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flowersforjude · 3 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐔𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Harwin Strong x Fem Targaryen!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | A stolen morning spent with Ser Harwin.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2,036

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Sneaking around, slightly suggestive in some parts?, there’s always gotta be a little angst, but also fluff!

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | How has it taken me this long to notice how good this man is? It’s disgraceful really. @criminalamnesia has something similar to this so go check it out!

masterlist | read on ao3

A soft breeze was blowing through the open window of your chambers. Early morning light threaded through the thin curtains billowing in the gentle wind. You shifted slightly in bed, throwing an arm over your face to combat the sunlight. Sleep beckoned you back into its waiting embrace.

The gods were cruel, however. Or, sweet, you really couldn’t decide.

“Good morning.” A languid voice rumbles in greeting. Harwin trailed a hand up your bare shoulder, his delicate touch leaving chills in their wake.

“Hmm,” you returned, willing your eyes to stay closed. If you even cracked them open a bit, there’d be no going back to sleep. You drew closer to his chest, pressing your face into the sheet that covered him. His extra warmth quickly pulled you back to slumber. Almost.

Your lover, however, had different ideas. His hand on your shoulder roamed down your back, sliding under the thick cover you’d hoarded in the night. His touch was still gentle as he took to running his fingers up and down your spine. Hitting the ticklish spot right above your tailbone every time they wander lower.

Face still hidden in his chest, you bit your lip to keep from giggling. He was relentless, though. Dragging his hand down once again, he allowed himself a generous feel of your rear.

“Harwin!” You exclaimed, shooting your head up to meet his grinning face.

“Good morning.” He said again, pulling you closer to him. He nudged your head to tilt up higher so he could press kisses to the underside of your jaw.

Sighing, whether from pleasure or annoyance, no one knows. You tangle your fingers in his dark hair. “It is early.” You grumble as he moves lower to your neck. His lips were heavy against your skin.

“Actually, Princess.” He replied, his hand going to your hair to angle your neck to be more open to him. “It's almost time for me to leave.”

Truthfully, it was like this almost every morning you and Harwin spent together. Quiet spoken words, warm carasses, and sometimes a reenactment of the night before if there was time. The gods were surely used to the sight of you two tangled together in your bed, with the door to your chambers locked. It was moments like this that sustained you, both of you. Stolen from the rest of the kingdom, they were, but precious all the same. Something that was reserved just for the two of you without having to care about the rest of the people around you.

“You don’t have to go.” You said casually, knowing deep down that wasn’t true. He always had to leave. Sneak out in the earliest hours of the morning to protect your secret.

Eyes finally meeting his, you smiled sadly at him. Harwin returned it with a slightly more lighthearted one. He always tried to keep your spirits high in times like this. When the clock was ticking too fast for either of your comforts, racing against you for him to depart.

“I do,” he countered. “I cannot be discovered here, or I’d lose my head. I’d lose you.”

You rolled your eyes at his sentiment, but placed a kiss on his jaw. Telling him you knew, of course you did. He hummed as your lips met his skin. A deep thunder-like sound that never fails to send a thrill of excitement through you. “You’re forgetting the power I hold, my love. I’d talk my father down to a finger, perhaps. Unless he was having a bad day, then you’d be short of a hand.” You beamed up at him.

“I trust your negotiation skills fully, Princess.” His fingers, still tangled in your hair, dug deeper, running his digits through the tresses of silver.

You fought your eyes from dropping shut, his touch soothing your mind back to sleepiness. The cloak of dreams was very much welcome, but that was a disaster that needed to be avoided. You’d go to sleep, and Harwin would follow suit, and you’d be caught. Or you’d fall back asleep, and he’d leave without waking you.

He’d done that only once before. Slipping out of your chambers without rousing you to say goodbye. You had been so angry at him for stealing your chance to see him off, for depriving you of one last kiss that you’d threatened to feed him to your dragon if he did it again. You would never actually do that, but your tongue was talented at running away from you when angry. And Harwin knew that, so you were always worried he’d escape like that again.

One night, while tangled together after blissful pleasure, he’d admitted he tried to lure you back to sleep many times before with the soul intention of leaving once you were. An angry retort had been ready before he continued to say it was because he loathed seeing how crestfallen you looked when he had to part from you. He hated watching your giddy mood dissipate and be replaced by sadness. He would much rather prefer gazing at your peaceful expression as you sleep before leaving.

You were quick to tell him your dark emotions were never aimed for him. Rather, they were reserved for the entire circumstances you both found yourselves in. Being so entirely enamored by each other but forced to hide your affections.

You could not wed until Rhaenyra did. It would look unfavorably upon the heir if her younger sister took a husband before she did. So, while you loved Rhaenyra with your whole heart and would never wish to see her tapped in a marriage she did not want, you wished she would hurry up and choose someone.

“Where are you posted today?” You asked, rolling yourself over so you sat atop him. The blankets pooled around your waist, so your naked chest was on full display for him. You saw him glance and then look away in the same second. Trying to remind himself that there was no time for that this morning.

He cleared his throat before answering you. “I’ll be training new recruits in the yard for most of the day.”

You grinned at him while scratching your nails lightly down his chest. “I suppose I’ll have to wander by the training yard then.” You said coyly. “Many times.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to try harder to remain focused with the beautiful princess passing through so often.” His arm came to loop around your waist, pulling you a little higher on his lap. His fingers smoothed over your hips as he watched you raise your arms above your head, stretching the tiredness from them.

“I should speak with my father about taking you as my sworn sword.” You told him. “I’ve been thinking about it for some time now.”

“You wish to be accompanied by me every day?” He questioned, sitting up while still holding you to him.

Confusion colored your expression. “Do you not wish for it?”

“That is not the issue,” he said. “If the King happens to agree, you will not be able to request a different guard simply because you’re crossed with me.” He flashed a bright smile at you.

“I only did that once,” you protested.

He laughed then, a hearty sound that you’d grown to adore. “Because I forgot the strawberry pastries you requested before I came to your chamber that night.”

“I was looking forward to them.” You grumbled, ducking your head down. “And in any case, I came to regret that decision very quickly. Ser Brune was dreadfully boring.”

Harwin laughed again, and moved your head up to look at him. “Speak with the King, love. If he agrees, then I’d happily spend the rest of my days never leaving your side.”

Before you could say anything in return, he wound his arms around you, pulling you to lay on him as he sank back into the bed. Both his arms stayed wrapped around you, successfully holding you to him. Letting your head fall to the crook of his neck, you sighed contently.

“And if he does not, then we’ll just have to hasten your sister along in her search for a husband.” He spoke, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. “So then we would finally be allowed to wed.”

“Rhyeanra will likely remain unwed for the rest of her days.” You sighed. “I don’t think there will be a match waiting in the wings anytime soon.”

“I’m sure you could…persuade her. You can be quite terrifying when it suits you, Princess.”

Gasping as if offended, you shift to meet his eyes. “You are unbearable.” You accused, leaning down towards his face. Your silver hair concealed you both from the outside world and the bothersome sun.

“Am I now?” He asked with a smirk, brushing his nose along yours.

“Terribly so.” You teased before leaning the rest of the way down and capturing his lips.

Sweetness erupted behind your lips just as it did every time you kissed him. The intoxicating feeling lasted all of a few seconds before an alarming knock came from the door.

The frantic knock was accompanied by your handmaiden’s worried voice. “Princess! Are you awake?” She called from outside.

You quickly sat up, taking the sheets to cover your very naked body, before looking down at Harwin, who was also very naked. In your bed.

“Princess, are you in there?” Your handmaiden spoke again. The concern was raised in her voice. You could only imagine how the situation looked. Your door locked, you not answering, and no guard in sight outside your chambers. She was likely thinking the worst.

You tossed the sheet at Harwin, rushing over to your wardrobe to yank out a nightgown. As you pulled the garment over your head, he rose and began hastily collecting his clothes and armor strewn across the floor from the night before.

“Yes, Seanna!” You called to your handmaiden, helping Harwin haphazardly button his shirt.

“You must go.” You urged while he attempted to place his armor on without fastening anything.

“This damn, I am trying.” He muttered, nearly tripping over his boots, still on the floor in his haste. You cringed as his bracer slid from his arm, almost clattering to the stone floor. He caught it just as it fell, though.

“Princess, are you alright?” Seanna asked, knocking on the door once again.

“Yes, just a moment.” You yelled, trying to mask the nervousness in your voice. You gathered his boots and remaining armor as you herded him to the secret passageway hidden in the wall behind your dressing screen. Jerking the concealed door open, you all but pushed Harwin in.

Shoving his armor and boots into his arms, you noticed the wide smile he was directing at you. “Yes?” You questioned disbelievingly.

“You seem a little nervous, love.”

Pushing his shoulders to urge him on, you rolled your eyes at his audacity. “Just go!” You chastise him with a traitorous laugh sounding behind your words.

He chuckled while surging forward to press a lingering kiss to your lips. With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the passage. You quickly put the door to rights and readjusted the dressing screen. Running a hand through your hair, you finally open your door for your handmaiden.

She all but rushed into the room. “I was starting to think the worst, your Highness.” She got to her duties right away. Going to the wardrobe to retrieve a dress for the day. “Who was meant to be on guard last night, Princess? There was no one outside.”

“There wasn’t?” You asked in mock surprise.

“Yes, Princess.” Seanna looked at you skeptically.

“Oh!” You exclaimed as if you just remembered something. “Ser Harwin was on duty last night. I’m sure they are just doing shift chances early this morning.”

“I’m sure.” Your handmaiden agreed with more skepticism. She was good enough to let the matter drop, though.

Once she is done putting your hair into a braided style, she helps pull your dress over your undergarments. Stringing a necklace around your neck, she smirks at you in the mirror.

“His cloak is under your bed, your Highness.”

Expect a lot more of this man from me. He's on my list now!

#house of the dragon #harwin strong #harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong #ser harwin strong x reader #harwin breakbones #hotd #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic #harwin breakbones strong #ser harwin #harwin strong imagine #targaryen reader #princess reader #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

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tadpolesonalgae · 19 days

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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You — Chapter 22

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: there might be some spelling errors here and there which I’m sorry about—I’ll try and remember to check through in the morning <3

word count: 7,866

-Part 21- -Part 23-

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More than once, you find your feet leading you in the direction of Bas’ house, but you always turn before you can reach his street.

A few days ago you’d thought it would take a fortnight for the transition between autumn and winter to truly become apparent. You were wrong.

There’s no way you could mistake it for anything else, with the way breath now huffs from chapped, rosey mouths like ancient, angry beasts prowling across an early morning moor; how now when you step outside and leave the warmth of the heating enchantments the cold nips at your throat, splashing ice into your lungs, encasing your arched ears in snow-kissed winds; how even without much sense left in your hands you can feel as your blood recoils from the temperature, scrambling back to be closer inside your body and abandoning your limbs for the sake of comfort. Useless body. If you were instead one of the massive bears kept in the Winter Court with thick coats and dense, padded bodies this would be much more bearable.

As it is, you have to settle for keeping a brisk pace and wrapping yourself in an uncomfortable amount of layers. Layers that wrinkle too easily beneath one another and store sweat in their fibres. It’s always a relief to be once again indoors so you can shed the many skins. Especially when so much of the cosier cloaks are inlined with fur. You try not to let it bother you but as soon as that particular smell of leather creeps in, or meat with a little too much preserving salt…

Winter’s gotten a little easier. You can appreciate some of its beauty now it’s less likely to kill you. Its glittering exquisite.

“What about this?” Elain gestures to a folded quilt that’s laid out amongst other similar items: bedsheets, pillowcases, towels, flannels, cloths. The quilt is a patchwork of small squares about the size of your open palm, each one different in pattern but similar in colour—pinks, pale pinks, whites, creams, oranges, pale oranges, a glitter of egg-yolk yellow. Around the hem hangs a slight frill made up of white lace. On its underside shows the padding designed for comfort, perfect for maintaining heat and being a cozy blanket to nestle under.

An image passes through your mind then of all four of your crammed into that tiny bed, stuffed beneath a blanket like this in the depths of winter. Fingers so cold they felt like ice, cold enough to wake you from your sleep if a bare foot grazed your calf. Nesta and Feyre would usually be on the outside during the colder months, rarely taking place in the cozy, warm centre. You and Elain ever the middle children.

A second image forms soon after, except instead of being set in an alternate past seems to fit more with a branch of the future: all four of you stuffed on the long sofa in the River House’s living room, the fire crackling behind its muffler but Nesta still on the furthest side. Some of you would be reading, Nyx might be cuddled beneath the quilt, close to Feyre’s chest, and maybe you might be stitching something together or sewing a pattern onto the sleeve of Elain’s top. Nyx would probably be briefly fascinated by the lace frill. Then if it was interesting enough he might try to eat it.

You zone back in when you realise Elain’s looking to you for an answer. You wince, wanting to pull back into yourself and hide in your skeleton, sit on one of your own ribs, arms hung over an upper one. “I really… It’s lovely, but the bedroom I have is fine. We don’t need to find replacement stuff.”

Elain seems a little crestfallen but quickly blinks it away, already turning her head to scour for something else that might take your interest. “Are you sure? It looks so warm,” Feyre pipes up, inspecting the little patterns of the squares. “I can imagine you all wrapped up in this, tucked away into a chair with a book heavy enough to break someone’s foot.”

“I’m sure,” you assure her. “Really, the bedroom in your house is more than enough. I’m not sure I even wear half the clothes in the wardrobe—I’m fine.”

After the news had been announced, tears had been shed, and you’d all spent the night on that sofa too afraid to let go of one another, Nesta had been the one to suggest fixing up the House of Wind again. It had been patched up after the initial explosion, but Nesta had suggested making it somewhere nice, reasoning all of the furniture had been destroyed anyway, so your room would be in need of some redecorating anyway. ‘Besides,’ Nesta had pointed out the following morning, ‘It’s mine. I can do what I like with it.’ And spend Rhys’ money while doing it, had gone unsaid, but after Nyx’s birth at least some of their aggression seemed to have boiled off.

“This just seems like too much,” you admit while walking at Feyre’s side, Nesta strolling along the far side of the street while Elain’s already begun appraising a new set of pale green pillowcases. “You don’t have long,” Feyre murmurs in reply, her voice straining toward the end, “six months will fly by.”

“I don’t mind,” you whisper absently. “My room’s fine as it is. We don’t need to redecorate the entire House of Wind.”

Feyre falls silent, feet tapping in time together along the icy cobbles. Then her arm is tentatively slipping beneath your own, gently linking at the elbow, careful not to cause any aches in your flesh. You squeeze her faintly, bodies pressing closer in the cold, arms locked to try and keep up warmth while walking through the city.

You glance up at the clock tower constructed at one end of the main square. It reads midday. Elain will be leaving for the human lands in a little under an hour and none of you have yet had lunch. Feyre follows your gaze, reading the time. “She won’t be gone for long, remember?” Feyre assures quietly. “She’ll be back before night.”

You blink, turning to face your younger sister, “Oh, no, I wasn’t thinking…” You flush, averting your eyes as you pull your arm from Feyre’s, “I’m not that clingy.” It comes out sounding more defensive than you’d thought it would, the tug of your arm rougher than you’d anticipated, but you speed your pace regardless, crossing the street to instead join Nesta. She’s looking into the window of a large bookshop, her sharp eyes picking out titles even through the warped and rippling glass panes.

Nesta reads even more than you do, which is saying something. You’re not sure you could even read a romance book anymore. Not without a piercing sense of loss pinned through your heart.

“I’ve been thinking,” Nesta muses, pulling from your thoughts, standing straighter as if she’s considering entering the shop, “of having a meal up at the House of Wind. Would you come?” You blink, looking over to her inquisitively, “Just…a meal?”

“I was thinking of bringing Emerie and Gwyn to it, too. None of you have met one another.” Nesta turns back to the window, though she doesn’t seem to be looking at the books anymore. “Elain and Feyre would be there, too.”

“For sometime near solecist?”

“That could work.”

You pull a part of your lower lip into your mouth, nipping at the interior. “Have you thought of a present for Feyre this year?” You ask, still being without a gift. It’s still about two months away, but…time has a habit of slipping through your fingers. Silverish eyes slide sidewards to you, and you glance at her questioningly. Nesta looks back into the window, “I think the plan is to all do something together. Elain seems to think that’s what Feyre wants.”

“Do you think she does?”

“Probably,” Nesta replies. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“Won’t that ruin the surprise?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to know what she wants so we don’t do something she won’t enjoy?”

You purse your lips. “Elain can ask.”

Nesta seems to decide she’s done with the bookshop, turning her body to move on ahead and you follow quietly. “So, about the meal?” She reminds, and you swallow but manage a short nod of your head. “It sounds nice.” Your lips part, throat flexing in preparation to add on, I’d like to meet them, but something stops you and then the moment has passed. Nesta seems satisfied enough with your answer.

Had she also mentioned Elain and Feyre intentionally when bringing up the dinner?

You worry your lower lip. It’s been nice spending time with them again. Being on the sofa. Feeling bones press together. Hair sliding over shoulders. But has it been too much for them? Feyre has a husband and a baby and a court. Nesta has Cassian and her own life. Elain…is who you’d usually spend time with, but she’s leaving to visit Lucien.

Bas is leaving too, soon.

Maybe you should be returning to the House of Wind on your own instead of making them take you there and pad the way. You’re not ready to go back. Maybe you should just lock yourself up in the Prison. But that’s a stupid thought, one that’s not going to help you. Why try and make things worse for yourself?

Your stomach grumbles and you flush, putting your hand over it in attempts to quiet the noise.

It’s about time for lunch, anyway.

————

“You haven’t been up to the House since, right?”

You startle, spinning around as your hand recoils from the door handle, chest rising and falling so rapidly that saliva gets caught in your throat and you have to cough into the crook of your arm. At least you didn’t eat too much over supper, or you might have been worried about being sick.

Azriel stands silently in the hallway a little distance away, his eyes vaguely alarmed at your abrupt reaction. He clears his throat. “Sorry. I thought you’d heard me.”

“It’s fine,” you excuse, coughing once more before lowering your arm, going to straighten your skirts before a rush of something shy flutters through your chest and your hands instead join at your front. “You’re just…very quiet.”

Azriel hums, and you shift on your feet. You’ve been spending so much of your free time with your sisters that you haven’t really seen anyone but them over the past two days. Well, aside from Madja, who you’re still seeing every morning at ten o’clock, much to your relief. You lick your lips, finding them chapped and dry. “So…was there something you wanted?”

Azriel nods his head once. “Not exactly. I was thinking it would be a good idea for you to readjust yourself to the dimensions of the House, since Nesta’s told me you’re redecorating.” You flush, eyes dipping away, once again shifting on your feet. “Well, it’s more her idea…” you hedge, “since…you know, it’s hers now…?”

“I know. But you’ll be wanting new furniture,” he reasons. “The walls had to be realigned so your room will be wider once it’s complete.”

“Once it’s complete?”

He nods his head. “You blew it up, remember?”

The flush deepens and you take a subconscious step back towards your room. You hadn’t meant to wreck the House, even if it was only your room that was really ruined. “I just meant…you mentioned walls needing to be realigned, so I was wondering whether they’ve yet been…”

Azriel nods his head. “They have.”

A beat passes. “So, are you coming?”

You look up, surprised. “Hm? Where?”

His eyes narrow. “To the House. Is your head okay?”

“Fine.” Your brows furrow. “Fine.”

“No headaches?” He pushes, hazel eyes scanning swiftly over your body in a painfully analytic fashion. “No bouts of forgetfulness? Brain fog?”

“No. No, I’m fine. None of that,” you assure, glancing down to the hardwood floor, a small part of you still stumbling at his attention. But it’s all good and fine noticing a problem once it’s obvious. “Besides,” you add, “I’m sure Madja would have picked that out by now…” Right? Madja’s been nothing but dependant as company. Competent and kind, so gentle with your skin and flesh and mind.

Azriel seems to disagree, his head tilting slightly and you wonder if it’s a movement he’s showing intentionally or whether it’s simply something he’s learned to do when around other people after having every reaction trained out of him. “You’re only seeing her for about twenty minutes each day. It’s easy to miss some things.”

“Yes, but isn’t she…? It’s Madja. Isn’t she supposed to be…I don’t know, one of the best healers in Velaris?” Isn’t she? Arrogance aside, wouldn’t it make sense Rhys would only want someone he could trust around during Feyre’s birthing? Madja must have proven herself to be reliable hundreds of times to be trusted enough to work so high up. Azriel nods his head, confirming your inner thoughts, “Probably in all of the Night Court.”

“So, she would know if something was wrong.”

“There’s no harm in double checking.”

You swallow, eyes awkwardly scanning him and the hallway, too nervous to look at him properly. “Well,” you say, once more clearing your throat, “I think I’m fine.”

Azriel nods his head. “Shall we go?”

You brows furrow deeply. “Where?”

“To the House of Wind,” he says, stepping forward as if to reach for you, “Did you forget already?”

Your nostrils flare, lips curving at their edges. “I’m messing with you, Azriel.”

His hand pauses in mid air, then it retracts and he stands straighter again, a look of faint displeasure held between his brows, “You shouldn’t joke like that.” Tension coils in your chest, and you look away from him, lips pursing, “life’s dismal enough as it is. I’ll joke about what I want to.” Azriel sighs, taking a step back to where he’d originally been standing, reinstating that cold distance between you that has your heart stretching thin.

“Joke about what you like, but keep that humour away from your sisters. They’ll be going through a lot, right now.”

You look at him then, arms lightly folded across your chest. “Will they?” You ask, tension coiling tighter. “Yes. I’m sure they’ll be finding it the most difficult right now.” Azriel’s chest expands, then he’s blowing out a harsh breath, “you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You know you could have said it better.”

Quiet hangs in the air, then your throat is rolling, fight disintegrating when he makes no move to respond, shame at your snappiness creeping to your surface; disappointment he didn’t attempt to amend the exchange. Just one sentence would have been okay. You’re past pretending like you’d demand a lot from him. A few words and forgiveness would fall from your lips in a desperate spill, hungry for his care.

Your lips press together. “Shall we go, then?”

Azriel had flown you up—he hadn’t wanted you to winnow. You hadn’t thought much of the House since you’d been staying in Feyre’s home, but now you’re back and the smell is wrapping around you and it feels like you never left. It’s after a family dinner, you’re not yet obviously ill, warmth from Bas’ palms lingers on your hips and you’re still on good terms, Mor’s offered to take you out into Velaris and you never wrote back to Eris. You never told Azriel how you felt, and you still speak regularly in the library, your heart fluttering every time your eyes would meet, and you still think you’re in with a chance of keeping his attention.

They hadn’t felt good at the time—they hadn’t felt enough—but you’d take them back in a heartbeat if you could.

The two of you walk in silence down the hallways that lead to your old room, but when you reach for the handle you almost pause, able to feel the weight of Azriel’s attention on you and for a truly awful moment you worry they’re all inside, your room already done up, money already wasted on you, and you’ll have to pretend some kind of gratitude for the debt. But you cast the thought away, because that’s ridiculous—you’d been out with your sisters just this morning.

You’d been unfair to Feyre. Short-tempered. Intentionally choosing to keep misunderstanding her. And then you’d done the same with Nesta, pushing your emotions onto them.

Maybe it would be better for you to return up here again, so you’re away from them. Isolated, so your foul moods don’t bleed onto them. So they can stay happy, and you can deteriorate without having to feel bad about your inner necrosis. So they don’t see the way you’ll fall apart over these last six months.

The handle twists in your palm and the door swings open.

Azriel was right about the walls—they’re further apart than they used to be, your room suddenly a few inches wider, enough to disorientate you. But that’s not it.

Your hand falls away from the handle, breathing shallow and deathly as you step back into the room. A small bed has been pushed where the old one used to lie, a similar looking desk up against the wall, a wardrobe near the windows, all resembling their previous pieces but so clearly different. Emptier.

Your stomach drops, and the ground falls out from beneath your feet.

“Where-” Your throat strangles the words in your mouth. Warping them to a hoarse rasp. “Where are my things?”

You hadn’t thought about it. You’d put it out of your mind. Made sure to lock it up tight in a box along with the rest of the mess because you’d fall apart time and time again if you could think about it. But if the furniture was obliterated, and the walls destroyed…

“They were blown apart, too.”

The far end of the room stretches, distancing itself further and further from you as the walls either side become narrower, the floor beneath your feet groaning as if it’ll give any second. All of it’s gone? Everything? Everything?

You walk over to the desk, fingers tracing the surface, lips stitched shut. A painting had once sat there…greens, and golds, and falling stars. A romance book sat in solitary on an upper shelf. A bookmark with silver thread. A pendant with a small map contained inside.

Your feet carry you to the wardrobe. There’s no smile drawn into the dust on the mirror. No lipstick, nor nail polish. The jigsaw you never touched, still wrapped in its bow. All of it? All of it’s gone?

Scared eyes turn to the bed, glancing once to the empty bedside before you’re faintly walking over, lowering to your knees to peer beneath the mattress. Staring into the empty space beneath. Dark and hollow. No box holding your golden solar system. No bags from a shopping trip with Mor. No comfy slippers, and that dress that you’d only worn once, in the shop. The one that had looked nice, and you’d never worn it, too ashamed of yourself.

“Did the-” The words are sticky, drying your throat together, tongue stuck too the roof of your mouth. “My orrery…?”

Your heart is pounding and there’s a delicate fire beneath your skin, a cool sweat glossing your flesh. A soft roaring around your ears. You can’t have lost all of it.

“A couple of things made it,” Azriel says from the doorway. You turn to look at him, the air around him warping and spinning faintly. Shallow and shimmering. Azriel shifts, something about his expression changing that you can’t quite pick out. “Are you feeling alright? You look…”

“I’m fine,” you whisper, staring at him because it seems too much effort to really move your eyes elsewhere, lids pinned to your brows. A couple of things made it. A couple of things survived.

Azriel nods his head. “Wait here,” he says, “I’ll get them.” He looks like he might says something else, hazel eyes flicking over you, but he keeps his mouth shut and turns, disappearing from the doorframe.

In his absence a wave of dizziness overcomes you. It’s without nausea, but the room is shifting, your head unable to find a balance to keep your body upright and you end up settling lower to the ground, lying on your side, knees curled to your chest. The room is so empty without any of yourself in it. Is this what Bas’ home will look like once he’s gone?

Is this what your room will look like, once you’re gone?

You picture it, the raised bed with the thick duvets, the desk pushed up against the wall to lie beneath the window, the bathroom connected with its cool, pale tiles. The room you and your sisters spent an afternoon and evening contained in, chatting and drinking tea; the room Madja’s tried to heal you in; the room you found out you were going to die in. Will it stop being your room once you’re gone? Will Feyre repurpose it? Keep it as it is?

A floorboard creaks in the hallway, but you just don’t have the energy to move. Choosing to instead curl tighter, allowing your eyes to close in order to try and contain the hot pressure that’s building behind them. You don’t want to cry.

Can death come any quicker?

Footsteps pause on the threshold, and shame tugs on your gut, wanting to scuttle away and hide beneath the dark hollow of the bed. To crawl away to some dark space and be out of everyone’s way, keeping to your own corner far from anyone else. Safe and alone in the darkness. Like a small spider lurking on the top shelf in a wardrobe, just trying to keep out of someone’s way. You could get so far if you had eight legs. If you were as small and nimble as a spider you could go anywhere.

The mattress stretches as a weight is delivered to it, then a presence is gathering at your back.

A few seconds pass, then he’s asking quietly, “What are you thinking about?”

You take time evening your breaths before you answer. “Spiders.”

“Is there one under there?” Azriel asks, still keeping to that soft, low voice. Your lips tremble, but you open your eyes enough to look into the darkness, peering about for any eight-legged creatures. You shake your head faintly. “What got you thinking about spiders?” He asks next, and you realise his voice is close enough he’s probably sitting behind you. On the floor with you. You try to shrug your shoulders, not wanting to answer, but the movement is stunted from lying on your side.

“Do you mind them?” He asks.

“No,” you reply, voice creaking through the quiet. They’d made you uncomfortable at first, when they’d started creeping into your house all those years ago. Spinning their webs on bookshelves and between table legs, down the hinges of doorframes, where the breeze brings in smaller bugs for them to catch. “They’re small.”

“Even the big ones?” Azriel replies.

“They don’t hurt anyone.”

“They look creepy.”

Your brow furrows, then you’re rolling over on the floor to face him. Sure enough he’s sat a little distance back, arms around his parted knees. “Are you scared of spiders?”

Azriel’s eyes twinkle. “Not the small ones.”

You blink, unsure what to make of that. “Then, the big ones?” He hums in a way that might be a yes. It’s hard to pick out what he means by that one, smooth noise. “Which ones?” You ask, watching him quietly. “I know there are large ones in the Summer Court jungles? Arachnids as big as your torso.”

Azriel smiles. “Those are fine.”

“But their venom can paralyse you,” you argue softly, brows furrowing. Small ones are fine, small ones can’t hurt you. But the larger ones, those can bite. Those ones can be dangerous. “They’re easy enough to avoid,” Azriel reasons.

A look of concentration knits itself between your brows, and you push yourself up from the floor, shifting back to lean against the bed. “What court do they come from?” Azriel’s lips curve faintly—he’s not going to tell you. “The continent?” You ask, trying to work around it, but this time he shakes his head. “On Prythian?” He nods. Your eyes narrow, inclining your chin by a singular degree, “how big are they?”

Azriel pauses, thinking. “Curled up…probably as large as that bed,” he answers, nodding to the bed you’re leaning against. “Splayed out…each joint in a leg was probably around your height.” Your eyes widen in fascination. Then they narrow again, suspicion rising in your mind, “is this creature magical?” His lips don’t smile, but his eyes do, and he nods his head. Your mouth parts, “that’s cheating.”

“How’s it cheating?” Your mouth opens again but you can’t give an answer, eyes darting about as you think. “You’ve done most of your learning while you’ve been here, haven’t you? We have books on the creatures here. I’m sure you know some of them.”

“I don’t know of any spiders that big,” you reply with your brows furrowed, frustrated you don’t know the species he’s talking about. Azriel laughs and you avert your eyes, scowling into the floorboards.

“She’s locked up in the Prison now, anyway,” he says casually, as if that makes it better. You look at him again, “‘she’?”

He nods. “Can you guess?”

Your brow tightens again. “I don’t want to.” You pull your knees up to your chest, readjusting your skirts so they’re covering your ankles. Leaning your chin into the dip of your palm, a downward tug to your displeased lips. Azriel raises a brow, “I didn’t know you were a sore loser.”

“We weren’t competing.” You mutter.

“Are you really upset?” He asks, sounding perplexed. You sigh, shifting on the floor now the bed is beginning to dig into your spine. “No,” you mumble, “I’m used to it.”

He smiles, eyes twinkling, “used to what?”

You don’t smile back. “You.”

Azriel’s features mellow out, light winking away in his eyes and you watch the warmth sift down and out from his expression. “You aren’t entitled to my affections, just because of your situation,” he says softly, but sternly. No leniency afforded to you. No padding or gentleness to muffle the hurt. An ashamed blush creeps up your neck, spreading through your cheeks as you lower your head. “I’m not talking about that,” you mumble. Gloved fingers wring together and you pull your legs tighter to your body, “I’m talking about how needlessly cold you were. How clearly you cared for Elain without thought for me.”

“You needed a clear answer. I was helping.”

“You used me,” you whisper.

Across the floor, you can feel it as Azriel stiffens. Almost freezes.

“You used me,” you repeat, this time looking at him, “you knew how I felt about you. There’s no way you couldn’t have, Azriel. You-”

“You kissed me back.” Hazel eyes pierce into you, the shadows at his back stirring as though raising from their sleep. “You-”

“I’m talking about before.” The whisper rushes out of you on a swift exhale, hurrying to get the words past your lips so he doesn’t remind you any further. You swallow, a familiar feeling of shame coating your skin. “When I would speak with you in the library. And you would only speak with me to learn more of Elain. You were using me.” Azriel’s brows narrow and your heartbeat quickens unpleasantly. “You know I was making sure she was okay,” he claims softly, “the Mother knows you were too preoccupied.”

“Stop lying to me.” A hot pressure is building behind your eyes again, staring at him in this room with the walls that feel like they’re closing in. “I know you love Elain. I know that, so stop trying to pretend like I’m imagining it. You wanted to know more about her so you spoke with me to learn more. You must have known how lonely I was, how hard it was for all of us after being ripped from our home, from our lives, and shoved into a world we had never wanted to be a part of. It’s like you’re just trying to get me to hate you.”

As soon as the words leave your lips you freeze, staring at him with widened eyes.

“Is that-?” You cover your mouth, toes curling in your socks as you huddle your limbs together. “Is that why you were so cold afterwards? Was it so horrible to deal with? Was it really so disgusting to you that…?”

Azriel says nothing and you feel at that moment like the earth might split open and swallow you whole, suctioning you down far below the ground for discovering such a horrible secret, snatching you away before you can tell anyone and sealing you a thousand times in jagged stone beneath cold, damp earth.

————

Her eyes are wide and her chest is heaving, knees pressing tight together as if to hide her body from him. He should lower his head to respect her dignity, look away to offer her privacy but that in itself would be yielding too much information. Doing anything other than watching her crumble would be exposing a part of himself and no matter how much she’s hurting, he cannot. He will not.

Azriel doesn’t care if she hit the nail on the head. He hadn’t meant any of it. But had he really been expected to simply accept her tenderness for him? Even if he wasn’t the spymaster he’d be able to see how much she thinks of him, how she listens to him and hangs on his words as if they heal wounds. If she thinks she loves him, she should know how awful he is.

————

You shake your head, still staring at him. Then you try to push yourself to your feet.

You need air. Need fresh air, and to get out of a room as cramped as this one. But when you stand you spot the things he’d laid on the bed. The things that had survived the blast, and you freeze.

On top of the bare mattress, weighing into the bed is a thickly bound volume. The spine reads: Prythian: An Anthology Of Discoveries, in golden lettering. Sitting small atop the book however, is a familiar silver band, its narrow edges smooth and shiny. It’s the ring Eris gifted you on that last day in Autumn. The one he’d told you would help keeping your magic in check. The one you’d left discarded then nearly killed Azriel by being unable to control yourself.

“This…? This is all that made it?” Your fingers trace the title, and you consider for a moment raking your nails down its surface, scalping its smooth leather and ripping the pages from the spine. The silver is cold against your fingers, and you imagine casting the window wide and throwing it out to the winds. Throwing it far, far away, somewhere you’ll never have to see it again, where you’ll never be reminded of the poor choices you made that brought such an unbearable amount of shame into your life.

You can feel it begin to crush into you again, and your knees shake like they might buckle. Why is this all that lasted?

“The book was enchanted, as many are nowadays.” Azriel’s voice is far off in your head, the world tipping beneath you. “The magic protecting it was ripped apart, but the book’s still intact. The ring seems to have its own magic warding it, though it’s been damaged.”

“Is this-?” You turn to face him, arm banding across your stomach, able to feel as the shame and hurt squeezes you insides. “Is this your way of punishing me for what I did? By showing me this?” Azriel’s brow furrows, and he takes a step forward, “No.” You’re not sure you believe him. He takes another step forward, so he’s stood before you and you have to tilt your head slightly to look at him. “I thought you’d be happy. I thought it would make you feel better. That you had something to keep.”

“That reminds me of why you all hate me,” you say, hot tears spilling from your lashes, scalding your cheeks. “You can’t be expecting me to believe that you’re showing me these things because you’ve forgiven them. That you’ve so suddenly had a change of heart about what happened. Not this.” You sniff, trying to hide your face. “Not you.”

Silence hangs in the air, stretched and painful until, “You think we hate you?”

“I know you do,” you whisper, “and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Scarred fingers collect around your wrists, and you try to cover yourself as he gently pulls your palms from your tear-stained face. “Look at me.” Look at me.

Does he know what he’s doing? Or are you joining dots that have no business being joined? You open your eyes but look away, staring at the floor, at a section of wooden panelling that must have been redone when- “Look at me.”

His shadows cooly gather beneath your chin, lifting your head but you stubbornly refuse, instead casting your gaze to the right where the door is. Just anywhere but him. Anywhere but his eyes, eyes that will make your heart splinter. You look at the threshold, the handle of the door-

Azriel’s wings open, and then you’re ensconced in night.

His shadows gather between your feet, circling overhead so there’s nowhere for you to look anymore but him, everything else inked out to be bland and uninteresting. Only a very small amount of light is allowed through the darkness, like a dozen black veils of silk have been thrown over you to keep you together. Slowly your breaths begin to settle, transported away from the demanding present and instead somewhere else entirely, where time has been paused and you have no pressure of worry beating down on you.

Your nostrils flare, but your breathing has become even. Chest slowly rising up and down, calmed and quietened.

Your throat trembles, but you look at him.

His hazel eyes are normal. No disgust or revulsion to be found. No ice, either. At first glance you might have called the look indifferent, but…calm. Quiet.

Hands release your wrists, one lifting to the circle of your shoulder, but the other moves for your chest. You inhale softly as his fingers graze across the fabric of your top, his touch featherlight and careful. They pause, coming to a stop in a place you’re certain he’ll be able to feel the pounding of your heart. But he makes no remark on the wild rhythm, instead pressing the pads of his fingers down so they’re resting atop your breast. “You have a scar here, don’t you?”

Something tugs from beneath your ribs, an alertness jerking awake beneath his touch.

“It’s small, isn’t it? Barely there. Less than a scratch, but it’s scarred.”

What? How does he…?

His hand finds yours and he guides you a step closer to him, then lifts your palm to the side of his stomach, his ribs. “I don’t hate you,” he says quietly, but in the shared silence you have no need to strain your ears; you can hear him perfectly. “None of them hate you either.”

“You’re lying,” you whisper.

“I’m not,” he replies, pressing your palm flat to where that matching scar lies, embedded deep in his flesh. Where he’d stolen the arrow you had meant for yourself.

Your head hangs in defeat, and your forehead meets his chest. His hand releases your shoulders, scarred fingers skimming the small hairs sprouting from the top of your nape.

————

Night has fallen by the time you return to the River House.

It’s dark and you wrap your arms tight over your chest, wind playing with your hair, kissing ice up your neck. At your side, Azriel seems unbothered by the descending winter, appearing as stoic as ever.

Coming up the pathway that leads past the front lawn you can see the lights in the House are one, letting you see in to the living room and kitchen, each separated by the hallway that connects to the door before you. No one’s in the living room, but you can easily make out the figures of two of your sisters in the kitchen—Feyre and Elain. You wonder what they could be speaking about when Elain soundlessly slams her hand down on the table.

You pause, and you know Azriel’s watching too.

Elain’s teeth flash in the faelight and your brows narrow, pulse spiking—they look like they’re arguing. You hurry a step forward, hand falling to the handle but Azriel places his palm atop your shoulder, pausing you. You look back at him. “We should give them space. Let them sort it out on their own.”

You consider, glancing between him and the front door. Teeth nip at the interior of your lip—you’ve not seen Elain like that in a long time. She’s not one to become easily agitated. “No,” you say, “they’re my sisters. I want to know what’s wrong.”

“It looks private. You should wait-”

But you turn the handle, giving him a strange look, “They’re my sisters.”

As soon as the door opens, Elain’s voice rings through the halls, bouncing off the walls with crystal clarity, “I want to know why I had to hear it through Lucien, Feyre. Who, I might add, didn’t even hear it from one of you.”

Quiet settles, tense and taut and you halt, blinking. What have you just walked in on?

With as little noise as possible you push the cloak from your shoulders, hanging it on one of the hooks in the entryway. Elain’s voice carries on, unaware of the new listeners. “Are you going to explain it?” She asks, voice softened from its previous cut, still bearing a nasty edge. “I didn’t want to worry you,” comes Feyre’s quietened reply. “I didn’t mean to hide it, Elain, but the timing was never right, and you’re both…”

“We’re both what?” Elain asks sternly, her voice tight. “Untrustworthy because we aren’t as tightly knit with others in your circle?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” Feyre replies, with soft steel. “That’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Then tell me why you didn’t think to mention it.”

Silence falls, and you feel guilt gather in your chest for eavesdropping. You turn to glance at Azriel but he seems to have vanished into shadow at some point. Maybe he actually had intended to give them privacy, but you’re in too deep now. Instead of hiding you straighten your skirts, quietly stepping further along the hallway until you reach the kitchen, peeking your head around the doorway, “is everything okay?”

Cocoa coloured irises flick to you and Feyre turns in the kitchen, spotting you in the hallway. “Fine,” Feyre says—too quickly. You look over to Elain, but she’s watching Feyre instead, coca eyes simmering. You swallow, and step decisively into the room, steadying your voice, “What’s wrong?” Because something’s clearly amiss.

A tense silence passes and you can feel your insides trembling, as if the quiet is a living, breathing creature, gently but increasingly firmly pushing against you, weighing on your shoulders, pulling on your back, an invisibly current slowly trying to drag you from the room. You stand still.

Feyre’s shoulders sag in a way you haven’t seen before, her can lowering in a way that casts heavy shadow beneath her eyes and into the downturned corners of her mouth. “We’d thought to keep you out of it,” she says, much too softly for High Lady. “You’re both…” But she trails off, landing her face in her hands and rubbing along the narrow lengths of her curved brows. Her hands fall to her sides and she leans back against the table, arms moving to fold over her chest. “I know what it’s like, to be kept out of something…” She looks at both of you in turn, blue-grey eyes anguished and distraught, showing a turmoil she’s been battling with for quite some time. And what she’s said is true—she knows what that’s like. How she almost died without knowing the circumstances of her own child. She knows better than anyone what it means.

So what could have made her decide…?

You release the tension of your stance, settling back against the wall since this seems like something important.

“You may have seen us to be more on edge than usual…” Feyre confesses, casting a glance to Elain. Your older sister’s expression doesn’t give, but acknowledgement passes through her eyes and Feyre continues. “Nesta’s been practicing with Ataraxia more frequently, despite how little we know about its nature; Amren’s been trying her efforts at furthering her understanding of The Old Language; then the trip Nesta and Cassian went on to the Day Court…to visit Helion’s libraries.” She swallows thickly, shadows accentuating the roll of her throat. “Helion, Spell-Cleaver.”

“Nesta mentioned a binding spell,” you now recall from that supper all that time ago. Amren had bitten her off. Nesta had Ataraxia out on the table when you’d gone to visit her. What Eris had been talking about during your visit to Autumn. It must have something to do with why he was surprised you weren’t learning to fight.

But why would you need to?

“We…” Feyre starts but swallows her own words. Besides her, Elain shifts on her feet, her attention casting skittishly around the dimly lit kitchen, only small yellow lights lighting the large room. Your younger sister sighs harshly, rubbing her face once before looking at you fully, hands again to her sides. “We think the Prison is collapsing.”

Her words settle into the quiet of the kitchen and seem to disappear in the external world while they ring endlessly within your mind, repeating in a space away from the linear passage of time and instead growing louder and louder with every hurried repeat. We think the Prison is collapsing.

What are you supposed to say to that?

You can feel your eyes stretch, throat turning dry from breathing through your mouth, lips open while you stare.

“Why?” You manage to gasp out, throat closing up on itself. Why would the Prison be collapsing? Why now? Why?

“When Nesta fought Lanthys,” Feyre begins solemnly, “perhaps even when she first retrieved the harp…whether it was Ataraxia, one of the Dread Trove, or Lanthys exploiting a worn fibre of the spell’s fabrics…maybe a combination of the three…we don’t know for certain.”

“You don’t know why the Prison is breaking?” Elain asks, staring at Feyre.

“We know the wards are weakened,” she corrects, as if savouring the small grace that they seem to still be holding. But for how much longer? “We think it’s in relation to a magical object imbued with Cauldron-made power being in close proximity to such an ancient antiquity…that their magic might have abraded the spells of the Prison… But no. We don’t know for certain.”

The walls tilt, shadows stretching and you’re thankful you’re leaning against the wall. Feyre meets your gaze with a look you could call grieving. “Please let’s discuss this further in the morning. I’m sorry it was kept…that I helped keep it from you—both of you—but for a conversation like this…” Feyre looks to Elain, a bit of that strength being forced to her surface. “We can speak in the morning.”

Elain watches Feyre silently, and for a few moments you think you might see anger in her eyes, but it’s turned calm and quiet. “I imagine it’s difficult, in some respects,” Elain says, “to play the role of High Lady.”

You can’t tell whether it’s meant as consolation or a jab, but Elain’s already departed from the room, leaving just you and Feyre.

“How long have you known?” You ask in the quiet. Feyre shifts but doesn’t look away from you, “Long enough that we’re running out of options.”

You nod your head, more than just fatigue now weighing on your lids. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

————

It’s strange how you find yourself meandering the opposite way from your bedroom when you reach the top of the stairs. Seeking out a room you’ve never once tried to approach without explicit permission beforehand. But the whole night had been strange, and your head is swimming slightly, paddling in the shallow part of a clear river.

Your hand lifts, but at the last second, and for no discernible reason, you change your mind, opening the door quietly without knocking.

Azriel is sat at his desk, a low light atop the surface, a lampshade tinting the colour a pale yellow. Ink scratches over parchment, and you pause on the threshold, leaning against the doorframe. You could understand the pleasure of spying, if it means seeing people like this.

He looks up after a moment, seemingly finished with his task as he sets the paper aside and lowers his quill.

“It was Blue Annis, wasn’t it?” You speak before he has a chance to. “The spider you were telling me about.”

“Yes.” Azriel inclines his head. “It was.”

Something big enough, cruel enough, powerful enough to strike a chord of unease into Azriel. And the container holding her and countless others is fraying?

You lean a little more of your weight into the doorframe. “How long do you think is left before the wards are sparse enough for one of them to slip through?”

“Probably another month,” Azriel replies. His expression doesn’t falter as he adds, “one might’ve already managed.”

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, fear twisting in your stomach. He must be able to smell it on you. Azriel leans back into his chair, “We’re checking each cell to make sure. So far everything’s been where it should, but it’s a slow process. By the time we happen across an empty one…” He raises a brow as if to say: Who knows how far it’ll have gotten?

A shudder spider-walks down your spine. “Are they all as scary as she is? As Blue Annis?”

“You’ll work yourself up into a panic like that,” Azriel tells you, his face remaining serious. “You’re already imagining the worst possible creature you can think of, aren’t you?”

“Is she less scary than I’m imagining?” You ask dryly, forcing a wry curve of your lips.

Azriel’s eyes seem to twinkle, but maybe it’s the light.

“What’s she like?” You force yourself to ask, voice lowered beneath the night. But Azriel shakes his head, “Ask me another time.”

His lips curve, but the light in his eyes has winked out. “You don’t want her to be the last thing on your mind before night.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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#azriel x reader #can’t bring myself to hate you #azriel x reader angst #cbmthy #azriel x reader fic #azriel x reader multi-part fic #azriel series #cbmthy chapter 22

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curseddollfaye · 8 months

Text

boy, I can't wait to get next to you

“Giving you true love in abundance, uh-huh. Giving and taking because we're not a fling. Giving me faith that it's not another”

toxic baby daddy toji! x reader NSFW headcanon

ᥫ᭡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! ty! please let me know what you think! ^.^ requests are currently open!! ᥫ᭡

masterlist

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ੈ✩‧·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· *ੈ✩‧₊˚

- Firstly, we have to talk about what’s under those sweat pants…

- Happy trail for days, thick thighs for days, back muscles that make you wanna mark him all up. He’s 7 inches soft and I would say 9 inches when he’s fully hard (he be all up in your guts to say the least)

- pink tip, veiny underside, you struggle to take him all into your mouth whenever you give him head. Often having to stroke what doesn’t fit or sometimes when you both are feeling it he’ll shove the rest of it in your mouth; muttering a soft

- “Don’t worry slut, I’ll make it fit. I always do don’t it?”

- He’s a dominate and would never let you sub (again, but that’s a story for another time ;) not that you would want to but Toji is just NOT submissive at all.

- his hands are on of your personal favorites. Apart from the looks of course. If he’s not sex on legs then you don’t know what.

- but you don’t miss the way the cashier from the grocery store slammed your eggs into the plastic bag whenever she saw you checking out with him happy at your trail…he knows he’s good looking too! which doesn’t help much when you’re green with jealously every once in a while

- Toji is 6’1 as established, he towers over you and you can admit proudly that you’ve always had a thing for big beefy men.

- SLUTTY LITTLE WAIST

- He was all muscle, obviously Toji likes working out! He likes lifting weights the most.

- you ask him to skip his morning gym session to lay with you he responds with a sly

- “Baby did you not see the way I was picking up up and fucking you last night? Daddy needs to be strong for his pretty slut”

- doesnt end up going to the gym and lays with you instead because you always get your way

- is very experienced! DUH

- Toji was a known bachelor. Before you he was with many women. He takes pride in knowing that he can satisfy a woman. Especially and strictly when that woman is you.

- Has mastered how to eat your pussy out until you’re gripping his head and crying out

- HE IS A MUNCH!!!!!

- Loves eating your pussy , breakfast , lunch and dinner. He’s not the slightest bit ashamed of it. Watching you quiver him and shake from the pleasure he was giving you did all sort of shit to his cock

- generous lover through and through. Your pleasure always comes first to him

- You will never forget on your first anniversary when he had you spread on the bed.

- Somewhere in Greece

-Thong shoved to the side and he really gave no fucks who was hearing from underneath the balcony

- the bastard had left the balcony doors open..which you hadn’t minded at first. Thinking it was innocent as the sun set and the soft breeze whipped through the silky lace curtains…

- “Gonna show everyone who this pussy belongs to, who makes you cry from how hard you get fucked…you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Toji had chuckled. Holding your legs apart and occasionally letting his hands wonder to grip your tits. The sounds of him sucking your clit into his lips and slurping all your juices into his mouth while groaning from your taste.

- you honestly were so lost in pleasure before you knew it he had manhandled you into the mating press and you were being fucked like you sinned

- LETS TALK KINKS!!

- No secret he had a breeding kink

- Lets be real it took you two year to have this man’s baby which you gladly did!

- Many nights were he’s had you with your legs to your chest while his cock drives in and out of you in a punishing pace. A white ring forming spring his base as your grip his forearms for some stability. Your creamy cunt squeezing him in so well.

- How could he not come inside you? And he does so with filthy words leaving his pretty lips

- “Mmm yeah you dirty fucking bitch take my cum. I’m gonna make sure it catches so you won’t think about leaving me ever again”

- “You want my babies? You think you’ve earned this fucking load? Come for me again and I’ll think about if you deserve it or not”

- “Gonna put my fucking baby into you so everyone remembers who you belong to, ohhh fuck…ahaha….m’gonna make your tummy so round for me. Making those fucking tits leak milk for our baby”

- he’s a big fan of titties

- but one thing Toji truly can’t get enough of is your ass

- worships it as if it’s his personal sanctuary

- you ALWAYS have marks on your cheeks from his bitting and nibbling whenever you two fuck

- because of this one of his personal positions is doggy, this man needs to hit it from the back

- eyes wandering down to watch your sss smack against his pelvis as he grins your hips and sets the pace for you both.

- has definitely pulled out mid stroke and buried his face into your soft pussy lips. gripping them fat of you ass cheeks back while his tongue wildly explored your wet cunt.

- you can only gasp and let out a pornographic moan as your eyes roll to the back of your skull “t-toji…daddy…ahhh!”

- loved LOVES coming inside you, but painting your ass with his white pearly cum is a bonus too

- also cumming on your face

- Toji makes you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, and it’s because he knows you are. He knows men are lined up ready to be with you. Who wouldn’t!! Your a man’s dream and Toji has it in his head that every man that looks your way wants you

- It honestly offends him

- Which is why he always throughly enjoys coming on your face

- His hand moving quick against his cock, red tip leaking pre- cum begging for release, his other hand petting your hair, moving your hair from your face. His thumb slipping into your mouth. Warm muscles wrapping around his digit. You looked so innocent yet so fucking dirty at the same time. Your eyelashes fluttering against your tinted cheeks. His eyes wandering down to look at your plump lips. His thumb fully engulfed as your tongue swirls around it. Your start bobbing your head, mimicking you ducking his cock and his pace around himself starts to stutter.

- Toji swears he’s about to have a heart attack when he wants you tug your tank top down letting your tits spill out for him

- he cums on your face

- Is into taking pictures and photos of you, he keeps them safely in a password and Face ID locked folder on his phone

- is obsessed when you send him pictures while he’s away on business trips or conferences

- One time he had been gone for two full weeks, scheduled to fly back the next day.

- Toji’s had a glass shot glass up to his scarred lip, tossing it back, basking the feeling of success and new beginnings for him. He knew the deal would go off without a hitch. He was Toji Fushiguro after all, he didn’t waste his time.

- A light buzz caught his attention

- His green eyes peered up from his associate , who was happily chatting with one of the investors who was already sold on the idea of investing in Toji’s new expansion of nightclubs in Kabukicho. Japan’s vast nightclub, bars, and restaurant district.

- Picking up his phone Toji smiled at the name

- pretty girl

attachment: 1

- Typing in his password he opened up his messages, his jaw fell slack.

- A 15 second long video of you, your hands playing with your boobs as you sat back in the jacuzzi that he knew too well

- he had it put in your master bathroom shortly after you broke it off, he heard you saying something about being nice to have one to relax your muscles in. he had the money so, why not?

- His finger hovered over the play button, but not before quickly putting the volume all the way down and looked around to make sure no one was in near proximity

- we all know this man is possessive as fuck, doesn’t give two shits that you two are not together because according to Toji

- “tch….Technicalities baby…” he muttered to you when you remind him of the very (annoying) fact.

- his breath hitches when he presses play. Your hair is up, a few strands falling in front of your eyes, soapy tits come into view. Your fingers playing with the soft flesh.

- Toji at that point couldn’t be more jealous of soap bubbles in his life.

- He shivers and feels his pants tighten against his skin.

- The video ends with your smirk on your plump lips. Eyes saying ‘fuck me’ and of course he would if he was there.

- Toji mutters grumpily at your teasing, angry he couldn’t be at home giving you what you desperately need.

- His girl needs to be fucked and he’s away in another country , what an inconvenience for the both of you

- he quickly types a response before getting up to say goodbye to his brand new investors and excuse himself back to the hotel room.

- ‘naughty girl, you better be ready for me by the time I get back to my room or else you don’t come at all tomorrow when I get there’

- Although Toji is a very dominate man, he’s also the softest man for you. You bask it in, and sometimes you never want to let it go. Whenever he’s making love to you on the bed. Passionate sex filled with words of promise and sorrys. Toji lets himself melt into you as you moan into his shoulder while he whispers the sweetest words to you. It often leaves you wondering if you would ever find a man that was willing to give you as much as him.

- it scared the shit out of you.

- “oh fuck baby…babybaby…mmm….mean so much to me. Fuck ‘yer so perfect”

- “Cant ever be with another woman, you’re the only one of me beautiful…You’re the only one for me. This sweet pussy was made for me, takes me so well.”

- “I love you so much beautiful”

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #toji smut #dilf toji #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fluff #toji headcanons #toji fushiguro x reader #toji imagine #jjk toji #toji fanart #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro fluff #jujutsu kaisen fic #toxic baby daddy toji!

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forgeofthenine · 9 months

Note

hhgggg the bachelors in rut was so.. well, hot lol. I remember there being a previous ask about the bachelor's reacting to the reader being turned into a tiefling.

I was wondering, how would they handle said reader going into heat/rut for the first time?

I've taken an unexpected absence from Tumblr the last couple days, between prepping for Christmas and being extremely busy at work I basically had no time or energy. I did, however, write this while half asleep and on the flight to see my family, given the amount of turbulence we had when I finished it maybe even nature wanted me to write more lol. There's luckily still more stuff to come over the Christmas break :)

@swordcreature come get your food-

TW: NSFW under the cut, ABO dynamics, overstimulation, orgasm denial, impact play mention

The bachelors when their partner goes into heat/rut for the first time

Dammon

Dammon is so good at handling any new tiefling issues you might have, even if he laughs a bit at first

"Baby, if you angle your head to the left it'll make getting that top on easier.“

What completely slipped his mind was that you'd eventually develop a heat cycle just like all other Tieflings

As soon as walks into the house after a day of working in the forge the smell hits him

The entire house smells like pure lust, even a single step into the doorway is enough for his pupils to dilate and his throat to go dry

If you weren't already preoccupied, you'd hear the way he thumps up the stairs in his desperation to get to your bedroom

The door swings open with a slam as Dammon stands in the doorway looking half crazed

The sight of you spread out on the bed with two fingers knuckle deep, back arched, is almost enough to send him straight into an early rut

It's only your small whimper of how much it hurts that brings him back out of his haze, suddenly realising how confusing this must be at first

The bed dips as he sits on the side, leaning over you and placing a warm hand on your equally hot face to get your attention

As hard as Dammon is in his pants, he does check you're okay first and makes sure you drink water before he starts anything

It doesn't matter how much you complain or accuse him of teasing you, he wants to make sure you won't pass out on him

Once he's sure you're okay, all bets are off

As soon as he can, he's folding you over yourself and taking things into his own hands, quite literally

He makes sure you get off at least once to the feeling of his rough, calloused hands as he fingers you without abandon

It's only after you've cum once (or twice, or thrice) on his fingers that he'll finally indulge you with his throbbing cock

The feeling of you squeezing around him, whimpering out his name, is enough for Dammon to finally hit his own rut

He can't keep his hands off you, low rumbled praises leaving his lips as he bites at your collarbones

His cock reaches places in you your fingers never could, the flared head and ridged underside making your mind numb with pleasure

The tiefling keeps you there in bed for hours, switching you between positions as he fucks you until you're both exhausted, panting messes

You'll be well taken care of afterwards too, Dammon easily picking up your now sated body and putting you in a nice warm bath

He eases you through your first heat as well as one can, even if he's dealing with an unexpected rut at the same time

Zevlor

This man was your living tiefling encyclopaedia long before you accidentally became a tiefling yourself

Your questions increased after the accident, though, and suddenly Zevlor is answering questions he never thought he'd have to

Such as "does this mean I'll have a heat cycle now? What'll that feel like?" Among others

The question stops him in his tracks because logically yes you would have a heat cycle now, but he can't remember ever meeting someone that wasn't born a tiefling

Zevlor does his best to prepare you for what may happen, and when you finally come up to him one day to tug at his sleeve he can already smell your heat

He's another one that makes sure you're prepared beforehand, but it's much easier with how early he catches on

Once you've had something to eat and drink he's happy to lead you over to your shared bedroom

Zevlors so sweet as he leads you through the beginning of it all, sweet kisses down your chest and gentle touches over your hips

You'll find his face between your legs soon enough, happily devouring you like a man starved

As composed and proper as the paladin is, he can't deny that he'd spend the rest of his life here giving you head if you'd let him

Your reactions and the sweet smell of your heat spur him on, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you with ease

At some point his fingers join in too, the digits and his tongue bringing you to ecstasy repeatedly

It's only after he's made you a boneless, whining mess that he'll finally resurface, asking if you'd still like more

Zevlors pupils are blown wide, cock hard and twitching in his pants, his own rut creeping up on him

Once you give him the go ahead he's already tearing off his own clothes, or what's left of them anyway

He eases his cock into you slowly despite the ample preparation, enjoying the anticipation of finally bottoming out inside of you

Every squeeze and flutter you make around him pulls a low groan from the older tiefling, his hand anchoring itself on your hip

He's gentle with you the whole time, happily restraining the part of him that wants to go rougher, to take you like a madman

Instead, he leads you both to climax over and over again, pulling orgasms out of your needy body

When you've both finally had your fill, his own cock oversensitive and going soft within you, that he finally reaches over for the pitcher of water he set out earlier

Zevlor will, once again, help you to eat and drink a little before he holds you close and runs his hands over your bare skin

It's soothing, easing you off to sleep, Zevlor knows you'll need all your energy to do this all over again tomorrow

Rolan

Despite being an extremely smart man, Rolan often forgets about his own ruts and the fact you'll now be experiencing similar absolutely eludes him

He's quite happy to go about his normal business running Ramaziths Tower and ignoring most of his basic bodily needs

That is, until you collapse while helping him with cataloguing

He'd already known you were feeling unwell, the tiefling insisting you stay close to him for the day so he can keep an eye on you, and he just barely catches you before you hit the ground

The wizard takes in your flushed face and the needy way you paw at his clothed chest, already trying to pull away his layers

A realisation runs through him, you're in heat

Going with the first thought that runs through his head, Rolan sweeps you up into his arms and misty steps you over to your bedroom door

It's a fiddly thing trying to open it with you in his arms, that is until he remembers he can simply summon a mage hand to help

Unloading you onto the bed, he finally lets you pull away his top layers, flustered as the full gravity of the situation dawn's on him

Sure, you two have fucked plenty of times before now, but it's different when your desperately tugging at him like he's the very air you breathe

It's only when you snap at him, asking what's taking him so long, that he kicks back into gear

Unlike the other Tieflings, all thoughts of water or food completely evade his mind

It's not long before he has you ass up and face down, a mage hand holding your wrist together above your head as he thrusts three fingers inside of you

Rolan is just as mean in bed as he is out of it, bringing you right to the precipice before pulling his touch away all together

It hardly matters to him that you're in heat really, he's determined to tease you before bringing you mind shattering pleasure

He doesn't take all comfort from you though, pitying you as tears start to roll down your cheeks, his tail intertwining with yours as he finally lets you cum

Anyone in the tower could've heard your scream as you finally get the pleasure your body craves, and that's just how he likes it

Rolan happily takes you properly afterwards, a hand on your ass when he sinks his hard cock deep into you with a single stroke

His own rut kicked in hours ago, the sheer realisation that you were in heat sparking it

And he keeps you there, for hours, cataloguing long forgotten as he thrusts so deep into you that you swear he's reaching your stomach

He's as rough with you as he usually is, the odd smack laid on your ass, hands near bruising your hips as he pulls you impossibly closer to him

The two of you stay there like that, a tangle of limbs, well into the night

Until neither of you even have the energy to move

Rolan does eventually use his mage hand to get you both water before he pulls your head into his chest and encourages you to try and get some sleep

#bri answers #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 smut #bg3 smut #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 dammon #bg3 dammon #dammon x reader #dammon smut #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #zevlor smut #baldurs gate 3 rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan x reader #rolan smut

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fourmoony · 10 months

Note

hii so i was thinking could you write smth with james getting flowers for the first time from reader? it would be soo cute

hi lovely! thanks for requesting.

james x reader fluff | 711

James' shoes are haphazardly abandoned beneath the coatrack when you push your way through the door.

You're holding two bags in each hand, the crinkling of them loud in your ears as you struggle to move through the door way. The coat rack wobbles when one of the bags catches a coat that's been thrown over the top and you let out an exasperated swear under your breath. James rounds the corner with curious eyes, already changed out of his work clothes despite having only been home for what you know to be twenty minutes. He looks cozy in his Christmas pyjamas, socks pulled up with the bottoms tucked into them.

He smiles bright when your eyes meet his and steps forwards to take two of the bags from your hands. You hand them over gratefully, smiling to yourself when his lips press to your head in greeting.

"Hi, lovey," He murmurs, pulling away to make for the kitchen.

You follow, hot on his heels, chasing the scent of his boyish body wash and the warmth of his heart. "Hi. How was your day?"

James sets his bags on the kitchen island and you follow suit, "It was good. Got lunch with Sirius. He sends his love."

"No Remus?" You ask as you fall into a practiced routine of putting away the shopping, together.

It's domesticity at it's finest and you love every minute of it. James has a way of making the smallest things mean the world. With him, things like changing bed sheets or folding laundry isn't so boring. Simply because he's there, soft voiced and willing to help.

He squeezes your hip as he passes, headed to put the milk in the fridge, "Nah, he's got a deadline to meet next week, probably won't crawl out of his hole until after."

You make a mental note to check in on him through the week, even just to tidy up around him while he works, make him a meal that has more nutritional value than a Tesco microwave meal or a kebab. "I hope he's feeling more inspired than last week. Marlene said he was staring at the wall for over an hour when she went round to drop off the shortbread Mary made."

James hums in agreement, rustling around in the second bag. Cellophane crackles and your boyfriend makes a questioning noise - "Lovey, why didn't you tell me your flowers were dying, I only bought them last week."

You turn from where you're trying to stuff a bag of oven chips into the overly stuffed freezer drawer, eyebrows drawn together because your flowers aren't dying so why is James saying that they are? His eyebrows are furrowed, too, and he's standing with a bunch of bright yellow sun flowers in his hand. You smile, "They're for you, silly. Not me."

As if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

It only makes James more confused. "Why?"

Well, for starters, they're big and beautiful, and remind you of a summer's day - same as James. Secondly, he'd said only last week that his mum had grown them in her garden when he was a young boy and he missed the sight dearly. You tell him this and watch as his big hazel eyes turn soft, the hand that isn't cradling the bunch of flowers reaching out for you.

You crowd his space, happy to be so close to him, all cozy and warm and smelling so handsome. The tops of his cheeks are pink and he's smiling so wide it makes your heart melt. He looks almost bashful.

"I've never had someone buy me flowers before." He says it so quietly you're not sure if you were even supposed to hear.

"Well," You press your lips to the underside of his jaw, "Now you have."

He smiles even wider, presses his lips to yours and you feel the familiar warmth spread through your body at his touch. His fingers brush along your waist line, eyes on his bright bunch of sun flowers.

"Thanks, baby."

His smile is sweet and sticky like honey, a familiar feeling in your chest, and all you want to do is kiss him again. So you do. He welcomes it.

"You're welcome, Jamie."

#marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #love #fluff #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter request #fourmoonys asks

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meowzfordayz · 8 months

Text

this morning

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~700

CW: explicit language, mild sexual content

You hate being woken up early, sitting up in alarm thinking it’s past noon, then checking your phone and realizing it’s only 8am. Usually, the blinds are closed. But this morning is different. This morning is steeped in pale rose and lavender, hints of peach clinging to the underside of clouds as the sun slowly rises, light shining softly into the bedroom. Winter mornings may be colder, but they’re also more tender — a gentle, drowsy caress of circadian rhythm, so unlike the bright and eager mornings of summer or spring.

“Sanemi?” you rasp, eyes still closed as you rouse your limbs, body gradually registering the lack of heat beside you.

You aren’t concerned. It’s Monday anyway, and while you work later in the day, your husband does not.

Groggy, you force yourself to sit upright, back supported by a plethora of pillows as your gaze drifts to the bedside table. He usually leaves a note, or a silly doodle (he’s the greatest artist you’ll ever know), or sometimes just a glass of water. Nothing today. You shrug off the odd sensation of his absence, stretching with a mangled yawn as you resist the urge to pick up your phone. Maybe he texted? But you aren’t panicked. Nope. You’re sleepy and calm. Everything is fine. Perhaps he shaved this morning and left in a hurry, or got distracted cleaning the kitchen after cooking himself breakfast. Sometimes he forgets you remind yourself It’s not like he has to say goodbye.

You do vaguely recall him murmuring Good morning to your mostly unconscious figure, a careful kiss pressed to your forehead as the sheets were tucked neatly under your chin. Shh he’d whispered, tapping your cheek with an adoring look You don’t need to get up yet. So you hadn’t. You’d snuggled deeper into the mattress, a slurred Morning-love-you barely audible as he’d left the room, the door not quite closed behind him.

“You’re awake.”

You shriek.

“Well fuck,” Sanemi snorts, gleaming with amusement, doorway framing his shower tousled hair and plain white shirt, grey sweatpants slung lazy around his hips, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re at work!” you exclaim accusingly, heartbeat spiking at his presence.

He grins easily, making his way toward the edge of the bed.

“It’s Monday!” your arms would be flapping if you weren’t so confused, “Are you sick? Why aren’t you resting?!”

“You forgot,” he remarks wryly, reaching a familiar palm to your knee, squeezing you through the blankets.

“No,” you snap, “You forgot!”

Brow furrowing, he hesitates, “What exactly did I forget?”

And then your face warms, suddenly petulant as you grab for his hand, bringing his knuckles to your mouth. You blow gently, nuzzling your lips against the faint moisture before pouting.

“Tosaygoodbye.”

Unfortunately, he is your husband, and he understands your mumble-speech like no other.

“Seriously?” he’s grinning again, like he knows a secret that you aren’t yet privy to.

“Yes,” you huff, shooting him a glare, “Not to be clingy, but to be totally clingy, I really appreciate when you write me little notes and stuff.”

“You’re so dumb,” he sighs, ignoring your indignant squawk as he continues to say, “It’s literally your birthday you idiot. I took today off.”

Oh. Oh! Oh!!

Your shock evident by your silence, Sanemi leans over to peck your cheek, winking as he dips lower to nip at your jaw.

“Reservations for breakfast are in two hours. You can stay here or join me on the couch until then.”

“And what about my job?” you finally blurt, “I didn’t request time off.”

He shrugs, “That’s fine,” brimming with smugness as he drawls, “What I dropped off should be enough to convince your boss to let you go home early. And dinner’s on me,” grazing your earlobe with his teeth as he smiles, “Dessert too. Definitely dessert.”

—

Despite his thinly veiled warning, you are not prepared for the mass of flowers awaiting you at your job, a handwritten card accompanying the arrangement as you search frantically for your phone, already determined to call Sanemi and sob demand to know when he became so romantic (happily, of course).

#sanemi shinazugawa #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #shinazugawa x reader #wind hashira #drabble #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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sailor-aviator · 1 year

Text

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Five

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger Gang of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Swearing, Reader being angsty, Jake Seresin (flirting, jealous), Fingering, Dirty talk

Word Count: 4,766 (oops)

A/N: I am so overwhelmed by the amount of love you all showed Chapter Four! It was beyond anything I could have every imagined!! Side note, I also love how many of you come into my inbox and leave me asks either praising the stories, or just talk about them (*hint, hint*)! I'm honestly shocked you all aren't sick of me and these stories yet with how much I talk about them. Thank you all. As always, reboots, comments and likes are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator!

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

A month ago, you didn’t jump every time a door opened to loudly in the other room. A month ago, you didn’t bolt up in bed in the middle of the night with the phantom stench of cheap liquor and stale tobacco. A month ago, you didn’t dream about grabbing hands and cold, black eyes that stared at you with the intention to possess. A month ago, the sight of the little, hand-carved horse didn’t fill you with an instant sense of comfort and warmth.

You had found it sitting on the railing by the steps of the porch the morning after the incident at the saloon. You had walked out the front door to do the morning chores, Benjamin having already tripped out the door with a promise thrown over his shoulder to come check on you in the later morning after his meeting. It wasn’t a masterpiece by any means, but it was clear that someone had spent a lot of time whittling it down before deeming it presentable. You had walked over to it slowly, taking it in your hands gently. Whoever had carved it had made sure to add in extra details. You could see the curve of the horse’s eyes and the strands of its mane that flowed down its back. Every detail had been painstakingly carved as if the crafter had wanted it to be perfect. Your breath caught in your throat and your heart swelled when you saw the final detail on the underside of the horse’s belly.

J.S.

The wooden horse had quickly found a home on your bedside table where you would pluck it from its perch during the late night hours, holding it to you tightly before drifting back into a comfortable sleep only to repeat the same cycle the following night.

The cattle had arrived shortly after the departure of the Dagger Gang from town, and both you and Benjamin found yourselves scrambling to hire workers to help with the overwhelming workload.

“I’ll put the word out, don’t you worry,” Maverick had smiled over dinner one night. Two days later, three young, new faces had made themselves comfortable in the small cabin behind the house.

“Isaac is a mean sonofabitch,” Penny had told you once she heard about what happened in her saloon. “But I wouldn’t worry too much about him for the time being, especially now that Pete and Tom know he’s in the area. He’ll lie low for a little while to try and wait’em out.”

Her words left you with little comfort, but you slowly stopped casting worried glances over your shoulder every couple of seconds every time you left the confines of your home. An easy routine had settled on your ranch. Get up, get ready for the day, feed the goats and chickens, tend to your garden, make supper for the ranch hands and Benjamin, work on mending the various articles of clothing that were handed to you, go to bed, repeat.

The subtle coolness in the air that had been present a month ago finally gave way to a full blown chill, and you soon found yourself planting winter vegetables.

“How are you today, miss?”

You looked up to see one of the ranch hands, Levi, smiling down at you from where he leaned over the fence. He was a handsome man, maybe only a year or two older than you. Brown hair draped across the golden skin of his forehead and baby blue eyes twinkled at you.

“I’m doing just fine,” you smiled at him. “And I’ve told you a hundred times now to call me Scout, Levi.”

He chuckled, grinning at you. “Of course, Scout.”

He walked around the length of the fence and through the gate to drop down beside you where your hands were digging up the cold earth.

“Anything I can help you with?” he offered, chucking the dead plants beside you into the bucket behind you.

“No, I think I’m just about done here,” you hummed, wiping your hands on your soiled apron, smiling at the handsome man. “But, I could use some help bringing things back from the market, if you don’t mind helping?”

“Of course,” Levi grinned, offering you a hand as you moved to stand. You took it, and he pulled you up gently, pulling you into him slightly. The two of you stood in silence as he stared down at you. He looked at you with a gentle expression, causing heat to rise to your cheeks.His baby blue eyes moving to closing as he began to lean into you oh so slowly. You wished they were green.

The thought alone snapped you from your daze, and you pulled away from Levi with a clear of your throat. Resting a hand on his chest, you refused to meet his gaze, eyes darting around the yard nervously. “I should go clean up.”

“Right,” he breathed, nodding slowly. “I’ll be here.”

You gave him a brief smile before pushing past him and into the house. Minutes later you were walking out the front door towards Levi, basket in hand. He offered you a smile which you returned shyly before the two of you made your way into town. There was a distinct lack of children running around, which you were grateful for. Maverick had announced to the congregation after the church service the previous morning that the first day of school would be held in the sanctuary the next morning. He had then introduced the new teacher, who appeared to be a shy little thing before the reverend had dismissed everyone for the day. This was of course after word had spread that the Dagger Gang was back in town. You had overheard two of the girls in the pews ahead of you giggling about the different men.

“Did you hear?” giggled a red head to her friend excitedly. “The Dagger Gang is back in town!”

That had caught your attention.

“Really?” the blonde had squealed, earning several disapproving looks from the older members of the congregation. The two girls paid them no mind. “When did they arrive?”

“Just last night!”

This was news to you. You were shocked at the wave of disappointment that rolled over you. They had gotten in last night? Why were you just hearing about it? You were shaken from your thoughts when the red head continued.

“Oh, that Jake is so handsome!”

That had caused you to let out a rather unladylike snort, drawing the attention of the girl who sat a few rows ahead of you. You rolled your eyes at the other two to your left. The blond man was very handsome, but if only they knew his true nature.

“He is,” the blonde nodded with a wistful sigh. “But that Bradley isn’t so bad on the eyes either. It’s been horrible going this long without seeing all those handsome men walking around town.”

Your thoughts soured at the reminder as you fought to keep your face neutral. You weren’t even sure why you cared so much. It wasn’t like you even liked the man. He was cocky, brash, pig-headed, thoughtful, brave-

You shook your head. You would not go down that road. Mercifully, the reverend had started the service moments later and you were given a reprieve from the ridiculous thoughts that insisted on taking up residence inside your head. Jake hadn’t come to see you that day, and now here you were; standing in the market and well into the next day.

You greeted Hondo where he stood behind the counter as usual.

“Mornin’, Scout!” he grinned at you. “What can I help you with today?”

“Was just coming to see if Joel was back with any sugar.”

Hondo gave you an apologetic grimace. “‘Fraid not, honey. He should be back any day now though, so you keep comin’ by and checkin’.”

“That’s alright,” you smiled. You turned to look at Levi. “Why don’t you go on down to the feed store and purchase some hay for the horses? I’ll finish up here and meet you at the stalls by the saloon.”

“Alright,” he smiled, giving you a lingering look before turning and walking out the door. You chatted with Hondo for a couple of minutes as he filled a container with salt and packed different preserves into your basket. You waved to him with a promise to check back in the following day before stepping outside. You had just made it to the stalls of the market when you felt eyes on you. A couple of girls walking by stared past you, and they giggled before you heard him speak.

“Mornin’, Scout,” Jake drawled. You turned to see him leaning up against the side of the butcher’s shop, arms crossed in front of his chest and a cocky smirk hanging from his lips. Green eyes studied you as you stared.

“Jake,”you greeted cooly, mouth pressing into a firm line. Jake’s smirk turned into a grin as he pushed off the wall, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you.

“Missed you, pretty girl,” he hummed, reaching up to dance his fingertips across your cheek.

You couldn’t stop the words that left your mouth. “Not enough to come and see me when you got back yesterday, apparently.”

Jake leaned his head back with a booming laugh, causing your cheeks to heat up. His laughter died down into a low chortle as he looked at you with twinkling eyes. “Is that why you’re being so cold to me, pretty girl? Y’mad that I didn’t come and see you?”

“Hardly,” you snapped, glaring up at him. His smile didn’t falter.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he chuckled, “had I known you’d be this upset, I would have come to see you first thing.”

You ignored him, turning to walk towards the stalls. He wasn’t far behind you, and when you stopped in front of a stall to inspect the apples, he pressed up against you from behind. He leaned down so that his mouth hovered over your ear. “I got something for you.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, and he let out another chuckle, turning you slowly to face him. He reached into the pocket of his pants when you were fully facing him, pulling out a long, golden chain. Attached at the end was a large, cut emerald surrounded by a halo of tiny diamonds that sparkled in the late morning sunlight. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at it, recognizing it from the jeweler’s shop just down the road. It cost a fortune, and many women around town had taken turns to stand in front of the shop windows to admire it.

“You like it?” he smirked, holding it up for you to see it closer. You nodded slowly, eyes wide.

Your hand moving on its own to reach up and stroke over the precious gem.

“Thought of you when I saw it, pretty girl,” he hummed, leaning in so that his breath fanned over your face. “Thought the green would help you remember me when I’m not here.”

“How did you afford this?” you breathed, voice so soft even to your own ears.

“I have my ways.”

Your eyes snapped up to his at that. Frowning, you took a half step back to put some distance between the two of you.

“You mean you bought it with stolen money,” you accused. “Or did you just force Mr. Benson to give it to you free of charge?”

“I bought it, if you must know,” he sniffed, looking more than a little put out at your sudden shift in tone.

“With money you earned?”

“Oh, I earned it,” he smirked ruefully.

You scoffed at that.

“You shouldn’t lie, Jake,” you said pointedly. “It’s a filthy, disgusting habit.”

“What does it matter?” he frowned. You narrowed your eyes up at him.

“It matters,” you seethed, “because I only accept gifts from men who earn their money in a respectable way.”

Before Jake could reply, you heard someone call your name.

“Scout?”

You both turned to see Levi watching you two with an uncertain expression on his face. He walked over to the two of you, and he placed an arm around your shoulder. Jake stiffened at the action, eyes blazing and lips set in a tight line.

“Is everything okay?” Levi asked. You flashed him with a quick smile.

“Yes,” you reassured him, turning back to glare at Jake who still had his eyes locked onto Levi, scanning him up and down with a look of utter distaste. “We should get going. I forgot to grab the goat’s milk for Penny and we need to get the cart to pick up the hay.”

Levi nodded, looking uncertainly between you and Jake. You turned and began to walk through the crowd without a glance back at blond behind you.

Levi and one of the other ranch hands, Phillip, had dropped you off in front of the saloon with the promise that you would meet them by the bank before sunset. That had been a couple of hours ago, and you had fallen into an easy conversation with the older woman.

“She’s a timid, little thing,” Penny said as men began to make their way into the saloon. “I’ve never seen Bradley so sweet on anyone before. Calls her Birdie and everything.”

“That’s cute,” you smiled softly. “I hope one day someone will feel that way about me.”

“What on earth are you talkin’ about, darlin’?” she chuckled incredilously, stopping her movements to stare at you. “You’ve got that Seresin boy wrapped around your little finger.”

“Hardly,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Penny shook her head and pointed an accusatory finger at you. “You may not see it, Scout, but everyone in town knows it. That boy would eat his boots if you asked him to.”

“I doubt that,” you frowned. “You know he tried to give me a necklace today?”

The older woman perked up at that. “He did?”

You nodded, humming at the memory. “You know that emerald pendant that’s been sitting in Mr. Benson’s window for forever and a day? It was that one.”

“Well where is it?” she asked curiously, eyes darting down to see the empty space by your collarbone.

“I didn’t accept it,” you said plainly, earning a look. “He bought it with stolen money, Penny. How could I accept it? I can’t. I won’t.”

Penny watched you thoughtfully for a moment. “What is it you want from him?”

You stared at the wooden top of the bar, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully. “I want him to make an effort to do things the right way.”

“Alright,” Penny conceded, a knowing smile on her face. She turned to pull out some bottles from behind the bar, and stopped when her eyes caught sight of one of the windows. “Weren’t you supposed to meet your ranch hands at sunset?”

You turned to see what she was looking at and let out a low curse. It was clear that the sun had set ages ago, inky darkness resting against the windowpanes as lamp light filtered out.

“If you go now, they might still be waiting for you outside,” she said as you scrambled to your feet. You cast her one last smile over your shoulder before waving her goodbye. Practically sprinting out of the packed saloon, your warm cheeks were kissed by the cold, night air. Your breath came out in puffs as your eyes swept the street for any sign of the men you had come into town with. The streets were empty save for the few men who stood outside the saloon. Sighing, you figured they must have thought you had already gone home without them. You cursed again and began to make your way down the street. You had only made it three buildings down before realizing that footsteps sounded behind you, following you. The hair on the back of your neck stood on edge as a wave of terror washed over you. You quickened your pace, and tried not to panic as the footsteps behind you matched your pace. Your heart began to hammer as you heard more footsteps join in with the first.

You rounded the corner a few paces ahead of the group behnd you. You let out a yelp as a hand grabbed you from the shadows of an allyway, pulling you into a strong chest. You struggled as the man pushed you up against the wall, hand still covering your mouth.

“Hey, hey. Scout, it’s me.”

You opened your eyes, struggling to focus on the stranger in front of you as you adjusted to the darkness. Jake stood in front of you, eyes filled with worry as he watched you relax. The both of you stiffened when you heard a man shout from the front of the building, and Jake turned his head to look.

“She went this way!”

Jake looked back at you, seeming to weigh his options. He removed his hand from your mouth. “Do you trust me?”

“What?” you asked breathlessly.

“Do you trust me?”

You heard the shouts of the men grow closer as you studied the man in front of you. Slowly, you nodded.

“Then you better make this believable,” he said. Your brow furrowed in confusion. Jake reached down to grip the back of your legs, hoisting you up and pinning you againt the wall. You let out a startled gasp as he wrapped your legs around your waist, and you clutched at his shoulders. Jake gave you one final look before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours.

You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, but his lips were surprisingly soft against yours. Jake’s lips moved against yours slowly, urging you to respond. Slowly, unsurely, you began to move your lips against his and he let out a desperate sounding moan. His hands clutched your hips in a vice as he moved his knee in between your legs, slotting it against you. You let out a gasp at the action, and Jake took full advantage, slipping his tongue into your mouth. His tongue caressed yours gently as his right hand slid up the length of your body to rest under your left breast. Your hands moved on their own to tangle in the strands of hair that rested at the base of his neck, tugging lightly. Jake rewarded you with a strangled groan and a press of his knee into your core. You cried out at the action, feeling Jake grin against your mouth as he nipped on your bottom lip.

“Any sign of her?”

You moved to pull away and look at where the voice came from, but Jake’s hand moved up pull you back into him before returning to its spot on your chest.

“No,” came a voice at the enterance to the ally. “Just a randy couple back here.”

You heard him walk away, and the hammering of your heart in your chest was due only in part to the small fraction of relief at his exit. Jake licked into your mouth like a man starved, delving deeper with each pass of his tongue against yours. You felt your hips rock against his knee, and you let out a desperate keen when he pulled his lips away from you. He kissed from the corner of your mouth and down the expanse of your neck. Finding a spot below your ear that made you give out a particularly loud noise, he smiled against you before honing in. He left little nips to the spot, soothing the sting with his tongue before sucking a bruise into your skin.

“Jake,” you cried out, the pleasure clouding your mind. Jake pulled back to look at you, eyes blazing and darkened with lust. He studied you for a brief moment before a salacious grin broke out across his kiss swollen lips. His right hand moved to grab your breast, squeezing gently at the same time he ground his knee into your core. You let out a quiet wail, arching into his touch, desperate to have his lips back on you. He complied with a chuckle, leaning back in to bury his face into your neck. His left hand still sat on your hip, and he used it to help grind you against him. He left hot, open-mouthed kisses as he made his way from the base of your neck and up to your ear.

“I should take you over my knee, you know,” he ground out hotly, nipping at your earlobe. “Walking around here at night with no one to accompany you. Lucky for you I happened to be walking along.”

You let out a choked gasp as he removed his right hand from your chest, sliding it down and under your skirts. With expertise, he bunched the offending material at your waist before reaching his hand into your drawers. Your head hit the wall when you felt his finger press against your entrance.

“So wet for me already, sweeheart, and I’ve barely even touched you,” he murmured into your ear. “Nobody has ever touched you like this, have they, angel?”

You shook your head, too far gone to answer and certainly too far gone to care about the consequences. He pressed a finger into you, your mind going blank at the sudden intrusion. His finger felt so big inside of you, and you let out another choked gasp at the slight burn as he stretched you.

“I know, sweet girl,” he cooed into your ear, slowly adding a second finger and thrusting up into you. “Let me make you feel good, darlin’.”

Your cries grew higher pitched as he slowly began to pick up the pace of his hand, palm brushing the little bundle of nerves that had you seeing stars.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he moaned hotly into your ear, pressing gentle kisses to your cheek that served as a stark contrast to the way he moved his fingers inside of you. Your cheeks grew hot as you heard the squelch that sounded every time he pumped into you. “Do you hear that, pretty girl? You’re pussy is so gready, sweet thing. She keeps sucking me back in like she doesn’t want me to leave.”

He licked a strip up from the base of your neck back up to your jaw before giving the skin there a gentle nip.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Feels good to just lean back and let me take care o’ you lke this. Nobody is ever going to make you feel like the way you do right now. Only I can make you feel this good.”

“Jakey,” you whined, reaching down to draw him into a kiss. He moaned into your mouth, pulling back to stare at you hotly.

“Say it again,” he whispered against your lips, fingers moving faster as he chased your high. You felt an unfamiliar pressure begin to build in your lower stomach as you ground down onto his hand.

“Jake,” you gasped, but he shook his head, fixing you with a stern look. You felt the hot sting of tears kiss at your eyes, crying out when he slowed his movements down to a crawl. His eyes bore into you, and you tried desperately to move your hips against him, but his hand had you pinned. He tsked up at you with a borderline sneer at your pitiful attempts to get yourself off.

“Try again, sweet girl.”

“Jakey, please,” you cried, feeling a tear escape and roll down your cheek. Jake hushed you, once again resuming the pace of his thrusts. You clutched at him desperately, nails digging into the exposed skin of his chest. Jake let out a soft hiss and slipped a third finger into you, causing a loud cry to spill out past your lips. He crooked his fingers in a “come hither” motion that had you gushing around the invading appendages. He smiled. “There she is.”

“Tell me who this sweet, little cunt belongs to,” he demanded. You clenched around him at his words, a strangled moan slipping past his lips at how tight you felt.

“You,” you cried, more tears streaming down your cheeks, begging desperately for your release as you stared into his green eyes.

“What’s my name, sweetheart?” He demanded, focusing his fingers on that one spot inside you that had you crying out and clutching at him every time. “C’mon, sweet girl. What’s my name?”

“Jakey!” you cried wantonly, burying your face into his neck. His groans became breathless and constant as you began to press sweet, chaste kisses to the spot between his neck and shoulder.

“Again,” he ground out, feeling you squeeze him impossibly tighter as you neared your end. “Let this whole town know who you belong to.”

“Jakey!” you wailed at the top of your lungs. Your gaze flashed white as you came hard around him, biting into the juncture of his shoulder. You felt your release gush out past his fingers as he continued thrusting, riding out your high.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he hummed into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your cheek as you calmed down. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

As your breathing returned to normal, Jake slowly pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to hiss at how empty you suddenly felt. Jake chuckled, holding your gaze as he brought his fingers up this lips. He sucked on them with a hum as he closed his eyes, savoring the taste of you. You choked out a breath at the sight, the fire inside of you returning with a vengeance at the sight.

He slowly opened his eyes to look at you, dropping his fingers back to his side. His gaze was affectionate as he leaned forward to nuzzle your nose with his. “Just as I thought.”

You looked up at him in confusion. A smirk played on his lips.

“Sweet as honey.”

Jake made sure your skirt was on correctly before pulling you by the hand out of the allyway. He walked you quickly to your front door, stopping you with a grab of your wrist before you went inside. You turned to him with a confused frown as he looked affectionately down at you, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, so quick you weren’t sure he had even done it. He let go of your wrist and took one step down off the porch.

“Goodnight, Scout.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

The next morning your brother greeted you with a scowl, chastising you for getting home so late.

“What were you even doing, Scout?” he griped. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and you refused to look at him.

“I just lost track of the time while talking with Penny,” you answered him, quickly clearing the plates from the table. Benjamin’s scowl grew deeper at your answer.

“That was stupid,” he snapped, earning a glare from you. “You need to be more careful. Who knows what could have happe-”

“Benji, it’s fine,” you cut him off with a huff. Placing your hands on your hips, you watched him as he moved to put his work boots on to go outside. “I know last night isn’t what has you in such a foul mood, so what is it? What happened?”

He didn’t say anything as you followed him towards towards the back door.

“Benji?”

“We hired on a new ranch hand,” he said evenly, this tone worrying you more than the previous one. “Was real insistent he get a job here too.”

“Alright?” you questioned, following him down the steps and into the yard. You saw four figures hammering away at the fence posts down by the barn, and you took quick steps to keep up with your brother’s longer ones. “Do we not have enough to pay him?”

“Nothing like that,” Benjamin muttered, casting a quick glance your way before back at the figures ahead of you. “Just know I blame you for this.”

“Benjamin, are you going to tell me what this is about or-”

You were cut off as the men stopped their hammering to look at the two of you as you approached. Each one greeted you, but your eyes were glued to the newcomer. An easy grin hung on his lips and mirthful, green eyes stared at you as you gaped.

“Hey there, honey girl.”

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x you #top gun hangman #hangman x reader #hangman #jake seresin smut #don't hang'em til noon #dhtn #smut #jake hangman smut #jake hangman seresin smut #dgu #dagger gang universe

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Text

Yan Angel + G.N "Loser" Reader + Yan Demon Harem Blurb

It's been a while since you've been out on your own.

Between an influx of roommates better described as your partners by them and the few friends you had before not a day had gone by without someone hanging off your arm or chatting your precious hours away. Your apartment, once hollow and your fortress of solitude, was now bustling with more life and love than any home you had inhabited in the past. It was pleasant, if not a little overwhelming at times. Sometimes you missed the silent nights - the days when you were alone with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company.

Crawling out of bed and over the bodies that crowded your space, you slip on your shoes and retrieve the spare key tapped to the underside of your desk. As always, your roommates had hidden your main set and thus you hid spares in places they'd like never explored. Creeping towards the front door - the floorboards creak and cry out from the added weight.

"Baby?..."

You still, as if both you - and the shadow had zero knowledge of its heightened vision. The figure yawns, turning back towards your bedroom door.

"Grab me a pack of gum, if you'd like to buy my silence."

With a small nod, you pull your hood overhead and step out into the chilly evening air.

The closest gas station was about a block away; a fair final destination for your first night out alone in weeks. Walking through the vacant streets, it felt like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders - likely because it had. Your roommates were quick to massage out any kinks in your muscles when they were the cause of the majority. Each weighted a ton and loved to cling to you as if they were like as air. Still, you didn't mind it much considering they fixed the problems they caused almost as soon as they caused them. They cleaned up a lot in your life, more than you'd admit to them or risk being smothered to death by finally acknowledging their hard work and care.

"Sorry."

Opening the gas station door, you bump into someone as they exit. The hooded figure either ignores or didn't hear your apology as they quietly sit on the curb, head slumped against their knees.

Ok.... You shrug it off and enter the store, gunning for the isle with the item you set out to obtain. You pick a random pack and head up to the front to check out. The cashier takes a double look at you, straightening the hunch in their back as genuine surprise flashes in their eyes.

"Y/n? That you? Didn't recognize you without those bags under your eyes. You look good - how ya been?"

You check his nametag. Noah had been the closest thing to a friend you had for a while considering you'd see each other almost every night on his shift. "Oh, hey Noah. Not bad, just made some new friends... I guess."

He smiles as he takes the pack of gum. "Never thought I'd see the day, but I'm glad for you. Between you and that last customer - tonight has been full of surprises."

You decide not to question him on that last bit and pay for your items before heading out. The air feels even colder than when you stepped in and you were starting to regret wearing the only hoodie with such a giant hole in its pocket. You cover it as best as you could as you face the direction you came, stride halted by a soft hick from below. That person was still sitting on the side of the road, face covered by their hands as they openly sobbed and sniffled into their hands. It's not your problem to solve. You should really head home.

"Hey, you okay?

The figure turns to look at you. Shit - you intentionally said that low enough so they wouldn't hear. It hugs their knees to their chest, wipping their eyes off on their pants leg. The pants along with their hands and hoodie were stained with a golden, metallic looking fluid. Ew.

"I... ate a hot dog."

You grimace. You completely understand their state of duress now. They were so soft spoken and quiet you almost didn't hear them. Their voice sounded feminine - but not.

"It was the best thing I've had since I've came here. I thought I was doing something good by helping those people, but it's too much for me. I want to go home."

The figure throws their heads in their arms as their eyes leak once more. You could've sworn the same fluid that stained their clothes came from their eyes, but it was probably a trick of the light. You couldn't exactly say you had been in their shoes before, but you felt their pain. Life sucks, and then you die.

The figure jumps as a pack of gum falls on the concrete beside them.

"Buy another and eat it in front of whoever you're talking about. Once you stop caring about how others see you life get better. Not by much, but it's better than nothing. Just make sure you eat a stick of that after your done. From personal experience, hot dog breath isn't the best thing to walk around with. It's spearmint."

"Ah..... w-wait!"

The figure reaches out, but you're already gone. You're not going to hear the end of this by morning, but you're too lazy and out of cash to grab another pack. You head back home and crawl back into bed - unprepared for what the morning had to bring.

"Looks like someone left the house without our say so - again."

Goddamn it. It's not even an hour after dawn.

"You know it's dangerous to go outside alone by yourself, baby. Especially at night. Guess we'll have to remind you of your manners."

As by the grace of God, a knock at the door rings throughout your tiny home before your tattered clothes can be stripped of their remaining fibers. You bolt out of bed and to the door, flinging it open to greet the face of your savior. Instead, you're meet with the designer belt strapped around their waist. You poke your head outside and crane your neck to look up at the gigantic and well dressed figure - a bubble popping between her pale glossed lips as you catch sight of her face

"Y/n!"

The large woman reaches in and pulls you into her bosom, your legs dangling feet off the ground as she snuggles you to her chest. You fight the urge to sneeze as the feathers covering the upper face of her face assault your nose and eyes. As she swings you around like an oversized doll you see a dozen people standing behind her, each carrying more boxes and bags than you can count One, two three, twelve, thirty.... Oh God.

You tear your face from her bust to breath, looking through the wings masking her face for her eyes, but all that does is make your head spin. "Do I know you?"

The woman scoops you into one arm as she covers her mouth in shock, lowering you to the ground and dusting you off as she bows her head.

"I'm so sorry! I was just so excited to finally find you. You'd be surprised how many people have the same first and last name as you in this city. My name is Blythe, we met at the gas station last night. I did everything you told me to do and now I feel like a new woman. I saw the holes in your clothing and so I thought bringing you some new ones would be enough to repay you. It's not much, but I hope you accept my humble offering and maybe my invitation to tea this afternoon? It doesn't have to be tea, I just want to thank my savior in whatever way I can and hopefully become someone you can depend on as well. I'll do whatever I can to make happy."

Your stomach drops as a sickeningly sweet voice comes from behind you.

"Love, who are these people?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #female yandere #yandere blurb #tw yandere #yandere angel #yandere teratophilia #yandere drabble #BLYTHE my oc

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waklman · 1 year

Text

Chatterbox

prompt: bob helps his teacher assistant girlfriend get her mind off work.

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni. fingering, oral (f receiving), slight size kink and dumbification if you squint.

a/n: dont ask me why im releasing one-shots before i even finish chapter one, because i dont know either okay. but anyway, here is a peak at bob and honeybee :).

word count: 2.3k

college au, frat boy au

the after party masterlist.

Bob never had a problem with how chatty you could get.

If there was one thing Bob was grateful for, it was his girlfriend's ability to fill in an awkward silence when needed. The blond was certain he could listen to you talk all day, running that pretty mouth of yours while he sat there nodding attentively. And it was just a plus that you looked so enamoring, eyes glittering in excitement and hands animatedly gesturing as you spoke.

However, Bob did have a problem with how chatty you got about your TA tasks—especially when you were supposed to be forgetting about them for now. The end of the semester always came with a bigger pile of work, but today was a Saturday. Yet, you're still thinking about school.

For once, the rowdy frat house was empty with everyone visiting home for spring break. It was a perfect opportunity for Bob to finally get you out of the grayed out dorm room you trapped yourself in, day in and day out. So, when he made the move to invite you over, he had every intention to ease your stress, hence the dress code of comfy attire only.

But this afternoon, it looks like Bob has to do more than just lay stomach down between the plush of your thighs, glasses set off to the side, letting you mindlessly braid his hair, and mindlessly run your mouth.

“Does he think I have no life?” Your pointed complaints are still ongoing, leaving you ignorant to the subtle movement below you.

While your brewing anger is very much directed at Professor Simpson, it’s currently being spewed towards Bob’s ceiling fan—which can do nothing to argue back—just how you like it. If looks could kill, the mean glare you’re giving the motionless object suspended over his bed would be on living its last day.

The remembrance of your professor’s threatening email to you about getting grades out, completely distracts you from the braid of blond hair in your hands, slowly losing its structure as your boyfriend shifts his weight under you.

Again, you let out an annoyed breath. “Five days of my spring break to grade some last minute assignment he just—conveniently forgot to mention to me?!”

You’re so lost in your story telling that you’re not even registering the hot breath dusting over your exposed tummy, and the gradual rise of your shirt as Bob uses his nose to drag the fabric upwards, ghosting his lips over your navel.

Bob shakes his head against you, mildly entertained by your cluelessness.

“Remind me to never work with the english department again,” you huff, hands now curling into fist at your sides, regretting your decision to assist with that course over the others available to you this semester.

“‘Cause now I have over eighty research papers to check ove–” With a light pull of his teeth, Bob loosens the drawstring of your sweatpants.

The sound of the thick cord coming undone from the knot is muted compared to your tangent, but your ears catch the noise, your stomach feels it, and your mouth clamps shut immediately.

Blinking at the ceiling dumbly, you open your mouth to say his name, but it just snaps shut again.

After a beat of silence, there’s two sets of fingers hooked into the loose band of your sweats next, giving your pants a suggestive tug.

Bob makes sure to keep his patience at bay, wanting to soak in your flustered state, just a bit more. Because, honestly, he would’ve ripped these sweats off you long ago if you weren’t so cute—already so meek and tiny under him.

With your eyes still refusing to meet his very own, you miss him running an intending gaze over the underside of your jaw, and making note of the bead of sweat running down your cheek. While you were the one mostly making him nervous in your relationship, it was a nice change of pace to inflict it back onto you once in a while. You were so obliging too.

Bob lowly hums, eyes dropping to the strappy pink lace sitting on your hip bone, revealed by his slight yank of your sweats. “Honeybee..” he commands your attention. “You gonna let me see these cute little panties you got on for me?”

Bashfully, you lift your butt off the mattress, letting him pull it off your waist. Because, yes, you will let him. Though, you’re sure they’re thoroughly soaked through at this point.

“There’s my good girl,” he sings, deep voice vibrating through his chest, pleased by your obedience.

If you weren’t very aware that his head was currently stationed between your legs, you would’ve clenched your thighs together at his raspy tone.

Finally, you suck in a nervous breath, redirecting your attention down to your boyfriend who’s starting to make his way down your legs—dragging down the thick fabric, leaving wet open mouthed kisses to the flesh of your thighs, to the side of your calves, and finally to your ankle.

Near the foot of the bed, he sits up momentarily to tear your pants off your feet. They go flying into his open closet. “B-Bobby,” your breath shallows at his sudden forwardness.

“What? Nothin’ to complain about anymore?” He quietly teases, a faint smirk playing on his lips, laying back between your ankles.

“Well…I—not really. No it’s just–,” you stammer, rubbing the wet pads of your fingers together.

“That’s what I thought,” he cuts you off.

Keeping his eyes locked onto yours, Bob makes his way back up your naked legs. All you can do is blink at him, arousal sitting heavy at your pulsating core. He almost looks unrecognizable. The baby blue eyes you’re so used to seeing are casted over in a thick, dark, cloud of lust.

With him settled between your thighs, Bob’s eyes snap down to your slick, leaking through the flowery lace pattern in front of him. “So fuckin’ wet for me honey,” he marvels, licking a slow, flat stripe to your covered folds, with a slight pressure against you, coating his tastebuds in your arousal. The tip of his tongue flicks your bud, teasingly, as he moves off.

“Please,” you thoughtlessly whine, heat blooming through your chest.

Without so much of a warning, Bob roughly tears off your panties with one hand, pocketing it for himself.

You raise your voice. “No! That was—” Again, he cuts you off.

In an instant, his front is pressed to yours, pushing you into the mattress, meeting you in a desperate, sloppy kiss. Eyes fluttering close, you return the eagerness, letting him swallow every small noise that sears through your throat. Then, a fuzz takes over your brain, eyes scrunching in pleasure as his knee nudges your exposed clit. The scratchy fabric of his plaid pants drives you on, more than you expected it to.

You can’t help but to buck your hips, chasing the feeling. But the moment you start a steady grind against him, Bob stills you, pressing a firm hand on your hip, ripping his mouth from you at the realization that you’re starting to get yourself off.

At the loss of his knee, a small whine escapes your lips, and your glossy eyes blink open again.

There’s a light threat resting on his tongue, but it immediately dies at the sight of you, pupils shot, underneath him.

Even with the steady hold of your lower half, you’re shaking as you struggle to remain still for him. The pinch of his eyebrows loosen, eyes dropping down to the heave of your chest under his t-shirt. But what finally does it, is the way his hand fully swallows the side of your hip. Experimentally, he stretches his fingers against you, scanning the amount of skin he covers with the move.

Biting your lip nervously, you start to pathetically plead with him again. “I’m sorry. I–I’ll be good. I–Please. Will be so good for you.”

He knows he should’ve held out longer, but for some reason—he’s spurred on to get his hands on you again.

In a matter of seconds, he dips back down, placing bites on your sweaty neck. You’re so sure it’s punishment for trying to ride his knee, because he’s leaving them in spots he knew would be hard to hide.

The hand that was previously keeping you steady, extends down to your swollen folds, forcing a pitched whine from your throat as he toys your clit. “Oh–Ah–F-Fuck,” you moan, clamping one hand around the back of his neck, as the other scrunches the sheet below you.

Dipping his thumb down to your dripping entrance, he collects your slick, before coating your bundle of nerves with it. Then, Bob bites down harshly on your collarbone, continuing to draw tight, uniformed circles as you mewl from the precision.

It’s almost heartless, the way his pointer and middle finger curl into you next, roughly working against your walls that instinctively tighten around him. You're glad no one's home, because you couldn’t be bothered to stifle the shaky moans and mindless string of pleas that falls from your lips, begging him for more. Because it just feels too good. But, even if some of his house-mates were present, you're not too sure if you could stay quiet.

"That good, huh?" He licks over one of the marks he's been littering across your skin.

Bob’s mouth pulls into a pleased smirk against the side of your neck, letting you chase his hand, hips snapping off the mattress as you soak him down to his wrist. With his other hand, Bob’s palm travels up your bunched up shirt, giving your left breast a quick squeeze before rolling the hardened bud between two fingers.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs in your ear, putting more pressure on your swollen clit, working in unison with the unrelenting drag of his fingers inside you. All you can do is blabber, brows knitted in pleasure—too caught up in the building knot in your stomach. “I—I want—” You careen off the mattress again, rolling against his drenched hand.

“What is it?” He clicks his tongue at your incoherent response, fucking his fingers into you harder.

In response, another jumble of unintelligible sentences is pushed out of you. “Want my mouth on that pretty pussy? Is that it?”

The palm under your shirt slips downward, as he removes himself from the crook of your neck, trailing down to your sopping core—all while keeping the bruising pace of his hand against you, eyes glued to the glossy sheen coating his entire forearm. It’s quick, the way he swaps from his thumb to his tongue, suctioning it around your clit, giving it all of his attention.

You’re not even sure you’re breathing anymore. There’s a burn rippling through your lungs as your jaw hangs open in a silent moan, unable to grapple the feeling of him groaning loudly against you.

With your orgasm growing in the pit of your stomach Bob pushes you closer to it, adding a third finger, splitting you open and hitting you at the exact spot that gets your thighs to clench around his head, muffling his ears. With the confirmation that you’re close, his eyes snap shut—lapping at you with such vigor that the intensity finally sends you over the edge.

The orgasm hits like a strong wave, washing over your trembling body as it racks every part of you. You're so sure, you felt your bones shake inside you. Underneath you, Bob slowly removes himself from your sensitive core, sweetly pressing his lips to your inner thigh, murmuring praise with each soft kiss.

You suck in a much-needed breath of air, trying to focus your vision. At the moment, Bob has two ceiling fans overlapping over each other.

“I–I don’t even care about the essays anymore,” you confess. How could you when your boyfriend ate you out like his life depended on it?

Tucking your chin, you curiously look down at him. With your wetness completely coating half his face, leading down to his bobbing Adam’s apple—he lightly laughs. He looks that good, and he has the audacity to laugh, causing your cheeks to heat up—as if you aren’t half naked in front of him.

You’ve always had trouble hiding your fluster when he smiled at you like that—So you’re certain, he can see how it’s affecting you.

“That was my intention, Honeybee,” he rises to sit his knees, gently scooping you into a sitting position.

The oversized tee drops down your upper body as you sit up in front of him. You shouldn’t be—but you’re embarrassed to feel his sticky hand on the small of your back as he holds you up. “I love you, but you gotta give yourself a break. I can listen to you all day, swear it. I just—don’t like seeing you stress yourself out for no reason.”

He kisses your forehead, almost as if he's implanting the reminder there. Bob then gives your back an affectionate rub, prompting your lips to twitch, a tell-tale sign they’re about to wobble next.

Biting down on your bottom lip to stop yourself, you lean forward, wrapping your weak arms around his neck. “I love you so much. Don’t deserve you,” you profess, brows knitted together—hit with the random urge to cry.

The only response you ever got from your incessant ranting were snappy remarks, telling you to shut up or go into another room if you were gonna talk to yourself. But here you are, in the arms of the first person to ever admit that they don’t mind it. On top of that, he even loves you—caring enough to voice his concerns about your habit of rambling, which only resulted in a build up of unwanted anxiety.

Bob softens, pulling you closer to him, petting the top of your head. “You deserve me,” he assures you. “And you deserve a bath too, with me,” he adds on.

You quietly sniffle. “And cuddles.”

“How could I forget,” he scolds himself jokingly, drawing a giggle from you. At that, his mouth breaks out in a smile. “Then you can catch me up on the stuff you were tellin’ me about last week. You haven’t told me what happened after Professor Benjamin was caught with Bradley’s uncle.”

“Oh! Right. So when I walked in on them…” Bob listens intently, coaxing you off his mattress, laughing at your—maybe too detailed—description of what you saw. Once you’re both inside the bathroom, you move onto your opinions and theories next. Bob leans in close to your seated figure on the bathtub ledge, letting you talk into his ear, tuning out the loud bath water shooting out the faucet.

His eyes widen, pulling back in surprise at your theory. “No way!”

“Yes, way!” You burst out in laughter, grabbing onto his shirt as he joins you. He makes sure to cradle your head so it doesn’t hit the sink by the tub. The sound of the running water can barely be heard over the obnoxious cries of laughter that come next.

After the bath, the rest of the day is spent with you playing with his hair as you stream through your gossip, updating your attentive boyfriend on what he missed out on. And he enjoys every second of it.

So, it just stamps it down further, that Bob never had a problem with how chatty you got.

note: thank you for reading, seeing that i'm struggling a bit to put something out for this series, i decided to put this out for now! :) as always, thank you for reading and reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

join the taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

tags: @blueoorchid @queen-of-elves @cherrylipgloss-baby @purplevortexx @goosterroose @floralfloyd @doggo-and-goosey @chicomonks @maplesyurp07 @grxcisxhy-wp @anna1523 @laylaskywalker

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd smut #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x you #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd fic #bob x reader #tgm smut #tgm fic #bob floyd au

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seabirdtxt · 1 year

Text

.Irminsul Push/Pull

You, the Creator, experience your first day with the world's weirdest roommates. [< prev] [Blog tag] [next >]

Notes: SAGAU, reader is the Creator but no cult shenanigans. mild swearing. very gentle puppet bullying, it's probably the cain instinct or smth. all relationships are currently platonic!

WC. 1.8k

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You’re not super sure what you thought telepathic communication was going to feel like, probably assuming you would hear the voice of the other person saying their message out loud in your head.

In reality, it ends up being more like receiving a text message. In all caps. In your head.

GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE.

You sit up in your bed with a frown when the message suddenly crosses your mind. You check outside the mansion’s window, deeming it to be relatively early in the morning. Curious, you slide out from under the covers and shuffle your way downstairs.

Your curiosity quickly turns to irritation as you hear the sound of tools being thrown and voices arguing coming from the direction of Kabukimono’s room, the only currently inhabited room on the ground floor.

You slowly push open the unlatched door and quickly duck to avoid a flying object—what is that? a pair of tongs?—that was aimed somewhere in the vicinity of your head.

“- told you you can’t cook on the forge!” Kabukimono shouts, whiny and furiously stomping around, tossing loose tools around the room. Scaramouche is standing a little ways away from him, holding a bowl of ingredients with a bored look on his face.

“It’s a heat source, isn’t it?” The Balladeer asks, rolling his eyes. “If I can light it on fire, it can cook things.”

“No you can’t! I have to keep it way too hot to cook things,” Kabukimono scolds him, brandishing a metal poker in his direction. “And if you get food crumbs and oil in it, it might affect the quality of the metal! I won’t let you use it, and that’s final!”

“What else am I supposed to use, then?” Scaramouche growls, gesturing widely. “It’s not like this genius Creator of yours, in their boundless wisdom, made a kitchen.”

Whoops. Your eyes scan the room, surveying the damage, until your gaze lands on a terrified Cuppy hiding under a coat rack behind you, close to the door.

“Hey, buddy,” you whisper, inching closer to him. “D’you think you can turn one of the ground floor rooms into a kitchen really quick?”

The little teacup spirit nods frantically and disappears in a puff of smoke, presumably to fulfill your request as fast as possible.

You look around the room again and spot Wanderer hovering above the other two, one leg crossed over the other in a pose hilariously similar to Ei when she’d been meditating in the Plane of Euthymia. You wave to catch his attention, and he looks over at you with a wry expression before zooming over to where you are.

“About time you got here,” he snarks, landing delicately beside you. “These idiots have been going at it for about twenty minutes now.”

“I just asked Cuppy to make one of the rooms a kitchen,” you tell him. “I totally forgot about that, I don’t usually make a kitchen inside the Traveler’s teapot, so…”

“Yeah, you use the outdoor one, right?”

You nod, having briefly forgotten that Wanderer had seen your layout of the Traveler’s realm before. As you’re musing on this, Wanderer darts forward and smacks the underside of Scaramouche’s bowl, causing it to escape the Balladeer’s grasp and sending ingredients flying in all directions, much to Kabukimono’s displeasure.

“What the- why would you do that?!” Kabukimono wails, his argument interrupted. “Look at this mess! Niwa would have a heart attack if he saw this!”

“Half of this garbage is yours,” Scaramouche points out, expression thunderous as he picks up one of the smaller prongs on the ground and uses it to take a swing at Wanderer, who takes to the air and floats out of reach with a smirk.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Wanderer says with a shrug. “I was just getting so sick of hearing you guys whining like babies for no reason.”

“Okay, and you needed to waste perfectly good ingredients, why?” Scaramouche snaps, bending to pick up his now empty bowl and waving it at Wanderer threateningly, visibly restraining himself from flying off the handle.

“Because it’s not like you were gonna actually use them,” Wanderer snaps back. “I am you, and I know for a fact that you can barely make cup noodles if someone else did the preparation for you.”

Scaramouche quickly turns red in the face as Kabukimono laughs at him, so you step in before another argument can break out.

“Guys, come on, I think Cuppy finished making a kitchen,” you say placatingly, hands outstretched and palms up. The three puppets look at you with varying levels of skepticism.

You lead the way out of the trashed room, picking one of the other doors at random and hoping that it’s the one Cuppy chose. Mentally keeping your fingers crossed, you turn the knob and open the door, and freeze in the doorway, prompting at least two of the puppets to peer over your shoulder at the scene inside.

Cuppy did, indeed, choose this room. It’s one of the Mondstat-themed bedrooms, and what the teacup spirit did was put a single stove in the middle of the room and replace the bookshelves with jars and cupboards. Everything else about the decor, including the bed, carpet, and wardrobe, is the exact same.

Wanderer can’t seem to help himself about this, either, and bursts out laughing.

“You call this a kitchen?” Scaramouche asks, pointing at the lonely stove sitting beside the Mond-style bed frame.

“I think he did a great job,” you try, covering your mouth with one hand to hide your amused grin. Thankfully, it seems Cuppy made his escape as soon as he renovated, because he’s nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t get it,” Kabukimono says, and you can feel him pushing someone (Scaramouche) behind you to see the rest of the room, to the person’s (Scaramouche’s) protests. “What’s so funny? A good stove and a well-stocked pantry is more than okay.”

“And,” you interject through your repressed giggles, eager to defend your little teacup spirit. “Having a bed nearby just means you can lay back and relax while you wait for your food to cook!”

“Are you serious right now? It’s just a stove in the middle of a bedroom!” Scaramouche protests, pushing you aside and stomping into the room. He points at the stove, and then at the carpet it’s sitting on. “This cannot be safe, right? This breaks all kinds of safety regulations.”

“We’ll just move it aside, it’s fine,” you say, hoping to diffuse the situation.

“It’s understandable,” Kabukimono agrees. “It’s not like he’s seen a proper kitchen before, right?”

Even Wanderer stops laughing as the three of you stare owlishly at Kabukimono, who shuffles nervously under the attention.

“What?” Kabukimono asks defensively.

“I actually hadn’t thought of that,” you mutter, hands on your hips as you survey the room with new consideration. “He is pretty small, and who knows if he ventured outside of the realm before…”

The other two remain silent, seemingly contemplating Kabukimono’s words but not voicing their opinions on it.

IS IT BAD THAT I FEEL BAD FOR LAUGHING?

You hide your flinch well, the sudden message scaring you out of your own thoughts. You steal a glance at Wanderer out of the corner of your eye, where he’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He doesn’t look you in the eye, instead pretending to be very interested with the shelf of ingredients near him.

‘I think that's just normal’ you think, hoping he somehow receives your thoughts as well. ‘I didn’t think of it either, so we’re all kinda wrong…’

While you’re distracted, Scaramouche has already started lighting the stove, having kicked aside the offending carpet, and browses the shelves for ingredients. He knocks on a few of the jars with a frown.

“... These are all empty.” He finally evaluates.

“Yeah, that tracks, I don’t actually own anything yet,” you nod. “Everything I’ve ever collected is probably still with the Traveler.”

“Presumably they’d be willing to part with some of their stash,” Wanderer adds sarcastically. “I don’t think they really need several thousand of each ingredient they own.”

“I mean, you never know, right?” You chuckle nervously, thinking of all the bag space your farming must have taken up. How does the Traveler’s inventory work outside of a game-mechanic perspective? You suppose you’re going to find out soon enough.

“If you’re going out to get stuff, I’m coming with you,” Scaramouche declares, crossing his arms as if daring you to refuse his company. “No way am I staying in here with these guys.”

You shrug, and Wanderer doesn’t protest either. “Yeah, that’s fine with me. I’ll head out now so we have time to sort and put everything away before lunch.”

“Bold of you to assume we’re going to get anything done before lunch,” Wanderer mutters, herding Kabukimono out of the ‘kitchen’, promising the other puppet to help him clean up the mess in his room.

“Are you ready to head out?” You ask Scaramouche, ignoring the jibe. You hold out your hand, which the Balladeer reluctantly takes, and you will yourselves out of the teapot realm.

You materialize in one of the alcoves of the Sanctuary of Surasthana, briefly disoriented by the change in location until you see Nahida and Aranyani sitting on the central dais, seemingly having a quiet conversation. Nahida spots you first, waving cheerfully at you both.

“Your Grace! Balladeer! Apologies for relocating you, but we decided that the chamber of Irminsul should remain uninhabited for now,” she explains, hands clasped together. “After all, it’s too easy to stumble and damage one of the branches of information, and I would hate for any of you to blame yourselves if that kind of accident were to happen.”

“That’s fair, thanks for doing that for us!” you smile at her thoughtfulness. Still holding Scaramouche’s hand, you lead the two of you down to the central part of the chamber. “Do you know where the Traveler is? We wanted to ask if they could spare some of the materials I had collected from before I came here.”

“Yes, we saw the Traveler earlier, but they went to fetch some people that Nahida recommended,” Aranyani says, picking up Nahida under her arms and putting the small god in her lap. Nahida doesn’t react, still smiling as Aranyani begins to play with her hair.

“Recommended for what?” Scaramouche asks before you get the chance to. You elbow him subtly, a warning to watch his tone.

“To help us figure out how and why you’ve descended to Teyvat, Your Grace!” Nahida claps her hands together. “It will be good to know in case you need to go back home, or if you wish to return here from your world!”

You nod, grateful at the prospect of having that option. “Who did you call in for this?”

Aranyani cheerfully answers this for you: “The General Mahamatra, and a scholar named Alhaitham!”

You share a quick look with Scaramouche.

“The linguistics guy, and the cop…?” You ask, with a slight wince.

“I don’t think you’re figuring this one out anytime soon.”

#genshin sagau #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware au #genshin isekai #genshin scaramouche #sagau scaramouche #genshin wanderer #sagau wanderer #genshin kabukimono #sagau kabukimono #sagau x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kabukimono x reader #seabird.txt #glitch in irminsul au #we do a little bit of clowning on scara in this household

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