#child reader would be so curious as to what is behind his mask | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

latenightdaydreams · 4 months

Note

Perhaps you have plans for things, but can you please write part 2 of Viking! Konig? I'm so curious how would reader get used to her new life and her new husband

Husband upgrade🤭

Viking!König x Reader Part 2 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1, Part 3

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, p in v, breastmilk

2.1k word count

Two middle life blonde women gently help you out of the tub they were bathing you in. Small drops of water fall to the wooden ground beneath you. They speak in a soft tone, but in a language you cannot understand. They’re telling you how beautiful you are and how lucky you are to be König’s queen.

You’re seated in a wooden chair, drying off from the bath. One woman stands behind you and combs through your hair. The other leaves out of your view to grab something. You shiver slightly, being naked and wet.

“Vi varmer deg opp snart.” The woman’s voice is kind, and she stops combing your hair and caressing your arms, trying to warm you.

You don’t respond, not knowing what she said. In a weird way, her touch feels familiar and calming. With a simple nod of your head, she goes back to combing your hair.

The other woman walks in front of you, holding up a beautiful blue dress. Again, she speaks and you just gaze up at her. Her blue eyes are bright as she’s speaking. Your head pulls back slightly as the tension on your scalp grows from your hair being pulled into a long braid.

Once your hair was done, she stood you up to dress you. The indigo blue dress fits you tightly, extenuating your breasts and the curve of your waist. A woven belt placed around your waist and a necklace with a medallion of a wolf dangles for it. Leather shoes tied to your feet as you

“Hun er klar.” She exclaims as she sees you totally transformed into a queen. “La oss gå.”

You leave the small house, their arms wrapped in yours as your guild you down a pathway. Inside, you feel as though you are about to throw up. Your feet drag beneath you, dreading seeing König.

“I can’t” You try to turn but the women’s grip on you is firm.

“Du blir bra.” One speaks as she pets your arm.

König paced back and forth in his house waiting for Hilda and Thyra to finish cleaning you for him to enjoy. He walks shirtless and without a mask, exposing his sculpted body covered with battle scars, tattoos on his pecs, and scars on his face. His light blonde hair falls to his shoulder, some pushed behind his left ear.

His head turns as he sees the door open and you enter. The same worried look that has plagued your face this whole journey is still there. König walks to you and takes your hand, thanking the women and sending them on their way.

Worried or not, you’re still the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on. You look as if a goddess decided to come live amongst men. He will never understand how he got so lucky as to find you. Your breasts are full and swollen with milk, he can’t wait to taste you.

“You look beautiful, Liebling.” The door closes, and it’s just the two of you.

“Please, I can’t stay here.” You instantly plead, voice shaking. “I need to go home.”

“You are home.” He looks down at your face, studying you in the low light. “Don’t be so sad.”

“My children—”

“Are safe at home.” His hands caress your arms up and down.

“I need my children here.”

“I’ll give you new ones. Stronger ones.”

König’s hands grasp yours and bring them to his chest. You look at his body, turning your head away to gaze at the ground. He lifts your chin to face him.

“How about you come with me? I’ll help you forget about your troubles.”

There was no room to protest as he grabbed your hand and led you to the large bed in the corner of the room. He sits on the bed and keeps you standing in front of him. His hands roam over the curve of your body. On the journey back he refrained from touching you so you could mourn your last life, but now- now you’re all his.

“Are your breasts sore?” He asks as his hands feel how swollen they’ve become after days away from your child.

You don’t answer, but just look him in the eyes. It’s clear to see that you’re too full to be comfortable. His hands squeeze slightly and the indigo fabric begins to darken from the milk he expressed. Thyra and Hilda got you all dressed up only for König to ruin you.

König grabs at the woven belt around your waist and slowly undoes it, pulling it towards him, and laying it on the bed beside him.

“Please stop, I’m a married woman.” You step back.

“You are. To me.” He wraps his arm around your waist and brings you closer.

“In the eyes of God, you’re not my husband.”

“God? Which one?” König teases as his hand runs down to rub your plump ass. “Here, in my land, you’re mine. Unless your old family comes to my shore and fights for you back…you’re mine.”

You just stare into his eyes and nod. Realistically, your husband will never come for you. He wouldn’t even know where to look. The memories of your life with him, with your children flashes before your eyes until a tap on your ass takes you out of your own mind.

“Let’s get you more comfortable.” His voice is a soft whisper as he stands to get you naked in front of him. The last piece he grabs is your necklace, setting it down on top of your dress.

You stand naked. Your breasts are full and round. Body soft and curvy. A small white pearly bead of milk lingers on your left nipple. Between your legs is a soft patch of hair, he can’t wait to feel it rub against his face. All you can think about is how God will smite you for infidelity, you can only hope he understands.

“Look at you. Beautiful.”

König wraps his arms around you and places you gently on the bed, as if you were a delicate jewel he didn’t want to harm. He looks down at you as he finishes undressing. As he steps out of his pants, you can see his massive cock bounce, leaning down. He notices you looking at him, making him feel cocky.

“Big, ja?” He walks to you, parting your legs. “Let me show you how a real man fucks.”

Instantly, a blush forms on your face as you look at his blue eyes. His blonde hair falling forward as he looks down at you. You hate to admit that, compared to Callum, König is far more attractive. Your eyes travel all over his body, inspecting his tattoos as he moves on to the bed with you. He notices your gaze and smiles.

“It’s for my family name.” He whispers as he rests his large body next to yours.

“Oh.”

König moves his lips to yours, tenderly kissing you. You don’t kiss back at first, and that's okay. He knows you’re nervous. His lips leave yours and travel down your neck, he lightly nips at your flesh. A small whimper leaves your lips causing him to smile.

Lifting his head for a moment, he moves his hand to your breast and squeezes. A fountain of milk begins to spurt out. König moves his mouth to your other nipple and begins to suck. He continues to squeeze the other to spray himself with it.

A mixture of relief and pleasure rushes over you. Callum has not touched your breasts since the milk came in, finding it repulsive. König acts like a starved man, as if your milk is the only thing that can save you. It’s…hot.

Milk begins to drip from the corner of his mouth, rolling down your breast. He slowly pulls away, licking his lips. “So sweet.”

König licks in between your breasts and over the other, cleaning up the mess he’s made. His hand slowly trails down your body and touches your pussy. The feeling of your wet folds between your fat pussy lips drives him wild.

“I can’t wait to bury my cock deep inside of you.” He growls as his lips kiss up your neck.

König moves his body between your legs, running his hands from your breasts down to your hips. He brushes his hair back and out of his face with one hand as he presses his cock against your entrance. You gaze up at him before he moves his hips forward.

“Wait.”

His eyes move to your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I- I can’t. My husband—” You were cut off by the euphoric sensation of meaty cock being shoved into your tight little cunt. A moan spills from your lips as your eyes go wide.

König grins looking at your reaction. He leans over your body to kiss the tip of your nose. “I am your husband now. Don’t forget that.” The words leave his lips as he slowly shoves the rest of his cock into you.

Your nails dig into his arms as you squeeze your eyes shut. König looks at your face, your mouth hanging open and eyebrows pinched together. His hips slowly pull back before pushing back into you slowly; enjoying the look on your face as he does. A small chuckle leaves his lips as he pulls away.

“My perfect queen.”

He grabs your hips, pulling your rear up slightly off the bed as he bucks forward into your tiny cunt. Your back is arched as his fingers dig into your ass. Loud moans leave your lips, loud enough people passing the home can hear the two of you.

“König, I- it’s too much.” You feel a tingle run over your body as a heavy pressure builds in your core.

He realizes that you’re about to cum, “beg for it.”

“For what?”

“To cum.”

“I- I can’t.” You feel shameful. Shame for having sex with someone other than Callum and shame for feeling this pleasure. You’ve always been taught to not give into this type of lust.

“It’s okay to let go.” He whispers in your ear as he leans over you, his arms on either side of your head. His lips meet yours, pushing his tongue past your lips. You open your mouth accepting him in as you mewl pathetically.

You turn your head away, desperately begging. “Please…harder.”

He grabs your head and forces his tongue back into your mouth. Moans leave your lips into his mouth as your legs tremble around his waist. His kisses begin to trail to your cheek and down your jawline as he feels your walls flutter around his cock.

“There you go.” His kisses travel down to your breasts.

König pulls out and stands from the bed, grabbing your legs and pulling you to him. His arms wrap around you and hold you up. One arm holds you tightly to his body as the other reaches down to line himself up with you. He pushes forward while lowering you slightly. A groan leaves his lips, your arms wrap around his shoulders.

His fingers grasping the supply flesh of your ass as his hips thrust into you; your tight little cunt squeezes his cock as he bounces you on his length. The lustful daze you’re in makes you gaze up at him as if you’re in love. The sound of your wet pussy and little pitiful sounds leaves your lips mixing. König glances down to your breasts bouncing. Everything is just perfect.

“Y/n…” He groans as his cock pulses, face scrunching with pleasure.

The next morning you take up to an empty bed. You rub your eyes and stretch, slowly stepping out of the bed. That’s when you noticed König sitting nude and watching you with a smile. Your eyes travel along his body before meeting his eyes, trying to sit in a way that conceals your body.

“Don’t try to hide your beauty, Liebling. It’s just us here.” He stands and walks over to you, caressing your face. Your braid is barely together and face flushed with an afterglow from last night’s activities.

“We have a long day ahead of us. You’re going to be introduced to my people as their new queen. They will be astonished at your beauty.”

You look into his eyes and nod. There is still a lingering sadness in your eyes, he is aware you miss your old life. It will take time for you to move on, but he knows you’ll be happier here with him. No longer are you poor and working the fields. Now you’re a queen.

Part 3

#konig #konig x reader #könig #konig cod #konig x y/n #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x y/n #könig x you #konig x you #konig x reader smut #cod smut #smut #cod konig #konig call of duty #könig call of duty

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novaursa · 16 days

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Hello

I was thinking about something, what if rhaenyra didn’t take the moon tea after sleeping with Criston. She fell pregnant of a girl and since she also had brown curly hair the green think she was harwin’s.

Since she the heir of Rhaenyra, Viserys betrothed her to Aemond. And obviously they slept together.

And you know the scene between Aemond and Criston the night of blood and cheese? Like Aemond says something to see Criston about her, like she had a birthmark maybe and in fact it’s exactly the same as Criston (in an hidden place) and he finally understands that it’s his daughter

I have so much idea with this plot like the hidden daughter of Rheanyra and Criston, I can stop thinking about it..

Blood Unseen

- Summary: Your husband, Aemond, reveals to Cole something that shifts his entire world on its axis.

- Paring: assumed wife!reader/Aemond Targaryen, (daughter) reader/(father) Criston Cole (platonic)

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The dim light of the flickering candles cast long shadows across the chamber, the heavy curtains drawn tight against the cold night outside. Criston Cole stood tall, his arms crossed over his chest, listening intently as Aemond Targaryen spoke. The conversation had drifted from the matters of court, to tactics, to the war that loomed over them like a dark cloud. The flicker of unease was there in both men’s words, unspoken but shared. These were perilous times, and every move was a game of life and death.

Criston, ever the dutiful knight, maintained his stoic expression, eyes trained on the prince. Aemond paced the room, his hands clasped behind his back, the familiar sway of his silver hair catching the dim light. There was something different about this evening though. Aemond's tone carried a weight that went beyond war.

“It's curious,” Aemond said, his voice cool and calculated as he stopped mid-step. His single eye, sharp and piercing, regarded Criston with the kind of intensity that always set him on edge. “You have a birthmark, do you not?”

Criston’s brow furrowed slightly at the sudden turn of conversation. “I do,” he replied cautiously, unsure where this was leading. He had little care for such trivial matters, certainly not with the tension thickening the air.

Aemond approached him slowly, the faint smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “A peculiar one, I’ve noticed. Right here,” he said, tapping a finger against the area just above his hip, through the fabric of his tunic. “Almost shaped like a dragon’s tail, or so it would seem.”

Criston nodded, still unsure of Aemond’s purpose in this revelation. “What of it, my prince?”

Aemond’s smirk deepened, and he tilted his head, the eye patch he wore gleaming in the low light. “Y/N has one too, you know.”

The mention of your name sent a shiver through Criston, but he kept his composure. “My princess does?” His voice remained calm, though he could feel something stirring beneath the surface. He had served you for years now, ever watchful, ever loyal, but never had he paid heed to such intimate details.

Aemond’s eye gleamed as he continued. “Just below her breast. The same exact mark. The resemblance, Cole… it’s uncanny.” His words were slow, deliberate, as if savoring the weight of them.

Criston blinked, the revelation settling like a stone in his gut. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, quickly masked, but it wasn’t fast enough. Aemond saw it, and the corner of his mouth twitched knowingly.

The room fell into an oppressive silence. Criston’s mind raced, pieces of a long-forgotten puzzle snapping into place. The resemblance—the dark curls, the sharpness of your gaze. For years, he had believed, like so many others, that you were just another Strong bastard, the child of Harwin. It had made sense, your features mirroring the late knight’s in subtle ways. But now, Aemond’s words clung to him like a curse, dredging up memories of fleeting moments he had long buried.

He remembered your birth, Rhaenyra’s secretive smile when she introduced you to him as her firstborn. The way her eyes lingered on him, as if daring him to acknowledge something he couldn’t. But he hadn’t, not then. How could he?

The mark. It had been there all along, a sign that he had been blind to.

Aemond’s voice sliced through his thoughts, the faintest hint of amusement coloring his tone. “Do you understand now, Ser Criston?”

Criston’s heart pounded in his chest, a rising dread filling him as realization dawned. You were not Harwin Strong’s. No, you were his. His blood, his daughter. The child of his brief and forbidden encounter with Rhaenyra all those years ago. A moment of weakness, of passion, and now, the living proof stood before him every day, a reminder of a secret he never knew he had carried.

Criston’s body tensed, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his voice steady. “Does… she know?”

Aemond’s smirk faded into something darker, more calculating. “If she does, she has kept it well hidden, as has Rhaenyra. But you, Cole… you’ve been oblivious all this time. How fitting that I should be the one to enlighten you.”

Criston felt the weight of those words. Aemond reveled in this, enjoyed watching him unravel. His fists clenched at his sides, the reality of it all crashing down around him. You were his daughter. And all this time, he had been nothing more than your sworn protector, ignorant of the blood that tied him to you.

But now, what did it mean? You were wed to Aemond years ago, promised by the late king Viserys to unite the two halves of the family. The Greens had accepted you because they believed you to be another Strong bastard, another means to a political end. But now… now Criston could see that Aemond knew the truth, and that truth gave him power.

“Why tell me this now?” Criston asked, his voice low, strained.

Aemond regarded him with a cold, measured look. “Because, Ser Criston, I thought you should know what’s at stake before everything… changes.”

Criston stared at him, the unspoken threat hanging between them. The game they played had shifted. Bloodlines, loyalties, the tangled web of duty and secrets—it was all spiraling into something far more dangerous. He had served the Greens faithfully, had believed in their cause, but now, with this knowledge… everything felt uncertain.

Aemond’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before he turned, heading toward the door. “Do think on it, Ser Criston. After all, blood is thicker than water, as they say.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Criston alone in the darkened chamber, his thoughts swirling in a tempest of revelation, regret, and uncertainty.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #hotd x female reader #aemond x reader #criston x reader #criston platonic #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #criston cole #criston x you #criston x y/n #cole

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toast-on-dandelioms · 9 months

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Hi, can I say, I love your bat fam fic (even if it is only two chapters lol.) I've been wondering, what if, after Y/N (or the reader in this case) got bit by the spider, they left Gotham altogether❓ Like, once they realized that they have spider-powers, they just go "F*ck it, bye bitches!" and left to become their own crimefighter❓ Do Bruce and the others eventually find out about their abilities (I'm guessing via news, of course, or like overhearing gossip among the other heroes about there being a "spidey" hero of all sudden.) Would they then realize it's the reader and try to bring them back❓

Oh that's a good question! Well in this story the batfam (except Alfred) know who is behind the mask and they would try to recruit them at first.

Since they think Spider as a normal person with powers, not knowing who is behind the mask, especially since they don't even know the right name of Spider.

(plus there would be other heroes like Superman and Wonder Woman who start to get curious about the spider vigilante who keeps leaving crooks and other villains tied up on poles around the city)

But Spider wouldn't accept it, since they hate the batfam and don't want to be around them just to be ignored again like before.

And if they manage to find out like, Spider getting hurt and losing a lot of blood and the batfam manages to help them in time then they will try anything to keep Spider with them.

Obviuously they would also need Alfred to remind them who Spider actually is after seeing who is behind the mask, making them see that the vigilante who kept protecting innocent people and getting hurt almost everyday (seen by videos provided by Oracle) is the neglected sibling/child of the Wayne family.

And this would lead to them being very delusional and trying to mend their ways and get Spider to trust them again while Spider keeps hating them and trying to escape. Which would resort to the batfam to use extreme methods to stop them.

Like drugging them so their abilities are weaker and can't escape and rely on the batfam.

Practically the batfam will get more delusional as time passes and Spider will just have to be the victim and try not to fall in their sick idea of family.

#yandere x reader #platonic yandere #yandere batman #yandere #yandere dc x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader

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uravitsy · 8 months

Text

‘YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL’ SATORU GOJO

ACT ONE.

summary. gojo visits your grave once a year, reflecting on the limited time he had with you while going through the stages of grief. ☆

warnings. angst, sad!gojo, fem!reader! gojo x you, grief, established relationship, some smut if you squint, bittersweet ending

a/n. this is a short story i wrote over the summer, i wanted to dabble into the idea of gojo not being able to fully process his grief without the help of his students. it is a bit sad though.

ACT TWO : ̗̀➛ ACT THREE : ̗̀➛ FINALE

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

"Does Gojo-sensei seem…different today?" Itadori asked absentmindedly, leaning back in his chair while balancing a pencil on his nose. He was doing everything else but the work he was supposed to finish before class ended. His two close friends, Megumi and Nobara, spared him a quick glance, as if debating whether to answer his ridiculous question.

"When is that nutjob ever okay?" Nobara bounced back another question, making Itadori stop balancing himself on his chair to think for once. The pencil he had on his face clattered onto the ground. "If anything, he's more extra than he was yesterday."

"Exactly," Itadori frowned, the invisible lightbulb above his head continuing to flicker as he thought long and hard about what Gojo could be upset about. He knew it was a stretch, and he himself wasn't too good at reading emotions, but he was sure something was off—from the way Gojo's smile seemed wider to the way his laughs went on for a second too long. "What do you think, Megumi?"

The black-haired boy stopped moving his pencil across the paper. His face remained stoic as the two beside him turned to look in his direction, anticipating an answer from him.

In short, Megumi did know why Gojo seemed off today, and it was all because of his vague memory of you.

He was a clueless child back then, but he felt it. He felt the love you and Gojo shared, something he had seen before between his own mother and father. It was strong, beautiful, like a song that only you and Gojo knew the lyrics to. It was a dance—a slow burn into the spotlight of a world you two created.

He admired it. He admired you and the person you helped Gojo become.

And though your memory was beautiful, it was also tragic. Megumi did mourn you since he remembered bits and pieces of you, but he was sure Gojo mourned you the most. Especially since today was the anniversary of your death. For as long as he's known Gojo, he knew that this one day out of the year was the time when he'd crack more jokes, tease him more, and laugh the loudest—all to mask his pain.

And he couldn't help but think it's because Gojo never properly grieved for you.

"He's the same as usual," Megumi lied. It wasn't their place to know, nor was it his. Everyone had their secrets and the stuff they keep to themselves. Who were they to pry into his business? "You guys should just drop it."

And with that, he went back to his assignment, ignoring the gawking stares from both of his friends.

"Well, now I'm even more curious," Itadori pouted, resting his chin on his hand as he looked out the window just in time to see Gojo's back as he skipped off campus. "He's literally leaving in the middle of the day!"

"Itadori—" Megumi started but got interrupted by his friends' loud voices.

"What?!" Nobara pushed Itadori away from the window so she could look. A sudden spark of curiosity consumed her as she cracked a mischievous grin. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"We should follow him!" they both said at the same time as they rushed out of the classroom with such speed they left papers flying behind them.

Megumi could only sigh. His peers were likely to get in trouble and drag him into their mess somehow. It never fails. He thought for a moment about how he would benefit from following them to make sure they didn't get caught leaving school grounds without a teacher, but he came up with nothing. He figured he should take his own advice and mind his own business, let those two knuckleheads do whatever they want and suffer the consequences for it.

They could potentially run into dangerous curses, dangerous people, or dangerous people controlling dangerous curses… and then suffer grave injuries. You know what? Maybe he should follow them from a distance.

Meanwhile, the door to the flower shop gave a soft ding as Gojo opened it. His tall frame took up the space in the small shop. Gojo ducked his head as he came in, careful not to knock over the potted plants that rested on the floor and shelves in no particular order. The air was stale with an earthy smell that was oddly comforting. It was good to know that the place remained the same after a year—the only thing that stayed the same in his chaotic life.

"Satoru!" an elderly woman looked up from her newspaper at the sound of the doorbell, thick circle glasses making her eyes appear large and almost fish-like. "Good to see you! How have you been?"

"Mrs. Yamada," Gojo bowed respectfully to the elder, to which the lady playfully pinched and pulled his cheeks. "Missed you too!"

"You silly boy, you know you can visit anytime and not just once a year, you know (Y/N) would've loved that, hm?" Mrs. Yamada made her way behind the counter, already grabbing and wrapping up a single flower. A flower that was your favorite, the same kind you'd always get whenever you would come into this small flower shop.

Gojo never understood why you didn't let him buy a whole bouquet of the flowers you loved. "Then I'd have to take care of all of them," you'd say, your laugh like a sweet melody in his ears that he constantly wanted to replay. "When it's just one, I feel like it lasts longer, you know? I seem to appreciate it more."

The memory made him frown slightly. If you allowed it, he would've bought the whole damn store for you, and you wouldn't just be stuck with a single flower. He didn't get it. He didn't get you. Even after all these years, he was still trying to figure you out.

"Ah, she used to come in every Sunday morning to say hello," Mrs. Yamada smiled warmly. "Always ready to hound me for something sweet to eat. (Y/N) had a nose like a hound and a stomach like a sumo wrestler." The brown wrapping paper crinkled against the elder's fingertips as she folded it around the flower. "Oh, how I miss her."

"Come now, Mrs. Yamada," Gojo leaned against the counter, tapping the wood with excitement. "She'd want us to smile, to celebrate her life, right?! Then that's exactly what we'll do."

"Satoru…"

Gojo waved his hands dismissively. "The usual price for the flowers, right?"

"Yes," Mrs. Yamada rang him up at the cash register before sliding the flower across the counter toward him. But before Gojo could grab it, she pulled it away. "I wanted to tell you before I closed up shop for the day, but… I will be retiring next month."

Gojo's smile fell then.

"I am getting too old, and ever since my husband's passing, I find it quite hard to manage this all on my own, no matter how much I love to do so," she patted the counter lightly, eyes glazed over in a daze as if recalling a memory. "I will be closing the shop and moving to America to stay with my daughter."

"Then are you going to sell the building?"

Gojo found himself asking before he could even think about what to say.

"I'll buy it."

Even in death, you were expensive. How was that possible? Gojo found himself using his savings to buy a whole flower shop that you weren't even here to see. But did that matter to him? Of course not. You were worth every penny—and the shop, to him, was nothing more than a shiny penny that he could buy for your sake. All because you loved it and would visit it often. Gojo couldn't let it close down; it was too valuable for the sake of the memories it held.

So now he owned a flower shop. What the hell was he going to do with a flower shop? He didn't know a damn thing about flowers.

"(Y/N)…" Gojo whispered your name as he pushed open the metal graveyard gate, the bolt making a loud creaking noise that echoed into the summer breeze.

It didn't take Gojo long to find your headstone. After all these years, he knew this cemetery like the back of his hand; at this point, it was like a second home to him. The only place where he could truly let the mask fall as he mourned for you.

In the years you've been gone, he had a long time to think—to wonder why you of all people had to be taken away from him. It made him question, curse, and cry to a higher power above if there was one. Would they be listening? Did they hear him? Did they understand the pain he was put through? And if everything was a part of the higher power's plan, then why was (Y/N) written in with such a tragic story? Why did her life become a song of such somber music?

It wasn't fair. And to Gojo, he would never make sense of it, no matter how hard he tried.

"Ah, it's a beautiful day, (Y/N)." Gojo smiled warmly at your headstone before sitting on the smooth tile, rummaging through his bag to pull out a rag so he could wipe the dust that was on top of your engraved name. "Though I bet you're complaining about how hot it is. I know, it is a little toasty, but a beautiful day nonetheless."

Wiping the concrete clean, Gojo made sure it was spotless with all the cleaning supplies he brought. He had to make up for the year he was away; that's why he always deep-cleaned your headstone since he knew he wouldn't be back until next year. He wanted you to watch the seasons go by with a pretty headstone, one that sparkled whenever the sun cast its rays on it.

"Hm?" Gojo tilted his head as if to hear your unspoken question again. "Oh! I'm doing good. Still teaching. You'd love these lot of kids, though. They have such great potential and are such a reckless bunch who enjoy escaping off campus to follow me here."

"Crap! He's onto us." Gojo heard Nobara's voice from the bushes behind him.

"Do you think he knows?" Itadori asked in his typically clueless fashion.

"He knows, dumbass." Megumi sighed before emerging from the bushes with twiddledee and twiddledumb trailing behind him. Their bantering stopped once they saw Gojo sitting by your headstone, the air suddenly becoming still as they made their way closer.

"Gojo-sensei, we can explain—!"

"Don't even," the white-haired man laughed before gesturing toward the headstone. "(Y/N), meet my students. Students, meet (Y/N)!"

"Ah! Nice to meet you!" Itadori bowed in respect, and so did Megumi.

"Why are we bowing to a dead—" Grabbing ahold of Nobara's hand, Itadori forcibly pulled her down so she could bow as well.

"Oh, you kids are in so much trouble," Gojo said with a gleeful smile. "I'm already thinking of all the ways to punish you."

"In my defense," Megumi started, "I tried to stop them."

"Yetttttt you're still here." Tilting his head, Gojo looked at his students playfully. "I hope you all enjoyed this field trip, but let's head back to campus, yeah? And get ice cream along the way!"

"Oh! Ice cream!" Itadori and Nobara spun around in a dance as they made their way toward the entrance of the cemetery, the pair just finding it best not to question who you were or what you were to Gojo. They could finally sense what Itadori was talking about that morning. He was different today, and it was clear he was sad. "La la la la la!"

"Let's go, Megumi. Do you still prefer chocolate?" Gojo turned to walk away but stopped in his tracks when he noticed Megumi staring at your grave with an expression he couldn't read. "Megumi?"

"Gojo-sensei…" His student turned to look at him. "I just want you to know that it's okay to be sad, to grieve for her."

Gojo chuckled, tucking his hand in his pocket as a breeze cut through the air, its chilled warmth wrapping around the pair. "Who's to say I don't? I grieve her every day."

URAVITSY 2024

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ronwestbreeze · 1 year

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you're gonna go far | 5

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 7.4k

read on ao3

“What do you mean pregnant?” Jake questioned looking absolutely bewildered.

Next to you, Norm cleared his throat, “While we were doing our rounds here, Dr. Reeds discovered it. We ran some tests and turns out it’s true. Grace’s avatar is pregnant.”

Jake frowned, “I’m sorry, that still doesn’t explain how she got like this.”

You shrugged, not looking up from your tablet, “Well, apparently when two avatars love each other very much—”

“We don’t know.” Norm instead answered, sending you a glare, to which you ignored.

After your rather strange discovery, Norm got in touch with Jake and an hour later the rest of the scientists were cleared out of the room. And in replacement, three tall ass Na’vi crowded around Augustine’s avatar tank while you and Norm—still in human form—stood on the other side of the tank, staring straight at the glass while Jake, Neytiri, and Tsu’tey looked over it.

Their reactions were as expected. Jake confused. Neytiri wary yet curious. And Tsu’tey with his usual scowl—you were seriously beginning to think it was just the way his face was set—but with a hint of apprehension.

“She’s two months along or more, I’m honestly surprised we hadn’t noticed it until now.” Norm frowned, looking at the small stomach. The avatar wasn’t showing yet, perhaps because of how thin they all naturally were—but upon further inspection, the small two-month-old bump was quite noticeable.

“So, it just appeared? No explanation?” Jake questioned, also frowning down at the avatar. “How is that even possible?”

Again, you shrugged and finally looked up from your tablet. “Well, that depends,” Frankly, you didn’t want to be here. Being practically stuck in the same room with two people who both pissed you off and had you on guard constantly. Like they were going to attack you at any second—perhaps throw more baseless accusations your way. It would often leave you exhausted afterward. “What exactly was Dr. Augustine doing before her avatar ended up unresponsive? Any secret relationships? Did you ever find her sneaking out—possibly to meet someone in secret?”

Jake was the one who responded, unfortunately. “We shared a station together for three months. She never left that place or met with anyone.”

Norm nodded in agreement while Neytiri placed her hand on the tank glass, “In her last moments we tried moving her spirit through Eywa and into her false body. But she was very weak…Could she have been with child then?”

“Had to be. She couldn’t have been pregnant after—after she passed.” Norm crossed his arms—almost like he was hugging himself.

Well, that wasn’t much to go on but you didn’t say it out loud since the very sight of this woman’s avatar—or at least talking about her clearly made the four of them react.

You had no personal connection to the late Dr. Grace Augustine, she was your role model of course but that was about it. You’ve never met her, therefore you were the only one with an unbiased perspective.

Their reactions were different but the same in some ways.

Norm hid it by pushing forward and moving the conversation along. Neytiri doesn’t hide her emotion when talking about Dr. Augustine. Her face was gentle and grief-stricken. You wondered if Neteyam, who was snuggly strapped to her chest, felt his mother’s strong emotions.

Jake wore a mask of sorts but you could still see the traits. Low ears, tail tucked behind his leg, avoidant gaze—it was then you realized how easy it was to read Na’vi’s expressions. You wondered if reading humans was difficult for them, except for Jake. Na’vi just had a more expressive face. Unless they were experienced at hiding it well.

Like Tsu’tey. The clan leader looked distant and was the quietest out of the four.

You supposed that Grace seemed to be the one thing that bonded the four. Especially Jake, Neytiri, and Tsu’tey. They had each other to lean on, you could tell by how unconsciously they neared each other.

But you and Norm? Maybe you could lean on each other but it wasn’t necessarily the same.

You lost your mother. Who could you lean on?

It must’ve been nice.

You knew you had been staring too long when Tsu’tey’s eyes locked with yours.

As subtly as you could, you looked away to tune in back to what Norm was saying, “So obvious questions aside, what should we do?”

“That’s not an obvious question?” You frowned, earning a jab in your side from him.

The three were quiet as they glanced at each other—or rather they were having a silent conversation with each other. You could tell by the way Jake raised his brows in question. Neytiri’s meaningful look. And Tsu’tey’s narrowed eyes.

You tucked the tablet under your arm and cleared your throat, drawing their attention to you, “While you guys decide who should take care of it, the avatar would have to stay here. The baby—if there is truly one in there—would have to be born here.”

Norm nodded in agreement, “Grace’s avatar will be under Dr. Reeds’ care since she is the one who identified the fetus—"

“No.” Tsu’tey instantly scowled.

“Told you,” Norm mumbled next to you.

You rolled your eyes, briefly locking eyes with Neytiri who watched the two of you with a small frown. There was a flash of something that floated passed her eyes, something you didn’t have time to make out right now.

“The Sky People know nothing about caring for a child of our people.” Tsu’tey scowled. “None of them do! I will not trust the child—or sa’nok’s body in the hands of—”

“—Demon. Yeah, you’ve made that clear.” You cut in calmly, earning a warning look from Norm and a vicious glare from the clan leader. You ignored both, “The facts don’t change. The body cannot be moved. The avatar is essentially dead—this tank is its life support, therefore the baby’s life support. So, if we keep the avatar and the baby here—"

“You do not get to decide this—”

Now you were irritated. You tried. You really did. “Then deal with a dead fucking baby for all I care—”

“Reeds.” Norm frowned.

“Tsu’tey!” Neytiri hissed, giving the man’s arm a slight shove.

The only person who appeared calm was Jake—which wasn’t surprising. He was looking at you, not with malice or accusation, but with contemplation. “If we keep the baby here…?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line and let out a short, agitated breath. “Since the avatar is basically dead, it can’t push the baby out the usual way when the time comes to it. We’d have to perform a C-section to get it out.” Tsu’tey opened his mouth to protest but you quickly beat him to it, “Once the baby is born, it’s yours. I nor the rest of us have an interest in keeping it here. It would be illogical. Are rations are terrible already—we don’t have the resources to take care of a baby. So you won’t have to worry about it being raised by demons.”

In the last part, you directed your pointed look toward Tsu’tey was still glaring at you. A part of you was smug, the fear and hesitation around him slowly going away.

You really didn’t care much for what he thought about you and you made sure he knew it. Of course, being this reckless with your mouth wasn’t the smartest idea and he probably didn’t appreciate it—but perhaps that was the best part about it.

He hissed something in Na’vi at you, which he knew you wouldn’t understand. The one thing he had over you. And with his own carefully crafted smugness, he knew this too. You rolled your eyes.

Neytiri snapped at him in response which seemed to surprise both Tsu’tey and Jake. You glanced toward Norm with a questioning look. He leaned toward your ear and mumbled, “Essentially, Neytiri’s okay with you watching over Grace’s avatar.” You both watched Tsu’tey reply with the same amount of ferocity. “And Tsu’tey’s pissed that she’s siding with you.”

You hummed but didn’t respond. Neytiri agreed with the plan, this also surprised you but you refused to allow the others to see that. Instead, you’d hold your chin high and bathe in your victory of having at least one of them agree with you for once.

It was nice that Neytiri was defending your idea. At least someone in this room was sane enough to.

Jake, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly cut into Neytiri and Tsu’tey’s argument, which caused the both of them to turn to him. He said something to them in a lowered voice and before you could ask Norm what he was saying, Neytiri and a begrudged Tsu’tey suddenly left the room.

You watched their retreating figures with quiet curiosity, until Jake spoke again in English, “Norm, can Reeds and I have the room?”

Now you were frowning. Hell, you were sure you looked like Tsu’tey then. Norm gave you a pleading look, one that said, ‘Just talk to him’.

And it took a lot. Every bit of strength to restrain yourself from snapping at Norm and telling him it was a bad idea to leave the both of you alone.

But instead, you ended up holding back a groan in your throat. You wouldn’t let him see you snap like that. You wouldn’t break your resolve so easily around him again.

Eventually, you nodded stiffly, “Go ahead. We’ll be quick.”

After a nod and a pat on your shoulder, Norm left you and Jake alone.

The last time the two of you had been alone was when you set your mother’s lab on fire. You wondered if this was his chance to find fault in you again. To throw more accusations your way.

Jake watched you. And you watched him.

Stubbornly, you weren’t going to speak first. After all, he was the one who wanted to talk to you alone.

After another few seconds of you sizing each other up, he finally spoke, “Why the sudden interest in looking after Grace’s child, huh? What’s in it for you?”

You raised a brow, “Do you want some kind of sinister motive?”

He frowned at your very sardonic response, “No. Just the truth, if that isn’t too much.”

“The idea of truth seems subjective here.” You argued dryly. “No matter what I say, somehow I’m still made into this heartless demon you all have painted in your image. Don’t be surprised when I start acting like it at some point.” The latter was a dark joke of your own. But you failed to make that known to him.

Jake glared, leaning on the tank. The glass was impenetrable, it wouldn’t break under his weight. But it would leave unnecessary hand prints for someone to clean later. “Christ, can we just be straight with each other? You said yourself you had no interest in raising it. So why willingly volunteer to watch it?”

Despite your dislike for being alone with him—or him in general—you expected this question. It was an easy answer to which you had no problem responding to. Whatever it took to get this interaction done and over with as quickly as possible.

So, you gave a simple shrug, “The avatar got pregnant without having any intercourse. And I’ve checked. The development is impossible but remarkable. I want to study it closely, to learn how it happened and how it will continue to develop over time. Hell, we’re not even sure if this is an actual baby inside. Could be something else. We won’t know until it’s out.”

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy him. You could tell by the way his ears remained pinned at the side of his head, “So that’s what all of this is to you? A science project?”

“I’m a scientist.” You said plainly as if the answer was obvious. “Plus, it gives me something to do here. I have to make up the time I’ve lost.”

Jake frowned as if waiting for more. You did not offer more.

“And you think you are capable of doing it?” It was your turn to frown. That was a question you weren’t exactly prepared for. More or less that was the last thing you expected him to ask. “Are you really equipped to take on something like this? Especially now?”

You glared now, “Are you questioning my credentials?”

“No, I have no doubt that you’re good in your field—”

“Excellent. I am excellent in my field.”

“—Your actions are unpredictable—”

“Ah, so you’re questioning my stability.” Your skin boiled with barely hidden rage. You wouldn’t let him see you snap like that. You wouldn’t break your resolve so easily around him again. “Afraid I’ll blow up another lab?”

Jake scowled, “That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

It was a standoff. The two of you. Jake’s gaze was intense and yours severe. His jaw tightened and he shook his head with a humorless snicker, “You're impossible.”

“And you have no right to question whether or not I am in stable condition for a job I am qualified for.” You snapped back, your resolve barely holding by a thread. “So, is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Is that why you wanted to see me alone so that you could ridicule me without eyes watching? Do you think you’re a better man for that, Sully? Why don’t you just be straight with me, like you wanted? Stop fucking beating around the bush!”

“Yeah?” He challenged with a mocking chuckle. “You want me to be straight with you? Fine. Tsu’tey doesn’t trust you with Grace’s avatar—”

You scoffed, “Clearly!”

“—and I don’t either.”

With a shrug, you placed your tablet down, “Frankly, Sully, I have no interest in earning your trust. I’m here to do my job. That’s all. A job I have no choice in doing since I am stuck here on your planet. Trust has nothing to do with it.”

He looked resigned, guarding his face once more. The silence was all too consuming.

Jake didn’t want this. He was supposed to be making peace with you. At least attempt to be cordial with one another.

But you were impossible. You were difficult.

You saw no point to this conversation. Never did from the beginning. Why he wanted to talk to you in private only to rehash what’s already been said. What’s already been known. You didn’t understand what he was trying to do here. There was nothing else they could possibly talk about past the subject of the mysterious fetus. You did not want to be here.

He was impossible. He was difficult.

Jake straightened his back—a small inkling in the back of your mind wondered if that was the Marine in him. Standing to attention, as if addressing someone with power well above him. Or his enemy. You really couldn’t tell with them. “So where does that leave us?”

“It’s really simple, actually.” You crossed your arms. “The body can’t be moved. The avatar stays here. And so does the growing fetus. You clearly want it so it will be all yours when it’s born. Far away from my destructive hands. Does that work for you?”

After a long—unnecessary bout of silence—Jake finally pushed away from the tank, “Norm will be with you?”

You glared and clenched your jaw, “If that will get you to leave quicker, then yes.”

His tail lashed behind him, “Fine. Do what you want.”

Finally, he left. And you were alone.

After a moment of silence. After a moment of gathering yourself with a bit of pride left , you moved closer toward Dr. Augustine’s tank and frowned down at the growing stomach, “Good luck, kid. If you’re not careful, he just might end up as your father.”

The following days continued as usual, except after you were done with your garden, you headed over to the tank room to check on the fetus. You did things like making sure it’s kept healthy and or safely growing in the womb. Surprisingly, it was just as peaceful as tending to your garden. Sometimes a few scientists would pop in every now and then to check on other tanks, but most times it was just you and Dr. Augustine’s avatar. And it wasn’t entirely so bad being in almost total silence for the first time in a while.

Neytiri would come to the gardens whenever she could. Either keeping you company while giving advice and directions about how to better your crops. Or gently scolding you about how loud you continue to be while trekking through the forest.

Today, you were doing the latter. It was something different, a little change in your usual routine. You now carried your tablet in a bag in case any alert from Dr. Augustine’s avatar notified you as you followed Neytiri through the forest. Mimicking her every movement like you had done last time.

“You move with the forest. You listen. You see.” Neytiri jumped over a branch as you finally finished the climb up the tree the both of you were on. A part of you was envious of her ability to climb with ease while your cheeks only flushed with both being out of breath and embarrassed as she watched you try and fail to climb this godforsaken tree.

“Okay,” You nodded as you settled on the branch with her. It was uncomfortable, especially squatting the way she was. “What exactly am I supposed to be seeing?”

Neytiri frowned, “I cannot make you see. Only you can.”

You looked down at your now bare feet, not really sure how to respond to that or what it really meant. And you had a feeling that if you asked again, she’d probably scold you for it and further confuse you. So instead you looked up at some of the leaves above you. You raised your hand and let your fingers gently graze it, so very gently as if it would crumble beneath your touch.

The forest was overwhelmingly beautiful. Every day it was like you were looking at it for the first time. The healthy trees and plants. The wildlife that you avoided but watched from afar. Hearing the quiet streams of water running about in whichever direction you turned.

Somedays it reminded you of what you lost back on Earth. What the world had done to it. And how many, many years ago it had once looked as beautiful as this.

On other days, you appreciated the forest. For its food, for its beauty. Sometimes you liked the idea of calling this place your new home even though you weren’t quite sure what the exact word ‘home’ meant to you right now.

While caught up in your misty thoughts, you missed the way Neytiri watched you quietly. How she noticed your hidden wonder. The way your lips almost curve up until it’s back in that firm straight line again. Or how your face became gentle even for the slightest second before it’s gone as quickly as it had come. Like you were consciously keeping yourself from being content.

It was intriguing, watching how Sky People worked. Though of course, Neytiri would never admit this out loud.

But most of all, it was intriguing—almost alluring—watching how you worked.

Eventually, she caught sight of your mother’s songcord still wrapped around your wrist with a small frown.

Your slow methodic thoughts were soon interrupted when Neytiri grasped the wrist with your mother’s songcord around it. Instantly you tensed as she brought your wrist closer for her to see. But once you realize she made no sudden moves to take the cord from you, you relax. Only slightly.

She thumbed one of the beads, “When you die, your family sings your songcord to remember your life. And then it is given back to you.” Neytiri looked at you then, curiously. “You do not know your mother’s songcord.”

It wasn’t a question but more a knowing statement. Carefully, you took your wrist back from hers and held it close to your chest, “Obviously, I didn’t get much of a chance to.”

She nodded but didn’t push on the subject. Instead, she stood up on the branch just as something shuffled below the both of you.

Neytiri grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet, “Come, come!”

Shed led you through the trees. It was especially difficult to keep up going from branch to branch and copying her movements to the best of your ability. At some points, you nearly slipped only to be quickly caught by Neytiri and forced to keep going. You both admired and envied her ease in prowess.

At some point, you both landed in a tree that gave you both a good view of the forest floor. There, was a creature slinking around the thick bushes. Neytiri crouched on the branch to watch the creature just as another came out into the light.

“Nantang.” She pointed at the creature below. “You Sky People call them viperwolf.”

“Nantung.” You repeated slowly, crouching down next to her.

“Nantang.” She corrected.

“Nantang.”

With a small nod, she gave your forehead a little shove with an open palm hand, “You are not good with our language.”

But she didn’t seem annoyed when she said this. Instead, she looked rather amused with the way her ears were raised high and her tail swinging behind her.

Below you, the viperwolves began moving away from the trees and further within the bushes. You watched them curiously, moving Neytiri’s hand from your forehead, “Are they dangerous? The—Nantang?”

“Most are.” Neytiri frowned, dropping her hand to her side. She then stood. “We leave them be. We do not kill unless—unless we have no choice.”

“Hmm, so no hunting them then?” You watched her thoughtfully. “So are you guys vegetarians?” She stared at you blankly. You pressed your lips into a thin line and reconsidered your words, “Do you not eat any meat?”

Understanding crossed her features as she nodded, “We do. Just not them.”

You nodded, crossing your legs together on the branch you were sitting on as you thought about this. After another pause, you took out your tablet from your bag to take down some notes—only for Neytiri to smack your arm and scowl, “No. None of that! We move.”

“Alright, alright.” You sighed, placing your tablet back into your bag. “But if I slip again, just let me fall. I deserve it for being so unathletic.”

Neytiri rolled her eyes and pushed forward. Reluctantly, you followed her.

At some point, you stopped wearing shoes in your avatar body.

After unlinking for the day, you headed over toward the tank room, only to find a certain Na’vi already there talking to Norm. Both noticed you and stopped whatever conversation they had upon seeing you enter.

“Ah, Reeds!” Norm cleared his throat as you approached Dr. Augustine’s avatar. “We were just finishing up here. We’ll be out of your way soon.”

You shrugged, tucking your tablet under your arm as you studied the controls of the avatar’s tank. “It’s not like you’re not allowed in this room. All I do is make sure the baby is healthy and leave. Doesn’t really take that long.” Eventually, you allowed yourself to acknowledge the Na’vi curtly. “Sully.”

“Dr. Reeds.” Jake nodded back with a tight, awkward smile.

“There haven’t been any big updates if that’s what you’re here for.” You said while staring at the avatar. It twitched every now and then as usual.

“We were just catching up.” Norm explained with a faint smile sent your way. “How’s the garden holding up?”

You shrugged, keeping your focus glued to your work, “Everything’s growing just fine. In a few weeks, we might be ready for harvesting. It’s actually fascinating how fast everything’s growing.” If you were in your avatar body, your tail would be wiggling from side to side at this revelation despite your monotone voice. “Neytiri’s been a big help too—the Na’vi way is a lot more effective compared to human techniques and efficiency. I’m actually starting to wonder what else I could learn from her…”’

It wasn’t intentional, but you were really beginning to become intrigued by the Na’vi and their culture. If you were going to be on Pandora—for what seemed like a long time—then you’d have to get accustomed to their ways at some point. Especially, when you didn’t have any particular interest in causing problems with them by doing everything wrong and very human-like. Attempting to do it their way was the only way to go and the easiest path so far.

Norm was grinning at you and you frowned, “What?”

“Nothing. I’ll leave you to it.” He then turned to Jake. “You stayin’ longer?”

Right, you had forgotten about him for a second. Briefly, with little interest, you glanced toward Jake who gave a short nod, “Yeah, I’ll stay for a little bit.” He then met your gaze, matching your guarded expression. “If that’s not a problem”

Norm watched the two of you, noticing the tension.

You stiffened. What the hell was this guy’s problem? Did he enjoy fighting with you, what was it? There was nothing stopping him from waiting until you were done so that he could have the room alone. But for some reason, he thought staying with you there was a good idea.

He must’ve been some kind of masochist. Yeah, had to be.

That, or he was keeping a close eye on you. After all, he did say that he didn’t trust you. Wouldn’t be a totally impossible thought.

So instead, you answered his question with one of your own, “Is it a problem for you?”

His tail swished behind him, “No. Not at all.”

He watched you. And you watched him.

You sniffed and returned your focus back on the avatar, “S’like I said. I won’t be long.”

Cautiously, Norm spoke, “I’ll leave the both of you to it then, yeah?” He walked passed to you, not before mumbling, “Play nice,” and he departed, leaving just you and Jake in the tank room.

The room was deathly quiet as you worked. You figured since Jake was going to be here watching over your every move, you’d ignore him and just do the work. Quick enough for you to leave and be out of his presence. That was all that mattered at the moment.

There was just nothing more to talk about with him. Besides the fetus, you couldn’t fathom what else there was to be discussed.

So far, you were actually doing a good job pretending he wasn’t there. Sure, he was a ten-foot-tall alien that practically towered over you and made you freeze every time something in the corner of your eye moved—it was him every time—the work in front of you was distracting enough. And so was observing the mysteriously pregnant and obviously brain-dead avatar.

It was weird, no, fascinating. How an avatar would end up pregnant without the user actively using it was beyond you. It was like one of those unsolved patient stories or records back on Earth. Only this time you didn’t have to worry much about necrophilia. At least you hoped you didn’t. You put that in your notes.

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

Despite your stubbornness, you froze. Unsure if what you heard was real or perhaps that you imagined it. A part of you hoped you imagined it. A part of you hoped that you had just gone crazy. Yes, that should’ve explained it. Some childish part of you just wanted someone to pity you for once. To say these words to you. And so you imagined them to cope. You imagined someone would for once see you passed the Dr. Reeds. Human. Demon.

It was only your imagination—

“And I’m sorry for how I acted before.” Jake continued on the other side of the tank. Your grip on your tablet tightened as you listened to him. He paused for a long moment as if carefully considering his words. “You’re in a difficult position and I didn’t make it easy on you. That’s on me.”

So much for ignoring him.

You forced yourself to look up at him, a frown on your lips, “What do you hope to gain from this? Why apologize now?”

He winced but didn’t back down. His resolve was much more brazen unlike yours which was still barely hanging on by a thread. Unlike you, he wasn’t exhausted keeping it up all the time. “A truce. Especially, since I will be visiting often.”

Now you were more annoyed than confused, “Why do you need to keep visiting? I already said there haven’t been any updates. Plus, Norm would be telling you whether or not you’re needed here—”

Jake shrugged, ears twitching, “Well if I’m hoping to be her father, I gotta see her progress for myself, don’t I?”

You stopped and watched him both warily and—maybe intrigued by this new piece of information. It wasn’t shocking, really. You kind of figured he would end up taking responsibility for this child. And you had no doubt Neytiri and—possibly Tsu’tey agreed to this considering how much all three of them seemed to care for Dr. Augustine. It wasn’t at all surprising that they decided to raise the child as if it were their own.

“And you’re willing to endure interactions with me for this child?” You chuckled humorlessly. “How brave of you.”

But Jake shook his head, “No, it’s not just about the baby. We have to work together on this. All this hostility—it has to end right here right now. We don’t have to like each other—but I will admit I wasn’t fair to you and I let the situation—your whole arrival get to me. A rookie mistake on my part. I thought—I was protecting my clan.”

For a moment you really considered him. Considered his words. Considered all of him. All of what you knew of Jake Sully so far.

And then you remember Norm’s words to you all those nights ago. When you were going to meet the Tsahik. You remember him saying that they were scared when you had arrived and you remembered understanding that. In the midst of your anger, you understood why they acted the way they did. Still to this day, a part of you knew they were justified in their hatred for the Sky People. Hell, you faced DeVoe and developed a certain dislike toward those people as well.

But it was still your anger. You would not take the blame for something that was out of your control. Something you had no part in. You would not apologize for being put in unfortunate circumstances.

Surprisingly, Jake seemed to read your mind as he said, “I’m not asking anything from you in return. Just a truce and an apology. You deserve that, at least.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, clutching your tablet close to your chest, avoiding his gaze, his expectant look that waited for you to respond. Right now you really wished you were in your avatar body because you hated him looking down at you. You hated being small around him.

But your steeled spine made up for it at least. “We don’t have to like each other.”

Jake nodded, “We don’t.”

You sniffed, “Good. Because I don’t particularly like you still.”

“Yeah,” He sighed, massaging his face. “Sometimes I don’t either.”

Neytiri didn’t come the next day. Which wasn’t out of the ordinary. Some days she just didn’t come. She had a baby and a clan to worry about after all. You couldn’t exactly expect her to put all of that on hold for you and your little garden.

Plus, there wasn’t much to check in the garden anyway today. All you had to do was water it and make sure the sun was shining on the correct plants. So, you spent most of your time foraging in the forest—making less noise like Neytiri showed you—gathering new fruits and mushrooms to plant once your other ones were finished growing. Of course, you’ll already have the seeds from the newly grown plants but it was nice to have a few extras just in case.

When you finished your foraging and stored all the fruits and mushrooms in a safe place, you unlinked from your avatar and went to the tank room. Technically, you weren’t really required to check it every day once you got a better understanding of the tank. It was specifically created to hold a growing avatar, sure, but you didn’t know if that stretched to a pregnant avatar or not. So checking on it every day was an extra precaution.

You weren’t exactly well informed about how the whole avatar creation or technology worked. All you knew was the information that was given to you through your mother’s diary videos. Even then she really didn’t go into too much detail about it as she kept jumping from one point to another with haste and excitement.

So, during your visits to the tank room, you took notes. By now you are almost halfway through your journal the more you write. And it wasn’t even organized, just a bunch of random notes and thoughts on a piece of paper. With writing that looked like chicken scratch.

When you had nothing more to write or look at on the tablet, you examined what would be Dr. Augustine’s face on the avatar.

Norm came in at some point and you asked him, “What was she like? Dr. Augustine.”

He’d smile fondly at the avatar, his eyes glazed over in memory, “A brilliant woman who cared a lot for the Na’vi. You know she had a school? It’s what made her fall in love with it all. The children loved her.”

You raised your brows curiously when he said that, “You mention you’re around children for most of your day. Are you running her school now or something?”

“No.” He laughed as if the thought were impossible. “No, I just help out with the Omatikaya children whenever I can. Sure, I do teach them English but not on the level Grace did it. Not even close.” His eyes twinkled when he looked at you. “I think she would’ve liked you.”

You didn’t say anything to that. Instead, you offered, “Don’t sell yourself short, Spellman.”

“Same to you, Reeds.”

A few days went by and it was time to harvest your garden.

Neytiri came with Neteyam strapped to her chest. He was wide awake, staring around wide-eyed and curious as usual. Your chest felt just a bit lighter watching him, his innocence so very infectious. You had never been around many babies—no younger siblings and all. It was always you and your mother. And many other scientists. Come to think of it, you weren’t really surrounded by many children your age. If any at all.

You filled the second basket up with more fruits from your garden before glancing toward Neytiri who was picking the mushrooms and collecting them in her arms.

“How are they?” You called.

Neytiri looked back at you and nodded, “Very healthy. Enough to feed an entire village.”

You walked over to her and hummed, tail swinging slightly. “You think it’s too much?”

She shook her head and smiled contently, “No, you did really well with them. Do you plan to make more once you’ve harvested?”

“That’s the hope.” You nodded, crossing your arms. Neteyam’s large yellow eyes looked at you quietly as you moved around her to get a better look at the mushrooms. “Maybe I’ll dial it back with the next one. Technically, I didn’t plant these, all we did was save it from dying. Imagine if we let them die, all of this. What a waste it would’ve been.”

“I’ll help whenever you do,” Neytiri assured, which surprised you. She then grabbed your wrist. “Come. We should put this all away. We’ll travel through the trees again today.”

Intrigued by this, you nodded. After you brought all the freshly picked fruits, vegetables, and mushrooms to the scientists to put away, you followed Neytiri into the forest.

It was the same as last time. Both you and Neytiri quietly moved through the trees—it was a struggle still to climb again but thankfully Neytiri didn’t notice. Or if she did, she didn’t say anything. Just correct your body whenever you are doing something wrong. Whenever she did correct you though, it made the climb a little easier as you went.

You ran into one of those viperwolves but were able to get past them without any problems—again, thanks to Neytiri. But you did eventually end up running into a couple more creatures that seemed to be less dangerous.

One of them being those horse-like creatures.

“Pa’li,” Neytiri had called these creatures while petting one of them.

You watched them in awe and interest as she mounted it. She took her braid—queue—and placed it near the pa’li’s antenna. Your eyes widened when the tendrils between the queue and the antenna connected. Once it did, the creature calmed underneath Neytiri. Becoming familiar with her, as if they had known each other for a while. And maybe they did.

Neytiri smiled down at it, “We bond with them just as we bond with the rest of the life here. It is our way.”

A few other pa’li galloped toward you. One nudged past you but was quite skittish about it. At first, you didn’t approach it right away. Instead, you tried to remember how Neytiri did it. Slow in approach, which actually worked. The pa’li watched you, both warily and intrigued.

When you were close enough, you grabbed your queue and placed it near the antenna. Awed, you watched the tendrils slowly connect. A sudden unfamiliar feeling hit your body when your queue connected with the pa’li. The sensations were strange but you felt another emotion that wasn’t your own. The pa’li.

Scared but curious about you. Hesitant to get near you but also feeling the bond beginning through your queue. It was all so strange and unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

A sudden shudder hit your spine just as the pa’li screeched and ran off, breaking the connection.

You grunted while Neytiri laughed, “Maybe next time, tanhi.”

There was a small pout on your lips, a quiet part of you missing the strange and new connection, “Guess I’m just not an animal person.”

“You will try again soon.” She assured as she slid off her pa’li with Neteyam babbling against her chest. “But it will not be today. I must leave for a hunt soon. Another day, perhaps, I will teach you.”

You were surprised at this, “Really? Teaching a Sky Person, huh? Does that mess with you morally or…?”

Neytiri frowned, “Teaching you will help you survive. Not me.” She patted the snout of the pa’li before watching it gallop away with his group. “It is not the first time I have taught a Sky Person our way.”

It took you a moment to realize what she meant, “You taught Sully, didn’t you?”

She did not answer this of course, but you had a feeling you already knew it without her having to say it. “Do you want to learn or not?”

Your tail swished, Neytiri noticed. “I’d like that. Besides, you’re a pretty good teacher as far as I can tell. I don’t think I’d want anyone else.” There was probably no one else who would even offer to teach you like Neytiri did. So, this was the kind of offer you couldn’t refuse.

Neytiri nodded, the beginnings of a smile reaching her lips. For a moment you admired her smile.

And then the next you envied it.

Jake was in the tank room on another day. You entered as usual in human form. A week had passed since your agreed-upon ‘truce’ and you were slowly growing accustomed to his presence the best way you could. Most days, he wasn’t always there. Those were the days when you were relieved and felt like you could relax a bit.

But on the days he was there, you took to ignoring him like you originally planned. And thankfully, he didn’t seem bothered by that. Sometimes he’d ask questions here and there about the fetus, but other than that, the two of you were in your own little worlds.

And you were fine with this. Perhaps Jake had the right idea about this little truce. It certainly made things easier. You were still tense around him of course—mostly because you felt like he was watching you whenever he thought you weren’t looking—but it was manageable.

Upon observing the avatar, you noticed the belly bump becoming just a little more visible as time went by—which wasn’t much time at all. You began to wonder about the differences between Na’vi pregnancy to human pregnancy.

Currently, you are going through past video logs of Grace Augustine to get some idea of how her avatar came to be pregnant.

Once more you were reminded that you weren’t alone as Jake spoke from the other side of the room, “Any theories?”

You glanced over your shoulder to see that he was watching you work with an intense look—or maybe his face was naturally like that.

A beat went by before you considered responding to his question, “Besides divine intervention? No, not really.” You turned back to the logs and made a face when Norm started showing up more in her videos. You turned back to Jake who was still watching you, “Norm and Grace didn’t—”

“No, no, they didn’t.” Jake quickly said, looking just as uncomfortable as you felt asking. “God, at least I hope they didn’t—I wasn’t always around them when linked up—he was always with Trudy actually—you know what, I rather not think about it.”

You hummed, “It was worth a shot asking.” After shutting and placing your tablet down on the table you sat at, you sunk further into your chair as you began mumbling to yourself. “Looks like I might as well have to stick with your Eywa impregnating her. Virgin Mary and all.”

“Right.”

Another silence settled between you two. You wrote down in your notes while absentmindedly listening to Jake’s quiet breaths further behind you, too acutely aware of his presence.

“About what I said about not trusting you…” Jake started and you refrained from rolling your eyes at the interruption of your note-taking and thoughts. “I’m not here to monitor you or anything and I didn’t mean—”

“Sure you did.” You say simply, glancing back at him with an impassive expression. “No point in going back on it now.”

“I was reckless with my words—”

“Reckless words have some truth to them.” You shrugged and turned back to your notes. “If it helps, I don’t trust you either, Sully.”

“Neytiri does.” That made you pause. That made you look back at him in both defense and confusion, trying to figure out just what he was trying to get at here. Jake wore a look of contemplation as if he were trying to figure something out himself, “She was the first one to agree to you watching over Grace’s kid. She fought Tsu’tey on it when usually she’d be on his side whenever it came to humans. That means something to me.”

You considered his words. Truth be told, you didn’t know why Neytiri agreed to it. Frankly, it was going to happen either way—but having Neytiri unexpectedtly on board with the plan wasn’t something any of you saw coming. You still didn’t necessarily know how to feel about that yet.

But it seemed Jake did.

Instead of addressing it, you clicked your pen close, “I’ll send updates through Norm if anything changes. Maybe through Neytiri too whenever she makes her rounds over here.”

After a pause, Jake nodded, “Copy that.” Surprisingly—and quite relieving—he began to take his leave. Which meant that the conversation was now done, thankfully. Before he left the room, he turned back to you with a twitch of his tail, “And thank you, Doc.”

“Just doing my job, Sully.” You shrugged, closing your notebook. “It’s about time, right?”

It meant something. It had to. Even if he wasn’t sure if he believed in all this Eywa stuff, he believed in Neytiri. He respected Mo’at.

They saw something in you that he clearly could not see just yet. Perhaps it was now time he had to open his eyes.

Perhaps it was time for Jake to finally see.

hiii! wow, sorry about the wait! my schedule got so crazy the past couple of weeks, i barely had a moment to actually sit down and write this. but finally, here is chapter five!

i know a lot of you were worried i dropped this but don't worry, i'm still here! just barely surviving life lol.

anyways, looks like jake and reeds are finding each other at least tolerable now...

(i'm not adding anymore people anymore!)

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @sillyblues @squirtlebob @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird

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gravedigginbbydoll · 1 year

Text

Phantom of the Night

Phantom! Eddie x Fem! Reader Smut Blurb

AN: Hello! I am a huge POTO fan, and obsessed with men in masks. I wanted to write this for fun and for spooky season. It's a length and smut filled blurb. I'm sorry about the college of pictures not being as inclusive as I'd like (it's hard asf to find POTO aesthetic in varying body types :/ ) but promise that the description is vague and meant for anyone AFAB or feminine leaning :) (psst: this ones for my ghouls @eddies-house @xxhellfiregirlxx @ghost-proofbaby who I adore and feed my delusions lol)

Warnings: MDNI! mature themes, dubcon, vouyerism, somnophilia, mentions of exhibitionism, corruption kink, bondage, biting, oral, penetration, virginity, loss of innocence, masks, dom! Eddie, posessive, body worship, stalking and obsession, kidnapping, etc.

As a child, you had been brought up in the exquisite opera house that your town boasted of, your father taking you often to see the shows and ballets performed there. He was a violinist, a talented one at that, and had many close friends who performed at the opera. Growing up, it was just the two of you. Your mother had grown deathly ill when you were five. She passed there soon after, leaving you and your father alone. In womanhood now, you sensed that he brought you to the opera so often rather than get you a nanny to distract you with elaborate performances in order to hide your fearful loneliness that a young girl got with losing her mother.

But now you were a woman, a member of the opera yourself in the corps de ballet, your years of training under Karen, your father’s old friend, finally coming into play. You took the job soon after your father's death when you turned 20, desperate to keep the estate he left you and not leave the home and comfort of the opera house. Besides, you loved ballet and the elegance it left you feeling, despite the pain. But it was nothing compared to your true love. Singing. Music.

Your father had you take singing lessons as a young girl, but those lessons were now lost in years of memories. You tried to practice alone but felt off-pitch. It was disheartening. You mostly had done so as a hobby rather than a real-life pursuit of the stage, not believing yourself to be skilled enough. You kept it hidden from the rest of the troupe, embarrassed over what they would say about a grown woman attempting to learn to sing and having daydreams of the stage.

Which is what led you to this point. You had found a few places to practice in the opera house, the building so old that there were many hidden passageways and nooks and crannies. You often tried to use these locations in order to practice. Your betrothed, Steven, constantly scolded you and claimed one day you would get lost and no one would be able to find you in the maze that was the opera house. (Steven meant well, but could sometimes be more like a mother hen.) Still, you found yourself overwhelmed by curiosity and in need to explore more and more of the building.

You looked around, curious to see if anyone was nearby. You had found this entrance behind a mirror in a makeup room, the dark and almost damp hallway confusing you. You walked on further, the long skirts of your white gown brushing the cold stone floor, probably dirtying the edges. You held the candle you used as a light in a shaky hand, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the chill. This place reminded you of dreams you so often had involving a dark dim cave, some mysterious yet enchanting man…no, creature…whisking you away with his lulling voice and seductive tones. You felt your heart race and your thighs squeeze together at the thought.

You were ashamed of these dark desires. You were always told that women weren’t meant to feel lust. Ballerinas were not meant to daydream about dark and haunting shadowy figures whisking them away into the night against their will. That was why you were so passive in your arranged engagement with Steven. What did it matter that you felt not a bit of swirling desire for the man if you were not meant to? He had good money and was kind and treated you well, despite your less-than-normal childhood. Maybe after the wedding, you could squash all these horrid and sinful feelings in your belly.

While lost in thoughts, you heard a gust of wind brush by you, the sudden draft blowing out your candle. You gasped, your heart racing as you caught the sudden flash of movement by you, fear squeezing up your throat. The figure moved in a flash, clearly tall and lean.

“Hello? Who goes there?” You called out, willing yourself to swallow down the frightful feelings in your belly.

Nothing could be heard but the faint drip of aging pipes and the rustle of the wind in the ancient hallways. You sighed, turning back to where you came from. Perhaps Nancy was correct and you could stand to stop reading things filling your head with the idea of monsters lurking in the night.

You laid on the gaudy chaise lounge, restless and unable to sleep. Karen, in an attempt to be motherly with you, was earlier discussing ‘wifely duties’ with you, well aware that your education on the matter was crude at best from the words you heard other girls in the corps giggle over. Or occasionally, the male singers would boast of their escapades. She filled you with this idea that women were to lay there to be for their husbands and bear children. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting more. For the past few months, you had been…exploring your own desires. You found you couldn’t sleep without it. And yet…

Tonight you were staying at the opera in an attempt to curb the dark desires in your belly. You knew nothing of a man’s touch but did not want to sully Steven with your lustful and seductive thoughts. You hoped staying in a room not your own would discourage your brain from such thoughts.

You agreed with Karen to stay in the private dressing room, despite the fluttering gasps of your peers in the corps. There were rumors of a dark figure that haunted the opera house, always causing mischief, running around and stealing props, leaving notes on the music sheets, and even occasionally harassing the singers by wrecking their rooms. You weren’t one for superstition, but felt also that perhaps the girls had a point. You had felt a presence near you often, something lingering but still there.

Just as you did lying there. You were only in your nightgown, the fabric thin and not modest at all. You could feel a presence despite the room being empty. You stared at the ceiling, your heart racing and an even more sinful thought entering your head.

What if you touched yourself with that presence watching?

You felt the heat creep from your neck to the tips of your ears, clearly embarrassed despite the lack of company. The thought excited you, the heat growing between your legs and your nipples pebbling at the thought. You sighed, cursing yourself but knowing you could not rest without the feeling of release.

You shakily grabbed at your skirt, pulling it up while turning to look at your reflection in the mirror. The mirror faced the chaise lounge. You felt a gasp escape your mouth as you looked at yourself. You looked…delectable. Absolutely depraved. Your eyes were dark with lust and your nightgown revealed most of your bare legs, part of it tugged down to reveal cleavage as your hardened nipples poked through the delicate white fabric.

You began to rub at the wetness between your legs, mewling pathetically at the friction and staring at yourself losing control. You felt your mind go foggy, your wetness growing as your moans became more desperate. You felt your eyes flutter, feeling as if the presence was staring at you. And whether it was the small sip you had of wine earlier you had with Karen or the lust clouding your thoughts, you swore you could see a shadow within the mirror, a pair of warm and sultry brown eyes slightly visible. The sight of the shadow caused you to reveal more of yourself, feeling the need to put on a winning show. You threw your head back, pulling the nightgown down more to free your breasts to the chilly air as you rubbed at your clit more ferociously, your moans and whimpers growing in desperation. You felt the tension in the room grow as the feeling grew before the tension snapped, leaving you shattering to pieces.

You panted as you came down from your high, letting yourself catch a breath and trying to fix your appearance. You turned towards the mirror slowly, your body heavy and worn. You saw only yourself. No warm or sultry eyes. No shadowy figure. Just you. You let your eyelids flutter as you head off to sleep, sure to dream of the dark presence once again. And just before you do…you swear you see the shadow flash across the mirror. But maybe it was just your tiredness affecting your sight.

The second time you experienced the presence was another night sleeping at the opera house in order to assist Nancy with her duties in the morning, since her mother, Karen, had left her in charge of the duties this time around, scolding her about needing to be responsible. You were asleep, dreaming and tossing while imagining that dark presence looming over you, your lust creeping in. In the dream, the dark shadow was looming over you, kissing up and down you, as silent as possible. You watched as the shape kissed its way down, growling hungrily at your entrance. You couldn’t see much but felt, almost as if it were real, lapping at your sensitive clit. You woke dazed, lust pooling between your thighs as you tried to sit up, sure you were feeling something licking and sucking on the swollen bud between your thighs. A gloved hand clamped down on your eyes and prevented you from seeing who the culprit was, your heart racing. You smelled the familiar mix of cinnamon and orange peel, along with sharp notes of rum and ginger, a tonic you knew as familiar among the singers in the opera to keep their vocals sharp. You felt your thighs shake, and moans leaving your mouth despite your brain's conflicting thoughts.

This is wrong. I don’t know this person. But…the pleasure…they are so skilled with their mouth…I’m so close.

You writhed, whimpering and attempting to escape the mouth to discover who was there, only to feel the other hand hold you tightly in place, a deep and fearful voice growling lowly.

“Stop your infernal movement, little angel. I would like to worship this beautiful cunt to the best of my ability,” The masculine voice ground out in agitation, the words sending chills up your spine and desire to build to the breaking point. Worshiping you? Men in high society didn’t worship working women like you. You were lucky to even find a betrothal while most dancers were considered ‘low and loose’ women who needed to work in order to gain money. This man was odd and…so very skilled at making you unravel.

You were drunk on the eroticism of it all. A stranger licking at you like a man starved of a month’s worth of meals, the inability to see his appearance, his demanding tone and forceful hand. You saw stars and felt your pleasure overcome you, your body shaking at your release that he seemed to slurp up, the noises so vulgar they would make a lady of the night blush. You lay there, eyes closed, catching your breath slowly. When your eyes finally fluttered open, you sat up, hoping to get to know the man behind your most recent confession in church, only to be met with silence, not a soul in the room. You felt your heart sink as you tried to fall back asleep, your mind swimming with thoughts of the mysterious voice and the warm, strong hands. It seemed the ghost of the opera might have been real after all.

Nancy and the other girls in the corps began to notice your distracted gaze, your prolonged nights at the opera, and your skittishness, trying to catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure when people claimed he zipped past. You felt a strange obsession, a need to follow the dark shadow and discover who was consuming your dreams.

You heard him at night occasionally, humming or singing. Or at least you thought it was him. It was a low and chilling sound. Your body thrummed with excitement anytime you thought you saw a flash of him in the rafters or heard a stair creak. You began to notice little gifts waiting for you in the dressing room, in your favorite nooks and crannies in the opera. Red roses and small notes in the messy script, usually referring to you as Little Angel. Nancy was worried about you, trying to escort you home often and getting Steven to dote on you more.

But you were done. Corrupted. Filthy. And you wanted nothing more than to be in the Phantom’s embrace once more. You wanted him to explore you. Ruin you. Your mind was riddled with him day and night.

You kept it hidden from everyone, but you often explored the ancient passageways now with the intention of finding him. Occasionally you left gifts. Your most used lipstick, a snippet of a poem, a book you had just read. You would come back to the spots to find the items gone, occasionally a rose left in their place. You felt giddy, like a schoolgirl. Your ghost…your Phantom… seemed to acknowledge you.

If only you could catch him…

It was a few months after weeks of giddy gift exchanges and running after shadows. The notes and roses stopped. The flashes of a dark figure ended. Perhaps it was a dream. Maybe you were just a fool who imagined or dreamed of the interactions.

On a dark night, you were aimlessly wandering the halls, singing to yourself a song you remembered your father singing. You had abandoned all hope of your dear ghost coming to capture you. Free you from a loveless marriage. You were set to marry Steven next week. Abandon the opera. Become a proper lady in society. At least Steven would not be disappointed when you laid there and bled for him, giving him a child 9 months later. You sighed to yourself, twisting your engagement ring, displeased with the thing. You wandered the underground tunnels, the candlelight dim in the dark halls. You felt your heart pick up as you heard a soft yet low voice, singing aloud. Your skin erupted in goosebumps, and your heart was racing.

“Phantom?,” You called out sheepishly.

The singing stopped. A deep voice coming from a direction you couldn’t discern.

“Little Angel. What is a lamb like you doing in a dangerous place like this?” called the voice, rough and cold. Was he upset with you? You were unsure.

You felt a tug at your heart, looking around and trying to find him. “Please, Phantom. I have only one week more at the opera. I cannot bear to not feel your touch another second,” you whimpered out.

“Ah, so you can crawl back to that insolent boy who does not deserve your glory? My heart cannot bear the rejection, Little Angel. Leave this monster be,” He growled out, still within the shadows.

Your heart leaped in your throat as tears entered your eyes, feeling your knees wobble as you crumbled to the ground. “Please, Phantom. I cannot bear to be without you. I do not want Steven. Forgive me, please…,” You sobbed softly, your emotions in a tangled mess.

You heard a sigh and felt yourself get grabbed from behind swiftly, a soft yelp about to leave your throat. That familiar gloved hand snuck over your eyes.

“Alright, Little Angel. On one condition…You mustn’t, under any circumstances, remove my mask,” He warned, his tone stern.

You nodded wordlessly, allowing him to pick you up, dropping your lit candle onto the damp floor. The light went out, but as he picked you up in his arms, you caught a brief glance of him. He was a tall and lean figure, his hair a long and curly mess, his face halfway covered by a mask. You could see his plush pink lips and long lashes, warm and enticing brown eyes.

He was beautiful.

You were tempted to remove the mask, curious as to why such an enticing man would haunt the opera. You refrained, however, out of respect. He tied a loose piece of fabric around your eyes, shielding your vision.

You were enthralled and scared.

You were laid down gently on a plush cushion and fabric, the cover softly removed from your eyes. You slowly opened your eyes in a dim and candlelit room, surrounded by aging theatrical props and the most plush velvet fabrics. You were on what appeared to be a bed, the dark figure standing before you. He wore a dark and long cloak, the hood down. His shirt underneath was a silky black shirt with a wide opening, displaying his chest. He wore dark pants and what seemed to be dress shoes. The items were all of high quality but it seemed they were at least a decade old. Upon looking up at his face, you saw he wore a white mask on half of it, his lips and half of his nose visible. His features were mostly soft, though he appeared worn from the years of seclusion and hiding.

You reached out to touch his cheek, only to have him grip your wrists. His hands were shaking. His dark eyes were swirling with desire and sorrow. Was he shaken because he needed you so fervently?

“You cannot touch me. I cannot bear it. If you were to touch me only to marry that…that damned fool later. My heart could not take it,” He growled out, his face twisted in sorrow and pain.

You felt a tug at your heart, your hands aching to touch him but deciding to respect his wishes.

“Alright.”

He got up, running over to a pile of old props from past shows, grabbing at one, and walking over to you, grabbing at your wrists before tying them quickly to the frame of the bed. Your heart began to race as your body heated up, your skin erupting in goosebumps as you bit softly at your lips. Phantom groaned softly, looming over you, his warm brown eyes stirring desire in your belly.

“Do not make such faces, Little Angel. You are so delicate, and I fear I will become without reason,” He groaned out, his eyes intense in their desire, his expression clear that it was hurtful to hold back.

You could feel your back arch, his stiffening member brushing against you, causing you to whimper. “Please Phantom…Abandon reason…ravage me,” You mewled, writhing under the dark figure.

His eyes became dark, his snarl deepening as he leaned in, his expression both terrifying and enthralling. “Be careful what you wish for, Little Angel. I am not too short of becoming a monster, devouring you.”

You whimpered, desire pooling as your eyelashes fluttered, and your body leaned towards him. Two could play at that game. “Please…I’m frightened. R-release me, monster,” You whined, writhing under the Phantom’s dark gaze. A smirk fell upon his lips, dimples evident as the smirk broke into a villainous grin.

“Oh, you should not have wandered into my lair, Little Angel. Now I must have you,” He growled lowly, taking his gloved hands and ripping open your corset before tearing at the chemise, the fabric pooling in shreds around you, your chest heaving in fear and excitement.

Your body was bared save for the underpants that exposed your ever-wet entrance, your legs shutting in embarrassment. The Phantom growled, kissing at your lips with hunger and desperation, moans lost on his lips. He kissed you until you gasped for air before biting, nipping, and kissing his way down, focusing on your breasts. You pinched and sucked upon your nipples, heightening your pleasure and making you writhe more under him, whimpers echoing in the cold and dim room. He bit and marked you, his movements like that of a wild beast.

“Ph-Phantom…Master… Devour me as you have before,” You whined out, meeting his wild brown eyes behind the mask as he looked up, snarling.

“Beg. Beg for it,” He snarled, hands continuing their tortuous teasing on your breasts.

“P-please… Master… Dev-devour me…I beg of y-you! I beg of you. I beg of you. I beg of you…,” You babbled, brain foggy with lust and his touch.

He grinned devilishly, his white smile making your heart race. “As you wish, Little Angel.”

He slowly made his way down, sure to kiss and mutter praises over you the entire time, letting you know how divine you were, leaving marks with sharp bites here and there. Finally, he reached your entrance, diving in as if it were his last supper. He flicked his tongue across your clit before sucking on it, alternating that and nibbling at your inner thighs, your body writhing like a woman possessed, your eyes rolling in pleasure.

He truly was wicked, worshiping you beyond your wildest dreams, his words meeting your ears and deepening the carnality within you. You were gone. Lost to this bodily sin.

“So divine. I do not deserve this beautiful cunt, these heavenly breasts, your godless moans… If this is the price I pay to become Lucifer’s lackey, I will happily pay the toll,” He babbled, fingers curling up into your entrance, his mouth still latching onto your clit.

You felt your back arch and felt a ripple through your body. You shattered around his finger, your orgasm taking over your mind. You whimpered as he continued to touch you past your high, your nerves so sensitive you felt tears come to your eyes. He stopped short, growling lowly.

“I’m going to condemn you, Little Angel. Fill you full of my cum. Mark you as mine and mine alone. You are my pet. My divine creature,” He snarled, his face twisted as you felt a shock of fear and lust overtake you. He could have you. You were his.

“P-please Phantom…Pl-please,” You whimpered, lip trembling in longing as your body shook with terror.

You suddenly felt a slow thrust into your entrance, the fullness causing a sharp pain, your head thrown back in a silent cry, eyes watering. The thrusting continued at a slow pace, the Phantom’s arms shaking as he appeared to hold back. You looked up at him, the desire growing sharper in you, your dull pain now adding to the pleasure, your legs slightly writhing. You fought against the ropes, whimpering. Phantom seemed to catch on as his brown eyes met yours, something in him snapping. He began snapping his hips at a ferocious pace, making you cry out as he continued to growl but also began to whimper and moan.

“Such a perfect cunt. A vision. They don’t deserve you. So flawless…Cannot wait to fill your belly with my seed…Corrupt and condemn such a goddess…Ravaged by a monster…What would Steven think…?”

You moaned at the suggestion, thinking of how scandalous the situation would be. Your high was coming along a lot faster as the Phantom growled in your ear, hand at your throat while squeezing the sides and cutting off air. You felt your mind panic suddenly as you writhed but moaned louder, the lightheadedness causing immense pleasure. You were so close.

“Oh, does my Little Angel enjoy that? Would you like to put on a show for the opera? Singing that beautiful song of pleasure?” He moaned out, his thrusts getting sloppier.

You felt yourself climb higher and higher towards release, reaching it finally when Phantom growled in your ear making you grow with a child, making everyone know you were his. You saw stars behind your eyes, your heart bursting from your chest as you panted. The Phantom chased his own high, filling you up shortly after, making you moan softly.

You attempted to catch your breath as the Phantom went to grab you a washcloth, wiping away at the spilling fluid. He released your wrists allowing you to rub at them. You flushed, your body limp and warm, worn out by the activity. You lay beside Phantom who held you to his chest, singing softly as you drifted off.

You woke up once in the middle of the night, Phantom asleep. You stared at his face, only noticing how much more peaceful he looked in his sleep. You bit your lip, wondering why a man would wear a mask, even during sexual activities. Curiosity always got the better of you. You reached out softly, peeling away the mask, being careful to make sure he didn’t stir. You gasped softly at the reveal. The man's half of his face seemed to have large scars as if someone had taken a chunk of flesh in a bite, perhaps an animal. His cheeks were riddled with them, and half of the tip of his nose also with a chunk missing.

You frowned, cocking your head. Sure he wasn’t gorgeous on that side but why was he here. He just seemed a little scarred. You softly touched the scars, the Phantom twitching at the touches in his sleep. You stop for a moment but again, only to have the mysterious man's eyes flutter open and horror and realization cross his face and he shoots up and snarls at you.

“You broke the one rule?” He growled, his eyes dark and anger-filled.

“I didn’t mean-”

You felt a quick hand tie you up again, the ropes had been on his side of the bed, You tugged against them, feeling panic come up your throat as he tilted your head up, eyes gleaming with villainy.

“From now on Angel, you belong to the Phantom of the Hawkins Opera. Edward Munson. But you may call me Master,” He growled out, his eyes swimming with possession, desire, and fury, your mouth opening to let out protests and failing to make a sound. There was no escape. No way to save yourself. You were his.

Be careful what you wish for.

THE END?

486 notes · View notes

musings-of-miss-j · 7 months

Text

no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part six: in which you wrangle out information about the doctor's segments, discover a library and obtain the favour of its obscenely wealthy resident

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will most likely not be romantic interests)

notes: is the burn even burning. slow burn, gn neutral reader who is occasionally referred to as 'miss', smart-ass reader with just a sprinkle of social anxiety and a healthy dose of skepticism

warnings: blood and organs. are we even surprised at this point

series masterlist

as always, let me know if you find any pronoun slips!! oh, and friendly reminder that reblogs help circulate my work much better than likes <3

word count: 4628 words

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“They are not clones,” he replied dismissively. “Have you nothing to say to explain yourself?”

“In that case, how precisely do you define them?” You prodded, all anxiety at your lateness forgotten in the face of this engrossing new mystery. “I’m assuming you created them. How, if not by cloning?”

The Doctor crossed his arms and stared you down. You gazed back up at him, resolute and unmoving in your curiosity. You looked different today, he noted; you apparently still hadn’t found your cloak judging from the fact you were wearing Childe’s, damn him,and the shadows under your eyes were more pronounced than usual. He frowned behind his mask. Had you not gotten enough sleep? Perhaps he shouldn’t have kept you in the lab so late; after all, sleep deprivation would make you more prone to committing foolish blunders in the vicinity of his precious experiments. He couldn’t have that.

“My segments are none of your concern,” he said with an air of finality.

“Doctor, as your apprentice, am I not entitled to having any questions outside my realm of expertise answered by you?”

Oh, you devious thing.

With a dismissive wave of his gloved hand, the Doctor swept past you towards the reflux apparatus he set up the night before.

“Provide an acceptable excuse for your tardiness, and perhaps then I’ll be more accommodating.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, unsurprised by his persistent give-and-take mentality, and made your way to your array of petri dishes. Under different conditions, the fungi growing within them developed a multitude of characteristics; under direct sunlight, tendrils of green plantlife snaked through the mycelium, when submerged in water the fungi formed tiny yet distinctive fins, and many other such phenomena.

“I had an encounter with Lady Eight and Lord Eleven after the lab session.”

“One that lasted well past midnight?” He asked, stealing glances at you as he set up the next step of his current experiment.

“Yes,” you confirmed with a disdainful roll of your eyes. “Hence my lack of punctuality. I had to entertain guests.”

Outrage flared in Dottore’s chest. How dare they intrude upon you at such an inopportune time? Of course, he conveniently dismissed the fact that he was the one who kept you so late in the first place; as far as he was concerned, he was entitled to your company. You were his apprentice, after all.

“Understandable enough,” he conceded.

You shot him a look. “Well? Your… segments? What are they, precisely?”

He muttered something unintelligible before responding. “Iterations of myself at various ages.”

“I counted seven of them. Are there any more? What purpose does their existence serve? How did you create them?”

“You’re terribly inquisitive today, dear student,” he drawled, holding a test tube to the light and swirling the contents. You frowned. Did he intend to leave your questions unanswered? You really were awfully curious. “Count yourself lucky that I’m in fine spirits today.”

Visibly brightening, you rested your chin in your hands and your elbows on the workbench as you waited for him to go on. You never did seem to notice that he was always in a good mood whenever it came to you and your ceaseless inquiries.

“You counted correctly, there are indeed only seven of them,” he began, preparing a solution for the day’s work with the various test tubes in front of him. “I created them using techniques similar to those utilised in ancient ruin guards, but imbedded with my consciousness and the ideals I held at different phases of my life. This allows me to approach any problem from multiple perspectives, and prevents me from becoming restricted to familiar cognitive patterns.”

You hummed thoughtfully, brow furrowed as you mulled over his answer.

“But how did you ensure that the segment’s outlooks are exactly the same as the ones you used to have? Does your current personality not create some sort of bias and alter the way in which you view your… past self?”

The Doctor nodded his approval; you were asking the right questions.

“I am not heralded as a genius for nothing,” came his amused reply.

“That is a wholly unsatisfactory answer,” you grumbled, but let it slide. “Why haven’t I seen them before now?”

He elected to ignore that.

You managed to wriggle out of the Doctor’s snide remarks that you were getting lazy and make your way to the dining hall on time, for once. A restock was absolutely necessary; you’d run out of food in your dorm, and considering the sizeable journey you had to make to reach the dining hall it was a much easier endeavour to just hoard quick meals like an animal going into hibernation. Besides, you didn’t want to leave Arlie waiting, either. While you still didn’t know what kind of power she held, nor to what extent it would affect you, you were far from excited to have her demonstrate that power if you somehow managed to displease her. Even the Doctor, Childe and Signora appeared more manageable; at the very least, you knew exactly how they could make your life miserable if they wished, while Arlie was shrouded in mystery save for her dizzying, razor-sharp grace. Her special brand of courtesy felt like it would leave you scarred and bleeding out if you didn’t watch your step; a knife’s edge you had to dance around and an irresistible enigma for someone as relentlessly inquisitive as you.

After loading up a plate and sliding one of the chefs a tidy stack of mora to have packaged meals sent to your dorm, you slid into the seat across from Arlie at the table by the window you were somehow consistently lucky enough to snag (luck had nothing to do with it, really. She made damn sure no one else would sit there). Clearly she’d arrived some time ago, judging from the empty pot of coffee in front of her, and she offered you a nod of acknowledgment as you sat down. After your first meeting, she’d abandoned the purple robes that had were meant to serve the purpose of disguising her as an electro cicin mage, and now whenever you saw her she donned sleek, finely-tailored suits. You couldn’t say they didn’t look marvellous on her.

“I was expecting to see you at dinner, not this early.”

“The doctor was an in amicable mood,” you replied, buttering your roll and slathering on a layer of too-sweet jam. Mona had perfected both the art of astrology and jams; you missed her and the flawlessly balanced confections she’d make during the rare instances she had the mora to spare.

“Why are you staring at that bread roll as though it made you an orphan before your very eyes?” Arlie’s silky voice took on a bemused edge, snapping you out of your reverie. You were more than a little surprised by her question; you liked to think of yourself as somewhat difficult to read. Perhaps you were, but nothing escaped her searching gaze.

“I was just ruminating over my research.” It no longer unsettled you how smoothly the lie flowed from your tongue.

Annoyance spiked in her chest. Inconceivable, that you would entertain any thoughts that didn’t involve her. You smiled slightly. “And your ever-cryptic identity.”

She shook her head, laughing quietly. The previous frustration quickly dissipated. “Cheeky, aren’t you?”

“Tastefully curious,” you corrected with a laugh of your own.

“It’s hardly as if you’re the most comprehensible of people, either.”

You grinned. “I’m inclined to disagree, Arlie. Why, I’m an open book!”

“I’m having trouble translating your pages, then.”

“Linguistics isn’t your area of expertise, I take it?” You teased, lifting your fork to your lips. Casual conversation with Arlie felt less like balancing on a tightrope over a clearing swarming with tigers and more like finding that one of the tigers was actually quite civil and pleasant company, if you overlooked the teeth and claws and minded your manners.

“I’ll gladly learn if it means understanding you better.” Her silver-tongued reply and suave smile had you blushing and taking a moment to collect yourself.

“And you have the unprecedented confidence to call me cheeky,” you quipped.

Savouring the lapse in your composure, she replied bracingly. “Being timid doesn’t get you anywhere. Listen. Request forms will be issued later today. Make sure to submit yours before midnight.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Ah, I see. To restock any necessities we might have exhausted, yes?”

“Precisely.”

Fantastic. You needed a new turtleneck sweater after the eventful dissection with the Doctor left if bloodstained beyond repair.

“I assume the Regrator is the one responsible for overseeing such matters?”

She frowned behind her mask. Just what did he have to do with anything? Why would you bring him into the conversation? Or anyone, for that matter? “Yes, that’s right.”

You shot her a puzzled glance at the sudden frigidity in her voice. Maybe she held a grudge against him, you reasoned; it was entirely possible that she was one of his higher-ranking subordinates. Or maybe she was a Harbinger who held contempt for one of her colleagues.

“The palace truly is a self-sustaining community,” you remarked. “Do soldiers and recruits ever leave for anything besides missions?”

“No. Snezhnaya is far from a forgiving place, and there’s safety to be had between these walls.”

So the Fatui were effectively isolated from the rest of Snezhnayan society, then. You vaguely remembered from an introductory politics lecture that such physical separation between civilians and the ruling body could easily cause unrest and eventually conflict, tearing the nation apart. Oh, well. Hopefully your diploma would be complete long before that happened.

With food in your stomach and the usual vague wonderings about Arlie in your head, you returned to the lab.

“Oh, good,” Dottore remarked without looking up from organ modification he was performing. He insisted that it was enhancement, optimisation, and you firmly maintained that it was nothing but needless meddling. “You’ve finally returned. Come here and help me locate the damned tricuspid valve.”

“Surely you’re not so old that your eyesight is failing, doctor?” You asked, removing your leather gloves in favour of the horrible yellow plasticky pair. With a contemplative hum, you leaned over the countertop to survey the bleeding heart (ha, ha) more closely. Remarkable, really, how precise the Doctor’s incisions were; even you had to swallow your pride and admit that he truly was the best of the best, the epitome of perfection so highly sought after by any academic. Noting the blood dripping onto the floor, you winced. Perfection tampered by a thorough indifference to anything that wasn’t his research would be a more accurate description. You batted away his hands and took the scalpel the two of you were always fighting over, making a clean cut through the right atrium and gently peeling away the torn muscle until you could see the flimsy tissue you were looking for.

“There’s your valve,” you said, handing him back the scalpel with no small measure of reluctance. The rules dictated that he’d get to use it for the rest of the day since he got it first, after all.

He ran his bloodied thumb along the edge of his mask before going back to poking delicately at the tissue. You grimaced, watching the white leather of his mask stain crimson where he touched it.

“Flawless,” he murmured.

“Yes, quite,” you agreed, surveying the heart over his shoulder. It had clearly been removed by someone exceptionally skilled, every slice through the tender flesh perfectly made.

Ironically, Dottore was referring to your work. And you, in general.

You left the lab tired but satisfied. The day’s experiment had involved lifting several heavy mechanical components; ruin guard’s remains, to be precise. To your eternal chagrin the Doctor hadn’t struggled in the slightest, although you knew for a fact his sleep schedule was deplorable and he so rarely ate anything at all; in fact, you’d made a habit of discreetly leaving plates of food around the lab for him. A dish of vegetable stir fry you’d made in a sleep-deprived haze when your stomach rumbled loud enough to wake you and most likely every one of the castle’s inhabitants, a bowl of fruit, an exquisite chocolate mousse Anya had whipped up for you, and other such snacks scattered throughout the lab far away from any dangerous chemicals. Not that you’d admit to bringing them for him, much like how he’d deny having eaten any. What a strange, prideful pair the two of you made.

Your (well. Childe’s) coat snagged on something as you walked back to the dorm, yanking you back and forcing an obscene curse from your mouth. You crouched to inspect the source, and to your surprise found it to be the edge of a door that was left cracked. It would’ve been invisible if it were closed, and hooking your fingers into the narrow gap and pulling yielded no results. The door didn’t budge. Intrigued, you knelt fully to inspect the wedge; upon running your fingers up and down the seam you discovered a series of tiny, circular indents in the wood.

“Eureka,” you whispered softly. A similar mechanism could be found in several other places in the palace after careful inspection, and to your amusement they all required the same pattern to unlock. Terrible security. You tapped the indents in the order you’d long since memorised, and allowed a tiny, smug smile to overtake your lips when the door swung dutifully open. You slipped inside. The sheer height of hundreds of rows of bookshelves made itself known, and you let out a tiny ‘oh’ of astonishment. A library. The most beautiful one you’d ever stepped foot in, at that; even the House of Daena with its towering arches and marble couldn’t compare to the soft, weathered charm of this place, all hand-woven rugs and big windows framed by velvet curtains, plush armchairs and an array of tasteful stationery littered across every surface, cream paper and deeply coloured quills and ebony ink. You stood frozen in the doorway, taking it all in. If only you’d discovered this place long ago. A quick inspection of the books on the shelves revealed a myriad of genres and topics, even a few analyses bound in leather of subjects you’d itched to study but couldn’t because they were forbidden by the Akademiya. You glanced furtively around. Silent as the grave. Before you could lose your nerve, you quickly began pulling tomes from the shelves and stowing them in your leather satchel; surely no one would complain if you borrowed a few until the next time you could visit this miraculous place. Looking back, you were appalled by your own bravado.

“Oh? And what have we here?”

You froze, a book on the intricacies of destroying Visions halfway in your satchel. Oh, curses.

“Nothing but a curious student, sir,” you replied as smoothly as you could, turning to face the owner of the voice: a well-groomed man dressed entirely in black, from his raven hair to the shimmering jewels studded on the high collar of his shirt. Nauseatingly wealthy, that much was obvious from the fineness of the fur he wore and what seemed to be a diamond ring on his finger. The part of your brain that wasn’t panicking at being caught wondered if he’d let you test whether it was real or not; a simple and visually pleasing procedure to determine the refractive index was all it would take.

The stranger picked at his gloves, watching you over the rim of a rather excellent pair of glasses (you could tell from the set of the lenses in the frames; seamless as the door you’d unlocked to get into the library.)

“Really, now? A thirst for knowledge is all that drove you here, then?”

You swallowed nervously. Just how would you get yourself out of this predicament?

“The door was ajar, and I couldn’t help but wonder what might be inside.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“And how did you manage to open the door all the way?”

You bit back the smug smile that was threatening to appear. Best to downplay yourself so as not to seem too clever; a man this rich would obviously be powerful too, and nothing good could come of revealing your assets to him.

“I don’t know, sir,” you replied, injecting as much cluelessness into your voice as you could. “I just pulled it open. My apologies for intruding, it wasn’t my intention.”

“That would be believable if I were just a touch more foolish. Unfortunately for you, I’m not convinced by your innocent act.” He smiled. “At all.”

Rich and intelligent. What a bothersome combination.

“I suppose my only defence is that I was unaware this was a private library,” you conceded, re-shelving the tome. The wistful look in your eyes as you did so was quite amusing, he thought.

“And how do you plan on earning my forgiveness?”

“What are my options?” You countered without missing a beat.

Hm. Not bad, he thought approvingly.

“Why not introduce yourself? I’d quite like to know the name of the thief who knows how to break into a library I thought impenetrable.”

You cleared your throat, embarrassed, and fidgeted discreetly with your gloves.

“I wouldn’t call myself a thief, sir. I fully intended on returning these once I had read them,” you protested, then gave him your name. “I’m an apprentice of the Doctor’s.”

Subtle realisation dawned on the man’s face.

“Oh, I see. The infamous ‘Trixy,’ no?”

“That… is indeed the nickname Lord Eleven insists on calling me by.” You were going to kill him, you really were.

He smiled. “I thought Dottore was exaggerating when he referred to you as ‘overly cunning.’ It looks like I was wrong.”

You frowned slightly at the casual use of the Doctor’s name. Archons. Just my luck, being caught nicking books from a Harbinger’s library.

“I am the Regrator.” Reaching towards you, he took hold of your hand and kissed the back of it. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, sir- my lord,” you replied, flustered by his greeting and your mistake. “Truly an honour. Allow me to once again extend my apologies for imposing myself on your property.”

“Not to worry, one apology was quite enough,” he replied with another smile. How quickly he changed his tune; a moment ago you were quite worried he’d do much worse than throw you out, but now he was all class and geniality. These two-faced Harbingers really would be the death of you, forcing you to switch between subtle defensiveness and gracefully accepting compliments.

“I’ll see myself out,” you said, breaking the impending silence. “Thank you for your hospitality, my lord.”

“No, no. Stay, I insist. In fact…” He took hold of your shoulders and steered you towards the fireplace, nudging you into a chair. “Why not take a seat? If my memory serves, today you’re to receive the requests forms, is that right?”

He grinned, satisfied, when you nodded in confirmation.

“Lovely. Tell me what it is you were going to have brought to the palace, and I’ll ensure its timely delivery.”

Your eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch.

“And what do you gain from providing me this assistance?”

“Your favour,” he replied promptly, so matter-of-fact that you thought you’d misheard. Well. If he was going to take the first shot and be such a flatterer, then you could certainly play along.

“Why, you’ve already gained it by extending your cordiality,” you said, lifting a gloved hand to your mouth to hide the grin threatening to overtake your features.

Regrator laughed, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. The flickering glow of the fireplace threw the planes of his face into sharp relief, all razor-sharp angles that could cut through diamond. Unsettled, you took to pulling at the fingertips of your gloves for a moment’s respite from his eerie black gaze, glinting like the surface of a bottomless lake at night. Maybe, just maybe, masks were preferable.

“You’re something of a smooth talker,” he remarked. “Perhaps I’ve met my match.”

“I couldn’t hope to live up to your articulacy, my lord, though I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be so humble. I understand that you’re quite the genius in your own field, no?”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Whatever gave you such an impression?”

“It’s not often Dottore goes larking about others’ intelligence,” he replied with equal amusement, watching the swirling clouds of snow outside the stained glass window. Now that caught you by surprise. Surely the Doctor, legend of the Akademiya and one of the arrogant men you ever had the displeasure of meeting, wouldn’t bestow you with such praise.

“I’m clever enough to get by,” you settled on saying, fingers itching to check your pocket watch. It had to be late, but the Regrator imposed a strange aura that compelled you to follow what little etiquette you knew of. The moment you realised this, however, you made a point of taking your watch out and checking the time. The only nonsensical rules you would allow to influence your behaviour were those that could eventually be explained; the laws of science.

“Terribly humble,” he murmured, repeating his previous statement with a touch more gratification.

“It never pays to be egotistical without good reason,” you concluded, making to get up. “It’s been a pleasure, my lord”-

“Sit, sit,” he said firmly, cutting you off. “You won’t have time to submit the request form now,” he pointed out. ‘You might as well stay and tell me what it is you need so I can take care of it.”

You cursed softly under your breath. He was right, unfortunately, and you really were in dire need of several necessities. Resignedly, you sat back down. The Regrator’s pleased twitch of his lips didn’t escape your notice; clearly he’d planned this out. Sneak.

“Much obliged,” you muttered, not without a healthy amount of resentment you didn’t bother hiding.

“But of course.”

He stared at you expectantly, that maddeningly unbothered half-smile never budging from his lips. You bit back a sigh. Best get this over with.

“Well, for starters, I need at least seventy grams each of qingxin, violetgrass, mourning flowers and lumidouce bells. Oh, and ten grams of sunsettia seeds. Other than that, one kilogram each of copper, crystal marrow and white iron, and as many chaos devices and spectral husks as you can afford.”

“That sounds similar to Dottore’s usual order, yes,” he mused. “But forgive me for asking… why the sunsettia seeds?”

“Sunsettia trees can be coaxed into growing under very harsh conditions, and I happen to quite like the fruit,” you answered with a shrug.

The half-smile widened just a touch.

“I see. Everything else on your list seems to pertain to laboratory work. Are you certain you won’t require any… more personal items?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Although, the doctor did say you would know why I didn’t receive the standard uniform for Fatui recruits,” you added as an afterthought. He blinked, as if caught by surprise.

“Why, it’s quite simple. You’re not considered a recruit at all.”

You stared unabashedly at him. “What?”

“It’s true,” he continued, toying with the fine silver chain of his glasses. “Your file simply has 'scholar' written as the rank.”

“How ambiguous,” you bit out, dragging a hand down your face. For all their bluster and pomp, you’d decided that the Fatui were a ragtag group of disorderly misfits with no sense of how to run such a large and influential organisation. ‘Rank: Scholar? Seriously? Keqing’s voice in your head pointedly asked if you thought you would me more up to the task of filing accurate records on thousands of people. You mentally grumbled.

“Quite fitting for a mysterious person like you.”

You lifted your head to shoot him an incredulous glance. “Yes, absolutely, my lord,” you muttered sarcastically under your breath. “My every action is so veiled in mystique, I can hardly see a metre in front of me from all the smoke and mirrors.”

The Regrator chuckled quietly.

“Clearly you understand that brevity is the soul of wit.”

“Just bursting with wisecracks, my lord,” you deadpanned. “It’s time I should be going.” Rising from your chair, you cast a longing glance across the library. “…Would it be too presumptuous of me to ask for permission to visit your library now and again?”

“Permission granted,” he conceded with a nod and twinkle in his fathomless eyes. “You’d be a welcome guest at any time.”

With a grateful ‘thank you’ and a brief smile, you hurried out of the secret door and back to your dorm.

As far as you were concerned, morning had yet to begin if it was almost noon. The sky was completely clouded over, not a glimpse of the tenuous blue visible through the layers upon layers of cottony white. In your professional opinion, if the sun wasn’t visible then the day hadn’t even started; hence why you were still in bed savouring your only day off of the week.

With a contented sigh, you pulled the blankets up to your chin and settled in a more comfortable positon, the battering of the wind against your window and the distant crowing of ravens forming a lulling symphony. Sleep was just around the corner.

A crash startled you out of your pleasant half-awake reverie, the suddenness of the movement quite effectively acquainting your skull with the wooden headboard. You muttered a string of curses, electing to ignore whoever had the unparalleled audacity to make such a noise and go back to sleep. The intruder wasn’t as agreeable about your plan, unfortunately.

“Rise and shine, Trixy!” An all too familiar voice rang out. You groaned and buried your head beneath the covers. Maybe it was a hallucination that would disappear if you ignored it. Hallucinations weren’t tangible, however, but Childe very much was, judging from how he shook your shoulder and prevented you from slipping back into your slumber. You made a half-hearted attempt to bat his hand away.

“Heavens’ sake, Childe,” you rasped, curling up tighter and willing him to go away. The use of his name rather than a snidely bit out title, or worse still, just his rank, gave him pause. You congratulated yourself on managing to shock him long enough to allow yourself to settle back into the mattress. Not even a moment later you felt a freezing pair of hands grab your ankles and pull.

“H-hey!” You kicked and thrashed, but Childe just laughed and tugged you out of bed. You could’ve sobbed. “What do you want?” You grumbled, crossing your arms.

“Awww, it’s almost as if you don’t want me here,” he said with a pout, watching you rub your eyes and push the hair out of your face. You were softer around the edges like this, he thought, hackles lowered slightly and the suspicion in your eyes worn away by sleep.

“You’re slow on the uptake, but know that I’m proud of you for finally coming to a correct conclusion,” you deadpanned. “Now tell me what’s so bloody important that you saw it fit to wake me.”

He grinned brightly. “It’s your day off, isn’t it? I wanted to take you to the city!”

You opened your mouth to snap out a scathing retort that would probably have him leaving the room in a huff, then closed it again. He looked so hopeful, all wide eyes wrinkling at the corners from the wideness of his boyish grin. You wanted to kick yourself for going so soft on him.

“Alright,” you conceded. “Let’s go to the city.”

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taglist: @shikanosn, @viridian-coffer, @vvzhyxx

if you want to be added or removed from the taglist then just send me a message!! in a similar vein, if you want to be mutuals then dm meeeeeee

189 notes · View notes

grandlinedreams · 11 months

Note

You! 🫵 You have an excellent way of weaving words, it leaves my heart in a kerfuffle! (no better way to describe it otherwise xD)

If your inbox isn’t already exploding, would you be up for a little fluff scenario with good ol‘ Law?

Trope: „Can we keep him? Pleeease?“ - Reader found a snow leopard baby . . 🥹 (If you know you know)

I let you channel your inner Law, I‘m curious how you‘d set the scene :3

Hope it ain’t too dull of a trope - thank you ~!

OUGH I'M HONORED 🥺 he really does just bounce around in my head like a lil dvd screensaver but also PLEASE that little baby 🥺🥺🥺

[Heads up!: fluff, Law is a sucker for puppy dog eyes we all know, Bepo is an accomplice]

It's cold.

Dangerously so, the wind making it difficult to keep on your course ㅡ how you're supposed to see anything in the vast tundra of blinding white is beyond you, but you press on.

You have to.

You tug at the fur-lined rim of your parka hood, trying to tug it over the rapidly numbed quality of your lips and nose. You'll be fine, you know that ㅡ the others can't be far from here.

Longing for the warmth of indoors and needing to tell Law what you'd seen in your scout ahead (a whole lot of nothing, unfortunately), you hurry your pace, only to halt at a faint, muffled cry.

Was someone else out here? You still, eyes narrowing as you strain to hear above the whistle of wind.

It takes a minute to hear it again ㅡ raspy and high, like the cry of a child. Your heart sinks as you turn to search for the source. You know Law will scold you if he finds out, much less if it's a trap of some sort ㅡ but the likelyhood of an enemy is low, and you can't just leave a child out here to freeze.

It takes several minutes of searching and stopping to pinpoint the cry before you find the source, and you stare with wide eyes.

No way...

ㅡ

"Cocoa, Captain?"

Law looks over as Bepo places the mug of steaming hot chocolate down beside him, watching tiny marshmallows bob in it before his attention shifts back to the door of the little cabin they've commandeered as a base of sorts.

"[Name] should've been back by now." You'd gone out to scout ahead, take not of any potential enemy activity ㅡ but you've been gone for a while now. And though Law is concerned, he masks it with the rise of irritation.

As if summoned, there's the darkening of the window set into the front door and he tenses for a second before you step in, quick to shut the door behind you.

"[Name]!"

"Hey guys," you greet. "Sorry I'm late, I got a little sidetracked."

Your cheeks are flush with the contrast of cold to warm, as is the tip of your nose ㅡ but from what Law can see, you're unharmed. Good.

"Anything to report?" He asks and you glance over.

"Huh? No, no signs of enemy activity." There's something you aren't telling him, that much he can tell.

"Are you bleeding?" It's Shachi's question that snaps Law's attention back to your coat, spotting the smear of red that he'd missed on his first once-over.

"Oh," you say as Law stands, intending to assess whatever damage has been done, demand to know what actually happened ㅡ only to halt as you reach for the zipper of your parka. "No, it's this little guy's."

You tug the zipper down, and a rounded, fluffy head wiggles free. Wide, wet looking blue eyes blink at them before a mouth opens to reveal tiny, razor sharp teeth as the creature offers a raspy sounding mew.

"Is...that a snow leopard?"

Several eyes snap to Law for a moment, the familiar speckle of his cap ㅡ and then back to the cub you have cradled in your coat.

"He's been injured," you say as you shuck your coat entirely in favor of cradling the cub to you. It's far bigger than a kitten, but broad paws still curl against you. "I couldn't just leave him out there..."

"[Name]." Law's eyes narrow. "A word, please." He turns to retreat down the hall to one of the other rooms, listening to your footsteps in tow. He waits until you've shut the door behind you before he turns to you. "Explain."

"I scouted as far ahead as I could given the current environment and found nothing out of the ordinary. If there's really something going on here, it's higher up the mountain." Your tone is calm and cool, professional ㅡ and he sighs.

"I meant the cub, [name]."

Your expression crumples as you look down at the leopard cub, and Law notices the ragged cut in its side, fur wet with blood. "I couldn't just leave him out there, Law. He'd die."

"He's a wild animal, [Name]. It's the way nature works." He knows he sounds unnecessarily cruel ㅡ and there's the squeeze of his heart when you frown and cradle the cub tighter to you.

"That doesn't mean I have to let it happen." Your fingers curl into soft fur, stroking gently. "I know he's a wild animal, but I want to help. Can't we keep him? Just until he gets better?"

You look up at him, and Law tenses. There's a shine to your eyes ㅡ he's never seen you cry, and you're about to over a damn cat? No, he knows this tactic. He knows exactly what you're doing.

Damn Bepo for teaching you his weakness to puppy eyes.

His teeth grit, muscle in his brow twitching as you continue to stare, silently pleading. All you're missing is the jut of your lower lip, and he jerks his head, scowling.

"Fine. But he's your responsibility. Now stop looking at me like that, damn it!"

You smile, pleased as you adjust your hold on the leopard cub and step towards him, leaning to brush your lips against his cheek in a soft kiss. "You're cute when you're grumpy, Law."

And then you're gone, hurrying off to gather what you need to treat the cub and leaving Law to process the warmth of your lips on his cheek. "What a pain," he grumbles, but there's a faint upward quirk to his lips.

#ㅡmine.#one piece scenario #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #ㅡgrandline friends!

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forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

Hey lovely! How are you? I was thinking of requesting some sort of soulmate au with a protective soft din djarin x reader? I’m a big fan of the au where you share an eye color with your soulmate as in one eye is yours and the other is theirs so that would mean din would know before reader and you can choose to have them find out or keep it a mystery! I just know you’ll do great!

AN | I don’t think I’ve tackled a soulmate!au before but this was so much fun! Enjoy🥰

Warnings | None

Pairing | Din x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3.1k

Masterlist | Din, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Din Djarin had never seen his eyes in anyone else.

And he looked - he spent so many years looking for them but he had yet to find his soulmate.

The advantage of being behind a mask meant that no one could ever see the disappointment on his face when he realized they weren’t the one.

As time wore on he started to wonder if the one was out there for him. He’d heard tales of poor unfortunate souls that were destined to be alone. Maybe their soulmate had met an early end or maybe they never wanted to be found. He was almost positive that was going to be him as well. It was rare for people to get so far in years and still remain without their soulmate.

He was a lone Mandalorian making his way through the galaxy and life with only his son at his side. Maybe his heart was meant to be alone too.

He hated the idea of that.

So much that he was completely lost in his own thoughts as he followed Grogu through one of Nevarro’s markets. So lost that he didn’t even notice you until he walked right into you and knocked you over.

You landed on the ground with a soft oof as Grogu babbled at his father in what could only be described as a scolding tone.

“I am sorry,” and he felt genuinely terrible. He was no small man and covered in armor made it only that much worse. He crouched down in front of you held out a gloved hand, “are you alright?”

“I think so,” you felt dizzied but alright otherwise. You looked up at the Mandalorian and offered a small smile in response, “nothing hurts so that’s a good sign.”

You put your hand in his outstretched one but he was frozen and didn’t help to pull you up to your feet. You raised an eyebrow in concern - maybe he was the one that needed help.

“Are you alright?” your soft question seemed to pull him out of his trance as finally hoisted you up. You could tell that he was studying you intently and that made your entire face flush with warmth, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he almost choked on the words as Grogu looked between the two of you. The little one was already well aware of what was happening, “sorry again, it was my fault.”

“No worries,” you looked between the two of them before taking a step back, “I, ugh, I should go. Take care, Mandalorian.”

He watched you go for a moment before Grogu’s soft protest urged him to move forward, “wait!”

You turned around at the sound of his voice, a bemused little smile on your face, “Din Djarin. My name is Din Djarin. And this is Grogu.”

“Hello Grogu and Din Djarin,” you repeated and oh. He liked the sound of you saying his name. In exchange you offered your name and gave him a proper handshake, “is there something I can help with?”

“Do you live here?” you thought the question was odd, but you received no bad feelings from him so you didn’t think anything of it. He fell into step with you and you felt a jolt of electricity run through you.

“I do,” you stopped to look at some fresh fruit, “you are not from here.”

“I am not,” he confirmed, “but we live here now.”

“Welcome to Nevarro,” you quickly bought some of the fruit and handed a piece to the excited and curious looking child, “I hope you’ll like it here. If you need anything, I’m around.”

You turned to leave again and this time Grogu pulled on your pant leg to hold you back.

“Your eyes,” he blurted out suddenly and that caused you to stiffen in surprise, “the color-”

“I don’t have a soulmate,” you answered without another word before turning on your heel. You were most decidedly not going to do this right now with a virtual stranger, “take care Din Djarin.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to think or feel at that moment. That was not how he had expected this to go.

Maybe he was wrong, maybe you - no. He wasn’t wrong, he was a lot of things but not wrong. Your eyes were just like his, mirroring them almost exactly.

You were his soulmate.

And yet you didn’t believe you had one.

He was going to change your mind…hopefully.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You didn't look back until you were home and alone. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest and your mind was racing.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, taking in your wild and frazzled appearance before staring at your eyes. You'd looked at them a hundred million times before but never like this. Dark brown but golden and honeyed with flecks of warmth. They'd always been unique and you'd never see another pair before.

And yet…maybe you'd just met your soulmate. It wasn't totally out of the question, right? The universe usually worked to push soulmates together. Maybe that was what was happening now? Maybe - no.

You hadn't even seen his eyes. What if he was just making a comment about yours? But…you'd felt so drawn to him, so safe and comfortable without hesitation. Like your heart felt at home.

You gasped out loud at the revelation. After so long of searching and waiting and hoping you actually have a soulmate, your wish might have come true.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I know," the Mandalorian looked at his son and sighed in exasperation, "I didn't know what to do in the moment."

Understanding babbles met his ears as he picked Grogu up and started to walk to his bedroom. He settled him gently in his bed and looked at him fondly, "perhaps I am wrong-"

Grogu blinked at him owlishly, absolutely telling him off. The little one was far wiser than people gave him credit for.

"Even if I am not, I can't just…" he waved his hand around, at a loss for words, "I have to figure it out. If I even see her again."

He bade his small son a good evening, mind anymore but in the present moment. When he walked into the fresher, he stood in front of the mirror and studied himself. He looked the same as always, or so he supposed, as he didn't tend to look extremely closely most days, but his eyes seemed to stand out a little more.

With hands braced on the counter, he leaned and looked at their color and depth. There was no mistaking it - you had the same eyes.

You were his soulmate.

Now he just had to convince you of the same…somehow.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Several days passed before you came across the Mandalorian alone. You felt relieved at not having seen him, but felt an even larger rush of relief when you did see him.

He found outside of the small shop you worked, his son in tow. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of them. Oh. Something was definitely going on.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing he said as he looked at him in surprise, "for the other day. I didn't mean to scare you off."

"It's okay," you promised softly, "I'm sorry for how I acted too. I shouldn't have…done that."

“You were scared,” he hated the idea that you were scared in general but especially of him. He felt the urge and pull to protect you, and he’d vowed to himself to do that, whether you accept him at your side or from a distance, “I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t scared so much as…surprised,” you shrugged sheepishly, “no one’s ever said anything about my eyes before so I just assumed that you were…anyways, it doesn’t matter.”

“You can tell me,” he gently encouraged you, desperate for you to say the words he was yearning to hear, “you don’t have to be worried.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed that you were going to say you were my soulmate,” your cheeks warmed up and you bit the inside of your cheek, keeping your gaze focused on the ground, “I don’t think that person exists. It’s been so many turns that I’m sure I would have met them already.”

“And what if I told you I was?” that piqued your interest and you looked at him in wonder. Your lips formed a pretty little pout and he couldn’t help but already dream of kissing them.

“I wouldn’t believe you,” you admitted quickly, “it would be too…I can’t see your eyes. How would I know without seeing you? I know you cannot take off your helmet in front of me, Din Djarin. I’d be going on your word only.”

“I would not lie to you-”

“I want to believe that you would not,” more so you didn’t want to be some sort of mistake because that might crush your heart, “as far as my understanding goes, you can only show your face to your spouse or children.”

“You are correct,” really he was ready to whip off the mask and show you his face but he refrained, “let me prove it to you.”

You laughed, a lovely, magical sound that went straight to his heart, “you want to prove you are my soulmate?”

“I do,” he promised with a fervent nod, “because I am not wrong.”

“Say you manage to… convince me that you are right,” you articulated a lot when you spoke, a trait that he found endlessly endearing, “and we…marry or whatever allows me to see you fully and we find out we’re not soulmates, what then? Have we wasted our time on each other and set up the possibility for a lifetime of broken hearts?”

“You think people who are not soulmates can fall in love?”

“I believe that anyone can fall in love,” you shrugged, “there have been instances when soulmates weren’t right for each other.”

“And what if we fall in love despite not being soulmates?”

“What if we did and then one day one of us meets our intended soulmate?” you hated that idea almost as much as you disliked the idea that he wasn’t your soulmate, “that might be even worse.”

“We would have to figure it out then,” he mused in agreement, “but you don’t have to worry - that will not happen.”

“You are so convinced,” you did enjoy his persistence, you would not deny that, “are you always right? Or just stubborn?”

“Perhaps a bit of both,” you looked into the black T of his visor and you just knew that he had a smile on face, “what do you say? Let me try to show you.”

You inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling. This was a lot he was asking of you, but also a lot he was doing as well. But you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him either…maybe that was something after all.

“Yes,” you whispered softly, “show me.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And show he did.

It started out slowly at first, the two of you forming a friendship that felt so natural and easy - like you’d always been friends. The two of you had a lot in common, but were also very different but found that you fit together almost perfectly. One of the things you both shared was the love for his son. And Grogu loved you just as much in return.

You realized soon just how very much you cared for them the first time they left to go on a job. The idea of them being gone for any amount of time was enough to make your heart ache, but it wasn’t like you could do anything. You had thought about asking to go with them but he quickly shut that idea down; he insisted you stay behind where it was safe and he knew you’d be taken care of. He promised the next time he was certain there was no danger you could go with them.

You never argued and the few times you had disagreements it was over something silly or trivial, and it was resolved quickly. You liked being around the two of them and found yourself always gravitated towards them as they often did to you.

They were gone for a little over two weeks; you felt like a part of you had gone with them and you were left to wait and wander listlessly. When they got back you almost refused to leave them.

You’d experienced such a pull towards the Mandalorian from the start and that feeling was only growing, day by day and bit by bit. Part of you was ready to give in and admit that he had been right from the start but another part of you was still scared to have everything fall apart. So you danced around each other, but over time it was becoming harder and hard to ignore. Something was going to have to give.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And something did, about a year after you’d meet the strange Mandalorian and his son.

“I-I think you might be right,” the two of you were sitting around a fire in the backyard, enjoying the cool shift of summer into fall. Grogu still had enough energy to be running around and playing with some stray lothcats. Din regarded you curiously, tilting his head in your direction.

“About what?” you knew that he knew exactly what you were talking about. You huffed lightly before gesturing vaguely. He wasn’t going to give you the easy way out on this one.

“Stop,” you buried your face in your hands, feeling butterflies flutter wildly in your tummy as you tried to tone down your nerves, “you know what I mean.”

“I do,” he nodded in agreement, “but I want to hear you say it. Please.”

“I think you are my soulmate,” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear over the merrily crackling fire. For a moment he almost wasn’t sure if you’d said anything but he heard you loud and clear. When he remained silent you began to panic…maybe he’d changed his mind and just hadn’t told you. You swallowed thickly and tried to get a read on him, “say something, Din, please.”

“What made you change your mind?” he slowly rose to his full height before walking over to you and sitting down at your side. You could practically feel the excited but nervous energy flowing off him. You shifted slightly so you could face him, “hmm?”

“It’s just…everything,” you reached up and touched his helmet, right where his cheek would be, “I think I’ve always known. When I didn’t realize.”

“Are you not afraid of being wrong?” but he didn’t ask it in a cruel way. He was genuinely curious and wanted to make sure you knew the potential implications of what you were saying.

“I was,” you confessed softly, “but I realized that even if for some reason, we weren’t…that whatever we had was still real. But I’m also sure you’ve been right all along.”

And yeah. It was all really real.

“Do you trust me?” this time he touched your face, after pulling off his gloves and letting his warm skin touch yours. You’d gotten peeks of his skin here and there but having him touch you so tenderly was an entirely different thing. He’d grown more physically affectionate with you over time, but something about this felt so different, “even if-”

“I do,” you leaned into his touch as he brushed his thumb over your cheek, “I trust you more than anyone else. I think the rest, Din Djarin, is up to you.”

“It is not just up to me to decide if we should marry,” he insisted gently, “you have to be part of that decision as well. I’m sure, cyar’ika, you know what my answer is.”

Your whole expression softened as you looked at him and nodded softly, “I want that too.”

“Even if you haven’t seen the proof yet?”

“Even if I haven’t seen the proof,” you laughed softly, “I know you’re right.”

He put his hand under your chin and turned your face up to his, “close your eyes.”

You wanted to protest, to give him a little bit of push back as you loved to do. But this time you decided not to do it, to just go with it. You breathed out softly before closing your eyes. He pulled his hand away from your face and you frowned at the loss of his touch. It was quiet for a moment before you heard him moving around and setting something down. Oh.

Your heart was beating so wildly it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

“Open your eyes.”

You inhaled sharply, taking a moment to breathe before doing as he said. Slowly you opened your eyes and you were pretty sure you stopped breathing.

Looking back at you was a sight you had never expected to see - your own eyes reflected in your soulmate’s face.

You gasped in surprise before leaning in and taking his face in your hands. He’d been right this whole time; he’d always been meant for you. You’d been made for each other.

“Wow,” the whisper escaped your lips despite your best efforts and Din couldn’t help but chuckle fondly. He turned his face slightly and pressed a kiss to your palm, “your eyes…you were right. Maker. You’re so handsome…on top of everything else.”

“I told you I’d prove it to you,” he sounded even more golden and honeyed when he was unmasked. You could definitely get used to hearing it for the rest of time, “do you believe me now?”

“Yes,” you beamed at him, “I think I did from the beginning, even if I didn’t fully realize it. But wait - your face! We - we’re not-”

“Will you marry me?” he asked and you nodded without hesitation, “then I believe this is allowed.”

“Says who?” your eyes widened as he grinned at you.

“Says me,” he leaned in so his lips were almost brushing against yours. Your heart felt like it was going to burst with pure unadulterated happiness, “what do you say?”

“Yes. A million times yes.”

“Then I have one more question for you,” he ghosted his fingers along your jaw as you made a small sound, “may I kiss you?”

And you definitely knew the answer to that, just like you’d known all along.

“Yes.”

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x fem!reader #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin imagine #din djarin one shot

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ysljoon · 11 months

Text

Love Maze-Chapter 2

pairing: single dad!simon 'ghost' riley x live-in nanny!reader wc: 1.3k warnings: none for this chapter a/n: this chapter was a little slow BUT we made some progress eeee im so excited to go from here yall 🫣 MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked) <prev chpt. >next chpt.

You stare at your apartment triumphantly once you see everything packed away. You lugged your suitcase out the door and now you’re on your way back to the Riley household. You were curious about Ella’s father. He was a very hard man to read and didn’t seem like a man for much conversation. Hopefully, you could bring down the walls he’s set up and get closer to him because to live with someone who appears unapproachable seems awkward to say the least. Yes, you’re there for the child first and foremost, but it would be nice to get to know him outside of being your employer.

Also the mask? What is that about? That should’ve raised more red flags in your mind, but the opportunity seemed too great to be able to look over that. He seems to be hiding a lot, but maybe he just needs time to warm up.

You showed up at 8 a.m. on the dot and knocked on the door. You distracted yourself with the pleasant dewy weather of the morning while you waited for Simon to answer the door. The door swung open faster than you expected and you had to dodge it at the last second to avoid it hitting you square in the face. Simon gave you a gruff ‘good morning’ and moved out of the way to let you inside. He still had on the black surgical mask, but his attire was a jarring difference in comparison to the first encounter. He had on blue cargo pants with harnesses hugging his thighs and a zipped-up blue windbreaker. Ella was held against his hip with one hand and the other hand had a black vest in the other. You were well aware that he was military personnel, but you didn’t think you would be acquainted with that side of him so soon.

You rolled your suitcase in behind you and awkwardly stood in his kitchen while waiting for him to give you further instructions. He placed Ella down in her bouncer and leaned against the counter across from you. His eyes looked bored when looking at you and there wasn’t really an emotion you could use to describe it, but it didn’t feel good to see the least. “I just fed Ella her morning bottle. The formula is in the cabinet over there.” He pointed above your head behind you. “And all bottles are in the dishwasher. Feed her about every 3 hours or whenever she’s feeling fussy.”

He tilts his head to the side to indicate to follow him and you do. He takes you to her nursery and it is very bare bones of a nursery. It has all the essentials with a crib, a dresser equipped with a changing table and baby monitor on top, a black suede rocking chair, and a trash bin. “In the dresser is where all the diapers and wipes are stored. The top drawer has all of her binkies,” He crouches down to the lowest drawer. “Here’s an extra baby monitor. I already have one in my room so keep it on your bedside table.” You nodded, taking mental notes of all the information he was giving you. He wordlessly walks out of the room and takes you across the hall. “This is the spare room, make yourself at home. The closet should have enough space, but if you need more just let me know and the bathroom is attached.” You gave him a grateful smile.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality, Simon.” He gave you only a grunt in acknowledgment of your words. “I’m heading to work now, since we’re in a lull right now I should be home around 6 pm. Text me if you need anything. If you don’t hear from me within the hour contact my captain. His name is John Price.” He handed you a small square of card stock with John’s name and number scribbled on it. You reached for your phone immediately out of your pocket to input the number. Simon gave you one last look over before heading out the door and you bid him one last farewell. You made your way to the living room and looked at Ella with a fond expression. “Well, Ella it’s just me and you now.”

The day moved along swiftly. It was easy to turn on your caregiver mode, but you did do some quick online shopping when Ella was having her afternoon nap as it came to your attention quite quickly that there was a scarcity of baby toys for her to play with. Ella was an easy baby though she was rarely very fussy and during diaper changes, you were able to keep her distracted enough to have her giggling. The sounds of her laughs had you wrapped around her finger. She was an adorable little girl.

Once 4 pm rolled around you decided to scour Simon’s cupboards to see what you could cook for dinner when he comes home from work. His pantry was scarce and you made a mental note to visit the grocery store tomorrow. You were able to scrape together a garlic chicken pasta for dinner and once that was done you let it sit on the burner on a low heat to keep it warm as it was only a few minutes until Simon was home. You made your way back to Ella to scoop her out of her bouncer that you kept her in while you were cooking, bounced her on your hip and sang lullabies to her. Her wide little eyes stared at you and observing her face made you realize how her eyes were identical to Simon’s. You weren’t sure how the rest of her facial features compared to Simon’s as he kept it concealed.

The door knob jiggled and the jangling of keys alerted both you and Ella to the arrival of Simon coming back home. Suddenly Ella started getting squirmy in your arms and wanted to be held by her dad. He quickly shuffled at the front door putting down his belongings and kicking off his boots. He made his way over to you and scooped Ella out of your arms and cradled her in his strong, muscular ones. “How was she today?” “She was great, barely fussy at all! Oh, I made dinner by the way so whenever you’re ready to eat I can dish it out for us.” Simon did smell the aroma of food in the air, but he thought you only cooked enough for yourself he didn’t expect you to cook for him. He also noted how you said us instead of just him. He wasn’t used to someone being this nice to him since he joined the 141 and the task force tried their best to welcome Simon. This was definitely something to get used to.

“I’ll take a shower first and then we can eat. If you’re hungry now though you can eat without me. You waved him off and told him you’d be fine waiting for him. He doesn’t strike you as someone who has an extensive shower routine. You sat on the couch with Ella accompanying you by your feet just crawling around and found a cartoon for her to enjoy on the TV.

Simon came out of the bathroom in 10 minutes flat with his blonde hair damp and-oh. Simon was standing in front of you without the mask and wow. You couldn’t understand why he covered up his face. He is handsome, to say the least. You averted your gaze and cleared your throat making your way to the kitchen. You silently plated servings for the both of you and Simon silently was by your side getting the utensils. Dinner was uneventful as Simon didn’t have much to say and you could see it in his face that he was tired so you didn’t want to bother him too much. Simon said he’ll wash the dishes since you cooked and you nodded. He wished you a goodnight and you made your way into your room to get ready for bed. The first day of the job is done and you would think it went pretty successfully. You couldn’t help thinking about Simon’s face until your eyes became heavy with sleep.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty modern warfare #ghost x you #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic

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shuusagi · 1 year

Text

Leading Brahm through his first "dom-scene"

Hi again~ I feel like bullet points are much easier for me. I've been thinking abt how the reader would introduce domination to Brahms. This is what came to mind

This was like every other evening, but this time you wanted to try something new.

You didn't know what sparked this desire to submit, but it grew stronger and stronger the longer you denied it

Brahms isn't a natural dom, for his size he is quite submissive. You love that side of him, but you're so curious to see what it would feel like to have the roles reversed

You laid in bed next to the tall and brooding man, and slowly he gathered the courage to start rubbing himself against you

You reach back and squeeze his thigh, urging him on. Soon he was completely hard against you and he would let out small breathy moans

"Ah, Brahmsy- can we try something new tonight?"

He stops and looks at you quizzically through his mask, with a small head tilt to the side

"I... i know this isn't our usual thing, but could you try taking charge tonight?" You felt slightly dumb for asking, but damn did you want it so bad

He fidgets a bit, you could tell the cogs were turning in that submissive mind of his. "Help?" He asks in a child like voice

So you do as you usually do, tell him what needs to be done

"Flip me on my tummy." He grabs at your sides and slowly turns you over, sensing the hesitation you squeeze his wrist for good luck

"Ok- now Brahmsy, grind against me... please... please Brahms.."

He paused, looked down at you and let his eyes wander to the swell of your ass. Something about you begging made his stomach do flips and had his cheeks flushed a bright red

Carefully he puts his bodyweight against the back of you, you could feel his cock pressed up against your sex between your legs. You let out a small gasp and it didn't go unnoticed, you feel him pulse against you

Tentatively, his hips roll against you once more. Slowly he picked up speed at the sound of your moans and adds more of his body weight onto you. He was quiet, perhaps he was concentrating. Behind his mask you missed the look of him biting his lip, holding his moans in

You lift your ass and grind against him, that elicits a small groan from him. You could tell he was trying to keep his child-like voice up but it faltered, and you were left with the idea of hearing him over and over again.

During sex he moans, but they're usually breathless and more whimpers. They taper off into his normal voice towards the end, but the idea of him letting out a loud and authentic groan from his chest spurred you on

He grits his teeth, trying to keep his groans light and steady. "Brahms, pin me down.. please"

He pauses once more, then grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. You were caught off guard with his assertiveness

"This?" He asks in a child like voice once again. All you could manage was a nod

His grip on your wrists was tight, making your back arch even more. His giant hands made you feel small- for once you were left in a puddle of arousal and couldn't stop it from building up

You begin getting impatient with him humping you and begin to beg him to fuck you. Hard. You tell him to lose control

He let's go of your wrists and sits up, you were sure you crossed a line of some sort. You go to apologize only for him to whisper "turn." So you turn back on your stomach. He's frantically pulling your sweat pants off

With his deep voice he tells you "don't turn around.." and hear the sound of his mask hit the floor

You were stunned, he never has taken his mask off yet and here he was gaining some sort of confidence because at this point he knew the tables had turned. You became his little doll, his plaything

He inserts a large finger into you, and you practically purr at the feeling. He pumps in and out of you several times, then he left you empty once more. But that didn't last long

Before you knew it, he was slowly inserting himself into you. You squirm on his dick, adjusting yourself to his size

He stops you in your tracks with a large hand pushing you down on your back

You feel him slowly gain to a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of you. His hand on your back heats up and you're left with this fuzzy pressure as he takes you for himself

At this point he's groaning, lost in the feeling and no longer needing to use his child like voice as a crutch. He lifts his hand off of you and grips your hips, you know damn well it's gonna leave a bruise In the morning

His pace is almost punishing as he pulls you back against his cock, nothing but the collective groans and the sound of skin slapping in the room

He leans down, pushing his bodyweight on you once more, You feel the air leave your chest. "B-brahms.. plea- ah!" He had just bit down on your shoulder

His pace continues to quicken and he's growling and you can feel it reverberate against his chest.

You feel his hips stutter and you know what's coming next. With one last final push he spills his seed inside you

He grabs your hair, as you lay there used and exhausted and turning your head to the side as he straddles you. He covers your eyes before you can catch a glance

"Up." His voice is a raspy mix of light and deep tones. So you sit up as you are told, and he captures your lips to his. The kiss is harsh, wanting and overeager. Slowly you gather a rhythm with him trying to teach him how you want to be kissed

You feel all the tension within him loosen, and things go back to their usual dynamic. You were prepared for a dom drop, so you break away from the kiss with closed eyes to retrieve his mask. Feeling around you finally snag it

"Y/N?" His child like voice is back. "Here, darling." You hand him his mask. Once you give him enough time you open up your eyes and he leans his head against your stomach. You don't say a word, just rake your fingers through his hair

A light sob leaves his lips, and soon you're lifting his chin to cover his mask in kisses "you did so good baby.. such a good boy" you fill him with praises as you slowly lay him down

You're laying face to face, watching his eyes as his slowly close. The comfort of you rubbing his side lulls him to sleep

#brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms heelsire x reader #the boy 2016 #slasher x reader #brahms x reader

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belaprus · 1 year

Text

Dottore x reader: being his assistant (pt.1)

"So this is my new babysitter"

Just hearing his sarcastic words was already enough to prepare yourself for the next 6 months to come.

"It's not my fault if you messed up again, Akademiya student Zand-"

"So you even had a background check done on me. Bravo! Was it Pantalone's doing?"

Indeed, it was Pantalone who had entrusted you with your current job: surveillance on the most unstable of the harbingers. After the last laboratory had exploded in the midst of an anonymous Sumeru's forest, he decided Il Dottore would be better off returning to Snezhnaya in a high-security bunker under the mountains' hard rock, just to make sure he didn't draw in too much of the uninitiated's attention in such a critical time. You were about to answer his previous question, when he harshly cut you off again, getting closer to you and looking at you with sharp and malicious red eyes, barely but still clearly visible from behind the mask:

"Oh, and don't ever think of calling me that again. Everyone knows of me as Dottore."

He then turned back to work without even waiting for you to speak another word.

'Dude's not too good with social interactions, isn't he? Predictable', you thought to yourself while fixing your eyes on the hospital bed before him, probably containing another of his failed experiments - "no. 726" was written on a blood-stained blanket.

You had observed him for far more than he would ever be aware of: ever since Pantalone had let you into the Fatui, indirectly or not, your duty was to find informations about this man... More like a monster, as he was perceived from everyone, and you were no exception. You had kind of got used to it, though - to be completely fair, you even had started to be curious about him. You usually would have preferred to check on him from afar, but work was not an option among the Fatui. What you hated the most about him was that he was so blatantly incapable of interacting with people, but at the same time he was getting more and more unstable for this very reason: trying to ascend gods' power, yet creating other versions of himself to make sure he didn't completely lose his sanity in the process without even knowing. Different perspectives of reality? Was it even needed when he could have just asked other existing people? Such arrogance in thinking he was the only intelligent one of them all. As a psychiatrist, you had already witnessed a lot of individuals like him and knew better than to let his solitude eat him out.

-------------

Mortality was easier to dispose of than the human's social nature: to stop the process of aging, the DNA only needed to acquire better telomeres-preserving abilities and some more copies of p53 genes to prevent cancer, whereas for emotions not even lobotomy was enough of a secure option. He knew it damn well: even the loss of empathy was not an assurance against his fits of rage and unpredictable personality. After he'd been expelled from the Akademiya he was livid enough to burn a whole city down by just staring at it, but now that he had just said goodbye to years of research - his own copies, all of his past ways to see the world and their contribution to the cause against the gods - he was always in a frantic rush of searching up for new leads to start a new experiment and trying to figure out what went wrong with the last. He didn't have either time or care to spend on another of Pantalone's lackeys. What disgusted him even more is that his associate had chosen such a sharp, direct, sassy woman: the perfect pain in the ass. Her stare was piercing holes through him, and he was so irritated by it. The way she was quietly looking at him taking in the dismembered corpse of yet another child, carried over with another hospital bed, only for her gaze to turn to him again, almost like she was trying to say: "What next? What are you going to do after this?"

He almost thought it nice to make her subject 728.

-----------

The sun was setting when he was fed up enough to finally speak with you:

"Aren't you gonna go eat anything?" Sounded more like a request to go away than actual concern on his part.

"Not until you do", you replied coldly.

His face had turned purple almost instantly. 'He's already gotten that short-tempered? What a hassle', you thought to yourself.

"What are you, a fucking Matra?!"

"Whatever you wish, Dottore..." - you made sure to highlight his name in a slightly mocking tone - "...smoking a cigarette wouldn't be a waste, though" you blatantly ignored his homicidal expression and kept looking at him, waiting for his answer.

He hadn't thought thoroughly enough before getting his right hand on your neck. It was when he felt the high voltage shock and the burning sensation on his hip that he quickly let go of you and started clearing his thoughts. It was at that same moment that your electro and pyro visions suddendly flashed into his peripherical sight, hanging on your belt next to each other.

"You wouldn't let me focus anyway", he quickly responded with his own usual venom-coated tone, rushing to the door and closing it in your face in a childish attempt to leave his new babysitter behind.

"For fuck's sake...", you murmured to yourself before tagging along.

This was going to be the beginning of either a very refreshing experience or a complete mess. And you were already more on the latter's side.

#dottore #dottore x reader #dottore x reader smut #genshin impact #not safe for what

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bebefilms · 2 years

Text

───────── 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐅. ( 18+ )

PAIRING: jooheon x fem!reader WORD COUNT: 2.9k !!!! spanking, unprotected sex, kitchen sex, orgasm denial, creampie SYNOPSIS: when he’s craving baked goods, it’s best for him to come over.

When Jooheon is craving desserts, his best bet is to show up at her apartment unannounced, equipped with a cheeky grin and an overnight bag. He overwelcomes his stay when it comes to his cakes and cookies because his fatal flaw is his disastrous baking skills–or lack thereof–which will often yield burnt goods or a nearly burnt residence, even when following a recipe to a T.

Or so he claims.

“What do you want now?,” she questions with mock disdain, a stone-cold expression too transparent to mask the pep in her voice when her beloved stands outside her door on a gloomy Friday evening.

“Chocolate chip cookies.”

His eyes gloss over her figure, as if to burn the image into the back of his mind like he hasn’t done so countless times, and he cocks a brow. “And you, of course.”

Despite her grimace, heat flows up to her face, her heart hammering madly in her chest. She swore up and down that any cheesy phrases given to her, any cheesy phrase that can only derive from romance novels, would evoke a visceral reaction: disgust. It’s partially true but coming from her own boyfriend, her body goes into overdrive between shudders and shyness. “You are repulsive.”

“Only for you.”

She steps aside for him to overstay yet another welcome, one that may be what she needs after a long day at work. He heads for the guest room while she strays into the kitchen where she pulls out her baking utensils and ingredients, piling them onto one corner of the kitchen island. She knows the recipe by heart but pulls it up on her phone anyway as a safety cushion, then sets the device down to be forgotten later.

Jooheon is not an incompetent man, but there’s genuinely no hope for him to bake something without potentially setting something ablaze or yielding a culinary monstrosity of epic proportions. She has seen his sugar cookies before, which resembled the end pieces of overbaked, lopsided bread more than actual cookies. Even though he insists on shouldering some of the labor, she strictly assigns him the duty of dishwashing instead where it would be impossible to spark a fire.

He stands on the opposite side of the kitchen island, watching her every move like a curious child observing his diligent mother. He has learned the lesson of keeping his distance while she’s running around in the kitchen because literally butting heads will wear her patience thin, and she can see it in his pouty expression that he wants to be close to her, have his arms around her and forget the definition of ‘personal space’. It’s endearing to see sometimes.

The dough comes together in less than fifteen minutes, and the preheated oven goes off a minute later. Jooheon is already standing at the sink washing the dirty dishes before the tray of cookies even goes in, and the flour-dusted, dough-streaked counter becomes her duty to clean with a soapy rag.

He’s chatting about his day, relaying a funny story about his coworker and filling her residence with laughter while she stands beside him with her back pressed to the counter, nodding as most of his words go in one ear and out the other. She’s typically a good listener, but her mind has entered another realm trying to conjure up ways she can startle him while he’s doing the dishes. He gets easily spooked, which entertains her when she’s in the mood to be a little brat.

Her gaze travels down his back to his behind, which is emphasized a little too well in his gray sweats. There’s still a fair amount of dishes to wash. With soapy hands, there’s no way he can retaliate, right?

He is rudely disrupted with a hand to his ass. With a slow turn to face her, her grinning face meets his seemingly peeved one: narrowed eyes and a tight jaw. Two seconds pass, and she finds herself running laps around the counter with her boyfriend hot on her trail. He ends up cornering her and her quick thinking leads her to her doom of being caught by a singular arm hooking around her waist, reeling her back against him to avenge his peace.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!,” she wails in between giggles as he smacks her ass back–several times.

“No, you’re not,” he refutes with a chuckle while vehemently carrying out his vengeance.

Her ass is not spared from his assault, not even once. It’s almost unfair really, as she only got him once while she has lost count of how many times he got her. What she thought was going to be a playful charade shifts to something else when the moment he stops, he presses up behind her and tucks his head between her neck and shoulder.

“Honey..?,” she mutters, knowing well enough what the tension and his curious hands roaming her body will lead to.

Her eyelids flutter as she leans over the kitchen island, succumbing to the warmth surging from the pit of her stomach to her limbs, to the tips of her fingers and toes, and to her head from his lips traveling over her skin. The collar of her tee is tugged back at his discretion, granting him more surface area for his mouth to cover, and the initial fits of laughter simmer down to labored breaths and open-mouthed kisses.

“Not so mischievous now, are you?” He hums.

His hand clamors for her throat, thick fingers wrapping around the base of her neck to tilt her head back and draw a gasp from her lungs. While his mouth brands her neck, his grip tightens just enough to force a breath out of her, to shock her and assert control of the reins. She swears that this wasn’t her goal of doing what she did, but the outcome makes her proud of her mischief.

“Thought you could get away with it, huh?”

She shakes her head, though her movement is rigid from his grip. After swallowing, he squeezes, catching her off-guard, and he soothes her with gentle kisses on her exposed skin. As cold as the autumn has been, there’s no better source of heat than what is set ablaze within him. Whatever fuels him into carrying out his sinful endeavors on her sparks a flame inside her, one that grows into wildfire when his hand snakes up her shirt and squeezes her naked chest.

Blinking through a blur, the timer on the oven ticks down to eight minutes.

Eight minutes of allowing him to do whatever he wishes, carry out the consequences of her own actions however he likes.

The pad of his thumb circles her nipple, which hardens from the contrast of the cold breeze and the heat of his touch, a whirlwind of fiery desire growing as filthy words are uttered in between kisses. His fixed grip on her neck has brought her head back over his shoulder at this point, fully exposing the canvas for his mouth to finish his artistry on. Her shirt has ridden up from him groping her breast so when her abdomen presses against the cold edge of the counter, chills run down her spine. The reaction seems to bring his hips closer where his erection digs against her ass, and who is she to not tease him in return?

He never lets her get away with anything, therefore drawing back and grabbing her hips to spin her around and face him. He hoists her onto the counter, perching her on the edge where he guides her legs around him, keeping the distance to a minimum. He drags her shirt up, fully exposing her bare chest, and his mouth latches onto one.

Her judgment is skewed by the pleasure, but not entirely to where she neglects checking the timer. Even if the cookies burn to a crisp, she shouldn’t let her apartment burn to one either.

While his mouth tends to her chest, a curious hand dips down the waistband of her pajama pants, burrowing between her thighs to feel her. The cotton barrier of her panties is thin, allowing him to perceive just how wet she’s getting. Suddenly, it’s not so cold anymore as he digs his thumb between her folds, wedging the damp patch of fabric in as he thumbs her clit.

Draping her arms around his neck, she whimpers from a touch she desperately needs that is a measly barrier away. If he could just scoot her panties aside, it would be enough to extinguish the fire within. But Jooheon sometimes likes to watch the world burn, and she continues to burn with lust, frustration, and borderline outrage.

“Babe,” she whines. “Please. I want to feel you.”

“Hm. I know.”

“Asshole.”

The ‘slip-up’ earns a tight grip on her chin that forces her to stay still as he straightens up. Leaning so close to her, the weight of his piercing glare racks a tremor through her, particularly when his lips ghost over hers.

“Watch your mouth,” he cautions.

Words are lodged in her throat as he continues thumbing her clit through her panties, and she can only muster a mere nod to acknowledge his warning. She could push him a little more but the friction of his touch, the friction of the fabric rubbing at her soft flesh, wanes her urge to continue acting up. She ruts against his hand, pleading and whining so pathetically from the calculated strokes. Her suffering etches a smirk on his lips, luring her to a strong desire of kissing it off, but her wishes are granted by a tug of her panties and two fingers filling her needy hole.

There’s only so much room in her pants for his hand, but he makes it work. His pace is surprisingly quick, considering the tumultuous teasing he was doing beforehand. Thick digits drive between her clenched walls, drawing out an eclectic mix of incoherence and breathy cries, and she naturally secures a grip on his wrist for security.

He observes intently, an unwavering gaze making it impossible for her to meet it as she’s falling apart in his palm. She’s used to his cheeky grins and over-the-top humor so when he has her cornered and vulnerable for him, the polar contrast arouses her more. His roughness and sharp expression calls for her to be on her knees for him, and it never fails to.

“Fuck,” she pants, her fingers wrapping tighter around his wrist.

“Yeah? You like that? Feels good, hm?”

She begs, though she’s not sure for what. A flurry of ‘please’s part from her lips like a bad habit and perhaps, might be why he seems to be pumping quicker. His thumb is fixed on her clit, thankfully without a barrier in the way, and her head reels from the onslaught of pleasure washing over her, the high tides threatening to drag her deeper. While a mess is spurring in her pants, his mouth finds her neck, soothing the newly branded flesh with kisses fragmented by filthy words and smug laughter.

Her walls are seizing around him. She’s throbbing, aching to chase her release, and she’s rushing to a brink, seconds away from rapture when the obnoxious beeps of the oven disrupts them, forcing him to remove his hand when she needs him most. Her eyes grow wide as she’s left high and dry.

“Lemme get that for you first.” He laughs.

But it’s not funny. It’s almost hurtful as she sits on the counter, her poor pussy throbbing around emptiness, damp panties practically adhering to her skin by the wetness that has seeped out of her. Her thoughts tune out the running water, the clank of the baking trays as it hits the stovetop, and a singular beep that turns the oven off. By then, the smell of freshly baked cookies grows tenfold, filling the kitchen, and she almost forgets about her sticky ordeal.

Almost.

“Now..” Jooheon finds his way back between her legs, fingers tucking into her waistband again. “Where were we?”

A harsh tug sends her pants down her legs, followed by her panties, both garments flung to the side with a flick of her feet. He bends down and perches her legs over his shoulders, naturally bringing her down on her back, but she doesn’t want to miss the lewd view of him committing sins between her thighs.

Propping herself up on her elbow, she runs her fingers through his hair, moaning and panting with less of a care for her neighbors hearing. Steam is still pent up, searching for exit routes as she was abandoned just before her peak, and picking up right after lures her even closer to the edge.

“So good,” she whimpers, throwing her head back as her clit falls victim to the fervent strokes of his tongue. “Want to feel your fingers inside.”

Soon, thick digits plunge back in, giving her what she wants. The rapid pace, coupled with his mouth working on her clit and every inch of her pussy that has yet to be touched, sends chills up her spine. The deadly combination renders her taut, tension wracking her limbs and forcing her thighs to close in on his head, but he only groans in response. His noises serve a subtle vibration to her sensitive clit and his persistence quickly brings her over the edge.

“Oh, god!,” she wails, tugging at his strands as she spatters on his hand.

He continues fucking her through her high, forcing her to squirt in smaller successions while she is now flat on her back, writhing and twitching from the aftermath. Just as it becomes too much for her, he removes his fingers and draws back, carefully dismounting her legs from his shoulders to straighten up.

A breather.

That’s what she thought she was going to get. It feels like a split second before a bigger intrusion sinks inside her, stretching her open and filling her in the way she needs him to. When she peers down at him, he is pressing kisses on her thigh, up her pelvis and to her navel while he’s bottomed out and sheathed by her aching walls. He pushes her shirt up to kiss higher, as high as he can reach, and he is appeased enough to perch her leg back over his shoulder. He splays a hand on her inner thigh, pinning her other leg down on the counter, opening her up further for his taking, and she chokes out a moan when his cock pistons in her.

He is driven mad, his thrusts carnal as he fucks her on the island countertop. The mix of the cold surface beneath her back and the heat of feral hunger culminates in a tight knot in the pit of her stomach, goosebumps pricking her skin, and chills surging through her body. When she meets eyes with him, it’s like looking into the gaze of a wild predator behind bushes: primal.

“Feels so good around me,” he grunts, fingertips digging into her skin with a tighter grip. “Your pretty pussy is made just for me.”

She could implode just by that remark.

“For you,” she mumbles in between breaths.

The kitchen reverberates with the clashing of hips and lewd squelches of her dripping cunt being pounded. It’s not ideal to be railed on a surface with no bounce, but they have already passed the point of no return. Jooheon has proven to be ravenous for more than just a sweet treat.

The sheer force of his hips already has her seeing stars, but the pad of his thumb sweeping over her swollen clit is the nail to her coffin. Her back arches off the counter, a gasp heaving from her throat with the additional touch, and she squirms as her brink comes much closer—much quicker.

“Fuck. Jooheon!”

“Gonna come, huh?”

She nods, a hand clasped over her mouth to suppress a cry.

“Go ahead,” he encourages. “Come for me. Come all over my cock.”

Her eyes roll back as the tension reaches an all-time high. Her slick soaks his shaft, dripping down the line of her ass to puddle beneath her. His grunts mingle with her whimpers, threatening to override her noises as he hovers closer and pounds her. Her walls seize tighter, clenching and resisting but giving him the friction he needs to nail his cock inside her and unload in her greedy hole.

Ecstasy flushes her body with warmth as she becomes a vessel for his climax, shallow thrusts forcing his seed deeper inside her. Her breaths are fragmented by whiny pleas, and he eventually comes to a halt. After pulling out, mixed arousal seeps out of her, spurring a bigger mess on the counter. It’s less pleasant to feel now that she’s not driven wild with desire.

Jooheon grabs her hands and pulls her up into a sitting position too soon. She thinks he’s about to do something again when he wraps her legs around his waist, and hoists her off the counter.

“Let’s go wash up so we can eat some cookies.”

She erupts into laughter from the immediate change in his demeanor. “You have too much energy, honey.”

“Because you charge me back to full percentage.”

In contrast to the heat creeping up her face, she grimaces. “My god, no more. Please.”

#monsta x imagines #monsta x smut #jooheon imagines #jooheon smut #monsta x scenarios #jooheon scenarios

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