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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 7 months

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Cracks in the Ice (2/2)

A continuation of: Twilight fights a frozen lake and loses

Tw: drowning, broken bones, near death experience, hypothermia, nakedness (for like, wet clothes)

There was a wolf pelt laying at the edge of the hole broken into the ice.

The portals had dropped them all at different parts of the snowy landscape of Wild’s Hebra mountain range. They all managed to find one another throughout the day amongst the bright snow drifts. All of them, that is, except for Twilight. They waited in with impatient anxiousness at the horse stable, peering out into the blinding hills and cliffs, nearly indistinguishable from one another, in the hopes that familiar furry shoulders might suddenly appear stark against the white snow.

Once the sun began to set and even Wild began to grow nervous—Even as Wolfie, he’d whispered to Time, it wasn’t safe for him to stay out in the wilderness for that much time alone— the group decided to split into parties and go looking for him to make sure that he wasn’t hurt at Wild’s repeated insistence he should’ve found them by now. Time, Sky, and Warrior had made up the group going towards the east. Four and Hyrule stayed at the stable in case the rancher decided to show his face there, even after all this time. And Wild, Legend, and Wind were the group designated to travel to the west. By Time’s command, they were supposed to search a few miles in that direction, then return to the stable. But the sun set, and Wild pleaded they go over the crest of the next hill, just for one more good look, and it was good that he had.

“That’s the third time you’ve said that, Wild,” Legend groused, wrapping his arms around himself. The cold air bit at his exposed nose and cheeks, and his knees barely cleared the snow with each step. “Can’t we just go back? Surely the others have found him by now, and if not, we’re not gonna find him. No use in us freezing out here to death with him.”

“Hey,” Wind chided. “Just let him. We can afford to walk a few more miles.”

Legend fumed—the little sailor, scolding him? But before he could snap out a retort—

“Twilight!” Wild’s shriek split the air. In a moment, he was flying down the steep bank. Legend jumped, then his eyes caught on the same article clothing that had caught Wild’s attention.

There was a wolf pelt laying at the edge of the hole broken into the ice.

“No, no, wait!” Legend snatched his wrist, pulling Wild back firmly. “The ice will have been weakened with his fall. If you go out onto that ice, you’ll fall in, too. You can’t help him like that.” Wild was already sputtering some refusal, wrestling himself out of Legend’s grasp, but Legend held tight. “I’ll go get him. I’ll go under and look for him. I've got an item that can help me underwater.” Legend locked eyes with Wind next. “If I find him, Wind…”

Wind nodded solemnly. “I know CPR.”

“Listen to me, Wild. Stay on the shore. No matter what. Do you understand?”

Wild nodded, gnawing nervously at his lip. Legend wasn’t sure if Wild’s ascent would hold, not really, but he didn’t have time to make sure of it. As quickly as he could, he stripped off his clothes and stepped out of his boots onto the snowy ground—the wind’s bite was savage without the thin protection of clothing, Hylia—and tossed them to Wind. Then, he went down on his hands and knees on the ice, hissing and shivering at the cold sensation across his bare skin, and propelled himself, slipping and sliding, out to the hole. He peered down into it, holding his breath. There was no shadow underneath the water, no snagged article of clothing or stap of a sword holder that had kept him near the surface. Legend braced himself, took a deep breath, and slipped head first underneath the frigid water.

The transformation didn’t hurt that much, not anymore. His legs were twisted together by the magic, rippling as it transformed skin into scales and feet into fins. Legend breathed in with the shock of cold water—usually, the transformation aided with the feeling of cold, but the water was just so frigid that it didn’t seem to help. Gills at the sides of his neck working double time, Legend wasted no time in following the undercurrent beneath the ice with a quick flick of his tail, praying that it led him to wherever Twilight had drifted, and praying that it wasn’t too late.

Hylia, for once, gave him a blessing. The water was dark and a bit murky, shaded as the sun went down, but he spotted a flash of distinct green. In an instant he was upon Twilight, catching a handhold in his baldric and turning back towards the hole in the ice. He was unconscious, his face slack and pale, little bubbles trailing from his lips. His dead, soaked weight was heavy, and Legend was trembling from the effort by the time his head breached the surface, meeting again with the freezing, relentless wind of the snowy tundra. He pulled a limp Twilight up after him, tipping his chin up above the water.

“I’ve got him!” Both boys on the shore started forwards onto the ice. “No! Don’t come any closer, I’ll come to you!

But it was rough going. Legend heaved himself up onto the ice—worries about showing off his orange-pink scales to the rest of the heroes be damned—but whenever he tried to drag Twilight up after him, the ice gave way, and they were both back in the water. Twilight’s head lolled to the side listlessly, water lapping at his slack jaw.

Legend cursed. “Just stay there! Stay there! We don’t need more people in the water. I’ll—” he floundered for a moment, and Twilight’s head nearly dipped back beneath the surface. Legend kicked his tail more desperately, propelling them both above the surface, and secured his grip beneath Twilight’s armpits, clasping his own hands around Twilight’s chest to hold him close. He was cold, so cold, and his chest did not move with breath. Legend did his best to ignore it—he had to believe that there was some hope that their rancher was still alive, somehow, or else this mission became nothing more than a body retrieval. “I’ll see if I can’t break a path closer.”

And so, that was what he had to do—claw his way up onto the ice, have it break beneath their combined weight, and flounder in the frigid water until he had enough strength to do it again, hauling the dead weight that was Twilight behind him all the while. On the shore, he could see Wild going through the motions of starting and stoking a fire, his motions panicked and flustered and his eyes drawn to the water every two seconds. Wind ventured a little ways out onto the ice, stamping his feet to make sure that it held beneath his weight, and extended his hand towards Legend.

“Get back!” Legend snarled through clacking teeth, but the boy paid him no heed. “You’ll fall in, and I can’t save both your asses.” “I’m lighter than you, I’ll be okay.” Wind edged infuriatingly closer. “Pass him here, I can grab him and pull him out.”

And finally, they met somewhere in the middle. Legend went underwater and thrust Twilight’s body up, Wind grabbed onto his arm and pulled, and finally, the ice held beneath his weight as he was heaved up onto it. Wind dragged him away from the hole in the ice, towards the shore where Wild was already running to meet him.

And then came the worst part. Legend dove back underneath the water, gathering himself up, and then propelled himself clear up out of the water. He landed with a wet smack! against the ice. His body was wracked with shivers as the transformation undid itself, a twisted tail phasing back into freezing legs and slitted gills smoothing out into unmarred skin in under a second. He fought his way up to his feet on numbed legs and scrambled across the ice after them. On the shore, Wind and Wild were already hovering over Twilight. Legend pulled his clothes back on over still wet skin—he’d regret that later, he knew—as Wind checked over the rancher. Wild wrung his hands uselessly as Wind pressed his ear to Twilight’s chest.

“No airway movement, undetectable heartbeat!” Wind shot a fiery glance up at Legend, who only had a split second to wonder where he’d learned that jargon—Warrior, probably—before he was demanding, “I’ll start, you keep his airway open.”

Legend just nodded, moving to bow over Twilight’s head. He placed a hand under his chin, keeping his head back, then took one, two deep breaths, bent over, and blew air into his lungs. Wind, meanwhile, hammered his laced hands into the center of Twilight’s chest in a steady beat, counting 1, 2, 3, 4… underneath his breath.

“I… Is he dead?” Wild just stood and watched, a hand up over his mouth. He looked about two seconds from passing out. “He… he can’t be… Legend, he can’t—!”

“Go, get back to the stables and get the others!” Legend barked. “We need their help.”

Wild floundered, wringing his hands as he turned impossibly paler. He walked nervously in place like he was going to obey, then ended up even closer to the rancher. Legend could tell he was reluctant to leave Twilight, but the other’s needed to know where they were, quickly, if Twilight had any chance to survive.

“Wild!” Legend yelled. “Go! Now!”

Wild hesitated only for a moment longer, then his hand dropped to his Slate at his side. He was gone in a flash of blue light.

“27, 28, 29, 30! Legend!” Wind called. “Has he got anything?”

Legend grasped at the rancher’s cool, limp wrist, pressing his fingers into the artery running just underneath the skin. After a moment, he shook his head.

Wind snarled out a vitriolic curse before he went back to work, driving the heel of his palm into Twilight’s chest over and over and over again until something snapped, and then he kept going. Legend pushed another breath into his lungs, and another. Soon, Wind’s rhythm faltered as he grew tired, and they switched places with Legend in a mad scramble to keep the rancher’s blood flowing. Another switch, and Legend was just about to call it all off—he’d been under the water for so long, there was no way he was still alive—when suddenly, Twilight took a breath on his own.

They quickly turned him onto his side. He vomited up water, writhing weakly, then went limp on the pebbly, snow covered shore. It took Wind and Legend’s combined efforts to strip him of his wet clothes—hypothermia could still kill him, even if drowning didn’t—and drag him closer to the fire.

“Wind,” Legend croaked. He scrubbed the rancher’s hands between his own, trying his best to drive some warmth into the freezing skin and get his circulation going again. “Call Wild, tell him to bring more blankets and put a rush on it.”

Wind dutifully relayed the message through the pendant hanging around his neck. Wild’s voice rang back tinny and high. Wind looked over at Twilight, his brow furrowed, then sighed, “Yeah, he’s alright. He’ll be alright.”

There was an explosion of sound on the other side of the necklace. Legend shook his head fondly, then returned to rubbing circulation back into Twilight’s freezing extremities. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you, you know,” he said to an unconscious Twilight. Twilight, of course, didn’t respond, but Legend patted his head as if he had anyways. “So, stop trying to drown yourself in lakes, we aren't letting you go that easily.

Read this on ao3! Cracks In the Ice

Or check out the whole series! HotCheetoHatred's Febuwhump

#linked universe #lu #linkeduniverse #cheetowrites #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday20 #linked universe fanfic #linked universe fanfiction #twilight linked universe #legend linked universe #wind linked universe #wild linked universe #whump #drowning #fallen through the ice #hypothermia

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tact-and-impulse · 10 months

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Narumayo Week 2023 Day 1

@narumayoweek2023 thanks for this year's prompts! This was inspired by the anime trailer for SOJ, and the thought of what if Phoenix never stopped moving from the airport. FF.net, AO3

Prompt: Waterfalls/Reunions

Phoenix hurried down the path, the suitcase’s wheels clattering against the stone tiles. He ignored the encroaching shadows of foliage; he barely registered the distant rumble of water. Maya’s scream still echoed in his mind, as it had in his car left in the States, the commercial plane to Khura’in, the rickshaw he ordered to halt outside this wooded area. He hadn’t stopped moving since her phone call. Somehow, he managed to put together descriptions and directions, leading him to the Lotus Pool, a training site for spirit mediums.

He glimpsed the bottom of the winding way down, a flat terrace with a painted symbol pointing deeper into the trees. That was when he heard the bell from above, and a small voice asking. “Hey! Who are you?”

“I’m Phoenix Wright, I’m looking for Maya Fey!”

Whoever it was, they were rustling and scrambling, the reply diminished. “She’s…her…wait!”

But he was through with waiting, and he broke into a sprint. He pushed past the trees, the air becoming thick with moisture and incense. The waterfall was visible first, sheer motion from towering cliffs; ripples lapped against the stone tiles, and Phoenix’s gaze was filled by a scene of pink lotuses. At the far edge of the pool, a silhouette separated the thundering base of the waterfall. Hands held palm to palm, chin dipped, dark hair plastered under the spray.

Oh. She was alright. For the first time in over twelve hours, he could breathe.

Maya’s head slowly lifted, and she immediately began moving in his direction. She was wearing a thin white robe, her sleeves dragging across the water’s surface. A light breeze carried her voice. “Nick!”

He was about to jump in, to meet her halfway, when something pulled at his arm. A young boy’s fingers clutched his elbow, as he frantically shook his head.

“You may be Mystic Maya’s friend, but outsiders can’t enter the pool. Unless you’re training as a spirit medium too?” Round eyes stared at the magatama.

“Sorry. This one was lent to me.” He glanced back at Maya, who was much closer than he expected.

…Her clothing isn’t waterproof.

“It’s fine, Ahlbi. You can go back to the temple bells. He’ll help me.” She winked and the boy ducked his head, scurrying away. They were alone.

Phoenix cleared his throat, shrugging off his suit jacket. He kept his focus on her face, not that it was much easier. It was probably the sheen of water or the lack of a spotty connection blurring her features, but her full lips glistened. He draped the jacket over her shoulders. “I thought you were in trouble, and here you are, having a nice swim.”

“Well, I got some help at the last second, but my phone broke. The new one won’t be ready until the end of today.” She twisted the weight of her dark hair in her hands. “In the meantime, I’ll show you a good time.”

“Huh?!”

“You’ve never been to Khura’in before! Since you’re here, you might as well be a tourist. We’ll head out as soon as I’m done.”

“O-oh, yeah. Wait, done with what?”

She gave a pointed look. “I need to change. Into drier clothes. Unless, do you actually want to help me?”

The offer was strangely tempting. Despite his jacket, it wasn’t enough to conceal her body. Slender legs, generous hips, the faint outline of a sarong under her robe. But her breasts were unbound, the damp cloth outlining perfectly formed curves and peaking at the tips.

Realizing he’d been quiet for too long, he grasped for a response. “I could only do that if you give me a blindfold.”

The jet lag was frazzling his mind, it probably was a failure because her cheeks reddened and she abruptly tossed his jacket back. “In that case, you’ll work best as my guard.” Her robe slipped and he caught a flash of creamy skin, her bare shoulder, before he remembered to turn.

Thankfully, the wait was brief, and when he was permitted to pivot again, she was tying up her bun. He took hold of the handle of his rolling suitcase. “You really had me worried, but I’m glad you’re okay.”

She smiled. “And I’m glad you’re here. So, let’s go!” With that, she grabbed his hand and led him away from the waterfall. Nevertheless, staring at her swaying figure, he gulped.

Somehow, I get the feeling I won’t be taking in much of the sights…

#ace attorney #narumayo #narumayoweek2023

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fullfiresiren · 2 years

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unconquered // 4

[4; the throne room] [read on ao3]

“Please have a good rest of your night, my lady,” your sworn sword wishes, bowing as you plod past him, soaked to the core and shivering. “Rest well, and warm up.”

“Thank you, Ser Erryk,” you mumble, arms wrapped around your chest to keep the minuscule amount of heat left in your body trapped close. You offer him a smile, passing through the door as he holds it open for you.

He returns your smile with one of his own, and, once you are safe in your room, shuts the door behind you.

“Gods be good!”

You jump at the sudden outburst, whipping round to see Elen, your older lady-in-waiting, rushing over, fawning at your half-drowned state. She’s short, and stout, her grey hair tied up in a neat bun. She’s kind; combs your hair diligently, makes sure your bath is warm enough, and treats you well. It’s obvious that she's been patiently waiting for you to arrive so that she can dress you down for the night and brush out your hair – perhaps even run you a bath – but now that you’ve arrived looking worse for wear, she realizes her work is cut out for her.

“You’ll catch a chill if you remain in those clothes, your grace!” she fusses. She’s the only one who calls you that. “I’ll run you a nice hot bath and get you into your sleep gown.”

While she potters about, muttering to herself and preparing the bath, you slide out of your soggy dress, shivering violently.

“I had a good time today,” you tell her as she hands you a blanket, wrapping yourself in the soft fabric.

Elen always asks about your day. She is perhaps the only one here who asks you genuine questions about your thoughts and feelings, what your day consists of, and how things are going with your future husband to-be. She offers advice if you ask, and if you do not, she simply listens. Nothing she asks feels like it is done to gain information, but rather, only to be a friendly face in an otherwise sea of indifference.

“I can see that, your grace,” she smiles. “You are perhaps the only lady of the realm who doesn’t mind being caught out in the rain.”

“I have been caught out in worse,” you mutter. You’re not sure why you do. The memory isn’t clear. It’s more of a feeling that you have. You find it disheartening that you have to trust a blind feeling rather than a solid memory, but it is all you have left to lead you.

Your heart will guide you when all else fails.

The bath water wraps around you like the warm embrace of a mother, and you sink below the surface to envelop yourself in it.

This is all you have left.

How sad.

Will anyone ever love you again? Will you ever be able to relax into the embrace of another, knowing that within their arms, you are safe from everything? Do you even remember what that feels like?

Last daughter, don’t forget where you came from.

You resurface suddenly, gasping for air. Elen gives you a troubled look, making to come to your side, but you raise a hand, signalling all is fine. She gives you another frown, like all concerned do, but when you relax against the back of the tub, she acquiesces.

When you sink below the fabric of your covers, back dipping against the plush mattress, the moon is already high into the sky. You think of Archeon, on the beaches below, and the four others, out there in the world somewhere, without you for so long. You think of your family; the fleeting feeling of your parents, what life must have been like with them. You think of the new world you’ve been thrust into, the Targaryen dynasty, and your place within it.

You feel a deep sense of wrong. Something is wrong with that.

You press further under the covers, thinking briefly of the prince. Silver hair and one eye. Will he ever hold you like you wish?

Sleep comes quickly after.

You dream of Archeon.

But it is not a dream.

It is a memory – the first that you can grasp – a real memory from your time in Valyria.

He’s small; barely able to carry you on his back as he flies above a magnificent golden city. He’s wobblily and unbalanced, but you urge him onwards, stroking his neck and praising him when he flies steady. The air is hot and warm, and you feel free in yourself, untouchable with your mount.

The sky darkens, and you frown, casting your eyes upwards.

There is something moving in front of the sun - something dark and haunting. It sinks everything below you into a shadow, suffocating, like night has fallen too quick, and when you turn back, you realise it is a solar eclipse.

The shadow of night envelops the day.

You startle awake, rousing to the noise of your chambermaids plating breakfast for you, clinking dishes and cutlery.

Why is that memory the first that resurfaces? What is your dream trying to tell you?

You blink wearily, head throbbing, and squint in the light of the morning sun.

“Good morning, your grace,” Elen greets, noticing you shuffle to sit up. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, Elen,” you lie. What’s the point of worrying her over something you do not yet understand. Your burdens are your own. “It’s morning already?”

“It is,” she smiles, plating some eggs and meat to bring over to you, pouring you a hot mug of what you assume is herbal tea. “Ser Erryk is asking if he may enter, your grace. But if you would prefer to see him after you are dressed and proper, I will pass along your wishes.”

She speaks a little louder than necessary as she places your tray of hot food in front of you, obviously seeing that you’re still half-asleep. You yawn.

“It’s fine, Elen. He may enter now,” you answer sleepily, shovelling a forkful of eggs into your mouth, and nodding at her.

Elen gives you a muted look, like she’s lightly amused by your lack of etiquette, but disappears out of sight to open your apartment doors for Ser Erryk. Moments later, the tell-tale clinking of his heavy armour sounds out, and no later than that, he appears before you. He’s trying his best to keep his eyes trained over your head, least he gaze at a highborn lady in her nightgown.

“Good morning, my lady,” he greets.

“Good morning, ser,” you smile lazily.

“I come with a note to give you. From prince Aemond.”

You are suddenly wide awake.

“Really?”

He nods, extending his hand to reveal a small, rolled up note, with a golden ribbon keeping it shut tight.

“It came... last night...” he trails off, looking elsewhere.

“Last night?” you ask, reaching forwards to take the note from him. “When?”

“Ah...” he gives Elen a look, but she refuses to meet it, busying herself instead with preparing your clothing for today.

“Please feel free to speak plainly, Ser Erryk,” you nudge.

“I was informed not to tell you.”

“By whom?”

“...The prince himself...”

“Hand-delivered,” you hear Elen mutter under her breath.

“The note was hand-delivered by prince Aemond last night,” Ser Erryk explains, “perhaps only a few minutes after you had retired to your room. The prince told me I was not to disturb you with it until the morning to allow you to rest. He also said I was forbidden from telling you that.”

You grasp the note a little tighter under the new knowledge, your heart thumping in your chest. There’s a kindness there from the prince, you feel, hidden beneath his stony glare and too-perfect posture. He’s uncomfortable in the new territory that he is exploring with you, but he is trying, if only with you.

“Thank you, ser Erryk,” you smile. “I promise I won’t tell him.”

He bows, and takes his leave. You take a sip of the herbal tea that Elen prepared along with your breakfast earlier, and unwrap the note.

My betrothed, it reads. A little forced, you think.

If you wish, let us meet at midday, in the Great Hall.

There will be no chaperones, so we will be free to talk comfortably. For as long as you want.

Prince Aemond.

The knowledge that you will meet with him again strikes a glorious chord within you, and an unnameable emotion blooms across your chest. Elen notices your immediate change in disposition and her hand moves from choosing a simple necklace, to a more elegant piece, one that compliments your complexion and sits against your skin beautifully.

“If I may, your grace...?”

You look up from the note, eyes landing on her. “Is everything alright, Elen?”

“May I speak plainly?”

“Of course,” you say, “I welcome it.”

“I have known prince Aemond ever since the boy was born,” she says, laying out a beautiful flowing dress of eggshell blue and lavender for you, “and in all my many years at court, I have never once seen him take any interest in the fine women who would be more than suitable for him. Not once. Not to chase, nor pursue, not even as a child. In fact, I do not think I have ever seen him even talk to another women. To see him reach out to you in such a way, regardless of your future betrothal, warms my heart. He was always a sweet boy. Quiet, no less, and unsure of himself, but a good child. And a good man, I am sure.”

You take a few moments to think on her words. Never once has she seen the prince pursue a woman? Not even as a child? Overshadowed by the boldness of his older brother, perhaps? A lack of interest? Or is he far shyer than you initially thought? A fire ignites in your belly at the thought of him trying so hard, traversing rocky terrain and unknown territory just to speak with you. You smile at the note. He held it once, as you do, now.

“That is comforting, Elen,” you say. “Thank you for telling me.”

She nods, and continues in her duties, preparing you for a meeting with your prince.

Comb soft and diligent, fingers nimble when she braids your hair, she is ever dutiful, making sure you look as ethereal as always. Her eyes linger on your face in the mirror, adjusting what she needs, and when she is done, you admire her work. The dress sits tailor made and seamless. The necklace glinting at you in the light of your eyes. Such wealth, you feel, is undeserved. In Valyria, you are sure you would be treated as such, wearing fine garments and even finer jewels daily, but that, of course, was because you were the crowned monarch. Here, you are no one. You have no last name. Why then, are you kept in abundant riches? Why are you kept satiated? You watch yourself frown, an uneasy feeling rising in your chest. You swallow it down, and smile at Elen.

A sharp knock on your door sounds throughout your chambers.

“Come,” you call.

Ser Erryk appears, bowing formally to you.

“My lady,” he greets, “May I escort you to the Great Hall?”

“No need, Ser Erryk,” you raise a hand, dismissing him softly. “I wish to walk there myself. If you like, you may have the rest of the day to yourself. You, too, Elen.”

Your aides bow to you, leaving you in peace, and, after a few more glances in the mirror, you sigh.

“Quisling,” you whisper. The reflection stares back unblinking.

Midday is fast approaching, and your walk to the Great Hall is brisk, stomach filled with soft butterflies at the thought of meeting with prince Aemond again. You wonder what he wishes to speak about, and what topics of interest you will discuss. You are particularly interested in viewing the Iron Throne up close, having only seen it from a distance a few times throughout your stay here. You are curious as to whether he will give you a history on the greatest seat in the new world, or whether he wishes to talk about the old world, instead. The closer you approach, the more you steel yourself for that conversation.

The sun streams in from the stain glass windows, painting the stone floors a flood of mesmerising hues. You step through them slowly, smiling to yourself as shades of rose and gold encompass your body, forest green and marigold reflecting on your gown, azure, lavender, honey--

“Oh, what a delightful surprise~”

Your attention is stolen by a slurred voice that calls out from nearby. Prince Aegon sits slumped on a bench, head resting on a closed fist. He blinks slowly at you, smiling wide, a cup in his other hand. There is something swirling in his eyes and lurking behind his expression that warns you not to step closer, not to go further.

Hic sunt dracones.

“Prince Aegon,” you greet. You do not bow.

“High Lady (y/n),” he returns, finishing whatever remained in his cup, and placing it beside him.

When he stands, you become acutely aware that there are no others around you. The hallway is desolate and empty. The colors he steps through on his approach had you so enthralled that you failed to notice. The closer he gets, the more you smell the stench of alcohol permeating through the air, and only when he is close enough for your breaths to intermingle does he stop.

He admires you, your dress, your beauty, fingers hooking under the jewel at your throat to inspect it closer, and he hums.

“You are wasted on my twat of a brother,” he smirks, words slurring. “Why not bed me, instead?”

Your necklace is dropped in favour of his fingers sliding up your neck to cup your face.

You pull out of his grasp, warning, “do not touch me, prince Aegon.”

He seems to like your fire, gripping your chin, lifting it just so, angling your head upwards, lips pulling into a smirk.

The urge to slice his fingers from his hand is overwhelming, but you have no weapon to attack with, and instead, must settle for jerking away more forcefully. He is lucky you are without dragon.

He becomes indignant, sneering, “you think my idiot brother lusts for you?”

You make to move past him, not dignifying his childish tantrum with an answer, but he blocks your path, body pressing into yours, until you have no choice but to back away. He encroaches still, and the stone wall comes up behind to trap you.

“You think he’d ever be able to satisfy you – a woman of such high nobility?” he purrs, tilting his head down to inhale the scent at your throat.

“Move away from me--”

“I tried once, you know,” he murmurs, breath hot across your neck, reeking of alcohol, “to teach him about women. He was 13. Old enough, wouldn’t you say?”

You still at the tone of his words, blood as cold as the stone pressing at your back.

“Took him to a brothel – my favorite one, no less,” he hums, “Paid for whores to mount him as a nameday gift. He didn’t even have to do anything – not that he even tried – just had to lay there and let them pleasure him. Do you know how he repaid me? Tears. He cried the whole time. Begged to go home, snivelling and whimpering like a dog. Please Aegon,” he mocks, “I don’t want to do this— I’m scared— I’m scared, Aegon— Aegon, please make it stop! I don’t like this— I want to go home!”

You feel violently sick.

“He never even finished--”

He’s laughing when you finally push past him, running as far from him as possible, and you don’t realise you’re crying until you’re hiding in an alcove, chest heaving.

Horrified is an understatement when you recall the details prince Aegon gave. Forcing his younger brother to visit a pleasure house, refusing to call a halt to the events even after his brother begs him too - even after he cries. You cannot help but weep at the thought of prince Aemond scared and afraid, assaulted so young, instigated by someone who was supposed to protect and care for him. You feel heartbroken for him, angry on his behalf.

You wipe your tears on the sleeve of your dress, trying to calm your thunderous heartbeat. You are supposed to be meeting with him soon, and you cannot allow him to see that something has happened. You cannot allow him to see you upset.

It takes a moment to calm yourself, steady your breathing, but when you feel adequately presentable, and the hallways are clear, you leave promptly, at a brisk pace, to your designated meeting spot. Prince Aemond must be waiting for you by now.

After a minute of fast walking, the grand double doors to the Great Hall come into view, towering in scale, and as you approach, two guards either side move to open them for you, polearms in hand.

The doors groan when they part to give entrance, and you walk through at a deliberate pace.

The hall is vast, towering ceilings, arching pillars, all befitting a station of such notoriety. The sun spills in from the floor to ceiling windows, and at the centre of it all – the Iron Throne; a monstrous seat of swords from conquered lands, twisted and warped by dragonflame. You have barely seen it from a distance and were only privy to the inside of the Great Hall a couple of times, when it was full of people.

As you step further into the room, you quickly realise there is no one here – all except one. He stands with his back to you, staring at the empty seat of his father, the king. When he hears your approaching footsteps, however, he turns.

“My betrothed,” he greets, bowing to you, long silver hair pooling over his shoulders at the movement. “Good to see you.”

You return the greeting, eyes holding his as you bow. “My prince.”

“You look...” he trails off, eyes shining as he takes in your dazzling appearance, trying to find the right words. “L-lovely.”

“Ah,” you look down at your dress, hands splaying across the soft fabric. “Thank you. As do you.”

He smiles then, a tug of his lips as he lowers his head, and what sounds like a scoff leaves his lips. You frown a little. Does he think you jest? When he next looks up and studies your face, it is his turn to frown.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, stepping closer, features painted with soft worry. “You— ah, what I mean to say is— you—” he makes a noise, frustrated with himself, perhaps, before finding the courage from somewhere, and blurting, “have you been crying, my lady?”

You blink at him, aware then, that your lashes are still wet – with tears shed for him.

“N-no,” you lie.

He must sense it. A few moments pass where it looks like he is warring with himself on whether to press his curiosities. Eventually, he does.

“You may tell me if you have,” he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear. “As your future husband, I wish to know if something has upset you.”

The act of kindness takes you admittedly, off-guard – especially since it comes from prince Aemond himself – a man, who, until a few days ago, had spoken nothing to you. Somehow, you cannot bear to see him look at you like that.

“I have not been crying,” you assure, heart heavy with the lie, “I simply ran into your brother a few moments prior to our meeting here.”

His expression changes sharply, turning overcast and dark, and mutters something that sounds very much like ‘wastrel’ under his breath.

“Did he touch you?” he asks quietly.

“No,” you lie.

“Did he do anything to you?” he is louder this time.

“No, my prince,” you shake your head softly, “Please do not worry.”

He pauses.

“I am happy to run him through my sword if he did.”

You pause.

And then, you burst out laughing, the sound bright and airy, like sunshine after a heavy deluge, and Aemond is mesmerised by it. It was clear to you that he is only half joking, but nevertheless, the joke comes at the perfect moment; the perfect icebreaker. You grin at him, chest still tickling with the embers of laughter, and he is looking at you like you are one of the seven personified before him, face lit up with a smile at your happiness.

“If you did, my prince, I fear you would have to do it quick, less my dragon enjoy a meal tainted with wine.”

Your bold statement has prince Aemond breaking composure, and laughing, too. The air around you becomes light and relaxed, and each of you wear a genuine smile within one another's company.

“Would you like to sit?” he offers, gesturing behind him to the stone steps before the Iron Throne, some of which have been draped by a red cloak in a kind of make-shift seat, hand outstretched to you.

“Very much,” you smile, taking his hand.

Prince Aemond becomes embarrassed at the contact, despite him initiating it, hand growing hot, and once you are settled on the cloak, he removes himself from you, and sits by your side.

The light that streams in from behind him illuminates a golden ring around his stark white hair, giving him a heavenly aura, and you blink up at him, time seeming to stand still for you when your eyes meet. He thinks you radiate an elegant beauty, even without the added glow of light. You are your own source of brilliance.

“I heard you saw Archeon yesterday,” he begins, tearing his gaze away to brush non-existent dust from his dark trousers, “and returned to the Red Keep soaked?”

“What you heard would be the truth,” you admit, “I... felt the urge to be with him, and so I did. He escaped the Dragonpit... again... and was instead found lounging on the beaches. I believe he gave the tamers a rather stressful and difficult time...”

You notice that although he is not meeting your gaze, more focused instead on the floor by his shoes, he does smile softly at your words.

“He is strong willed?”

“Very much so,” you think fondly of your dragon. “But... with me... he’s calm... and gentle... and understanding... he is perhaps the only one who truly knows me. My closest companion. My soul.”

Prince Aemond recalls reading a similar phrase in a book about old Valyrian traditions and dragonriders. He feels a bond to Vhagar, of course, but... nothing like what you are speaking of with your own. He plays with the hem of his leather shirt, debating the topic of his next question and whether he should truly ask it. He feels, unspoken, that he must.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he begins, continuing to avoid your gaze. “Is it wholly true that you possess five dragons?”

They come to mind at once, the four who exist apart – how you miss them. Their absence is like a part of yourself you have lost to the aether. It was in your search for them that your presence was noticed by the crown, a non-Targaryen riding a dragon larger than any housed at the Dragonpit, and you were swept away to Kings Landing.

“Yes,” you say. He looks at you then, holding your gaze. “It is true. It was custom...” you inhale before starting, the topic breaching one you knew was coming far faster than you anticipated. “...in Valyria. Sons and daughters of highborn lords and ladies were given a dragon egg at birth. One to be born when they are a babe, to grow with them until they themselves become dragonlords, old enough to ride. It was tradition – one I have heard has been passed down to Targaryen's and is kept to this day.”

He nods, listening to your words.

You continue, “Sons and daughters of royal bloodlines, however, were given five – one to represent every thousand years the empire of Valyria reigned. I am no different. On the day of my birth, I was gifted five dragon eggs. My mount is Archeon, but I have four others who... reside... elsewhere. Somewhere I am unfamiliar with.”

A thought whispers to you then; one about Vhagar. She is far older than he, his senior by possibly hundreds of years. So... was the tradition overlooked for him? Was he given a dragon egg and it never hatched? Did it hatch, and later die? Did his dragon survive infancy and perish later, in battle or war? He is still looking at you, surveying your features, intrigued by what you have to say. You wonder if you are close enough to ask him about a topic so possibly personal. Then again, he is asking about your own dragons.

“Were you given one?” you ask then, blinking at him. “A dragon egg? At birth?”

He becomes visibly uncomfortable at the question, and you wonder then if you have crossed an unspoken line. “Ah, no...” he mumbles, “I was not.”

The tone of his voice urges you to leave the conversation alone, and you suppress your curiosity for now.

“I see,” you hum, changing the topic only slightly, when you question, “Vhagar, you claimed her, I imagine?”

He nods then, his small smile returning. “Yes, I did.”

“What age were you?”

“I was 10.”

There is a breath of silence, where you become transfixed.

Claiming dragons was nigh unheard of in Valyria. Since dragons roamed in abundance during the days passed, each one had their own rider who was bonded to them since birth, and upon their death, the dragon would become free – simply another part of the freehold, tame enough that it would never attack, but regarded highly enough that it would be left well alone. Such was the number of dragon eggs, and the speed and frequency at which they hatched, that there was no need to search for a grown dragon to tame and conquer. No need to claim one whose rider had passed, and such actions would be considered ill-mannered and disrespectful – qualities no true dragonlord possessed.

Ultimately, those whose birth rite it was to ride a dragon would never have to claim one.

In the more recent years, however, there are so few dragons left, that perhaps the only way to have one, for some, is to claim one without a mount. You have heard in the passing, that some dragon eggs never hatch. A concept so foreign to you.

The times have changed, and with them, so too your perception of those who took it upon themselves to steel their gaze and approach an adult dragon with the hopes of bonding to it within minutes, enough so, that the dragon would allow them to mount. You cannot imagine doing such a thing to a dragon larger than Archeon. When you were a child, no less.

“That’s...” you trail off, truly in awe. “Incredible.”

Your reaction was one he was not expecting. He assumed to steal a dragon would be considered pathetic and lowly by someone such as yourself. Prince Aemond opens his mouth slightly, too shocked to truly conceal his expression.

“You claimed the largest dragon alive at the time, when you were barely ten years old? I have never heard of something so wonderous. You... that is magnificent. I... I am finding it hard to express the depth of my respect and admiration for the courage you had to do something like that... I don’t think I could have. Vhagar herself must have understood the depth of your staggering actions. I am not surprised she chose you.”

For once, he is truly lost for words.

No comments or snide remarks trickle through his conscience, no criticism or derisive utterances die on his tongue before he can announce them. No barely contained anger, no lust for vengeance. He feels something wholly else. Something unspoken, something new and foreign, and it sits in his chest warm and comforting. He tries to name it then, but he cannot, such is the callow nature of it.

He realises then, when he is with you, he has no feelings of malice or contempt. Why then, does he feel so placated? Why, after everything, does he feel calm; like a river softly ebbing and flowing? Why does he feel worth something?

“T-thank you,” he blinks, mouth closing, and tears his gaze away. “My lady.”

You catch his face blooming pink, and feel the air charged.

“Do you wish to reunite with them...?” he asks, unassuming, still looking away. “Your dragons?”

“More than anything,” you whisper. “They are the last things I have left of my home.”

“Will you tell me about them?” he inquires, something raw devouring the soft emotion in his chest at his questioning. “If you are able? If you are... comfortable to?”

The memory hurts, but not necessarily in a negative way. It’s painful, aching, but feeling something is better than feeling nothing at all. The suffering reminds you that they were real – that they are real. That they are out there, somewhere, waiting for you. As long as you keep speaking of them, they remain alive, with you, in your heart.

“You know of Archeon, my mount, the eldest of the five,” you begin, and he nods, forcing himself to look you in the eyes, no matter how breathless you make him. “But there is also Aetheur, Attora, Andolon and Andorran.”

“Hmm,” he hums, smiling. “Do you enjoy names that begin with ‘A’?”

It’s a light-hearted joke, and you laugh at his comment. The soft emotion in his chest is back, and he laughs a little, too.

“Well,” you begin, “It was custom for royalty to use the letter ‘A’ for their dragon’s names – a symbol of... a symbol... of...”

You trail off, the memory escaping you completely. Nothing remains but a dark emptiness. A void where there should be brightness.

You lower your head, smiling. “I have forgotten, it seems.”

He hates how painfully sad you look. Hates it more that, for his sake it seems, you try to conceal it. He realises quickly the emotion that so viciously devoured the soft, and warm feeling that had bloomed in his chest.

Guilt.

“It’s alright,” he reassures softly, “Please do not worry. Tell me what you remember. I... enjoy... hearing you talk...”

It seems like an inane and dull compliment, and he internally scorns himself for not being able to think of something more worthy. You brighten at his words, however.

“Aetheur was the second that hatched, and he took after Archeon, both in appearance and temperament – followed him around like he was his sun. It used to annoy him, but after a while, I suppose he found it endearing. He’s very pale – a tint of lilac to his scales that’s only visible in certain lights. When the two of them would stand side by side, they were like night and day. Then, the twins.”

“Twins?” he asks, interest piqued.

“Yes, Andolon and Andorran – they hatched from the same clutch, at the same time. They were remarkable in appearance – golden yellow, and more serpent-like than dragon-like. Long necks, fixed, unblinking eyes – despite being only small, they used to frighten the other children of nobles, since their appearance was unsettling, but I always thought they were beautiful. They were mine, so of course I would. When they were hungry, they used to stare, unblinking at whatever it was they wanted to eat,” you smirk, “It was unnerving, even when they were little. I can’t imagine how terrifying it would be to witness now. They’d bicker a lot – like siblings tend to do, I suppose. I had to reprimand them for their squabbles often.”

He agrees wordlessly, perhaps thinking of his own relationship with his siblings – namely prince Aegon.

“My last was Attora -- the youngest, and the only female of my dragons. She was a gift from my mother, precious in the way that she is the only thing I have as a reminder of her. She is blue –startingly so, and would shimmer in the sun. Beautiful. But she was the smallest. I always feared that she would be given a hard time by the rest of my dragons, but they would always protect her. She is shy, kind, gentle – adverse to conflict, and would always skitter behind my legs at the first mention of disagreements. She was unlike others of her kind. I... was trying to find them, when I was seen by enough people that word of my existence reached the king here, in the Red Keep, and... I was asked to join the court.”

There is a silence, and then, “Hmm.” You are beginning to realise that this is his go-to response when he is unsure of what to say. “You miss them?”

It is more of a statement than a question. He knows you do.

“Yes. Very much.”

“You miss your home? You miss Valyria?”

As soon as the words have left his lips, he realises that question was ridiculous. Of course, you do. Your home, your life, everything you know was destroyed. You are the sole survivor, alone in everything, and he is forcing you to remember the worst details of your life. He scowls.

“Ah, please forgive me,” he starts. “That was an insensitive question.”

You smile, but your eyes are sad. “Not at all, my prince. I can understand your curiosity, and I appreciate you voicing it. Everyone who knows about my past is desperate to ask me -- I can see it in their expressions and the way they guard their tongues. Instead of that, though, they simply stare at me... treat me like a valued possession... avoid me... I don’t want to talk about it, and yet, not talking about it somehow makes the nightmares worse.”

He frowns. “Nightmares?”

“Ah,” you turn red.

“Do you... have nightmares about... your time in Valyria?”

“I feel embarrassed admitting something like that to you--”

“I...” he begins, “have them, too... sometimes...”

Please Aegon,

I don’t want to do this— I’m scared— I’m scared, Aegon—

“The past stays static, and yet, somehow we cannot escape it.”

“Hmm.”

The silence wraps around you like a blanket of heavy snowfall, and what was once a carefree and light conversation becomes weighted.

“If you wake from a nightmare, my lady,” Prince Aemond cuts through the atmosphere, suddenly, “there may be something you could do... that helps... well, in my experience, I find it has helped me, so perhaps it may help you, too.”

You look at him, expectant.

“When you wake... say aloud your three most favorite things in the world. Those most precious to you. Keep repeating them until it lulls you back to sleep. When you do, your dreams are sure to be pleasant.” There is a brief pause, and then, “I apologize if my advice is not very helpful.”

“I have never had anyone try to help me with my nightmares before. You, alone, are the only one,” you confess. “It means more than you know, my prince. To not have one to care for you is so terribly lonesome, so... I thank you.”

He nods, almost bowing his head to you. “I... understand... that.”

“Since I have arrived at the Red Keep – at King’s Landing – I have noticed the silence more so than before. I feel more alone now than ever, despite being surrounded every day by others. The more time I spend here, the more I fear this loneliness will never dissipate. The more I fear the absence of something that will never return.”

Prince Aemond sees how the sorrow overcomes you, sees you try to fight it in the presence of him. He is concerned that your sadness is too much for only one person to carry, and wishes he could shoulder a portion of it for you. He wishes he could shoulder it all.

“I... have never been one... to surround myself with others,” he admits quietly. “Even when I am, I feel as though I am forgotten by them. As if I am inconsequential, to everyone – even my family. I, too, feel as though... I have no one...”

You are more alike than he originally thought. You feel so, too.

“I apologize if I am being insensitive...” he offers, retrospectively. “What you have witnessed— what you have experienced... my problems are nothing compared to yours.”

“That does not make them any less painful,” you reassure.

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. “Hmm.”

“But,” you begin, smiling at him, never faltering once, “when I am with you, sitting like this, or even when we used to walk in silence, I... don’t feel sorrowful, or solitary. I cannot explain it,” you trail off, and he keeps staring at you, even when you look ahead. “Perhaps it is because no one here is as close to me as you. As kindred. My prince, do you ever feel that some people will grow closer to one another than others will?”

He swallows, that tight feeling in his chest coming back in waves. He’s never felt like that, and yet, you are making him experience all manner of things for the first time. An unspoken connection being one of them.

“S-sometimes.”

“As if they have met before?”

“Yes.”

“Their souls never strangers, not even for a moment.”

Everything you say is mesmerizing; every word. If any other woman was to speak of such things, he would scoff and dismiss them. Not that any other woman has ever been interested in him. With you, he’s hanging on every breath you take, waiting for your gaze to fall on him. He has a foreboding sense that if this continues as is, when you use the word ‘please’, he would give you utterly anything you wanted.

“It feels good to be open, does it not? Cathartic, in a way,” you muse, moving to stand.

Reflexively, as if he has been thoroughly schooled in etiquette, he stands faster, leaning down to give you his arm for stability. You’re grateful for the offer, thanking him as your hand finds his forearm and you raise yourself, stretching and patting out some of the creases in your gown from sitting. Prince Aemond stands there awkwardly, lips tight and face concealing an emotion you do not know him well enough to read.

“Would... you like me to escort you back to your apartment?” he offers.

“Oh, is our time together ending so quickly?” you begin, smiling only a little. “I apologize if my conversation was too tragic and cheerless.”

“Ah,” he starts, “I misunderstood.”

You stare at him.

He shakes his head, “I thought you wanted to leave.”

“Not at all!” you exclaim. “What caused you to think that, my prince?”

“You stood up, and... it seemed as if you wanted to end the conversation.”

“...that is all?”

“I understand now it seems foolish.”

“I simply wanted to stretch my legs,” you reassure. “If it is alright with you, may we talk longer? I enjoy speaking with you.”

He looks wobblily, if only for a moment. “Y-yes. Of course, my lady.”

“Shall we take a walk around the room?” you offer.

He nods, and the two of you set a slow, but comfortable pace.

“Will you tell me about your family?” you ask, looking up at him, his long white eyelashes brushing his cheeks when he blinks.

“What do you wish to know about them?”

“What is your fondest memory of each? When you were happiest with them?”

Prince Aemond feels this topic is one that could give you a window into his true self, like showing his soft white underbelly to an attacker. The feeling makes him uneasy, wary. He knows he should tread carefully.

“I am closest with my mother,” he explains, “The queen. I remember she used to read to me often when I was younger. I think, perhaps, that is my fondest memory of her.”

A lie. His fondest memory of his mother is when only she spoke up for him when his eye was sliced out. Only she defended him. Only she called for justice.

“My sister, Helaena,” he continues, “as children, she would enjoy showing me all manner of insects and small beasts she found. She is misunderstood by most but... she is a kind soul. Unlike my older brother, Aegon...”

He trails off, frowning to himself, regal features pulled into a distasteful scowl. You suppose he has no fond memories of his brother, and nor does he elaborate on the matter. You cannot blame him. From what you have heard of and experienced first-hand, he seems like someone you will never see eye-to-eye with, nor with whom you will voluntarily break bread.

A quick change of subject to keep the mood from turning too sour.

“What do you enjoy doing, my prince?” you ask, keenly intrigued on whether you could, perhaps, share similar interests.

“I enjoy sword fighting, I suppose,” he hums, leaning a little closer as if the next part is a secret he wishes few to know, “and reading.”

“Reading?”

“Yes,” he smiles small, “I am particularly interested in my forebearers, so from time to time, when I am free, I enjoy learning about them.”

You notice he avoids using the word for it. You choose to clarify.

“Valyria, you mean? Or rather, Valyrians?”

He nods. “Yes. I have always been interested in your people.”

Your people.

But you abandoned them, didn’t you?

His voice is somehow able to silence the one inside your head.

“I find it fascinating,” he continues, “...if not a little frustrating.”

He glances down to gauge your reaction, and when you look uneasy, he mistakes your forlorn expression as a direct result of his words, and not the outcome of your memories creeping up every now and then.

“A-ah,” he stumbles, “what I mean is— not frustrating, in a negative way, just there is not— it's hard to find... detailed works on... your... people...”

He trails off, feeling foolish and vulnerable. The urge to flee the situation rears its head – to save face, to hide from embarrassment, to keep himself from experiencing first-hand your reaction to his staggering inferiorities.

You manage to steady yourself by listening to the sound of his voice lulling you back to the room.

“If you have questions about Valyria, you may ask me about them, my prince. If I remember, I will tell you what I know.”

He studies your face, repeating your words in his head. Perhaps he may have misjudged the situation.

The conversation continues, flowing like the tide, ebbing onto a soft sand shore, as easy and carefree as the breeze. You talk with him about anything and everything, from the histories of Westeros, to his family today. Prince Aemond tells you of how Aegon conquered the seven kingdoms with his sisters roughly 100 years ago, how his own dragon saw it all, how he united the world under Targaryen rule. He tells you of how he grew up with the conqueror as his hero, wanting to be just like him, taking up swordsmanship, and philosophy, and history, and etiquette. Learning what it takes to become a true ruler – a good ruler. He tells you that his elder half-sister is in line for the iron throne once his father passes, and that even though it's very unlikely that he’ll find himself in a position to rule, he thinks the skills that teach him discipline are valuable, nonetheless.

He reminds you of what your parents expected of you.

You talk with him about what little you remember of your homeland, of your parents, of your dragons, your culture, and your hopes to regain what was lost – your memories.

“Without them,” you say, “I feel like a hollow shell. I should be a shining example of the greatest civilization; a living relic that carries the past with me so that it is never forgotten. But I am failing terribly.”

“Your memories will return; you must simply give them time,” Prince Aemond hums, silencing your worries and fears once more, without even realising.

It has grown dark, you realise; a haunting mirror of your inner emptiness, but the warmth of Prince Aemond by your side reminds you that perhaps, not all is truly lost.

“Ah, night has fallen,” he announces, stopping to glance towards the dark windows of the Great Hall. “I seem to have lost track of the time...”

He seems apprehensive, alarmed when a few maids enter to light the candles dotted around the room, and hums, deep in his chest, eyes darting around the room, watching the goings on of others.

“May I...” he begins, turning back to you, “...walk you back to your apartments?”

You nod, smiling, “of course, my prince.”

He leads you softly through the corridors of the Red Keep, keeping quiet, and you are relieved that his brother is nowhere in sight, and that there are few who can disturb the both of you. When you arrive outside your door, Ser Erryk is standing guard as always. He bows to the prince, who seems reluctant to let you go. You notice his aura change, face become unreadable, firmly hidden behind a steely glare, and his posture goes rigid beside you.

In the presence of others, he returns to the man who would answer you with silence or hums, that reaction now granted to all else but you. You have seen the underneath of his cold exterior, peaked through the cracks of his towering walls. The thought brings a sense of odd comfort. In it, you find an ally; a kindred soul.

Reluctantly, you part from him, his warmth dissipating.

“Good night, my betrothed,” he bids, dipping his head, “Please sleep well. I hope this night is one free from terrors.”

It is not.

You return his soft farewell and enter your chambers.

But his advice helped.

[part 5]

#aemond targaryen drabble #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x reader

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ofcarnvge · 2 years

Text

Unarmed

@annalis-e--shadowofpanem

Unity made it to the point in Cyanne's journal where she understood why she was talking to herself. Her understanding of the stone expanded with every page Cyanne turned, and her calculations took on new shapes.

“Huh,” Cyanne muttered. Up until that point, the device was just...the Device. Then here came Molly, wanting to help in her usual way, blessing the device with a proper name. “I welcome the help. Seems like however this Reach business is supposed to work, you’re more adept than I am.”

Cyanne turned the page. “It’s a busy house. I have my team from the Pillbox here, though without a proper barracks and no way to house them without shoving them all into hotel rooms...I may just send them home. Leave the development to us. Besides them, Amber is here. She was the one hacking...everybody. She's settling in after apparently being attacked by Agnes. The implications behind that are...unsettling...but the network is chomping at the bit for payback.

"Anyway, Paris conducted the rescue, and she's acting as Amber's bodyguard...so she’s here...don’t know if she plans to stay. I imagine not, since you’ll be here. I don’t think she’s as big into conflict as she used to be. Finally, there’s her partner Koa... I can’t begin to sort out if he’s coming or going. If I were to assume, he’s charging his batteries and waiting for the Agnes shit to hit the fan.”

Cyanne laughed. “Are you sure you want to come here? A lot of big personalities under one roof, and a lot of unstable politics surrounding Umbrae. It might be calmer across the pond.”

Somewhere, in the middle of the discourse, Eleanor stopped scoffing to herself, and her usual quips fell to the wayside. Eventually, her silence drew Amy’s attention, finding her retreated into a corner with a stone-cold stare on her face. Amy tracked Eleanor’s gaze...and found herself wearing the same exact expression.

Pan stood against the wall, halfway through a slice of cheesecake sitting atop a saucer. Her fingers barely moved, and her eyes struggled to lift from the blank stare at the floor. Both Eleanor and Amy knew it didn’t matter where Pan’s eyes looked--they knew that she saw visions of her father in them no matter what. Pan's mind tumbled and fell into a slideshow of every time he hurt her for her “benefit;” from the day he left, causing her to chase him into the Shadows, all the way to the point where he left again, forcing his title upon her. It hurt worse now that she could recall every moment with precision.

But even without Reach, she recalled the exact number of lives lost in the attempt to wipe Parliament, and along with them, the Shadows’ Board of Directors from Earth's surface. It was the single act of butchery Delun needed to make Pan’s promotion possible.

Bill and Delun would have been good friends.

Pan sat down the saucer of cheesecake. The phone number she dialed was longer than any telecommunication standard. “I would like to arrange a video call with prisoner 5241-SR. Encrypt it on your end, and let me know when you have a key generated.” She hung up, and for a moment, she struggled to move.

Eleanor gently wrested the phone from Pan’s grasp before making her way to the bag she tucked away in the corner, rummaging through its contents in search of her laptop.

“You know if she talks about this to anyone...”

Pan shook her head. “Amy, I don’t think she cares. I don’t think I do, either.” She willed her eyes up from the floor. “We can’t sweep our history under the rug forever...”

The cell was a cave, and the door was several dozen feet above her. The rock was always wet and slippery, so there was no climbing it. The only thing she had to call her own was a small lantern, powered by batteries that the guards tossed down through the bars. The batteries themselves were always from differing brands, with various levels of charge. Anything to keep her from forming a pattern. Her eyes hadn’t tasted sunlight since...

She didn’t know when.

The method was effective. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were lowered down in a basket at irregular intervals. When they caught her through the camera measuring the length of her curls, the guards descended in force, held her to the cold stone, and shaved her bald. When they grew back, she begged and pled to keep them, vowing never to measure them again. They never came back. Her curls grew to her shoulders, but by then...the objective was met.

Sparrow Ravensdale’s perception of time was irrefutably shattered, and without it, there was no way she could weave an escape. The hole in the artic was all she knew.

The rope fell from the door above and slapped the cold ground, waking her from her sleep. Her instinct told her to recoil back, her hands raised. She heard the guard connect his gear to the rope and slide down until his boots struck the stone.

He sat the laptop down in front of her, along with a brighter lantern. “You have a caller.”

“But...” Sparrow shivered. “Kelsie called not too long ago...it’s too soon.”

“It's the director.”

“...what does he want with me...?”

The guard shrugged and stepped to the side. “Be ready. The call will commence in a few minutes.”

Molly sat down on the floor - not the floor of the elegant manor house bedroom in Cambridge, England, but the floor of Casa Del Doi. She made herself stop for a moment.

“Funny you mention Agnes.” She said, resting her chin on her hand. “I noticed...Something about her when I was looking at Floss earlier. It was an accident. But I think they have a history, and yeah, even if people aren't talking about it right out in the open just yet, you don't have to be a Shadow to notice you could cut the tension around Somnia...”

She bit her lip in thought. “Maybe you’re right. I only just got Liss back and here I am packing cases. I just...” She wondered how to possibly describe what she had seen.

“...The people who sent us this message? They really weren't kidding...” Molly let her hand drift down to the floor, and in much the way the bay window had become a theatre of time, the floor between herself and Cyanne lit up momentarily, a perfect depiction of the Cataclysm folding the sky.

When Molly pulled her hand away the floor was simply the floor again. She got to her feet.

“I guess since you’ve got me-” she gestured around, still amused by her ability “-on call, now, maybe I should keep my feet in England. But if you need anything, you know where to find me. I don't even know how, but I’ve got my ear to this thing, I can hear the flow of it, because of that I might be able to help.”

There was that sweet smile. It had only truly re-emerged when Liss had stepped over the Upton threshold.

“And besides, I expect a lot more than a baby shower. I expect to be attending both of my daughter’s thirty third birthdays.”

Molly’s eyes glimmered, and the reach connection tapered gradually, until the Upton residence reasserted itself.

An uncomfortable silence fell in the wine cellar.

“She’s right.” O-ren broke it finally. “It’s time to see Beatrix. I know where Bill lives. I’ll go there, contact her, I’ll talk to her if she want to talk...”

“O-ren! What if...” Go go hopped down from the bench, her face a picture of fear.

“Go go, I need to do this, do you understand?” The statement started out hard and turned gentle. A shrug. “Besides. I’m not treating this as a suicide mission. Bee and I...”

She gave Mallory a dry look before looking back at her adopted daughter.

“...Bee and I have things we need to talk about.” O-ren looked at Floss. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done, but I need to ask one more thing. I don't have any resource available to me here. Can you find Beatrix for me?”

Floss nodded. “That’s easily done. And anything else you need. But I insist, you rest tonight at least. You’re still recovering.”

“I wont let her lay a hand on you.” Go go insisted.

“If Bee wants that you wont be able to stop her, because you’ll be here. I’m going alone.” O-ren replied sharply, a bit of that old severity cutting through in her tone. Go go’s mouth dropped open.

“No.” She responded.

“Yes, Go go. You’ve been fighting my battles too long. And it’s mine to deal with, please understand?” O-ren took Go go by the arm. The argument fell away. The bodyguard looked bereft. A look past Go go’s shoulder toward Floss indicated, in a complex non verbal communication, that this was the other part of what she asked; look after my step daughter for me, just for now.

Florence gave a barely perceptible nod. “I can arrange transport as soon as you need it, but tomorrow.”

“And me? Do I sleep here?” Mallory asked, a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

“O-ren, Go go. There are bedrooms set up upstairs for you. Please make yourselves at home. I need a moment with Mallory.”

The two of them went quietly up the steps, O-ren throwing a look of gratitude back over her shoulder before she moved out of view.

Floss got up off the stool and squatted in front of the young Viper. As she spoke her voice was quiet, but utterly serious. She laced her fingers together where her arms rested on her knees.

“I know who is responsible for the loss of your family. And believe me, you are not the only person gunning for them. I’m not in the business of telling people what to do, but the problem is - that person is much more powerful than you, in some ways much more powerful than many of my associates in this house. You will need our help...”

Mallory sat quietly, absorbing everything the older woman said with a look of frowning concentration.

“...So here’s what I can offer you. If you want to leave this house now? Go about your life? I wont stop you. No one’s going to put another tranq in your leg. But if what you want is to really know, what happened? You need to give us time, and be our ally. So what’s it to be?”

The frown softened on Mallory’s face. After a moment she nodded.

“Alright. You’re on.”

Floss extended a hand and helped her to her feet. “You get the last choice of bedroom I’m afraid. Straight down the hall.” She looked the Viper up and down. “Feel free to take a bath, and Mallory...I meant what I said, you hurt anyone in this house - you’ll be dealing with Beatrix, and you’ll get no information.”

Mallory nodded, and left Floss alone in the cellar with her thoughts. She only stood there a moment before she decided that a piece of cheesecake would be much preferable to her internal dialogue.

Mallory walked slightly dumfounded through the house she had previously been carried through, and started the bath running in the spacious en-suite bathroom. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and began typing a text;

[Milo, I don't think this could get anymore nuts...]

#these dialogue chapters always look so crazy long!! xx #Unarmed #annalis-e--shadowofpanem

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theother-victoria · 2 years

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LAST DAY OF SUMMER

SYNOPSIS: It’s the last day before your paths divulge, how will you remember it?

CHARACTERS: 5wirl

NOTES: I’ve started school so here’s one last fic before I inevitably die under the weight of assignments.

TAGS: Some angst, implied reincarnation in Venti’s and Xiao’s parts, pre-established relationships for all of them, gn reader

VENTI + ONE LAST SWIM

You are this close to punching Venti.

“Come on, (Y/N)! It’s the last day of summer, let’s do something fun!”

“Venti, I’m tired. I just want to take a nap.”

“Boo, that’s no fun! You’re such a killjoy!”

“And you’re a menace to my sanity,” you grumble as you put your phone on speaker. You hear Venti mumbling to himself on the other end before he comes up with an idea.

“Ooh, I know! How about we go swimming at the nearby lake? There’s no one there and the weather’s perfect today. Come on, what do you say?”

You’re silent for a few moments. He knows you can’t resist a good swim and you can practically see the shit-eating grin on his face.

He knew exactly what buttons to push, didn’t he?

“... Fine. I’ll be over in ten.”

And that’s how you find yourself sitting at the edge of the lake pier while Venti doggy-paddles in circles around you, a lazy smile stretching across his face. He dips beneath the surface and re-emerges after a few seconds, brushing his wet hair out of his face.

“Care to join me, Windblume? The water’s quite refreshing.”

He extends his hand out. The clear, smooth waters of the lake beckon you. With a leap of faith, you grasp his hand and he pulls you under the water with him.

After getting over the initial shock of cold water, you blink your eyes open to see Venti’s green eyes twinkling with mischief and love. Dappled light softly shines on him, making him look like an angel. He gently interlaces your hands together as he mouths something.

Close your eyes.

You do as you’re told and immediately you feel something warm barely brushing against your lips. The kiss is airy and cheeky, just like him. His enthusiasm is infectious and it soon rubs off onto you. You smile into the kiss, wanting to deepen it.

Venti feels so close yet so far away. He’s always there, just out of arm’s reach and tempting you. If you don’t find him in time, you feel he’ll slip away for good, disappearing into the wind.

The burning sensation in your lungs redirects your focus to more pressing, life-threatening matters, however…

You both resurface, gasping for air. Venti nips at your lips playfully before planting kisses across your face only seconds apart. You squeal and attempt to hide but he doesn’t relent and soon you melt into his arms. He knew how to strum your heartstrings like the master musician he is and you’d gladly dance to his tune again if only to spend more time with him.

You are his muse, his one and only. The time you two share is almost gone, so he’ll make the most of it before you head your own separate ways.

The sun is starting to set now. After drying you off, he gives you one last hug as fleeting as the kiss from before. Strangely, you feel as if this will be the last time you’ll see him.

“Our time together is running out, dearest. After today, we may never see each other again in this life or the next.”

Venti barks out a dry laugh. You look at him strangely.

Venti, who are you really?

“Even if this is our last time together in this life, I will always carry you in my heart and songs as my muse. You will be immortalized in songs that are sung across generations, telling of your kind soul and the endless love you had for others. One day, perhaps those tunes will be heard by you and you’ll remember the bard who loved you with his whole being.

“Now go. Travel the world and discover all it has to offer. Soar through the skies like the birds and lose yourself in adventure. I’ll await the day the winds lead me back to you again, but for now, please… forget about me.”

KAZUHA + POLAROIDS

“Why are you so obsessed with taking photos of me, love?”

A click from behind tells you your lover has yet again taken another photo of you.

“You look absolutely stunning, my dear. It would be a shame if I didn’t capture your beauty.”

He rests his head on your shoulder from behind. You feel him press kisses against your neck, smiling into the delicate skin. The camera hanging off his neck bumps against your back every time he moves and you find yourself reaching for it. He swipes it from your grasp and quickly snaps a picture of you two.

“Poetry and photography… you really are the most romantic man on this planet.”

Kazuha dives in for a kiss. He aims for your left cheek, then your right cheek, before attacking your chin, forehead, and nose. Finally, he lands on your lips. His white hair tickles your neck and you giggle against the kiss. He lingers for just a moment longer, allowing himself to take in everything that is you before pulling away, an enamored smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Something tells me there’s another reason you enjoy taking photos of me. Is there?”

He falls silent, which is rare for your usually chatty lover.

“Taking photos is another way to preserve my memories of you. The seasons change, and so will we. There may come a day where fate does us apart and your memory of me becomes a hazy recollection lost to the winds of time.”

Your lover is an enigma, concealing his true meaning behind flowery words that you have to sift through and decipher. It would take a lifetime of practice to unveil his true self hidden under the expertly-crafted persona he’d perfected long ago.

And yet, he always lets his guard down around you. No concealing his emotions through poetry or downplaying his pain. Just you and him in your rawest, most vulnerable states, telling each other secrets and promises not even the gods would hear of.

“I want you to carry a piece of me as you go through life, so that you will remember me and know that somewhere out there, I’ll be searching for you.”

Kazuha looks down towards his camera before gazing back up at you with nothing but adoration and an unspoken promise in his eyes.

“No matter how far apart we are, I will always find my way back to you in some corner of the world.

“For the thread that binds you and I together is not one so easily severed.”

AETHER + WISHING ON SHOOTING STARS

“Isn’t it peaceful up here?”

A vast expanse of darkness greets your eyes with stars littering the sky like little pinpricks of light. Aether gently squeezes your hand in response.

“It is, but it’s about to get better.”

You don’t have to wait long. You see something white quickly streak across the sky, then another. Soon, the entire sky is filled with shooting stars, lighting up the darkness as they travel to their next destination.

“A meteor shower,” you breathe out. The grass and wildflowers tickle your skin as you shift closer to Aether’s side. He points to the sky at a particularly bright one taking its time traveling across the night sky.

“Quick, make a wish!”

You close your eyes. There’s only one thing you wish for: to stay by Aether’s side for as long as possible.

I wish to stay by his side forever. He is my sun, my sky, my entire universe. To take him away would be akin to killing me, so please, let me stay by his side.

I wish to stay by their side forever. You can take my limbs, my heart, my soul, but please don’t take them away from me. They are the reason I strive to live.

“What did you wish for?” you ask in a quiet whisper after a long while. The meteor shower has long since ended and you are playing with the end of Aether’s long braid. The sky above you is pitch-black so you can’t see the fond yet conflicted expression he makes as he pats your head.

“If I tell you, wouldn’t that jinx the wish?”

“Just spill it. I think I know what it is already.”

“The same thing as you. I wish to stay by your side forever.”

You grow quiet as you start playing with his hands. Aether falls silent too as he pulls you closer to his heart.

“... Is this goodbye? Is that why we both had the same wish?”

You tentatively asked the question in a hesitant voice, afraid that merely voicing it would ruin everything. To your surprise, he shakes his head.

“Don’t you see? We still have so much time left ahead of us. There's still so much we can explore together, so much we can do together that there’s no way this could be goodbye.

“This isn’t goodbye. Not for a long time. So let’s not call it that, for we will meet again.”

XIAO + BEACH VISIT

Cold water laps at your ankles as the waves splash against your skin, then recede. The wet sand dips beneath your feet, leaving footprints behind.

“Xiao, look at the setting sun over the horizon. Isn’t it pretty?”

He gruffly nods, silent and sullen as always. You gently tug on his pinky with your interlocked one, nudging him forward along the coastline. Seagulls land and peck at the sand for anything to scavenge and Xiao shoos them away with his foot.

At some point, he breaks free from your grasp and wanders off without you knowing. It’s only when you’re in the middle of building a sandcastle and need his help that you realize he’s gone off somewhere.

“Xiao? I kind of need your help-”

When you notice he’s not there, you look behind and see he’s some distance away from the shoreline holding something. He seems to be… speaking to it?

Abandoning your sandcastle, you walk over to see what he’s up to. The tips of his ears are strangely flushed red and when you place a hand on his shoulder, he jolts, startled by the touch.

“What’re you up to, Xiao?”

There, you see he’s holding a seashell. A Starconch, to be exact.

“Here,” he mumbles, holding it out to you. “There’s an old Liyuean legend that if you speak into a seashell, it’ll record your voice.”

You hold it to your ear and listen. There, you hear something you thought you never would.

“I’ve seen many people come and go throughout the years, yet the thought of never being able to see you again makes me feel… conflicted. I have been thinking about this for a long time now and I have finally arrived at a conclusion.

“Many years ago, I was given a name. You showed me the meaning behind it. I was given a second chance to live. You gave me the will to live. I could not dream; I only had nightmares, yet my first dream was one of you. In times of peace, I found myself unable to put down my spear. You showed me how. Stuck in the past, I was unable to adapt to changing times and continued to be haunted by lingering regrets. You led the way and showed me how to let go of the past. I owe a debt of gratitude to you, (Y/N), that I can never pay back. All I can do is be there when you need me.

“If you wish to see me again, simply call my name and I will be there, no matter where or who you are. That is my vow, and one I will fulfill until my dying breath.”

HEIZOU + CATCHING FIREFLIES

Inazuma is unusually warm and humid at this time of year.

The tall grass still wet from today’s rain tickles your ankles as you run through the open field catching fireflies. Heizou leans against the side of the large tree, counting how many he’s collected already. One of the city’s many stray Shibas rolls over onto its back, asking him for belly rubs. He quickly obliges and ruffles the soft fur as the Shiba barks happily while wagging its tail.

“Man alive, I think you’ve beaten me! Just look at how many you’ve caught.”

He holds his jar out to you for examination. There’s a lot, yes, but yours beats him by a long shot. Fireflies occupy almost every corner of space in yours, vying for space against each other.

“As a reward, I’ll answer any question you want me to!”

You shoot him a look. He quickly (and wisely) responds with an “Honestly! I’ll answer anything you want me to honestly, whether it be about my childhood, who the latest suspect I’m chasing down is, or who ate the last dango yesterday.”

You glare at him after the last part.

The sun has fully set and the moon is high in the sky now. Fireflies gently brush against the sides of your jar. You pop the lid open and the cool sea breeze scatters them, blinking and lighting up the darkness in fluorescent green. Heizou does the same, the fireflies escaping into the sky like a sea of glowing lanterns. They twinkle and blink intermittently, resembling the shimmering sea. Your constellations gleam brightly overhead as the fireflies disappear out of your sight, blending in with the stars themselves.

Long after the fireflies have disappeared, you come to a question that’s been on your mind lately.

“What’s your opinion on fate and destiny?”

From the look on Heizou’s face, he must’ve known that you were going to ask him that. You see him thinking underneath the moonlight before he smiles once he reaches a conclusion.

“The gods do not predetermine fate and destiny, nor are coincidences simply coincidences. Rather, they are the cumulation of all our choices leading up to a single, decisive moment. While our paths may divulge for now, I will work to ensure that they cross again someday.

“Even if we are worlds apart, my intuition will always lead me back to you. Because you see the reason why I strive to create my own destiny.”

#genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #venti x reader #kazuha x reader #aether x reader #heizou x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #xiao x y/n #venti x y/n #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x y/n #aether x y/n #heizou x y/n #shikanoin heizou x reader #victoria.writes

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ruiniel · 2 years

Text

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: Explicit 🔞

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Count: 11k

CW: Erotica, Blood Kink, Second Person POV, Hematophagy, Out of Character, Alternate Universe, Dark Crack, Gratuitous Smut, AU interpretation of Alucard, Angst, Bloodlust, Dark Magic, Inspired by Castlevania, Psychological Horror, Gothic, Dubious Consent, Self-indulgent Darkfic what else, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shapeshifting, Dark Fantasy, I mean it's show!Castlevania, so really..., No Fluff detected, OK maybe a smidge of it, Dead Dove etc

Summary: You're asking for things you... shouldn't?

Also on AO3

All characters depicted are 18+ of course. Please curate your own experience. Do heed the warnings.

Steam rises, catching the sun rays that spear the window of the bath chamber. You shift in the water, your body warmed and unwound, content to be close. This is the first time you bathe together, but you had missed him so much that waiting a second longer to feel him is pure agony. He cups you with his body, drawing you in until his hard chest presses into your back. His chin rests lightly on your shoulder as you speak.

"It's astounding what you can find, ah—" you choke on a gasp as his mouth grazes the pricking skin of your neck, "...—in the Vault." Turning at the waist you hold the book over the edge, away from the surface of the steaming water. "This tome on vampire physiology includes something that left me wondering."

Adrian hums absently, lazily nipping at your bare shoulder. "Go on," he says, one hand reaching beneath the water before he begins lathering your back with soap and a soft cloth. His movements are slow and languorous, and you have to make a conscious effort not to fall into a torpor.

A pleasant haze drowns your mind, and you know he hears the pumping of your heart as your pulse quickens — and enjoys it, judging by the way his fangs graze the side of your neck. Distracted, you slump forward against the edge of the metal tub, still grasping the tome, eyelids drooping and body sleepy from the slippery pressure of wet skin against skin. "For example," you follow, a little breathless, "here it says, the vampire is capable of sensations and reactions very similar to humans, ranging from pain to pleasure, under a number of different stimuli."

His chest shakes in a soft chuckle; sounds you once never thought to hear from him. "More than capable." A strong arm slips around your middle.

A soundless gasp escapes you as his other hand circles the small bar of soap over your chest. "You’re making this… difficult," you mumble, swallowing at the way his thumb sleeks over each hardened nipple. God, you never imagined he could be like this. This teasing and openness would have been ridiculous fantasies to even consider that first time fate and circumstance led you to the one calling himself Alucard. A vicious beauty freezing you to the spot with that brilliant, dangerous gaze, drunk and disheveled and coldly suspicious of your very shadow. Then came a hard and painstakingly difficult road to follow but you did, and, slowly, trust grew between you.

"Continue," his words anchor you back to the present, and your heartbeat gains a racing speed that bursts in your ears; you know he feels that too, and he’d once said it left him drunker than any wine.

You turn your head, "I will, if you’ll let me finish—" the words are muffled against his lips. You soften and lean back, pleased by the honest, forward manner that developed between you. Safety. There are still times when you struggle to get past his chipped walls, but he is trying; he desperately wants to trust again, and to you, there is honor in that. Tasting the tip of his tongue, you revel in his scent of roses and blood.

When Adrian breaks away, his pupils are blown wide, and black has swallowed the gold in his irises. "Do finish," he grins, watching you keenly. As if you could hide anything from him.

You smile. "Thank you. Now," you turn your attention to the tome still held in your hands over the edge of the bath. "Then come many listings, until we reach this section. For instance, the representatives of the race are capable of feeling intense and prolonged arousal, which follows the same stages in physical reactions and outcomes. But situations of long term human and vampire cohabitation have not been observed or documented to ascertain their true depth and intensity. Of course, your family is possibly the only example I know of."

Adrian nods. He raises the washing cloth and rinses your back. "I have an inkling there is more to this," he says, his voice as soft and soothing as you’d come to know it.

"Well, yes, in a way. What it is…" you hesitate. "There are hefty descriptions of some… specifics, among which is this. Blood is not only a strength builder and highly addictive to the vampire, but human blood, owed to its potency, apparently often proves a highly effective and intense aphrodisiac."

He stills against you, and you place the tome down beside the tub, turning your head to look at him.

"Please tell me you're not about to suggest what I think you will," Adrian mouths, his eyes riveted on you.

You wiggle and turn in the water, your knees touching the metal base, thighs slipping over him as you straddle his lap. Strong muscles tense beneath the pressure of your body, and his eyes go darker still under those black lashes. You run your hands over his shoulders, down his chest, eyes on the fading scars winding across his torso and arms.

Adrian falls back against the tub, lips curved upward, though he seems thoughtful. He then slowly makes to rise, a hand on your rear and the other around you as he stands and takes you with him, stepping out of the bath. Your wet body slips against his as you slide down from his arms and Adrian takes a towel from a nearby stand, wrapping it around you.

You both dry your bodies in silence, and your mouth feels even drier; you crave to be wrapped in all that lean muscle and soft skin, dwelling on his ethereal beauty, drawing close again, needing to feel. Your touch trails down his tight abdomen, lower, until your hand strokes him and his eyes close at your teasing; a wicked smile brims as he hardens in your grip.

Adrian grasps your wrist, removing your hand as his breath quickens. "Easy."

Demurely, you lower your lashes. You went ahead of yourself. "Do you want to... try?" you dare. "What it says in the book, that is." Is it foolish? Idiotic? By the look on his face, he certainly thinks so, though you suspect another side of him might be remotely tempted by your absurd suggestion. But you’re still learning to understand him, and a part of you wants to see him in that unleashed state, to know what drives and changes him. And he’d never hurt you. You’d already shared so much, that this curiosity seems easy to appease — to you, at least.

Adrian stares at you, clearly teetering on the brink of something. "I’ve never known someone who asked to be bitten. Or…" his striking eyes gleam in mischief. "Perhaps I am not enough for you now, plain as I am?" he gestures at himself with a raised golden eyebrow.

You gasp and grab his trousers before he can reach for them. "Don’t ridicule me! It’s merely about knowing you; more of you. I'm curious." Could he blame you? You’re still learning of this land, its dangers, and the beings that roam it.

There is a deep, unshakable trust between you, built up from the crumbling stones of past struggles, nurtured by honesty. But when his stunning features drain of warmth and his eyes narrow, you wonder if you’d crossed a line.

"May I have my garment back?"

His voice is the softest honey, but his gaze is sharp on you, the words struggling past the thin line of his mouth. Impatience never defined him, but you know him too well by now not to notice the restlessness behind that chiding look. And something else. If you didn't know any better, you'd say it was fear.

Clearly, the topic is a source of unease, and for a moment you actually regret asking. Unnerved, you try lifting the mood and tension risen thickly between you. Eyes trailing over the harmonies of him, you shake your head, and your gaze narrows with mischief you don't wholly feel anymore. "I rather like you this way."

Standing there, tall and straight and overwhelming in his bareness, he reminds you of those graceful, abandoned marble statues in crumbled temples, serene and resigned, exposed to the elements. A sweep of affection burns in your chest, and you stumble back as Adrian halfheartedly reaches for the clothing. You angle your body away, keeping his quarry out of reach, padding on swift feet out of the bath chamber and through one of the many long castle corridors. The cold nips at your soles as your bare feet slap over the stone floors, seeking the closest chamber in your fit of giddiness.

Always generous, he gives you a good start, but soon enough a red beam dashes past and you know the game is lost.

Standing between you and the door, he succeeds at looking adorably noble even stark naked with his hair plastered to his face.

"Garments, now." And he reaches for the clothes even as you yelp and duck beneath his grasp, slipping inside the chamber.

You don't make it far.

A steel arm coils around you and you kick and mewl as you're thrown onto the bed. Defeat. "I yield!... Please, I..." you laugh as you both struggle through a mess of limbs, sprawled and tangled and sinking into the four-poster bed.

Adrian traps you beneath him and looks down on you, eyes taken with the heaving of your chest before his gaze locks on yours, then dips to the curve of your mouth. "How convenient," he purrs.

"Oh?" you try to keep your poise, despite the rising feeling that you're already failing spectacularly. Few things are as distracting as the pressure of his hips on yours, of him hardening against your belly. The towel you had been gripping to you now bunches up as his hands find your skin, uncovering you slowly, his gaze on the path of his fingers. "You're devious." Not a complaint.

A warm huff over your lips. His scent drowns your reason as he feels you, fingers splaying lower and searching. "It was your thievery that brought us here," he murmurs, nuzzling against you. His eyes flutter closed as he presses you into the mattress, dark lashes resting like broken wings on his pale skin. All seems well and good, but there is still that restlessness, and he's quiet; too quiet.

Adrian rises on his arms, alleviating some of the pressure, and you bemoan the loss as he watches you with a darkened stare you know by now. You swallow, your face growing hotter, that same heat splashing through every nook and cranny of your being that is not yet high on him. An elegant hand cups your cheek, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. "So adventurous…" he doesn't finish. Whatever he had to say is clearly less important than bringing his mouth upon yours again, and your body arches into him of its own accord, past the laws of primal attraction.

He is the brush of summer rain on a scalding hot day; you taste rosewater and dry wine, and your need of him turns desperate as he rouses you from flames to wildfire. Your thoughts fall to pieces with the soft flicks of his tongue, your inarticulate mewl crushed against his mouth.

Your touch is fevered as your hands seek his tense shoulders, down his straining biceps, kneading into him as Adrian holds himself above you. You feel the resistance beneath your fingers, and the odd thought strikes; you know he could render you dead within seconds if he wished. But he doesn't; despite what he believes, he is no killer. He'd dealt the blow when someone had to, when there was no other choice. "You make me feel... so safe," you blurt, wanting him to know. "You're a wonderful being, and you make me feel safe." You, on the other hand, feel like some bumbling hatchling, but you hadn't expected the road your emotions would take you. A long distance from stealing clothes just to ogle at perfection.

A soft chuckle rumbles low against you, like a wolf bordering on playful. "You're the first to say so."

You palm his cheek, feeling the traits that draw you to him so much, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. No one else could feel this way, tucked behind your ribcage, over and inside you. You meet him halfway down the path you're both carving, seeking each other.

And yet, you go back there.

It could be the mark of being flawed, and so utterly, miserably human, that you want that one thing, however small, that seems beyond reach? Beyond that, why is he so adamant in denying to explore a side that will always be a part of himself? His duality caused no one else pain, not from what you had learned.

You know he still has moments, sinking in those windowless dungeons of thought where the past lives; thoughts of his family, the guilt of his very existence, of what he is. It had partly caused his determined attempts at self-isolation, as if choosing to remove himself from the natural order of things by refusing to alter it with his choices. But life does not work that way. A solitary existence became a creed he followed with near dogmatic rigor, even late after you stumbled into his life. It was eye-opening back then, to see someone almost renounce life for oblivion, wasting away like a tarnished gem buried and hidden in a forgotten tomb.

He is no monster; nor does one lie at the other end of his legacy. You want him to see it and foolishly hope that perhaps you could be one to help. And then, he would outlive you, watch you wither, if you should be so lucky. You've made your peace with that. Has he?

Guiltily, you miss the full sensory delight with your straying thoughts and notice only when he breaks the kiss. You open your eyes, gazing up at him. He had risen on his forearms and is watching you, a question on his lips. A heavy wet strand tickles and you reach to tuck it behind his ear.

His eyebrows rise, and half a smile pulls at his lips. "Care to share?"

You breathe through your nose, one leg brushing against his naked side. Your inner thigh presses into his hard hip and you swallow, the barest trickle of desire blooming in your core. "... I was thinking of earlier." He knows, by the way he lowers his head in a nod.

Adrian sighs, leaning down. "Not safe." His words fall against your kiss.

That's it? That's all he has to say? Your legs tighten around him and you lift your hips, grinding against his cock until he muffles a soft moan into your mouth. Reaching to feel the tension in his muscles, you clutch boldly at his rear, relishing the tension as he shifts against you. "Have you ever done it? Fed in a… controlled manner?" you ask. Your reasoning is begging you to let it lie, but you'd always been stubborn. You had paid for it before.

Adrian grasps one of your hands, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist and pinning it above your head. "No." His jaw is working as he looks to the side, then his golden eyes lock on you, a plea in them.

"Then how do you know it is not safe?" you push, your spirits dampening when he rises altogether, peeling himself from you to sit back on his knees in bed.

When Adrian looks at you again, you see a side to him you recall from the beginning; bleak resignation.

Regret clings to you. "I'm sorry!" you blurt. "I only wanted to…"

He raises a palm against your stammering. "Do not apologize. I understand… I'm trying to understand the appeal for you." A golden smile returns, but it is not the same.

All you can do is rise to face him, slowly mirroring his own position, your knees barely touching. "I don't fear you."

He huffs, looking at his hands. "You should fear vampires. You should fear night creatures."

"But you are neither," you try, reaching and beckoning him to you again.

Adrian shakes his head, breaking away. "I understand why you want to…" he frowns. "But I'm not sure I want you to see that side." He watches you strangely. "Not when I'm not even certain of my own reactions. Of what impulses might rise. Of course, I know the theory, until a certain point..." His words fade.

"Would it make you vicious? Angry?" you want to know, reaching to touch his face; his eyes close. "Violent?" These would be the hardest to contain.

"Maybe none of it. Maybe all. I do not know."

You purse your lips. Unease creeps up your spine, but so does a damning thrill. "Would it… would it hurt you in any way?" your finger traces up his chin, dips between his parted lips to feel the sharpness of one sleek fang.

He flicks his tongue around your finger, shuddering as you draw close again. "Of course not," he murmurs as your touch slips over his bottom lip. "The only one to worry about in that situation, is, unsurprisingly, you." His eyes meet yours, and you gaze into black pupils, abysses of past trials; immaterial scars. His irises are thin rings of gold as he stares at you like an uncertain hunter eyeing foreign prey. His brows furrow, and his voice, though soft, is a meld of regret and determination. "You understand I cannot put you at such risk."

You sigh and nod. You try to understand, at least. It all stems mainly from care. But that he trusts himself so little, now that rakes at you. This has gotten nowhere, as you thought it might, and you ought to leave it be.

You ought to, and you will. But the look he gives you, as if suddenly afraid for you both, spurs your addled mind, and your own human selfishness. "What if… what if there were rules?"

Chapter II Chapter III

#alucard castlevania x reader #adrian tepes x reader #alucard smut #adrian tepes x you #vampirism #castlevania x you #castlevania imagine #dark fic #ruiniel:fanfiction #castlevania smut #castlevania x reader #x reader #alucard x you #alucard x reader #castlevania alucard x reader

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

What Is Love?

Pairing: Gojo x reader (Main), Nanami x reader (Side)

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Rape, Sacrilegious, God Complex and Delusional Gojo, Somnophilia, Slapping, Choking, Humiliation, Coercion, Non-Con Infidelity

Summary: Gojo learns what love is and unfortunately, you're the object of his newfound affection.

A/N: Thank you as always for beta-ing @sawamooora and dedicating this to my dear @lets-go-datehoe. Thank you for sending this request, Yuli~

Love? Gojo Satoru doesn’t believe in love. Love is for hopeless, lonely souls. Love is for miserable pathetic wretches desperate to fill an emptiness in their hearts, in their lives.

When everyone in the world is already falling head over heels to serve him, to be with him, when he's given everything he's ever wanted and more on a silver platter, why would he need love?

Gojo Satoru is already at the top of the world, with or without love.

Now lust? Gojo understands lust.

Carnal pleasure is never unwelcomed and unlike his elders, his head isn’t shoved so far up his ass to deny that he adores the feeling of his cock inside a slobbering mouth, a sopping wet cunt, an exquisitely tight ass.

But more than that, his arrogance and ego thrives and swells as women throw themselves at him, the feeling of being desired only fueling the prideful monster inside of him, only fueling his borderline delusion.

Of course everyone wants him. He’s Gojo Satoru after all.

And so he lets himself be worshipped, lets woman after woman praise him, reveling in the way they chant his name like a prayer as he returns their devotion with thick sticky white blessings. He smirks at the way they kneel before him, staring up at him in reverence, their pretty mouths and throats stretched wide across his cock.

Gojo Satoru is a god, and gods do not chase after mere mortals. So when he meets and you barely give him the time of day other than a polite bow, he shrugs his shoulders.

You’re just another disbeliever. Another silly lamb he needs to convert. Nothing more. Nothing less. Definitely nothing to get worked up about.

It’s almost amusing how you’re playing hard to get, sinning by spitting such crude and crass remarks at a deity like him every time he tries to speak to you. And it’s almost infuriating how you turn your nose up at him, as if you’re qualified to have an opinion of him, let alone think of him as beneath you. But he hides the pleased smile on his face when he sees your gaze linger just a tad too long to be mere coincidence the first time he reveals his eyes to you, a look of awe slipping past your scowling countenance.

See? They all come around eventually.

And so he lays it on thicker, draping his tall figure over yours, letting his warm breath grace the back of your neck, murmuring coy words in your ear. His long fingers find themselves tangling in your hair, brushing against your hands, touching every part of you as much as he can get away with.

You’re so close. He can feel your walls slowly crumbling away, can see the unsureness in your eyes as you half heartedly nudge him away after unconsciously leaning into his touch. Just a little more…

Except something, or rather someone, stops him.

Gojo Satoru isn’t usually caught off guard, especially not by the likes of Nanami Kento. The ex-salary man is a good man, but just a man nonetheless, no matter how you dress it up. But Gojo grudgingly admits at least surprise, if not something more, when he hears you’re in Tokyo and decides to pay your apartment a visit, only to find the Grade 1 sorcerer’s tongue shoved down your throat, your naked bodies entangled in rumpled bed sheets.

He tells himself it’s just a one night stand...maybe a friends with benefits relationship at most when he happens to catch both of you holding hands in broad daylight, a carefree smile he’s never seen before stretched across Nanami’s face as he sits at a cafe table with you, watching you happily munch on some pastry his underclassman has purchased for you.

Nothing he can’t handle.

But if you were a bitch before, a snarling ferocious wildcat whenever Gojo was around, you’re even worse now. Your apathy, the nonchalance with which you politely smile and nod in acknowledgement at Gojo before promptly ignoring him for the suited man by your side, gets under his skin like nothing ever has before. For once, Gojo is at a loss.

Ahh, so this is what denial feels like. This is the rejection and emptiness that he’s seen drive others to madness. This is love.

Gojo Satoru experiences his first heartache, but he doesn’t break down into pitiful sobs, he doesn’t mope around in self-pity.

He laughs.

He’s lost the battle, but he hasn’t lost the war. And when others would have turned tail and fled, he stands his ground, icy blue eyes sparkling in glee at the prospect of a new challenge, the prospect of his sweetest victory yet.

Gojo Satoru is a dangerous man. You know that with all your heart and soul, so it only makes sense that your hackles raise anytime he’s in your proximity. Maybe you take it too far, disrespecting your senior to an extent that would bring shame to you if it were anyone other than the Special Grade sorcerer. But in hindsight you’ll wish you did more.

You’ll wish you hadn’t caught the attention of the world’s strongest sorcerer. You’ll wish you hadn’t found yourself mesmerized by his sheer power, by those damning, dazzling eyes. You’ll wish you hadn’t begun to be ensnared by his allure, a trap you’ve heard the consequences of far too often from your heartbroken and weeping fellow female sorcerers. Maybe you’ll even wish you had just let him have a taste of you, use you before tossing you out like trash, like every other woman who’s fallen in bed with him, instead of whetting his appetite only to deny him of his feast, only to have him fixate on you even more.

But like Gojo, you know love and lust are two different things. And when Nanami shows up in your life, like a knight in shining armor, you feel Gojo’s spell on you shatter, your heart fluttering and thawing the ice that had begun to creep up your body, trapping you in endless blue.

Love is blinding, and really, you should have known that normal boundaries don’t exist in Gojo’s world. But your adoration for your lover has you hesitantly, but politely, letting the cheerful sorcerer into your shared home with Nanami — even though your boyfriend is overseas for a mission, not due back for at least another week.

It would be a lie to say you’re completely relaxed and fine with the circumstance you’re in, alone with Gojo Satoru with no chance of anyone being able to help you if something were to happen. But for whatever reason, Nanami respects the man, even considers him a friend, and in turn you feel an obligation of sorts to at least be cordial. And besides, Gojo isn’t a good man, but he’s not a bad man…right?

You find it difficult to believe that Gojo didn’t know Nanami was out of town, that his pout is sincere when you tell him that Nanami won’t be back anytime soon. There are only so many Grade 1 sorcerers in Tokyo and even less that Gojo actively keeps in touch with. But what’s the alternative? Believe Gojo came to see you? Unlikely.

Gojo is a womanizer, a slut, whatever other word you want to use. But a homewrecker? Especially of a dear friend? Never. (Frankly, you think it would just be too much of a bother for the emotionally stunted man.)

And you’re glad to see that your theories are proving to be true as the night continues, wondering if maybe the white-haired man is just lonely.

He’s strangely pleasant as he keeps a respectable distance from you, no suggestive comments spewing from his mouth, even his obnoxious arrogance kept to a tolerable low. You feel your guard drop, your smiles feeling more natural, genuine laughs slipping past your lips as he tells you about his latest adventures and missions.

But as a yawn interrupts your conversation and you stare askance at how late it is before urging him home to get some rest, apologizing for keeping him so long, your heart drops as you feel an overwhelming presence caging you against your living room couch, long limbs on either side of your body.

“What do you see in Nanami that you don’t see in me?”

The question is so jarring you almost forget the panic rising in your chest, mouth moving soundlessly as you try to process the meaning of his words. But instead of an answer, all that bubbles out of you is a shaky plea for him to leave.

Gojo’s never been good at following orders or commands. Why would he be? Since when has a god ever needed to listen to mortals? And you’re no exception.

You whimper as you’re suddenly transported to the bedroom you share with Nanami, struggling to no avail as Gojo easily tears your clothing off, positioning you on all fours in front of the floor-length mirror that decorates the corner of the room. Bile rises in your throat as he takes his blindfold off, blue eyes seemingly piercing your soul even through just a reflection and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to imagine you’re anywhere but here, with anyone other than him, trying to grasp at every fond memory you have of your blonde lover. But Gojo has a point to make and you gasp, eyes snapping wide open as a large hand wraps around your neck, choking you until you’re forced to stare at your joined bodies on the mirrored surface.

“Look at how perfect we are together. Look at how perfect you are underneath me. You chose that instead of this?”

You sob when he twists your head and forces you to look at a framed photograph on your vanity, a photo Nanami and you had taken together when he had brought you overseas with him for a mission.You regret not insisting that you go with him this time around, wishing more than anything else that you were wrapped in his strong arms.

There’s something irritating about your wailing and blubbering, your little hiccups and sniveling only fueling something dark and twisted inside of Gojo. Maybe it’s the way he knows that you’d never act like this if he was Nanami. Maybe it’s the way he knows you’re lust incarnate whenever Nanami has his hands or mouth on you. Maybe it’s the way he knows that you despise him and his touch so much, that you’d rather die than let him have you.

Ungrateful bitch.

Well if you’re going to cry, Gojo might as well give you something to cry about. A crazed grin slices his handsome face as your screams reach an all-time high, a frenzy, as he shoves his cock inside your unprepped hole, his shaft twitching in interest when you desperately wail his name over and over again as if that would do anything other than have him intensify his pace. But as pretty as his name sounds from your mouth, he tires of your useless pleas for him to stop. Gojo uses one hand to shove your face into the floor, your garbled cries muffled by the carpet as he chases his end, moaning at how perfect your tight, gummy walls feel around him. He’s dreamt of this for far too long and with a grunt, he cums inside of you, draping over your body and pressing his lips against the back of your neck, affectionately marking and tasting you as he empties his balls.

Through the pain and shame, relief floods through you, hope that this is finally all over, that he’ll leave you and your battered body alone. And you play dead, letting him do as he pleases, only occasionally wincing when he leaves a particularly intense mark on your skin, momentarily cringing when he pulls out, thick liquid trickling from your abused hole.

But you should have known better, should have known this was just the beginning.

You weakly paw at the strong arms easily cradling your exhausted figure, trying to wriggle as much as your aching body allows you to, sobbing into his shoulder when you see the direction you’re headed in. You wonder how it’s possible to feel even dirtier as calloused hands lather you with soapy suds, as Gojo takes his time scanning every inch of your body, intimately caressing and mapping every line and curve. And you plead for forgiveness from Nanami when slick begins to pool between your legs, as Gojo gently kneads and experiments with your breasts, rolling your nipples, long fingers expertly circling your clit and slipping inside of you.

Your orgasm shatters you and you stand there like a rag doll, body convulsing and eyes rolling back in your head as you drench Gojo’s digits with your arousal, the sticky strands of betrayal staining his hand as he brings it to your mouth. He gently peppers your neck and shoulder with encouraging kisses as you submissively suck him clean, tugging you along as he dries you off before tucking the both of you in bed, holding you in the mockery of a lover’s embrace. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s chosen to sleep on Nanami’s side of the bed and shame has you curling into a fetal position, has you burying your face in the bedsheets, hoping for at least a whiff of Nanami’s familiar scent, a reminder of his presence.

It works, and you let yourself fall into a restless sleep, your lips twitching every so slightly upwards despite the tears still trapped in your lashes as you think of a tall blonde man, a yellow spotted tie wrapped around your hands as you teasingly pull a spectacled face in for a kiss. You writhe and twist in your sleep, heavily panting as you imagine Nanami’s hands roaming on your figure, his lips tenderly kissing a bold line down your neck and in between the valleys of your breasts. And as you imagine his fingers carefully rubbing your clit, you sigh his name, only to be abruptly woken as a lance of pain shreds through you.

Eyelids still heavy with sleep, body still groggy from being so suddenly roused, you can’t piece together what’s happening, one of your hands instinctively cupping your smarting cheek. But you frantically claw and bat in the dark, knowing exactly who’s on top of you despite the fact that your eyes haven’t fully adjusted to the blackness, the way your body is ripped apart once more, a telltale sign of whose cock is penetrating you.

“It’s very rude to say another man’s name when I’m the one making you feel so good. Let me teach you the only name you need to know."

There’s something horribly intimate about the position you two are in, the way he’s tainting the very sheets and mattress Nanami had made love to you on countless times. You wish you could force yourself back to sleep, could gouge out your eyes as you begin to make out the man pistoning in and out of you. But it’s no use and you know even sightless, those icy blue orbs are branded in your mind.

You vow to at least not give him the satisfaction of hearing his name from your mouth, pressing and biting your lips until a copper taste assaults your tastebuds. But Gojo has always been talented at everything he does, those gifted eyes seeing far more than they should. You shake your head side to side in denial as a knot quickly begins to form in your gut, body tensing as you feel another wave coming over you, only to let out a confused whimper when everything suddenly stops.

“You get to cum when you say my name and the magic word.”

The playful lilt and childish tone have you seeing red and you sneer in twisted pleasure when a gob of your spit hits him squarely in the face, a litany of curse words and insults spewing from deep inside of you, uncaring of how you’re more like a raving madwoman than a victim.

But you’re not the first brat Gojo’s had to tame, and he just smirks condescendingly down at you before playing you like an instrument, easily bringing you to that narrow brink where even a single breath of air, or a simple flick of a finger seems like it would have you toppling over the edge, only to relentlessly snatch you right back before you can fall.

You don’t know how long he goes on for, your shattered and denied mind barely cognizant of the beginnings of daylight creeping through the window. But as the rays of light make it to your bed, you break.

“Gojo-”

You howl when he pulls out, hips wantonly thrusting in the air for more friction as he crudely slaps his tip against your clit, a frown on his lips.

“That’s not the name I want to hear.”

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Where’s your fucking backbone? How could you even entertain the idea of screaming another man’s name in your lover’s bed?

But when he steps away, your eyes zero in on how his cock separates from the sopping wet mess between your thighs, an unbidding distressed whine clawing up your throat at the thought of being left high and dry, mind hazy with lust and arousal.

“Sa-Satoru…Satoru, please.”

There’s work to be done and he’s not entirely pleased by the note of hesitancy and reluctance he still hears despite the hours he’s taken out of his time to educate you. But a promise is a promise and fuck if he doesn’t love the way his given name sounds in your mouth. And with just a few more meticulously placed thrusts and practiced twists of his fingers, you come undone, your lewd sex-crazed appearance and dopey smile from finally getting your sweet release dragging him down with you.

But it doesn’t end there and Gojo makes good use of your empty house, of the week he has alone with you.

There’s not a single surface in your home, not a single hole on your body that isn’t used and marked thoroughly. And even he briefly wonders if he’s being too rough with you, a flicker of concern crossing his mind as he pouts at the idea of his new toy breaking so soon.

But you prove your resilience and a strange concoction of pride and irritation festers inside of him as you determinedly clamp your mouth shut, a spark of defiance lighting up those lust-clouded eyes whenever he urges you to say you love him back, despite the way you practically ride and hump his face as he kneels between your legs and eats you out in the kitchen, despite the way you slur and babble his name over and over again like it’s the only thing you know how to say.

You’re adorable and he wishes he had all the time in the world to break you fully without using his trump card, to see just how durable you really are. But time is ticking and Nanami is due back any day now.

“Say you love me.”

He coaxes you by gently holding you in his arms, peppering your face with butterfly kisses, endearingly observing the way you seek the little comfort you can get despite the fact that he’s the giver, so deprived of anything other than frenzied arousal. But steely resolve hardens your eyes and you turn your face away.

“I love Nanami.”

You brace yourself for a cock slamming inside of you, a hand wrapped around your throat, but you aren’t ready for the endless galaxy that suddenly surrounds you, and blood-curling fear washes over you.

Unlimited Void.

You’d have to be living under a rock not to know of it, and yet, seeing it in person, you can safely say the rumors and tales don’t do it justice. Gojo laughs at how you frantically cling onto him, your arms wrapping around him, your face burying itself into his chest, voice trembling as you beg him to release you, beg him to get rid of his domain expansion, beg him not to let you go. You’ve seen the aftermaths of his technique, seen curses and sorcerers much stronger than yourself reduced to brain-dead husks from mere seconds in his domain.

“Say you love me.”

The words are on the tip of your tongue, fear making you docile. But a flash of blonde, a glimpse of a tailored suit in your mind keeps your saving grace stuck in your throat. You tell yourself it’s okay, you don’t mean it, it’s just a means to save yourself, surely Nanami will understand. And you begin to open your mouth, only to break off in a scream as you’re roughly shoved away, your hesitation speaking volumes to the white-haired sorcerer who sighs in irritation.

Not that you really notice or maybe you notice too well. You aren’t sure. You are sure. You can feel your sanity rapidly slipping as everything and nothing slams into your senses at once.

“Satoru, I love you!!”

It’s barely comprehensible, a shrieked frantic wail muddied by anxiety. But it’s enough and you sob in relief when Gojo ruffles your hair like you’re a well-behaved pet, leaning into his touch and digging your nails into his wrist, keeping his contact on you still and steady, dry heaving as you come back to your senses.

You don’t even realize that the repeated mantra is still coming out of your own mouth as you fling yourself onto the sorcerer as his artificial universe fades away, curling up in his lap, heart pounding as you chant “I love you, I love you, I love you” over and over again like it’s your holy scripture.

Gojo is on cloud nine watching you finally come to faith, finally worship him and praise him. You were lost, and now you’re found. And he has no intentions of ever letting you stray again. It’s not like there’s anywhere else for you to go, anything else for you to do other than warm his cock anyway.

He crashes his lips against yours as he easily slips inside your well-used cunt, walls molded and shaped perfectly after countless rounds. It’s sinful how good you feel, how good you sound, and he can feel his balls tighten, his own end quickly approaching as you shatter to pieces over and over again around him, quivering walls milking him, clamping down on him as if you can’t bear the thought of being empty.

But there’s nothing to worry about. What god would leave his faithful disciple unrewarded? What declaration of faith comes without a baptism? And he cums inside of you, hot spurts filling you up, branding you, marking and claiming you as his, the sticky white trails leaking out of your stuffed cunt a public declaration of who you belong to.

There’s silence as he lets you collapse on top of him, grinning at how blissfully fucked out you look, cock already twitching in interest again as he spies the mess of tears and drool dripping down your chin. But there are matters of business to attend to first and he nudges you to look at him, cooing down at vacant eyes still hazy with pleasure.

“Nanami is returning tomorrow-”

Blinding pain shocks you as a large hand tangles with your roots, pulling your head back so far you think your neck might snap.

“What are you so happy about?”

There’s a lightness to his question, the silence before the storm, and you wipe the smile off your face, hissing as he tugs harder.

“I know you like me more, but I didn’t think you would be heartless enough to be so excited about breaking up with your boyfriend. Poor Nanami.”

Even through the pain, the unspoken weight of his words registers in your head and you snarl at him with a vengeance.

“I’m not breaking up with-”

Your throat goes dry as he relinquishes his hold on you, one hand raising to eye-level, pointer and middle fingers beginning to cross, and you go still, mouth snapping shut.

“Good girl. Now you’ve experienced Unlimited Void for yourself. What do you think would happen to Nanami if I left him in there for even a second? Do you think he’d ever be the same even if he were to somehow survive, even if he were to go through months of rehabilitation?”

The inquisitive tone makes it sound like just a bunch of theoretical questions, but you know better, know the ramble for the threat that it is.

Love is about sacrifice, and you’re willing to give it all up for the man whose contact Gojo is pulling up on your phone, whose number is being called. And as the ringtones finally stop and a familiar voice greets you over the speaker, you seal your fate.

#yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #tw: noncon #tw: rape #tw: somnophilia #tw: yandere

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aetheternity · 3 years

Text

So sweet, just for me

Synopsis: Just some stories where reader takes care of Virgin! Armin.

Disclaimer: Unprotected sex, blowjobs, Sub Armin and sexually experienced Y/N are all present in this. Minors exit now.

☆☆Just Summer Things☆☆

Sweat coursed down the expanse of every inch of your body. Or maybe it was water you weren't really sure. A set of carefully trimmed nails shivered and shook beside your head, digging into the grimy tree bark. Locks of sun kissed blonde hair stuck to parts of your neck, face and collarbone as you coaxed Armin's breathing down. Forehead resting uncomfortably against the bark and your ass firmly seated against his hips.

"How do you feel sweet boy?"

"I-I.." He panted, pulling his face back a little. Blue doe eyes full of lust and the sweet shine of tears.

His cock currently pressed delicately against your g-spot during what started out as a normal water balloon fight. Between the boys and the girls of course. You guys had all come out during late afternoon, Sasha and Connie started tossing water balloons and teams formed accordingly.

At some point you'd run off to what you thought was a safe zone only to find Armin perched in the bushes. Contemplation etched into his soft features.

"Move slowly ok." You encourage. You were surprised by how big he was sure but the warning was more so this could last for a while.

He nodded where you were still holding the back of his head. His nails cautiously unlatching from the tree moving instead to sink into the fat of your hips while at the same time his once snugly nestled cock began to move. The sweet drag forcing your toes to curl and your eyes to shut. A small exhale cresting off your lips.

A breathy moan fell from his trembling lips as he pulls you in closer. Wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing around you like a lifeline.

You'd met Armin only two years ago through Jean and continued to crush on him for the entirety of those two years. Until today when he'd admitted to you that he was a little ashamed of being a virgin while consistently having to listen to Eren, Connie and Jean's conquests.

You told him they were probably lying about at least half of those stories but it only got you a small smile. So you decided to do him one better and offer to take his virginity.

It wasn't selfish. It was a win win. He would receive a conquest story to tell and you would get what you'd been craving since you'd first seen him in Jean's apartment shirtless and trying to help fix the messed up drain.

"Feels good?" You chuckle huskily

"Oh my God.." He huffs into your skin.

His hips worked themselves up a little faster. A slightly clumsy pace forming but he was new at this so you weren't mad.

"Armin slow down baby, I don't want you to get ahead of yourself."

"I-i'm sorry.. j-ust feels amazing.."

One of his hands hesitantly snaked up your shirt. Skittish in the way he palmed at your breast. Though he quickly eased up when you replied to the affection with a little mewl.

It felt surprisingly amazing for you as well. Considering the situation and the fact that Armin had never done this with anyone. This really was his first time.. What a weird thing to tell people. My first time was at a water balloon fight against a tree.

You hummed when the pleasure started to sit in your stomach. Legs trembling a bit as he pumped inside you a little faster. Any other time you would've just thrown your head back and relaxed, especially since his dick was so perfectly filling right now but-

"Armin, slow down." Your breathing was a little raspy.

He replied with a whimpery moan, thighs shaking against your sides. You reached an arm around grabbing his hips with your hand to slow them. It seemed to catch his attention because those soft doe eyes were wide.

"You'll get to cum baby I promise you, ease up a bit it's not a race." He nodded in affirmation and you smiled warmly.

Silk strands warm under your guided fingers as he pulled all the way out and slowly eased back in. A collective united moan exiting both your mouths. You'd shut your eyes but they worked themselves back open at the almost unnoticeable twitch of his cock head.

Your favorite part.

"Mm baby so close.." You whisper, your lip coming to tuck itself under your teeth.

A small chorus of yes's and little gasps fall from his open mouth. His skin somehow easing out of tomato red and into surface of the sun red.

You pull him close making sure his eyes were open. "I need you to cum for me ok? But make sure no one hears you." You say, and fuck is it gorgeous watching him come undone. Just like you'd imagined so many times before.

The tears once welling in his eyes spilled over like a faucet. Choked moans and harsh gasps worked their way off his lips. One of his hands flew back up to the tree where his nails soon dug the bark clean off. His hips stuttering through his entire orgasm. You were almost worried when his climax ended. The way he went silent except for his wild breathing.

"Armin?"

"Fuck.." He sighed

You couldn't help but giggle. "How was your first time?"

He gasps and rolls his eyes still stuck in euphoria. When he pulls out you take the opportunity to turn around. Working your panties up over your hips and pulling your fluttery skirt back down.

"Please, please let me do that again sometime.." He huffs finally managing words. You bring his lips to yours in a chaste kiss that honestly doesn't last long enough for you.

"Only if you promise to stay my good boy." You reply pulling his shorts up till they rest comfortably on his hips.

"I promise." He remarks, almost too eager. "Oh! Wait you didn't get to c-"

"Hey, where did you guys go?" Armin practically separates from his skin as Connie and Jean round the corner. Water guns tucked in their grasp.

"When did you guys get those?" You asked nonchalantly.

Jean shrugged, "We made the game more interesting."

Connie shook his head running back around the corner as Sasha's battle cry sounded.

"Hurry and get back we need you out there Armin." And with that Jean was gone too.

You picked up Armin's discarded water balloon, placing it in his open palm. "See you out there, lover boy."

☆☆Showing Armin how to do Yoga☆☆

"Why's Armin coming over here so early again?" Sasha asked rolling over onto her side. The bag of cotton candy once perched on her thighs flopping over and nearly spilling its contents.

"To do Yoga!" You replied with a laugh sitting the bag upright next to her.

She groaned dramatically. "But it's six thirty am on a Saturday."

"No one told you to get up with me." You remark, pushing the coffee table to the edge of the room.

She holds her once displaced bag up for you to see. "It was calling out to me." She sighs, hugging it to her chest.

A knock on the door takes your concentration. As you pull it open you call back to her, "Well since you're up, you might as well join us."

"Nope!" She quickly scurries away with a wave of her hand. Cotton candy stuffed under her arm.

You shut the door behind Armin as he stares down the hall that Sasha had disappeared down. Your grin is bright almost devilish as it slowly spreads across your face.

"Seems like it's just the two of us." You mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

You watch as he thickly gulps with a nod. Bite able Adam's apple bouncing but you pretend you don't notice. Your mat is already laid out on the floor but you can't stop yourself from bending over to smooth out the corners. Barely paying attention to Armin until you hear a small cough or maybe him choking it's not very clear.

He's holding his mat in his arms defensively across his chest. Silk strands of blond hair fluttering when he blinks. His cheeks a beautifully vibrant pink.

"I-I wanted to th-thank you.." He says, blue eyes trained where they stared at your mat. "For.. the- um.." He gestures and you can't help but giggle.

"The sex?"

Now his eyes find you. Blown wide as his pink lips part over a word that never succeeds in leaving his mouth. Your feet pat over the floor as you close the distance between the two of you. His cheeks warm under your delicate grasp and you hold his face almost as though you're sure he'll shatter.

"You're so cute, please never change."

You're almost scared it sounds condescending but the soft rosy color trudging up to the tips of Armin's ears says he doesn't agree.

You turn back to your mat with a smile but just before you sit on it you add, "And you never have to thank me for sex, I'd do it with you anytime."

He nods once as if responding to you and then twice as if he's confirming that you did indeed say what he heard. The soft plap of his mat on the floor reminding you of what you were both here for.

"Ok, let's begin then." You take a deep breath, adjusting the scrunchie holding your hair in place. "First we wanna stretch alright, so I just need you to reach up above your head with both hands and reposition your feet."

You demonstrate using yourself and Armin awkwardly copies. Slender fingers curling towards the sky as he slowly relaxes his shoulders. You can't help but let your mind wander a little as a glint of light flickers off the steel rings decorating three of his gorgeous digits.

You had fingered yourself last time the two of you were together and now you were craving him. Wondering what the warmth of just one of those inside you would feel like.

"Spread your legs more." You encourage, meanwhile it nearly has Armin doubling back. "Dirty boy." You tease

You stand in front of him gently kicking his legs apart. Easy enough. And he responds to every bit of your touch like he craved you too.

And well you wanna tell yourself that you had actually had completely innocent intentions when you'd invited Armin over here today. He genuinely had never done Yoga before and you knew Sasha was gonna be here. So yeah, you'd love to say you wanted nothing but to relax Armin in this encounter.

But you couldn't even keep a straight face while thinking it.

"Can you bend your knees a little?" He squats, carefully coming back up. Arms reaching out on both sides as you coaxed him. "A little lower sweetie." You say as his ass hovers inches over the mat.

And oh to be the mat.

You step back until you're completely back on your mat. "I'm sure your arms are tired, you can put them down now." You wave him off and he lets out a smooth exhale. "Feel relaxed yet?"

"A little." He replies with a confident smile.

"Then you're ready for the next part." You clap "I need you to bend over and touch your toes alright."

He shuts his eyes, pretty lips parting over your choice of words. What you wouldn’t give right at this second to be a mind reader. His back arches, ankles locking together as you demonstrated. "Good, good boy. Back straight." You sink your thumb into his black athletic shirt to touch his spine. And he hardens with your touch. "Don't be shy, it's just me." You mutter, breath heavy.

Fuck! Touching his back muscles this up close and personal made you wanna sink your nails into them. Leave lines up and down his soft supple skin as a mark that you'd always be his first. No one else would ever get that privilege.

"I-I.."

Shit.

"Ok, you can stand."

You pretend not to notice the way he shifts his sweats as he stands. This time you vow to actually stay on your mat.

"You should know this position." Your legs spread on one end of the mat while your hands came down to lay flat near the opposite end. "Try it."

Carefully he gets into the position you're currently doing but not without peaking at your figure. His blond hair dipping towards the mat and you can't help but smile at how cute he looks.

"Now we're gonna slowly curve our bodies down until our pelvis touches the floor." You say, head curving up toward the ceiling. For once Armin has immediate trouble, hips dangling weirdly over the ground. His arms trying and failing to steady himself.

"What's the matter? Wanna try a different position?"

"N-no it's nothing.."

You plop down on your mat, crossing your legs and gesturing for him to do the same and even without his reluctance you already know what's wrong. He slowly but surely rotates his hips, spreading his legs. His hardened dick print on full display.

You don't even try to hide the slow slither of your tongue wetting your lips. You quickly turn your head before crawling your way over to a very very flushed Armin. Sweat glistening perfectly over his pale skin.

"W-wait Sasha!" He panics, his arms flailing a bit as he backs up slightly.

"Shh it's ok, she definitely fell back asleep the second she went back in her room." You reply crawling towards him again.

"But you know I c-can't keep q-uiet. Wh-what if she h-hears!"

Your hands inched past his now loosened sweats to gently squeeze his hardened cock through his boxers. Both his hands flew to his mouth giving you a new gorgeous view of those pretty rings.

His eyes roll unfocused with every sweet glide of your hand. Tears already starting to brim along the edges of his warm eyes.

“Do you always wear those rings for physical activities or is it just for me?”

“I-I just forgot to take them off..”

“Did you?” You can tell your smile is shitty. Just from the way his eyes dart away from yours "You've never been blown either have you?" You ask getting back on topic.

"N-no." It's a muffled response but it hits your ears loud and clear.

"Another story for the growing journal then." You tease

You honestly can't help yourself. Lips curving and confining his tip like a vise. Precum salty where it stains your tongue. His gasp bouncing off the wall so elegantly. So fucking perfect. But even though Sasha is a heavy sleeper you were still worried she'd wake up before you finished.

So as much as you wanted to tease.

"Can I pull these down baby? I know your dick wants some relief."

He complies, oddly quickly. And you pull his sweats and boxers down just enough to hug the tops of his thighs.

And his dick is gorgeous. You hadn't actually seen it before but fuck was it pretty, standing tall and leaking before you.

You inch forward spit dribbling from your lips to be collected in the hand that was working his slender shaft. It had Armin's hips bucking up to greet you. His sweet whines egging you on.

And slowly but surely.... "Oh my fucking god."

It was an adjustment. Not as smooth as you would've liked because of the weird angle but you'd taken a little more than half of his dick in your mouth. A mildly painful fit made up for by the angelic cries of Armin just above you.

"Pl-please.. oh God please.."

He couldn't tell what he wanted to hold, hands shifting to the top of your head, the floor and his rolled up sweats all in less than a minute. You swore you could hear his heartbeat through his chest every time you swallowed his cock again.

You wanted to speed ahead so bad, see him just as flustered as he had been last week when he had his cock buried deep inside your pussy but it was obvious he wasn't going to last long either way.

Disorganized syllables flooding off his lips with the occasional whimper of "thank you" and "yes". His throat heavy with every curse word he knew stuck in it. Breaths quick and uneven as you coaxed him down your throat. Vibrations coursing past your lips to meet his already sensitive sex.

"I-i'm.. gonna cum.. mmm soooo close! Gonna cum!"

His choked breaths fell over your forehead and in the next second he was emptying every bit of his stress into your mouth. Eyes clouded like Armin wasn't even in there anymore. And you drained him of every drop, reaching between his legs to squeeze his balls.

When you pulled off of him he let out a deep exhale. Body still shaking as he looked at you.

"Thank you so much." He grinned hazily

"God, I wanna be as many of your firsts as possible." You breathe out a laugh.

☆☆The one where Eren walks in☆☆

It wasn't often you came back to the same guy. Every now and then you had one night stands and that's all it ended up being. You'd always been fine with that.

But Armin made you stay. His shaky fingers, nervous tongue and tear stained cheeks so oddly addictive. Intoxicating in how innocent he stayed despite having two sexual encounters with you.

And now here you both were having your third in his bed. Bodies melded together in the heat of both your sweat. Eyes fixated on only each other as his head tilted up like a hungry baby bird to pull you back in every time you fled.

And you indulged him as much as possible because fuck he was the cutest thing. Your hands gliding over his back and up to his shoulders to pull him impossibly closer. Spine curving deliciously when he grazed over your g-spot.

"Armin.. there." You breathed

Your free hand slid between your bodies making space for those slender fingers to work over your clit.

"Flick it." You encouraged, he immediately did as he was told earning a moan of approval.

"Good boy." You hum, lip trembling where it curves under your teeth.

The once soft pink of his face deepened with the compliment. A little smile decorating his gorgeous features. Just another thing to add to your growing folder of mental images.

"There honey.. keep going." You cooed over the little whimper fluttering off his lips as you hugged his cock. "You remember that spot right? The one that you hit when we were outside?"

"Yeah.. I think it was.." His hips remained delicate as he slid right into place. One leg up as he slotted his cock inside you. Heat pooled in the lowest depths of your stomach with the hesitant prodding of his tip to your g-spot. Eyes curving up to yours for further instruction.

"Mmhm that's it.. hit it a little harder ok."

It was all sorts of clumsy but he rammed your g-spot full force. An apology made its way to his throat but eye contact and the choked gasp that left your mouth soon proved it wasn't needed. You spread your legs a little further for him and he grabbed your waist smoothly working your hips over his dick.

"You're doing so well." You giggled taking a hold of his face. "And you're holding out much longer this time."

"Y-yeah but I'm almost there.." He sighed, fingers working at your clit a little faster. Right in time with the faster tempo of his hips.

"Fuck, you feel soooo good." He drawls

His lips parted, eyes flying north. You hugged him a little tighter as his chest pushed you up and down with each thrust. The once gentle drag of your nails now much rougher. As you let it slip just how much you were enjoying this.

Let your mouth fall open for the words circling your brain. Stomach heavy as Armin fucked you with intention. You brushed beads of sweat back from his face. His hair going up with it, clumping together atop his head.

"Mm gonna cum.." He moaned, head lolling with the intensity of his full body tremor.

"Hey Armin-"

"Eren!" Armin nearly shot up as Eren pushed the door open with zero warning.

Armin's free hand stayed on your clit completely stagnant. Tip twitching inside you, he didn't even have time to cover his mouth. Moans and whimpers pouring out from his still parted lips. Every bit of your fifteen minute effort now seen and heard by Eren who stood in the doorway with a raised eyebrow.

"Hey Eren.." You greeted, pulling your hand away from your upturned lips. Meanwhile Armin's face is buried deep in your shoulder blade. Where you already assumed he'd be staying for the next hour.

"Uh huh.." Eren replied, slamming the door shut. "Mikasa, he's busy let's go!" You heard him call as his boots clicked down the hall.

You don’t say a word till you hear the front door open and close, “You ok?”

“Any chance Eren didn’t hear that?..” He whispered

“Not in hell or on Earth love.”

‘Then no..”

#aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #snk smut #armin arlert x reader smut #armin smut #armin x you #armin x y/n

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

Text

~ 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 ~

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 ; Chan x fem!reader, slight choking, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it bitch), exhibitionism, clitoral stimulation, fingering, nicknames, thigh,,, rubbing?, nipple play, dirty talk, cum, orgasm (m/f), getting caught oop.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 2,4 k

𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 ; yes yes!! thank you anon!! this is my last request as well heh

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦 ; another song that is very dear to my heart,,, although for a kinda sad reason but we wont get into that lmao-

also i laughed while writing this because idk some of the descriptions are like,,, SO FUCKING WEIRD I DONT KNOW WHAT THIS IS

23. “Should I be quiet?” ; The Neighbourhood - Nervous

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

The small room was rather dark, only the moonlight reflecting it’s light through the window as the four walls were filled with small snores and the occasional turning of the blankets. That wasn’t coming from just your boyfriend that lied next to you in a peaceful slumber but the three other boys that had passed out in the room after watching a movie. You sighed, this wasn’t the most appropriate time to be needy but there was nothing you could do about it. No matter how much you turned and twisted the lewd thoughts stuck to your head like gum to the sole of a shoe.

You looked at Chan, his slow breath tickled against your face, his face slightly puffy from all the snacks he ate before bed, his cheek squished against the pillow and you felt bad for thinking such sinful thoughts about him when he was right beside you. You scooted closer to him, unknowingly rubbing against his thigh and not letting your eyes divert from his face for even a split second, heart thumping at the thought that he could wake up at any moment. You let out a tiny whimper, biting your lip and coating it with a sheen of saliva, your face and ears heating up as the gain of friction between your clothed dripping cunt and his bare thigh got to you. Waking him up would just be mean, he worked so hard during the day so surely he deserved a good nights rest but at the same time,,, maybe he needed a way to relieve his stress?

The sensation was just too good, you quickly stripped yourself from your pyjama pants, leaving you in Chan’s oversized shirt and your soaking panties that were sticking to your wet folds, a little patch of slick staining them. Before you knew it you were back to humping his leg like a desperate puppy, just a little longer and then you’ll stop and sleep like you were supposed to. Wrapping your arms around his torso you rolled your hips upwards, trying to aim all the pleasure towards your clit but not really succeeding, however it did still feel good, the bundle of nerves aching for more, aching for a touch. Frustration built up inside you as you could practically hear your heart beating in your ears from nervousness and arousal, you really didn’t want to wake him up.

“Please fuck me Channie~" you whispered weakly, hoping he didn’t hear it or anyone else in that room for that matter. You held one hand over your mouth as the pleasure got too intense, movements getting bolder as you grinded against his relaxed thigh, moving your hips from side to side sometimes and squirming around, your forehead creased, muscles on edge. Maybe the thrill turned you on even more? And even if this was good enough you craved more, maybe you wanted more thrill. You halted your movements before you poked him on the shoulder but got no response, him lying as still as a log, only his chest rising slowly, lungs filling with air. You sighed, there was no use you thought until he grunted lowly, stretching his arms and furrowing his eyebrows, you hurried to turn around, back against him as you shut your eyes tightly, pretending to sleep.

“Baby?” he said in a deep raspy voice, confused as to what your whimpers from earlier were coming from.

“Y-yeah?” you whispered back, turning back to him and acting sleepy, eyes half-closed. He chuckled slightly and you heightened your eyebrows in perplexity, wondering what he was smiling about.

“You know I heard everything?” he said, eyes still closed as he mumbled, his sly smirk still on his lifeless lips. Your eyes widened, your figure froze in shock, with a fake laugh you tried to cover up the situation.

“H-heard what? Did something happen?” you lied, caught off guard by his answer.

“I don’t know,,, all I heard was someone asking to fuck me” he said, almost bursting into laughter as he opened his eyes slowly, seeing your priceless expression. You shy away from him, wanting to sink under the surface of the earth but just as you wanted to turn around and forget about every single thought in your mind you felt his warm hands traveling from your clothed chest to your abdomen and ultimately your cunt, hand slipping under the elastic band of your panties with fingers that inspect the soppiness between your legs. You moan at the sudden contact, pressing your thighs together.

“Shh,,, easy now, you’re so wet, hm? What were you thinking about?” he says lowly close to your ear, hot breath bouncing off the shell of your ear. You scrunch your nose at the ticklish feeling, lifting your shoulder up to your ear and giggling slightly. Chan gives you a peck on the lips before his fingers explore more of your needy sex, his familliar hands lightly grazing your already swollen clit. He rubbed the bud in small circles with two fingers, your hands going down underneath the covers and grabbing his wrist as the speed increased, your breath hitching at the sensation that returned, the start of a deep feeling inside your core.

“e-ehm,,, was thinking about,,, you making me feel good” you whimpered out, too shy to say anything more, your hair covering your face slightly from the way you squirmed around, the bed creaking occasionally.

“Making you feel good? How did I do that?” he said with that grin on his face as if he didn’t know anything, sounding completely innocent despite the scandalous actions that were going on underneath the thin fabric of your panties. You let go of his wrist as he inserted two fingers into your hole, prodding them at your entrance and feeling you clench. It was time to get revenge, he couldn’t just gain pleasure from seeing you weak for him and so your hand gently palmed him through his underwear, earning an unexpected grunt from the boy.

“w-with your dick” you answered to his question in lack of any other answer. His hips bucked against your hand, begging for more with his body and you complied, giving his cock a firm squeeze, moving your hands up from the base towards the tip, teasing it with your thumb. He was becoming rock solid in your hand, cock twitching in your grasp. You giggled, you weren’t the only needy one now.

“Ah yeah? You sure you want to do this here babygirl?” he whispered back to you to which you nodded, his fingers plunging into your hole and curling up towards your g-spot, a well-known sensation spreading throughout your body, his slick-covered fingers playing with your clit again until your squirmed as he touched it directly causing you to flinch. He got on top of you, hovering mere inches from your face and after a long look into your lost moonlit eyes he attached his lips on yours, exhaling unsteadily as your tongues met almost immediately in a romantic daze. Your noses bumped against each other, Chan chuckling momentarily before setting an even pace with his tongue, your small whimpers blending into the sound of lips smacking against each other. Your hands that were previously cupping his cheeks descended down his chest, tugging on the thick band of his boxers but your arms not reaching far enough to pull them off. Your boyfriend smirked, breaking the kiss and moving away from you in order to strip himself from his underwear, leaving him completely exposed to you before he got on top of you again, pulling the covers over him. Before anything else happened you quickly shimmied out of your soaked panties, Chan’s hands lifting up your shirt, exposing the supple valleys of your tits, his hands fondling your boobs right away, thumbs swiping over the already erect nipples. It felt oddly naughty to be doing this with three other boys in the room, being almost completely naked with Chan above you, his lips exploring your neck, leaving small kisses and marks as he nibbled on the skin. You whimpered, your hands tangled in his dark hair as you turned your head to the other side, granting him more access. He got even more worked up by your small sounds that dripped from your lips like sticky sweet honey, you wrapping your legs around his waist causing the base of his cock to press up against your hot cunt, pressing him closer to you because you were hungry for more, the slightest contact would do. Chan left a final kiss on your lips before grabbing the base of his cock and lining it up with your sopping entrance, pushing a strand of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear.

“a-are you ready, angel?” he murmured close to you, you humming a small yes as the tip of his cock glided against your wet folds, pushing in gently as you pressed your lips together, furrowing your eyebrows at the initial stretch, your tight cunt enveloping his cock between your velvety walls. He groaned at the feeling, pushing into you further and eventually bottoming out, now balls deep into your aching pussy. Your arms were around his head as he started to suck on your nipples, gently rolling his hips after you’ve adjusted to his size, no matter how much he fucked you, his size never failed to fill you up to the brim, making you scratch his back and leave it covered in red streaks.

“fuck,, you feel so good” you moaned a bit too loud, Chan looked up at you in panic, you slapping a hand over your mouth as you peeked at the boys that lied on a pile of cuddles close to you.

“should I be quiet?” you whispered to which Chan nodded.

“what kind of question is that? of course” he whispered back through a clenched jaw, his hips slamming into you faster and harder for each minute. You tried biting the inside of your cheek, your entire body jolting upwards and making the bed creek with every thrust, it was simply impossible to be quiet and neither could Chan that was slowly but surely losing his own pace, a vein on his neck popping out from the composure that was needed to keep quiet. He glanced at the boys that were lying completely still, only a small snore from one of them. You turned your head to the other side, your neck being exposed to him once again, his hand automatically wrapping around your neck snuggly, making the situation a thousand times hotter. Being choked and fucked by your hot boyfriend next to a pile of his friends? Hot.

The mattress moved as he thrusted into you, a slight squelching sound of your dripping cunt being audible to the two of you. You tried holding on to anything in your reach but finally settled for Chan’s back, digging your nails into his skin as you panted, sweat beading on his temples as his thrusts were getting harder, your tits bouncing in the same pace.

“f-fuck, you drive me crazy y/n” he said, tightning the grasp around neck, you pressing the back of your head against the pillow as you clenched around him, a feeling burning in the pit of your core that was only getting closer.

“Channie~ I love you” you whispered, clenching your teeth causing your words to sound almost violent but you meant it in the most loving way possible, he was yours and you were his. He chuckled silently, you seeing the outline of his soft facial features in the dimly lit room, he whispered it back to you, bending down and rubbing the tip of his nose against your sleepy cheeks before pressing a wet kiss near your ear, his hips repeatedly slamming against you and knocking the breath out of you. Your lips parted, a string of whispered pleas escaping them as you clawed at his back, clenching vigoursly and arching your back as your orgasm washed over you uncontrollably, knocking you completely dumb. There was something incredibly hot in seeing your scrunched erotic expression that sent Chan over the edge, your whimpers that were only getting louder and louder being the most beautiful sound in the earth to his ears. His thrusts got sloppier and uneven, pinning your legs to the bed and spreading them further causing you to squirm at the new aim he got, hitting that spot that almost hurt in overstimulation. Being quiet was completely thrown out the window.

He pulled out of your hole, his cock glistening as he grabbed onto the shaft, stroking himself to completion. The hot cum spurted against your boobs in white ribbons, dripping down your heaving chest as you tried to stabilize your breath, your hands by either side of your head. He groaned as he milked himself from every ounce of cum, the angelic view of his lover being covered in his cum almost made him hard again. All energy was consumed from the sweaty boy that plopped down beside you, the weight of the bed shifting as he lied down next to you, grabbing a pillow that had somehow fallen off the bed during the recent activities. He turned to you, you turned your head towards him and smiled before pressing a kiss on his lips, really not wanting to get up and clean up after his mess. You snuggled closer but were caught off guard when you heard a voice behind you.

“yah,,, Chan can really put it down” Changbin said in a deep voice, both you and Chan bolting up and watching the three boys that looked like they were still in a nice slumber.

“you awake?” you asked, thinking that maybe Changbin talked in his sleep.

“we were all awake because how the fuck do you sleep when someone is moaning into your ear” Felix answered, still facing away from you, slurring his words, his mind still not functioning despite being conscious. You thought your heart sunk, in panic turning to Chan that was just as surprised as you, his ears turning bright red, despite it being so dark in the room you could still see how the skin tinged a pretty color of embarrassment.

“I can’t wait until Hyunjin hears this tomorrow” Jeongin laughed, the other two boys joining in with his laughter, their eyes still closed and faces covered in sleepiness.

That was the price of had to pay when having sex with your boyfriend beside his dormmates.

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thefanbasewhore · 4 years

Text

Retirement.

Summary: Blood is something Bucky has grown used to but when he's covered in yours, he's sick. Don't worry, happy ending!!

Warning/Content: almost death, getting shot in the head, Bucky cries but finally gets everything he deserves 😅

Paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Bucky Barnes tag list and master list

"Buck -" The rasp comes from the piece in his ear, he barely hears it as bullets that wiz past the surface of his head and bounce off the ground. He's out of breath, gasping as he find shelter behind an abandoned car, pressing the piece closer.

"What is it? Did you get in?" He pauses, "We need those files."

"Buck, he has a gun, he has me. Compromised." His heart is already unsteady and those words only make it beat faster. A pit forming in his stomach instead, he hears a male voice in the background.

"Who has a gun?" The silence makes his brows crease, heart drop as his voice cracks. "Answer me!"

"He wants to know where you are and what files you want." Bucky let's out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding at the sound of your voice.

"Tell him, give him the drive." There's no hesitation in his voice. There nothing in this world he wouldn't do to save you, nothing else mattered. Not the mission and definitely not the data.

But you know this, he's hard headed but instead of listening to Bucky you decide to test the waters. Looking up at the man which isn't hard, he has you on your knees, hands out in front of you but a gun inches from your head. "He said fuck off, if you shoot me you'll never know."

"What are you doing? Give him the drive, now." The growl that emphasizes the last word would usually be enough to have you shaking, but you don't give. Despite how rough he sounds, he tries to soften it "That's an order, give it to him sweetheart."

"Oh, he said fuck off again."

Bucky body runs hot, adrenaline pumping through his veins, warming his entire body as makes a b-line for the building you disappeared into a short while ago. "Give him the fucking drive."

It's useless, he hears rustling and talking but nothing he can understand but that's until he hears you talk to fast he can barely understand. "Office, we are in the first office second floor."

It's music to his ears, a second of relief but he feels dizzy as the found of a gun going off through the comlink almost paralyzes him.

"Fuck!" He yells, as he calls your name repetitively but there is no answer.

Nothing can stop him, he's running so fast he can barely register. It's all a blur, up the stairs through the main office until the stench of blood greets him.

There you are, lifeless and surrounded by your own blood.

His hands grasp gently grasping your head, blood seeping through his gapped fingers as good heart drops. "No..no." he mumbles to himself, managing to turn you over. It's hard to breath, he can't even think, see over the tears that blue his vision. A large lump forming in his mouth, it seals his throat.

There's too much blood to see anything, it soaks your scalp and mats into the hair around it. His fingers blindly look around for an exit wound but nothing is there, instead his focus falls to the rise and fall of your chest, still breathing.

Eyelashes flicker again cheekbones, disoriented and confused as Bucky let's out a sign of relief while you crunch your nose together in pain. He takes a second, just one to lay his head on top of yours and thank anything - anyone.

"Where does it hurt? I can't see, your bleeding too much baby.." Bucky watches as your eyes flicker from his steel blues and your hand reaches up to run a knuckle again his jaw, feeling the course fine hairs there. "Hey, listen to me, where does it hurt?"

Following the path of your shaky fingers he lets out a sigh of relief, the bullet managed to just graze the side of your head. The spot is hot under his trembling plam, beginning to scab and the hair is ripped away but he feels so thankful in that moment.

"He missed." It's not funny but both of you can't help but laugh as your sense of mind is returning. Hues of yellow and blue already forming under both of your eyes, no doubt from the head trauma.Bucky feels one of your hands push against his chest which he responds by tightening his core.

"Get off, I'm fine."

The look he gives you is filled with annoyance, eyes widening as if he can't believe the words that came out of your mouth, especially since his pants are wet and sticky seeing he is actually kneeling in a pool of blood.

"Are you crazy? You will bleed out." Bucky is quick to rip a piece of material from a nearby blanket, wrapping it tightly around your head but keeps pressure with his palm. "You need to get stitched up before you bleed out."

"I'm fine." Trying to push him away again but the look he gives is warning enough so you don't fight him as one arm slip underneath your knees, and then other supports your head against his chest.

"Scared me." Is all he manages to mumble as he starts his ascend towards stairs, a small kiss pressed against the uninjured part of your head. It's gentle, filled with so many words as his lips linger there, more so to reinsure that the skin is warm, full of color and lively. "Don't ever do that again, please."

"Bucky I couldn't just give it to them." Something is placed into his coat pocket while you tap it with a small smile. Hooded eyes weak, threatening to close with every passing second. "So I didn't, it's safe, the morons didn't even bother to search me."

Great, the mission is still ago but he's frowning. "I don't care about the mission. I care about you risking your life for some file, you disobeyed my orders I told you to give it to them and to tell them. If that bullet was an inch closer you would have died."

Silence feel over the pair, nothing else to be said because Bucky was right. The agreement was Bucky was in charge, in order for you to come everything would be up to him, especially because you weren't supposed to be there in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Buck." Guilt creeping over, pressing a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. Small tears beginning to blur vision but you're not sure if it's from the look of disappointed and fear that line his handsome features or that fact that you were that close to death and blood is soaking threw the make shift bandage and trailing down the side of your head. "I should have listened."

"I need a medic." Bucky brings his wrist to his lips before laying his cheek against the top of your own. The heavy, swish of air from the helicopter does little to him, he still stands confident and strong as he speaks.

"Don't cry, doll. I'm not mad, I promise." He pauses but you can feel his hands trembling, heart pounding inside of his chest. "Just scared, I'm covered in your blood and i hate it."

***

He was right, from head to toe, smeared across his face and dying his hands pink even after scrubbing them effortlessly in the shower does little to get it off. The smell of your blood is still fresh, enough to crinkle his nose with distaste. Every time he looks down it's a reminder that he almost lost you.

When he enters the bedroom with a towel around his waist you look up, head still spinning but now the wound is stitched up, white bandages knotted behind your head. After the initial shock left your system you notice the side affects, right below where the bullet grazed, your right ear is ringing. You can hear anything and honestly, the doctors couldn't give a definite answer if it will ever come back.

"How your head, did the medicine start working yet?" Bucky asks, throwing on a pair on underwear and doesn't bother with anything else.

With a defeat huff you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as the bright light of the bathroom hurts. Bucky notices and shuts it off before curling up into the bed, legs entangling with your own as he presses a soft kiss against your neck.

A few more soft ones pressed against your cheeks, the warmth gathering the few tears that slip from your eyes. A hand runs through the soft strands of the involved side of your head, a soft hum of comfort vibrates against it. "Shhhh, it's going to be okay sweetheart."

As the underside of his hand comes back up to comfort you the pink hue catches his attention once again and a frown fills his features.

"I don't want to say this..." his words are rushed and desperate but he can't keep it in any longer. "Every time I close my eyes I see you there, in your own blood. I can't shake the feeling of your blood oozing through my fingers."

Bucky is never one to hold his partner back and to be honest he thinks you're one of the best agents he's ever met, skilled and smart but none of that will matter if you are dead. "I don't want you going on active missions anymore."

"You don't get to decide that." You argue, he fears the worse as your head moves from his hand, no longer seeking the comfort. "You can't do that."

"I need piece of mind, you're the only person I have left." He argues. The bright moon creates just enough light to illuminate one side of your face through the window. Eyes are black and blue and red shot, a popped vessel on the corner of your right eyes almost swells it shit. They're also puffy, no doubt from the wound and all the crying. In pain, agonizing pain, who knew getting shot in the head would give you such a bad headache? His soft hands find you again, pulling you close and gently for you face him.

One hand slides over the skin of the back of your arm, squeezing the muscle there as he presses an experimental kiss against your lips in fear you'll pull away. You couldn't if you tried, pull away that is. The smell of his soap overrides any other sense, his skin is soft and warm, his lips gentle as he strokes your hairline, pushing the hair away from your forehead. "I didn't say you have to stop, just be more careful about it, no more active missions but you can go after, make the arrests, still get in on the action."

"So let everyone else do the hard work while I sit on the sidelines? That not who I am."

"Please." He sounds desperate, blue eyes roaming over the soft features of your face, the wrinkle of irritation pinching lines between your forehead, the curve of your nose to the fullness of your lips. Beautiful, breathtaking, he's never loved something so much before. The fact that you're still laying next to him, breathing makes him want to cry.

So he does, unwanted tears fall in a messy, zig-zagged pattern as he hiccups. A soft, small hand finds his head, the buzz cut smooth under finger-tips.

"Bucky, baby.."

"I have lost everyone. My parents, my friends... Steve. I don't want to loose you either." A sound so sad, choked up and stuttering jumps his chest as he cries into your neck.

It's long over due, he refuses to speak about it. The last year of his life as been challenging to say the least, he's trying to adapt but struggling. Coming to terms of what he's done over the last 70 years but also learning how to love again, how to become human again.

Steve still haunts his dreams, his best friend, the man who saved him from Hydra, from everything is now gone. The one person who has been constant, his backbone but now he's finding that in you and honestly, his heart cant take much more.

"It's alright Buck, I'm not leaving you. I promise, I'm right here." It doesn't help, his heart his burning, chest crushing under the pressure of tears. The ball of emotion and growing and growing in the back of his throat, making it hard to speak. "You can't leave me.. you can't."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm okay."

"You're not okay, you can barely keep your eyes open. You have a gun shot wound in the side of your head! I felt it, your blood stains my hands. It's all I can smell. I thought you were dead... I can't take it."

What If he didn't miss? If Bucky had found you lifeless and cold?

"It's okay." You rub soothing circles to the middle of back, letting him cry it out. He needs it, he needs to talk about his problems, grow from them.

"What If we both stop?" Bucky's words silence you, "No more missions, we find a home, settle down. Just me and you."

The thought had crossed your mind more than once, a peaceful place to call your own with the man you love. Who knows what would happen? There's no doubt the pair of you would be bored out of your minds but can also gets jobs to fill the void, teach self defense classes.. start a family.

The thought alone makes your heart pound, so filled with love. "I want a normal life.. it's all I ever wanted. I can't imagine it with anyone else but I also need you safe. We can...." He's hesitant, not sure if they're the right words. "We can get married, get a home.. leave all this behind."

It's all so much, his words mix with the ache in the side of your skull but you don't need to think twice. The promise of Bucky forever is impossible to pass up on. "Yes."

"Yes to what?" Bucky's breathing is normal now, a few stray tears soaking your skin but his chest doesn't move. Like he's not breathing because he'll miss the words you say.

"All of it, to being your wife, to starting a normal life with you." After everything Bucky has been through, it's the least he deserves and you're going to give it to him. As his smile grows against your skin, you're breathless. Heart beating rapidly against his own and you swear you fall in love all over again.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #buckysam #sebastian stan #bucky angst #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes

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aemonds-sapphire · 3 years

Text

Take a Seat — Hawks x Reader

You tell Hawks you can’t stand him; he tells you to take a seat.

Warnings: NSFW. Face riding. Oral sex. Feather play. Masturbation. Exhibitionism.

Word count: 1.7k

“Hawks!”

Your screech reverberated through the walls of his bedroom.

The pro hero reckoned it wouldn’t take much longer before your angry voice was heard yet again.

“KEIGO!”

There it was.

A wave of satisfaction ran along his entire body and all the way through to his wings, ruffling the feathers in the process.

“I am going to kill you!” you bellowed in frustration from inside the bathroom. “I am going to be late!”

Hawks dreaded having to part ways with you on his day off. He rarely managed to get enough free time as it was, and now he’d have to watch you go to work, postponing his need to shower you with attention and love.

But Hawks’ playful antics always found a way to surface whenever the occasion called for it.

So he decided to steal your clothes and bath towel while you were taking a hurried shower.

It proved to be enough to kindle your anger and frustration, which would only work in his favor in the end.

As soon as your burst into the bedroom, dripping wet and ready to pounce him, Hawks felt a rush of blood flooding downwards with a subtle tingling sensation.

“What did you do with my clothes?” you growled, taking large steps in his direction. “I’m gonna be late for work!”

Hawks shrugged, thankful that his every growing erection was neatly hidden away from you under the bed cover.

He watched in sheer delight as you grabbed one pillow and tossed it at him, which he promptly deflected with one of his feathers.

“You are so annoying!” you sighed in exasperation.

A teasing smile curled his lips. Getting under your skin was one of his favorite pastimes. It got you all riled up with this pent-up tension that he’d so gladly fuck out of you.

But then something else crossed his mind.

Oh… you were going to flip at this.

But he was feeling particularly daring and willing to push you a little more than usual.

“I’m feeling feverish….” he started, making use of his top-level actor skills to twist his features into a pout. “And there’s this pain….”

And just like clockwork, the visible traces of anger on your face faded into a worried look.

You sat naked on his edge of the bed, placing the back of your hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

“Where does it hurt?”

Hawks lifted the comforter, revealing his hard cock to you. “Here.”

Just as he had anticipated, you immediately scowled at how shameless he was.

“I was seriously worried! You damn bird!”

And just as you stood up and were about to smack him, he took the opportunity to grab both your wrists and had you swing on top of him at lightning speed until you were sitting on his bare torso.

You tried to jerk free from his grasp. “Hawks! I’m gonna be late!”

He honestly couldn’t care less. Having you fully naked and on top of him only fueled his desire for you.

“I’ll fly you there,” he said with a devious smile as he ruffled his wings along the mattress like a haughty peacock. “C’mon…”

Once again, you yanked both arms in an attempt to break free, but all in vain. He was far too strong, and he justwasn’t going to let go of you just yet.

“Ugh! I can’t stand you!” you huffed in annoyance.

What a blatant lie.

All that forced outrage had his cock twitch in anticipation. How he adored fucking you into submission, peeling off all those layers that you so vehemently insisted on keeping on just to give him a hard time.

He loved your brattiness.

“Sit on my face.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

Hawks wanted to let go of his hold on you have his hands cup your breasts, but he remained still just in case.

“Let me eat you out,” he insisted, rubbing his thumbs along the pulse points in your wrists.

You faltered briefly when you clenched your thighs around him.

“You’re so…”

“Charming.”

You shook your head. “No.”

Hawks let go of you, knowing fully well he had you trapped.

“Handsome?”

“Annoying!”

He flashed his trademark grin. “Annoyingly handsome? I know!”

With one hand, he smacked your ass lightly, but you didn’t budge.

“I just took a shower… and I don’t want to be late for work…”

Hawks was a patient man, but not this patient. “Then stop wasting time and ride my face.”

You hesitated at first, but caved in eventually. He slid down his pillow so that he could be the perfect seat for your pussy. Carefully, you lifted yourself from him before finally settling directly above his face.

He nodded eagerly, nearly letting out a groan at the mouthwatering sight of your pussy in close proximity with his hungry mouth.

A sigh if relieved rumbled across his chest the moment you were fully sitting on him, and he instinctively brought both hands to grip your thighs. The delicious moan that escaped your lips was incentive enough for him, and without much effort he parted his lips and delved his tongue deep inside your warm pussy.

“Oh…”

You were so fucking adorable. Still surprised that he could deliver all that pleasure with just a few stroked of his skillful muscle? After all this time of having you all to himself?

Your folds encased the corners of his mouth, as if trying to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

And he didn’t plan to.

In fact, he planned on spicing things up.

He knew far too well that this, however, would prove to be not only insanely pleasurable for you but also for him.

A single crimson feather went up in the air and settled right between your legs.

An intense shiver ran down his spine as he was able to capture the pulse from your throbbing clit.

See, Hawks’ feathers came in extremely handy in these situations, because it granted him the ability to sense vibrations around them. So, your puffy clit’s thudding was immediately felt along his entire body. All the way to his cock, causing his hips to shoot up reflexively.

“K-Keigo! Not… not the—“

Your words faded and morphed into a pleasurable moan as soon as the tiny feather began drawing small circles along your clit.

Hawks was still able to watch you gripping the headboard for support, before shutting his eyes as overwhelming bliss filled him. His cock throbbed with each heartbeart, the skin at the base pulling as he hardened even more.

He kept tongue-fucking you, drinking in your juices and your moans. Your wetness was now spreading across his chin, and he brought one of his hands to free his cock from the heavy fabric of the comforter, allowing it to spring free. The dire need to fuck you was ever-growing, but he wanted you to cum on his face this time.

His feather was kept tightly pressed against you, and such stimulation caused your hips to buck and jerk, forcing his other hand to increase his grip on you to keep you in place.

“Oh… oh… fuck—fuck—fuck!”

Hawks had had years to perfect his quirk and he was fully able to bend his feathers to his will using nothing but his mind to control them.

You were done for.

And so was he.

He wrapped his fingers around his leaking cock, yearning for nothing more than relief. It was becoming unbearable to feel your heartbeat invade his mind and travel down his body in rhythmic waves of pleasure.

A high-pitched moan fell from your lips. “Keigo! Please… it’s… it’s…” too much. Yes, it was.

The obscene slurping sounds coming from him were enough to have his hips jerk once again as he fucked his hand desperately.

He was too damn close.

He was fully aware that using one of his feathers drastically hindered his endurance. There was only so much he could withstand while having a hot girl riding his face.

Soon enough, he felt your thighs begin to quiver and he had the feather lap at your clit more avidly while keeping his tongue sliding in and out of your soaked pussy.

With a few more jerks from your hips, you were catapulted into your orgasm, spasming violently into his face while raking your fingers through his hair before gripping a few strands forcefully.

“Good… good boy!” you groaned in ecstasy as a gush of your wetness flooded his tongue.

Not long after, he felt your legs spasm uncontrollably. And he didn’t just feel this because they were tightening around his head; he felt your every contraction and twitch thanks to his feather still lodged between your swollen folds.

And that was what immediately pushed him over the edge. The overwhelming pleasure took over him completely, and he reached the point of no return. Hot spurts of cum shot from his tip with each spasm of his own body; the muscles in his thighs and lower abdomen tightened along with his balls. His wings stretched on either side of him and he felt a stack of feathers shoot out in both directions and carving themselves into the furniture and walls.

A few strands of hot liquid coat his fingers, but he didn’t care. His own heartbeat pounded insanely loud inside his ears and he stopped breathing for a moment as a gutural growl ripped through his throat.

You slid off to the side, allowing his animalistic groans to echo around the both of you.

Hawks took pride in having enviable stamina, but a powerful orgasm was still enough to have him panting and feeling lightheaded. Your juices were spread across his chin and lips and jaw as a few drops ran down his neck.

“I still hate you…” you struggled to say in between pants.

He licked the excess liquid from his lips, locking eyes with your hazy ones. “Want me to give you another orgasm?”

“I’m gonna be late!” you protested, sliding out of bed and nearly tripping as your legs wobbled from having your leg muscles strained.

Hawks couldn’t help but to laugh as your struggled to keep your balance.

“C’mon. I’ll fly you there. I doubt you’ll be able to walk, anyways.”

He was thankful to his fast reflexes as a feather prevented yet another pillow from reaching his face.

Masterlist

@dabiboy (since you wanted to be tagged 🥺)

#hawks #hawks smut #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #mha hawks #bnha hawks #mha smut #bnha smut #takami keigo #hawks imagine #hawks headcanon #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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venusiangguk · 4 years

Text

hand-picked | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / famous!jk x sex worker!oc

>>genre: strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, teaser, drabble

>>word count: 2.8k

>>warnings: glory hole au!!!, cocky jk, bad boy jk, stripper oc, sex work, sexual tension, awkward tension, hand job, blowjob, cumshot, cum on tits, pay for play, semi-anonymous sex, dirty talk, dishonesty... that’s it i think zzz

>>notes: if u don’t like sex workers ur ugly and i hate u 😌 also ty to @wheresmymoniat for betaing n helping me out, ily <3 *repost bc tag issues don’t mind me 🙄*

>>summary: glory holes weren’t a real thing... at least until you’re on your knees for a stranger, cock in your face, with nothing but a curtain between you.

Despite your nerves, you grasp the semi-hard cock in front of you, attached to a nameless person behind the curtain. For a moment you wonder what the hell you’re doing, but the soft sigh that you hear brings you back to the present. You stroke up and down, watching as he starts to become fully aroused. The foreskin rolls over the pink tip on every upstroke. You bite your lip. The silence is awkward, but you think maybe the whole situation is.

“So... what do you do? Like… not specifically of course, but are you an idol? An actor? You can be vague…”

Behind the curtain, Jeongguk, whom you don’t know the identity of, stiffens just a bit. Will his voice give him away? Maybe, but he was never one to turn down an opportunity to boast about himself and his achievements.

“I’ve done it all,” His voice is airy, softer than he would like, but your hand on his cock is speeding up, and so is his breathing. “I’m good at all of it too.”

You hum at the man’s response. Cocky. “Isn’t saying you’re good at a lot of things just another way of saying you’re not good enough at one thing? So you have to compensate by spreading yourself thin?” You gasp a small giggle when you feel the cock in your hand jump a little at your words. “Did you like that? It wasn’t meant to be degrading, but if that’s what you’re into-“

“It’s not- that.” He doesn’t know if he’s denying your psychoanalyzation, or your keen interpretation of the way his cock reacted to your psychoanalyzation but one was more inaccurate than the other. He actually was great at most everything he did, no need to overcompensate like you assumed.

Your small hand tightens, and you rub your thumb at the underside of the head, you let out a small pleased noise when you see a bead of precum well at the tip. “Really? You’re starting to leak a little.”

You sound amused and humorous and if Jeongguk had it in him he would be annoyed or even upset at the way you’re talking to him. You were basically hired help, a means to an end. He glances down his torso at his hard cock in your tiny, well-kept manicured hands. Your nails are a dark red, burgundy color. It complements your skin well, he thinks. He can’t see much of you, just your forearms, along with the bottom part of your tummy and your legs. You’re sitting on your knees between his spread out thighs, feet tucked under you. From the tight black leggings you’re wearing and the slim-fit long sleeve white crop top you have on, Jeongguk can tell you have a good figure. Your waist is tapered in, tiny and cinched, and your hips are wide enough to accentuate it, letting him know you’ve got a petite hourglass frame. You aren’t too skinny though, there’s a softness to your body that he likes. It’s not like he needed the tight fitting clothes to know what your body looked like, though. He’s already seen more of it than he is right now. His mind flashes to the club.

You may be hired help, but you were hand-picked by him.

“It’s just-“ He contemplates what to tell you and settles for, “It’s been a while.”

“Since?” You push. You hear footsteps outside and you hand stops, scared for some reason that you’ll get caught doing something bad. As if the door wasn’t locked and being guarded. Behind the black curtain, his hips lift just barely, urging you to keep going. Don’t stop.

“Since someone’s helped me.” Jeongguk’s head rolls back when your hand starts moving again. It’s been at least a few months since he’s gotten off with someone, his hand being his only companion. After the situation blew up even more than it had in months prior, his leash was tight. No wiggle room at all. He was suffocating and desperate. He almost cried when his team propositioned this arrangement, embarrassing as it was.

When he speaks, his voice is soft and everything is said with a sigh. He sounds so relieved, like it feels so good to be in your palm, like he’s been waiting for your hand on his cock forever. You blush, and right your thoughts. You don’t even know who he is or what he looks like. Still, you ask, “Does it feel good, do you like it?” Tone soft to match his.

Jeongguk nods and swallows thickly. Eyes still closed, letting the pleasure slowly work its way through his veins. Then he remembers you can’t see him. “Yeah.” He breathes.

You hum and keep up your ministrations. Not slow, but not fast either. You’re not quite sure what he likes yet, but the soft moans that flutter through the curtain at least let you know what you’re doing isn’t wrong.

“I like your hands,” He surprises you by saying. “They’re so small; soft,” A more vocal sound falls from his lips when you twist your hand on the upstroke. He’s chuckling when he says, “Kinda strokes my ego a little bit.”

You glance at the cock in your hand. It’s pretty. Thick and pink. A pleasant kind of heavy in your hand. The veins running over it are subtle enough to not be ugly or intimidating. The only intimidating thing about it is the size. He’s big. And you’re sure he already knows that.

You snort. “I don’t think you need that stroked.”

This makes him laugh a little harder. It’s a nice sound. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” He hums, you think you can hear a smile in his voice. It’s quiet again for just a moment before he says, “Will you- faster? Make your hand a little tighter too- yeah, like that.”

His hips sink into the chair when you comply with his requests before he’s bringing them back up, subtly thrusting into your palm. You fight back a moan; you shouldn’t be getting hot for someone you don’t even know right? This was strictly business. Still, you can’t help the slight shifting you do, squeezing your legs together for a little bit of pressure on your pussy.

Jeongguk notices. “Are you turned on?”

“No!” You squeak.

“You can touch yourself,” He offers.

“No!” You insist, “I-I’m fine.Thank you though.” You say dumbly.

He doesn’t say anything more, focuses on your hand on him, tugging just how he asked. His hand rubs over his stomach, flexing as he teases himself, his own light touches mixed with your strokes brings goosebumps over his skin. “Feels, so good.” He groans, eyes watching your hand under the curtain.

Encouraged, you bring your other hand up and massage lightly at his balls. They’re hairless, the only hair he has is the small trimmed patch above the base of his cock. He’s well kept and has good hygiene. That alone was attractive to you, stranger or not.

When you palm his balls, his legs spread as far as they can with his black cargo pants still around his calves, his big black stomper boots keeping them from being shed all the way. “Fuck,” He moans deep and loud for you. One of his hands comes down past the curtain and reaches for you before he quickly pulls it back. You think you saw a flash of ink on it, but you can’t be too sure, mind kind of fuzzy with poorly hidden arousal. The opposite hand comes into view, and your mouth parts in awe as he covers your own hand with his. It’s so much bigger than yours, completely enveloping it as he strokes himself off, using you in a way. Then again the whole arrangement was you both using each other.

“You’re mouth- put your mouth on it,” He sighs, pleasure just dripping from his lips. His cock is rock hard in both your hands, and you can tell he’s getting close.

You hesitate. “Will… will you be able to see me?”

Jeongguk comes out of his desire induced high a little bit and realizes what he said. He wants it, fuck does he want your mouth, but he probably should have asked. “No, no. I’ll lower the curtain a bit more if you want, and you don’t have to swallow. You don’t even have to suck it if you don’t want- like I know we have a thing going on but I would never like- force you I-“

He’s rambling a tad so you cut him off. “I want to, I think,” You whisper, taking in his intimidating size again, “I just- if I can’t know who you are, you can’t know who I am.” You blush feeling a little childish.

Jeongguk keeps the fact that he already knows what you look like and more or less who you are, at least on a surface level, to himself as he moves the curtain to the next lower notch, the bar resting just above his pelvis now. He can’t really see much of you at all anymore. “That’s fair, yeah, just-“ With your confirmation that you do in fact want to suck him off, he can’t keep the lustful neediness out of his voice, “Please.”

You take a deep breath as you wrap both of your hands around his cock, the tip still poking out the top. Tentatively you lick at his frenulum and the sound that comes from behind the curtain is obscene. His hips twitch and everything. You want to hear his noises, all of them, so you do it again. You flick your tongue fast over the most sensitive underpart of the head, before placing wet sucking kisses to the same area, almost making out with the tip of his cock.

“Oh my god-“ His body is pulled taut, and his hands are gripping the chair that he’s sitting in. “Fuck that’s- I love that.” He says, head dropping back, mouth open in a silent moan.

You moan against the tip of his cock, not able to hold yourself back anymore. Wrapping your lips around it, you take the head all the way into your wet, hot mouth, and suck. You lap up all the precum that leaked out, and point your tongue to play with the slit. The man behind the curtain is loud for you, letting you know just how good you’re making him feel. You get so lost in it that you don’t register him raising the curtain bar just enough for him to slip his hand past and push you off.

“S-sorry,” He says, panting, “I was about to cum.”

You make a small sound of confusion. “That’s okay, I can swallow- If you want me to.”

Jeongguk shakes his head behind the curtain. “No, I- I wanna watch… see your hands stroke me off.” His request is quiet but his cock pulses in your hand, needy and hot. Already begging for release, despite you not being at it for that long.

Wordlessly, you start stroking again, gathering the spit that’s on his tip to make the slide easier. It doesn’t take much time at all before his thighs are flexing and you can see the lower part of his abs tensing.

“Close,” He whispers.

Jeongguk watches as your tiny hands fly up and down his cock, grip tight just like he showed you. He’s doing his best to not fuck up into your hands, wanting to just rely on you and your movements, but it’s hard. Small eager little thrusts of his hips show you how ruined he is. And it’s just a handjob. He knows. If he was present enough he would probably be embarrassed by how angry and red his cock is, swollen and hot in your palm. And he’s just so wet, leaking all over the place making the strokes of your hand loud in the room.

He watches as you hunch over some, to where he can see everything below your neck, and your free hand comes up to your shirt. He sees you struggle a little bit as do your best to get the collar down under your bra, with only one hand before squeezing at your tits. “Do you want to cum on them?” You whisper.

“Fuck, please.” He whines high pitch and needy, all reservations out the window.

You hum, and work your arm faster over his cock, the rapid movements making your tits jiggle. “Do it, cum for me… cum all over my tits.”

You can’t see him, but Jeongguk’s face is lewd. Pleasure so apparent on his features, it almost looks painful. His eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth open, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes are wet and glassy, so overwhelmed by finally getting help after so long of cumming by himself. He’s chanting soft, pornographic yeah’s and yes’s until his whole body curls in on itself, you can see the way his legs tremble as he moans, “Fuck, I’m cumming.”

He forces himself to keep his eyes somewhat open, lidded and heavy with arousal, as he shoots all over your chest. You’re moaning with him behind the curtain as you work him through his orgasm, despite no physical pleasure being given to you, and that makes another small shot of cum dribble from his spent cock. You lean forward, careful of your identity, and wipe the leftover milky substance on your already soiled skin and black bra. You slap the slowly softening cock on them for good measure and Jeongguk groans.

You keep playing with his cock, not sure if he’s the type to like it or the kind that wants you off right after he finishes, but he winces and reaches his hand under after not too long, stopping you.

“Please,” He whines.

His voice is fucked out, and your pussy aches, needy and wet in your panties. “Oh, sorry…”

He laughs lightly. “No, no. Don’t say sorry… You’re like- so good.” Jeongguk sighs to himself out of your view. He’s leaning back in the chair, while running a hand through his sweaty hair. Little tremors of pleasure are still coursing through him, when he closes his eyes, blissed out, dazed and relaxed. Finally, after months of being pent up. “So, so good.” He murmurs softly, distractedly.

His hand that reached under the bar to grab yours to stop you, is lazily rubbing over the back of your hand, hold light and subconscious against his thigh. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it and you blush, shyly pulling your hand away. He doesn’t show any sign of even noticing and you both settle into a soft quiet, only your breaths sounding in the room.

“Um.” You say eloquently.

“Fuck sorry.” Jeongguk says, scooting the chair back to put his now soft cock away. He rolls his eyes to himself. Way to get stuck in the afterglow by himself with his flaccid cock in some girls face. “Let me get you a towel.”

“Should I put the blindfold back on?” You ask.

“Uh- Yeah.” He says stilted. This is weird. You just made him cum so hard he almost knocked out, and now he’s making you cover your eyes so you don’t figure out who he is.

You hear the hesitation in the man’s voice and assure him that it’s okay, while grabbing the blindfold you tucked into the waistband of your leggings. You knew how it went, you signed the papers. Patiently you wait until you hear him coming back and sense a soft moist towel being shoved under the bar. You blindly grab it with a soft, “Thanks.”

“I’ll go wait in the bathroom so you can- I don’t know…? Get ready to go I guess.” You hear his heavy boots retreat to the bathroom, that’s located on his side of the curtain, assuring that he wouldn’t be seeing you on his way.

With the blindfold off, you go about cleaning yourself. Your knees crack when you stand up after being sat on them for so long. Wincing, you run a hand through your long hair and walk over to the table where you left your bag. You leave the used rag in its place and you shoulder the purse. About to make your way to the door, you pause.

“I’m uh- leaving?” You yell unsure.

“Okay,” He yells back through the door. “Did you- did they- your- did they give you the-“ He stutters, not sure how to ask if you got paid.

The wad of cash in your purse is heavy. Figuratively and literally. “Yeah, they did.”

“Okay… Good. I’ll um see you next time?” He sounds hesitant and shy.

You laugh. “Yeah I guess so.” And with that, you make your way out of the hotel, thinking that he sounds a whole lot less entitled and cocky than he did when you first got there.

~~~

hiii guysss! thanks for reading this lil drabble! This is kind of like a teaser for a longer fic i have on the back burner (let me know if you like the concept and want me to continue!) but i wanted to post something because i havent for a few weeks bc i have been soo busy with school pls i want to cry 🥲 i should be doing maths as i post this lmao. ANYWAY! thanks again for reading, if u liked it, pls like, comment, reblog, or even send an ask! love talking to u guys n feedback is always lovely <3

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holylulusworld · 3 years

Text

The washing machine incident

Title: The washing machine incident

Square Filled: friends to lovers

Ship: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You wanted clean clothes. Sam wanted more.

Warnings: language, smut, unprotected sex, sex on a washing machine, dirty talk, creampie, possessive Sam, unintended voyeurism, Dean is just done

A/N: Inspired by the scene in 15x20.

Word Count: 1,9 k

Written/Created for: @winchesterandbeyondbingo

Divider by @firefly-graphics

2021 Winchester and Beyond Bingo

“Sam,“ groaning you pinch the bridge of your nose. Sam leans against the washing machine, reading another book while you try to get his attention. While the hunter keeps on reading his book, you admire he’s taller than the shelf on the wall.

“Sam Winchester?” he still doesn’t react. Maybe the machine is too loud, or you are not loud enough but he keeps on reading his book, frowning when it starts to shake considerably, and so is Sam until he gives it a kick.

“Hey, you can’t just kick the poor machine,” he finally looks up from his book, smirking when you stand in front of him, your laundry tugged under your arm. “I was talking to you, Sam.”

“OH, it was your voice calling for me,” he husks, eying you up and down. “I thought Dean was watching porn or something. You sounded so—"

“I sounded like what, Sam,” you wonder. “I wanted to wash my clothes, but I see you are busy washing yours.”

“You could’ve told me so,” he closes the book, placing it onto the shelf behind him. You use the momentum to admire his ass, whimpering when he sticks it out. “Next time, holler, and I will take care of your cute panties and bras.”

You blink a few times when Sam slowly moves toward you. He still has a smirk on his lips when he stands in front of you to cup your chin with two long fingers.

“I think—,” you swallow thickly. His gaze too intense you drop your eyes to his throat, watching it contract. “I should wash my underwear, Sam.”

“I don’t mind,” he dips his head to look you deep in the eyes. A whimper escapes your lips, and you wonder if your panties will survive another moment close to Sam. “I wouldn’t mind taking it off first to sniff at it.”

Your knees buckle the moment his lips claim yours. The kiss is soft at first. Sam’s large hand cradles your cheek gently, and you get lost in his taste and the way his lips move against yours.

“Sam—” you moan against his lips, press your body closer to Sam’s to feel him against you. “What are we doing here?” you are friends for as long as you remember, and you don’t want to ruin your friendship for a stupid crush.

“I don’t know what you are doing, baby doll,” he pecks your lips, tongue licking into your mouth. He groans when you grasp for his hair, harshly tugging at his silky stands. “But I will fuck you on the washing machine until you scream my name.”

“What?” an odd noise leaves your throat when Sam easily picks you up to place you onto the washing machine. He steps between your legs, already tugging at the plaid you stole from him.

“I said I will fuck you,” he kisses you again, more demanding this time, “fuck, use your tongue,” Sam breathlessly moans, urging you on to explore his mouth just like he does.

“Sam, we are friends and—” one large hand cups the back of your neck to force you to hold his gaze.” Saaam…” his other hand deftly unbuttons your plaid, or rather Sam’s, but who has got the time to define ownership when his large hand gropes one of your breasts.

“I’m going to fuck you on this washing machine, fill you up so good with my cock you’ll never want anyone else. I waited long enough,” he purrs against your lips. “I’m a patient man, but my patience is wearing thin for months.”

“You want to fuck me,” your hands shoot forward to grip his plain grey shirt, tugging harshly at the fabric to bring him down to your eye level. “Sam Winchester, if that’s a bad joke I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“Y/N,” he grins while shoving the plaid you are wearing down your shoulders to reveal your chest to him, “you have a way to get a guy hard.”

“I just don’t want to ruin our friendship,” you squeak when Sam fists your bra to rip it into two halves. He ignores the pout on your lips, simply kisses it away. “SAM!”

“I told you,” he shoves one hand down your panties to toy with your swollen clit, “my patience is gone. I fantasized about fucking you for a month now.” he grins wolfishly, before he shoves two long fingers into your slit, causing you to jolt backward, hitting your head on the shelf behind you.

“Fuck, Sam. Oh god,” you move to the edge of the machine to grind against his fingers. The washing machine vibrates underneath your ass, and you suddenly know why so many of your friends told you they love to fuck on a washing machine.

“You’ve got such a nice and tight little pussy,” the way Sam talks to you is more than filthy. Not in your wildest dreams did you imagine Sam Winchester is a dirty talker. “I will fuck you so deep and hard you’ll walk funny for days.”

“What if Dean walks in on us,” you fight to unbuckle Sam’s belt, cursing when Sam slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt to help you shove his pants and boxers down.

“Impatient much, kitten,” you furrow your brows at the pet name but don’t mind, too busy to get Sam out of his clothes. “What do you want to see first?”

“Fuck me,” you lick your lips when Sam’s cock springs free. He’s thick, veiny, and all you want from a cock. “How do you hide that monster in your pants?”

Sam moans deeply when you gently start to run your hand up and down.

“I—fuck me,” Sam groans. He throws his head back, hands grasping for your thighs to dig his blunt nails into your flesh. “If you don’t stop, I’ll cum right here all over you.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” your cheeks heat up when Sam looks down at you, snickering at your boldness, “but I want you inside today. We can talk about the other thing later, when you filled me up so good I will walk funny—”

Dean is washing the dishes in the kitchen wondering why you didn’t come back to help him like promised. “Sammy? Y/N?” grumbling Dean grabs the next plate. “Where are you? I thought they wanted to help me.”

Miracle looks up at Dean, whining when the hunter puts the plate aside. “I bet they are hiding from me to leave me to the dirty dishes, Miracle. How about we go and look for them. I won’t clean the kitchen alone…”

“Sam,” you grip his shoulders, dig your nails into his flesh when he hastily spreads your legs. For a moment he just looks down at your chest, watches it rise and fall. “Fuck me.”

“I’m on it, kitten,” he grips the base of his cock, runs his large hand up and down his length. “Do you think you can take me?”

“I want to feel that monster split me open,” your lips part the minute Sam runs the wide head up and down your clit, teasingly slapping your little nub with his cock. “Please.”

“Beg me again, baby girl—” you whine, wanting Sam to finally give you what your body is craving. “I want to hear it.” the washing machine makes an odd noise, just like you when Sam grips his cock to push the tip in.

“Fuck—” you watch Sam grip the shelf above your head with one large hand to get more leverage to shove himself into you. He’s too engrossed to watch his cock disappear inside your body to care about your nails scratching down his bare chest. “OH, fuck, Sam.”

“There you go, Y/N,” he grins down at you, watches you pant heavily. Your body fights the wide stretch, tries to accommodate Sam’s size but it’s no use. “So, fucking tight for me.”

“You’re simply too big,” you complain, still, you wrap your legs around his waistline to tilt your hips, taking the last inches of his length. “I think, I never felt so full.”

“Good,” his other hand grips your right thigh, squeezes your flesh hard enough to hurt. “You’re mine, just like your tight little pussy. No one will touch you ever again.”

Sam moves slowly at first, gives you shallow thrusts while his hand grips the shelf tighter. You fear he will tear the shelf off the wall sooner or later if he doesn’t stop using all his strength.

The veins in his arm stick out, sweat runs down his chest and you are sure, no other guy ever looked so good while fucking you.

While your lover is busy cupping your face with his free hand to force you to meet his intense gaze, you try to focus on anything but his hazel eyes watching you.

You rock your hips, legs still slung around Sam’s waist while he just watches you take his cock as he dreamed of so many times.

The rhythmic rocking of the washing machine and the way Sam moves inside of you already have you on the edge. The heat in your abdomen rises; turns into a raging fire when Sam angles his hips to hit that sweet spot letting your vision white out.

“Fuck, I wanna have you over that machine,” you whine when he pulls out to help you turn on the machine. “Always wanted to hold you down and fuck that pussy when you bent over the table at the library.”

“Ah, Sam—” he kicks your legs apart while you grip the edge of the washing machine. “Fuck, I wanna cum.”

“You will,” he slowly inches his way back inside your body. “Right fucking now, kitten. I will fuck you over that machine and later, on any surface. My bed will be the endgame.”

“Y-you thought about this a lot, huh?” Sam grips your hips, to drag you onto his length with every thrust. “Shit, you did…”

“Yeah,” he states, hips crashing into your ass. Sam is by all means not gentle anymore. He roughly slides into you, groaning when you take every punishing thrust. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

D-dito,” you cry out. Your walls grip his length tightly, clench painfully around his cock to milk him dry. “Ah, shit. You just came inside.”

“I will always fill you up,” Sam states. “I marked this cunt, and no one will ever take it away from me.”

While you lie on top of the washing machine, catching your breath, Sam leans over you to kiss your neck softly.

“Fine, but no funny business at the kitchen, we eat there, Sam.”

“Oh kitten, I will christen every room at the bunker with you, fuck you everywhere. Even on top of my brother’s car…”

“No, you won’t! Keep my Baby out of this—” Dean grunts, covering his eyes with the dishtowel. “Whatever this is. Guys, we wash our clothes here. Can you just not?”

“It was an accident…” you lie. “Sorry, D’.”

“Oh, did Sam slip and end up inside of you?” turning around Dean whistles for Miracle. “Boy, don’t look at them. They are disgusting and this is not for your eyes. Let’s go.”

“Sorry, Dean,” Sam snickers when his big brother storms out of the room.

“About time you fucked, but you won’t do it at a room we share ever again. And hands off my car!”

In the coming years, Dean will bring up the washing machine incident whenever he wants you or Sam to clean the bunker…

Tags in reblog.

#Sam Winchester #winchesterandbeyondbingo #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfic #Smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam x reader

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