#but.... I have read like all my own fics too..... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forest-hashira · 3 days

Text

Butterflies

i have no chill so yes i'm back with a new fic a week after the last one. idk how or why i'm like this so don't ask. this is my second entry for @threadbaresweater's "summertime (and the livin' is easy)" collab event! my chosen prompt for this one was geto + botanical gardens. this got away from me literally in the first sentence AHAHA.

read on ao3 | wc: ~1.8k | cw: gender neutral reader, first date, minor miscommunication, both suguru and reader are bashful as hell and have been crushing for a while, several types of bugs are mentioned towards the end, but i think that's everything!

When Suguru had invited you to visit the local botanical gardens with him, you’d accepted without much thought, assuming that all your other friends would be there, too. You’d all spent nearly every waking moment together since the weather had gotten warm enough and the days had gotten long enough to spend more time outside, so it seemed like a foregone conclusion that this was going to be another one of those days.

You were quite mistaken.

Suguru was standing alone outside the front gates waiting for you, and while he was usually the first person to arrive whenever you all got together, Shoko, Utahime, or Kento usually weren’t far behind and consistently arrived before you did, so you were a bit surprised.

“Is everyone else on their way?” you asked as you approached, one hand above your brows to block the sun from your eyes as you looked up at him; you’d forgotten your sunglasses, again, something Satoru teased you about constantly. Even with the small amount of shade your hand afforded you, you squinted a bit up at your friend. His hair was pulled fully up into a bun, a hairstyle he didn’t wear as frequently as he did when you were all in high school, but with a heatwave rolling through the area, you weren’t exactly surprised he wanted all that hair off his skin.

After a moment you realized the sun was creating a sort of halo around him. Like an angel, you thought to yourself. He’s certainly pretty enough to be one. The thought caught you off guard, and you hoped it wasn’t obvious that you’d grown flustered by your own thoughts; you didn’t need him finding out about the crush you’d been harboring on him since you were teenagers, especially when no one else was there to save you from yourself.

His brows pinched in confusion, and he cocked his head ever so slightly to the right. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Satoru and Shoko and everyone,” you said, now feeling a bit confused yourself. “Are they just running late? Usually at least Kento is waiting with you by the time I show up.”

A look of understanding crossed his face then, and his face visibly reddened. “Ah,” he sighed, looking away from you and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s uh. It’s just us, actually. Sorry, I thought you knew that when you accepted the invitation.”

“...Oh,” you uttered intelligently, feeling your own face beginning to heat as well, and not just from the sun beating down on you. It never occurred to you that Suguru would want to spend any alone time with you, away from the group; not that you didn’t get along without everyone else – you definitely did, you were just usually around the rest of your friend group – but the occasion for one on one time hadn’t arisen since you’d been partnered for assignments in school.

“We don’t have to go in,” Suguru offered gently, meeting your gaze again. “We can pretend this never happened. Or we can see if anyone else wants to join, I know Satoru’s not doing anything today.” When all you did was blink dumbly up at him, he looked away again, staring down at his feet. “I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

That brought you back to yourself, and you shook your head vehemently. “No!” you burst out, then cringed at your own raised volume and squeaky voice. “I-I mean, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. We can still go in. I looked this place up when you invited me, and I really want to see their pollinator sanctuary.”

Suguru’s shoulders dropped in relief at your words, and his small smile returned almost instantly. “I’d like that.”

As he turned and headed towards the gates, you followed barely a half step behind. You started to pull out your wallet as you drew closer to the ticket booth, but Suguru stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told you. “I bought our tickets already.”

His words had your face burning yet again, and you looked away sheepishly. “Thanks.” You followed him up to the gates, pausing long enough for the gate attendant to scan the tickets Suguru had bought – he’d printed them out, so the employee didn’t have to try and scan his phone screen, which struck as so distinctly Suguru that it made your heart flutter, though you’d never admit that to another human being.

Tickets now scanned, the pair of you were free to explore the grounds at your own pace. Ever the planner, your friend led you over to the large standing map. “Do you want to start with the pollinators?” he asked. “Or would you rather save that for the grand finale?”

Taking a few moments to consider, you looked over the map; the grounds were bigger than you thought, and you knew with the sun beating down on you, it wouldn’t be long before you were tired of the heat and ready to go somewhere with cold drinks and air conditioning. “Let’s do that first,” you said after a bit. “I don’t wanna run the risk of missing them because they’re hiding from the heat.”

Suguru nodded easily in agreement with your words. “I think that sounds like a good idea,” he confirmed. When he reached up and started tracing a path on the map from the “YOU ARE HERE” sticker to the pollinator sanctuary, you couldn’t help but watch, his hand making the sections of the map look smaller than they actually were.

“It looks like we need to go this way,” he said quietly, and though you couldn’t quite tell if he was speaking to you or just thinking aloud, his words were enough to bring you back to yourself. “The pollinators are near the back, but this section with the trees should be pretty shaded for the walk back. What do you think?”

He turned to face you then, head tilted ever so slightly as he waited to hear your answer, oblivious to the way you’d been ogling his hand. You blinked dumbly for a moment, processing his words as you did your best not to make a fool of yourself.

“That sounds good, yeah,” you agreed sheepishly. “This way, right?”

When he nodded, you turned and made your way down the path, Suguru at your side. He was right, the path he’d chosen was pretty well shaded from the sun, offering you a bit of relief as you walked. The pace you maintained was steady; you weren’t rushing by any means, but you were eager to see the pollinator sanctuary, so you were walking a little faster than you normally might have.

Birds chirped overhead, singing to each other as they hopped from branch to branch, and the sound made you smile; summer wasn’t necessarily your favorite of the seasons, but right now the pros were definitely outweighing the cons.

“Thank you,” the raven haired man said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, and you looked up at him in slight confusion.

“For what?”

“For agreeing to come here with me,” he said simply. Then, looking a little bashful again, he added, “And for not freaking out on me when I told you it was just us after you got here.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. “I was happy to accept your invitation. And I’d never freak out on you for something like that, y’know. You’re easy to be around, and if nobody else is here it means I actually get to appreciate your presence.”

“You make a good point. Satoru does tend to demand to be the center of attention when we’re all together, doesn’t he?” A soft smile painted his lips as he spoke, and his words made you giggle a bit.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “He does.”

Conversation was easy after that, talking about everything and nothing all at the same time, but it felt so good to talk with him; to spend time with him without anyone else around, something you rarely got to do, and never felt like you could suggest yourself until now. Now, though, you were sure you’d be spending a lot more one on one time with your companion.

“Oh, what was it that Satoru was trying to explain the other day? He kept comparing it to digi…mon…” you trailed off mid sentence as you stepped out from under the trees, completely forgetting what you’d been saying as you saw the pollinator sanctuary unfolding before you. Your steps slowed, and you looked around with wide eyes, taking in the sight of all the insects flitting between the brightly colored flowers: the honey bees climbing out of blooms covered in pollen; hummingbird moths hovering as they sipped before zipping to the next flower; bumblebees droning through the air; butterflies flitting from plant to plant.

Suguru slowed to keep pace beside you, and unbeknownst to you, he was looking at you far more intently than anything else in the garden. He paused for a moment, letting you walk a bit ahead of him as he admired you. As he watched, a few butterflies flew closer, dancing around your head as they came to investigate the scent of your shampoo. You stilled, though your eyes were wide as you tried to watch what was happening above you. One by one, about half a dozen butterflies landed in your hair, almost forming a crown around your head, making you look like some sort of nature spirit.

“You’re beautiful,” Suguru blurted out, and the sudden compliment startled you a bit. You turned back to face him quickly enough that all the butterflies went fluttering off again, now that they knew you were not, in fact, a flower.

“Huh?”

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, though a bit more bashfully this time. “I’ve always thought that, y’know? I just didn’t want to make things weird between us by telling you that.” He closed the distance between you as he spoke, and he offered you a sheepish little smile. “I hope it’s okay that I’m telling you now, though.”

“Yeah,” you murmured back, smiling just as bashfully in return. “That’s more than okay. You’re beautiful, too, actually. I’ve always thought that.”

A small laugh bubbled out of Suguru at your words, and his expression grew impossibly more fond. “I’m glad we’re on the same page about that, then,” he mused. He was quiet for a moment then, his dark eyes contemplative, before he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

The touch surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome. You felt your face burn a bit more as he pulled away, but your smile only brightened as you looked up at him.

He smiled back just as brightly, and as he spoke again, he took your hand and laced your fingers together gently. “Do you want to keep going?” “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

taglist: @mitsuristoleme @kentohours @peachdues @ghost-1-y @witchbybirth

@marinnnnnnnnn @dr-runs-with-scissors @enchantedforest-network

divider by saradika-graphics

#fallon's fics #geto jjk #jjk geto #suguru geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk

187 notes · View notes

1800-fight-me · 2 days

Text

Death and His Lady

Death!Aemond Targaryen x Female Assassin!Reader

Rating: E (Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Extreme violence, explicit smut, allusions to reader having prior trauma

Word count: Almost 6k

Synopsis: As the King's assassin, Death becomes your most trusted confidant, but his influence along with unexpected events lead you down a path you never thought you'd walk.

Author’s note: I have literally been so excited about this fic I can't even deal with it!! Here's another gothic horror romance vibez fic from me! Thank you so much @lauraneedstochill for the beta read! Also the new trailer has me freaking all the way out so here we go! This fic is a rollercoaster ride and I really hope y'all enjoy it!!

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

You courted with Death in this endeavor, that you were certain.

Death must be enamored with you, given how many times you have brushed against it. Once, Death held even you in his arms, his embrace warm, but you spun free before he could sink his claws in you.

This time, you weren’t sure you’d be able to outwit him.

Like a fox evading a hound, you toyed with Death, amused at his growing frustration at your continued escapes.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you enjoyed being chased as much as you believed he enjoyed chasing you.

But now, as blood spurted from your lips, your vision hazy, you thought you might very well fully succumb to Death’s clutches today.

“No,” you groaned as the vision of him flickered in your view.

White hair, pale skin, one eye of sapphire and one of violet, a jagged scar down his face, clothes of all black to match the black feathered wings at his back.

He looked like an angel- the fallen avenging kind, and he smirked as he cocked his head at you, the promise of conquest in his gaze.

There was a yearning deep in your chest, a desire to have his attentions on you and only you, a pull that left you intoxicated at the sight of him. Perhaps that was why you continued this game.

It was one you could only ever lose.

The wooden chair you were tied to as the men mercilessly beat you groaned in protest from the backwards momentum of your body as your enemy landed another punch, blood spurting again.

You were too far gone for quick witted comebacks, for speaking at all. Being the king’s most trusted spy and assassin was always a dangerous job, but one you flourished in.

Today, however, was particularly dangerous it seemed. You couldn’t even remember what information the men wanted from you anymore.

It didn’t matter, you would never give anything away, you’d sooner greet Death like an old friend than betray your kingdom.

He flickered in your vision once again. His savage beauty was a welcome sight. Like a fallen prince. Like an avenging angel. Like your heart’s darkest desires.

Perhaps it would be a relief to sink into his embrace, to give up, to cease the fight.

His expression changed, no longer self satisfactory, no- he looked angry with you as he strode across the dank dungeon to stand before you.

Time paused completely and you let out a gasping breath of relief as fists paused from meeting your skin.

He leaned down so his face was close enough that your nose nearly brushed his, like a lover would, but no- fury filled his gaze.

“Fight,” he growled at you.

“I can’t,” you gasped.

“You can and you will,” he ordered, “you will not give up and die. Today is not the day.”

Some deep primal part of you woke at those words, at the steel in his tone, at his orders. And the rage and fury inside of him reminded you of your own and it filled you once more. Filled you to fight, to survive.

You would not lay down and die today.

He smirked as he saw the change in your eyes. He brushed a whisper of a kiss to your lips, soft and swift enough that it hardly even counted as a real kiss, but it ignited a flame in you and when your eyes fluttered back open, he was gone.

The tie around your wrists had been cut and as time started again, you caught the fist aimed at your face and you fought.

You gave Death a tribute as your torturers met their bitter end at your violent hands.

Maybe that was why he had always seemed willing to let you go, you mused, you were practically his handmaiden with the amount of souls you gave him, the amount of lives you ended brutally.

You walked out of that dungeon battered and bloody, but alive enough to continue your game with Death, to live for another day.

This game had gone on for years, but never once had he interfered the way he did today, never once had he prevented you from passing over into his realm. No, every other time it had been your own grit and guile.

Today, Death showed his hand when he prevented you from dying.

He enjoyed the chase as much as you did, that you were certain, and you were determined to continue it.

————————————————————

You knelt before your king and the silver white of his hair brought up the memory of your obsession. They say that Targaryens are closer to gods than men. Your death god was testimony of that.

Once, when curiosity won over practicality, you spend days in the royal library researching and reading about all of the Targaryen ancestors until you found a book weathered and brown from age that contained artist renditions and you found him.

Your personal demon was Aemond Targaryen, rider of the legendary Vhagar, harbinger of death even in his mortal life.

You read everything you could about his life, drinking in every aspect of his personality that you could learn about him. You were infatuated, perhaps even loved him after his actions to save you.

Your king told you to rise and you reported to him the events of the past few days, leaving out details about your kiss with Death.

The king’s looks were nowhere near the godlike chiseled beauty of his ancestor, you mused as he told you of your next mission. Although it’s not like you were one to talk, earlier as healers cleaned off all the blood and stitched up your cuts, you looked at your reflection in the mirror and had to look away from your bruised and battered form, you were nearly unrecognizable.

“Rest for a few days, then take your leave,” the King ordered.

“Yes, your majesty,” you bowed, then left the throne room.

You retreated to your chambers and immediately tumbled into bed. Sleep took you swiftly and deeply, and like the night after every other near Death experience, he was waiting for you in your dreams.

You asked him once how it worked, and he explained that the veil was always thin after your near crossovers, and he was able to influence your dreams.

And influence them he did… you whimpered as his cock filled you to the absolute brim.

He grunted and pulled your lips to his, tongue tangling with your own, and you wrapped your thighs around his trim waist pulling him closer, wanting him as close as possible.

The angle changed and you shivered, despite the heat of his sweat slicked skin, as he hit the spot inside of you that made you forget anything but him.

“Aemond,” you moaned and he stopped his movement, became still as Death.

“How do you know that name?” He asked, his hand on the side of your neck as he pulled back enough to meet your gaze.

His voice was low and cold, dangerous.

You took a shuddering breath.

“I researched, I needed to know more about the one who haunts me,” you said, putting steel in your voice despite your nerves.

Amusement flickered in his expression, “I knew I picked the right woman.”

“You probably say that to all the assassins you save,” you teased.

He chuckled darkly and you clenched down on his length where he still remained inside you.

His chuckle turned into a growl and he unleashed himself on you, filling you and your heart’s blackest desire.

In the darkest part of the night his sounds of ecstasy tangled with your own until you both found release in one another, the type of release you’d never found with anyone else, and a feeling of comfort and satisfaction unlike any other filled your chest.

With him, you felt whole, but that feeling dwindled as you woke the next morning in your bed alone.

————————————————————

“Lady Death,” the pirate king before you said in an attempt to flatter you.

His handsomeness was average, nothing exciting or remotely comparable to the sharp features of your devilishly handsome death god.

His words clanged inside you and hit upon something true and vital. But, you could not show your reaction.

“Skull King,” you replied, your lips pursed as you lifted your chin.

He laughed, like a sword scraping over stones, and your hand drifted towards the dagger strapped to your thigh.

“You are more beautiful than any descriptions I’ve ever heard,” he said.

“I do not leave many alive to describe me,” you said back with considerable bite in your tone.

He merely laughed once more and waved a hand at you.

“Let us cease with the back and forth and discuss why I am truly here,” you demanded.

“What does your king want?” He asked with a sigh.

“For you to cease your pillaging of the costal villages,” you said.

He narrowed his eyes at you, “And why would he send you to negotiate with me?”

“He knew you would not want or need riches as a bribe. I offer you my services. In exchange for no longer attacking our villages, I will assassinate an enemy of your choice,” you explained.

His broad feral grin was an answer in itself.

————————————————————

“Lady Death Lady Death Lady Death” a deep dark voice hissed at you from the inky black.

Eyes blinked open, shining bright, one sapphire and one violet, and you jolted awake.

You took a shuddering breath, your skin slick with sweat. It had been weeks since you’d seen or heard from Death, and you’d spend that time trying to forget about your last encounter, though your efforts were entirely futile.

But the pirate king’s words to you yesterday had shaken something awake inside you.

You shook your head and arose from your bed, as you readied yourself, strapping an ungodly amount of weapons to your body, you cleared your mind and prepared yourself for another day of offering your midnight lover tributes.

You crept across rooftops, having spent the entire day and most of the night tracking the Skull King’s most bitter rival.

Honestly this whole rivalry seemed trivial to you, but you would do as you were bid.

The man was a piss-poor drunk, having bought himself and the whole bar rounds and rounds of drinks. You watched through the crack in the ceiling as he pulled a barmaid onto his lap despite her protests.

Certainly, now you were more than happy to be the bringer of his death. You gritted your teeth and reminded yourself of patience as he squeezed her curves and she pushed off him, managing to disentangle herself from his drunk and reeking presence.

He yelled after her, slurred and vile words that had you gripping your favorite dagger.

Just wait, just wait, just wait, you reminded yourself. There was to be only one death tonight. If you unleashed yourself now the death toll would be far too great and the act would be sloppy, more easily tracked and blame pinned quickly on the guilty parties.

So you continued to watch and finally when he stumbled to the alley to relieve himself as you knew he would, you crept off the roof and hid yourself in the shadows.

Death himself stood there where the rogue pirate should be. Your heart stumbled but you managed to stop yourself from gasping.

“My lady,” he purred and bowed. Death bowed before you then stepped aside and gestured to the man you were targeting, the man whose life only had moments left.

As Aemond faded back into the shadows, you knew he was still watching, and you blinked twice, gave yourself a second for one steadying breath, then moved.

The man’s back was to you and it took little effort to leap upon his back and slit his throat.

Blood sprayed and you jumped off his back, retreating quick enough that as his body fell to the ground, it did not hit you.

You waited the moments it took for the gurgling noise of him choking on his own blood to cease and made certain he was well and truly in Death’s grasp before you yanked the ring off his finger, the proof of a job well done, and turned to leave.

Before you turned completely, you saw Death as he crouched over the bloodied body, he shot you a wink and you shuddered as you ran off.

You covered your tracks, and when you were certain there would be no possibility of the death being traced back to you, you returned to the office of the Skull King.

You slipped through the shadows and waited for him, lounging in his chair like you owned it- like it was your throne.

When he entered, you threw a knife so that it buried itself in the wall close enough to his head that he felt the whisper of its kiss.

He glared at you and you smirked.

“It’s done,” you said and threw the ring at him.

He caught it, his expression torn between impressed and still angry at your nonverbal threat.

“It needn’t be said, but I can end your life just as easily should you not uphold your end of the bargain,” you said. His face blanched at the tone of your voice, the look in your eye that held Death.

He nodded slightly and with one more smirk at him, you vanished into the dark.

You scrubbed the blood off you and prepared yourself for a night’s rest before beginning your journey back to King’s Landing.

————————————————————

This was the first night Death appeared to you in your dreams even though you hadn’t nearly greeted him in the afterlife.

“How?” You asked breathlessly as his lips broke from yours to create a blazing trail of fire across your jaw and down the side of your neck.

“You are mine, and as you do your king’s bidding- slaughtering - our bond strengthens and so does your power,” he said and then ran his tongue up the column of your throat.

You gasped and you couldn’t tell if it was due to his words or his tongue.

You are mine. You are mine. You are mine.

The words echoed in your brain as his lips trailed down your body to your core where he pleasured you with that wicked tongue.

Every time you killed after that night, he appeared in your dreams, joining your bodies in ecstacy and strengthening that connection.

He appeared in a vision every time you unleashed yourself in violence and spilled blood, ending lives, and living up to your new infamous title that rippled across the seven kingdoms, Lady Death.

You no longer lived in the shadows, you became the shadows within men fell.

————————————————————

In the following months, the King kept you busier than ever. You weren’t certain if it was due to the power that your growing reputation provided him or if he wanted to keep you away, that same reputation striking fear into his own heart.

Lately you hardly completed a mission before you received correspondence from the King with instructions for your next kill.

He kept you far away from King’s Landing. It was fine with you, that den of vipers was never your home anyway. You didn’t have a true home. Perhaps that was why the embrace of Death felt like home.

These days you hardly scrubbed the blood off you before you were covered in more. You killed nearly daily. Your connection with Death strengthened, to the point that his presence became near constant, in your waking hours and in your dreams.

The more he appeared, the more you could feel it, that sensation like something prowled beneath your skin begging to burst forward and shatter the world.

There had been no mention again of powers, but yet you could feel them growing.

Months passed, and the first time they manifested, you leveled a building.

You were trapped, well and truly, and it was due to your careless fatal mistake, overconfidence having become a rampant part of your personality due to your successes, and the strength of the death god who worshiped you.

You were surrounded, having not been careful enough to ensure your targets were alone, too cocky that you wouldn’t be followed, and now you fought against twelve men.

”Kill them,” Aemond hissed from where he stood behind you, his rage growing stronger and directly influencing your own emotions.

You could not determine where his emotions began and yours ended, so entangled the two of you had become.

You tried, you used all of your skill, all of your strength, and it was not enough as the sword sunk into your gut.

You hadn’t been this close to joining Death in the afterlife in a long while.

“End them, destroy, and take what is yours,” Aemond growled through clenched teeth.

You knew he would not do it for you, if he did then you wouldn’t be who he thought you were, who he needed you to be, who he loved.

And you could feel it again, that thing that prowled beneath your skin begging to be released.

So you became Death Incarnate as liquid fire filled your eyes and soul and exploded from your body. Black cold flames that instantly killed everyone they touched.

“Good,” Aemond urged, those same wild flames in his eye. He pressed a kiss to your throat and the flames only grew stronger.

His hand grazed your stomach, healing the wound.

Your chest heaved as you took ragged breaths and surveyed the carnage around you.

The fire grew out of control as you started to panic, but with Death’s careful instruction, you grounded yourself and reeled it all back in.

You stood, dead bodies littered the ground around you, and only moved when the building groaned and threatened to fall atop you.

You walked out of the ruined structure side by side with Death, as it crumbled behind you, leaving devastation in your wake.

————————————————————

One night, during a dream, as you lay breathless in his arms after you both reached such high peaks at one another’s tongues, you asked him the question that had been so heavy on your mind.

“Why me?” you asked curiously.

“Hm?”

His fingers traced patterns on your back. You turned your head from its place in his neck- you were half lying on his chest, and looked over at his wing.

“Why did you choose me?”

He chuckled softly. “Never before have I seen someone turn Death into such a beautiful game. You intrigued me.”

You brushed a finger down the most sensitive part of his wing and he shuddered.

“And now?” you asked.

“And now, sweet temptress, you have convinced me to devote the entirety of my eternal being to you,” he growled before flipping you over suddenly so you were beneath him.

You grinned at him, breathless and in wonder, and had no words, so you simply pulled his mouth to yours and proved to him how utterly devoted you were to him as well.

————————————————————

It took time and Aemond’s careful instruction- months as you continued killing daily, fulfilling the King’s requirements, but you learned to control your newfound powers, that death fire. Still you couldn’t hide their manifestation in your eyes when you were angry or prepared to kill.

You stood before your King once more and offered a several months long report detailing your actions since you last saw him.

“Do not leave out any details,” he warned you through narrowed eyes.

You pursed your lips and revealed as little information as you could about this magic, these powers that have recently manifested, but enough to please him.

You knew he’d gotten reports, you rarely left eyewitnesses, but still rumors spread, you could hardly downplay it.

You saw the wariness in his expression.

Death manifested at your side.

“Kill him,” he murmured.

You ignored him, continuing to report to the King.

“When were you going to tell me of this new magic you wield?” He asked, distrust in his voice.

“End him, take his power for your own, sit on the Iron Throne,” Death whispered in your ear, purring like a lover.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you in months, my King, you’ve kept me busy far away from the Red Keep, one could only wonder why,” you said, with only a little bit of bite.

The King narrowed his eyes at you once more.

“I do not have to explain my decisions to you. Your role is to serve and not question,” he sneered.

For the first time while you were awake, you could feel Aemond’s hands on you. The bond between the two of you was stronger than ever as he stood behind you and intertwined his fingers with yours. He slowly brought your intertwined hands down from the small of your waist to the front of your hip- threatening to go lower, an echo - a memory of the night before he knew he triggered by that action.

You remembered your dream last night, in a very similar position except then you sat before a mirror as he guided you to touch yourself, to aid him in giving you release, insisting you watch yourself as you moaned his name in ecstacy and he poured honey filled praises in your ear. He pulled two releases from you, forcing your eyes back on yourself, before he finally filled you, and the sight of him inside you, both your expressions twisted in pleasure, was the most erotic sight of all.

The memory flashed in your eyes and you saw his current actions for what they were, a blatant attempt at seduction, as he used that same deep velvety voice as when he was trying to make you come, as his lips grazed your ear and beautiful silver hair fell over your shoulder, as he said, “Kill him, my love.”

And you thought…

You thought he might be right.

Maybe you should kill this condescending king. You were more powerful than him. You were more powerful than everyone but your lover, no, to Aemond you were his equal.

His Lady Death, and maybe it was finally time to take what was your own, to use your skills and powers for yourself, not in the service of others, not in the service of a king who didn’t appreciate you.

You indeed felt that power within you begin to rise to the surface.

And the king blanched, fear changing his expression.

“What are you?” He gasped.

And just like that, the fire that had begun to build inside you, which you were sure was molten in your eyes, sputtered out as if water had been thrown on you.

“Your loyal servant,” you murmured with a curtsey.

Death growled his discontentment, but you ignored him.

The king nodded, his lips pursed, and dismissed you.

For the first time in a long long time, you were uncertain of your own actions and choices.

————————————————————

Two weeks later, you were in the North with a list of targets from the king to dispatch.

The image of the king’s fear of you constantly flashed in your mind, regret and pride creating an uncomfortable cocktail of emotions within you.

The regret was waning as Death continued as your constant companion, seducing and urging you forward.

Your days became routine, although it was a comforting routine.

Wake up, eat, train your magic, prepare, kill, be rewarded in the form of Aemond fucking you, sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

The last name on your list of kills in the North was one you were actually eager for. This kill you would savor rather than committing without feeling. This time, you were able to use your skills for both your King and your own gain.

This man had been one of your tormentors in your youth, you’d never had the time to track him down after he fled from King’s Landing, and now you would grant him the slow painful death he deserved.

He sat in his home, a candle in the window, and you knew the timing was right. You’d watched him for days and knew you had a window of time of about two hours before his preferred courtesan arrived.

Hate had your heart beating like a drum, your power rising, but you stifled it. You had to be clear headed and you didn’t want to use your powers to grant him an instant death, no, he deserved something wholly different. You wanted to feel his death, his blood on your own hands.

You snuck through the back door, through the broken lock you’d disabled the night before.

You ensured you were well and truly alone- besides your Angel of Death, creeping through the dark house towards your quarry.

You stepped into the sitting room and relished the way his eyes widened in fear, then recognition as you threw back your hood.

He breathed out a name, not one of your many titles, a name from a past life, a name no one besides Death knew, a name not even your king knew.

The flames in your eyes guttered, replaced by cold rage.

His eyes again filled with fear as you threw a dagger that embedded itself in his shoulder.

A yell of pain and outrage as he tried to stand, but quick as an asp another dagger fled from your hand and buried itself into his other shoulder.

Another dagger was in your hand, poised to throw if necessary.

He gritted his teeth, blood flowing heavily, and you smirked.

“Bitch,” he spat out.

Aemond appeared behind you, and hissed in disapproval.

Anger fell to cold terror as he beheld the Death God behind you.

His haunting beauty, both terrible and great, that was the other side of the coin to your own- that made you the perfect pair.

“You can see him?” you asked.

He nodded and the smell of urine filled the room.

“Interesting,” you murmured even as your nose wrinkled at him.

“It’s high time I teach you what real fear feels like,” you purred, your words an echo of the ones he’d said to you in your girlhood.

And show him you did.

Even after you were done, your rage was a jagged thing in your chest that threatened to swallow you whole. You didn’t know how to put it back in that carefully constructed box that allowed you to play the part of the disinterested assassin.

Aemond crouched over the body, pressing two fingers to the forehead, sending the soul to the afterlife- to eternal torment, as he always did after you killed.

He was the beginning and end of the destruction you wreaked on others, on the world.

Slaughter, that was what you had done today. You couldn’t decide if it made you feel better or worse. You supposed it didn’t matter, the man was no longer capable of hurting others the way he had hurt you.

Death prowled to you, and you looked up at him, chest still heaving and beating hard from whatever today’s actions had both shattered and healed within it.

He stood close enough that his steady chest brushed against yours.

Dark flames danced in his gaze, the same that danced in your own when your emotions were heightened, you both had the same unholy powers as a result of your bond, your union.

And you knew he understood you completely, when he said nothing, for there were no words that would soothe now, no he simply leaned down and kissed you, thoroughly and deeply.

When he pulled back, only slightly, brushing his sharp nose against yours, he murmured, “You taste better when you mean it, when your heart is in the kill.”

You let him make love to you in the blood spattered room.

————————————————————

Your waking hours and dreams bled into one, so filled with him and the pleasure only he could provide.

This was indeed one of those moments, where the release he pulled from you was so strong, so heady, that you could not be certain if you were awake or dreaming.

You moaned as he gripped your hips and continued a brutal pace as he thrusted inside you.

Your power, his power, flames of Death danced and burned in the bed along with you as he joined himself with you.

You burned with heat, with love for the only one who truly understood you- your mirror image due to the brutality inside both of you.

But suddenly, he stopped.

“Wake up,” he ordered, an expression you’d never seen on his face before, something akin to panic.

“What?” you asked in confusion.

“Wake up!” he yelled, and at that primal dominance in his tone, you obeyed.

You held in your gasp as your eyes opened and you beheld the scene before you.

You were not alone. The room was filled with men all with weapons in their hands.

“The king sends his regards,” the assassin in your bed hissed as he lifted a dagger to thrust it into your heart.

You had less than a heartbeat to react.

Just as the sharp tip of the dagger broke your skin, black flames exploded out of you, ravaging the room and everyone in it.

You sat up, hand on your chest and blood coating your fingers, and surveyed your destruction.

The room was filled with fire. Every man was instantly dead, and now your black flames turned them to ashes.

Aemond stood in the center of your storm, and watched you, pride evident in his gaze.

Betrayal twisted in your gut, making you feel sick, and you extinguished the fire.

“He tried to kill me,” you rasped out.

Your angel of death, your protector, your lover in life and death nodded.

“He fears you and the power you hold. He is a jealous coward,” he said, cold anger filling every word.

“You were right,” you whispered, hoping that if you said them quietly enough that they wouldn’t be true.

He simply nodded again.

And it finally sunk in. The king you had devoted your entire adult life to, the king you had defiled yourself for through all manner of heinous acts of bloodshed, had betrayed you.

He had turned on you, quickly and easily, despite your continued loyalty. He’d sent a group of men to kill you in your sleep after you just finished killing everyone on his list.

He always had someone else do his dirty work, the coward he is, but usually you’re the one he sends out.

This time he’d sent others to kill you as if you were no more than a loose end, a task to check off his list, and inconvenience that had grown too taxing.

You met the heavy gaze of Death and said, “I know what I have to do.”

————————————————————

The entire journey back to the Red Keep Aemond reviewed and revised the plan with you over and over again.

You were ready. You were prepared.

All of the skills, techniques, and powers you had acquired you were going to use for your own gain, for yourself today - with Death at your side.

No one knew the secret passages of the Red Keep better than the King’s Assassin. You crept in at night, using the darkness as a cloak and remaining completely undetected.

You set yourself up high in the mezzanine above the throne room and settled in for a long wait.

Patience was key to your plan, to all of your plans generally, but it didn’t mean that the fury didn’t still burn as hot as ever.

You let the black flames twirl and dance around your fingers and promised yourself that this time, it would be different. This time, you would come out on top.

Hours passed, your legs cramped, but you ignored it, waiting, waiting, waiting for the right moment.

You watched as dawn broke, bathing the room in golden light that bounced off the Iron Throne.

The king eventually sat on that throne, meeting with petitioners, and you continued your game of patience.

Finally, the moment was right, the room was no longer teeming with people, but not empty enough that there wouldn’t be an audience.

You leapt from your hiding spot and landed nimbly right before him. Shock and fear changed his previously bored expression.

You smirked, a cutting spiteful thing, as you stood.

There was yelling from the king’s guards, but your midnight fire surrounded and circled the king and you, separating you both from everyone else in the room. The few who tried to cross it died instantly, the others learned from their mistakes and stepped back from your flames and watched.

“Surprised to see me?” You asked.

The blood drained from his face.

Satisfaction only fueled the righteous fury in your chest.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“You tried to kill me,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Yes,” he merely repeated.

“I have given EVERYTHING for you and to protect your rule. Have done EVERYTHING you asked. And this is how you reward me? By sending others to murder me in my sleep?” You said, lip curling in a snarl and angry tears pooling in your eyes.

Death became visible at your side, not behind you like your puppeteer- beside you as your equal. He was not only visible to you- no you knew he was always with you - he became visible to everyone in the room as your fire pulsed higher and hotter.

His hand on your back steadied and reassured you.

Gasps filled the room once more.

You glanced at Aemond, his long white hair juxtaposed against the black of his wings, his beauty something of dreams and nightmares. He had an intense look on his sharp face, but underneath it was love for you and only you.

The king looked at his ancestor, made eye contact with his own demise, then looked back at you.

“You were too dangerous to be kept alive,” he said.

“I was completely loyal to you until your lackey tried to stab me in the heart,” you spat.

“I suspect it will be the last mistake I ever make,” he said.

“That is correct,” Aemond replied, his voice smooth and confident.

“Kill him, my love,” Death urged. This time, you listened.

A ball of fire appeared in your hand as you bared your teeth at the man who would no longer be your ruler.

“You were right to fear me,” you said darkly, and threw Death Flames at your king.

————————————————————

Aemond walked forward slowly and reached towards the king as you took gasping shuddering breaths.

You stopped seeing him, stopped seeing anything, as the impact of your actions crashed over you.

He was before you once more, and with gentle fingers under your chin, he tilted your head back so you could meet his gaze.

“My Lady Death, My Queen,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear before he pressed his lips to yours.

His kiss enveloped and steadied you.

Your flames sputtered out, but no one made a single move, for fear of the two of you.

As he pulled back, he smiled at you, took a step back, and placed the conqueror’s crown on your head.

“How do I taste now?” you asked.

“Exquisite,” he murmured, his voice deep and soft as velvet.

You grinned back at him, a wild feral thing.

He took your hand and led you to sit on the Iron Throne.

Death then kneeled before you, bowing his head.

“Kneel before your Queen,” he ordered, loud enough for all to hear.

Everyone in the room followed suit.

You became the new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms with Death at your side.

You would rule together, side by side, using your powers for your own gain, as Queen and King, as Death and His Lady.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen smut

173 notes · View notes

its-jaytothemee · 2 days

Text

Another

Read on AO3

Rating: Explicit, MDNI 18+

Word count: 2,045

Tags: Halsin x Tav, overstimulation, PiV sex, vaginal fingering, porn without plot, shameless smut, aftercare, praise kink, Halsin pleasure dom if you squint.

Summary: Halsin loves nothing more than spending a night lavishing pleasure on his lover and of course taking care of them afterwards.

A/N: Another kindly re-homed prompt that was supposed to be a drabble and turned into a 2k smut fest.

Thanks for reading! I'm still new to writing more explicit fics but want to keep working on it.

“Another.”

Halsin tore himself from between Tav’s legs to growl the command into her ear. His gentle fingers replacing his tongue to keep rubbing and flicking in that perfect spot, making sure she didn’t lose a second of the buildup he had worked oh so hard for.

A whimper escaped her trembling lips. How many times had he already brought her to orgasm? Four? Eight? He lost count. They seemed like they were all starting to blur together anyway. The lows between had become shorter and shorter as the night went on. Her face and chest reddened further with every wave of bliss that washed over her.

Something about being with her here, tonight, made him wild with lust. Wild with a desire to keep her locked in the cycle of sweet pain and pleasure brought forth by his touch. Of course, should she want him to stop, she would only have to say so. Yet she kept writhing and rolling her hips up to meet him. Silently, and at other times not so silently, begging him to keep going. Alternating between sweet lovemaking and hard fucking with his fingers.

The sheets beneath her were soaked after hours of pleasure and he hadn’t even taken any of his own yet. For now, it was more than enough to watch her squirm and tremble, it was enough to taste the sweet honey of her arousal, dripping from her supple folds just for him.

“Such a good lass…” He whispered the words in her ear before nibbling the soft cartilage. His words caused another bout of moans. How she loved to hear him whisper those little praises.

Her muscles began to shudder and convulse around him again. A hoarse scream rang from her throat, barely able to make out his name anymore.

“You are too good to me, my heart. Hearing my name cried from those gorgeous lips is such a gift.” He pressed tender kisses into her neck before biting into the skin, desperate to leave more of his marks on her.

More gasping breaths caused her chest to heave up and down, enticing him to move down and kiss her soft breasts.

“I feel I must apologize.” He took one of her nipples into his mouth, the already hard nub in perfect condition for him to suck and roll around with his tongue.

“Here you are, giving me all these sweet sounds and tremors.” Right on cue, another rasping moan as he murmured the words against her oversensitive skin. The little bumps rising wherever he touched reinvigorated the heat driving his desire.

“And I’ve been so selfishly devouring them for hours.” He nuzzled his face into the gap between her breasts, taking in a deep breath to inhale her sickly sweet scent. Everything about her was delectable, right down to the thin layer of sweat coating her skin.

She gave a weak nod as his fingers continued sliding in and out of her, curling against her walls just the way she liked. Another little delighted whimper slipped past her parted lips as his thumb circled around her clit, now impossibly swollen and warm from his incessant teasing.

“If only I had something to give you in return…” He grinned as he pressed himself against her thigh, his cock shamelessly hard.

“Please…” She whispered, Halsin could hear that she was starting to lose her voice. Her shaking hands moved down to try and stroke him, but he caught them and pinned them to her sides, finally removing his hand from between her legs. He wanted to save every ounce of himself for her, and after tonight? He’d be lucky to last a minute under her touch.

“Use your words, lover.” He purred back at her.

She let out a frustrated grunt.

“Gods above Halsin, just fuck me already!” She begged.

“With pleasure.” He growled into her ears before he moved to hover over her and lined his erection up with her entrance, still holding her hands against the bed. His tip just barely started to touch her folds when she wrapped her legs around his waist and thrusted her hips up hard to meet him, driving him inside of her. The sudden motion drew a loud, surprised moan from him, and caused him to relinquish his grip on her wrists. Tav’s back arched up as she adjusted to him, it didn’t take long considering all the work he put in before this. Digging her fingers into his hips, she started pulling him further into her.

“Faster.” Her voice was a raspy murmur as she grinded up to meet him.

“Anything for you, my heart.” He lifted her hips up slightly, allowing himself to fill her up as much as possible before he gave in to her touch.

Halsin didn’t bother with anymore buildup, he had teased her enough for the night. Instead, he immediately set a hard, relentless pace. A primal hunger took over as he watched her cry out beneath him, a feral need to sate her every need and desire. The sound of their gasps and moans mixed together with every pounding movement into her.

“Hells…” Tav gasped the words, her speech growing more gruff with every cry.

Tension coiled inside of him, tighter and tighter. His pace faltered as his legs started to shake. He focused on every sensation. The warmth of Tav around him, her trembling legs wrapped tight around his waist, the little strands of hair stuck to her sweat slicked forehead, her hands gripping his arms as her nails left little grooves in his skin, her parted lips as she called out sweet curses, the sight of him sliding in and out of her.

“Ta-av…” Halsin dug his fingers into her lower back as he pulled her tight against him with each thrust.

When he looked back up to meet her eyes, they were smoldering with desire. He took himself down to his elbows over her so he could kiss her as the coil finally snapped. His moans of relief were absorbed into her mouth as their tongues rolled slowly over one another. She continued to grind against him until he was a spent, panting mess on top of her.

He let himself collapse onto her for a moment as he caught his breath. She turned and buried her face into his neck and hair.

“You did so well for me, my heart.” He murmured the words into her shoulder with a kiss. Tav let out a small, dry chuckle at that.

“I think you did the hard work, my bear.”

Halsin rolled to the side so he could pull her into a hug, letting her rest her head on his chest.

“Believe me, it’s no hardship. Far from it.” He rubbed their noses together and hugged her tighter. Her content, gasping breaths threatened to arouse him once more.

No, she needs some rest.

“I’ll be back in a moment, Tav.” He kissed her forehead before walking across the room to gather some items from the dresser he had stored earlier.

Halsin grabbed the carafe of water along with two cups. He also gathered the small bowl of various fruits and nuts he had set aside for her. Raspberries, blackberries, and walnuts were among her favorite foods.

When he turned around, she was lying on her side propped up on her elbow, smiling at him as her frazzled hair tumbled around her neck and shoulders.

By the grace of the Oak Father, what have I done to deserve her?

“Careful now. A look such as that may cause me to lose control once more.” Seeing her half covered with the thin sheets draped over her hips was just as tempting as her fully bare before him.

She tried to laugh, but the sound came out as more of a croak. He set the bowl of food down next to her and poured her a glass of water, which she drank in one gulp.

“And snacks too?” She teased as she set her cup aside. “What did I do to deserve such a treatment?”

“You simply existed, my heart.” He leaned forward to kiss the small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

As Tav sat content with her water and snacks, Halsin strode to the small washroom adjacent to their room to prepare a bath. Tonight, he opted to use some oils, choosing those that had notes of rosemary and citrus – one of his favorites. Steam from the hot water started to fill the air, carrying the pleasant aroma across the room. When he wandered back to the bedroom, Tav was still happily munching on the assortment of fruits and nuts sitting next to her on the bed.

“Care for a bath?” He asked as he leaned in the doorway.

“Bold of you to assume my legs are working at all right now.” She shot him a playful glare as she popped another berry into her mouth.

“Then allow me.” He laughed as he walked back over to the bed to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to the fresh bath.

Halsin carefully set her down next to the tub, holding a hand out to her to help her step in. She lowered herself into the hot water slowly to allow herself a moment to adjust to the heat. The smell of the herbal oils was thick in the air now as steam continued to rise up from the bath, tendrils curling up her face as she breathed in the calming fragrance.

He knelt next to her on the floor, pressing a soft kiss into the back of her hand.

“Care to join me?” She rested her arms and chin on the edge of the tub.

“How could I say no?”

Tav moved to the side to let him sit in the water behind her. The warm water started to soothe his muscles the moment he stepped in. Once he settled, he wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her into his lap. He loved having her lay against him like this, the perfect position to leave light kisses along her neck and ears, to rub the tension from her back and shoulders.

She let out a happy sigh as she nestled herself back down, tracing little circles into his arms and legs. Her damp hair stuck to his neck and chest as she laid against him and her eyelids grew heavier with each soft breath.

He watched her relax into him, trusting him to keep her safe and warm…to think he had waited so long to make his wants known. How many more nights could they have had together? Exploring and feeling the bliss of one another’s embrace.

He could feel the desire coming back. Despite the hours he spent kissing, sucking, licking, teasing…it still wasn’t enough. He was desperate to make up for that lost time. It took every ounce of his self-control not to let his hands wander again, finding their way back across her overly teased skin. To get her cleaned up just to make another mess. To make her scream and cry his name until her already hoarse voice was gone. His breathing quickened as he felt himself twitch against her bare skin once again. Tav turned around to look in his eyes, still looking like she could fall into a slumber at any moment.

“Feeling a little greedy tonight?” She kissed his nose as she settled onto his lap again, this time facing him.

“Perhaps. But what is an old druid to do against such a temptation as you?”

Tav ran her gentle fingers through his hair, moving the strands out of the way of his neck to leave slow, wet kisses there. The pads of her fingers pressed into his chest and shoulders before descending down his torso. As she kissed her way up his neck and around his jaw, she started to grind against his thigh that she straddled. The movement caused his breath to catch.

“Another?” She asked, looking up so her hooded gaze could move to his lips as she bit hers. Halsin smiled back at her, his beautiful, incredible lover.

I guess neither of us will be getting any rest tonight.

“Another.”

#someone take away my writing privileges #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 halsin #halsin fanfic #halsin silverbough #halsin smut #bg3 smut #halsin x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii

152 notes · View notes

yaekiss · 1 day

Text

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉𝒔

꩜ Room Content: GN! AMAB! Top! Bathysmal Vishap! Reader x Subby! Bottom! Neuvillette, spoilers for Genshin Archon Quest 4.2, no gendered terms for reader, reader is a bathysmal vishap, Neuvillette has a dragon form, both reader and Neuvillette have hemipenes, cloaca fucking (Neuvillette receiving), frotting, praise (Neuvillette receiving), lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: If you don't want to read about dragon vishap smut, don't read this one LOL. I know I said "between 800-1500 words". This one just ran away from me ok shhhh. I also made up some draconic courtship lore, don't look too hard at it (but please tell me if you think it's cute thank you <3) anyways ENJOY !!! ꩜ This was written for @coingbee as part of my Care for a Fic fundraising event for Gaza! If you would to request a fic of your own, do check out the event post above ^^

The Hydro Sovereign has returned to their full power.

From beneath the surface, your head lifts. Judging by the excited clicks and chirps made by the rest in the community, it seems as if the others have sensed it too.

Whilst your fellow bathysmal vishaps murmur and chatter wildly with each other about whether or not to head up to the surface, you’ve already come to a decision. Without wasting another minute, you’re already hightailing it upwards towards the surface, tracking the whereabouts of your Hydro Sovereign via the trail of draconic power traces.

Following the trail takes you all the way into Fontaine. Along the way, you’ve adamantly ensured not to take routes with higher human traffic. The very thought of even crossing paths with one sends your mind twisting with a hatred and loathing so foul.

As your journey progressed, the ebbing and flowing stream of the trail you’ve been tracking gradually grows stronger and stronger as your distance travelled increases. Until, finally, you’re sure you’re close to the end and even closer to meeting the Hydro Sovereign when the trail stops and seems to be wholly focused and condensed into a solitary being nearby.

Your head emerges from beneath the water, breaking the still surface, sending ripples outwards. Eagerness bubbles within you as you anticipate finally meeting with the Hydro Sovereign that the bathysmal vishaps have been biding their time for, restlessly awaiting the return of their Dragon Lord. The moonlight of the evening is lovely, reflecting off the flow of the ripples.

And yet, as you crane your head to look over to where the water laps gently at the shore, to where the trail you’ve been tirelessly following should end, you feel your blood chill.

All you see is a mere human who stares out into the vast sea.

A split second is all it takes for any previous semblance of anticipation to morph into disbelief and bitterness. Surely, this can’t be! After all this time, was the undying hope in seeing the return of the Hydro Sovereign wasted on some farce? A prime example of a cruel sadistic joke the high heavens would play at your expense, just to see you inevitably crumble at the grand reveal?

Consumed by your emotions for a moment, you can’t help but regret not having forsaken your sight as your ancestors did. For perhaps if you had followed in their footsteps, you would’ve been able to bask in the exalted presence of your Sovereign leader, albeit for the price of blissful ignorance.

However, there is still a stubborn, restless part in your mind that wishes to understand just how you could have been so misled like this, how you had managed to be fooled into tracking the trail of a human all this time.

In a bat of an eye, you swim and make it to the shoreline, the coarse sand crunching under your claws. The disturbance causes the human to notice you, startled by the sudden appearance of a bathysmal vishap. (Although, strangely enough, no trace of fear shows on their face, and they make no move to scurry away.)

As the tension between the two of you grows, you advance slowly towards the human, low hissing sent to them as a warning. And suddenly, they try soothing you in a tongue that’s nothing but familiar to you.

Before your mind can keep up with the fact that this mere human can communicate with your kind, your head has already instinctively lowered along with your gaze pointed down towards the ground in deference to the undeniable traces of draconic authority in their tone and voice.

And when you feel a gloved hand lightly patting under your chin, trying to usher you back up to your previous position, you're struck with the dilemma of relishing in the awe of the unmistakable power of the Hydro Sovereign thrumming beneath or scorning the fact that you've allowed a human to touch you so casually.

(Does it really matter if the human in question is technically your Dragon Lord? The uncertainty leaves a sour taste in your mouth.)

Nevertheless, with enough insistence, they manage to raise your head back up before they start up the conversation.

“Greetings. I am sure you must have many questions regarding my form-” you nod, “-Very well, I suppose an explanation of events both recent and bygone is in order.” Through this, you learn briefly about the matters that have transpired, that his name is Neuvillette, that he is the both Iudex and the Hydro Dragon.

“I expect that you would take this information back to the rest of the vishaps, and that soon I might see more of you on the surface-” his tone drops to one more stern and absolute, “-With this, should any of the human Fontanians meet any unjust or unreasonable form of harm from your kind, I shall not hesitate in enacting the appropriate judgement.”

An understanding reached, you return back to your community as a sort of newly appointed mouthpiece. However, this proves not to be your last meeting with the Sovereign. No, far from it, really.

The sun starts to dip below the horizon as you slink languidly behind Neuvillette on a stroll together at the area outside of the Opera Epiclese. A couple melusines ride atop your back, Blathine and Veleda. You’ve come to remember their names after Neuvillette encouraged you and the melusines to get along more. (And you might have a soft spot for them after realising the fondness the Hydro Sovereign extends to them.)

The sight of the Chief Justice, along with a literal vishap essentially piggybacking two melusines might seem to be an odd sight to most. However, Fontanians have simply gotten used to this after the first few instances.

“Ah, there goes the Iudex and the melusines, and that big ol’... weird lizard he keeps around again, for the third time this week,” you hear someone in the surroundings say.

“Huh. Good for him, I guess,” someone else says in reply.

Despite all the time you’ve spent around humans while at your Sovereign’s side, you still haven’t quite managed to readily want to take up the form of one. Hence, the reason why there was a vishap right in front of the Fountain of Lucine.

Sometimes the Fontanians comment that you’re some sort of big guard dog for Neuvillette. (Honestly, you can’t quite find it in yourself to be opposed to being seen as a protector for someone you hold dear. Plus, it made for easier piggyback rides for the melusines and you enjoy seeing the warmth on Neuvillette’s face when he sees them having fun.)

As the sky darkens and the stars above begin to twinkle, the both of you drop the melusines off at their destinations. Soon, you’ve strolled to the coastline, the soft sound of sea water crashing against the shore blending into the ambient noise in the peaceful evening. Admiring the moonlight glistening and skating across the body of water, you break the comfortable silence first.

“I shall be travelling back to the depths tomorrow, is there any message you would like me to pass on to the bathysmal vishaps?”

Ever since your first meeting with Neuvillette, more and more of the others have been venturing out and up to the surface with the return of the Hydro Dragon. Due to your enthusiasm in meeting with the Sovereign, the responsibilities of monthly reports and announcements now fall on your back. (Sigh, is this what you get for being the first one back up? “The early bathysmal vishap meets the Hydro Sovereign,” or something of the like?)

“Ah. Has it already been a month since the last one?” He pauses to think, before continuing, “No, I don’t have any information or messages to relay.”

Another short lull in the conversation, you note that he seems to be mulling something over as he thumbs along the handle of his cane in quiet contemplation.

“I hope I am not overstepping as I say this, however, I find myself reluctant to part with you. I find that the time that we spend together is invaluable and that I oftentimes catch myself longing for your presence whenever we are apart,” he communicates this to you, the vulnerability apparent in his words.

“Perhaps, my confession would be more sincere if I were not restricted in my human form.”

As he says this, he wades into the waters, then dives under when deep enough. There’s a change in the atmosphere surrounding you, a heavier pressure forming and coalescing as a vivid bright blue starts to glimmer from the depths.

You look out expectantly, waiting with bated breath, and before long, the mirror surface of the water begins to ripple and distort from something significant moving underneath. Its streamlined movements rocket it towards where you’re standing, and as the level of the water decreases, more of its form is revealed until ultimately, the Hydro Dragon stands before you in all of his glory.

His serpentine frame towers high above you, almost double your height, with smooth iridescent azure scales covering the top of his body and claw-tipped flippers. The colour of his scales transition gradually from blue to ivory white in areas like his underside and neck. His powerful tail relaxes in the shallows, occasionally swishing, causing little waves in the water.

Casting your gaze further up, you see the familiar sight of his glowing tendrils, extending down from the two sides of the back of his head. He cranes his head downwards in one fluid motion, closing the distance between the two of you as he levels you with piercing lavender slitted pupils.

Driven by natural instinct, you bow at the display of ancient authority.

“Raise your head, after all, have you not managed to worm your way into the space next to my heart?” You hear his voice in your mind, the edges of his words pronounced with the slightest hint of a gravelly growl in this new form.

He shifts in closer, nudging his head under yours to lift your gaze back up so that it meets his own.

“As I expected. This form truly is more freeing for myself. Now, I am able to do this,” The tendrils by his head seem to glow more intensely before he can continue. The almighty Hydro Dragon is… blushing?

“Forgive me if I am too forward, however,” there’s nothing but sincerity in his gaze, “Would you allow me to entwine with you?”

Neuvillette's simple question sends your mind reeling. The act of entwining is an incredibly personal act of intimacy and often indicates the start of courtship in draconic species, one that signals everlasting devotion and commitment.

Usually, entwining is done with tails in regular vishap species. However, species with tendrils can also choose to use them instead of their tails since many believe the gesture to be more heartfelt. It is also said that the closer the frills or spines that the tendrils wrap around are to the head, the stronger the affection that the dragon has for the receiving party.

“I ask this of you not as the Hydro Dragon but rather, as Neuvillette. The one who has seen you cherish and care for the melusines, the one who has had walks under the rain with until the stars have emerged in the clear night sky.” He tilts his head down, tone serious. “That is to say, I do not wish to have your agreement only be one made out of obligation to authority.”

A beat of silence passes as your brain scrambles to process Neuvillette pouring his heart out to you, and you realise that your lack of an answer causes him to hesitate. (His tendrils droop a little and you think you see rain clouds starting to form.)

Before he can apologise or backtrack, you shift forward, headbutting him lightly to shake him out of his crestfallen state.

“Of course, Neuvillette.”

Upon hearing your answer, he instantly brightens and he goes to nuzzle his cheek against the side of your snout.

“Do excuse me if I execute this wrongly, I’ve never done it before after all,” he comments before gingerly manipulating his glowing tendrils so that they coil around the spines closest to your head on either side.

Up close, you can see everything so clearly, the tenderness in his gaze that he holds specifically for you. You can’t help but playfully bump your forehead against his, making him emit a content low rumble.

When he untangles and pulls back up, you swipe your tongue briefly against one of his tendrils, something akin to a quick kiss. This elicits a shiver from Neuvillette, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Apologies, ahem, it seems that my tendrils are quite the sensitive area. This full form is still somewhat new to me, and I have not had the chance to discover and understand everything about it just yet,” he squirms lightly against you.

“So how about we find out together? No time like the present, after all,” your tone is sly, charged with a salacious intent that causes Neuvillette to stiffen, tendrils glowing even more intensely than before.

Saying nothing, he swiftly manoeuvres his lithe body until he’s lying supine on his back,. he exposes his vulnerable underbelly to you, an act so trusting that it roots you to the spot in disbelief for a brief second. Your eyes travel down until you catch sight of his cloacal opening already growing slick.

“Teach me well, beloved.”

Using his tail, he ushers you onto his larger form, where you clamber until you've positioned your slit against his. And when you grind downwards, you can feel him tremble beneath you.

“Hah… I wasn’t aware that it would feel this good,” you hear his voice shake with arousal in your mind. Maybe it’s a side effect of telepathic draconic communication, yet, it’s almost as if you can feel everything he’s feeling, like all your sensations are linked with his, increasing the pleasure bubbling up within you twofold.

He takes the initiative this time, pushing his bottom half upwards to rut against you. It’s not long before the both of you are reduced to grinding against each other, each moving in tandem in order to maximise the pleasure.

Suddenly, Neuvillette halts all action, causing you to freeze and check up on him.

“I’m alright. I only stopped because it seems like your hemipenes have everted.” Bashfully, he averts his gaze elsewhere, as if he had been caught seeing something he shouldn’t have. (Which is laughable considering the fact that the both of you were just writhing on the ground, tangled up in each other.)

In your haze, you hadn’t even noticed your cocks evert. Neuvillette’s are still somewhat concealed within, only the drooling tips peeking out of his entrance.

“Yours haven’t yet, that won’t do. How else are we supposed to help you understand your new anatomy?” you shake your head, a faux forlorn tone decorating your words. “Would you allow me to penetrate you, Neuvillette?”

He nods at your suggestion and you line up one of your tips at his opening. Aided by the copious amount of slick fluid, you’re able to slowly enter him, sandwiching one of his dicks between the one you have in him and the one rubbing against his exposed head.

The new sensation has him throwing his head back, drawing out a loud throaty groan.

“D-Don’t stop, please, beloved.”

Spurred on by how wrecked he sounds, when you’ve made sure he’s comfortable, you start to rock in and out of him, shallow unhurried motions to start then transitioning to a faster pace once he starts to meet your thrusts. Slowly but surely, as Neuvillette gets increasingly worked up, his hemipenes gradually evert until they’re fully revealed.

They’re slender, each with a pale white bulbous base that then curves and morphs into a tip that’s more flared on the bottom edge, like a blunt fishing hook.

“There we go, how are you feeling, still fine?”

“Yes, but allow me to catch my breath first before we continue. Thank you for checking with me, beloved.”

When he’s ready, he experiments and frots his cocks against yours, hissing at the heat and friction as they drag along your lengths. The slick sounds do nothing to quell the rising desire within you and you can feel yourself reaching your peak.

The dragon under you is faring no better as well, judging by how wound up he’s getting. His tail is flicking wildly to and fro in the water, churning up the sand as a desperate mix of growls, chirrups, and pitched calls leave him. Despite it all, he’s still the most gorgeous sight you’ve ever had the opportunity to witness.

“You’re nothing but beautiful, Neuvillette. Ah! I’ve grown to see the overflowing compassion you have within you,” he keens at your words and you can sense the pleasure he’s feeling melding with yours.

“How fortunate I must be to stay at your side, to call you mine, as I, yours.” And this is what does him in.

As he spills over, his tail goes to loop around yours tightly whilst his muscles lock and shake. You follow suit not long after, a sticky mess forming between the two of your bodies

A quick splash around in the water washes most of the evidence off. You rest next to where he’s curled up comfortably, the waves rhythmically lapping up against him. The atmosphere is relaxed as the both of you wind down and converse.

“I’d love to stay with you till the late morning but you have a trial scheduled and I promised to find Pahsiv first thing in the morning to catch up,” you lament.

A rumble from his chest, he’s chuckling. He tucks his head next to yours, caressing a tendril across your cheek.

“I’ll wait for you. Return safe, my beloved one.”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

#📜.Care for a Fic!#📜.qi writings #📜.qi musings #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin smut #sub genshin #dom reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #sub neuvillette #writing this was a wild ride #I had so many tabs about lizards and snakes and cloacas and hemipenes open #good lird this is 3k #no one ask me how I got here ok #ainsel just had really good and extensive prompts

131 notes · View notes

memphisflash · 1 day

Text

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐰

⊱ word count: 3,9K

⊱ warnings: dead dove do not eat!, stepbrother!elvis, stepsister!reader, reader hates elvis but honestly... not really, reader is a virgin but not completely clueless, ages are not mentioned but i figured reader is somewhere around 17/18 and elvis 21/22ish, very dom!elvis, non-con/dubious consent, strong language, pwp, smut; semi-public, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (m. receiving), forced deep throating, first time penetration, reader bleeding on elvis as he breaks her hymen, he pretty much splits her open OKAY, creampie, crying during sex. MDNI!!!

⊱ authors note: it's kinda short bc i wrote it in like an hour- i was too excited, lol. proof read it once bc the more i read it, the more i hate it, ANYWAYSSS. i probably missed a few triggers here or there, so if i did, let me know! my first darker fic, but knowing how much y'all love the feral stuff, i'm sure it's considered tame to some. ha! anyways hope y'all like, and don't forget to interact- i love reading what you guys think!! <333

⊱ dead dove masterlist | main masterlist

If there was one person you hated the most in the world, it had to be Elvis Presley.

You didn’t even have a good reason for it, you just did. Couldn’t stand the sight of him – that stupid crooked grin that tugged at his lips, which looked way too soft by the way, and had all your girlfriends swooning over. Those eyes that were oh so blue and able to turn a shade darker whenever he was moody. The way he knew how to push your buttons.

Every single time.

He was capable of making your blood crawl, getting you so annoyed and angry at some points where all you wanted to do was cry. You never did, though. Couldn’t let him catch you spilling tears over him because he’d never let you live it down.

Long story short: you cursed the day your mother married his father.

Vernon was a nice man and your mother genuinely seemed happy with Mr. Presley, which is what you still called him despite his protests. And you were a good girl, the perfect daughter – you weren’t going to get in between your mother and Elvis’ father just because you despised the Presley boy.

You were just going to bite your tongue and suck it up… even on this damn road trip that your mother and stepfather deemed the perfect opportunity for the family to bond.

You hated Route 66 for existing. Crossing eight states and three time zones on the backseat with Elvis? Your own personal hell.

“Stop hoggin’ the damn blanket.” Elvis hissed at you as he tugs on the fleece blanket you had draped over your body, while flipping through one of the dozen magazines you either brought from home or bought at the last gas station.

The sun had set a little while ago and you lost interest in the barely able to see view. The only thing you knew was that you were in Missouri, the second state. Six more to go.

“It’s my blanket. I told you to get yours out of the trunk.” You snap back at him, though keeping your voice low as you’d noticed your mother drifting off to sleep in the passenger seat in front of you.

Elvis rolls his eyes and tugs on the blanket a little harder, succeeding in stealing most of it and exposing your bare legs. Before you had the chance to protest, he was scooting a little closer and draping the fluffy blanket over the both of you.

“Where’s the fun in usin’ my own?” He smirks as he pulls it up so it was covering the both of you up until your shoulders, causing your magazine to crumble under the fabric. You scoffed in annoyance and glared at him, blue eyes holding a mischievous gleam in them as they looked up at you, your stepbrother having put his chin on your shoulder.

“Ugh, get off of me, Elvis.” You groaned softly, lifting your shoulder which forces him to pull back a little. You wanted to scoot away from, because why does his cologne smell so good?!, but you couldn’t. Trapped between the car door and his larger frame, you had absolutely nowhere to go.

And Elvis only intensified the sense of being trapped by sliding his arm around your waist under the blanket, pulling you in his side. Grin plastered on his face, he didn’t break eye contact once.

“I’m bored, sis.”

“I’m not your sister.”

“Yes, you are,” He whispers lowly as he grips onto your hip, squeezing it firmly as he leans in a little closer. “Our parents are married, remember? That makes me your brother. Older brother, in case ya forget.”

Your heart skipped a beat, breath hitching in your throat. You hated him, you hated him, you hated him… but then why did it feel so good to have him this close to you?

And oh so dangerous. So damn dangerous.

“Your father is r-right there, Elvis,” you whisper as your eyes shift to Vernon, who had his eyes on the dark road ahead, fingertips softly tapping on the steering wheel to the beat of the song that was softly playing on the radio.

Elvis chuckled softly, as if to say he didn’t care. And he didn’t. The blanket was covering the both of you completely and it was too dark inside the car to see what was going on. He knew for sure his father wouldn’t take his eyes off of the road.

“All the more reason to keep quiet.” He simply says and you didn’t expect his next move as he slips his hand in the pyjama shorts you’d put on in the toilet of the last gas stop. He didn’t waste any time, obviously eager to get his hands on you, as his hand had slipped right in your panties at the same time.

Maybe it was intentional, maybe it wasn’t. But it had you gasping softly, the magazine which had been clenching in your hands dropping to the floor.

“Elvis, n-no,” You grab his wrist when you feel his fingertips sliding down your slit, parting your lips for him so he could feel if you were wet or not.

You were, but definitely not enough to get fingered on the backseat of your parents’ car.

He pulls his hand out of your shorts and out from underneath the blanket, holding his fingers in front of your mouth. “Make ‘em wet.”

You look at him, eyes widening as your cheeks flush. Your eyes shift over to Vernon again, who wasn’t suspecting a thing, but your paranoia was growing. Shaking your head at the older male next to you, you keep your lips firmly shut.

“Lick my fingers or I’ll move this blanket away. Now, Y/N.”

It wasn’t a question, nor a suggestion. It sounded a god awful lot like an order.

Scared that he would actually follow up on his threat, you slowly part your lips as you look at him, a warmth spreading throughout your belly as you wrapped your lips around his digits and suck on them. He grins as he presses them against your tongue a little, before the wet muscle swirls around his fingers for a few seconds.

He’s quick to restract his fingers out of your mouth and move his hand under the blanket again, slipping into your shorts and panties once more. He raises an eyebrow as he glides his fingers down your slit, opening you up again and feeling you’d grown a little more wet.

The way his fingers were exploring you so shamelessly yet so sneakily in the enclosed space of the family car had your heart thumping wildly in your chest. Yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from growing wetter and wetter.

You were aware of how wrong this was, yet you did absolutely nothing to stop it. And neither did Elvis – if anything, he seems to be enjoying himself thoroughly.

“You like this?” He whispers as he looks at you, grinning smugly at the way you’re trying to keep your face neutral, lips pressed firmly into a thin line, brows slightly frowned. “Havin’ your brother feel you up in the backseat?”

You huff out a little sigh of air, trying to clamp your thighs together but every time he feels you’re doing it, he pinches your thigh until his other hand finds home on your left thigh, keeping your legs spread enough for his liking. “You’re n-not.. my.. b-brother..”

He laughs softly, making sure his father doesn’t hear it and tilts his head a little as he looks at you. Without warning, he slips his middle finger inside of your cunt, making you let out a quiet gasp. You clench around him instantly, and he smirks. “I think I am. Nah, I know I am and so do you, honey.”

Your eyes nearly roll back at the pet name and you truly hate yourself for being this weak. For liking this, having his finger push into you knuckle deep.

You couldn’t answer him as he started pumping his digit into you, movements still somewhat restricted because of your shorts. But that didn’t bother nor stop him for a second.

As if your body had a mind on its own, you were pulling your legs up a little, feet pressed against the edge of the seat. Clawing at his arm, not knowing if it was to get him to stop or to just have something to hold onto it. You didn’t know, didn’t know anything anymore as your brain was growing fuzzy.

You weren’t all that experienced when it came to sex – only ever having been felt up by a boy you liked during summer vacation last year and he didn’t exactly put it inside you.

Neither his finger, or his cock.

The only thing that’s ever been inside of you had been your own finger and even your own slender digit had been a stretch, not able to fit fully. You were a virgin and here you were, getting fingered by your brother. Stepbrother, you forcefully reminded yourself.

Your virginity was not something you were planning to tell Elvis about – he’d tease the hell out of you for it. At least, that’s what you thought he would do. Either way, you weren’t going to say anything.

His finger stretching you open wider than you’d experienced before was just something you were going to soldier yourself through.

“So goddamn tight,” Elvis grunted lowly next to you, allowing you to hide your face in his chest a little, making it seem as if you were catching up on some sleep. “Think ya can take ‘nother finger?”

No. Definitely not.

“Y-Yes..” You muffle in his chest, biting down on the fabric of his shirt as he shoves his ring finger inside of you as well, making your eyes roll back.

God, you couldn’t believe you were doing this. Allowing this to happen. If Vernon decided to look through the rearview mirror or your mother woke up, the both of you would be disowned.

Surely.

You didn’t have much time to worry about it though, because the slight sting of Elvis’ fingers stretching you out has you softly panting in his chest. You were clenching around him visciously so and it has him cursing under his breath.

Neither of you were paying attention to anything else, but as the car pulled up into a parking lot just as the sting was disappearing and you were relaxing a little more around Elvis’ fingers, the two of you were rudely interrupted by a neon light shining into the car as Vernon parked under it.

Elvis moves quick – pulling his fingers out of you and out of your clothing, he creates more space between the two of you and gives you most of the blanket to cover yourself with. He looks at you as he smirks, bringing his fingers to his mouth to suck your slick off of the digits, shooting you a wink as Vernon announces this is the motel they’d be staying at for the night.

If your cheeks weren’t flushed already, they deepened in shade even further and the image of him licking his fingers clean stayed imprinted on your brain as you got out of the car and your parents booked the rooms.

As if God was playing an awful joke on you, Vernon and your mother decided you and Elvis could share a hotel room together.

“To bond. I’m sick of you two fighting.”

Those had been your mother’s exact words – if only she knew what had happened between the two of you when she was sleeping in the passenger seat.

You should’ve known that being alone in a motel room with your stepbrother wasn’t going grant you the privilege of sleep.

Having never seen a cock in your life, other than from seeing it in pictures and getting a general description of it from your girlfriends, you had nothing to compare it to.

But the one that belonged to Elvis was pretty.

Big too, which scared the hell out of you, but you figured as long as you’d keep playing with it with your hands and mouth, he wouldn’t be in a rush to take things a step further.

Laying completely naked on your stomach in between Elvis’ legs, because he’d pretty much tore your clothes off of you as soon as the door closed behind you, your little jerk off session was interrupted by his own hand wrapping around his girth. He looks down at you with a little smirk on his face, guiding his tip across your lips.

You were nervous and turned on at the same time. Nervous because you were afraid you weren’t going to be good at this, but your lips parted nonetheless. Looking up at him, you liked seeing his reaction when your tongue hesitantly licked at the soft skin of his tip when he pulled his foreskin down – gasping softly, his eyes fluttering shut.

He keeps his hand wrapped around himself until you wrap your lips around his tip, frowning a little at the foreign taste of his precum on your tongue but you forced yourself to continue. You squeezed your eyes shut as you concetrated on the task of taking him in deeper, immediately gagging as he took his hand away and you felt his tip caressing the back of your throat.

As soon as you went to pull back, he placed a hand on the back of your head and looks down at you with a teasing, nearly mean, chuckle when he saw your eyes shooting open and widening. “Keep goin’, sis.”

You whine around his cock as his fingers tangle in your hair, keeping you right where you were, and your throat spasms frantically as he keeps you pushed down, not allowing you to move. Tears blurred your vision as they formed on your lash line, unable to stop yourself from gagging.

You couldn’t breathe.

He was choking you with his cock.

Panic settles in your chest and you place your hands on his thighs, trying to push yourself off and create distance, but his grip was stronger. And he wasn’t letting up.

“Breathe,” he cooes, his voice sounding sickeningly sweet but you didn’t miss the taunting tone in it. “Through y’er little nose. Breathe.”

You try to do as he says and he watches you struggle for a little while, the sight of tears rolling down your cheeks and your flushed cheeks making his cock twitch on your tongue. But he decides to go at least a little easy on you and tugs on your hair, pulling you off of his cock.

You immediately gasp desperately for air, a string of saliva connected from your tongue to his cock. You looked at him through the tears, your head tilted back because he was still tugging on your hair.

“Look at that, droolin’ all over my cock.” He smirks as he watches you lick your glistening, swollen lips.

You were even more wet than you were in the car. So damn wet. Rubbing your thighs together to create some kind of friction, you barely recognized yourself as you realised you were actually liking this.

“A-Again..”

“Again?” Elvis raises an eyebrow, letting out a laugh. You nodded, not caring about how eager you seemed.

He slowly lets go of your hair and with a shit eating grin on his face, he puts his arms under his head and gets comfortable against the pillows. “Be my guest.”

It was truly pathetic how fast you’d taken his cock back in your mouth, slobbering all over it like a bitch in heat. But you were so horny that you couldn’t get yourself to stop, even if you wanted to.

This time, you were deepthroating him on your own. Taking him in so deep that your nose was pressed into his pubes, cockhead assaulting the back of your throat. The whole time you practiced breathing through your nose but you failed at times because the way Elvis was grunting and groaning had you moaning around him, which forced you to have to pull up again to get in a breath of air.

Elvis wasn’t complaining. Far from it.

He had you right where he wanted to have you for the longest time now. The whole annoying brother act was just because he’d wanted to fuck the hell out of you from the second he laid eyes on you. The fact that you were his family now sure as hell wasn’t going to stop him.

Even though you were surprisingly enjoying yourself sucking him off, practicing your skills, Elvis had you pinned down on the bed before he’d cum down your throat. Something he did not want, because he was planning on filling you up in other ways.

Him sliding his cock through your folds, spreading your slick around and rubbing his tip against your clit had you moaning and whimpering – but as soon as you felt him lingering at your entrance, the nerves were flooding back.

Placing a hand on his chest, you tried to close your legs but it was impossible because he was right there in between them, preventing you from doing so. You widened your eyes as you shook your head, writhing underneath him a little, your untouched hole clenching nearly shut as he tries to push himself in.

“N-No, no, Elvis. ’S Not gonna fit..”

“It will.”

“It’s t-too b-big..”

“Jesus,” he huffs out, grabbing your wrist and peeling your hand off of his chest. He put both your hands above your head and trapped your wrists together with his hand, his other hand moving in between your bodies to guide himself back to your entrance. “I will make it fit. Now shut the fuck up and let me in.”

You try to free your hands out of his grip, but it’s useless. He’s too strong.

Tears form in your eyes all over again as you whimper, breathing erratically as he pushes the tip inside of you. Even that was already stretching you further open, and you're clenching so hard that you were pushing him out again.

Elvis groaned in annoyance, moody eyes shooting you a a warning glare. “Goddamnit, Y/N. Relax.”

“I can’t! I c-can’t!”

“Fine,” he growls as he places his hand on your hip, forcing you to keep still as he roughly pushes fully into you. “Then don’t.”

A sharp pain shot through your body, making you cry out in panic. Despite the fact that you were absolutely soaking, the stretch was unbearable.

“I’ve never.. I’m not.. Never have-“

“Never been fucked before? I know.” He growls deeply as he bottoms out, holding still. At least he was granting you that. “But you’ll like it, baby, believe me.”

You were naive. Stupid, even. Because even though you felt like he was painfully splitting you open right now, you truly did believe him.

It was going to feel better. It had to.

Still holding onto your hands because he didn’t quite trust you enough to know you wouldn’t push him off, he pulled back a little only to slam into you again. He growls a little louder as he feels more wetness engulfing him, slipping out of you and onto him.

As he looks down, he notices a little bit of blood on his cock when he pulls back again. He smirks as he sees you looking down too, his eyes meeting yours. “I popped y’er little cherry,” he hums as he leans his face closer to yours, lips ghosting along yours. “You know what that means, sis?”

Cheeks flushed in embarrassement for bleeding on him, you whimper softly as you stare into his eyes with your own teary ones, finding yourself chasing his lips, wanting to kiss him but he wasn’t giving it to you yet.

“You’re mine now.”

The way he whispers those words against your lips has you letting out a soft sob, crying as he kisses you feverishly.

He starts thrusting into you, hard enough for his balls to slap against your skin every time his hips snap forward, but not hard enough for him to cum yet. Because you were tight, so incredibly snug, he had to force himself to not fill you up prematurely.

He wanted to enjoy it for a little longer.

Letting go of your wrists and hip, he places his hand flat on either side of your head and breaks the kiss, looking down at you as he rams you into the mattress. The headboard was slamming against the wall, probably alerting your parents in the next room to what was happening but he was too far gone.

And so were you.

All you could think about was Elvis and how he was railing you into tomorrow, drunk on his cock.

The sting was still there, but the intensity was wearing off, making way for pleasure.

Pure, raw pleasure.

Heat overwhelmed you, an unfamiliar feeling coiling in the pit of your tummy and you knew enough of your friends’ stories that your orgasm was nearing.

“Elvis!” You moaned out loudly, your nails running down his back, clinging onto him. “I’m g-gonna cum!”

It felt strange saying those words, but your brain was too cloudy to think or worry about it.

“Fuck. Me too, baby,” he growls as he presses his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes. “Gonna fuckin’ fill you up until you feel it all the way in your tummy.”

You had no idea if that was even possible, but it sounded hot.

You wanted it.

Wanted all of him.

With your spread legs in the air, your toes curl as your nails dig into his shoulder blades. Your back arched and Elvis’ hips stuttered, both of you exploding at the same time.

You milked him for all he’s worth and he paints your insides white, thick strings of warm cum filling you up to the brim. A weird sensation spread throughout your stomach and you wondered if it was because of what he said.

He collapses on top of you with his face hiding in your neck, panting heavily against your skin. You could feel his cum spilling out of you as he pulls his softening cock out and you whimper, shivering underneath him because of your first orgasm you’ve just experienced.

“N-Need to p-pee.” You whisper in a shaky voice, trying to get your breathing back to normal.

He rolls off of you but instead of letting you get up, he wraps his arm around your waist and spoons you. His hand moves in between your legs, cupping your sensitive pussy. “No,” he simply tells you, grinning as he softly bites your shoulder, moving his other arm underneath your head and wrapping it around your throat without too much pressure, pressing your back against his chest firmly. “Keep it inside ‘f ya for a little longer. Don’t be ungrateful, baby.”

You squirm against him a little and gasp as he shoves two fingers inside of your cunt, pushing his cum deeper inside of you and keeping it there.

He was right. Spilling the load he’d worked so hard to release right away would be ungrateful… and that’s something that you weren’t.

You were a good girl, a good daughter.

And a perfect sister to fuck.

⊱ taglist: @notstefaniepresley @powerofelvis @peaceloveelvis @ccab @jkdaddy01 @atrophyingaphrodite @ladelinee

#elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley smut #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #stepbrother!elvis #elvis #elvis presley #tamwrites #tamsdove #elvis x fanfic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x y/n

93 notes · View notes

writtenbyafan · 1 day

Text

Moments Like These

⟢ Lucifer Morningstar x female!reader ⟢ Warnings: Angst; Alastor being Alastor; OOC HH cast? ⟢ Standalone mini-fic; could be read as a continuation of my other fic "It's the little things".

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

[Extermination day is canceled. Adam has been defeated, and the rest of the exterminators have retreated back to heaven.]

[Now it’s time to rebuild the hotel and continue Charlie’s mission to rehabilitating sinners. Lucifer offered to help and has even opened up Morningstar Palace to Charlie and her friends. He wanted to make sure his daughter had place to say during the construction of the new Hazbin Hotel.]

[Plus with his envolment, Lucifer has been presented with the chance to get closer to Y/N. Maybe moving beyond the friendship they've had for years.]

[He be lying if he said he wasn't excited by this thought the most.]

~ Day 1 ~

[During day one of rebuild, Lucifer had been cornered by Niffty. Lucifer was only half listening to the manic maid because he was too busy watching Y/N interact with Charlie. He couldn't hear what was being said because of the distance. That didn't hinder the obvious affection he witnessed on Y/N's face as she listened to whatever Charlie was saying. His daughter was talking animatedly, speaking with her hands as she pointed at various pieces of building material.]

[Y/N smiled and nodded along with the excitable blonde, even laughing a time or two. When it seemed like Charlie had run out of things to say, he watched as a bashful smile broke out across her face. Y/N returned it with a radiant smile of her own. Placing her hand on Charlie's head, Y/N ruffled her hair, handed her a safety helmet and shooed her off back to work with a wave.]

Lucifer, heart eyes: "She treats Charlie so well. Almost like Charlie was her daughter."

~ Day 3 ~

[After a full day of hard work, the Hazbin crew called it a day and headed back to the palace for some much needed rest.]

[It was late into the night when Lucifer woke feeling thirsty. Rolling out of bed, Lucifer ignored his sleep mused hair and grabbed his robe and slippers before exiting his room. Lucifer quietly made his way through the many palace halls towards the kitchen for a glass of water.]

[With his drink secured, Lucifer was passing by the door to a sitting room when he heard soft voices coming from inside. Walking into the room, Lucifer flicked on the lights and bit back a laugh at the site that greeted him.]

Lucifer: “Are you and your friend enjoying a little midnight snack, Y/N?”

[From her spot on the floor Y/N stared at Lucifer in shock. Y/N, in her duck and flower theme pajamas, was laying on her stomach on the plush rug of the barley used sitting room. Beside her a pink piglet was nibbling on a piece of fruit from a small plate she had sitting near her. Y/N had book opened in front of her with a book light clipped on it, allowing her to read in the dark.]

Y/N: "Lucifer! You scared me!"

Lucifer, chuckling: "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Is that your pet?"

Y/N: *shaking her head* "No, Fat Nuggets, is actually Angel Dust's pet. When either he and I can't sleep, we find each other for a little midnight hang out sesh. I'm not sure how it all started, but I don't question it much."

[From beside her, Fat Nugget oinked at the King of Hell, his snout twitching cutley. Y/N smiled at the piglet, reaching over to rub the spot between his little horns. Fat Nugget oinked again as his little devil tail wagged happily.]

Y/N: "Luci, if you're not in a rush, why don't you join us? For a little bit?"

Lucifer, blushing: *actually happy* *smiles and laughs* *grins likes a goofy little idiot*

[With a snap of his fingers the lights to the sitting room are back off. Joining Y/N on the rug, Lucifer lays down on his back staring up at the dark ceiling. In a soft voice, Lucifer asks Y/N if she would read to him. She complied and quietly read from where she left off on the page.]

[When Lucifer felt her fingers gently combing through his hair, he flinched; he had not been touched with such gentleness since his divorce. He was no stranger to women and had felt their hands on all parts of his body, but Y/N's touch made him feel like he belonged some place. He allowed his eyes to close as he savored the attention Y/N was giving him.]

~ Day 5 ~

[Although Lucifer enjoyed that he was getting closer to Y/N, he liked it less when he noticed just how close Y/N and Alastor were. It made him nearly combust when he had to witness Alastor's and Y/N's interactions.]

[Lucifer knew Alastor didn't like to be touched, but he saw that the Radio Demon had no problem when Y/N did it.]

[Other times Lucifer had seen Alastor be the one to initiate physical contact with Y/N.]

Alastor: "Y/N, I've you've been working so hard with the hotel construction. You deserve a reward."

Y/N, smiling: "Oh, I don't need that, Alastor. I'm just doing my part."

Alastor: "Nonsense! Take a seat, I insist."

[The Radio Demon pushed Y/N back into a chair that appeared behind her. A second later Alastor materialized behind her and placed his hands on Y/N's shoulders giving her massage.]

[Lucifer's claws tore at the skin of his palms as he watched Y/N melt in her seat under the Alastors touch.]

Alastor, grinning: "There. Isn't that better, Y/N?"

Y/N, signs contently: *eyes shut* "It feels fantastic Al."

Alastor: "…"

[Alastor doesn't respond to Y/N's comment because Alastor had his eyes locked with Lucifer's. The look of dark rage on the King's face made Alastor giddy. Smiling wider, Alastor moved his hands away from Y/N shoulders, grazing his claws up along the sides of her neck. Y/N shivered at the sensation then groaned when Alastor burring his hands her hair to massage her scalp.]

[Y/N was completely unaware of Alastor's victorious grin or Lucifer storming off.]

~ Day 7 ~

[the day was finally here. the construction o the hotel had been completed and the new place looked spectacular. Charlie and the others were excited to return back to their home and continue their efforts of rehabilitating sinners.]

[Everyone had already returned to the New Hazbin Hotel but Y/N had stayed behind at the Morningstar Palace. Y/N had wanted to personally thank Lucifer for all his help and opening his home up to them. First she had to find the man who suddenly seemed unable to be in her presence.]

[After a few hours of searching every room she came across, Y/n finally ended up at Lucifer's study.]

[Cautiously Y/n knocked on the heavy wood and gold doors of the study. Getting no response, Y/N slowly twisted the handle on the door and stepped inside.]

Y/N: "There you are! I've been looking all over for you. Charlie and the other have already left but I wanted to talk to you before I go."

Lucifer: "..."

[Lucifer doesn't turn around at Y/N entrance. He keeps his back to her as he sits at he worktable, tinkering with a new rubber duck project.]

Y/N: *coughs* "I know I shouldn’t be here but I want to thank you for all you help with the hotel construction. It was very generous of you for letting us all stay here while our home was being rebuilt."

Lucifer: "Sure, it was not problem. I just wanted to be there for Charlie in her time of need."

Y/N: "Lucifer, why have you been avoiding me these last few days?"

Lucifer, startled: *turns around* “I haven't- I just noticed that you've been spending an awful lot of time with Alastor. I didn't want to get in the way."

Y/N, confused: "Get in the way of what?"

Lucifer, sighs: "What are your thoughts on Alastor? Are you- do you like him?"

Y/N: "What?! No! Alastor is just my friend. We are friendly with each other but I don't see him like what."

Lucifer: “Is he really just a friend?”

Y/N, frustrated: "Luci, I'm so lost. Where is this all coming from?"

Lucifer: "I just...adore you. And, I don't like the way that, Bastard, looks at you. I hate when he touches you."

Y/N, bewildered: "Are you actually jealous of Alastor?"

Lucifer: "Me, jealous?"

[Lucifer rises out of his seat to finally face Y/N.]

Lucifer: "Yes. Because… because I think I'm falling in love with you, okay? I can't pretend anymore."

Y/N: "..."

Lucifer: *clears his throat* "Please say something."

Y/N, tearfully: "You silly little man. I never thought that there would be a day that you would actually return my feelings."

Lucifer: "W-what?"

Y/N: *grabs Lucifer's hands to tug him a little closer.*

Y/N: "I'm saying that it's the same for me. I love you, Lucifer, have loved you for quite a while if I'm being honest."

Lucifer: "But why did you never say anything?"

Y/N: *holds up Lucifer's left hand as an answer.*

[Lucifer's the gold wedding band shined in the light of his study.]

Y/N, bashful: "This didn't exactly inspire a lot of confidence in my feelings being reciprocated. I thought you were still waiting for your Lilith to return. So, I kept quiet all these years. I didn't want to put you in a awkward position."

[Lucifer stares at his wedding band for a moment before gently pulling his hands out of Y/N grasp. He didn't miss the small flash of hurt that colored Y/N features before she covered it with a smile of solemn acceptance. ]

[It's that action from Y/n that solidified Lucifer's next move. Pulling the ring off his finger, Lucifer wound his arm back and threw the wedding band across the room.]

[The ring bounced off one of the walls of the study then fell to the floor where it got lost in one of the many rubber ducky piles around the room.]

[Y/N watched this happen in shock, staring at Lucifer with an unreadable expression.]

Lucifer, blushing: “Can I hug you?”

Y/N, nodding: "Of course."

[Lucifer wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Y/N waist and nestling his head against her chest.]

[Y/N wrapped her arms around Lucifer's shoulders. Removing his top hat so that she could rest her chin on the crown of his head.]

[Over come with the sudden rush of emotion that her feelings were returned, Y/N pulled her head back to press a kiss to Lucifer's forehead.]

Lucifer, weeping: "Do it again."

Y/N: *places soft kisses to each of Lucifer's cheeks*

Lucifer, whimpers: "More."

[Y/N beams at Lucifer's sweet plea. Tenderly putting her hands on either side of his face, Y/N angled Lucifer's face just a little bit closer before finally claiming his lips in sweet kiss]

END˚♡˚

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel drabble #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader

81 notes · View notes

the-apocrypha · 3 days

Text

DVD Bonus Features: Fanfic Edition!

I have like 6k of cut scenes from my last fic (the fourth dimension) and many of them were not cut because they were bad, but because they weren't working with the overall story. Seems a shame to let them languish on Google docs. So, for anyone who might be interested - here's two scenes that didn't make the final cut!

<<<>>>

The hourglass is broken.

The glass is intact, of course, as is the intricate brass housing Dream had spent so many hours bending and curving into symmetrical spirals. It is the spring plate that forms one of the bases—designed to depress slowly as the weight of sand gathers, thereby stretching a miniature steel coil beneath such that it begins to draw back a tiny gilt hammer. When the full weight of sand is upon it, the catch releases, and the hammer strikes the chime.

Dream had left the mechanism skeletonized, proud of both the ingenuity and the beauty of the gears he had crafted. This is what allows him to see, today, that even though the sand piles upon the spring plate, the hammer remains stationary. The plate is not depressing.

He has migrated to the window for better light and turned the hourglass every which way. The symmetry of the hourglass means that an identical mechanism exists on the other side, for convenient comparison, and it is from this that Dream is hypothesizing that the issue is perhaps with the pinion gear.

He will not know for certain until he attempts correction.

And herein lies the problem, for in a masterful stroke of arrogance on his own part:

The glass is intact.

His only options now to access the mechanism are to melt the glass, or strategically break it apart, and in either case hope for both minimal damage to the contents and an aesthetically pleasing repair following the—

“What’s wrong, dove?”

Or rather, what Hob actually says is hǒu is th' problem, culver?, because Dream is standing in the kitchen next to an abandoned bowl of muesli, because it is breakfast, because during breakfast they speak Middle English. Hob is before him, coffee in one hand, breakfast sandwich in the other.

“It’s broken,” Dream replies. Is brokæ.

“It’s nearly eight,” Hob replies, eyebrows up.

Dream abruptly sets the hourglass down.

“So you noticed the Astrid Alarm was broken,” Hob says, as Dream swings the freezer door open and starts shifting ice packs and frozen pizzas about. “And then you didn’t set a different alarm. You didn’t eat your breakfast. You didn’t pack your bag.”

“This is unhelpful.”

Hob goes quiet as Dream frantically stuffs notebooks into his backpack, then a water bottle (too light, probably empty), the peas, headphones, and a sweater from the back of a chair that is likely not his own. Three binder clips go into his pocket. All he needs is—

He turns to find Hob waiting, Dream’s wallet in one hand, sandwich in the other, meat now removed.

Dream accepts both, and heads for the windowsill.

“No kiss?” Hob complains.

The broken hourglass, too, goes into his bag.

Dream doubles back, cups the side of Hob’s face more for the sake of injury prevention than tenderness, and presses a quick kiss of gratitude where it belongs.

The hand on his wrist stays him.

Hob’s fingers fall comfortably between the three watch bands that lie there, his thumb over Dream’s pulse point.

“Tonight, five o’clock,” Hob reminds him.

Dream holds up his other arm in reply, where a fourth watch glints golden.

“Ah, perfect,” Hob says, beaming. “Hob Fob to the rescue.”

It is one of the many great failures of Dream’s life, that this nickname has persisted.

“Five,” Dream agrees, and pulls his hand free. “You will be wonderful.”

“Best in my age group,” Hob agrees proudly, and raises his coffee mug just as Dream turns around to make for the door. The mug is a custom job from the internet a few years ago, chipped in both paint and porcelain, but the original black with white lettering can still be read:

It does not belong to Hob.

WORLD’S

LEAST

PUNCTUAL

WATCHMAKER

<<<>>>

(Originally there was an OC named Astrid that Dream would birdwatch with every morning, and Hob had a piano recital in the evening. Obviously these plot points went, and so the breakfast scene had to be rewritten.)

<<<>>>

A watch does not know the time it tells.

It cannot feel the sun moving across the sky. It does not know the axis of the Earth, nor the ellipsis of its orbit. It does not reach into the fabric of the universe and pluck divine truth from the red-shift coefficient of the galaxies that hurtle through space as afterthought projectiles of the origin of existence.

A watch begins with a mainspring—or perhaps a quartz crystal, or microscopic solar panels—but traditionally, a mainspring. This is where the potential energy is stored, to be released as the kinetic energy that will drive the gears to turn the escapement, which is what moves the hands of the watch forward, and would do so without rhythm or reason were it not for the staying hands of the balance wheel.

The balance wheel is the best part of a watch. The most precise. The most expensive, for the precious gems encrusted upon it that almost entirely eliminate the enemy of constancy: friction. It is what decides the length of a second, for it is what checks the urgency of the marching army of gears that say go go go go go and instead says no. It says, stop. For one thousand milliseconds or one million microseconds or one trillion picoseconds, it holds the entire watch in perfect stillness.

Then the second hand ticks over. The next interval begins.

On, and on, and on, and on, it goes.

<<<>>>

A watch does not know the time it tells. It is a mindless contraption, a work of metal and stone and glass, and it grinds inexorably forward with a steady tick, tick, tick, tick, tick that may at first listen sound like the drumbeats of progress. But listen closer. Listen carefully.

It is not a ticking that you hear. It is one small gear, striking back against the machine, protesting, crying out again and again: wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

(I liked this little meditation on the nature of watches, but it's a few shades off from my central thesis, and in the end was not needed.)

And that's it! Alas, sometimes good pieces must be sacrificed in the name of a greater project.

#dreamling #my writing #sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #idk if anyone will even care about this #but if you enjoyed it #you're welcome

71 notes · View notes

selfloverrrrrr · 2 days

Note

Hihi idk if your requests are open but I had this idea for a fic where nanami rapes gojos wife/gf!! 😚💜tyy

I want you

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, physically and emotional abuse, biting, torture, size difference, jealous Gojo ....

Summary: Nanami is obsessed with Gojo's wife...so he's gonna have it anyway...

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Me and Gojo was married for almost three years and Nanami Kento had always had a thing for Gojo's wife, and he couldn't resist the temptation anymore. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help himself. He had been watching me from afar for weeks.

One day, he saw me alone in their home, and he knew it was the perfect opportunity. He quietly snuck into the house and found me in the bedroom. I was lying on the bed, wearing nothing but a thin nightgown that barely covered my body.

Kento approached me slowly, his heart racing with excitement. I suddenly woke up at the sound of him walking. When I saw it was him I was so shoked....why was he here at this time....? He could see the fear in my eyes as I realized what was happening. But he was too strong for me to resist and I knew that. I got up from the bed and was about to run away but He grabbed me and threw me onto the bed, his rough hands ripping off my nightgown. My eyes were wide open.

Took off his shirt and threw it on the floor. I couldn't even proses what was happening. I tried to push myself backwards but he grabbed my hips and pinned me down. I gasped. He again crashed his lips on mine.

Kento pinned me down, his heavy body pressing her into the mattress. He reached down and pulled off his shorts, revealing his thick cock. He positioned himself between legs and thrust inside of me, moaning with pleasure as he felt my warm pussy envelope him.

I scremed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thursting in and out roughly. As Kento began to move, he could see the fear and pain in my eyes. But he didn't care. He was too consumed by his own desires to stop now. He pounded into me, his cock deep inside my pussy, his balls slapping against my ass with each thrust. I was throughig my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he was liking it so much. His thurst became harder and harder. I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight " he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thurst I came. He was still thursting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh...no please no....ahhhhhh..... n-not ahhhh.....not inside... please please.... please Nanami I'm begging you" I moaned. He grabbed my throat and chocked me down to the bed. " Shhh.... Don't.... don't say that.... you were meant to be mine....don't say anything like that ever again" He whispered in my ear. I couldn't even believe what was happening to me. How could Nanami do this to me. Weren't we good friends??? The guy always kept silent, so gentle is doing most devilish thing with me??!! Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out.

He gently lifted my chin, his thumb wiping away the tears as he spoke softly, "You are mine now, Y/n". You will never leave me." His words were laced with a menacing undertone, and he leaned in to whisper, "I will always find you. You will never be free from me." He pulled out a small, silver key from his pocket, examining it carefully.

My eyes widened in horror as he held up the key, a cruel smile spreading across his face. He gestured to the handcuffs that had been quietly secured to the headboard during the tumultuous lovemaking session, the intricate mechanisms clicking softly. "This little beauty,"

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against my skin as he leaned in closer. "Then you will be my prisoner, my love. Mine to do with as I please." His words were punctuated by the sound of handcuffs clicking shut, the cold metal biting into my wrists as he took me out of the house.

As Nanami left the house with carrying me , Gojo returned, his mind filled with thoughts of spending time with me. The sight of the empty house only fueled his obsession further, and he quickly set about tracking down me. "Who the fuck came here and took her!!!!!" Gojo screamed but there was noone to reply him.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💗

#jjk #smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #fem reader #gojo satoru #tw noncon #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami smut #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere nanami #yandere

84 notes · View notes

eeunoia · 3 days

Text

ENHYPEN Series

sinag | psh.

chapter nine

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: contains harrassment, violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: hi guys, please send me feedbacks about the fic. i would really like to hear from you. anyway, enjoy reading! ily, stay safe.

The man laying at the cold concrete floor crawled slowly, trying to escape from his own death. He grunts as he felt his body aches because of all the beatings he just had. His face almost unrecognizable because of the amount of bruises and blood covering all over.

“P-Please,” his plea came out as a mumble as his lips already felt numb. When he saw a pair of shoes in front of him that have blood stains over it, of him he trembles in fear as he slowly raised his head up to look at the person standing proudly while looking down at him.

His hair soaked in mixed blood and sweat and was pushed back a bit messy but that didn't even made him less attractive. The fine man have this placid look plastered over his face, showing no remorse and inch by inch losing his patience. Dark and dangerous, that’s what his full aura gives off making the man lose his shit.

“Do you even hear yourself? A fucking mafia,” he scoffed humorless.

“pleading?” his tone completely sarcastic and full of insult but the man at the cold ground don’t even care about any of that. All he can think of is to make it out here alive. To earn his mercy.

“I’ll d-do anything. Just don’t kill me.” he once again plead.

In all honesty, the man doesn’t even know the point of begging him nonstop to spare him. He knew very well who's this powerful young mafia in front of him. Park Sunghoon. If wrath and ruthless will be a person, he will surely pass to be the main epitome of it.

He’s known for his arrogant personality. He have short patience and can act wrecklessly whenever he feels like to. Just a mere mention of his name, everyone instantly assumed that there is trouble and death.

The amused grin of the person in front of him fell and he’s surprise at how fast the young man changed his expressions. Now, his eyes were dead and blank once again while he eye him.

“I would’ve spared you if you only gave me the information I want from you.” he uttered coldly.

“I already told you, I didn't know that girl! Hell, I didn’t even saw that face of her in my entire life.” his tone slightly raising because of frustration and pressure of having his life in line just because of a girl he had never seen in his whole life.

The man kept his blank face, unconvinced with his words. His men that are standing a few feet away from him shows nothing but ignorance. They stood silence while they watch their boss mercilessly beat him like an animal.

“Do you think I’m lying? I can never forget such face if I already laid eyes on her! She’s beautiful--” his sentence was caught off as a bullet was suddenly fired over his head, causing him to lost his life. Sunghoon didn’t even blink or flinch as the loud bang echoed inside the room.

“You run your mouth too much.” he mumbled and even gave the poor man’s head a kick before he turned around to light himself a cigarette.

He puffed once as his jaw clenched hardly, his men now started to clean the whole place. He was trying to calm himself down when suddenly, his phone rang.

“Yeah?” he greeted then took another puff from his cigar.

“Dude, where the fuck are you? Jake and I are gonna meet tonight.” his friend, Jay, was the person calling.

He shut his eyes and bit his lower lip out of frustration. He can feel his inside trembling in anger and all other negative emotions that he’s trying to suppress inside him taking over his mind.

“Dude?” his friend called out when he didn’t respond.

“I can’t today. I'm out of the country.” he answered. The person from the other line grew silent for a while before he heaved a sigh.

“You’re searching for her again, am I right, Hoon?”

Of course, his friend knew what he’s doing. They’re probably already used to it by now. If ever he went away and went missing in action, it only means he’s searching for this girl. His girl.

He was so ready to hear an earful from his friend once again. Out of all of them, he was the one who disagrees on him searching for this girl like a mad man. If he isn’t his friend, he might’ve planted multiple bullets to his head already.

“She visited my dream again, Jay. I couldn't sleep for days. I n-need to fucking find her or I’ll really lose my mind any time soon.” Sunghoon said then threw the lit up cigarette over the floor before running his hand over his hair.

His friend sighed, “It's been years, Hoon. Don’t you think if she really exist, you should’ve find her by now?”

This isn’t the first time his friend tried to knock up sense into his brain but Sunghoon was very much determine to find you. He’s a man of principles and the type of person who stands up for his own beliefs. He won’t just surrender and he will prove him that he was right. If he may search the whole world, he will.

“I have to go, Jay.” he said coldly, dismissing any more of his friend’s plan to stop him from his crazy decisions. Before he can even complain, he ended the call and just roamed his eyes around.

A room full of dead bodies. A familiar scene for him already. He was told that the man he just killed may had known the girl he was looking for but here he is, disappointed again not to get any information about you. Sunghoon’s eyes grew colder at the feeling of having a blank space in him. He knew that the only person who can fill it was you and nobody else.

“Boss, the car is ready.” Sunghoon’s head look over to his shoulder when Icarus called out his attention.

He shut his eyes for a while before he tilted his head over to the side then slowly walked out the place. His broad shoulder were hanging low as his eyes grew colder as he take steps further outside. Once again, he was disappointed. He doesn't know why he even always raise his expectations at these things when he know clearly that the ratio of finding you was low.

“Where to, boss?” his driver asked.

Sunghoon’s eyes were shut close, trying to calm himself and give his mind some peace even though he knew he’s slowly losing it. He fluttered his eyes open as he looked over the window. The bright city lights are the first who greeted him, they seem fancy but he doesn't care.

“Take me to the nearest bar.” he ordered and his driver just quietly muttered an ‘Right away, boss.’ and followed his order.

On the other hand, you arrived at the country where the seminar will be held. The hotel seems very fancy, clearly the company have budget for this trip. They also booked you a four day trip even though the seminar will be in just one day. Over all, you just planned to enjoy this trip as much as you could.

The plane ride was not so bad, but you couldn’t even take a nap out of all the overthinking you did the whole duration. When you arrived the hotel, they assist you right away and even had staffs aligned to welcome your arrival. It was a little odd and overwhelming, but you just shrugged it off.

Luke wasn’t happy about this trip. When did he ever been happy about your achievements anyway? It didn’t surprise you anymore. At this point, you’re just fed up with his immature behaviors.

Seems like overthinking got you all riled up because despite the night falling deeper, you found yourself unsleepy. After taking a very refreshing shower, you found a card at the center table. It was a pass for this exclusive bar just beside this very hotel. Thinking that having a few drinks may help you to sleep, you decided to go check it out.

It didn’t disappoint you as the ambiance of the whole place is relaxing. Although there are just some weird feeling inside you. Like something’s ain’t right.

“Did you hear anything from Luke?” you bit your lower lip as you wait for your friend to answer your question. One hand holding your phone over at your ears while the other one played over the glass of liqour.

“No... Are you still not okay?” she asked from the other line.

You pursed your lips and let go of the glass before carefully caressing your forehead. You rested both of your elbows at the bar counter and pursed your lips.

“He’s still mad, I guess?” you mumbled and lowered your shoulder then started playing with the glass again.

Your friend scoffed, “Why would he be mad anyway? You went there because of work. It isn't like you went there for a vacation!” Lucie hissed and you know she have a point.

“You're right but I also kind of forgot to tell him before my trip. I happen to remember the day of my flight.” you said. The other line went silent for a while before your friend let out a sigh.

“Well, okay. But at least he needs to understand and be supportive. You’re finally facing your fears!” her tone got excited once more. A small smile appeared over your face.

“Yes. Finally. I just hope everything won’t turn like how it used to be before.”

She sighs, “Stop overthinking, okay? If anything happens, you can call me. I will catch the next flight to you right away!”

That made you feel so much better. Lucie really does care and very sweet. You are very thankful for a friend like her. Someone very reliable and trustworthy.

“Just think of it as a small get away from all the stress.” she tries to comfort you that its okay to be here right now. That everything will be just fine.

“All right. How about you? Are you okay alone there?” you asks a little worried to leave her alone for the first time ever since you two started living togther.

She chuckles, “Of course! I’m not five, okay? Anyway, just think of yourself. Reflect on your life and appreciate that you are finally at the best point of your life.”

“Am I?” you murmured under your breath. It was low so you knew she missed it.

You gulped trying to get rid of the lump over your throat. You are thankful for everything that you have right now. A stable job, good friends, parents (although they’re mostly just there to ask money from you), and a boyfriend. You know you should be contented at it but at some point, you feel like something’s not right... like something’s missing.

“Y/n... stop overthinking and enjoy.” she said, more like a reminder.

At the end, you had no other choice but to oblige to what she said. You are already here and maybe the fear of being in a foreign country again gets into you too much. Its making you overthink everything.

As you continue your chitchat with your friend, your eyes unconsciously darted over to these group of men that just made its entrance to the bar. They were wearing uniforms that were similar, like some bodyguards or something and they have this weird vibe.

You shrugged it off and just diverted your attention back to your glass of liquor. Thankfully, you shut the topic off and decided to talk about something else. You chuckled as you listen to your friend’s funny story, unaware of the pair of eyes who are piercing at you.

Sunghoon was at dazed. He feels like his mind was floating or something while he watch you converse over your phone. He doesn't know if its the desperation, (clearly can’t blame the alcohol since he just arrived) that cause him to start seeing things.

Is he really going out of his mind? Did he lose it? Sunghoon wonders, but his eyes never left your direction. He’s afraid that you’ll disappear, even if it really is his hallucinations, he don’t want to risk it.

“Icarus...” he calls for his assistant. He struts a bit closer, but not too close. He still made sure he kept Sunghoon’s personal space, something he’s really fond of.

“I took my meds today, right? Tell me I’m not seeing things.” his chest heaves up and down, eyes still fixed at you laughing about something that your friend uttered from the other line.

Sunghoon was beyond astonished. His heart races, feet stoned at the position, and slowly all the noise around him are turning into a muffled sound. Like they’re being thrown away somewhere far from where the two of you are.

Icarus' eyes follows his line of sight and he was surprised as well. He gazes over the three other men near him and like him, they looked staggered. He fished his phone and quickly pulls up the painted picture that they’ve been using to search for you. He glanced back and fort multiple times and there’s no doubt that it was you.

“It is her, Boss.” he confirmed that ringed at the back of his mind.

Icarus took a glance over his boss and he quickly started dialling someone through his phone. This is the sole purpose of their nonstop search countries by countries, and yet now that you are there all of them are just stunned. They couldn’t process it properly.

Multiple times that people labelled Sunghoon to be crazy and now, you are here. Proving everyone that they are indeed wrong because you do really exist. Sunghoon’s overwhelmed. He was out of words and just kept staring. Like he was caught in a trance.

He wanted so bad to approach you and steal you out from here. Sunghoon fights all his demons just so he can hold back from holding you right there and then. He’s been waiting for this moment for so long and so he knows he shouldn’t act impulsively.

While Sunghoon enjoys watching you silently after he ordered something to drink, he felt a presence approaches him.

“Sir, we found the hotel where she’s staying at. Beside this establishment.” Icarus announced. Sunghoon nodded his head without sparing him a glance and tilts his head.

“I will go with some of our men to check her room for informations.” he added, informing and asking for permission from Sunghoon.

“All right, you can do that. Hurry up before she decides to go back. I don’t want her to be suspicious of anything.” despite the spark over his eyes, his tone ice cold as he speak to his assistant.

Icarus silently nodded his head, “Noted, boss.” and with that he exits himself taking a few of their men to go with him.

You have no idea that some men are planning to intrude your hotel room. All you care about that night was to loosen up and get rid of these negative thoughts inside your mind.

The corner of Sunghoon’s lips lifts up a little as he watches you made face after a hard shot. It was very adorable for the young mafia boss.

He taps the table once, catching one of the bartender’s attention. He wasn’t a regular, but he sure is known around here. Of course not about good things. There were never goodness in him.

“Give whatever she needs and wants. I’ll pay for it.” his words were firm and cold. The intimidated worker glanced over at your direction and quickly gave Sunghoon a nod, eyes flashes fear.

The night continued and Sunghoon took a few shots. It was incomparable to what you just had. You’re now gulping your eleventh shot and it was obvious that you’re more than drunk. He bet you are now incapable of walking straightly.

Also the sensual gazes from multiple men inside this bar that peers at you didn’t slip from him. He wasn’t too happy about it, fighting the urge of snapping their heads off one by one. Thankfully, the fact that he finally found you kind of made him more calmer. And as long as nobody tries to lay their hands on you, they’ll be good.

He saw you stood up and kind of impressed that you managed to put yourself on your feet. He smirks dangerously and stood up, placing a stack of money at the bar counter. It was way too much as a payment, but he does not care. You seem like you enjoyed your night, the barternders deserves tips for satisfying a customer. Especially if that customer is none other than you.

His smirk fell when he saw you stumble over a man that’s already grinning maliciously. He did not liked it in one bit. The man licks his disgusting lips as he racked his eyes all over your body. Sunghoon snapped at the sight of it and quickly marched near your direction.

You’re basically so drunk that you passed out, unable to even recognize the man holding you.

“Do you need some help pretty girl?” the man whispered meaningfully and was about to grab you by the waist when a hand yanked it hardly making the man scream so loud.

It caught attention, but that’s the least Sunghoon cares about.

“You might be the one that’ll be needing help.” he grunts angrily as his free hand held you over your waist to make sure you aren’t crashing down the floor now that he lets go of you.

The man groans and brows furrowing in a displeased expression. He lifts his head, ready to curse out the man that was doing this to him, but instead the color to his face all drained out.

People inside the bar stayed at their places, doesn’t really want to get involve once caught glance at the Park Sunghoon. All they can do is to stare, because they knew if they try to get involve, its going to be hell for them too.

“M-Mr. Park, I w-was just—” the man yet again shrieked eerily, his eyes grew when the man pulled his wrist and broke it with no remorse.

He fell down on the ground crying out of pain. He called out for help nonstop, but nobody even tried to call an ambulance. They were just there, watching the awful scene.

Sunghoon held your waist and checks on your passed out state. With his furrowed brows he scanned you carefully, making sure no injury was inflicted. After making sure you’re all right, he carries you effortlessly by his arms and heads outside the bar.

“Let’s call it a night now, princess.” he mumbles softly.

“Sir, what are we going to do about the man in the bar?” one of his man stalks behind him.

Sunghoon’s eyes turned murderous once it left you. “Get rid of him.” he coldly said before walking inside the lobby of the luxurious hotel you’re currently staying on.

The moment he stepped foot, he saw Icarus talking carefully with the staff of the hotel. He was sure he’s discussing with them what to do and not to do. He have no idea who owns this place, but he will surely make sure none of the things they did will be come known and that you will be enjoying your stay.

His eyes looked panic when he saw Sunghoon carrying you by his arms, unconscious. He excused himself from the girl at the front desk and slowly approaches him. The staffs that gets to see the view looked bothered, but what can they do about it? It’s Park Sunghoon. It’s either they kept their mouth shut or he will shut their mouth forever.

“W-What happened...?” he was hesitant as he ask that question to Sunghoon.

The original plan if ever they manage to find you is to observe and never engage too near. But why does he carrying you like this and passed out? Did his boss lose control and forcedly took you here?

“She passed out from drinking.” he explained shortly that somehow ease his worry.

He told Sunghoon the number of your room and he went there by himself. Icarus left to go and check on the mess Sunghoon just made by the bar.

The mirror of the elevator reflects the two of you. It was a sight Sunghoon never expected to see this soon. Numerous times he imagined holding you like this by his arms and now that you’re here, it feel sureal.

He strides the hotel hallway, his long legs makes it a short travel from the elevator to your room. The whole floor is now vacant as he ordered Icarus to rent all the rooms so they can ensure your safety and that you can rest properly.

After he opened your room, he walked over the bed and placed you carefully. He smashed his lips together as he inhaled your scent, making his head all fuzzy. You smell so good and its making him crazy. He leans away and stared at your sleeping figure.

He still couldn’t believe it. Thinking that he’s in a dream. And if ever he is, he don’t want to wake up anymore. He wants to stay in this dream, with you.

He extends his hand and slowly tried to brush some strands of hair that was on your face. He jolts when you suddenly moved, the tip of his finger grazed on your soft skin. He heaves a sigh, feeling his heart thumped like crazy.

He stares at his big hand for a while before he smirks a little. His eyes trailed back at your sleeping state and he noticed the clothes you are wearing. It doesn’t look uncomfortable, but you won’t be able to rest properly.

He fished his phone from his pocket while still watching you sleep, not allowing to take his sight out of you. Like afraid that you’ll suddenly vanish.

“Boss?”

“Ask for room service for her room. I want them all girls and also someone who can dress her into a more comfy clothes.” he ordered that his assistant quick assists.

He sighs. He doesn’t want to leave yet, but he knew he has to. Slowly, he sat down at the side of the bed and stared at you peacefully sleeping.

He reaches for your hand and with a racing heart he held your hand. Lifts it and placed a soft kiss on top of it while his eyes darted directly at you.

“Sleep well, my pretty. I’ll have you for myself soon.”

main master-list

permanent tag-list:

@rubyanne @map-of-border @hwangjangmi @love13tter @candewlsy @simpforniki @classicroyalty @bridgebridgebirdiebridge @hime98 @moonsclassyslore @ddeonubaby @yeoungie @acciomylove @mymeloem19 @jvngw0n @dreamjerky @minamoons @clar-iii @herasalvatore @nyfwyeonjun @rcveribin @yizhoutv @one16core @soobin-chois @kyutiepeachy @chareadingpurposes @hwalllllllelujah @solelyenha @90sni-ki @nourhan-8 @nikipedia07 @yangbreads @drunkjazed @kimmchijjajang @hoonbrry @axartia @all4haru @sta-rie @hiqhkey @purplepuppychild @iceeee @wtfhyuck @tobiosbbyghorl @nikililmj @moonlightisland @ayayiiie @aeyeree

sinag tag-list:

@heeseung-min @lovingvoidgoatee @dimplewonie

#enhypen #eeunoiaverse #eeunoia #eeunoiawrites #enhypen imagines #enhypen ff #sunghoon yandere #yandere enhypen #enhypen park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon x you #enhypen sunghoon x reader #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunghoon yandere

71 notes · View notes

epickiya722 · 18 hours

Text

Of course, Izuku can't have his moment without some people having an issue about it.

Not surprised, anything involving Izuku Midoriya someone is going to hate and has been for almost 10 years now.

Here's the thing that honestly has pissed me off about the fandom. And you know what, I know some of you are going to think I'm a bitch about this, but at this point? I don't care. I'm now at a limit that has been pushed.

When it comes to Izuku Midoriya, some of you seem to forget that he is an individual. This is still HIS story he's telling.

Look, I got my ships, but damn it. Sometimes, I want these characters to still be perceived as their own characters.

Katsuki showing up this chapter was enough for me. Yes, he is a big part of Izuku's story, but... I feel like it would not be right for him to be more included in AFO and Shigaraki's ultimate defeat.

Last time I checked, Katsuki was only a temporary OFA user... FROM A MOVIE. His journey didn't completely evolve around One For All. Izuku's did.

When Katsuki was having his awesome moments fighting AFO when he was a kid and a baby (AFO), I ain't seen no one going "Oh, Izuku should be by his side, BakuDeku" or anything like that. No, y'all was cheering Katsuki on and seemed satisfied that Izuku served as support.

That's all this fandom ever does is see as Izuku as support for Katsuki, just he always has to have his story evolve around Katsuki and nothing else.

He's the main character, but with some of you? He's not allowed to have his own moments to shine. He's not allowed to think about anything else but Katsuki. He's not allowed to put down the villain he was meant to face unless Katsuki is there to take the shine away.

Be honest, that's how you feel, isn't it?

Like, damn, Katsuki already won the last how many popularity polls!! When are y'all going to rest and let Izuku Midoriya be front row and center in his own damn story?!

I don't hate Katsuki, but I'm starting to dislike a lot of his fans.

Same for Shoto.

Look, Shoto also being more involved like how some of y'all wanted for this chapter would make no fucking sense to me. His fight was always meant to be against Dabi. His story involved his family. Izuku wasn't there fighting Dabi, so why in the hell should Shoto share some of the big moment when Izuku takes out ShigAFO?

How would that be fair for Izuku?

Some of you didn't even like Izuku being involved with the family drama and later he wasn't for the big fight because the Todoroki Family Drama wasn't for him.

As with Katsuki, Shoto is still a supporting character. He's a big one, but oh my gosh!!

I literally just woke up and the bull I'm already seeing is ridiculous, it is.

Sometimes, I feel like some of you who think they know the story haven't been paying attention at all. Some of you, I feel have that "this character should have been the main character" mentality so when Izuku does MC things, you go into some frenzy over it. Some of you, I feel should take off the damn shipping goggles and for once realize that these characters are still individuals and percieve them as such. Horikoshi, if you read this... don't make any ship canon. The fandom can settle for fics.

Ten years... for ten years... as much as some of you demean Katsuki for his actions, you act just as he did towards Izuku. Treat Izuku like some damn punching bag. You don't even have to like the story, I don't give a damn.

He gets moments to shine, it's a problem. "No, this character should be---" Just stop!

I'm not saying Horikoshi's writing is perfect. I'm not saying you have to like Izuku. I'm not even saying I'm an expert on BNHA because I'm still learning the story, too.

But what I am saying is, and it's going to sound bitchy, is that y'all are so blinded and muddled by your criticism and shipping that you're quick to make judgments. You're quick to rush and not sit back and really try to understand what's going on and your hatred or indifference towards Izuku is just doing a disservice to not just the story, but to yourselves. The way some of you think will ruin the experience for you and some of you sound like jerks, for real.

Like, every character is important to BNHA in some way, yes. But what about Izuku Midoriya? Doesn't his importance matter, too?

Or is he just some character for you to hate on or some character you only value for shipping purposes?

Feel how you about this chapter (even though it was just leaks and not the officially out chapter, let alone THE WHOLE DAMN STORY!! BNHA AIN'T FINISHED YET!!), I don't care.

But oh my gosh... do better, just do better.

It isn't just this fandom. It's all fandoms. There's this trend now of "criticizing" the main characters or saying "they're not really the MC" or how their value as a character for shipping purposes.

This can apply to any character, but right now I'm focusing on main characters.

When it comes to main characters, you should understand them most of all to understand the story and a lot of you or at least the loud minority have failed drastically.

#i mean it is still HIS damn story #i get some criticisms like pacing alright #but come on #izuku get behind me 99.8% of this fandom don't care about you #'but i do--' no you don't no the fuck you don't #just kiya's thoughts #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha 423 #bnha manga spoilers #bnha spoilers #bnha leaks #mha leaks #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #deku

62 notes · View notes

targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 day

Text

Between the Pages

Summary: grappling with his violent past, Ettore is unexpectedly challenged by the silence of his unassuming cellmate | Word Count: 3.4k~ | warnings: mentions of noncon as a crime, violence

A/N: I've been wanting to kind of do a character heavy fic for a while since I read the interview about Ettore coming of age aboard the ship, so enjoy my take on it 😘

The darkness nibbled at the edges of him. From his feet and fingers, to his ankles and wrists, up his arms and legs.

It curled deep in his gut, sliding around like oil inside, slick with a morbid curiosity that had lingered there for years. It crept up, weaving through his arteries and veins like vines, choking what purity there used to be, an innocent ignorance, and tainting it, into a sort of murky, sunless void.

He thought that once, he was capable of feeling anything else. Perhaps once, he was capable of love. Of some kind of affection. Maybe even deserved it.

After all, the ones you loved unconditionally, were supposed to give that same love back.

Right?

The day that darkness reached his heart, sucking the soul out of it like the way tendons and fat stick to meat as it’s torn up into chunks, was the day that Ettore understood this truth. Nobody was entitled to love. Not even him. And those people who were supposed to care, supposed to protect him, had abandoned him. What use was there in hoping for it now? He thought so often to himself.

His body felt so heavy, felt so fucking heavy. The hatred marinated inside. Festered. What was there to do, but simply let it stay and rot? To allow it to become you.

How foolish of him to think that those who participated in making him, who chose to bring him into existence, would be able to give him the nourishment and support he wanted. That he needed. It was a story so often heard. That caregivers cared not about the people they assisted in bringing into this world. Their own children. At first, he admitted, he brushed it off.

It’s just the way my family is. Every family has different dynamics.

Until he couldn’t remember the last time his father had ever spoken to him. And then he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him. And then finally, his face. How he spoke. How he rolled up his cigarettes. He only remembered the smell of him. Fusty and deep. Like how old pubs smell. And the stench of whisky on his breath and yellowed teeth.

He remembered being on the end of his fist most often.

And when he was gone, though it was softer, he remembered then the palm of his mother’s. She didn’t have the strength of his father’s, but all the bite.

Trying to stay out of her way proved difficult most days. More often than not, he’d be out, even in the midst of winter as the wind nipped at his bones and the chill sank into his skin, he didn’t want to see the hysterical, screaming mess of a woman that was once his mother to be the first thing he came across when he got home. God forbid she ever spotted him.

He thought she must have thought he looked too similar to his father or something like that. Perhaps it was the eyes, the temperament or the expression. He hoped, somewhere deep, that it was perhaps the crime. Then there may have been some explanation for the way he was.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t figure it out for the life of him, so it was often easiest, to be out of her eyeline altogether. He wasn’t much better at staying out of trouble outside the confines of his home. Out there, in the big, wide world that he was so underprepared for, it was still difficult to be accepted. People had to want to be his friend, after all.

Eventually, he just didn’t even try. Though there was still a desire for acceptance, one he didn’t get by befriending men of a similar age and temperament to him.

It felt only right, that he used the only things he felt he had, to his advantage. Looks. Talk. Confidence. Three things he was never short on.

And also the three things that fed easily into how he coped and how he eventually morphed into the person he was today. The looks got him into women’s beds, and in between their thighs too. The talk got them to stop fighting, to stay still and let him have his way. The confidence was the one thing in the end that worked to his disadvantage, thinking that the ones who he’d let get away wouldn’t say anything, and the ones he kept quiet by clamping his hands around her tiny, little necks, would inevitably fade away into non-existence.

He still remembers the way their blood roared against his palms, how their breaths stuttered in his grip, and that addictive wide-eyed look, and the slow, blinking fade of life from their eyes. He thought there was nothing more powerful than holding someone’s very life-blood in his grip, and that was when he knew the rot had taken hold inside him.

If he could, he would have wiped every judgemental glare off everyone in the courtroom that day. What use was there in pretending to be remorseful, as if he didn’t savour the memory of choking the hell out of those women with his dick so deep inside them still he could feel the way their bodies tried to reject him. Those are the memories he thinks of in those lonely nights in the Box. Those are the cold dark hands that drag him further and further. Until perhaps there is nowhere further to go.

Which is why she confuses him. His cellmate sleeps above him, a woman who he has strangely paid little attention to and can’t for the life of him figure out why. The narrow confines of their shared cell, with its cold, steel surfaces and harsh fluorescent lights, force a proximity that is usually unbearable for him. Yet, with her, there is an unspoken truce that puzzles him further.

There is a suffocating silence in the cell at night. Ettore’s usual trigger lay dormant for a while, an uneasy peace reigning in the small, padded space he shares with her. Unlike the other women aboard the ship, callous, loud and obnoxious, this woman keeps to herself, hovering just beyond the reach of his understanding.

Each day that goes by, he tries to solve the puzzle that she is. Why doesn’t she flinch at his gaze? Why doesn’t she cower? It’s as if she moves through a different realm, her demeanour calm, almost detached, unaffected by the chaos that typically surrounded him and the others alike, or the violence he is known for.

She is a question without an answer, unsettling him more with each passing day. He sometimes imagines her figure from his bottom bunk, and how she would look while she sleeps, often with her eyes glued to the pages of a book. And he knows from the gentle thud of her tired hand and the half-opened novel on the mattress, that she has likely exhausted herself to sleep from reading and straining in the dark.

So he starts to look for signs, any clue that might explain her indifference, her silence. But she gives nothing away, her routine meticulous and quiet. When she reads, she never looks up. He supposes there is no reason for her to. Does anyone even know her name? Or do they do what he used to do, and just pretend she never existed in the first place? Perhaps that’s where she feels most comfortable.

It gnaws at him more than any confrontation could. His history with women was fraught with aggression, violence and brutality, but it provides no playbook for this experience. There is no anger in her silence, no fear. She merely exists in a state of complete neutrality, leaving him to wonder why she is even in prison in the first place. This indifference to life itself, it seems, is more disarming than any verbal or physical challenge.

He hopes for a flicker of annoyance when he makes too much noise coming back to their shared cell some nights. But nothing. He hopes for the one day she glances up from her book, eyes clear and calm, as if nothing is wrong.

She was like a candle unlit. A sheet of snow upon the ground without a fault or a footstep to taint it. Like a notebook you kept but didn't have the heart to write in for the first time, for the fear of ruining the very first page.

So it is that night, he lays with his hands behind his head, ever kept in a state of wide-eyed curiosity, when he hears the familiar thud of her tired hand dropping her novel. She never seems annoyed when she loses her place in her story, she simply gets up in the morning, and places something flat where she thinks she was, and is more than happy to start all over again.

Despite the silence, his mind races, thoughts swirling and colliding in the shadows. He’s grown accustomed to the rhythms of their cohabitation, the sound of her breathing, the slight shifts of her body in the bunk above him, the soft rustle of pages turning. These sounds punctuate his nights, a constant reminder of her presence.

And yet, tonight, there’s a different kind of awareness, a curiosity that edges toward something he can’t quite name. It’s not desire, not the kind he’s known before, which was always tangled with aggression and control. This is something else, something quieter, more invasive. He wants to see her as she sleeps, to witness her in a moment of unguarded vulnerability, not to disturb or dominate, but to understand.

This thought, this need to see her face relaxed in sleep, strikes him with a pang of guilt. Even in the dim light of self-awareness, he recognises that this impulse feels like a violation, an intrusion into her silent world. He’s used to taking space, not just physically but emotionally, imposing his will on others as a way to affirm his existence. But with her, the dynamics are different. She offers nothing to conquer, only a silence to be filled, and in that silence, his own reflections become too loud, too clear.

Lying there, Ettore wrestles with the pull of his curiosity and the weight of his past. He knows too well the darkness that lives within him, the ease with which he could turn a moment of curiosity into something far more sinister. The battle within him is a quiet one, but intense. The thought of crossing the boundary, even just to see her in her sleep, stirs a deep-seated fear that he might revert to the man he was, the man he still is, underneath the surface of this uneasy peace.

His limbs move as if detached from his will. He places one hand on the cold metal of the ladder, then another, his movements slow, deliberate. Every rung of the ladder creaks softly under his weight, a grim soundtrack to his betrayal of self-promises. His heart pounds in his ears, not with excitement, but with a dread that feels both foreign and familiar.

As he ascends, each step feels heavier, burdened not by physical weight but by the gravity of his intentions. He pauses halfway, his body tensed, his mind screaming for him to retreat. But the pull is too strong, the need to see her, to understand why she affects him so profoundly, why she can exist so close to him yet remain a world apart.

Reaching the top, Ettore pauses, barely breathing. He is close enough now to hear her gentle breaths, the soft exhale of sleep that seems so at odds with the storm raging in his soul. She is a portrait of peace, her eyelids fluttering slightly with dreams he cannot begin to fathom. He yearns to understand her not because she is an enigma, but because in her quiet resilience, he sees a reflection of what he might have been, what he still could be. It's a longing not only to understand but also to be understood, to be seen not as the sum of his past actions but as the person he struggles to become.

He approaches her bunk with a reverence that surprises him. As he lays down gently beside her, he is acutely aware of the sanctity of the moment, of her trust not to be breached and of his own resolve not to revert to the man he knows he really is deep down.

But there is a vulnerability that is roused in him when he watches her like this, and he doesn't recognise or like it one bit. It'd be so easy to just wrap his hands around her neck, like he had done before so instinctively, and be rid of her. Maybe then he wouldn't question this side of himself that has bubbled to the surface.

The mere idea of putting his fingers around her throat has adrenaline soaring in his veins.

But Ettore pulls back from the precipice of this dark impulse almost as quickly as it arises. The primal, instinctual urge to eliminate what confuses him, to destroy rather than confront, surges within him, his hands tensing at his sides. Yet, as he watches her, her chest gently rising and falling with each breath, he finds himself caught in a storm of conflicting emotions.

It's horrifying, the ease with which violence still beckons to him. The quiet, once a cloak she wrapped around herself, now envelops him too. The battle is not with her, not even with the world outside, but inside. But this realisation does not bring peace. Far from it.

Feeling as if his heart in his throat, his palm hovers above her body, starting from her legs. He is trembling, leaving an inch of space that feels like a chasm. And yet he can feel the heat of her form, as if radiating from her skin and pulsing into his.

He passes over her hips, his eyes zeroed in on a slither of skin that has become visible beneath her sleeping shirt. It beckons to him like a test of his will. If she were anyone else, one hand would hold her down, while the other would rip her sweatpants off and-

He clenches his fist tight, his eyes mirroring the struggle. Every moment he chooses restraint, he is redefining himself.

And yet as he descends the steps down from her bunk, she hadn't moved an inch and the prospect of her being a deep sleeper makes the intrusive desire to do this again ever more prevalent. It doesn’t reassure him at this point, rather it feeds into the dangerous allure of doing it again, and again, and again.

And each time in the days following, what he does becomes more bold, skirting around the edges of darkness he knows full well lurks beneath. He waits every night for the thud of her book on the bed, for her quiet breathing to let him know that it is safe to venture into what feels like dangerous territory.

Hovered hands become soft brushes against her flesh. Initially, these contacts are mere brushes, fleeting and barely there, against her arms, perhaps unintentionally grazing her leg, or the slope of her shoulder. With each night, his touches grow slightly more deliberate, and when he has straddled that line too closely and she stirs or readjusts, he feels his heart quicken and chest tighten. Sometimes he almost wants her to wake up, just to see what he would instinctively do.

This dangerous game continues, each touch a test of his self-control. His fingers linger a moment too long on the soft skin of her cheek one night, the warmth of her breath against his hand, and the next day he struggles to even glance in her direction alongside the torrent of emotions within him. The fear that he is becoming the monster he dreads appears more real than ever. The very act of touching her in her sleep, though innocent, yet an invasion of her privacy and autonomy, is a stark reminder of the control he once wielded without thought.

He understands now that this cannot continue. The path he is on, though it started with a quest for understanding and connection, is veering dangerously close to old patterns that had once felt familiar. And yet with her of which he cannot even envision.

He knows the only way to break this cycle, to truly change, is to confront the situation directly and honestly. No more silent, uninvited intrusions in the dark; he needs to face her in the light, to speak to her and gauge her response, to decide his next steps based on a genuine interaction rather than his own conjectures and impulses.

All the scenarios run rampant in his mind, stealing every quiet moment in his day to day life seemingly without effort.

He is desperate to hear her voice, just for him, a sound to anchor the whirlwind inside.

If he speaks and she glances up from between her precious pages, with a look of fear, judgement, anger…there just might still be violence screaming in his gut. He imagines, with a chilling clarity, how he might react. To watch those eyes that have never landed upon him, wide-eyed and panicked with fear, her hands that would usually hold those delicate covers as if they were sentient, thrashing and scratching at his skin for escape.

However, if her eyes meet his with calmness, a soft but unyielding clarity, it might signal a different path. Such a look could secure him, pull him back from the brink, offering a glimpse of a different kind of interaction, one rooted in mutual respect rather than fear.

Throughout the day, Ettore wrestles with the decision to approach her at an unusual time, a moment outside their routine interactions, which are typically defined by the unspoken boundaries and silent acknowledgements of shared space. The weight of this choice, loaded with the potential for a shift in their dynamic, presses on him.

Finally, as the day bleeds into evening, he steels himself and walks towards their cell, a path he has traversed countless times yet now feels distinctly different. His footsteps echo slightly in the empty corridor, a hollow sound that seems to beat in rhythm with his anxious heart. He pauses at the doorway, his hand resting against the cold metal frame for a moment. He had never been short on confidence, until right this moment.

She is there, as always, perched on her bed with a book cradled in her lap, her attention fully absorbed by the pages. The familiar sight of her, so engrossed in her literary world, momentarily steadies him. "Hey," he calls out softly, his voice slightly rough around the edges from the turmoil inside him.

At the sound of his voice, she looks up, her expression shifting from concentrated reading to mild surprise. Her eyes meet his, clear and calm, carrying none of the fear or judgement he had feared. "Hey," she responds simply, her voice a quiet echo to his own.

In that brief exchange, just a single word spoken by each, there's a palpable shift. It's not a definitive answer to all his internal questions, but it grants him a moment of reprieve from his fears of eliciting a negative reaction. So he stands there, momentarily rooted to the spot by the simplicity and normalcy of her response. And it is this moment where her eyes are piercing right into him that he is offered his first real glimpse into her as well. Features he had usually seen undisturbed by the quiet of sleep felt familiar and yet uncharted now, such as the flutter of her eyelashes and the decorating of freckles across her cheeks, and the small, curious pupils looking between his eyes as if for an answer.

Realising he's been standing silent for too long, Ettore scrambles mentally for something to say, to break the growing awkwardness that feels almost like a first encounter. His lips part, ready to forge some semblance of normal conversation.

No sooner are his lips parted that he is rendered into silence he once would have expected from her. She dog-eared the page, closed her book off her lap and brushed her hair from her face, and spoke with a soft tone laden with genuine concern. It feels like an invitation, a door opening to endless possibilities where she has seen past the facade of toughness to the raw, uncertain man beneath. She invites him into a space where he can be vulnerable, and yet he is still unsure if he even wants to be there. Can those raging, endless violent impulses ever be quieted by just a couple of words?

“You okay?”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy

@justbelljust @minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian

@primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3

#ettore high life #ettore imagine #ettore x reader #ettore #ettore fanfiction #ettore fic #ettore fanfic #high life fanfiction #high life 2018 #high life movie #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #ettore smut #ettore x you #ettore x oc

66 notes · View notes

remyfire · 6 hours

Note

remy help, im writing my first mash fic and idk anyone who watches the show so idk who else to ask. do u know how the hell post op shifts work?? like is there a surgeon in there all the time? how long are shifts/how often do they trade off? i figure if anyone would know, itd be you (ps i love ur work and thank u <3)

This is so sweet omg and I'm excited to read your fic!! If you're comfortable when it's done, lemme know that it's posted so I can come read it :D

Honestly I do a lot of my own writing about it based on context clues rather than any firm, clear knowledge!! In my fics, I usually make the shifts around like 8 hours long, one surgeon on the midnight post-op shift because it's usually quieter, one relieves them in the morning, one relieves them in the afternoon, etc. After big pushes, I usually put two in there at a time because there's so much to monitor, but also that's what their very well-trained nurses are for. We know that there are two surgical shifts—they'll say over the loudspeaker for both surgical shifts to report to the helipad when there's a push—and also that there is a surgeon 'on call,' so I'm not sure if the surgical shift relates to post-op, relates to a surgeon being on call for those 12 hours to come scrub up if they get like just three or four casualties who come in, or what. I play pretty fast and loose with it and also smudge the edges of the scene rather than getting very specific with the details fhkdfsd

We see several scenes where during mealtimes, all of the surgeons are eating together, so I often assume that if it's slow during mealtime, they can go grab a bite as long as they're listening to be called back in if there's an emergency. But we also know that in Merchant of Korea, Charles asks BJ to close his last patient for him so Charles can go get a bite to eat before his post-op shift, which BJ points out isn't protocol, so I might be wrong about mealtimes. They get at least one day completely off medical duties because I vaguely remember someone complaining once that they had to go do something I think in post-op or surgery on their day off.

But yeah, for simplicity's sake (and often the convenience of having the Swamp occupied only by two of them oop), I usually have one in there at all times except for meals, and if there's two—say, after a really big push—then usually I have one focusing on paperwork while the other is more actively rotating among the beds. But they have so many really amazing nurses that monitor the patients much closer and just generally keep the doctors updated, then take orders based on that, so I feel like they pull a lot of weight when a doctor needs to step out for one reason or another too.

This has probably not been helpful at all. Anyone with more concrete information is welcome to weigh in because it's probably better assistance than my "I go by vibes based on what best assists my plot at the time."

#this is just a lot of me rambling information i see but i hope you can glean something helpful from it anyway #and i really am excited to hear you're writing your first mash fic!! i'm cheering you on!#my ramblings

27 notes · View notes

dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 17 hours

Text

Shh! Pt. 2

Summary: The hangovers are very real for Dean and Y/N. Will they notice the artwork on the fridge?

Pairing/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warnings: None. This second part is pretty much all fluff too.

Word Count: 2,693 (This part was a bit longer than the first. Sorry!)

A/C: Okay, so the first part of Shh! was actually just supposed to be a one shot, fic request. But I got a fair few requests for a sequel about the morning after, and I wanted to know what happened too. So, here it is. Lol! I had a lot of fun writing the two parts to this little story. Hope you have fun reading them. ❤️

It was requested that I tag @arcannaa if I made a second part. So, here ya go, lovely. Let me know if you'd like to be added to one of the tag lists linked below. ❤️

Part 1 is here || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The Next Morning:

Dean's groan was deep and long and ended in one word. “Fuck.”

“Shh…” Y/N held her head in her hands as she sat up. “Why are you so loud?” She asked, and her voice sounded as dry and cracked as the Sahara.

“No, you're so loud.” Was Dean's witty rejoinder as he sat up beside her.

They both turned their heads to look at each other and groaned again. Y/N looked around the room and her brow creased with confusion.

“Why am I here?”

Dean grunted. “I'm a little too hungover for an existential crisis.”

Y/N pursed her lips, side eyeing him. “No, idiot. I mean why am I here in your bed? Why aren't I in my own bed?”

Dean rubbed his hand down his face. “Well, your bed is about 2 hours away, which probably explains the sleepover.”

Y/N hummed her agreement and pointed at him, conceding the point. “Yeah, I guess neither of us was in the best shape to drive.” She paused and then scowled. “We didn't, right? I mean, we didn’t drive home.”

She squinted at Dean who was shaking his head. “Nooo…” His tone said that was impossible, but then he tilted his head. “Right? There’s no way we would have been that stupid.”

Y/N shook her head and then stopped when the room started spinning. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “No, we must have taken a cab. We must have.”

It was silent while both of them tried desperately to remember something from the night before.

Dean sat up straight. “Rainbow Connection!” He said suddenly.

Y/N turned to look at him again and one eye brow was raised. “Are you stroking out?”

Dean waved at her. “No, the cab. I remember we took a cab cause I remember being in it and singing ‘Rainbow Connection’.” He closed his eyes. “I really don’t remember why though.”

Y/N gasped softly, remembering something. “Rambeau.”

Dean opened his eyes to look at her and his expression was all confusion. “Uh…Rocky II. We just naming Stallone movies?”

Y/N made a sound of disgust. “No, B - E - A - U, Rambeau, not Rambo.” When Dean still just stared at her blankly, she sighed and rolled her eyes. “It was the driver’s name, remember. But you thought he -”

“ - said Rainbow!” Dean finished, snapping his fingers. “Right! That’s when we started singing it.” He nodded, happy with their mental sleuthing, and then he shook his head.

“Man, I hope we gave him a big tip.”

Y/N chuckled and then took a big breath. “K, I need coffee, stat. Like a vat of coffee, like, this is a hook-it-to-my-veins kinda situation.”

Dean grunted his agreement and they both pushed themselves up from the bed with a painful groan. Dean grabbed Y/N’s wrist as they were leaving the room. “Wait, do you remember…did we talk to Sam last night?”

Y/N just shrugged. “Dude, I have no idea.”

“Huh…I feel like we did.” Dean said quietly as he padded towards the kitchen with Y/N trailing just behind him.

When they got to the kitchen Y/N collapsed onto one of the seats at the table and cradled her head in her hands.

Dean walked to the coffee maker and his face lit up.

“Oh, thank god for a little brother who gets up at the butt crack of dawn to go running to nowhere in particular. He made the coffee already!” He grabbed two cups and brought them and the pot to the table.

Y/N inhaled deeply, pulling the aroma of the coffee into her lungs. “Do you have cream?”

Dean made a face. “Cream? God no; this is a black coffee household, Y/N. You should know this.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yes, of course. Only manly black coffee for the Winchesters. How foolish of me.”

Dean shot her a grin and nodded in the direction of the fridge. “Might be some milk in the fridge.”

Y/N groaned again as she dragged herself up and stumbled blindly towards the fridge. She looked back at Dean as she pulled open the door. “I swear to God it feels like my muscles are about two minutes away from seizing up all together.”

Dean chuckled as Y/N looked into the fridge and shook her head. “There is nothing resembling milk in this fridge.”

“In the back?”

“Dean, there is no ‘back’ to this fridge. You’ve got three beers and leftover pizza that’s harder than the cardboard box it’s in.” She said as she peered inside. As Dean began rummaging around at the coffee station, she picked up a piece of the pizza and banged the crust against the box.

“That’s just sad.” She muttered.

“Score!” Dean called out just as Y/N closed the fridge door. “Found something called Coffee Whitener! Not CoffeeMate, it’s literally just called coffee whitener.”

“Uh…Dean?”

Dean’s face fell into a frown. “Actually, I don’t know how old this is.”

“Dean.”

“Might be from the fifties.” Dean mumbled. “Cause for the life of me I can’t remember Sam or I ever buying -”

“Dean!” Y/N yelled.

Dean grimaced as her shout made his head pound. “What? Jesus, why are you yelling?”

Y/N was pointing at the fridge door. “What the fuck is this?”

Dean set down the coffee whitener and walked over. “What the fuck is what?”

Y/N just kept pointing as Dean came up beside her to see two wrinkled up pieces of paper stuck to the fridge.

As he read the words he felt his heart clench. He read both letters twice.

He looked at Y/N slowly and couldn’t read what her expression was saying. He shook his head. “I - I mean, I dunno. Where did they come from?”

Y/N shrugged. “I don't know, but that’s my handwriting and…that’s yours. Do you…I mean, do you remember writing them?”

Dean shook his head. “No. I don’t remember. But, I mean…it must have…I mean, it had to be some kind of joke, right? Like we were messing around? Just some kind of drunken joke?”

Y/N was looking away from him, but he shrugged again. “I mean, don’t you think?”

She nodded and her face was scrunched up when she looked at him. “Had to be, right?”

He felt his heart plummet even as he nodded. “Right?”

“Yeah, we were just being stupid, fucking around.” She concluded quietly.

He nodded again. “Yeah.”

They were quiet for a minute before Y/N pointed towards the table. “So, did you say something about 1950’s coffee whitener?”

Dean forced a chuckle. “Yeah, come try it out, if you dare.”

They sat at the table and Dean poured them both coffee. In the end, Y/N just took a bit of sugar in hers, not willing to be a guinea pig for the decades old, mostly chemicals coffee whitener.

Silence reigned between them, neither of them able to push aside the words in the letters. Finally, Y/N couldn’t take the awkwardness and, pushing her coffee cup aside, she stood up.

“I should probably get going. I gotta shower and change and, you know, try to feel like a human again.” She said with a stilted laugh.

Dean nodded. “Yeah for sure. I’ll drive you.”

Y/N waved him down as he started to stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about it. I’ll just take the bus. There’s one that comes at 11:00. I’ve taken it before.”

Dean frowned. “Why the hell would you take the bus when I can just drive you.”

Y/N tucked her hair behind her ears nervously. She knew she wouldn't survive a two hour car ride, sitting so close to him but knowing she was never going to get any closer.

...it had to be some kind of joke, right? Dean's dismissive voice echoed in her mind.

So, she shook her head at him. “No, it’s okay. This way you can just rest and feel better. I like the bus. You know, I just put my music on and chill the whole way.”

“Right.” Dean said sardonically, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. “Cause you know, if I drove you, we’d definitely be listening to an audio book about the sixteenth century Christian Reformation. No music in my car.”

Y/N laughed nervously. “No, I know…but…”

Dean just nodded again. “Yeah, okay. Well, have a good two hour bus ride, I guess.”

Y/N smiled. “I will. I’ll uh…I’ll call you.”

“M’kay.”

Y/N cleared her throat. “See ya.” She said with another plastered-on-smile as she left the kitchen.

“Yeah, see ya.” Dean answered quietly.

About an hour later Dean was still sitting at the kitchen table nursing an ice cold black coffee when he heard the bunker door slam. A minute later Sam walked into the kitchen in his running clothes, sweating and still breathing deeply.

He went to the sink to fill up his water bottle as he looked back at Dean with a smirk. “You look ill.” Dean just grunted and Sam chuckled as he took a sip of water. “Where’s Y/N?” He asked.

“Went home.” Dean answered shortly.

Sam frowned looking towards the fridge where the letters still hung. “Didn’t you guys see the letters?”

Dean’s head came up quickly and he stared at Sam. “What do you mean? Why do you know about them?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Who the hell do you think hung them up there?”

Dean shook his head, anger in his expression. “Why the fuck would you do something like that? Y/N saw them and freaked.”

“What?”

“I’m telling you. She saw what I wrote and couldn’t get out of here fast enough. Wouldn’t even take a ride home.” Dean said sullenly.

Sam set his water bottle down on the island, hard. “Oh my god!” He growled. “I might actually strangle you both.” When Dean just continued to frown at him, Sam shook his head. “Didn’t you each read the other’s letter? You guys wrote essentially the same thing to each other. Because you’re both so into each other. Jesus Christ.”

He pushed two hands through his damp hair. “I figured once you both saw it written out right in front of you, you’d realize that you’re both a couple of dumbasses!”

Dean shook his head. “No, she didn’t mean what she wrote. She thought it was some kind of drunken joke.”

Sam scowled. “She told you it was just a joke? She remembered writing her letter?”

“No, but I asked if she thought it was a joke and she said yeah, it had to be. Had to be because she has no interest in me like that.”

“Did she actually say that?” Sam asked, speaking over the end of Dean’s sentence, “Or did she just go along with you when you suggested it was a joke, because that’s what she thought you thought?”

When Dean didn’t answer Sam growled again in frustration. “For fuck’s sake this is ridiculous. I’m just gonna spell it out for you.” He walked over to stand in front of Dean at the table. “Y/N is madly in love with you.”

Dean scoffed, but Sam sliced his hand through the air. “No, shut up. She is in love with you and you are in love with her, and if you asked one single other person who knows you both, they’ll tell you the exact same thing. Because it is glaringly, abundantly, stupidly obvious, you dumbass. Now go find her at the station, tell her the truth and watch how quickly she tells you she feels the same.”

Dean was frowning. “That's not gonna happen.” But he could feel a spark of hope at his brother’s certainty.

Sam just glared.

He threw up his hands. “Okay, I’ll go.” He stood up and walked towards the door, stopping on the top step to look back at Sam. “But when she rips my heart out and I lose my best friend, you’re gonna be the one who has to deal with me.”

Sam rolled his eyes and pointed. “Go.”

All the way to the bus station, Dean was running through scenarios in his mind. As he parked outside, his watch said 10:50; was she already gonna be on the bus? Would it be like one of those horrible romcom things, where he had to chase her down through the crowd and then confess his love on a bus full of people. And if he did that, was Sam right? Would she love him back, or was it going to end up as - less funny romcom, more tragic farce?

He had the scenario half imagined in his head, but when he walked through the doors he was reminded that the Lebanon bus station was actually quite small so, no running from terminal to terminal looking for her. There were only two bus stalls outside to begin with, but also, she was sitting calmly on a bench just across from the door.

He walked towards her and her eyes got wide.

Fuck, I can’t do this. Why the fuck am I doing this? Dean thought over and over.

He stopped in front of her and she looked up at him, her face puzzled. “Dean? What are you doing here?”

He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and rocked up on to the balls of his feet; he shrugged. “I don’t know, I just thought…I really wanna give you a ride home.”

Y/N frowned and lifted a hand towards the small ticket office. “I already bought my ticket.”

“Well, get a refund.”

“Why do you want to drive me home so badly?” Y/N asked loudly, frustration tinting her words.

“Why don’t you want me to?” Dean answered even louder.

Y/N let out a huff of air. “I don’t want you to not…I don’t not want…I want not t -” She broke off with a cry of frustration. “Ugh!!”

She looked up at him and her gaze was confused and questioning. “Dean, what is going on here?”

Dean shuffled from foot to foot for a minute, until Y/N started to speak again and he cut her off.

“The letter was true.”

He spoke quietly and he wondered if she’d heard him. He wasn’t sure he’d have the courage to say it again; as it was, he was staring at the ground, his stomach in knots.

“What?”

He shook his head and finally just decided it was all or nothing.

“My letter. What I wrote. It was true. I mean, it was drunken idiocy, but…” He raised his head and looked at her. “It was true.”

“Really?”

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught relief in her voice, so he smiled at her and gave a resigned nod.

“Yep. You are my good day.” He said, paraphrasing his letter. “I want kisses from you.” He paused a beat. “And also sex.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry.”

Y/N’s smile was bright and beautiful as she leapt up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank god.” She bit her bottom lip and then quoted her letter. “I hope you will kiss me. All the time.”

Dean felt like his chest might actually burst from happiness as he grasped her waist and pulled her close.

“I can do that.”

He pulled her tight against him, capturing her lips in a kiss that he’d waited for for a very long time.

Y/N felt lightheaded with joy and with the headiness of Dean’s kiss. His lips were soft and searching as they pressed tightly to hers, and she opened to him immediately, reveling in the deep groan that tumbled out of him as he sank his tongue deep into her mouth.

They clung to each other, endlessly kissing, sharing breath and stealing each other's moans. Neither of them were one hundred percent sure they weren’t just in a very vivid dream, but both of them were determined that if it was a dream, they didn’t want to wake up.

The loudspeaker came on announcing that Y/N’s bus was boarding, but neither of them heard it, and neither of them cared. The ticket agent who’d sold her the ticket called out to her.

“Miss, your bus is leav-”

But her coworker interrupted her. “Shh! Are you crazy? Do you see the man kissing her? Trust me she does NOT want to be disturbed.”

She wasn't wrong.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#dean x y/n #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester mini-series #dean winchester crack

30 notes · View notes

reigningqueenofwords · 24 hours

Text

Prom Woes

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 1,246 Request: Anonymous. Hey, I saw one of your dean x reader imagines and I loved it a lot! So I was wondering if you could do a fanfic where dean and the reader are about 17 and the reader’s prom date breaks up with her during the dance and Dean comforts her and confesses his feelings? Fluff follows? 😂😂love your fics bunches!!!

Read on AO3

Standing in the middle of the dance floor, your eyes watered. People moved around you, bodies close to their dates. Sniffing, you shook your head and turned, making your way off the dance floor. It was your senior prom, and the memories that should have been magical were shattered.

“Oh, Y/N/N, you look beautiful.” Your mother gushed, holding her hands together by her chin. She’d just put the finishing touches on your hair once you’d finished your makeup. Your dress was a lovely shade of purple, and shimmered slightly. You’d had your eye on it for months before your parents agreed to go prom shopping. Your father refused to buy a dress months ahead of time in case you changed your mind. So, you’d scrambled two weeks prior to make sure you got your dress.

As you passed a trash can, you ripped the flower from your wrist and tossed it in. “Stupid jerk.” You muttered, wanting to punch him in the face. Finding your table, you dropped into your seat.

“Well, that doesn’t look like how you should look at your prom.” Came your best friend’s voice.

You sighed and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” You told him sadly, wiping under your eye and smudging your makeup. “Oh, great.” You groaned, seeing the black line on your hand. “Perfect.” You sighed.

Dean furrowed his brows and sat next to you. “What the hell happened? You’ve been looking forward to this night for months.”

You grinned as you Dean sat on the couch watching movies. “We’re seniors!” You squealed.

“Technically, we’re not students until Monday.” He teased. “And you are way too excited.”

“This is the final year of high school. And prom!” You saw him roll his eyes and shoved him lightly. “I can’t wait.” You added. “Jessie will look so hot in a tux.” You sighed.

Dean chuckled lightly. “I still can’t believe you’re dating that idiot.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

You played with the table cloth. “Jessie broke up with me.” You sniffed, your eyes watering all over.

“What?!” He asked, sitting straight up. “When? Why?”

Despite how bad you felt, you let out a soft chuckle at how he sounded. “Just a few minutes ago- on the dance floor.” Your eyes shot to where it was still packed for a moment, then back to the table. “He didn’t really give a good reason, actually.” That fact was just hitting you, and made your more angry than anything. You’d been together since the July before- that was 11 months of your life with him. All to have it ended. At your prom. Your senior prom!

Dean was clearly angry. “What a dick. Where’s that asshole now?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. He left me on the dance floor. I think I spaced out for a few minutes before I made my way over here. I kinda just wanna go home…” What was the point of staying when you looked like hell from crying, and you were miserable?

“Come on.” Dean got up and held out his hand. “Let’s have our own prom.” He grinned.

Taking his hand, you narrowed your eyes. “Should I be worried?” You asked, half joking.

“Nah.” He pretended to think for a moment. “I don’t think…” He laughed.

Sitting across from him at Burger King, you covered your mouth as you laughed. You had been chewing your burger, and he had made a stupid face. “Stop!” You waved. “I’m trying to eat.”

“Hey, I’m just happy to see you smiling again.” Dean grinned, taking a sip of his soda. “I hate when you’re all upset.” He shrugged.

You licked your lips before taking a sip of your soda, giving him a small smile. “Well, you’re good at making me smile.” You blushed. “You’ve been my best friend for forever.” You chuckled lightly.

Dean pouted, crossing his arms over his chest as he sat on your couch. The four year old was not at all pleased that he was staying at his mother’s friend’s house while she was off having his baby brother.

“Hi!” Came a small voice as you climbed up next to him on the couch. “I’m Y/N/N. ‘Member me?” You looked hopeful, as you’d had playdates with him a couple times before.

He glared. “Stupid girls.” He huffed, instantly regretting it when you looked like you’d cry. “Hey, you know how to play hide and seek?”

You face lit of. “Course I do!” You giggled.

“W-what if I’d like to be more than best friends?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

You froze with your burger almost to your mouth. “What?” You asked, not sure that you’d heard him right. Setting down your food, you swallowed. “You want to be more?”

He shrugged. “I’d like the chance.” Dean admitted nervously. “I’ve loved you for awhile now, honestly.” Your felt your chest tighten as your stomach fluttered at his words. “I just always wanted you happy, and didn’t want to screw us up. Then I saw how bad that dick hurt you.” He sighed, running his hand through his short blond hair. “All I wanted to do was hold you close and make it stop hurting you.”

Chewing on your lip, you chose your words wisely. “Dean…” You said gently. “I just got out of almost a year long relationship.” Which was something you needed to say before saying more. “While I do love you, a lot, I’m not going to pretend I can be more right now.” That would be fair to Dean at all. “I won’t shut the idea down, though.”

Dean nodded, smiling. “I get that, I do!” He told you. “I just couldn’t hold my tongue anymore.”

You chuckled lightly. “I vote that we finish our food, and go to my house, get comfortable, and watch cheesy movies.”

“I like that idea.” He agreed.

–6 months later–

Dean pouted at you over Skype. “You can’t make it home?”

“I’m sorry!” You sighed. “I have to work.” You explained to your boyfriend of three months. “I’ll be home for Christmas, I promise.”

“Fiiiiine.” He said dramatically, making you chuckle. “How about we have a Skype date on Thanksgiving? You with your food, me with mine.”

You smiled. “I love that idea, actually.” At least you knew that you’d be seeing him in a month, so this would work for now. “How is everyone?”

Dean chuckled. “Mom keeps asking about you. Dad calls you his daughter already, and Sam just started high school.” He shook his head. “I hope he hits a growth spurt soon.” You laughed, knowing what he meant. Sam was a bit on the skinnier side. “How’s school?”

“It’s school.” You shrugged. “I miss you, though. I went to a party the other night with a friend and wound up leaving because I got tired of telling guys off.”

“Well…”

You furrowed your brows. “What?”

Dean smirked, a twinkle in his eye. “What if I told you that you won’t have to worry about that for long?” You raised an eyebrow, urging him to go on. “I’m getting an apartment near you. This January.”

“Really?!” You grinned. “How?”

He laughed. “Dad is opening up a second garage. He needs someone to oversee it. I said I’d do it. I’ll be just half an hour away from you. Not three or so hours.”

“You did that for me?” You asked, feeling loved.

“Us, babe.” He corrected you.

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester oneshot

22 notes · View notes