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bellawoso · 3 months

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everywhere

aitana bonmati x reader

a/n : the sleeveless training top kills me every time i see it

aitana had been obsessed impressed with you ever since the 2021 games of barcelona vs arsenal, although she knew that she should be overcome by feelings of pride for her teams winnings, she couldnt help but let her small crush on you get in the way of her celebrations.

sure she was tired after the match, but so was everyone else, and they still managed to have a night out in the london bars. aitana however, spent all night stalking your instagram account on a random fake account she had, normal behaviour right?

after the 2022 euros knockout match, where england were victorious, aitanas crush which she thought was gone, came back even bigger when instead of immediately celebrating with your teammates, you instead went to the nearest spanish player to you, which happened to be the spaniard herself, and started consoling her. your hand on her back made her skin tingle, and momentarily she almost forgot about the loss when you whispered into her ear how she played a good game, before bringing her in for a warm embrace. aitana didnt waste the chance of wrapping her arms round your waist as yours went around her neck.

the brunette wouldnt be surprised if she dropped down with a heart attack right there when you requested for a shirt swap, with you both being number 6 nationally. seeing her name sprawled across your back definitely didnt ease her racing heart or her flushed cheeks.

———

the next time you saw the spaniard was at the world cup final, although you were out with your ACL injury at the time, you still wouldnt miss this match for the world. as soon as england lost you were straight onto the pitch, comforting your national teammates, who were about to see spain being crowned world champions.

you were just about to go talk to lucy, a close friend of yours from national camps, until aitana stepped in your path. you had grown quite fond of the girl, despite the fact you had never played for the same teams, you both respected each other greatly, and often congratulated each other through instagram of the others achievements. you werent quite ready for the girl stepping out in front of you, you were still on crutches, almost ready to come off them, the spaniard just clipped your crutch with her boot causing you to tumble forward slightly. luckily the brunette was ready to catch you, her strong arms gripping onto your waist whilst she repeated “lo siento” and lectured her self in spanish, until you cut her off “hola aita, good game you deserve this so much, i know how hard you worked to get here.”

“ah yes- gracias y/n, i am upset you dont play today, im sure you would have made a difference” aitana managed to get out, in slightly broken english but you found it extremely endearing.

“yes i am sad too, but i will be back for the euros before you know it! so, balon d’or huh?” you said with a grin, it was extremely obvious that the girl you was talking to was going to be a future balon d’or winner, despite her humble nature as she argued with you, saying there are other people who deserve it more than her.

until you cut off her rambling once again “aita it was so lovely catching up with you, but im positive all of your teammates are waiting for you to celebrate, i wouldnt want to keep you” you stated with a soft smile and a glance at ona who waited behind aitana, and seemed to have finished consoling lucy.

as aitana turned to walk away, you started walking over to lucy, painfully unaware of the extremely obvious glances aitana kept giving you over her shoulder, the spaniard prayed you didnt hear onas teasing.

———

it was around the start of december when you began playing again, helping by scoring 2 goals in the 4-1 win against chelsea. it was unsurprising how you had ended up on barcas radar, it was very unusual for a player to somehow be better than they were pre-ACL, after only just returning. it was safe to say that aitana had watched every single arsenal game since you returned, even on the ones where you didnt play, just to catch a glimpse of you on the bench. the other girls on her team had noticed this, and despite aitanas insistence that it was to keep up with the WSL and to check on laia codina, her teammates werent stupid. and it was painfully obvious every time aitanas breath hitched when you were displayed on the screen, which was quite often as you were a fan favourite.

you had also developed a bit of a fan-girling crush on the spaniard herself, it was hard not to when you saw her training pictures on her story daily, and couldnt help but wonder what you would have to do to be blessed enough to witness her training in real life.

clearly you didnt have to do much, as your manager called you one day to talk about potential transfers, one immediately stood out to you, barcelona.

it all happened very quickly in your opinion, although your manager disagreed as barcelona were actually being quite annoying with offering you a contract as they were constantly holding it until last minute. until finally they managed to sit you down with pen and paper, for you to begin your new journey with them. the media followed shortly after, barcelona and arsenal seemingly decided to just dump all of your departure and new arrival videos on every single social media platform they had.

aitana was at home when the media teams dropped your videos, immediately clicking on the notification from barcelonas instagram. she had been waiting for a while for keiras fully edited catalan interview to be posted, so she was visibly shocked when instead she was met with the sight of you in the barca home kit.

aitana definitely knew she was down bad when she couldnt fall asleep that night, her thoughts clouded of you in that stupid home kit, even better, in the barca tracksuit you had worn for your interviews.

she quickly sent you an short instagram message just to say ‘hola, welcome to barca amiga :)’ before finally managing to fall asleep.

———

your arrival was soon after, and despite your initial worry of not fitting in to the team, you soon learned that you got along fine with the girls after your first training session. from the very beginning aitana clung to you, immediately becoming your bestfriend on the team and promising to take you to all of the best hidden gems in barcelona. it was amusing to the team of how obvious aitana was being and how oblivious you were to it all.

such as the day where aitana was hit twice on the head by a football after not hearing the shout of “heads” while staring at you with heart eyes as you laughed with ona.

or when she was still running laps and warming up with keira whilst you had a 1 v 1 with lucy, and she ran into a goal post. she never truly lived that one down, and the whole team new about it as she had to go down to medical with a minor concussion and miss the next match due to her headache.

the bonus was that you were too scared to leave aitana at her apartment by herself after reading up about concussions online, so you stayed with her for a week. which was longer than necessary, but aitana didnt need to know the real reason for your insistence to stay.

the most recent thing to happen was when she dropped a weight on keiras foot in the gym when she saw you walk in, looking particularly good in the training kit today, this action made the english girl snap, telling aitana to just go admit her feelings, whilst cursing under her breath and walking to the medical room for an ice pack.

lucy came up behind aitana after keira left, chuckling about the previous incident but also to reassure the spaniard “dont worry aitana, ive known y/n for ages, she likes you back, trust me” she said, making aitana nod and turn on her heels to confidently and calmly walk over to you, as you were currently near the mats with ingrid.

except this didnt happen, as aitana didnt seem very confident or calm at all as she tripped as she neared you, causing her to stumble straight into you, sending the both of you tumbling straight to the floor.

“dios mío! lo siento y/n, i dont know what happened!” you stayed on the floor laughing about what just happened, as vicky came over “i think i know what happened, aitana just fell for y/n!” the younger girl shouted for the entire gym to hear like the pest she was, causing both you and aitana to flush bright red, still on the floor.

until aitana leaned over to you “while were still down here, will you please go on a date with me?” she asked giving her best puppy dog eyes.

“i would love to aita”

———

you and aitana went on the date on saturday, the brunette had chosen for the two of you to go to a coffee shop in the little town where she was raised, you could tell just how proud and passionate she was of where she was born. at first, things were a bit awkward between the two of you, until you fell back into your usual rhythm of chatting and laughing.

except for when aitana bumped into someone she knew from her youth, and stumbled a bit over her words when introducing you, the words “shes my girl-” coming out of her mouth before blushed cut her self off and ended up blurting out “y/n, shes my y/n” with an awkward, toothy grin.

this made you burst out laughing, at aitanas newfound social awkwardness, and the strangers confusion, it was only after they walked away that you playfully bumped your shoulder against hers, saying “if you wanted to be my girlfriend you could have just asked” with a smirk.

“cállate! muy molesta-“ as she carried on with her spanish rambling making you smile at seeing her worked up state until she suddenly asked “wait were you being serious that i can ask to be your girlfriend?”

“well normally back in england we dont ask the person for permission to ask them to be our girlfriend, but whatever suits you tana!” you answered back playfully.

“fine then! i wont ask if your going to be all sarcastic about it” the older girl replied. “sure you wont aita, sure.” taking a sip from your water bottle while the brunette seemed to be giving you the silent treatment

“be my girlfriend” she suddenly stated, making you choke on your water “thats really not how we ask back in england, spain must be very different” you thought aloud.

“stop it! just confirm it with me, we are basically dating all ready!” aitana huffed in faux frustration about how annoying you were being about this. “okay, okay! i would love to be your girlfriend then aitana.” this made her grin, so you were guessing you were in the good girlfriend books at the moment.

you and aitana went on many more dates after that, the two of you fit so perfectly. although you were both extremely talented footballers, aitana was always very work focused, whereas you got bored of things like match analysis very easily. where aitana was extroverted around new people, you were usually very quiet around strangers. you both balanced each other out very well, aitana often having to help you with your match analysis, and you being the one to get aitana to bed at the right time instead of letting her rewatch the match again.

———

one thing that aitana never really seemed to grow out of was the honeymoon stage, after two months of being together openly, she really should have got used to the fact that you were hers and she was yours. however, the spaniard never quite got over the fact that the two of you were actually together, especially after crushing in you for the past couple of years.

this led to her quite literally just trailing around after you everywhere, like a lost puppy. when you finally snapped and told her to go to keira, and socialise with her friends, said lost puppy suddenly became a kicked puppy that looked like you just abandoned it on the side of the road.

“but amorrrr, i wont bother you! i promise!” she begged, giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“aitana no! you have hardly spoke to your friends all week, and although i love you, your starting to really annoy me!” you said. your girlfriend had already dropped a dumbell on your ankle after she decided she needed to do her arm workouts right next to your workout mat. she had then spilt coffee all over you, which although she claims is all okay now as she gave you her hoodie to replace your top, you never quite got over the sticky coffee feeling in your skin.

your last straw was when she decided to try trail right behind you into your meeting with jonatan and some of the other coaches, solely a checkup and a one to one meeting about things to work on in training.

“aitana no! go to keira please, i love you but this is a one on one meeting, your not allowed to be in here” you didnt leave time for her to argue as you quickly planted a kiss on her lips and went into the room, shutting the door straight behind you.

you were never normally one to reject your girlfriends clinginess, however sometimes you just needed your own personal space, and today was an odd day where things werent going right and your temper was short.

you were going to apologise to aitana, but as soon as you came out of your meeting she was there with flowers and coffee for you, and saying sorry for annoying you today. “aitana no, its fine, if anything, i am sorry. i love being around you as your my girlfriend, but i do think its important you start hanging out with your friends again!”

“yes amor i understand, i actually went with ona to get the flowers and she got some for lucy too!” aitana replied, as she planted a kiss on your lips.

on the way home, aitana also called at one of your favourite shops that sold books and records. despite her being more of a spotify and film person, she still made an effort to be enthusiastic in the shop. she definitely did not get bored and decide to pull you in for a kiss behind the non fiction book shelf.

however, she still never really left her honeymoon phase.

———

yourusername

liked by ingrid_engen, lucybronze and 23,962 others

caption: she follows me everywhere but its okay tagged: aitanabonmati

comments:

aitanabonmati: you love it

-> yourusername: i do.

lucybronze: you two make me throw up

-> yourusername: dont act like you and ona arent the same.

marialeonn16: i counted 3 balls to aitanas head yesterday training

-> vickyylopezz._: she fell over aswell 😭

-> yourusername: guys leave tana alone! 🥹

-> aitanabonmati: what my gf said.

user1: they are so cute omg 😭

user2: power couple!

user3: best woso couple there is

———

a/n: this is not proofread so no judgement to bad grammar pretty pleasee

#Spotify #woso #woso community #woso x reader #barcelona femeni #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni x reader #aitana bonmati #mapi leon #mapi león #ona batlle #alexia putellas #aitana #aitana bonmati x reader

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imfinereallyy · 1 year

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“Dad is going to be very angry,” El says with wide eyes taking in the scene before them.

“You think Hop will kill him?” Steve says as he leans against the doorway, eating a Twizzler.

El looks at Steve momentarily, sticking her hand out for some candy. Steve hands her one without hesitation. El rips a piece off before speaking. “Oh yes. He might ask you to help hide the body.”

Steve nods solemnly, “I’ll do what needs to be done. Mikes’s my least favorite child anyway.”

“Hey!” Mike yells, gaining the duo's attention. It brings them back to the scene they walked in on. Mike and Will, with the door closed (no three inches in sight) on top of each other, making out.

Steve doesn't think he’ll ever get that image out of his brain.

“Chill, Wheeler, I'm joking,” Steve says pointedly before turning to El and mouthing no, I'm not.

El giggles, and Steve can't help but feel like he won a prize at the sound.

“I'm sorry, El.” Will blushes with shame, like he is betraying his sister somehow.

El just shrugs, “I do not care. But Dad might. He hates Mike.”

Steve snorts, “That's the understatement of the century. I don't think Hop has ever hated someone’s partner like he has Mike. Honestly, I was surprised he liked Eddie. I mean like is a strong word. But he tolerates him.”

Will pipes up, “I think he does mostly because he knows you'll move out, and he only just got you to agree to stay here.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ll take what I can get. At least he doesn't walk on me having sex.”

“We weren't having sex!” Mike practically screams. Hands up exasperated. “And don't talk about you and Eddie; it's gross.”

Will blushes deeply with head in his hands, “Oh, God.” El pats him on the shoulder in sympathy.

“Also, this wouldn't have happened if you weren't an idiot and just knocked!” Mike stomps. Jesus, this kid is 15 acting 6.

“I was the one who walked in, Mike. I wanted to know if Will wanted to watch a movie.” El says coldly, getting defensive of her brother.

Mike clams up, Steve can't help but feel smug.

“Who’s having sex?!?” A distinct Hopper-like voice echoes through the house.

Will and Mike share a panicked look while Steve and El take more Twizzlers from the bag.

“Oh no. Mike! What are we going to do?”

Mike sputters, “He doesn't have to know it was us! And we weren't having sex!”

Will looks at him like Mike is the biggest moron he's ever met. Steve loves the kid (despite early protest) but has to agree. “Oh gee Mike, I wonder who he will think it was about. Steve? Who is dating a man who isn't here and keep in mind, it's Steve. Who is our brother, and five years older than us? And in a relationship? And let's not forget..is Steve?!”

“This is fair.” Steve agrees. If anyone but Baby Byers had attempted to say that, Steve would have been pissed. But it's Will, so it's coming from a good place.

“Also! Also! The other person here is El! Who is my sister! Not to mention your ex—”

“—well it could have been—”

“Micheal Steven Wheeler, if the next words out of your mouth are it could have been you and El, I will never be kissing you again.” Will uses a deathly tone. Steve isn't convinced he didn't get from El.

“Your middle name is Steven?” Steve fills giddy.

“Shut up Steve!”

Will pinches his brows, “And you idiot, if it were you and El, you would still he toast.”

Steve whistles, “Shit, Will. Next time I need to win an argument against Eddie. I'm coming to you.”

“How long does it take for dad to get upstairs?” El interrupts.

All of them look down the hall. “Huh, maybe we are in the clear,” Mike whispers.

“I said who is having sex?!?” Hopper comes thundering up the stairs.

“I think this is what Max calls a jinx.” El looks at Mike unphased.

Steve can't help but feel a little bad for Will. He looks panicked around the room, probably looking for a hiding place. Steve knows that it isn't that same fear Will once had of Lenny, Hop wouldn't hurt them ever, but he can't help but feel a little protective of him. Steve knows all too well how the fears of biological fathers can sneak up on you, even if you know you're safe. “Don’t worry, Will. I'll make sure Hop takes it easy.”

Will relaxes, “Thanks Steve.”

“What about me?” Mike asks, eyes wide.

El shares a look with Steve. Spending as much time as they have lately has allowed them to talk without speaking most of the time. It freaks everyone but Robin out (she gets it). Seconds go by before they both nod in agreement.

Steve and El both wip their heads towards Mike, and Steve says, “You were grossed out by my relationship and called me stupid. Suffer.”

Mike's outcry is in synch with Hop breaking through screaming, “There better be three inches!”

#steddie #byler #this is just about Steve and el bonding #steve teaching El the best way to beat mean girls is to be one #eleven hopper #steve Harrington #stranger things #Eddie munson #mike wheeler #will byers #Steve Harrington and El hopper have a sibling relationship #found family #my writing #ficlet #mean girl steve harrington #fluff #fanfiction #jim hopper

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honeykaes · 11 months

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masked fantasy

slasher!lyney x reader II 2.8k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, modern au, implied!yandere, implied murder, fingering, cunnilingus, use of toys, creampie, overstimulation, dacryphilia, praise pussydrunk!lyney, established relationship, gaslighting/manipulation, mention of blood, unedited

synopsis: you've been on edge lately seeing news report after news report of people killed by a masked pierrot serial killer, targeting people you seemed to vaguely know. your boyfriend, lyney, insists you drop it and focus on him instead to try to get your mind off of things. you listen, but something in the pit of your stomach continues to nag at you.

Gloomy clouds above hid the stars and the moonlight above. Rain loudly padded against the windows, a small waterfall streaming down it. You snuggled into your blanket further on the couch in an attempt to knock the chill away from the living room. A sigh emitted from your lips watching the 6:00 p.m. news report of yet another murder in your town from a masked serial killer. This wouldn’t very unique to some; however, you began to notice a pattern

The media and detectives have deemed him the Pierrot—a serial killer who dons a French Carnival-Style Jester mask. Reports from the police said he’s still at large and seemed to be killing indiscriminately, but you knew a little better. The photos of the victims all shared one thing in common with you, you had vaguely known them in the past.

One was an old high school classmate, another was a teacher's assistant who once assisted your professors in college, another was a barista worker from a cafe you sometimes go to, even old childhood friends you haven’t spoken to for years. You wanted to chalk it up to a weird coincidence but the pit in your stomach churned, discouraging you to relax.

You worry whoever this masked killer was, he was working his way to you.

Thunder suddenly boomed in the sky, causing your body to jolt from the noise. You let out a sigh; the stress seemed to finally be getting to you.

Your boyfriend walked in, an amused but concerned smile on his face. You and Lyney had been dating for a while now, meeting in college when you decided to study abroad in France. Eventually, you moved into his place that he shared with his two siblings—his twin sister Lynette and his adoptive younger brother Freminet.

Things were great with Lyney. He was doting, caring, and amusing as well. He made you happy; he felt real. He was someone you could imagine marrying maybe in a year or two.

“You alright? You seem a bit jumpy today,” he hummed, handing you a mug of hot chocolate. The aroma of the milk chocolate made your mouth water as marshmallows floated on top. You flash a small smile, taking the mug for him and taking a sip—hoping the warm liquid would coax your anxiety.

“Honestly, not really. The whole Pierrot serial killer thing has been really bothering me lately. I vaguely know the victims, albeit there aren’t people I know like that or associate myself with now. But, still! I recognize them,” you sighed, looking at the reflection of your mug. Lyney’s face slightly softened at your confession.

“...I’m scared that the killers are actually targeting me. Like this is some fucked up mind game or whatever. I’m scared it’ll also mean the people that I currently care about are in danger too. …like you,” you muttered. Lyney chuckled slightly before you looked up at him and narrowed your eyes. He covered his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter, murmuring apologies as he tried to calm down.

“Darling, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Besides, you have your amazing, attentive, loveable, strong boyfriend here to help. I’m here to protect both you and my siblings,” he chimed, leaning in to peck your forehead. You side-eye the man as he plopped down next to you on the couch, placing his mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table. He grabbed some of the blankets covering your lower body, getting in close to cover his form as well. Your thighs and sides pressed together as he smiled.

“I don’t know if a shortie like you will be able to fight off a psychopath,” you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Slight annoyance flashed through Lyney’s amethyst eyes as he pouted.

“You’d be surprised…” he muttered. You chuckled once more before leaning in to kiss Lyney’s plush cheek as his eyes softened in affection.

“Well, let’s just lighten the mood. We were going to watch Halloween special shows after all,” Lyney chimed, leaning over to grab the remote and change the television. That was right, today was supposed to be your date night. Freminet was having a sleepover with some of his friends and Lynette, begrudgingly, went out to give you two some space.

You felt Lyney’s hands underneath the blanket stroke against your thigh. At first, it was his thumb, before his whole hand slowly crept up and down. You gazed flickered to his that were glued to the television screen, albeit they were half-lidded and a smirk fell on his now rosy face.

“Well, aren’t you a bit touchy,” you murmured.

“Oh, am I? I didn’t seem to notice,” he hummed back, turning his gaze towards you. As he leaned in close—lips hovering by your own—a cell phone rang loudly. Your body jolted up once more, not expecting the sudden noise as anxiety shot throughout your entire body. Lyney flashed a sympathetic smile as a soft chuckle echoed out. He padded your thigh to try to comfort you, reaching out to grab his phone that was ringing out.

“We got to get you to relax, mon amour,” he murmured. He got up from his seat, walking away from your form.

Guilt gnawed on your body. You felt bad for being so anxious lately from this serial killer like your body is completely on edge as if you were a rabbit in the den of wolves, but you shouldn’t.

“I’m in my home. I am with my loving boyfriend. I am okay, I am safe,” you whispered out to yourself. Eventually, Lyney walked back in, and settled back to his spot on the couch.

“That was Lynette. She said that she would be coming home around midnight. It gives us plenty of time if you want this that is,” he stated, letting his hands trail across your thighs. You smiled, placing your hands on his cheeks. The corners of his lips curved up, leaning his head against your touch.

“I think a distraction would be good for me,” you whispered. His nose brushed against yours, lips hovering to where they once were before the interruption.

“Then forget all your troubles and leave everything to me…”

His lips finally found themselves to your own and you brought him closer to you. Your legs widened as his knees sank against the cushion of the couch to lean to you, deepening the kiss. Your hand reached over, softly grazing the crotch of his pants feeling his half-hardened cock pressing against his jeans. A soft moan escapes his lips, still connecting with yours before he parts away, and trails them along the nape of your neck.

“We…need to go to the bedroom,” Lyney groaned, continuing to kiss down your neck and nibble at the sensitive skin. Your body shivered, and you bit your lip to hide the smile creeping on your face.

“Oh, but you’re the one who has me pinned down here,” you reminded. With a grunt and pout, Lyney leaned back up, grabbed your hand, and found his way to your lips once more. The two of you bumped into walls—taking each other’s clothing off, leaving a trail to your shared bedroom. Lyney pushed you down on the bed as he slowly crawled on top of you with a mischievous smile.

“You seem so eager now. What’s the difference, chérie?” he hummed, dragging his lips across your thighs. His hands squeezed at your thighs as his lips finally trailed along the plush flesh. His hand reached to cup your cunt earning a soft moan from you as he nipped at your thighs.

“You seemed to be a great distraction, I guess,” you whined, grinding your core into his hand to encourage him to stop teasing you. Lyney playfully rolled his eyes, letting his two longest fingers sink inside your cunt, drilling them to precision and skill.

“‘I guess’” he mocked. “You, out of anyone, should know I’m more than just a ‘guess’. You know how well you enjoy passing the time with my fingers deep inside of you like this…or my mouth…or my cock. As he continued to plunge his fingers deeper inside of you, feeling your walls flutter, he couldn’t stop himself from grinding against the bed to try to get some friction on his throbbing clothed cock.

He soon learned near your drooling core, globs of your slick clinging against the fingers plunging inside of you.

“But, it’s fine. I’ll ensure you’ll think of me and nothing else. Just me and only me,” he stated. He finally pressed his lips against your clit as your body jolted in delight. Your hands dug into his soft ash-blond hair, pulling him in even deeper as his chuckles reverberated against the nub. He darted his tongue out, beginning to slowly swirl circles along the perimeter of it before letting his tongue flick rapidly on the bundle of nerves.

Your body shivered in pleasure, back arched, as Lyney tried to contain his smile, feeling your thighs beginning to press against the cheek of his face. He continued to flick his tongue against your clit before encompassing his lips around it and sucking on it—fingers not wavering and continuing to thrust inside of you.

Lyney lifted your leg against one of his shoulders and he pressed the flat of his tongue against the nub, offering a few gentle licks on it before he shifted back to suck on it. You writhed underneath him, as his blunt nails dug into your hips to try to prevent you from moving too much. The sinful sounds of slouching echoed out in the bedroom, your cheeks hot feeling overwhelmed by the attention and meticulous touch of both his mouth and fingers.

“Lyney, oh fuck. Please, please…!” you begged out. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, back arched once more—quivering—as you finally reached your high. His breath is heavy, letting your leg fall back down on the bed, leaning up to watch your pussy convulsed against nothing. His lower mouth glistened in your arousal as he licked his lips to clean up what slick clung onto there. The sweet taste of it was enough to make Lyney grin, watching your tired form trying to recover from your climax.

He leaned down against your side, feeling his hard and pulsating cock against the soft globes of your ass. He grabbed a handful of the globe, letting his cock slide between your thighs and slit a few times. As he made contact with your overstimulated clit you jolted and a soft whine emitted from you. Lyney laughed, tapping his tip against it a few times before he finally let himself slowly plunge inside of you.

As Lyney slowly sank deeper, He moved his mouth to your neck, groaning loudly, feeling your walls pulsating. When he finally bottomed out, his lips softly kissed your neck before rutting into you. The sound of slapping skin was loud inside the room and the smell of sweat wafted throughout it too. Lyney continued to nibble at your neck, admiring the bruises and hickies he decorated on the skin. His groaning got louder as he sucked a breath in, feeling your walls beginning to cave and tighten.

“Fuck,” Lyney moaned out loudly. You gasped as you felt him move and shift your body. Your ass hung in the air, as your head said laying on the pillows. His nails harpoon against your ass, drilling himself even deeper inside of you. As he continued to rut inside of you, he leaned down and kissed your back, groaning once more. He could feel your walls continuing to cave in, making it harder for him to control his thrusts and not lose himself too much in the pleasure.

He suddenly slipped out, cock quivering as he took a few breaths to try to control himself from climaxing. As he softly sighed, moving past it, he opened his eyes and admired your widening hole drooling out.

“W-What are you…” you asked, softly before Lyney pressed a finger to his lips. He reached over to the nightstand, rummaging through it. You thought he was looking for a condom, but your eyes widened seeing him pull out a small bullet vibrator instead. He held down the button on the side as the contraption began to vibrate erratically in the palm of his hands.

“I think keeping you on your toes would be best for tonight. Besides, I haven’t heard you use this before when I’m in the shower,” he chuckled as you bit your lip in embarrassment. He slid his cock back inside of you, before snaking his hand around and pressing the erratically moving vibrator against your overstimulated clit. You cried out his name, his thrusts deep and rapid. The whole bed creaked to his fast strokes, Lyney’s breaths getting heavier as he repeated your name in a slurred way as if your cunt had made him drunk.

“There…there…there…that’s right,” Lyney moaned out. You covered your face feeling tears begin to prick out as the pleasure and burn of overstimulation settled in. You shout his name, body convulsing as you reach your high for the second time tonight, writhing for what it seemed like hours beneath him.

In a dazed form, you felt Lyney flip you over admiring your absolute fucked-out form, quickly turning the vibrator off and throwing it across the bed. He continued to plunge himself inside of you. His eyes admire your chest bouncing to the fast pace of his thrusts. His cheeks were flushed and his voice whining, grunting, and groaning your name. You could barely focus on anything, your legs instinctively moved and wrapped against his small waist.

“I love you. I love you. Je t’aimerai toujours. Je n’aime que toi!” Lyney moaned out. He leaned his head back, snapping his eyes shut as he finally reached his high. His hips continued to bug, thrusting the ropes of cums deeper inside of you. He bit his lip as another soft moan emitted from him, taking heavy breaths before looking down at you.

He smiled, wiping away the tears pricking your eyes, speaking softly, and whispered in his mother tongue affection gestures to make sure you were alright. He placed his forehead against your own seeing you slowly come back from your senses, eyes completely tired but your form relaxed. There wasn’t an inch of tension he could see that you had before.

Lyney brought his lips down against your own, offering a slower and more sensual kiss.

“You know I’d do anything, absolutely anything for you. I love you so much it hurts,” he whispered. You smiled, pecking his forehead as he slowly pulled himself out of you. Soon globs of his cum began dribbling from your cunt and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Your eyes drift to the clock; Lynette will be coming home soon. You two needed to clean up and shower to avoid any unnecessary awkward conversations.

You finally closed your legs, moving to get up from the bed you accidentally hit the vibrator down as it fell to the floor. You sighed as you got up, your legs wobbly as you tried to readjust yourself.

“W-Wait! Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it and change the sheets. You just go clean up in the bathroom. If you need help just tell me, but I don’t want you to fall!” Lyney suddenly murmured. He seemed oddly on edge suddenly. You shrugged, leaning down to pick the toy up.

“It’s fine, it’s just right here. I can take…care of it….” your voice trailed off. Your eyes catch something odd under the bed. You reached to grab it, revealing that same Jester mask you saw on the news report from earlier. Parts of it seemed more damaged and cracked than the rendering the broadcast had, with a particular smudge with a dark red substance splattered on it.

Dried blood.

You look up in horror to gaze back at Lyney. His eyes, which you always knew were sweet and kind, looked back to you with more of a darker twist—his lips cemented in a frown.

“I told you to drop it, didn’t I…?” he sighed. You felt frozen in shock and fear as Lyney moved from the top of the bed to join you on the floor. His eyes, still twirled with that dark emotion you couldn’t read well, but his gaze softened. His lips curled up in a smile, you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or if he was just trying to comfort you from the revelation.

He dragged his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the tears that cascaded down. You didn’t notice you were crying.

“....Because sometimes we prefer the fantasy than the truth darling.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #lyney x reader #lyney smut #lyney imagines #lyney scenarios #yandere lyney

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yjhzies · 2 months

Text

“Not so bad.” — Hong Joshua

⸝⸝୭ ˚. fluff . romantic . meet cute

⋆ pairings : joshua x f!reader ⋆ warning : none (let me know if there is ^^) ⋆ wc : 1.5k [✉️] · despite being constantly pestered by your parents to attend a blind date, you always found them pointless, until now.

⋆ - note : I wrote this long ago but wanted to post other members before this so here it is 🥰‼️ I'm in love with this idea and I MIGHT continue this as a series ^^

Maybe it was not so bad.

If nothing else, you have your parents' word that this will be the last one.

"You got it! Everything should go planned, okay? But unless the man is actually hot..." your bestfriend, Sera, on the phone teased while you rubbed your temples and scoffed.

"Sera, I swear to g-" "Okay, I gotta go, bye! love you!" The beep signaling the end of the call quickly followed the voice.

With a sigh, you took one last look around, admiring the trees that surrounded the restaurant as the sky cleared and showed no signs of impending rain. Then, you took large, but measured, steps toward the entrance.

It was going to be simple, the same old plan. Just sit there and show no interest so that the blind date will leave you alone.

For now, all that mattered was you, regardless of whether it made you appear strange and awful in their eyes. Simply put, you were not interested in going on a blind date to meet new people.

As the staff led you to your reserved table, you sighed with relief to see that your seat was right next to a window. At the very least, there was something to keep you entertained while you waited for your blind date to arrive because you were stupid enough to forget to charge your phone before leaving, and it was now only at 6%.

And to your surprise, your date showed up rather quickly. As your gaze moved to the door, you saw a stunning man walking toward your table. He was dressed in a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his hair was perfectly falling over his face. And the cherry on top? His sweet smile.

He was so breathtakingly beautiful that it took everything within you not to freak out. You gulped and kept your eyes fixed on him, wide open. You were so engrossed in admiring him that you were oblivious to him speaking.

"Y/n, right?" With a mild grin still grazing his lips, the man stood before you, gazing down at you through those breathtakingly beautiful eyes. Although he already knew it was you, it does not hurt to double check. Not more than being embarrassed later, at least.

Noticing your gaze on him, he raises an eyebrow, reaching out to touch his cheek. "Is there something on my face?" He chuckled.

You blink and quickly shake your head, snapping out your thoughts. "N-no," you awkwardly smile, "Please take a seat."

And he does. "I'm Joshua Hong," he said, his smile never leaving as he reached into his jeans pocket to pull out his business card, which he then handed to you. "Please just call me Joshua, I don't prefer formal addressings." You flash a soft smile, nodding.

God, he was handsome. So handsome. And not only that, he was a CEO of a multi millionaire company. Speak of perfection.

When your eyes meet his, you can not help but feel a tiny warmth creep up your cheeks.

"I'm Y/n, I'm sure you know." Trying not to sound nervous, you say.

With a hum, Joshua moved the menu gently in your direction on the table and then turned to face you. "Should we order first?" Given that you had been waiting for a while, he inquired. You hesitate, but eventually nod because the growing sensation of hunger in your stomach was too strong to ignore.

Hours pass by, and you couldn't care less. The conversation lasted hours, and for the first time, you found yourself drawn to someone your parents had chosen for a blind date.

You glance at your watch, eyes widening as you realize four hours had already past. "It's sudden, but," you began, smiling sheepishly. "It's getting late, don't you think?"

With an eyebrow raised, Joshua took a quick look at his watch. He held back a gasp, surprised to see that it was past 10 P.M.

"Ah, I'm so sorry. I should've kept track of time..." Joshua apologized, sighing.

You suddenly widen your eyes, shake your head, and wave your hand in response to his apology, which takes you by surprise. "No, no! It's not your fault."

Joshua chuckles and flashes the familiar gentle smile. "You're so sweet."

Your heart gave a little thud at that, and you hastily raised your hand to shield your blushing cheeks.

"Let me drop you home, it's too late."

"Oh, it's okay," you reassure. "I can just call my friend to pick me up, don't worry."

Joshua nodded, getting up from his seat as you do too. "Alright, get home safely."

"You too."

As you both made your way out of the restaurant, you couldn't help but notice how flawless his side profile was. Just how perfect can someone be?

Just outside the restaurant, you two came to a stop and faced one another.

"It was," he began, smiling rather shyly. "Nice talking to you, Y/N."

Glancing away, you smiled shyly back. "You too, Joshua."

You pulled out your phone from your handbag and opened it, only to gasp as it read '1% battery remaining.'

You hurriedly looked through the call app, whispering to yourself, "Please don't turn off, please." But, to make matters worse, your phone turned off at the last minute, and you could not help but groan with frustration.

Joshua, on the other hand, stood by patiently until you called your friend because it definitely wasn't ideal to leave you alone, at this late hour. And the way you were panicking didn't go unnoticed by him.

"What's wrong?" He slightly leaned down, observing as you glanced at him nervously.

"Oh, uhm..." You chuckled sheepishly. "It's nothing,"

Joshua parted his lips to respond, but you were faster. "Why don't you leave first? I'll take a cab." He frowned, leaning back. "A cab?" he asked, confused. "Is your friend not available?"

You sigh, biting your lower lip as you gazed back at him. "My phone..." you began, embarrassed and waved your phone. "It's dead,"

Joshua tilted his head, his eyebrows raised as he held in a chuckle. "Oh, I see," he smiled.

"You can go, I'll take a cab." you assure, smiling in a sheepish manner.

He slid a hand in his pocket and took out his phone before handing it over to you. "Here, use mine."

You shoot up your gaze at him, blinking. "...can I?" you ask, just to confirm. Earning a nod from Joshua, you smile and gently take his phone before thanking him. You dial Sera, your bestfriend's number and internally thank god as she picks up the call.

"Sera, it's me, Y/N." you say, glancing back at Joshua who is looking around the area, patiently waiting for you to finish.

"Y/N? Whose phone are you-"

"I'll explain everything later, okay? Can you come pick me up fast? I'll send the address."

"Huh?-"

"Please. It's urgent."

"Ah, got it. Send me the address."

And you do, before handing the phone for Joshua to take. "Thanks."

But Joshua just looks at the phone and stays silent, looking hesitant. He clears his throat before choosing his words carefully. "Well," he began, smiling nervously. "Since we're got to know eachother, and maybe in the future we may meet again, why don't we..." he trails off, turning his gaze on you. "Exchange.. numbers?"

Maybe it was too early, but you didn't even think twice before agreeing. And as you both exchange numbers, Joshua couldn't help but feel so giddy at the thought of finally have met someone he was actually interested in, besides work.

Your bestfriend, Sera, arrived and spotted you. You turn to face Joshua for the last time, clearing your throat to get his attention.

"I hope we," you paused, searching for the right words. "I hope we can meet again, someday."

With a warm smile, he averted his gaze to meet yours. "I hope so too,"

And he definitely noticed the way your face lit up at his words, making his face soften.

"I'll get going now, have a goodnight,"

Joshua nods, pulling his hands out of his jeans pocket. "You too." he smiles.

As you made your way to Sera's car, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of leaving. Nearing towards the car, you turn around one last time to see Joshua still standing there with a smile on his face. You wave him bye as he returns it gratefully.

And you wouldn't have thought about it, but he was feeling the same disappointment as he watched you leave.

With a sigh, he made his way to his car and took out his car keys once you were completely out of sight.

Never in your life did you think your parents' choice would be this good. You never liked the idea of blind dates despite being a hopeless romantic, until now. And it was as if you both were written and meant to be for eachother, it was the same situation with him aswell. If his parents never forced him to go to the blind date, he would've probably never met you, and he was grateful he did go that day.

You both couldn't help but smile at the thought of eachother. "Maybe it was not so bad."

And maybe fate would bring you both together again, or even forever.

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novaursa · 21 days

Note

Bonsoir

my English is not very good sorry 🥹

I’m obsessed with Sir Gwayne Hightower..

Can we imagine something like reader is the younger sister of Rheanyra and she fell in love with him during the tournament.

The king Viserys love his daughter so much that he accept her demand. They lived in Oldtown where they raised Daeron, and they also have children maybe 5/6?

Later they came back to King’s Landing and it’s their child’s who got attack the night (idk if one died like you want) and both of them goes furious agains Rheanyra and Alicent.

A House Divided

- Summary: During a tourney your father organized for the birth of his heir, your heart found a flame in Ser Gwayne Hightower.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. The requests are now closed!

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

The grand tourney was in full swing, the air mingling with the scent of churned earth and sweat, and the clamor of metal clashing against metal reverberated through the stands. You sat in the royal box, perched between your elder sister, Rhaenyra, and her closest companion, Alicent Hightower. The three of you made a striking tableau, clad in the rich velvets and silks befitting your station, your hair arranged in intricate braids that sparkled with delicate gems. The sun beat down mercilessly on the field below, casting a golden hue over the proceedings as knights in gleaming armor paraded before you.

Rhaenyra leaned forward, her attention rapt, as one of the knights she had favored rode out onto the field. "Ser Harwin Strong," she whispered, more to herself than to you. "They say he could fell a dozen men in single combat."

You barely heard her, your gaze fixed on the next rider in line. He wore the silver and green of House Hightower, his helm adorned with the familiar sigil of the fiery beacon. Ser Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s brother, guided his horse with practiced ease, his posture straight and noble, as befitting the son of the Hand of the King. But it wasn’t just his prowess on the field that caught your attention. No, it was the way his eyes, even from beneath the shadow of his helm, seemed to seek yours.

You felt a flutter in your chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer sun. Your heart skipped a beat when his gaze locked with yours, lingering for a moment too long to be mere coincidence. His expression, though partially obscured by the helm, betrayed something—an unspoken acknowledgment, a silent exchange that sent a shiver down your spine. You offered him a small, shy smile, one that you hoped would convey the burgeoning emotions that you could barely understand yourself.

Beside you, Alicent noticed the exchange. She turned her head slightly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "He is quite skilled, isn’t he?" she remarked casually, though the hint of amusement in her tone did not escape your notice.

"Yes," you replied softly, trying to keep your voice even. "He is."

Alicent’s lips curled into a knowing smile, but she said nothing more, her attention shifting back to the tournament as the next knight prepared to ride. But your thoughts remained on Gwayne, your mind replaying the moment over and over again.

The peace of the moment was shattered when a thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd. A new rider had entered the lists, one who commanded immediate attention. The black stallion he rode was as imposing as the man himself, its powerful muscles rippling beneath the dark coat as it trotted confidently onto the field. The helm he wore was unmistakable, the dragon sigil of House Targaryen gleaming in the sunlight. Your uncle, Daemon, the Rogue Prince.

A tension gripped the air, as palpable as the steel of the swords being brandished on the field. Daemon was not merely a competitor; he was a force unto himself, and his mere presence sent ripples of unease through the crowd. You knew well enough of the strained relationship between him and the Hand, and you could feel a foreboding sense of what was to come.

Your heart lurched as Daemon’s gaze swept the field, his eyes narrowing with calculated malice. He was looking for an opponent, someone whose defeat would send a clear message to the court. And then, with a wicked smile, he made his choice.

"Ser Gwayne Hightower!" the herald announced, his voice carrying over the din of the crowd.

The smile you had shared with Gwayne moments ago felt like a distant memory, replaced now with an overwhelming sense of dread. You watched in horror as Daemon spurred his horse forward, his eyes gleaming with cruel intent. Gwayne had no choice but to accept the challenge; to refuse would be to invite dishonor upon his house.

Alicent gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "He’s doing this to spite my father," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He means to humiliate us."

Rhaenyra’s expression darkened as she glanced between you and the field. "Daemon is always looking for ways to make his mark," she said, her voice edged with frustration. "But this…"

Your hands tightened around the arms of your seat, knuckles turning white as you watched the two knights prepare to charge. The tension was almost unbearable, your fear for Gwayne warring with the knowledge that there was nothing you could do. He was skilled, yes, but Daemon was ruthless, and the outcome of this bout felt all too predictable.

The sound of hooves pounding against the earth filled your ears as the two men charged at each other, lances poised to strike. The crowd held its breath, the world seeming to slow as the distance between the riders closed in an instant.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t bear to look away either. The moment of impact was sudden, brutal. Daemon’s lance struck true, sending Gwayne crashing to the ground in a blur of motion. The crowd erupted into a cacophony of cheers and gasps, but all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears.

Alicent’s hand found yours, squeezing it tightly, and you realized she was trembling just as much as you were. Rhaenyra leaned closer, her voice a whisper meant to comfort. "He’ll be all right," she said, though even she didn’t sound entirely convinced. "Ser Gwayne is strong. He’ll rise again."

But as you looked down at the field, where Gwayne lay motionless in the dirt, your heart was filled with fear and uncertainty. The triumph on Daemon’s face as he rode past only deepened your dread. You knew that this was just the beginning of a dangerous game, one in which the stakes were far too high.

And though you wanted nothing more than to rush to Gwayne’s side, to ensure that he was truly all right, you could only sit there, helpless, as the tourney continued around you, your thoughts consumed by the image of his fall and the lingering touch of his gaze upon yours.

The corridors of the Red Keep were quiet, the bustle of the day having given way to the stillness of the evening. You walked with purposeful steps, though each one felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the thoughts swirling in your mind. The events of the tourney still haunted you, particularly the moment when Ser Gwayne Hightower had been unseated by your uncle Daemon in such a brutal manner. The memory of Gwayne lying motionless on the ground was seared into your memory, and you had spent every waking moment since then worrying about his well-being.

You had learned earlier that day from Alicent that Gwayne was recovering in a guest chamber within the Keep, his wounds being tended to by the maesters. The relief that had washed over you upon hearing he was alive had been swiftly replaced by an overwhelming need to see him, to ensure with your own eyes that he was truly all right.

But more than that, you felt a deep sense of guilt. Gwayne had suffered because of your uncle’s vendetta, and though you knew Daemon was not your responsibility, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you needed to apologize on his behalf. It was as if your worry for Gwayne had ignited a flame of something more within you, something you hadn’t fully understood until now.

You approached the door to Gwayne’s chamber, hesitating only briefly before knocking lightly. The sound echoed softly in the empty hall, and you held your breath as you waited for a response. A few moments passed, and then you heard the shuffling of feet from within. The door creaked open, revealing Gwayne’s face—pale but still handsome, his hair slightly disheveled, and his usually bright eyes dulled with pain. When he saw you standing there, surprise flickered across his features, quickly replaced by something warmer.

“Princess Y/N,” he greeted, his voice soft but filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter. “I did not expect a visit from you.”

“I… I wanted to see how you were faring,” you replied, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” he said, stepping back to allow you entrance. “Forgive the state of the room. I’ve not been the best company, I’m afraid.”

The chamber was modest, yet comfortable. The bed in which Gwayne had been resting was neatly made, though the pillows were slightly askew, evidence of his struggle to find a comfortable position. A small table beside the bed held a pitcher of water, a few books, and some bandages that had been used by the maesters. The room smelled faintly of herbs, likely to aid in the healing process.

You walked slowly into the room, your eyes briefly scanning the surroundings before settling on Gwayne again. He closed the door behind you and made his way back to the bed, moving with a slight limp. You felt a pang of guilt seeing him in such a state, knowing that it was your uncle’s doing.

“Please, sit,” he offered, gesturing to a chair near the bed. You took a seat, clasping your hands in your lap, unsure of where to begin. Gwayne settled back onto the bed, wincing slightly as he did so.

“I’m sorry, Ser Gwayne,” you blurted out, unable to contain the words any longer. “I’m so sorry for what my uncle did. It was cruel and unnecessary, and… and I’m sorry you had to endure it.”

Gwayne looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he smiled—a gentle, almost affectionate smile that made your heart ache in a way that was both unfamiliar and comforting.

“There’s no need for you to apologize,” he said softly. “Your uncle is his own man, and his actions are not your burden to bear.”

“But I feel responsible,” you insisted, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “He is family, and yet he… he targeted you because of your own.”

Gwayne reached out, his hand brushing lightly against yours where they rested in your lap. The touch was soft, hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure if it was welcome, but the warmth of his skin against yours sent a shiver through you. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, you felt the full force of the connection that had been growing between you.

“I am a knight, Princess,” he said, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. “I knew the risks when I entered the lists. Your concern honors me, but please do not blame yourself for what happened.”

You nodded, though the guilt still lingered at the edges of your mind. “I’ve been so worried about you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw you fall… I’ve never felt such fear before.”

His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, the small gesture sending a thrill through you. “And I have never been so honored to be the cause of someone’s worry,” he replied, his tone laced with warmth. “But I’m all right. The maesters say I will heal fully, given time.”

The weight on your chest lifted slightly at his reassurance, and you allowed yourself to truly take in his appearance. Despite his injuries, there was a strength in him that shone through, a resilience that you admired. And more than that, there was a kindness in his eyes, a softness that made you feel seen, truly seen, in a way you hadn’t before.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “For being so understanding… and for not holding my family’s actions against me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I care for you, more than you might realize. Seeing you here, knowing that you came for me… it means more than words can express.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with the unspoken feelings that hung between you. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were acutely aware of how close he was, how the slightest movement would close the distance between you.

“I care for you too, Gwayne,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the admission. It was the first time you had spoken those words, the first time you had allowed yourself to truly acknowledge what had been blossoming between you.

His eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought he might lean in, that he might bridge the gap and close the distance between you in a way that would change everything. But instead, he merely tightened his grip on your hand, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that felt almost reverent.

“I will heal, Princess,” he said, his voice low and filled with a promise that made your heart swell. “And when I do, I will strive to be worthy of your care.”

“You already are,” you replied, your voice firm despite the emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. “You have always been.”

The two of you sat there in silence for a long moment, your hand still held in his, the world outside the chamber forgotten. There was no need for further words; everything you needed to say was conveyed in the gentle touch, in the shared glances, in the understanding that passed between you.

Finally, you knew it was time to go, though leaving him was the last thing you wanted. You reluctantly pulled your hand from his, rising from your seat with a heart that felt both heavy and light all at once.

“Rest well, Ser Gwayne,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth.

“And you, Princess,” he replied, his eyes lingering on yours as you turned to leave.

As you walked back through the quiet corridors of the Red Keep, your heart was filled with a new kind of certainty. The connection you felt with Gwayne was undeniable, you knew that you had found something precious in the midst of all the turmoil—something worth holding onto, no matter what the future might bring.

The years that followed the tourney saw your life change in ways you could have never anticipated. The bond between you and Gwayne Hightower deepened with each passing day, blossoming into a love that defied the expectations of courtly life. What began as shy smiles and stolen glances grew into something much more profound—conversations that lasted long into the night, tender moments shared in hidden alcoves of the Red Keep, and a connection that seemed to transcend all the chaos and political maneuvering that surrounded you both.

Gwayne became your constant companion, his presence a source of comfort and strength. He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes. He was always there when you needed him, his steady gaze grounding you when the pressures of your station became too much to bear. And in return, you gave him your heart, knowing that he would cherish it as he had cherished you from the very beginning.

It was in the quiet moments, away from the prying eyes of the court, that you truly fell in love with him. You would sit together in the godswood, the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves as you shared stories of your childhoods, your dreams, your fears. He would listen intently, his gaze never wavering, and you would feel a warmth in your chest that you had never known before.

But as the years passed, you both knew that your love could not remain a secret forever. The time would come when you would have to seek the blessing of your father, King Viserys, if you were to be together openly. And so, one evening, after much deliberation, you found yourself standing before him in his chambers, your heart pounding with a mixture of hope and fear.

Viserys had aged in the years since your mother’s passing, the weight of the crown bearing heavily on his shoulders. His marriage to Alicent had brought stability to the realm, but there was a sadness in his eyes that had never truly left. Yet, when he looked at you, there was still warmth, a father’s love that had not dimmed with time.

“Father,” you began, your voice steady despite the anxiety gnawing at you, “there is something I must ask of you.”

He set aside the parchment he had been reading, giving you his full attention. “What is it, daughter?” he asked, his tone gentle.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “I wish to marry Ser Gwayne Hightower.”

Viserys blinked, clearly taken aback by your request. “Gwayne?” he repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. “You… you wish to marry him?”

“Yes, Father,” you said, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. “I love him. He has been a constant presence in my life, and I cannot imagine my future without him.”

There was a long silence as Viserys studied you, his expression contemplative. You could see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, the calculations, the concerns. Marriages were rarely matters of the heart in the Targaryen dynasty; they were tools of politics, alliances forged to strengthen the realm. But you had always been different from your sister, Rhaenyra. You had always followed your heart, and now you were asking your father to allow you to do so in this most important of matters.

“Does he love you?” Viserys asked finally, his voice quiet.

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation. “I believe he does.”

Viserys sighed, his hand coming up to rub his temple. “You know what this would mean, don’t you? You are a princess of the realm, a daughter of the dragon. To marry a Hightower… it would tie you to their house in a way that cannot be undone, like it did me.”

“I know, Father,” you said. “But this is what I want. I’ve thought long and hard about it. I’ve considered the implications, the responsibilities. And still, my heart tells me this is the right path.”

At that moment, the door to the chamber opened, and Otto Hightower stepped in, his expression as calculating as ever. He must have overheard your conversation, or perhaps he had been summoned, for it was not uncommon for him to linger near the king’s chambers.

“If I may, Your Grace,” Otto interjected, his voice smooth, “a marriage between the Princess and my son would fully solidify the bond between House Targaryen and House Hightower. It would further strengthen the realm, ensuring the continued loyalty of Oldtown.”

Viserys glanced between you and Otto, his frown deepening. But when his gaze returned to you, it softened. “You truly love him?” he asked again, as if needing to hear it one more time.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice filled with a sincerity that could not be denied.

Viserys nodded slowly, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. “Then I will grant your request,” he said, his voice heavy with the weight of the decision. “You may marry Gwayne Hightower.”

Relief washed over you, and you rushed forward to embrace your father, the smile on your face brighter than it had been in years. “Thank you, Father,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

Otto’s expression was one of quiet satisfaction, and you knew that he was already calculating the benefits this union would bring to his house. But at that moment, you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were free to be with the man you loved.

The wedding took place in the Starry Sept in Oldtown, a grand affair that was attended by the most powerful lords and ladies of the realm. You wore a gown of deep crimson, the color of your house, with delicate silver thread woven into the fabric. Gwayne stood at the altar, resplendent in his armor, his eyes filled with nothing but love and adoration as he watched you approach. The ceremony was solemn and beautiful, the vows you exchanged echoing in the vastness of the Sept as you pledged your lives to one another.

After the wedding, you moved to Oldtown, where Gwayne took up his duties as a lord and you settled into your new role as his wife. It was in Oldtown that your family grew, and soon your household was filled with the laughter of children. You and Gwayne were blessed with six—three sons and three daughters, each one as beloved as the last. The boys, with their father’s hair and your violet eyes, grew strong and healthy, while the girls, with their mother’s grace and their father’s determination, were the joy of your heart.

But it wasn’t just your children who filled your home with love. Prince Daeron, your young Targaryen half-brother, had been sent to Oldtown to foster with you, and he quickly became as much a part of your family as your own children. You and Gwayne raised him as your own, and the bond between Daeron and your children was as strong as any sibling tie.

One afternoon, you found yourself standing on the balcony of your chambers, watching your children play in the garden below. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the scene. Your sons were chasing each other with wooden swords, their laughter ringing out as they pretended to be knights defending the realm. Your daughters were sitting in a circle, weaving flower crowns and giggling at some shared joke. And in the midst of them all was Daeron, his silver hair shining in the sunlight as he played with your youngest daughter, lifting her up onto his shoulders with a grin.

A sense of peace settled over you as you watched them, a deep contentment that came from knowing that they were happy, that they were safe. This was the life you had always dreamed of, the life you had fought for, and it was more perfect than you could have ever imagined.

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a familiar chest. Gwayne rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he looked out at the scene before you.

“They’ve grown so much,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet wonder.

“Yes,” you agreed, leaning back into his embrace. “It feels like just yesterday they were all babes in our arms.”

Gwayne chuckled softly. “And now they’re growing into little warriors and ladies, ready to take on the world.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man who had given you so much. “I could not have asked for a better life,” you said softly, turning your head to press a kiss to his cheek. “Or a better husband.”

He tightened his hold on you, his lips brushing against your temple. “Nor could I have asked for a better wife,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “You have made me the happiest of men, my love.”

You stayed like that for a long while, watching your children play, the warmth of Gwayne’s arms around you grounding you in the moment. This was your life now—a life filled with love, laughter, and the joy of raising a family together. And though the future was uncertain, as it always was in the world of thrones and dragons, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could face whatever came your way.

The laughter of your children and the gentle breeze of Oldtown were the sounds of your happiness, a happiness that you had fought for, and that you cherished with all your heart. And as the sun began to set on another perfect day, you knew that this was just the beginning of the life you had always dreamed of—one filled with love, family, and the promise of a future built on the strength of your bond with the man you loved.

The Red Keep had always been a place of grandeur and tradition, but in recent times, it had become a breeding ground for fear and treachery. You had come to King’s Landing with your family for what was meant to be a brief visit, a time to reunite with your kin and remind your children of the world beyond Oldtown. But that night, your worst fears were realized in a way that would haunt you for the rest of your days.

It was late when the nightmare began. The corridors of the Keep were quiet, the usual bustle of court life having settled into the stillness of the night. Your children had been put to bed hours ago, and you had just finished reading to your youngest son, his tiny form nestled under the blankets, his eyes fluttering closed as sleep claimed him. You kissed his forehead, smoothing his hair as you whispered goodnight, believing, as any mother would, that your children were safe within these walls.

But safety was an illusion.

The first sign that something was wrong came with the faint sound of footsteps—too heavy, too deliberate. You had barely turned toward the door when it burst open, and two men, shadows in the flickering candlelight, stepped into the room.

Their presence was overwhelming, the stench of blood and malice clinging to them like a shroud. The taller of the two, Blood, held a cruel smile on his lips, while Cheese’s eyes were as cold and dead as the steel they carried. They moved with purpose, their gaze settling on the crib where your youngest son slept, blissfully unaware of the danger looming over him.

“No!” The word tore from your throat as you surged forward, your only thought to protect your child. But Blood was faster, his hand lashing out to seize your arm and wrench you back. You struggled, tears of desperation burning your eyes as you fought against his iron grip, but it was futile. They were too strong, too determined.

“Shhh,” Cheese hissed, his voice a mockery of gentleness as he approached the crib. “No need to cry, Princess. We’re here on a simple task.”

“You can’t—please, don’t do this,” you begged, your voice breaking. “He’s just a child…”

Blood’s grip tightened on your arm, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “It’s a son for a son, Princess. A fair trade.”

His words sent a jolt of terror through you. You knew the price they had come to exact. Rhaenyra, your own blood, had ordered this—vengeance for the loss of her son, Lucerys, at the hands of Aemond. The knowledge twisted your insides with a sickening realization. This wasn’t just a random act of violence; it was retribution, and your innocent child was to be the offering.

“No! Please, take me instead! Take me!” you cried, desperation lending strength to your struggles. But Blood merely laughed, a low, chilling sound that sent ice through your veins.

“Sorry, Princess, but we’re here for the boy.”

Before you could react, Cheese reached into the crib, his movements swift and practiced. Your son awoke with a start, his sleepy eyes widening in confusion as rough hands lifted him from the bed. His small, frightened cries pierced the air, tearing at your heart as you screamed for mercy.

“Please!” you wailed, struggling even harder, your voice breaking under the weight of your terror. “Don’t hurt him! Please!”

Cheese’s expression remained cold as he cradled your son in one arm, his other hand drawing a knife, its blade glinting in the dim light. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of panic through you, your body trembling as you watched, powerless, knowing what was about to happen.

But instead of the killing blow you feared, Cheese moved the knife down, slicing through the delicate skin of your son’s leg. The scream that followed was inhuman, a sound of pure agony that would forever haunt your nightmares. Your son’s body jerked in his captor’s arms, blood pouring from the wound, staining his clothes and the floor beneath him.

You collapsed to your knees, your strength drained, your screams turning to choked sobs as you reached out for your child. “Please, please, stop…” you begged, your voice hoarse and raw.

Blood released you then, his mission complete, his cruel smile lingering as he watched you crawl toward your son, your hands shaking as you tried to stem the flow of blood with the hem of your gown.

“Consider this a warning,” Blood sneered, his voice low and menacing. “A message to all who would betray their kin. The price of treachery is paid in blood.”

With that, they turned and left, vanishing into the shadows as quickly as they had come, leaving you alone in the darkness with your wounded child.

You gathered your son into your arms, rocking him gently as his cries weakened, his tiny body shaking with shock and pain. Blood stained your hands, your gown, the floor beneath you, and the horror of it all threatened to overwhelm you. But you couldn’t fall apart—not now. You had to save him. You had to hold on.

“Maester!” you screamed, your voice echoing through the empty corridors. “Maester, please!”

Moments later, Gwayne burst into the room, his face a mask of horror as he took in the scene before him. “No…” he breathed, his voice trembling with the same disbelief that had gripped you. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering over your son, as if afraid to touch him, afraid that the sight of his broken body might shatter what remained of his composure.

“They… they came for him,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears. “They came for him, and I couldn’t stop them…”

Gwayne’s eyes blazed with fury as he looked at the door, as if willing the men who had done this to reappear so he could tear them apart with his bare hands. “Where are the guards? Where were they?” he demanded, his voice rising with each word. “How could they let this happen?”

But no one could answer him. The guards who finally arrived were too late, their faces pale with the realization of their failure. And then came Alicent, her nightgown hastily thrown over her frame, her face as white as a ghost as she took in the horror that had unfolded in her own keep.

“Gwayne… my God, what’s happened?” Alicent gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she saw the blood, the broken child in your arms.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Gwayne spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “They came for us. They came for my son. Your nephew!” His voice broke, and he shook his head, the anger in his eyes giving way to grief. “They maimed him, Alicent. They maimed my boy…”

Alicent’s face crumpled, tears spilling down her cheeks as she moved to kneel beside you. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “I’m so sorry…”

But her words did nothing to ease the pain that tore through your heart. You held your son closer, rocking him as his cries grew weaker, his little hands clutching at your gown as if trying to hold on to you, to life.

“Why was my family not protected by the guards?” Gwayne demanded, his voice shaking with fury. “Rhaenyra... this is her doing! She ordered this! She wanted a son for a son, and now my son lies here, bleeding, because of her!”

Alicent flinched at his words, shaking her head. “Gwayne, please… Rhaenyra… she… she wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t she?” Gwayne cut her off, his eyes blazing. “This is her vengeance, Alicent! She ordered this! And for what? For Lucerys? And now my boy suffers because of it!”

You could see the pain in Alicent’s eyes, the realization of the rift that had been torn between her family and yours. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. There was nothing she could say that would bring back the sense of safety you had lost, nothing that could erase the horror of what had been done to your child.

The Maester arrived, his face ashen as he quickly set to work, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to save what remained of your son’s life. Gwayne held you close as the Maester worked, his hands trembling as they gripped your shoulders, his breath ragged in your ear.

“We’ll leave this place,” Gwayne whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We’ll take our children and leave this cursed place. We’ll go back to Oldtown, where they’ll be safe. I swear it.”

You nodded, unable to speak, your tears falling silently as you clutched your son to your chest, willing him to live, willing the nightmare to end.

But deep down, you knew that nothing would ever be the same. The bond between your families had been shattered, the trust you once held in Rhaenyra, in the Targaryen blood, irreparably broken. You had lost more than just a sense of security that night; you had lost the belief that family could protect you from the darkness of the world.

#house of the dragon #hotd x female reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd gwayne #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne x y/n #gwayne x you

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backtothefanfiction · 9 months

Text

Nicknames

Summary; explaining where you and Felix get your nicknames for each other from.

Warnings: fluff, tragic backstory, neglect, sibling bullying

A/N: the whole point of the Summer at Saltburn shorts is that you can read them in any order and they make sense but this is probably one with the most context as to why reader lives/spends their school holidays at Saltburn.

Summers at Saltburn Masterlist

You can’t remember a single summer you haven’t spent at Saltburn. Even as a kid, before your father ran off to South America (when he came under investigation for embezzling company funds), you had always spent some time at your Godfather’s house; because his kids were the same age as you. You were the youngest of four, a “happy” accident 6 years after your older brother had been born. He was supposed to be the baby of the family, not you and the age difference between you and them (they all had only a year or two between them) made them cruel.

Felix had started to call you Daisy in response to hearing your older brothers and sister refer to you as Oopsy at one of his parents parties.

“Why do you call her Daisy, my darling?” Elspeth had asked her son when she realised he’d started to refer to you exclusively as the small yet resilient dainty flower.

“Because her family call her oopsy, as in oopsy Daisy.” He says through a mouthful of food.

“Oh how horrible. Is that true darling?” She says turning towards you. Elspeth had always treated you as if you were one of her own and the thought of people being so cruel to you made her blood simmer under her collected exterior.

You paused before saying “yes,” unable to look her in the eyes.

“Well,” she said, patting your hand that lay resting on the table between the two of you, “I much prefer Daisy, because you are. You are beautiful and strong and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

——————/////—————

You had taken to calling Felix “Fix” only a few summers back, when he finished secondary school and brought his first school friend home for the summer. It wasn’t until another 3 summers later and Felix brought Oliver home for the summer that he finally asked you why.

You had decided to hide yourself in the field in hope of actually trying to get through one of the books you’d brought with you to read this summer. You actually hated the field. It had a very specific rule, if you were going to lie out in the field, you have to do it naked. It wasn’t the rule itself that made you hate it, but the fact you always seemed to get bit by something hiding in the long grass.

You’d managed to sneak away and remain undetected for all of 30 minutes (which was a new kind of record because searching the whole house for someone could take up to an hour at times) before Felix came stalking across the field towards you.

“Clothes.” You called out from behind your book.

He was silent as he stripped off his polo shirt and shorts before stomping through the long grass towards you. He remained silent as you continued to read but his fidgety fingers and legs told you there was something he wanted to talk about.

“Just say it.” You say, your eyes pausing at the end of a paragraph to make sure you wouldn’t lose your spot, hoping his question would have a quick answer and you could go back to the novel in your hand.

“Why do you call me Fix?” He says.

It’s not a question you were expecting and find yourself dropping your book into your lap to turn and look at him. “I thought it was obvious.” You say, peering over the tops of your sunglasses at him.

“Well apparently it’s not.” He replies.

“It’s because you like to fix people.” You say, lifting your book back up to your eyes, figuring it was answer enough, but alas, Felix protested.

“I don’t like to fix people.” He scoffs and as you look over the top of your book at him, you can see the small scowl forming on his face around his furrowed brow.

“Oh yeah?” You say before you both get distracted by the sound of another pair of feet making their way across the field towards you. You look to see Oliver making his way towards you both and it’s like the god’s have just handed this to you on a plate. “Ahhh look,” you say, seizing the opportunity, “here comes exhibit C.” You say to Felix, before shouting a reminder of “Clothes!” At Oliver.

Felix doesn’t say any more about it that afternoon, but when he corners you that evening before dinner, he has to ask. “Okay, so if Ollie is exhibit C, I’m assuming Michael was exhibit B…” he pauses as he waits for you to give him a small nod of confirmation before he asks, “Who’s exhibit A?”

“Me.” You say, as if it’s obvious. One look at his face tells you that you’ve stunned him into silence. Your face is calm and confident as you make your way into the dining room, leaving him alone in the hallway to ponder his thoughts.

#felix catton imagine #felix catton fluff #felix catton x reader #felix catton #saltburn #saltburn imagine #fluff #summers at saltburn

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captainlondonman · 3 months

Text

HiViz MASSAGE

Alan walked down the same street almost every day but today for some reason he saw a sign on a door. There was no shop front but obviously there was something on the floor above. It read

Mehmet Massage, Turkish massage for real men.

Alan had had a Turkish massage once and was so pummelled he could hardly move after but there was something about the fact it said for real men that caught his attention. Was he a real man. Well in some ways he had a good body, not powerful but at least people said he looked good. He was smooth skinned and blond with fair skin. God knows what made him do it but checking no one was watching him he rang the bell.

Through the speaker a deep gravelly voice commanded

‘Who is that, what you want?’

Alan replied ‘I see your sign and wonder if I could make a booking.’

‘Come on up.’

The buzzer released the door and Alan walked up the staircase into what was obviously a home . Standing at the top of the stairs was what looked like a giant of a man with thick black hair and an even thicker beard. He must have been at least 6’ 2” and well built, wearing a blue tracksuit zipped up to his neck.

‘You would like massage?’

‘You are new here so I thought I’d give it a try.’

‘Good you are my first customer.’

Alan quietly thought

‘Oh my God what have I let myself in for.’

‘What did you do before this,’ Alan inquired

‘I was a workie, a good workie but now I change and do not worry I am trained as a masseur. Come is and we start.’

There seemed no way Alan could turn around and leave.

‘Well it is only one time so not really a problem.’

‘So take your clothes off and let me see you. No need to worry we are both men. I seen it all as a workie.’

Alan stripped off to his underpants feeling very self conscious. Not knowing quite what to do.

‘You have very smooth body. Not really a true man for us Turkish. Almost young boy body with no hair.’

‘I know. I often wish I was more hairy with good chest hair. Even growing a beard for me is a waste of time.’

‘We Turkish men all have beards, sign of a real man. Also good hairy bodies.’

‘That would be good’, Alan replied sheepishly.

‘You come to right place. Come into my work room.’

Entering Alan could see it was set up as a massage room with towels and the massage table in the middle of the room.

‘First I put cover over table.’ Opening a drawer Mehmet took out a large black rubber sheet and spread it out over the table letting it drape down the sides.

‘Do not be surprised. I use good oils so need to have sheet under you.’

Alan could smell the strong Arab Oud perfume in the room something he had always found quite a turn on.

‘So because of oils you need to take off your underwear. Full naked. Then you lie on your back on table.’

The last thing Alan wanted to do was show his cock to this macho Turk thinking it was too small and soft for such a man.

‘You got boy cock but not bad not much pube. Massage will do you good. Make you feel more like a man just as I say on door. You come to right place. So lie flat out on your back.

Now I get ready and give you some special Turkish tea.’

Alan lay on his back not knowing what to do and part of him still wanted to get up and go before the Turk came back but there was something when he said ‘make you like a man’ that sounded interesting and worth trying.

The door opened and Mehmet stood in front of Alan holding a small glass cup of tea. His eyes were out on stocks as the Turk was standing there naked apart from a pair of light blue speedos showing of his cock and balls and both were thick and heavy almost pulling the speedos down off his crotch. But it was his body. The man looked like a gorilla with thick black hair from the top of his head to his toes. His nipples were hidden is a forest of curly black hair and it reached up and over his shoulders down his arms. His pubes were covered in even thicker and if possible blacker hair at least 2inches thick which broke up in a burst of hair under his speedos.

‘If I use oil I also need little clothes so I can get down on your body. Don’t worry. Perhaps you not used to hairy man working on.’

‘No.’

‘Well this I know you will like. Before we start you drink this good Turkish tea. It will make you feel calm and enjoy more. All us Turks drink this, so you too. I see you look at my body. You like?’

‘It’s amazing.’

‘You like a body like this?’

I would but just look at me, it’s never gonna happen’

‘You never know’

Alan having never drunk this type of tea before decided not to smell in case he did not like it but just to drink quickly. He could feel the liquid sliding down the back of his throat and as it moved down it almost felt like a warm treacle, the more it went down the warmer it became and he could feel it moving to every part of his body and even his mind started to become more cloudy.

‘This tea relax you, make you enjoy massage more. It make your skin feel tingling and warm and sensitive as I take my hands all over your body.. Do not fight my hands but accept and soon you will start to feel good, a real man. Do not worry if you have erection. I have seen many cocks hard before and it will mean you enjoy what I am going to do to you.’

Alan lying flat out on his back felt slightly numb but it was all pleasure. He found if difficult to keep his eyes open but he so wanted to experience what Mehmet was about to do. He could smell the rubber sheet and even just the fact of lying on black rubber had started to make his cock twitch but he could not care. Mehmet had said it was quite common for men to get hard during massage and all he worried about was his white cock with little in the way of pubes.

‘I start on your feet and work up. I will now pour some oil over your feet and up your legs and then let it soak in for a few minutes. Enjoy the warm oil and the smell. The smell of the oil will change a bit as it runs onto the rubber sheet but then it is even better and stronger the mix. The smell of the rubber will seem strong and toxic.’

The Turk started on Alan’s feet and he could feel the thick hands massaging the oil between his toes and then around his ankles and up and down the length of his feet. It felt good but he was aware that his feet seemed bigger and longer, certainly his toes felt larger but perhaps that was just because of the pulling method the Turk was using. The hands then started to work their up Alan’s legs first to the knees, lifting his legs so he could get his oily hands under. The Turks hands were firm as they rubbed the oil deep into his skin and then they moved up the leg to his groin.

Alan let out a small groan of pleasure as he could feel the oil go deep into his skin. Almost touching an erogenous zone. But something was changing. As the hands rubbed deep, the wide palms covering his legs so they began to feel thicker, more muscular and most oddly it wasn’t just Mehmet’s hairy hands but his legs felt hairy and not just slightly but more than that. It was as if the more Mehmet rubbed the more hairs on his legs which were few now seemed massively curly. His thighs he could feel had expanded and now Mehmet could not get his hands around them , he needed both his hands to work the thickness.

‘My massage give you good manly legs now.’

‘They feel so big and full of muscle. It’s incredible the feeling you are giving me.’

‘I said I would make you feel like a real man. Now do not worry what I do next as I must massage around your crotch. I leave your cock alone but you will have a good sensation and I know you will be very soon erect. I see many men with boners so Ok for me. I pour new oil around this area.’

Alan felt the heat of the oil seep into his balls and cock. It was not just warm but it was erotic and much as though he was trying to keep his mind of Mehmet working in his private parts he could feel his cock getting erect. Mehmet started working around his balls and up under his arse, pressing down into his hairless pubes but the more Mehmet pressed the more resistance he seemed to have and the smoothness started changing. He could feel Mehmet’s hands rubbing into wiry hair and not just thin areas of hair but what seemed a massive jungle that had sprouted around his balls. He could not see what was happening but he felt this change. The Turk pulled slightly at his balls and these balls were no longer the pea size but thick tennis balls . The firm movement of Mehmet’s hands around his cock had unleashed a massive erection but Alan thought he knew what his hard cock felt like but this was different it now felt like a thick baton and much longer as well as thicker. In fact it felt amazing and all because of a massage.

‘Now I pour oil on your chest. This will make you now feel good and you will almost start to feel a bit Turkish.’

Not knowing what he was saying Alan said ‘Well if it’s to be a bit like you then I am fine with that.’

‘Good that is what I expect to hear from you.’

Mehmet’s hands dove deep unpwards spreading them across the body and up to Alan’s tits. The more the hand spread across his body the more he felt his smooth skin change. At first it felt a bit like he had sandpaper on his chest but quickly that changed into curly hair not just in small areas but his whole chest seemed to grow a forest and a wide forest at that. Mehmet’s hands met some resistance as they came to his pecs which before had no definition but now he had firm boobs. As his hands defined the shape so the Turk gave a slight pinch to Alan’s tits.

‘All men need to have their tits squeezed when they have a massage. You like?’

‘I am sorry I have very sensitive nipples.’

‘That is good. Now you got good big nipples so I give extra rub.’

As he squeezed a little more so Alan groaned but not with pain, but pleasure.

‘Don’t do any more please as it is making me feel horny.’

‘I move on to face but I think soon you will be feeling very horny. It is what my massage does when men feel like real good Turkish men.’

‘But I am not Turkish though oddly I am feeling very hairy like you but the tea you gave me it still making my eyes a bit blurred.’

‘Now you let me do you face and I rub oil all around your face and hair.’

‘Do you need to do the hair?’ Alan asked meekly.

‘Oh yes but you will like when finished and you have good thick oily hair.’

The Turk let his hands roam over Alan’s face especially his cheeks and neck and as they massage so dark hair started sprouting not just a little 5 o’clock shadow but quickly it went longer and longer until half Alan’s face had a thick black 3” beard from his ears to the base of his neck where it met the forest of black body hair. His slim jawline had changed to a square with thick set neck and his lips were no longer the thin pink but a wider and more pronounced brown. Even his teeth which Mehmet had not touched were now white and gleaming. He looked more like a Turkish dervish

The Turk then massaged Alan’s head and the long thin fair hair changed to a short black thatch with low hairline .

‘You feel good/”

‘Yeah it’s amazing I feel like a different person.’

‘You feel like a real man?’

‘Christ so much so and so horny.’

‘Good now turn round and I do your back and start with your shoulders.’

Alan still feeling drowsy did as he was told and lay face down his stiff cock even more erect now, pressing hard against the rubber mat. He could not resist letting his cock slide slightly up and down the oily rubber.

Mehmet noticed

‘Most men like black rubber against their cock. I can see you do.’

‘Sorry but it feels so horny.’

‘Don’t get too horny just yet I have not finished you.’

Alan felt the oil being poured over his shoulders and back. As it started to run down his body he felt the Turks hands scoop it up and then firstly he massaged the shoulders working the oil deep into Alan’s shoulder blades. He felt his body start to respond and it was as if his shoulders were growing. They felt strong and muscular but not just that, the hair he had felt creeping over his body was now springing up all across his shoulders and as Mehmet worked downwards so the hair continued. He wondered what on earth he was looking like, he joked to himself that he might be looking like a gorilla but if he could look more like Mehmet then he would be more than happy.

Mehmet took hold of Alan’s thick hairy legs and pulled him down the rubber sheet.

‘Put your legs on the floor and then bend your body over the table so I can finish the massage.’

Alan let his size 12 feet drop on to the floor and bent over the table the heavy erect cock pressed against the edge of the table.

Letting some oil onto his hands he started to spread it over his cheeks moving both sides up and down and widening the gap to expose more of his hole. As Alan felt the Turk spread his cheeks so he felt once more hair sprouting over the area and not just across his arse but right into his hole

You have very good arse. Nice and big a real man’s arse.

As he said this Alan felt a finger pressing against his hole but as it was lubed up with the oil is sank inside his hole easily

‘I think you need a bit more than one finger’ and with that Mehmet let a second finger slide up and move around and then a third. By this time Alan was reacting and letting his arse move further up in the air.

‘My God I’ve never had anyone’s finger up my arse before but you have three and there seems room for more. Its incredible. Shit I really want more.’

Mehmet took his fingers out and let them slip around his speedos. His cock was bursting out of the Speedos they were too small to contain his 9” thick piece of meat. Letting his prick spring out he took the last of the oil and greased up his shaft, letting his massive hands stroke his cock head and run it up and down the shaft pulling the skin back ready to fuck.

‘So you would like more than 3 fingers? Now you get much better. You get my cock going deep inside you to complete the massage. That’s it just lift your hairy arse up and be ready.’

As Alan lifted his arse, the Turk put one arm under him lifting his arse towards his cock. Alan suddenly felt the thick oily head of Mehmet’s prick against his hole.

‘I don’t know if I can take this.’

‘You are a real man now so shut up and be fucked by a real hairy Turk it’s what you want most.’

Mehmet let his cock slowly in until his head had fully entered. Alan let out a gasp of a mixture of slight pain, surprise at the size but also pleasure

‘Now feel how a good Turk fucks.’ With that he rammed his cock all the way up to the hilt.

‘Now your arse can take a good cock and mine is the best. You are oiled up and the massage was always going to end this way. You knew that. That is why you come to me. You like Turkish men. You stared at all my hair. It’s what you want. It is what you are getting.’

Mehmet continued to let his cock slide in and out at first slowly as he wanted to savour every time he rammed it in but Alan’s arse was just too good to be too slow and he knew Alan wanted it rough. He started to move in and out with increasing speed his breathing rising with every shove

‘It’s too late to go back you no longer the boy who entered here. Now you are a man and I fuck you to become a good Turk.’

‘Ready I come now’ and with a final push Mehmet rammed in releasing wad after wad of cum.

Alan could feel it surging through his body like a strong wave of heat. His blurry vision was clearing and he was no longer feeling the skinny white young man who had entered Mehmet’s room. He felt big, burly, heavy, and most of all hairy.

Mehmet slid his cock out and wipe away the surplus cum. With both hand he brought Alan to stand upright and set him in front of a mirror.

‘Now see the man you have become.’

No he was not a goirilla but standing staring back at him was the image of a mean looking hairy Turk, thick set 6’ 2” with dark skin massive shoulders huge pecs and the large brown nipples he had felt shortly before. His thighs seemed huge and in the centre was a 9” thick cut cock still erect and almost vertical with a line of precum running down from the tip, From top to toe there was thick black hair, his massive beard all black and curly, the hair spreading across his chest and up and over his shoulders, down his arms and even his hands looked almost black they were so hairy.

‘Now you say goodbye to Alan, you will forget who you were. Now you are Aslan, you are Turkish and we speak Turkish but you speak English only with a strong accent.’

As Mehmet said this so Alan’s head became clear, he was looking at Aslan in the mirror and he was Aslan, a hairy Turk and mate of Mehmet.

Mehmet turned and said in Turkish

‘So tell me your name.’

I’ts Aslan, Aslan, Aslan’

‘You and me we only talk in Turkish’

‘Of course brother’

‘But you cannot continue to have that big erect cock. I need to help you, so lie down on the massage table.’

Aslan lay out, his cock throbbing having seen how much of a man he now looked.

Mehmet got up on the table and said ‘I sit astride you so I can give a good Turkish blow job. I want you to tongue me deep into my hairy arse.’

And as he let his arse over Aslan’s head he let rip with a fart.

‘We Turks like the smell of each other so you can have the smell of my arse in your head as you tongue me.’

Aslan felt the smell of the fart deep into his nostrils. It was not bad but he loved the hard smell of his friend. It fired him even more to have his tongue deep inside while Mehmet sucked him off.

As Mehmet lowered his arse so Aslan brought his hands up to widen the hairy cheeks , his hole opening up to be properly licked.

Mehmet groaned as he said

‘I love my hairy arse sitting on that thick beard of yours. I love our hairs mixing together. Now I suck you off.’

With his arse firmly into Alan’s beard, Mehmet let his mouth over Aslan’s big cock which was so stiff after his fuck and now feeling his mouth against Mehmet’s s open arse. Mehmet let his tongue lick gently around the cock head, at times letting it into the opening his saliva running down Alan’s shaft.

Briefly he took his mouth out

‘Lucky for you I got a big mouth and can take this dick of yours. You will feel the end nestling into my beard just like my arse on your tongue.’

As Mehmet started to feel Aslan’s tongue enter his crack his arousal caused him to quickly lower his mouth down the entire length of Aslan’s cock.

Aslan felt Mehmet’s mouth fully down his thick shaft, his mouth rubbing in to his thick curly black pubes. Feeling his cock fully down Mehmet’s throat made his tongue move deeper into the arse crack savouring the taste wanting to eat inside the hole and still feeling the smell of the fart. Mehmet was pushing his arse further down , pressing hard against Aslan’s beard. The two hairy Turks had almost melted together both using their tongues to give each other pleasure, one licking as far up the arse hole as he could the other letting the saliva run up and down the shaft while his tongue searched out the precum oozing out of Aslan’s head. Both men were groaning with pleasure. Aslan whose cock had for so long been hard needed at last to shoot his load and with his tongue wedged into Mehmet hole he erupted load after load of thick creamy white cum into Mehmet’s throat, Mehmet trying to swallow as much as he could. But the feel of Aslan’s tongue inside him was too much for him to hold off and without any hand around his own cock he shot his load for the second time, his spunk shooting out over Aslan’s hairy chest the white cum in such contrast to the swathe of black chest hair

Mehmet got off the bench and smiled.

‘Shit man, what a good fucking Turk you are. I am proud of the real man you now are. Go and shower and when you come back I have your new clothes ready and a mission for you.’

As Aslan showered and saw the water running down his hairy body he was also proud of the man he now was. He could hardly remember but for him it was only important that now he was a Turk, a hairy Turk, and real man. When he came back into the room Mehmet handed him the clothes.

‘Get into tehse, these are my old Hiviz clothes that I used to wear and they will fit you. I haven’t washed them for ages so you will take my smell with you. First put on my dirty white socks, tehn the overall, it’s an all in one orange HiViz. When you button it up make sure you leave several buttons undone at the top so people see that black hairy chest of yours. That’s good. Christ its tight around your balls and cock and I see a nice heavy outline. Perfect for your mission. Now the steel capped boots and you look the perfect Turkish workie. I want you to go out and find a man you think would be better as a Turk like us. There need to be more men like us, hairy, sexy and always ready for a fuck. If you find someone then the you will know what to do. Come back when done as we have unfinished sex to have together. Mehmet put his arms around Aslan and the two men kissed their beards rubbing together as their throats explored each other’s mouths.

‘Now go.’

Aslan knew what to do and walked down the road to a café where he knew all the workmen got their food. Sure enough as he entered they were all sitting at tables in full Hi Viz all a mix of sizes and shapes from the young, fit and good looking to the more overweight. But the look of them and the smell of their dirty HiViz made Aslan start to feel horny. All that dirty Hiviz in one place both yellow and orange and some still wearing their hard helmets. As he passed a table a guy put out his hand

‘You new here mate?’

‘Yes’

‘Are you looking for work?’

The guy was fit with a shaved head and bulky body, a good 6’ wearing a yellow T shirt showing off his muscled arms, a vest and yellow Hiviz trousers.

‘Yes I look. You know something?’

‘Sure am, I’m the manager of the building site around the corner and we are always looking for strong guys. You look strong and willing.’

Aslan could see the guy looking him over with his overall unbuttoned half way down his chest and his thick mat of hair bursting out. As Mehmet had said the overall was a bit tight around his cock and balls and now Aslan who was standing so his cock was directly in front of the managers face was carefully studying

‘Where are you from?’

‘Turkey.’

‘I thought so with all that dark hair of yours.’

‘We Turks are real men.’

‘So I can see.’ the manager said

‘My name’s Dave by the way. Why don’t you come to the office around 5 when the guys will have left site and we can take this further and work something out.’

‘Yes that would be good.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Aslan’

‘A bit like Alan with an S.’

‘Yes but no Alan, Aslan.’

‘Look forwards to seeing you later.’

As Dave stood up he cast a final look at Aslans’s crotch and then shook hands

‘Good strong hands to have their mate.’

‘I’m very strong like all Turks, you will see.’

‘Bye for now ‘and as Dave walked out the café he turned round to have one last look at Aslan.

Aslan now knew his mission from Mehmet

At 5pm Aslan stood in front of the portacabin and knocked loudly. He wanted Dave to know he strong he was I every way. As he waited to go in he unbuttoned his overall a little more so it was open almost to his navel.

‘Come on in.’

Dave was sitting behind his desk still in his HiViz, his sleeves rolled up.

‘Good to see you, Aslan, I hoped you would come.’

‘I want work so I come and you seem good guy. I know you want me here’

‘So you are Turkish>’

‘Yes good worker’

‘You have done this sort of building work before?’

‘I can do all building work. You try me and see.’

‘Maybe you can work alongside me and I can find out what are your strengths.’

‘Oh I am very strong.’

Dave smiled

‘I can see that looking at your body.’

‘I have good body.’

‘You certainly have and tell me are all Turks as hairy as you?’

‘Many, you like hairy body?’

‘Well sadly I haven’t much body hair but I do admire it and think perhaps it would have been good.’

‘Do not worry all things can happen.’

‘A bit late.’

‘Never too late.’

‘You have opened your overall a bit more since I saw you earlier.’

‘I am hot so better like this.’

‘You look hot.’

‘Yes hot and horny you all say.’

‘I’m not sure you say that.’

‘I think so Dave as I can see what your hand is doing under the desk.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You are stroking your cock and I think nice and hard now. Looking at me making you horny.

You see my cock now getting big thinking of you.’

Aslan’s cock was now almost fully erect pushing out in his Hi Viz forming a well defined lump down one leg.

‘Maybe I take out for you to see. You like that I think.’

‘Sure would.’

Aslan shoved his hairy hand into his overall giving his thick cock and massage before pulling it out and letting it spring upwards.

‘Christ that is some cock and Jesus what a jungle of hair you have.’

‘I think you like hairy men and big cock. I saw you look at my cock this morning. I wanted to rub against you. So you just look? I think you come here. Let me see your dick and then you can suck a horny Turk.’

Dave stood up at his desk and his cock was ram hard jutting out of his HiViz trousers. His hand was stroking both cock and balls through his trousers.

‘You like feel of your cock in Hi Viz. me too. You have good British cock. Now take out and me see.’

Dave unzipped and forced his erect prick out, the head already gleaming with precum..

‘I see your lips wanting cock. Kneel and suck. Now I am boss, your Turkish boss it’s what you want and what you need.’

Dave knelt as instructed and took Aslan’s balls in his hand almost unable to hold due to their bulging size

‘Great bloody balls you got.’

‘Big balls, big cock. So start to lick me.’

Dave still holding the hairy balls let his mouth over Aslan’s cock head smothering it with his spit, working the spit into his cock crack. Aslan groaned with pleasure feeling the spit working it way down the crack. He then let his mouth open as wide as he could as he knew he needed every muscle to take the full width and length of Aslan’s prick.

‘You like sucking cock I can see. I’m not first big dick you have.’

Aslan took hold of Dave’s head and directed it further and further down his shaft. At first Dave thought he would gag but he was desperate to feel this great tool all the way down his throat. Making sure he produced enough spit he took the whole length until he could feel those black hairy pubes brushing against his face

‘Good man now in and out. I help with taking your head.’

Aslan forced Dave’s head up and down the shaft with increasing speed until suddenly he stopped and pulled his cock out of Dave’s mouth.

‘Now I ready for fuck. Stand up and turn round.’

‘Not sure mate if I can take that monster of yours.’

‘You will take, you will like. I am stronger than you so I force you if not. You want a Turk to rape you? Anyway you will get good surprise.’

Dave decided that having sucked the dick with all his spit down the shaft and he could take it. Besides he wanted that cock all the way up him .

Aslan put his hands around Dave and unzipped his HiViz pulling then down

‘Ah so you have no underwear on. You like to be ready for fucking. You were waiting for me. You have nice bum but no hair. We see.’

Aslan let a large gob of spit drop onto his cock and the taking his hands on to the cheeks he forced them wide so he could see his cock at the hole

‘First is sore but good sore and then you want all.’

As Aslan pushed his cock in so Dave winced and let out a small cry with pleasure pain but once in he started to move his arse back to take in the full length as quick as possible.

‘I knew you like Turkish cock. This is real man cock what you want . You like to be like a hairy Turk.’

With the cock all the way up his arse, and with Aslan starting to have his heavy hairy hands work on his dick Dave shouted

‘Shit, oh to be a Turk.’

‘Good man, I call you brother.’

‘Go on fuck me hard, brother, and wank me with those hands of yours.’

‘We cum together OK?’

The more Asland pushed his dick in and out the more his hands rubbed Dave’s cock. He could feel Dave’s cock throbbing with lust

‘Now I shoot up your arse.’

With one final push Dave felt a great stream of cum racing up his arse as his own cum spurted out over the desk in thick creamy wads.

This was no ordinary fuck as Dave could feel his body as if on fire, his blood seemed to be almost boiling and he felt dizzy.

As Aslan removed his arse and Dave stood up grabbing the table for support he could see his arms changing his skin going a deep brown and dark thick hair was sprouting down the arms and across the hands. His shaved face when he put his hand up to check was now not even a stubble but a full beard so thick it almost covered his mouth. As he looked at his chest the hair was springing out the top of his T shirt and as he pulled up his Hiviz his legs he could hardly see or a forest of black hair. As he looked at his crotch he now saw a thicker bigger cock nestled in thick black pubic hair.His head was still shaved but that as about the only think not different. He felt confused but it felt good to be hairy.

‘You like being hairy?’

‘It feels fucking great, brother, but my head feels odd. I am beginning to forget my own name.’

‘You are now Turkish man, real man, hairy man and your name is Demir. What is your name?’

‘Demir.’

‘That is good brother. We Turks are all brothers. No one fucks like us and now you speak in Turkish OK?’

Replying in the language Demir said ‘Brother you make me a man.’

‘We are fuck buddies now.’

‘I fucking well hope so.’

Now we go back to Mehmet and we have night of fucking each other. You will like that’

You are right, I want to use this big Turkish cock of mine’

‘Do not worry you will and that cock and arse are bigger and hairier than before.’

‘Tomorrow we find someone for you to make one of us.’

‘There is a young guy on site I think I want.’

‘ Then you have him, a young horny hairy Turkish man. Good then that makes more to fuck.’

234 notes · View notes

slavghoul · 11 months

Text

Interview from Sweden Rock Magazine 10/2023

Hi, hi. There is an interview with Tobias in SRM’s newest issue, but it’s in the subscribers only section, so I thought I’d translate/share since I guess not many people will be able to get their hands on it. It is about Prequelle and it’s part of SRM’s „200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time” series. Prequelle placed #68. The other albums may have scored higher, but for now we don’t know the whole list. Either way, enjoy. Very insightful.

„Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?” Now that’s an unusual opening question. Especially when the interview is about an album that Sweden Rock Magazine's writers and qualified Swedish hard rock musicians (including Tobias Forge) have voted as one of the 200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time. The question wasn’t planned, but comes spontaneously, as a reaction to the first thing Tobias Forge says when we sit down on opposite sofas in the record company office. I'm here for a two-part interview, partly about the EP "Phantomime" (published in #6 2023), partly about "Prequelle". Neither record companies, artists, voters, nor even our writers who conduct interviews for this series of articles have any idea what placement an album has received. Interviews are often done well in advance and we simply don't want placements to leak and become public long before publication.

No Ghost album has ever been on the list before. The idea is actually to end the day with the "Prequelle" talk, but when Tobias Forge suddenly starts with a funny little comment that this album is probably the one that those who have voted think is Ghost's worst or least popular album, I just have to take the opportunity to ask the question: Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?

No, absolutely not, he says and laughs. If I'm going to be completely pragmatic, I'd say: "How many songs do we actually play from that record?" There are songs that work damn well live and sit where they should. So it's a pretty strong album.

But is this what you are basing it on? "Prequelle" was released after Ghost had become really big so it can't be compared to "Opus Eponymous" and "Infestissumam" which you don't play many songs from. I mean, no matter what kind of record you had released when "Prequelle" came out, you would still have played many songs from it and they would have worked precisely because Ghost's songs nowadays are moulded more to the arena format.

I don't know how to answer that, it's difficult. If the album had been different, it would have been. If I'm going to talk somehow both artistically and practically, I know that for every record we have become exponentially bigger. "Prequelle" was definitely no exception, but it also took us a big step forward and upwards and we became bigger and broader. To the extent that when we introduce old songs in the live set, you notice that there are elements on albums one and two that make some songs more difficult to play. Not technically, we can play the songs, but they don't work in quite the same way as the later songs, which means that there is a slight favouritism.

I asked the original question about whether you think it's Ghost's worst album only because you directly said that this means it's the least popular one.

I'm just so full of myself I assumed all the other albums are also in the top 200, which may actually be incorrect. This might be the best album and the others aren't even there, haha.

It wasn't long after "Prequelle" was released that you were self-critical of the album in interviews, saying that it was too ballad-heavy and a bit too soft. I haven't noticed that before, you being so self-critical shortly after the release.

Yes, but I still feel that way. If, as an artist, I am only going to look at the work with the criticism that one can feel towards one's own work, I think that if things had been different or if I had more time, I might have wished that I had managed to get maybe two more hard songs. Maybe one more hard song would have fit on the album and another harder song might have phased out one of the ballads. Now five years after the album came out, I know that the two ballads ("Pro Memoria" and "Life Eternal"), which I may not think are bad, are one too many. But I know that many of the people who like the band like both of them, so it's kind of a useless argument.

Who sets the length of an album? Have you set a limit, that it can't be longer than this and have no more songs than that?

No, but it must fit on an LP disc and there is a physical limit. I think the absolute pain threshold is 46 minutes and that's 23 minutes on each side. Now maybe Mikkey Dee (co-owner of Spinroad Vinyl Factory) will raise his hand here: "But I can make it longer!" And it's maybe 48 minutes, I don't know, but I do know that when a disc starts getting so full that you start getting close to the sticker, it starts to sound bad. Especially nowadays, because recordings today are so very maximalist in scope. It's one thing if you record 60s music with drums, a guitar and bass where the sound is cleaner and finer or if you play acoustic stuff with just vocals. Bob Dylan records could have eight songs on each side and it worked all the way through. But this kind of fairly compact music doesn't work well. Not only am I a militant vinyl advocate, I think we should respect the fact that most artists don't manage to create more than 45 minutes of good music on a regular basis. A lot of famous double records are not that good. I don't think the Rolling Stones "Exile On Main St" is very good. It might as well have been on one disc. And if I'm actually going to turn it into something completely mundane, I'd say that I think it's irresponsible to sit and make records with twelve songs if it results in the record being 63 minutes long and you automatically have to make a double record. It's pretty wasteful.

When you said that it's irresponsible, I thought you were going to say that it's irresponsible to print a double vinyl because of the environmental destruction that it entails.

Of course, if we're going to be completely straightforward and not do anything that harms nature, we shouldn't even release any records, so I say this with reservation. But with that in mind and for the sake of art, I think more people should embrace the actual given format that has been the most prevalent in rock history. There is a reason why a film is usually one hour and 30 minutes. You can’t take any more. There's a certain dramaturgical structure and there’s a certain comfort in it. Then the CDs came along they screwed that up, and suddenly there weren't two sides anymore but it started one way and ended another. Now that the CD is no longer important and we've gone back to vinyl, creators should follow suit and start embracing the physical rules.

Are there songs that have been rounded off just because you thought „I have to round off here, because if I continue, it won't fit on the vinyl disc"?

We actually had that problem on the last album. „Watcher In The Sky” ended the A-side and the outro is much longer on the CD and digitally. Two minutes longer I think. Much, much, much longer. It's long, noisy and has all these dives. It's a very chaotic soundscape. You get the feeling that it goes on and on, and on the vinyl it's just the beginning of an outro and then it drops almost immediately. I think that was a huge mistake.

So the overall sound quality was more important than vinyl buyers getting everything? Because you could have pressed the vinyl and it would have fit, but you would have had to compromise the sound quality.

Yes, exactly. You can get the song to just keep going until the vinyl simply runs out. Then it just starts spinning in the middle, depending on what kind of record player you have. But the problem then, if you want to anticipate events at a creative stage, is that people today buy and listen to vinyl records and are sensitive. It's quite common for people to complain that the record is broken. I don't just mean our records, but people complain a lot about the presses. If you make ten songs, it's therefore stupid to have a too thick soundscape towards the end of song number five and song number ten. If you want to be really good and old school, that's where you put a piano ballad because it's an easier sound to handle so far into the record. This is what I think about when I make records. But clearly sometimes I miscalculate.

This must cut right through the record collector Tobias Forge's whole body and soul, that "Watcher In The Sky” is shortened by two minutes on the vinyl of all versions.

Well... I don't toss and turn and wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it anymore. But when it happened, I was livid. Luckily it was just an outro. It would have been worse if it had continued with some kind of narrative into the next song. Now I can't remember in my head how long "Prequelle" is, but if I'd had to go back in time and just re-construct it, the re-construction wouldn't have had much to do with the existing material, I would have just wanted to add a scene. And it's not a scene that's missing, it's just for the sake of balance. It became asymmetrical in a way that bothers me a bit.

You've talked about this before, but it was before "Prequelle" that you really started to talk a lot about how you were thinking about what kind of new songs might suit the live show. Can you get stuck in that mindset, thinking more about what songs are needed live right now rather than creating an album that will last 30 years?

Hmm... (long pause)... The reason I'm sitting here thinking is because I'm trying to come up with examples of other bands that I think might have gone through something similar. I’m looking for examples to the answer I'm about to formulate and that is that: yes, I think there comes a point in the career when most bands make a record because they simply feel they need to… Because what we're talking about is that when you go from playing in small smoky clubs in front of an already inveterate audience that already understands the perhaps a little more chewy expression, that experience can change if you start playing in front of a larger and especially a different type of audience. When a different type of audience comes and you play in a different format, you discover that this song doesn't work very well, it doesn't sound very good and it's difficult to get the sound right. Then there's usually a record or two or three during your career when this transition happens where you start filling in with songs that work better live. Look at Piece of mind", "Powerslave" and "Somewhere in time". There's a reason why Iron Maiden didn't play a lot of the first two albums there and then, because it was easier to play the new songs. You get to that point somewhere in your career and it's very difficult to say when it is - there's no given rule and there are artists who continue to release relevant records and have an amazing ability to release new records and just play the whole new record. Well, now Iron Maiden does that and tests their audience a little bit in that way, but then they will always compensate by doing like a "best of" set the following year so everything is forgiven. Now we're in the middle of the "Impera" period here and have a very strong set, but I'm starting to feel that now that I'm about to start writing a new album, it feels like it's not really on my agenda to write three more albums that will change the live setlist ten years ahead. I think we already have the blueprint for what is Ghost's setlist, especially if you include the entire catalogue. After a while, each new record you make becomes a little less important. It's really hard to know when that point comes, but the truth is that new records don't matter in the same way. Slayer didn't have to release "Divine Intervention”. They definitely didn't have to release "Diabolus In Musica". I didn't care about it and I just wanted to hear the old stuff. If they had just come up and played "Reign In Blood" I would have been soooo happy. And that's the way it is with most bands. Nobody would be sad if the Rolling Stones came up and didn't play anything from "Emotional Rescue". And that's just the way it is. In the future, I can see a scenario where there is probably a basis to possibly build up an alternative setlist. There are so many songs that we do not play and that I have nothing against - I love them too! But it would almost be easier to build up a completely alternative setlist and run a show with only the odd songs. There are so many songs now. There's no reason not to build on that. But when I want to make a new record, it's irresponsible for me not to consider that there might have to be some songs that are a bit more direct. But it doesn't hurt me if we have more songs that we don't play live. I don't know if this answers your question...

I would actually like to ask exactly the same question again, because I wonder if you yourself feel that you get stuck during the making of the record. You said that you would have liked to include another hard song because "Prequelle" doesn't have the balance that you would have liked to have in retrospect.

Exactly, but the explanation for that has more to do with my mental capacity there and then. I simply couldn't cope. I felt that I had probably maxed out… It was probably about as much as I could do that year. That's the simple explanation. To get another song that would have fit and that would have fulfilled this requirement that I now in retrospect would have wished I had, it would have required something that I did not have there and then. The only thing that could have made it easier is if I had more time. It is difficult to reason about it, you see.

I was in the studio for a few days during the recording and it's one of the few times in all these years that I've done interviews where someone has started crying during an interview. It was quite obvious that everything that had happened with the split of the band affected you.

Yes. Of course. It did.

Is "Prequelle" a difficult album to listen to for you? Can you sit and listen to it all the way through?

Well, at the moment I have to do that from time to time, and listen to all the records, because we're just about to start rehearsing again and then I sometimes have to go back and just listen to the record to go: "Fuck, is that really how I sing?" Especially when we start rehearsing, I can be a bit like: "Damn, who changed this bit?” Then I usually sit down and it hits me: "Oh, it's me who has changed my song!" You simply do that over the years, you start singing it in a slightly different way. So sometimes I have to go back and listen, but it’s more practical. I don't think it's fun to listen them. I do it until they are finished. I listen over and over and over again and really try to listen with all the imaginary ears and all the imaginary perspectives you can have. "How would I have listened to this if I had heard it from this perspective?" Just to get as "objective" a perspective as I can until I'm satisfied, but then it's like „No, I don't want to hear this anymore". But I have to say that I think "Prequelle" is a very tolerable disc despite everything that interfered with the process. Therapeutically, it works quite well considering that we are still playing at least half of the album. For every artist there are songs that you want to play, and there are songs that you don’t want to play because they feel too personal. I don't feel that way about this one, it's more like: "Ah hell, they're part of the setlist and people like it and it sounds good. So that's what we're doing."

On a personal level, was Tom Dalgety the perfect producer for you, the way you were feeling at the time? Tom feels like the kindest, sweetest producer you can meet. He wasn't the kind of producer who pushed you very much, it was more of a nice atmosphere between you.

Yes, really, and it would have been different if Klas Åhlund, who is more confrontational, had been in the room. Now Klas and I are great mates, so it would certainly have been very therapeutic also, but it would have been a different process. If an artist comes in who is in such bad shape that they can't make a record, or a band where the main songwriter has just left them, then a Bob Ezrin goes in and says: "If you don't make the record, I'll make the record myself.” And he goes and makes Kiss "Destroyer" or Alice Cooper records. I'm not saying they didn't make them, just that you hear that Bob Ezrin made "Beth". It's a type of producer that's very different from a lot of other producers who maybe act a little bit more like buddies and cheerleaders and make the atmosphere good. Bob Ezrin doesn't care so much about the atmosphere in the room. Klas is somewhere in between, I would say. Given the condition I was in during "Prequelle", the result could probably have been different if Klas had come in. Ironically, there was actually talk of him doing it, but he didn't have the time and we'll never know how it would have turned out. I only know that it would have been different, but right there and then Tom was fantastic. I know that a lot of bands like to work with him because he is technically brilliant. He's really good at those typical sounds that people like: cool drums, guitar, bass, tone and clarity. He is also very "happy go lucky", a nice guy who sits and jokes all the time. Even if he has a bad day, it doesn't affect anyone else, which is convenient.

Let me compare it to when a writer contacts me after an interview and says "that was such a nice interview". For me, "nice" is not something positive in such a work situation and the result is often better when there is a little friction.

Mmm, and that is more Klas. There is more friction and more confrontation. And I was much better equipped for that at "Meliora" and later at "Impera". I felt better and was simply stronger. There wasn't the same survival instinct as on "Prequelle". If I think back, not about how the album turned out and how I have to live with it, but if I think back to the situation I was in, I was very anxious all the time. Even though I'm happy with the result, I wouldn't want to go through the recording again, even though Tom was great. Because it's hard to work when you're under attack. I realised that now when I made "Impera", when it was no longer like that. You are much more comfortable, it doesn't feel the same, you are more mature, you make better decisions, you are more controlled or dare to be uncontrolled. When things are this serious, you can end up in a freeze mode. Maybe that's also why there wasn't another song. The song that I miss doesn't exist because I simply squeezed out everything I had. If I had been in a different emotional state, I might have been more comfortable working out something at the last second from bits and pieces. But I felt that I really just wanted to get it done, deliver it, get back out on tour and start over again.

When you described being more mature during "Impera" you sounded like a 70-year-old, kind of like all the Aerosmith-like bands that have been fighting all their lives and now that they're in their 70s they say "we're soooo mature,” haha.

I think with all artists, especially when they're required to work in a group, there are many recordings that have been a collision with a wall because you're expected to function in a context all the time, whatever and whenever. But you do change and from one year to a few years down the line there can be a huge difference in a person's drive, hunger and priorities in life. Whether you have the same band structure as I do or whether you play in Metallica, people come in one state and they may end up in another, because you have different priorities at different times. It's unfortunately against the whole rock myth. I think that's the biggest problem for bands and businesses, that you always have this idea that if you just get to a certain stage - not just monetarily or career-wise, but you get to a certain stage of fun - then we've reached the status quo. But that is never the case! Never! There’s always something. Even in the best moments when everything is working, the band is awesome, everyone is working well, the crew is awesome, everyone is laughing, it's just a party all the time mentally, you have the world's best tour manager, everything is flowing and the tickets are selling, there will always be someone who doesn't like it and then has to break away and want to do their thing because it's no longer fun. It's usually somewhere in the lead-up to a stage where it's interesting and then once you've achieved it, it all becomes a bit boring. Just like in a relationship some people may eventually think, "well, that's a bit boring, I have to go out and do something else".

Since I was in the studio when you were laying down guitars on "Witch Image", my heart beats a little extra for that song and I thought it would be a great live song, but you've barely played it (at the time of writing it's Ghost's forty-fourth most played song live).

We did it during the "Prequelle" tour, or "A Pale Tour Named Death" as it was called. Then we did quite a few "an evening with" concerts, for better or worse. The advantage was that if you were a big fan of the band we actually played a lot of songs and actually a lot of the first albums, like "Idolatrine" - or "Witch Image". We did a set, a break and then a whole other set. That was a bit of a taste of what I was talking about earlier: doing a slightly larger set and then a slightly smaller one. You just shouldn't do it on the same night because it gets a bit stale. We played for two hours and 30 minutes or something and that wasn’t a good idea, haha. At least we did "Witch Image", but it has fallen behind a bit and it doesn't mean that we will never play it again, just that we don't do it right now. What I've been happy about is that there has been a feeling for the records that we've made recently, "Prequelle" and "Impera", that people still want to hear the new stuff. We haven't gotten to that stage that I talked about earlier when it doesn't matter anymore. Then it's very fun to try to find a new way to perform the songs, not technically, but suddenly a song like "Witch Image" might fulfill a very nice purpose between a completely new song and another song.

Let me speculate: in 30 years, I think "Rats" will be considered the great hard rock song, "Dance Macabre" the great hit and "Life Eternal" the great ballad. What do you think? Will this in the future be seen as the three big songs of the album?

Yes, that makes sense, I think. I understand that an instrumental song automatically ends up in the wake of a "best of" collection, in the sense that you do one in 30 years. I realise it's not a hit but the instrumental "Miasma" is a big part of our live show. It's strong and feels like such a keeper. Now we don't play "Life Eternal" very often actually, but it was very well received. For some reason people like to get married to it, I don’t know why, hehe. It's nice but it's also a bit like U2’s „I still haven't found what I'm looking for" and you don't use that one at a wedding. But people like it and I guess interpret it differently to me. It’s also a song that I don't think is fun to play live.

And why not?

Because I find it hard to play ballads. Physically, they don't feel the same as rock songs. I miss the "dunka dunka". Now everyone who plays music today knows what I mean - sorry, readers who don't play music - and it's that there's a small problem with having in-ear monitors. This means that you have to reach a certain frequency of beats in order to feel the music, unlike when you played at clubs with only a guitar amp behind you. You felt every single note you made and it just went through your body. Nowadays, I think it's sometimes hard when you play slow songs, because you have to trust that it sounds good, whereas when you play a rock song, you feel that it sounds good.

Does it also apply to "He Is” which is such a huge ballad, not least live?

Well, just the intro and then it gets going quite quickly and suddenly becomes a hard and rather fast-paced song. The classic ballad concept has always been that you play so-called edge beats to make it sound soft, while "He Is” is actually a rather hard-played song considering that it is a ballad. Once the drums come in – boom, boom – it's got AC/DC bite to it. It has a rock feel to it that "Life Eternal" doesn't really have. As I said, I don't think that "Life Eternal" is a lot of fun to perform, but that doesn't mean that it isn't quite good to listen to. It’s just that when I play "Dance Macabre" or "Mummy Dust" I feel that I can express myself physically more in line with what the text says and what it means.

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview #prequelle era

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animeomegas · 10 months

Text

The Quest for a Second Life - Part 3 - Potions and Magic and Sex, Oh My! (2)

ITACH X ALPHA!READER

Summary: Having immensely enjoyed your first day with Itachi in his pocket dimension, you were excited for the hunt for potions ingredients to begin. You didn't expect to come across a green monstrosity in the woods, nor a flock of unusually persistent old people, but all the shenanigans were worth it because you finally, finally managed to get your mouth on those beautiful nipples! GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple!Naruto Characters

Word count: 11.7k

Warnings: N-sfw content. Vague references to a murder. At one point, MC believes that there is some non-con going on, but is mistaken. All alphas have penises, fyi.

A/N: Hmm, I think it's still too early for Happy Holidays wishes, although December is almost upon us. To those who didn't see the announcement, I'm cutting the third book from this series to elongate the first two. So, this is now the second of three Itachi parts. He is really holding out for the majority of the porn being in part 3, but Itachi is a classy guy like that. The mysterious book 2 love interest doesn't feel the same way lol. I hope you all enjoy it, and as always, this is for @omeganronpa 💞💞

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

The next morning had seen the search for the ingredients for the Amnesia Reversal Potion begin. You had felt a little bit bad that Itachi was putting in so much effort to make a functionally useless potion, but you figured the story had to go on someway, and you couldn’t deny that it had been immensely fun to do a magical scavenger hunt.

Itachi had dedicated a wooden tray to keep all the ingredients together, which now sat in the corner of the living room. It was almost full after the two weeks of buying, finding, and gathering you’d gone through, covered with pots and bottles and bags stacked on top of each other.

Itachi had said that the potion was extraordinarily simple to make but had an eye-wateringly long ingredient list. You could tell that he was a little baffled by the whole thing, but it all made sense to you; him having to hide away in his study for a month to brew something delicate was decidedly not sexy, but your joint excursions had proven themselves rip for horny scenarios.

During the last two weeks, your relationship with Itachi had also progressed significantly. You hadn’t gone all the way yet, although the steadily increasing tension was certain to burst soon, and you hadn’t added a formal relationship label to anything, but the way that stolen kisses and sleeping in bed together had become the norm said a lot. Neither of you acknowledged that Itachi now seemed incapable of sleeping unless he was directly on top of you either. When you had taken a midnight walk on one of the nights, unable to sleep, to stare out of the kitchen window, Itachi had found you in only three minutes and sat with you until he could entice you back into bed with him. With his loose, messy hair and revealing pyjamas that seemed determined to slip off his shoulders, it hadn’t taken very long.

What? You were a simple alpha, and a warm, sleepy omega’s charms were simply too strong to resist.

Itachi was so much more domestic than you could have imagined, now that you’d broken down his walls. He was softer, less stoic, desperate for praise and companionship. He still refused to let you cook, cooking for you every night, constantly trying to perfect new recipes despite the limited number of supplies available to him in the dead of Winter. Some dinners were just as good as the stew from day one, and some weren’t. Itachi was experimenting, you understood that. He wasn’t as experienced a cook as you had originally believed, but you still heavily praised every attempt just to watch him purr.

You shook yourself out of the memories of Itachi’s cooking and instead crouched down in front of the ingredient tray, mentally checking each ingredient against the recipe pinned to the wall above it. Most of the ingredients on the left side you had grabbed on the second and third days, as they’d come directly from Itachi’s own stores.

You smiled, tracing the tops of the bottles and remembering that he had literally fallen into your lap or arms no less than three times while retrieving them.

“I don’t know why I stored the apple seeds so far towards the back of the top shelf,” Itachi said, huffing as he tried to stretch his arm as far as it would go. You only sighed, amused, and knowing full well that the porn logic had made it so. You were holding the base of Itachi’s ladder steady, but you knew that what was about to happen wouldn’t be stopped no matter what precautions you took.

“I’ve almost got it… Almost… Ah ha! Eep!”

Itachi’s foot slipped out from under him, toppling him off the top of the ladder and into your already waiting arms. You were glad to see that the jar filled with apple seeds was clutched tightly in his hand.

“Hey beautiful,” you cooed, adjusting the princess carry a little. “I think I’m going to have to get rid of this ladder, because I can’t have you falling for anyone else.”

Itachi scoffed, cheeks blooming pink. You grinned down at him, and his fake annoyance melted into pure affection. You probably looked like a pair of lovesick fools.

‘Ah, you did an excellent job of delivering that line, human, all that practice in the bathroom mirror certainly helped!’

‘James, you’re ruining the moment.’

‘My sincerest apologies human. Perhaps to salvage the moment, you could use another falling themed pick-up line in order to encourage your omega towards behaviours associated with playful sexual aggression?’

‘James—’

‘Xethrofeth recommended this one, “I enjoy safe sex, shall I tie you to the bed so that you don’t fall off?”’

‘James!’

You smiled, remembering the moment. The best moment though, was when one of the ingredients required Itachi to crawl into the tiny loft space in the ceiling. He had emerged covered in dust and sneezing like a kitten, and then, after his shower, he had approached you with a towel and brush to help him dry his hair.

You dragged the boar bristle brush slowly through Itachi’s hair as he sat on the bed in between your legs. His silky black hair was thicker than it looked, and watching the brush glide through it was enchanting.

Itachi shivered as the bristles tickled his back. His head twitched like he was trying to resist the impulse to bare his neck to you.

Bathed in candlelight, warm while a storm raged on outside, just existing in a comfortable silence… you felt content.

“You’re so beautiful.” The words escaped you without your permission, but as Itachi turned to face you, his newly dried hair fanning out around him, you didn’t think he minded.

“So are you,” he muttered, leaning forward to connect your lips with his.

That kiss had become so heated that it had taken everything in you to resist going all the way. Itachi seemed a little put out that you stopped things from progressing, but you wanted to go slowly. The slow build up of tension was delicious. An orgasm was always more rewarding if you’d been denied first, and you were determined to apply that logic to the entire relationship. And so, you had gone to bed as normal.

Well, it had been mostly normal. Itachi had spent most of the night grinding on your hip in his sleep. You had almost given in and woken him up, but you had managed to resist.

You turned your attention to the middle of the tray now, counting each little bag or newer bottle that had been bought from the market in the nearest town. Now, that excursion had been fun. It had been a pretty long walk, but with warming charms on your clothes and Itachi’s delightful company, the walk had flown by.

The town had been incredible and just remembering it made you want to go back as soon as possible. It had felt like walking around the best historical reenactment in existence, except real, and also smelling better than you imagined the actual past would. It made sense though; if food intolerances were too inconvenient for erotica, piss and body odour certainly were.

Although, you admitted, that would probably depend on the kind of erotica.

Regardless, the town setting introduced just as much porn (and cliché romcom) logic as Itachi’s cottage. You weren’t exaggerating when you said that every single old person had something to say about you and Itachi being the cutest couple. Itachi had insisted on walking with your arms linked ‘in case you got lost’, so you couldn’t really have faulted the old people for assuming you were a couple. What you had been taken aback by though was just how bold they had been. You had met horny older people before, but that had been on another level.

“Oh, look at you two,” the old lady running the exotic goods stand said. “I can tell that pups will be along for you two soon enough. I have an eye for these sorts of things, you see.”

You and Itachi stuttered, verbally falling over each other as you tried to deny any such thing. This didn’t deter the old lady for one moment.

“Although, here’s a tip from me: some people insist on the missionary position for conception, but doggy has a far better success rate in my experience. Ernest’s shop on Main Street sells plugs if you’ll be needing one to—”

“Um, can we just have 50 grams of crushed snake fangs please!”

…

“Oh, Itachi dear, you’ve brought an alpha with you!” said the old man running the bakery cheerfully. “Although” -he squinted at you both- “no mating mark yet.”

While you picked out some bread, he pulled Itachi aside to whisper in such a way that meant you could hear everything. You couldn’t tell if that was intentional or not.

“Some advice from back in the day,” the old man ‘whispered’. “This pressure point here on your palm will supress your gag reflex.”

Ironically, you almost choked as soon as you registered those words.

…

“Oh, an alpha! I’m so glad, Itachi, I was scared you were all alone out there,” the old person at the grocers said, quickly untying their apron to give Itachi a hug. They then turned their gaze to you. “You treat him right, or I’ll have something to say about it, you hear?”

You had a feeling that no amount of explaining that you weren’t technically together would help, so you just nodded, “Of course.”

The person smiled, mollified by your words, “You know what they say about omegas, dearie, make their legs shake, not their hearts break. Words to live by, in my opinion. And if you can, invest in one of those fancy magic vibrators. They’re a little pricy, but more than worth it in my book, especially if you have a talented witch like Itachi on hand who can charge them for free. Why, I said to my wife just last night, I said—”

“We should probably get going,” you said, dumping the vegetables you needed on the counter. “It’s a long walk back, y’know?”

Itachi had been horrifically embarrassed all day, but paradoxically he also seemed to bask in the positive attention. In fact, he had been wearing a pleased little smile under his rosy cheeks for most of the day as acquaintances congratulated him on entering a relationship.

What had pleased Itachi less though, was the very flirty omega who worked in the tavern, where you had stopped for a bite of lunch.

“Let me know if you need help with anything,” the waiter said, letting his hand linger on yours as he took your menu. “Anything at all…”

Itachi immediately bristled at the obvious flirtation. The fact that Itachi was obviously bothered was satisfying. You knew full well that if you stayed in this universe, you wouldn’t be straying from Itachi, but it was still ego boosting to have such a pretty omega ready to defend his claim on you, needed or not.

“That’s alright,” Itachi said, voice and face tight. “We’d rather be left alone to enjoy our date.”

Oh, so that was how he was going to play it. You didn’t correct him on it being a date, more than willing to let the situation boil a little for your own ego and amusement. You wanted to see what would happen if you didn’t intervene.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the waiter said with an obvious fake surprise. “Let me bring you some waters then.”

Itachi settled a little once he was gone, but he made a point of conjoining your hands on top of the table so that everyone could see. You gave him a squeeze but decided to save the teasing about your ‘date’ until you had returned home.

When the man returned, two glasses in hand, his beige shirt had been thoroughly drenched in water and was now completely see through. His nipples, which you could now tell were both pierced, were clearly visible.

He laughed as he approached the table, “Sorry, there was a bit of an accident in the kitchen. Here are your waters.” He put both the glasses down and then carefully and deliberately placed down a little scrap of paper down in front of you. A quick glance confirmed that it was an address, likely his.

Itachi stood, growling. He grabbed the piece of paper and tore it in half and threw the pieces to the ground. The waiter only watched, amused.

‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ you were chanting in your head thoroughly amused.

James did not speak and yet her presence in your mind felt judgemental.

Regardless of her feelings, your plan to watch things play out changed anyway when Itachi’s eyes bled to red and his intentions seemed to switch from instigating a cat fight, to committing a murder.

“Hey, Itachi,” you said, trying to sound light and unconcerned even as you were silently ‘what the fuck’ing in your head. “Why don’t we take our food to go and have a nice picnic on the bench outside? You look so beautiful with snow in your hair, and with these amazing cloaks that you designed for us, we should be nice and warm.”

Even you could tell that you were laying it on a bit thick, but it seemed to work, as Itachi dropped the outward aggression for something more akin to proud posturing. He sent a satisfied smirk at the other omega, who only rolled his eyes.

“I’ll bring you your food to go then… Insecure omegas always demand such things.”

Itachi bared his teeth, eyes bleeding red again. You decided to step in.

“We didn’t ask for your opinion,” you said, putting a hand on Itachi’s shoulder to hold him back. “Please just bring us the food we paid for.”

Knowing a losing battle when he saw one, the waiter huffed and returned to the kitchen.

‘Interesting,’ James said in your head, thankfully without the earlier judgement.

‘What’s interesting?’

‘This situation didn’t escalate like this in the other three trials for Itachi that I’ve witnessed.’

‘What, really? How come?’

‘I am not sure. Perhaps Itachi just finds himself more attached to you than the others. None of those three picked him, of course, so perhaps they were also less attached to him than you appear to be.’

That had made you happier than you wanted to admit, and you had ended up returning to the cottage with a skip in your step and Itachi’s arm linked around yours.

To summarise the last two weeks though, things had been very romantic, and filled with so much genuine connection and sexual tension, that you felt like you were about to burst. You had seen so much of this pretty omega: his passion for magic, his love for his brother, his beautiful nipples, you mean, his beautiful home.

You were enjoying the slow burn and teasing so much that you almost wanted to drag it out further. You probably would if you weren’t so worried that the demo would suddenly end before you’d had a chance to go all the way with Itachi. James still wasn’t giving you a straight answer about how much longer you had in this world.

‘Enough time,’ she would say.

‘Time flows differently in these worlds,’ she would explain.

‘Are you really so eager to leave?’. That last one stopped you from asking altogether lest she start thinking you wanted to be pulled out early.

The point was though that today was the day that you had decided to properly confess and try and seduce Itachi. Your skin tingled with anticipation and saliva started to pool in your mouth as your thoughts ran wild. Yes, you had both waited long enough and you were quite literally hornier than you’d ever been.

But today was also the day that you were going scavenging in the woods for the final three ingredients. You had to do that first, but as soon as you returned, you would use your alpha charms on Itachi. Nothing would get in your way.

Behind you, Itachi stepped into the living room from the kitchen, a little basket of supplies packed and ready for your journey.

“Moss found on a blackwood tree, five leaves from a thizzberry bush, and two seeds from an Amplexus plant?” you read off the remaining ingredients that weren’t yet on the tray. “Are those going to be difficult to get?”

Itachi hummed, slipping on his cloak and holding out yours, “The last one might be a little complicated, but there’s nothing dangerous, I promise.”

You stood, gratefully taking the warmed cloak and wrapping it around you. Ready to go, you took one more glance at the ingredient list before joining Itachi by the front door. He was frowning down at the basket of supplies, lips pursed.

“Are you okay?” you asked, poking him on the nose to pull him out of wherever he had gone.

Itachi blinked, before sending you a smile, “Yes, sorry, I feel like I’ve forgotten something important, but I can’t remember what.”

“Have you got the stuff to collect what we need?” Itachi nodded. “Have you got snacks and water?” He nodded again. “Have you got emergency first aid supplies?” Another nod. “Then it can’t be that important, right? That’s all the main stuff.”

Itachi took a deep breath, still looking a little conflicted, “You’re probably right, let’s go, the days are getting shorter, and I don’t want you out after dark.”

You pulled open the door and held it for Itachi to exit first. You were rewarded with a smile that made you want to kiss him senseless, but he wasn’t joking when he said the days were short, so you supressed that instinct for the moment. Later, you reminded yourself, you’d get the pretty omega into bed later.

The snow crunched under your feet as you stepped outside, and your breath suddenly became visible. You took a moment to take in the view of the snowy trees surrounding the little clearing you were standing in. Despite the temperature, the charmed cloak was keeping the worst of the chill away.

You pulled the front door shut and startled some nearby birds, which then took flight, scattering clumps of snow onto the ground.

You appreciated the beauty of your surroundings; you didn’t think you would ever get bored of living here.

“Which direction first?”

“Towards the mountains,” Itachi said, looping the basket through one arm and grabbing your hand with the other. You gave your conjoined hands a little squeeze of acknowledgement and then allowed Itachi to lead you. Walking in the snowy woods had given you some trouble at first, but after half a month, you’d literally found your footing and were able to keep up.

“Itachi?” you asked, as you walked in the direction that Itachi had pointed out.

“Hm?”

“Can you tell me something about your childhood? A story, maybe? Something nice. I want to learn more about you.”

“Oh, if you’d like me to, then I don’t mind. How about… yes, this one is good: my best friend was called Shisui, and he used to play pranks all the time,” Itachi said slowly, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Sasuke was his favourite target, I think, because he always reacted violently, but mother and I often intervened to protect him, so Shisui targeted me most of all. It was easier, I suppose.

“There was a girl in our village that liked me. I was too oblivious and busy to notice at the time, but everyone else knew. My mother thought it was sweet, even though my father would never have allowed me to court a beta. Shisui however, thought it would make for an excellent prank.

“He doodled mine and the girl’s names all over a piece of paper, joining our surnames and putting hearts everywhere, even writing lists of possible pup names. He then slipped it into the pocket of some trousers in my wash bin, as if I had been the one to write it.

“The next day, when my mother did my laundry, she found the paper and of course, believed it to be mine. There was no amount of begging and pleading that would convince her that it wasn’t, and believe me, I tried.”

Itachi chuckled, and you let out an amused breath, imagining how embarrassed a teenage Itachi must have been.

“When did you figure out it was Shisui?”

“It only took me about five minutes to figure out that it must have been him playing a prank, but my mother wouldn’t hear it, and she was insufferable about my ‘crush’ for several months.”

You snorted, “That’s a good story. Your mother sounds funny.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet her,” Itachi said, sending you a bright grin. “I think she’ll like you a lot.”

You laughed, “Let’s think about getting my memories back first, then we can handle the family meet and greets, okay?”

You watched as the amusement drained from Itachi’s face. You tried to keep the conversation going, but Itachi no longer seemed to be in the mood. You continued to search for the ingredients mostly in silence, with occasional descriptions of what exactly you were looking for.

You wondered what was wrong, but there never seemed to be a good time to bring it up.

It ended up taking less than an hour to find both the moss and the leaves, even hidden amongst the snow, but according to Itachi, Amplexus plants only grew at the base of the mountains, so it had taken another hour to even get close to where he thought one might be.

You had entertained yourself by swinging your hands back and forth and asking Itachi questions about the world once his mood seemed to lighten again. You loved James, but Itachi’s explanations were significantly more helpful. You’d learnt the names of all the nearby settlements, a rough run down of what they were like, and roughly how far away they were. You were making extra careful notes of which on you’d claim to be from when the time came for your ‘memories’ to return.

You were in the middle of asking Itachi about what kind of pets existed in this world when Itachi suddenly stopped, eyes squinted towards your left. You stopped too, falling silent immediately.

“There!” Itachi said, voice hushed but still excited. “I think I can see one. Follow, but stay behind me.”

Here, in an unfamiliar and vaguely unnerving snowy forest filled with unknown entities was not the time for you to start exercising your alpha bravado, so you obediently followed three paces behind Itachi, remaining alert all the while.

You were out of your element, so caution was the best approach. You imagined that broken bones were also not sexy enough for an erotica, but you could only rely on the world so much; there had to be a level of stupidity that would overcome the narrative safety nets, and you didn’t want to find out what level that was.

The Amplexus plant came into view as you rounded past a tight cluster of trees. It was not something you would have seen in your world that was for sure, although it did remind you a little of a giant Venus fly trap, with slowly swaying, green appendages, each capped with larger, circular parts on the ends. Much to your horror, it was about the size of a bear.

At its centre of the plant were the seeds you had to collect. They looked a lot like pumpkin seeds but were each the size of an orange and suspended in some sort of purple, translucent organic pouch. You and Itachi somehow had to get your hands on two of them.

“This one is backed up against a tree which isn’t ideal,” Itachi said, studying the Amplexus from a distance of about three metres. “I’ll have to approach it from the front.”

“Is it dangerous approaching from the front?” you asked, anxiously pulling the cloak around yourself.

Itachi shook his head, “Not dangerous, just not ideal.”

‘James?’ you asked, struck by an awful sense of dread. ‘Is the Amplexus plant sentient?’

‘I cannot answer that question without four botanists, a linguist, and at least half a politician present, human, my apologies.’

Great. That meant yes. Nothing non-sentient had that much debate around it. You were just going to let Itachi handle this and hope nothing went wrong.

Speaking of Itachi, he was currently pulling a wrapped parcel out of the supply basket.

“Hold this please,” he said, passing it over to you. You took it easily, tucking it in the crook of your arm. “Please stand back and don’t approach the Amplexus, no matter what happens.”

You swallowed nervously, “Okay, I’ll stay here.”

Itachi opened the parcel revealing a chunk of raw red meat. Delicately, he took it out and passed you the empty wrappings. You watched, entranced as he laid the meat flat on his palm before muttering a spell under his breath. The red meat lifted gently off his skin, like it was being carried by an invisible force, and floated over to the Amplexus plant. Itachi followed behind it, but as the red meat floated towards the right side of the plant, Itachi tread carefully towards the left.

Your heart felt like it was beating a bruise onto the inside of your throat. You had no idea what was about to happen. Everything was agonisingly slow, until suddenly it wasn’t.

All at once, Itachi used his magic to fling the raw meat to the right of the Amplexus plant, while he darted towards its left side. The tendrils that had been swaying rhythmically suddenly jumped to life, snapping towards the red meat. Your comparison to a Venus fly trap was strengthened when the thicker end part of the largest tendril yawned open, before snapping down on the meat with a loud, and wet sounding slap.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Itachi was now right beside the plant. He reached quickly in and grabbed two of the seeds, one in each hand, before kicking off the ground to propel himself backwards to make a hasty escape.

Seemingly finished with its tasty morsel, the Amplexus plant returned to its original position, where it suddenly gained awareness of Itachi. He was already two paces away, the Amplexus seeds clutched in his hands, but that didn’t stop the plant from trying to grab hold of him.

You watched, frozen in place, as the tendrils lurched towards the witch. It was going to be close. You gripped your own cloak in your fists, tense, but unable to help. Itachi was fast, faster than you would have guessed.

But ultimately, he wasn’t fast enough.

Two tendrils managed to wrap around his upper arms, immediately tugging Itachi backwards towards the main body of the plant. You heard Itachi’s gasp of surprise, and the thump of the Amplexus seeds hitting the ground as he let them go. More and more tendrils shot forward now that Itachi was caught and aided in tugging him back, wrapping around his legs and torso.

Itachi struggled for a moment, trying to pull his way out and rip the tendrils off him, but once he was pressed against the body of the plant, being held in place by at least sixteen plant tendrils, Itachi seemed to accept his fate and all the fight bled out of him.

It was at that exact moment that you realised what erotica trope this was.

‘Oh my god, James, what the fuck?’

‘That was phrased as though it was a question, but it is not one I know how to answer, human.’

“Ah!” Itachi gasped, as the plant tendrils covered all his visible body from the tops of his shoulders to his ankles. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I, ah, I thought I could grab the seeds fast enough, but, ah, it caught me.”

Itachi seemed to be treating this as a minor inconvenience, but for the first time since arriving, you felt completely unbalanced by the porn logic here.

How could Itachi be okay being… touched… by that plant against his will? You were aware that this was a fairly common and not unpopular trope, hell, you’d even partaken a few times in your lowest moments, but to make it real? It didn’t seem right. You clenched your fists into your cloak as you reached a decision. No, you wouldn’t stand for it. You were going to defeat this hentai monstrosity and defend Itachi. No plant would touch him without consent if you had anything to say about it!

You dropped the basket and wrapper to the ground and grabbed the first thing you saw that could feasibly be a weapon: a hefty, gnarled stick.

“How do I kill it?” you said, whirling around with the stick and holding it up menacingly towards the Amplexus plant.

“Kill it?” Itachi said, sounding more alarmed by that than whatever it was currently doing to him. Only his face was visible now, as most of the tentacles writhed around his body, barring the largest one which seemed happy resting on top of Itachi’s head. “These plants are already so rare; you can’t kill it! I’ll be fine. I’ll just give it what it wants, and it will let me go.”

You deflated at his words. You felt awful just standing by, imagining all the things the plant might do to him. Itachi let out a little squeak and you had a sneaking suspicion that his rapidly reddening face wasn’t from the cold.

“Itachi, are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?” you asked desperately. “Anything at all?”

Itachi only blinked at you, brows furrowed, as though he were confused by the anxiety in your words. “Oh!” he said suddenly, face melting into a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot that you have no memory of the local flora.”

Itachi paused for a moment as the tendril resting on his head decided to tug out his hairband, releasing the inky waves around his face. He sent the plant a glare and shook the hair out of his face as best as he could.

“Amplexus plants don’t hurt people,” he continued. “They just really, really enjoy hugging humans.”

You blinked at him, trying to comprehend what he was telling you.

“It’s giving you a hug?” you asked, blankly.

“Yes, and it will release me in a moment, I promise.” Itachi squirmed again as the tentacles around his chest tightened and the largest one gave his head a rub.

Now that you weren’t as panicked, you realised that the way the tendril on his head was touching him was more affectionate than anything. It was bumping up to him, nuzzling, and giving him pats, almost like an over eager dog, except in the form of a writhing mass of hentai plant tenacles.

“Oh,” you said, relieved, dropping the branch. “I thought it was, um, touching you.”

Itachi’s blush darkened but he shook his head, “It’s just a hug.”

You huffed, “You scared me! With the way you were trying so desperately not to get caught, I thought it was something bad.”

“I won’t lie… it is a bit inconvenient, and I had hoped not to get caught, but I suppose it’s too late for that now.”

“Will it be holding you for long?”

“No, no more than around a minute longer, I should imagine.”

You let out a relieved sigh, feeling much better about the whole thing, “That’s not too bad.”

“Well, the problem is less the time and more of the effect of the hug,” Itachi explained sheepishly, avoiding eye contact. “You see, Amplexus plants secrete a substance that doesn’t interact well with most fibres used for making clothes.”

“It’s damaging your clothes?”

“In a way, yes.” You got the distinct impression that if he were not currently pinned by a giant writhing mass of plant tentacles, Itachi would be fidgeting a lot more than he was. Certainly, his face was only getting redder as the conversation progressed.

You didn’t have to ponder his answer for long, because at that moment, the tendrils suddenly withdrew, (the main one giving him a couple more head pats for good measure), leaving Itachi sitting on the floor at the base of the plant.

An unharmed, but incredibly, and shockingly naked Itachi was revealed to you, his bare butt nestled in the snow.

Of course the plant had dissolved his clothes, you thought, a little hysterically. You didn’t know why you had expected anything different in this whacky dimension.

Itachi bashfully tried to stand, already shivering, while keeping one hand firmly covering his crotch and the other arm braced across his (still beautiful) nipples. You had a wonderful view of his blush creeping down his chest. His nipples must have been incredibly hard from the cold—No, not the time.

But as much as you enjoyed the view, you weren’t going to let your omega freeze because a random plant had got too enthusiastic. You took off your cloak, now the only one you had between you, and went over to Itachi (avoiding getting too close to the plant, of course), bundling him up in the warm fabric and helping him get to his feet.

“There you are darling,” you said softly, clasping the cloak around his neck. Itachi used his hands to keep the fabric pulled tightly to his body. Now that you didn’t have your cloak, you were grateful that Itachi had insisted on charming all your clothes for warmth like the mother hen he denied being.

‘There. You can’t say I’m not a respectful alpha, James.’

‘Why am I forbidden from making such a claim?’

‘Because I just gave my cloak to a naked omega in need!’

‘Human alpha, you’re staring at his hardened nipples through the cloak right now.’

You jumped when you realised she was right, and hastily averted your eyes with an awkward cough.

‘No comment.’

Itachi shivered and you dropped the connection with James to rub his arms with your hands to warm him up. At least he still had his shoes, otherwise you’d have been carrying a very naked Itachi home. On second thought, that didn’t sound too bad.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, standing in the middle of a fantasy forest, warming up a naked witch, while a suspiciously hentai adjacent plant swayed in the background, that you were hit with the absurdity of the situation.

The first couple of giggles forced their way through your firmly pressed lips. Itachi shot you a glare and elbowed you lightly with a huff.

“It’s not funny,” he said, still glaring at you. That was enough for you to lose your composure completely. Hysterical laughter burst forward with such strength that you bent over and braced yourself with hands on your knees.

“Oh my god,” you said between gasping laughs. “It melted your clothes because it wanted to hug you too much, what in the fucking hentai.”

“You’re laughing at me.” Itachi pouted, but soon, even he couldn’t deny the humour of the situation and a couple of chuckles bled through, melting his pout away.

“I’m laughing with you darling.” You stood, wiping away the tears that had built from the hysterics.

“I’m not laughing,” he denied.

“Yes, you are.” You pinched the end of his nose playfully and Itachi struggled to smother his smile with another pout.

“Hmph.”

You blew out a breath, watching the cloud of white float away from your face, “If you knew this was a possibility why didn’t you just pack some extra clothes?”

“I did! They’re—” Itachi froze, wide eyed. “I knew I forgot something!”

“Of course, you did.” You collapsed into laughter once more. “This universe is hilarious.”

Itachi ignored you, turning away to collect the basket and fallen seeds. He had just put the two seeds in the basket and turned to rejoin you when one of the Amplexus tendrils decided to be a menace and shot out towards Itachi’s ankles, tangling them together.

“Eep,” was the only noise you heard before Itachi was crashing into you, sending both of you sprawling to the ground. You hit the ground back first, knocking all the air out of your lungs. Itachi landed on top of you, legs spread over your hips, and hands braced against your chest.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, sitting up and glaring back at the Amplexus plant, which only swayed innocently. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Hey,” you said, propping yourself up so that you were now sitting with Itachi on your lap. You tried to ignore his stark nakedness for the moment and instead brushed some fallen snow from his hair. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s only me here, and I’m not going to hold this over your head. Do you trust me?”

“I do,” Itachi said, pupils expanding as he stared at you. “But still—”

“Still nothing. There isn’t anything I could see, even the most embarrassing thing in the world, that would make me feel differently about you.”

His facial expression suddenly changed, closing off, and just like that, Itachi pulled back and the moment was broken.

Bewildered, you asked, “Are you okay? Did I do something? I didn’t mean—”

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice as cold as the snow around you. He got up off your lap and tugged the cloak around himself. “We should get moving; it’s cold.”

You jumped to your feet, “Right, yes, of course, I’m sorry, I got carried away.”

Itachi didn’t say anything, he just picked up the basket and started moving in the direction of home.

“We should eat something, before we go back,” you said, anxiety clawing at you. You weren’t sure what had caused him to get so cold all of a sudden. “We’ll need the strength.”

Itachi stopped walking and tipped his head consideringly.

“Fine.” That was the only thing he said before he veered left. “There is a sheltered cave opening just down here that will be a safe place to rest.”

You followed him in silence. This wasn’t the first time today that he had suddenly grown cold. You couldn’t figure out a pattern in what was causing it, but something was very clearly wrong. You wondered if he was mad at you, but as you walked, he seemed to soften slightly, linking his free arm with yours. He still didn’t speak, but it assuaged your worries that you’d somehow messed everything up.

If he wasn’t angry at you, though, then what was wrong?

The cave appeared around the corner, just up from a small, frozen pond. It looked like any cave really, if a bit shallow, but it had a large, flat rock just inside the opening that would make a perfect bench, free from the wet snow that covered everything outside.

“It’s too shallow for any large animals to live in,” Itachi explained, stepping inside. His voice and footsteps echoed slightly as he moved. “It makes for an excellent resting stop. See, someone else was here earlier.”

He pointed to the remains of a campfire that was in front of the stone bench. It was long cold, but it still looked somewhat fresh. There was still dry firewood and kindling resting in the stone lined pit. Itachi considered it for a moment before clearly deciding something.

“Stand back,” he said, gently moving you to stand behind him.

“Why?”

He eyes your damp clothes and his own nakedness for a moment, “I figure we could use some warming up.” He brought two fingers from both hands up to his mouth and forcefully blew. To your shock, a jet of fire burst from his lips and towards the fire pit, bathing the cave in an orange light. The wood caught immediately, and you quickly had a burning campfire.

“That was incredible!” you said, sitting down on the little bench and holding your hands up to the warmth. “Can you teach me that at some point?”

“It’s a unique family magic, I’m afraid.” Itachi sat down next you to as you deflated. “Don’t worry though, there is much, much more I can teach you, if you’re interested. But for now, we should eat.”

He dragged the basket over and unloaded a selection of bread and various spreads and cheeses, along with a small pot of dried fruit.

“Which cheese if your favourite?” he asked, pulling off a chunk of bread.

Not expecting the question, you stalled, “Um, whatever one you’d recommend, I guess.”

Itachi nodded. He cut of a section of a harder looking cheese and placed it on the chunk of bread. You expected him to hand it to you, but instead he held it out over the fire.

“This type of smoked cheese is better slightly melted.” He held the cheese and bread there for a few minutes before withdrawing it. He blew on it gently before holding it towards your mouth. “Open up.”

Amused, you did as he asked. He placed the chunk of cheese and bread into your mouth, laughing lightly when you deliberately nipped at his fingers.

This was the Itachi you were more familiar with, but once the food had been eaten and packed away, his melancholic mood seemed to return.

“I can almost hear you thinking,” you said, pressing a kiss to his head. “What’s on your mind, Itachi? You’re worrying me.”

He didn’t answer, he only sighed, staring at the fire. The shadows it was creating on his face only worsened the hollow sadness on his face. You wished you could wipe away all his problems, the way he seemed to for you.

“Hey, whatever’s wrong, we can—”

“I killed someone.”

You stopped speaking, letting what he said linger in the air.

“I think you should know that, before we… before we get any closer. You have a right to know.”

You leant forward, trying to get Itachi to look at you, but he refused, continuing to stare directly into the fire.

Okay, you thought, trying to make sense of things, he killed someone. To be completely honest, you had considered that his exile had been caused by something like that. It wasn’t like the legal system in this world was the same as your old world, so he could very well have been punished for a murder with exile. The only thing that made you doubt that theory was that he was the love interest in an erotica novel, and this didn’t seem like the kind of erotica world where murder was sexy.

But many people did consider tragic backstories to be sexy, which would explain the angst. There was little as satisfying as good comfort sex in a saucy novel, you could admit that.

Regardless, even if he had killed someone, if you knew Itachi, and you really felt like you were starting to, he wouldn’t have killed someone for a petty reason. From what you knew of his childhood, he had likely been pushed into it, one way or another.

You were certain that whatever had happened wouldn’t change your opinion of him, but you could understand why he had been worried, why he had been pulling away. You couldn’t let that happen.

You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “Tell me what happened, Itachi?”

“I just did.”

“The whole story,” you clarified. “Because I know there’s more to it than that.”

Itachi didn’t move, just continued to stare blankly. When he spoke, his voice was monotone.

“When I was a teenager, my best friend, Shisui, as I have already mentioned, died. He took his own life, but the circumstances were suspicious. I was next in line for village leadership at the time, and I was struggling to grieve in between all the classes and meetings that I was never excused from. Everything was so sudden. To be honest, I can’t remember much of those first few days after he died.” Despite his flat voice, you could tell as clear as day that Itachi was still hurt deeply.

“That’s horrendous,” you said, scooting closer to him. “That sounds like too much pressure on a child regardless, let alone after a significant loss.”

Itachi didn’t acknowledge your words. He just stared.

“Some of the other members of my village, distant cousins of mine, decided to accuse me of personally killing Shisui.” You sucked in a breath. How dare they? Itachi was so gentle, he could never! “I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Every inch of my skin itched and burnt because I was so angry. I completely snapped.

“Again, I don’t remember much of what happened, only that I killed one of them and injured the other two. The council was furious. My father tried to argue that I had been provoked. My mother tried to argue that I wasn’t in my right mind. They were, and still are, the village leaders, so their words held enough weight to spare my life, but not enough to keep me in the village. I was exiled two days later.”

A log fell in the fire, casting new shapes of light and shadow across Itachi’s cheeks. He didn’t cry, he didn’t even tear up, but the pain was obvious. You were furious that Itachi’s family, his village, had pushed him until he couldn’t handle it anymore, and then punished him for breaking down when everything became too much. You kept that anger carefully simmering below the surface, refusing to let any of it seep into your scent or voice, lest Itachi misunderstand.

‘James?’

‘Yes, human alpha?’

‘You have to promise me, if I don’t choose to stay here, that you’ll make sure someone worthy ends up in this story. Itachi deserves someone who can love him properly.’

‘…’

‘James?’

‘I… I will try, human alpha.’

That was probably the best you were going to get.

You moved even closer to Itachi now, until you were pressed up against him. He still kept his head stubborn turned away from you, but that didn’t matter. You wrapped an arm around his waist, so that he knew you were there for him.

“You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” you said softly, directly into his ear. You could feel more than hear Itachi’s shaky exhale of breath as his shoulder stuttered against your chest. “You are kind, generous, skilled in so many things, not to mention completely and stunningly beautiful.” Itachi let out a little disbelieving breath and you squeezed him as a little reprimand for doubting how amazing he was.

“I’m not a good person, I—”

“You’re a person who was pushed so far that you couldn’t cope, but that doesn’t make you a bad person, Itachi. I promise, I’ve met many bad people in my life, and you aren’t one of them.” You squeezed him again, but you could almost feel the way he was dismissing your words. You hadn’t expected that one motivational speech would cure all of his self-esteem issues, even in an erotica, but you had hoped that he’d at least listen to you.

You weren’t sure what else to do to help, until you realised that you had already touched upon an obvious solution. An erotica. You were in an erotica. Maybe you needed to play by the rules of this universe to make him understand. Maybe… if you made your point the way points like these are often made in erotica stories, he would feel the message you were trying to convey.

You nosed your way down his neck, tucking your face into the collar of the cloak and making the most of the fact that he was completely bare underneath by settling your lips on the warm skin at the juncture between his neck and shoulders.

“Itachi,” you cooed, making sure to breathe directly onto his skin as much as possible. Shivers that had nothing to do with the cold ran down his body and you took that as a sign to keep going.

You pressed open mouthed, wet kisses all the way up his neck until you reached his jaw, where you nipped lightly at the skin. Itachi gasped, his hands coming to grip the forearm that was still latched around his waist. You let out a little amused hum before placing another kiss on top of the same area to soothe it.

You kept up the assault on his neck until he was a puddle of blushes and shivers, leaning all his weight into you and unabashedly accepting your love.

“Itachi,” you whispered again, licking the outer shell of his ear. Itachi arched into you. He really was incredibly sensitive.

“Wh-why do you keep saying my name?” he gasped out, voice thick. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to tell you something.” Perhaps it was cruel to be purposefully obtuse, but you needed to make your point properly.

“Then tell me.”

You shook you head against his neck, “I want you to look at me first.”

With little hesitation, Itachi did as you asked, pivoting on the stone bench until he could comfortably look you in the eye.

All the skin on the right side of his neck was pink and covered in love bites, much to your pleasure.

“Tell me,” he demanded once more. His voice was quiet but not gentle.

You leant forward until your foreheads were touching and Itachi’s face was all you could see.

“I forgive you,” you breathed. “Itachi, I forgive you.”

Here, with his face pressed so closely to yours, Itachi couldn’t hide even the smallest of reaction from you. You were privy to every minute part of his response. You got to see the way his eyes widened as he registered your words. You got to feel the way he was torn between pulling back and pushing closer. You got to smell the way his scent spiked, formed from the indescribable mix of emotions held within him. You got to feel the way his face scrunched up, the way his hot tears felt as they rolled down his cheeks.

You got to see Itachi, the real Itachi, without his walls and without his fears hiding him from you.

Itachi finally gasped and pulled himself away, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Large tears streamed down his face at a rapid pace despite his obvious attempts to stop them.

“Don’t be sorry.” You wiped his tears away with your thumbs, but it was a fruitless endeavour as more tears replaced them every time Itachi blinked.

“I don’t normally cry,” he said, looking almost bewildered at his emotional response. “I’m sorry, I just—” He cut himself off as his face scrunched up with emotion again.

You pulled Itachi towards your chest until his head was resting against your shoulder and your bodies were fused together as one. You grabbed the napkins from the picnic basket and wordlessly placed them on Itachi’s lap for him to use at his own pace.

He grabbed the pile almost immediately, pressing one to his face. As thick, cloth napkins, you were sure it was doing a great deal in helping Itachi stem the tears.

You held Itachi as he sobbed, letting out years of pain and worry onto your shoulder. His loose hair allowed you free reign to run your fingers through it, scratching at his scalp whenever the sobs got particularly loud. You looked out of the cave and into the beautiful winter forest, listening to Itachi’s cries slowly turn into sniffles before disappearing altogether. Eventually, his breathing was so slow and deep that it wouldn’t have surprised you if he’d cried himself to sleep.

“I love you.”

You inhaled sharply at the quiet words. Itachi had whispered them like they were a shameful secret, so quietly that it was almost impossible to hear over the fire.

You couldn’t pretend to be surprised that someone so lonely and starved for positive affection had already reached the point of love, even after such a small number of weeks together. No, Itachi’s feelings you had expected, it was your own that took you by surprise. Because if you were to be completely honest, you loved him too. You had fallen head over heels with him, as a friend and as a lover.

It had only been two weeks, but you’d spent almost every second of that time together. You’d got to know him, seen more of his than perhaps you ought to, and yet there was still so much of him that you hadn’t seen and were desperate to.

You loved him. It felt right to say.

“Is that… okay?” Itachi asked hesitantly. Oh, you had been leaving him in suspense. Well, that wouldn’t do.

“It’s more than okay, Itachi, do you know why?”

Itachi lifted his head from your shoulder and searched your face. He was still red around the eyes.

“Why?” he asked, voice tinged with desperation.

“Because I love you too.”

You watched emotions war on Itachi’s face. He opened his mouth, and like a tap, words and worries poured out uncontrollably.

“But what if that changes when you get your memories back?” he asked, grabbing onto the front of your shirt. “You’ll go back to wherever you came from, and you’ll have a job, a family. And what if, what if you have a partner, a lover? What if you’re married?! What if this ends as soon as you take the potion?”

‘What if you leave me?’ went unsaid but was clearly communicated.

“Hey, stop—”

“No! You can’t know that that won’t happen! I can’t… I don’t want this to be too good, because it will only hurt more when I lose it.”

You cupped his face in your hands, running your thumbs underneath his wild eyes that were still tinged with red. You needed a way to reassure him without giving away that you didn’t actually have amnesia. Your own backstory was yours to create, and none of his fears were going to become reality. Either you would stay in this world and be with him, or you wouldn’t, and he would reset and forget that you had ever existed.

It was strangely emotional to consider such a dichotomy. On one hand, you’d miss him terribly if you decided to pick the other book for whatever reason. On the other hand, if you did stay here, imagining that future was a lot too. You would give him your mating mark, and maybe a ring to match. Maybe you’d stay in his cottage or maybe you’d move slightly closer to civilisation and build a new home together. Either way, you’d made sure to have an extra room for Sasuke and whoever in your family that you’d yet to invent that might want to stay. Maybe you’d have some pups, or maybe you’d just raise chickens or something. You could see a beautiful life here, with your witch.

But how could you reassure Itachi?

“There is no job that could keep me from you.” You tried to sound sure, unwavering, to reassure him. “And if I have a family, they can visit, or I can visit them. And maybe this is unfounded, but I feel like I would know if I had someone waiting for me, and I don’t think I do.”

“You can’t know that until—”

“But even if I did,” you continued, cutting him off. “I have no mating mark, no wedding nor engagement ring. If I did have a mysterious partner somewhere, then, in the words of Beyoncé, ‘if they liked it, then they should have put a mark on it’. I’d rather be here with you.”

“Who’s Beyoncé?” Itachi asked, bewildered.

You laughed, “Don’t worry about it.”

Entranced, you both leaned in at once, sealing your lips together in a desperately horny kiss as weeks of tension suddenly burst. There was a raw intensity to the kiss, born from the clashing of pent-up emotions. There was some awkward teeth clanging, a little pain, but the way your lips danced together was warming you more than the fire ever could.

You couldn’t feel much of Itachi through the cloak, but that didn’t stop your hands from wandering. You moved from cupping his face, to running your hands down his chest, to squeezing at where you guessed his waist was.

Itachi was doing much the same thing, running his hands over your shoulders and chest without pause. You could tell that he was most enthralled by the obvious tent in your trousers though, as his hands kept drifting towards your crotch. This wasn’t exactly a surprise because you’d caught him staring there a few times since The Boner Incident™️, but now it seemed that his hands were suffering from the same curse as his eyes.

Itachi’s scent was clogging every sense you had as you continued to kiss. The sinful noise from Itachi that you managed to coax out and swallow suggested that your scent was doing much the same to him.

“Here, baby,” you whispered against his lips, hands teasing at the clasp of the cloak. “Let’s make this more comfortable.”

“Wait.” Itachi’s hand landed over yours. You stopped immediately.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, but… we’re outside,” Itachi said, his eyes darting to the entrance of the cave. “That’s not allowed.”

You blinked at him, “Itachi, there’s no one but us for miles.”

“Oh… yes, of course, sorry, carry on.” He lifted his hand from yours with a sheepish smile. You sent one back and slowly, purposefully, unclasped his cloak.

The fabric clung to Itachi’s shoulders, but with a little nudge, the cloak fell and pooled around Itachi’s hips on the stone bench. And just like that, Itachi was fully, properly, bare to you for the first time. Or, at least the first time that you were encouraged to stare at him.

His pale skin glowed in the firelight, catching on the silver hints of barely visible scars. It was normal for everyone to have a few, but you hadn’t expected to see so many. It was another question to add onto your list about his upbringing.

It was also with a glorious delight that you were able to truly study his nipples after being teased with only glimpses for so long. They were pebbled from the cold, just as you’d predicted, but as pink and delightfully round as your dreams had promised you. This world would certainly have artists who accepted commission work; you wondered if Itachi would let you get a painting or sketch of his nipples? Maybe if you asked him nicely.

“Is this… okay?” he asked, seeming shy under your gaze. ‘Am I okay?’ his eyes asked instead.

“More than okay; you’re perfect.” Itachi’s shoulder’s relaxed and softened at your admittedly cheesy words. Well, erotica was a cheesy genre, and hey, now that you were in an erotica story, you couldn’t say it was a bad thing. It certainly made flirting easier; you didn’t have to be so witty. “Stand up for a quick second, darling.”

Itachi did as you asked without question, which shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but you could unpack that later. You stood too, and taking the abandoned cloak, you laid it out so that it covered the entire stone slab. It wouldn’t do much to make it more comfortable, but it would keep the chill of the cold stone at bay.

Guiding him, you laid Itachi down against the covered stone and hovered over him in one smooth motion.

“Let me warm you up.”

You connected your lips again. You kissed more slowly this time, but with no less desperation, your lips tingling pleasantly. Itachi’s hands tugged at your shirt. You thought he was pulling you closer, but a little growl of frustration soon hit the air as he tugged more incessantly.

“Off,” he growled. “Take it off. I need—Take it off. I’m naked, you’re not, that’s not fair.”

You laughed at his logic but obliged, pulling off your shirt and dropping it by the foot of the stone slab. The rush of cold air was a shock to your system, but with the roaring fire, the temperature could have been worse.

Itachi seemed to be possessed by a hunger when the shirt obstacle had finally been removed. His hands and eyes feasted on your exposed flesh. You shivered at the sensation of his surprisingly calloused hands dragging across every inch of exposed skin.

“Is it okay?” you asked, parroting his earlier question.

“Perfect,” Itachi moaned, propping himself up to kiss and bit at your neck, one hand still groping every bit of free skin that you had presented to him.

It was clear that the sexual tension hadn’t only been affecting you. Itachi was more intense than you’d imagined, which was fuelling your own desperation. And there was one desperate desire that sat above all the rest.

“Itachi, hang on a second,” you said, pulling his face away from your neck. “I have a question for you.”

Itachi, who had looked rather displeased to have his neck kissing session interrupted, now looked curious.

“I was wondering if you knew” -you pushed him until he was laying flat against the stone and started kissing down his throat- “what you were doing when you grabbed that glass of water, the very first day we met.”

You didn’t linger on his neck for long, moving your attentions to his collar bones, and then eventually down to the valley between his pecs. Itachi’s hands flew to the back of your head.

“Wh-what do you mean?” His voice was breathy, and while the intensity of his desire remained, he seemed happy to submit to you now.

You hummed, using your thumbs to massage the underside of each of his pecs while you continued to leave wet kisses everywhere but where he was trying to guide your head.

“That afternoon, when you grabbed the water, you gave me the most amazing view straight up your jumper and to your pretty nipples. These pretty nipples.” You ghosted your fingers around his areola but drew them away when he tried to arch into the touch.

“What?! I- I didn’t mean to do that!” he gasped, face going bright red. “It was an accident.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. It seemed like you wanted to tease me, Itachi. Were you trying to tease me, the strange alpha that you’d only just met? How naughty.”

Itachi tried to tug your mouth to his nipple again, but you held firm. He made a little frustrated noise, lifting his head up to shoot you a glare that you only grinned at.

“That’s why I want you to ask me,” you continued. “No, actually, I want you to beg me, Itachi. Beg me to give your nipples some attention, to kiss them, suck them, bite them.”

Itachi held firm for a few moments, but a couple more touches and a few well-placed breaths later, and you were rewarded with something beautiful.

“I-I- Please… Please k-k-kiss them.”

“Kiss what, ‘tachi?”

He sent you a flustered glare again, but soon he stuttered out a reply.

“My ni-nipples, please.”

Every nerve ending that you had set alight, and your trousers were quickly becoming painfully tight. Every instinct you had was screaming at you to ravish the pretty omega, to reward him for submitting so nicely. And, well, you’d never been one to ignore important instincts.

“Good boy.” His cock twitched where it was resting on his stomach and that was all the encouragement needed to fulfil the witch’s request.

Your thumbs and forefingers went first, settling on Itachi’s hardened nipples and pinching and flicking to their heart’s content. Itachi groaned, his eyes fluttering shut and his head falling back against the wooden bench. Moans and squeaks continued to pour out of him with reckless abandon. The blush pink colour darkened a little as you continued with your gentle abuse.

Then, once you could resist no longer, you removed your hand from his left nipple, and descended with your mouth. Like a person dying of thirst coming across an oasis, you lapped at him greedily, drinking in all the sensations. The feel of him against your heavy tongue was divine, and soon your own moans joined Itachi’s, who had become twice as loud.

You were delighted to find that, with the presence of your warm mouth, Itachi’s nipple was slowly softening. You could feel every crevice relax, coaxed open just for you. You took the newly soft nipple in your mouth and sucked. Itachi arched so far off the bench, desperate to push closer to your mouth, that you were surprised he didn’t hurt himself.

You hummed, amused and more than a little smug. This was quite literally a dream come true.

You pulled back from his chest, purposefully catching him with your teeth as you did, so that you could admire your handy work. Slicked with your spit, his nipple glistened in the firelight, painting a stark picture of difference with the one beside it.

You clicked your tongue in faux disappointment; that wouldn’t do. Those beautiful, pink temptations needed to match.

Once you had performed the same on his other nipple, you pulled back once again, focused more on Itachi as a whole this time. He looked entirely debauched from head to toe. He was breathing harshly eyes closed, neck covered in bites, chest red and cock practically weeping. The dark black fabric of the cloak didn’t show stains, but you were certain that the patch under his hips was now damp with slick.

Itachi let out a shuddering breath, “How did… Is it supposed to feel that good?”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, my darling,” you said, amused. “If you’ll allow me, I’d be honoured to show you something else that’ll feel amazing too.”

Itachi propped himself up on his elbows and gave you a bashful look, “You should know that… I haven’t done stuff like this before.”

You took a shaky breath as a thousand and one things you wanted to do to him flooded into your brain at once, competing for dominance. Of course, he hadn’t had sex before. His childhood was spent being groomed as the next village leader, and then he’d been exiled with his only rare piece of company coming in the form of his immediate family. Thinking about it, it would have probably been more surprising if he had experience, but you just hadn’t expected the love interest of an erotica novel to be a virgin.

“We don’t have to go further if you don’t want to,” you said, trying to sound reassuring over the lump in your throat. Hey, if he didn’t want to keep going, the general cold in the air should get rid of your boner this time, no need for cold water. That was marginally better.

“I do! I mean…” Itachi hesitated for a moment, and you were expecting him to call it a day. “You’re not going to leave me as soon as you get your memories back, are you?”

Your face softened at his question. To be completely honest, you had kind of got caught up in everything and forgotten about his anxieties in the process.

“Never,” you promised. You felt a little guilty at the prospect that you might choose the other pocket dimension, but if that happened then Itachi would quite literally forget you existed, promise included. Perhaps it was a little scummy to make a promise with someone who would forget if you broke it, but you justified to yourself that these were exceptional circumstances. “I know it sounds a bit silly to say out loud, but I feel right when I’m with you. Meeting you was like a part of me I never knew was missing clicking back into place.”

“No, it’s not silly!” Itachi said breathlessly, staring at you with wide eyes. “I feel the same. It’s like I’m alive when you’re here, for the first time in my life, truly alive.”

“When I look at the future,” you started, breaking for a moment to peck Itachi on the lips. “I see us sharing a home, waking up together every day, maybe even raising some chickens together. Never do I ever imagine a day without you in it.”

“I’ve always wanted chickens.” Itachi was looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“Then I’ll give you as many chickens as you want.”

“And you don’t mind that I don’t have any experience with relationships?”

You grinned sheepishly, “To be honest, it’s kind of hot.”

Itachi seemed amused for a moment, but sincerity quickly overtook it. “Then I would love for you to take my virginity.”

“No,” you said, kissing the surprised look off his face. “If we do this, nothing will be taken. We will both gain something, a great experience, together.”

Itachi looked entirely besotted, but you had meant every word. Even if you left, even if he forgot, you would still have this experience with him, and you would treasure every second.

‘That was very smooth, human. The commodification of the social construct of virginity is harmful indeed, why, Glatheenron was talking about it just the other day and—’

‘James, genuinely, that is an important discussion and I appreciate your support, but I’m sort of preoccupied right now, so maybe you could wait until later?’

“Then allow me to rephrase my earlier statement,” Itachi said, drawing you out of your head. “I would be deeply happy if we could share my first time together.”

You leant down and pressed a loving kiss to his forehead, “As would I, my sweet omega, as would I.”

Next Chapter

#the quest for a second life #itachi #omega!itachi #sub!itachi #omega itachi #sub itachi #dom!reader #dom reader #gn reader #alpha!reader #omegaverse #a/b/o #itachi uchiha

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