#my tongue is more sensitive than my emotions which is saying something

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Hiiii!! I love your writings and if your taking in requests could you write something about honeymoon sex with simon

Simon simply couldn’t stop saying the word. It filled his every thought when he looked at you, the word swirling around in his brain bringing a near permanent smile to his lips. Wife.

You were his wife. You, and your beautiful smile, your gorgeous body, your kind eyes and gentle heart. You. Were. His. Wife.

Simon leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips as he slid his cock in and out of your wet heat. He let his tongue dart out, tracing your lower lip before letting out a soft groan into your mouth.

“My wife.” He murmured against your lips. “My beautiful fuckin’ wife.”

You sighed against his lips, your arms latching around his neck to pull him impossibly close. Sex with Simon had never felt this intense before, this loving, this emotional. You never wanted this to end. “I’m all yours, Simon.”

“That’s right, love.” Simon cooed, moving his lips to your neck. He skimmed his teeth along the sensitive flesh there, chuckling to himself when he heard you gasp. “Now the whole damn world knows who you belong to, Mrs. Riley.”

You moaned into your husband’s ear, your nails digging into his back as he quickened the pace of his thrusts, his hips lazily slapping against yours-wet, lewd sounds filling the room.

“You looked so beautiful, walking down that aisle to me.” Simon whispered, moving to place another kiss to your lips, his pace not faltering as he guided the two of you to your respective highs. “My wife, my girl- the most beautiful fuckin’ person on this earth.”

Your walls clamped down around your husband’s length, your nails digging further into his back at his words. Simon could feel you nearing your edge, and became increasingly desperate to help get you there.

He captured his lips with yours once more, the kiss being a clash of teeth, tongue and soft moans. Pulling back with a languid smile, his eyes fell to his hand which was next to your head, taking note of the black ring that now adorned his ring finger.

“You gonna be a good girl for your husband, Mrs. Riley? You going to cum for him?” Simon asked, tearing his eyes from his ring to land on your beautiful face. “I’m gonna need to feel my wife to cum around my cock.”

To him, nothing in this world felt better than his wife’s tight little pussy wrapped tightly around him, while you clung onto him for dear life. While you trusted him to take care of you, take care of his pretty little wife. And he’d get to have this feeling for the rest of his life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[youryanderedaddy]

Tw: female reader, nsfw, m!sub to m!dom, con to dub-con/non-con, slight degradation, hinted baby trapping My Ko - fi <3

When you and Gerald started hooking up, you didn't think much of it. Sure, it was fun to play around with your high - school enemy turned academic rival now that both of you were in the same old prestigious college. And you would be lying if you said that it didn't stroke your ego to have the man who used to underestimate you all your childhood pussy drunk and wrapped around your little finger. But nowadays he was just acting off - even for his nerdy oddball self.

Before he used to feel so nervous around you, cheeks growing hot at your light - hearted touch. Your rival used to let you lead - with your body, with your eyes keeping him down, groaning underneath you as you rode him to overstimulation. He always broke beautifully, crying out your name as your heat milked him dry over and over again. He was quite cute like that, moaning obscenely, happy to let you use him as a stress toy.

But slowly things started to change. As university work kept piling up and the once friendly environment turned hostile and competitive, your fuck buddy caved to the pressure. His clear green eyes muddied, turning gray - and his fist would wrap around your hair unprompted, pulling instead of caressing. His kisses got desperate, aggressive - he wasn't trying to please you, but devour you completely. Even his tongue, once so sweet and wanton, turned sharp and degrading.

"Like that, little slut?" Gerald would hiss in your ear while taking you from behind - only stopping to slap your ass when you didn't nod quickly enough. "Just like I thought." He would smirk, and it reminded you of that stupid self satisfied grin he used to do in the past when he managed to beat you at something. "I should have known you were only good for one thing." He'd keep going, egging himself on as he thrust into you roughly.

You, for one, didn't care. In a way you even liked the change in him - it was new and exciting to let him take control and ruin you for once. You just needed to take off some steam - you could play both the master and the slave, the dominant and the submissive; as long as he made you cum your brains out, you were content enough.

The thing was, this change was too sudden to be organic or born out of desire. The shift in his behavior had been too frantic, too emotional - and the trigger seemed to be you once again. You two had just started a new course together - perhaps the most important one in your career so far. You were tasked with a big project and you were making a lot of progress - so much so that your professor had tried to find you a start-up sponsor, something most students weren't granted unless they were close to graduating. Gerald didn't like that - although he didn't make it known at first.

The next time you met him, he insisted you go to his place. It was your first time stepping foot inside his den - which was, frankly, equally exciting and nerve - wrecking.

He greeted at you at the door - said his roommate won't be coming back today, so you have the whole flat to yourselves. Your rival had even cooked dinner for you along with your favourite dessert. The whole romantic atmosphere made you feel uncomfortable - you had never seen Gerald as anything more than some quick weekend fun, but your well mannered nature prevailed and you didn't say anything.

Eventually he got you laying on his small creeking bed, naked and tipsy off cheap wine. You were giggling when your lips met - his tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, although he didn't really smoke. There was something weird in the air tonight, but you were too drunk and horny to figure out what exactly.

Gerald started fucking into you with slow precision, making sure to hit your sweet spot - licking the tears off your cheeks as you cried out in pleasure.

"You feel like Heaven." He whispered, burying his head in your neck, his nose tickling your sensitive skin. "And you smell so good. So perfect for me." The man kept blabbering. His words began to sober you up - there were nothing like his initial boyish whimpers or the degrading praise he'd shower you in nowadays. This felt... genuine. Rehearsed. Somehow it made your skin crawl.

"You're too fucking pretty for your own good." He murmured to himself, bottoming out just to push himself all the way inside you - making you whine pathetically. You couldn't even think properly when he was making you feel so much. "Is that how you got that sponsorship, baby?" The man cooed at you, cupping your cheek - voice dropping dangerously. "Did you spread your legs for Mr. Smith like a nasty little whore? Hm? Is your dignity so cheap you're willing to do anything to climb the ladder now?"

He was rubbing his tip along your slit, teasing you in just the right way - but even the electric joints of pleasure weren't enough to numb the pain his words had caused you.

"What do you mean? I've never done anything like that!" You stated defensively, pushing at his chest - but he didn't bulge. "We've known each other since forever. You should know better to than to throw such baseless accusation. I'm capable - I'd never sink so low t–

He didn't wait for you to finish, driving into you with mad ferocity, eyes almost black now.

"I know. I know!" Your rival screamed as if possessed by a madman - then gripped your shoulders tightly, shaking you to your core. "But I don't need you to be capable. I don't need you to be smart or strong or ambitious." His nails were digging into your flesh, but you didn't dare complain. "I just need you to be mine."

You opened your mouth, ready to confront him - to ask him what the fuck was going on, whether this was even real, or just a cruel joke on his part. But you couldn't because in the next moment you felt his warm seed filling you up so deep it dripped down your thighs. You closed your eyes, terrified. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be coming inside you when he knew fully well that you weren't on the pill. Fuck.

"All mine."

[dollfacefantasy]

hiii i’m not sure if you particularly like writing hybrid!reader but can i pls request something with leon where he tries to feel out his bunny/dog hybrid gf’s kinks by seeing how her tail moves in response to them. like something she really likes she’ll wag her tail real fast and he finds it adorable

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!puppy-hybrid!reader

summary: leon plays with his precious puppy girl by watching her tail

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, humping his boot, daddy kink, praise kink, breeding kink, scent kink, dacryphilia, and size kink

word count: 2.6k

a/n: no because i love this idea so much. it's been in my head since i got it. i hope i did it justice because i think it's so cute. thank you for sending it and i hope you enjoy <3

Leon’s eyes rested upon his favorite sight in the whole world. His precious puppy girl kneeling at his feet. If he had to guess, he’d say it was your favorite place to be too. All signs pointed to that conclusion. Your eyes were wide and locked onto his face. Your body vibrated and squirmed with the urge to jump into his lap. And of course, the way your tail wagged back and forth.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

The fluffy appendage moves in a lazy rhythm right now. You were excited Leon was home and wanted to play, but you weren’t thrilled enough for it to turn to a blur. He chuckles and reaches a hand forward to rub your head. That gets it to speed up a little bit.

“You have a good day, pup?” he asks.

You scoot the slightest bit closer while nodding. You tilt your head to the side, squishing the flesh of your cheek against his knee.

“Yeah? What’d you do today?” he says.

“Took a nap. Watched the tv,” you answer, “You look tired, daddy.”

He smiles at your observation and scratches at the base of one of your ears. Those ears, which were perked up at the moment, were so sensitive to everything. The wind knocking something over outside, his car pulling up on the driveway, and of course, small changes in his inflection. 

Though he sometimes wondered if that’s all it was. He sees the way your tail picks up a notch when his lips curl upwards with that smile. He wondered, if not hoped, that it was something more than just your heightened physical capabilities. If maybe, there was something within you, something deeper, some instinctive emotional connection that bound you to him. That was probably wishful thinking. Someone who understood him implicitly. Still that was how he felt sometimes, and it was always lingering in the back of his mind when he watched your cute little ass wiggle back and forth with the movement of your tail.

“A little. Had a long day at work,” he tells you, continuing the conversation.

“Oh. Was it boring?” you inquire.

“You could say that,” he says.

“I get bored sometimes when you’re not here too,” you say.

The short, curt way you speak drives him up the wall. His hand on top of your head trails down to your cheek and gives it a little pinch before his thumb lands on your lips. Your tongue darts out to give the pad a small lick.

“Cute,” he murmurs as his fingers descend to your jawline and then your throat, “Why were you so bored, puppy? You have the whole house to yourself. You have enough toys to fill a room.”

“But I was missing my favorite toy,” you say, nuzzling against his leg.

“Oh, your favorite toy, huh?” he says. 

His fingers tease the edge of the smooth material that was wrapped around your neck. In place of a collar, you wore a pink satin ribbon. It bunched around to the front of your neck where it was tied in a pretty bow. Leon’s own handiwork. He never saw a reason to collar you. You were the most loyal little thing on the face of this Earth. Even if he kicked you out, you’d probably just take up residence on the mat at the front door. He’d rather you look like the spoiled princess that you were and dress you in the pink ribbon to match the other pink items you wore, your camisole and panties.

You nod at the question he asked, the ends of your bow swaying with your motion.

“Yeah? Well, tell daddy. What’s your favorite toy?” he prompts you.

Your hand snakes up to the front of his jeans and paws at the area where you would soon feel the outline of his hardening dick.

“That’s your favorite?” he asks, feigning ignorance, “Wow. If I'd known that, I wouldn’t have bought you all those stuffies. Coulda saved me a ton of money. Just let you sit on my cock most of the time, and you’d be satisfied.”

You shrug, not caring to roll that proposition around in your head for actual consideration. Sure you loved your toys, but they didn’t come close to one tucked away inside daddy’s jeans.

He grins not only because you’re so fucking cute, but also because he can see your tail starting to go faster. As much as he wants to pull you onto his lap and breed you till you’re a mess of drool and tears, he wants more tonight. You were nothing if not eager, and while he loved that, it meant that it didn’t take much effort from you to get him to cum in minutes. You’d just get so tight, you never suppressed any of your moans or whines, your face always scrunched up into needy expressions of euphoria…

Anyways. He just wanted to tease it out tonight.

“You have been a good girl today. I think you deserve some time with your favorite toy,” he says, watching the specific twitch when he said the two words of praise, “You wanna play with it right now?”

You nod almost as quickly as your tail wags. A sonorous laugh echoes from him. His eyes hold that glint that lets you know there’s more.

“What’s your favorite way to play with it, baby? You like bouncing on it?” he asks, his voice gaining an amused lilt.

You don’t respond with words. He knows your nodding, but his focus is on your backside where he’s getting the only response he needs.

Swish.

“Maybe you like taking it face down, whining into the pillow?” he continues.

Swish Swish.

“Or maybe you like being on your back, legs over daddy’s shoulders?”

Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish.

“I think that’s the winner,” he chuckles, “Why is that your favorite, pup?”

“It gets deeper,” you say. He watches as you try to be subtle about scooching closer. He wasn’t going to stop you though.

“Oh I see,” he says, nodding his head in mock realization, “You want it as deep as possible, right? And to do that, I have to pin you down, keep you underneath me where I can just fill that pussy up over and over. You like being helpless, princess?”

As his tone becomes more husky, you take your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Your hips fight the urge to squirm, but your tail can’t stop flinging itself back and forth. A tingling flame had been lit inside your belly, one you desperately wanted him to put out.

“Yeah. You love when I’m in charge. You love when all you have to do is take it like a good girl, and you can just let that little brain melt away,” he taunts. With each swish of your tail, it’s like he can hear a game show buzzer ringing in his points.

You wrap your arms around his leg that was nearest to you and pathetically whimper out “daddy.”

“What is it, puppy?” he coos.

You look up at him and give him the definition of puppy eyes. “I want it. No more teasing,” you whine. Despite your demanding words, you stay put. You were a good girl after all, and good girls wait for permission.

“What? You want it?” he mocks, “What’s the rush, baby? You don’t like daddy’s voice anymore? You sure were liking it last night when you were all sleepy. Just whining and clinging onto me, begging me not to pull out.”

The movements of your tail start to become blurry as you remember the previous night. He’d fucked you so good and talked you through it the whole time. The main difference between now and then was that then you had his cock stuffed inside you while he spoke.

“I do like it,” you defend with a pout, “But I just want it, daddy. Please. Wanna be full of you.”

“Full,” he repeats, “Does daddy stretch you out? Make you feel like there’s no room for anything else?”

You nod again, but you can’t take it anymore. You scoot forward more so your knees rest on either side of his boot. His knee kisses the space beneath your chin while the rest of his leg is flush up against your tummy, going straight between your breasts. He knows what you’re about to do, but he’s fine with it. Tilting the tip of his boot upwards, he gives you silent permission to start rocking your hips.

That was all you needed to close the gap between the top of his shoe and your clothed cunt. Lowering yourself slightly, your puffy clit brushes the leather. You let out a tiny mewl. Your face was already starting to scrunch up into a cute little look from such a simple touch.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” he teases.

“Yeah, daddy. Thank you,” you whimper.

Your hips move back and forth as if on a pendulum. The rhythm is consistent like the pacing of your tail. Back and forth, back and forth.

“I think you soaked through your panties, pretty baby. You gonna get daddy’s shoe all nice and shiny? Make it smell like you?” he says with a smug grin.

“Uh huh,” you mumble. 

But when Leon mentions scenting his boot, your tail starts going crazy. Absolutely buck wild. He wouldn’t be shocked if you sprained something from how hard it was moving. God, he was getting hard. A solid tent had formed in the center of his lap from watching you. So precious, so adorable. Those pants and whines of pure lust. The way your fingers were digging into the leg you held onto like you needed it to survive. The nonstop rutting of your hips matching up with the wag of your tail.

“Woah woah. Think my girl might be a little possessive,” he says as he watches you. He keeps his tone light. He wanted this to play out before he let himself have any. To stave off his desires, he palms himself over the rough denim.

Your eyes catch that, and it’s almost comical how you nearly drool. “I just want everyone to know you’re mine. You're my daddy. They can’t have you,” you say, nestling your face against his legs.

Your own pleasure builds in the pit of your belly. You’d found the perfect amount of pressure on his boot. You just had to keep grinding your aching cunt into the leather.

“Poor baby. No one’s gonna take me from you,” he croons and strokes your head. His hand moves so much slower than any of your body parts and the contrast intensifies the pleasure further.

“Good,” you say.

“Mhm. Trust me, you keep my hands full as is,” he jokes.

He watches as you keep whining and humping his boot. Your hips move like you’re on the clock. He can feel drool starting to drip on his jeans and dampen the fabric. If only he could see your eyes. He knows they’re getting glossy, hazy with the bliss coming from between your legs. Lucky for him, a particular jolt of ecstasy pulls your head back and ends with your face looking up at him.

“You’re getting to daddy’s favorite part, honey. Keep going, Keep being a good girl,” he says. Again, your tail jerks when it registers the magic words. You snap your hips with renewed fervor, chasing the elusive high. His fingers press down harder against his cock as he sees the gleam of saliva coating your chin and lips.

“When do we get to my favorite part?” you babble. Your voice was starting to give as the warmth of carnal pleasure encroaches on your mind.

“And what is your favorite part?” he asks, knowing what your answer would be.

“The part when I actually get your cock,” you whimper.

He shakes his head. “Look at you. Trying to be smart while you’re going dumb,” he teases, “Quit complaining. You’re still getting to feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” you whine instantly.

“Oh really? It looks pretty similar to me,” he says.

You make a small sound that’s halfway between a whine and a growl. Even with your frustration though, your hips don’t stop.

“I’m just teasing you, pup,” he says, stroking your jaw with his free hand, “I guess it is different. I don’t see you crying like you do when I’m buried inside. I don’t get to see those pretty eyelashes all wet from tears.”

Your eyes roll back at the mention of being so fucked out you cry. It was one of your favorites, and Leon knew it. Being reduced to a crumpled mess of sobs against the heat of his chest got you like almost nothing else.

The reactions etched across your facial features are cute, but he can’t tear his focus away from your ass moving against its will through the force of your tail.

“But that’s not the big difference, is it?” he continues, “No. The real reason you want my cock is cause you want daddy to breed you, huh?”

As soon as it leaves his mouth, it’s like his mental buzzer is letting him know he’s won the grand prize. Everything about you goes haywire. You lock around his leg while your hips rut like you’re in heat. Your tail whips around so fast he thinks it could create a breeze.

“Uh huh, daddy- ah! Mm… just wanna be bred. Need it,” you ramble.

He feels his cock twitching in his pants. He’s sure when he actually does get it in you, he’s not gonna last too long. It’s straining against the zipper as is, and he can’t stop rubbing it. He’s almost as bad as you on the boot.

“I know you do. Silly little puppy. That’s always what you need,” he coos, “Just need to be pumped full of cum. My sweet girl.”

Your tongue is half lolled out of your mouth by this point. You’re past going dumb. Your head is swimming around in absolute thoughtlessness. Not a care in the world besides getting yourself to cum all over daddy’s boot.

He nearly groans out loud from the sight of it. He can feel the warmth of your pussy all over his shoe, the plush of your thighs clamped near the sides.

“You’re doing perfect, baby,” he mutters, “You’re gonna get your treat, I promise. Just let daddy watch you cum, and I’ll make sure you get your fill.”

You want to whimper “ok, daddy,” but your mind is too far gone for words. All that comes out is a strangled amalgamation of sounds accompanied by your head wobbling up and down. And the whole time swish swish swish.

Your swollen little clit had more than enough stimulation to get you to burst. Pants turn to gasps and fluid movements sharpen. You mumble against his leg, your lips squishing all over his pants and wetting them even more with your spit.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs, which is enough to get another loud moan out of you. He chuckles and continues watching with his half-lidded, lustful eyes.

As the movement of your hips slow, your tail’s swings weaken. He still strokes your head as you catch your breath. Your chest puffs in and out while you feel your skin cooling down. It was hard not to get sleepy after you came, but before you have to worry about falling asleep at his feet, Leon scoops you up and holds you on his lap.

Rubbing your back, he presses some kisses to your forehead and temple. “There’s my girl. How’re you feeling, baby?”

“Good, daddy,” you mutter against his shirt.

“Yeah? You think you’re up for daddy breeding you for real now?” he whispers.

And suddenly, you’re not so sleepy. You sit up straight in time with your ears perking up. You nod and give him a lazy smile. He can’t see it, but he can feel that tail already starting to wag again.

[worstghost]

Poly!Lost Boys thoughts NOW !! nsfw under the cut. (can you guess which is my favorite u_u)

🤍You're still human (for now). You told them you have a little more life to experience before you're ready, and the only one that was understanding was Dwayne, the others were incredibly impatient.

🤍Dwayne asks you to lay with him and describe how the sun looked that day when you come back to sleep. You talk to him for over an hour, telling him what you did, how warm it was, the colors of the sky as it set. The other 3 boys sit outside the room and listen as well but don't want to ruin the moment for you.

🤍They watch you sleep every night, taking turns before they all go out to eat. Marko and Paul will wake you up every few hours to ask if you'd come out with them. It doesn't work every time, but if you're rested enough, sometimes they can get you to hang out on the beach with them for a bit.

🤍David isn't outwardly affectionate, usually only spending time with you when it's just the two of you. He's not a fan of sharing, but he'd never deny his brothers the pleasure of your company. For that reason, time spent with David is usually well spent. Talking, reading, slow kisses and much more if you beg.

🤍You can get overwhelmed, and these boys don't understand personal space. They take it personal when you leave them on their own to enjoy your day, but you make it up by bringing back food and a new cassette to listen to.

🤍They love to gather in one bed and hold you, making sure they're all touching some part of your skin. You're typically laying your head against David's thigh, combing through Paul's hair, while Marko lays on your chest and Dwayne holds your legs across him.

🤍You're so well loved you forget sometimes what they are. They'll come back some mornings covered in blood, fangs out, hissing and shoving each other aggressively. Something caused an argument and you have to watch silently while they work it out themselves, knowing better than to get in the middle. You just close the curtain and lay back down, knowing they'll come to you when they've sorted it.

🖤NSFW🖤

🖤Marko loves to make you cry. Not by being mean of course, just by teasing you until you can't help it. He loves to bite and pinch you until you're whining, and then tease you about it and call you a baby in your most sensitive moments. He's always smiling and will make it up to you by overstimulating you until you're full out sobbing. You go to him when you're already emotional and need some relief.

🖤Paul likes to do experimental things- bending you in odd positions, fingering you after he's cum in you and then making you lick it off. Watching you fuck yourself, and then getting jealous and breaking the vibrator. He's a biter, and every now and then he'll have to put himself in a corner to cool down after he vamps out and very nearly drains you.

🖤Dwayne isn't as gentle as he seems, but he is just as attentive. He loves to be able to see you, so missionary and having you on top are his favorites. Also loves to have you sit on his face, kneeding your ass and never closing his eyes because he's scared you'll dissappear if he does.

🖤David is the gentle one. He goes slow, makes you ask him for every little thing, he wants you to know he's in control and you can't make him do anything he doesn't already want to. So get on your knees, rub his thighs, look up at him with puppy eyes and ask him nicely to take you right there on the floor before the boys get back. How could he say no?

🖤When you have them all together its a frenzy, hands and teeth and tongues all over your body. You're so high you don't even know which one is eating you out or which cock is in your mouth. They do get jealous easily, impatiently pushing each other out of the way to get a turn kissing you or fucking you.

🖤Sometimes, rarely, they'll let you take control, telling each of them exactly what you'd like them to do and how to do it. David typically watches for this part, he doesn't listen to what he's told so you banish him to the couch to watch. You smile over at him often, watching the way he eyes you angrily, adjusting his too-tight pants. He knows you'll get to him when you're done, if you're not too exhausted.

[hansensgirl]

🪽— 𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐱

summary. | Steve Rogers is a good man. You’re a good woman. Emotional affairs are harder than they seem.

pairings. | Steve Rogers x fem!reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter, fem!reader x OMC (brief), Peggy Carter x Daniel Sousa

warnings. | ANGST, light smut, allusions to sex, cheating, emotional affairs, pregnancy (not the reader), crying, bad family, sadness, age gap, power dynamics (boss x employee), Christmas, heavy petting, kissing, broken vase (accidentally), sadness, drinking, smoking, nightmares, mild argument, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. | ~2.5k

author's note. | hi! i'm sort of back. i'm very sorry for my hiatus. here's a new fic! this is based on the lyrics from Phoebe Bridgers' Savior Complex, which is one of my favourite songs of all time. let me know what you think! taglist: @hansensfics. i might delete this one, but please don’t save it or upload it anywhere. thanks! MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY!

He’s your boss. You work directly under him.

He isn’t bossy. Really, it’s an issue. Every time he gives you a task, he says ‘sorry’ first and finishes the order with another apology. You tell him he doesn’t have to apologize, but you’ve got the same problem as well. It’s always atonement for something you haven’t even done. You wouldn’t hurt a fly unless it hurt him.

Mr. Rogers is very nice. He has a secret office that he lets you stay in whenever you want. There’s a couch from one country and a desk from another. Each item is foreign in this room.

You’re always so tired, but he tells you to avoid caffeine. He gives you a blanket and tells you to lie down. You listen at first but can never relax. Not when you know he’ll be alone.

The honesty was a mistake at first. Mr. Rogers is so sensitive that he feels what you feel. He knows you so well that if something’s wrong, he’ll bother you until confession. You tell him almost anything, biting your tongue when you know you get too close to baring your entire soul.

The male friend of yours who keeps asking you out. The exams you study for to no avail. Your parents’ absence. Mr. Rogers—Steve, he insists—is a good listener and very wise. It makes sense. He’s much older than you and was on his own adventures when you were born.

The adventures are where he met his wife. Her name is Margaret, and she’s everything you aren’t. She’s headstrong and beautiful beyond words. She’s good with numbers and brilliant. She knows what she wants and will stop at nothing to get them.

Peggy is a real keeper. The wedding rings on their fingers prove this well.

Nothing more than a few kisses and caresses have intertwined you and Steve. Nothing physical, at least.

You’re quiet around him. Never say anything more than a sentence. You shy away when your eyes met, especially if he says something sweet.

Words take up the space as you grow closer. Steve is particularly good with words, whereas you often stutter and blend words together.

And sometimes, there is complete silence. It’s contentful. He replies to emails, and you sort through the pile of mess in the corner.

You tell him your dreams, and he tells you the ones he’s already fulfilled. What he studied in school, his family, his friends, his favourite country he’s been to. Nothing about Peggy—neither of you can bear it.

Unless she’s done something that’s hurt his feelings—like when she swears she doesn’t talk to Daniel Sousa anymore, but he hears them calling late at night.

Sometimes, Steve talks for so long that it gets dark, and your shift is over. He pays you extra—or, at least, tries to. You never take the money because nothing was lost. You enjoy the little time you have with him.

He takes you home, wanting you to avoid walking down the street in the pitch-black evening.

His car is a mess—the same as his office. He apologizes sincerely and pushes everything in the front seat to the back. The directions consist of “take a left” and “keep going straight.” You assume he’ll forget it. You don’t know how much this means to him.

Steve stays parked outside your building when you rush to your room. You live on the bottom floor and are right by the entrance. You’re a movie’s heroine when you throw yourself on your bed and giggle, butterflies filling your stomach.

He is something. The scriptwriter has Steve’s dialogue under his name but with “CHARACTER: TBA” in parentheses. No one knows if the film will be completed. No one knows how it will end.

Mr. Rogers stays parked outside, forehead resting against his steering wheel, and he’s trying to get a hold of his nerves.

Eventually, he grabs his pack of cigarettes that he always hides from Peggy. She often reminds him of his mother—without the sagacity. She tells Steve what he should or shouldn’t do a lot. He hasn’t lived since he breathed you in.

He smokes with the windows up, tears flowing down his face because he knows this can’t happen. He cannot betray his wife, but he doesn’t want to hurt you.

Steve comes to you on a starry night. You can see the moon and something else twinkling through the trees, and he rings your doorbell.

When you open the door, he’s a large man cowering like a small child. He wants to cry—you can tell. His mouth is in a frown that won’t disappear, and his eyes are glassy.

He’s drunk when he practically falls on top of you. He is slurring apologies that you know are unnecessary. His breath smells of whiskey, and he’s very heavy. You’ve fantasized about him on top of you during restless sleeps, but not quite like this.

Somehow, you crawl out from underneath the older, married man. You know it would be fruitless to lift Steve up, so you drag him to your bedroom.

You keep the door to the bathroom open and bring a bucket as well. The water on your bedside table is his now, and so is the charger and landline. Anything he wants of yours, he can have. He doesn’t even have to ask.

It’s hard to sleep when the one you desire so profoundly is in your bed, sadder than he should be. He drifts off with ease, but he’s violent in his tossing and turning. He shines with sweat and tears, soaking your sheets with his scent. You’re not sure if you’ll wash them. It’s a nightmare you can’t rouse him from, one that you don’t dare to ask him about the next morning.

Steve must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed. It’s small, too small for his big being. Or maybe it’s his hangover—perhaps even hunger. You offer to make whatever, but he grumbles.

He’s not sure why he’s taking his disappointment out on you. He wasn’t trying to test you, but you should’ve turned him away. You should’ve told him to go back home to his wife with her expected child inside her womb, but you don’t know this terrible secret. If you did, it would tear you apart from the inside out. This, he knows, for sure.

Mr. Rogers doesn’t say much to you in the morning, drinking two cups of coffee and staring out the window. You sit across him, and he looks past your face—the very visage he can never seem to tear his eyes away from.

“You shouldn’t have let me stay,” he finally says.

“Why not?” you ask, “you came here yourself. I could never turn you away.”

“You need to. You need to go out and, I don’t know, spend time with boys your age. Boys who don’t have wives or girlfriends they won’t leave you for.”

You flinch as if he’s raised one of his gentle hands.

Steve sighs. “That’s not what I meant. I think the lines between us have blurred. We’re not doing the right thing here, honey.”

You can’t look up, can’t face him. You wish this wasn’t the topic. You wish he had told you about his dream instead, and you would have told him yours. The one where he leaves you, the one where he gets his happy ever after with Peggy, and you get nothing.

He gives you a kiss on the head and bids you goodbye. You’re happy you have a day off tomorrow.

It’s almost Christmas, about two weeks since the conversation. Steve tries to make things seem normal. Normal in the sense that he hasn’t made his employee fall hopelessly in love with him. Then, normal in the sense that Peggy doesn’t exist, and he can still keep you in his arms until a customer comes in.

You go on dates with your guy friend like Mr. Rogers has insisted, but they’re unfulfilling. He often prefers to stay home and rent a movie, followed by sloppy kisses and dry humping that is unsatisfactory for only you.

“You don’t have to go out with only him,” Steve reminds you one day. You’re in his lap and he’s just finished reading through his entire diary with you. Most pages are about the employee he’s infatuated with, few are about his wife.

“I know. I just don’t want anyone else but you,” you tell him.

Moments later, his mouth is on your neck and his hand is up your skirt. You’re just about to come when a delivery man walks in, calling your boss’ name.

The shop is closed for a week, and your father has invited you to visit him and his new family. Your step-sisters are older and runway-ready. They have wonderful jobs and husbands that aren’t seeing women younger than them.

It’s like a closed practice. An event you can only watch from afar. You have no place here, even if your stepmother cleaned the guest room for you. You book a new plane ticket so you can go home early. You don’t make an excuse because they don’t even ask why; they just bid you goodbye.

You land at a horrible hour. There are too many taxis that families need—families trying to have a nice, hurt-free holiday.

And so you call Steve, and he answers on the first ring.

“Hello?” he greets, and you can sense some kind of anxiety in his voice.

“Um, hi. Happy holidays,” you tell him, nervous beyond belief as well.

His voice is smooth like honey, crooning in your frost-bitten ear.

“Happy holidays, baby,” he says. Peggy isn’t nearby.

“Uh, I’m at the airport. I was with my dad’s family, but I left. I don’t know how to get home. All the taxis are taken up.”

“I’m on my way, okay? Just sit tight, sweetie.”

“Thank you,” you exhale, “thank you so much, Steve.”

“Anything for my girl.”

When he arrives, he finds a place to quickly park. He takes your sole suitcase out of your hands and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

It’s sudden.

Mr. Rogers—your boss, a married man—is kissing you like you’re his only lover. Like he’s your boyfriend, and he’s missed you dearly.

You lean in for more, and he pulls away. Smiling, he opens the car door for you.

He takes the long way home, the ones with few cars driving alongside.

“I didn’t know you left,” he eventually says.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. It was a last-minute thing.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. I went to your place to say ‘hi,’ but no one was home.”

“I should’ve told you. I really am sorry,” you profess.

Steve places a finger on your mouth, shushing you. His hand moves to cup your cheek, and you push your face further into his palm.

“Thank you for picking me up,” you whisper, looking at him intently.

“I’m glad you called me. I missed you. I would do anything for you.”

You say nothing to that. You turn the radio on and the last song is one you recommended to him. You both hum the lyrics until it ends, and he turns it off.

“I always enjoy it when you drive me,” you confess after a while.

“Oh yeah? Why?” he smiles.

“You’re careful. You don’t go too fast or slow. You know what you’re doing. You’re such a pro at it,” you explain, slightly self-conscious of your reasoning.

“That all?” Steve teases, raising his eyebrows.

“Hm… No… I love your hands.” You giggle.

“Yeah? I know you do, baby. Always starin’ at them. I bet you think of them touching you all the time,” he rasps, briefly letting go of the wheel to rub at his beard.

You squeeze your thighs, mind already turning with scenarios where Steve touches you like a starved man.

His hand on your face moves back to your mouth, thumb swiping your bottom lip before pushing in. You suck on the digit, giving it the treatment you would to his cock. When you reach out to touch him, the car suddenly halts.

He stops on the side of the road, eyes watering. Regret etches his features, and you know what’s to come.

“We can’t,” Steve says, pulling his finger out. “Not yet, at least.”

“I know” is all you have to give.

Peggy visits the store in early March. Underneath her shirt is a small baby bump.

When you see it, your heart stops.

Steve brushes past you to lead her away, examining your face for hurt. You’re behind the shelves and watch the couple, your mouth parted with your eyes threatening to leak. You turn and head towards the back, choosing to hide somewhere so you can fall apart in solitude.

Mr. Rogers watches as you leave. He wishes you would look back and give him something, anything. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to hurt you this way. But he did, and he will try to make it right.

Peggy leaves eventually, and Steve closes the store early. He searches for you, listening for a sniffle or movement.

You sit on the floor, a broken vase next to you. He quickly nudges the debris away so you don’t get hurt.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he says, looking down at you. You look up, eyes bloodshot, and you stare at him with something he can’t place. He envelopes you in a hug, and you can feel his erratic heart clamouring against your face.

“Come with me to the office, please,” Steve begs.

You shake your head.

“You ask too much of me, Steve. You have a wife and an innocent child on the way. We can’t keep doing this.”

“No, no. Please, just come. Please, honey,” he pleads once more. “At least hit me, yell at me, tell me to go fuck myself.”

“Why would I? I’m happy for you. You’re getting what you’ve always wanted.” Your voice cracks, and you force a smile. Steve sees through it all.

“No. I want you—I love you. But I don’t have you, do I? Listen, I’ll leave her. I’ll still be a good father, even though I know that’s not my kid at all. We’ll go elsewhere. Move into a nice home and do whatever we want,” he rambles.

Strong Mr. Rogers breaks apart in front of you. You take him into your arms, and you both cry together.

You’re the one that leads him to his office. You sit on the couch with him and notice that his wedding band is gone. He always wears it when Peggy comes by, but he didn’t this time.

“That night you took me in—I dreamt of you. I dreamt you weren’t mine, and you didn’t love me anymore. I messed something up and didn’t fix it. It was the worst nightmare I’ve ever had,” Steve admits.

You don’t say anything. As much as the whole ordeal hurts you, as terrible as what you’ve done to a woman and her child, you can’t let Steve go. Neither can he. It’ll have to end someday, just not now. Not yet.

[afictionalwhor3]

Speechless

A/N: I fear I may be back in my top gun maverick era. I wanna work on being more consistent but no promises. I'm pretty sure this would be considered smut with plot so enjoy sexies :).

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+ minors do not interact), oral m!receiving, unprotected pinv, praise/degradation, dirty talk

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

"Y/N!" Bradley yells up the stairs for you checking his watch for the thousandth time. You had so many qualities he admired. How loving you were, your intelligence, your ability to reassure him when he didn't even know he needed it. However, timeliness was not on your tool belts of assets. A trait that drove perfectionist always on time Bradley insane to no extent. And if you took any longer the two of you would officially be late to Coyote's wedding. "If you aren't down here in the next two minutes I am leaving without you!" He yells up the stairs.

"Oh stop it no you're not. Don't get your panties in a bunch it takes a lady a while to look good" You say walking downstairs. At the sound of your heels clicking down the stairs, Bradley looks up to say something smart in reply but the words get lodged in his throat. You looked absolutely enchanting. The color of the dress not only complimented your skin, but it hugged you in all the perfect places like it was made just for you. The slit showed off your perfect legs while the neckline left plenty to the imagination. You walked over to him fixing his tie and brushing off the shoulders of his suit "Cat got your tongue?" You ask with a smirk wrapping your arms around his neck. Finally getting some sense about himself Rooster places his hands on your hips looking at you.

"No sorry I just was not expecting all of this," He says making you smile and kiss his still-shocked face.

"When my date looks this good it's only right I match it." You reply and it's Rooster's turn to smirk. He takes one of your hands in his and makes you do a spin as you laugh softly. He whistles lowly before pulling you in close to his body.

"I say wedding be damned, we stay here tonight and I ravage you." Bradley whispers and you smirk placing a hand on his chest.

"Hold your horses there lieutenant. Weren't you the one just yelling about us being late and leaving me? And if you think I just spent hours getting myself together so we could not go out? You are very very sadly mistaken. Maybe if you play your cards the right way you can get lucky tonight," You wink giving him another kiss before walking away to grab your purse and the gift. "Well come on Bradshaw we are going to be late," You say with a smirk as you start walking outside to the car. Bradley can't do anything besides shake his head before quickly locking the house up and following you.

~ Coyote's wedding ceremony was beautiful. Weddings always made you cry and Rooster wouldn't admit it but seeing some of his closest friends get married invoked some sensitive emotions in himself as well. He spent a large part of the ceremony fidgeting with the ring on your finger waiting, rather impatiently, for the day it's the two of you up there promising your souls to each other for the rest of your lives. Now the two of you resided at the wedding reception which lasted late into the night. Both you and Rooster, as well as the other Top Gun crew, were more than a few drinks in. After Bradley had to help Bob get into an Uber with Phoenix you both decided to call it a night getting an Uber back to your respective hotel suite.

Getting back to your room you open the door heading right for the king-size bed so you could collapse onto it. "Roos can you take my shoes off please? I'm pretty sure I'm going to have bunions after all the dancing I did tonight" You say as Rooster smiles and takes his suit jacket off throwing it on the back of a nearby chair. He gets on his knees in front of you kissing the inside of both your legs before he gets to work on your heels.

"I told you that you should've taken these off a lot sooner than you did. And I offered to carry you multiple times, you know I don't care" He says gently massaging your foot after he manages to get the shoe off. You moan softly at how good it feels.

"Yeah I know but I hate giving you the benefit of being right," You say stubbornly making Bradley smile. After your second foot is taken care of Bradley begins to kiss up your body slowly. When he gets to the beginning of your slit he looks into your eyes his pupils blown from lust. Despite what your head, and pussy, are telling you you push his head away. "I have to go the bathroom," You announce, and before Rooster can say anything else you run into the bathroom. Somewhat stunned Rooster stays there for a few seconds before sighing and standing up assuming you just aren't up for it tonight. He sits on the bed taking his shoes and socks off before he stands up to take off his cuff links and tie. In the process of unbuttoning his shirt, he hears the bathroom door open and turns to look at you and once again he is left speechless.

Before him you stand in a lingerie set he has never seen before. The sheer material of most of it does little to conceal Rooster's favorite parts of you. You walk over to him slowly making sure to sway your hips a little extra. When you finally reach him you take his shirt out of his hands and begin undoing the rest of the buttons. You look at him with a smirk on your face,

"Lieutenant, to have you speechless not once but twice tonight. That has to be a new record for me" You say. When you're done with his shirt you grab him by his belt and guide him until he falls on the bed. Once again trying to gather his bearings Bradley says,

"When you'd g-get this set?" He asks and you can't help but chuckle as you sink to your knees before him.

"Real smooth Bradshaw. Real smooth" You say smiling as you can see Rooster's face start to turn red. You continue your previous actions unbuckling his belt and with his help getting his pants off. Next is rubbing your hand gently over his bulge gauging his reactions. After a while you start to apply more pressure and move a little bit faster before Rooster grabs your wrist, "If you keep going I'm going to bust in my pants like some horny teenager" He says making you smirk.

"So what would you like from me Bradley? My mouth?" You ask kissing over his bulge as Bradley whimpers and nods his head.

"Fuck yes baby please," He says making you smirk. It wasn't often you got Bradley to submit to you like this, always having an incessant need to be in control. So, when you could get him like this it felt awfully good. You take his boxers off exposing his hard and angry length. You kiss his tip making him whimper again,

"Awe it's okay baby. I'm gonna take care of it." You promise before slowly taking his length in your mouth. Rooster throws his head back moaning out for you. You watch as his fists grip the sheets tightly the deeper you go onto his cock. After spending a few minutes bobbing up and down on his cock, you come up for air spitting on his cock and using one hand to stroke it. The other only teased his balls.

"Y/n fuck yes. Fuck you're taking care of my cock baby." He says making you smirk. He sits up on his elbows so he can admire your work and your own mouth waters at his chiseled physique. The man had to have been chiseled by the gods the way you could count each muscle on his body. Bradley noticed you staring and began flexing subtly for you. There was a moment when you were pretty sure you were dripping onto the sheets. You take his cock back into your mouth and at the feeling of how wet your pussy is you sneak a hand down to touch yourself over your panties. "Fuck you look so hot playing with yourself right now. How'd I get so fucking lucky?" He asks in between moans making you smile.

Relaxing your throat to go deep on his cock as your hand takes a more firm grip on his balls massaging them. After only a few seconds Rooster pulls you off him and pulls you up to meet him. "If you kept going with that I would've busted everywhere and I need to cum in your pussy" Rooster says making you smirk. You press your lips to his letting your hands wander over his body while Rooster sits up to take the rest of his shirt off and let his hands roam the familiar planes of your body.

He pulls away from the kiss to lay kisses on your neck and expertly takes your bra off tossing it somewhere in the room. He brings your boob into his mouth swirling his tongue around your nipple and using his free hand to play with the other one before he switches sides. You push him onto his back after a few moments "Let's make tonight about you baby" You say taking your panties off and straddling his length. You give him a few courtesy pumps before lining yourself up and slowly sliding on. Rooster's hands fly to your waist and guide you down. You fall forward bracing yourself against his chest. You bite your lip willing yourself to get adjusted to him. No matter how many times the two of you had sex, every time he entered you it was like the first time all over again. When you were ready Rooster began to guide you up and down on his cock, both your moans mixing with each other. Willing yourself to go faster you whined as it wasn't enough and before you even had to say anything Rooster pulled you into himself and began to fuck up into you.

"Bradley! Oh my god! That's my fucking g-spot. Shit you're fucking pounding it!" You moan loudly while Rooster applies a few slaps to your ass making you moan even louder.

"You're so fucking sexy. Wearing that slutty fucking lingerie for me. Had that on all night knowing we'd come back here and I'd fuck you. Such a perfect slut for me" Rooster says turning your face to kiss his passionately all teeth and tongue.

Before you can process what's happening Rooster is pulling out of you to flip you on your stomach helping you to all fours. Lining himself up once again he pounds right into you this time making you arch over. "Fuck!" You moan loudly. Looking down at you Rooster swears itself enough to make him bust right there. He leans over to kiss your shoulder and snake his hand around your body to play with your clit.

"I need you to cum for me baby cause I'm about to blow a loud so deep in your pussy. Come on be a good girl for me cum on my cock. My good little whore there you go baby" He says and every word that comes out his mouth has your pussy spasming until your basically yelling while you cum harder than you think you ever have. Fucking you through your high the spasms of your pussy finally push Rooster over the edge as he fills your pussy up. His body lays on tops of yours while you try to catch your breath and make sense of what just happened.

After a few minutes pass Rooster slowly and gently pulls out of you making you whine. He goes to get a washcloth out the bathroom running it under warm water before he comes back and cleans you up gently while you whimper at how sensitive your pussy feels. Rooster goes back into the bathroom to clean himself up before he comes back to you helping you onto your back and getting into bed. You immediately snuggle into him while he wraps his strong arms around you. You bury your head in his neck taking in his scent. Rooster traces aimless shapes along your back and hip "I didn't go too hard at the end there right?" He asks while you shake your head and press a kiss to his jaw.

"No it was just right." You say already feeling your body becoming heavy with sleep.

"That's alright baby get your sleep because after I feed you tomorrow morning I have a few things to get you back for. You left me speechless twice tonight which warrants at least four orgasms. At least" He says as your mouth hangs open and he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead as if the filthiest words didn't just come out of his mouth.

"I love you baby. Get some sleep you're definitely going to need it"

[strwbrrymnstrenrgy]

unorganized thoughts that i may turn into fics

✦konig meine frau✦

this man is a certified freak. like 7 days a week. i stand by the fact that it's always the quiet ones. most ppl look at him and are like 'aww subby inexperienced baby boy' (and usually so do i) but versatility yk. anyways i feel like he actually has a really long tongue, 👀 if yk what i mean. and loves edging, just not on himself because it frustrates him. anyways, back to the original plot of this post, i think he almost likes receiving as much as giving but emphasis on that almost.

he's a clit sucker, sorry not sorry to say it. and loves holding your hips against the bed so you can't squirm. one of my personal hc's is that he can play the piano really good and you know what they say about piano players........

overall he's just perfect. and don't even get me started on aftercare with him cause WHEW CHILE

hes just so. so hot.

i think his favorite part of it though is foreplay. only cause he gets to learn about what your turn ons are and where you want him to touch you. also he just really likes teasing. when you do it to him though, he becomes whiney and impatient, which leads me to my next thing,

KONIG IS A SUB LEANING SWITCH

it's just really easy to get him to fall apart under your touch, like i mentioned in the dick headcanons, he's very sensitive.

he loves kissing, licking and just being all over you and you being fully receptive of it. this man would struggle so hard in public to not do that. he understands that it's not socially acceptable in public but he just can't help it<3 i love him.

oral fixation konig? oral fixation konig.

he has to have his mouth on something, or be doing something to be comfortable. so usually you'd just let him suck your fingers or something to distract him (he just like me fr)

mommy kink konig? hear me out.

like imagining this 6'10 guy who's probably twice my age moaning under me and calling me mommy is just so. mmmm yummy

┆☆ghosty my love☆┆

hmmm where do i even start. yk i feel like i have to preface this by saying i don't feel like ghost and myself would work out if we're talkin about his canon personality so it's hard to write for him without it being heavily ooc.

like he's just too nonchalant. like it's not chalanting for me. where tf is the chalance at.

but anyways, i feel like he's a trial and error yk yk.

like when you're someone like ghost, pussy eating isn't gonna be the first thing on your mind.

so he'd have to practice on you. (that's a great fic idea right there) which ultimately leads to you not being able to walk the next morning but that's probably fine. ghost is so strong that he can probably just carry you anyways.

i feel like ghost would let out more emotion during sex. like he barely even blinks normally. but while he's in the reverse cowgirl position with you while everyone's asleep? expressive as hell.

over time, i feel like he knows your body better than you, when he's edging you, you don't even have to say anything for him to know you're about to cum.

he's very observant in that way.

i feel that ghost would be a hard dom. never a switch.

laughs a lot during sex. not like a full FYSUDUDIHFUGFUTDUYVHUJ type of laugh, just like a little chuckle and it's so attractive.

and and and! maybe it's a little muffled bc of his lips being pressed against your skin.

usually does that when he's like, deep in you and ofc you moan and grab at his hand that was right next to your head, cause he's just so overwhelming, but in a good way.

he def has to cum a few times to feel fully satisfied. pent up military man tings. but like remember when i said ghost has rlly thick cum. yeah. that.

always makes you feel so full. before, when he's shoving his thick fingers in you to prepare you for his cock, which is even bigger. during, when he's fucking his cum into you from the previous 3 rounds. and after, when you're still full from his cum as it drips down your thighs and you try to catch your breath.

he definitely loves making you horny on purpose, just to revel in how wet you are as if he has no idea what he does to you.

anyways part 2? cause i most definitely have more thoughts about this FINEEE man. (and konig, my wife, i didn't forget about her)

[sugar-omi]

Hi! Your writing is amazing and makes my day every time I see you post. Could I request Cove while trying for a baby with a female MC? He’s so sweet and emotional I can totally imagine it would be equal parts super fluffy/adorable and spicy/hot Thank you! ✨

omg ty thats so nice of you to say!!! also tysm for this rq, i've been waiting for someone to ask smth like this bc i was worried i was the only one thinkin shit like this!!! also i think this is a bit more horny than fluffy, which is why i tried to make up for it w lots of kisses from cove LOL but ykw.. i feel like a part 2 wouldnt be so bad either 👀

tags : NSFW, ok for fem/nb readers, after step 4/wedding dlc, buff cove lol, breeding kink, creampie, overstimulation, cove w oral fixation(? a bit implied), cunnilingus, cove "uses" a nickname that you can "insert" bc i can but also cant see him using pet names, + he calls u good girl, "multiple choice" dialogue (just read 1 of the colored text "options" than continue w the rest of the fic, theres no links or anything <3)

synopsis : you and cove try for a baby.

cove tries to be calm.

and he is! after a bit of panic of course, caused by his worries but excitement for fatherhood but also you want him to.. to... oh god he's too embarrassed to think about it, from finally deciding to have a baby the only natural next emotion is calm! he is cooler than a cucumber!

but now you're laid out under him, as beautiful as ever, and even after years of being together cove can't get enough of you; especially when you're so sweet to have like this.

"cove.." your gasp drug cove out of his daze.

you reach up and cup his face, cove leaning into your touch. "y/n.." he kisses your wrist.

"what're you thinking about?"

cove flushes. there's no way he could tell you exactly what he was thinking, saying that he found the idea of coming inside was totally different from thinking it and he was not ready to that something clicked in him when you finally talked about being ready for a baby...

"you.. just- just you, and how lucky i am." cove decided to distract you by kissing down your neck, leaving a new mark under your ear. thankfully it worked, although maybe you just gave it up because you already know what's going through his head.

he starts working his way down your body, and you fall back on the pillows and let cove treat himself to your cunt.

cove tossed your panties somewhere beyond the bed, his days of nervously folding your panties over. and he latches onto your thighs, sucking more marks into your skin and his fingers lovingly work your clit.

"cove.. i wan' more..." you tangle your hands in his hair, tugging on the strands. wordlessly he moves on to your twitchy core, his tongue slipping inside and lapping up your slick.

cove's boisterous ministrations has you grinding against his face, gasping as he works your sensitive clit and adds a couple fingers to the mix, speeding up the process so he can be inside you.

cove hopes you don't see him grinding against the mattress.

he sits up, his fingers spreading you open easily. while you're panting dozily, cove's fingers abandons your cunt so he can grab the lube from the bedside.

"habit.." cove laughs it off sheepishly.

he instinctually reaches for a condom, but realizes and a wave of heat rushes over him. you won't be needing those for awhile...

cove meets your hooded gaze, a knowing look in your eyes.

you grin, full of mischief. "guess we're gonna have to break it."

cove growls lowly, slapping a hand over his eyes. it does nothing to hide his blush and he curses himself when his cock twitches against his leg.

deciding to come out of hiding, cove peers at you from over his nose and you feel your own heart pick up sped at the stark look of his eyes. something about cove seems like he could devour you, but when he leans down to kiss you so tenderly you think otherwise.

cove poured the lube over his hand, coating his length and he hisses at the heat between his hand and cock. hazily cove thinks that this is the hardest he's been since he was a clumsy teenager.

cove captures you in another loving kiss, wanting to be close to you as he sinks inside.

this is your first time going without a condom, being connected like this has both of you holding onto each other, your nails scratching down his shoulder at the new but welcomed sensation.

this isn't the first time you and cove have done it unprotected, but it has been awhile so you both can't help but pull the other person closer, needing more.

cove buries his face in your shoulder, shaking from how wet and hot you are inside like this. he can feel the way your gummy walls flex around him and he pulls his hips back- the whine that comes out of your taut throat has cove closing his eyes and taking in your every sound as he moves so slowly, so sensually but so lovingly when he grinds his hips into yours.

finally, he finds the strength to remove himself from your shoulder, needing to see your face in ecstasy.

cove looked down at your own blissed out face, and if he could see his own face he'd notice that his own face his flushed and if it was possible, his pupils would turn into hearts from how lost in pleasure and love for you he's in.

he situates his hands on your hips, the pads of his thumbs rubbing affectionate circles into your skin.

"ah- cove, cove.. please move." you reach for him, intertwining one of his hands with your own.

he gives a kiss to the back of your hand, and when he rears back his hips to start a rough pace, if you could you'd think that the kiss was an apology for the way he's using your cunt.

cove's grip on your hand and hip is solid, it grounds you and the only thing you can think of is how deliciously cove is fucking you, his cock brushing and bumping against the sensitive and deepest parts of your insides.

you whine loudly and can't help but throw your head back because it's like he's going faster and when your eyes return from their trip to the back of your head, you open your eyes to feast on the sight of your husband/boyfriend.

and it's self explanatory why you're more aroused than a just moment ago; cove's hair is mused from all your tugging, and his glasses are long abandoned so that way he can see the way his cock pumps in and out of your cunt and the creamy ring around the base of his dick.

"ah- i love you. y-you're so beautiful..." cove soothes you, kissing your cheek.

"i- oh fuck right there!" your nails run down his chest, cove is going to be a mural of hickeys and scratches. "i love you too, ahh- cove!"

cove lets go of your hand in favor of your clit, already knowing your body well enough to know when you're going to cum.

"fuck... that's it, y/n, cum for me."

"hah, cove! f-finish with me, please. want- want..." you pant, hazy and driven to babbling from the way cove has worked you up all night.

"i know n/n, cum with me. that's it, good girl." cove leans down to kiss you.

tangled in a passionate kiss, your moans blend together as you finish. cove grinds his hips into you, his cock rubbing the deepest part of your insides and painting them white.

he falls into your shoulder, panting and planting a kiss there.

cove gets up, realizing you don't need a wall of muscle crushing you.

"y/n..."

he starts to pull out, and cove has another revelation that he did not think this through...

his cum is leaking from your spent hole, more cum pushing out with every squeeze of your insides, still twitchy from your orgasm.

"yes cove?"

cove swallows, meeting your eyes and he feels embarrassed that you already know what he's going to say. and that you clearly know how much this is turning him on.

"one.. one more round? i'll be more gentle, i just uh.."

you put your ankle on cove's shoulder. "cove, fuck me again."

cove tenses up, this is gonna end up being a long night...

[sumaneun-stars]

'Save It - 03'

(smut)

previous | next | masterlist

Pairing. boss!Jay x Fem!secretary!reader

Genre. Co-workers to lovers, smut

Warnings. Abuse, hickeys, making out, mentions of bleeding, angst

Sypnosis. Jay was the fuckboy in college, such a playboy that he almost ran out of girls to hook up with. But once he inherited his father’s company, he’d changed. 3 years into being a professional CEO and then you walked through those doors, making him fall at first sight. All his plans collapsed once he found out that his rival, Lee Heeseung, was best friends with you ever since. There were many reasons for him to let go of you, including his parents- but his endless love for you said otherwise.

You watched as the water in the kettle boiled, it brought back painful memories. You remembered how the man sat near a fireplace, heating a metal rod to hit your skin.

“Where are your parents, little girl? I need my money!” the man screamed.

“I- I d- don’t know” you stuttered in fear.

“Don’t worry, mommy and daddy will come for you” he said as he grabbed your hair aggressively.

But they never came… so you ran.

You shut your eyes to the thought of being found by them again. You knew your parents were alive, but it was easier to consider them dead than the fact that they abandoned you. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself scratching the scar on your arm.

‘Shit, ouch it hurts. I should really stop this habit of scratching, before it starts to bleed again.’

“Hey love” Jay entered the kitchen.

“Oh- your back!” you quickly pulled down our sleeve to cover your arm.

“Yeah, I bought something for you!” He dragged you to the couch and made you sit on his thigh, and gave you the bag 

You opened the bag. It was a dress, a white dress. It was so elegant and simple, just what you loved.

“Oh my god, Jay it’s so pretty! Thank you!” you hugged him with so much force he fell back, his head resting on the couch head. You straddled him and buried your face in the crook of his neck. You felt so safe and peaceful in his arms. The both of you stayed like that for sometime, Jay occasionally ran his fingers through your hair.

“You like it that much?” Jay kissed the side of your head.

“Mhm, I love you” you confessed.

You felt Jay freeze his movements on your hair, pulling you back to make you look at him. His eyes were glossy and teary. His lips formed into the brightest smile, making the butterflies in your stomach explode.

“Why are you crying, baby?” you chuckled and started to wipe them away with your thumb. Jay cupped your cheeks and brought your face closer, connecting the both of your foreheads. 

“I wanted to say that first” he whined in a whispered tone, making you giggle.

“It does matter who says it first, silly,” you teased him, stroking the ends of his hair.

“I love you more. You're an addiction baby” he confessed back, the both of you shared a kiss filled with emotion, which made your stomach flip. You couldn’t believe you thought Jay was scary, your once terrifying boss. Like he heard your thoughts, you felt him smile into the kiss, your noses and teeth clashed into each other as you shared a hot, messy make out.

“I’m your boss only when we aren't together” Jay mumbled into the kiss and you nodded in approval.

“What about when it's only us together?” you teased him.

“My queen” he leaned into your lips once again, but you stopped him with your fingers. Jay looked at you confused, but when you attached your lips to the birthmark on his neck, he couldn’t help but moan out loud. You kissed his skin gently, swirling your tongue on his sensitive area. But soon enough you started sucking on it harshly, making a red mark that soon turned purple. Purple. Your favorite color.

“Fuck baby-  how am i supposed to hold back when you do this?” he moved his head to the side, giving you more access to his neck. After a few more hickeys, you giggled and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Ah, you got a parcel, from a man” you said once you pulled away, getting up to bring the bag to him. Jay’s eyes widened when he read the letter, and that made you worried. His face turned pale.

“Jay? You okay?” you asked, concerned. 

“Huh- ..yeah, yeah i’m okay” he cleared his throat, his mother pulled another stunt 

“My mother is expecting me to wear this tonight” Jay said the truth. He hoped that his mother wouldn't do anything tonight at the party, especially about his marriage. He had to tell you but… how? He just got you and now he had to lose you… 

“I need to tell you something, Jay” you broke the silence, you were ready to tell him. Mustering all the confidence you had, you opened your mouth, but-

His phone rang.

“Sorry, baby” he said rather quickly and stormed off.

Later, you took a shower and applied your daily amount of foundation. You put on the dress Jay got for you. It was gorgeous. The expensive material felt so foreign on your skin. You came out of the bathroom, only to be met with the drooling sight of Jay in a black tuxedo. He looked so angelic and unreal as he made his bowtie in front of the mirror, like a fictional character straight out of a fairytale. Like your own prince charming. But he looked… sad, and worried.

Jay was anxious. He prayed with all his heart for nothing to happen tonight. He regretted answering his parents call earlier.

“Make sure you wear that, Jongseong. And be polite” was all they said, and made him worried, what if they-

“Love?” he heard your voice. He turned and almost cried at how beautiful you looked. Your hair let loose and thread with small white flowers, hands decorated with a simple ring and bracelet. And your eyes were filled with a galaxy of stars. Jay was truly whipped for you.

“Jay?” you found him smiling like an idiot.

“My beautiful princess” he pulled you into his arms and kissed the crown of your head, giggling at your flustered reaction.

“I can’t get enough of you, should we not go tonight and stay in bed?” Jay secretly hoped you'd agree, but-

“No baby, we shouldn’t let our desire collide with business, you taught me that” you cupped his cheek and massaged his neck.

“ I did?..”  Jay made a funny face and you laughed.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

The party was huge. The moment the guards let the car through the gateway, you saw people getting out of limousines. And they wore fancy dresses that barely covered anything. You suddenly felt insecure, what if the people mistake you for a waitress? Just as you were getting lost in your negative thoughts, you felt a kiss on the back of your hand.

“You okay, love?” Jay leaned into your ear.

“Yeah, no i’m okay” you smiled back.

“In my eyes you're the most beautiful one here, that’s a huge compliment you know? Especially coming from the owner's son!” 

You laughed at his humor, but you knew deep down he was scared of something.

“Thank you baby. Are you okay though?” 

“Mhm better than ever! You're gonna love the party” he patted your hand in reassurance.

You got out of the car and almost immediately wanted to go home. Everyone looked your way… well, maybe at Jay who was standing behind you. Jay held your hand from the back, but you let go of it immediately. It broke your heart to remember that you were only his secretary in public. You got your head out of your ass and stepped behind Jay. The poor boy was so confused, he looked like a lost puppy, so you had to do this.

“Shall we, Mr. Park?” you stressed on the last word and he changed his expression.

You watched from the back at how many business men walked up to charm Jay and how many girls tried to touch him. Each elder Jay greeted had a nice woman to introduce to him. You couldn’t believe the duality Jay had with you and business, it was… scary.

“Jongseong! Look at my son! So handsome” Jay’s mother greeted him, and he smiled.

“And who may you be?” she looked at you, and with that, you knew she hated you.

You put on your ‘be nice face’ and smiled “I’m Mr. Park’s secretary, ma’am”

“Oh, so your Y/n! Yes yes, Jay has mentioned you” when she turned her attention to someone else, Jay sneaked a smile at you which made you blush.

“Oh my! Jay! You look so dashing in this suit!” Jay’s eyes widened at the familiar woman behind you.

“Soojin… I didn’t know you could make it-” 

You could tell that Jay said those words half- heartedly. The woman wore a sparkly black dress that showed her legs really well, she sized you up and raised an eyebrow at you, and you definitely didn’t like the sentence she spoke next.

“I knew this suit looked good on you, we truly do match!” she walked past you and threw her arms around Jay’s neck. The sight made the blood boil in your body. She dared touch your man, also in front of you.

“Well you two are going to be engaged soon, and I'll be the happiest mom!” Jay’s mother cheered as she pushed Jay and Soojin together. 

‘Engaged?’ 

Your smile faded.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes. He was supposed to get engaged to someone? And he didn’t tell you? Was his plan to use you? Soojin smiled at him, but his eyes were on yours. His eyes begged you to stay.

Jay looked at your glossy eyes, he had fucked up. You looked so confused and hurt, it broke his heart to see you like this. You were hurt, betrayed… and he was the reason. Jay distantly could hear his mother talking about his wedding… with someone else. When you turned and walked away, Jay’s insides broke down. His chest ached so painfully. He had to explain before you left him.

You walked slowly… almost like you wanted him to grab onto your arm, turn you around and say ‘it’s not what you think’ or ‘ i love you’. But it was just false hope.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost ran into the wall but was held back by-

“Hey, Y/n, you okay? Woah… why are you crying?” Heeseung examined your face.

That was your last string. Your tears finally broke free, making Heeseung embrace you.

”H- Heeseung- Ja- Jay… He- he has” you said in between sobs, trying to catch your breath.

“Shh… breathe Y/n, hey, come with me” Heeseung led you to the rooftop of the building. 

You're welcomed with a gush of wind, you really needed this. You removed your heels and sat on the ledge of the building. You looked up at the night sky, lit with a thousand little suns. The moon shone with a dim light, which made the city lights look brighter. The wind dried your tears and brought freedom to your hair. You hadn’t realized how much time you spent until you saw Jay seated beside you, his hair was messed up, his jacket discarded and bowtie lost.

“I ran,” he said.

“Why?” you questioned.

“Because I thought you... left” Jay’s voice quivered.

You felt a pain in your chest when his voice cracked. It was always your voice that cracked in front of him, who would have thought the opposite would happen. The both of you stayed quiet, enjoying the view and the cool breeze, but the entire time, Jay had his eyes on you. He needed to apologize, and he was grateful that you gave him time to speak. 

“Y/n… I’m so sorry I didn't tell you about the engagement plans” Before he could speak the next sentence, Jay found himself crying.

“I tried to tell you, I promise- I did… but I was scared you’d leave me, and I was selfish to not tell you” Jay said while fresh tears greeted his cheeks. Your heart ached to see him crying, he was so vulnerable and a part of you knew he was telling the truth.

“We could have worked something out… maybe spoken to your father or mother about me” you faced him and tears bloomed.

“I know, I- I wasn’t thinking, I was so absorbed in my happiness, I didn’t think of yours- and I kept ignoring my mom’s calls, trying to cover up everything” liquid like silver dripped from Jay’s chocolate brown eyes. He cried into his hands, it felt like he was scolding himself. Like he was battling his own thoughts.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, I forgive you… look at me, Jay” you held his face in your palms, making him look at you.

“I’m so sorry Y/n… I promise, no more secrets” he leaned his head in your palm, you held his face and kissed his wet lips. Jay didn’t expect you to do that, but the moment your warm lips met, his heart awakened. He felt like he was breathing again. You were the oxygen to his lungs, the beating of his heart and his reason to smile. He held your face and kissed you harder, grateful to god for making you his.

“Baby… ” he whispered into your ear, and you felt the tears once again. He rubbed his nose on your neck, inhaling your scent, arms tightly wrapped around your waist… like you were going to run away from him. 

“I have something to tell you too…” you massaged the nape of his neck and gently pulled away as you prepared your words. You didn’t want another secret to invade your relationship. 

“What is it?” Jay asked and you stayed silent, looking down.

“Are you engaged to Heeseung?” Jay panicked.

“What? No!” you laughed at his horrified expression, which made Jay crack at his own assumption. You and Jay laughed so hard that you didn’t hear the door open, and a person walked in.

“You guys are so cute it’s sickening” Heeseung commented as he made his way towards you two.

“Heeseung! Where’d you go?” you noticed only then that Heeseung went missing.

“I went down to bring you some water and saw Jay running around like a cockroach… so i told him you were here” Heeseung sat next to you and glared at Jay teasing him.

“I would have found her without your help” Jay rolled his eyes at Heeseung, which provoked his humor.

“No way! Do you know how hard it was to find Y/n back in college, she used to hide on the rooftop and no one could find her! Not even me!” Heeseung explained with his dramatic hand movements which made the three of you laugh.

“Shows how dumb you were, Heeseung,” Jay laughed.

“You little…” you covered their mouths and laughed at the reactions they made.

Later, you three spoke of the most random things in life, each sentence ending with laughter. This was the start of a new bond …a friendship. 

“Bye Hee… and thank you” you hugged Heeseung at the entrance.

“No problem Y/n, if he does anything to hurt you, I’m right here okay? We all need that one… friend, right?” Heeseung smiled sadly.

“I’m glad you're that friend” you patted his arm and got into the car.

“You treat her well” Heeseung said when Jay offered his hand 

“I will, thank you… I guess” Jay shook his hand with heeseung’s and got into the car

You suddenly felt nervous when Jay opened the door to your shared suite. You were going to reveal your biggest secret. What was he going to say about your dark past… 

‘They tell you to be yourself and they judge you’ what if he leaves you?

“Love? Something wrong?” you were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Jay in front of you

“Yeah… just a little..” you tried to hide the fear.

“Scared?” He completed your sentence with the softest voice. You nodded your head in defeat.

“You don’t have to tell me Y/n. If it makes you uncomfortable, then don't” Jay brought you into his chest and embraced you. He wrapped his arms around your waist.

You felt so warm and… loved. His scent and warmth somehow made you feel like home. The small smiles and laughs he made were like oxygen to your lungs. You suddenly broke down, all that pent up sadness that you suppressed for months and years finally broke free. You wrapped your arms around his body and held the back of his shirt like he would disappear as you cried into his chest.

“Yn… what’s wrong? Are you okay, love?” Jay's concerned tone made you sob harder. How did you get a pure soul like him? Who were you to claim him yours? Did you really deserve him?

“Y/n, baby, please look at me? Hm?” Jay made you sit on the bed and kneeled in front of you, taking your hands in his.

He started to worry when you cried. Did he do something to make you cry? Did you truly forgive him after tonight? He couldn’t  lose you again, but if it was him who made you cry, then he didn’t deserve you.

“Is it me? D- did I make y- you uncomfortable after Soojin? Is it her?” Jay stuttered as he tried to find the words.

“Jay… I'm scared… what happened tonight scared me so much” you cried.

“I’m so sorry baby… I- I should have told you-”

“No- that’s not it… the thought of losing you was so painful, Jay. Tonight while I was up there, I thought about your future with Soojin and ways to move on from you”

You cried into your hands. All this time you spent your life working and emotionless, moving on doing your best not to dwell on your emotions. You constantly told yourself ‘no one will do it for you,so you do it yourself’, ‘love won’t get you anywhere’. 

“Y/n, I’m not going anywhere… I’m here for you so please look at me” Jay took your hands in his and rubbed circles at the back of your palm.

He couldn’t believe the fact that you were afraid of losing him. You were his everything, his whole world and the sight of you crying this hard because you were afraid of him leaving you. That made him wonder what kind of a lonely and scared life you’ve lived so far.

He cupped your right cheek and you finally looked at him. Your eyes widened at the sight of him crying.

“W- why are you crying?!” you kneeled in front of him and wiped his tears with your bare hand.

“I asked that question first” he laughed softly at your concerned state. He slowly removed your hand from his face and bought your face closer to his and connected the two foreheads.

“Y/n, I will never leave you, so please don’t leave me, because I don’t think I will be able to even breathe without you” you laughed at the last sentence, and brought his lips to yours. Being with him felt so unreal, but when you kissed him, your doubts vanished. Your shoulders felt light and your insides erupted with fireworks.

Jay never felt so alive before, your mere presence and touches made him want to melt. The effect you had on him was insane. If only you knew how far he would go for you. Fuck everything, he just wanted a life with you, to start and end the day with you.

“I want to show you something” 

End.

A/n: kjsfvksjfg what do you guys thinkk??

Taglist : @syyeluvs @thejjrl @baekbeaut @sunshine-skz @delulu4-life @surefornext @sooojinevie @hyunsllvr @shawnyle

[harunade]

IMAGINEE gyuvin is your situation ship/friends w benefits and one night at a party ricky is all over you while gyuvin watches from the other side of the room and when he finally decides he’s had enough of watching you two flirt he takes you away from ricky mid convo and shows you that you belong to him and him only ( he obvi confesses his love to you after some jealous sex 🤭🤭 )

— 🎀 anon

ANOOOONNNN…!/!!//£1&£

“What the fuck are you doing?” you ask yell at Gyuvin who has pushed you into one of the party host’s room. Obviously, you knew what he was doing adn why he was doing it. That night you decided to let Ricky be all over you, touching you and asking you to dance, just to get a reaction out of your situationship you actually crushed on. And thankfully, it worked, as you were now stuck in a room with him angrily looking at you.

“Just shut up” he rolled his eyes as he crashed his lips on you, making you lay down on the bed un the process. tonight’s kiss was rougher than usual, he was already biting your lips and slipping his own tongue inside your mouth, but at the same time you felt emotions put into it. Your hands shot to his fluffy brown hair as his kisses drifting to your neck, where he took his time biting and nibbling at your sensitive skin. You could hear him whimper when you accidentally pulled his hair too harshly.

“What’s gotten into you, Vin?” that’s when Gyuvin pulled away from the crook of your neck, only to stare in your eyes before placing a sweet kiss on your lips. “You’re mine” was all he said before pulling his shirt off, you following in an instant.

After many more kisses and marks on your chest from Gyuvin, while also caressing your waist in the process, he finally got your pants off and started fucking you. Somehow differently than other nights, his thrusts were rougher, as if he was trying to prove something and at the same time punish you. “Fuck- gyuvin..” you moaned as he managed to hit your g spot every time with no fail. You reached his hand, intertwining your fingers, and surprisingly he accepted. He was also more vocal than usual, letting his moans and groans free into the room, which you were loving. “Who’s fucking you this good, pretty?” he asked in a low voice as his free hand creeped to where your bodies connected, thumb attaching to your puffy clit. “you” a tear rolled down your face as the stimulation was getting too much. “say my name” his thrusts were getting sloppy, so you figured he was also close. “you, gyuvin.. i’m yours” you knew exactly what you were doing to him with your choice of words. “yes you are”

Shortly after, Gyuvin shot his load on you, filling you up to the brim. You loved the feeling of warmth in your belly but was quickly disappointed when he pulled out, not having made you cum yet. You thought it would be your punishment for not pushing Ricky away, but instead Gyuvin got on his knees and placed his tongue on your cunt. He skilfully cleaned you up from his cum while also making you orgasm in no time. After the second cleaning, he lifted himself back to you, giving you a french kiss. You could feel and taste both yourself and him on his tongue, and however disgusting it was, you loved it, and he did too. And you loved him, and he loved you too.

Gyuvin plopped down next to you, sneaking an arm under your waist and making you lay on his chest. He knew you loved listening to his heartbeat. “I’m sorry for pulling you away from Ricky, i think i just got jealous” he mumbled as he caressed your sides. “it’s okay, vin. to be honest i was doing you on purpose, i don’t like Ricky” you heard his breath stop for a moment. “Do you like me then…?” he asked doubtfully. “… i mean it’s okay if you don’t, but i do like you, a lot, that’s why i acted like that. sorry” he panicked and blurred everything out. You laughed, lifting your head and kissing him. “i like you too”

At that point, Gyuvin couldn’t hold his smile anymore. “Let me take you on a date tomorrow?” he titled his head cutely. “Take me on one right now, we can go to McDonald’s” you laughed at how fast he got dressed, while also helping you get dressed in case he was too rough. and after that you spent the night feeding each other fries (#^.^#)

[legrandepapillon]

Hi! I saw you are taking prompts for Wyllsrarion fluff!

Such a shame there is a lack of content compared to other Astarion pairings (i.e. with Gale or Durge).

Prompt fluff ideas, first kiss where Astarion realizes the depth of his feelings for Wyll. Or Astarion confessions to Wyll. His realization.

Wyll playing with Astarion's hair.

Wyll letting Astarion see himself through Wyll's eyes via tadpole and feeling how much Wyll loves him.

Astarion being fiercely protective of Wyll which may or may not surprise him (depends how early it is in relationship)

Since your say you are fine with NSFW then by all means go for it, I won't say know to Wyllsrarion spice. But it's also not entirely necessary because their fluff is just *chef kiss*

Asking anonymously because I am bashful...

Rating: T

hi anon, thanks for all the prompts you gave me!! i chose to use this one to respond to your ask, but i still put the others in my requests so keep your eyes peeled for those. one of them might be the spice you were looking for 👀

i think there’s something super intimate in hair care/trusting someone else with your hair care and i wanted to explore that here. i’m thinking maybe a part 2 to this where astarion tries to figure out wyll’s hair care & it goes disastrously bc i can't reconcile a universe where astarion is good at doing wyll's hair lol

Wyll had noticed that vulnerability did not come easy to the pale vampire in their party. He could hardly blame him for the matter either; after two-hundred years spent being ground into nothing by another man’s heel, he might begin to recoil at the idea of showing any weakness himself. Hells, it’d only taken seven with Mizora’s claws in his soul for him to begin to tremble at the thought of anyone seeing him at his most vulnerable in the same humiliating ways she had.

It was probably easier for their pale companion to lean into the more bloodthirsty, power hungry nature expected of a vampire spawn. To cast aside fickle things like sensitivity or emotion or fragility. He kept every single of his defenses up, the tripwires and traps in conversations with him deterring most of the others from prying down to the white meat of who he is.  If it could be even remotely related to the feeling of helplessness, he would never want it associated with himself. Better to put on the armor of his more vicious traits, leave some of the softer stuff tucked in a well-armed chest at the back of his mind.

And yet. 

Yet he obviously had never bargained to meet anyone just as dexterous and twice as charming. In all his efforts of keeping others out with his sharp tongue and sharp blades and well-placed traps, he’d never accounted for the possibility that there might be someone out there able to parry each strike and disarm every obstruction. Wyll could tell he had Astarion on the back foot more often than not. And at first the man had scratched and kicked and hissed at the idea of being seen and surreptitiously cared for. Of someone seeing all of his breaks and tears and taking the time to mend them rather than grinding salt into the wounds. It was truly a sight, watching as he braced himself for impact and then immediately melted against tender touch. He marvels at it.

A quarter way through their journey, surrounded by the glowing unfamiliar flora of the Underdark, and Wyll has already weaseled his way past so many of those traps and alarms. He hasn’t quite gotten Astarion to trust him, but it’s a very near thing now.

It shows in the way he slips into his tent every night, back from his hunts for more duergar and drow blood. He would half-stumble past the flaps of Wyll’s tent, illuminated in the shadows only by the odd glow of the vegetation surrounding their camp. Prop himself up awkwardly across the tent until the warlock arranged himself in a way that’s satisfactory to him. Wyll would always be ready for him—taking Astarion’s head on his lap, and placing one of the trashy adventuring novels they shared in his hands. The elf would read aloud from their novel, sniping at the dialogue and rolling his eyes at the prose wherever he desired whilst Wyll tended to the night routine for those rakish silvery curls of his. 

All of it done with hardly a word these days, a tradition started after Astarion had gotten too drunk on a bear and kept for the sake of companionship. For the sake of having someone that understands intrinsically the fears of being vulnerable, the breath of a monster on your neck at each waking move, the exhaustion of being strong and the desire to be weak for a while.

It wasn’t trust, but it was as close to it as he could get.

Wyll begins rummaging through the small pouch of items Astarion keeps for his personal hygiene whilst the vampire flips through to the page they’d left off on. He daren’t bother with the intricate routine of the man’s morning care, the scrunching and twisting and styling a bit beyond his own proficiency. But he knows this act well enough, separating rows of hair gently with a comb and moisturizing both scalp and curls in a pattern. He does it himself, every two ten days—sometimes four, if he was too caught up with adventuring to tend to it sooner. His own hair is wild at the roots now, the fresh new growth peeking out from formerly tidy canerows. Since Mizora had given him his horns and claws, he’d been too afraid of attempting to navigate re-braiding with the foreign appendages. The thought of undoing the style, only to be stuck fighting with his hair in his face because he couldn’t redo it kept him off the task. Perhaps he’d be vulnerable enough to ask Karlach, when they got her touch fixed. Or maybe teach Astarion, so that their nightly routine could be reciprocated every now and then. 

Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone treat him as tenderly as he does them?

Surfacing with Astarion’s cream and comb, Wyll readjusts the older man’s head in his lap before starting on his work. Parting the row of hair closest to his ear, before dabbing some of the moisturizer onto his scalp and then combing it through his curls. He’d once offered up his oils, the first time Astarion had run out of conditioner and the next merchant was another four-days trek back. But he remembers the way the vampire had recoiled—first at the genuine gesture of kindness, and then at the reality of it. He’d batted off the offer by insisting Wyll’s oils would only make his hair greasy and unattractive, but had managed to thank him anyways.

That had been before their little routine. Had he known then what he knows now, he might not have been so put out by the clear dismissal of help. 

Another row, more of the conditioner. When he combs through the curls, he marvels at how they immediately shrink back into their perfect shape. It was the first thing he’d noticed about him, back at the grove. The sunlight that filtered through the halo of his silvery locks, the way they seemed to fall into place no matter which way the elf shook his head. Well-coifed and obviously tenderly cared for, he’d been utterly transfixed. Perhaps obviously so, with the way Shadowheart had snorted at his mention of it and Gale had given him one of those ‘I’m-going-to-find-out-what-you’re-up-to’ stares. There’d been no ulterior motive, of course.

Except for maybe this.

“Wyll, I can’t believe you read this drivel, darling,” Astarion complains, gently tugging him from his thoughts. Wyll doesn’t take his eyes off of his task, but he does make a noise to inform the other man he’s listening. “The young maiden hurried to cover her perfectly hairless body, squeezing her arms across her ample bosom. It did naught to help maintain her chastity though, as her full breasts spilled over her clutched arms. I mean, really. Talk about an author’s thinly veiled fetishes.” 

“Ah, The Lusty Luskan Lordess,” he responds, comb delicately parting one section of Astarion’s hair so that his finger can swipe a bit more conditioner along his scalp. “I didn’t pick that one, remember? You stole it from that Zhents pack back at their hideout.”

“I did?” Astarion flips the cover to reveal the front art. It’s a rather lewd painting of a young woman, half-dressed in finery and throwing herself at a tall, broad and beastly mercenary come to steal from her tower. The vampire makes a snort of acknowledgement after a moment. “So I did. I thought the mercenary looked disturbingly like Halsin, you know.”

Wyll’s hand stills briefly in Astarion’s head, confusion written expressly over his youthful features. He scrunches his nose. “You wanted to read smut about Halsin?” 

“No. I wanted us to read smut about Halsin. I thought it would be terribly funny,” Astarion lowers the book to get a good look at the other man—though upside down—and furrows his brow. “Don’t stop. That felt nice.”

“Your wish is my command, Lordess,” Wyll chuckles, before returning back to the small puddle of curls splayed in his lap. “Skip the smut if it bothers you so much, I want to know what her father will do now that he knows someone’s found her tower.”

“Skip the smut? And disgrace the artistic integrity of whatever pervert wrote this garbage? Absolutely not! We’ll read every bit of the smut, and I’ll add footnotes to correct it into something more realistic.”

“As if you’re the expert on sex,” snorts Wyll, walking face first into one of those many aforementioned conversational traps that Astarion had laid. The vampire stiffens in his hold a bit, and out of courtesy he withdraws his hands from his hair. It’s times like this, moments of levity followed by the crushing reminders about reality, that Wyll wishes they could’ve met in one of their fairytale books. With no Vampire Lord or Cambion Mistress to answer to, he wonders how their story might’ve gone. Would he have been able to sweep Astarion delicately off of his feet and off into the sunset? Would Astarion have allowed him to?

He laments how he’ll never know, and then puts those thoughts aside himself. Astarion is not the only one with a tightly guarded chest of fears and dreams and desires that he kept away from the rest of the world, hidden to where nobody—not even the devil that lives in his eye—could ever see it.

“After two hundred years, dear, I quite think I am,” Astarion hisses. Fair enough; Wyll had perhaps earned that one. The punishment for his misstep is not so bad, though. There’s a marked tension in the words of the man as he reads through the next line, and he lays stock still in Wyll’s lap. Curls half-moisturized by now, the damp bits chilling a spot on Wyll’s camp clothes. But he doesn’t get up and storm out, like he might’ve done in the early weeks of their odd arrangement. Nor does he curse the man to the planes of Avernus and back. Small mercies and little victories, the younger man takes what he can get and returns to his task.

Astarion does wind up skipping the smut scenes, grumbling that even he couldn’t wade through all that hogshit on a full stomach. Wyll isn’t perturbed either way, parting and moisturizing in methodical turns. They manage to finish two more chapters before his fingers half-abandon their task to merely run through the soft, silvery curls. Whether to placate Astarion or soothe himself is unknown, but it certainly does make him feel a bit calmer. He leans back against his tent, careful not to put too much weight on the precarious fabric. But with the gentle droning of Astarion’s voice and the steady, repeated motions of carding through his hair, Wyll feels like he could just doze off right there. His misstep in conversation goes all but forgotten as his eyelids get heavy, his ministrations against the vampire’s scalp slowed to a syrupy pace.

It isn’t until he feels Astarion move that he jerks back to alertness, adding a hurried, “I wasn’t asleep!” to make sure Astarion didn’t think his presence was at all boring or exhausting. The last thing he’d want is for these nightly rendezvous to come to an abrupt conclusion because he was rude enough to doze off in the middle of them.

“Ah-hm, that’s very convincing, sweetling,” Astarion mocks, before sitting up to run his fingers through his own hair. They come back slightly shiny with the conditioner, but even if Wyll fell asleep with a quarter left to do, the vampire seems satisfied enough with his work. “Come now. Before you wind up with a crick on your neck.”

He tries to protest, even as Astarion is already helping to arrange him into his bedroll. “I wasn’t done with your—”

“It’s fine, Wyll. More than fine. You did wonderfully; cut my morning routine in half, practically,” Astarion placates, though they both know he’s lying through his teeth. No matter whether he and Wyll finished their little night tradition, Astarion always took the same amount of time in his tent every morning. Gale had a running bet with the others on whether he was actually that self-conscious about his appearance or if he did it just because he knew Lae’zel preferred to get moving as quickly as possible.

Whether he’s being fed platitudes or not, Wyll gives him a warm half-smile. Astarion arranges the thin blanket of his bedroll around him in turn in order to give him a more comfortable rest. Their routine wraps up here the same every night. With Astarion’s hair seen to, and Wyll’s adventure romance novels read, company kept so that the others vulnerabilities would remain safe from the rest another day… the end of the evening would creep upon them. 

Wyll never fully remembers the moments between consciousness—Astarion’s head in his lap and lily lilt of his tone reading the novel droning on—and unconscious—waking up drenched a cold sweat to an empty tent, the leftover laughter of Mizora chilling him down to the bone. How he gets from one point to the other. Sometimes he’ll doze off still in his padded armor and awake in his camp clothes. Once even fell asleep across the tent, and woke up tucked sweetly into his bedroll. Only faint memories of silver curls illuminated into a glowing halo by moonlight, and crimson eyes that track forlornly over his form. 

And every night, Wyll would sleepily shoot out one hand to clutch at his companions’. Delicately wrap his warm digits around that frail death-cold wrist and give one half-hearted tug. His voice, laden with both exhaustion and deep yearning, he asks, “Astarion? Stay with me?”

And every night, Astarion would purse his lips into a line. As if he’s almost considering it for a moment. As if perhaps rummaging for a key to one of his chests that he’d long tossed aside, some sort of magic word that could make Wyll understand why he dances so hesitantly in and out of their… this… whatever it was. 

“Perhaps when we finish the book,” he says, like he does always, patting Wyll’s hand gently. “Go to sleep—you need more of it than I do.”

“Goodnight, Astarion,” Wyll responds, already half there, letting his head loll to the side and eyes flutter closed.

The next evening, when he approaches his tent at camp, a fresh book awaits him… and a new tin of the conditioning cream. They hadn’t quite finished the Lusty Lordess, with a handful more chapters before she and her mercenary were able to achieve their happy ending. But there’s a new book for them to start all the same, the last one probably long-discarded between the days’ events.

It isn’t a ‘no’. Just a ‘not yet’. Wyll sighs and settles down on his bedroll to wait for Astarion to come to him. It’ll hardly be while there are still others awake, able to see him slip in and out of the other man’s temporary lodgings. But he knows that’ll it come, and neither of them will mention the fresh start to a book when one still went unfinished between them.

It seems there’s a few more traps he’d have to disarm before he could reach the man behind them. No matter to it; Wyll is a patient, tenacious sort of fellow.

[topsyturvy-turtely]

The Noises He Makes

if you're in search of a very quick very fluff fanfic... happy to be of your service ;)

read on Ao3 or here :)

Sherlock Holmes. The emotionless machine. The unfeeling genius. The sociopathic detective.

That’s what people say, what he likes to say about himself. Truth is, he is actually quite emotional, and he articulates his emotions loudly too.

When he is excited (about a new intriguing case) he jumps and shouts for joy. When he is irritated (with people or an unsolvable case – yes, those do exist) he throws his head back and groans out of frustration.

Oh, but when I touch him (with my lips, my hands, press my body against his), he makes the most delightful noises.

In the early morning, when I let my hand slide over his shoulders, an almost inaudible hum. Whenever I hug him, a sigh so heavy as if he means to say, he wants to stay in my embrace forever. At night, when we cuddle, when I have my hand buried in his hair, or comb through it, a noise escapes from deep within him, which reminds me of a cat. A big, dangerous cat – a panther perhaps – but a cat nonetheless.

When I kiss him… Gasping, moaning, groaning, mumbling - depending on where I kiss him. If I peck his lips, a tiny inhale through the nose, as if he was surprised every time. When I suck on his lip, a content hum. When our tongues fight for dominance (I usually win), a sound that could be a chuckle or something like a sob – ah, can’t be sure, I do have my tongue in his mouth while this happens. When I kiss his neck, a gasp. This usually comes along with a grip on my hips. When I kiss his nipples, he moans. When I kiss down his happy trail, there is gasping and moaning, with a hand in my hair and my name on his lips. Oh, and when we become one, melt into each other, when I am not sure where I end and where he starts, all these sounds happen at once. Sometimes we are both so overwhelmed by the love making, by the love we feel from the other, for the other, we both end up sobbing, giggling and we hold each other until we can both tell each other ‘I love you’ again.

What I am trying to say… is that Sherlock Holmes is actually extremely sensitive, more often than you might think even sensual.

And one day, after I made him make those noises all day long, heard him say my name like it’s a miracle, a mystery and magic all at once; I asked him if he will do me the honour to marry me. What followed wasn’t any noise. It was silence. But that silence said more than any sound could ever have.

∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻

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[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

The Job (Part 1)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 23. Forced to Watch, Alt 25. Stalked Fandom: Peaky Blinders, Tommy Shelby, f!reader, prostitute!reader Summary: Tommy has been hiring you for your services for a while now, but this is the first time he has asked you for help concerning his family business... Word Count: 3205 TW: Fighting, Razor Blades, Blood, Forced to Watch, Stalked, Prostitution, Reader as Bait, Smoking, Implied Death Notes: A HUGE thanks to @loverhymeswith who not only sent me the ask that inspired this fic and supported its writing, but also for getting me into Peaky Blinders in the first place! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Mastlist (coming soon)

Part 1, Part 2

“I want to hire you for a job.”

You grinned at Tommy over your shoulder as you finished buttoning up your blouse and began to pull on your skirt. “I’m pretty sure you just did.”

But Tommy didn’t seem amused by your joke. His piercing blue eyes stared at you for a long moment, his face void of emotion and completely unreadable. Then he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. As he placed it between his lips, he said, “A different sort of job. On Friday night, I need you to make yourself look pretty and go down to The Marquis of Lorne.”

“The Marquis of—” you turned to look at him straight on. “Why would you want me to go to that pub when The Garrison is right here? Places like that on the edge of your territory… People there don’t always take kindly to me. Not with my reputation and all that.”

Tommy took a long drag on his cigarette. “It’s precisely because of your reputation that I’m asking you to go.”

Placing your hands on your hips, you asked, “And why, pray tell, is that? What are you expecting me to do once I’m there? Because I’ve told you before, I pick who I service and I won’t have you demanding–”

“It’s nothing like that,” Tommy said, calmly. “Like I already told you, it’s a different sort of job. Your reputation alone is more than enough to fit my needs. Just go to The Marquis, order a few drinks ‘til you’ve created the illusion you’ve become intoxicated, and then walk out the pub, simple as that. I’ll be waiting for you after at my stables down by the canal.” 

“And why do I feel like that’s not your whole plan? It still doesn’t explain why The Marquis and not some other pub.”

Tommy tapped the end of his cigarette into the glass of water you had left out on the table. You had scolded him about doing so countless times but now did not seem like the moment to comment on it. Raising the cigarette to his lips once more, he said, “There is a new gang trying to move in on our territories. They think we haven’t noticed and we mean to put an end to it before they realize we caught on. They frequent The Marquis on Friday nights so I need you to go in, get their attention, and once you have made them believe your tongue is nice and loose, I want you to start spilling all of the Peaky Blinders’s secrets— the false ones I tell you to say, of course.”

“Ahhh…” you nodded, the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “You want me to make them believe you’ve let slip sensitive information when you come to me for my services. Which is why you want me for my reputation. They’ll think Thomas Shelby’s favorite whore has caught him with his pants down in more ways than one.”

“I’ve always said you were a clever one.” For the first time since he had gotten dressed, something akin to a smile ghosted across Tommy’s lips. 

Walking over to where he was sitting, you plucked the cigarette from his fingers and placed it in your mouth. You inhaled before slowly blowing the smoke out right in Tommy’s face. “So, that’s it? I provide these fools who are crazy enough to try and challenge you false information on the Peaky Blinders and then just go along my way?”

Tommy ignored the smoke as he reached out and took his cigarette back, his fingers lingering for a moment as they brushed against yours. “Like you said, these men are fools. They’ll believe your deception. And when you leave the pub announcing you are going to sleep it off in one of the Peaky Blinders’s empty stash houses, they will follow you. And I will be waiting.”

You had to admit, it was a clever plan. Due to the popularity of the Peaky Blinders and the constant gossip surrounding them, everyone throughout Birmingham knew who you were and about your weekly dealings with Tommy Shelby. Everywhere you went, whispers seemed to follow you and you often caught people pointing or staring. Not that you usually minded. It was actually rather good for business. After all, what man wouldn’t want to say they had bedded the same woman as the head of the Peaky Blinders?

But while you had been servicing Tommy weekly for almost a year, he had never asked you to get involved in any Peaky Blinders business before this. In fact, Tommy had made it very clear from the start that you were to have no part in that aspect of his life. You were his momentary escape, a place where he could spend an hour or so without the weight of the world on his shoulders. So for him to come to you now asking this…. He must be more concerned about the other gang than he was letting on.

“And what happens once I lead them to the stables? I’m guessing you aren’t looking for a friendly chat.”

“You just get them there and leave the rest to me,” Tommy said as he dropped the remains of his cigarette butt into your glass of water. Standing, he placed his large hands on your shoulders and gave you a tight smile. “So, do we have an arrangement?”

Biting your lip, you mulled the question over for a moment. Tommy was a brilliant strategist and you had no doubt his plan would work. But his brush off of your questions about what happened afterward had a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. However, it was ill-advised to say no to someone as powerful as Thomas Shelby, so somewhat reluctantly, you said, “Fine. But I expect double my usual fee.”

“Done.” Tommy gave your shoulders a soft squeeze then turned to grab his cap off the table. “I’ll send Polly around in the morning with the details of what you should say. She can also help you find something to wear. Then head to The Marquis on Friday at seven and you know what to do.” 

His hand reached for the door, but you called out, “Tommy” – he paused and turned to face you – “I’ll do what you want this once because it’s you who’s asking, but I’m not a Peaky Blinder. And I won’t have anything else to do with their business or transgressions. I don’t want to be involved with that lot. Are we understood?” 

For a moment, Tommy didn’t move as he stared at you, save for one exaggerated blink of his icy blue eyes. You wondered if you went too far and said something you shouldn’t have. But then, he nodded, his tongue sliding across his full lips. “Understood.”

You smiled in relief and ducked your head, but before you could thank him, Tommy walked out the door.

As with most of Tommy’s plans, everything that Friday night went exactly as he predicted. Polly ended up bringing you a flashy new dress to wear that Tommy had purchased and from the moment you stepped into The Marquis of Lorne, you felt the weight of dozens of eyes on you. From there, it was easy to loudly drop Tommy’s name and your connection to him as you pretended to drink—as well as your “top secret” facts about the Peaky Blinders. Your table was soon swarmed by the gang members you were targeting, each offering to buy you another drink in the hopes of loosening your tongue further.

As the night wore on, a few of the men began getting more familiar with you than you were comfortable with, but you maintained your drunken facade and smiled through it. In your line of work, you had dealt with much worse before. However after one man stuck his hand up the bottom of your dress, you decided things had gone far enough and you rose unsteadily to your feet as you announced you were taking your leave. The men tried to convince you to stay or let them walk you home, but you insisted you would be alright on your own—there was an empty Peaky Blinders stash house nearby that you could sleep in for the night. You bit your lip to hide the smile threatening to break across your face as all the men’s eyes grew wide and they exchanged telling glances. Tommy Shelby, you are one brilliant man.

As you made your way out of the pub and into the foggy night, you could hear the men following close behind you. This was the part of the plan that concerned you the most. Back in the pub, there were other patrons who would step in if one of the men went too far or you called out for help. But out here on the empty road in the middle of the night, you doubted anyone would come to your aid if the men decided to approach you. You just had to trust Tommy knew what he was talking about and they would be more interested in finding the fake stash house than harassing you. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as Tommy’s stable came into view. He had promised to meet you but as you got closer, there was no sign that anyone was there. Hesitating by the door, you wondered what you should do. There was no back door that you knew of so if something had happened and Tommy wasn’t there, you would be trapped inside alone with the gang between you and the only way out. But even if you decided to leave and continue on down the road, the gang would continue following you until they eventually grew suspicious and confronted you. So there was really no choice. You said a quick, silent prayer that Tommy was waiting for you, and you stepped inside.

You continued walking until you reached the far wall of the stable, but still, no Tommy. Your heart was beating furiously in your chest as the men behind you began to call out to you—crude, drunken taunts, and horrifying descriptions of what they were going to do to you. Spinning around, you looked everywhere desperately trying to find anything you could use to protect yourself with, but there were only a few hay bales. Trembling, you sunk to the ground and waited for the worst to come.

But just as the closest man was about to reach you, a figure stepped into the doorway of the stable, eclipsing the moonlight that had been illuminating the darkened space. Relief flooded through you as you recognized that familiar silhouette. Tommy had kept his word.

The men all turned and must have recognized him a few seconds after you did because a hushed murmur rippled through their group as they looked at him. Despite the fact they very obviously outnumbered him, you could sense the air of fear emanating from them, and you couldn’t blame them. While he may only be one man, this was Tommy Fucking Shelby they were facing. And that should be enough to terrify an army of men. 

Tommy began to slowly walk forward, closing the distance between him and the men. As he slipped his jacket off and tossed it to the side, he called out in a strong voice that filled the stable, “Word on the streets is that you boys are trying to move in on our territory. Take things that are ours while you think we aren’t looking.” 

He gestured to where you were still huddled on the ground. Now that he had come closer, you could just make out his face. He raised one eyebrow at you, a silent query if you were alright. You nodded shakily and rose to your feet, still pressed tightly against the wall. You felt his eyes scanning you for anything amiss, and he gave a satisfied nod when he deemed you safe. 

Then, addressing the men once more, he continued. “You are not the first to think you could come for the Peaky Blinders and I am certain you won’t be the last. But I’m here to make certain that after tonight, you won’t be a problem any longer.”

Tommy came to a stop—his heels clicking loudly together—just a few inches before the closest man. Though his back was to you, you could tell the man was frightened by the way his hands shook as he raised them in the air. 

Tommy smiled at the gesture…. then ripped off his cap and slashed it across the man’s throat.

You gasped in horror and pressed your hands to your mouth as a trail of blood flew through the air and splattered on the floor. Almost in slow motion, the man dropped to his knees, a horrendous gurgling emanating from his ruined throat. Then Tommy swung his cap again, using the razorblades sewn in the brim to finish the job, and the man toppled over without another sound.

The stable burst into chaos. The rest of the men rushed at Tommy but he was ready for them. Normally, it would have been near impossible odds with Tommy outnumbered so, but the men had been drinking very heavily back in the pub and their senses were dulled considerably. Tommy was able to avoid most of their attacks while landing blow after blow on the men—his razorblades sending blood flying with every swing.

You of course knew of the Peaky Blinders’s signature weapon of choice, yet this was the first time you had seen anyone use it in action. It was a horrendously strange sight to see: Tommy swinging something so innocuous as his tweed flat cap at the other men just for a burst of crimson blood to bloom in that same spot. And the fluid manner in which Tommy ducked and dodged, weaving his way from one man to the next, was almost beautiful in a way. Like a dancer taking the stage—stage made of blood.

There was no avoiding it. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, burning your nose. Somehow, it even blocked out the pungent smells from all of the horses. Even in only the pale glow from the moonlight, everywhere you looked was dripping red. You had only been spared because you had dove sideways to huddle behind the hay bales next to you once the attack began, but they had taken the full brunt of the carnage. Blood was slowly filtering through the tightly packed hay as it traveled downward toward the ground—the pool on the floor steadily creeping closer to your feet.

You had to escape this massacre as soon as possible.

Eventually, you saw an opening but just as you gathered up your dress to make a dash to freedom, Tommy spun around and pointed one blood-soaked finger at you. “You! Stay where you are.”

You froze, unsure of your next move. Tommy had never said anything about you remaining once you had done your part. Your only job was to lure the men to the stable and he would take care of the rest. Surely he didn’t mean for you to remain here to witness this slaughter?

And yet, he remained standing there with all of his focus on you despite his remaining enemies still swarming around him, blood dripping off of the end of his outstretched finger. So you did the only thing you could. You released your dress, letting the fabric fall once more to the ground, and nodded to him even as you shrank back behind the hay bales, quivering in fear. 

Seemingly satisfied that you wouldn’t attempt to bolt again, Tommy slowly lowered his hand and turned back to the melee. There were only a few men still standing—the others were left moaning on the ground as they clutched at their wounds, or worse still, some lay perfectly still in growing pools of their own blood. 

With fewer opponents charging him at once, Tommy took a new, less frantic approach to the fight. Instead of attacking with the blades sewn into his hat, he began to use his fists— the sound of breaking bones echoing throughout the open area as his knuckles slammed into noses and cheekbones. One man even dropped like a stone as Tommy drove his fist into the man’s jaw. 

And you were forced to watch it all, terrified of what Tommy might do if you even glanced away. The one saving grace that made it even slightly bearable was that the clouds had shifted to partially cover the moon, hindering the visibility inside the stable. But that did nothing to shield you from the sounds or smells surrounding you.

Finally—mercifully—Tommy struck down the last of the gang members. He stood in the middle of the stable, chest heaving, as he looked around at the carnage surrounding him. Like this, he resembled some ancient god of war reveling in his battlefield, washed in the blood of his enemies.

Satisfied the fight was over, he picked his way through the maze of bodies on the floor and stopped before your hiding place. He held out his hand to you, but you ignored it, unable to touch the blood that coated it. Instead, you stepped out from behind the hay bales on your own and stood before him, unable to meet his eye.

He leaned in close until his face was only a breath’s distance from you and he said, “Next time I pay you for a service, you don’t leave until you are given permission. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, Tommy,” you managed to choke out, tears stinging your eyes.

His eyes flickered over you, and even with such a slight gesture, you felt the weight of his gaze as it examined every inch of you. You had stood bare in front of Thomas Shelby more times than you could count, had him thrust into the deepest part of your core on a weekly basis, and yet, you had never felt as exposed or vulnerable as you did right now.

As his eyes settled once more on your face, he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a stack of money. He placed it on the hay bale beside you and you shuttered to see his bloody fingerprints stained on the top bill. 

“I included a little extra for your trouble.” Your eyes snapped back up to look at him. Despite the circumstances, Tommy’s voice was as calm and level as always. It was the sort of tone one would expect to hear him use when he visited the church or held a business meeting, not when standing there surrounded by the corpses of his enemies and dyed red with their blood. 

“Now you are free to go.” He turned and walked calmly back towards the stable entrance. Pausing only momentarily to pick up his jacket, he slid it on in one fluid motion as he added, his back still turned towards you, “I’ll be round Wednesday at my normal time.” 

Then he disappeared into the foggy night, leaving you alone surrounded by the ghastly horror he had wrought. 

Part 2 coming soon and it will be much more relationship-heavy (plus pretty steamy😉)!

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

The Job (Part 1)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 23. Forced to Watch, Alt 25. Stalked Fandom: Peaky Blinders, Tommy Shelby, f!reader, prostitute!reader Summary: Tommy has been hiring you for your services for a while now, but this is the first time he has asked you for help concerning his family business... Word Count: 3205 TW: Fighting, Razor Blades, Blood, Forced to Watch, Stalked, Prostitution, Reader as Bait, Smoking, Implied Death Notes: A HUGE thanks to @loverhymeswith who not only sent me the ask that inspired this fic and supported its writing, but also for getting me into Peaky Blinders in the first place! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Masterlist (coming soon)

Part 1, Part 2

“I want to hire you for a job.”

You grinned at Tommy over your shoulder as you finished buttoning up your blouse and began to pull on your skirt. “I’m pretty sure you just did.”

But Tommy didn’t seem amused by your joke. His piercing blue eyes stared at you for a long moment, his face void of emotion and completely unreadable. Then he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. As he placed it between his lips, he said, “A different sort of job. On Friday night, I need you to make yourself look pretty and go down to The Marquis of Lorne.”

“The Marquis of—” you turned to look at him straight on. “Why would you want me to go to that pub when The Garrison is right here? Places like that on the edge of your territory… People there don’t always take kindly to me. Not with my reputation and all that.”

Tommy took a long drag on his cigarette. “It’s precisely because of your reputation that I’m asking you to go.”

Placing your hands on your hips, you asked, “And why, pray tell, is that? What are you expecting me to do once I’m there? Because I’ve told you before, I pick who I service and I won’t have you demanding–”

“It’s nothing like that,” Tommy said, calmly. “Like I already told you, it’s a different sort of job. Your reputation alone is more than enough to fit my needs. Just go to The Marquis, order a few drinks ‘til you’ve created the illusion you’ve become intoxicated, and then walk out the pub, simple as that. I’ll be waiting for you after at my stables down by the canal.” 

“And why do I feel like that’s not your whole plan? It still doesn’t explain why The Marquis and not some other pub.”

Tommy tapped the end of his cigarette into the glass of water you had left out on the table. You had scolded him about doing so countless times but now did not seem like the moment to comment on it. Raising the cigarette to his lips once more, he said, “There is a new gang trying to move in on our territories. They think we haven’t noticed and we mean to put an end to it before they realize we caught on. They frequent The Marquis on Friday nights so I need you to go in, get their attention, and once you have made them believe your tongue is nice and loose, I want you to start spilling all of the Peaky Blinders’s secrets— the false ones I tell you to say, of course.”

“Ahhh…” you nodded, the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “You want me to make them believe you’ve let slip sensitive information when you come to me for my services. Which is why you want me for my reputation. They’ll think Thomas Shelby’s favorite whore has caught him with his pants down in more ways than one.”

“I’ve always said you were a clever one.” For the first time since he had gotten dressed, something akin to a smile ghosted across Tommy’s lips. 

Walking over to where he was sitting, you plucked the cigarette from his fingers and placed it in your mouth. You inhaled before slowly blowing the smoke out right in Tommy’s face. “So, that’s it? I provide these fools who are crazy enough to try and challenge you false information on the Peaky Blinders and then just go along my way?”

Tommy ignored the smoke as he reached out and took his cigarette back, his fingers lingering for a moment as they brushed against yours. “Like you said, these men are fools. They’ll believe your deception. And when you leave the pub announcing you are going to sleep it off in one of the Peaky Blinders’s empty stash houses, they will follow you. And I will be waiting.”

You had to admit, it was a clever plan. Due to the popularity of the Peaky Blinders and the constant gossip surrounding them, everyone throughout Birmingham knew who you were and about your weekly dealings with Tommy Shelby. Everywhere you went, whispers seemed to follow you and you often caught people pointing or staring. Not that you usually minded. It was actually rather good for business. After all, what man wouldn’t want to say they had bedded the same woman as the head of the Peaky Blinders?

But while you had been servicing Tommy weekly for almost a year, he had never asked you to get involved in any Peaky Blinders business before this. In fact, Tommy had made it very clear from the start that you were to have no part in that aspect of his life. You were his momentary escape, a place where he could spend an hour or so without the weight of the world on his shoulders. So for him to come to you now asking this…. He must be more concerned about the other gang than he was letting on.

“And what happens once I lead them to the stables? I’m guessing you aren’t looking for a friendly chat.”

“You just get them there and leave the rest to me,” Tommy said as he dropped the remains of his cigarette butt into your glass of water. Standing, he placed his large hands on your shoulders and gave you a tight smile. “So, do we have an arrangement?”

Biting your lip, you mulled the question over for a moment. Tommy was a brilliant strategist and you had no doubt his plan would work. But his brush off of your questions about what happened afterward had a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. However, it was ill-advised to say no to someone as powerful as Thomas Shelby, so somewhat reluctantly, you said, “Fine. But I expect double my usual fee.”

“Done.” Tommy gave your shoulders a soft squeeze then turned to grab his cap off the table. “I’ll send Polly around in the morning with the details of what you should say. She can also help you find something to wear. Then head to The Marquis on Friday at seven and you know what to do.” 

His hand reached for the door, but you called out, “Tommy” – he paused and turned to face you – “I’ll do what you want this once because it’s you who’s asking, but I’m not a Peaky Blinder. And I won’t have anything else to do with their business or transgressions. I don’t want to be involved with that lot. Are we understood?” 

For a moment, Tommy didn’t move as he stared at you, save for one exaggerated blink of his icy blue eyes. You wondered if you went too far and said something you shouldn’t have. But then, he nodded, his tongue sliding across his full lips. “Understood.”

You smiled in relief and ducked your head, but before you could thank him, Tommy walked out the door.

As with most of Tommy’s plans, everything that Friday night went exactly as he predicted. Polly ended up bringing you a flashy new dress to wear that Tommy had purchased and from the moment you stepped into The Marquis of Lorne, you felt the weight of dozens of eyes on you. From there, it was easy to loudly drop Tommy’s name and your connection to him as you pretended to drink—as well as your “top secret” facts about the Peaky Blinders. Your table was soon swarmed by the gang members you were targeting, each offering to buy you another drink in the hopes of loosening your tongue further.

As the night wore on, a few of the men began getting more familiar with you than you were comfortable with, but you maintained your drunken facade and smiled through it. In your line of work, you had dealt with much worse before. However after one man stuck his hand up the bottom of your dress, you decided things had gone far enough and you rose unsteadily to your feet as you announced you were taking your leave. The men tried to convince you to stay or let them walk you home, but you insisted you would be alright on your own—there was an empty Peaky Blinders stash house nearby that you could sleep in for the night. You bit your lip to hide the smile threatening to break across your face as all the men’s eyes grew wide and they exchanged telling glances. Tommy Shelby, you are one brilliant man.

As you made your way out of the pub and into the foggy night, you could hear the men following close behind you. This was the part of the plan that concerned you the most. Back in the pub, there were other patrons who would step in if one of the men went too far or you called out for help. But out here on the empty road in the middle of the night, you doubted anyone would come to your aid if the men decided to approach you. You just had to trust Tommy knew what he was talking about and they would be more interested in finding the fake stash house than harassing you. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as Tommy’s stable came into view. He had promised to meet you but as you got closer, there was no sign that anyone was there. Hesitating by the door, you wondered what you should do. There was no back door that you knew of so if something had happened and Tommy wasn’t there, you would be trapped inside alone with the gang between you and the only way out. But even if you decided to leave and continue on down the road, the gang would continue following you until they eventually grew suspicious and confronted you. So there was really no choice. You said a quick, silent prayer that Tommy was waiting for you, and you stepped inside.

You continued walking until you reached the far wall of the stable, but still, no Tommy. Your heart was beating furiously in your chest as the men behind you began to call out to you—crude, drunken taunts, and horrifying descriptions of what they were going to do to you. Spinning around, you looked everywhere desperately trying to find anything you could use to protect yourself with, but there were only a few hay bales. Trembling, you sunk to the ground and waited for the worst to come.

But just as the closest man was about to reach you, a figure stepped into the doorway of the stable, eclipsing the moonlight that had been illuminating the darkened space. Relief flooded through you as you recognized that familiar silhouette. Tommy had kept his word.

The men all turned and must have recognized him a few seconds after you did because a hushed murmur rippled through their group as they looked at him. Despite the fact they very obviously outnumbered him, you could sense the air of fear emanating from them, and you couldn’t blame them. While he may only be one man, this was Tommy Fucking Shelby they were facing. And that should be enough to terrify an army of men. 

Tommy began to slowly walk forward, closing the distance between him and the men. As he slipped his jacket off and tossed it to the side, he called out in a strong voice that filled the stable, “Word on the streets is that you boys are trying to move in on our territory. Take things that are ours while you think we aren’t looking.” 

He gestured to where you were still huddled on the ground. Now that he had come closer, you could just make out his face. He raised one eyebrow at you, a silent query if you were alright. You nodded shakily and rose to your feet, still pressed tightly against the wall. You felt his eyes scanning you for anything amiss, and he gave a satisfied nod when he deemed you safe. 

Then, addressing the men once more, he continued. “You are not the first to think you could come for the Peaky Blinders and I'll bet you won’t be the last. But I’m here to make certain that after tonight, you won’t be a problem any longer.”

Tommy came to a stop—his heels clicking loudly together—just a few inches before the closest man. Though his back was to you, you could tell the man was frightened by the way his hands shook as he raised them in the air. 

Tommy smiled at the gesture…. then ripped off his cap and slashed it across the man’s throat.

You gasped in horror and pressed your hands to your mouth as a trail of blood flew through the air and splattered on the floor. Almost in slow motion, the man dropped to his knees, a horrendous gurgling emanating from his ruined throat. Then Tommy swung his cap again, using the razorblades sewn in the brim to finish the job, and the man toppled over without another sound.

The stable burst into chaos. The rest of the men rushed at Tommy but he was ready for them. Normally, it would have been near impossible odds with Tommy outnumbered so, but the men had been drinking very heavily back in the pub and their senses were dulled considerably. Tommy was able to avoid most of their attacks while landing blow after blow on the men—his razorblades sending blood flying with every swing.

You of course knew of the Peaky Blinders’s signature weapon of choice, yet this was the first time you had seen anyone use it in action. It was a horrendously strange sight to see: Tommy swinging something so innocuous as his tweed flat cap at the other men just for a burst of crimson blood to bloom in that same spot. And the fluid manner in which Tommy ducked and dodged, weaving his way from one man to the next, was almost beautiful in a way. Like a dancer taking the stage—stage made of blood.

There was no avoiding it. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, burning your nose. Somehow, it even blocked out the pungent smells from all of the horses. Even in only the pale glow from the moonlight, everywhere you looked was dripping red. You had only been spared because you had dove sideways to huddle behind the hay bales next to you once the attack began, but they had taken the full brunt of the carnage. Blood was slowly filtering through the tightly packed hay as it traveled downward toward the ground—the pool on the floor steadily creeping closer to your feet.

You had to escape this massacre as soon as possible.

Eventually, you saw an opening but just as you gathered up your dress to make a dash to freedom, Tommy spun around and pointed one blood-soaked finger at you. “You! Stay where you are.”

You froze, unsure of your next move. Tommy had never said anything about you remaining once you had done your part. Your only job was to lure the men to the stable and he would take care of the rest. Surely he didn’t mean for you to remain here to witness this slaughter?

And yet, he remained standing there with all of his focus on you despite his remaining enemies still swarming around him, blood dripping off of the end of his outstretched finger. So you did the only thing you could. You released your dress, letting the fabric fall once more to the ground, and nodded to him even as you shrank back behind the hay bales, quivering in fear. 

Seemingly satisfied that you wouldn’t attempt to bolt again, Tommy slowly lowered his hand and turned back to the melee. There were only a few men still standing—the others were left moaning on the ground as they clutched at their wounds, or worse still, some lay perfectly still in growing pools of their own blood. 

With fewer opponents charging him at once, Tommy took a new, less frantic approach to the fight. Instead of attacking with the blades sewn into his hat, he began to use his fists— the sound of breaking bones echoing throughout the open area as his knuckles slammed into noses and cheekbones. One man even dropped like a stone as Tommy drove his fist into the man’s jaw. 

And you were forced to watch it all, terrified of what Tommy might do if you even glanced away. The one saving grace that made it even slightly bearable was that the clouds had shifted to partially cover the moon, hindering the visibility inside the stable. But that did nothing to shield you from the sounds or smells surrounding you.

Finally—mercifully—Tommy struck down the last of the gang members. He stood in the middle of the stable, chest heaving, as he looked around at the carnage surrounding him. Like this, he resembled some ancient god of war reveling in his battlefield, washed in the blood of his enemies.

Satisfied the fight was over, he picked his way through the maze of bodies on the floor and stopped before your hiding place. He held out his hand to you, but you ignored it, unable to touch the blood that coated it. Instead, you stepped out from behind the hay bales on your own and stood before him, unable to meet his eye.

He leaned in close until his face was only a breath’s distance from you and he said, “Next time I pay you for a service, you don’t leave until you are given permission. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, Tommy,” you managed to choke out, tears stinging your eyes.

His eyes flickered over you, and even with such a slight gesture, you felt the weight of his gaze as it examined every inch of you. You had stood bare in front of Thomas Shelby more times than you could count, had him thrust into the deepest part of your core on a weekly basis, and yet, you had never felt as exposed or vulnerable as you did right now.

As his eyes settled once more on your face, he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a stack of money. He placed it on the hay bale beside you and you shuttered to see his bloody fingerprints stained on the top bill. 

“I included a little extra for your trouble.” Your eyes snapped back up to look at him. Despite the circumstances, Tommy’s voice was as calm and level as always. It was the sort of tone one would expect to hear him use when he visited the church or held a business meeting, not when standing there surrounded by the corpses of his enemies and dyed red with their blood. 

“Now you are free to go.” He turned and walked calmly back towards the stable entrance. Pausing only momentarily to pick up his jacket, he slid it on in one fluid motion as he added, his back still turned towards you, “I’ll be round Wednesday at my normal time.” 

Then he disappeared into the foggy night, leaving you alone surrounded by the ghastly horror he had wrought. 

Part 2 coming soon and it will be much more relationship-heavy (plus pretty steamy😉)!

Tag list: @loverhymeswith, @heart-0n-fire, @that-sarcastic-writer, @eternallyvenus, @writercole, @deppresseddyslexic, @confetti-cakemix, @flamingdisputes, @callsign-phoenix

[hanayori89]

Zelda: Princess of Hyrule and Traitor

*Castle Town*

Telma, sweet Telma, was doing everything under the sun to dote on you.

From tucking you in with uplifting stories to making sure you were well fed, she hadn't once mentioned Link. If she knew about Ilia, she seemed to hold her tongue on that as well.

For which you were thankful.

You needed a break from Link and all the feelings he brought with him. It would be wise to regroup on what you would do once you converted. Telma wanted to know what your interests were. Would you take up the books and become a scholar? You were one of the most renowned scholars in the Twilight. But your whole field of study was the light.

What would there be to study once you were part of it?

"I'm not sure what I'm interested in." As Telma continued watching you, awaiting a response, you realized then that the light had been your whole identity.

Without that infatuation, you wouldn't know who you were.

You babbled on, hoping something would stick. "I suppose I find emotions fascinating. I would like to understand them better. I often feel confused by my own."

"Like a psychiatrist? Now, that is an ambitious field to dabble in. Maybe by studying emotions, you'll learn about yourself."

You made a mental note to look up the word 'psychiatrist' later.

Telma was reluctant to leave your side. But midnight was looming inevitably ahead and so was your remainder of time as a Hylian.

There was a simple tactic that would make Telma leave. And that was by saying the name 'Renado.' The sensitivity of the topic was enough to stoke a fire behind her and make her leave. Once alone, you could finally take time to reflect.

You thought about the kiss. The way such a delicate gesture could induce such a utopia of pleasure from within. The powerless way you reacted. The powerless way your body reacted. The memory brought with it a surge of aching below, as it had when Link pinned you against the wall in Castle Town.

But one thought about the feeling of dead air as his hand dropped yours made that feeling of desire vanish. You didn't dare gander at Ilia to see if she saw. But Link still left with her and hasn't returned.

Even if she saw, it didn't matter. She clearly won.

She won Link. Maybe that didn't necessarily make you a loser. Realistically, had you won Link's heart, what would you have done with it? Would you convert and live happily ever after within the light? In your blood, you were still Zant's daughter.

And in your heart, you were still a Twili.

I don't belong here. I don't belong in this realm of false appearances. This realm, where the inhabitants talk more about rupees than their own emotions.

This realm of betrayal.

Twili may not give precedence to emotions, but perhaps that is the superpower of our people. Not even Link could keep his emotions in check. Link, the Hero of Twilight, who was strong enough to fight my father and Ganondorf, wasn't strong enough to fight his own emotions.

It was within that recognition that, for once, you were proud of being a Twili.

There's no turning back now. I must convert in order to kill this blasted shadow inside of me. I must not let these emotions win.

I must be stronger than Link.

You began to sulk. If you had never come, Link could simply have married Ilia. Your existence was a disservice to him.

Your feelings for him were a disservice to you.

"Y/N, do you hear me?" Midna's tear began to rattle on your neck. You watched it jump savagely about, like an upheaval of pebbles flickering on a dusty, dirt road.

"Y/N, you must listen to me. Stay away from..."

All that could scrape through your throat was a grunt. You couldn't speak to answer her. The staticky sound of her voice grew spotty.

"Link. You must..."

The rattling of the tear slowed until it went limp. You lay there, dry-heaving, as you kept trying to call out to Midna, your attempts in vain. You ended up gagging, forcing yourself to sit upright in bed. It was futile. The best you could do was try again in the morning.

Until then, from what Midna was able to communicate, you had been urged to stay away from Link.

Apparently, the fact that he had abruptly left with Ilia wasn't enough to pummel your heart beyond recognition. You now have to avoid him at all costs.

You felt your eyes swell with water, indicating it would be a long night ahead. It wasn't until you turned over and had a lag in your crying session that the tear had one more message for you.

Its malignant warning?

"Danger."

*

Ilia's hand was crumpled beneath Link's as though it were a ball of paper. He didn't dare ignore her advances. He also didn't dare to lock his fingers in between hers like he had with Y/N.

Link felt sick to his stomach. If he wanted to protect Y/N, he had to give credence to the severity of Ilia's warning. But this warning came at the cost of his heart.

They continued to meander throughout Castle Town, swerving between its many occupants. Ilia continued to drone on about responsibilities to complete before the wedding. As if the demon within her didn't just peer out and say "Hello."

"Tell me, do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?"

Link had felt that sadness then. Or at least, what Link thought sadness was. Now, as dusk once again drew its curtain on the final act of day, Link was left reminiscing about that sadness. He'd give anything to feel that sadness. Because that sadness was the size of Ordon Spring compared to the immeasurable Lake Hylia-sized sadness he now felt.

The princess he so diligently served, the one whom he called a friend, had dealt him the ultimate betrayal. His friend, whom he thought was the traitor, was possessed by a piece of fused shadow and he wasn't sure he could set her free. 

Not without the cost of her life.

Then there was Y/N, the woman he loved. The ultimate test of his love currently, was to pretend he didn't love her at all.

Somewhere between the wall of his chest and the rock of his beating heart was true sadness. In fact, Link thought it might rip through his chest wall, severing every artery connected to it.

Link tried his best to temper his emotions, for a warrior's duty is one that should never involve his own personal feelings. Right now, his only duty is to keep that heinous demon within Ilia pleased.

Duty. That's all I breathe for.

He mentally begged that Ilia continue her dull-witted chatter without paying him any mind. He thought about the dusk. He thought about being a wolf. He thought about Midna and the twilight.

He thought about Y/N. His well painted mask of stoicism had been hanging on a wall ever since he met her. A teardrop slowly skidded down his cheek. Its trail was a scar, reminding him of what stoicism actually was.

Stoicism was a duty to others. It wasn't duty unto oneself.

And so, Link silently trailed behind Ilia. Tears flowed like a placid stream down his face.

From that moment on, he would be stoic no more.

***

As Link and Ilia approached the gate to Castle Town, Link couldn't help but feel the sweltering weight of eyes bearing down on him. The crowds had long died down in honor of dinner and dusk. Despite the few stragglers strolling about, Link couldn't pinpoint where the feeling was coming from.

"Link." He whipped his head towards Ilia to see her glowering at him in mistrust. "You've been daydreaming this whole time, haven't you?"

"Not at all. You mentioned the alterations should be done to your gown first thing tomorrow morning." Link knew he was walking on a tightrope, so he made it a point to tune in every now and then to appease the shadow. The slightest offense could set it off. While he didn't mind being the target of its malevolent crimes, he knew this shadow was smart.

He knew that to hurt him, it would hurt Y/N. 

Ilia seemed pleased with this response. Her scattered flutter of lashes was no longer a sign of her innocence but of her manipulation. "Oh Link. I know you always say you want to wait until we are married. But in a mere few days... I don't want to wait any longer. All this Y/N stuff..." She stood on her tip-toes, reaching her arms around his neck in an embrace. Again, superhuman strength made its return. The tightness in her grip was disconcerting to Link. He held his breath for what would come next.

"I want you tonight. I want you to prove your love to me."

It has me right where it wants me. I can't say no. But I'd also rather die than cheat on the one who holds my heart.

Ilia's grin morphed into a sinister sliver of teeth. Each corner of her lips elongated towards her cheekbones so that her eyes seemed crushed into slits by the pressure, leaving Link speechless.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" A gentleman in a ratty set of trousers and a matching, tattered shirt approached. He was clearly a vagrant.

"Are you Ilia?"

"What of it?" She snapped. "I don't have any spare rupees. Now shoo!" Link was appalled. He pulled some rupees from his wallet, furiously bowing in embarrassment. "Here. Please, my fiancée is having a rough night."

The term 'fiancee' placated Ilia's shadow. The man shook his head. "No, you are mistaken. I work at Tingle's Florist. Mayor Bo asked for you to just overlook something with the wedding arrangements. And Mr.Link, you are wanted at Tetra's Threads for an alteration." The man held Link's eyes, something mischievous sparking between the two of them.

"Now, Ilia, you must hurry! The florist will close! Link, my associate is waiting at Tetra's to fix your alteration!" He prodded her along in the same fashion as Link, herding the goats on Fado's ranch. Ilia sputtered as she turned to look at Link.

"I'll be right here waiting when you are done!" He reassured her.

He's trying to separate us. But why?

"Psst" Link circled around in place, not sure of the faint disturbance rustling in the breeze.

"PSST!" The noise was more insistent this time, coming from his left. Link saw a cloaked figure concealed within the shadows of an alley. Was the figure beckoning to him?

Link took a minute to study the cloaked individual, causing them to grow impatient. They pointed at Link, nodding their head up and down with quickened velocity. Link approached only for the figure to hound him.

"You must hurry. She'll be back soon!" As Link encroached on the individual in the alley, he could hear the softness in the commands of the voice.

"Who are you?"

"Come closer. We must remain hidden."

Though he detected no malice, Link grabbed the hilt of his sword as a precaution. When he finally stood in front of the cloaked silhouette, they slowly pulled down their hood.

Beneath the dim light of the alley was the reflection of brilliant, long blond tresses. The sharp brows and harsh, druzy blue eyes of Zelda peered back at him.

"Zelda?!" Link snarled. The betrayal made his voice poke out like a vicious prick of a needle to a fingertip. Quick. Harsh. Accusatory.

"Shhhh. Keep your voice down." Once she revealed herself, she pulled the hood back up. "Link, we haven't much time. But you must listen to me, despite what you may think."

"I don't listen to puppets." Link growled. "I saved you from being Ganondorf's puppet, and now here you are a puppet to the darkness once more. I'm starting to think it's not the fault of the shadows."

"Link." Zelda's tone was icy but remained calm. "Think what you must. I'm here to warn you. You must do anything Ilia says."

"Yes, thanks. I caught on to that."

"Link. You don't understand. This shadow we are dealing with is not only of magnificent fortitude, but it is also highly intelligent." She continued to elucidate her warning.

"I'm not asking you to do this for me. But Hyrule. And if you can't find it in your heart to do it for Hyrule, then do it for Y/N. I know she is your true purpose. She is the one who will unlock your true potential as the goddess Hylia's chosen hero."

"I'm getting very tired of this "hero" role that I was asked to play." Link's voice was vicious. He wondered if, for a moment, that shadow had managed to infiltrate him. He never once felt resentful toward his calling. He may have grown weary of constant duty, but in his heart, he was a selfless knight. He would never resent the goddess herself.

"And you think I do not grow tired also!" Zelda countered bitterly. "Just do as Ilia says, Link. I am trying to help on my end. I will go to the Temple of Time tonight."

"Alone?" The familiar tug of his obligation to protect her kicked in. He felt his face contort into the worry he felt.

"Yes. I must go alone. If you can, meet me there. We must obtain the Rod of a Dominion."

Link looked at Zelda in alarm. "How did you know-"

"Link, hurry! Return to your post. Ilia will be back shortly." With that, Zelda threw a deku nut on the ground, blinding Link. When his eyes adjusted to their surroundings, he saw she was no longer part of them.

Maybe with the Rod of Dominion, there will be hope.

Link needed hope. He especially hoped he would survive tonight and whatever torment lay in store.

Edited: 5/14/24

It seems your feelings for Link are not the only confusing feelings at this time. With your heart broken over Link's disappearance with his fiancée, you find your desire to convert waning. The biggest danger you face at the present moment? Finding your will to move forward on your path to conversion.

Meanwhile, Link is treading an ominous path as he must share his bed and heart with a demon. Can Link stop the marriage and the untimely consummation of this unholy union? What is the role of the Rod of Dominion in all this?

It is in the Realm of Light that secrets are being revealed... but only through their deepest, darkest desires.

Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

[dontknowmanijustworkhere]

Revenge Is Sweet

Hearing that Addams was ticklish was not something Bianca thought she'd ever hear. It didn't seem probable, but Enid let it slip that it was true. It was by accident, the brightly colored werewolf begged her not to tell anyone. Bianca told her she wouldn't. 

But she never promised she wouldn't test it out. 

It felt too good to be true. Addams had been a permanent thorn in her side since her arrival. This would be just the ticket to putting that little goth back in her place. Bianca barely concealed her smirk during her walk to Ophelia Hall, just picturing breaking the stoic Addams girl into a laughing mess. 

Hell, just getting her to laugh would be satisfying. Addams hardly ever showed emotion. 

The door to her and Enid’s dorm was cracked. Bianca pushed it open, finding the girl seated at her desk, typing away on that typewriter of hers. 

“I see you are back already,” Addams noted without turning around. “Or have you forgotten something?” 

“Turn around, Addams.” 

She did, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “Barclay,” she acknowledged. “What do you want? Another rematch to soothe your wounded ego?” 

“I’m not the one who’s going to need soothing,” Bianca shut the door, striding into the room. 

Addams simply rose a brow. “I have no use for your cryptic statements. Now I suggest you leave. You're interrupting my writing time.” 

“You aren’t getting rid of me that easily,” Bianca crossed the room until she was nearly face-to-face with the other girl. Addams was tensing up, gearing for a fight. “I heard an interesting secret about you earlier.” 

“I would hardly find any drivel you’d hear from our fellow classmates interesting ,” she said snidely, facing her desk again. 

It was time to make her move. 

“So you aren’t ticklish?” 

Bianca’s lips formed a wicked grin. Addams froze, thrown for a loop by the question. 

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” She mocked. 

“Who told you that?” Addams was scoffing. Saving face , Bianca told herself. Because of course she wouldn’t just admit to it. 

“Enid did.” Addams looked furious. “It was an accident. She begged me not to tell anyone.” 

“Enid is mistaken,” Addams snapped. 

“Is she?” Bianca said slowly, deviously. “So you aren’t ticklish?” 

“Of course not.” 

“Hmm,” Bianca hummed. “That I find hard to believe.” 

“I don’t particularly care whether you do or not,” Addams said coldly. 

Someone’s compensating , Bianca almost snickered. 

“Now I am not going to ask you again, Barclay. I want you out of here-” Addams started to walk towards the door, presumably to slam it in Bianca’s face. But she had a different idea. She was easily able to overpower the small goth girl, pushing her on her bed on her back, pinning her down. 

“Get off me!” Addams snarled. 

“Not just yet,” Bianca pulled her black and white striped shirt up, revealing her pale stomach. “Time to laugh, Addams.” 

She started off with one fingernail just to test the waters. Addams stiffened underneath her which implied some sensitivity there but it wasn’t enough for Bianca. She wasn’t laughing yet, not even when she slowly dragged it over her sides. She pursed her lips. 

“What a surprise,” Addams had the gall to say dryly. “You clearly don’t know what you’re doing. Do you intend to lay over me some more or can we end this pathetic attempt at reasserting dominance?” 

Bianca wasn’t going to take all this mouthing from a half-pint size goth who thought she was better than everyone else. She’d show her who was boss. 

And make it something Addams wouldn’t forget anytime soon. 

Taking the bull by the horns, Bianca used multiple fingers to tickle Addams’ midsection. The girl’s stomach quivered. Bianca even felt her very slight jerks. A smile emerged on the siren’s face, victorious at having found a weakness that she couldn’t dispute. 

“Something the matter?” She said slyly. “You not ticklish are you, Addams?” 

“No,” the girl denied through grit teeth. 

“No?” Bianca mocked, circling Addams’ navel with her nail. As a futile attempt at getting away from Bianca’s fingers, Addams sucked in her stomach. It wouldn’t do any good. She was going to reduce Addams to a laughing mess if it killed her. "Maybe if I do this -" 

She used both hands now. All ten fingernails to hopefully drive Addams wild. She was getting to her, having heard an honest to God whimper from her. 

"I think you lied, Addams," Bianca smirked. "I think you're ticklish after all. I bet you wish you could get away from my nails, huh? I bet they tickle, don't they?" 

Wednesday was openly thrashing now. The noises she was making were muffled. Not even a real laugh but more of a choking sound. 

Bianca clicked her tongue. "I expected better from you, Addams. What, you can't take a little tickling?" She taunted, relishing in this magnificent moment. "Is it too much for you?" 

When she tickled the girl's navel, the dam finally broke loose. 

"Sthahahahp!" Addams' head was jerking around as she delved into hysterics. 

"Stop?" Bianca's smirk widened. "Why would I do that? You act like you can handle anything. Here's your chance to prove it." 

She went up a bit higher to scratch at the girl's lower ribs. That must have been a bad spot too; Addams wiggled harder, her laughter going up an octave. 

"Guess you're not as tough as you thought," Bianca said loudly over Addams' delicious squealing that came from her scraping her nails over her lower stomach. "Wonder what everyone would say if they knew Little Miss Tough Girl's secret?" 

"Nohohohohoho!" Addams wailed. 

Bianca pretended to think about it. "You know how you're always running your mouth during fencing? I could easily do it then. I could tickle your ticklish tummy in front of everyone and make you scream." 

Bianca wouldn't stoop that low.... probably. But she saw no problem with putting some much needed fear into Addams, who would do anything to avoid such a mortifying secret being known. 

Addams shrieked with more laughter, words garbled and barely coherent to Bianca, but she caught the word "no" in there somewhere. 

"No? Why shouldn't I?" Bianca was more than satisfied with how this was turning out. She really didn't think Addams was this fast to break. "Seems to me that you deserve it." 

" No!" Addams' voice came out in a scream. Bianca briefly wondered if anyone would come knocking to find out what all the noise was. Oh, and what a treat that would be, Addams having to explain herself for that one. 

"Maybe I'll have mercy on you this time, Addams," Bianca slowed her tickling down but did not stop. She was still on the girl's stomach, grinning smugly at hearing the girlish giggles that were coming from the normally emotionless Addams. "But just remember that if you ever open your mouth to me again, all of Nevermore will know about your little secret. Do we understand each other?" 

Addams was refusing to talk. Trying to muffle her laughter as best she could. Well, Bianca would make her. 

“I said do we understand each other?” She gave her sides a squeeze. Addams practically jumped out of her skin and cried out a confirmation. 

“Good.”

She took herself off of Addams, pleased to see the humiliation on her face. “You may think you’re something, but remember who’s really in charge around here.” 

Bianca left the Addams girl panting and red-faced.