (kinda), bottom!R, top!Nat, Nat treating R like an object,

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Wanda sat on the couch with Natasha in front of her, sitting at her desk with a notebook in hand. The walls were painted a soothing gray, only adorning a few pieces of artwork. She had been seeing Ms. Romanoff for close to a year now after you suggested the idea of therapy, already having one of your own.

“I don’t know, it’s just hard I guess. I mean, I love them so much and I see myself having a future with them, but-” She paused, rubbing the back of her neck and adjusting her potion. Nat hummed, waiting for a response but speaking up when receiving none.

“But, what?”

“I- I want to- well, we don’t really-” She didn’t know why she was so nervous all of the sudden, she had been able to tell Nat almost everything but this seemed to be different.

“Trust me, I’ve most likely heard much worse here, whatever you say is confidential and free of judgment. Just take your time.” Wanda sighed and nodded, trying to figure out the words in her mind before speaking.

“I guess I just want to spice things up, you know? And don’t get me wrong, the sex is great but- but they were the first person I’ve ever done it with. I’m just scared they’re not satisfied and it worries me to think that I’m nowhere near as good as their past boyfriends or girlfriends.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t anything serious, but it was to her. She was a giving person, all she wanted was for you to be happy and well-pleasured, she wanted to impress you. But there was nothing to show off with, she had no skills in that aspect, that’s what she thought at least.

“Okay, that’s understandable.” Nat started. “Have you ever tried, say, having a conversation with them about this? I know you’re not great with communication but maybe just asking them what are some of the things they like or maybe even expressing your worries, I’m sure they’d listen.” She knew you would, but the idea of bringing such a thing up felt uncomfortable. She didn’t hate the thought of sex, but she hated the thought of talking about it. It felt like watching a sex scene on the television with your parents right next to you.

“I know they’d listen, I just don’t know how to, like, bring it up.” Wanda watched as Natasha moved her pen gently against the piece of paper, writing something down that she wished she could see.

“Alright, well, what if you invited them to a session, possibly our next one? We can bring up our discussion and your worries and maybe it could help ease them.” She spoke with such gentleness that it always made Wanda even more nervous. You had picked up on the way she’d always come home with a blush and a small smile after her appointments, but you just assumed she was happy to see you. And she was, but that wasn’t the full reason for her expressions.

“So it would be like couple’s therapy?”

“Yes, pretty much. I’ll have you two both share your sides and your feelings and we go from there.” Wanda could do that, she hoped so.

The one hour ended in what seemed like a few minutes as Nat said her goodbye’s to the woman, watching her leave as her eyes trailed down to her ass. The jeans fit her ass perfectly, it was impossible to stop the biting of her lip and the long sigh.

Truth be told, she had been planning this moment for too long. She remembered when she first ever saw you, Wanda showed her the picture she kept in her wallet of the two of you holding hands that were pointed to the camera with your lips attached in a sweet kiss. Before, she had been slightly upset when finding out that her client had a partner, even with the knowledge that it would ruin her career if she did anything. But then there was you, she didn’t expect you to be so beautiful.

The moment her last client left she went searching through your accounts, using your name to find anything on you. She was embarrassed to say she had stroked herself to multiple orgasms while scrolling through both you and your girlfriend’s photos. She was beyond ecstatic about next week’s visit, she could only hope you’d agree to go.

Luckily, you did. It took a little bit of convincing, when Wanda brought the idea up to you, you were frightened that you did something to upset her, but she quickly rushed that thought out of your mind. She didn’t tell you what exactly it was for, although you assumed it would be nice. You knew Natasha was an amazing therapist, she helped Wanda with all the things you struggled to help with. You were only human, and you didn’t have a degree like Nat, but your moral support meant just as much to your girlfriend.

“Wanda?” Her head shot up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, she quickly grabbed your hand and the two of you walked into her office. She closed the door behind you, her eyes catching a quick glimpse of your body. You were even better than the photos, she couldn’t wait.

“And you must be Y/N if I’m correct.” You nodded and shook her hand, giving her a warm smile as you removed your coat. Wanda did the same, grabbing yours and placing it on the coat rack in the corner of the room.

“So, I’m assuming Wanda has told you why you’re here?” When she looked down at her knees where her fingers rested, nervously picking the skin off of them, she knew her answer.

“Uh, not really. I was a little bit hesitant about this, but she told me there was nothing to worry about, so I’m hoping it’s nothing bad.” You shied away from Nat’s eyes, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks at the woman’s clear attractiveness. You didn’t exactly know what her therapist looked like, but now you wished you had done your research beforehand. She was stunning, breathtaking.

“Well, I can assure you that you have done nothing wrong, honey, there are just some topics we’d like to approach if that’s alright with you.” You nodded and interlaced your hand with Wanda’s, giving a small squeeze to assure her you weren’t upset. She had been planning what to bring up since the moment she left last week, but it seemingly all vanished by now.

“Do you have a therapist or a counselor of your own, Y/N?” It started off with simple questions, ones that you’d expect. That was until she started asking about your relationship and prior ones too. You shifted in your seat as she continued, feeling the immense pressure with both of their eyes on you.

“Now, tell me, Y/N, do you feel satisfied with Wanda?”

“Of course, I do. She’s such a great woman and I can really feel her love, I haven’t ever had someone like her.” You could see Wanda smiling next to you and you joined her. You truly loved this woman more than anything, you wanted to marry her someday and you hoped she thought the same.

“And sexually? Do you feel sexually satisfied with Wanda?” You nearly choked on your spit from her words, nervously chuckling in hopes to redeem yourself. She noticed your expressions and tried reassuring you, holding back as best she could when she patted your knee.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, trust me. It’s normal to feel a sense of discomfort in these situations, but I promise that everything here stays confidential.” Her voice was able to soothe you and calm your nerves.

“Uhm, I’d say so, yeah. Obviously, there are some…things I’d like to try, but we haven’t approached that.” She nodded, as if she wanted you to go on. You didn’t know what to say, your words were stuck in your throat. You were experienced with the topic, but it wasn’t one you openly shared or talked about with others.

“Would you say your sex life is more vanilla than you want it to be?” You loved Wanda, you really did, but she wasn’t the greatest when it came to your intimate moments. You could feel her love through it, but you wanted to see her rougher side, you knew she was holding back on you.

“To be honest, yeah. I kind of like things to be a bit more..kinky, you know?” You could see the redness on Wanda’s cheeks and the tip of her ears as she shuffled her feet around. You felt sorry for making her embarrassed, but that’s why she brought you here in the first place.

“What would you consider kinky, darling?” Her pet name had your lips quivering ever-so-slightly before you came up with a response.

“I guess I just wish she was a bit more rough with me. And don’t get me wrong, I love that I can really feel her care for me but sometimes I just want her to, like, use me.” Nat scooted her desk chair closer to you two, placing her hand on your thigh softly. Wanda was still silent, she was probably too scared to speak up.

“You want to be used, Y/N?” You nodded slowly, feeling your eyes drift to her lips. You felt so dirty looking at her the way you did your girlfriend, but you also knew she was doing the same.

“Hm, who knew such a sweet little thing could be so dirty?” You could feel her hand rubbing small circles on your covered skin, her eyes staring deeply into yours. She trailed them over your body, taking all of you in.

“Does this turn you on, honey?” You nodded once again. “Yeah? Me touching you while your girlfriend watches, that makes you wet?” You gulped down your arousal as you felt her thumb teasing your clit through the fabric, your legs instinctively opening for more.

“Kiss them for me, Wanda; act like I’m not even here.” You looked in the brunette's direction, watching as she snuck glances between the two of you. She placed one hand on your cheek and the other on your lower back as you leaned in for her lips to meet yours. You moaned into the kiss as Nat rid you of your pants, dragging her fingers across your panties and smiling at the wet patch adorning them. The noise allowed Wanda’s tongue to slip into your mouth, the intrusion causing you to groan in pleasure.

Your fingers ran through Nat’s hair, pleading her to come closer. You could feel her hot breath teasing your slit as she slid your panties to the side, small kisses being pressed against your clit.

“Please, Ms. Romanoff.” You pulled away from Wanda to catch your breath, your head resting on her shoulder. Your eyes landed on her crotch as you noticed her palming herself, her hips bucking into her hand.

“You’re such a good girl. Say, why don’t we give Wanda a little lesson, okay?” She smiled when you complied without a thought in your mind. She stood up, guiding you to join her as she removed your shirt, grinning when she took notice of your lacey bra.

“It’s Wanda’s favorite, I was going to surprise her tonight.” She huffed out a chuckle and reached around behind you to unclasp it, shuddering as it fell and you were left in nothing but your panties.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long, baby. Now I can finally get my hands on you.” She had been so desperate to be alone in her office with the both of you, she wanted nothing more than to mark you both as hers.

She led you to her desk, her kisses trailing from your neck to your chest where her lips wrapped around your hardened bud. Your back was met with the wooden table as she lifted you to sit on it, her palms lingering on your soft thighs after she guided your last piece of clothing off of you. She parted them, dropping to her knees in front of you and staring up at you with lust in her eyes.

“Watch closely, Wanda.” You looked over to the woman at the mention of her name, biting your lip with hunger as you noticed her unbuttoned pants and her hand hidden inside of her boxers. She shuddered when you cupped your breast, using Nat’s saliva to help create a small rhythm.

Nat blew a teasing breath onto your pulsing clit before leaning in, taking the bud into her mouth. She sucked delicately, soaking in your moans and twitches. She was too engrossed in your taste to take notice of her growing erection in her pants.

“Oh, you look so pretty on your knees for me, Miss.” It was clear that she was still the one in charge, but her need for you was so great, she couldn’t care if she seemed weak. Wanda, while feeling a pang of jealousy, couldn’t deny the heat that was growing in her stomach. She felt as though she would burst any second, but she was trying to hold back. Her thumb would occasionally brush over her tip, causing her eyes to squeeze shut.

“Look at me, Wands; watch me.” She pried her eyelids open willingly, nearly whining when she saw you wrap your legs around her therapist’s head. You grinded into her face as her tongue tortured your hole, diving in and out repeatedly. She groped your ass in order to push you closer into her, her nose poking at your clit.

“Fuck! Fuck- right there, yes!” You covered your mouth with your hand in order to silence yourself, becoming ashamed of how loud you were. Neither of them were complaining though, they thrived off of your noises; it brought satisfaction knowing that they were the reason you were in such a deep state of pleasure.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum.” Nat smirked into your cunt as you were brought over the edge, your head falling back and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your silent screams filled the room as Nat continued to lap up your juices, Wanda watching with the wish that she was the one tasting you. You were addicting, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. Every sway of your hips, every lick of your lips, every noise, and every word that left that sweet mouth was so alluring.

You were suddenly pushed to lie down, feeling the lumber underneath you bruise your back. You leaned up on your elbows to admire the woman as she undressed herself, running her hand through her short hair once as to fix what you tugged.

“Tell me, love, have you ever heard of breeding?” You nodded, receiving a slap to your cheek. Wanda widened her eyes at both the words and the rough contact, is this what you meant? Is this how you wanted her to treat you, like you were some no-good slut?

“Yes, Miss, I have.” She hummed, guiding her tip through your slit and gathering the wetness as a replacement for lube.

“When was the last time you ever pleaded to milk Wanda dry, hm? Beg her to slap you ‘till your skin turned black and blue? Or, better yet, when was the last time you got on your knees and asked her in that sweet little tone of yours to treat you like the dirty whore you are?” Your chest rose and fell with every breath you took, each one not feeling like it was enough.

“Never.” You shook your head as you answered, your eyes not being able to meet hers. She gripped your chin roughly, pulling you in close so her nose was practically touching yours.

“What was that?” She asked again, even if she had already heard you well enough.

“Never.” You repeated, this time louder. She clicked her tongue and shot you a disapproving glance.

“Mm, there’s always two sides to the matter. Here Wanda was not knowing what to do because you couldn’t communicate, do you think that’s fair on her?” The way she spoke, the light rasp to her voice was what caused the wetness already coating your thighs to increase.

“N-no, Miss.” She turned your head to face Wanda and she blushed in the moment you caught her. You could notice the stains now coating her boxers and the shameful look on her face; she had peaked with you. You didn’t know how you didn’t hear her, she was usually the louder one of you both. But you guessed that you were too far into your orgasm to care for anything else.

“Apologize to your girlfriend, Y/N, and tell her how sorry you are.”

“I’m sorry, Wanda, I’m sorry for not- not talking about my needs and wants when I should’ve. I’m sorry.” You stuttered over your words as you felt Nat’s cock prodding at your hole, her tip breaking way and creating a small stretch.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry too.” She spoke up, and for the first time this entire session, you were able to hear her voice. It was coated thickly with her Sokovian accent seeing as she had just moved here nearly eight months ago. You hoped it would never go away, no matter how long she lived in this country.

“See? You’re both already doing such a good job.” You both smiled at the praises, seeming to fish for them from the woman at bay. You sent a small ‘I love you’ to Wanda from across the room, although it was only mouthed out. Nat grabbed hold of your waist, pulling you towards her and causing her length to fill you up almost entirely. You gasped at the intrusion, crying out in pain as you clawed at the desk.

She continued to slowly lead you further, moaning to herself as your warmth clamped around her. Your tears only brought more delight to her heart, she could only grin when seeing them.

“You’ve been begging for Wanda to use you yet you can barely even take me? Aren’t you just a pathetic fucking slut.” Her fingertips ran along your face, her thumb rubbing gentle circles as a faux sense of comfort. She then brought them down to your neck, wrapping her palm around it and cutting off your airways. The only thing you could manage to get out were choked sobs and moans. The burning discomfort slowly eased into one of satisfaction as Nat slowly thrusted her hips into you, the sounds of skin clapping together ringing through all three of you guys’ ears.

“Did you know your girl likes to be choked, Wanda?”

“N-no, ma’am.” She chuckled at the title given to her. Her breasts bounced with every movement of her hips, her cock hitting your womb. There was a small yet noticeable bulge carved out on your stomach making her groan, she was so big compared to you.

“Hm, maybe in our next session we can teach Y/N a lesson too, what do you say?” She didn’t need another opinion to decide her answer, it was final. It wasn’t just the brunette at fault, you were required to voice your wants too, even if she’d have to force it out of you.

“Please-” You managed to get out when her hand removed itself from your bruising neck and found a spot on your waist, pressing down harder than before. She was practically resting her weight on top of you, causing the bone to struggle in holding her up.

“Shut your dirty fucking mouth, I don’t want to hear another word from you.” You were close, so close, and so was she. She was forcing her body to hold back, ensuring that you were to finish first.

Wanda’s erection only grew after her orgasm, her greed making her yearn for another. You were the only one who had ever been able to make her cum, she assumed there was no better. Shyly, she walked forward, her soiled clothing still masking her bottom half. She gave Nat a look, asking for permission to which she was granted.

“Don’t ask, sweetheart, force it.” She was so used to constantly asking if it was okay to do something to your body, after all, it wasn’t her choice. Every time you’d say yes, but there was always a nagging fear that you’d not want it and she had forgotten to ask. The thought made her sick, who would ever think to do such a thing?

“They want it, Wanda. Just rub yourself against them- perfect, just like that.” She praised when Wanda held you by the back of your neck and rutted her bulge against your face, the fabric rubbing against her hard length. She whimpered when your hand came up to rub her balls, your mouth peppering kisses over her cock.

“You close, baby?” You didn’t know who she was asking, but you both agreed. You continued to gently suckle while wishing you were able to truly feel her instead of the wrinkles in her trousers.

“Ah! S-shit, cum with me.” You followed her orders and let the coil in your stomach snap as you soaked her cock, feeling her release shoot deep inside of you.

You nuzzled against Wanda as you felt her twitching, only to notice a wet patch forming on her pants. She had leaked through her underwear while itching for more, the knowledge only fueled your pride.

You mewled as Nat pulled out of you, watching as the cum dripped down your cunt, some landing on the desk while other droplets fell to the floor. She didn’t bother looking for her clothes, instead pulling the younger girl in for a kiss before doing the same with you. It was passionate, both kisses were. You could sense the longing and the emotions in it that she tried to mask, only making you chase after her lips for more once she leaned back.

“Shall we plan your next appointment then?”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

Winter's King 18

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: It's Friday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Another day brings you just short of the mountain peak. The pace of the train is ragged as they come to a halt and murmurs crawl up and down the lines. You slump against the frigid wind, nestling your chin into the fur of your cloak as you keep your eyes on Daisy’s neck. You yawn as Bryce reaches over to fix the reins as they almost slip from your grasp.

“You well, mouse?” He growls.

You nod. You haven’t spoken much in the last days, not since your first night on the mountain pass. You haven’t known what to say. You know he must have seen the king and yourself, how close you were, and you feel his judgment. You just don’t know how to say it isn’t your want. It would be improper to blame the king.

“We’re almost there. Castle’s just ahead.” He looks up at the dark shapes soaring through the skies. He pointed out the vultures a while back, inferring there must be carrion near to bring them out. “You’ll have a warm place to lay your head.”

You hum and offer nothing else. As you think of staying still, your stomach storms as violently as the skies. At least when you have a destination, when you are moving, you can make yourself elusive. Once you’re still, you don’t quite know what you’ll do.

“Daisy will be relieved to rest, the old beast,” he chuckles, “she’s had quite the campaign.”

You pet the horse’s mane, your hands mittened in strips of wool the grey soldier wrapped around them.

“I know what the matter is but if you’re not gonna say it, I won’t neither,” he grumbles.

You dip your head, hiding under the hood. You come to a halt behind the rest of the party as it stalls completely. You lean and peer over the edge of the horse.

“Aye, you just wait,” he swings off his horse and lands easily on his feet. The snow dusts up around his tall boots. He comes to help you off the horse, your legs as snugly bound in wool. “We’ll find ya some proper clothes for the road at the castle. You’ll need all your toes.”

You sigh and cross your arms. You look ahead then behind you. You cough and turn to touch Daisy’s soft neck.

“I didn’t...” you begin. “I wouldn’t betray the queen. Or the king.”

He huffs and moves closer, blocking the wind as Daisy nuzzles his shoulder, “I know ya wouldn’t, mouse. Is that why yer so meek? You think I judge you?”

“What happened--” you voice piques and you nearly choke on it, “sir,” you throw your hands up, “I swear, I didn’t ask for it. The king...”

“Kings do as they will. It is in their nature, it is their right,” he shrugs, “I am not a naive lad no more. You mightn’t have noticed how my beard matches the sheen of my sword, but I’ve seen many things. The old king... he had a few loves. None of them his wife.”

“Love? Sir. It was a mistake, surely.”

He is quiet as he shifts his soles. He turns one way then the other, “do you really believe that?”

Your heart swells so big your ribs hurt. You cross your arms, hooking your hands over your shoulders. You chew your lip and look up at the tall grey man.

“I don’t know what to believe. I thought I came to serve the queen. I thought... I don’t know, sir. I don’t. I wouldn’t ever hurt anyone. I wouldn’t want to.”

“I know it,” he affirms, “you are the gentlest soul I’ve met. Well, since my own wife. Certainly, the king is taken with a summer soul like yours. How could he not be?”

“Taken?” You utter in horror. “I am a maid. That’s all I am. It’s all I ever needed to be.” You sniffle and bring your hands to the edges of your hood, pushing it back to see him clearer, “sir, it keeps me safe.”

“It did. It kept you safe when it could but that shield has broken.”

“And what about you?” You murmur.

He averts his gaze guiltily, “what the king does behind his own walls, I cannot stop. That night, he was unsafe. He threw caution away. For your sake, I deterred him. Reminded him of his duty.” He shakes his head and frowns at his boots, “you came to serve the king, you said, and that is what he intends.”

You whimper. How can it be? He is wed. He has beautiful wife. And a throne. And an heir on the way. You’re just the maid. Just a maid. Not... that.

“So, you would let him?” You challenge, a surge welling up your throat, a heat unlike anything you’ve felt before.

“I serve the king too,” he mutters. “Though I do care for you, little mouse, how could I not? But I was commanded to see to you. To keep you unbothered. Unsullied.”

Your legs wobble beneath you and you nearly fold over. You can’t stop the rush of emotion that overcomes you, the fire that burns in your veins and makes your vision bleary. You throw out your arms and shove Bryce. Once, twice, three times. He doesn’t budge, taking each in turn.

“How dare you, sir! How dare you!” You hit his chest with your fists and collapse into him. “I never wanted it. I don’t. I don’t. I don’t.”

“I know, sweet mouse, I know,” he curls an arm around you and sways, petting your hood, “you’ve every right to despise me. I will take whatever you have for me.”

You heave and tamp down a throttling sob, “why, sir, why?”

“It is... my duty.”

You hear the strain in his voice, you feel the tremor that rolls through him, and how he clings tightly as if he fears you’ll push him away. You can’t. Even if he's hurt you, he is all you have.

“I won’t beg forgiveness, I don’t deserve that,” he whispers, “but I’ll always be here for you, mouse, so long as you need.”

You stay again him, silent and weak. You’re angry. You’ve never felt this sort of way. You’ve never felt as if you could tear your flesh from the bone just to let the tension out. You hate it. You’ve never hated anything but that feeling, you loathe it. It hurts worse than anything you’ve ever known.

“I’m so sorry, mouse,” he continues to rock you, “so very sorry...”

⚔️

You cannot blame your daze for nearly missing the castle right before you. The dark exterior blends into the rock face, set into the side of the mountain so that an untrained eye might not pick it out. The part splits into several streams, those for the stables, some soldiers to keep watch over the pass, and many more waiting to enter the great castle of Vulture’s Peak.

As if to proclaim their name right, at least a dozen of the long-necked scavengers perch upon the towers. Bryce keeps you close as you keep astride. You peer toward the front of the crowd. The king’s white hair defines him among the bodies. He speaks with several black-garbed soldiers as Jazlene is helped down from the cart. Neither husband or wife acknowledge each other.

You sit back and hang your head. Bryce breathes in through his nose and clucks, “right. Let’s get you to the queen.”

You glance over, numb from more than the cold. He dismounts and brings you down to ground level. He fixes your cloak as it opens and lets in the stirring bluster. He finds a post to tie the horses to before he herds you towards the castle.

You approach with your head down. The queen stands with a hand on her lower back though her bodice remains snug and flat to her unchanged stomach. The fur cloak drapes from her shoulders majestically as she stands with her head high. You stare at the hem of her skirt and await your orders.

“Let us see to our host,” the king declares as he offers his arm to his queen, a stiff and despondent gesture.

You keep your eyes down. You would rather wait without. You sense him pausing, looking around, and he turns to face the facade. He huffs. “Right, Sir Bryce, until I give the signal, you will keep all without.”

“Your highness,” Bryce agrees and moves closer to you.

King Geralt stalks through the snow with his wife in tow. Her words drift back behind her, “... so bleak. Is this how they receive a king and queen?”

The king grunts but gives no answer as he pulls her onward, climbing the steps one by one as she slows him with her odd lean back. You turn to Bryce and tuck your chin down. Neither of you have said much since the pass.

You wait, blowing into your hands and mulling back and forth. A restlessness stirs through the bodies around you, an uncertainty as you await the king’s confirmation. The lull carries on until the sun shifts into a new phase, or rather, the sky changes hue.

The doors of the castle creak open and a slender woman descends the stairs. Her skin is smooth like polished brass and a similar hue, her hair is a shade of straw and her eyes are an eerie shade of jade. She wears a plain cloak on her shoulders and a square cap on the crown of her head.

“Lord Vesemir welcomes the king’s company,” she speaks boldly above the din of curious murmurs. “Please come.”

She beckons with her gloved hand and turns back to the castle. She walks forward without waiting. Bryce tuts, “typical.” He spins and waves, “you heard her, let’s go. Servants to the east, soldiers find your stations, lords and ladies, the west wing.”

He spins and grabs your arm, ushering you ahead of the scrambling masses. You let him lead you on, though you might have preferred to stay in the gales.

Inside, the walls are lit with mounted lanterns. The flames glow along the spacious hall and corridors haze amber to each side of you. Bryce keeps you close as he steps out of the way of the flood of bodies. He stops several other soldiers to direct them on how to accommodate the party.

“Right,” he peers up the central staircase, with posts like spears, and he points you up it.

“You know this place?” You keep your voice low as you come to the top.

“Aye, been here now and again,” he says. “Vesemir isn’t the most hospitable. Not beyond a few, but the king does hold a special bond with the old bear.”

“Oh,” you peer around at the plain tapestries, no patterns, just cut fabric to warm the walls. There is a single marked banner with symbols you do not recognise.

“Do not fear. He is harmless. He puts on a mean snarl but he isn’t so mean as he pretends,” Bryce explains.

You nod and skid to a halt in fright. A large bear stands by the wall, arms raised in attack, it’s great teeth bear in a growl. You squeak and knock into the soldier beside you. It’s white fur reminds you of the king’s tresses.

“Oh, mouse, it’s long dead,” he pats your shoulder and laughs, “Vesemir claims to have killed the beast with his own hands. He doesn’t mention that no sound or wise man would be so far north as to meet a white bear such as this.”

You gulp and gape at the large beast.

“Stuffed. It’s hide preserved,” he points as he gets closer to it, unafraid, “when I first came, I had my sword drawn at the sight. It’s a cruel trick by the castle lord.”

He touches the bear’s large claw and gestures you forward. You move forward and he takes your hand, putting it to the beast’s large paw. You feel the dried pads and shudder. He lets you go but you do not rescind your reach. You feel the fur of the creature, softer than you imagined.

“Suppose we should get you where you need to be,” he exhales, taking out his sweet leaves to put some in his mouth.

You pull back and face him. You wait for his guidance and he presses on. He pauses to ask a servant where the queen’s chamber lays. With his answer, you continue on.

The two guards stand outside the doors. You recognise the one that is often there, with the coppery hair and sparse beards. The other is not familiar to you, though you’ve seen many faces on the road. Bryce nods to them and they let you through.

“Don’t trouble her maid, she is in sensitive condition,” the orange-haired guard warns.

“Eh,” Bryce growls, “mind yer business, she’ll mind hers.”

“Don’t get your hackles up, old man,” the guard scoffs and you stop to look back.

“In,” Bryce demands and points you through the door.

You enter and the door closes out the voices, muffled by the barrier as their argument continues. The confrontation is most unexpected. You don’t recall either of the queen’s men ever speaking to you before. Most times, they barely took notice. You’re only happy Bryce was there to bark back at him.

The queen is at the foot of her bed. She looks unhappy. You glance around the chamber, for a moment expecting the king to be lurking there with her. She is alone, holding her stomach as she breathes slowly.

“Would you stop staring like a dolt and fetch a pail?” She garbles behind her hand.

You grab the clean chamber pot from the corner and bring it to her. She seizes it and spits into it, though she hardly spits up more than saliva. She grumbles and shoves it back at you.

“This place smells like cinder and dust,” she complains as you return the pot to its place. “And the snow is repugnant. To think, I am to be queen of ice. How dull. We should make our thrones in the summer lands.”

Her gripes ease you. Those are expected, almost a comfort.

“Hardly matters where I go, does it? The king never comes anyhow,” she whines and lays back across the mattress, “I carry his child and he doesn’t seem to care. Do you know what he said when I told him?”

You don’t reply. She doesn’t want to hear more than her own voice.

“He says, ‘see your duty done before you boast,’” she kicks her legs as they hang over the edge, “see it done? I have his seed in me and he is still distant. Will he see his child in my arms then command me see it to adulthood before my duty’s rewarded?”

You stare at the wall. Her account of the king’s neglect sickens you, so much that you could spit up in the same pot as her. Is it you? Are you the reason he does not tend to her? Perhaps you do deserve her wrath more than you know. You wish in that moment that she would let it out upon you. You have earned any lashing she may give you.

Though you may not have chosen your path, not as maid, not as traveler, not as the king’s desire, it does not matter. You will pay for the whims of your masters. As Merinda predicted, though not as she might have dreamt it, they have drawn you into great danger.

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king

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danikamariewrites · 9 months

Text

Kisses

Eris x reader

A/n: I really loved the corruption Eris hc I wrote so I thought I’d elaborate just a lil bit 😉

Warnings: corruption kink (kinda), lots of kissing and thoughts about Eris

The thought of Eris’s lips hadn’t left your mind for days. It’s only been a week since your first proper date with your mate. Mate.

You still couldn’t believe it. And Eris Vanserra of all people. He had always danced with you at balls, making sure to be kind to you. It’s part of why you had been so taken with him.

The taste and feel of him mixed with those Summer strawberries lingered on your lips. It had affected you so much that you had found a lipstick to match the shade your lips had stained.

You had worn the strawberry lipstick every time you’d seen Eris this week in hopes of another kiss. Every time you were near your mate you found your mind wandering back to that picnic. The way he held you to his chest, his warm hands roaming your body. His warm, plump lips slowly melding with yours for sweet kisses.

A warm feeling began to bloom in your chest at the thought of Eris. A smile spread on your lips at the growing warmth. Signaling he’s closer to you.

Seconds later, the door to his living area gently opens and you’re met with his beautiful sharp face. Closing your book, you stand to greet your mate.

Instead of curtsying—a habit Eris made a point to break with you—“You’re my mate,” he had said on your second date, “and future High Lady, you don’t need to curtsy to me, my heart.”

Eris makes his way toward you with his arms held out. You throw yourself into his embrace. The bond singing at your reunion. Resting your chin on his chest you flutter your lashes up at him. A soft flame flicked to life in his eyes as a soft smile spread on his lips.

His loving gaze travels from your doe eyes to those strawberry pink lips. Eris sucks in a small breath, a slender finger coming up to trace your lips. “Beautiful,” he breathes out. A blush heats your cheeks at his touch and words.

“You are just stunning, little fox.” You bite your lip at his compliment, trying to hide your face in his tunic. “Hey,” his light laugh like music to your ears, “don’t hide, little fox. I haven’t seen you all day.”

The same finger that traced your lips hooks under your chin. You let him tilt your head up to meet that molten gaze. Silently, you slip from Eris’s grasp leading him over to the couch you have been occupying since this afternoon.

Sitting on Eris’s lap you drape your arms around his shoulders, lazily playing with the ends of his long hair. “How was your day?” You ask sweetly. Eris smirks down at you, “Ok. Better now that you’re in my arms.” Another blush creeps on your cheeks. Becoming putty in his hands. “How are you? I haven’t seen you all day.”

“I’m good, I relaxed and read. Thought of you most of the time.” Eris’s eyes widened at the bold comment from you. His heart rate picks up at how adorable you are.

“Oh,” he drawls, “and what were you thinking about, specifically?” He raises a perfect brow at you. Mother above, you just want to caress his face. His perfect smooth skin is a magnet for your hands.

Your fingertips gently trace his lips. Moving to trace his cheek bone down to his jaw. You rest your palm against his jaw, pulling him slightly to you as you inch forward. Eris brings the two of you together, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’ve been thinking about our picnic, those strawberries, your kisses,” you whisper. The want for more clear in your voice. Eris’s breath hitches.

“You want more?” You let out a small whine as you nod against him. Gods, if this is how you react to kisses how would you fare with everything else Eris has to teach you?

Eris finally touched your lips with his in a searing kiss. That familiar spark lighting between you. You melt into him, pressing your front to his. Eris’s mouth swallows your moans. His tongue prodding at your lips.

You slowly pulled away from him for air. Your chest heaving, your eyes still closed as you cling to Eris.

Eris leaves soft pecks against your lips. He gently nudges his nose against yours. “Gods, I need your lips forever.” You smile against his lips. “Please, want you more Eris.”

Eris knew at that moment he would never be able to deny you. Ever. Eris kept kissing and kissing and kissing you. He never wanted his lips to leave yours.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra x reader #acotar eris #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x you #eris x reader #eris vanserra acotar x reader #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra x you

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unalivejournal · 10 months

Text

imagine a tumblr simulator set in the velvet goldmine universe lmfao

2 notes

🎹 wilderatz Follow

DNI if you still support br*an sl*de after the shooting hoax. what he did was fucking unacceptable and pathetic. the panic and heartbreak on the dashboard that day was absolutely traumatizing. and the fact that it was all for cheap publicity makes it even more despicable. if you HAVE to listen to his records the least you could do is buy them secondhand

#so glad curt never cut that record with him

186 notes

⭐️ glittersisgay

i got new boots! seeing the flaming creatures tonight :-) life is good

4 notes

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼 wildemons Follow

sorry but the sladewild narrative is CRAAAAZY. like imagine you start off as a nobody performer and becoming enthralled by this rockstar after he shows up your act and you end up becoming famous by being inspired by his stage presence AND YOU BECOME FAMOUS ENOIGH TO GO TO AMERICA AND MEET THIS GUY AND YOUR LABELS START FABRICATING A RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN U TWO TO GENERATE PUBLICITY FOR YOUR NEW ALBUM BUT THEN YOU ACTUALLY FALL IN LOVE AND HAVE TO KEEP IT A SECRET BUT THEN THE PAPARAZZI FINDS OUT AND YOU HAVE A HUGE FALLING OUT BUT THEN A FEW WEEKS LATER YOURE SPOTTED IN THE CROWD AT THE DEATH TO GLITTER SHOW

♻️ 🦷 roxytunes Follow

lmfao WHAT are you talking about. swear to god i’m sick of you invasive freaks trying to make things up about real peoples lives. the part about the labels trying to market slade and wild as a couple isn’t even true. yes they were heavily publicized as close friends but they never admitted to being in a relationship. also receipts on brian being at the death to glitter show???? stop spreading false information

♻️ 👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼 wildemons Follow

anyways watch out for my new sladewild maxwell demon tour era fic that will be published in my next zine 💋

#my mutual was literally next to him in the crowd.

58 notes

🪩 girlboydragdemon

at the Sombrero Club with the glamrocktuals YAYYYY

♻️ 🪩 girlboydragdemon

Hangover.

#we may have made. mistakes. #also we think brian slade’s former manager was in the booth behind us

11 notes

🌟 venusinpurrs

♻️ 🎸 balladofmaxwellsemen Follow

WHY ARE WE PITTING THREE BAD BITCHES AGAINST EACH OTHER

♻️🌟 venusinpurrs

better question WHY ARE VENUS IN FURS LOSING GUYS CMON ITS OBVIOUSLY THE RATS

♻️🌟 venusinpurrs

do you people hate dykes

244 notes

💋 jack-fairy-fan51 Follow

Anyone else feel like this Tommy stone guy showed up out of nowhere?

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❇️ 20th-cxntury-bxy

Well…. it’s been a fun time on the road with Malcolm & co. (@/theflamingcreatures) but in the months following the hoax and the death to glitter tribute I’ve been feeling more and more inclined to move on. idk. i know there’s still an active tumblr community but in the real life scene it feels like everyone’s just…. given up. I’ll be starting a new job soon and won’t have a lot of time to post. Might delete this blog in the near future. remember to support local shows and keep being yourself

#a.journal

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👨‍🎤 lipstickkissedelbowglove

word on the street is that mandy slade divorced brian???? lmao get his ass

♻️👨‍🎤 lipstickkissedelbowglove

[#finally i have a chance with her]

you’re funny if you think any of us on this site have an inkling of a chance with her

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🎸 balladofmaxwellsemen Follow

Just found this on the sidewalk. does anyone know what it is?

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hiraethwa · 4 months

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ִ ۫ ּ ֗ – lost and found.

pairing: miya osamu x reader a/n: my ushijima fic procrastination/trying to get the creative juices flowing attempt word count: 700

miya osamu has few regrets in life. one of them was breaking things off with you when things got rough. that was a few years ago back in high school when he was immature and too caught up with trying not to be left behind by atsumu.

his last words to you then were “i don’t have time for us right now.” he thought he had time on his side after volleyball, after high school, at the next stage of life, but he realizes now that it was childish of him to think that he would have more time in the future.

with onigiri miya being a success in the city far away from your childhood home of hyogo, he is kept busy with the day to day operations of the shop. not that it would have mattered, since your family moved away from hyogo when he returned from nationals, and he has not seen or heard from you since.

the eleven digits are still stored under your name in his phone, transferred from his old flip phone he used in high school, even though he had it memorized by heart. he had stared at the numbers for an unhealthy amount of time, unable to bring himself to dial it.

it wouldn’t have mattered, he told himself, what was the point of barging into your life again when he was the one who ended things? no, he did not have the right to do so. heck, you could have moved out of the country for all he knows.

except he does know, he just can’t remember it. it was a few days before winter break. he vaguely recalls you calling and telling him something about moving in hysteria when he was busy with practice or some other thing that felt insignificant now that he thought about it, but he had brushed you off and told you that he will talk to you later about it.

and then like the worst boyfriend in the world, he forgot all about it. in fact, he had gone and broken up with you before the team left for tokyo like the inconsiderate asshole he is.

if only he could recall where you told him your family was moving to.

he taps into his call log, staring at the most recent entry dated last night. atsumu had gotten him drunk after yet another amazing win by the msby jackals, and like the lovesick fool he is, osamu had fucking dialed your number when he went to the bathroom.

the call had gone through, each ring a steady succession after another, instead of the rapid beeps that signaled an out of service number. to his eternal horror, someone had picked up, his muddied brain registering the change when the ring tone he had been listening to stopped. that was enough to snap him out of his drunken daze and press the red button in a hurry.

but that piece of information did nothing to give him any answers. it could have been you, if you were still in japan and kept your old number. it could have been someone else who is using your number now. and he still didn’t know where you were.

osamu groans, resting his head against the counter and closing his eyes briefly. it was late at night near closing time, and the person he was waiting for to show up at such an hour would be his horrible twin brother who was running late.

the ring from the doorbell has him perking his head up. finally. “i’ve been waiting ages for ya, ya scrub–” but the insults die in the back of his throat as he realizes it is not atsumu staring back at him with wide eyes.

the customer stands frozen in shock at his words, her form-fitting dress with intricate lace detailing, possibly tailor made, seemingly out of place at his casual establishment. her face is obscured by a mask, and osamu thinks that he may have frightened this poor lady, and is about to blurt out an apology when he meets her eyes.

he would recognize that pair of eyes anywhere, he’s seen them in his dreams so many times he lost count since that fateful day in hyogo.

“y/n” he breathes.

looking for more? browse the library

#hiraethwa writes #miya osamu #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu angst #osamu x y/n #miya osamu x y/n

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zepskies · 11 months

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Code Red

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x Female Reader

Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

AN: So I didn’t think I’d ever write for this character, but it was prompted by a lovely anon and encouraged by my friend @thatonewriter15! I hope you enjoy. ❤️

Song Inspo: “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. “I’ve found a love…”

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, suggestiveness, mega fluff

He was in the zone.

Four six-inch double buffalo chicken clubs with banana peppers on whole wheat bread (gross, but he wasn’t the one eating ‘em), two spicy Italians, and a tuna on rye.

Priestly wrapped them up with practiced precision and slid them down the line to Piper, Mission Impossible-style. She smiled at his antics and took them and brought them over to Tish at the register.

Priestly had another turkey and provolone on his docket, hold the mayo, when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Today he actually did have pockets. As in, he was wearing joggers, boots, and a graphic tee that said: NO TEQUILA, NO ENTRY.

He swiveled his phone in his hand like a drummer with a drumstick. He smiled when he saw your name flashing across the screen, and he answered it.

“Hey, Beautiful. What’s up?” he asked.

“Boaz, I need you,” you said. To his ears, your voice was sultry, and a bit strained.

He perked up with raised eyebrows.

“What’s holding up the turkey and cheese?” Piper asked.

Boaz held up a finger to the blonde and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. His hands busied themselves with the next sandwich order, but he was all too attentive to your every word.

“Oh yeah?” he replied to you. His smile deepened. “Well, that’s convenient. Because I’m craving some of you, baby.”

You gave a breathy chuckle. “Normally I’d take you up on that, but no. I need you. As in, I really need you to do something for me.”

Priestly arched a brow. His brain was already filling up with ideas of how he could best help you. He mentally took an inventory of the “tools” in your nightstand drawer, and which ones he could best use to his advantage when he—

“Uhh, well, I got about one more hour in my shift,” he said, lowering his voice, even as it deepened a notch. “But if Jen covers me, I can be outta here in half the time.”

“Oh my God, good,” you gasped. “I’m in so much fucking pain, you have no idea.”

Priestly blinked, and any thoughts of kinky fun times came to a screeching halt. Concern took over when he realized that the strain in your voice wasn’t from the sexy kind of need.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

“I’m out of Midol, my uterus is rioting like it’s a Vietnam War protest, and…oh yeah, I need more tampons too,” you said. “But I legitimately cannot move from this couch.”

Priestly couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Ech, I hear ya. Are we in a Code Green, Code Yellow, or Code Red situation?”

Jen glanced over at him from where she was mopping the floor, and she gave him a questioning look.

What’s wrong? she mouthed.

“Code Red, definitely,” you answered with a sigh.

Priestly grimaced in sympathy. He mouthed back to Jen, Code Red.

She nodded in female understanding, and raised a hand that said, Say no more.

“Okay, yeah,” Priestly replied to you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You released a sigh of relief. “And if you want to throw in a Snickers, I wouldn’t hate it.”

He chuckled at that one.

“You got it,” he said. “I’ll be home in T minus an hour, give or take.”

You groaned. “Can’t you just steal a DeLorean or something?”

“You know, I could, but that would mean I’d be going back further into the past before you even needed to call me, and I’d still probably be making sandwiches since I’ve been working here since damn near 2000 B.C. But you know what, they should really call that movie Back to the Present, since they don’t actually go to the future until—”

“Okay,” you had to laugh, even though it was edged with discomfort. “I’ll see you later.”

At the supermarket, after his shift at Beach City Grill, Priestly had most of the supplies he needed for a successful mission. All he was missing was his old enemy on Aisle 2.

Once again, he faced a wall of tampons. All bright colored boxes and numbers and sizes…

Okay, not Code Green, so not the slender ones that might as well be match sticks. Not Yellow, so no to Regular…ah! Here we are. Super Plus.

AKA: Code Red. Complete with leak guard, no latex. He grabbed the blue box and threw it into his basket of essentials, including no less than three assorted chocolate bars and a pint of Ben & Jerrys. He knew his girl, and you liked your Half-Baked ice cream with chocolate chip cookie dough and brownie pieces.

He brought over his haul to the checkout line. Sure enough, Gerry, one of the locals, was finally old enough to buy a case of beer by himself. He glanced at the blue box Priestly was taking out onto the conveyor belt and smirked.

“No slender regulars this time?” Gerry remarked.

Priestly’s smile was tight. “No, Gerald. Slenders are for pussies.”

“Literally,” the blonde beanpole snorted. “What, your girlfriend got a heavy flow this month?”

Priestly rolled his eyes, and his mouth pressed in a line. The word flow still kind of grated on him like nails on a chalkboard, but what irked him more was this guy imagining any part of your intimate parts.

“All right, my girl’s flow is none of your business,” he said. “Once you hit puberty and grow your first pubes, you’ll understand.”

Gerry floundered while Priestly continued on to make his purchases. Even the cashier was smiling, trying not to laugh as he silently gave Priestly his props for a burn well made. Priestly shot the guy a nod and a smile before he left with his spoils.

“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Priestly sing-songed.

He stepped through the door with his keys still jangling in his hand. He was trying to balance the big bag of groceries while closing the door to the apartment he shared with you.

Your head perked up from the living room couch, and your hand slowly curled up, beckoning him over. Priestly obliged you. He peered over the side of the couch and smiled at the way you were all curled up under a throw blanket, already in your pajamas, while FRIENDS reruns played on the TV.

“Finally,” you said with a tired smile. But not the kind of finally that just meant you were impatient for the goods he carried. The kind of finally that also meant you were happy to see him.

He laid a comforting hand on your head, leaned down, and pressed a kiss above your brow. You held him there by the collar of his shirt, prompting him to kiss you for real. Your hand moved up his tattooed neck and your nails gave the back of his head a little scratch, careful not to disrupt the blue mohawk.

He reluctantly pulled away from your lips, just enough to try and gauge how you were feeling.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked.

“Like a beach umbrella in a hurricane,” you replied wryly. “You got the stuff?”

Priestly held the grocery bag tucked under his arm like it was a drug deal.

“Oh, I got the stuff, if you got the money,” he said.

You nodded, and your small smile turned mischievous. “I got your money, Big Man.”

With your hand delicately hooked behind his neck and the other gliding up his arm, he didn’t realize he was falling into a trap.

You tugged his arm hard enough to try and get him to fall over the back of the couch.

“Hey!” he yelped. Yet he also laughed while you tried your best to pull him overboard.

He had to toss the bag of groceries to the floor next to you, but he managed to get over and onto the couch without crushing you. He probably smelled like old sandwich and mayonnaise, but you didn’t seem to care.

You just helped him settle in behind you, with your back to his chest. This was the only way you’d find comfort for your lower back. It had been aching since you woke up this morning.

You grabbed his closest hand and guided it under your overlarge sleep shirt, then under the waistband of your panties. You laid his warm hand flat against your cramping lower belly.

Priestly pressed a kiss behind your ear and tucked his arm underneath your head. He felt the rise and fall of your sigh as you leaned back against him, and his smile softened.

“You’re gonna fall asleep without digging into your treasure trove,” he teased. “I even got your favorite ice cream.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder in interest.

“Half-Baked?” you asked.

“Yep, for extra brownie points. Eh? See what I did there?”

Your body shook with a quiet laugh. You reached your hand back to touch his bearded cheek this time. Your fingers toyed with his many earrings.

“Did you know that you’re my favorite human?” you said. “Like, ever?”

He smiled against your neck. “Could’a sworn I was your third favorite, behind Ben and Jerry.”

“Nope, just you,” you said, snuggling back further into his warmth. “Thank you, baby.”

Priestly realized then that he’d found it.

He’d really, honest to God found the life he didn’t think he’d get, with a woman who didn’t want him to change; who just wanted him to be here.

Though he smirked when you reached for the bag and dug out the pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

You giggled. “Shut up.”

AN: Priestly was such a fun character lol. I rewatched 10 Inch Hero this past week and this was the first thing I thought to write! If you liked this, let me know! (And if you want more Priestly.) 😘

Read the Prequel!

If you liked Code Red, read the start of their story:

▶️ The Miracle Man

Priestly Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

(Lovelies from my "Everything" tag list. If you want to be tagged on Priestly stuff specifically, check out the Tag List link in my bio.)

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989

#Code Red #10 Inch Hero #Boaz Priestly #Boaz Priestly x reader #Boaz Priestly x female reader #Boaz Priestly x you #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #Priestly x reader #Priestly x you #Priestly #Priestly x female reader #zepskies writes

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iwrotetheilliad · 2 years

Text

3AM

♡ Sae is mad. You’re a stubborn bitch. Put that together and that equals hate fuck

Genre: P WITHOUT P ;) also a little fluff at the end

CW: Oh lord there’s quite a bit. The biggest one is def that this entire situation is a bit toxic cuz y’all are flirting in a fight. Ig u could think of it as cheating, but I don’t so. SAE IS A BITCH. He also calls u a bitch so be warned that he is mean af. Also degradation. Slapping, hair pulling, clothes getting ripped off is also there. No prep as well. Unprotected sex babes. Theirs is also mentions of hickies and heavy making out. Sae manhandles you a bit. THAT SHOULD BE ALL THE TRIGGERING CONTENT MATERIAL BUT BE WARNED THAT THIS IS SMUT SO PLS PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!

Characters: Sae Itoshi

A/N: thé sae brain rot has been BAD. Like there was so much in my head, so this fic is honestly just like, a small portion of the smutty thoughts and hcs I’ve had. I’ll probably write more if this does well!

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sae demands.

“Oh please,” you scoff, tossing your black clutch purse onto the bed. “There is nothing wrong with me, she had it coming.”

You whip your head around to face your husband. He stands in the doorway, his white shirt slightly unbuttoned, letting some of his collar bone peak out at you. Anger and jealousy flood throughout your body again at the thought of what that cunt did. You can practically see the line she traced with her nail across Sae’s neck. To get back at her, you had pretended to bump into her, practically tossing you wine all over her. It was a shame honestly- because of her inability to take a hint, her pristine white dress left the body with a giant wine stain adorning her side. Good thing you wore a black dress. It just looked like someone’s spilt water on you.

still the way you spilled the wine was very obvious. What can you say? Acting’s never been your strong suit. People were bound to notice, and although no one said it to your face, it’s obvious that they knew you’d done it on purpose.

it’s fine, after all, if they were in your situation they would’ve done the same.

“Y/N,” Sae groaned tearing off his overcoat. “You can’t just ruin-”

“The dress was ruined the moment it touched her skin.”

“You are fucking horrible.”

“No, Sae! You know what’s horrible? You did absolutely nothing to stop her!” You shout storming towards him.

“Oh shut up, yes I did,” he replies, shoving past you.

“Oh I’m sure that tent you have in your pants was trying very hard to shove her away from you,” you roll your eyes, pursuing him.

You knew right know was not the time, but Sae’s back looked very nice in that shirt. It hugged his muscles in all the right ways.

“Are you insane?” He growls, spinning around to stare you down. You didn’t back down though, sizing up to his gaze.

“I fucking wish,” you say just as lowly. “Look, it’s still there.”

You cast your eyes down to where his dick was in fact pressing up against his pants. It looked uncomfortable, and if the night had gone any better, you would’ve loved to help him, but right now, sex did not seem anywhere within your near future.

“You’re actually fucking mental,” Sae rolls his eyes, straightening himself out. “I cannot stand you when your like this.”

“You can’t stand me?!”

“No!”

“Sae! She was flirting with you. That bitch was unashamed and practically choking you in the middle of the hall!” You scream. “You are so frustrating sometimes. You cannot say that you can’t stand me, when you’re like this!”

“Like what?”

Hot.

“Oblivious.”

“Better than being a jealous bitch.”

“The fuck did you just call me?” You ask, stalking towards him like you’re about to pounce on your prey.

Sae didn’t move, just stared down into your eyes as you two came chest to chest.

“You heard me,” he muttered hotly.

From being this close, you can see something you weren’t able to recognize just moments ago. Sae’s pupils had blown up, almost completely block the aqua of his irises. His breath was hot against your face, and his lips were such a pretty pink-red color. His hair was pushed off to the side, making him look so much more handsome than he did normally. It was all so much, and you couldn’t tell if the sudden feeling in your blood was lust, anger, or a weird mix of both.

“Fucking try saying that shit again,” you mutter lowly.

He shivers. “You are such a fucking bitch.”

His hands slowly traces curves through the skintight fabric. They travel up your ass to the small of your back, and then slide back down to the swell of your ass. He offers a light squeeze, before leaning over you.

“You,” he begins, “are such a jealous. Fucking. Bitch.”

You hands move on their own accord, shoving Sae back onto the bed. Shock doesn’t last long in him though, because just moments later, you’re falling on top of him. Your arms wrap around his neck, and the swell of his dick is pressing against panties you wear underneath this dress. His hands stop balancing himself, and he reaches up to drag them all over your body. He starts rubbing them over your back, before moving down to your ass. He gropes them unabashedly now, guiding them over his crotch. His left one stays leading your ministrations, and his right hand goes up to your scalp. Grabbing a handful of hair, he pulls you back, a string of saliva lingering between your mouth as you pant. Your eyes are lidded as you stare into his. There is not a single doubt in your mind right now that you look like a fucking whore, and you know he’s thinking the same thing.

Sae pulls your hair again, this time making your head tilt back. You raunchily moan out, and his mouth immediately finds a new home on your neck.

“You are such a dick,” you gasp out as he sucks hickies into your skin. “Mmmmmm.”

“Yeah?” He growls, pulling away from you. “I’m a fucking dick huh?” He releases your hair to slap your ass. “I’m a fucking dick? Dirty bitch.”

His other hand slaps your ass again. Moans break free from your throat, involuntarily, of course. “Yes,” you whimper. “You’re so fucking horrible.”

Sae lifts you off the bed with absolutely no effort whatsoever. It’s infuriating how strong he is. His lips find yours again and soon enough, the kisses devolve into something sloppy. You hear the bed creak again, as Sae kneels onto it. He drops you onto the mattress of a sudden.

You land on your side, with your left leg hiked up over your right one. You lean on your right forearm and push yourself up with your left hand. You toss your hair over your shoulder and glare at him.

“What’s wrong?” you sneer, “afraid that your gonna cum in your pants like a fucking virgin?”

Sae is quick to lean over you, continuing the messy kisses. He shoves you down so that you’re entirely on your stomach now, and with his free arm, pulls your ass into the air. He pulls your dress over your butt, revealing the lacy black underwear you’re clad in.

“Me? Cum in my pants?” He growls. “With how wet you are, you might as well have already came.” He leans down to lick up your pussy through your panties, further wetting the already soaked fabric. “Might as well just leave you like this huh? Since you already fucking finished.”

Desperate thoughts want you to scream at him to not, but your stubborn ass decides against that. “And what? Jerk off in the bathroom? You’d still be imagining me in there.”

Sae backs away from you, and grabs the top of the back of the dress. He pulls, and you are now just sitting on all fours. You’re confused as to what he’s doing, before he grabs the same spot with the other hand. Soon, there’s a loud riiippp, and the fabric falls off your body in one giant piece.

“That was fucking expensive,” you growl, as Sae flips you onto your back.

“As if a cunt like you pays attention to the price of shit. I’ve spoiled you too much huh? You need a good lesson.”

You gulp, but still try to mask your fear. “What are you gonna do?”

His left hand traces your neckline, before wrapping tightly around the bruise littered column. “Maybe I will just leave you here like this,” he muses. “Your pussy soaking wet, begging for my cock.”

“Then I’d just cum myself,” you laugh sinisterly. “I’m thinking I’ll get off to Ryusei in my mind what do you think.”

Another loud crack echoes through the room, but now the sting isn’t in your ass. You cheek burns as you yelp. Sae backhands you next, creating to bright red glows on your face.

“You bitch,” his voice sounds demonic, like he’s two seconds away from becoming evil.

“You were gonna be the one leaving me here needy!” You cry out, trying to lean up. His hand on your neck pushes you back down though.

“Shut up.” Another loud rip, and your pussy is suddenly exposed to the world. The cold air is oddly nice. “I’m gonna make you regret everything you’ve said.”

“You can’t do that.”

“If you cum,” he starts. His hand traces your lips, and his voice grows a mockingly gentle as he whispers, “I’ll tie you up to the headboard, stick a vibrator against that clit, and drain you dry until your begging and screaming and crying yourself hoarse. Ok, baby?”

The pet name is new. Normally when you two hate fuck, he ignores all of them, but the sudden presence of it makes you realize that your actually in deep shit right now.

“Do your worst,” you command.

Sae doesn’t even prep you. He undoes his belt with one hand, unbuttons his pants with the other, and swiftly drags them down with his underwear. His dick springs out, hard, pink, leaking precum. You want to suck his dick so bad, make him feel so fucking good, but you push that urge down.

He lines himself up against your pussy, and in one move, starts fucking you ruthlessly. He’s going fast, he’s going hard, he’s doing everything that he needs to be doing to make pleasure erupt in your body like only he can.

Moans tumble from your lips but you literally do not care whatsoever that this is your admitting to him making you feel good. That stubbornness is quite literally being fucked out of you, and right now your perfectly ok with it.

“S-s-sae…”

“Hm?” He hums shakily from above you. “Do you need to come already?”

Never mind, the stubbornness is back.

“N-no. I just wanted to tell you that you can’t fuck to save your life.”

Somehow, he gets faster and harder. You hadn’t even thought that possible, yet here you are, getting your shit absolutely rocked.

“Really?” Sae mocks as you whimper louder.

“Yes,” you reply, not daring to back down.

Sae doesn’t say anything else, content to just let you go insane on his cock, however much you try to deny it. He can tell when you’re close. He’s fucked you so many times that he’s memorized every tell that your body has to offer. Right now, your eyes are becoming heavy, almost looking like you’re about to fall asleep. They’re also turning super glossy, despite no tears falling. When he feels your hole repeatedly clamping onto him without letting go, making yourself feel even more tight, he knows your going to cum.

“You can’t cum baby,” he growls.

“O-ok, I wasn’t going to,” you sigh as he continues screwing you.

“Good job,” he says mockingly.

You don’t miss the sarcasm drowning his words, and somehow, you find the strength in you to reach up and slap him. When he doesn’t say anything, you backhand him. A couple seconds go by, before he commands, “Harder.”

You slap him again.

“Harder.”

You slap him again.

“Goddamit, I said harder bitch!”

You slap him, then yank on his hair for good measure.

“Still can’t cum,” he groans, pleasure overtaking every nerve of his body.

“Sae!” You cry when he starts ramming into just the right spot.

“No. Cumming. Baby.”

“Sae, please!” You sob. You’re trying, you really are. “Sae!”

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry!” you moan out finally. “Sae please, I’m sorry I’ve been- oh my god please Sae, please just let me cum!”

“That’s it baby. That’s all I wanted from you,” his voice suddenly saccarine sweet. “You can cum baby don’t worry.”

Your orgasm is so intense, you almost pass out. Every part of your body is lit on fire, you feel like your blood is lava. There’s it not a single inch of your body left untouched by this overwhelming pressure that does nothing but consume you. It feels like you’re drowning at the same time as flying. Your back arches and finally, you feel satisfied with something that’s happened tonight.

Sae fucks you until he comes, and the feeling is pretty much the exact same as yours. Nerve shattering pleasure follows each thrust he sends into you. His thighs shake at the end.

When he finally gets a good look at you, he watches the red painted across your skin, shining from sweat. Your hands cover your face, and a twinge of remorse stings at his heart.

“Y/N?” he hesitantly moves to touch your hand. When you don’t pull away, he lifts your hands off of your face. Your eyes stay closed though. You’re not crying which is good.

Sae sighs, and steps out of his pants. His shirt sticks to his skin with sweat, so he removed it before walking to the bathroom. Right next to it is a cabinet with towels, which he grabs a fresh one from. Going into the bathroom, he cleans himself off, dampens the towel and goes to clean you off. Your eyes are still closed, but you respond to his touch. He wipes the inside of your legs, and then chucks the towel somewhere behind him. He walks to the bedroom door, where his lounge shirt and sweatpants hang. He slides the sweatpants on, and then grabs the shirt.

“Y/N, I need you to sit up.”

Slowly, you pull yourself up. Sae pulls the shirt over you, and you adjust your arms through the sleeves. It’s only after that do you open your eyes to look at him.

Your eyes have darkens but a little bit of light still reflects in them. You look exhausted though, which he supposes is only fair.

“Sae…” you whisper, collapsing against his body. He wraps his arm around you, hugging you firmly against him.

“I’m sorry too,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have… encouraged, I guess, what she was doing.”

You’re silent for a few beats, before murmuring, “It’s ok.”

“No it’s not.”

“To me it is now,” you say, leaning back to look him in the eyes.”

“Why?” He snorts. “Cuz we fucked.”

“Because you apologized,” you roll your eyes. “That’s all that I wanted.”

You end up falling asleep against Sae and when you wake up, the two of you are curled up underneath a blanket on the couch. Figures, the bed was probably messy. After all, it always is after your 3 AM activities.

A/N: Goddam.

#sae itoshi #itoshi sae #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi smut #itoshi sae smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock sae #bllk sae #bllk itoshi sae #blue lock itoshi sae

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writing-mlm · 5 months

Note

I was wondering if you could do a Zuko x male reader fic? I’ve been scouring everywhere for male reader fics sob😭

I told you so (It was always about you)

Summary: You're worried about life after the war, really you're worried about life without Zuko. Too bad you're as love blind as Toph is blind. Pairing: Zuko x waterbender!male!reader WC: 7.4k TW: its hinted about reader being trans, readers mother asking about grandkids a/n: this was gonna be sm longer but I haven't posted in agesssss

“Katara,” You softly call in front of her tent. It’s the dead of night, four days before Aang is supposed to be fighting Ozai and you’re in front of Katara’s tent, nervously picking at your hair ribbon. “Katara!” You call again, leaning close to the fabric.

“Huh?” She opens the flap to the tent, only able to see with the dying campfire behind you.

“Can I come in?” You whisper and she tiredly nods, rolling back over to her spot so you can enter. Settling on your knees on top of a hide blanket, you close the tent and watch as she lights a lantern.

Patting your fingers against your bare knees, you look around her tent. It’s mostly the same as the others Zuko has bought, but she has her clothes neatly folded next to her pillow with her necklace set securely under the pillow.

“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” She asks through a yawn and you nod, even though it wasn’t a yes or no question.

“I uh… I need to ask you something…” You trail and she nods, propping herself on her arm. “Do you think… do you think Zuko will stay with us after Aang defeats Ozai?” She raises an eyebrow, it's well into the night and you kept yourself up for hours, mulling over that question. “It’s just… he’ll become Fire Lord and he’ll be busy. What if he forgets m- us?” Ah, she blinks, that’s why you’re worried.

“He won’t forget you,” She reassures, putting a hand on top of your hand and your eyes widen before you move your hand from under hers.

“I wasn’t talking about—“ Lowering your voice, you clear your throat. “I wasn’t talking about me, I meant the whole group.” You shake your head, looking off towards the tent's entrance to see if you had woken anyone up. “We’re all his friends, not just me.” Awkwardly chuckling, you rise and wave your hand. “Forget I even said anything, I’m just tired. Pre-battle nerves and everything…” Without protesting, Katara watches as you stand up and open the door of sorts to the tent, nearly tripping on your way up.

“He won’t leave you.” She says as you leave her tent.

Regretting not bringing a blanket with you, you look at the moon and run your hands along your arms for warmth before going back to finding your tent in the near pitch-black area Aang has decided to stop at for the night. It doesn’t take long to find your tent, though since standing in front of your tent, you see Zuko standing with a small flame in the palm of his hand.

“You okay?” You ask and he turns around, the flame flickering with the sudden movement. His shoulders settle as he sees you and the flame dies down just a bit, just enough that you can fully see him when you’re close enough.

“I heard you yelling,” He admits, keeping his voice down in case he woke anyone up. If only you’d been as good. “Why were you in Katata’s tent?” He takes notice of your fundoshi and sarashi and you shake your head, gesturing back to her tent.

“I was asking her a question…about… water bending.” He slowly nods, not believing your very obvious lie but doesn’t press on. “So…” Looking away from him, you chew the inside of your cheek and sigh, trying to find something to say.

“So…?” He repeats.

“Future Fire Lord, amirite?” Lightly punching his arm, you immediately curse yourself. “I mean— like, with Aang and your dad and stuff…?” He blinks, once and then twice. “I’m just… y'know?” Looking at the moon, you squint. “Look at the moon! It’s late! I better go to sleep now, goodnight!” Darting into your tent, you push yourself to the furthest corner and watch as Zuko stands there for a couple of seconds before he clears his throat.

“Yes, goodnight.” He says before walking away. Sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose and allow yourself to sit in pure embarrassment until you eventually fall asleep.

—

Katara had come around fully to the idea of Zuko, something about being next to your sorta enemy while deciding not to kill your mother's killer brought them closer together. It was nice.

Everyone had been sort of relaxed during their stay at his father's empty beach house but you were still on edge. Staying in Ozai’s own beach house was risky, he could decide he finally wanted a dip in the ocean and show up. Especially with Sokka and Suki exploring into town, word could spread. Even if Zuko didn’t share the same sentiment.

“Calm down,” Toph grunts as she shoves your calf. Stumbling onto a pillar, you glare at her. “I’d feel if anyone was around.” That was true, you supposed. Sighing, you decide to give it a rest looking around the surrounding area of the house, and settle next to Toph. She and Katara were watching Aang and Zuko practice their Fire Bending, you tried not to watch. It only reminded you that you could possibly die in a horrible fire, feeling the water leave your body until you become a crisp husk of yourself.

Toph, clearly feeling your worry huffs and grabs your shirt before pulling you down. Forcing you to lay on your back, she hums and closes her eyes. Doing the same, you instead think about nearly anything else. Even try to clear your mind, although you only think airbenders can truly do that.

“Doesn’t it seem kind of weird that we’re hiding from the Fire Lord in his own house?” Katara asks sometime later, once the two finish up their training.

“I told you, my father hadn’t come here since our family was actually happy,” Zuko explains, his seventh time explaining that exact point. Sitting up, you catch him wiping the sweat from his head. “And that was a long time ago. It’s the last place anyone would think to look for us,” He adds, staring at you.

“You guys are not gonna believe this!” Sokka exclaims as he rushes into the courtyard with Suki behind him, a rolled-up paper in his grip. “There’s a play about us!”

“We were just in town and we found this poster.” Looking at the picture on the poster, you cover your mouth and listen as Sokka and Suki read the poster. It sounds horrid. Zuko knows it’ll be horrible. Katara doesn’t want to go.

As such, everyone goes.

“Why don’t the girls sit up there and the boys sit down there?” Katara grins, already shoving Sokka from the bench next to Suki. She grins at you, motioning with her eyes to Zuko.

“Why?” Aang frowns, clearly trying to set you up was affecting Aang trying to set him and Katara up.

“She clearly wants the better view!” Sokka almost shouts. Everyone shushes him and looks around.

“Why don’t we just sit where we want?” Toph groans, plopping down on the outside of the lower bench. “My feet can’t even see from up here!” Katara shares Aang’s frown and slumps down next to Toph.

“I’ll tell your feet what’s happening,” She promises, barely registering that Zuko sat next to her. There was more space on the top bench but you were sure you didn’t want to sit next to the couple and took the spot next to Zuko. Aang sighs and takes the seat next to Sokka.

The play starts, opening with the actors that played Katara and Sokka on their canoe. Katara’s actress is… something. From the first word, you check out.

“I told them,” Zuko whispered when the two started to complain. Only Toph seems to be enjoying the play.

“We could leave,” You grin, catching the actor freeing the girl playing Aang. He thinks about it, genuinely thinks about it but he’s enjoying Aang complaining about his own character until ‘Zuko’ and ‘Iroh’ show up.

“They make me look totally stiff and humorless,” He complains. As much as you don’t want to say it, it’s the most accurate portrayal of the group so far.

“Actually, I think that actors are spot on,” Katara muses.

“How could you say that?” He gasps at the same time his actor says the same thing.

“We should leave,” He agrees and goes to stand up but Sokka pushes him down. Eventually, the scene where they meet your actor appears. The actor playing you is… something. He’s a quiet actor, hunching himself over and running away from any source of fire. Then, there’s only one scene with Yue, her death. Immediately after it’s the scene where you found out about her death. Your actor, for the first and only time in the play, blows up and yells at Sokka. Nearly killing him by accidentally freezing him.

The play wasn’t wasn’t completely wrong in that sense.

It wasn’t something you were proud of, no matter how much Sokka swore it was water under the bridge.

“Do you want to leave?” Zuko whispers, grabbing your hand. Probably to make it quicker if the two of you decided to leave. Nothing else.

“Do you?” You ask, looking over at him. Yes, yes, you fucking wanted to leave the play. This whole thing was a stupid idea.

“I never wanted to stay,” He blinks, and yeah, that’s true.

As quietly as possible, as Katara is busy explaining to Toph, as Aang is trying to strike up a conversation with Katara, and Suki and Sokka are lightly arguing about his portrayal, the two of you leave the theater.

The intermission would be soon, anyway.

“I didn’t know you did that,” Zuko says but judging by his face, he immediately regrets his words.

“I thought he killed my sister,” You humorlessly laugh, leaning against the banister. “What was I supposed to do? Not kill him,”

“That’s reasonable,” He agrees, his thumb running across the flesh of your hand. He feels the curves of your knuckles, the dips of the scar left there from a fight with an earthbender. He still thinks punching the rock was stupid. You watch, looking at your intertwined fingers.

Ever since that night in the tent, Zuko has been acting strange. He’s been more touchy, he actively seeks you out in the group, and he's a bit more awkward with you. Toph, whenever they’re alone, always teases him about it.

A stupid part of you, so you’ve dubbed it, thinks he could feel the same way. The rational part of you thinks he’s committing you to memory, so when he leaves for good he won’t forget you.

“Do you want something to eat?” He asks, long after the two of you stood in the silence that took over the balcony, the both of you staring at your hands.

“No,” You shake your head a little. “I’m good here. You?”

“I’m good here, too.”

—

In truth, you were surprised that Zuko had picked you over Katara to join him in fighting Azula. You don’t think you were as good as her, close, but not to her level. She was better on her feet while your biggest issue was second-guessing yourself.

“The sky’s lovely,” You admit, holding Appa’s reins tightly.

“It is.” Zuko says without ever looking up. His eyes are cast towards Appa’s fur, he refuses to look at anything else. Not until Appa starts to descend towards the palace.

Azula is on her knees, about to be crowned in front of no one. There’s no crowd other than the officials around her.

“Sorry, but you’re not gonna become Firelord today.” Zuko says before leaping off of Appa. “I am.” She laughs and you stare at her hair. It’s a mess, the worst you’ve ever seen them. They’re cut unevenly, but not on purpose. Her top knot is sloppy done and everything else is a mess.

“You’re hilarious,”

“You want to be Firelord? Fine. Let’s settle this. Just you and me, brother. The showdown that was always meant to be—“ She grins, baring her teeth down at Zuko. “Agni Kai!”

“You’re on.” Zuko agrees. While you don’t agree to let Zuko fight her alone; the both of you know Azula wouldn’t be able to fight the two of you straight on, her only chance would be a one-on-one. But if Zuko agrees, you’ll let him. If push comes to shove, you won’t be far.

As they prepare for the Agni Kai, you fly Appa away. Far enough that he’s away from any attacks that might come his way. When you return, you return to a wall of blue and yellow fire splitting down the middle. It’s pushing Zuko back but it doesn’t seem to care. The sounds of the fire are damn near horrifying, you hear it from all around you, and feel the warmth of their fires as they fly around, setting everything around it ablaze.

Eventually, Azula is knocked back and Zuko yells about her lightning. Taunting her for being scared but she swears she isn’t and prepares her strike. It’s a last-second decision, as she fires her shot and you notice it isn’t heading for Zuko but for you. He notices and jumps in front, clutching the strike to his chest before he falls. Sparks fizzle around him as you rush over but Azula fires at you.

Her attention is no longer on her brother, he’s as good as dead in her eyes.

Thankfully, though, the area is surrounded by water. It’s not a lot, though. Most of it evaporates by the second stream of fire she sends your way and you dive behind a pillar. There are stripes of fire all around you, and you don’t know what to do. You could grab Zuko and leave or you could fight. You could try and heal Zuko and the two of you fight but you don’t know if that’ll work.

“Running away?” She cackles, flying down using her fire. Grabbing some of the water that was on the other side of the area, you use it to put distance between the two of you. Eventually, you run out of water and are forced into a new area as Azula throws a burst of fire at you. It nicks at your skin and you bite your tongue, holding back the yell of pain. Tripping, you notice that the floors have metal gates. Peering inside, you thank the spirits. Running water.

Grabbing chains used to keep the doors closed, you wait for Azula.

“There you are, Water Prince.” Azula sneers, standing in front of you. She takes two steps forward, waiting for you to do something. But you just need her to get closer. Sending a spray of water to her left, she dives right and straight to you, readying herself to lightning strike you.

Her fingers nearly touch you, but you raise your arms, pulling the water below the two of you high and wide enough that she couldn’t possibly get out of it. It freezes around her almost instantly and you quickly wrap her arms in the chains before locking it to the grate.

Giving them a tug, they don’t budge and you drop the water back into the grate. She struggles, gasping for air but you go back to Zuko.

He’s still in pain, writhing on the ground as you flip him onto his back. Pulling some water from the pouch Katara had gifted you, you try your best to heal his wound. You had only learned the basics of healing, before your father eventually ‘came to his senses’ and put you in training with the boys.

But it’s good enough, as the water glows and he seems to be in less pain.

“Thank you, (Y/n).” He mutters, his eyes barely open. “But you should heal yourself.” His hand raises, ghosting over the burnt skin of your neck.

“I’ll be fine,” You croak, pulling his hand down to his side. “Worry about Azula.” Helping him up, the two of you watch as she yells out, spitting fire before collapsing to the floor and sobbing.

“What will you—“

“She’s still my sister,” He says, watching as she falls asleep, still crying. He nods to one of the advisors and leans on you for support, letting you guide him back to Appa. “And she needs help. My father, should Aang spare his life, will go to prison.”

—

For his coronation, Zuko had requested that everyone come dressed in their best traditional wear. And not Fire Nation traditional. He had specifically asked for everyone to wear their traditional clothes and accessories, asking everyone to spare no detail. And with a month to prepare, you think you did quite well with your outfit.

Sliding your norigae through your left ear, you admire the crescent moon pendant and untangle the soft blue string hanging below it. It brushes against your ivory choker, one that’s similar to Sokka’s but his choker is thicker with one row while yours is five thinner rows of bone.

“You look good,” Looking behind you in the mirror, you thank Suki and see she’s wearing her Kyoshi Warriors uniform.

“I’m feeling a bit overdressed if I’m being honest.” You chuckle, staring at your many, many layers. The most noticeable of a long piece of fabric going down between your legs, resting just above your ankles with careful pattern stitching that matches your putter shirt. It’s connected to your outer jacket, but you can’t tell with your whale hide belt and tiger seal fleece sort of skirt. It doesn’t connect in the front, but that’s what your mothers always called it.

“It’s nice,” She shakes her head. “You should see what Toph is wearing.” She adds and you turn around to face her. “She’s waiting in the main room with Katara.” Crap, you knew you shouldn’t have taken so long.

“Oh, am I the last one?” At that, Suki laughs and puts her hands on her hips.

“Sokka isn’t even out of the bath yet,” Of course he isn’t. While you might be the most overdressed, at least you weren’t the last person dressed. You shake your head and thank her again, leaving for the main room.

Once you’re there, you see Toph is sitting on the sofa, sitting as comfortably as she can when she’s wearing something so far from her comfort zone.

Her typical headband is replaced with a golden kuitou with several pom-poms and gems. Her hair is mostly the same, but she’s swept the middle part of her bands to either side. You’ve never seen that much of her forehead before. She’s also wearing a heziqun, a tube top of sorts, worn over her quin, which is a long silky skirt— wait, those are just really loose pants. Smart. She’s also got on a zhai xu, the sleeves part of her dress. Her pibo, the long thin scarf that’s typically draped over her arms, is sitting on the couch next to her.

“Don’t say a word,” She says, her eyes snapping to you.

“Wasn’t going to,” You hum, taking a seat next to her.

Katara is across from you, wearing an outfit similar to your own but hers is distinctly from the Southern Water Tribe.

“Don’t be nervous,” Toph grins over at you and you curse under your breath, she’s not wearing shoes. “You’ll see your boyfriend soon enough.” She pats your shoulder, faking a pout.

“Not my boyfriend,” You purse your lips, there’s no way you’re going to go back and forth on this with a child.

“If you say so,” She loudly sighs and stretches. “But when you get married I want to be your best man.”

“I don’t think so,” Okay, fine, maybe you were going to give in a little. Just a smidge. She frowns and punches your arm. “Ow! Toph, there are no groomsmen in Water Tribe weddings! But I would totally go to you for the ring,”

“Good,” She nods. “I know you have horrible taste in gems. You’d probably want something basic like a diamond.” She makes a face as she says it and Katara rolls her eyes.

“I was thinking something like agate or azurite,” You’re not entirely sure where to find those, but once you do, it’s over for them.

“Yeah, Zuko would like that.” She nods wistfully.

“This isn’t about Zuko,”

“Isn’t it?”

—

The coronation had ended and it was nearly time to begin the festivities, but first, you had to see Zuko. He’d sent for Ty Lee to bring everyone to him in what is now his throne room. It seemed more welcoming, despite nothing changing but the person who sat on the throne.

Zuko pauses his pacing as he hears the footsteps drawing closer and visibly relaxes at the sight of everyone. As he descends down the stairs he dismisses the court and Ty Lee, although she was already leaving at that point. She was more excited about the after-party and hanging out with her new friends, anyway.

“Thank you for coming,” He smiles at you before remembering the others are also in the room. “There’s a small feast waiting for us, please, join me.” He doesn’t say this, but you know from records that those feasts are between the Fire Lord and his family, and as of last week, he didn’t have any remaining family that was able to join him. Well, he had his Uncle Iroh, but he was busy setting up for later that night.

“Free food, I’m in! Lead the way, Oh Great Fire Lord!” Sokka grins, placing his hands on Zuko’s shoulder and literally pushing him out of the room. You laugh, walking alongside Aang towards the room, watching as Suki and Toph take the time to loudly complain about Sokka.

“See,” Katara whispers, falling into step with the two of you. “He isn’t going to leave.” Covering her mouth, you stop walking until you’re sure the distance is too great that Zuko wouldn’t hear.

“I never…” Taking a deep breath, you glance at Aang. “I don’t know what she's talking about,” You tell him with a small shrug, he just stares at Katara, waiting for her to explain.

“He’s lying,” Toph shouts and you grumble. Wiping your mouth, you stand up straight and continue walking.

Waiting at the doors of the room for everyone to catch up, Zuko has a small smile on his face when you stand next to him.

“You guys go in, I want to talk to (Y/n),” He nods and two guards open the doors. Sokka and Toph don’t need to be told twice and rush inside, much to everyone’s amusement. Katara squeezes your arm as she passes by and Aang gives you a thumbs up you pretend to not notice.

Zuko waits until the doors close and the two of you walk in silence until you’re both in the palace courtyard, in front of the turtle duck pond.

“Really,” He nods once the two of you are alone. “Thank you for coming. And-and you look amazing, by the way.” He gestures to your outfit. “You’re not too hot, right? I have a lot of spare clothes you could wear if you’d like…” He looks off to the balcony of his room.

“I’m fine,” You smile, holding your hands in front of you. “I actually toned down the layers, I usually wear four more for ceremonies,” Looking around the courtyard, you wonder what the palace would look like had it been made of ice.

“That’s good,” He nods, fiddling with the fabric of his sleeve before he clears his throat, pulling your attention back to him. “Not that you toned it down, just that you’re not uncomfortable.” He hastily adds before a silence falls over the two of you.

“That night, at the tents…” He starts and you slowly nod. That memory was almost completely forgotten but you remember the most basic gist of the night. “I won’t leave the team— you behind.” He forcefully corrects himself and you have to force yourself to still look at him. “I don’t plan on leaving you behind.” He reiterates.

“Oh,” You hum, biting the corners of your mouth to stop your smile from growing.

“I don’t know who to say this,” He trails off and reaches to grab your hand. He grips it tightly and your heart hammers, there’s a million different things he could possibly want to say but you know. Hopefully. “But my uncle advised me to speak freely about this. I have… I would like— no,” His face contorts and you nod, promising to let him take his time. He thinks for a moment, his eyes dipping to stare at your hands. “Would you like to co-rule the Fire Nation with me?” He asks, his good eye squinting at his own words. Yeah, that sounded right to him.

“Like as an advisor?” You tilt your head. “I mean, I do have a military background, my father is—“

“As my consort.” He corrects and your eyes widen.

“Oh,” You blink and open your mouth to speak before closing it again.

“I understand if you say no, but I need you to know my feelings before things become… distant between us. I know you’re going back to help your father and I’m staying here,” He says when the gap of silence becomes too much for him to bear.

“No!” You vigorously shake your head and he deflates a little more. “No, I mean, yes to the question. No to the whole ‘if you say no’ part. I would very much enjoy being your consort.” You rush out.

“Really?” He asks, his eye widening and eyebrow-raising. “I know it’s a lot all at once, we could start small—“

“I’m okay with starting big,” You grin. “Skip the courting and go straight to dating, not marriage tomorrow big, you know.” You add, your eyes trailing off to the flowers of the garden.

“I’m too young for marriage,” He agrees. “But I could see an engagement soon.” His eyes flicker to your hair and then down to your face while yours dips down to his neck.

“Good.” Dropping one of his hands, you jerk your head back the way you came. “Let’s go eat! Before Sokka and Toph leave us to starve,”

Joining the others, you settle yourself between Katara and the end of the table while Zuko takes the head of the table, with Aang and Toph on either side of him.

“So,” Katara’s eyes flicker between you and Zuko. “What did you two talk about?” She asks, doing her absolute worst to hide the grin plastered on her face.

“Things,” You shrug, filling your plate.

“Mundane things,” Zuko agrees.

“Like?” Suki presses.

“He thought I would want a change of clothes. Can you pass the dumplings, please?” Aang nods and grabs the plate.

“Yes, he looks very hot—“ Zuko pauses and you stare at him, the mostly empty plate of dumplings in your clutch. “Temperature wise… in his clothes.” His eyes catch Toph’s and he nearly leaps; he’ll never get over the fact that she knows where his eyes are. She just snickers and continues to eat.

“Makes sense, let’s eat!” Sokka raises his cup in the air, nearly spilling his tea on Suki’s lap. “To Zuko! The best Fire Lord ever!” Everyone follows suit, raising their cups.

Midway through the meal, you catch Zuko grazing his chest with a slightly contorted expression. The spot Azula’s lightning had struck him.

“Does it still hurt?” You ask, wiping some sauce from the corner of your mouth. “I know my healing isn’t the best, so…”

“No,” He shakes his head, his hand settling back to his lap. “You’re perfect— it’s perfect,” He quickly corrects and you notice how the table goes quiet. He cringes and you stare down at your plate, grabbing a spring roll to avoid smiling. “I just drank too fast.” He explains, now much more careful with his words.

“Oh, that makes sense,” You glance at him and briefly make eye contact.

“Mhmm,” He says, still watching you.

“Is it just me or are you two acting weird?” Sokka asks, looking between the two of you.

“He’s an idiot,” Suki mutters.

“Speaking of weird,” Clearing your throat, you point your half-eaten spring roll at Sokka. “Do you guys remember when Sokka set up a literal love tent?”

“He what?” Katara shouts, choking on her food.

—

With the ceremony and feast over, it’s time to get changed and prepare for the rest of the night’s festivities. Everyone heads into their temporary rooms in the palace and you immediately drop most of your layers.

In truth, you were sweating in your outfit, normally you wouldn’t wear so many layers for over four hours, especially in the Fire Nation, but it’s been around eight and you’re sticky and sweaty. Thankfully, there’s an attached bathroom and you’re able to soak for a bit before you need to start getting ready.

You’d packed some clothes for the night, but when you entered the bedroom again there was a pile of red clothes folded neatly on the bed, and below the bed was a pair of red boots.

Grabbing the top layer, you fold it and stare at the boran lakron— namely the deep v-neck it has and then down to your sarashi. You don’t mind all that much, it’s not as if your garments are a secret. But when you pick up the next item, you see he’s provided a second option; a tangzhuang.

The longer you stare at the sleeveless, button-down shirt the longer you’re convinced it’s his. You’re sure you’ve seen him wear the same dark red and golden shirt before. Putting that on, you leave it unbuttoned for the time being and grab the next layer.

It’s a pair of fisherman's pants, you own a pair yourself and had packed it along, but you don’t mind wearing the new one. Pulling them up, you wrap the extra fabric over itself before tying the string to keep it from falling. Slipping your huwan’s back onto your forearms, you lace them up before sitting on the bed. The shoes he’d provided were slip-on shoes that surprisingly fit.

“Knock-knock!” Aang says as he’s knocking on your door.

“Come in!” You call, briefly looking at the door as you’re doing your hair. Ceremony hair was a pain and a half to undo. Mainly since the most you’d do to your hair is tie it up with a ribbon.

“I didn’t know you owned Fire Nation clothes,” Aang comments as he throws himself onto your temporary bed. He’s back to his typical clothes and you stare at him through the mirror.

“I don’t… these were on my bed.” Sitting up, Aang raises an eyebrow before his face gets that look when he makes a connection.

“So,” He looks away, pretending to think about something to say. “Are you going back home after this?” He asks. You don’t think anything of the question, after all, it was Aang asking you.

“Not for long,” You shake your head. “I don’t see myself settling down there again.” Checking over your hair, your fingers ghost over your neck. There’s still a scar there from the fight, but it doesn’t bother you. Not anymore. Just sometimes you forget about it.

“Oh?” He grins but hides it. “Where do you see yourself settling down?” Dropping your hand, you spin around to face Aang.

“Somewhere,” You shrug, looking him up and down, it’s weird that you were provided with clothes but he wasn’t. “How about you?”

“Me and Katara are planning on traveling, continuing to spread peace and all the Avatar stuff,” He shrugs, standing up. “You should join us… if you don’t have plans already!” It’s as though he’s trying to guide you into an answer— he is! Katara must’ve put him up to this because she knew you wouldn’t answer her.

“Maybe,” Patting his shoulder, you check the sun. You have another hour before you’re supposed to head out and you really want to get to work on sending a letter to your parents about your relationship. They’d left after the ceremony, missing the coldness of the Southern Water Tribe. “I’ll definitely let you know, though!”

—

The ride to Iroh’s tea shop was nice, everyone had flown on Appa, overlooking Ba Sing Se. You and Zuko were in the back, honestly just staring at each other until the other noticed before looking away.

Iroh greeted everyone but he’d taken a second to look at your clothing. Instead of saying anything, he only smiled and let everyone into the shop. It was closed for the day, so Iroh could see his nephew and friends.

Having changed into the shop's uniform, Zuko handed out tea to everyone until Sokka interrupted him, talking about trying to capture the moment.

“I wanted to do a painting. So we always remember the good times together,” He admits and everyone goes over to see the drawing. It was definitely a drawing, taking a lot of artistic liberties. But it was nice, and you appreciate the sentiment, even as Zuko’s hand found yours.

“Young love,” Iroh sighs and the two of you jump, separating to opposite ends of the table. He laughs, holding his stomach, and guides you back to Zuko. “Fire and ice, opposites at war but they aren’t too dissimilar, no?” His eyes flicker between the two of you and you hold back your wide grin. He’d basically said he was more than fine with your relationship.

“Thank you, Uncle.” Zuko relaxes.

“For what?” He asks, raising his cup to his mouth. “I am not going to get in the way of love.”

—

To say that the Fire Lord's appearance in the Northern Water Tribe was met with open arms would be a big fat lie. Had it not been for the Chief's son at his side Zuko would’ve been turned away without a second glance.

While it wasn’t unexpected, you can tell it still deeply hurt Zuko. He wasn’t his father but he was his father's son and he guesses that’s worse. He’s paying for sins he had committed when he was lost as well as the sins of his family. But, he didn’t let it deter him. Instead, he walked side by side as you guided him through your homeland.

The path to the palace was straight, so it wasn’t too long. But long enough that people had begun to exit their homes to see the Fire Lord and Prince walking in stride towards the palace. Surely the elders talk and theorize, and there would be gossip that you’d never hear the end of.

By the time the two of you reached the bottom of the stairs, you saw your parents standing side by side at the top. Zuko had seen them before, during his coronation, but he had never actually met them before.

“Chief Arnook, Kayuula; it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Zuko bows his head to your parents.

“Mother, father.” You greet, waiting for the invitation for a hug.

“Welcome back,” Your father smiles, pulling you into a hug. Your mother joins, burying her head into the crook of your neck. “With a….” He looks at Zuko, an eyebrow raised. “Suitable partner.” He settles on saying.

“Come in,” Your mother extends her hand to Zuko and he looks at you, unsure of what to do. When you nod, he shakes as he takes her hand, letting her guide him inside.

“Before you ask,” You rush as the door shuts. “We do have a timeline of our engagement.” Most Water Tribe relationships don’t start with dating, jumping straight to wedding preparations once both parties are of age. But for the Fire Nation, they date. Like, actually date.

“That’s good,” Your father nods his hand on your shoulder. “Does he treat you nice?” He whispers, watching as your mother shows Zuko paintings from your youth.

“He does,” You nod.

“Does he know?” He adds, gesturing to your chest.

“He does,” Once again, you nod. “He’s more than okay with it, father.” He inhales and nods but stops walking. Putting more of a distance between the two groups.

“You’ll always be home here. If he’s pressuring you—“

“Father,” Stopping him, you move to hold his hands. “Zuko wouldn’t. I trust him— fully. Wholeheartedly.” He exhales, checking your eyes before he gives in.

“I simply cannot lose another child,” He admits as the two of you start walking again. “Our wounds are only beginning to heal.” He continues, looking at a painting of Yue.

“I understand, I miss her dearly.”

“(Y/n), Darling; hurry!” Your mother sings and your father smiles, picking up the pace into the living room. She sat across from Zuko who couldn’t be more uncomfortable.

“Mother,” You tease, settling next to Zuko. “She didn’t tell you about the process of skinning, did she?” You ask and he shakes his head and slowly relaxes.

“I was asking if you two have consummated the relationship yet.” She says as if it was a normal conversation. Your father hums, his gaze settling on Zuko.

“Mother,” You choke. “We haven’t… er… we haven’t kissed yet.” Her eyebrows raise but she doesn’t speak on it. “We wanted to tell

you in person before anything further.”

“I want grandkids!” She complains.

“Preferably one boy and one girl,” Your father adds. “I think five grandkids would suffice.” He hums and your jaw drops.

“Father, we haven’t discussed children.” You meekly admit, glancing at Zuko. “We aren’t even sure if I can have children.”

“Visit the elders today,” Your father nods as if it was settled. “Ask them for advice and guidance.”

“So, I’m assuming you approve of us?” You ask anything to move the conversation. They look at each other, having a silent conversation before they both nod.

“I see no issues,” Your mother smiles, resting her head on your father's shoulder. “Besides, if he mistreats you, you have all the water benders in the world and the Avatar to stop him.” She shrugs.

“Oh,” You gulp. “That’s nice.”

—

One year and seven months of dating had come and gone and it was time. You felt it was time and so did Zuko. War makes life seem short, which you suppose it is. And it brings clarity. You were sure in your relationship.

The two of you met each other when you were literally at your worst, you’d seen the ugly sides of each other and made way past it. And now the two of you were working on repairing the Fire Nation, restoring the damage inflicted upon the other nations to the best of your ability.

“When we’re married,” Zuko says as the two of you walk out of the carriage that had taken you to Iroh’s tea shop. “What will your title be?” Pursing your lips, you admit you haven’t given it much thought before now.

“Consort (Y/n)?” You toss up.

“That’s demeaning,” He shakes his head. “You’re much more. Chief (Y/n) of the Fire Nation?”

“Wordy, but I like it.”

Entering the tea shop, you see your parents and Iroh sitting at a table, talking and sipping their teas. They seem to be having fun and you’re glad. But not surprised, Iroh is amazing. In the back, you saw your friends mingling about.

“(Y/n), Zuko!” Sokka waves wildly when he sees the two of you.

“About time,” Toph scoffs. Although everyone knows it’s fake.

“Sorry we’re late,” You apologize, hugging your parents. “We got caught up…”

“They were smooching.” Sokka tries to whisper to Suki but everyone hears it.

“Shut up.” Katara punches his arm. “It’s good to see you two again,” She smiles at you.

“You’ve grown,” You huff, hugging her. “I’ve seen so much red I forgot what blue was!” The two of you laugh as Zuko walks up behind you, settling his hands around you. He’s been touchy ever since the two of you set a date for the engagement.

“That fortune-teller did say she saw a lot of red in your future,” Zuko muses, his head leaning towards yours as he presses a loud kiss to your cheek.

“Hopefully we can get more blue,” You laugh, pushing his head away just enough that his hair isn’t tickling your neck.

“Should we get started?” Your father asks and Zuko immediately removes himself from you. He’s still a little nervous around your parents.

“Yes!” You nod and take your seat at one end of the table. Zuko takes the other and your friends fill the seats on either side of your parents and Iroh.

Settled on your knees, you watch as your parents place down a blue wooden box in the middle of the table and then Iroh places a red metal box. The red box is a long rectangle with a lot of small details but the blue box is a little more simple, carved to mimic ice sculptures back home.

“I am Prince (Y/n), of the Northern Water Tribe. Son of Chief Arnook and Kayuula.” You speak, staring at Zuko.

“I am Fire Lord Zuko, son of Ursa and Ozai.” Zuko says, staring back at you.

“Do you both agree to this engagement?” Iroh asks.

“Yes.” The two of you nod.

“Is this engagement true?” Your father asks.

“Yes.”

“Do you both love each other?” Your mother asks.

“Yes.” Zuko smiles without a hint of embarrassment.

“May the spirits bless your engagement,” Everyone speaks and you’re sure they practiced that because even Sokka got it right.

“Exchange your gifts,” Your mother says and you stand up, grabbing the box before bowing away from the table. Zuko follows suit and everyone turns to watch as the two of you stand in front of each other.

“Do you want to go first?” He asks, messing with the red box. The rule for a traditional engagement was that the male gifts the woman something to signify their engagement but… yeah.

“Sure,” Fumbling with the blue box, you turn it away from you and open it.

Inside the box was a light blue gemstone with a dark blue ribbon going through it. The gemstone was carved to look like a flame in the same design as the water symbol. You’d spent three months trying to get it right, which was difficult considering you were hardly ever away from Zuko.

Nervously, you look between the necklace and Zuko.

“It’s beautiful,” He smiles and takes the necklace with one hand. Holding the red box for him, he holds the necklace up to his throat before he locks the clasp together. There was something about Zuko wearing something from your tribe that made your heart skip a beat, the way he wore it did much more. You were nearly sure you’d pass out.

Taking his box back, you watch as he opens the red box, revealing a silver version of his royal crown. But instead of flames, there was a crescent moon.

“I’m not crowned yet,” You remind him as you grab it.

“It’s the consort crown.” He shakes his head. “The chief crown will be more elaborate, I promise.” With a look of approval, he walks behind you and undoes your hair. It falls from the ribbon and settles at the base of your neck. Carefully, his fingers scoop your hair up, combining it with his other hand until he’s gathered it into a top knot. His hand juts out from your left and you hand him the crown. It slips into your hair and he secures it with your ribbon before checking over his work.

“I’m gonna cry,” Sokka admits as he blows his nose into Katara’s shoulder. She gags and bends the snot off of her and onto his shirt without much fuss.

Taking your seat at the head of the table, Zuko takes his seat next to you and the two of you overlook the guests.

“You two look amazing!” Aang is the first to say something.

“Time to plan the wedding!” Iroh cheers and you smile down at your lap.

“A wedding,” Zuko whispers in your ear, pressing a small kiss to the shell of it.

“It’s gonna be blue,” You whisper back.

“And then grandkids!” Your mother claps her hands.

Later that night, as you’re watching Zuko and Iroh talk over a cup of tea, Katara walks up to you.

“I told you,” She softly says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “He would never leave you.” Zuko looks over at you and smiles before nodding at Iroh.

“I still meant the group,” You grin and she rolls her eyes.

#zuko x reader #x male reader #x reader #zuko x male reader #avatar the last airbender #alta x reader #alta x male reader #fire lord zuko

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k-pepp · 8 months

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With the final season of YR coming up, I’ve been thinking about Wille’s journey again. Because he’s 16, we won’t know if he actually chooses to renounce his title or remain in his role as future king, but I have a feeling this season will give us an indication which way it will go. So, before we get any type of confirmation, I want to get my current thoughts out. I’m aware that a lot of YR Tumblr skews toward King Wilhelm so my pro-renounce post might not resonate with anyone and that’s ok. I just want to put all my thoughts together before S3 comes along with something that totally blows all my opinions and assumptions out of the water 🙂 I understand the idea of wanting Wille to be King because he could be such a great leader. He is kind and compassionate and can be good at taking charge. BUT just because a person could be good at something, doesn’t mean they should be forced to do it. My number one reason for being in favor of Renouncing his Title is the sheer fact that Wille doesn’t want to be King. He doesn’t want the title. He doesn’t want that life. Wille has been shown a multitude of times talking about how he struggles with the duties that come with being a prince. Whether it’s with Erik:

Or August:

Or Boris:

(honestly, this boy will spill his guts to anyone who is willing to even half listen to him. My god. I’m so glad they gave this poor kid a therapist) He's also talked about how he feels trapped in this position. For him, to renounce the throne would be freedom. Freedom to live a life he actually wants.

Even the mere idea of staying in his current position makes him physically ill.

Some people take the end of episode 2x06 to mean he’s moved beyond all that and accepted his role as the future king. I didn’t personally see it that way. I saw it as a combination of a few things. 1) When come face-to-face with it, he just couldn’t let August give the speech (But the fact that he was initially willing to let someone who distributed revenge porn against him become king really speaks to how much he definitely doesn’t want that position) 2) He didn’t want Simon to have to compromise his happiness and give in to a situation he didn’t actually want 3) He didn’t want to hide anymore. He wanted to be himself. Wille is a person who craves authenticity. Which brings me to a bigger point… Life as the Crown Prince / King is inherently inauthentic. One of the main pro-King arguments is that he would blaze his own trail and do things his way. But how? Being a member of the royal family is a job. The basic responsibilities of that job are to do things like diplomatic visits, hosting events, being part of photo ops, schmoozing with people… pretty much all things having to do with putting on a public persona. It’s great that he could be himself in the sense that he would be the first queer Crown Prince / King, but the baseline duties he would have to fulfill are still inherently inauthentic. And I don’t know how he would “do it his way” aside from just not doing it. He hates putting on fake smiles

the photo ops

the schmoozing with people

Erik even told Wille, the way to get through that stuff is to just pretend to be someone else.

We know he’s capable of doing it. We saw how charming he could be at Parents Day weekend. But that was because he wanted to sit with Simon and impress Simon’s mom. Other than that lunch, he mostly hid in his room. And it goes back to my original point. Just because someone may be good at something doesn’t mean they should be forced to do it. (And yes, even if he walked away from the line of succession, he could still have familial obligations, but it wouldn’t be anywhere near the level of what is expected now) At this point, Wille is only continuing as Crown Prince because of a commitment to his family. Mainly Erik.

He doesn’t want to let him down or feel like he’s betraying his legacy. To Wille, Erik was perfect. We only saw two full conversations between them and in both conversations, Erik was telling Wille to get his act together because “it’s not that hard”.

That quote is probably something he told Wille a lot. So much that Wille later regurgitates it to Boris. Three different times.

Going on to say that Erik could handle everything easily.

Based on the fact that Erik was going to Boris, he probably wasn’t managing everything with ease. But in Wille’s perception, he was. Wille is basically chasing a ghost. Self-imposed pressure of unattainable perfection. He bears a guilt that pushes him to want to be someone he thinks Erik would be proud of. The problem with that is, Erik was a monarchist. Maybe he struggled a bit (which is why he went to Boris), but based on the things he would say to Wille, he backed the monarchy / family completely.

Ultimately, I just want Wille to be happy. Maybe S3 will completely change my outlook and I’ll root for him to become king because that’s what he wants. But right now, I think he only wants it out of a sense of obligation to Erik. And honestly…maybe my most controversial opinion…if he did stay in his position because of Erik, he probably wouldn’t change that much within the institution. I mean, he couldn’t change much even if he wanted to. He wouldn’t be allowed to do big things without the consent of the Swedish parliament and maybe a public referendum. And I doubt he’d even have the capability to make small changes. As already pointed out by @piebingo in this great post, Kristina didn’t actually want August to be next in line. But she was overruled. The Royal Court has a lot of power and making any sort of reforms or independent decisions is not that simple. Especially within an establishment that relies on keeping everything exactly the same. But even if that weren’t true. Even if Wille could snap his fingers and make all these huge changes… part of me doesn’t think he would. I know a lot of the folks who are pro-King Wilhelm want him to become the king just so he can completely destroy it from within. But to me, in Wille’s eyes there would be no bigger betrayal to Erik’s legacy than Wille burning the institution to the ground. And if he wants to live up to Erik’s legacy. Not betray him. Not let him down. He will act as he thinks Erik would act. If Wille becomes king because of Erik, he’ll maintain the establishment because of Erik. And he would be miserable doing it. Miserable and without Simon. Yes, my other controversial opinion. If Wille stayed as king, Wilmon wouldn’t make it. Simon is described to us as a socialist. One of his introductory scenes is him calling the monarchy the country’s biggest welfare scammers. I can’t imagine Simon giving up his musical dreams to join an institution that he hates. I also can’t imagine Wille letting him do that. That was such a big part of Wille’s growth in Season 2. Wille wouldn’t let Simon sacrifice his happiness for the sake of his own happiness (being with Simon). Even if Simon didn’t end up pursuing something in music, he made it clear in his talk with Rosh and Ayub that he wants to work hard to make something of himself.

I mean, look at him. Look at this sweet baby angel’s face when he’s told he has an opportunity that will open doors to his future. I can’t imagine him giving up his ambitions or autonomy to become prince consort. Having to live every day under royal rules and protocols. Maybe he would. I personally can’t see it. And finally, I know a main reason people like the idea of King Wille is because we like the idea of a queer king. But as much as we all want queer representation; I don’t think it should be anybody’s responsibility to be the political representation that people want to see. Wille shouldn’t be in a position he hates because he’s queer. A queer person living their life and getting out of a toxic situation is also good representation. A person can’t fix the problem by becoming part of it. Having him be the face of an institution that’s been about exploitation and oppression isn’t going to solve it. It's always been said by Lisa and Edvin that Wille’s problem is not that he’s queer. It’s that he’s a prince. Everything about what’s making him unhappy is about him being prince / the future king. Him walking away from his title would be about him escaping a future that would make him miserable. Personally, that’s what I’m hoping for.

#I’m sure all of this will be useless when S3 comes out #Since Wille is only 16 it’s pretty useless now 😅#But I’m happy to finally have these S1 and S2 thoughts out of my head #young royals #pro (eventual) abdication

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