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ahgasegotarmy116 · 5 months

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The Art of Etiquette Part 1 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Your Step Father would like to introduce you into high society but you're required to take lessons to learn how to play the part and from your instructor's perspective it seems like you have a lot of catching up to do. Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Explicit Language, not really anything else at this point lol a/n: Planning on turning this into a short series so please let me know what you think <3 p.s. this is horribly edited and was written in one sitting lol

"Why do I have to suffer the consequences of the decisions you made for this family?" I say chasing after my mother as she walks down the main hallway in our new home. "Y/n becoming a debutant is not a consequence" she says, making her way into the main living room.

"To me it is" I complain, dreading this entire ordeal already. "The whole process only lasts about a year so-" "A year? You expect me to be parade around in pretty dresses and entertain people I have absolutely no interest in just because you decided to marry a rich man? Yeah, no I'm not doing it" I say, watching as she takes a seat on the couch waiting for me to tell her my grievances, knowing that I won't back down easily.

"It's not a huge commitment I promise. You'll have etiquette lessons twice a week, go to a fitting every once in a while and take dance lessons once a week. I'm sure you can sacrifice a few hours out of your week for this. "Your father wa-" "Step father" I cut her off, making my stance on the man known. "Your step father wants to introduce you as his daughter and the best way to do so would be having you come out at a debutant ball" she explains hoping to show me their reasoning behind it. "Oh I'm straight so don't worry I won't be needing a coming out event or anything like that" I say teasing her.

"Very funny" she says clearly unamused, "I would really appreciate it if you just did this for us, and if you don't want to do it for us then do it for you, for your future. Do you know how pivotal this moment could be for you? A lot of important people go to these balls so if you want to make a name for yourself in this city then that's a great place to start" she says hoping to entice me, showing how this could benefit me as well. "Just think about it, okay?" she says standing up to leave the room and placing a hand on my shoulder as a sign of reassurance, leaving me conflicted.

A few days later at the breakfast table I finally decide to give them my answer. "Um, dad" I say hoping to get his attention. "Yes honey?" he says putting down the newspaper that he had just been flipping through. "I think I want to go through with the whole debutant thing if you still wanted me to" I say playing with my sleeve, still unsure of the choice I've made but I guess theres no going back now. "That's great! I'll contact the agency and get all of your lessons set up straight away" he says quickly texting his assistant, asking them to get things set in motion.

"Would you prefer private lessons or would you like to take them with some of the other girls that are preparing to come out as well?" he questions, still looking down at his phone. "Oh it's okay don't worry about getting her pri-" "Private lessons would be great" I say cutting my mom off. The less interactions I can have with these spoiled rich kids, the better. I send her a tight lipped smile, telling her to back off before I change my mind and she does just that.

"Alright, I have Matthew working on it now so we could probably get everything set up by the time your classes end. You finish up at four right?" he asks, catching me off guard, "You know my class schedule?" I question. "Of course I do! What kind of father would I be if I didn't pay attention to my daughter's academics?" he says, giving me a warm smile before taking one last sip of his coffee, standing up to go.

"I've gotta head off, love you" he says giving my mother a quick peck and then coming over to me to give me a kiss on the top of my head. "Have a good day you two" he says to us as his final adieu, heading out to where his driver is waiting for him. "Thank you" my mother says, happy with the effort I'm putting into assimilating our family. "I'm doing this for you guys, but I'm also doing this for me like you had said, I guess I'll just have to suffer through it for the next year" I say, already questioning myself.

"I promise you won't regret it!" she reassures me, reaching out for my hand across the table and I mirror her action. 'I sure hope not' I say to myself and give her a pained smile before leaving to head off to class.

"You're what?" my friend Jesse say, not believing a word I just said. "I'm gonna start taking lessons to become a debutante" I say, repeating myself, hoping he'll just take in the information so we can move past it. "So you're blowing me off so you can go to Barbie school?" he says, still in disbelief. "It's not Barbie school" I say rolling my eyes at him before sitting down at the table we usually hang out at during our breaks.

"Aren't they going to be dressing you up and making you all girly so you can go to tea parties and balls?" he questions, sitting across from me. "Yes..." I say trailing off not being able to prove him wrong. "Barbie school" he says satisfied with himself, taking a bite out of the apple he had just bought for dramatic affect. "Whatever" I say crossing my arms across my chest. "So when do you start?" he asks, suddenly curious about the topic. "Matthew sent me a text with the address I'm supposed to go to for my first etiquette lesson so I guess I'll be headed there after class.

"And Matthew is...?" he questions, "My dad's assistant, I've told you this like five times already" I say rolling my eyes at him. "I'm sorry okay, there have been a lot of changes in your life and brand new characters added to the cast so it's hard to keep it all straight" he explains. "Name one other person besides Matthew that I've told you about" I say with a raised brow, curious as to who these 'new characters' might be. "Your step dad" he says proudly, not elaborating further.

"Anyone else?" I ask, rolling my eyes at the cop out answer he gave me and he decides to sit in silence after putting little to no thought into anyone else I might've told him about. "Do you even know his name?" I scoff, feigning irritation. "Scott? No Thomas!" he says confident in his second answer. "It's James" I say standing up and grabbing my stuff so I can walk towards my next class.

"I'm sorry, you know I have shit memory" he says throwing his arm around my shoulder after catching up to me, having only been a few steps behind. "I know" I shake my head laughing it off, "It's funny how clueless you are sometimes" I say, shrugging his arm off of me. "Hey!" he whines, semi offended. "It's okay though, I still love you" I say waving him off as we part in different directions and blowing a kiss at him which he bats off to the side, rejecting my love. "Later loser" he says and we head off to our respective classes.

After the lecture is finally over my professor calls me to the front. "Yes?" I question, waiting for what he has to tell me. "I read your paper last night" he starts, "I'm sorry Professor I had some other assignments due at the same time so I wasn't able to put in as much effort as I wanted to" I confess feeling guilty about putting that assignment on the back burner. "Well I was actually going to tell you that I was rather impressed with it" he says looking up at me from his seated position at his desk, fixing his glasses.

"Really?" I question, surprised that it was good enough for him to even single out. "I wanted to ask if you would be interested in participating in this writing contest at the end of next month" he proposes and hands me the flyer showing all of the details. "You really think my writing is good enough?" I question, not even having considered signing up for something like this. "I wouldn't be speaking to you about it if I didn't think it was" he says laughing at my reactions.

"This would be amazing thank you!" I say starting to skim through the details real quick. "You can take that with you if you'd like" he offers and at that I nod in thanks and say my goodbyes before walking out and heading out towards my car.

"Now where exactly is this place?" I ask myself aloud, pulling up the text I got and putting the address into my gps. "45 minutes?" I say in astonishment, now slightly panicked seeing that even if I leave now I'll still be 10 minutes late. "What the hell Matthew?" I curse and put my seatbelt on, speeding out of the parking lot and down the street, praying that I'll be able to somehow shave a few minutes off the eta to make it in time.

"Punctuality is one of the most important aspects of proper etiquette" I hear the man say to me with his back turned as I walk into the area of his home he has dedicated to these lessons. "I'm very sorry I did not realize how far these lessons would be in relation to my University" I apologize hating that I've already made a bad impression which has clearly started us off on the wrong foot.

"Proper planning is also something you must consider to be able to maintain a certain sense of decorum before arriving to your intended destination" he says still with his back to me. "I apologize again Mr. Jeon it won't happen again" I say using what I hope is the proper way he would like to be addressed. "See that it doesn't" he says finally turning around to face me. I nod my head in acknowledgement and he gives me a sour look showing he's displeased with my response.

"One must verbally respond to properly communicate with one another" he says, placing his hands behind his back and interlocking his fingers while walking towards me and stalking around me like a predator sizing up his prey. "Understood" I respond and once he finally comes back around facing me he looks me up and down one last time before uttering another word.

"For your next lesson be sure to come in a dress or skirt that sits at the knee as well as stockings and heels of some sort and a blouse of course to pair with the skirt. If one wants to act like a lady, one must dress like a lady" he says and turns away to grab something in the corner of the room. "Noted" I say under my breath already exasperated, "What was that?" he questions looking over his shoulder at me, sorting through a few books to bring over. "Understood Mr. Jeon" I say, trying to play along and follow his rules.

"Seeing as we need to start from the very beginnings of the art of etiquette I need you to read these books by this time next week" he says handing me five very large books weighing my arms down and requiring me to stumble back to regain my balance. "All of them in a week? That's almost a book a day!" I say surprised by the workload I've been given after not even starting the actual lesson yet.

"I was not aware of the fact I would be required to teach you everything from the very start so let's just say we both have a lot of work to do" he says and motions towards a place I can set my purse down along with my five new headaches for this next week.

"Take a seat here please" he now motions to a chair that he has placed in the middle of the room waiting for me to do as he says. I walk up cautiously and take a seat, sitting on it like I normally would, knowing that he's meant to critique how I sit to change it. "Sit up straight, roll your shoulders back" he says taking in my posture at all angles while I follow along with his orders. "Loosen the tension in your back and shoulders" he says placing his hands on my shoulders from behind making me tense up even more from the unexpected contact.

"You've done the opposite of what I've asked you to" he says and I can hear how fed up with me he continues to be. "You startled me, I didn't realize you were going to do that" I say under my breath but loud enough for him to hear. "One must never mumble or talk back to anyone no matter the circumstances. Especially aimed to or in front of an authority figure" he says and walks back around to face me again. "So you see yourself as an authority figure to me?" I question, curious to see what his answer might be.

"I see myself as someone who deserves your respect and obedience" he says and tilts my chin up with his pointer finger maintaining purposeful eye contact. "And you will treat me as such".

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ghostselena · 2 years

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BABEEEEE IF YOUR TAKING REQUESTS CAN YOU DO SMUT W RAFE IN A POOL

Title: You're mine

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: just you getting railed, what can I say? its just filth, read at your own risk, 18+

a/n: STOPPPP you literally read my mind! I had an idea like this in my phone's notes to write it down one of these days... I'm using it here cause you're amazing for that. It's a long one, I got carried away with it but damn, I'm proud. [2.6k words I'm sorry]

You may not copy or post this as your own, however, reblogs are encouraged! :) [Slightly edited]

Today had been the biggest heatwave of them all, causing the beach to be stacked with nothing but locals and tourists. Even the community pools were full, and there was no way you were going to swim with half of the outer banks.

You laid back against your towel that sat on top of the lounge chair, letting the sun warm up your now tanned skin. Sarah had invited you all over to her house to cool off, including beers to sweeten the deal to a very grumpy Jj. He could care less if his body was ready to melt off, he was set on just filling up his hot tub with nothing but ice—knowing it won’t work.

That was his excuse—one that was easily dismissed when Sarah added in a few blunts she had stolen from Rafe's stash.

With a satisfied hum, you stared down at your body, lifting up your bikini top to see the color difference. You stood up, earning the attention of a particular boy that stayed quiet against the corner of the pool, sipping on the drink he's had in his hand for the past 20 minutes.

His eyes never left your body, it looked so deliciously yummy as the sun hit your skin. If looks could devour, he would've eaten you 30 times over. The way your nipples were pressed against your top, barely giving you any coverage. He was thankful to be hiding his boner under the water, hand adjusting the bulge every few seconds.

He couldn't stand the rest of the pogues that were splashing each other back and forth, splashing him in the process. But, you? ever since Sarah introduced you at one of the kegger parties, he was hooked right away. Most times, he'd go out of his way to bother your friends to catch maybe, just a glimpse, of you.

When the both of you were left to fend for yourselves inside the pool, he couldn't stop the smirk that his lips had formed. He'd finally gotten you alone, all to himself while the others had gone inside to order something to eat. He knew just what he wanted for lunch— he'd been staring at it for over an hour, savoring every curve and inch of your body with every movement you made.

You had your head leaning back against the edge of the pool, pressing your back into one of the walls and enjoying the water pressure that massaged your back. You hadn't noticed how close the boy had gotten to you until you felt his arm brush against yours.

Your head turned to face him, slowly opening your eyes with a squint, using your hand to shield yourself from the sun.

"What do you want, Rafe?" you asked, your eyes betraying you as they scanned his well-toned body. His chest looked so smooth, so delicate, Greek-like even. He wasn't too far back, now that he had you this close, he could see your plump lips even better; The way your bikini top hugged your breast, cupping them nice and tight.

He couldn't concentrate on your question, shamelessly asking, "I'm sorry, what did you say?" his cheeks were flushed with a hint of red, and not because of the small sunburn that had started to form.

Rolling your eyes, you were now standing up straight, crossing your arms as you spoke—his eyes quickly finding your breast once more, eyes wide, "I said, what do you want? quit, staring at my boobs,"

His eyes met yours, tongue wetting his bottom lip, "They left us alone," he nods his head over to the clear door.

"So?" you shrugged, turning your head to see your friends talking amongst themselves inside, keeping themselves entertained and not looking your way

You felt a breath against your neck as your head turned, your hands quickly reacting for you and pressing themselves against his chest," Rafe, what the fuck, are you doing?"

He kept his hands to himself, looking down at your hands that were warm against his chest, "Dont you feel it?"

"Feel what?" your eyes avoided his, looking at your own hands that seemed to melt against his skin, sending small tingles through your body.

"C'mon, there's no way you dont feel what we have here," he pointed his hands back and forth between you both, looking down at you as if it were obvious.

You've had your encounters every now and then. Hands accidentally touching when you would walk past each other, the way he always chose to sit next to you when you would go out with Sarah for drinks, finding him there with the boys. How he gifted you a necklace as your secret Santa, driving him crazy cause you always wore it, never taking it off.

"I-I Rafe," your breath hitched as he got closer, his lips pressing themselves against your ear while his arms slid around your waist, you'd taken too long to answer to him, too deep in your thoughts.

"Hm, what? I know you feel it, pretty girl," he whispered against your ear, his arms closing the gap between the two of you as he pressed your chest against his, "They're not looking over here, I just wish I could taste you," his eyes were placed on your friends who had left, probably on their way to pick up what they ordered.

Your hands were back on the water, accidentally (but not really) brushing themselves against the bulge that was painfully hard, poking your stomach the moment he had you against him, "Right now?" you mumbled, looking up at the tall boy who was now looking down at you, "I want to savor your pussy, and I rather do that in my bed than in here," he bluntly replied, shrugging it off as if it was the most normal thing to say.

The wetness that had formed between your legs made you uncomfortable, he had gotten to you.

You jumped slightly when you felt a hand pressed against your needy slit, his fingers adding pressure to your clit and you quickly gripped onto his massive arms, "What-what if they see?" you barely choked out, spreading your legs to give him the access he dearly craved.

His lips were now pressed against your neck, using his free hand to wrap it around your throat while he worked his way up to your lips, hovering over them. His fingers were circling against your clit, painfully slow as he spoke, "You think I give a fuck?" he growled, knowing there was no one at home except the two of you.

You mewled, holding back your moans at the way his fingers were teasing you, wanting nothing more than to grab them and push them in yourself, "Please.." you whispered, softly pecking his lips, wanting to feel them against your own.

In one swift move, your body was pressed against the edge of the pool," M' gonna fuck you right here, and if at some point someone comes through that door, right there," he pulls his fingers away from your heat, using them to point over at the closed sliding door, "I'm not, fucking...stopping," he whispered the last word against your lips, capturing them in his with a hunger he's been pushing down for too fucking long, caving you in with no escape as his fingers pulled off your underwear, throwing them across the pool with a splash.

Your hands were quick to palm him under the water, sliding your tongue against his bottom lip, to which he happily granted access to his mouth, letting you savor the taste of the drink that lingered on his tongue; The sweet taste of Mai Tai taking over your taste buds, intoxicating your senses.

His fingers found your clit, pushing your arousal back inside with two fingers, thrusting them against you with quick speed, earning a throaty moan from your mouth, pulling your lips away from his, "Fuck-fuck, right there," you could barely gasp out, tugging his swim trunks down his leg and wrapping your hand around his cock, earning a hiss from his perfectly pink lips that were now pressed against your neck, biting down against it as he moaned, pulling his fingers away.

"I can't, fucking wait," he let out as his tongue pressed itself against his fingers, tasting your arousal that had stuck to them underwater.

You stared at him in awe, holding onto his cock while you brushed your thumb against his tip, "What are you waiting for?" you teased, clicking your tongue as you bit your lip, containing your excitement inside.

“Eager now, aren’t we?” He smirked down at you, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip gently,”But it’s gonna have to be done by the stairs,”

Your eyes widened as he spoke, knowing you won’t be able to play it off if you get caught, “But what if the-“ he pressed his finger against your lips, holding your hand and dragging you softly through the water towards the stairs, “I don’t give, a single fuck,” he replied nonchalantly, sitting back against one of the low stairs, and pulling you onto his lap.

The water was by his hips, giving you the perfect amount of water to still keep the pool sex experience, “It’s on you, then,” you noted while you had your hands against his chest, pressing down against his member, the tip kissing your entrance with its leaking goodness.

“You think too fucking much,” he murmured, lifting his hips up against you while you teased him, keeping his cock between your slit—moving your hips back and forth. Your lips parted—letting out a soft moan, “Shut up, Cameron,”

“Yeah?” He smiled back at you, sliding his hands to your hips, dropping you down onto his massive cock. He ripped right through you deliciously good, earning a squeal that fell from your lips at the suddenness, “Holy shit,”

“Thats right, let ‘em know who’s stuffing your pussy this fucking good,” he groaned as he felt your walls around him, warming him up in a way that made him want to stay in there forever, “M’ gonna make you mine, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he gave you no time to adjust to his massive size, quickly thrusting up against your pulsing heat, that kept welcoming him in with a tight hug as you held on to him, scratching down his chest.

He was hitting every spot, reaching every crease that had you screaming out his name, “Fuck, Rafe!” Your hips rolled down against his, matching his pace as the water splashed onto your bodies.

You were so deep in your pleasure that you both didn't hear the car clicking sounds, his hands kept bringing your body down against his with force, pounding his raw cock into your tight wet cunt, that he'd fallen in love in.

Only when the sound of laughter filled your ears, had you then—opened your eyes, trying to pull away from Rafe who had your body tight against his, turning his head to the side to watch the way his cock would disappear inside of you, a place he dared to call his new home.

"They're here," you spoke rather too quickly as you panicked, not knowing how to explain yourself if you got caught. With one last thrust, he stopped moving his hips, rubbing your sides before picking you up and walking back inside the water; back to the corner, you were just by before, "Better act like you were just cold then, cause I'm not stopping," his voice was hoarse against your hear, his hand was pressed against your clit, rubbing circles as he thrusted deeply into you, waving back to Sarah who had her eyes on the two of you.

Your fingers gripped the edge in front of you tightly, holding back your moans as you felt the familiar feeling form inside your stomach. He set a pace that kept hitting that one spot that made your toes curl in pleasure, "Can I cum?" you begged, pushing back against his thick and pulsing member, that just kept massing your inner walls.

"Say you're mine," he was savoring this very moment, wanting to engrave it inside his brain as you let out a couple of quiet moans, barely holding onto his composure as you nodded quickly, "Fuck, I'm yours—I'm yours," you shakily let out, hiding your face against your shoulder as you came undone around him, your swollen clit swallowing him in with each thrusts—arching your back onto him.

You knocked all the air out of his lungs as you came, his hand wrapping itself around your hair to pull your head back roughly, his lips pressing themselves against yours hungrily, pushing up against you with a brutal pace that made waves against the water.

He wasn't done with you just yet, letting you finish yourself off to continue over stimulating your sweet cunt, "Look at you, such a fucking mess around my cock, huh sweetheart?" he breathed against your lips, his tongue sliding against them as he asked for an entrance once more, using this to spit down against your tongue—that you swallowed like the good girl you are.

You were sure the rest had caught on the moment you saw the kitchen empty, no sounds coming from it anymore. You were dickmatized, already craving to have him back inside of you as he chased his own release, keeping you from pulling away from him, "All for you," you moaned, your legs were trembling once more as his fingers kept rubbing your sensitive bud, the way he was so deep and had you spread all the way apart at his mercy; letting him make you his, right outside the house he grew up in.

With a loud moan as he spilled himself inside of you, enjoying the way your body responded to his touch. He was flooding your insides as you milked every last drop of his seed, collapsing forwards against your arms that were leaning against the concrete. Your legs were trembling as your knees buckled, letting go of the build-up he had caused inside of you once more with a shattered breath.

You couldn't believe what just happened as he pulled out of you, watching the way his essence slid out of you slowly and into the pool. He made a mental note to clean the pool later on, but right now? All he cared about was you as his hands rubbed against your sides, "You feeling okay?"

All you could do was nod as you turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck with a smile, "More than okay," you lifted yourself to press a small kiss to his lips in appreciation. You ran your hands through his hair, letting out a small laugh, "Um, I'm pretty sure we got caught, though,"

He shook his head as he chuckled, cupping your breast in his hands with a cheeky smile, "How many times, am I gonna tell you tha-" you interrupted him, "That you don't give a fuck, I know, handsome,"

And there you stayed with your bodies against each other, enjoying the new relationship that had formed between the two of you. Already planning how you were going to explain yourself to your friends, who were clearly scarred, at least for a few months.

His lips were pressed back on yours happily, mumbling against them, "Let's continue this in my bed? I wanna taste you," he whined softly before continuing, "I wanna taste you, fuck you with my tongue,"

Your legs were back to being jelly, tugging him out of the pool with no hesitation back up towards his room, not needing to answer him with your obvious actions.

I had no idea how to end it omg, I would've kept that shit going for hourssss

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@gillybear17 @my-baexht-ls @phildunphyisadilf @ailee-celeste @onmykneesforrafe @rafesrings @unbelievablystillafangirl @fashphotolife @rootbeerfaygo

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader smut #rafe cameron x y/n #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader smut #outer banks #outerbanks #drew starkey x y/n

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theficthatwaspromised · 2 years

Text

Amusement II (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

PART ONE.

The people asked for a part 2, and the people shall be satisfied.

Pairing : Aemond x Female!Strong!Reader

Word count : 3k

Warnings : 18+ (MINORS DNI), explicit, choking, slight mentions of blood and violence, Aemond being a sassy little shit (again).

To say that the day had been tempestuous would be an understatement. The reunion with Aemond alone would have been enough amusement for at least a whole year, but the dinner that had just ended in a quite heated way had provided you with your dose of entertainment for the century to come. It all had started well, though, but while Viserys' words touched the hearts of some, at the other end of the table there was a disturbing mix of tension and indifference that did not bode well. Sitting like the prince he was, straight and elegant, Aemond seemed quite indifferent. But the rare times you felt his gaze on you, it burned you like fire.

Everything had escalated very quickly: a mocking laugh from Luke, a very special toast from Aemond, a few punches and provocations later, the sweet family dinner had come to an end. You hadn't even had time to take sides, and to tell the truth it wouldn't have been of much use. It was like an infinite loop, lulled by strong jokes and resentments too old to be erased so easily.

Your mother's instructions were clear: go back to your quarters. However, it would have been far too frustrating to go to sleep after a dinner like this. All these childish provocations probably affected you less than your brothers, still you could feel the headache they were starting to cause. It's a big breath of fresh air that you needed, so, discreetly, you took the path to the place that felt most familiar to you here.

At such a late hour, the training ground should be deserted. But the familiar sound of metal clattering makes you realize that you're not the first to have had this idea. As you quietly descend the stone stairs, you begin to make out his slender figure in the half-light. The silence is broken only by his growls and furious breathing, punctuated by the sound of his sword striking the armed mannequin in front of him. The moonlight reflects off his blade and his hair, it almost softens his concentrated features. Like you, perhaps, he needed to let off steam after his “final tribute”. His pride must have been piqued by Daemon's interruption in the little game he had been leading so far. Without too much effort, armed only with his charism and his finely chosen acerbic words, Aemond had almost succeeded in provoking a war.

Walking silently along the walls, you end up leaning against the table on which the weapons are laid out during the day, a little further back. There is something quite hypnotizing about Aemond, in the way he stands, moves, speaks or reacts. He has both this very diplomatic, noble and proud look, and this frightening facet, the one that lets you know that everything can flip in a thousandth of a second if he wants it to.

He lands a final blow before sheathing his sword, his heavy breathing raising his shoulders as he stands still with his back to you. You gulp as you hold your breath, silently admiring his build. His leather outfit is flattering to say the least, perfectly fitted at the shoulders and cinched at the waist. Your secret admiration is interrupted by a confident voice that is more hoarse than usual.

“Come on out,” he commands, his smirk almost audible. “Even a deaf man could have heard you coming.”

You roll your eyes, an amused smile tugging your lips. “And even a blind one could notice your… discontent,” you answer, taking only a few steps forward. You stay a few feet away from him – as a precaution – with your arms crossed on your chest, as much to make you look confident as to fight the cold.

“The only thing that discontents me is your presence,” he replies, turning around to face you. “You could do us both a favour and retreat to your chambers, as your dear mother requested, if I recall correctly.” He imitates you, crossing is arms, and raising his eyebrow. He really can't help but be an ass, can he ?

“What can I say, I guess not all of us are sweet little mommy’s boys.” You shrug, offering him your best sarcastic smile, although you were not lying : Aemond probbaly was the scariest guy in this castle but the way he looked and spoke with his mother had not escaped you.

“That is not what I am usually depicted as.” He scoffs, looking half amused, half pensive.

“And how are you usually described then ?” The question comes out of your curious mouth before you can even think it over, and the sudden interest you demonstrate doesn’t go unnoticed. A discreet but mischievous smile crosses his face while he once more stares down at you, like he just won a first round by winning your curiosity.

“Less pleasantly,” he answers, without wanting to offer you more information and without seeming touched. On the contrary, he seems almost amused, satisfied.

It's not hard to guess that he likes verbal jousts as much as sword fights. And it's not hard to notice how much he seems to enjoy having the upper hand in this game either. What would happen if he was, say, destabilized?

“Yeah well, I'll admit you really can be an asshole when you want to,” you shrug, as impassive as possible. “But at least you're a pretty one,” you add, a playful smile on the corner of your lips as you revel in the short look of surprise on his face.

Aemond stays silent for long seconds, staring right back at you, as if to know if you're really mocking him or if there's a hint of sincerity behind your words. Years of self-depreciation mixed with a certain indifference to other people's opinions must have made him a little impervious to compliments, whether sincere or sarcastic. Nevertheless, you regain control thanks to this confusing reply and that's what seems to annoy him above all: this conversation is not innocent, it's a game and you both want to win it.

“Have you got nothing better to do but to mess with the pretty asshole that I am ?” He quotes as he steps closer, the sudden realization that this time there’s no one but the two of you in this training yard making you gulp.

You don't let yourself be intimidated—or at least you don't show it—and try to ignore the familiar warmth that creeps into your belly as he approaches. “I find this quite entertaining,” you admit and he chuckles.

“Did our earlier encounter and tonight’s supper not entertain you enough ?” He questions, now clearly amused, easily guessing the real meaning behind your words : you’re enjoying this little game just as much as he is. But you want to go further, sting him so that he really reacts, even if you’ll probably regret it. The temptation is too great, the duel too natural, the feeling too pleasant.

“It was indeed a lot of amusement. I especially enjoyed the part where you left with your tail between your legs,” you innocently call back, immediately noticing the way he tenses up a little. There’s a gloom in his eye that lets you know you’re starting to get what you want, but you also know he won’t let you win without a fight.

“A bloodbath would have been rather inappropriate. Although Harwin Strong’s blood wouldn’t be a tragic loss,” he smirks, and now it’s your turn to tense. Coming from anyone else, you probably could have ignored it. But this name coming out of his mouth, and this perfectly assumed and insolent violence makes you boil. He really is an asshole. That smug expression he bears is enough to make your jaw clench, though you refuse to break eye contact and admit this one did affect you. Your heart is beating faster and he probably can hear it from where he’s standing, waiting for your reaction.

You sigh as you pull yourself together, crossing the distance between you to come and plant yourself right in front of him. He doesn't move, stoic, but staggers slightly when your cold hand cups his cheek. You ignore your racing heart and the jolt that runs through your whole body against his skin, and give him a fake sympathetic smile. “How frustrating it must be, hiding behind witty jokes and provocations, when all you really desire is the attention you will never obtain,” you whisper, outlining his defined jaw all the way from under his ear to his chin. “You are and you will always be nothing but the second son,” you pout, and before you can mimic the cheeky expression he was sporting just seconds ago, his hand grips your wrist tightly. He holds it hostage next to his face, his furious glare betraying his rising anger.

“You know nothing about my desires,” he growls, tilting his head until his mouth is just next to your ear. “And dare not speak of them when you are too stubborn to accept your own,” he murmurs and you can feel his content smile against your ear. His thumb wanders over your wrist until he finds that perfect spot where he can feel your pulse, and thus guess how flustered you are just with those little words. The effect he has on you is obvious and it drives you mad. Without allowing him to have control any longer, you opt for the easy and safe answer, turning your head to face him, your noses almost touching.

“I accept them,” you lie, stolid. “But not all desires should be satisfied.” You frown when he snorts at your answer. He doesn't let go of your wrist but he pulls back a little, licking his lips.

“How disappointing,” he chuckles. “What a proud coward you have grown to be,” he says, an insult all the more vexing because you know it to be false. You glare at him and pull your wrist away from his hand, making him groan. Aemond likes control, and you like taking it back.

“At least I've grown. You’re still that weak little boy, too scared to ask for a dance,” you spit, eyes locked in his. The tension between you is more than palpable, it emanates from your two boiling bodies, but he furiously crosses it to come and grab you by the neck, pushing you back until you are wedged between him and the table behind you. All the restraint he has shown so far seems to have disappeared to give way to his ferocious nature. He tilts your head back by lifting your chin, both your hands grip the rough table for balance as he pushes his body against yours.

“You’re the one who should be scared, my dear.” He pushes his thigh between your legs, the material of your dress far too thin to protect you from this delicious pressure and he notices it, smirking at the sound of your quiet whimpers.“Should I ever wish to really dance with you, I highly doubt you could handle it,” he says, his lips trembling over yours, both in anger and in lust. You squeeze your thighs around his leg, making him groan, your body burning with anticipation as you use your last ounce of willpower to speak clearly, wanting him to know you're the one in control.

“There’s only one way to find out,” you reply and without giving him time to process your words, you close the distance between your lips in a furious kiss. He growls against your mouth and he grips your hair tightly, making you moan in pain and pleasure. He presses you against the table and one of your hands grips his collar, pulling him even closer. There's nothing romantic about it, it's an exquisite blend of fury and desire, as your tongues fight for dominance while your bodies push, pull, and collide. He pulls your hair back and you gasp, allowing him to attack your mouth again, his tongue marking it as his territory. His moves are feral and you’re a thirsting mess already, and the feeling of his own arousal between your thighs only flusters you more.

His free hand finds your hip and he holds you tight, grinding languidly against your craving body. This fucker sure knows how to turn you on, and when his fingers move all the way down to lift your dress in a hungry movement, you bite his lip hard enough to make him groan. You smirk as he takes a step back, fuming, his eye shining with sin. You take the opportunity to take a deep breath, panting, but soon he grabs you by the neck, turns you around and has you bent over the table. You whine as your chest and cheek hit the rough wood, cutting your skin. He's pressed firmly against you, holding your wrists in place flat on the table.

“Still think you can handle it, hm ?” He groans, and you feel him hard against you as he slides his hand under your neck to pull you up quickly against his chest, holding you in place thanks to his grip around your neck, your head pressed against his shoulder. Your back is fully pressed against him and you are unable to move, his arm keeping yours glued to your chest. With his other hand he lifts your dress again, as his mouth brushes your cheek. The heat between your legs grows more and more when he leans in to lick the wound on your cheek.“I’ll have you begging on your knees for more,” he murmurs and your eyes close as you feel his fingers brush against your thigh, slowly sliding up to reach your undergarments. They quickly make their way underneath it, and you gasp when his rough fingertips run through your slit, your legs shaking under his touch.

“Aemond,” you whine, and the sound of his name coming from your mouth is exquisite. He groans again, louder. Your lips part and a strangled gasp escapes when he starts playing with your wet and sensitive skin, your clit rolling under his fingers. It’s rough and messy but it feels so good, and when he pushes his fingers inside of you, you purr his name out again, only making him harder against your back..

“Look at you,” he exhales against your ear and you start shaking as you feel the pleasure grow more and more every time his fingers move in and out of you, but he holds you in place, his hand still firmly gripping your neck. “So vulnerable,” he smirks. “So docile around my hand.”

He feels you tightening around his fingers and, in a pleased grin, removes his hand from your throbbing cunt. So close to release, you let out a hungry moan you can’t contain, expressing just how much you ache for his touch - and he fucking loves it. He licks his lips and the sound it makes right next to your ear is enough to have you throwing your head back on his shoulder, pleasure and frustration driving you mad.

“Hm”, he growls, taking a moment to fully savour his dominance to the sound of your tortured whimpers. You are soaking wet, the warmth spreading from between your thighs to your belly where his hand is now resting. Your pleading eyes look up only to be met by his ferocious gaze, the smirk covering his lips widening. “Some desires do need to be satisfied, do they not ?” he murmurs, staring down at you, his hand sliding down oh so slowly. His fingertips brush your skin and leave a trail of shivers on their way to your aching clit, barely caressing it.

Your eyes roll back as you try so hard not to give in, to resist the urge to scream for him to release you from this torture, and the sight of you biting your lips to cover the exquisite sounds of pleasure coming from it only make him want to push you more - to make you beg, to give you what you deserve. He starts drawing circles around your most sensitive spot, his thumb moving so slow, making you convulse each time it passes over it. It is getting harder and harder for you to breathe, to think, to resist. You moan loudly into his ear when two of his fingers are buried into you again, moving in and out languidly again, and again. It feels so right, you don’t care how wrong it is any more. He stops only for a second, and that is enough for him to make you turn to face him, his hand moving from your neck to grasp your hair. Aemond’s trembling lips brush against your own as his other hand finds its way back under your dress, right to where it was - where you want it to be.

You can’t take it no more, barely standing on your legs, you grab his vest with trembling hands in a silent plea for him to give you release. He pulls you closer. His gaze doesn’t leave yours and there’s a spark in it that conveys an order : keep fucking looking at him. With whimpering lips you give in, desperate and craving for more. “Aemond,” you whine, almost inaudible, “please.” And that is all he needed to hear.

His grunt is feral, and now his palm swirls in circles around your clit as he pushes his fingers into you, deep and precise, such perfectly timed thrusts that have you clinging to his chest. Your mouth opens as you almost reach ultimate pleasure and he crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your cries when you cum loudly in his mouth. Your thighs tighten around his hand, your whole legs shaking, but he keeps going, holding you firmly.

When he decides it's over, that you've had enough, he releases the panting mess that’s left of you and steps back just a little, admiring his work. He smirks, proud and victorious, and you can easily read the “I told you you’d be begging” on his face, even though he doesn’t say it - he doesn’t have to. Instead, he simply readjusts his vest, now back looking like the decent man he claims to be.

“Enough amusement for today, I think,” he hums after a few seconds. “Let’s save some for tomorrow, shall we ?”

#amusement #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond one shot #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond fic #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond smut

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peakhumanbehavior · 7 months

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Lycans

Alcina Dimitrescu x Reader

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Warnings: Hurt/No comfort

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The unforgiving Romanian wind bit at your skin, and assaulted your eyes. Despite the freezing pain that coursed throughout your body you trekked on, wanting to get as far from the place you once called home

Your brain recalls the conversation you had a few hours ago, the exchange of words that ended everything

—-

Alcina, as usual, was stressing over whatever Miranda said or did that day. You swear your Lady had an unhealthy obsession with that woman

Going above and beyond to impress her but never getting the assurance she so desperately needed. It made you sick to your stomach, how could Alcina not see that Miranda doesn't care for her? That she only acknowledged her if she had something to offer?

You decided that this would be the end of it, of your precious Lady trying her best to impress that manipulative woman

But she had other beliefs

—-

"How DARE you say such a thing about Mother Miranda!?" She yelled at you with such a fierce intensity that you've only seen directed at a clumsy maid who accidentally spilled wine on her dress or when she is taunted by her brother, Lord Heisenberg

You took a deep breath in before trying again despite knowing the consequences of it

"She doesn't care for you, you need to see that-'' You tried to reason but you were cut off by a glass shattering next to your head, you turned and saw a crimson-red liquid running down the wall. She threw her favorite wine glass at you

You didn't know how to feel, no, it wasn't the first time you both got into an argument but it was the first time she had gotten so mad that she broke something, one of her favorite items at that

"She DOES care for me, you're just too IDIOTIC to see" She spat, her face that you loved to admire turned into disgust and hatred. Her hands balled up into fists

"All I want is for you to look at me the way you look at her" You whispered, hoping that it would snap some sense into her, hoping that she'd go back to the sweet, partly shy Alcina that she had met on her first day at the castle but it did the exact opposite, she was too far into Miranda's control to find reason anymore

"What makes you think that I would look at you like that? You're just a lowly maid, a toy that I can dispose of Any. Day." The venom in her voice felt like it was burning through your heart as she spat her hurtful words

You searched your mind for a reason, a reason why she would listen to you, a lowly maid that by chance caught her eye

But you couldn't, you knew there were none that wouldn't set her off even more

"I suggest you leave" Was all she said as she retreated to her vanity

You stood there for a moment before turning around and reaching for the doorknob, planning on spending the rest of the night slowly withering away

"Not to your room, leave the castle" She elaborated before you turned the knob and you froze

This was it? How could she make such a jarring decision so easily? Were all the glances sent each other's way not enough? Were the nights you spent in her quarters all for her entertainment?

You opened the door, the contrast between her warm room and the slightly cold hallways felt so much more heart-wrenching

You didn't have any belongings so you left through the front door, you quickly shut it once you were outside. Knowing the risks of letting the cold inside, you wouldn't want her to have another reason to hate you

You could barely see, the wind too strong for you to properly see in front of you and it being night didn't help. You knew of the stories, of the monsters in the woods, you knew maids who didn't return from their trips to the village if they took too long

You knew that you'd come to the same fate soon but you had nowhere to go, no one to turn to for help so you walked, and walked and walked

Walked through the forest, through the quiet town, and around the fields

—-

You sat down, finally finding a little shelter that would keep you from getting hit by the winds directly but wouldn't save you from lurking monsters searching for food

You closed your eyes before opening them abruptly when you heard something. There, you saw a pair of glowing eyes staring back at you, then another and another

You knew your time had come and you couldn't fight it

You closed your eyes, thinking about your life before this night

—-

Miranda watched on as the Lycans had their meal then vanished, a smile on her face

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#alcina dimitriscu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #alcina x maiden #re8 alcina #resident evil alcina #lady alcina #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x y/n #lady dimitrescu x maiden #lady dimitrescu x female reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil 8 #angst #horror franchise #x reader #hurt/no comfort

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torukmaktoskxawng · 10 months

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tsamsiyu ta'em - a butterfly's wings

Masterlist - part eight

Summary: The forest is left behind and a vast ocean takes its place.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 6k+

Taglist (bold indicates “could not tag”): @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @sucker4angstt @inolaphoenix tojisleftarm andyfromku

Warnings: canon-compliant, canon-typical violence, mature language, adult content, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, alien/human (technically avatar), jake sully sister agenda, time skips, I'm trying to hurry up and get to the good parts so bear with me, fluff, angst, adopted spider, tags to be added

A/N: Thank you for 400 followers 🙏 ❤️

After quickly grabbing a few essentials, Kayla packed all of it up onto Thena and took off, not bothering to wait for the gunship knowing it was going to catch up to her right away. She flew high over the forest canopy until she was suddenly leaving the forest and gliding over the ocean. Looking over her shoulder, she stared back at the cliff sides leading back to the world she had only begun to know, starstruck and a little heartbroken. She stomps down her sadness and turns back around, stubbornly looking ahead. Norm and Max weren't that far behind her, idly flying at a safe distance between their gunship and Thena. Norm stayed in his avatar the whole flight and would occasionally talk to Kayla through their throat mics and earpieces to entertain each other, warning her of the long flight ahead. Using her new ionar to shield her eyes from the wind, Kayla was easily comfortable for the first few hours of the flight, but the inner, hidden child in her was so very tempted to ask Max 'Are we there yet?' after her back was starting to protest the whole trip.

Flying over the oceans of Pandora was breathtaking. It felt as if there was nothing between her and the water, floating over its vast blanket of dark blue like a dream... a dream that felt all too familiar but when she tried to grasp onto that memory, it slips away from her. Kayla could've sworn that she's been in this predicament before, but fails to remember when and where exactly.

Norm explains that their destination is Awa'atlu, a Metkayina village. It's an eight-hour flight by ikran, including three-hour rest stops for the animal. Norm and Max would've gotten there faster if it weren't for the fact that Thena needed to rest her wings occasionally. Kayla's weight wasn't an issue for her and the banshee could've easily gone all the way if it weren't for all the things Kayla had hurriedly strapped to her ikran's back. There were plenty of tall, rock formations randomly sticking out of the ocean. Rock formations as tall as the trees of the forest, standing alone due to erosion and evolution, with flat surfaces that had plenty of space for an ikran and a gunship to land on. The small group land to rest and stretch their legs for a few hours with the hopes that they'll only need one pit stop, then they continued on their way.

The first thing Kayla sees is a large island, the first she's seen since leaving the forest, surrounded by various smaller ones. As they flew closer, the island only grew larger and more beautiful. Kayla had to tilt her head up just to see where the very top of the island goes through the clouds.

Completely encompassing this island was a wall, but Kayla could only see a small portion of it as it wraps around and disappears behind the island, out of her sight. The wall looked to be made of twisted and turned tree roots, diving and weaving through each root like an overly large bracelet meant to only fit on the wrist of Eywa herself.

Norm was looking out in awe of the wall from the open doors of the gunship. His hair was flying over his face due to the harsh winds whipping around him, but when he looks off to the side to spot Kayla flying at a safe distance beside him, he could see the equal wonder in her eyes. He presses his fingers into his throat mic and tries yelling over the wind and gunship blades, "It's called an atoll wall! It's completely made of coral over thousands of years old. It keeps the Sea Na'vi somewhat protected, but it also helps with their ecosystem. While it protects them from overly large predators, the seawall also provides means of food."

Large ocean waves crash against one side of the wall like an unforgivable beast, while the other side is peaceful and calm, full of serenity and beauty. Kayla could see what Norm had meant as they finally flew over the wall, observing the large tidepools that run up and down the inside of the wall like stairs. Dozens of Metkayina People were occupying these various pools, with nets, baskets, and spears at their disposal. Kayla couldn't get a better look from that high up, but from what she could tell, the Reef People already looked vastly different from what she was used to in the forest.

She continued to look over her shoulder, still amazed at the wall behind her as Norm continues to educate her about it, "The Reef People believe that Eywa created the seawall to promote life and let it thrive inside its safety."

"Guys, we're here," Max announces through the radio.

Kayla turns back around, facing forward on her ikran. After passing the seawall, the vast dark blue ocean is gradually replaced by a soft aquamarine green beneath her, indicating that the depths were becoming more shallow and Kayla quickly realized to her amazement that she was now flying over a beautiful lagoon, flowing with all sorts of marine life.

Looking up, just two miles off the atoll wall was the village of Awa'atlu, which at first glance just looks to be a large gathering of mangrove trees hanging over the edge of the island and dipping its roots into the beaches. Kayla's breath is taken away from the sheer size of the mangrove trees that act as shelter for the hundreds of Metkayina dwellings that hang and weave between the trees' roots. Between each marui, she could see floating walkways, weaving in and around each of the Metkayina homes, connecting them all together as one, vast network.

A horn blows one, long note in greeting to the weary travelers and more than likely warning the village of newcomers. Kayla flies all around the whole border of the village, making several sweeps while the gunship hovers over one spot, patiently waiting for further instruction.

Eventually, Kayla spots two figures running out onto the beach, flailing their arms in the air to get her attention. Her heart squeezes painfully when she recognized the darker blue skin and flexible tails, standing out against the crowd of Metkayina. Kayla presses into her throat mic, "I got eyes on Devil Dog and Pathfinder."

"They're directing us," Max observes, keeping the controls of the gunship steady, "Looks like we're gonna be landing in those shallow sand dunes over there."

Norm nods in acknowledgment and presses into his throat mic, "Kayla, keep flying circles until we land. Then bring Thena in."

"Copy that."

The gunship finally lowers, as slowly and as carefully as possible even as crowds of Metkayina gather around the landing zone. Kayla continues to circle the scene from above, watching as the sand and sprays of water fly everywhere like swirling clouds, forcing all bystanders to turn away and shield their eyes before they are blinded, their hair wildly flying out of proportion.

Norm hops out just as the gunship begins to hover inches from the sand then softly landing. Norm moves over to Jake, extending his arm out to Toruk Makto and then pulling him into a brief embrace. Jake looked relieved as he affectionately slapped the center of Norm's back, both happy to see his old friend and relieved to have help finally arrive after contacting them hours prior.

"Hi."

"It's good to see you," Jake offered before following Norm back to the gunship, "Let's get the gear. Neteyam!"

Neteyam perks up over the roar of the blades and engine, directing his attention to his father as Jake shouts, "Neteyam, keep them back!"

"How is she?" Norm asks loudly as Max finally begins to cut and slowly turn off the engine. Norm had crawled back into the gunship and with the help of a frantic Jake, begins to start unstrapping and unloading the supplies from the ship.

"She's still unconscious!"

With one final, echoing screech, Thena gracefully lands, softly touching down into the sand. The ikran pants aggressively, taking large, violent breaths, exhausted from the journey as Kayla jumps off, disengaging from tsaheylu. The avatar doesn't bother to look around at all the blue eyes staring strangely at her before she's jumping into action and helping the others unload the gunship of its medical supplies. Max hands her a trauma kit before he, too, jumps out of the gunship, mask firmly in place, significantly standing smaller than even Neteyam as the teenager approaches to help. Neteyam takes one, brief moment to widen his eyes at the sight of his aunt before she hands him the trauma kit and flashes an encouraging smile.

They're practically dragged through the village in order to get to the Sully marui. Everything was moving so fast, Kayla felt as though she couldn't catch her breath. The group makes haste through the village, like a freight train. She had only been able to catch glimpses of the Metkayina as she passed by, not close enough to grab any smaller details but it was hard to miss their most prominent features. These Na'vi were clearly strong with their broader shoulders, flat, paddle-like tails, and strake forearms attached to large, wide hands. Their skin was lighter than the Omatikaya's, leaning close to that light, aquatic green that could easily blend into their surrounding reefs and lagoons. Their stripes didn't appear to have a purpose or pattern, but scattered and swirled like gentle ripples of water, as if reflecting sunlight through the ocean surface.

Before she could look further into it, Kayla was brought to the Sullys' new home. It was a large marui meant for a large family, on the edge of the village with a beautiful view of the ocean without any other pod obstructing it. Stepping inside, Kayla marveled as a cascade of glowing blue light fell over her skin. Looking up, she noticed the light coming from one wall of the tent where instead of the usual woven fibers and leather meant to hold a marui together was a thin, transparent membrane of an animal, dyed blue to allow light and color through the home like a suncatcher. Her wonder is broken as fast as it had started when Norm and Max speed past her to get to their patient, shaking Kayla from her admiration and getting to work.

With no time to waste, Kayla helps set Max and Norm up with their gear and can't afford to even look down and inspect Kiri for herself. When she's done, she knows that there's nothing else she can do, her expertise never going as far as scientifically or medicinally. With so many people completely surrounding the unconscious Kiri, Kayla exits the pod, stepping out onto the walkways and only now realizing that every step she takes causes her to bounce.

"Auntie?"

Looking up, Kayla's expression completely lifts when she noticed a small crowd of teenagers anxiously waiting outside the marui, two of which she recognized. Sighing in relief and holding her arms out, Kayla pulls Lo'ak and Neteyam in for a group hug, squeezing them tightly before stepping away to get a better look at them, "Look at you. You look so strong. Both of you."

And they were. Both Neteyam and Lo'ak had noticeably more muscle in their arms, legs, and torsos, their diaphragms shaped around their strong lungs. They were still the same height as before, but their style had slowly oh-so gradually changed from beads and brown twine into small seashells and dark green seaweed. Kayla beamed while looking over Lo'ak, her hand finding a resting place on the top of his head, "I like your hair, Lo'ak."

Neteyam smiles and adds to his little brother's sudden bashfulness by patting the top of his head as well, earning a hiss in response. The younger Sully boy no longer kept his hair loose, but pulled back in a simple hair tie, closer to the style Kayla has noticed among the Metkayina hunters. Lo'ak was cowering under the attention until he looked over his aunt's shoulder and his entire posture stiffens, spine straightening and eyes unable to look away from whatever was approaching. Kayla frowns and turned around just as Neteyam was herding her to stand off to the side. A small sea of Metkayina part two separate ways down the woven path and between them walks a female Metkayina.

Kayla wasn't sure what was the first thing she noticed about this woman. It might've been the sea shell ornament resting against her forehead, or perhaps it was the stone-cold green eyes or the facial tattoos framing them. The woven top shielding her chest was beautiful, fitted with a cascade of mother of pearl. Her skirt was clearly a symbol of her rank considering that Kayla has never seen another Na'vi woman wear that. The skirt was long, flowing, and decorated in dyed seagrass, shells, and flower petals. It only went up as far as her waist, gently hugging the woman's baby bump, her torso tattoos stretching and flowing around said bump like a wave.

She exuded regal confidence, easily earning respect from all she passed by like it was an honor to be in her presence. Her walk alone was intimidating, beelining for the Sully marui with a purpose. Behind her was a young Metkayina girl who was clearly her daughter, a twin in every way except for her height and lack of tattoos. The girl held a basket that was clearly full of healing properties and handed them to her mother when the woman turned around for them. The Na'vi woman didn't spare a glance at anyone, charging into the marui with a task in mind and nothing else. Clearly, the tsahik of the Metkayina.

Within moments of the mysterious woman entering the Sully home, Kayla could hear Neytiri's stern demand for everyone to leave. Frantic scurrying could be heard within the marui and Kayla couldn't help but roll her eyes at the three full-grown men, Na'vi and human alike, who could easily scatter with just one look from Neytiri.

Jake is the last one out of the pod, herding Norm and Max away, "Okay, everyone out. Give Kiri some air."

Norm and Max obey, crouching off to the side and going over what they did or didn't find while inspecting Kiri. Jake gives them a moment to go over everything while he takes the chance to get a better look at his sister. Looking around, he easily found her down the walkway, standing with his sons and anxiously waiting for news about Kiri. She still prefers to wear her red-brown crop top and cargo shorts, as he observed, but there are tiny pieces of Omatikaya culture now embedded into her style. Instead of her usual combat boots, she now goes barefoot and has lovely leather braided anklets on both ankles, her toes and fingers painted a warm, coffee-brown color. Her DMT tags are still dangling from around her neck, but as for her throat mic, Kayla has incorporated that piece of RDA technology into a beautiful red and orange thread-woven choker. The earpiece is still settled comfortably in her ear, but she has since gotten said ear pierced and she had a chain attached to both the piercing and the earpiece in case it dislodged.

He couldn't ignore the clear starting signs of a songcord hanging from the belt loop of her cargo shorts. There wasn't much of the cord itself with only one or two small beads here and there, but at the very end of it, resting against her thigh was a small compass about the size of a thumbnail.

It was both strange and uplifting to see, given the circumstances. His sister had clearly progressed in the clan since he left, but it was bittersweet knowing that he had missed it all, only now able to see what she's accomplished in the midst of saving his daughter's life. Jake wished that they had reunited under happier times, "Kayla."

She looks in the direction of his voice and clocks Jake making his way toward her, arms wide open for a hug. Before he takes another step she stops him with a simple, but very distinguished hand gesture, her fingers touching her forehead before she lowered her hand in his direction, bowing her head in respect,

"Ma tsmukan. Oel ngati kameie."

The greeting wasn't very genuine, but it was courteous at best. Jake immediately lowered his arms and cleared his throat, nodding back while offering a fleeting smile, "Good. You sound... good. And I saw your banshee flying in. Congrats."

"Her name is Thena," Kayla crossed her arms, still a little stiff with her words but indulged in the small talk, "I didn't learn as fast as you did, according to Norm, but he's been a big help teaching me when he can."

Neither sibling says another word. He doesn't ask and she doesn't tell. Neither admits to their prior faults or even acknowledges them, so Jake returns to Norm and Max, crouching beside them and starting to list off all the signs that had previously pointed him to Kiri's seizure. Kayla listens, but from a distance, listening about the time Kiri admitted to Jake that she could feel Eywa all around her. When Norm brought up epilepsy, Kayla slowly tuned it out, wishing she hadn't heard it in the first place. She didn't want to think about what this would mean for Kiri, thinking back to that little baby girl she saw on the video log.

A tiny pit of guilt lingered in her gut. She should've mentioned that she had seen the video logs. She should've at least told Jake she watched them all, but she didn't. At the same time, a stubborn part of her reminded Kayla that regardless of whether or not she watched them, she still shouldn't forgive Jake. The amount of apologies he sent her way doesn't justify what he had done, and no amount of apologetic video logs will ever fix that.

There's a cry coming from the marui that erases all troubling thoughts from Kayla's head, and all eyes look up and turn to the pod. Neteyam and Lo'ak don't hesitate to rush in after hearing the relieved sounds of their mother comforting Kiri as the poor girl cried. Jake also rushed in after them, eager to see if his daughter was alright. Kayla stands in the doorway and peeks in. The entire Sully family had joined Neytiri and Tuk in surrounding the distressed Kiri, comforting her and exchanging smiles with one another, grateful for this outcome. The only one that stood out in this picture was the Metkayina woman, leaning over on her knees to catch her breath, looking exhausted compared to before. With Jake's help, the tsahik stood up and moved to the door, only stopping in her tracks when her eyes lock on Kayla hovering just outside the marui. Both women stood completely still, Kayla's eyes widening while the tsahik's narrowed, reverting back to the intimidation Kayla no doubt felt when the woman first showed up. The reef woman's eyes never faltered from suspicion, moving slowly up and down while analyzing Kayla's whole figure, making her squirm underneath her avatar's skin.

Jake briefly looked up from his family and noticed the staredown between the tsahik and his sister before his expression twisted into a wince as if he was in pain. His thoughts internally made him cringe, drastically trying to come up with a good way to explain this to both clan leaders of the Metkayina. Gently placing his hands on both Neytiri's shoulders, Jake quietly announces to his family that he needs to go take care of some things before leaving the marui, passing by the tsahik, who only broke her gaze from Kayla when Jake gently guided his sister away from the pod's entrance. As the adult Sully siblings were moving, so were the Metkayina crowds outside.

The girl Kayla had seen with the tsahik moved passed her and Jake without a second thought and disappeared inside the marui, only returning with the former basket of supplies and her mother. Further down the walkways, Metkayina were crowding around and peering over one another's shoulders to get a good look at the newcomers, to which Kayla equally squirmed under their gaze as well, feeling like fresh meat hanging from a butcher shop window the way Jake was keeping her body in front of him.

When the Metkayina woman moved back around into Kayla's field of view again, Jake finally spoke up from behind her, addressing the tsahik, "This is a discussion meant for the olo'eyktan as well."

Their fathers' voice draws Neteyam and Lo'ak outside, leaving their mother and sisters to relax in each other's comfort. Both Omatikaya boys stood beside their father as pillars of strength when they noticed the way the tsahik was glaring at their aunt's presence, all the while both Norm and Max joined in when noticing the gathering as well. Murmurs fly through the crowds of Metkayina behind the tsahik, who was still weary of Kayla but nods in acknowledgment to Jake. She turns to her daughter and mutters something to her, to which the girl dutifully nods and leaves, disappearing into the crowd. Within minutes, the olo'eyktan was summoned to the Sully marui, and Kayla's eyes only widen further.

He had to be the tallest Na'vi she had ever seen, easily towering over both Jake and Norm. He also had more tattoos out of all the Metkayina People Kayla had seen so far, most of the ink gathered around his face, neck, shoulders, and chest. His hair was tightly braided back and out of his face, much like Kayla's, but unlike hers, his hair was unbraided behind his ears and loosely flowing down his back. On his chest, he wore a special garment that could only be the Metkayina's version of a cummerbund that look like fish scales running up and down one side of his torso and looping around his shoulder. Over that, he bore colorful braided knots and ropes, a ceremonial piece that clearly states his rank in his clan. In one hand, he carried a spear, and with that the weight of responsibilities he held in the village.

He stops in front of Kayla and Jake, glancing between her and the brother behind her with recognition. Despite the height, Kayla felt a little less intimidated by his gaze, one that was only curious and calculating while borderline cautious. His mate, the tsahik, dutifully moved to stand beside him, still staring Kayla down with suspicion and distrust.

Jake moves off to the side so that he could look between the clan leaders and Kayla, before lifting his arm in her direction to present her, "Tonowari, Ronal, this is Makayla Sully. Kayla, this is the olo'eyktan and the tsahik of the Metkayina."

With a closer inspection, Kayla realized that the Metkayina's eyes had two sets of eyelids when they blinked down at her, one moving normally up and down while the other was translucent and blinked sideways. Realizing she was staring, Kayla snapped out of it and moved to pay her respects, lifting her fingers to touch her forehead before lowering down in the clan leaders' direction.

The tsahik known as Ronal barely lets her do so, making a grab at Kayla's fingers when she noticed them and roughly pulled until she brought the hand to her eye level to inspect, nearly making Kayla stumble from her strength. She distastefully scowls at Kayla's four fingers and thumb, "Another one with demon blood."

Kayla turns to Jake, bewildered and slightly worried, "Is that what they call you?"

Lo'ak looks away while Jake is trying to scrounge up an answer. Lo'ak's refusal to look at his aunt is all the answer she needs before a brief wave of anger and the need to protect crashes and retracts in a singular moment, like a wave against the shoreline. Kayla quickly forgets her anger when Ronal walks around her, swarming her like a vulture as she grabs Kayla's tail. Kayla winced quietly to herself at the rough intrusion but otherwise didn't comment. She chalked it up as a tsahik thing. Mo'at always tended to forget personal boundaries as well.

"Her Na'vi tongue is terrible," Ronal continues to berate and insult, "It sounds like a baby still forming its first words."

Jake tried negotiating to the best of his ability without sounding like he was pleading or, Eywa forbid, insulting his hosts, "Tsahik, please. Kayla is my sister. We share the same blood. We were born of the Sky People."

Ronal pauses and looks at Jake, ears flattening as she replays his words in her head, "All Na'vi people know your story, Toruk Makto, and your story never mentions a sister."

Kayla's ears fall flat against her skull as she looked away. Jake solemnly nods to Ronal, "I know. Kayla has only recently arrived in our world. She had only been living among the Omatikaya for a little less than a year now."

A moment passes before her eyes flick back to Kayla, both women inspecting one another in that close distance, roughly standing at the same height. Kayla could see the way Ronal's eyes move to each and every one of her avatar features. The smaller eyes, the hairy brows, and then back down to the extra fingers and toes. Eventually, Ronal pulls away and rejoins her mate, while Kayla finally found herself able to breathe with her personal space now restored.

Tonowari takes one look at his mate before dividing his attention to Kayla, touching his forehead and lowering his hand in her direction, tilting his head down with a small smile, "Welcome, sister of Toruk Makto."

Kayla relaxes ever so slightly and nods back. When she opened her mouth to respond, the words are cut off by a small freight train crashing into her waist and legs. The air is almost knocked out of her as Kayla looks down, her fright instantly melting into a bright smile when Tuk looks back up at her, beaming excitedly, "Auntie!"

"Tuk!" Kayla bent down to her youngest niece's height, the clan leaders forgotten while she inspected the little girl, "Oh, my sweetheart, look at you... did you grow? I think you've grown!"

She tickles Tuk under her chin, the girl quickly retracting with a small giggle. Kayla smiles and places her hands under Tuk's arms and lifts her up, placing her on her hip before returning her attention to the adults surrounding them, bashful when remembering where she was as the Metkayina all stare oddly at her. Kayla summons her manners again and clears her throat, her smile falling as she stares directly at Ronal, leveling her voice to be as clear as she was able in their language, "Tsahik of the Metkayina. I am forever grateful that you took in my brother's family as your own. I don't ask to be sheltered among your people. I only ask that you allow me to stay for a little while so that I can keep an eye on Kiri and make sure she's healthy and no longer in danger."

Jake opens his mouth to speak but cringed and backed down after one brief look from Kayla quickly refusing whatever he wanted to say before he even could say it. The brother retracts and the sister brings her eyes back to Tonowari and Ronal, being sure to retain eye contact between them, "I will go if you ask me to. I will respect your wishes. I just want to make sure my family is safe."

Ronal's eyes narrow again, solely on Kayla. Tuk flinches and hides her face away in Kayla's neck, but otherwise says nothing as her aunt stares down the tsahik. The gaze is only broken when Ronal turns her body away from Kayla to face the olo'eyktan, who in turn, loyally follows her motion until he's engaging in a silent conversation with her using only their eyes and ears. Kayla had to commend them for their nonverbal communication skills. She had no doubt they made an excellent team as the leaders of the clan.

After a few moments of silence and bated breath, Kayla's gaze is met with Tonowari's, who spoke for himself and Ronal as the tsahik looks around at her people instead, "Jakesully and Neytiri have learned our ways from me and my mate. You will do the same as long as you remain here. Learn fast, and do not fall behind. Do not bring us shame for being useless."

Her brows shortly furrow before relaxing. Blink and you would've missed the confusion crossing over her eyes before she forgets herself and quickly bows her head in gratitude, "Irayo."

Tonowari nods back and follows Ronal through the crowd, walking away. Kayla doesn't have a moment to take a breath of relief before she's bombarded by her brother's family. Lo'ak immediately bounds up to Kayla when the tension is broken, excitedly rambling, "We have so much to show you! We've learned a new language so we can communicate underwater. And we can hold our breath longer, too! Wait until you properly meet Tsireya. She's a great teacher!"

"She's super pretty!" Tuk chimes in, resulting in Kayla laughing as Lo'ak's face flushes a darker shade of blue.

Neteyam and Jake round their guests up and bring them back inside the marui. Neytiri looks up from tending to Kiri and blatantly ignores Norm and Max in exchange for her eyes widening at the sight of one other avatar in the room. The Na'vi woman stood at the sight of Kayla in the doorway, holding Tuk on her hip. Neytiri let out a long breath of relief, a smile gracing her lips, "Makayla..."

Kayla beams, immediately moving around to hug Neytiri, who happily accepts the embrace. Kiri had managed to sit up with Neteyam's help and craned her neck up to see for herself, hiccuping while still trying to relax from all her crying, "Auntie?"

Her weak voice broke Kayla's heart, and so the aunt pulls away from Neytiri and hands Tuk to her mother before crouching down beside the teenager. Kayla flashes a soft smile, her hand reaching up to wipe away the tear tracks still fresh on Kiri's face, "Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Kiri mumbled, leaning into her aunt in a form of an attempted side hug.

Kayla gladly takes Kiri's weight and sits down fully, holding the teen close to her as support while running a hand through her soft, short hair, "That's okay. Take all the time to rest. You'll be back to normal by this time tomorrow."

From over Kiri's head, Kayla flashes a warning glare at both Norm and Max, a clear indicator to keep their mouths shut about her niece's condition. Jake feels a small ping of amusement when watching the way both Norm and Max stiffen under her scrutinous glare but otherwise say nothing. Instead, the scientists properly pack up their supplies in their respective places instead of feeling rushed, taking their time and catching up with the Sullys, exchanging stories and recent events. Lo'ak and Kiri pointedly stared at Kayla until she noticed, and one look alone drove the aunt to understand what they were asking. Her expression briefly falls and with a heavy heart, shakes her head in dismissal, further saddening the teenagers' moods. No, she hasn't found him yet.

The day was almost done and Norm and Max needed to head back if they were going to try and get home before night closes in. Kayla offered to see them out since she still needed a few things from the gunship. The Sullys all say goodbye and the kids even hug the scientists as tight as they could, nearly choking the life out of Max. He and Norm promise to check on the Sullys' friends and family for them back home and make Jake and Kayla promise to call if anything happens, then they left for the beach. Making sure all her needed belongings were with her, Kayla helps guide them with arm motions as Max begins to lift the gunship off the sand dune.

The ship rises and rises until Kayla has to crane her neck up to watch it disappear, her hand over her throat mic, "Rogue Two, you're clear! See ya guys later."

"Copy that!"

"Good luck, Desert Fox."

Kayla only returns to the Sully marui when she could no longer hear the rushing sound of the gunship's blades. By the time she returned to her brother's family, they were getting ready to go and join the village at the communal dinner. At first, Kayla was more than happy to hang back and avoid the Metkayina if that meant making them comfortable without her presence, but the Sully kids weren't having it. Tuk desperately tugged on her aunt's arm until the woman followed her to the large, communal marui at the center of the village. Acting as the center of this large network of homes, the tent was supported by the mangrove roots and all the separate marui hanging around it, connecting the entire place together through all the pathways dodging in and out in all directions.

Neteyam and Lo'ak purposely stuck to their aunt's side when they took their tree bark plates and went about grabbing a variety of food shared among the People. Nearly every Metkayina was staring at Kayla, but she stubbornly ignored it, pretending she didn't notice as she made conversation with her nephews. Tuk had run off to join a group of her new friends while Kiri kept close to Neytiri, still weak and tired from the whole ordeal. Plus, if a village person decided to approach her and ask questions about the incident, Kiri could rely on her mother to wrap a protective arm around her and hiss at them, daring the Na'vi to continue overwhelming her baby.

The tent was loud, full of conversation, songs, and storytelling. Everyone shared their food and in return, everyone shared a story, whether it was about their day or some past or fictional event. Children were laughing and playing, running and weaving around the adults as they ate, trying not to step on anyone's tail. The food smelled and tasted delicious. Kayla was delighted by the smoked fish with perfectly seasoned herbs and spices on top. She couldn't remember a time when she had something so savory.

When he caught a break in Kayla's conversation with his sons, Jake nudged her gently to grab her attention. With Neytiri on the other side of him, both parents pointedly stare at Kayla until she realized they wanted to talk to her. And to her surprise, they spoke to her in English, likely so no one else could understand them.

Jake first pointed out the color of her nails with a playful grin, "So how the Hell did you get a hold of nail polish?"

Kayla smirked mischievously, "Promise you won't tell? Jocelyn has a secret stash full of various colors. She's painted almost every avatar's nails and even some Na'vi's when they got curious. She made it clear that when I finish my Iknimaya, I have to let her paint them again before the ceremony."

Neytiri turned to her sister-in-law when she heard that, surprised as her mouth drops in shock and wonder, "Kayla. You completed your Iknimaya?"

Kayla smiled, albeit a little shy, "Well, technically I only made a clean kill and finished my ikran trial."

To her credit, Neytiri appeared remorseful, ears drooping and expression apologetic, "I am sorry I missed it."

"That's alright. I haven't done my Uniltaron yet. Maybe you can accompany me for that?"

Jake snorts, "I can't wait for you to experience that trip. So what else have you been up to?"

"I've been getting to know the locals while you guys have been gone, learning from them and obviously obtaining my own ikran. Tarsem and Norm were with me for that," she hesitates to mention more, looking back at her nephews. Neither of them was listening to her, instead lost in their own conversation with a friend of theirs, Rotxo. When Kayla peered over Neytiri to check on Kiri, she only found a teenager lost in her own, sad thoughts while focusing more on her dinner than the people around her. And with Tuk clearly elsewhere, Kayla turned back to Jake and Neytiri, "In between learning, I've been trying to track down Spider."

Neytiri frowned and looked down to focus more on her meal while Jake perked up, eyes hard in leadership mode when he realized he was discussing business, "Really? What do you got?"

And just like that, they've fallen back into military procedure. Kayla's voice naturally lowered and sounded monotone, "Our sources indicate he's still alive but beyond that, we haven't been able to plan a rescue mission."

"Do your sources know exactly who has him?"

Kayla was suddenly glad they were having this conversation in English while gravely reporting, "We did get confirmation that it is Colonel Miles Quaritch and his 'Déjà Blue Team' as they call themselves."

Jake's face falls in horror while Neytiri's screwed up with disdain. Kayla continues, "Technically, they're called Recoms. Avatars without a separate host. In Project Phoenix, the RDA took the memories of deceased soldiers from your war and put them in the brains of Na'vi vessels. This is not just personal for Quaritch. It's personal for all of them."

"Shit." Jake cursed under his breath, shadows of the past further darkening his eyes as he stared off into space, not looking at anyone or anything in particular. He didn't want to believe that was really Quaritch threatening his kids back there, but with the way Kayla described him, it was almost undeniably true, and it was like a ghost of his past, coming back to haunt Jake again.

"So you guys have a history," Jake turned back at the sound of Kayla's voice, her eyes indifferent while trying to find something in his expression as she knowingly stated, "Norm told me quite a bit. You were Quaritch's pet until you got soft."

"Watch it." Jake snarled darkly under his breath, teeth-baring faintly at her.

"Just saying."

"Then say less." They both fall into silence, staring each other down until Neytiri tapped her husband's arm. The motion brings Jake back to the present, mumbling to the point where Kayla could barely hear him, "Sorry."

Kayla nods, accepting it and returning the sentiment, but in her own, stiff way, "I was trying to make a joke. My bad."

Neytiri decided that it was time to change the subject, leaning over to get a better look at Kayla from the other side of Jake, "My mother. My people. Anything from them?"

Kayla struggled but eventually got past the intense conversation with her brother and forced herself to smile at Neytiri, sympathetic to her question, "The Omatikaya are strong. So far, life as they know it is still steady and as normal as it can be. Quaritch and the others still haven't been able to lead a proper assault on the Hallelujah Mountains. Most of the time, they barely leave a dent. Your mother is still tsahik until Tarsem can finally choose a mate for Mo'at to teach. She is the same as always."

Jake feels an elbow gently nudging him. When he looks in the direction of the offending limb, he finds Kayla trying to smile at him, attempting to lighten his spirit and offer a truce, "You were right. She is a dragon lady."

That earned her a tiny smirk and a small huff of laughter that only grew when Neytiri affectionately smacked Jake upside the back of his head. Hearing their father laugh made all the Sully children turn to their parents and aunt, demanding what was so funny as Tuk comes bounding back, wanting in on the laughter. It became a bit of a scene once Jake plucked his youngest child up off the ground and began tickling her, forgetting his demons for the moment. Tuk's squeals and giggles drew a lot of attention, but either the Sully family didn't appear to notice or didn't care about it in the least. Kayla and Neytiri had begun to laugh along with Jake and the children, their spirits lifted as they try to attempt to save Tuk from her relentless father. At one point, he even held the child upside down by only holding her foot, earning more squealing laughter from the little girl while Jake lifted her above his head without much effort. Neytiri frantically tried to keep her own hands under Tuk's head in case she fell while Kayla tried to get her brother to put the child down and keep things civil as they were beginning to disturb other Na'vi from enjoying their meals.

Little did she know that she was being watched like a hawk, her usual instincts abandoned in exchange for trying to make a grab for her squealing niece, unaware of the two pairs of eyes practically drilling holes into her back from far across the room.

A/N: I don't care if this chapter was short, I'm super damn proud of it. I had been struggling to write it at the beginning of the week and somehow I still did it! You gotta enjoy the little things.

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 7 months

Text

Two chapters in less than twenty-four hours. I literally haven't done this in a decade. Send help. Wheezing. May have thrown my back out. In need of life support.

Anyways here we gooooooo

Hearing Problems

LA!Mihawk x AFAB!OC

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Chapter 2: A Battle of Wits

Tags: Slow-burn, Enemies to Lovers, eventually NSFW, uh, if I think of more I'll add them or something

Trigger Warnings: None for this chapter

Wordcount: 2.2k

Summary:

After having her sloop sunk by the Buggy Pirates and losing most of her worldly possessions in the process, the normally solitary mercenary Karimi Lionne finds herself teaming up with the rag-tag little crew that is the Strawhat Pirates to defeat them. She bonds with them far more quickly than she bargained for, and that quickly turns into a problem for the Kiku Kiku no Mi devil fruit user when she learns of Nami's plans to leave them high and dry, and Zoro issues a challenge at Baratie that he very likely won't live long enough to regret.

Karimi did her best to steel her resolve despite the blood rushing in her ears as she lay there.

Lay there on the docks outside the seafaring restaurant, her strength zapped by the salt water, completely defenseless as Dracule Mihawk towered over her, his arms crossed, observing her with an unreadable expression and indecipherable tone to his question that still echoed in her ears.

Devil fruit, then, is it?

It wasn't too big of a surpise that he had figured it out that quickly. No, the surprise was his very presence there on the docks. That he had bothered to seek her out and ask her.

She finally expelled the breath trapped within her lungs in a slow sigh, closing her eyes again, feigning an aloof facade as well as she could.

"No idea what you're referring to," she said, as levelly as she could. She could hear a slight edge in her tone, but that was fine. That was to be expected. At least she had found the will to speak.

"There's really no use playing coy, dear. Though I am curious..." he said slowly, "what might lead a devil fruit user to intentionally dampen their own power."

"I don't think that's really any of your business," she said, mimicking his drawling lilt. "I am trying to drink myself into a stupor before morning and your presence is not helping the endeavor. So, if you would..." She lifted a hand and made a shooing motion. "Kindly fuck off."

Mihawk quirked an eyebrow, wondering whether every member of the strawhat's crew were insolent fools. Roronoa Zoro's challenge had been one thing—now this girl, this child, was mocking him to his face, attempting to shoo him off like a stray dog begging for scraps.

For a moment, he was completely speechless, feeling oddly as if he had taken a brief step out of reality.

Then he stepped slowly forward, stopping a few inches behind the crown of her tattered brown hat, and crouched down, casting a shadow across her much smaller form.

"You know who I am." It wasn't a question—apart from her abilities, which she still had yet to confirm or deny, he had seen the flicker of recognition in her eyes back on the deck of the restaurant. "Do you have a death wish, little one?"

She cracked open her eyes, meeting his gaze.

"If I say yes will you make it quick and painless?" Then she rolled them and shut them again. "Forgive me if I don't have much respect for glorified political puppets."

She was either too brave for her own good, out of her mind, or legitimately suicidal—and yet there was something intriguing about her complete lack of concern for the fact that he could easily push her right off the edge of the dock with the heel of his boot and watch her devil fruit abilities sink her like a brick to the bottom of the East Blue. There was a clear edge to her voice that told him she was well aware of that fact, and yet she carried on with her contemptuous sarcasm as if she didn't have a care in the world.

It was almost entertaining—a game of wit and intimidation that no one had played so readily or boldly against the warlord in years. He lowered a hand a flicked a few strands of her dark green hair away from her forehead, noting how she briefly tensed at his touch, very briefly; how her breath caught in her throat for a fleeting moment before returning to normal.

"You are in a rather...precarious position," he said lightly, "to be behaving with such impudence, little bird." She shivered when his knuckles brushed lightly down her neck. "As I said, I'm merely curious about the ability you demonstrated earlier. I can't say I'm particularly accustomed to having my mind invaded."

He watched her grit her teeth and abruptly sit up straight on the dock, swiping up the unmarked wine bottle sitting next to her and taking a swig.

"Oh, avast, sir!" she said in a particularly dramatic tone, "—and allow me a moment to wave a sad goodbye to the last fuck I had left to give as it drifts away on yonder tides."

His eyebrows furrowed as she lifted a hand and waved out at the vast expanse of the darkened sea. "Also." She tilted her head back, her eyes locking onto his.

"Call me little bird again and I will find where you sleep, cut off your balls, and feed them to you."

And with her threat hanging in the air between them, her voice slightly slurred, she tilted the bottle back again and took a couple large gulps. His eyes shifted briefly to the pair of daggers hanging at either side of her belt, passing over their ornate, slightly yellowed ivory handles, either antiques or impressive replicas.

Oh, but this was growing more entertaining by the second. Half-drunk and spouting off honest to god threats now—he honestly wasn't sure what to do with her. Mihawk straightened back out, circling slowly around the green-haired enigma, like a predator sizing up his prey.

"If you answer my questions, I will leave you be to drink yourself into an early grave, little bird." He watched as she heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes and glaring out toward the horizon, lit dimly by the crescent moon hanging in the sky overhead.

"Counter-offer," she said flatly.

Everyone else aboard the Going Merry seemed have completely lost every iota of intelligence they might have once possessed—Karimi figured she might as well join the questionable decisions club.

"Let the idiot swordsman live, and I'll work for you. Free of charge. For a year."

For a moment he was silent. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, his eyes scanning over her as she sat there at the docks with her feet in the water, her head swimming more and more with every gulp of wine she downed and her face flushed beneath her freckles from the alcohol. Weighing her offer.

"And what would I want with a little bird flitting around after me for an entire year?"

The smug amusement was perfectly clear in his tone, and Karimi had expected it. Standing at five foot two, weighing in at perhaps eight or nine stone soaking wet, the twenty-four year old knew she didn't come across as much of a threat—but she shared the same stature with her grandmother, who had racked up a bounty of over two billion Berries in her heyday.

"Six years experience in covert mercenary work," she said, holding up one finger. She held up another. "An underling to send off on World Government errands that aren't worth your time." She held up a third finger, picking her head up and rolling her eyes up to meet his. It was fairly clear that he wasn't going to kill her on the spot—between that knowledge, the buzz from the cheap wine and expensive rum she had consumed earlier, and her utter exhaustion and present physical weakness from prolonged contact with ocean water, she was quickly growing less concerned. "I can literally hear the thoughts of everyone within a fifty foot radius at all times. Well..." She gestured toward her feet in the water, lifting her wine. "Not now, but usually."

She took a swig, set the bottle down, and laid back on the cool, damp wood of the dock again, closing her eyes and tucking a hand behind her neck.

"Play with your swords all you want, there's no weapon more dangerous than information."

"You're rather quick to leave your crew behind," he said said slowly. "That speaks very little to any loyalty you could offer."

"We're not even really a crew," she sighed. Karimi raised a hand to her face, rubbing at her eyes and shaking her head. "Zoro would tell you that just as quickly as Luffy would tell you that he's his first mate. So would Nami, but she'll be gone just after sunrise if she has any say. That's going to be enough of a blow. But Zoro *dies*, that's going to shatter Luffy." Another swig of wine, another sigh. "Poor kid's got rocks for brains but he's got a good heart. Just wants the whole world to drop everything and follow their dreams."

"An idealistic idiot and a suicidal swordsman."

Karimi gave a snort of laughter—that hit the nail on the head. "And a pathological liar that can't even tell himself the truth, and a girl so desperate to save her home that she distances herself and steals from the only people who have shown her genuine compassion in over a decade."

"It sounds like they're already falling apart from within." Karimi shrugged a shoulder. "So why, then," he said, clear skepticism dawning in his tone, "would a Marine Vice Admiral call me out here to take care of it?"

A Marine Vice Admiral.

Karimi didn't even bother trying to contain her smirk—even with her devil fruit abilities supressed, she knew exactly what that meant. She knew it alone from the attack that Garp had led on the Going Merry, and didn't even bother opening her eyes as she responded in a mocking tone.

"Well, I except Garp the Fist didn't want to see his grandbaby grow up to be a filthy pirate." No—she did crack one eye, to watch the subtle shift in the pirate warlord's expression. The slow lowering of his brows. The miniscule twitch in a muscle between the corner of his lips and his nose.

Registering that he had been sent out of his way to deal with a petty family dispute.

"My offer stands." She lifted her bottle as if in toast. "You let Roronoa Zoro live, you'll have one year free from dealing with this sort of bullshit, courtesy of yours truly."

Agreeing to her offer felt like it would be an admission of defeat. Whether the battle was one of blades or wits, it was rare—if ever—that Mihawk conceded defeat. The entertainment, the fun of this exchange had drained the moment she laid her claim that Garp was using him as a mediator to capture and deliver his grandson to him.

Once more he crouched down, at the girl's side this time, his eyes glued to hers.

"And for what reason should I believe you?" he said quietly, searching her eyes for any sign of deceit, of treachery.

Yet all he found in their emerald green depths was amusement. That paired with the noncommittal shrug of her shoulders served only to infuriate him more.

"You have no reason to believe me," she said, her tone just as smug as her smirk. "But I wouldn't want to work for anyone that would trust the word of a Marine over a fellow pirate, anyway."

Her eyes slipped shut again, as if the deal was already done, in a manner that suggested it was already set in stone.

In a way that made his blood boil.

The girl drew in a sharp breath when his hand wrapped around her chin, her eyes snapping open to meet his gaze as the pads of his fingers pressed into her wine-flushed cheeks, her breath catching for more than just a brief moment this time. She didn't breathe at all as he leaned down, his face barely an inch from hers, her eyes wide as saucers.

So she did fear death. That was something.

"I will consider your offer, little bird," he said lightly.

Karimi swallowed, watching his eyes flicker away from hers for a moment, toward her slightly parted lips.

"And you will have your answer after my duel with your swordsman friend."

He loosened his grip the slightest bit.

Shifted his hand, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip.

"Whether it be in the form of his continued heartbeat or his bloodied corpse."

And with that he released her and straightened himself out to stand over her. With one last sharp glance down toward her, he strode away down the docks.

Karimi didn't turn her head to watch his departure, simply staring straight up at the stars dotting the inky black expanse over her head as she drew in a slow, shaky breath. Normally silence was a comfort to her, but right now, with nothing but her own troubled thoughts slowly cresting from a murmur to a chaotic jumble of inane chatter somewhere between her ears, it wasn't.

And when she closed her eyes to sigh, to try to calm herself, all she could see plastered to the back of ger eyelids were his own sharp, yellow irises.

Next Chapter Link again for your convenience

#opla #dracule mihawk #mihawk one piece #one piece fanfiction #fanfic #mihawk opla #mihawk x oc #mihawk #opla fanfiction

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desires-of-chain · 7 months

Note

Ok ok so, the post about Fierce having fangs popped up and it gave me a few thoughts... Basically reader finds it incredibly hot and wonders just how he's willing to use them, while Fierce wonders how far he can push it.

(AFAB! Reader (mostly for body parts mentioned) with they/them used) also this is the first smutty thing I've wrote. Read a lot but never wrote it myself 😅)

Fierce never really paid his fangs any mind, they were just teeth. However, he began to think differently about their affects for fangs on hylians weren't commonplace, specifically reader, who would sneak glances or downright stare at them. But would always look away quickly with a poorly hidden red face the moment he let it be known that they were caught.

The first time Fierce noticed was when he had subconsciously ran the tip of his tongue over one of them while concentrating on whatever task had filled his mind. The squeak that filled the air followed by a rushed pardon to leave left him confused. That was until a few minutes later, a small distance away from the group's camp came a scent that he oddly didn't mind... And one that next time he would be the cause of. Reader would later return to camp less red-faced but in a blissful daze that went unnoticed by everyone else.

The next night the chain sat down for a meal in camp. Fierce almost made a show of using his fangs to tear through things; the meat Wild had slightly overcooked? Torn through with the ease of a wild beast. The thick rope that had been tied between two trees for drying any clothes that had gotten wet throughout the day, the same one that was slightly too long? Severed before Sky could even suggest getting his knife from his pouch. Each small act being nothing short of a teasing show for reader's personal entertainment. In turn their embarrassment turned into his nightly show. The final act being a cocky smirk that displayed some of his teeth with a single fang slipping through teasingly.

By the third night Fierce became curious about something, he wasn't the only member of the chain to have sharper canines than the rest. He slowly approached the rancher who had been tending to his horse for the last few hours and was likely starting to get hungry. Fierce handed Twi a piece of cured meat that was as good if a snack as any (though he had his eyes on another that could easily take the place of a full hearty meal). The rancher thanked him and as expected, ripped it with ease.

"'Bout time you ate something tonight, Rancher. No good Epona being up and at 'em if you're dying of hunger," reader called over. Fierce looked to see reader's reaction, to see none other than slight concern for the Hero of Twilight's wellbeing. Even though they clearly saw the act, they simply turned back to sharpening their blade.

The realisation that it was specifically him that elicited their reactions set his mind into overdrive.

The chain blessed the fourth night as they had found an inn with enough room to house them all, even if some had to partner up. Some pairings weren't too happy with their arrangement, while some were just happy to have an actual bed for the night.

One pair happy enough to have one of them be simultaneously pressing themselves into the soft mattress cover while their chest pushed into the body on top of them. A pleasured cry tearing through as they raked their fingernails down Fierce's back hoping to return at least some of the sensations while attempt to ground themselves as those sharp, pearly fangs that they had craved the feel of bit down into a soft spot on their neck having ran out of places to leave marks on their throat.

"L-lower!" They panted out, not even hiding what they wanted anymore. The smell Fierce had detected all those nights ago had long since filled the room and he was dying to see if it tasted as good as it smelled, but he couldn't treat himself yet when there was so much skin left unmarked. Once reader's breasts matched the art on their neck he finally granted them a bit of mercy as he began to nip at reader's inner thighs. Their hands flew straight to his white hair, and he had to admit the tugs were not just encouraging but very welcome, as he continued his work.

After what felt like a millennia Fierce decided they were sufficiently marked with no possibile way for anyone to mistake them as anyone's but his and could finally graciously eat his meal. The smallest licks at their folds sent reader trying to push themselves further into the sheets to try and gain more friction as the tiny licks were nowhere near enough for what they needed to come undone. He smirked and decided to prolong the teasing, a small lick here, a short suck on reader's clit there, the slightest insertion of the tip of his tongue into their weeping hole. Everything that would keep them going but never enough to push them over the edge.

Fierce took the sharp yank of a handful of his hair as permission to truly begin and the tentative licks quickly devolved into long yet quick movements that displayed how starved he was, yet keeping their pleasure his main priority. It didn't take long for the coil of pleasure to snap as reader let out a scream of pure bliss that Fierce happily helped them ride through.

Once they were cleaned up enough Fierce shuffled up to face them with that damnable smirk playing at his lips.

"How about we make a full night of this my dear? We don't know when we'll be granted the luxury of privacy again," Fierce said.

All reader could do was nod as words had long since left them and, as they felt themselves being slowly stretched out around him, they would have to have a conversation with Fierce about just how much he valued the idea complete privacy affecting the frequency of this happening in the future.

-Soup Anon

(Can I claim Soup? And yes I'm the one who sent the thing of Wild not giving a fuck while Twi and reader were going at it 🤣)

yeyeye! you can be soup anon

SOUP ANON

HOLY S H I E T

Hi-His teefers...my greatest weakness

The fuckin meal I say like *chef kiss* good shit, honestly.

He be such a little shit fr when he finds out reader has a biting/marking kink. Just him brushing his sharp canines against the skin, whispering into your ears what he's going to do later and kfldjskjflsd

#.bea answers #smut #soup anon

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under-the-aspen-tree · 7 months

Text

A Moth To You (Chapter 14 - Tides a-Turning) Aegon II Targaryen x (Bastard Velaryon) Reader

Series Summary: After a year travelling abroad, you have been called home to Kingslanding by your mother, Rhaenyra. Turns out your family has grown in your time apart.

Word Count: 3.7k

The memory only came to you in passing dreams, though perhaps that was the only time you let it. On any usual day, you would simply push it to the side, and find something else to debate upon. In dreams, you had not the opportunity, and it always left a sour taste in your mouth when you woke.

It always started in the yard, never before, with you strapped to the chest in ill-fitting leather. Your boots belonged to Jace originally and were a size or so too big, filled out with an old pair of stockings to keep you from tripping so easily. Your hair was braided and pushed back into your tunic, and you knew you looked entirely ridiculous, you just simply did not care. All morning, you hadn’t been able to wipe the grin from your face, for your brother had finally agreed to spar. It wasn’t as though you were entirely new to the art of swordplay. Daemon had taught you well enough on Dragonstone and you had practiced a little in the safety of your old chambers, but you wanted something more than a tutor. You wanted an ally, a friend, to be able to play and spar as your brothers so often did.

Convincing Jace hadn’t been easy, the boy having been mortified at the idea of sparring with a girl, let alone his sister, but he did have a soft spot for you. It took some time, and many pleas, but he came around, nervously biting the inside of his cheek at the idea.

“What if people see?” He had asked, lowering his voice as though you were already at risk of being caught.

“I care not for the eyes of bitter chickens wishing for a larger hutch. I wish to play, will you entertain me?”

Jacaerys rolled his eyes but laughed. “You shall be the death of me, or at least my reputation.”

“You have sullied your reputation with no help of mine, brother. Perhaps I’ll give you the opportunity to finally win a battle, then you might start at rebuilding it.”

He had given you a look then that suggested you would regret speaking so callously when rivalled in the yard, but you only grinned.

The pitch was empty, just as you had planned, the hour growing quickly late. The boys typically strained from morn to noon when the day was at its coolest and brightest, but you preferred the secrecy that came with dusk. Less were around to bother, which would mean less would be around to question.

The evening was tinged with summer's warmth, though you did not let that deter you, taking the occasion very seriously with a wooden sword in hand. Jace had been using blunted steel for years, but he dutifully took to the basics for your sake, his expression torn between hesitant and amused. It took a while for Jace to strike any true blows, ever hesitant of hurting a girl, and it took you demanding he at least try to defeat you for him to put in any true effort. Once the real sparring had begun, and you had delivered a few rather cruel raps to his ankles, however, he lost all concern for true chivalry. The air was filled with the smell of smoke and dirt and sweat, the dimming sun setting a dull orange glow about the courtyard that went a soft russet as you kicked up flumes of dry soil.

The fun didn't last long. Jace had just sent a particularly painful blow to your ribs, knocking the wind from you even despite your leather armour, when a bemused laugh had you both whipping around, panting. Aegon Targaryen stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase leading to the balcony, his arms crossed and a grin on his pale face. He was less broad in the memory, his face a little more angular, his silver hair reaching past his shoulders.

“Oh, you have to be playing me,” Your uncle called once he had your attention, shaking his head. “Jace, is that you?”

Jace's face fell, and you could see his throat bobbing as he swallowed, looking nervously between you and Aegon.

“I’d say I could recognise that mop anywhere, but it is truly indifferent to the masses," The older boy continued in your shared silence, the grin never leaving his pointed face. “What are you doing out here?”

Jace took the opportunity to square his shoulders, trying to appear a little more formidable with his wooden sword. His voice rang clear across the pitch. “Little to do with you, Uncle.”

“Aww, no need to be so brazen, Jace. Perhaps I wished to spar,” Aegon chuckled, a look of cruel delight upon his face at the sight of you both before him. “Though upon seeing this farce, I’d almost feel bad. It would be an injustice to set you against me.”

That set you off finally. Gritting your teeth, you spoke up yourself, your sword pointed to the ground. “It is only for my benefit, uncle. Jace said it well enough. This has little to do with you.”

Aegon guffawed, taking a few steps across the pitch, circling you from the sidelines. “I’m beginning to think this has all to do with me. (Y/N), is that you, under all the garb?”

He grinned wickedly. “Seven hells, you truly are a sight.”

“Leave, Aegon," You flushed, knowing his words rung quite true. You were a mess in strange clothing, your hair unkempt and sticking to your face and neck with sweat. You certainly didn't look a lady. It seemed your words only spurred your uncle on.

“And if I don’t want to? I’ve quite liked the show so far. Go on, show me what you’re made of. It can’t be difficult to do better than your brother.”

You could practically hear Jace's teeth grinding together. “My sister asked you quite kindly to go."

“And I stated I wish to remain.” Aegon's grin slowly turned to a sly smile, a grim cruelty behind his eyes that hinted at his amusement. He had come upon the chest of weaponry still left out on the sidelines of the yard and he was running a finger along the side of the table. “How about a demonstration for the princess? Show her how real men fight, hm?”

Quicker than a snake's bite, his hand lashed out upon the handle of a bastard sword, the dulled steel glinting in the tawny light of the evening. He turned on you both instantly, his eyes set upon Jace's slowly retreating form as he approached. From this angle, you could see how his lips were stained with wine.

“This isn’t about real fighting, Aegon. This is a spar between us," You protested, a knot forming in your stomach. Jace was ill-equipped, wielding but a wooden sword still, and Aegon was growing more menacing as he advanced, a grin on his face.

“And yet I see it as a perfect opportunity to teach, do you not?” He raised the sword to point at your brother, tilting his head as you watched on in horror. “Sparring a girl, Jace, that’s low, even by your standards. Can you not fight a man, or do you take enjoyment out of hitting a woman?”

“That’s not-“ Jace blurted, blanching.

“Stand properly. At least take this moment to show the princess how it is really done.”

Jace was doing his utmost to appear bold, but even he was cowering slightly in the face of the older boy. Aegon was practically a man-grown, Jace a few years his younger. Your hot breaths were short and quick, your mouth dry as you protested yourself, approaching as closely as you dared. “I asked him to join me, Aegon. This isn’t about him.”

It was as though your uncle hadn't heard a word you said. Despite wearing no armour, he took to sparring with all the confidence of a warrior, rapping his blade against Jace's toy sword so quickly your brother could scarcely raise it to defend himself

“I have not a proper sword!” He gasped, earning a scoff from the older boy as he advanced once more, this time sending a blow to Jace's hip that he barely dodged.

“You chose it, did you not?”

“It is not a fair fight!”

“And your one against the princess is?” Your uncle sneered, though you knew he had no true concern for your wellbeing; only your brothers torment. “Come now Jace, I at least thought you half a man. Even with the bastard blood, you have a dragon's ancestry and... rather strong roots. Can’t you-“

The words angered your brother into action, swinging down with a cry and cutting a grinning Aegon off. You cringed as he deflected it with a twist of his wrist, sending his own blow that almost knocked his nephew clean off his feet. Your pleads filled the evening air as Aegon sent blow after blow, half of which landed quite painfully, and the others serving to snap at Jace's wooden sword, quite quickly reducing it in size.

He had no chance, though he never had one to begin with truly. Jace could only defend himself, and that in and of itself was a losing battle. Even you could see the tears stinging your brother's eyes in the face of Aegon's childish cruelty, each rap of the sword stinging enough to flinch back.

You didn't notice how your hand tightened around the leather of your handle, the grip slick and hot with sweat. All you heard was the pounding in your ears, the dull whimper that sounded from your brother as Aegon dealt a particularly harsh blow, and then you were upon him.

Any knowledge learned from your training fled your mind in an instant, and you returned to your base instincts. Approaching quickly from behind, you snapped your sword hard against Aegon's back, earning a sharp cry as his hand impulsively dropped his blade. Your sword was but a toy, but the polished wood landed hard a second time, and then a third, sending your uncle to the ground as Jace watched on in absolute shock.

A scream tore from your throat as you hit him while he was down, the sword coming upon his shoulder and his hip and his knee as he curled up in an attempt to defend himself, his arms wrapping around his head to protect them from your barrage of attacks. You didn't need to be doing this. This was growing cruel and unnecessary. You had only meant to stop him, perhaps disarm him if you possibly could, but you couldn't help yourself. Each whack of your sword filled your veins with catharsis, each cry from the older boy a deep and heavy justice in the face of every cruel taunt and jab and leer he had ever sent your way. He looked pathetic on the ground, and it made you happy to see it. You relished in the sound of wood whipping leather, the flash of silver hair as he cowered beneath you.

You didn't notice the calls, the shouts, not over the roaring in your ears. You only came to when a pair of strong arms wrapped around your rips, tugging you back so harshly your feet came off the ground and you dropped your wooden sword.

"What in seven hells is going on?"

You could only pant in response to the voice in your ear, one you recognised to be Ser Criston Cole, the queen's sworn protector. Ser Erryk was at the prince's side, pulling him to his feet.

Aegon was a mess, spitting on the ground as he tried to hide the tears in his eyes. His silver hair was stained with dirt that turned dully russet in the dying sun, his breaths short and panted as he pushed the knight's arms away furiously.

"Don't touch me!" He cried.

It was then that you noticed the tinge of shame in his cheeks, his eyes surveying the crowd that had gathered around you, likely drawn by the commotion. Jace was protesting something, swearing and yelling words that didn't quite reach your ears. A hundred eyes looked upon you with shock, upon Aegon with something close to amusement. The prince, trained from youth, was bested by his niece. What a sorry sight. It filled you with as much pride as it did shame to know you had humiliated him. He deserved it, he had attacked Jace.

The arms holding you shifted to grab at the back of your leather tunic, pulling you away from the scene.

That was when you awoke with a start, your mouth dry and your breaths short and panted. Your bed was uncomfortably warm, the late afternoon sun streaming through the open windows and straight onto your sheets, bathing you in a warm glow. You winced against the brightness, pressing a hand over your eyes as you swallowed, attempting to catch your breath.

"Princess?" The knock came from the other side of your door, likely the one that awoke you in the first place, and it shocked you back into the present, pushing the sheets from your body haphazardly as you staggered to the door.

"Sorry," You mumbled, still slightly disoriented as you unlocked the latch on your door and pulled open the heavy wood, revealing a bemused Kaira, your personal maidservant, holding a heavy-looking box.

"At which point did you start locking your door?"

You stared at her blearily. "The point in which a sellsword tried to cut my throat open."

Kaira tutted, weaving her way into the room and fixing your crumbled sheets with a single, impressive pull. "I doubt that sellsword will be doing you harm any time soon, princess."

You could only hum in response. Kaira's company was usually enough to brighten your mood, but the dream always left you sullen, brooding on days long passed. It had been coming more regularly since the night in the Kingswood, and it only drove you further from speaking to Aegon again. You couldn't face him after seeing it, his youthful face crumpled in shame and pain. You always forgot the sneer he wore before, only the shameful wave of pride you felt in besting him. You were no less guilt-ridden since formally apologising to the man, and he had avoided you entirely in the days since, only adding to the tension you were sure to feel tonight.

Spring had officially ended, and despite the winter being short and quite comfortable, the beginning of summer was always celebrated quite thoroughly. The royal family had decided to mark the changing of the seasons with seven days of jousting, a sport you took little interest in and therefore avoided well enough. You hadn't enjoyed the sight of blood before that night in the Kingswood, you hadn't since you watched Aemond lose his eye on Driftmark, but you now grew sick at just the sight of it. It reminded you of Boras' dull eyes glinting in the moonlight, of your sticky hands burning as something wet and hot beat against your chest and neck in thick waves.

Your mother didn't mind your absence so long as you attended the more formal occasions; a princess was scarcely missed from such violent events and you knew Helaena had always abstained herself. But tonight was important and, in all honesty, you didn't much mind the idea of a feast. You had scarcely been able to speak to anybody since Jace's name day celebrations, only being allowed to leave the safety of the Red Keep on the days you went flying, and you were actually looking forward to doing something interesting.

The jousting has been cut short for the day in order for the lords and ladies to prepare for the evening, and you had taken the free afternoon to regretfully nap. By the way Kaira was setting the box down on your bed and pulling out sheets of fabric, you assumed the feast was vastly approaching.

"I do hope you're feeling advantageous, princess," Kaira said with a smile, her auburn hair glowing gold in the light from the window like a soft halo around her curls. In her hands was a dress more beautiful than you had been given in a long time. You raised your brows, forgetting the dream for the moment to approach and run your hands down the silk.

"Seven hells. Is this what my mother commissioned?" You had been sent to the tailors for measurements a week or so past, but you had never expected this.

"The dressmakers finished it just this morning," Kaira grinned, unclasping the ornate metalwork of the dress before dragging you to your wardrobe and upon your step. After waiting for you to remove your gown, she shimmied the garment with extreme care up your body, gently clicking the belt and collar shut and positioning the looking glass with a smile.

The dress was more than impressive, it was extravagant. Made of a rich, sea-green silk, the garment began in a thick collar that hung around the throat and flowed into a rounded neckline just over your breasts. The sleeves were soft and billowing, staring not at the shoulder but instead spilling from the bodice to the centre of your bicep. Ornate carvings of gold made up a heavy belt that cinched your waist, while silver embroidery so beautiful you could only marvel in wonder lined the hems and sides of your ribs down to the thigh. You ran your fingers absentmindedly over the beaded thread, entranced by its watery texture. It had to be one of the most awe-striking dresses you had seen in your life.

"The Velaryon colourings," You hummed, staring at yourself in the looking glass. You looked a stranger.

"A show of strength, I believe."

Kaira sat you down then and began the process of readying you. A princess must always look proper, but a court-hosted celebration is a whole new game to play. Your hair had already been carefully brushed and oiled and curled until it shone, and Kaira spent what must have been an hour carefully weaving it into a tangle of braids and twists that fell in layers down your back. She pressed golden pins resembling flowers into the delicate nest and rubbed cream blush into your cheekbones and lips so that you had a rosy glow about you. She mixed wheaten flower and rosewater in a little glass dish to pat against your forehead and nose until your very skin seemed to possess an unearthly radiance, then dabbed pearlescent powder here and there until you shone faintly in the candlelight. Only then did she permit you leave with a grin and a promise of early courtship, which only earned an eye roll and a faint blush upon your painted cheeks.

The beginning of the feast was as dull an affair, as they typically were. After finding your seat beside your mother and Jacaerys, you sat and watched as each noble family entered the great hall and bowed their respects. There were the Arryns in cornflower blue, the Celtigars in red and white, the Lannisters in gold and crimson, the Tyrells in yellow and teal, and even the Tullys in their sullen greys made an appearance. Names were called and pleasantries exchanged until you were tapping your hands upon the table, fighting the urge to fidget in your seat with your mother so close by. One or twice, Jace turned to you with a lewd comment about some lord or lady that had you fighting the urge to giggle. You quickly found yourself and your brothers matched the rest of the Velaryon family in colourings when your grandmother and grandfather approached the dais to sit, all bearing incredible fabrics of teal and gold and silver. A show of strength, truly.

It was in the height of boredom that you saw him, late enough into the festivities that you had already begun to eat. He emerged from the shadows of the hall to join his family, a dreadful swipe of purple and red against his left cheekbone that bloomed with a near-beautiful quality considering its harrowing appearance. Eyes locked on yours, eyes that reminded you of a fresh spring pond. Gentle eyes. His hair was oiled in an attempt at grooming, but those dark curls still layered about his face, now grown to his shoulders.

You blushed when you caught Colren Tully's attention, and suddenly the feast wasn't so dull. You could scarcely keep your eyes from your plate as your family ate and drank, and had barely made it around the as when the dancing arose when you came upon an open palm, a gentlemanly smile upon full lips.

"Princess, it has been so long."

Colren looked even more dashing in his finery than he had at Jacaerys' name day celebrations, and you found yourself quite grateful for Kaira's concoction of flour and rose to dampen your natural blush as you took his hand delicately. It was warm in yours.

"Too long. I am glad to see you well, my lord."

"I consider myself more grateful, your grace. I was wondering, after all this time apart, if you would do me the honour of a dance?"

You looked down on the charming man from the height of the dais, the festivities a wash of colour in contrast with his fine features, and fought the urge to grin.

"The honour would be mine."

Feeling his hand in yours, so large in comparison that he practically overwhelmed you, you let him lead you from the stage of the iron throne to the dance floor. You had turned your head to send a wry smile in Helaena's direction, whom you knew to have been seated at the other end of the table to yourself, but it was not her eyes you met.

You bowed your head quickly, flushing, as Aegon Targaryen stared back, a silver cup in hand and an unreadable expression on his face, and dared not so much as glance upon the table again as Colren Tully led you into the crowd.

#Aegon #Aegon Targaryen #Aegon II Targaryen #Aegon x reader #Aegon Targaryen x Reader #Aegon II Targaryen x Reader #Aegon II x Reader #reader insert #HOTD #hotd fanfic #asoiaf #game of thrones #Aegon x you #aegon ii x you #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x you

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ikeromantic · 10 months

Note

Mitsuhide, dear, 😚 ???

Ahaha! I don't know what this even is. My brain is leaking fluff. Approx 800 words of dear Mitsuhide.

Mitsuhide was amused. The chatelaine was responding quite adorably to his teasing. She pretended not to notice him when he went out of his way to bump into her as she bustled around the castle. Her gaze would stubbornly focus on the middle distance while her cheeks heated.

He found himself planning his days around her shifts with the castle maids. When simply watching her wasn’t enough, he found new ways to surprise her. By stepping out of unexpected places like dark corners or ‘empty’ rooms. Borrowing the items she was working with, like her broom or cleaning cloths. Once he even swiped a tray of tea and snacks.

She would squeal and huff and tell him to leave her alone, all the while blushing fiercely.

Mitsuhide wanted to do the same today, but duty, ever his burden, called. Today he would need to leave the city for several hours to ride out and check one of the crossroad villages. But he didn’t want to leave her without his attention, so he sent a note to her before leaving.

Nothing special. Just a promise that he would be watching. And that he looked forward to being entertained. She would spend the day searching for him and that made him smile, even if he wouldn’t be there to appreciate the results in person. Kyubei had strict orders to report her every move when Mitsuhide returned.

His errand went quickly - the problem - a misguided group of ronin - were easily dealt with. They needed only a little encouragement to find their inner loyalty to the Oda. With Akechi soldiers keeping an eye on them, they would spend a few days setting things right at the village and then report for training with Keiji in Azuchi.

It was dusk by the time he got back to the castle. Mitsuhide was looking forward to hearing about the chatelaine’s day from Kyubei. He’d been thinking about it the whole ride back. But Kyubei was nowhere to be found.

He moved through his mansion, peering into the usual places his vassal was found. Not in the office, nor the porch, nor the garden. Kyubei wasn’t in his bedroom or Mitsuhide’s personal quarters.

Mitsuhide turned, feeling a sudden suspicion. And there she was, stepping from a dark corner into the lantern light like a spirit. Close enough for her clothes to brush against his arm. Anyone else might have jumped in surprise, or shouted. He just laughed.

“Oh come on! I scared you, didn’t I? Just a little?” The chatelaine crossed her arms and pouted.

“Will you be pleased if I tell you yes even though it is a lie?” Mitsuhide felt a surge of affection for his daring little mouse.

She glared at him. “Yes. Yes I would. Because you are evil and I deserve a little revenge!”

Mitsuhide smoothed her hair away from her face, surprised when she didn’t slap his touch away. “Evil, hm? And what makes you say that?”

Her little growl was more suited to a baby bear than a mouse. “You had me jumping at shadows all day. Ikept thinking I saw you but - but you weren’t really there! And then I found Kyubei skulking around like a rat and I knew!” She poked him in the chest. “I knew you just sent me that letter to freak me out.”

Mitsuhide took her hand and caressed the back of it with his thumb. “It’s alright, little one. You can admit you missed me.”

“I didn’t! Oh. My. God!” She did yank her hand away then and crossed her arms over her chest. “Just don’t leave me creepy notes.”

“Now, now. I understand. And I promise next time I’ll bring you along.” He patted her shoulder. “No need then for a letter, hm?”

Her face turned a shade darker and for a moment, Mitsuhide feared he might have triggered some deep penchant for violence. But after a strangled sigh, she slumped. “Oh fine. Just keep mocking me. I don’t know why I even tried to get you back.”

She was so adorably disappointed, so precious, that it hurt. Mitsuhide wanted to pull her into a hug. But she might actually hit him for it. So he only ruffled her hair. “Because you enjoy the game as much as I do. And that is why you play along, though you always have the power to end it in your hands.”

The look she gave him was incredulous at first, but she must have seen something in his gaze because her expression softened. She let out another sigh, though her heart wasn’t in it. “You know, sometimes I think I really hate you. Then you look like that and I -”

“Realize you love me?”

“Pfffft.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Oh? Is that an invitation, my dear?” Mitsuhide leaned forward.

She smacked him and scrambled back a step. “Hey! No way!” Her anger fell away as she realized he was holding back a laugh. “Oooooh you.” The chatelaine huffed. “I’m going to bed. Alone,” she added when she saw his lips twitch. “And I will see you tomorrow.”

“I am looking forward to it.” Mitsuhide watched her go, a warm affection suffusing his chest. She was truly precious to him. More so, perhaps, than he was willing to admit. He’d missed her today too.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #fluff

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nom-central · 3 months

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A bunch of fairies healing a sick pred from within?

The Enigmawood was a sprawling forest filled with magic, mystery, and all manner of strange and unknown creatures. People rarely ventured to it, as those who wandered too deep never returned, and most settlements didn't put themselves too close to it out of superstition and fear.

Arice was currently regretting her decision to live right at its borders, with the closest town a few hours away. Much to her dismay, even the most cautious of witches get sick every once in a while!

She could easily whip up medicine for herself, but her illness sapped the strength from her body and left her unwilling to move. She laid in bed feeling feverish, drained, and too uncomfortable to sleep...maybe her pride had gotten the better of her in choosing to live here, but the benefits usually outweighed the drawbacks. Unable to continue her research in this state, she opted to stay put and conserve her energy until she could get up and mix medicine for herself. If only a breeze would blow through her window, it'd offer some relief from the heat she felt...

"Arice~!"

"Miss Silverwood?"

"Lady Ariceeee! We're here to play!"

What blew through was not a breeze, but a dusting of fairies. She knew them all- they were the first beings she befriended after moving here, and it turned out that the fairy population of the Enigmawood was largely friendly. They enjoyed hearing tales of the world outside, and they helped her find useful herbs in return for the time she spent with them. But today the witch was in no condition to entertain them as they fluttered in, all crowding around her face. She groaned quietly, not even opening her eyes to look at them.

"Miss...? You're all red like a ripe berry!" A fairy chirped, moving to touch her face and quickly drawing away from how warm it was. "Farro..." She mumbled, gently brushing the fairy away. "I can't play today, I'm sorry...I've gotten sick. I don't have the strength to..." Their normally bright glow dimmed, and they turned to the others for help.

"Sick...that's bad, right?" "Duh, Bellflower! This happens to humans a lot! They can die if they don't get better!" Tiny gasps fill the air. "H-how can we help! Do the Grandfae know anything about humans...?" The fairies tittered among themselves. Arice found the gesture sweet, but it was just a nasty cold. She wouldn't die, but it's not like she could bother to explain...the fairy dust that drifted from their wings felt nice and cool on her skin, so she wasn't about to complain.

"Hey, why don't we use magic? We can make it go away, I'm sure!" Farrow exclaimed, their glow brightening up. "We're so small, though...how's that going to change anything?" There was a few moments of silence before Arice could faintly pick out some tiny whispers. They were too small to really make out, but one of them finally spoke up and got her attention. "Lady Arice! We're going to use some magic on you, okay? Don't panic, it'll be safe!"

"Freak out...?"

Her questioning provided Farro with the perfect opportunity to leap into her mouth! Arice's eyes snapped open all of a sudden, shocked by the fairy's quick movement. Too stunned to spit them out, they wriggled to the back of her throat, triggering her body's response to swallow. Farro easily slid down her gullet, with a cooling sensation making their descent felt. "Wh- what are you all doing...?" It was enough to shock her hazy mind, but it was too late for her to try and spit them out now. "My turn~ Think of this as a favor, miss!"

Bellflower was next, wriggling in with a bit of effort. She had a more sweet flavor compared to Farro, but...was she really considering the flavor of her fairy friends? She was too weak to really resist being fed like this, so it didn't take long for the next one to be sent down with a thick gulp. That left Thistle, the largest of the group, almost shyly rubbing their arm. "I think Farro's idea was kind of dumb...but we do want to help you. We'll be alright, so don't worry."

They waited patiently, waiting for Arice to open her mouth, and after a few moments she did. The fairies in her stomach seemed to be doing something, as a cool and almost tingly sensation spread through her body. Maybe this was the magic they planned on using? Whatever it was, it was chasing away her fever...so she felt she could trust this plan of theirs. Allowing Thistle to crawl inside, they were a lot more careful than the others with feeding themselves to her. They waited until she was ready, letting her take a few swallows to work them down her throat.

Arice felt full. Looking down, she could see a faint glow coming from her stomach. The magic only grew stronger as the last fairy filled her stomach, making her finally feel relaxed and comfortable. She didn't need to worry about eating for now, either...she swore she could hear one of their voices asking for her, but now with a full belly her fatigue was hitting her full force. She'll have to thank them properly...after this long-awaited nap.

#v0re #soft vore #safe vore #extreme cuddling #g/t vore #healing vore #female pred #willing prey #vore fic #Arice #answered #anonymous #this one is OLD old #ive rewritten it countless times and finally settled on a version i liked #i realize i have quite a few girls that are witches #im not sorry for that witches are the best.#the fairies are not getting official oc tags theyre more like. one off filler guys

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author-morgan · 10 months

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Title: Riverside Rating: M Pairing: Harald Finehair x fem!Reader (and Halfdan the Black) Summary: Harald Finehair may be a fool, but at least he has his brother, and at least he has you. ❤️plot bunny that's been collecting dust for two years by @mrsragnarlodbrok ❤️

down by the river by the boats, where everybody goes to be alone

“YOUR BROTHER IS a fool,” you remark, watching Harald Finehair slip away with the princess who once promised to be his queen—the woman whose husband had only just been murdered in the early hours of the morn. Halfdan the Black watches his brother too, lips twitching as he lifts his cup of ale, taking a short quaff of the weak brew. He’ll be glad to leave England—an army of this size meant dwindling supplies, game, and ever-weakening ale and mead.

He picks off another hunk of meat from a roast pheasant. “Is that meant to be news?” Halfdan asks in turn, smiling as he flicks his stringy blond hair aside and out of his eyes—his dark gaze flitting back to you. Harald’s always been a fool when it comes to women and love, and Halfdan doubts time and age will ever change that.

“Halfdan,” you chide. Harald is a fool—a fool for thinking Ellisif would wait for him, a fool for killing Vik so crassly in the heart of the camp. You both know he is, but watching Princess Ellisif slip away with her husband’s killer makes you uneasy. Grief and the thought of vengeance would not have left her mind yet. And such things can drive people to act in unpredictable ways. “You don’t think it’s odd she wishes to seek a private audience with him only a few hours after he killed her husband?”

Halfdan raises his brow—the blue-black ink of the tattoo on his temple and forehead twitches and wrinkles. At the moment, he’s more content with filling his belly and entertaining your company than fretting over his brother, yet you won’t let the subject rest so easily, and deep down, Halfdan knows you are right, as is the feeling of dread in his liver. “Had it been me, the thought of retribution would not yet be gone, nor the fog of dolor.”

You make a convincing case, and with a sighing frown, Halfdan pushes away from the table and you, heading toward Harald’s tent—hand resting on the hilt of his sword, knowing already he will have to serve as his brother’s protector once more. A moment later, Halfdan emerges from his brother’s pavilion. The sword in his hand is coated with blood, bright and red. And it would seem, after all, he knew women far better than his brother—or at least how to listen to you.

He frees a cloth from his belt and slides it down the blade, cleaning it with a single long swipe as he looks at you, watching and waiting. Halfdan doesn’t have to say anything as he approaches for you to know, but regardless, your lips quirk upward. “Told you,” you declare, and he makes a low sound of agreement from the back of his throat, taking the cup of ale you offer. You knew Ellisif would not have so easily nor quickly forgiven Harald for his transgression, especially after not upholding her promise to wait for marriage.

Harald’s curses and fit of rage ring out in the brisk air. You know there’s little that can soothe his heart and pride, but if anyone in the Ragnarsson encampment can make an earnest attempt, it is you—Halfdan knows this too. “I’ll see to him,” you breathe, taking one last drink of ale. Halfdan grips your arm before you can go to his brother and leans close, offering a soft, quick kiss over too soon.

THE RIVER FLOWS slowly, given its breadth near the encampment of the Sons of Ragnar—a hundred longships are pushed up against the banks and moored in the water. Together, you and Harald walk along the water’s edge, heading north, where fewer ships and wandering eyes and ears are. The blood on his hands and chest is nigh dry, and it makes his red woolen tunic stick to him and stiffens his silver-tinged beard.

Harald Finehair looks at you but cannot dispel what you must think of him, of these circumstances—your expression is only a cool mix of solicitude and what he thinks is annoyance. Yet again, he finds himself failing to understand the mind and heart of a woman—one he has known since childhood, no less. “My brother is lucky,” Harald admits, feeling a spike of jealousy stab at him as he thinks about you and Halfdan, “to have only ever loved you.” But had he ever truly loved Ellisif beyond his desire for her beauty? Even he is not sure of the answer.

You stop near the prowl of one of Jarl Olavsson’s ships—his shields and sails marked by white and dark green—and stare at Harald, aghast and confused by his insinuation. “Do I no longer have your love?” You ask, reaching for him and the leather ties at the neck of his tunic.

“I had thought–” his voice trails off as he looks at the flock of blackbirds flying overhead, unsure if it is a sign from the gods or just an ill omen. He lets you draw him nearer, but it’s only when the flat of your hand connects with his bloody cheek that his gaze and attention return to you—his stormy blue eyes filled with bewilderment and indignation. He stares at you, nostrils flared.

“No, Harald!” You’ve finally grown exasperated by his foolishness—you could tolerate his laments about love and marriage, but to nigh let himself be killed by a recreant woman under such circumstances? “You didn’t think!” You tell him, and Harald steps back, hands curling to fists at his sides. He needs to hear this, though, if not from his brother, then from you. “And if you did, it was with the wrong head.” The same head all men think with first when it comes to women.

“You speak to a king,” he reminds you, puffing out his chest—a weak reply, and you both know it.

You shake your head and reach for him, hands settling on either side of his blood-spattered face—thumbs following the blue-black scrollwork of the tattoos on his cheeks. “And I am also speaking to one of my oldest friends,” you remind him. King or no, Harald and his brother are among your oldest and dearest friends—they could be little more than farmers or simple whalers, and you would think no less of them nor love them less. There’s a shift in Harald’s expression then, as though he realizes the error of his ways in disregarding your and Halfdan’s counsel, and hubris fades to humility. “One whom I care for and love very much.” Love, the word catches him off-guard. Then an ephemeral smile returns to grace your lips. “Even if he is pigheaded at times.”

He forces down the growing knot in his throat. “My brother–” Harald starts, but you press your fingertips to his weathered lips, shushing him and chasing away any apprehension or fear of driving a rift between the three of you with what comes next. “Halfdan knows,” you tell Harald with airy unconcern—fingers slipping down to comb through his silver-tinged wiry beard. Your trysts had never been clandestine, even before whatever this unspoken thing with his brother began before the first raid on Paris. “He’s very astute,” you remark, the corner of your lips quirking upward again. “You could stand to learn a thing to two.”

He huffs, then goes to the river, shrugging off his tunic, and kneels at the water’s edge, splashing the cold water on his face and chest—scrubbing the drying blood of the woman he once intended to marry. He stares at his reflection, shoulders falling forward, accepting his ill-fated pursuit of marriage and defeat, alas. “I’ve been a fool,” he grumbles. You crouch next to him, dipping your hand in the river to help wash the blood from his shoulders and the back of his neck, humming your agreement—gladdened to know it is no longer a whispered secret between you and Halfdan. “You’re not supposed to agree with me,” he admonishes, mirth slipping back into his tone.

There’s a scar on his shoulder, and without thought, you lean toward him, placing the gentlest and quickest of kisses on the raised patch of silvery skin. You can recall how he and Halfdan have gotten most of their scars, but the history of this small mark evades you right now. When you meet his eyes, you see him staring at you with a look of raw hunger and desperation you’re entirely unprepared for, and it sends a wave of heat washing over you. But he’s so gentle when he handles you—even in all his lingering anger and hurt.

He holds your chin until his thumb swipes across your flushed cheek—always touching you like you’re some fragile, precious thing and not a shieldmaiden—and then his lips part, and he exhales a shaky breath, waiting for your permission, spoken or otherwise. You give it with a breathy sigh of his name. Harald. His warm breath hits your cheek, followed by the faint tickle of his scraggly beard at your jaw before his lips are fully on yours. “Let me have you.” His plea is soft against your mouth—and you cannot deny him.

Skirts rucked up around your waist, Harald grips your hips, drawing you closer to him until his wool and linen-clad thigh presses between yours. His touch is fervent—hot palms, calloused from years of battle, scrape over the bare skin they touch. His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip before kissing you—languid and soft. Your hands grasp at his back to pull his chest to your own. And then he fumbles to loosen his belt, but you knock away his hands, and Harald curses and groans when your hand slides into his undone britches, fingers wrapping around his half-hard cock—stroking him.

Your stomach flutters as his fingers caress you briefly, fleetingly—but gone far too soon. Your hips move towards his touch, but now is not the time for drawn-out caresses and teasing. In truth, he's not focused on your pleasure but more on his desire.

Harald pushes forward, rocking his hips slowly until his cock is fully sheathed inside the warmth of your cunt, and his hips meet yours. You gasp, somewhere between a whine and moan, head tipping back, and Harald takes the chance to press his lips to the base of your neck. He’s gentle as he trails a hand down your side and holds your waist—he and Halfdan have always been two sides of the same coin as lovers.

You lay back—letting him do as he pleases. He needs this moment, this release, far more than you do. His thrusts start slow, lazy almost, as though you’ve all the time in the world—like you’re back in Tamdrup on a spring night in a patch of wildflowers or bale of loose straw in a stable, not lying on a muddy English riverbank on the verge of another battle—not knowing if tomorrow will be the day Valhalla beckons you home.

He looks down at you—splayed beneath him and his gut twists with a sickening realization. I’ve been a fool, Harald thinks again, cradling your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb pressed against your parted lips, chasing a woman who could never love me. But you. It did not matter what misfortunes or victories the gods bestowed upon him. You were always there—never faltering from your place at his and Halfdan’s side. He’s only ashamed not to have realized or acted sooner.

Your legs spread wider to welcome him, squeezing at his shoulders to urge him to move faster. Every push and pull of his hips brings him deeper inside you. Harald pants at your ear, his breathing ragged and strained as his pace falters—thrusts growing quicker and rougher as he seeks release. Beneath your palms, the muscles in his back ripple, contracting with each thrust. His lips find yours again, and you pull him down closer until his bare chest presses against the rumpled wool of your dress bodice—nails scraping across his shoulders and the patchwork of tattoos on his shoulder blades.

The look in Harald’s eyes is nigh unsettling—a mix of emotion you do not wish to think about in this moment of lust and carnality—and you squeeze at his biceps, urging him to move faster, and when his trance breaks, he obliges. He breathes hushed praises against your neck and strokes a thumb over the racing pulse in your neck as he rolls his hips up into yours—strokes long and deep.

You whine and squirm for him, grinding your hips into his. The next time he moves, his cock strikes the place inside you that makes you cry out without thinking, and your toes start to curl—he does it again and again, thrice over. “Harald.” He works himself deeper still, pelvis rubbing against your clit, and he doesn’t miss the shiver that goes through you or the way your muscles tense—cunt squeezing his cock tighter. His breathy, open-mouth kisses grow sloven as you fumble to keep in rhythm, your movements slack—distracted by the fog of ecstasy in your head.

Breath hot against your lips, his eyes drift shut in unison with yours. Behind closed eyes, all that triumphs is the feel of your bodies sinking into each other. He will not last much longer. Harald barely manages a coherent rasp of your name, teeth gnashing, when his entire body shivers and he stills deep, deep inside, cock twitching.

His livid eyes are dark, like a stormy sea when they open once more, and there’s a crease between his brows that you have a yearning impulse to kiss away—and so you do, and in the wake of your lips, you smooth your fingertips over his brow. “I do love you, Harald,” you tell him—a breathless whisper—and suddenly, the knot in his throat and the offbeat feeling in his heart is back. “Just as I love Halfdan.”

He says nothing, only rests his forehead against your shoulder and shivers when your hand runs along his back, finding his dark braid to run your fingers along. But there’s a new dampness on your flesh—tears for love lost and love found.

HIS TEMPER IS quelled upon returning to the encampment, even if his heart has yet to mend. Halfdan rises from his spot at one of the fires, leaving the waning conversation with Björn Ironside when he sees you and his brother approach. The whispers around the camp of what happened between Harald, Vik, and Ellisif have already faded with new discussions of the army’s next move in Mercia—steadily creeping closer to Wessex and retribution upon King Ecbert for his part in Ragnar’s death. Harald swallows his pride and glimpses you before turning his attention to Halfdan. “Thank you, brother,” he says. “Yet again, I owe you my life.”

“I’ll always watch your back,” Halfdan replies, pressing a cup of ale into Harald’s hand before clasping his shoulder—then his gaze flits to you, and he smiles, a glimmer shining in his dark eyes. “But next time we tell you to kill someone, you should listen, yeah?” Harald shakes his head, looking down into the cup of ale with a dry laugh. You both told him to rid himself of Ellisif before setting sail to England. He should have listened then—knows he was a fool not to have. But once more, it is the three of you, and maybe that is how the gods always intended it to be.

[Harald & Halfdan taglist: @ahotmesswithprivilege / @alicedopey / @certifiedlittleshit / @charming-merlin / @elluvians / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gearhead66 / @gossamarnie / @hc-geralt-23 / @kaexiao / @midnightmuze / @moonlightsspirit / @n0sferatus / @naaladareia / @queenfinehair / @queenyalo / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx / @yalos-writing ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Vikings taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

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harrytheehottie · 1 year

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surprise 🌟 please let me know what you think and enjoy!

You watched as Harry entertained the party around you. He had an ease about him, moving from person to person, remembering everyone’s name, what they do for a living and a detail that they would always be shocked he would remember. It’s a formula of sorts, a party trick, his ability to never forget a name or a face no matter how much time has passed and the hundreds of thousands (and sometimes millions) of other faces he encountered.

It worked on you.

A few years ago, you were invited to a mutual friend's Christmas party, and you were enamored with how normal he was and how easily he fit in with your friend group. Harry was the first one up when the host suggested that you all play charades. You paired off into two’s and were lucky enough to be on his team, not having to deal with his competitive wrath.

“M’Harry,” he introduced himself to you as he walked over from his spot at the table next to you on the couch.

“I know,” you laughed at the formality of him introducing himself, “so, do you want to be the one doing the acting out of the guessing?”

“What would you like to do?” Harry whispered as he leaned his body into yours, trying not to let anyone hear your strategy.

“I’d say the man with the Christopher Nolan credit should do the acting” you teased, nudging your elbow into him.

Harry cracked a smile, “Looks like someone’s done their homework on me.”

And before you had the chance to think of a witty response, or feel any embarrassment for your forwardness on not pretending to know who he was, the first round of charades had begun.

Harry went up and picked his first card out the box. His eyes laser focused on you as you watched him begin to act out the word on the card. He made a three with his fingers, “3 words?” You responded waiting for a confirmation. He nodded. Harry quickly gestured to a box, “TV?” Yes. You were right. Now completely hyper aware of everyone in the room's attention, he made a letter T, “The?” He eagerly nodded again.

The first word is ‘The’ you thought to yourself as you carefully watched Harry begin to walk around the room, ‘Walking?’ He nodded and gave you a thumbs up as you cracked your brain for a tv show that had those two words in it and before Harry could make his next move you already had the answer, jumping up off of your seat “The Walking Dead?” you said and he came running towards you with an equally excited “Yes!” engulfing you in a giant bear hug.

And that’s how the rest of your night went, you and Harry were the perfect team, your group of friends amazed at how quickly you got into a rhythm. It was definitely your competitive nature and nothing else - at least that’s what you told yourself as you left the party a few hours later still thinking about him.

And when you were halfway down the block trying to find the nearest tube station and you heard a familiar voice call your name, the nerves you’ve been ignoring finally bubbling to the surface.

“What happened? Is everything okay?” You turn around and ask Harry, who is way closer than you thought he was when you first heard his name. He was of breath, the brisk London air catching up to him as he breathed in and out before speaking,

“No, nothing happened, it's just…”

Was Harry Styles nervous? You thought to yourself watching him as he ran his hands through his hair countless times trying to carefully articulate what he wanted to say to you.

“I was just wondering if you would like - and no pressure but I would like to have your number?” He finally asked his green eyes meeting yours, the nervousness still heavy in his presence but now the ball was in your court.

“Oh?” You replied. You can’t remember the last time a man politely asked for your number this way - it always felt a bit intimidating.

“I know I could have asked someone back there but I didn’t want it to turn into a thing, which, I guess chasing you down the block isn’t really the smoothest way to do this either.”

“I don’t think you have any trouble being smooth,” the words left your mouth before you could even think about it.

Harry’s brows raised, “Is that so?”

“That's not what I-”

“M’just teasing, but I really would like your number, if you’d like to give it to me.” Harry pulled his phone out of his back pocket, held it up to his face to unlock it before handing it over to you. You just nodded before typing your name and number into his phone and handing it back.

“You’re not going to call to check if I put in the right number?” You asked, watching Harry put his phone back in his pants pocket.

“I trust you,” he said before throwing you a wink, “get home safely,” he added as you walked in different directions wondering to yourself, if he would ever actually reach out.

It was the morning of your birthday when you woke up to a text from an unknown number, you turned over in bed and grabbed your phone out the charger, eyes still half asleep as you read the three consecutive messages that rolled through in the middle of the night.

I was just told it’s your birthday? Is that true?

If you have time to squeeze me into your day I just got back in town and would love to see you.

Also, I’m sorry for taking a month to reach out. Life got busy. Again would love to see you even if it’s not today x

You reread the messages a handful of times, a smile immediately plastered on your face at the thought of Harry asking your friends about you. And just as you were beginning to type a response you heard a buzz at your front door, you weren’t expecting anything but got out of bed as you quickly replied to Harry.

It is my birthday! Who told you? I’d love to see you today but I’ve got a few plans scattered with friends. Do you have time tomorrow?

You open the front door to a flower arrangement delivered with a single cupcake and a card that read:

Happy Birthday,

I hope it’s a sweet one.

Harry xx

And you tried your hardest to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

You quickly found time to grab coffee a week after your birthday. You were surprised at how much you had in common, Harry was on a break from touring and had time off before he had to start working on his next project.

“Y’know this is the longest I’ve been home since the band,” Harry confessed before taking another sip of his iced americano with a splash of almond milk - you made it known just how disgusted you were at his order the second he told it to the barista.

“Really?” You were taken aback at his confession, you knew his job included a ton of travel but the reality of an eight week break after a world tour being the longest he’s been home amazed and frightened you.

“S’the way I prefer things really, a bit of a workaholic.”

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren’t operating this way?” The words left your mouth before you could stop yourself, Harry’s brows perked up, “You don’t have to answer that.” You immediately blurted out.

“You know, I’ve never really had anyone ask it like that,” you could tell he was taken by this question. He just went on a tangent about the reasons why Los Angeles was a place he had to be very strategic in - “s’just I’m grateful for this and I don’t know why or how I got so lucky but there are definitely times where I wish I could shut it off. It’s the feeling of people constantly watching that I hate the most, like there is no sense of privacy, the working bit, I think everyone gets that way at times. Me working provides jobs for dozens of people and taking extended breaks means some of those people won’t have jobs or will get other jobs and cannot come back to work for me.”

You listened intently, you knew privacy was a concern just in the way he operated, it's something you noticed at the party you met him at. His head was on a swivel but he never let it affect the way he acted that night but you wondered if his gravitation towards you was because you couldn’t be bothered to pick up your phone and let the whole world know you were at a party with Harry Styles.

“It’s definitely harder than it seems but you also have to give yourself time to recoup and experience the mundane of life. I think that’s equally as important.”

The two of you continue to talk about everything under the sun, the nerves of misspeaking completely eliminated and you feel silly for even having those thoughts. When you excuse yourself to get back to work, Harry wraps you in a bear hug, not once glancing at the patrons of the coffee shop, his hug lingering a second longer than you anticipated.

“I’ll see you later?” He asks running his hands through his hair before plopping his newsboy cap onto his head and his green parka jacket over his layers.

You nod a yes and go your separate ways.

Harry invited you to dinner with some friends. You tried not to think too much about the invitation, after a handful of hangouts and phone calls and walks through the heath, the natural progression of friendship was to introduce each other to your friend group. You thought it would be easier to go from Harry’s so after a short train ride and a 10 minute walk from the station you were at his front gate, pulling your phone out to plug in his gate code.

“Hello?” You called out as the front door was left open for you after no response, he must be in the bathroom you thought to yourself as you began to walk up the stairs towards what you assumed to be Harry’s room. You open the first door to your right, a four poster bed that was haphazardly made was in the middle of the room. You felt like you shouldn’t have walked in but there was something drawing you there, you admired the bookcase that was against the wall - filled with books, awards, pictures of what you assumed were his family and friends. You were immersed in all the books that were displayed - Love Is A Mixtape, The Wind Up Bird Chronicle - Norwegian Wood.

“You could borrow on if you’d like,” his voice broke you out of your daze. You turned around to see Harry walking out of the ensuite - shit, you should have just stayed downstairs.

“Sorry, when you weren’t downstairs, I thought I would figure out where you were.”

“So you decided to follow me into my bedroom?” He teased.

“You were in here weren't you?” You replied.

“Touche.”

Harry decided to drive to the restaurant instead of calling a car.

“I can drop you off if you’d like, I’m going to have to go through the back and s’just don’t want to hassle you with that.” Harry said, eyes focused on the road. You could tell by the crack in his voice this wasn’t an ideal conversation to have.

“No, it’s fine, we can just arrive together,” you reassured him.

“You sure?” He asked again. This was something you had discussed before, the elements of his life that were abnormal to his peers, having to strategically plan his entrance into a restaurant was one of them.

“M’not really camera ready,” you joked trying to ease your way out of an awkward conversation.

“You’re always camera ready,” Harry quickly looked over to you with his shy smile that always filled you with butterflies. You rolled your eyes before breaking into a smile yourself.

When you made it to the restaurant, you were suddenly overcome with a feeling you couldn’t place. And when the hostess walked you over to your table as Harry’s hand grazed your lower back, that shift you felt earlier in the day came back. As you approached the table to find Harry’s best friend/manager Jeffrey and his wife Glenne, the feeling stayed.

This was a double date.

“Harry’s told us a lot about you, it’s nice to put a face to the name,” Glenne said as she embraced you into a hug before you sat down at the table.

“Good things I hope,” You laugh awkwardly at the admission that Harry talked to his friends about you. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility but the reality of this dinner being with one of his closest friends kind of felt like a test, a test that answered some of your questions regarding his feelings towards you.

“I’ve never heard him speak so highly of someone,” Jeff chimed in before throwing a playful nudge Harry’s way. You watched as a red hue washed over Harry and it answered all your questions.

The feelings were more than mutual.

You end up back at Harry’s.

He invites you in for a nightcap, usually you’d say no and just take yourself home but something was different. The ease of conversation, the way you got along with his friends, the lingering looks across the dinner table, the way Harry’s shoes kept knocking into yours under the table and on the drive back to his, his right hand moved over the center console to meet yours. He didn’t move focus from the road when you let your fingers intertwined with his. You were heading into a territory that most friends never came back from but something was different with Harry, you were ready to find out.

When you got into the house, it was quiet between the two of you. The sounds of his keys falling into the catch-all dish in the entryway, his rings next, you watch the way he moves through his house, something you’ve witnessed dozens of times but this was different. He walks halfway through his living room before sliding his shoes off. You’re still standing at the entryway, knowing that the first step you take forward is going to change your relationship, entirely.

“What’d you like to drink? Tea? Coffee? M’sure I’ve got some wine somewhere?” Harry asks from the kitchen.

“Tea is good!” You say, still at the entryway but now taking your shoes off and placing your bag at the entry table. This is good, he wants you here, you remind yourself trying to get out of your own head.

“Tea it is!”

You walk into the living room and sit on one of the chairs on the kitchen island watching the way Harry picks a mug for you, pours water into the kettle and places a tea bag into your mug. He pours himself a glass of water - “I’ve never been much of a tea drinker,” he confessed to you when you invited him over to yours a few weeks ago. You appreciated his honesty even though his lack of drinking had answered that question for you long before.

Harry sits on the chair next to you, you gazed into his eyes, the comfortable silence filling the room and just as you were about to speak, Harry’s hand moved up towards your face, gripping your chin softly as he ran his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“What are we doing?” You whisper softly.

Harry moves his mouth into yours, his hands grip the back of your chair moving you closer to him. Your hands find their way into his hair as your bodies work in unison to get as close to each other as possible. His hands find their way from the back of your thighs working their way up your chest.

“Do you want this?” Harry whispers in your ear, your body erupting in chills.

“Do you?”

And like on cue, the both of you begin undressing in front of one another. You watch Harry as he pulls his shirt off his, his toned abs flexing, the close up of his tattoos that you haven’t seen before giving you a new sense of vulnerability.

“Are you just going to stand there with your mouth open?” Harry laughed and you felt the blush all over your body, “S’joking - let me help you with that,” Harry’s hands pulled at the hem of your pants, his fingertips grazing your waist and you held your breath. You get out of your pants and lift your own shirt over your head. You take a step back to watch Harry take himself out of his boxers, if you were in awe of the sight before your eyes when his shirt was off - this was a whole different level. You blinked twice taking him in and Harry’s amusement was clear on his face, smirking at your reaction.

You begin to bend down in front of him, your need to hold him and feel him everywhere growing by the seconds.

“No- you don’t have to” Harry begins pulling at you to get back up.

“I want to,” you wanted to make him feel good and you were eager to taste him. Harry smiles wide, his hand pumping his length a few more times, your mouth was open and ready. He holds the back of your head gently as you begin to wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around a few times, a faint “Fuck” leaves his lips and you want more.

You lean forward, taking his entire length in as far as you could, wrapping your hands around the base and moving your mouth and hands in rhythm. You look up at Harry his chest going up and down as his breathing begins to get heavier, his lips parts and eyes closing head falling back, you watch as his muscles flex and satisfied moans fill the room as his hips move forward.

“You’re so fucking good” he says through his moans. “M’getting close and,” you knew what he was getting at, so you took him in one more time before slowly letting him go. Without wasting a moment he is helping you up from your spot, “You’re insane” Harry says through a deep laugh, his cheeks flushed, hair wild from pulling at it.

“Am I?” You tease as you kiss his ear, moving down to his shoulder - pressing your lips between his swallows. Harry kneading your breasts in his hands as your knees hit the back of the chair. You move his hands off of you, getting a questioning look before you turn around and move to the couch behind you. Harry watches you, his hands now placed at his hips trying to figure out your next move.

“C’mere,” you whisper from your spot on the couch. Your legs spread open and your hands grazing against your center as Harry is in front of you. He begins to move forward and you kick your leg up your feet meeting the center of his chest, stopping him from moving any closer, “Are you going to just stand there and stare or are you going to ask nicely?” You tease as you circle your fingers against where you want him most.

“Let me make you feel good,” he pleads as he bends down to open the drawer to his side table, pulling out a condom, tearing open the package with his teeth and rolling it onto himself.

“Smooth.” You laugh because of course he has condoms ready, which in this moment you were grateful for.

“Got a girl to impress, haven't I?” Harry says before moving towards you. He took his time, moving his fingers to meet yours and circling your clit a few times before he moved his fingers to gather your wetness. You watched in awe, there was no room for overthinking, you were aware that the budding friendship that the two of you were forming was going to be forever changed but that was something you’d deal with later.

Harry thrust his hips inside you, your eyes locked as the pleasure took over. You felt him everywhere as you let out a deep breath adjusting to his size.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Harry whispered as he moved his mouth to meet yours just as he slowly began to move his hips. You wrapped your legs around him as his mouth moved from your mouth to neck, biting and sucking along the way. The pleasure was taking over the both of you as moans and groans started to fill the room, you could feel your orgasm coming on as you reached one hand between your legs working yourself up, your muscles clenching around his length and just as the wave washed over you - the faint noises coming from Harry whispers of “s’fuckin’ perfect, wanted this for so long, s’perfect” as his thrusts began to grow faster and fast, his hands gripping your waist as he drove into you before filling you up. He stayed there for a minute, the thumping of his heart soothing you back to reality.

Harry looked into your eyes, the vulnerability washing over him and you kissed him on the lips once more answering the question that neither of you wanted to be the first to admit.

This was different.

#harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #just once

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stxr-du5t · 6 months

Text

My little Rosebud

Summary: Foolish and Rose have an special kind of friendship

Pairing: Foolish Gamers x Rose (Reader)

Contents/Warnings: None, just some teasing and fluff, Foosh being a sweetheart

Rosalie comes into her best friend's gaming room while he's so focused on the Minecraft Championship, she sees him and sits next to him in silence

"I swear to god do not mess this up for me. I'm like actually doing so well right now." Foolish was extra focused on MCC. It had been a pretty close game so far, with Foolish's team was slightly in the lead. It was a few hours into the stream, but Foolish was still as upbeat and entertaining as ever.

"Noah is doing so well, I'm impressed" Rose says sarcastically, feeling a little drained already from his energy

"Oh come on! I'm actually putting forth an honest effort here!" Noah threw his arms up in the air in mock frustration. He glanced over to Rose with a playful grin, trying to hide his own internal exhaustion. "You know what? I think you're just salty that I'm winning and your team didn't had me last year"

"Nuh uh, I can win easily, GG for me" She smiled, matching his energy even if she was soooo tired "I'm still being gentle with you"

"Oh please" Mocked Foolish. "I've seen you play... you're good, but not that good. I think you're just intimidated by my natural talent." He gave Rose a cheeky wink and a sly grin. "But I guess I can understand why. I'm pretty darn amazing."

"Come down form your cloud, Mr amazing" She jokes "Everyone know you might be good on this game but suck on Valorant"

"Hey!" Foolish let out a dramatic gasp, "I do not suck at Valorant! I'm not great, but I'll have you know that I'm actually pretty good!" He pouted and stuck his bottom lip out in a playful display of exaggerated outrage. "I may not be a pro-level player, but I can still hold my own."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart" Rose is clearly joking but suddenly the chat start to attack her for putting down their streamer

Foolish's playful expression quickly drops as he glances at his chat. "Hey, guys, seriously...? She's just joking." He turned back to Rose, genuinely apologetic. "Sorry about them. I don't know why they're taking that so seriously... but trust me, I really am not that bad at Valorant"

"I believe you, Noah, and I do, before you start barking at me" Rose chuckles seeing how the mods are doing their best to delete any hate and time out people

Foolish lets out a heavy sigh, relieved. "Thanks, Rose." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Thanks for sticking up for me... I don't know why people get so angry about jokes. Like, we're just playing around with each other, it's just harmless fun." He glanced back at chat, hoping that the negative comments had died down.

"Those are not your Doozers, they are goofy like you, there's maybe other people who don't know how to behave in a twitch chat" She says, sounding like Philza "And you know damn well all your jokes will be matched and upped with me" Rose chuckles lighthearted

"You're right about that." Foolish agreed, looking a little mischievous. "You and I are always going to take the jokes up a level, that's just how we are." He smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter. "But that's the best part about our banter, it's like a continuous arms race of wit and sass. I love it."

"Now say it without blushing" She joked again "That's part of what we are, true"

Foolish started to feel the heat rise in his cheeks. "Oh shut up, Rose." He groaned, but his voice was more playful than angry. "You're the one who's always blushing first."

"Do you see me blushing?" She asks, and there's no blush, and she's not even wearing make up "I win this one"

"Oh come on, I've seen you blush plenty of times." He teased, smirking at her failed attempt to hide her embarrassment. "You're not fooling anyone." He rolled his eyes playfully, then laughed. "You're just as easy to read as I am sometimes, Rose. You can't hide that pretty pink tint in your cheeks no matter how hard you try."

"God damnit, Noah!" She hides behind her hands, very obviously blushing, his chat goes crazy again, this time they are shipping them "GiggleDuo my parents" She mocks the comment and giggles

"Aha! I knew it!" Foolish couldn't contain his laughter as he pointed at Rose, his voice full of glee. "I knew I could get you to blush! Always so predictable, Rose. You blush so easily, it's adorable." He teased, his eyes sparkling with laughter. "GiggleDuo, huh? I guess we should consider making that our official ship name."

Rose laughs at his comment "Oh please, no, My chat is probably here too and they never let anything go" She says seriously "Like the ship between Wilbur and I that ruined our friendship"

"Oh, come on, Rose... we've already gone this far, there's no backing down now." Foolish insisted, his smile growing wider. "You know how the internet is, they'll ship us no matter what we do. So we may as well embrace it and have some fun with it, right?" He gestured playfully to Rose, indicating the two of them. "Besides, you and I are like a dynamic duo, we're practically already a ship. It's just a matter of time until the rest of the world catches up."

"You're so fucking right" Rose smiles "Fuck it, GiggleDuo we are"

Foolish's smile widened as he heard Rose's agreement. "We're GiggleDuo now, baby! And there's nothing our chat or anyone else can do about it." He gave Rose a triumphant look, feeling more playful and mischievous than ever. "So let's give them something to talk about!"

"What?" Rose slightly panics, she knows how unpredictable he could be in that mood

Foolish's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Come on, Rose... you want to have some fun, right? Let's give them something more than just a playful rivalry." He gave her a playful wink. "Let's do something to make the chat go wild... something completely unexpected..."

Rose blinked a couple times and then smiles "Roll the clips, I guess" She leans in, looks in his eyes for second to then catch her lips with his in a short sweet kiss

Foolish's heart skipped a beat when Rose leaned in and kissed him. His whole body felt like it was on fire as he returned the kiss, his arms wrapping around Rose to pull her closer. As their lips parted, Foolish could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. "You just had to go and make it interesting, didn't you?" He teased, his voice a mix of amusement and affection. "Looks like the chat has more than enough to talk about now..."

"I was holding that kiss for a while, wow" She says, not really wanting to look at chat "Yeah, looks like it" She paused "Tina was right"

"Oh really?" Foolish's eyebrow rose in curiosity. "What did she say?" He looked at Rose expectantly, eagerly awaiting her answer.

"You do have a crush" She teases him, playfully poking his firm biscep

Foolish blushed deeply at Rose's teasing poke. "Oh shut it, you knew I had a crush all along," He huffed, trying to hide just how flustered he was. "But you're the one who made the first move... you're just as smitten with me as I am with you. Admit it, Rose."

"I was under pressure, you know what happens" She smiles at how blushy he was "Little Foosh has a crush!" She keeps teasing

Foolish's cheeks flushed even more at the nickname. "Goddammit, Rose!" He laughed, trying to play it off. "I swear, you're only teasing me 'cause you know damn well how to get to me, you adorable little tease."

She giggles and smiles proudly "I do know you very well" If chat could be on fire, they would be in that moment

"You know me too well," Foolish agreed. "You always seem to know exactly what buttons to push to make my heart race. It's like you have a direct connection to my nervous system." He gave Rose a sly look, feeling the fire between them. "You're my beautiful little tease, Rose. And I can't resist you."

Rose couldn't stop the squeal that came out of her as she blushes "And you're my favorite ken himbo that barks under stress" She laughs again

Foolish's blush only deepened at Rose's words. "Oh my god, did you really just call me a ken himbo that barks under stress?" He asked, sounding both amused and incredulous. "Why does that sound so hilariously accurate?" He laughed, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. "You do love messing with me, don't you?"

"Sounds accurate because it is" The girl gave glimpse side eye to the chat "And yes, messing with you is my favorite sport"

Foolish sighed dramatically, putting on a pouty expression. "I'm being seriously outmatched here... but I'm not complaining, not when you're the one messing with me." He smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Do your best, Rose... I dare you to make me blush even more."

"You look so cute when you pout" She said simply

Foolish's blush deepened to an even deeper shade. "Oh god, you're killing me, Rose." He laughed, feeling flustered and playful. "You're too good at this... I'm at a total loss for words right now." He was clearly enjoying every second of Rose's teasing. "But I'm not gonna lie... I think I kind of like it."

"This is going into a YouTube compilation titled 'Rose and Foolish being cute for 15 minutes'" She laughed softly "Sorry, GiggleDuo now"

Foolish let out a dramatic groan, his embarrassment only growing deeper. "Oh god, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or embarrassed right now... who am I kidding? It's definitely both. You're such a sly little tease, Rose." He shook his head, but he couldn't wipe the silly grin from his face. "I think I'm okay with being featured in a cute compilation. Anything with you in it is worth it."

"You're such a simp" She contains the inhumane screams she was about to drop "it's cute"

Foolish blushed deeply at Rose's words. "Hey, being a simp for you isn't so bad. It's like it's my official title now. 'Foolish, the Rose simp.' Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" He gave her a playful wink. "You know you love me... admit it, Rose."

"That's sounds kinda badass, not gonna lie" She covers her mouth as she laughed "And I'm not going to admit anything until I get my lawyer"

Foolish rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh come on, Rose, you're such a tease. You love me and you know it. You're just too stubborn to admit it." He gave her a teasing, lopsided grin. "And a lawyer? Really? You know I can make you blush with just a look. No fancy lawyer is going to save you then."

Rose can't stop smiling now, her cheeks hurt "I give up, I admit it"

Foolish's smiled widened with triumph. "And there it is! The beautiful sound of Rose's admission of love. I knew I could make you say it." He chuckled, taking the opportunity to gently poke Rose's cheek. "You look so cute when you blush, you know that?"

"Stop it, Noah, I will explode, I swear to God" She's out of frame and so red, it's embarrassing

Foolish's smile grew even wider at Rose's reaction. "Aww, am I making my Rose blush too much? Does someone need a timeout for a few minutes?" He teased playfully. "Or are you enjoying this teasing... just a little bit?" He smirked, knowing full well that Rose was enjoying every second of it. "How can you say no to this cute little rosebud when she gets all pink and flustered, huh? I'm just too adorable to resist.

Off camera, Rose let out an inhumane squeal overwhelmed by all the teasing, she bright red, she looks at Foolish and fakes being an angry Chihuahua as she barks at him

Foolish laughed uproariously at Rose's cute impression of a barking Chihuahua. "Oh my god, Rose, you're too much. I can't handle how adorable you are when you get mad. It's like you're a little pink ball of rage and it's so damn cute." He grabbed Rose to pull her close, unable to resist her preciousness even in her angry puppy mode. "You may be a little angry flower, but you're my favorite flower and I wouldn't have it any other way."

She pouts embarrassed but gets close to Foolish and sits on his lap to hug him suddenly turning into little kid that's too tired to keep playing "I'm eepy"

Foolish let out an amused chuckle at Rose's sudden change in demeanor. "Oh my gosh, look at you... you just went from ferocious barking puppy to sleepy little kid in a snap. It's like you have multiple personalities or something." He teased, wrapping his arms around Rose to pull her close. "But don't you worry, my adorable little Sleepy Rose... I don't mind being your pillow. I'll protect you while you rest."

"What can I say, I hang out way too much with Roier and his 47 personalities" She laughed softly, so tired as she clings to his body getting comfortable

Foolish laughed at Rose's observation. "Oh yeah, Roier and his endless collection of personalities. It's like they just keep adding more to the mix, it's hilarious." He hugged Rose a little tighter. "But you know what's even more hilarious? The fact that you trust me enough to fall asleep on me. I must be one lucky guy to have charmed your rosebud self to the point of knocking out."

Rose laughs at that "I'm enchanted like the rose from beauty and the beast" She teased almost falling asleep

Foolish's smile widened as Rose's comment. "That's the cutest analogy I've heard in a while. You're my own personal Beauty sleeping on me... and just like the movie, I'll protect you from any wolves that try to harm you." He gave her a reassuring squeeze. "You can sleep peacefully, my little Rosebud ... I'll be here to make sure nothing bad happens while you dream."

"Shut up or I'll cry, first warning" She's starts to close her eyes but can't fall asleep completely, she hears Foolish talking with his chat and continues to play

Foolish chuckled at Rose's warning. "Oh come on, Rose, you know me... I like to rile you up. What fun is life without a little teasing?" He gave Rose a mischievous grin. "But I'll make a deal with you... I won't make you cry if you promise to keep sleeping on my lap and stay as cute and precious as you are right now." He wrapped his arms around her gently, his voice growing soft and sincere. "Fair trade, right?"

"Yeah" She sighs more than comfortable, trying to fall asleep

Foolish's playful teasing voice turned to a gentle and caring tone. "Good girl, you deserve a rest. Just relax and sleep... Let me take care of you." He held Rose close, feeling the warmth of her body against his. "I've got you, Rose... you're safe." The sounds of the stream faded into the background, and Foolish's sweet and soothing voice was the only thing left, lulling her into a peaceful slumber on his lap.

#foolish gamers fluff #foolish gamers #foolish gamers x reader #noah brown #qsmp #mcyt

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storiesundercandlelight · 4 months

Note

Lemme seeee 👉🏻👈🏻 I’m definitely not as creative as you are but here’s a Jonathan x Reader NSFW idea 💙

How would Jonathan feel about having a student who has a crush on him? Idk maybe a medical student? Or a newly transformed progeny (not his) who he adopts?

Someone who genuinely tries to hide their crush for him out of respect but fails miserably.

Hope you’ve been well! Really missed you around Tumblr! ☺️✨

Thank you for the request! And for sticking around! I’m trying my best to post as many Vampyr fics as I can but sometimes life is… well life 🙈 I hope you enjoy!! Ps. I haven’t proof read so sorry if there’s mistakes!

Warnings: NSFW +18

The very idea was ludicrous to Jonathan. The very idea that his mind had even entertained the idea was surely a recipe for disaster.

Jonathan couldn’t help smile. He’d had his suspicions early on - the way you would without question carry out a task for him, how diligent you were with your work. The ideal student really.

He almost dismissed your subtle blushes and smiles as part of your character… almost. It was Elizabeth who had confirmed his suspicions regarding your feelings. Elizabeth’s friendship was easily mistaken for more when she had touched Jonathan’s arm, it was then he’d noticed the change, albeit subtle, on your face.

The disappointment had only lasted a few seconds at most, your professional intent quickly replacing the brief lapse in appearance. But he noticed.

He noticed because despite the fact that Jonathan too was trying to remain professional…he couldn’t help return what he hoped were feelings of more than colleagues, more than friendship.

The very idea of having any kind of relationship now - being the way he was - was something he hadn't thought about, but with a student? God above.

He had protested to no end when Edgar came to him with the notion of teaching students. "Jonathan, the hospital is understaffed, students are - and I hate to say it- cheap labour. And all too eager to please" It had made sense, Jonathan hated to admit it, but it did. He had spent days readying himself for all of the worst case scenarios, the very idea of teaching was, embarrassing to say the least.

The thought of so many young adults following Jonathan around for weeks was daunting, downright off putting. But this? These feelings he'd developed for you was something Jonathan never could have conjured up. Yet here he was - watching as you made your rounds. You were amongst the older students, old enough for it not to be out of the question, but still a good few years below Jonathan.

You were a fast learner though, always getting things right, always giving Jonathan the answers he was looking for.

It was growing closer and closer to the end of your shift, the early hours of the morning creeping in, but dawn was still a few hours away, the winter months were always easier for Jonathan, the days were thankfully longer. The sun allowing Jonathan to have a few more hours.

His feet seemed to move without him as he made his way over to you, your smaller frame shrugging on your coat as you're headed out into the front courtyard of the hospital. Jonathan reached out to grab your arm gently, a smile growing on your face as you turned to discover it was Jonathan that had stopped you.

"Doctor Reid, did you need me for something? I can come back in"

"No, no there's nothing...I was wondering if you'd like some company on your walk home?"

“Oh, I would love that - as long as it’s not getting in the way of anything you need to do” considerate as always.

“Not at all” Jonathan smiled, mindful of keeping his teeth hidden. No more wide smiles or unchecked laughter, not when one has fangs to hide. With a motion of his arm you began walking, Jonathan close by your side as you made your way over the bridge across from the hospital.

Polite chatter followed your footsteps as you discussed your day with Jonathan, he knew of course how your day went - the reports of each student were his responsibility - but he asked you anyway. God was he a fool? For listening so intently? For wanting to make you smile with funny remarks? For enjoying the soft tone of your voice?

Surely he wasn’t. He knew now your feelings must be as he suspected. His time was running out as you came to a stop in front of the building you had a rented room in. “Thank you for walking me home”

“Of course…” Jonathan trailed off as he willed his mind to conjure up some sort of excuse to keep you from going inside, some sort of way to address this… attraction.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No! Yes!…. I mean, not wrong no just…”

“Tell me”

“I’m trying to… failing rather miserably I’m afraid” Jonathan let of a deep sigh as he scanned the street, taking a moment to figure out what to say before he made a bigger fool of himself”

“If you’re looking for delicate words you know you needn’t bother with me” you smiled, lightening the mood.

“You know I’ll always try anyway…” Jonathan smiled back, now or never then. “I’ve noticed. At least I think I have anyway, the way you look at me I mean. If I’m wrong please tell me and I’ll apologise to no end, but if not… then I want you to know I feel the same way”

Well there it was, the truth of it out in the open. You watched Jonathan as he stood waiting for your answer. He was sure he’d messed up, your lack of response clearly must be a sure sine that he’d made a mistake. The apology was there on the tip of his tongue.

“Come inside”

“Are you sure?”

“Very”

The room was small but cozy, a tiny kitchenette in one corner, the door to the bathroom, the little living area adjacent to your bed. Jonathan was certain only you could create such a welcoming space. He also noted with familiarity the stacks of medical books littered across the room.

You stood for a moment unsure of yourself, unsure of your next move. Jonathan watched as you turned to him, taking a bold step closer until you were only a foot or so away from touching him. The air was thick with anticipation, you both knew what was going to happen, both wanting the same thing.

Before he could think better of it Jonathan closed the distance between you, his lips finding yours quickly. It took only seconds for you both to find the perfect rhythm, his tongue seeking out yours as your hands began to wander.

The thud of Jonathan’s coat hitting the floor did nothing to stop you as piece after piece of clothing joined the heavy fabric until you were both left exposed to the slowly warming air of the apartment. Jonathan backed you up slowly until your legs hit the side of the bed, the springs creaking only slightly as you both climbed onto the surprisingly soft mattress.

Jonathan was unsure at first, not letting his skin fully press against yours out of fear of being cold, but the winter air would be more than sufficient for an excuse. You let out a soft sigh as Jonathan positioned himself between your thighs, his lips ghosting over your skin, relishing the way you shivered beneath his soft touch.

A small huff of laughter left Jonathan as you tugged at him, clearly growing impatient. “I would have thought you’d have more patience, it’s one of your strengths at the hospital after all”

“Not when it comes to this” you muttered, pulling him again until he gave in, lowering himself down onto his elbows to kiss you before reaching between your bodies and lining himself up to your entrance.

He checked one last time before slowly pushing into you, the heat was almost too much for Jonathan. So used to the cold, no amounts of hot water could warm his skin for long but you, right now he was sure he’d never felt so hot.

The moan that slipped from your lips was more addictive than his bloodlust, with each thrust he was determined to hear more and more of them. Jonathan’s eyes roamed all over you, the peaks of your breasts, the slender line of your neck as you arched your head back, eyes closing and mouth falling open when he hit further back inside of you.

Your movements were awakening a part of Jonathan he’d almost forgotten about, the part of him that longs to be in the arms of another. The thrill of having someone pull him closer. Your breath mingled with his as your lips brushed against each others. Both of you fighting to keep what Jonathan was sure would be moans loud enough for your neighbours to hear at bay.

But his movements were becoming erratic, his hips faltering as he felt his climax drawing near. Your sudden end almost threw him over the edge but he kept his control for a few more moments before following you, his head falling against your neck as he released inside of you.

His fangs burned against his gums, begging for the blood that was pumping so close to his face, but in this moment Jonathan found it all too easy not to care. Falling beside you, pulling you into his arms was more important to him. Having a moment that seemed all too impossible both for his new life and the fact that he was technically your mentor. The thought made him chuckle.

“Something funny?” You looked up at Jonathan, your hand tracing lines below his jaw.

“Edgar would kill me if he found out about this”

The winter night outside turned to gentle snow as you both remained huddled in bed laughing quietly as what could only become a rather sensitive relationship. But one you were bother very ready to risk the lecture for.

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