#stumble forward blindly

[yangcherie]

bathing.

𐀔 pairings: cast (astarion, gale, wyll, lae’zel, shadowheart, karlach, halsin) x female!tiefling!tav (reader).

𐀔 content warnings: suggestive, everybody is a little freak, non-consensual voyeurism, implied scent kink (gale), mentions of scars, afab anatomy. tiefling anatomy.

𐀔 sypnosis: what is a warrior to do when all their companions are peeping toms?

𐀔 author’s note: they are freaks and its been very long since i’ve written. please forgive a lady if what she’s written is unappealing.

“Can you keep it – fucking quiet?!”

Astarion whisper-yells at the entire party of people hiding within bushes and treelines, all fighting tooth and nail like rabid animals for a peek (and taste) of their ragtag, frustratingly attractive leader’s curves.

They didn’t even mean to stumble into eachother, each to their own blindly traversing through the thickets of the woods towards the nearest river. Tav simply mentioned having to retire early to take a bath (much to Gale’s dismay), and they all hungrily jumped towards the opportunity like dogs to a meatless bone, the one of the hopefully many chances they’ll see you naked, vulnerable, and shivering – even if it’s only due to the lack of warmth in the river’s streams.

It’s wrong, debauched, even. Hells, even literal devils, Karlach and Wyll, wear faces ridden with shame. Of course, they (namely Astarion and Lae’zel) poked at the others stalking as if they weren’t shamelessly doing the same.

The tension in the air was thick, each a barrel on the verge of explosion ready to wipe out the recently discovered possibility of rivalries and competition – but they couldn’t blame eachother; there was just something about you that made you so very enticing. They all thought it was incredibly silly to think only one person would want you.

“Well,” Astarion clicked his tongue in displeasure, having his private time foiled. Still, he smiled sardonically. “we’re all degenerates, it seems. We’re all looking forward to having a... fun time.”

A deep rumble came, and it surprisingly did not come from the forest ground. It was simply Halsin, all too polite and calm smiles. Astarion groaned; he was sick of this big fucking oaf with hearts for eyes and a log of wood for brains. “We are not depraved for simply yearning to admire our friend in a state of tranquil—”

“Oh, please! Don’t act like a saint in front of me!” The vampire spawn huffed, hands on his hips. “We’re all here for the same reason, we all want to see Tav fucking naked, no point in lying now!”

Tints of red and pink all rushed to everyone’s faces, and even Shadowheart was reduced to fiddling with her fingers together. Though awkward coughs ensued in the air, not a single word of denial was uttered.

Karlach is first to speak up, ever brazen. “It’s true!” She says with her signature sharp smile. “I wanted to see her tits!”

(Lae’zel and Astarion nodded approvingly to Karlach’s honesty. Halsin and Gale quietly shared their sentiments on their preference to your ass. Shadowheart and Wyll could not disagree to both.)

Amidst their busy conversation and debate regarding your body’s fine qualities, the alarmingly close and approaching noises of branches snapping and leaves crunching had rendered them silent, panicked shivers and goosebumps on their skin. With shared glances and only a few split seconds to react, the party floundered and flailed for whatever they could use to stay hidden.

“Settle down, you circus; Tav’s coming!” Wyll is the first amongst the party to silently and comically dive into a bush with Karlach, clutching their tails to avoid it rustling about in excitement. Halsin had thrown Gale and Astarion atop a tree’s thick branches before joining them. Lae’zel, disappointingly, camoflauges just well with the greenery, watching Shadowheart flounder about and settle for lying on the ground with grass over her face.

“All you filthy ska'keth.” Lae’zel hisses, letting everyone know of your now visible presence, the halting of your footsteps along the other edge of the river. “Enjoy the show.”

Across the distance, their focus had been shifted to you and now solely you.

You quietly groan, trudging towards the river you’ve been searching to no end, you set down your basket of fine oils, herbs and waxes as your armored limbs ache and practically cry for a dip in the clear stream. With no haste, you take in the cool night air, this little moment of peace, away from prying eyes you’ve fought long and hard to obtain. Sweat trickles down your throat, your tail swaying in contentment in the calm atmosphere.

Quickly deciding you’ve had enough of the crisp air, you reach towards your body to unclasp and unfasten the many buckles on your durable armor – starting with the iron top, quickly taking it off to reveal your bare, battle-worn chest and hastily discarding the metal on your legs, throwing them aside in favor of letting the cold air bite at your naked, scarred body before you go into the water; allowing your body a little moment of respite from the suffocation and heat of tight, bloody armor – even letting your tail sway around freely instead of being constricted to being stiff. A content smile creeps its way onto your face.

You lightly step your way from the sand to the edge of the water, continuing to walk until you’re trembling from the cold, until you’re hips-down in the water. A grateful sigh is pulled from your lips as you start to wade about, your hands subtly working to wash the dried blood, gore and grime off of your body and hair – using the oils and wax soaps of sweet woodruff and wine from your basket, even scrubbing your horns. A little part of you finds this normalcy almost unfamiliar, uncomfortable; it’s been quite a while you’ve taken care of yourself. Your thoughts start to drift; prior to your abduction by the Nautiloid ship, were you ever taken care of, like this? By other hands, even?

(You hope so.)

Another sigh is dragged out of you, though wearier as guilt treads within you. Just a little moment of peace, of indulgence before you go back to the dreadful task of keeping your companions and yourself alive and fighting. Just a little more time. You think you deserve it.

A silence was washed over the forest, and the party as they all beheld you and your battle-worn body. It felt almost sacred, like doing this would have them damned to the Hells and below but it was simply too captivating. Your bodice was a web and a product of war, and they were caught mesmerized – with only the dense forest and one another to witness their quickly unravelling need for you. But even then, they felt some semblance to pity. What they wouldn’t give to the gods right now to be by your side and give you some tending to.

The ridges down your back, the swaying base of your tail, the alluring image of your hips and ass teasingly disappearing into the water below, the silhouette of your horns – that untroubled smile on your lips – they all drink it in with their eyes in a fashion similar to Astarion’s throat would with your blood.

They savor it for as long as they can, before stepping out of the trance as Gale himself not-so-quietly attempted to clamber down from the rough-bark tree he was settled in, dropping down to the dirt and crushing the leaves loudly and ungracefully. Shadowheart gaped with mortification at him from the ground, everyone wishing to every god above you would have mistaken the sound as a particularly large animal, perhaps an owlbear and not a wizard along with an entire party intruding on your privacy.

“Gale! What in the Nine Hells are you doing?!”

Astarion had settled for whisper-yelling once again, pointing at him accusingly from his position atop the tree’s branches besides Halsin. Gale waved his hand, silently telling him to shut the fuck up, before urgently pointing at your discarded armor and clothing, then proceeding to give him a big smile and two thumbs up.

Surely enough to the mortification of the party, he quickly cast Misty Step over himself to travel to your area and hastily swiped (stole) anything soft – including your unattended bandages and undergarments, taking a small moment to put it to his nose and re-casting the spell to return below the tree within a few seconds. He wallowed in his pride before with a swift motion, tucked the newly acquired materia into the pockets of his robe much to the discomfort (and mild envy) of all of them.

“A man has to do and take what he can.” Gale reasoned to nobody in particular, nodding solemnly as if he just shared a piece of wisdom. He suppressed a yelp as Lae’zel then threw a rock at him, followed by another as Astarion thwacked a small branch straight to his forehead from above.

“Just leave it.” Wyll snidely commented, fighting with his life to tear away his eyes from your moonlit form, breaking out of a trance. “We should leave, go back to camp. It’d be suspicious if everyone just disappeared.”

“Ugh, you are such a killjoy, Wyll.” Astarion rolled his eyes but complied, scaling down the tree quietly, much unlike Gale earlier, who was still fiddling around his pockets with your intimates. “A party pooper, even.”

As repulsive the idea to leave you was, it was reasonable. Begrudingly, everyone quietly sat up or climbed down and quietly attempted to find their way through the dense, dark forest, sharing little observations and hushed chitchat along the way. And soon enough, the party found themselves in familiar territory, now gathering around and settling down near the campfire like they previously had before you announced your leave, as if they didn’t just claw their way through eachother earlier to see a scrap of your vulnerability.

The fire cast a warm glow over the party as they immersed in chitchat, a few (namely Shadowheart and Astarion) pestering and even offering a bargain to Gale for the underclothes he had nicked earlier. The wizard was not deterred; fair and square, he wagged his finger as if to say nuh-uh to the seething two. It was only shortly after, that you came stumbling back into camp like a lost fawn, hair and body language calm and loose but the armor remaining stiff on your body.

Karlach coughed to let the others know you had arrived from your personal time. “Soldier! You’re back!” You greeted her with a nod, before raising a brow and sweeping your eyes amongst them. Gale swallowed, placing a protective hand over the pocket that held your garments.

“You would not believe what happened.” You sighed in utter distress before plopping yourself down besides Halsin and Astarion on the log to let the fire embrace you with warmth, piquing everyone’s interest and attention with intense ease. “A wandering owlbear ate my clothes.”

They all collectively either guffawed or choked on their spit, Lae’zel scoffing and Astarion groaning amongst them. Right. Of course, you would have thought it was a fucking owlbear. Thieving owlbears that take normal, musky clothes instead of shiny armor.

“Ah, owlbears.” Gale tutted and sighed with faux sympathy, nervously chuckling and shifting to hide the lump in his pockets. “They’d eat almost anything, really.”

Astarion shot him a bewildered look, as if to ask, don’t you? You swallowed two of my books last night!

“You can borrow my clothes, for the night.” Shadowheart butted in, suddenly slotting herself behind you and setting a reassuring palm on your shoulder. You smiled at her, gazing up at her gratefully. “Thank you, Sha—”

“Well, you can have my clothes!” Karlach and Lae’zel shot up in unison.

“Sharing your old filth, I can sew them new clothes!” Astarion argued, until everyone started refuting eachother and proposing that you take theirs and whatnot.

You sighed with exasperated fondness, immensely troubled but somewhat used to it as you watch your companions pointlessly banter, having little doubt that by the end of the night, you’d have a fair share of everyone’s wardrobe into yours.

Still, you hope to the very bottom of your heart that the “owlbear” that stole your clothes had a full tummy, at least.

[ervotica]

𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

request; Hello I was wondering if you could do a Liam Mairi x reader where involving the side-effects of having bonded mated dragons pair so they absolutely go feral with eachother while using the prompt "That's it, fuck, that's a good girl."

synopsis; you and liam discover the trouble with mated dragons when you wind up in his bed. hidden feelings threaten to come to light.

pairing; liam mairi x fem!reader

warnings; smut (18+ only), p in v, soft sex w feels

word count; 2.6k

Reaching out blindly until your hand snags against the soft fabric of Liam’s sleep shirt, you take a shuddering breath as a surge of arousal locks you on the spot, every muscle coiling tight when you press your forehead to the wall and tug him closer. His thighs are bare and they flex when he stumbles towards you, bracing himself by means of a hand either side of your head, corded biceps caging you in when a ragged pant rips through you and you grit your teeth.

“Easy,” he murmurs, though his voice is strained, the veins that wrap the lengths of his forearms like vines protruding from the creamy skin. You suppress a pathetic little noise that bubbles from the base of your throat, tipping your head back as Liam’s hand makes contact with the skin there. “Shh, shh.”

“Li-“ you whisper through gritted teeth. “I need you to tell me to go away. I can’t- can’t control myself.”

“No-“ he says, quickly – too quickly, desperation lining his every syllable. You’re all too familiar with the feeling, the panic that seeps into his voice at the prospect of you leaving in search of another man’s bed. He’s not too proud to beg you. “No. Stay, please.”

The thought of you leaving is near unbearable now he’s close enough to touch you — feel you. Close enough to smell the shampoo in the wisps of hair that fall around your flushed face, close enough that the scent of you cloys in his nostrils and throws all inhibitions out the window.

His body presses against yours and the contact sets every nerve ending you possess alight. You tremble when he glides steady fingers - much steadier than you’re feeling right now - over your half-bare shoulder where your t-shirt has slipped downward, coming to a halt over your skittering pulse. His head falls forward into the juncture of your neck.

“Fuck.” His voice is rasping, barely there in your ears as Deigh does something Áine particularly likes and a crusade of need slams through him.

You thread your fingers through the blond tresses that tickle at your skin, pointedly ignoring the obvious disparity of your bodies, how his dwarfs your own, the way it makes your head spin with the need to get closer, to claw your way into his skin and feel every inch of him.

“Liam,” you whine softly, arching into him as those thick arms twine around your waist, pulling your torso flush to his own. He squeezes you, hands slipping beneath the t-shirt you’re clad in, palming and groping at every bump and ridge, every hill and valley of flesh he can reach. He ventures lower; your fingers tense where they still lay in his soft hair, and when his palms flatten and tap firmly at the backs of your thighs, you know what he wants.

You oblige the clear instruction, pushing yourself up from the balls of your feet until you’re in Liam’s arms, legs looped around his waist and ankles crossed at the base of his spine. Your back hits the wall as he surges forward to nose at your jugular. His lips part, tongue flicking forward to lave at your balmy skin. As his head dips, trailing a hot, wet path of half moons in the wake of his lips, you shudder.

“I know, my girl. I know,” he coos, sympathetic. His words slur and jumble, each sound melting into the next as though he’s drunk from the feel - the taste - of you alone.

The pet name would be enough to have you melting with affection under usual circumstances— now, it’s enough to have you whining, craning your head to slant your lips hungrily over his own, uncaring if it’s messy or filthy or downright sinful. Your only mission is to feel him, to get closer, to roam every inch of him with your ravenous tongue and teeth and lips— greedy for his touch.

If anyone were to walk in they’d certainly blanch at the sight; you pinned against the wall closest to the door of Liam’s room, his eager fingers splayed over your ass as you breathe into each other’s mouths. You’re unconsciously grinding down into him in quick, fervent bursts, and he reciprocates the movement appreciatively, letting you slide down the cold wall until the thick length of him presses to your wet cunt— hindered only by the fabric of his boxers and the lace of your panties.

The material is almost translucent, soaked through with your arousal. Liam coos something sympathetic that you can’t quite decipher for the fog that clouds your every nerve ending, for the hand that slips between your bodies until his thumb is rubbing tight circles into your swollen clit through the ruined fabric. Tears burn at the backs of your eyes and you tremble round him, the pleasure everything you need and somehow nowhere near enough, all at once.

“Shh, shh,” he murmurs. “‘ve got you, angel. ‘S okay.”

You gasp wetly against his kiss-bitten lips, the only warning you give as you begin shuddering against him, your climax ripping through you before you even have time to think. Everything is so sensitive, every brush and graze of his skin against your own amplified tenfold— it’s too much but still, you greedily accept everything he’s willing to give you, teary eyes trained to his throat that works around a swallow as he watches you cum with heavy lidded eyes. Babbling around a sob, you part your lips from his in favour of sinking down into the juncture of his neck, your hot cheeks searing against the cooler skin that greets you like a soothing balm.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

“Liam,” you hiccup, grabbing large fistfuls of his t-shirt, the flimsy material the only thing that separates you from miles of toned skin and muscle. That lopsided grin cracks across his face, a dimple cratering onto the centre of his cheek as his teeth flash in an amused smile; his chest heaves, even more so when you slip your hands underneath his tee to palm at bare skin.

Setting you down on shaking legs, his hand encircles one of your wrists and tugs, leading you until you’re perched at the edge of the bed. He turns, elbows flaring wide as he pulls at the neckline of his shirt and drags the material over his head in one fluid motion. The planes of his back are bared to you, each individual muscle rolling and moving with one another as though they’re cogs in a well oiled machine. You want your mouth on every inch of that skin– no corner, no crevice left untouched.

And then he’s on you, prowling with a predatory glint in those cerulean eyes as his pupils swallow the bright hue of his irises; all he sees is you– the way you shrink and tremble at the fervent way he surveys you.

A wide palm slips beneath your own tee and curls around your ribcage, frantically rising and falling with every laboured breath. He shucks the fabric upward to expose your soft breasts to the cool air of the room, and watches with rapt fascination as your nipples harden into peaks under his attention.

You shift until you’re propped up on your elbows to allow him space to discard the item of clothing, complying when he nudges you until you’re flat against the mattress, legs hooked over his hips. Your head turns, face burning at the wolfish way his eyes rake over you, a great contrast to the flattened hands that scrub sweeping lines over the tops of your thighs to soothe your nerves.

“Don’t hide from me, angel,” he murmurs, folding at the waist to smear a kiss against the curve of your jaw. His next words are a rumble against your skin that seep into your pores, into your very bones. “If it gets too much for you, all you have to do is tell me. And we’ll stop. Okay?”

His cadence is low and rasping, and the feel of the bridge of his nose pressed to your cheek sending a wave of affection through you that knocks the breath from your lungs. You nod.

“Words, sweet girl.”

“Okay,” you croak.

“Good girl.”

Your pussy aches with a sharp throb when he reaches down to press his thumb back to your swollen bundle of nerves; you whine, hips canting up into his touch unconsciously as he slips the wet material down your legs and discards them somewhere behind him.

He presses a kiss to your tummy, your knee, your ankle, and then pushes your legs up and back until they’re folded atop your chest. You gasp when his warm breath fans over your bare sex.

“Liam.”

“I know, angel,” he grunts. His voice patters out into breathless silence as you part your thighs, splaying a hand across his thrumming pulse to wrench him upwards and towards you. He doesn’t resist, putty in your hands. Absolutely, wholly yours.

“Please,” you whisper; his nose brushes yours. “Need you.”

He parts your lips with his own, slaking his hunger on you. He revels in every noise he pulls from your slick lips, every whine and gasp and plead for him to give you what you want. He swallows them all greedily and when - and only when - he’s decided you’ve begged him prettily enough, does he free his weeping cock and line up with your entrance.

He sinks in slowly, every thick inch of him splitting you wider than the previous. He’s thick, cock twitching against your cunt as the flushed head practically begs to be buried inside of you. The colour bleeds from your knuckles as you clutch his biceps, leaving crescent moon indents in the wake of your cruel touch; he hisses, and when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, he sweeps down again to press wet, ardent kisses to your face and neck. He hooks your legs up against his hips, pulling back to rock back into the tight clutch of your cunt with slow, rhythmic movements.

He hits every spot inside of you without trying, the spongy head of him rubbing continuously over a particular spot you haven’t discovered yet; it has you keening, sobbing out a broken moan against his balmy cheek as he coos gentle praises against the shell of your ear.

His entire focus is fixated on him desperately trying to not blow his load at the first feel of your cunt clasping him, breathing deeply through his nostrils as he props a forearm either side of your head.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he gasps, picking up his pace as your enthusiasm starts to peak, your shaking fingers tangling in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Your body arches beneath him, head tipping back when a soft whine spills from your swollen lips.

The lewd sound of slapping skin and heavy breathing encases your senses, drives you further to that edge that you’ve been aching for since you entered the room.

He’s so beautiful like this it sets you alight with adoration— and arousal: blond hair mussed and falling over his eyes, face flushed as he dips down to brush his nose with your own, plush, pink lips parted into a gasp when you clench around him.

“‘M so close, Li,” you croak, tightening your fingers where they’re carding through his hair.

“I know, angel. I know.” Deft fingers slide between your bodies as he works over your clit rhythmically— sweeping movements that alternate between tight circles and up and down motions as he places pressure on that bundle of nerves.

A sweet, quiet little gasp spills from your lips, and Liam doesn’t miss the way you tense, clinging to him harder as you shatter.

He coaxes you through it, movements never slowing as you ride out your peak, whining against his lips when he swallows your sounds with his mouth.

He doesn’t stop until you’re squirming and writhing beneath him, kicking your legs feebly to push him away; he shudders at the movement, back bowing in the centre until he’s spilling into you with a groan. He braces himself with his head buried in the juncture of your neck, arms hooking around the base of your spine to hold you flush to him.

You both collapse in a haphazard mound of limbs and you roll onto your side to face Liam, his cheek still pressed to yours. He brushes the bridge of his nose along the length of your cheekbone, his smile imprinted into your skin as you hum and needle your way closer into his chest.

You don’t know what to say— neither does he. This silence is comfortable regardless, the gentle, lulling energy encasing the pair of you in this bubble.

He brushes a stray lock of hair from your sticky forehead, smearing a kiss along the crown of your skull. Your lashes flutter, body soft and lax against his own as you greedily seep up his warmth. You’re weightless, your head pleasantly blank when he pulls the blankets over you, pressing a final kiss to your cheek before he’s pushing himself out of the bed and to the bathroom.

There’s some shuffling and then emerges seconds later, clad in a clean pair of boxers and clutching a t-shirt for you to take. You’re still how he left you, laying on your side and dozing, cheek smushed against the back of your hand.

“C’mon, angel,” he murmurs, hooking an arm beneath your shoulder to hike you upright, handing you the tee; you rub at your heavy eyes with the backs of your fingers, swiping the fog away. He settles himself between your legs to clean you up, swiping a tissue between your thighs.

“You don’t have to do that, Li,” you croak. “‘M okay, I’ve got it.”

You make to loop your fingers around his wrist to halt his movements, but he only tuts and swats your hand away with a smile. Affection rises in your chest, hot and fast and blinding.

“I’ve got you, my girl.”

There’s that name again. My girl. You’re melting, sure you’re nothing but a pile of mush following those two little words; he surveys you with those cerulean eyes, laced with nothing less than adoration.

“Liam,” you whine, protesting.

“Oh, hush.” He presses a kiss to the curve of your kneecap before pushing the blankets back over your legs.

You pull the oversized tee he’s pushed into your hands over your head appreciatively, resisting the urge to bury your face into the fabric and inhale at the scent of him that cloys the room, that swirls around your face in tantalising tendrils.

You love him, you realise. The admission isn’t terrifying as you thought it would be, but rather a calm wave that washes over you and grants you a newfound clarity. You want this all the time with him. You want everything.

The bed dips as he returns to your side, an arm around your waist until you’re both propped against the headboard, your face resting in the dip of his collarbone. You feel his cheek pressed to the top of your head.

Your chest feels as though it might cave in at any moment, the sheer volume of love you hold for this boy too much for your body to hold onto. You brush your lips against his shoulder, blinking slowly in your haze. The rumble of his laugh carries right down to your bones.

“You’re beautiful,” you mumble, already half-asleep.

“You’re more beautiful,” he whispers back as though it’s a secret. Private words shared between the pair of you, for no one else to hear.

You’re asleep before you can respond, draped lazily over his torso. He shucks the blankets up until they’re covering you right up to your shoulders. Your nose scrunches unconsciously.

Fuck, he loves you.

[cherryslyce]

Unearthed | Regulus Black

Synopsis: You felt your world turn upside down at the revelation that your husband was a wizard, and you get a sense of deja vu when three teenagers appear on your doorstep seeking him out about a locket.

Pairing: Regulus Black x Muggle!Reader

Notes: Not canon-compliant! Word Count: 3.3k

The warbling of sparrows stir from the swaying trees and into your open window, bristles of morning wind brushing against your night clothes. You stare intently at the stove to your side, back pressed against your kitchen island as you mentally count. The glistening finish of your sage-colored tea kettle shone at you as you pace forward to remove the instrument off the flame.

Regulus was still asleep and the last thing you needed was to interrupt his rest because you wanted a cup of tea. As you steadily pour the water into your mug, your mind spirals into a wave of nostalgia. 

It had been nearly two decades now since the man stumbled into your life with proper-fitted clothes and a closet of skeletons. You hadn’t met Regulus by any conventional means, having found him stumbling around blindly in front of your house, clutching at his head. You remember that it took a few days for the boy to wake after that night, his lithe figure draped across your couch as the sun rose and set. Those days of waiting felt like centuries now that you thought about it. You had been springing back and forth, debating on running over to the closest town for a doctor, but luckily, the boy woke just as your resolve hardened. 

The first thing you had done when Regulus managed to sit up in your living space was offer him a cup of tea, trying to give yourself time to formulate questions as he steadied himself with reality again. He had informed you that night that he had been mugged, and had escaped into the fields within an inch of his consciousness. You had known that he was lying, recognizing that no one was even within a mile radius to do such a thing to him, but you somehow grew to care for him despite your suspicions. After many months of coexisting in your home, with Regulus taking on a good heft of the house chores, he had opened up to you about his family and home life. 

You both sat staring into the streaks of flames stirring in your fireplace, the room gradually becoming enveloped in a blanket of grey as the sun sank further along the horizon. 

“My parents were not good people.” Regulus murmured into the darkness, eyes trained on the pillars of heaty orange lapping at the blocks of wood and bark. 

You gulp and nod along, “Dead like mine, too?” 

“Dead to me,” Regulus supplied, hand reaching up to push his curls back as he continued, “I was not pulling your leg when I told you I had been mugged that night. My parents… they stripped me of my freedom and choices. There wasn’t a day that passed by where I could pinpoint my true aspirations or future. Not a day where I could lift the veil that disillusioned me since birth.” 

Your lips slant down at the abrupt confession, and you could feel your fingers itching to rest on his hand for comfort. Heaving in a tense breath, you bite the inside of your cheek as you let your curiosity bleed through, “And the rest of your family?” 

“The same, but my Uncle Alphie, he was different,” Regulus hesitates for a few moments, and you see his face darken, “so was my older brother.” 

Another year after that, he finally cleared up a majority of your suspicions by demonstrating his magic. You went to bed in denial for a week, unable to maintain eye contact with him the whole while as you felt your world flip inside out. Once the reality sank in, you had demanded answers about the secret society that he fled from, trying to wrap your head around the influx of information. 

“So… magic.” You breathe out, eyes flying around the perimeter of your kitchen as you lean back against the faded wooden counter. 

Regulus allows himself a small small before he drops his gaze down towards his dinner plate, “Yes, magic.” 

“Tell me more.” Your tone splintered into brusqueness, leaving no room for Regulus to dodge away.   

Regulus, to his credit, seems hardly perturbed by your request. Nodding jerkily, he takes a sip of water before motioning for you to sit across from him, “What would you like to know?” 

“Everything. Start from the beginning.” Your words are coated in anticipation, eyes glittering brightly as your mouth sets into a firm line. 

Laughter bubbles in Regulus’ throat and he shoots you an indecipherable grin, “As you wish.”

It was a slow process of acceptance, one convoluted with your developing feelings for the boy, eyes no longer seeing a stumbling, comatose boy, but a dependable and bright partner—a life partner. 

You both stewed in silent pining and agony for a few more months before the tension boiled and tipped over the precipice one night with a silent kiss by the fireside. As your relationship continued to bloom, you both decided to move toward the city with the last of your savings. 

“Are you certain?” Regulus whispers against your lips, eyes trailing across the plane of your face. 

You nod and bring a hand to thread through his hair, “I have the money. Besides, a change of scenery would be nice.” 

Regulus hums and catches your lips in a swift kiss, bringing his arms to wrap around your figure. 

Once you both edge back to breath, he gives you a boyish grin before musing, “Thank you.” 

“Good morning, love.” A groggy voice cuts through the air as you squeeze your tea bag against the side of your cup with a spoon. 

Swiveling your head over your shoulder, your mouth tugs upwards as you take in Regulus’ disheveled appearance, “Hello, dear. You’re up early today.” 

Regulus draws his arms around your waist before kissing your temple as he hums, “Couldn’t sleep without you.” 

You huff out a laugh before dropping a hand down to pat his arm, “You don’t have work today, right?” Your eyes drop down to your mug as your head flits through several thoughts about Regulus’ work duties, pleased that the company was flexible, yet you still vied for more. 

“Yeah, got the day off,” he murmurs, burying his face into your shoulder, “how should we spend it?” 

“The new bookstore around the corner?” You hum as you sip on your tea, noting that the brew of jasmine was much more potent than usual. 

Regulus shifts from behind you and maneuvers his chin over your shoulder, “Sounds like a plan. Which reminds me, I should get our bookcase built today, too.” 

“Lots to do.” You murmur absentmindedly, not bothered by the fact that Regulus was now inching to take a sip of your tea. 

He takes a small mouthful of the cooling beverage before brushing his lips against your cheek, “We have all the time in the world, love.” 

“That we do.”

The day seems to speed by in a blur, shrouded with an atmosphere of serenity and bright clouds. Your walk with Regulus through the idyllic streets is bundled with small lingering touches and peaceful silence. As you drift through the bookstore with your husband, you find yourself suppressing a smile as Regulus opts to carry the growing collection between you both, not a peep of complaint slipping past his lips as the sea of pages lengthen in height. 

He had always been good to you in that way, and at first you had chalked it up to him repaying you for providing sanctuary, but you soon learned that such manners were practically instilled in his bones. 

As you both trail towards the check-out line, an idea strikes you and causes you to hum audibly. Regulus peers over at you with an inquisitive gaze, curiosity barred by the need to shuffle forward in line. 

“Dear, we should invite Severus over for dinner.” You mutter in hopefulness, feeling a familiar mawkish pang bud in your chest. Regulus maintained few ties to his life before you, but Severus had been a near constant presence in your life ever since you encouraged him to invite someone to your wedding. You had initially been nonplussed by the doleful man, aware of the turmoil and despair that practically radiated off of him, but you grew to care for him nonetheless. 

“We have to build our bookshelf, no?” Regulus hums with consideration, eyes steeling as he notices a fussing customer holding up the line. 

You wave him off and lift a finger to run along the spines of books in his arms, “Severus can help us if anything. It’s good to get things done without certain abilities every once in a while.” 

Regulus’ lips flicker into a minute grin as he nods, “I’ll send for him when we return home, but he did say he would be rather occupied for a while last time we corresponded.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought, a tidal wave of unease washing over you, “I hope everything is alright.” 

“Severus is quite capable, he’ll be okay.” 

The lingering traces of worry that pervade your mind fail to dissipate as you walk hand-in-hand with Regulus, the both of you intent on heading home as quickly as possible as streaks of grey clouds roll across the sky. 

A sense of foreboding coils around your nerves as you tread closer towards your destination, head thrumming as the sound of your shoes clicking against the concrete permeate into the air. Regulus seems to share your feelings of inexplicable unease as you feel his grip tighten on your hand. 

As you both round the corner of the street and near your front door, you feel yourself stop in your tracks as three figures come into view. 

“Reg?” Your words are barely above a whisper as confusion ousts your previous apprehension. 

Regulus mirrors your feelings, and his perplexity is palpable as he slowly inches forward, “Just some kids, I think.” 

You both mutely compose yourselves as your pacing resumes. As your footsteps echo into earshot for the trio, they all spin around with wide eyes. Your eyes drop down towards the redheaded boy’s hand, gaze narrowing as you discern the outlines of a wand. 

Regulus seems to draw the same conclusions and he steps in front of you as his eyebrows furrowed together, “Hello, can we help you?” 

The three kids, probably no older than 18, share silent looks before the curly-haired girl steps forwards and nods, “Yes, hello. We’re looking for Regulus Black, do you happen to know where we can find him?” 

Your thoughts sputter and whirl as your gaze burns into Regulus’ head, trying to correctly assess the situation at hand. It was entirely possible that these newcomers were enemies seeking to drain Regulus of his life, but it was also plausible that they were completely harmless and you were overestimating the danger and animosity of wizards in general. 

Regulus seems to stew over the same dilemma, and you catch the calculative look that flashes across the girl’s face as she considers your husband’s hesitance. You decide to interject into the tense silence, not wanting to see the situation escalate, “Hello, I’m Y/N. Sorry, we don’t get many visitors in the neighborhood. Are you all a part of a youth group? A church? Unfortunately, if this has to do with fundraising, I don’t think the Black’s are interested, neither will most residents on this street. Perhaps, you can try with the Miller’s down over at that blue house.” 

You plaster on an assuring smile as you point over to yonder, feeling Regulus inch towards you until he was practically pressed against your back. The girl hesitates and looks over her shoulder at her companions as they silently begin to communicate again with wide eyes and emphatic eyebrow raises. 

Finally, one of the boys steps out and into direct view. Your eyes run across his face, catching against his round glasses and black fringe. Regulus tenses against you as the boy peers towards him with striking green eyes, and you’re almost too entranced by their vividness to stay on guard. 

“My name is Harry Potter.” 

The announcement does absolutely nothing for you, but you feel Regulus’ breathing hitch before he relaxes. Your husband brings his hand to rest atop your shoulder as he adjusts the paper bag in his grip, “I see the resemblance now, Harry Potter. Why don’t we all head inside?” 

You mask your bewilderment at the invitation, turning to send a questioning glance at Regulus. The man merely shoots you a look of conflict before he guides you towards the front door. 

As the trio awkwardly shuffle into your house, lingering in your entryway, you shoot them a small smile before beckoning them inside. You still had your reservations, but it seemed that Regulus recognized them — or Harry, to some extent. 

The girl slowly walks further into your home, stopping in front of your living room as she glances at the large box propped up against the wall. 

“Ah, we were planning on building a bookshelf.” You supply, bringing a hand to run across the nape of your neck. 

The girl nods and sends you a shy smile, “I’m Hermione Granger.” 

“Y/N Black.”

Your name seems to drop some intangible bombshell on the three young wizards as they all peer at you with wide eyes. Clearing your throat you turn towards the ginger as you gesture towards the couch, “You can all sit. And I don’t believe I got your name earlier.” 

They all trudge towards your couch and the boy nods towards you, disbelief still painting his face, “Ron Weasley.” 

“A Weasley and a Potter. Interesting.” Regulus’ voice emits from behind you, evidently finished with putting your newly purchased books away. He approaches the living room and stops to stand beside you, eyes assessing the three as they shuffle uncomfortably under your husband’s scrutinizing gaze. 

You turn to look at him, nudging your hip against his, “Care to explain?” 

“After we get answers,” Regulus murmurs, eyes trailing towards the loveseat, “Come, love.” 

As you both settle on the cushions, Regulus immediately bypasses formalities, still uncertain about your guests’ presence, “So, there must be a reason that we’re meeting this way, Mr.Potter.” 

Harry visibly gulps at the intense look in Regulus’ eyes, clearing his throat as he leans forward, “Yes, we’ve come because of this,” you tilt your head to the side as the boy fishes out a pendant from his pocket before he holds it up to you both. 

Regulus’ hand drops to your thigh as he hums, “I see.” His tone indicated a lack of surprise, yet an unwillingness to indulge. You knew Regulus’ ways of dancing around conversations well. 

“You have the real one.” Harry’s words are firm, eyes stormy as he seems to drift into thought. 

“So you have come to find me, and pray tell, how did you find me?” Regulus’ flinty words have Harry retreating back imperceptibly, eyes flickering away to consider his answer. 

“Well, you used quite a bit of magic to make this.” Harry clears his throat, slowly retracting the dangling locket from the air. 

Regulus quietly huffs through his nose, leaning back as he hums, “Tracking spells. Of course. I assume you’re here for the real deal then?”

Your mind was spinning in circles as you tried to keep up with the conversation, having half the mind to be disconcerted by how you both were effectively tracked down by three kids. Hermione licks her lips before leaning forward to address Regulus, eyes scanning him with confusion, “How did you survive that night, sir? If what Harry told us was true, that cave…” 

“You lot aren’t the sort to dawdle, are you?” Regulus muses, fingers brushing down to your knee, “To answer your question, Ms.Granger, I received some help that night.” 

“Help?” Ron interjected, eyebrows raised in perplexion as he glanced at Harry for an answer. 

At Regulus’ admission, you redirect your attention to him, lips furling into a faint frown as you question all the hidden facets of his life. Of course, you knew the foundational details about the magical world, and perhaps tidbits of his past, but the avenue of conversation unfolding before you was completely foreign. 

Regulus peers at you for a brief moment before he nods, “Yes. Severus helped me. He gave me the antidote for the potion inside of the basin.” 

Ron sputters at this. “Severus? As in Snape?” He spins to look at Hermione who looks equally dumbstruck, yet she steadily caps away her shock with a hum of acknowledgment. 

Harry nods slowly as he runs his thumb over the pendant in his palm, “He’s a traitor.” 

You gape at the uninhibited jab, wanting to insert yourself into the exchange to defend your friend. Regulus pats your knee before steadily riposting, “Self-servitude finds companionship in loneliness.”

“Is that the life motto for all you snakes?” Ron mutters, hands clasped together as he leans his elbows on his knees. 

Regulus seems hardly fazed by the boy’s acrid tone, eyes slowly rising to gaze away, “You know us Slytherins. Self-preservation and then some.” 

“To see the right and not to do it is cowardice.” Hermione blanches, mouth set into a thin line as she examines the wall opposite of her. 

“Confucius.” You muse, hand trailing down to cover Regulus’.

Regulus nods and gives Hermione a look of consideration, “Gryffindor, then.” The girl nods in confirmation before tilting her head, causing Regulus to continue his train of thought, “I was a bit partial to betting on Ravenclaw. I suppose you hear that often. That being said, I implore you to examine the nuances to Severus’ situation. I can assure you, he is not your enemy.” 

The three teenagers seem to sink into their thoughts and Regulus takes this as his cue to slowly push himself up, giving your knee a parting squeeze as he huffs, “I do hope you all know how to destroy it, and I hope you’re able to accomplish your endeavors, Harry Potter.” 

Without waiting for a response, Regulus cascades out of the room and up the stairs, only the sound of his muffled footsteps occupying the hushed atmosphere. You slap your palms against your knees as you begin to get up too, mouth slanting into a small smile, “Would any of you like some tea?” 

The shock from the impromptu visit from the three teens stew in the air long after they departed from your home, eyes glistening with determination as Regulus relinquished the mysterious locket to them. A lingering itch of curiosity occasionally swept through your head, but you figured that there would come a time when answers would be granted to you.   

You just hadn’t figured such a time would arise so soon after. Not even a week after meeting Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, another novel face was taking residence by your front door. 

“Hello, may I help you?” You asked pleasantly, propping your hip against your door frame as you balanced a stack of towels by your side. 

The man surveys you with poorly concealed anxiety before he clears his throat and nods, “Hi, I’m looking for a Regulus Black. I was told he lives here.” 

You tilt your head and look over your shoulder at the clock, “Yes. He won’t be home for another hour or two. May I ask how you know him?” 

“My name is Sirius. Sirius Black. I’m, uh, his older brother.” 

Shock flashes across the forefront of your mind at the man’s words, and you barely thread together any semblance of composure as you nod, “Please come in, I think a much needed chat is in order.” 

“Thank you.” He breathes out, straightening his coat with a gulp. 

“My pleasure, Sirius. I’m Y/N Black, by the way. Which, I suppose, makes you my brother-in-law.” 

“Wait—I'm sorry, what?” 

masterlist

[jasmines-library]

I know i’ve already sent in a lot of requests, i practically live in your inbox(not sorry), but i just wanted to know if you could whip up some really angsty stuff?

Maybe something with reader being on patrol and she just randomly passes out and just won’t wake up again?

idk, i’m just craving your content😞🙏

Veins

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Note: Anything for you my love. Dont feel bad for sending them in, i smile everytime your name is in my inbox. sorry for the wait. :))

Warnings: Poison/drugging, passing out, needles, ivs but non graphic

Word Count: 1.3k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

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There it was again. That funny feeling. You couldn’t quite place it, but it tickled the back of your mind. Physically, you felt fine. There was just something off about the whole night. Tim was running alongside you, the soles of his boots making little to no noise as he weaved nimbly down the street. Dick was slightly ahead; you were watching his six.The three of you were currently pursuing Poison Ivy, who royally pissed off, was threatening to release a batch of poisons into the water supply; naturally, it was your job to try and stop her before she could actually get there. Batman was also in pursuit, but he was coming from the other side of the city which meant that the chances of you and your brothers stopping Ivy before she got there were pretty high. 

You had almost caught up with Ivy when it happened. You could see her ahead, her torn clothes flapping against the winds that whipped between the skyscrapers and whistled down the alleyways. You pushed yourself to run faster, feeling the burn in your calves as you raced towards her auburn figure. You would have caught her if you didn’t catch a glimpse of one of her goons perched on a window ledge. It was dark, but you could practically see his crooked grin as he leered down at the three unsuspecting vigilantes. By the time you had realised what was actually happening, it was too late. 

The needle dug deep into your neck, with such a blunt force that you would have yelped if you didn’t have the sense to plaster your hand over your lips. It stung and would most certainly leave a bruise later. But what worried you was not, the soon to be bruise, but the groggy sensation that began to settle over you. 

Blindly reaching for the syringe, you pulled it from your neck with a grunt. It clattered to the floor. Everything seemed to swim before you in a mix of colours. It made you feel sick. And suddenly your body felt numb, stubborn limbs refusing to move how they normally would. You lurched forward stumbling and trying to grip onto the wall to keep yourself upright. It was hardly any use though; whatever they had stuck you with made it nearly impossible to tell which way was up as your world span. You had fallen behind, moving without a coherent thought as you tried to keep up with the speck that you thought was Tim. Everything was too loud, but you could make out no sounds, just a piercing ringing. 

“R’vn…” Someone was talking to you. You weren’t even aware you had stopped and hands swam in front of your face. Touching. Someone was touching you; their hands were against your shoulders trying to keep you upright. But who…

There was no face in front of you. Only a mangled mess of colours and an echo of your code name frantically falling from their lips. They were trying to get you to respond, to say anything but your eyes and glassed over and your limbs had fallen limp in against the stone wall you had been stumbling against. 

And then your body gave up completely.

Tim had to scramble to catch your body as you keeled over, ragdolling into his arms with limbs splayed out in each direction. He cursed, panicked and settled you down on the ground to stand over you. Wide eyed, he pressed the emergency signal on his coms, praying that Dick would get to you quickly and that Batman was close enough to catch Ivy. 

He tried your name again, shaking you by the shoulders. There was no response; your head just lolled to the side. It was then that he realised your body was hot. Far too hot. He struggled to get off his glove before pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. You didn’t even stir. 

“Son of a bitch.” Dick skidded to a stop beside his brother, palling at the sight of you on the ground. “What happened?”

“I-i don’t know. She was fine one minute and the next she practically collapsed against the wall-” Tim stuttered, unable to keep his composure. Usually, he was the one with the steady hand they could all rely on, but now he was completely short circuiting. 

With a curt nod, Dick tried to shake you awake, calling your name.

“I tried that.” Tim stated. 

Dick nearly snapped at his brother for making an irritating statement when he saw the lines spider-webbing up your neck. They were thin and black, spindling out like branches of a tree devoid of its leaves. Twisting your head gently to the side, Dick revealed it to Tim who swallowed thickly. 

“Drugged?” He asked meekly.

Dick shook his head. “Poisoned.”

Tim shifted his vision anxiously between Dick and you. His head perked up when something clattered off to their right. Dick was up in an instant, standing over you with his escrima sticks flickering with their angry blue charge. Tim reddied his bo staff.

“Go find them.” Nightwing ordered, standing over you protectively.  “I’ll watch her.”

Tim darted off for a moment as the older boy watched you with shifty eyes, hardly relaxing when he returned a few moments later. By that time you had begun sweating and your skin had grown clammy and gaunt .When he looked at him with optimistic eyes, the younger boy shook his head. 

“Nothing. But I did find this.” He produced a small syringe filled with a dark green liquid. The one you had pulled frantically from your neck.

“Good! That's good.” Dick exclaimed, taking a shaky breath. “We need to get her back to the cave. Page Alfred. Get him to prepare the infirmary.”

“On it.”

Sliding his hands under your body, he scooped up your limbs with ease. “Hang in there, kiddo.”

~

“Get her on the bed, quick.”

Alfred was on the two boys as soon as he heard the cave entrance fling open. Dick was sling clinging to you as he bustled through the door, hot on Tim’s heels who forced everyone out of the way. They all watched you with worried creases etched onto their complexions. 

Dick lay you down on the bed. As soon as he was out of the way Alfred was replacing the empty space beside you, inspecting the spread of the poison. It had now begun to crawl down your arms and up the side of your face. Your features seemed sunken and your heart rate was dangerously slow. 

He reached for a needle of his own, sliding it into your skin before hooking you up to an IV. 

“What’s that?” Tim asked. His voice wavered. 

“Hopefully an antidote and some fluids to flush it out of her system. Babs managed to analyse the sample you sent over. The poison is lethal, but because she managed to pull it out before the whole thing entered her system, we think this should help.”

“And if it doesn't?” Jason’s voice asked from where he had been lingering in the doorway.

“Let's hope it does.”

~

It took much longer than they had hoped for you to wake up, but nevertheless you did. Slowly but surely you cracked open your eyes and blinked at them groggily. It seemed that Alfred and Babs had been spot on; the antidote worked, but it made everyone nervous to think that if you hadn’t pulled out the toxin when you had, the situation could have been very different. Damian cringed at the thought. 

They had all been there when you woke up. They had been taking it in turns to watch you because they couldn;t bear the thought of you waking up alone, but when Jason called out that you were stirring they all rushed to your side to sit with you. 

It was nice to wake up with the all beside you, despite the fact that you felt like death. Probably because you had been so close to it. 

Ivy was arrested and sent to Arkham without much of a second thought.Batman had caught her before she managed to release the rest of her poisons. She had made an attempt on your life. It was safe to say that she deserved jail time for that, though there was no saying how long she was actually going to stay there for. 

The air was much lighter in the manor now that you were awake. You were still on bed rest for a short while, much to your protests and grumbling. But, luckily for you you were surrounded by a whole handful of people that wanted to do things for you that you didn’t even need help with. Not that you minded too much… Either way, they were there for you completely throughout your recovery, glad that you were going to be just fine.

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BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff

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[oepionie]

— "HIS COMPLETE DEVOTION" malleus draconia

SYNOPSIS: "Don't touch me! I have a lover!" - After accidentally getting hit in the head with a powerful spell, Malleus is left delirious and confused. You try to help him but he doesn't seem to recognize you.

Character/s: Malleus Draconia x GN! Reader

Tags: Fluff, Established relationship, Malleus is a loyal dragon, Reader is part of the gargoyle appreciation club, Mentions of nausea, He keeps a locket of you aww

A/N: This prompt/idea was requested by a friend!

WordCount: 800+ | 💌Masterlist | PART II HERE

Green lightning began to strike and forsake the grey sky. Every student on campus could hear the wind howling through the thick dripping rain, a sinking feeling of dread permanating through the atmosphere.

The aged concrete walls shook from a shrill scream, the anguished cry echoing out through the hundred chambers in the castle.

"YOUNG MASTER!" Sebek drove his fingers into his scalp, screaming as thick tears dribbled down his flushed face. From his reaction, you'd think he was the one who got hurt instead.

Lilia tutted and carefully inspected Malleus' head. The young prince was laying on the ground writhing in pain. Lillia pressed his thumb against the dragon's temple, examining the Fae's reaction.

Sebek and Silver surrounded the two, ensuring that no one could get past them. Malleus was in a vulnerable state right now, he had to be protected at all costs.

"The spell was quite powerful however it's not serious. Other than some temporary mental confusion, he should be fine." Lilia muttered, helping Malleus stand up. The young prince stumbled around for a bit, almost as if he was intoxicated.

"Malleus!" You threw the doors to the dorm open, running over to the group. It's only when you got closer did you notice your lover's spinning eyes, glazed over as he blinks at the blank concrete floors. Worried out of your mind, you rushed over to him.

"Tsunotarou! I heard what happened…are you okay?" The fae appeared a little puzzled. You stood before him and he fixed his gaze on you, confused and...disgusted?

With a hint of hesitance, you reached your hands up to cup his cheeks. Only to gasp when Malleus glowered and grasped onto your wrists, ripping your hands off of his face.

Silence fell over the room as he dropped his grip on your arms, allowing them to hang limply by your sides. Everyone gawked at Malleus as if he had just grown two heads.

Malleus? Malleus rejected your affection? The Malleus who waits outside your dorm an hour before classes just to walk you to school? The Malleus who once caused a week-long storm just because he couldn't sit next to you in class? Your Malleus?

You felt your heart sink. They say drunk words were sober thoughts. Did Malleus secretly despise you?

"Listen here-" Malleus snarled, his unfocused eyes flashing a luminous emerald green. The radiance and illumination hypnotizes you for a while. A kaleidoscope of green and blue swirling around the gems that were his eyes.

"No matter how alluring you look-you can't tempt me. I-" Malleus lurched forward, nearly falling over. You ran to catch him but he pushed you away, stepping back blindly. He raised a finger at you. "I-I already have a lover!"

"Yes-That's…me?" You blinked, confused out of your mind.

Malleus only scoffs at you, shakily taking a few steps towards the entrance. It was clear that his head still shook and ached from the spell's blow. Sebek was quick to stop him, holding Malleus steady. "Young Master! Where are you going?!"

"To my-my treasure. My darling prefect." Malleus slurred, leaning against Sebek for support. He continued his rambling. "It's Thursday- We have a club meeting."

"Tsuno-I mean-Malleus, today is Tuesday." You piped up, pressing a hand against his back. With shaky legs, he pushed Sebek off and turned to glare at you.

"Silence. It is not."

Lilia laughs hysterically, doubling over and grabbing onto his knees. Oh, this was comedy gold for him. Shaking his head at his father, Silver strode up to Malleus and placed his hand on the young prince's shoulder.

"Malleus, you're still delirious. Why don't you sit down."

Both Silver and Sebek started to guide the woozy fae onto the couch. You followed suit, taking a pillow and placing it under his head. He turned to face you, his head spinning, a loopy snarl and glare on his face.

"I...I already told you- I have a lover." He groans into his hands, nausea washing over him like waves.

The fae begins frantically rummaging through his pocket. He yanks out a little locket in the form of a heart, holding it up for you to look at. He hands it to you with an arrogant smirk on his face.

"See?"

"O-Oh?"Gently taking it into your hands, you flipped the metal cover over to see a picture of you inside.

It was a photo from your very first anniversary. You were wearing a flower crown made with roses Malleus grew himself, it was one of the many gifts he gave you that day.

Though only your head and neck could be seen in the picture since his coat had almost completely engulfed you. It was a chilly day and Malleus graciously lent you his coat after you had forgotten to wear one.

You stared at the photo fondly, shutting it close before handing the necklace back to the fae.

"Your partner must be lovely." You whisper softly and Malleus sighs, lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling lovingly.

"Oh. They are much more than that."

PART II | Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

[juneberrie]

bad timing ꩜ ellie williams

⋆.˚ based on this prompt list by @/scealaiscoite

summary: ellie decides to bring up your relationship status at an incredibly inconvenient time; exes to lovers

ⓘ author's note: first ellie fic who cheered!! this may be ooc but oh well! (in my defense i havent finished watching the second game but i've read enough fic that i kinda get her vibe)

word count: 1.1k || masterlist

"duck!" ellie yelled. she fired off a few shots into the head of an infected behind you.

the two of you had been put on patrol together, sent out into the warm summer evening to check for any infected roaming around jackson, when you stumbled upon a large group of them.

you looked around, pistol in hand, shooting a few infected that came too close for comfort. you spotted an abandoned cabin in a clearing, covered in overgrown foliage. it didn't look too far from where you were, the only obstacle being the swarm of infected that were slowly getting closer. "there!" you yelled. her head whipped around to see where you where pointing, butting an infected in the head with her elbow before nodding.

ellie shot another infected before she grabbed your arm with her free hand and started sprinting towards the cabin. as you two ran, you shot blindly in front of you, hoping to hit as many as you can.

you ran ahead of her, throwing your shoulder against the door as you tried to get the rusty thing open. she stood in front of you, shooting as many as she could. “there probably isn’t a worse possible time in the world for me to bring this up," she yelled over the gunshots, "but i wanted to tell you how sorry i am for how things ended.”

you faltered for a second, eyes flickering towards her back before you continued throwing yourself against the door. "what?"

"i said—"

as soon as you managed to swing the door open, you grabbed ellie by her backpack, cutting her off, and pulled her in, slamming the door shut. the two of you quickly spotted a dusty old armchair, the red fabric stiff from years of abandonment. you helped her pull it in front of the door before quickly doubling back and grabbing a metal chair and placing it on top of the armchair, hoping it would prevent the infected from breaking in.

ellie doubled over, hands on her knees and chest heaving as she gulped down as much air as she could. you collapsed onto the floor, leaning your back against the dusty couch. you coughed, reaching into your backpack to grab your water. the door shook, the remaining infected screaming and banging on it in an attempt to get inside.

eventually, the noises quieted down, the infected seemingly losing interest in you two. ellie straightened up, slipping her gun back into its holster. "holy fucking shit," she panted. "that was intense." she rolled her shoulders back, groaning quietly.

you nodded, gulping down your water. you sighed, slipping it back into your bag. "definitely," you replied, head falling back against the couch. you closed your eyes before asking. "what'd you mean?"

"huh?" ellie collapsed onto a chair, leaning her elbows on her knees and letting her head fall forward.

"that- that thing you said. about being sorry."

she glanced up at you through her lashes. "oh. yeah, that." she coughed, sitting up straighter. "i meant that, y'know. i'm sorry for how things ended." she winced slightly, reaching up to scratch a cut on her cheek.

"um.. okay? thanks, i guess?" you laughed awkwardly, not really sure how to respond to that.

"i mean it. you didn't deserve that. i shouldn't have..."

you opened your eyes, turning to see her green eyes staring intently at yours. "i get it," you replied, looking past her at the forest outside the window. "you said you didn't think it was working, it wasn't, we're better as friends. easy." you shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, as if that night you hadn't sobbed your heart out.

ellie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "no, i mean it." she huffed slightly. "i.... i didn't really think we're better off as friends," she admitted. "i just.. i was scared. i'd never been in like, a real, actual relationship before."

"what about cat?" you asked. she shrugged, lightly scratching at her tattoo.

"that was... mostly out of convenience. we were the only two girls who were out at the time, and.... something with her just always felt off."

you raised your eyebrows, confused. "then... why would you..."

she cut you off, running a hand through her hair. "because. i didn't think.... i didn't think i was good for you."

"why?" you asked, twisting your body so you were facing her.

she shrugged. "did i ever tell you how i got this?" she said, pointing at the scar beneath her tattoo.

"chemical burn, you said."

she shook her head at your response. "actually..." she explained the entire story to you, avoiding eye contact entirely. she explained how she got bit, the trip across the country to find the fireflies with joel, and how he had taken her from the hospital after finding out that the procedure to make a cure would kill her. she took a deep breath before finishing with, "so yeah.. i'm immune."

you stared at her for a moment, her words swirling around your mind.

"that's why you broke up with me?" you asked, confusion lacing your tone.

"i thought... i thought you would hate me," she said quietly, eyes just as confused as you. she stared at you blankly, brows slightly furrowed.

"why would i hate you?"

"because there could've been a cure!" she huffed. "and there isn't. because of me."

"no... not because of you," you said slowly, getting up from the floor. "joel's the one who stopped them."

"but—" she attempted, sitting up straighter.

"it's not your fault, els." the nickname slipped easily off your tongue, catching both of you off guard.

her green eyes blinked up at you, confused, as you stopped in front of her. the two of you just looked at each other for a few moments, unspoken words flying between you.

"i miss us," she said quietly, looking down at the floor. "is that weird to say?"

you gently took hold of her shoulders, her gaze flicking back up to you. "maybe a little weird, but..." you smiled softly. "i miss you too."

her eyes lit up, a small smile tugging at her lips. she gently placed her hands on your waist, pulling you closer so that you were standing in between her legs. "i want to try again," she murmured, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin.

"yeah?" you asked, placing your hands on her cheeks. you leaned forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

"yeah," she replied. she hooked a finger into the belt loop of your jeans and pulled you into a kiss. it felt so right, after months of polite small talk and awkward avoidance of their past relationship. it felt so familiar, the way her lips moved against yours.

eventually, you pulled away, resting your forehead on hers. "i've missed this."

ellie chuckled, pressing another kiss to your lips. "me too." she paused for a moment, before adding, "sooooo... we're good?"

you laughed softly, glancing down at your girlfriend. "better than good."

the alt ending to this was supposed to be "sooo we're back?" "we are so back" lmao anyways!

[balletfilmss]

SO OBSESSED WITH YOUR EX!

✸ pairing: jason grace x fem!aphrodite!reader

✸ summary: it’s not your fault that your sister’s ex boyfriend is so stuck in your head that you can think of little else but him

✸ warnings: intense makeout but nothing more

✸ a/n: ik we’re all tired of the aphrodite reader, but it’s essential to the plot 🥲 anyways, justice for my man jason, he needs more fics

You shouldn’t have been thinking about your sister’s ex boyfriend so much, and especially not like this.

Piper and Jason broke up two months ago and had both well since moved on. No hard feelings involved, just a little resolution that they were better off as friends.

It wasn’t a big deal. Really, it wasn’t.

You shouldn’t have felt so bad about how much you thought about him. He was just so captivating, so beautiful. You remembered every detail Piper had ever told you about him as well as every one you had learned on your own.

The curve of his lips and the pale scar scored through them. The flex of his muscles when he trained. Those glasses that made him look unfairly attractive.

Gods, it made you so upset that you weren’t supposed to be thinking about him like this, obsessing over the fact that you couldn’t have him.

Maybe Piper wouldn’t care. Or maybe, she’d be inflamed by the fact that you’d gotten with her ex boyfriend, friendly breakup or not. There was probably some girl code about this, right?

There definitely was, and your sisters would probably have your head if they knew you were busy breaking it.

You tried your best to stay away from Jason, you really did. If you just kept your distance, you could harbor the obsession in your own mind, keep it to yourself.

But of course, the son of Jupiter just had to notice it. Notice your distance. Notice you.

It was his fault, really, what was happening. He was the one who had approached you at the campfire, his mind set on getting an answer as to why you were trying to avoid him.

He was the one who’d followed you back to the cabins when you took off. He was the one who provoked you first.

It wasn’t your fault that everything just came spilling out. All your feelings and secrets, pretty much everything short of your guts, spewed from your mouth when you just couldn’t take the questions anymore.

This was going to hurt, you knew it would. You were prepared. And maybe, you wanted to get a little hurt.

But what you weren’t prepared for was that maybe, Jason Grace was just as obsessed with you as you were with him.

“I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it!” You had confessed, standing in front of the door to Cabin Ten. “You drive me absolutely crazy, Jay. And I’m probably just embarrassing myself, but you wanted an answer and this is it.”

Jason looked at your face and then down at the wrist he’d caught to stop you from going inside your cabin and that he was still holding onto. His skin was hot. His head was spinning.

He was standing really close to you. You let out a deep breath, preparing for a rejection that would be embarrassing as hell.

“Who says you shouldn’t?” He breathed out the question, a tempting little smile on his lips.

You looked at his lips. He looked at yours. You went for it.

You grabbed his forearm of the hand still holding onto you and yanked him forward. In a rush of adrenaline, you pushed your lips against his.

He responded immediately, hands gripping onto the sides of your waist as his lips mashed against yours feverishly.

You skin was alive with delight, your head buzzing with excitement.

You stumbled backwards and grabbed onto the doorknob behind you, the boy following blindly after you. You twisted it with one hand, pulling him closer to you by his arm with the other.

Nobody was inside, they were all still at the campfire and should be for another good hour.

You made your way inside somehow, hardly pulling yourself away from his captivity. On the other side of the cracked door, you looked up at him, a moment of hesitation.

“This is a bad idea, right?” You asked as you caught your breath, which mixed together with his.

“You think so?” he asked, pressing a quick kiss to your wet lips. Moonlight filtered in through the cabin windows and covered him in a beautiful glow.

“I don’t know,” you answered. Looking at him, nothing seemed like a bad idea. You knew he’d slept on the opposite side of one of these beds as Piper, you knew he’d once maybe loved her.

You knew all of that. He did too. But still, you couldn’t help it.

“Well I do. I know.” He said. The hand he had on you slid up your arm and over your shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Damn son of Jupiter and his electricity.

He rested it against your cheek, warm and tingly against your skin. He stared at you like maybe he wanted to risk getting hurt too.

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for weeks.” He confessed, his voice husk. He trailed his other hand up your arm until it mirrored his other, now holding your face between his hands. You thought you just might die on the spot.

“Still think this is a bad idea?” He asked, face so close to yours that you could almost taste him again.

Even if it was a bad idea, it’d be fine.

“Not at all.”

He pulled you in this time. He held one hand on the side of your neck, the other on your face, and kissed you with ferocity.

You let him push you back until your back hit the door, closing it fully with a satisfying click.

You pushed your lips against his hard. No amount of close was close enough. You felt dizzy, lightheaded with bliss.

Your hands slid down his abdomen to the hem of his shirt and then, underneath. Your fingers pressed against his skin, sending shivers up his spine.

You could feel a smile tug at his lips as they moved methodically with yours, right beside where his scar was.

You’d always thought about what it might feel like, and now, you were rhapsodic that you had found out.

He forced his lips away from yours and began trailing sloppy little kisses from the corner of your mouth and across your jaw, lower and lower until his lips slotted against your neck.

You tilted your head back to assist, give him more room to roam. When it knocked against the wood behind it, he brought his hand up behind your head, carefully putting a barrier between you and the door.

He moved further down your collar bone, teeth and tongue and lips all heavenly against your skin.

One particular nip provoked a gasp from you, and your nails dug into the flesh of his abdomen, leaving little crescent shapes that would be there in the morning to remind him.

No sooner did you hear voices. Outside, there were footsteps crunching against the grass and the sound of voices as campers returned from the campfire. The one time they end early.

“Jase,” you sighed, your hands crawling out from underneath his shirt, much to your dismay. “People are coming.”

He pulled away from you, looking at you with disheveled hair, swollen lips, and beautiful as ever. He looked at you like you were the most precious thing on earth, smiling at the fact he had been allowed to lay hands on you.

“You kicking me out?” He asked teasingly, voice low and insanely attractive so that it was such a shame he couldn’t stay.

“I dunno, do you want to get caught?”

“Hmm, maybe next time.”

You suppressed a smile as you pushed him towards the window at the back of the cabin. “Next time?”

“Yep,” he quipped, pushing open the glass pane and letting in the summer air. It was almost like he’d done it before. “None negotiable. You’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

You breathed out a laugh as he ducked down towards the window. “Get out.”

The doorknob to the cabin twisted, and Jason pressed a chaste kiss to your head, whispered to you a goodnight, and then he was gone.

You could hear his feet hit the grass as the door swung open and in walked Piper and Drew.

“What was that?” Piper asked as you quickly slammed window shut.

“Nothing.”

[ilovehimyourhonour]

wouldn’t dream of it

📂 bf! jung wooyoung x reader . you weren’t clear and wooyoung thought you were breaking up with him . slight angst , a bit of fluff , comfort .

a/n writing random pieces as my inbox/drafts sits with request . (edit — can’t believe this got as much love as it did lol) .

navigation

Vision turning hazy, Wooyoung falters in his steps—his eyes prick with tears as he watches you turn away from him, something you’ve never done. But has there ever been an argument this severe? Have the two of you ever yelled at each other with this much anger and heat? The rare times you did argue the atmosphere was still comforting, the two of you would sit down and talk things over. Wooyoung would hesitantly reach for your hands, you would smile softly and intertwine your fingers with his—he’d then lean forward, his lips brushing your forehead as he mumbles a “Im sorry.” Everything from there would work itself out, but as Wooyoung swayed where he stood, the orange lantern hanging above his head casting a dim light over him and the surrounding area, he knew the two of you weren’t going to solve this in a matter of minutes.

“Are you even listening to me?” He blinks back another rush of tears, they build within his throat. “Of course you’re not,” you chuckle. “Stupid of me to assume you would be.”

Your eyes are red, your cheeks are stained with the tears that had managed to escape—the collar of Wooyoung’s your shirt sports a few patches where your tears had fallen and seeped into the material. Wooyoung watches your hands shake as you reach up to brush the wetness from your cheeks.

“Can you say something, Wooyoung?” You’re annoyed. He parts his lips, only a strangled grunt leaves his mouth, the tangled tears, worry, and heartbreak resting in his throat blocks the words he wishes he could say. You hum softly, turning away from him—nearing the front door of your apartment. “I think we need a break, Woo.”

Panic surges through Wooyoung, bringing each aspect of himself to a crumbling point. Never has he ever had the desire to hear those words leave your mouth, never once had he ever desired to say them himself—no matter the circumstance he always wanted to get through it with you. He stumbles forward, leaving the kitchen and its orange glow behind as he pushes himself to the entrance—desperate to catch you before you left him.

Your backs facing him as he reaches you, you’re mid swinging your jacket over your shoulder when his two arms wrap around your knees—leaving you to frown and crane your neck. Your boyfriend has his face pressed into the back of your thighs, muffled sobs soaking into the materiel of your sweatpants, his shoulders violently shake with his cry. “I. Love. You,” his words are broken between hiccups.

“I love you, Wooyoung.” Your still facing the door, his tight grip on your legs preventing you from turning to face his kneeling figure. “Let me go,” you softly mutter as you blindly reach behind you—fingers brushing through his hair gently. His arms circle your legs tighter, his head shaking as he lets a few more hiccups shake his figure. You sigh and reach for his arms, pulling yourself from his hold—his heart splits in half and another surge of tears trail down his cheeks, dripping from his jaw and chin.

“No,” he chokes out. “Please don’t leave me,” his voice is hoarse and shaky. “One more chance, one more chance. Please.”

You’re now facing him, frowning as you drop to your knees—mirroring his position. “I just need one more chance,” his words are now barely above a whisper. You practically coo at his sad and desperate expression, your bottom lip can’t help but quiver as you reach out and brush the bangs from his eyes.

“I will never leave you, Wooyoung.”

“You said we needed a break.”

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. “I didn’t mean we should break up, darling. I meant we need a break from this,” he shifts so he sits crossed legged on the floor, you follow immediately. You watch his fingers twitch in his lap, as they always did—so you reach forward, taking his hand in yours. “We need time to calm down and then talk things over.”

“I am calm,” you chuckle softly—Wooyoung’s fingers tighten around yours at the familiar sound. “I don’t want to be alone.”

The heartbroken look in his eyes keeps you at his side, the two of you sitting in the entrance for hours. Nothing but soft touches, gentle kisses, and I love you’s being exchanged between the two of you. But somewhere between confessing your love for each other and brushing the hairs from one another’s faces, apologizes are exchanged. Woo promises he’ll be a better boyfriend, to which you expressed how you already believed him to be the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

“Don’t ever break up with me,” Wooyoung mumbles into your shoulder as he holds you in his lap.

You chuckle softly as you bring your arms around his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

© ilovehimyourhonour

[myfictionaldreams]

You're Mine, Sweetheart // Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson loved many things but above all else, he loved teasing you, especially when it was so easy to do. All day he had been whispering into your ear and giving lingering touches and now, you were ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, dirty talk, pet names, teasing (LOTS), begging, sir kink, praise kink, panty kink/panty sniffing, discussion of past sex, restraints, polaroids, Eddie has an obsession with your smell and taste :), cum swallowing, blowjob, fingering, rough sex, pussy slapping, possessive behaviour, overstimulation, biting

Words: 6.6k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

It wasn’t a frequent event where you’d have to sleep by yourself, without your boyfriend wrapped around your body giving you warmth and comfort. Tonight unfortunately was one of those nights where you were tossing and turning, trying to find the same comfort that Eddie gave you, even positioning your pillows so that it may feel like him against your back but to no avail as you watched the hours slowly tick by on your alarm clock.

Eddie had a late-night gig at the hideout and your family had wanted to have a games night with even the extended family coming over so it wasn’t something you could sneak your way out of. By the time your family were in bed and Eddie was packing up his equipment, it would have been too late for him to come and pick you up and both decided like sensible adults to just meet the following day which also happened to be the weekly arcade meet up with all of your friends so that was something else to look forward to.

Now however, as the sun began to welcome the day,  you were dreading the idea of having to leave your bed and gain the energy to go to the arcade and hang with friends. Eddie, yes you wanted to see, but your social battery was already low and you’d hardly even started. As slumber was just about to consume your body, you were abruptly disturbed by your mom shouting up the stairs, “Darling, the phone!”.

With a pained grunt, you rolled out of bed, stumbling out of your room and down the stairs, not even bothering to open your eyes as you’d grown up in this house and could walk around it without looking. Knowing your mom had left the phone resting on top of the holder, you reached blindly for it and rested it against your face.

“Hello?”, your voice was croaky and thick with sleep, not that you cared though as you held the phone between your ear and shoulder so that you could rub the sleep out of your eyes.

A deep chuckle welcomed you on the other end of the line and immediately your entire body felt rejuvenated, a smile blooming across your lips. Your eyes opened but only to check your parents were anywhere close by as you began to nervously twist and play with the phone cable. “You sound just as tired as I feel, Sweetheart”, Eddie remarked but you could sense his happiness through his tone.

“Hey you”, your sleepy voice suddenly sounded light and flirtatious, “couldn’t sleep either?”.

Your boyfriend released an exacerbated sigh, followed by a soft known where you knew he’d rested his head back against the wall. “Nope, not a single second, missed you too much”.

His casual declaration for missing you, always so open about his feelings, made your heart thump harder in your chest like it was going to beat so hard your ribs would break. There was just something about knowing that he was as attached to you as you were to him.

“I missed you too. How was the gig?”, You bit your lip as he began to talk, it felt like you’d swallowed hundreds of little butterflies with the tumbling nerves floating in your stomach which always seemed to happen when talking to Eddie, he had you hooked beyond a reasonable doubt.

“It was fucking awesome! I nailed the solo, you know, the one I’ve been practising all week? Even got a well-done head nod from a couple of the locals which I thought was pretty neat”.

Your smile spread to a full grin hearing his passion as you praised him for doing so well, “That’s amazing Eddie! I wish I was there to see it, I’m sorry again that I wasn't, you know I would always come to support you if I could”.

“It’s no worries, Sweetheart, I only would have been distracted by you in the crowd like I always am. Especially when you start jumping up and down in those corroded coffin shirts”. The apples of your cheeks warmed as you glanced over your shoulder to double-check check your parents weren’t within earshot. When you and Eddie had begun to date, he gave you a corroded coffin shirt which was just a cheap white shirt with the name scribbled in a black sharpie so you redesigned it slightly and cut the sleeves and around the neckline so that the tops of your cleavage would be exposed.

When you didn’t respond to Eddie, he continued, the pitch of his voice lowering to the way that he usually used when he was whispering in your ear to get you in a certain mood. “Want to know a secret?”

“Yes”, you reply with an only just audibly heard response as your tongue suddenly feels heavy and thick in your mouth as you wait in anticipation for what he has to tell you.

“Do you remember those Polaroids we took a couple of weeks ago? The ones when we skipped school and hid in my van?”

Your cunt instantaneously pulse in sudden arousal at the reminder of those explicitly scandalous pictures from the time he’d convinced you to both skip school after spending most of the day whispering sweet nothings into your ear and getting you so riled up that you were practically begging him to tie you up in the back of his van and fuck you. So of course, he did just that: he had to take a pretty picture to remind him of the sight of you at his mercy.

“Princess?” Eddie asked when you once again didn’t reply.

“Sorry, yeah I remember those”.

“Good. Because it slipped my mind that I’d hidden a few of them in my guitar case so what a happy surprise for me when right before I went on stage, I found the Polaroid beneath my guitar. The one where your arms and legs are tied together with my cock buried into that pretty pussy of yours”.

You had to bite your lip to hold back the moan threatening to burst from you as you also had to lean against the wall due to your knees trembling as slickness gathered between your legs.

Eddie continued, “I had to go on stage with a fucking hard-on - luckily the guitar covered it but, as I looked out and couldn’t see you, all I could think about last night were your perfect tits, bouncing up and down- god I miss them!” he groaned deeply. “Want to know how bad it got? At the end of the gig I had to run to the bathroom and jerk off before I creamed in my pants like a fucking teenager”.

You were absentmindedly rubbing your thighs together to try and ease the ache and need that had settled through your core, your nipples pebbling beneath your shirt and rubbing against the material.

“And then”, Eddie continued, “oh… well I can always tell you what I did when I got back home when I see you later, how does that sound Princess?”

“Good”, you say breathlessly.

“Good, what?” Eddie encouraged.

“Good sir”, your entire body heated now with embarrassment, quickly remembering where you were so you glanced over your shoulders to check that your parents hadn’t suddenly appeared but thankfully they were still in the kitchen and couldn’t hear.

“That’s my girl”, his voice once again spiked arousal straight between your legs and you were sure that if in person you’d be begging for him to touch you, pleasure you until you couldn’t remember your name. “What time should I pick you up?” Eddie asked, casually snapping you out of your erotic thoughts and changing the subject completely.

Shaking your head to try and clear your mind, you contemplated for a moment, “Um, I could be ready in 30 minutes so whenever you’d like, no rush or anything, I don’t think we’re meeting anyone until midday anyway”.

“I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes”, were his last words before he hung up, no doubt in a rush to come and pick you up which then meant you also had to rush but you were almost giddy with excitement.

Washing was a simple task but staring at your wardrobe felt like an endless journey. Do you wear jeans or a skirt? Do you go casual or dressy? Pink or blue? You were able to give up and lie on the bed when a blue, knee-length dress caught your eye. It was simple, floaty thin material that wasn’t too over the top but pleasant enough to meet out with friends. Especially as it matched your Converse and jacket, you were happy and had enough time to apply a light sprinkling of make-up but not too much as Eddie always preferred you more naturally than all dolled up.

Looking at yourself once last time, you moved downstairs to wait for your boyfriend, having 2 minutes to quickly pick up a slice of toast before the tale tell rattle and bang from his van were heard through the open window. Quickly pecking both of your parents’ cheeks, you ran to the door, not stopping with your swift pace until you were colliding with a solid chest.

“Woah, hey Sweetheart”, Eddie laughed, cradling the back of your head and shoulders as you nuzzled into his plain black shirt, breathing in his scents of the recently smoked cigarette, leather jacket and cheap deodorant but under all of that was the lemon from his shampoo.

“Hey!” You couldn’t help but beam up at him, looking like a love-sick puppy but happy to see that he was giving you the same look as he dipped his lips to steal a kiss from your lips. You checked him over unsubtly, from his ripped baggy black jeans to the loosely done ponytail that already had a few curls escaping.

Your boyfriend was doing the same check as you as his chocolate eyes roamed over your outfit, focusing slightly for a second as he licked his lips and then snapping out of whatever he’d just remembered. Leaning over, you thought he was going to kiss you again but instead, he took a hefty bite out of your slice of toast before asking “Ready?”

Nodding your head, Eddie happily helped you into the van to be his passenger princess before climbing in himself. The two of you drove around for a while as you both caught up with each other's time without the other, no mention of Polaroids or whatever it was that Eddie did after returning home. 

Even though it has been less than 24 hours since you saw him last, the conversation seemed to flow endlessly as you sat happily next to him, admiring his dimpled grin and exaggerated expressions with his hands as he told you about Gareth locking himself out of his car. 

You laughed and casually leaned your head against his shoulder as he began to drive in the direction of the arcade. Eddie's hand gently landed on your covered thigh, stroking his thumb in comforting circles over the thin material. “Do you remember the last time you wore this dress?” He asks casually before kissing your temple whilst keeping his eyes on the road.

Your face set in concentration as you looked down at the dress, like it could spark a memory for you but it didn’t so you shook your head no, expecting him to say something cute like you wore it for your first date or something; he always had a good memory on these sorts of things.

As you were staring at the road, you weren’t able to see the corner of his lips quip up as he excited himself to tell you. His ringed fingers squeezed slightly against your thigh as he said two simple words: movie night.

A heavy breath rushed from you as it all came flooding back. The last time you’d decided to wear this outfit, Eddie had been so riled up by the pretty clothing, that he’d complimented you almost constantly as you both attended Steve’s for a group movie night. However neither you nor Eddie saw the end of the film as the two of you were locked in the bathroom with Eddie's fingers pumping into your hole.

“Remember now?” He asked noting the way your thighs clenched and eyes unfocused slightly.

“Yes I remember”, you mumbled in response, refusing the meet his eye contact for fear that you’d fall right into those beautiful orbs and lose your mind. 

“Good, I want you to think about that today as we’re out and about because I know for damn sure that’s exactly what I’m going to be thinking about”.

“Ok”, you paused for a breath and added, “sir” for good measure, absentmindedly reaching for the hand on your lap to play with his chunky silver rings, twisting them around and around. A little habit you’d developed when you were feeling somewhat submissive and needy, finding the touch of his jewellery comforting as it meant he was close. Eddie smirked down as he also noticed this, loving how easy it was for him to get you all worked up and needy for him, In fact, it was something he craved, especially when you clung to him like a koala, he needed you just as much as you needed him so welcomed the grabbing and touches. 

The two of you arrived and somehow managed to be late, even though you’d both been driving around for a while. Everyone was already inside the arcade, hardly even noticing your entrance until Eddie shouted, “The fun has arrived!”. Not only did this bring the attention of all of your friends but also the attention of everyone else so you promptly rushed to your favourite machine.

Eddie of course, followed directly behind you, wanting to stay close even though he was itching to play a different machine. Inserting the money, you began to play, full concentration on the tiny screen in front of you but this was swiftly distracted by the warm solid body standing directly behind you. His comforting smell wrapped around you like a warm hug as he rested his chin on your shoulder, hair stroking against your cheek and hands on your waist beneath your jacket. It was nice to just be in each other's company, friends around, casually chatting as they gamed next to you but once they’d left and you were once again just with each other, you became hyper-aware of his presence and casual kisses against your ticklish neck.

“Don’t get distracted now, Sweetheart”, Eddie teased whilst tightening his hold on your waist, pulling himself even more flush against your back. “Just concentrate on the game, not on me”.

Your silence was enough to know that you were doing exactly the opposite of his request and were tongue-tied and unable to think of a witty response. Especially as he gently blew onto your ear, sending a rush down your spine. “Keep your eyes on the screen, otherwise how will you win?”, Eddie’s voice was low and his chest vibrated against your back. Your eyes snapped back to the screen, not even realising that you’d tried to glance over your shoulder up at him. Eddie had returned to his earlier mindset, intent to thoroughly dampen your underwear and muddle your coherent thoughts with arousal and need, especially as he casually remarked, “I know it’s highly inappropriate but I would really love to take you back to my van and lift this dress right now and see what fun I could have”.

Thankfully Eddie's arms remained locked around your body as your knees wobbled and a weak moan burst from your throat but luck was on your side as the game machines were louder so no one could hear.

Eddie heard though as he laughed in your ear, “The thing is, I know you’d let me because you’re my special Princess, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir”, you say without a care in the world or the fact that you’re in a public space.

“That’s my girl, keep up the good work”, his plump lips smashed into your cheek in a dramatic display of affection and then he was gone, moving away to play his own game, leaving you clutching onto the edges of the machine, trying to not look like you were about to melt into the floor.

Making a split-second decision, you purposefully died on the game and trailed after your boyfriend, finding him shouting at a game that was accepting his change. Eddie didn’t say anything as you slid your arms around his middle and ducked under his arm, he simply kissed your forehead and calmed down enough to play the game around your body.

Another hour came and went and you’d finally deemed it safe enough to venture on your own without feeling too needy to be around Eddie. However, it didn’t last long as he returned over your shoulder.

“Want to know the naughty things that I did when I got home last night?”, he asked referring to the conversation you’d had earlier in the morning.

Your fingers hesitated over the brightly coloured controls so Eddie swiftly braced his arms around you to continue playing on your behalf, holding your fingers onto the controls so you were now both playing. You wanted to know Eddie’s erotic tale of his adventures last night that were sure to drive you crazy but you were unsure of the public setting, knowing that you were already horny for him and any further taunting would drive you crazy. Eddie of course, was going to tell you regardless of whether it was a public space or not and was desperate to see just how crazed he could drive you so he didn’t wait for your response before continuing in short, swift statements.

“I got home, found a pair of your panties that still are hidden in my room… and touched myself whilst sniffing them like a fucking perv.”

You tried to turn and look at him to see if he was being serious or not but his arms tightened, keeping you facing forward.

There was too much to process but also not that much at all. He’s actually pleasured himself whilst sniffing your underwear. Eddie was always very vocal and complimentary of how much he loved your smell and taste and that it drove him crazy but you always assumed that it was all just words in the heat of the moment but clearly it wasn’t as he’d been able to pleasure himself with just your smell alone.

Neither of you said anything about this event, mostly because you were trying to convince your body to calm down and Eddie was silently planning his next way to tease you. Even as the hours passed, and you both mingled with friends, played games and snacked, Eddie would continue to whisper things under his breath to you.

Then there were his hands, brushing over your hands, tickling the skin on your neck, a stark comparison to the heavy touches against your hips, holding and squeezing as he’d casually walk past. Eddie Munson was unequivocally on a mission and you were failing very quickly.

It also seemed that Eddie was falling into his own trap, especially as he briefly glanced up at you from across the room and saw that you were biting your lip whilst looking at him, eyes exploring his body and something inside of him snapped. One minute you were surrounded by the bright colours of the arcade, the musky smell of aged carpet and the varying ages of people. The next moment, you’re greeted with fresh air and only Eddie surrounding you as he drags into the alleyway behind the arcade.

Your body was pushed against the uncomfortable brick wall as Eddie rested his arms on either side of your head, body pressed against your front and face dipped into your neck.

“Tease me some more and I’ll show you my reaction.”

“I…I wasn’t teasing, I mean- I wasn’t doing it on purpose”, you tried to explain with panic evident in your voice, already showing Eddie you were slipping further into your submissive mindset of always trying to make him happy.

“Uh huh”, Eddie continued to taunt, “I can see right through your pretty little lies. If you want to tease me like this, then you wouldn’t mind if I teased you right back, is that what you wanted? To trase me so much that I snap and fuck you in this disgusting alleyway?”

You couldn’t talk, eyes wide and worried and yet also wanting him to do exactly that. Eddie has you exactly where he wants you and almost feels bad for a moment knowing that he had been the one to do all the teasing but that didn’t stop him, especially as he had you so pent up. Lifting his ringed hand, he begins by stroking down your jaw with the tips of his fingers, all the whilst his jean-covered thigh lifts and slots itself between yours until it was flush against your clothed cunt.

You simultaneously whimper and shudder, pressing your hips down on your leg to add more stimulation to where you want to be touched the most.

Eddie’s eyes were dark as he studied you, “Look at you, already a whimpering little mess to my touches. Tell me, Sweetheart, what do you want me to do to you?”

Your brain screamed “everything!” and it seemed your mouth did the same as the next moment Eddie snickered. However, he did the opposite of what you wanted as he pulled his body away from yours and took a step back, not wanting to fuck you in the alleyway. His van was one thing but a dirty street? He’d never treat his princess like that.

Seeing and hearing your disappointment at his warmth moving away, he quickly cupped your cheeks, stroking his thumbs against the apple of your cheeks and pulling you into the most delicate kiss that he could muster. Your whimpers turned into mewls as your body raised onto the tips of your toes to try and be closer and deepen the kiss.

“Want you, Eddie, please can we go?” you asked between kisses.

Eddie contemplated denying you for a moment, knowing that the two of you should probably hang with your friends for a little longer but looking at the need in your pretty eyes and feeling your hands gripping his wrists like you never wanted to let go, he knew it was probably best to head back.

“Alright Sweetheart, don’t worry I’ll look after my needy girl, let’s get you to the van and I’ll tell the others we’re leaving”. He heard you audibly sigh in relief as he grasped your hands, interlocking your fingers together before heading in the direction of the car park however, you only took a few steps before stopping. “What’s wrong?” 

You were rubbing your legs together like you needed to pee but it wasn’t this that was the issue. “It’s uncomfortable to walk with wet panties, they’re rubbing on my skin”.

Eddie’s eyes immediately zoned in on the area that you were talking about like he had x-ray vision and could see through your dress. Licking his lips, he suggested, “Well, why don’t you take them off?”

Without even checking if there was anyone at the end of the alleyway, you reached beneath your dress and pulled down your matching shade of blue to the dress underwear, that blissful sigh of relief returning. Eddie to his credit was shocked that you would do something like this within view of anybody walking past and his cock throbbed painfully within his baggy jeans as he saw the sheen of arousal on the material.

Your boyfriend acted on instinct as he quickly grabbed your underwear and rubbed his thumb against the patch of juices, his eyes remaining on you though as he then sucked on his thumb. It was almost pornographic the moan he released, eyes rolling back in his head dramatically. Before you could even squeak or react, Eddie shoved the panties into his leather jacket pocket and grabbed your hand again, moving with more speed towards his van.

Much like this morning, he opened the passenger door for you to climb into, his hands on your waist again to give you a boost up before he shut the door and ran, actually running, into the arcade to say bye to everyone.

Whilst waiting for him, you tried to regain composure, deciding it was much too hot for your jacket and shrugging it off. Eddie returned in record time, slightly out of breath from how fast he’d run in and out of the building as he gave you a cheeky grin, his dimples deepening as he turned on the engine.

“What did you tell them?”, you asked.

“Just that you weren’t feeling very well and I needed to get you home to rest. I think they bought the lie but I also don’t care right now, I just want to be with you”.

You smiled fondly at him, cuddling in close to his side and resting your head on his shoulder as he rested his hand on your thigh in a stronghold which you appreciated, needing it to help ground you to the moment as you played with his rings.

Eddie drove like a madman, even though his body showed that he was at ease, it was clear that he just wanted to be back at his trailer already as he probably broke a couple of laws with how he was driving. The two of you both smiled upon seeing his home and after he parked up, he ran around to your side of the van and helped you down the large step. Thankfully his Uncle Wayne would be at work until the early hours of the morning so you both didn’t need to worry about being interrupted.

Once inside, Eddie let go of his hold on your hips so that he could shrug off his jacket, throwing it onto the couch. “Do you want a beer?” he asked over his shoulder, kicking off his shoes as he walked, something you also did but left them neatly next to the door rather than in a messy pile like Eddies.

“No thank you”, you politely responded, rubbing your arms with the loss of his warmth as your eyes followed his every move. Once more Eddie’s moves were calculated, knowing that you’d quickly follow after him, needing to feel him close, having felt like you’d waited too long to finally be properly alone with him.

Before he could even open the beer, you slid in front of him and pulled his face down to yours, kissing him desperately and breathlessly. The beer clattered onto the kitchen countertop as Eddie laughed against your mouth at how frantic you’d become. He pulled away, glancing down to see that you were trying to rub your body up against his.

“Aw, my princess, are you feeling needy?” he spoke in a patronizing tone which only made you lean in further to prove your point.

“Yes”, you gasp, trying once more to pull his face down to yours but he takes over, taking your wrists in one hand and pushing your body back until you are pressed up against the refrigerator with your hands now held above your head.

“What do you want? Tell me.”.

“I want you, please Sir”.

Eddie clicked his tongue, “Be specific, what do you want from me?”

“Everything I want…everything please, I need you, Eddie”.

The Hellfire leader felt like his chest was going to explode with how hard his heart was beating seeing you like this, he’d expected you to be needy but this desperate? He was ready to walk on flaming coals if you’d asked but he continued his taunting for now, wanting to see if he could get you to say something dirty.

“Aw… Have I turned you into a wet puddle?”

You moan at his words, bucking your hips to show him where you want to be touched. You pulled on your wrists as well, wanting to get out of his hold to play with his hair, kiss his neck, rip his clothes off, just something!

“I think the lack of sleep and horniness has ruined your pretty little submissive head, what do you think?”

You again moan but this time in frustration, face scrunching up as you weren’t getting what you wanted. The hand that wasn’t holding your wrists hovered over your body, moving up the dress until he was grasping your jaw, forcing you to look up into his beautiful puppy eyes that were now hardened and full of dominance. You could feel his chunky rings biting into your skin as his breath kissed the skin of your cheek as he contemplated just what he wanted to do with you first. “I love how responsive you are to me”, Eddie praised, “I mean, look how needy you are after just a few words and touches through the day. You really are mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes, only yours Eddie- Sorry, I meant Sir”, you quickly corrected yourself.

Eddie’s gaze softened slightly as he could see your thoughts racing with the need to please him in every way. “It’s ok, you can say my name, I always like it when you say my name”. Gently he kissed the tip of your nose, giving you a moment of care before asking, “I’ll giv eyou the option. Do you want me to touch you or do you want to touch me?”

“I want to touch you”, you say without a second's hesitation.

Eddies grip released as he held his hands away from you, “Then I’m all yours”.

He expected you to jump into his arms, kissing him or pulling on his hair like you always did when you needed him to be closer but this wasn’t what you did. Instead, you dropped to your knees and clawed at his jeans. Surprising even yourself, you managed to undo his zipper, reach into his checkered boxers and find his cock, hard and waiting for you as you pulled it out of the unzipped hole. Not even bothering to undo his belt as you just wanted to have him in your mouth.

“Shit Princess, Jesus Christ!”, Eddie shouted as your lips wrapped around the tip of his throbbing cock where it was wet with precum and red with how long he’d been hard for. You didn’t want to tease him, you just wanted him to find the ultimate pleasure so you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him deeper.

Your boyfriend tipped his head back, biting his knuckle to hold back the shouts that were sure to be loud enough to disturb the neighbours. Inch after inch of his cock slipped down your tongue and to the back of your throat until you were gagging but you kept him there, not pulling out until you were gasping for air.

“Wait, just wait a second”, Eddie gasped after a couple of minutes. Quickly, he undid his belt and button, moving the material of his jeans and boxers down his hips until his cock and balls were waiting proudly for your mouth.

“Thank you”, you say politely to him, wrapping a hand around the base and moving it out of the way so that you could suck on his balls, pulling each one into your mouth before returning to taking his length. Eddie rested a hand against the back of your head eventually helping your movement by pushing you further down, until you were gagging and burning for air, but the throb of his cock was only adding to the pleasure of it all.

“Let me see those eyes”, he softly demanded, and you hadn’t even realised your eyes had closed whilst in the thought of nothing but his cock. Opening them quickly, you made eye contact and were praised with a loving stroke of the back of his hand against your cheek. “Always so good for me, I fucking love you”, Eddie grunted, his hips snapping and balls tightening at the same time and you knew he was on the verge of cumming. His velvet shaft became harder against your tongue as you sucked him more vigorously “Swallow”, was all he demanded and you did just that as he swore, his pink lips dropping open as he came down your throat. His salty goodness was thick as you swallowed every single drop.

“Fuck Sweetheart, you did so well for me”, Eddie praised a moment later after his cock stopped throbbing and began to soften. Pulling out, strings of saliva connected the tip of his cock to your mouth as he chuckled, wiping it away, “Oh you’re drooling everywhere… Come here.”

Eddie helped you to stand but seeing how unsteady and weak your knees were, he lifted you onto the kitchen countertop, spreading your legs and lifting your dress to expose your drenched cunt to him. In a harsh grip, he grabbed a handful of your hair, holding you steady as he spread your juices around with his middle finger, circling your hole before pushing in.

“Look at you and to think, I’ve only just started using my fingers and you’re already shaking”, he taunted as he pushed his finger in and out slowly, watching your body respond with gasps and twitches. As he added a second finger, he praised, “I love the way you look with my fingers inside of you”.

Your hips bucked at his words as you tried to match his movements, especially as he began to curl his fingers to stroke against your pleasurable spot. However, then you said something that he wasn’t expecting, “Please don’t be gentle with me”.

Eddie didn’t need telling twice as he pulled out and gave your pussy a sharp slap, directly over your neglected clit. He rubbed away with a sting before doing it again and again, watching as you cried out and tried to lean into the touch and only did he stop when your pussy was drenched, puffy and your clit was overstimulated. “Did you like that Princess? Do you like it when I’m rough with you?”

“Yes, thank you sir!”, you shouted, whilst also leaning into the hand still holding your hair.

“So desperate today, aren’t you Sweetheart. Come on let's get this off of you”, as he spoke, he released his hold but only to grip the dress and lift it up and over your head. Next, he helped you down from sitting on the side but only so that he could turn you around and bend you over it instead as he also undid your bra and discarded that to the floor. The dress you’d worn was mde of a stretchy, flimsy material so he was easily able to use it to tie it around your wrists, getting the restrained behind your back.

“Let’s go”, he instructs, holding onto the material and using it to move you around, manhandling you to walk from the kitchen and into his bedroom, helping you to be face first on his mattress, careful to not hurt your neck as your arms were still restrained and arse perked into the air for him.

Eddie began to remove his clothes as you wiggled your hips invitingly and your boyfriend admired the perfect view in front of him before kneeling between your legs, hands massaging the flesh of your hips.

“Say you’re mine”, he demanded in a low, rough voice.

“I’m yours”.

“Tell me again”, he asked as he looked from your face to your cunt.

“I’m yours, Eddie”.

Hearing his name again, he couldn’t wait any longer as he carefully pushed the tip of his now hard cock into your hole. You were already so sensitive, even though you hadn’t cum yet, with all of the arousal pulsing through you, it felt like you’d already orgasmed a handful of times and with Eddie’s recent orgasm, he was just as sensitive. He moved slowly, even though you wanted it rough, he didn’t want to actually hurt you, knowing exactly what your limis were so he made sure to give you time to stretch and get used to his size.

However, once your moans were echoing around the room and you were trying to push yourself back on his cock, he released the restraint that he was holding onto. With his hands holding onto your hips, Eddie began to fuck you relentlessly, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix, his bals smacking into your clit and hips pushing your face into the bed.

Eventually your knees lose any strength that was holding your body up and you collapsed forward onto the bed. Eddie didn’t stop though, especially when he could hear how good you were feeling so he moved one of your legs up, giving him more room and he body crowded over your back as he bites your shoulder.

“Wanna cum Eddie, your words were muffled against the bed but he could already feel how close you were from how tight your pussy was clenching.

“You can cum for me, you’re doing so well”, he praised, licking over the spot he’d just bitten.

However, you groaned in frustration rather than pleasure as you moaned, “But I wanna cum with you Eddie, please cum in my pussy”.

“Oh Princess, all you had to do was ask”.

Eddie fucked you harder, his mouth sloppily kissing your cheek as you tried to hold back your orgasm for as long as possible but it was getting too much, everything was too overwhelming and eventually you couldn’t keep it back anymore.

You came hard and with a high-pitched scream, your pussy clenching so tightly around Eddie that he too found his release, orgasming together, both sensitive and bodies rocking together through the pulses of pleasure.

He stayed inside of you for a moment, trying to catch his breath and it was only when he could feel your restrained fingers wiggling against his abdomen did he push his weight up on his arms to kiss delicately across your bare shoulder. “That tickles”, he mumbled, causing you to giggle tiredly.

Carefully, he knelt back, undoing your bound wrists and massaging the areas to get them to relax at your side. “I'm going to pull out, ok?”

You nod but still hiss at the discomfort of your walls being stimulated whilst being so sensitive and then there was the gush of his cum and your juices that began to pour out and down your clit. “My favourite sight”, he admires, stroking your arse cheek as you smiled over your shoulder before closing your eyes and taking a moment to relax.

Eddie clambers off of the bed, turning on his stereo to the latest heavy metal album and then returningto caefully wipe way between your legs before manhandling your to lie across his chest. There the two of you just lay, enjoying the post-sex high.

Eventually, Eddie sparked up a cigarette, careful to try and blow the smoke away from you but the smell of it had become a comfort for you as you nuzzled further into his naked chest, feeling sleep nearly taking over.

A delicate kiss to the tip of your nose however had you coming back to the moment and opening your eyes, “Hey, don’t go to sleep for me just yet, I’m not quite done with you. We’re just having a little break but I still need to taste you Sweetheart”.

Your body warmed and you were now wide awake with the adrenaline pulsing through you. Eddie took another long suck of smoke, blowing it into the air and you never realised just how much the sight would turn you on. It was going to be a very long, sleepless night.

[yammpi3]

𝑰 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖. // 𝑾𝑪: 2.2𝑲

— feat. disassembly drone N x worker drone reader

synopsis. Since disassembly drones need oil to keep from overheating they kill other drones to consume it. But.. ever since the alliance between Disassembly and Worker Drones its been a bit difficult to acquire..It’s not a problem for V to randomly kill someone off but it’s a different situation for N now that his views have changed. AKA…reader supplies him with oil :DD

— content warning. Nothing 18+ just a few kisses, neck biting and N being in pain.. gulp?

— authors note. I fear this x reader is a bit..cringe then again that might just be me overthinking it..ANYWAYS tried my best for this, and still have no idea how to write for a robot. (N might be a little mischaracterized I’m not ENTIRELY sure)

At the end of science class, just when everyone was packing up to leave, you noticed N fidgeting more than normal at his desk.

 

"Is everything okay, N?" you asked.

 

He laughed nervously. "Who, me? Pshaw, never better!" But when he spoke, he looked anywhere but at you and the others.

Thad snickered. "Maybe his circuits are loose again." Lizzy giggled. "Lmao, he probably fried something.” Just as V was about to comment on his behavior..

N got up from his chair abruptly; he swayed unsteadily before catching himself upon another classroom desk.

 

By the time you registered what was going on, N had already ducked out of the classroom door, stumbling down the hall. "N, wait!" you called after him, hurrying to catch up. N was unsteady on his feet, swerving from side to side as he tried to put distance between the both of you.

 

His limbs shook with every step he took.

"G-Gotta...g-get a-away..." he muttered, though you weren't sure if he was even aware you could hear him. His eyes flickered erratically, barely being able to focus straight ahead as he tried to get away.

 

You picked up your pace, power walking down the corridor after him. "Slow down!!" you yelled out, but N was quicker, and before you knew it, when you reached the next corner, you lost him completely.

Your concern for N grew by the minute, so you started tracking him down since something was clearly wrong, beyond a normal glitch.

 

An hour had already passed since you last saw N, yet here he was in the maintenance unit stumbling blindly, crashing into something every few steps.

 

"S-sorry!" he slurred after bumping into a support beam for the third time. An unnatural static fuzzed the edges of his voice. Stubbornly, he scrambled back on his feet and lurched forward without seeing where he went.

 

Was he malfunctioning? But his murder drone programming should have kept him sharp, no?? Seeing him this disoriented was alarming.

 

You trailed him at a distance, hiding behind a variety of things as he walked on ahead. Where was he heading in such a panic? His vents were roaring torrents by now, and visible condensation soaked his frame.

 

Finally, he collapsed behind a supply crate, crawling the last few feet. Had he sensed you following? No, his optics were unfocused, so he couldn't have had.

 

Gingerly, you peeked around the crate to see N weakly clawing at his chest clearly in pain.

 

If you didn't act fast, he would shut down permanently. Steeling your nerves, you crawled to his side.

 

"N? Hey..hey! It's me, Y/N. Are you okay??”

 

When you gently called his name, N got startled so badly that his claws scraped sparks from the metal flooring he sat upon. His optics flashed wildly before settling on your face with a look of panic. "Y-Y-Y/N! S-sorry, but I don’t think you should be near me right now…”

 

N let out an alarmed wheeze that trailed off into a pained whine. It took visible effort for his optics to focus on you. You could tell he was losing some sort of control over his strength, but why??

"You don’t look so good..”

 

N broke into a hacking series of rushed laughter that ended in a groan. "Me? Pssh, n-no way! I'm t-totally fine, like I said earlier. Now please just leave me, yeah?” He waved dismissively, or at least tried to, but his attempt ended up flailing limply.

 

He knew he wasn't doing a great job at reassuring you when you glared at him.

"N-nothing to worry that pretty l-little processor of yours over, really.”

 

N's dismissive act was crumbling faster than his resolve. Another hacking laugh turned into a groan as his eyes started to flicker erratically once again.

 

"N, please. You're clearly not alright." You took his flailing claw gently in your hands. His plating was so hot it almost burned to the touch.

 

A whine slipped, “Crap..crap. It h-hurts,

Y/N. M-My core, it h-hurts so F̵̬̏́̏͆̀͝ų̸͙͋̿̃̌͋́̈́̆͑̕͠c̶̜̜̼̥͓̚k̷̫̺̝̈́̀̿̇͐̐͑ḭ̸̧̻̞̻͚̳̘̩̣͋̀̃́̔̊̋̚ň̵̞̪̯̼̟̗̩͈̖́g̸̩̤̩̼̘̪̀́͊͗̋͐́̇ much."

 

You've never seen N this vulnerable before…

"What can I do to help? There must be something." N trembled, fighting some inner battle. Finally, he met your gaze, his optics showing an agony of want behind the discomfort.

 

"T-there is s-something, b-but I shouldn't..." Strangely, another sound intermingled with the strain in his voice now.

Was that...hunger?

 

Stroking his plating gently, hoping to soothe, you pressed, "Please, tell me what you need." His vents hitched wildly. Then, in a strained whisper, he cracked.

"Y-your oil...I ne-need…it."

 

A shiver visibly ran through his frame. His optics darkened as they focused intently on your physic, more so your neck and wrist.

 

"I..." he began weakly, then stopped to swallow. His claws clenched tightly as if fighting the urge. You waited patiently for him to continue, showing concern but no sense of alarm.

 

After a long pause, N dragged his gaze with an effort to meet your face once more.

“T-tell me to stop," he whispered, his fangs peeking out as he talked.

 

"I so badly n-need it, but I don't w-want to hurt you.” His claws lifted toward your face but stopped only by his wavering will. You knew this would be the only way for him to cool down.

 

You looked deeply into N's eyes, past the haze of glitches that overtook his screen.

"I trust you," you said calmly without fear. His breathing became more ragged at your words.

 

In a flash, his restraint broke—but instead of lunging at your throat as you'd expected, his claws tangled in the fabric of your shirt, yanking you flush against his overheated frame. You gasped at the contact, feeling the waves of heat pouring off of him.

 

N buried his face in the crook of your neck, fangs tantalizingly. "P-please..." he stammered once more, sounding close to genuine tears. Raising a hand, you gently clasped the back of his head, threading your fingers through his silver hair.

 

"Take what you need," you told him firmly yet tenderly..After yet another hesitant pause, his screen displayed an X. Then, with a grunt of gratification, his fangs smoothly penetrated the sensitive wiring of your neck.

 

Your breath became unsteady as N's fangs pierced you. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would—just a little bit of a pinch. His hands gripped your shoulders for support as he drank deeply, allowing the oily fluid to course through his system.

 

For several moments the only sounds were his gulping intakes and your own measured breaths; you kept still so as not to disturb him. You watched as the pained lines on his face slowly eased, his eyes returning to normal. His plating, which was boiling hot only moments ago, cooled down to a much safer temperature against you.

 

N withdrew his fangs from your neck, making a small trickle of oil leak from your wound.

 

He leaned back in hastily, swiping his tongue along the twin marks. You shuddered at the foreign yet not unpleasant sensation. But N paused, a flushed look appearing on his screen. “Ah g-geez, is this w-weird?”

 

He glanced away, clearly embarrassed  "What I mean to say is, um, my saliva can help the wounds close up faster? If, uh, you're okay with my germy mouth touching the injury I c-caused? No funny business, I swear! J-just bros being bros, p-patching each other…um up.”

 

N winced, realizing how that sounded. "N-not that we're actually b-bros, unless you want to be? Biscuits. Just—just let me do this, kay?”

With your consenting nod, N gave a short awkward chuckle and leaned back in. His tongue swiping over the wound. It began to tingle as the mark he had left slowly began to close up.

 

"It's strange to think your spit has healing properties," you remarked softly, not wanting to break the intimacy of the moment. N hummed in agreement, laving one last swipe across the bite mark before drawing back to assess his handiwork. His optics flicked up to meet yours, searching for any sign of discomfort.

 

"How does it feel? Are you in any pain?" he asked, his tone laced with concern despite his own drained state. You shifted experimentally. "Stop worrying. Just a slight tingling.“

 

N searched your face anxiously. "Are you sure? Nothing else? No dizziness or discomfort?" His optics roved your features, taking in every subtle reaction. When you reassured him again that all was well, the tension melted from his shoulders—only to be replaced with guilt.

 

"Y/N, I could have seriously hurt you," he said quietly, horror creeping into his tone. "My systems went haywire; I had no control. If I had bitten down any harder..." He shuddered, unable to complete the thought.

 

"But you didn't," you said firmly. "You fought off the urge just enough to get the help you needed. I trusted you, N." He shook his head sadly. "Your trust may be misplaced in me. The overheating....what if next time I can't—can’t stop.”

 

N shuddered again at the dark thought. Seeking to ease his distress, you shot him a playful smile. "Well, if it happens again, we're in this together. At least now I have a cool vampire drone friend!! The whole sucking my oil thing was pretty vampirish.”

 

He cracked a hesitant chuckle. "Yeah, maybe I'll sparkle in the sun too." Feeling bold, you leaned in with a faux-dramatic voice, "I vant to suck your coolant..."

 

N actually snickered at that. You beamed, glad to lift his spirit, even if it was only for a brief moment. His smile faded as reality set back in.

 

"But seriously, what if next time I really hurt someone?” On impulse, you threw your arms around him in a hug.

 

N's eyes widened as you suddenly hugged him close. For a moment he sat stiffly, caught off guard. Then slowly, oh so carefully, his arms came up to return the embrace.

 

"Y/N...if anything happened to you because of me, I don't know what I'd do," he said quietly against your shoulder. You squeezed him tighter for reassurance. "Hey, it'll take a lot more than some murder instinct to take me out. Have a little more faith in me, will you? Stop being so edgy.”

 

“Edgy?" N scoffed, "Sorry, nearly ripping your throat out put me in a gloomy mood."

 

"Ripping my throat out?” You echoed with a wry grin. "Well, luckily that didn’t happen, did it?”

 

N huffed, “Maybe. But what if next time I lose it?"

 

You opened your mouth to respond, but he quickly shushed you.

 

“You just leaped right in like it was nothing. Do you have any idea how badly this could've ended?" He gestured vaguely to the drying wound on your neck.

 

"You drones are so..so fragile. One wrong move and I could've—" He cut off, unable to say the word. His arms flexed unconsciously, as if longing to wrap around something and squeeze. To protect, or destroy? Even he wasn't sure.

"You'd never hurt me, N. I believe in-"

 

Your words halted as he glanced up, his eyes searching yours with raw, wavering emotion. An urge welled within you, sprung from compassion more than reason. You leaned in to press your lips to his in a soft kiss.

 

"Mmmph?!" N made a muffled sound of surprise, his body locking up stiffly. Your tongue briefly caught the tang of the lingering oil before you pulled back with a slight grimace.

 

His faceplate shone a distressed yellow blush. "I-I'm so sorry, I should have wiped my mouth better!“ he stammered.

 

But you simply smiled and leaned in again, pressing your lips gently to his once more. Then, slowly, he began to relax into the kiss.

 

His screen switched to a loading screen. In that moment, all his train of thought derailed off a cliff. N's screen flickered back online, and one of his hands floated up to gently touch his mouth, eyes wide and staring blankly.

 

"Bwuh-wha...you...kissem—I mean, I kissem-no, we...kissed?" he sputtered

 

"We k-kissed. You k-kissed me," he whispered, his optics shrinking to pinpoints before dilating wide again. A nervous giggling burst out of him.

 

"Oh biscuits, what d-does this mean? Are we like..” his tone lowered to a soft whisper.

“Dating n-now?”

 

"Well, uh, I guess you could say we're kind of sort of datingish now," you replied bashfully. "If-if you want to be my boyfriend, that is."

 

N's entire face lit up. "Boyfriend..Awhh Y/N!! Id love that." He hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around in excitement.

 

"N set you down gently, his optics still shining with unbridled joy. However, a hint of seriousness crept into his expression as he looked at you intently.

 

"This doesn't mean I'm not mad at you for what you did," he said, his voice low and eyes narrowed slightly. "You could have been seriously hurt, or worse. You really scared me back there."

 

You sighed and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Next time, I'll call V or someone else—I won't try to handle things on my own and potentially get myself killed." You paused, then added with a wry smile, "I promise."

N's stern look softened, and he hummed contentedly. "Good!" Reaching out, he took your hand in his larger one and gave it a gentle squeeze.

© yammpi3 2024. All work belongs to @yammpi3. You can repost if you want to support my blog/writing! Please don't modify, translate, or plagiarize in any way on ANY platform.

[natsarrownecklacx]

Your Love For Her

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 816

Summary: You've loved her for years, but you never could find the right way to tell her until now.

Warnings: Smut, 18+ fic, thigh riding, fingering. fluffy smut (if that's even a thing) Lmk if i missed anything.

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

You stumble forward, blindly trusting your hazy senses to lead the woman in your arms to be pressed between your body and the hallway wall. Your hands, as if with a mind of their own, trailing over every conceivable inch of her body. 

She doesn’t talk at first, too enamored with the feeling of your hands on her, the taste of your lips on hers and the look in your eyes every time you manage to pull yourself away long enough to take her in. 

You move your hand up her bare thigh, teasing her by trailing it just a little higher than the middle of her thigh. She says your name, coming out in a breathy whisper, a plea. “Y/n.”  You snap your eyes to hers, her green orbs desperate and drowning in arousal.

“You’re so pretty.” You whisper, inching forward to capture her lips again, slow and intentional. You need her to know she means something to you, that you feel for her more than words can say. You need her to feel it.

You swipe your tongue over her bottom lip and she grants you access immediately, eagerly deepening the kiss. Your tongue slides into her mouth, causing the brunette to moan, her knees buckling beneath her while hot arousal pools in your abdomen. 

God she makes the prettiest sounds. 

Your hand trails higher, rubbing soothing circles on the inside of her upper thigh, just a breath away from where she wants it. Your lips tug up at the corners as she slides her arms over your shoulders, a needy whine falling from her lips .

She pulls you in to straddle her thigh, wanting to feel even closer to you, needing to feel just how affected you are by her. She gasps, her lips hovering over yours, her voice soft as she mummers. “You're so wet.” 

You can only nod in response before leaning in to press your lips against hers again. Your hand moves, putting pressure between her legs and she gasps, never imagining such a simple touch could make her hold body light up. She’s so wet, arousal dripping into your hand before you've even really touched her.

Wanda moves her hips against you, grinding back and forth on the palm of your hand, keeping her mouth on yours as she whimpers at the feeling. Her arms lock behind your neck, keeping you in place against her as you slide two fingers inside of her. Her head slams back against the wall, a moan falling from her lips. You bring your mouth to her neck, leaving hot, open mouth kisses as you start to move against her thigh. Both of you moaning at the idea of getting off on each other, together, causing the heat in your stomachs to burn brighter. 

Wanda tenses the muscle between your legs, drawing a whine from your lips, it just feels so good. She tilts her head back to you, her eyes half hooded with pleasure as she takes in your disheveled form. “Wanda.” You say, your voice pleading for her to understand, but it's your eyes that tell her everything she needs to know, your love for her showing through them as clear as day. 

“Oh, baby.” She whispers in realization, leaning in to place a loving kiss on your lips. She understands now. You love her. You need her. She's your safe place, your home. 

The thought alone sets a wave of arousal shooting through her. The pleasure she’s feeling is too much, the drag of your fingers inside of her pushing her closer and closer to the edge. The feeling of you against her, inside her, the sounds you make, it's almost unbearable how good it all feels. 

“I’m going to cum.” She moans, the sound dragging you right up next to her at the edge. “Oh god, me too.” You moan, resting your forehead on hers as you both grind against each other, reaching your highs at the same time, both of you shaking and moaning, holding onto each other as if your survival and sanity depended upon it.

It takes you both a minute to come down from the high, breathing heavy and your body’s still entangled, the shared heat lulling you both into a sense of calm. She shifts her leg beneath you, pulling it away from your dripping core and making you whine, your arms coming up to wrap around her. You need her to say. “Wanda-”

“Shh, baby. I just want us to move somewhere more comfortable.” She says gently and you nod your head, a sigh of relief leaving you. 

“I’m not going anywhere, y/n.” She says more confidently not, reassuringly, moving herself to ensure you're looking her in the eye. “Not unless I have you with me.”

You smile and lean into her, filled with nothing but joy that you finally have each other.

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

A/n: I know this is a bit rough I'm a bit rusty after not being able to write for so long, I hope you guys enjoy it anyways :)

[platinumshawnn]

A Union of Ice and Stone | Cregan Stark — prologue

A/N: hi, sorry this is late but I’m finally here with my boy cregan <33 i have zero control, i should be focused on finishing my benjicot fic but nah -- anyways!! i will probably establish a masterlist for this once i have more done, so bear with me.

Synopsis: As the war between Targaryen kin looms, the young Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark, marches in favour of rightful heir, Queen Rhaenyra, gathering men for his army. His path leads him to the foot of House Arryn’s door and the Lady Lysara Arryn.

Content Warning(s): adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism and gender based harassment/discrimination, sexual content.

inspiration playlist

word count: 3.4k

Lysara's heart pounded in her chest, each step a struggle against the slick, rain-soaked earth. Her cloak, heavy with water, clung to her frame as she sprinted through the open field, heading south of her house, blinded by the unforgiving dusk that did nothing for her vision as she blindly navigated the grass by memory; she knew these fields like the back of her hand, every tree and bush, every dip in the ground that threatened to trip her as she bolted.

The high grass whipped at her skin, her dress drenched and weighing down her movements as she struggled for air, her lungs screaming for adequate oxygen that she was not successful in sucking in with each deep gasp she inhaled; suddenly she regret all those years of not joining her brothers as they trained in the yards, building their stamina, as her limbs burned with exhaustion but she could not afford to slow down as she was still within sight of the Arryn men who patrolled the boundaries of their land should they have come this way at any given moment — her head twisted to look behind her as she readjusted her tight hold on the skirts of her dress as the the fabric dipped momentarily, her eyes wide and terrified as she stumbled a step in the process when her toes caught the hem — if she had been caught now, surely that would be it. Her head would be on a spike somewhere on the gates of the Eyrie, on display for all those who cast their eyes upon it, both a warning and a promise — a show of strength from her cousin who did not need to try to succeed. Her reputation never failed to precede her. The thought of being caught now, when she was so close made her nauseous and sick at the thought of being dragged back — her arms flailed out in front of her in an effort to steady herself as her right foot shot out as she threatened to fall forwards, the pain radiating up her ankle and into her knee as her weight slammed into it, eliciting a gasp. 

Despite the radiating pain that caused her now to limp, she continued to run. 

The storm's fury mirrored the turmoil inside her, each thunderclap a reminder of the risk and imminent danger her current position placed her in. She had prayed that the rain would hold off, the clouds rolling in as she had retreated to her rooms for the night after dinner, but as some cruel reminder of how little control she possessed, it had downpoured the moment she had snuck out of the gates; scarcely sneaking past the guards that were planted at the front -- it had only taken her weeks of being practically held captive inside to bribe her way out, wanting to crawl out of her skin as she made promises she was not proud of -- but anything was better than staring at the plain walls of her room for several weeks again. 

She had tried for weeks to get out, but Jeyne seemed to keep on her heels as best she could, and if it was not her; it was one of her men -- one of her personal guards who hovered close every waking hour, always watching her from some corner of the room, ensuring she did not step out of line or try anything that she had not already been warned about time and time again. She was already treading thin ice, but there was nothing worse than being held captive in your own home; considered something of a traitor by your own people and no longer possessing the trust of your kin. She heard the whispers and saw the looks, she wasn’t stupid by any means -- but worst of all, she knew her father would have been disappointed had he been able to see her now. 

A loud burst of thunder sounded from above her as she tumbled forwards, her stocking becoming soaked by the grass that brushed her legs with each step as she neared the river that separated her from the only place she had ever known peace these past three years; a little patch amidst the dense forestry, concealed from prying eyes and shielded by the trees from the rain. She was so close…

Lysara's breath hitched as she reached the edge of the river, the torrent of water mirroring her frantic heart. The cold seeped through her soaked garments, chilling her to the bone, but she hardly noticed. All she could think of was Gareth, waiting for her on the other side, hidden amongst the thick underbrush where they had spent countless stolen moments together. The thought of his warm embrace, his whispered promises of love, gave her the strength to press on.

With a determined push, Lysara waded into the river, the icy water biting at her ankles. Each step was a battle as the current tugged at her, threatening to sweep her away, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself forward. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she refused to yield. She couldn’t afford to. 

Finally, she reached the other side, stumbling onto the bank with a cry of relief and clawing her way up onto the riverbank with desperate hands, the soil embedding itself under her nails. She didn’t pause to catch her breath, instead, she plunged into the forest, her steps faltering as the pain in her ankle flared anew. The branches snagged at her cloak, leaves brushing against her face as she pushed deeper into the woods. She could hear the river behind her, the rushing water almost drowning out the sound of her own heartbeat. Almost.

“Gareth!” she called out, her voice barely a whisper above the storm. Panic gripped her when there was no immediate answer. What if something had happened to him? What if Jeyne had found out and set a trap?

But then, from the shadows, he emerged. Tall and broad-shouldered, Gareth stepped into view, his dark eyes filled with concern as he rushed to her side and dragged her into the trees, whilst his eyes quickly swept the bushes behind her. 

“Lysara, what happened? You’re hurt,” he said, his hands immediately going to her arm, steadying her as she swayed on her feet.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though the pain in her ankle told a different story, “I don’t have much time.”

She heard the unbelieving scoff as he knelt by her side, pulling the hem of her dress up enough to snake his hand underneath the fabric and gently brush his fingers along her ankle -- the soft gesture elicited a sharp hiss, flinching in pain as she leaned into him with a hand planted on his shoulder, “You need to be seen by the maester,” He scolded as he looked up at her. 

Her eyes widened, “Come, I can carry you back,” Gareth insisted, standing and beginning to wrap an arm around her waist to support her against him, “We can tell her I found you between the borders, I was on patrol and you were there…” 

Lysara shook her head, “No, you can’t.” 

“She’d understand, surely” 

“She’s not stupid, Gareth,” She snapped, her voice panicked as she attempted to tear from his hold, “Why do you think it took me so long to come back? She’ll kill me this time-- if not worse, she would have you killed on the spot.” 

“If that is what it must come to, then I am willing to face it with a stiff lip-- but I will not allow you to stumble back like this, not in this weather.” He muttered, attempting to crouch to sweep her off her feet; an arm coming behind her knees. 

“Lysara Arryn!” The shout echoed through the trees, carrying over the wind and pinning the couple where they stood; frozen in fear. The colour drained from her face as she quickly shoved his hands away, pushing him in the direction of the bushes that concealed them; an effort to hide his presence, “Come out! You are found, girl!” Ser Harrold called. 

“Go!” She harshly whispered, eyes wide in fear as Gareth stumbled to his feet, “You cannot be found, hide!” 

Her hands planted against his chest, shoving him so hard he nearly fell into the bush head first, still reaching for her -- she could hear as the heavy hooves of his horse trampled through the trees; the leaves crunching under the stead’s weight, “We know you are here, as does Lady Jeyne! There is no use hiding!” 

His eyes continued to peer out at her as he ducked into the shrubbery; using her body to shield him then as her back pressed against the bush, whipping around as Ser Harrold and his men burst through the trees and into the clearing. He stood in front of the men who rushed forward to surround her, her breath heavy and panting, eyes wide and flushed cheeks as her fingers touched the leaves of the bush that concealed the man only a mere inches away from her, “Where is the boy?” He asked, approaching her. 

“What boy?” She quickly replied, feigning an innocent confusion. 

“Do not play me for a fool,” Harrold warned. 

A silence passed through them as she snapped her mouth shut, her bones tense with anxiety and clenching her jaw to keep from shaking as she spoke, “I know nought of what you speak.” 

“The Royce boy!” He finally snapped, “Where has he gone?” 

She lifted her chin, her fists balling at her sides, “Nowhere, I have not seen…” “Enough with the lies!” He interrupted her, dismounting his horse that whinnied. He released its reins to close the small gap that separated them, his gloved hand closing around her upper arm and jerking her towards him, “It has never been your strong suit, Lysara, so let’s cut the messing about.” 

She writhed against him, trying to free herself as he then tugged her upright and on her feet, earning a yelp as a jolt of pain tore through her shoulder, “I have not seen him, he did not show! I am alone, please!” She insisted.

His grip tightened, sure enough to leave bruises as he let out a frustrated sigh; dragging her through the dirt and towards his horse, “You probably hid him and gave him a head start, he is probably too far gone and back over the boundaries of his own land by now, you ungrateful little girl.” He grumbled, forcing her against the horse, her hands flying out to stop herself from going face first against its side, “Your cousin has tirelessly defended you time and time again and you continue to defy her but no more. You know, you are lucky it has been her who has handled you, should it have been my choice--” 

His hands closed around her waist, hoisting her up and forcing her over the saddle of the white horse that stumbled underneath her sudden weight; the rein pressing into her ribs uncomfortably, hardly allowing her a chance to swing a leg over and mounting in behind her -- she wanted to be sick and gag as he pulled her flush against him; his chest pressed to her shoulders as he tightly gripped the the reins in his hands, “You can’t threaten me, how dare you!” She exclaimed. 

His breath fanned d against the back of her neck, every hair standing in alert as she cringed away from the feeling only to be drawn back by a hand that gripped her nape and brought her back into him, “You are hardly a respectable woman, much less a daughter of Arryn— your father would be disappointed to see you’ve taken after your brother’s stupidity.” He said, releasing her neck with a shove forward. 

With a sharp jerk on the reins, the horse launched forward and turned, rushing back out towards where she had come from only moments prior — with a last glance behind her, her eyes settled on the bush where she knew Gareth remained; growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared from view. Only then did she relax, the feeling of dread finally sinking in as she leaned into the horse, her arms wrapping around its neck and closing her eyes. 

The journey back to the Eyrie was a blur. The rain continued to pour, soaking through her already drenched clothes, but Lysara felt numb to the cold. Her thoughts were consumed by the dread of what awaited her. Jeyne Arryn was not a woman known for her mercy. Lysara had defied her one too many times, and she knew that this time, the punishment would be severe.

As they reached the gates of the Eyrie, Lysara felt the weight of her situation settle on her shoulders like a leaden cloak. The men dragged her through the courtyard, up the stairs, and into the main hall where Jeyne awaited her. The Lady of the Eyrie sat on her high-backed chair, her expression unreadable as she watched Lysara being brought before her.

For a moment, there was only silence, broken only by the sound of the rain against the windows. Then, Jeyne spoke, her voice quiet and calm but her eyes bordered rage as she stared at her, “Have you no shame?” She asked, standing from her seat, “No honour? I spare your life, despite pleas to disinherit and banish you and this is how you repay me? Have I not been merciful in your favour?” 

“I am grateful, Jeyne,” She insisted, stepping forward as she tugged herself free from Herrold’s grip, “I am. I do not know what your men have told you, but I promise you, I have done nothing to imply otherwise…you and our house are where my loyalties have always been.” 

Her expression remained blank, but there, at the corner of her mouth, was a twitch of a frown, “Do you think so lowly of me as to be that stupid?” 

She stilled, her mouth hanging open and unable to respond, like a terrified animal as she stared back at her cousin, wide-eyed and stammering, “N-no, of course not!” 

“Then do not treat me as such,” She snapped, beginning to approach her, “Do you think I do not hear the whispers of where you disappear to? That you have disappeared off into the woods with that Royce boy, for hours on end, alone?” 

She stopped a mere inches away from her, a frown etched deep into her sharp features as paused to scan her cousin’s features and trying to gauge the guilty expression that tugged at her brow; silent and unable to protest, “You sully yourself for a boy who cannot provide for you-- for some second-born bastard who only seeks to use you as cover from his reputation like some sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. You are not a stupid girl, Lysara.” 

“I am not,” She echoed, her voice small among the room. 

“Then do not behave as though you are,” She argued. “I cannot protect you much longer-- the council grows restless every day and continues to press for me to wash our hands of you, every day, do you understand that?” 

Lysara lifted her chin, meeting her cousin’s gaze with as much defiance as she could muster, though inside, she was trembling. She knew there would be no forgiveness this time, “Then why haven’t you?” 

“Because you are my kin!” She finally exclaimed, exasperated as she spun away from her for a moment to regain composure -- Jeyne pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes squeezing shut and taking a few deep breaths before she turned to look at her again, “We have been close since our youth, I have even considered you to be a sister all these years, and even as I honour that, you continue to stomp your pretty little foot all over that. As though that has no value, as though that means nothing to you.” 

“It has not stopped you before-- from slaughtering your own kin in order to protect your name, so do with me as you will. Imprison me, kill me-- whatever you see fit, just as you did my brother then,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her. “But know this: nothing you do will make me regret loving him.”

Jeyne’s eyes flashed with anger, but she said nothing for a long moment. Then, with a flick of her hand, she dismissed her men, leaving the two women alone in the hall.

“Maybe you are a fool, Lysara,” Jeyne said quietly, the weight of her words heavy with disappointment. “But you are still my blood. I will not have you put to death, though you have earned it.”

Lysara’s breath caught in her throat, relief washing over her in a dizzying wave. But Jeyne wasn’t finished.

“You will be confined to your chambers until I decide what to do with you,” Jeyne continued. “And as for that Royce boy…he will be found and dealt with accordingly.”

“No!” Lysara gasped, stepping forward, but Jeyne’s glare stopped her in her tracks.

“This is not up for debate, Lysara,” Jeyne said, her tone final. “You have made your choice. Now, you will live with the consequences. Now go clean yourself, you smell of the fields like some smallfolk.” She spat, her eyes scanning up and down to take in her full appearance -- disheveled, wet, and muddy up to her knees. She refused to move yet, watching as her cousin turned to retreat back towards her seat. 

As Lysara stood in the center of the hall, drenched and defeated, the heavy wooden doors at the far end of the room creaked open. A cold draft swept through, sending a shiver down her spine causing Jeyne to pause and glance toward the entrance, her brows knitting together in surprise.

A young knight hurried into the room, his armor clanking with each step. He looked flustered, his eyes wide as he approached the Lady of the Eyrie. “My lady,” he began, his voice betraying his nerves, “I must report—Lord Cregan Stark has arrived at the Eyrie. He… he’s demanding an audience with you.”

Lysara’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Cregan Stark, sharing her cousin’s visible confusion. What was he doing here? Her mind raced, a mix of fear and hope fluttering in her chest. Perhaps this was a twist of fate, an unexpected ally in her dire situation. But as she looked at Jeyne, she saw no relief in her cousin’s eyes. Instead, there was only tension.

Jeyne’s lips pressed into a thin line, her hand smoothing along the side of her skirts. “Cregan Stark,” she repeated slowly, as if weighing the significance of the name. “He is a long way from Winterfell. What brings him to the Eyrie unannounced?”

The knight shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “He didn’t say, my lady. Only that it is a matter of great importance and that he must speak with you immediately.”

Jeyne’s eyes flickered toward Lysara , and for a brief moment, their gazes met. She felt a cold dread settle in her stomach. Jeyne was no fool; she would have already started to piece together the implications of Cregan Stark’s sudden arrival.

“Very well,” Jeyne said at last, her voice clipped. “Escort Lord Stark to the Great Hall. I will meet him shortly.”

The knight bowed and hurried out of the room, leaving Lysara and Jeyne alone once more. The silence that followed was thick with tension and unease.

She could see the storm brewing in her cousin’s eyes, a mix of calculation and concern as her jaw tensed, clenching and unclenching. Jeyne turned to her, her expression unreadable, but there was an edge to her voice as she spoke. “It seems our conversation will have to wait but rest assured, this matter with Gareth Royce is far from over.”

Before Lysara could respond, her mouth opening to speak, Jeyne swept out of the room; her long skirts swishing as she moved. She was left standing there, her mind spinning with questions and a growing sense of unease. Cregan Stark’s arrival was unexpected.

As she was escorted back to her chambers by two guards, Lysara couldn’t shake the feeling that this unexpected visit would either be her salvation or her undoing. And with Jeyne Arryn at the helm, she feared it would be the latter.

[libingan]

— wolf’s den. (4)

summary: after finding yourself lost in the forest, you accidentally stumble across a wolf’s den. unfortunately for you, his intentions are dark and possessive—he's chosen you to be his mate, dragging you into a nightmarish world where escape seems impossible.

cw: kidnapping, dark content, noncon, power imbalance, possessiveness, violence, wolf hybrid! ghost x bunny hybrid! reader

a/n: ONE MORE CHAPTER DOWN! honestly i had a fuck ton of shit to do today, but i got home like… 3 hours earlier than i expected to come home, so i immediately started writing this bc im making the most of my free time bc i start college next week lolz

part three | part five

simon's fury was palpable, a dark storm brewing within him as he prowled through the forest, his senses attuned to every sound, every movement. his rage was a living thing, fueling his determination to find you, to drag you back to his den where you belonged. you had dared to escape, to defy him, and he would make you pay for it.

the forest was his domain, every tree and path known to him like the back of his hand. he moved with predatory grace, his wolf instincts guiding him as he followed your scent. you might think you had a chance, but simon knew better. he knew you were scared, lost in the unfamiliar terrain, every step taking you deeper into danger.

you ran blindly through the forest, your heart pounding in your chest, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig sent waves of fear through you. you couldn’t afford to stop, couldn’t bring yourself to rest. you knew simon was out there, hunting you with relentless determination. the thought of his fury, of what he would do when he found you, drove you forward.

the hours stretched on, the forest a maze of shadows and sounds. you stumbled over roots and rocks, your legs aching, your body trembling with exhaustion and fear. you were lost, every turn feeling like a wrong one, the trees closing in around you. you couldn’t shake the feeling that simon was right behind you, his presence a dark specter haunting your every step.

then, it happened. your foot snagged on something, and a sharp, excruciating pain shot through your leg. you screamed, the sound tearing through the silence of the forest as you fell to the ground. you looked down to see a trap clamped around your ankle, the metal teeth biting into your flesh, blood pooling around the wound. the pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that left you gasping for breath.

simon heard your scream, his ears perking up, his eyes narrowing with predatory focus. he followed the sound, the scent of your blood leading him straight to you. his fury was a burning rage, his need to punish you consuming every thought. he moved swiftly, his instincts guiding him, until he found you.

you were struggling, tears streaming down your face, your hands desperately trying to free yourself from the trap. the sight of you, bloodied and vulnerable, only fueled simon’s anger. he stormed over to you, his eyes blazing with fury as he grabbed you, pulling you roughly to your feet.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “you think you can just run away from me?”

you whimpered, your body trembling with pain and fear. “please, simon, I—”

he slapped you, the force of the blow sending you to the ground. “shut up,” he spat, his hand gripping your hair, yanking your head back so you had to look at him. “why would you run away? why would you do this to me?”

your mind was a whirlwind of terror and pain. “please, simon, I didn’t mean to—”

he pushed you down, his weight pinning you to the ground, his breath hot against your ear. “you think you can escape me? you think you can defy me?” he hissed, his anger a palpable force. “you’re mine, and you’re never getting away.”

the pain and fear were overwhelming, your body shaking with sobs. “please, simon, I’m—”

“what?” he demanded, his grip tightening. “what excuse do you have?”

“i’m pregnant!” you screamed, the words tearing from your throat in a desperate plea.

simon froze, his grip loosening as he stared at you, his eyes wide with shock. the anger in his expression faded, replaced by a mixture of disbelief and something else, something softer. he released you, his hands trembling as he pulled away, his mind racing to process what you had just said.

“you’re... pregnant?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

you nodded, tears streaming down your face. “yes, simon. i’m pregnant. please, don’t hurt me.”

the change in simon was immediate. the fury drained from his eyes, replaced by a look of concern and protectiveness. he gently helped you to your feet, his movements careful and tender. “i didn’t know,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “i didn’t know.”

he carefully inspected your wound, his hands gentle as he worked to free you from the trap. “we need to get you back home,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “i’ll take care of you. i promise.”

you nodded, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of fear and pain. you didn’t know what the future held, but for now, you were safe. simon was different now, his anger replaced by a fierce protectiveness. he would take care of you and your unborn child, and you would never have to face his fury again.

simon carried you back to his den, his grip secure but surprisingly gentle. the journey was silent, the only sounds the occasional rustle of leaves and your quiet sobs. once inside, he carefully laid you on the bed, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of further distress.

he disappeared for a moment, returning with a damp washcloth and a first aid kit. he knelt beside you, his touch soft as he began to clean the wound on your ankle. you winced, but his hands were steady, methodical. “this will hurt a bit,” he warned, his voice low.

you bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears as he disinfected the wound and wrapped it in clean bandages. “thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

simon’s eyes met yours, a strange mix of emotions flickering across his face. “you don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly. “you’re mine. it’s my job to take care of you.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the power he held over you. you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

simon finished bandaging your ankle and stood up, his eyes darkening with a familiar hunger. he reached out, pulling you towards him. “now,” he murmured, his voice taking on a predatory edge. “let’s take care of something else.”

you shook your head, panic rising in your chest. “please, simon, I’m not—”

he cut you off, his grip tightening. “no arguments,” he growled. “you’re going to do as I say.”

you tried to pull away, but he was too strong. he pushed you down onto the bed, his hands moving to unbutton your shirt. “simon, please, don’t—”

he ignored your pleas, his eyes filled with a dark determination. “you’re mine,” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “and you’re going to show me just how much.”

he forced your head down, positioning you between his legs. “suck,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

you hesitated, tears streaming down your face, but the pressure of his hand on your head made it clear you had no choice. you opened your mouth, taking all the inches in, the taste bitter and overwhelming.

“that’s it,” simon murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “just like that, pet.”

you choked, trying to pull back, but his grip was unrelenting. he forced you to take his cock deeper, your throat constricting as you struggled to breathe.

“don’t you dare stop,” he growled, his voice a low rumble. “you’re going to take all of me.”

the tears blurred your vision, your mind a haze of fear and humiliation. you fought to keep up, to do as he demanded, but it was overwhelming. your body ached, your throat raw, but simon didn’t relent with his thrust.

finally, he pulled you up, his eyes dark with desire. “good girl,” he murmured, his voice a twisted blend of praise and possession. “now, get on the bed.”

you obeyed, your body trembling as you laid down. simon positioned himself above you, his eyes locking onto yours. “you’re mine,” he whispered, his voice filled with a dangerous intensity. “and I’m going to show you just how much.”

he entered you with a rough thrust, the pain and pleasure mingling in a twisted symphony. you cried out, your hands gripping the sheets as he took you, his movements demanding and unyielding.

his growl of satisfaction was the last thing you heard before you succumbed to the overwhelming sensations, your body and mind surrendering completely to the wolf who had claimed you.

simon’s dominance was unprecedented as he pounded into you, his every thrust brutal and relentless. the raw power of him was evident in every movement, his wolf instincts taking over completely. your body was pinned beneath him, every part of you vulnerable to his demanding touch.

“who do you fucking belong to?” he snarled, his voice a fierce growl. his grip on your hips was bruising, his movements rough as he drove into you with savage intensity.

you could barely manage to gasp out a response, the force of his thrusts making it hard to think. “y-you, simon,” you managed to choke out, your voice breaking with the effort. “i belong to you.”

simon’s eyes blazed with satisfaction at your submission. “that’s right,” he growled, his thrusts never faltering. “you’re mine, and you fucking know it.”

the intensity of his movements was overwhelming, each thrust pushing you further into a state of surrender. your hands gripped the sheets, your body trembling beneath him as he took what he wanted. every whimper, every cry of pleasure was met with a growl of approval from simon, his focus solely on claiming you completely.

he paused briefly, pulling you up by the hair, forcing you to look at him as he panted heavily. “tell me,” he demanded, his voice a rough whisper. “who owns you?”

“you,” you gasped, your voice barely audible as he held you in place, his eyes locked onto yours with a fierce, possessive hunger.

simon’s response was a low, satisfied growl as he resumed his relentless pace, his movements unrelenting. the rough pleasure was all-consuming, the pain and pleasure blending into a single, overwhelming sensation. you were completely at his mercy, every part of you claimed by his dominance.

he continued to ravish you with an insatiable hunger, his need driving him to take you in every way he wanted. the raw, primal intensity of his actions left you breathless and trembling, your mind lost in a haze of surrender and pleasure.

finally, with a final, forceful thrust, simon reached his peak, his body shuddering with the intensity of his release. you followed close behind, the overwhelming sensations pushing you to the edge as you cried out in response to his dominance.

afterwards, simon’s hold on you softened, though his eyes remained fiercely possessive. he pulled you close, his breath hot against your skin as he held you tightly. “you’re mine,” he murmured, his voice a low, possessive growl. “and don’t you ever forget it.”

as you lay there, spent and trembling, you realized the full extent of his control over you. there was no escaping his dominance, no breaking free from his claim. you were his, completely and irrevocably.

[mockerycrow]

Hi 👋

I was wondering if we could have some fluff? But please only write when you're not busy.

Reader is sick, and how would each member take care of them, nursing them, telling the reader that they gonna take good care of them and then finish it off with some cuddles.

SICK MOMENTS; Ghost Edition (GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist

authors note; yet another “moments” series. idk who i’m doing next, but stay tuned :-) — this is an incredibly old WIP. i will be doing “sick moments” series, but i’m in horrible writers block and I want to finish off the 4k requests. life is busy, i’m so sorry!!!

[WARNINGS; implied civilian!reader, sickness, medicine/drug usage, celsius is used, mentions of vomiting, fluff.]

YOU END UP waking up in the middle of the night with the most painful ache in your throat and the worst headache you’ve ever experienced in your life. You’re drenched in sweat, your shirt—Simon’s shirt, actually—clinging to your sweat soaked back, and your blanket feels so suffocating. You can’t help the whimper that leaves you as the pulsing in your temples and eyes quickly turn to pounding, and you blindly shove the blanket off of yourself.

You don’t even think to look if Simon’s in the bed with you; not when your stomach is twisting so horribly you think you won’t make it to the bathroom. You push yourself out of bed and stumble out of the room and down the hall, and you don’t vomit, but you’re nauseous as you’re on your knees, your hands slick with sweat as you grip the toilet seat—something you’ll cringe and gag at later.

You aren’t too sure how long you’re there, waiting for the vomit to bubble up your esophagus, but you eventually feel a usually warm hand—cool at the moment due to your fever—rub the back of your neck. “Hey..” Simon’s deep voice fills your ears. sounds tired, as if he was sleeping before this. He probably was. You don’t look at him as your eyes are closed, but you let out a whimper of acknowledgment.

“Tilt your head up, love.. Mhm, that’s it..” You follow his direction, feeling something press against your forehead, a few flicking noises, and then a beep. Whatever he held against your forehead, Simon pulls away. “39 degrees..” Simon mutters, a sigh leaving him. “Hey, you think you’re gonna vomit?” He asks, being straight forward whilst also being conscious of your condition. You take a moment to think and you shake your head. “No,” You croak. “Just nauseous.”

Simon hums, his hand touching the back of your neck again reflexively in an attempt to provide you some comfort; some familiarity whilst your head spins with illness and pounding pain. The twisting and swirling feeling of the nausea in your gut and throat doesn’t settle for a good while, muffled noises of despair leaving your lips. Each time, Simon quietly acknowledges your pain, praising you for enduring it, that he knows that it hurts.

Simon hates when you’re in pain of any kind. He hates it from when you have an annoyingly painful stuffy nose to stubbing your toe on the corner of the couch—when you’re sick like how you are now, to when you frown when the water in the sink is a bit too hot for your liking. If Simon could shield you from any harm and pain, he would in an instant. In a perfect world, you would never be sick and never stub your toes, you would never have colds and the water would magically be the correct temperature.

Alas, this is reality.

“It’s too early to phone the doctor but I will make sure to do first thing when they open, alright, sweetheart?” Simon’s deep voice rings in your ears, so low that it vibrates in your chest for a moment—and just for a second, your nausea goes away. You wish you could box his voice up and put it in your ears all the time from how soothing you find it. You realize you didn’t respond when Simon calls your name softly and you nod, your eyes remaining shut. “I wanna die.” You moan unseriously, your eyebrows twinging together from the pain between them deep in your skull.

Simon chuckles and squeezes the back of your neck softly. “I’m going to fetch you a glass of water and some medicine to help you until morning. I’ll be right back.” You respond with a simple nod, focused on keeping the nausea away. You’re sure Simon has teleporting capabilities because he’s back by your side in record time. He’s helping you tip your head back, his hand carefully cradling the back of your head and slipping a couple pills into your mouth, carefully giving you sips of water. Not too quick to further your nausea, not too slow to have you think about it too much.

The water is refreshing and cold when it slips down your throat. “There you go,” Simon praises softly, his tone so soft that it contradicts the natural low, grittiness in his voice. “Gave you some anti nausea, some pain meds. I’m not sure if I should give you any fever reducers yet. I’ll be monitorin’ your fever.”

You nod, shuddering slightly as the hand on the back of your head goes to your jaw and neck, guiding your head to lean against his thigh as Simon is standing up straight. “I don’t think I can move yet.” You croak loud enough for him to hear, which earns his callused thumb stroking over your cheek. “That’s alright, love.” Simon murmurs. “We can stay like this as long as y’need. I’ll get ya set up in the living room when you’re feeling a bit better, yeah?”

You nod, turning your head to bury half of your face into his sweatpants, feeling eternally grateful for this man. It took you both a long time to get to this point together—a lot of push and pull between you two, a lot of communication and a lot of trust. In the end, it’s been worth it.

🏷️; @mlmxreader @kivino @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @indefenseofkara @mushr00mf00d @lieutenantlashfaz @queen-leviathan @specter319 @morganight

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[romaritimeharbor]

FAMILY LINE. — In which Venti aids a lost little one.

— trigger & content warnings. draff is a shitty parent, child neglect, alcohol and referenced alcoholism, parentified reader, etc.

— pairings & notes. hurt/comfort. venti & child!reader. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). reader is diona's biological older sibling and therefore has cat-like features. 2.5k words.

— author's thoughts. (about draff) oh BROTHER this guy STINKS!!!!!!!!!!! i fucking hate draff, this is a draff hater household <3

       Sharply cold droplets of rain battered their skin as they stumbled blindly through the woods.

       It was normally quite the easy feat for them to see clearly at night, but the water clinging to their lashes made it significantly more challenging; they had to squint to even have a chance of seeing at all, and they were constantly blinking away the wetness. It was no easier for them to hear or smell—the sound of the rain and rolling thunder overwhelmed their sensitive ears (that were now pinned firmly against their head in some feeble attempt at muffling the sounds) and the earthy scent of dirt and grass drowned out any potential indicators of where they were. Despite having such heightened senses, they were so easily rendered helpless. It didn't help that they were sure it was already late into the night—yes, the rain contributed to the darkness, but it was irregularly so. It had to be the middle of the night, or close to it.

       Cold, wet, tired, and lost in the woods behind Springvale with all of their senses hopelessly stifled...

       Dread crept into their chest. A whimper threatened to slip through their lips, but they swallowed it down and pushed onward. As gratifying as it would probably be to do so, caving in on themselves and crying like the lost child that they were would be completely and truly useless; weeping would not help them get home. It would not make the rain stop, and it would not make their senses grow strong enough to help them navigate through the rain. They had no choice other than to continue moving forward.

       The wind howled violently, whipping cruelly at whatever flesh was exposed and even at that which was not, since the rain had dampened their clothes so severely that the fabric clung impossibly tightly to their skin, therefore offering little to no protection against the brutality of the wind. They squeezed their eyes shut as they pushed against it.

       "Ah—!"

       A frightened gasp was snatched from their chest as their foot was caught by an exposed root, causing them to tumble forwards and downwards.

       They didn't scream, though perhaps that could be attributed to their utterly paralyzing terror, or perhaps they recognized that the sound would only be completely and utterly swallowed by the raging storm. Trembling arms shot outwards in a panicked attempt to brace their fall down the hill, and...

       And they were fine—save for a few scrapes on their palms—caught in a stranger's arms (or what they assumed had been a stranger's arms) before they could hit the foot of the hill and potentially break something.

       "My, little one"—his nimble hands moved to help them stand up straight, and their eyes flicked to his face, panicked and disoriented expression shifting into one of reassured recognition—"playing in a storm this fierce? I admire your courage!"

       Venti, the passionate and enthusiastic bard that they sometimes encountered in Mondstadt City while running menial household errands that their father neglected to. If he wasn't busy performing, harassing Diluc, or doing who knew what, he was trailing after them, which they couldn't honestly say they minded. It was nice to have someone actively looking after them while they were in the city.

       (Though, they really could not help but wonder what he was doing out in such a storm, at such a late hour, but then again... he was an enigma—most of Mondstadt's population knew that, and so did they. Therefore, they did not ask.)

       Precise eyes shifted from his swirling green and blue gaze, riddled with something they couldn't quite discern, to the city gates. Oh. So that was where they ended up, then—a short distance from the bridge that crossed the lake, leading to the city's gates. Now that they knew where they were, they couldn't help but feel the slightest twinge of embarrassment.

       "I wasn't playing, Venti," they murmured. The winds were calmer in his presence, no longer howling and whipping against their shivering body but instead swirling around them gently. "I was hunting, but it started raining, so..."

       "So you couldn't find your way home?"

       "Yeah."

       "I see," he mused, but sniffled before he could continue. They were quick to attempt to take a step back, squeaking out a sudden 'Sorry,' as if his allergy had only just occurred to them. There was no doubt in their mind that the rain was probably only making it worse, spreading whatever it was in their fur that Venti was allergic to even further than the air on its own normally would.

       They did not manage to get far, however. With a swiftness that could perhaps be attributed to his Anemo vision, he swept his cape off of his shoulders and draped it over their head. Over the scent of the rain, they could now catch a vague hint of fruit and flowers. Apples and cecilias, if they had to make a guess, since their senses were still muddled and largely overwhelmed by the scent of dirt.

       He turned away, sneezing into his arm.

       "But my fur will get all over it..." Their protest was weak at best as their little fingers clasped around the edges of the fabric, pulling it closer to their body. A chill had sunken into their bones quite a while ago, perpetuated by the wind blowing against the continuous rain pelting their skin, so the warmth that being wrapped in his cape provided was more than welcomed.

       "Worry not," the bard said with a smile. "A little fur won't hurt me... too bad, that is. Shall I walk you home, then?"

       They could get home on their own. Since they had emerged from the forest near one of the commonly-traversed paths to Springvale, they knew that they could easily find their way home without getting lost a second time.

       "Okay."

       ...But Venti's presence was warmly comforting, and they did not want to be alone again with only the rumbling thunder and distant flashes of lightning for company. He probably would have walked them back, anyway, regardless of if they insisted on being able to do it themselves.

       He held out a hand for them. It was more of an offer than a requirement, but they were nonetheless happy to place their hand in his while the other maintained its hold on his cape.

       It was then that the walk back to the little village a short ways away from the city began.

       His fingertips were thoroughly calloused; they supposed that was the impact of years of archery and lyre playing. It wasn't something they were bothered by, nor was it something they were unfamiliar with—being born into a bloodline of renowned hunters made it so that their hands were not exactly soft, either. Somehow, though, the rougher nature of his hands was comforting. Fleetingly, they mused to themselves that it was quite similar to how their father's hands felt.

       The walk was largely silent, save for the rain and thunder that had faded into the background and the gentle hum that originated from their companion. It made their ears stand upwards attentively. They did not recognize that particular song, and they had attended many—but not all—of his performances. It was completely possible that they had simply missed the time that he sang it. Either that, or...

       "Have you performed that song before?"

       "Nope!" the bard chimed, suddenly raising their conjoined hands and twirling them; they squeaked in surprise at first, but then giggled and joyously obliged him. Whatever unease that managed to nudge its way into their soul and settle there had almost entirely dissipated by then. "Do you like it?"

       "Uh-huh. It sounds pretty."

       "Well, in that case, I'll have to be sure to perform it the next time you're in Mondstadt City!" He paused, then added on, "Free of charge for my littlest fan, of course."

       They pouted, absentmindedly swinging his hand in theirs back and forth. "I'm not little. I can take care of myself, y'know... and I'll bring you an apple, anyway, even if I don't have to."

       Amusement danced in his eyes at their annoyance. "Oh? I'll think of it as a gift from you, then, little one."

       "I'm not little!"

       "Sure~"

             — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       It took less than half an hour to reach their hometown. With Venti at their side, the time felt exceptionally short.

       (A vague sense of sadness invaded their mind at the thought of having to part from him and return to their household. They knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what would await them, and they were not looking forward to have to care for a blackout drunk grown man again.)

       "We're here," the bard announced, freeing their hand from his hold. He watched as they hesitantly approached their front door. Something knowing brewed in the light tones of his voice as he said, "Take care of yourself, little one."

       "I will— oh!" they gasped, realizing that they had not given his cape back. As they gingerly unwrapped themselves from it, they turned back. "Wait, Venti—"

       ...He was already gone. It was like he had vanished into the wind, gone just as fast and suddenly as he seemed to arrive earlier. 

       "Oh."

       Well, they supposed they would give it to him the next time they had to run into the city for household supplies. At least his spontaneous disappearance gave them time to clean it up; it was the polite thing to do, they thought, as they turned back to their front door.

       A soft breath was sucked in through their nose as they turned the handle, entering quietly.

       Unlocked. Of course it was. Their father had probably forgotten to lock it—they would not, however. After closing the door behind themselves, they quickly turned the locks, before facing the living space. Their ears twitched, picking up the sound of snoring.

       Ah. Their father was sprawled on the couch, his own ears twitching absently in his sleep.

       They'd check on him in a moment—their first concern was where their little sister was.

       With swift and silent steps, they padded across the room, down a hallway, and up a set of stairs. A breath that they were not aware they were holding was released; talking to their father when he had been drinking was... largely unpleasant, if for no other reason than his drawling, slurred tone that grated their nerves. He wasn't particularly mean or nasty, but something about talking to him when he was so incapacitated lit their nerves on fire with poorly-contained anger.

       A soft creak resonated through the hall as they opened their sister's door.

       A sleepy mumble caught their attention. "[Name]..?"

       They smiled.

       Gingerly treading over to the small bed pushed into a corner, they whispered, "Shh. Hi, Diona~"

       She blearily blinked up at them, yawning a wide yawn that exposed her little fangs. Her hands, balled into tiny fists, tried to rub away at the sleep in her eyes to little avail.

       "Did you eat?" they asked quietly, stroking her pink hair soothingly, as if to lull her back to sleep. A quiet, barely audible purr rose from her throat.

       "Mm-hm. Fruit."

       "Just fruit?"

       "Yeah. The ones you picked earlier," she mumbled. "They were really good."

       "Are you still hungry?" She shook her head, and they hummed. "Okay. I'll make you fish in the morning, then... go back to sleep for now. I'm home now, so if you need anything, come get me."

       She nodded, stretching briefly before curling back up. They took that as their sign to go back downstairs, leaving her door cracked open the smallest bit as they did. They tip-toed their way to the kitchen and rifled through the cabinets until they found what they were looking for, face lighting up triumphantly when they did—a bottle of painkillers, courtesy of Albedo, who was reluctant to give them to such a young child at first, but ultimately handed them over when they explained that the medicine was not for them.

       After filling a cup with water and placing a few pieces of bread on a plate, they made their way back to the living room, where their father was resting. 

       (Bread was good for... something, wasn't it? They weren't entirely sure. Even if it wasn't, they really didn't feel like making anything more elaborate; they were still wet, cold, and tired. It wasn't even their job to take care of him, so if it wasn't sufficient, then /he/ would have to do something about it. That was never meant to be their job.)

       As quietly as they could manage, they set the items down on the coffee table.

       Thankfully, he did not so much as stir.

       They hurried back upstairs to run a warm bath for themselves.

             — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       It was a few days later that Venti caught wind of their return to Mondstadt City.

       After exchanging pleasantries with Blanche, they bought a few things that were far more difficult to produce at home, things that had longer and more painstaking processes behind their production—salt, pepper, cheese... all of their items were tucked neatly in a little basket they'd taken from home, alongside an apple they had picked on their way to the city. Venti's cape was draped over their arm.

       ...They were a little worried that a few strands of their fur would still cling to it, despite how many times they hand-washed it with care and attention.

       He said it was okay, so they truly hoped it was.

       With a polite wave to Blanche, they turned on their heel and walked past Sara's shop towards the stairs leading to the city's second level.

       The slow churning of windmills overhead, the chatter of other citizens, and the joyful laughs of children younger than them running around and causing innocent-intentioned mischief...

       Mondstadt City indeed felt freer than their home. If they could spend every day here, away from home, they're certain that they would. The air did not threaten to suffocate them here, and their nerves did not light up in flames at every annoyance that crossed their path so long as they did not run into any of Mondstadt's notorious drunkards. 

       Treading up so many stairs to reach the Barbatos statue in front of the Cathedral did not feel like such a dreadful task when the wind was so lively and soft against their skin, much unlike the way it was on that stormy night a few days prior.

       A tune they faintly recognized only encouraged them even further, and their swift, tiny body flew up what remained of the stairs just to reach the source in time. They scurried over to the base of the statue to join the crowd that had formed around a familiar bard, missing his cape. His eyes seemed to brighten when he spotted them, and they grinned.

       Listening to the performance he had promised them, cape draped over their one arm and basket full of various items in the other, they felt content.

       Yes, they would later have to return to their household, burdened by their father's poor habits...

       ...But for now, they were happy and free, if only for a short time.

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[amywritesthings]

silver underground. / chapter 18.*

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 5.6k Summary: flashback eight - also known as your first time with levi ackerman Warnings: NSFW!! MINORS DNI - first time, oral (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), fingering, body worship, pinning, dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it, friends), smut w/feelings

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER 18 - FLASHBACK: EIGHT*

He doesn’t stop kissing you.

Not when you both stand up in the empty supply room. Not when you stumble blindly into the hallway, cutting corners and trusting his guidance.

Two pairs of boots scramble as quietly as they can down a long, dark corridor, rushing to disappear from plain sight.

Gently Levi presses you into something sturdy and cold, lips still locked with yours. The captain's hands fumble from your waist to his pockets, digging to search for a key that will unlock his bedroom door.

All that remains in the silence are soft pants, controlled with the worry that someone — several someones —  can ruin this moment.

His kisses are open-mouthed and messy as he travels from your mouth, to your jaw, to your neck. You bend your head back with the utmost care, pressing your own lips together to avoid the noises of pleasure bubbling in your throat.

He presses a final peck at the center of your neck, as if to thank you for being so quiet once the key is freed from his pocket — and the door clicks.

Quickly Levi shoves the door open and circles his free arm around the small of your back, keeping you flush against his body. You comply, dancing through the threshold of his bedroom, and cradle his face into your palms to bring his lips back to yours.

Nothing has to be said.

Nothing has to be asked.

It’s just instinct — your feet drag backwards while his push forward into the bedroom, bringing you both safely out of the wandering eyes of the Survey Corps.

His boot swivels, causing you both to turn at his will. Your back hits a door once again, and you can’t help but laugh into the kiss. 

“Shhh,” he urges as he backs away to catch his breath. "Can you stay quiet for me?"

Click.

You grin the second the door locks behind you and whisper back. “Haven’t I always?”

His eyes open. Those brilliant gray eyes with specs of blue, intense and so focused; his pupils are blown — caught somewhere in the dark and the fierce arousal you both feel.

“Don’t get smart,” he tells you, but you know it’s about as much of a joke as he can make in the moment.

You don’t even realize until he dips his head that he’s worked on unbuttoning nearly half of your Scout uniform shirt, exposing your chest band and torso to the cool night air.

“Levi—”

His teeth nip at your collarbone. “Silent.”

The order does something to you — a vacant authority that comes with little punishment. He won’t stop unless he’s forced to or unless you ask, and there’s no circumstance in Hell where you would.

You press your lips together again, willing your eyes to stay open, to see Levi work his way to kiss every inch of your neck, your collarbone, your sternum.

You want him to cover every inch of you, leaving no patch of skin untouched. You want every part of your body to be his.

Dropping your hands from his face, you begin to push the small brown uniform skirt from your hips to drop to the floor. The fabric gives easily. It's the damn leather ODM straps that become your greatest enemy, refusing to release when you struggle with the fastens.

At first you think Levi doesn’t notice the struggle. He’s so busy running his hands along your sides, slipping the tips of his fingers past your button-down to finally touch skin.

But then his hands leave you.

You almost speak up to protest, but—

“Let me.”

He looks you in the eye for permission.

You stare back, wide-eyed and confused.

“What?”

“I said,” he slowly repeats, moving closer, “let me.”

Inch by inch, Levi disappears from your line of sight and down your chest, your stomach, until he’s eye-level with the elaborate belts looping your thighs.

Oh.

Your breath exhales in a sharp twist at the sight of his slender fingers running along the brown leather, feeling for where the buckle begins and the straps meet.

For a moment he stays right here, dragging his fingertips back and forth. 

Contemplating. Savoring.

Your face flushes when he leans in to press a ghostly kiss to the meat of your thigh between the straps. His pink lips are a stark contrast to the white fabric.

It's much too erotic to bear.

“I might fall,” you warn him softly.

“I’d catch you,” he promises right back.

You believe him.

(You’ll always believe him.)

Expertly he unravels the first group of leather straps, relieving your thighs of the pressure from such elaborate crossings. Levi makes it a point to drag the straps down your leg himself, not allowing the straps to hit the floor on their own to eliminate any potential noise.

Eager fingertips seek fast work on the other.

“Hold onto me if you feel unsteady,” he murmurs, briefly looking up to you as he starts on your right thigh.

Then you realize all too late — he has no intentions to return from his knees.

He's staying right there on the floor.

You know what he plans to do once he rids you of your trousers, and it shoots an otherworldly feeling to your lower belly.

“Levi?” you whisper sharply.

He doesn’t answer. Instead he works faster to remove the straps, tugging them down your leg to meet the left set.

“Levi—”

He only glances up once he's through with dismantling the strap belt. You press a hand to his when it moves towards the button of your ivory trousers, forcing him to stop.

“Something wrong?” he asks reluctantly, fingers still pinched against the button — subconsciously begging to get rid of his godforsaken clothing.

You swallow to coat your throat, looking down at him.

“No, it’s just… You don’t have to—”

Do that, you want to say.

Yet you pause as soon as Levi flashes a warning glare to you, like you’ve insulted him. 

“Three."

Your brows knit. “...what?”

He purposefully pops the buttons of your trousers to challenge your insecurity. 

“I once told you when we had our own place, I always said I’d give you three. This is about as good as we’ll ever get while we’re alive.”

You blink in a flurry but relent with the sway of your hips when his fingertips tap at your outer thigh: move.

Slowly but surely, your white trousers glide down your thighs, your knees, until they rest at the soles of your boots.

You kick one off then the other, never breaking eye contact.

“My fingers have been inside you more times than I can count,” he murmurs, kissing the bare skin of your thigh with a relaxed inhale through his nose, drinking in the scent of you. You press a hand against the doorframe for stability. “But I have to know what you taste like.”

The words shoot arousal like a bolt of lightning through your body.

“But you’ve already—”

“On my fingers, yeah, but not on my tongue,” he argues breathlessly, shaking his head. “Not the same.”

Another bolt, sliced straight to your core.

“Levi—”

“And once I memorize that,” he continues, not paying attention to you as he presses gentle yet urgent kisses to the east, closing in on your inner thigh. He coaxes your leg with the soft push of his free hand, spreading your thighs just for him. “And only once I memorize that, I’ll…”

He trails off, deciding against his words as he realizes that, when his back is straightened, he is eye-level at your underwear.

The black-haired man reaches for your hip, drawing a semicircle with his thumb at your hip bone.

Stalling — not for himself, but for you, in case there is a sliver of a doubt about this.

You answer by shifting your weight on your other leg, spreading your thighs further for him. The dark-haired man lets out an exhale like you’ve punched him square in the gut, gaze flickering to yours — message received.

Levi leans forward, nuzzling your inner thigh with his cheek. You tense, forcing yourself to watch his head turn inwards to kiss the softness. His eyes flutter close like he’s found his paradise, like the very venture of traveling up your thigh with every kiss gives him relief.

The tip of his tongue sensually flicks at the edge of your underwear, and your hand grips his hair with quick surprise. 

One tug and he’s smirking, open-mouthed and simply intoxicated, with hot breath gliding across the thin fabric.

He kisses the center of your mound over your underwear, and you both make a noise of want.

His tongue darts back out, catching the wetness that has dampened the fabric. In one fell swoop he yanks your underwear down, like one taste is enough to relinquish all doubt.

You barely remember your own name when he parts your folds with his thumbs and dives in like a starving man possessed, collecting the wetness against his nose as his tongue slides through your folds to find the one spot he knows will have you buckling at the knees.

For someone who has never done this before, Levi is thorough. He notes every which way you drag your nails through his hair, scratching at his scalp; how you make a small gasp if he hits a spot that jolts pure pleasure through your system; when your thighs tremble, so he does not relent.

You have to practically break your own vocal chords to avoid shouting when his tongue flicks your clit. Your hand tightens painfully in his hair, but he grunts and keeps going.

Levi swirls his tongue with a relentless determination. Like he’s been waiting for this moment, like he’s dreamed of tasting and teasing you — and you have to do everything in your power not to falter in your stance.

The frame of his bedroom door only has so much support.

Your head drops back against the wooden slab as he licks, sucks, and worships you while kneeling in front of you. His attention focuses on your clit, tongue flicking at an obscene rhythm. 

If you look down, you’ll come. 

If you watch him, you’ll fall.

So instead your jaw drops in a wordless plea, and he sucks against the sensitive nub in response. You hear the leather beneath you shuffle and his hands leave your core, running along your thighs, to hold your hips flush to the door.

He knows — know you’re getting there, from the way you’re squirming.

You didn’t even notice. You were too lost in the sensation.

Your eyes slide open, heavy-lidded and dark with lust, to see Levi lost in eating you out, his mouth buried against you, eyes closed in serene desire.

That’s all it takes.

“Levi—” you breathe, higher pitched than usual. “Levi, Levi, Le—”

You can’t finish the next syllable before your knees buckle, and he shoves you hard against the door to keep you steady — to make you ride this out on his tongue. The surface rattles only just a little from impact.

Your climax hits like a ton of bricks, and you force yourself to wordlessly cry out from the unbelievable pleasure coursing through your system.

His gray eyes glance up from your core, tongue still attacking your clit before he drags lower, catching your essence with his mouth.

Drinking you down to the very last drop.

When it becomes too much, you thrash a little against his hold.

He pulls away to catch his breath, lips slick and swollen from his work. He looks…

Satisfied. Eager.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, and he chuckles under his breath.

Slowly he gets off the floor, uniform creaking in the silence of the night. When you start to dip lower, to return the favor, he pushes you back into the door by the shoulder and shakes his head.

“I wasn’t done with you,” he says, voice a mere husk of itself.

You can smell the faint scent of yourself on his breath when he leans in, his hip pressing to yours. He’s hard as a rock.

“Levi,” you whimper when his hand returns to your inner thigh. “I wanna take care of you—”

“That can wait,” he interrupts, before placing his left hand over your mouth. Your eyes widen with confusion, but when his right hand disappears between your legs to collect more wetness, you understand why. 

You yelp into his palm when he circles your sensitive clit with his thumb.

“You can give me one more, can’t you?” he purrs in your ear, voice low. “I know you're sensitive, I know, but you can do it.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head when his fingers glide through your wet folds to tease your entrance. Yet you open up to him like a flower, spreading your legs further to give him more room to work with. You feel his lips curl upward against your earlobe.

“C’mon, James.” 

A strangled, pathetic little whimper exits your mouth when his middle finger pushes into your, up to the knuckle, slowly massaging against your inner walls. 

“How’d you like it again? Two fingers? Three?”

You feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven with the filth coming out of his mouth. It isn’t even overtly lewd, but the sheer baritone of his voice in your ear is only making it that much easier to fight through the oversensitivity.

He adds his index finger and you whine.

“Right — you like two,” Levi remembers, “and you usually don’t last long if I—”

Your body goes limp, giving into his work when his fingers curl and tap the little spot that always gives him what he wants. He fingers you, shallow in his movements as he keeps curling the two, allowing the heel of his palm to rub against your aching clit.

“There she is,” he encourages. “There’s my girl.”

If you weren’t so turned on, you’d be mortified at how easily he works you to ruin.

“Does it feel good?”

You make a noise against his hand and nod eagerly, and he laughs gently in your ear. 

“Good.”

You let him play you like a well-loved instrument, his movements relentless and certain. The rhythm is one he’s perfected, and you know — you know he’ll get what he wants in a matter of minutes.

You’re already sensitive from the first orgasm. A second won’t take long.

He continues to murmur sweet nothings in your ear — praises laced with your first name, how much he loves watching you like this — and you know you’re no match for him.

Your walls clench around him and soon enough you tumble, dropping your forehead to his shoulder as you tremble through your second climax of the night. 

You feel weightless in the moment, a finite speck of dust in space, surrounded by the scent of your friend, your partner, your lover —

For a moment, the outside world doesn’t exist.

He finally removes his palm from your mouth to kiss you gently on the lips, and you’re awoken with the realization that you still taste yourself.

Your eyes open to find him watching you, making sure you’re okay.

You’re more than okay.

You let your body take over, wants over needs, and your hands push him roughly from you.

The captain stumbles in surprise. His gray eyes betray his shock, wide and confused, until he trips and falls back on the bed in the middle of the small room. The mattress gently creaks under his weight.

Before he can protest, you drop to your knees on the small rug at the edge of the bed.

“James—”

“Shut up,” you breathe, rising to grab his belt. 

Hastily, you rip it from the trouser loops. You're not as elegant at pulling off the leather straps as he is, but they come off all the same.

Levi sits up on the mattress, pushing wayward strands of hair from your face.

“James, wait, you don’t have to—”

“Ackerman.”

You stare up at him, only then realizing just how hard he is. He must hurt from the way the outline of his cock presses, strains, against the white fabric of his trousers.

“I’ve been dying to taste you, too, you know. And you’ve never let me before, so I'm asking now: let me.”

All of the air leaves his lungs, and a shell of Levi Ackerman remains above you.

His eyes are wide as saucers, trying to justify the sight of you on his knees in front of him.

He doesn’t stop you when you unbutton his uniform. He doesn’t move when you lean in to kiss the bare skin of his abdomen. 

“Shit. If you do this—” he starts, finding his breath, “—I’m sure as fuck not going to last.”

“Your confidence in me is guaranteed to inflate my ego,” you tease, pushing at his side. “C’mon. Lay back. Let me.”

Levi moves a fraction of muscle, but then he shakes his head. He lifts his hips, and to your delight he helps you remove his boxer briefs and trousers in one fell swoop. His cock springs free, achingly hard and twitching for attention.

“No,” he protests, “I want to watch.”

You brighten with delight, scooting closer. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yes,” he breathes. “Are you insane?”

You can’t help but giggle when your hand reaches to wrap around his length, careful not to hurt him. His knuckles turn white as he tightens his fists against his white sheets.

Truth be told, you’ve had your hands on Levi numerous times. You know what speed he likes. You know the pressure.

What you don’t know, however, is this: how to expertly get him off with your mouth, not in the way he so easily brought you to ruin.

Still, you stare up at him as you steady his cock and lick a stripe from bottom to top — flat against his shaft, traveling to the tip.

You’ve never seen Levi look so speechless by something so small.

“Oh, fu-uck,” he curses under his breath, a curtain of his hair hanging against his forehead as he forces himself to keep his eyes on your mouth.

His own goes slack, lips parted, and a flush peppers his pale cheeks.

It instill confidence, so you lick again, focusing your tongue on the tip of him. He tastes clean, like nothing really in particular, besides a tinge of saltiness.

But it isn’t until you close your mouth gently over the head of his cock that he loses himself. His bare thighs tremble as you work his length with your hand while your mouth gets used to a shallow bob, focusing primarily on his tip.

His voice disappears. His breaths are tighter and a little higher pitched than before. Cracked.

“Shit,” he croaks when you hollow your cheeks around him. “Fuck, James, shit—”

You feel powerful like this.

You get why he was so determined to put his mouth on you now.

You want to memorize this version of Levi Ackerman — so put together for the rest of the world, only to fall apart by every movement of your tongue.

“Stop.”

It’s barely a word, but you catch it within a few seconds.

You remove him from your mouth with a lewd pop, worried you might have used teeth or hurt him.

Levi has a hand on your shoulder to keep you from returning to his cock.

“I almost came,” he explains, embarrassed by his admission.

“What? But I didn’t—” You stop yourself, surprised. “I barely did anything.”

“Yeah, dipshit,” Levi under his breath, trying to catch it. “You think I need more than the image of your lips around my cock to do it for me?”

“Oh.” You wipe your lips, before smiling wickedly. “...I’m that good, huh?”

“Get the hell up here,” Levi demands, pulling you up from your armpits so he can toss you onto the mattress.

You laugh into the night air as he shifts, pressing his weight against you as he cradles his elbows around your head, caging you in.

Skin to skin.

The night's significance isn’t lost on you — lying in a king-sized bed, naked, with Levi Ackerman. To think you both used to squeeze on a twin mattress for the sake of falling asleep together. To think neither of you had ever witnessed each other’s bodies in full, clothes discarded all over the floor of his captain’s quarters.

He hovers over you, his hair framing his face in a darkened halo. You stare up at him, admiring the sweat pebbling across his forehead.

The faint glow of the moon is your only source of light; a familiar comfort.

For a few moments you both catch your breath, admiring one another like this. You want to ask. You’re sure he’s going to say no. It’s been the question on your minds for years, but now it’s—

“Do you want to?”

Levi asks first, but he doesn’t shy away from his own nervousness.

You take a moment to make sure he isn’t going to back out, before nodding.

“More than anything.”

An emotion flickers in his eyes as he regards you, before shifting your right thigh with his hand. You easily follow, widening your hips to him. He presses your inner leg to his hip, swallowing.

“I don’t…”

“What?”

Levi closes his eyes, exhaling his anxiety away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your hands reach between your bodies to cradle his face, and he relents immediately to lean his cheek to your palm. “When have you ever hurt me?”

“A couple of times.”

“Fighting doesn’t count.”

“James,” Levi pleads, before opening his eyes. “I’m being serious.”

“So we learn together,” you argue back, raising your chin to kiss the tip of his nose. “And I’ll let you if it hurts, I promise. It’s not like you can rail me with everyone downstairs anyw—”

Levi stops you from your joke with a searing kiss to your lips, pushing your other thigh to the side so he can settle between your legs.

“Don't give me ideas, you little shit," he mumbles against your lips. "Maybe next time."

You smile, running your hands down his neck to rest on his shoulders. "Definitely next time."

For a few minutes, that's all you do. Kiss — kiss him, be kissed, relish and memorize.

The longer he kisses you, the more this becomes real.

Neither of you have ever done this, yet you’ve never felt more ready in your life.

Your body screams to have him, to finally know him, and you hope it’ll be enough — that you will be enough.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” you whisper, and he sits up on his calves for a moment.

“An idea, yeah,” he jokes, reaching into the nearby nightstand. 

You blink, surprised to see him return with a small square packet in hand. The moment almost completely takes you out of your nervousness.

When he notices the way you stare up at him, he cautiously adds: “Regiment issued. Didn’t think I’d ever need to use it, but…”

“Oh,” you breathe, unable to hide the shock. “No, it’s just—”

“They don’t want accidents in the Scouts.”

“Right.”

“And it’s not like people aren’t fucking.”

“I know.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

A beat passes. 

Unable to help yourself, you begin to smirk. “...so you only have one of those, or—?”

Levi rolls his eyes and breaks with you, letting out a huff of a laugh as he swats your knee wider. He rolls the protection down the length of him, careful in his application. 

“If you want to do this again, then I’ll steal a pack.”

“Wow, it really pays to have captain privileges,” you hum sagely, and he quickly crawls back over you to shut you up with a passionate kiss. You happily accept the eager press of his lips to distract you from the way he gently situates a pillow under your lower back, raising your hips to sit flush with his hips.

You both remain like this for a while, kissing your worries away, before something foreign presses up against your entrance. You gasp, breaking the kiss.

Levi stares down at you with kinetic lust.

“...are you sure about this, James?”

Are you?

It isn’t even a question. You've wanted this for years.

You shift your hips, nudging the tip of his cock at your entrance. He sucks in a sharp breath, calming his excitement.

“Never been so sure in my life,” you promise. “I want you.”

Levi pauses, nodding. “If it hurts at all—”

“I know.”

“—because we can stop at any time—”

“Levi Ackerman, please fuck me already.”

Six simple words make his pupils dilate.

His breath tickles your face when he exhales, lining himself up. Although one hand stays steady on his cock to guide himself into you, another reaches for your hand resting parallel to your head on the mattress. His fingers entwine with yours, squeezing with reassurance as he pins you down — I got you.

Then he pushes, and you both gasp in harmony at the sensation.

Slowly, inch by inch, Levi works himself deeper into you. It’s a stretch you’ve never felt in your entire life.

He distracts you once the tip of him is fully inside of you by circling your clit, making you choke on a breath. The pleasure burns, relaxing your body to take him deeper.

Then it happens all at once: he backs up, sliding deliciously against your walls, before pushing forward — bottoming out within you.

Levi’s entire body is so tense as he stills, waiting for you to get used to him. Maybe it’s for himself, too, but you stare up at the ceiling with an unbelievable feeling in your belly:

This is really happening. Levi’s really inside you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, strained.

You wait a moment to adjust, then nod.

“Can I move?”

You nod again, more adamant this time.

The hand holding yours shakes as he rocks his hips, pulling out then pushing back in. There is a noise that bubbles in the back of his throat, like this is the most painfully pleasurable experience of his life, and you use your free hand to drag your nails down his back.

Levi hisses, pushing back into you. “Fuck, you feel so good—”

He continues slowly, getting used to the sensation, the motion, the sounds, the scents.

Not once does he let go of your hand, and you squeeze in return.

You raise your knees to press against his hips, bringing him deeper, and he drops his forehead to your chest. 

He kisses the tiny silver pendant at your sternum.

“More,” you beg.

“Are you sure—”

“Please,” you interrupt.

He swallows to prepare himself and nods against your shoulder.

"Anything you want." He grunts when his hips thrust once more. "Anything, it's yours."

Levi starts to fuck you, the room reverberating with the sound of his efforts and the mixture of gentle moans. He gains more confidence the more noises you make against his temple. Your body arches into the movement as the pain dissipates purely into pleasure.

You hold onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist in a way that drives him insane. You can tell solely by the way he praises you in sharp huffs, lost in the moment. 

He raises his head to capture your lips in a messy kiss, thrusting into you like his life depends on it.

You hold on, moving against him as you try to remember to breathe.

"Fuck—"

He pulls away to catch his breath with a curse, eyes still closed.

“—I love you.”

You momentarily freeze as Levi keeps going, the muscles of his arms and back tensing every time his hips snap up and into you.

Your eyes snap open, watching his face screw together in the faint glow of the moon.

You know you didn’t imagine that.

You know he just said those words.

Every fiber of your body burns brighter, hotter, at three little words.

You hold him closer to yourself, moving against him as he thrusts, realizing at that very moment the three words you’d been searching to say your entire life to him.

To the boy you shared bread with in the tavern.

To the teen who stole your first kiss on your birthday.

To the man who makes love to you now after you both defied all odds and survived the harshest winters and the searing summers and everything in-between without giving up.

He is your best friend. He is your partner in crime. 

(He is the other half of your moon, your stars, your life.)

“I love you, too,” you breathe in return.

Levi’s thrusts instantly slow.

Reality crashes down while he opens his gray eyes, the little blue specs around his irises staring down at you with a wordless fear — he realizes, then, what he's said.

And he realizes, too, what you've said back.

That fear melts to pure, unadulterated relief.

You can’t help but smile up at him when he runs a shaking hand over your cheek with such gentleness that you almost want to cry.

“Yeah?” Levi asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. “I do.”

He smiles before snapping his hips against yours. You squeak, and he repositions himself to hit that little spot inside of you that he always seems to catch with his fingers. 

“I love you," he repeats, purposefully this time.

You arch when his fingers reach to circle your clit, unrelenting, as he almost makes you shriek from his efforts. 

"Levi—"

“Fuck, James, I love — I’ve always loved you.”

Levi doesn’t slow down this time.

He watches you squirm and whimper his name as he tells you, over and over, the same three words.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

It’s overwhelming. It’s paradise. 

You feel yourself tightening around his cock, and he groans. 

You won’t be able to last much longer, and you reckon he isn’t far behind either.

His hips stutter, groans getting a fraction louder and more urgent, as he coaxes you through your third and most devastating orgasm yet.

He feels the punishing force that your body clenches around him as you near your release and topples over to keep fucking you to the edge. His fingers maintain the same speed at your clit, a deadly combination, and a deep throb spreads through your entire body when your climax hits.

It's otherworldly. It's unlike anything you've ever experienced in your entire life.

Levi presses a devastating kiss to your lips to drink down the way you cry out his name — and to keep himself from moaning too loud when he finally comes right after you.

His hips stutter, trying to give you everything he has until you fall limp in his arms.

Then you catch him when he slumps, exhausted and spent.

The room is quiet.

The crickets chirp outside the open window.

(It's a singular, precious moment of peace.)

Levi continues to tremble against you, breathing through his nose as he climbs down from the euphoria of what just happened. You want to cry. You want to laugh. You want to hold him and never let go.

His shaking hand reaches for yours blindly, and you meet him in the middle.

One by one, your fingers lace.

After a few minutes, you realize that he's still shaking like a leaf. You kiss his forehead when he gently pulls out of you, only to collapse against your side on the mattress.

"You alright?" you whisper. "You're trembling."

"Yeah," he whispers back, voice light. "Just... give me a minute."

"Okay."

While lying on your sides, Levi moves to pull you against him, forehead to forehead.

You close your eyes, willing the tremors to disappear. Eventually they do, and he relaxes.

"Was that alright?" he murmurs after some time, fingers softly stroking your naked side.

"I've had better," you tease, and it makes him huff out a laugh.

"Yeah? Damn."

You can't help but grin, nuzzling your nose against his. "We're definitely going to need that pack."

"Several," he agrees.

"The whole Scout ration."

"The whole Scout ration?" he repeats with drowsy surprise. "Are you trying to make an honest man out of me?"

"Contraceptives don't make honest men," you reply. "Rings do."

"It kind of looks like of a ring—"

You gasp at his crude joke. "Levi."

Both of you burst into exhausted laughter, intoxicated by what's transpired. You feel high in this afterglow only the poets have ever rightly captured.

The laughter dies, leaving you both to enjoy the time you have left before morning comes.

He runs a ghostly trail down the small of your back with his fingertips. You toy with a lock of his sweat-matted dark hair.

And then,

"Maybe one day," he murmurs.

Your eyes flicker open to watch him rest peacefully beside you.

"Maybe one day what?"

"We can do the real damn thing." He's dozing off. "All the shit everyone else does."

You continue to stare, your expression softening.

"...Ackerman's not the worst last name to have," you tell him.

A tired smile grows on his lips.

He pulls you closer, and you curl around him.

Eventually the two of you fall asleep to the sound of twin beating hearts.

.

author note: oh we are so back. How are we feeling, Levi Nation? (What is their ship name? Jevi? Levames? Jamevi?) I am so grateful for your extremely generous patience, your support, and everything in-between. The reblogs/comments are the fuel that keeps this engine going.

deleted scenes of s.u. // levi's pov #1 :: levi's pov in chapter one during his first conversation with james in the trost hospital.

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