#they will discard you the moment you fail to live up to their vision of 'acceptable womanhood'!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amakumos · 3 years

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illusion － park sunghoon.

synopsis: living with the reminder that he is only just an abandoned vessel of a god, sunghoon is fueled with hatred and anger, deciding to destroy the 7 gods of teyvat with his own hands. but when you cross paths with him, he feels an emotion he isn’t supposed to be able to feel - love. little does he know that you’re one of the 7 that he’s vowed to destroy. genre: angst, fluff, genshinverse au pairing: scaramouche! sunghoon x geo archon! gn reader word count: 6.6k warnings: major character death, violence, mentions of creepy abandoned puppets. readers eyes are amber and sunghoon’s are purple (for the sake of plot), swearing authors note: I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE THIS FIC FOR AGES. scarahoon scarahoon!!!!!!! theres a lot of spoilers for scaramouche / balladeer’s lore in this fic. stayed up until 5am to write it and hmm. the ending was Kinda rushed i kept going back and forth on it .. This fic was so hard to write but it is worth it for SCARAHOON. i did use a couple quotes from the inazuma archon quest btw!! i hope u enjoy hehe ^_^ genshin dictionary (for those who don’t play): archon = one of the main gods of teyvat (teyvat is the name of the world btw) vision = gem that gives u elemental power, gnosis = a chess piece looking object that is proof of your ties to celestia & that ur an archon, celestia = residence of the gods taglist (send ask to be added) : @soobnny @c9tnoos @ja4hyvn @jaywon @shinsou-rii @sqnwo @seeuntonin @primorange @0912005 @bearseulgs @baekhyunstruly @jalnandanz @yanqsfairy @yizhoutv @acciomylove @w3bqrl @yenart @woniedaze @missmadwoman @floverful @fairyofriki @annoyingbitch83 @itzxvaxella @wonjaems @oreoisa @soobzao @son9oi @ily-cuz-i @lumixen @hakuyeo @yubinism @hiqhkey @ferxanda @soobin-chois @heelvsme @bigtittietoji @clarakyunisageek @luvryuj1n @yvesismywife @mitsukifilms @iyeonjuni @meijiamikas @love-4-keum

“Too fragile.”

Sunghoon remembers hearing those words, and he despises it.

Too weak to become a vessel for the so-called heart. He remembers hearing the disappointed sigh from his creator - as if he was just another failed experiment, ready to be discarded like the others.

“Worthless.”

Sunghoon remembers hearing his creator call the other discarded puppets that. He remembers fearing that he’ll be called that as well.

It was a shock to him when his creator took pity on him, letting him slumber for years. It’s even more shocking when Sunghoon finds that he’s awake.

But he feels empty. Like something’s missing. It’s then when Sunghoon realised that he doesn’t have “the heart”.

He doesn’t have the one thing that he was created to store.

He stumbles to get up, observing his surroundings. It’s unfamiliar - the place is a lot brighter than the makeshift workshop his creator worked in. Many years have passed, he knows this. He’s been asleep for a long time. But he still remembers what the workshop looked like.

Dark. It’s dark there. Purple sparks of lightning are the only light he remembers seeing when he was down there. The worst thing is that he remembers all the vessels, discarded in a corner. Bodies, after bodies - he knows they’re all just puppets who aren’t able to feel emotion, but the sight of it makes Sunghoon feel sick.

Sunghoon wanders around the land for years, meeting many people on his travels. Some have good hearts with pure intentions, and some have the opposite.

Sunghoon desires a heart, but he doesn’t have one.

Wandering the lands for countless years makes Sunghoon despise his creator, and the gods even more.

What about him was so inferior? What about him was not good enough?

Sunghoon gazes into the lake, staring at his own reflection. Amethyst eyes glow like the snap of thunder, shining bright with determination. It is that moment when Sunghoon decides that he’ll destroy the gods with his own hands.

He plans to leave his creator for last. He wants her to watch - as the eternity she so seeks falls at the hands of him, watch as gods that roam the land fall one by one, until she accepts that it is her inevitable fate too.

He’ll take her gnosis too. With it, Sunghoon thinks that he will no longer feel empty.

He gazes at his sword in his right hand, and electricity crackles at the tip of the blade. Let me show you the true meaning of eternity, he thinks.

The symbol engraved on the back of his neck, the proof of him being a divine creation, crackles with a faint purple glow.

ii.

The winds are roaring louder than usual today.

Sunghoon sits under a tree, clutching onto his hat so it doesn’t fly off his head. He curses out the God of Wind under his breath, and it’s as if he can hear Sunghoon, because the wind slowly calms down.

There’s a glaze lily planted next to the tree, and Sunghoon rips it out of the grass harshly, staring at the flower with blue and white hues. These flowers seem to be more rare to see compared to when he last came to Liyue a hundred years ago, he thinks.

He tears a petal off the flower, and the wind picks the petal up, drifting off in the air as Sunghoon follows it with his eyes. “You could’ve sold that flower for a good price,” he hears a voice.

Sunghoon locks eyes with you, and amethyst meets amber.

“Who are you?”

“I was just passing by,” you say. “I couldn’t help but notice how you aggressively ripped the glaze lily out of the grass.” Sunghoon’s eyebrows furrow at your words. “Rarely anyone comes here anymore. It’s the home to a lost civilization.”

He’s right. All that is left are ruins, but not many people know that, so the young man knowing of the lost civilization intrigues you.

“I was heading to the harbour,” you lie. “What about you?”

“That’s none of your business.”

You’re taken aback by his sudden attitude. You’ve roamed the world of Teyvat for hundreds and thousands of years, meeting many people, but this young man with vibrant purple eyes that remind you of flashes of lightning piques your interest, and when you’ve met many others, it’s quite hard to do so.

“I see,” you hum, letting out a breathy chuckle. A strange feeling blooms in Sunghoon’s chest when he hears the sound, and he isn’t sure what’s happening. He doesn’t even have a heart. He’s not supposed to feel human emotions - it’s already surprising enough that he can feel anger.

Sunghoon thinks he’s only ever felt anger.

He notices you clutching a spear in your left hand. “Spar with me,” he blurts out suddenly, and your lips quirk up into an amused smile. “Why should I?”

“Do you have anything better to do?” he asks, getting up from his spot under the tree. His eyes meet yours once again, and Sunghoon doesn’t know why the colour of your eyes are so mesmerising to him. He’s never met any mortal with the same coloured eyes as yours, and it’s intriguing.

Sunghoon then realises he wants to know more about you, a stranger who he only met five minutes ago.

“I suppose I don’t.” you respond, and Sunghoon smiles. The corners of his lips quirk up, but his eyes are void of emotion, you notice.

“Are you any good?” he asks, and you shrug. “Depends.”

You lie. You have purged gods, monsters and demons with the exact same spear clutched in your hand.

“Oh, and… what’s your name?” you ask him, and he smirks.

“I’ll tell you if you win.”

iii.

Sunghoon has been sparring with you for hours.

His blade hasn’t even come close to touching your skin yet.

He’s roamed the land of Teyvat for hundreds of years, and nobody has come close to even being able to match his swordsmanship - that is, until he met you. He doesn’t see a vision on your attire either, so it’s even more shocking that a visionless mortal is able to hold their ground against him.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” he says, lunging forward with his sword, and you block the attack swiftly with your spear. “Why, thank you.” you chuckle, as your spear meets his sword once again.

Sunghoon gets a little too close this time, his sword almost touching your shoulder. But with a flick of your hand, a shield surrounds you, and Sunghoon gives you an amused grin.

Sunghoon misses the way that your amber eyes seemingly glow.

“Ah, so you do have a vision.”

You don’t have a vision. You don’t need one.

“I do,” you lie. Your power lies within your gnosis - the item that takes the form of a chess piece, proof of your ties to Celestia.

“Do you have one?”

Lightning crackles as it surrounds Sunghoon’s blade. “No.”

Being able to control Electro without a vision. The stranger is more interesting than you think. Your spear scratches his skin ever so slightly, and your eyes flash with confusion when you don’t see even the slightest shade of crimson at the wound.

“Ah,” Sunghoon says, looking at the area where you’d nicked him.

“No blood?” you question, and Sunghoon shakes his head. “Let’s stop here,” you say, noticing how the sun has started to set. Sunghoon nods, and he drops his blade on the grass.

He can’t stop thinking about how he didn’t even manage to lay a scratch on you, yet you had somehow managed to nick his skin a couple of times. He was a vessel for an archon, made to defend a land for eternity, but he couldn’t even lay a finger on you, a mortal.

Little does he know that you aren’t mortal at all.

He thinks of his creator again, and his eyes glow purple with anger. You notice this, and your eyes widen in fascination. “Your eyes…” you mumble.

“Sorry.”

“No, they look… pretty.”

Sunghoon has never heard anyone call his eyes that before, but he thinks it’s because everyone else who sees his eyes glow purple had a blade pressed against their throat. He feels the weird blooming feeling spreading across his chest once again.

“Sunghoon.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Sunghoon.” he says awkwardly - he has never been good at interacting with others. A soft smile spreads across your lips, and you nod. “Okay, Sunghoon. I’m… (Name).”

You have gone by many names over the years. There are too many to count.

(Name).

Sunghoon will remember that.

“It’s getting late now, Sunghoon. I think you should return home,” you say.

Home. Sunghoon doesn’t consider any place home, but if he had to think of a place, he would say Inazuma. The faint smell of sakura blossoms, the sound of children’s laughter is familiar to him, despite how every time he gazes up at Tenshukaku, where his creator resides, all he can think about is the pile of discarded vessels and how he was very nearly thrown into that pile himself.

“I will.” he lies. You give him a satisfied smile.. “I’ll… see you around?” you ask, and you realise that you sound a little too hopeful - maybe it’s because you’ve never met anyone as interesting as Sunghoon.

“Yes,” he breathes out, and you smile. You give him a small wave before heading off, and Sunghoon’s eyes follow you until he can’t anymore.

Sunghoon doesn’t look forward to many things, but he looks forward to possibly being able to see you again.

iv.

You see Sunghoon the next day at Liyue Harbour.

You notice a small purple Electro symbol on the back of his neck. Strange, you think.

“Sunghoon?”

He turns around with a frown on his face, but when his eyes meet yours, his frown disappears, being replaced with a smile.

You can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. There’s no emotion behind his eyes. As a god who has roamed the earth for several millennia, it’s the first time you’ve encountered somebody who you can’t read like a book.

“(Name).” he says, and your lips quirk up into a smile. “You remembered.” you say.

Sunghoon nods. “I met you yesterday. I would have a horrible memory if I forgot that quickly.”

Another chuckle escapes past your lips, and Sunghoon feels that warm feeling once again. He’s not supposed to feel emotion. It was already shocking to him when he felt anger, but this? This strange, warm, blooming feeling that spreads across his chest is something Sunghoon is terrified of.

He’s terrified because he doesn’t know what he’s feeling.

Maybe he’s sick. He’s heard mortals talk about how their temperatures rise when they’re sick - he remembers them saying that it’s called a fever.

But he’s not a mortal. His creator called him a prototype puppet. He calls himself an abandoned archon vessel. Sunghoon is anything but human.

“Sunghoon?”

Your voice makes him break his train of thought, and he turns his attention back to you. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

“It’s alright,” you say. “Would you like to walk with me? You don’t have to, if you’re busy.”

You don’t know why asking that question makes you nervous, but you don’t need to be, because Sunghoon says yes before he realises it.

You let out a small relieved breath, and you flash him a smile. “So… shall we?”

Sunghoon finds that talking to you is easy. You two don’t stop talking until a boy taps you on the shoulder, catching your attention. Sunghoon is slightly annoyed that your attention isn’t on him anymore, but when he sees a fond smile on your face appear when you turn to look at him.

“Hi, (Name)!” the young boy smiles at you. “Riki! You’re back in Liyue?” you ask, and Riki nods.

“This is Riki,” you turn to look at Sunghoon, introducing him to Riki. “He’s from Inazuma.”

“Hello… Riki.” Sunghoon says. It’s a little awkward, but Riki doesn’t seem to mind, and he gives Sunghoon a wave. “I am from Inazuma too.” Sunghoon adds, and Riki’s eyes light up. “A fellow Inazuman!” he says, and Sunghoon nods.

“Hey, you never told me that.” you say to Sunghoon, and he shrugs. “You never asked.”

“Sunghoon, (Name) over here is like living history. They know everything - and I mean everything, about Liyue. They’re how I managed to find my way around this place.” Riki says with a grin, and Sunghoon nods.

You only smile and sigh. “I just have a good memory.”

Sunghoon hears the slightest hint of longing in your tone - it’s as if you’re reminiscing about something. He doesn’t push you for answers yet. He tells himself that he’ll save that for another time.

“Yeah, you must’ve read every book sold in Liyue, ever.” Riki comments, and you chuckle.

“I suppose you could say that.” you say. You don’t need to read the books, because to you, it’s like you wrote all these stories in the first place. The tales of how Liyue Harbour was formed, the tales of the Archon War - you were there.

“Well, I’ve got to go. Jungwon’s waiting for me. See you around, (Name)! And it was nice meeting you. Sunghoon.” Riki says, giving you both a wide grin before running off in the other direction. “He is nice.” Sunghoon says, and you nod.

“He’s very energetic,” you say. “You can always talk to him about Inazuma, if you’re ever missing home.”

Home. That word again.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon breathes out. “Inazuma is… nice.”

“I’ve been there a couple times. Many years ago, though - I’m surprised how seemingly nothing seems to change.” you mumble, and you hear Sunghoon scoff. “Isn’t that what an eternal nation is supposed to be? Unchanging?” There's bitterness lacing his tone. ”So, don’t be surprised. It’s exactly what she wants.” he mutters, his eyebrows furrowed in anger.

You know exactly who Sunghoon is talking about. Minju - god of eternity, ruler of Inazuma and also, your longtime friend. But you’re confused as to why Sunghoon knows her. As far as you know, everyone still thinks that Minjeong is the current archon - nobody should know of the god of eternity.

“She seems to be someone familiar to you.” you remark. “You could say that,” Sunghoon says, and he glances over at you. “Do you know her?”

“I know of her. But no, I don’t know her in person, if that is what you mean.” you lie. “Believe me, you wouldn’t want to.” he says.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’ll tell you when I know I can trust you.”

Sunghoon spends every day by your side for the next two weeks.

He says it’s to see if he can trust you, but he knows better. He wants to spend more time with you, and it’s during these two weeks when he realises that he actually likes that strange feeling that blooms in his chest.

Sunghoon still doesn’t know what it’s called either. But he knows he’s not sick - it’s not possible for him to be sick.

He notices how he seems to smile more often without realising it when he’s talking to you. They’re genuine smiles too, unlike the sarcastic, mocking smiles that are usually plastered on his face. It’s strange - it has been centuries, and this is the first time that Sunghoon has ever felt this type of emotion.

You feel the same way - except, you know what this feeling is.

Love.

You remember when you first felt that emotion. Something that others described as like butterflies fluttering in your stomach - your fellow adepti called that ridiculous, saying that it was not humanly possible for butterflies to survive in your stomach, not knowing it was a metaphor.

Several millennia later, you feel this feeling again, perhaps stronger than before, too.

You two sit against a tree to rest after sparring, and Sunghoon reminds himself that his blade still hasn’t been able to graze your skin at all yet. When you two spar, it’s like a rehearsed dance - Sunghoon’s more aggressive attacks countered with your sharp, but more graceful ones.

Your eyes are closed as you listen to the soft rustle of the leaves in the wind, and Sunghoon taps on your shoulder. You open your eyes, and you’re met with amethyst eyes gazing into yours. “Hi,” you breathe out.

“I want to tell you something. Because I trust you now.”

Sunghoon’s voice drops to a whisper, as if it’s like there’s a crowd surrounding you two, and what he’s about to say is something that he only wants you to hear.

“Go for it,” you murmur.

“I’m… not human. I was created as a puppet by… her.”

He doesn’t need to specify who he’s talking about - you know.

“To store the gnosis. It was supposed to be my heart, but I was considered a failed prototype. I’m surprised she even took pity on me and let me just stay asleep for years. I bet she didn’t even think that I would wake up.” he mutters. “I don’t know what about me was so… undesirable. So unfit, to store the gnosis. ”

You finally understand why he hates her so much.

“Everyone else has a heart. You have one, that kid, Riki, has one - hell, even my creator fucking has one.” Sunghoon spits out. “But what am I? An abandoned vessel of a god, and I don’t even have the one item that I was created to store.”

You feel like he has more to say.

“But, I keep getting this… strange feeling when I’m around you. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s… warm. Around here.” he says, pointing at his chest.

The place where his heart is supposed to be.

“Please - tell me what it is, because I’m sure I don’t have what you mortals call a fever.”

Firstly, you aren’t a mortal either, but you won’t tell him that. Second of all, you know exactly what Sunghoon means when he talks about the blooming feeling in his chest.

“Love.” you say.

He’s heard that word before.

He knows what love means. And Sunghoon is a hundred percent sure that he isn’t supposed to feel what love is - especially without a heart. “I’m not supposed to feel that. Or any other emotion, for that matter.” he says, and you give him a smile.

“It’s okay to feel emotions,” you say.

“And for what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure I feel the same way.”

Sunghoon feels that feeling again. But the feeling is ten times stronger than it usually is. “It happened again. This is strange.” he says, and you can’t help but giggle at his cluelessness. You lace your fingers with his, and when Sunghoon feels the warmth of your hand on his, he realises he has that one fluttery feeling in his stomach that he remembers being called as “butterflies”.

Sunghoon gazes into your eyes, and he can’t help but smile when he sees the brilliant amber colour of your eyes. “I don’t know anything about human emotions.” he mumbles.

“But for you, I’ll try to learn.”

vi.

You hand Sunghoon a bouquet of glaze lilies the next day.

He doesn’t rip off the petals like he did when he first met you. “Thank you.” he whispers. He’s getting used to the feeling that you call love, and he finds that he actually likes the feeling.

Sunghoon finally thinks that he has purpose in his eternal life. He was created to store the gnosis, to protect a nation for eternity, but was instead discarded to the side like another worthless failure by his creator.

But now he has you.

He’s still trying to learn about human emotions and everything that entails when it comes to falling in love, but he realises that he cherishes you more than anything. He wants to protect you - even if he knows that you can fend for yourself perfectly.

Sunghoon is falling for you hopelessly.

And he doesn’t mind.

Sunghoon finally feels at peace, for the first time in 500 years. And it’s all because of you. You, with your warm and inviting smile. You, whose eyes are with a brilliant shade of amber. You, who is somehow able to make this abandoned archon vessel feel an emotion he never thought he’d be able to feel.

You slip your hand in his, and you can smell the faint scent of glaze lilies in the wind. “They smell nice, don’t they?” you hum, looking up at him, and he nods. “Yes. Where did you get them?”

“Qingce Village. I picked them myself.”

Sunghoon knows that if he had a heart, it would be beating incredibly fast. The thought of you picking these flowers for him yourself makes him feel warm, and a shy smile makes its way onto his lips.

“Qingce Village is pretty. I like it there.” he murmurs. “Yes, it is. We can go together sometime,” you say, and Sunghoon nods. “Or maybe you could take me to Inazuma.”

“I could,” Sunghoon says, but it comes out more like a question. “Why not?” you smile. “I’m sure there’s places in Inazuma that ’ve never been to before. You can take me there, right?”

Sunghoon hears the excitement in your voice. “I suppose I can. When do you want to go?”

“Whenever.” you grin.

You pick out one of the glaze lilies from the bouquet you had given Sunghoon, and you tuck it behind his ear. “Pretty,” you hum, and you inch your face closer to his.

Sunghoon’s breath hitches. Your eyes seem to shine with so much adoration for him, and he isn’t even sure if he deserves it.

“Can I kiss you?”

Sunghoon nods.

You connect your lips with his, and Sunghoon thinks he understands what falling helplessly in love is like. All his life, he has felt empty, wandering across the land for years without knowing how to feel.

But he knows now.

It’s scary at first. Not knowing what emotion you’re feeling, and being too afraid to ask. But Sunghoon finds that he likes the feeling. The feeling of falling, without knowing when you’ll land, or if you’ll even land at all.

Sunghoon likes being in love.

It’s strange how he’s even capable of feeling love without his heart.

The gnosis.

Amethyst eyes suddenly glow again. Sunghoon realises he has another reason to take it from his creator now.

For you.

With the heart, he can figure it out. He can figure out what love is, feel emotions he’s never felt before.

It’s all he’s ever wanted, Sunghoon realises. His reasoning for despising his creator is no longer about the pent-up rage and anger of being abandoned.

500 years after Sunghoon first wakes up, he finally realises that all he’s ever wanted to do is feel.

vii.

There’s a glaze lily tucked behind your ear as you gaze out into the distance from the boat. You can barely manage to see Narukami Island, due to it being shrouded by fog. “We’re almost here, right?” you ask, and Sunghoon nods.

Sunghoon wants to show you all the places he’s been to. He’s been wandering Inazuma for hundreds of years, and maybe he should thank his creator just this once for ensuring that everything stays the same.

As the boat gets closer to Narukami Island, you see the vibrant pink hues of sakura trees. They’re beautiful - but they remind you of your old friends. You remember sitting under the trees, the faint smell of the blossoms wafting through the air as you talked with your fellow archons.

You and Minju are the only ones left.

You know there is a time where everything must come to an end, but you cannot help but feel a sense of longing when you see the sakura trees. You want to see your old friends just one more time and you want to laugh at their jokes again, just like old times.

When you arrive, Sunghoon asks you where you want to head to. You shrug, your eyes still fixated on the giant sakura tree at the top of the mountain.

Sunghoon notices. “The Thunder Sakura. Have you seen it before?”

“No,” you lie.

You have seen the tree multiple times. You make your way up to the Narukami Shrine every ten years to visit. For Minjeong.

Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows when he hears you murmur a word that is all too familiar to him. Minjeong - that’s the name of his creator’s sister. Minjeong passed a while back, which was the reason for his creation - to defend a nation for eternity, to never be susceptible to the effects of erosion.

“Minjeong?” he asks, and it is only then when you realise that you’ve said her name out loud. “Yeah - I read about her in a book.” you lie.

“Oh, okay. Let’s head up there,” Sunghoon responds, to which you nod your head.

Nobody knows her as Minjeong. As far as he knows, she’s only known as the God of Transience in every history book he’s ever read.

But Sunghoon brushes it off, instead slipping his hand into yours. Your hand is warm, compared to his, which is ice cold (perks of being a divinely created puppet, he assumes).

“This is a lot of steps.” you chuckle, when you two are halfway to the shrine. “Yes, it is.” he responds, an amused grin spreading across his lips when he hears your laughter.

“Are you tired, Hoon?”

Hoon.

His grin only gets wider when he hears you call him that, and you notice. “Hoon.” you say again, and Sunghoon’s eyes dart from place to place - seemingly looking at anywhere, anything, anyone but you.

“Hoon?”

“I think if you call me that again I might explode. I feel… very warm.” he mumbles, and you giggle. “You’re cute, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon thinks he likes the nickname better.

“No - I like… Hoon better.”

“Hoon it is, then.” you grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. You loosen your grip on his hand when you skip up the steps, and Sunghoon finds himself pouting just a little bit when he loses the warmth of your hand in his.

“Come on, Hoon!” you say, your eyes crinkling into crescents as you smile. You’re pretty when you smile. Very pretty, Sunghoon thinks. He wants you to smile at him forever.

He quickens his pace up the steps to catch up to you. “We’re almost there,” he says.

“I know.” you hum.

When you two arrive at the shrine, you meet eyes with a figure that Sunghoon finds to be familiar. The person you’re looking at eyes seem to widen in surprise, and she slowly makes her way over to you and Sunghoon.

“(Name)!”

“Yizhuo,” you smile. “It’s been a while.”

Sunghoon knows her. How could he not know his creator’s best friend? Anger bubbles up inside, and Sunghoon tightens his grip on your hand to make sure he doesn’t cause a scene. He has never worried about causing a scene before, but now that he’s with you, the last thing he would want to do is put you in danger.

“How long has it been?” she chuckles. “Years. Many years.” you respond. Yizhuo’s eyes turn to look at the person standing next to you, and her face falls, eyes flashing with shock and astonishment. “You…”

Yizhuo remembers him. Why wouldn’t she?

“I’m Sunghoon.” he says, even if he knows Yizhuo recognises him. “Hello… Sunghoon. It is nice to meet you.” she murmurs. “Likewise,” Sunghoon lies. He then turns around to gaze into the distance - the Narukami Shrine is the only place in the entire island where you can get a full view of everything, everyone, and every place.

How do you know him? Yizhuo mouths to you.

You flash her a look that says: I’ll tell you later.

“So… long time no see,” you say, and Yizhuo nods. “How has everything been?”

“Just… the same things. Shrine maiden duties, serving the gods, the usual.” she shrugs, and you nod. Yizhuo turns to look at Sunghoon. Both you and Yizhuo notice how his eyes are set on Tenshukaku.

“Sunghoon, what do you think about the gods?”

There’s a sly grin threatening to make its way onto Yizhuo’s face, and you bite the inner part of your cheek as you await his response.

That’s a stupid question, Sunghoon thinks. Yizhuo, out of all people, should know the answer to that.

“Me?” he chuckles, and Yizhuo nods. “I have a lot of words to say about them.”

You hear bitterness in his tone - pent-up rage, anger and sadness. All you can do is give him a helpless look, but he never notices it. He doesn’t turn around to face you and Yizhuo, still gazing out at the residence of his creator.

“Do tell,” Yizhuo says. “Do you hate them?”

“Do I hate the gods? No.” Sunghoon laughs bitterly.

“I loathe them.”

viii.

Sunghoon wakes up earlier than usual.

He finds himself walking up the steps to Tenshukaku. He can still visualise the workshop that he was created in, and he can still visualise the amount of discarded puppets piled on top of one another as well.

Sunghoon has always waited for the day where Inazuma finds out that the “all-almighty Shogun” running the country is nothing but a puppet - a fake.

The real one sits away in her little Plane of Euthymia.

Worthless? Sunghoon thinks, and he scoffs. To him, his creator is the textbook definition of worthless. Letting a puppet run the country because she’s too afraid of erosion - too afraid that the eternity that she so seeks is out of her grasp.

Sunghoon has one goal in mind as he reaches Tenshukaku.

To take the gnosis.

Then he will watch. Watch, as the eternity his creator so seeks slips further and further away from her grasp. Watch, as his creator realises that “this useless puppet” will be the cause of her own demise.

Sunghoon doesn’t need to worry about the other gods now. He despises them, sure. But all he wants is the heart - his heart.

Sunghoon has never done anything for love. Everything he’s done is for himself. It’s selfish, he supposes. But when you are the only person you can rely on, and the only person you know, you cannot possibly do anything for anyone else.

Before you, he was lonely.

After meeting you, he realises that he hates being lonely. He can’t picture life without you anymore.

Even as he stops at the entrance of the place that is all too familiar to him, he wishes that you were next to him.

But you can’t. Because then you’d be in danger, and Sunghoon would spend an eternity hating himself for putting you in that situation.

It’s all for (Name), he tells himself.

The guards raise an eyebrow at him when he approaches the door. He shows them the mark on his neck.

They allow him to enter.

When he does, his eyes immediately land on the puppet.

His replacement.

The puppet calmly looks up at him. “Hello.”

It sounds exactly like her. It looks exactly like her. But the pin in her hair is not his creator’s. It is Minjeong’s.

“I assume you are the puppet.” he says, and the puppet raises an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

Sunghoon chuckles bitterly, his eyes glowing purple. “Because I am the prototype.”

After saying those words, Sunghoon sees purple, pitch black, then his creator - not the puppet, standing right in front of him. He realises that he’s in the Plane of Euthymia, now. He sees a stoic expression plastered on her face, just like he remembered.

“Long time no see, Minju.”

ix.

“What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I visit?” Sunghoon chuckles, and Minju looks at him, unamused. “After all, you are the one who let me into this… hellhole.” he says, looking at his surroundings. It’s dark, gloomy, and it looks eerily similar to the workshop.

“Just tell me what you want, Sunghoon.”

“I just want to… talk.” he lies, and Minju raises an eyebrow. “You want to talk. With me?” she asks, disbelief lacing her tone.

Sunghoon lies once again. “Well, yes. I want answers.”

“Answers to what?”

Are you stupid? he thinks. His patience is running thin - he just wants the gnosis, maybe a short fight as well that ends with his blade on his creator’s neck, and then he can return home to you.

“Why you thought I was too fragile. So unfit, to store the gnosis. And why that one, out there, sipping tea in Tenshukaku is a better fit.” he says, and Minju hums.

“You cried.”

Sunghoon scoffs. “That’s not possible.”

“You cried without the gnosis. You would have been thinking of something else, I assumed. I needed the puppet to have one goal and one goal only. Eternity.”

“There is no way that I cried without the gnosis.”

“You’ve always seemed more... human, compared to the other ones. It’s why I pitied you.”

Human.

Sunghoon is far from human.

He tells her that.

“I know you are far from human. But you’ve changed. And change is the enemy of eternity.” she responds.

“You can’t stop change, Minju. The eternity you’re seeking is already slipping out of your grasp - why else would you feel the need to make puppets?”Sunghoon snaps.

Minju’s jaw tightens. “You want the gnosis, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Sunghoon spits out.

“Why?”

“What the fuck do you mean by why, Minju? Have you tried wandering across this world with no destination in mind, no purpose, and no heart? Have you felt what it’s like to not feel at all? Have you felt… truly empty for once in your life?”

“You are crying.” Minju states.

Sunghoon feels a tear trickle down his cheek. “This is why I said you were too fragile.” Minju says, shaking her head.

Sunghoon notices how Minju’s eyes suddenly widen. He then hears footsteps. “(Name)?” Minju asks, and Sunghoon’s ears perk up.

(Name)?

Sunghoon turns around, and he spots you. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to know Minju - it’s already strange enough that you know Yizhuo.

How did you enter the Plane of Euthymia?

“Minju. It’s been a long time.” you say, and Sunghoon only looks at you confused. His grip on his sword tightens. “Yes. It has been.” she hums.

“Hoon.” you say, and Minju furrows her eyebrows at the sound of the nickname. “What are you doing?”

“I should be asking you that, (Name) - why are you here? Go home, please. I’ll be back.” he sighs, and you press your lips together in a thin line. “I can’t do that, Hoon.”

Minju notices the way Sunghoon’s eyes immediately softened when his eyes landed on you. It hits her right then and there - the main reason why he wants the gnosis is because he wants a heart to love you.

“Sunghoon. Is (Name) the reason why you’ve gotten weaker?”

Weak. Sunghoon hates that word with his entire being. He despises it - he is anything but weak. “Don’t call me weak, Minju. Just give me the god damn gnosis.” he spits out.

“If you weren’t weak, you would be the puppet sitting out there in Tenshukaku right now.”

Sunghoon thinks he’s finally had enough. He draws his sword, electricity gathering at the tip of the blade, and he strikes.

He feels the blade pierce skin.

But he doesn’t see purple. Instead he sees gold.

His blade is plunged into the area just above your heart. Sunghoon’s eyes widen in horror, and for a brief second, so did Minju’s. You, however - look surprisingly calm, for a person who’s just been struck with a fatal blow.

Gold.

It hits him, right then and there. You’re the Geo Archon. The only person who he cherishes and has ever felt love for is a god, and he realises that he will be the reason for your demise.

“Huh. Guess you’ve finally struck me, Hoon.” you say, stumbling to the floor, and he rushes to catch you. He ignores how your voice is weaker than before - he tells himself that it’s all just an illusion, but he knows better.

“No, no, no.” Sunghoon can feel what are called tears fall down his cheeks.

“Why?” Sunghoon asks - you shouldn’t have stood in front of Minju. It was supposed to be her, not you. “Hoon.” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Everything is blurry. Sunghoon’s vision is shrouded by his tears, and you weakly tug on his hand. “Take this,”

You place an object in the palm of his hand, and Sunghoon knows exactly what it is. It’s your gnosis. “No, I can’t take this, (Name).” he chokes out in between his sobs. You offer him a weak smile, squeezing his hand.

“You’ve always wanted a heart, right?.” you whisper.

“No - not like this,” he sobs.

“Hey. Sunghoon. My heart was already yours. Just… take this piece from it, okay?”

Change is inevitable.

You have wandered the world for several millennia, and your journey has finally come to an end. You’re at peace with it. “Hoon.” you murmur. “You’ll be okay, right?”

Sunghoon doesn’t think he will be.

Even without a heart, Sunghoon can feel that you want him to say yes. So he tells you he’ll be fine. A soft smile makes its way onto your lips when you hear his response. You let out a deep sigh - your vision is starting to fade away, and you know that you don’t have much time left.

“I love you.”

It’s the last thing you say before Sunghoon sees you stop breathing.

He didn’t even get to say it back.

Wrecked sobs escape from his throat, and he brings the gnosis near his lips, begging someone, anyone, to bring you back. But he knows nobody will listen. Why would they? He entwines his fingers with yours, and they’re cold.

They’re not supposed to be cold. He misses your warmth.

The glaze lily once tucked behind your ear falls to the floor, and Sunghoon scoops it up with his left hand. The once vibrant flower has now wilted - as if the flower knows of your passing.

“You got what you wanted,” Minju says. “Why are you crying?”

Minju is right. Sunghoon has always despised the gods. Sunghoon has always wanted the gnosis. You were a god, and he has your gnosis.

Sunghoon has a heart now. Your heart. He can finally feel things, and at full force. But it’s strange. He doesn’t like the way there’s a tugging feeling in his chest, like his heart is a puppet, and somebody’s pulling on the strings.

It hurts.

“Was it worth it?”

“The gnosis means nothing to me compared to them.” he whispers, and he wipes the tears staining his cheeks. He finds that he doesn’t like crying. A part of him wishes that he’d never even tried to seek out the gnosis in the first place. Maybe he didn’t need to feel every emotion in the world. Love was enough, because he had you.

Sunghoon thought that the emptiness he felt before was the worst it could get. But then, he loses you.

The present moment is a fragile illusion, Minju had once said.

Sunghoon hates how he needs to lose you to finally understand that his creator is right.

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msmarvelwrites · 3 years

Text

Faking It

Summary: “There’s no need for that here. No faking it, sunshine.”

Pairing: Natasha x Virgin!reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, please 18+ only, f x f, oral (f receiving- they’re gay, dude), oral/rimming (f receiving), anal, reader always fakes it until Natasha.

Word Count: 1.3K

Authors Note: A request for the lovely @sazc94 🖤 And a huge thank you to the wonderful and uber-talented @the-iceni-bitch for her beta ✨

It was a normal weekday morning. You had gotten up early to run labs with Bruce, squeezed in a quick training session with Steve and now you sat exhausted at the kitchen island while your friends dipped in and out for their breakfast.

“I’m not sure what happened. She just snuck out in the morning and I haven’t heard from her since.” Steve was mumbling to Sam about this date gone awry and you couldn’t help but listen in. Mentally giving your own advice where it wasn’t needed.

“Y/n says you probably failed to make her finish.” Wanda pointed out before it was too late to realize she had read your mind.

You gaped, dumbfounded, wishing the world would just open up and swallow you whole. Glaring at Wanda, you silently apologized to Steve, trying your best to make it sound sincere… But, you weren't exactly speaking out of experience here. Not that you and Steve ever - but men like Steve.

“What does that even mean, ‘make her finish.’?” Steve grumbled, pouring his morning coffee and storming off with Sam and Wanda. Though, not before Natasha twirled into the kitchen, catching Steve’s remarks and giggling to herself.

“The sheer fact he doesn't know means she didn't.” Natasha sighed, a crooked smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“It’s really too bad, I liked her.” You added, causing Nat to crack up, the sound of her laughter and the fact you had caused it making you blush.

“I guess she was really good at faking it too.” you added, and Nat quieted down- a seriousness taking over her delicate features.

She looked you over, bringing a coffee mug to her lips before she spoke, “When was the last time you truly came? No theatrics.” She asked, the question slapping you across the face and leaving a blush behind in its wake.

“I-I don’t really… Sorry I just-”

“Have you never slept with a woman?”

You worried on your lip, half embarrassed and half stunned at the way Natasha’s eyes were boring into yours. Her tongue gently flicking out to wet her lips, gaze trailing down your body as if she was sizing you up. Checking her opponent for weaknesses. Of course, you had many. The most obvious currently, your inability to respond to her question.

“No.” You finally squeezed out, unaware you had been holding your breath until now.

“Well, there’s your problem, sunshine.” she hummed, suddenly so much closer that you remembered her being. Her breath, hot against your neck.

“You think you can help me?” the words left your lips before you had a chance to stop them. A false confidence coating each syllable. You had no idea what you were doing, terrified of the situation you were about to drag yourself into.

“Oh, sunshine,” She whispered against your ear. “I’ll take such good care of you.” The promise rippled through you, sending a shiver to travel down your spine and pool in your core.

Before you knew it your back was pressed against her bedroom door, having never stopped for a breath as you both ran to the living quarters. Your mind was foggy, thoughts convoluted and nonsensical as she bit down on your lip. Her tongue darting out and sending chills through your entire body. It was so different, softer than you had ever known it to be. There was no rush, no demand. Somehow it made it so much sexier.

Natasha pushed you inside her room, her shirt discarded the moment the door closed. She stood, wrapped in a lace bralette as she pointed to the couch behind you.

“Take your pants off.” It wasn't a question but you still nodded your head, immediately fumbling with your zipper. Finally you flicked them across the floor, terrified and eager as you watched her eyes trail up your exposed legs.

The ethereal redhead glided across the room, resting both her hands on your shoulders as she pushed you down onto the couch. In the same motion, Nat dropped to her knees.

You gasped, heart beating so wildly out of your chest, you wondered if she could hear it. If she did, she made no indication of slowing down as she hooked her hands under your knees, pulling you and your wet core towards her.

Natasha looked up at you from under her lashes, her eyes sparking with more mischief than usual. You tried to steady your breathing, afraid if you kept up the way you were, you might pass out.

“Are you nervous?” You mused, her lips connecting with the soft skin between your thighs.

Yes. Maybe. “No.” You forced out, cursing yourself for lying. She saw right through it. She always could.

“Shhh,” She hummed, her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt as she lifted it over your head. You complied, lost in her touch. “There’s no need for that here. No faking it, sunshine.”

Her words went straight to your core, squirming against the couch in a desperate attempt to feel some sort of relief. Nat noticed, a soft chuckle slipping from her pink lips. “There’s no rush. I have nowhere to be. This meal,” She gestured, index finger pulling the gusset of your panties to the side, exposing your glistening folds “I’m savouring every last drop.”

Your panties were discarded somewhere across the room, leaving you bared for Nat’s hungry eyes. You were paralyzed with fear and excitement. Heart hammering in your chest, nerves shot.

Carefully, and with a curious touch, she spread her fingers through your sloppy folds, gently spreading you open. You convulsed, the simple touch enough to have your touch starved body melting away.

“Oh, sunshine,” She chuckled, repeating the same motion with her fingers, “We haven't even started yet.”

“Fuck.” It was all you could muster, eyes trained on her lips as she disappeared between your thighs.

The moment Natasha's hot tongue connected with your throbbing clit, you knew she had ruined all men for you. All people for that matter.

“Look at you, котенок. Is this all for me?” She hummed between lapping at your cunt. Her index finger travelled through your puffy lips, pushing deep inside of you and forcing a groan to fall from your lips.

“Natasha, please.” You begged, though you weren’t sure what for. It wasn't possible that you were already so close to your-

Her mouth connected with your clit again, fingers withdrawing from your core only for a moment as he folded you in half, body splayed out and vulnerable to her. You gripped inside of your knees, holding on for dear life. Your vision, already going blurry as she hit that sweet spot relentlessly, almost as if she could feel what you did.

“You’re gonna’ love this sunshine. Hold on for me.” She mumbled, tongue dragging away from your core and swirling around your tight ring of muscles. You gasped, body rigid and cunt throbbing as she lapped at your ass, loosening you with her touch. Her fingers playing with your aching bud, edging you closer and closer.

“That’s it, sunshine. Let go, you're almost...” she teased just as her index finger pushed into your ass, the blissful burn tipping you over the edge. “There.” Just like that, you melted away. The coil in your belly exploding, body convulsing as she fucked into your ass, mouth drinking up every drop of your orgasm.

You stayed like that, halfway between alive and too blissed out to make sense of how many times Natasha had pulled an orgasm from your core. Minutes, maybe hours passed until you were both a sweaty mess of come and ecstasy on the kitchen floor.

Natasha was the first to make a sound, a tired chuckled fumbling from her swollen lips, “Damn, sunshine.”

“That was so-”

“Real.” She breathed, your gaze meeting her as she smiled warmly.

“Yeah,” You beamed, eyes tired as you nuzzled against her side, “That was real.”

And just like that, you knew you would never have to go through life faking it ever again.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #natasha x you #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha smut

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evilzoldyck · 4 years

Text

Fiancée II

part I

The floral scent hanging in the humid air had become particularly nauseating, the mixed flower petals that complemented the oils poured into the bathwater had all sank before you while the water itself had turned lukewarm.

Looking down at your fingers, you noticed that your fingertips had pruned horrendously. Normally you wouldn’t take much of your time disengaging with reality but recently, there was something in your mind you couldn’t quite comprehend. Just a few hours ago you were subjected to your mother-in-law’s favourite pastime which was holding a tea ceremony by the garden. Except it had a special twist, for every crucial detail that you missed, a melting hot iron would be pressed against the palm of your hands.

You didn’t miss the slight turn on the corner of her lips, her hidden smile behind the paper fan every time the torched metal would melt onto your skin, reminding you that will never be worthy enough to be accepted by her. And for every time your skin healed, your scars disappeared, your blood stopped seeping from your skin, she will be the one to make sure to replace them. Asserting her position and making sure you knew who the true matriarch of the family is.

Living with in-laws was a truly dreadful ordeal.

However when a butler with hard lines etched onto his face interrupted the unfortunate event, his sunken eyes that held the deepest sympathies only gazed at yours. He came forward with an ill-bearing news of your mother’s recent passing.

You knew this day would come, but you hadn’t anticipated it to come so soon. Though you had the resources to finance her health with the best doctor money can buy, you knew there was nothing you could offer death for an ailment so monstrous. The more times that you visited her in the hospital, the more and more different she looked.

You almost didn’t recognise her. She looked like a corpse, barely breathing through her tube encasing her mouth, her hair you used to comb religiously every night was mostly gone. You knew that she was barely alive.

The only times that you were allowed to visit her was once every full moon as the rest of your days were filled with torturous training all for the sake of building your strength. You were barely considered family to them and so your own Mother visiting you at the Zoldyck estate was unimaginable. Sometimes in the darkest hour of the night you could almost hear her hoarse whispers, blindly pleading repeatedly to the nurses for you, why her daughter was nowhere to be found.

She fought for your next visit, begging at death’s door to see you one last time but alas, death was cruelly fair and her time was rightfully due. And so the feeling when you completely missed her burial, when you were refused a visit to her grave to pay your respects, when you were forbidden to grieve for it was a sign of weakness. The feeling of such accumulated events…

What was it you were supposed to feel?

You knew your heart nor mind could never be so numb, you weren’t anything like the Zoldycks at all, so detached to even a sliver of morality and compassion. So then why didn’t the news of her death send you to your knees? Why couldn’t you feel anything? Could it be a temporary shock- perhaps that’s why your cheeks were dry.

Just when you were lost in your thoughts with a tight frown pursed upon your lips, your personal handmaiden politely intruded herself inside the bathroom, announcing the arrival of master Illumi from his recent mission abroad. You lifted your head from your trance as her soft voice ricocheted off the black marbled walls, a gentle reminder to you of exactly where you were before your mind took you someplace else.

Upon seeing her, she was diligently prepped with her arms open wide, holding your robe before you.

The strange family had rightfully encroached all rights that you previously held, your freedom, your dignity, pride, and even your last name; privacy was the least of your concern. Rising from the cold waters, you allowed her to tie the warm fabric around you. She was always so meticulous and gentle, as if the slightest movement of her gestures or the flicker of her gaze could potentially be taken as an affront.

There were ample times that you searched for at least some kind of warmth in this forlorn and dreary estate, some kind of companion to show a little humanity and compassion with. You should’ve known that pursuing friendship on this mountain was pointless. The myriad of maids and butlers that they have at their disposable offered no comfort to your despair as they were always sickeningly polite but never friendly, leaving a gaping hole in your chest to fend this loneliness for yourself.

At the threshold of the gargantuan door, Illumi stood impassively while one of the butlers of the estate came to lighten his load. He had come back rather early from his departure, the extensive tasks assigned to him was nothing he hadn’t done before and yet with so many undertakings he was obligated to finish he had forgone rest when it was deemed necessary, opting to continue on to the next job effective immediately. Perhaps it was his habit of having a tireless and dedicated focus during a mission or maybe it was just his overzealousness to see you again.

“Welcome back, master Illumi. I trust that you found our services to be adequate on your journey back.” Gotoh pleasantly bade a congenial welcome as he gracefully placed his right hand across his chest and bowed his head slightly before the eldest of Zoldyck’s son.

He simply hummed in reply not sparing another glance at the man for Illumi’s vacant stare was occupied, searching the premises based on his peripheral vision for any sign of you awaiting him without fail like you do every time he arrived back from his assignments. “And my wife?” he curtly inquired after seeing no sign of you.

Descending from the stairs, you face your personal demon with a pathetic palpitating heart. The robe that you adorned did little to cover the coldness of his gaze for the room froze every time he was near. Nevertheless a stretch of a satisfying smile formed across his lips as you made your way towards his arms.

Embracing him always felt like the first time, your shoulders tensed every time his elongated thin fingers squeezed your sides as he enveloped you in a mockingly sweet embrace. If it bothered him, Illumi never spoke of it. The locks of his midnight hair brushed against your face as you placed a quivering kiss upon his cheek, uttering a small greeting for him.

Just like clockwork he began to led you away from the foyer and into your shared quarters with his lithe hand burrowing itself into your waist.

Though it felt like years had passed once your fate was intertwined with his, you could never get used to his presence. This saccharine coated reality could never delude you to construe this as something more meaningful than a means of escape from your financial poverty and his obligation on fulfilling his filial piety. The carefully rehearsed charade always played out the same where in the end of the night you would find yourself in a familiar predicament.

Inside the cimmerian chamber dim flickering candle lights illuminated the tenebrous darkness around you. The satin beneath your naked skin easily shifted as Illumi handled you attentively from above. As he moved to discard of his clothes your eyes absentmindedly wandered to the same spot on the ceiling that you’ve gazed upon countless of times. However once you heard the gentle rustle of his garments join yours into the floor, your attempt to seperate your mind from your body ended in vain.

Illumi hovered above you leaving a scant space between your lips. You wished you knew why he searched for your eyes every time he began to kiss you, taking a pensive moment for you to finally look at him, to be the centre of your attention. You didn’t know why he bothered taking his time with you for every night you spent with him you had only demonstrated compliance and obedience. Prolonging such affair was only counterproductive.

You felt him dragging his nails softly into your skin as he brought his hands up slowly from your thighs to your neck, grasping the rhythmically beating point and finally placing a soft kiss.

Closing your eyes you unconsciously balled the sheets beneath you with your fists. The kiss was timid and placid on your lips as his hair fell and entangle with the pool of your own. Illumi finally released after a few languishing moments and began to trace wistful kisses along your neck.

You knew better as to why an apathetic assassin that left a trail of crimson behind him for equity would give you the time of day to leave obsequious pecks.

Illumi was a man of pure objectivity, each action he took had an ulterior motive behind it for no lift of his finger went by without it having some kind of incentive for him in the end. And so his adoring kisses and unctuous attention did little to move your amoral perception of him.

He only indulged in such idle debauchary for he believed it was what you enjoyed, hence allowing the intercourse to go smoothly and successfully with the benefit of your arousal. Illumi was especially persistent in his countless endeavours in carrying out his bloodline with you. The details surrounding the child were kept quite vague and undisclosed, the only emphasis now was centred around the health and condition of your mental and physical state.

Perhaps that’s why Illumi always handled you selflessly, as if he missed you terribly every time he went away for his delegated tasks. His efforts to please you easily began to grow more apparent, especially under an auspicious moon.

Suddenly his hand encapsulated your small shivering ones, making your breath hitch just slightly as he rose up to meet you once more. “You’re still shaking, what’s the matter?”

Were you? You hadn’t noticed the state of your body for your mind was running wild with endless thoughts. Sensing the tension in the air you quickly placated his growing trepidation with a weak smile. “Forgive me, tonight is just particularly cold today, perhaps I’ve left the window open again.” Avoiding his ruminating gaze Illumi released a ghost of a sigh before nodding, indicating that he took your word for it despite you knowing deep down that he did not.

“Shall we go by the fireplace?” He suggested innocuously.

You, however, couldn’t prevent the heat from rising up to your face as you couldn’t even begin to fathom engaging in such activity beside a roaring fire. Not only that but you would be rid of the protective barrier of your sheets and most of all, the wavering waves of red would cast a glow onto his face, forcing you to glance up upon him and seeing more of what you’re already comfortable with.

A prude is the word most women back in your town would describe you as, however you would staunchly argue to such claims when the eyes of death has its attention solely on you.

“No,” you gripped onto his hands. “Here is just fine.”

Illumi gathered you into his arms, pulling you upwards along with him as he pressed more kisses against your lips and slowly trailed them down to your chest. You hesitantly wrapped your hands around his shoulders, careful not to tip the centre of balance he had on you as you nearly straddled his lap.

“Very well,” he murmured before flipping you back on the bed and making you land onto your front swiftly. “Then I shall hold you instead.”

Encapsulating you wholly with your back pressed against his chest, he held onto your chest tightly against him with one arm as the other gripped your hips firmly, raising it up to meet his. His head burrowed itself into the crook of your neck to leave more discoloured marks, and just in time as you felt the stretch commence.

You were nowa Zoldyck, as you often reminded yourself, nothing could contain you not even pain, not even death, not even love.

Roughly a year had passed and the same moonlight shined through the darkness upon the mountain peak once again. The Zoldyck estate was in turmoil. Nurses ran frantically from across the halls carrying fresh pristine white towels only to have them drenched in blood in the next second.

You knew what you signed up for the moment you stood before theTesting Gate, it was just simply your time to fulfil your end of the bargain.

The journey of your pregnancy was a stark contrast to the treatment you had been subjected to in your time here. Instead of poison laced meals to the verge of hospitalisation and endless hours of enhancing your strength endurance, you were finally given some form of a break.

Those little mercies such as extra hours of sleep, the vitamins and protein back in your system and the permission to acquire rest when you needed it were like heaven to you.

Your health along with your baby’s progress was greatly monitored, not a day goes by that your daily intensive checkup went by carelessly.

Everyday you gazed down in front of the mirror and saw yourself grow progressively. The size of your belly began to expand with each passing time that came closer to the due date. Though despite the baby being attached to your very self you couldn’t feel a sense of attachment to it, the very kind your mother had for you.

And so when you first heard him cry from your extraneous labour, you were stricken by a sudden powerful force. Months of him stirring inside you and it took you this long to realise the being inside you was alive.

The obstetrician and the nurses all cheered and cooed at the successful delivery of your newborn baby, making excessive notes of how handsome he was. Their faces damped with their efforts to ensure the health of the mother and the baby was maintained paid off for the delivery was a success.

The burden finally left their shoulders as one should feel when it was a Zoldyck’s turn to employ and entrust an imperative job such as this.

Once the umbilical cord was cut, you were able look upon his face. Blood stained your hands and cheek as you held him close to your chest, his tiny hand already reaching out for your face, finally tempering his cries into charming babbling nonsense when he sensed that you were near. Everything about him reminded you of Illumi, his midnight hair that was twisted in tiny wisps, his complexion, his small but sharp features upon his face.

But those eyes, they were yours.

The warmth of such gaze possessed you to crumble down before your son for it wasn’t until his arrival that your humanity was finally restored. Emotions flooded your senses to the point that you thought you couldn’t feel anything else but harrowing pain and guilt. Your separation from your only family, society, your own mother’s death, the excruciating pain that was inflicted upon you- you’ve felt it all.

The mental fortitudes that you’ve built up over the accumulating years all came crashing down when you looked upon a face so innocent and pure. Something that was truly incapable of harnessing any bloodshed as per the family designed of his future.

And after all this time you were carrying him like a pig to slaughter. Partaking in this corrupt pseudo-experiment to create the cold and hard perfect monster, subservient to the wills and orders of the family.

Just like his father.

Suddenly, one of the nurses took him away from your embrace consequently making you panic at the thought of your son being alone without you. The feeling that compelled you to care for another was one that felt so familiar and yet so foreign, plucking an untouched chord in your heartstring that you’ve forgotten a long time ago.

All your life you were living for someone else; when you lost your mother you were at a loss for your purpose was amiss, living as an empty hollow shell of a human being. Now that the birth of your child had come, an epiphany struck you like a blinding flash of lightening.

He was your new profound purpose.

“Where are you taking him?” You gasped out, already reaching out towards the nurse who held him around a blanket. She briefly replied that she would be taking his measurements but her words of comfort fell on deaf ears for it did nothing to placate the fact that you were separated from your baby.

“No, no- please! Give him back to me!” Now you were crawling across the maroon soaked sheets, wincing at the fact that you were still bleeding but still keeping a staunch arm out in front of you.

Your frantic actions forced the nurses nearby to restrain you, holding you back onto the bed while urging advices to calm down. However their grip upon you nearly fell for you could see nothing but red in your eyes, there was no amount of force in this world that could withhold you from being without him. Your beseeches and tenacious struggle quickly came to a halt when you felt a sudden jolt of pain from your side.

Looking down with your tear stricken face you saw that you were haphazardly injected with a strange transparent liquid to sedate you. Usually you could easily persevere over simple liquid anaesthetics that could even wipe out an entire five adult men but this dose was a new thing entirely, you’ve never been exposed to such a heavy medication that edged on it being lethal before.

However you knew that the fate of your son would be compromised if you stayed, if you didn’t fought for him.

Consequently, the only necessary action you needed to take was to escape. Gathering your bearings from the Jenny that you’ve rightfully championed two summers ago, you’ve decided that the amount would guarantee him and you a stable future.

That is why after two moons have passed when you’ve conjured enough strength to gather yourself from your deep sleep, right before Illumi was scheduled to come back to witness the scion of the house of Zoldyck, that you would take off when the moon was at its peak.

There was no leaving it up to chance for there was no telling when you would see you son again. There was much conviction in your assumption that Illumi would haste his training program to become an elite assassin, just as the family intended from the start.

The Zoldycks were unrivalled in their system of securing their property. A fortress that the brave or the foolish dared to try to penetrate, though their attempts would always end up in vain; along with bruises and a few broken bones if they were smart enough to retreat soon. However, they weren’t quite as adept at keeping someone in than they were at keeping everyone out.

Glancing back the faint sight of the distant mountain on the horizon, you slowed your pace as you decided you’ve made satisfactory progress in distance. Looking around perilously and tuning your ears to the sound of even the faintest landing of the leaves in the autumn breeze, you relievedly deduced that you weren’t followed- well at least not yet.

Releasing small huffs from your over exertion of energy, you gazed down fondly at the sight of your son bundled up in a large cloth in which you tied tightly onto your back. You relievedly let out a soft smile when you found out he was still sleeping soundly, gripping onto some of your loose hairs unconsciously. Setting him down inside a hollow tree you figured you could take a few minutes to decipher where True North lied.

However, a sudden change in the atmosphere made your blood freeze. Staring out into the darkness, you fixed your sights in the direction of the energy with your fists clenched in anticipation.

You felt him before you even saw him. Your heart dropped when you sensed whose aura emitted belonged to.

Illumi came out of darkness with an air of calmness surrounding him. This sense of composure completely shifted yours, you knew he could easily overpower you for his nen abilities reigned supreme over yours, nonetheless you couldn’t allow a fight for freedom to go unchallenged, not when you were so close to the finish line.

His ambiguity costed you valuable time to quickly devise a plan. Should you fight or should you flee? There was no telling he would kill you and steal your son away if you opposed him and yet given his nature, Illumi was quite capable of putting up a façade to front his murderous intent.

When he came too close for comfort, you realised you could never outrun him with this distance, thus you had to strike before he could. Unsheathing a small dagger that you carried just in case you ran into some trouble, you cursed at yourself for carrying a short range weapon.

Nevertheless you missed his shoulder by just the width of a hair. Illumi’s speed, though something to be marvelled at, was the only aspect that you worried most about.

As if in slow motion you fell forwards and from the corner of your eyes, you saw him shift easily from your reach. Illumi began to extend his arm out to impede your efforts, however you caught sight of his advances and immediate retreated back.

He blinked in mild surprise before exhaling a jaded sigh. “Fighting me is futile, you know very well that you cannot defy me in battle.” He stated matter-of-factly. “This victory brings me no satisfaction.”

“Bring the child forth and end this foolishness now.”

“You monster,” you spat out the words like venom. “You’ll kill him.”

Lashing out in anger you attempted another strike but narrowly missed again. Gritting your teeth in frustration you were so blinded by hatred that you failed to notice his hand reaching from your blind spot to restrain your dagger.

Wrapping his long lithe fingers around your wrist Illumi gave a warning squeeze, enough to make a grown man fall to his knees. When you refused to yield, he gripped it into a blood cutting bind until you heard your bones shift and crack. You gasped out once your hold slackened as the dagger fell into the soft green grass below.

“No, I’ll make him stronger.” Illumi confidently promised. He just broke your wrist but oddly still, you couldn’t sense any intention of harm from him as you presumed.

Your body went rigid when he uttered your name softly, pulling your weight into him almost comfortingly. “We’re still a family,” he spoke so lowly you thought you heard a sense of betrayal and hurt from his words. “I know it’s hard, but we only have each other.”

This imitation of kindness pulled you back into reality before you could cry into his chest and take you back to the mountain. Jerking from his touch disgustedly you began to prepare to lunge at him despite your broken hand.

“You know very well that I will pursue you even to the ends of the earth.”

You lurch out in a punch at his direction but Illumi hastily blocked your attacks. Dodging your strikes he only ever defends, hardly even trying to challenge you. An approach that was more pacifist as opposed to practical.

“I’ll stop at nothing to bring you both home, there is nothing you can protect him from. The boy will watch many deaths before him. He will know the true meaning of threats and violence, they will fall under mine. He will never know peace.”

You almost cried when you heard him spoke of your son’s future in a manner that was so casually cruel. Forcing yourself to block his torturous lies and vitriolic taunts, you eyed for your weapon inconspicuously.

Catching a glint from the blade of the dagger in the tall grass, you reached out to briskly seize it. Before you could even get close, Illumi kicked it swiftly to the point where it was no longer visible to you. Looking up at him with a gaze gaunt with pain and humiliation as he said your name once more.

“Listen to reason.”

In a fit of rage you blindly fought him with your moves only consisting of attacks and albeit not very coordinated for you could barely even see your hands in front of you. You could sense that Illumi willingly took some of your punches as he winced a little when one of your attacks coincidentally targeted his weak points.

You hadn’t realised you were crying until he balanced you upright just as when you stumbled forwards due to your eyes stinging with blurry vision. Why had you expressed yourself at your weakest point in the midst of a fight? Were you really this weak? After such gruelling years of training did they amount to nothing when you couldn’t even compare to the man you willed yourself away to?

You already lost before you even began.

Locking a grip around his neck you managed to successfully pinned him to the ground floor. His eyes blankly looked up at your dishevelled state raw with pure emotions in contrast to his cool and composed self. It took you this long to register that he wasn’t fighting for your submission but for your sake.

Illumi easily reverted to being the dominant position when he was about to receive a lethal strike from you. Pining both of your hands to the ground as he restrained your legs with his knees.

Illumi studied your trembling form underneath him, appearing like a feral cat caught in a cage, ready to lash out from any sudden actions even one out of kindness.

“What can I do to get you to stay?” He persuaded exasperatedly, as if he was tired of you looking at him like he’s the enemy. Meanwhile, you glared at the ludicrous question.

“I want a normal life for him. I want him to see the world, I want him to go to school, to make friends.” Your throat tightened when you brought him up. Proposing your wishes in vain knowing truly he could never fulfil what you desired. “You’ll have to kill me first before you could ever get to him.”

“An unnecessary sacrifice.” He quickly corrected, as if such a thought had never crossed his mind.”How could I endanger the one I love most?”

Your face twisted in detest at his hypocrisy. “What do you know about love?”

Illumi merely blinked at your question, in which the answer was one that he thought was already apparent

“I love you.”

And yet a thousand needles could never the change the way you feel for him. You only saw darkness within Illumi, death was the only thing drilled into his mind for his purpose was designed only for murder.

But then why couldn’t you see any deception in his eyes? Why did he possess such sincerity when he declared his feelings for you. In the midst of constant exposure to inhumanity was it truly possible for hope and love to endure for Illumi?

At the cold realm on top of the mountain you have gazed at numerous celestial wonders of the universe, but none could compare to what you saw in his gaze. You recognised the fragments of humanity inside him and it was far more powerful than anything that you had ever witnessed before.

To have seen compassion for another being in a state of infinite chaos, Illumi was truly a wonder.

“We can have that, you know,” Illumi gently said. “A house for our own far away from here, school, friends, whatever you want.”

“But... not for him?” Your breath stopped when he nodded slowly, sympathising your disappointment at your speculation.

“His siblings may lead the normal life you intended for them, but it’s critical that the eldest Zoldyck carry on the family’s name and status.”

Like an echo through history, you really can’t stop the Zoldycks’ legacy. Nevertheless, the question still rang in your head alarmingly.

Could you do it?

Doom your firstborn to save the others?

After what you’ve been through was it the only logical choice?

“You can’t hurt him.”

Alas, the only natural rational course of action was to naturally comply. Illumi graced a genuine smile as he closed the distance between you and sealed the deal with a chaste kiss.

“Never.”

#pls dont ask me for a cont. 😭#illumi x reader #yandere illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck #yandere x reader #reader insert #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #tw:violence #tw:yandere #tw:dubcon #tw:torture #childbirth

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siriusmydeer · 4 years

Text

valentine’s day tease

george weasley x fem!reader

summary: you and george celebrate valentine’s day together.

word count: 2.7k

warning: full on penetration, unprotected sex (PRACTICE SAFE AND PROTECTED SEX), fem receiving oral, spanking, size kink, creampie, manhandling, daddy kink, mentions of eating, dom!george & sub!reader, mentions of subspace, fingering, breeding kink, edging, size kink, orgasam denial, mentions of punishment, praise kink, like 2 maybe degrations?

all. damn. day.

you had been teasing george fabian weasley. you had him up on his toes every breathing moment of the day.

you looked at the clock magically hanging in the great hall, 7:07pm- it read.

sitting beside your boyfriend and all of your friends he tried, and pathetically failed, to cover his rock hard cock through his dress pants.

you hand rested right above his knee, while his other knee profusely bounced in anticipation. you fingers made small little patterns upon the dress uniform he was wearing, you moved your hand up less than an inch for a reaction.

you almost saw him flinch at the move of contact, you must’ve made him sensitive from the touches in potions, the make-out sessions in the broom closet at lunch and the neck kisses and teases between classes.

any other day you would’ve almost been scared at what he would’ve done with the amount of teasing you’ve given him all day. alas a punishment was duly in order but it was valentine’s day, and all you wanted was to rile george up so you could have him all night long.

but then again, you liked when he punished you.

i mean you were a brat after all, even though you would only admit it if he made you.

“darling.” his voice was hoarse, and full of lust; just how you liked it. “yes, m’dear?” you looked to your left to see him, maybe a few inches from your face. you had a false-pout on your face while batting your eyelashes trying to fake innocence to the fact that once you got to his dorm your clothes would’ve been sprawled on the floor and you would’ve been bent over his knee.

george being george, he had bribed all his dorm mates with free butter beer for a month and a few galleons each. they blissfully accepted his money along with a few teasing comments and eyes flicking between the both of you all day.

george knew he had eyes on him, and someone catching wind of him attempting to cover the fact that he could cum in the middle of the great hall even with the mere touch of your hand would not have been the best thing in the world.

fred and ginny would absolutely never let him live that down, and surely rob and harry would tease him as-well. surely he didn’t want the embarrassment of it all for the remainder of his time at hogwarts.

“‘m feeling a bit full, i was thinking of going to the dorm... you?” he whispered in your ear, kissing below it. you narrowed your eyes playfully before answering, wanting to drag the teasing as long as possible.

“hmm, suppose ‘m finished.”

he smiled in your direction, smiled? no he has the biggest shit eating grin on his face knowing that he was absolutely going to ruin you in the next ten minutes.

instead of normally waiting for you to grab your things and grabbing your hand, whisking you away to his dorm; his hands trembled while collecting your things, slinging your bag over his free arm. his bag previously discarded in his dorm after quidditch practice had finished for the day.

he took ahold of your waist and bid a goodbye to fred and his friends, while you waved at angelina, katie and alicia; they all shared knowing smirks and looks while you flushed and looked in george’s direction.

“freddie, lee i hope you have an excellent sleep on the couches tonight. my regards.” he smirked at them then walked you out of the great hall.

“foul git.” fred and lee both muttered under their breaths then returned to their dinner.

“you’ve been teasing all day darling, that’s not very nice of you.” george whispered to you, following a pout and faking innocence like you had done previously.

“well i wanted to see if you could bring your a game tonight georgie, it is valentine’s day after all.” you teased and smirked playing the back and forth game with him, knowing he wouldn’t last long.

“oh love, now that’s just mean. are you telling me i wasn’t bringing my ‘a game’ when you were begging-“

you quickly came to a halt shoving your small hand over his mouth, he looked at your flushed face and smirked before walking again to the common room.

he said the password to the gryffindor portrait and came to a stop in the middle of the common room. you turned to your side to look at him, a confused look washes over your face and an eyebrow arched.

almost a way of telepathically asking him ‘why’d you stop?’

before you can psychically form the words to ask the question, he bent down slightly and in a fast swoop you were placed on his shoulder and a slight smack to your bum.

‘oh this was just the beginning’ you thought, as he marched up the stairs to his dormitory.

he basically manhandles you when throwing you on the bed, casting several muffling and locking charms. because he knew fred and lee would get curious later on.

he quickly takes a hold of your throat, not squeezing yet just holding you in place. too let you know who was in charge of what was happening tonight.

“pretty girl, you’ve been mean all day. that deserves a spanking, doesn’t it pet?”

he was already starting to put you in a submissive head space, and it was working. the praise mixed with slight degration of him treating you as his pet made your knees wobble as your stood up to place your torso over his lap and a light wiggle of your bum in the air.

“eager, are we?” he mocked, as he started to knead the flesh of your ass in between his lanky ring-clad fingers. he placed a kiss to where the flesh started to change a lighter hue to your regular skin tone.

“how about... ten swats, sound fair?” he faked a pause in the middle, pretending to think but his punishment plan had begun the second you kissed his neck right before transfiguration.

“mhm, yes georgie.” you agreed, knowing he would add a few more for not calling him something filthy.

“pet, thats not my name; is it?”

“no daddy, m’sorry.” you whined, looking at him with an innocent look displayed on your features.

“15, for breaking your rules. yeah pet?”

“yes, daddy.”

he landed the first smack on the right cheek, you whined a bit before he continued.

by number eight you were withering and squirming in his lap begging him to stop this pleasureful torture. he placed a kiss to your reddened cheeks while tears threatened to escape your waterline.

“poor baby, already about to cry?” he showed fake sympathy before continuing, “too bad.” he finished and landed another smack on your bum.

you squirmed and whined in his lap, he finished his last few smacks and kissed your reddened cheeks from the previous spanking you had just received.

“darling girl, you did so well for me yeah?” he said, you nodded as he kneaded you between his hands again.

“up, up pet.” he motioned you up, your legs straddling his lap, over his muscular thighs.

“mhm daddy, jus’ wanna feel you.” you whined, your vision already becoming blurry. his hand slid from the top of your knee to the middle of your black lace panties.

he started in circular motions through the cloth, feeling the wetness spread over your lace. “you’re already sopping wet darling, barely even touched you.” he said he said mockingly into your ear, and moving your panties to the side so he could start circular motions at your clit.

you gasp at the sudden contact, this wasn’t the first time that george had touched you. but every time his magical fingers made their way to you, it felt thrilling.

he kept a steady circular motion on your cunt as middle and ring finger teased your entrance, you whined as he continued to barely dip his fingers inside you.

he slowly maneuvered his fingers into you, letting you clench around him a few times before moving and keeping a teasingly slow pace.

“princess, are you close?” he talked to you like you were so much smaller than him, like he owned you; but that had only made you wetter.

you nodded, a slow moan pulling from your throat. he pulled his hand away abruptly, a pout on your face, tears emerging from you waterline again.

“but daddy, i’ve been a good girl.” you whimpered, legs rubbing against each other friction.

“have you? because today you’ve been a bad girl.” he mocked, separating your legs.

he paused for a few seconds before speaking again.

“have you learned your lesson?” he asked, head tilting and eyebrow raising.

you nodded feverishly, placed both your hands on his shoulders pecking his neck.

“take off your clothes, now.” he demanded, without any hesitation you got up from his lap legs still wobbly and quickly stripping off your tie, unbuttoning your blouse and quickly taking off your (h/c) skirt along with your stockings leaving you in just your undergarments.

he grabbed your hand and you tumbled towards him, he pushed your small body underneath his lanky one as he hovered over you.

he kissed and caressed down your body and his mouth was in direct view of the black lace set you were wearing. you whined as you felt his breath on your clit, he looked at your squirming body and slight shaking legs from the denied orgasam previously and stripped off your underwear throwing them across the floor.

he kissed and sucked your inner thighs leaving little marks, almost to claim his territory. his mouth finally came in contact with your wet folds, his tongue going in circular motions.

you let out a hoarse moan from your throat as he continued to lick and suck. you legs started to shake again, you couldn’t even think clearly as he had one hand pushing down on your abdomen and the other holding your legs over his shoulders.

your ankles locking over his head, his favourite position. he could devour you for hours upon hours, he could never get enough of your taste and the way you whined in overstimulation.

he could tell you were close again by more of the moans releasing from your lips and your breathing more ragged and getting heavier.

you had promised george that you were going to good for him, so he thought you deserved a reward; even though he had been put through mind torture all day, he couldn’t help but get even harder at you whimpering, whining and moaning at his touch.

he rode through your orgasam, as a splash of euphoria had washed over your entire body. you were seeing stars in the air as your attempted to catch your breath, he kissed back up your torso all the way to your neck.

he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, as well as loosing his belt, tie and slacks slide down his tense legs in the process.

you brought your head the slightest bit forward catching his lips with yours and you leaned your head back, bringing his along with it, both your hands interlocking behind his head and bringing him to rest in between your legs. one of his large hands held your waist meanwhile the other rested beside your head so he could keep himself up and not crush your body.

while your tongues danced in passion, he ran his hand behind your back. you arched your back so he could unclip your bra and toss it across the room right beside your panties.

his lips pulled away as he went to kiss your breasts, leaving little purple and red hues across your chest. one hand at your waist and the other squeezing your left breast pulling little whimpers from your throat.

the hand that held your breast made its way between your legs to feel the overstimulation begin, his two fingers teased your clit again in slow figure eight motions.

you cried out, “no more daddy, wanna feel you..” attempting to look into his brown lustful irises.

“please.” you begged slightly, even though you were well on your way to subspace a tiny bit of pride ran through your veins.

“i wanna help you too.” your hand slithered to his boxers, running your hand up and down. you palmed his erected cock, feeling a wet patch of precum erupting from his dick.

you could’ve gotten on your knees for him right there, but in the back of your head you knew he wouldn’t have let you because he wanted to tonight to be about your pleasure.

he grabbed your wrist pinning it above your head. he finally had pulled off his boxers, his tip was angry and red leaking with precum almost begging for a release.

“wanna feel you inside me, please.” you begged breathily. he adored when you begged for him, you knew it made his ego feel good but you needed the contact between you both or you might’ve exploded.

he slid into you, a small hiss leaving your lips. you always had to adjust to his large size when having sex, he always waited for your go ahead because no matter if it was rough, soft or passionate he would never want to hurt you.

“mhm, move please.” you braced your free hand across the sides of his torso. one forearm leant against your head and the other interlocking your fingers together beside your hand. he began a slow but 𝙤𝙝 𝙨𝙤 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥 pace.

his big calloused hand, from years of being a quidditch beater and your small, and smooth hand interlocked with his. both of you let out moans and grunts almost in sync with each other.

the candles around the room had almost went unnoticed, and the fireplace (let’s pretend the dorm has one) erupting in beautiful pink and red flames. as rough or as dirty as george was he wanted to make you feel special and loved. you brought your legs into an ankle lock on his lower muscular back feeling his muscles contracting. at the feeling you arched your back while he kept a steady pace.

tomorrow for quidditch practice he knew his team mates would’ve teased him, but knowing your pleasure was at his complete disposal was the only thing that mattered to him.

the hand with a hard grip on your waist came to hold your throat and squeeze the sides, your eyes rolling back to your head in pleasure.

“pretty little baby, i want you to come for me. let go for me, love.”

you let out a moan and a barely acknowledgeable nod in response.

your legs were faltering, shaking, and he knew you were close to your second orgasam of the night. his pace was faster but still close enough to his your cervix and your g-spot with ease.

he was close too, but it felt wrong almost disgusting if he had came before you.

he brought down his thumb rubbing it against your cunt to bring you over the edge, right back into the wash of euphoria you were in before. his hot seed shot into you, he let out a grunt while riding out both of your highs together.

he pulled out and made his way down your legs while panting and breaking a low sweat, looking at his cum seeping out of you. he took a mental picture of you, one of your most glorious and relaxed looks.

hair disheveled, face hot and flushed, legs shaking in pleasure. something so stunning, so beautiful and so incredibly 𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙮. all because of him.

“my little cumdump, yeah? gonna fill you with my babies?”

“y-yes, daddy.” your voice faltered.

he crawled back up your torso, leaving little kisses as he got closer to your lips.

he kissed your plump and red lips again, before asking you.

“round two in the shower?”

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader] SMUT

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 8: The Truth ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2200>

Warnings: more angst and feelings! 18+ SMUT; unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), f receiving oral, fingering… very soft sex andddd a praise kink because it’s Din’s first time giving oral :’)

AN: Please reblog to spread this around! It’s not showing up in tags! i think i’m still semi-shadow banned:(

Series Masterlist

Din didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t understand. Not the Manda’lor? How could that be possible? If you weren’t the Manda’lor, then... who were you? As if you were reading his thoughts, you closed your eyes and turned around so you were facing the brick wall behind you, and tried your very best to explain the truth. You had to at least make an attempt. You ignored the choked nervous knot in your throat. You couldn’t bear to look at him.

How could you ever even begin to explain this to him. You’d never spoken about what happened back on Mandalore to anyone. You’d kept it to yourself all this time. It was so painful. But you had to try.

“My mother was Duchess Satine Kryze, and I am, by technicality, the Princess of Mandalore. I always will be. When my mother died, fifteen years ago, I became heir to the throne. I became the Manda’lor, and... everything was fine. I had everything under control, and, dare I say, I was a good leader. Until one night, there was a planned attack by the Imperials on my city and they slaughtered everyone. They raided homes and killed children…” a single tear slipped down your cheek. “Moff Gideon came to see me. He wanted… the darksaber. So he had his troopers raid the palace and they found it. And once he wielded it, he became the rightful ruler of Mandalore. And, I still don’t have it back… I’ve-- I’ve never felt so helpless. And responsible for the murder of my people.”

You were crushed. You thought by admitting all of this, it would take the giant burden you’d been holding this entire time off your shoulders, but it didn’t. It only made you dread all the built up pain and anguish you had in your heart… for letting this happen and for lying to Din. You really had failed everyone around you, but most importantly, you’d failed yourself.

Bringing your hand to your wedding ring, you twiddled it around your finger and took a shaky exhale. “Din, I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. I can leave, and you’ll never see me again. I promise you that much. But I will get the darksaber back and I will be the rightful ruler of Mandalore. These were my people he killed. He stole it from me. And I won’t let the Imperial’s take anymore than they already have. Not without a fight.”

Compiling all the remaining bravery left in you, you turned back around to face Din and opened your eyes.

And your heart stopped.

His eyes were big and brown and sad. He had short, shaggy brown hair and a light stubble which grazed his jaw. His pink lips were parted slightly as he looked at you with his own eyes. No visor modifying his vision of you. This was raw, and completely him. He’d taken off his helmet.

You tried to ask him why, but no words came out.

“So that’s why the Imperials were chasing after you?” His jaw ticked but Maker, his voice without the helmet was as soft as silk. Rich and velvety.

He was handsome too. More handsome than you could’ve ever even imagined. In a rugged way, not in your typical Prince of Mandalore way. But you liked it a lot.

“Yes,” you swallowed thickly. “Moff Gideon imprisoned me in the palace and he never wanted me to leave. He made me promise to never tell anyone that he had the darksaber, because no doubt, any Mandalorian who found out the truth would venture after him to try and reclaim it for themselves. I was forced to live this lie. But I had to do something. That’s when I sent out the distress signal to coverts around the galaxy. That’s when you came for me, and helped me escape.”

Din tried his hardest to process your words. It… made sense. His gaze fell from your face and he looked down at the ground. He looked so sad and your heart ached. If there was a way you could fix this, you were pretty sure you’d do anything. In that very moment, you didn’t even care about the Mandalorian throne or the darksaber. You just cared about Din.

“Din, I’m so sorry.” you began, preparing to fully beg for his forgiveness, but before you could say anymore, his lips came crashing into yours.

He didn’t have anything to say to you, really. He was just so enamoured by you, that he didn’t care. You could lie to him a million times over and he’d forgive you, because you were just too perfect. You were, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And he loved you.

He should be mad, he knew that much. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate you when all he could think about was just how beautiful your lips were. The entire time you were talking, he was fighting the urge to kiss you. Until finally, he just couldn’t resist anymore.

His mouth was soft and fit perfectly against yours. Your eyes snapped shut and a surprised moan fell from your lips as he took you in his arms and held you. You loved the way it felt… his hands on your body and caressing your skin. Was this… the first time he’d kissed? He was so passionate yet gentle, and Maker, you didn’t want it to end. He was absolutely gorgeous, and such an amazing kisser. When you thought he was going to break away, you raised your hands to his face and cupped his cheeks, swiping your tongue over his lower lip and signalling for him to continue the kiss. He did so, and you opened your mouth, granting him deeper access.

A minute or so later, when the both of you were practically gasping for breath, he pulled off you and rested his forehead against yours. If he was unsure about his feelings before, he knew for certain now.

“We’ll have to leave at dawn,” Din said eventually, huffing and looking into your eyes. His hands were still planted firmly on your hips and he nudged his nose against yours. “There’ll be less Imps around, the earlier we leave.”

You were baffled. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“We’re getting the darksaber back,” he confirmed. “You’re getting the darksaber back. You are the rightful ruler of Mandalore.”

You couldn’t believe it. He still wanted to help you, even after admitting to him that you’d been lying. He no longer had a duty to protect you, and yet he was doing this not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

“Are you sure?” you gasped, completely exasperated. “Are you sure you still want to help me?”

Din nodded his head wordlessly before kissing you again. “We should rest before our escape tomorrow,” Din breathed. “I have a room here.”

“Take me.” you begged, curling your body into his.

Din’s room at the covert was no different to the many other rooms that were habited by other Mandalorians. It was a small boxy room with a bed in the corner. At least it was a real bed though, and not Din’s poor excuse for a bed back on the Crest. He closed the door behind him and turned on the light, although it wasn’t bright whatsoever. It barely illuminated the room in this dull, amber colour, but it was just enough to cast your shadows on the wall.

You gulped, not tearing your eyes from him once. “I think you’re very handsome,” you blurted out, smiling when you noticed a rosy blush cross Din’s cheeks. “And I think it’s a real shame that you have to hide your face. I just know that those brown eyes could charm you out of trouble.”

Din chuckled nervously. “I think you’re very pretty too,” he said. “But you probably hear that a lot.”

You shook your head, the smile never leaving your lips once. “No.”

When Din kissed you, it felt like heaven. As the moment became more and more heated, both of you ended up undressing, and discarding your clothing and his armour into a pile on the floor.

Din carefully laid you down on his bed and hovered over you, planting kisses down your neck, along your collarbones and down your chest. He brought his hand over to your breasts and began with giving them a few experimental squeezes. He brushed his thumb over your hardening nipple and pinched it, earning a moan of pleasure from you.

Not taking his lips from yours, he dropped his hand down your body and to the hem of your panties, dipping his finger under the waistband and feeling just how wet you’d already become. He chuckled to himself, his thick and deft index finger tracing quick and tight circles across your clit. You arched your back into him, a foggy haze crossing your vision as he worked you into a complete state of euphoria.

You chanted his name like it was a prayer, caressing his biceps and holding onto him. After he drew out your first orgasm, he tapped on your thigh. You lifted up your ass so he could pull down your panties and take them off completely. You were an absolute sight to behold, there was no denying that. Your folds were slick with your arousal and Din done everything he could to contain himself. Licking his lips, he knelt down between your legs and began to lap his tongue around your bundle of nerves, even sucking occasionally on your sweet spot.

“Does-- does that feel good?” Din asked, briefly pausing just before you were about to cum again. Your legs were shaking with pleasure and Din just wanted to make sure you were alright. “I’m-- I’ve never done this before.” he confessed.

“Oral?” you asked breathlessly, rolling your head into the pillow.

“Mhm,” he confirmed, nibbling and pressing lovebites into the soft flesh of your thighs. “Never took off my helmet.”

You moaned something incoherent when the curve of his nose rubbed against your clit and you felt the warmth of his breath fan over your core.

“It’s good Din, so good,” you sighed longingly. “You’re doing so good. Please don’t stop.”

So Din kept at it until eventually you were a heaving, quivering mess, and he drove out your second orgasm. When he pulled away from you, a trail of his saliva pulled between your wet cunt and his lips, but he immediately licked himself clean and leaned over your body so he could kiss you again. The way you could taste yourself on his mouth felt so erotic.

You pulled his hard and leaking cock from the confines of his underwear and began to pump at his length. He was hot and heavy, and somehow, he was even better than you had imagined. Even as you stroked him, you yearned for him, and you could feel your cunt clench around nothing as you wished for him to fuck you already.

Din loved how you were a needy, squirming mess beneath him. He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed his engorged tip inside of you, taking a few moments to allow you to adjust to his length. The wet noises as he thrusted into you were lewd and obscenely loud, and if you were with anyone else you might’ve felt embarrassed -- but as Din built up his rhythm and held on to your hips, you couldn’t even think straight enough to feel embarrassed.

“Din,” you cried out, letting your fingers curl in his brown locks of hair. “Oh Din.”

His own hips began to stutter and with a loud gasp, you felt his cock convulse inside of you and a spurt of his creamy hot seed rope your walls.

Din let himself soften inside of you as he caught his breath, eventually rolling off you and laying by your side. He wrapped his arms around you and spooned you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until eventually, you fell asleep in his arms.

“You will reclaim Mandalore,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I promise.”

_________________________________________

Borrowed Time taglist in the replies!

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @xoxo-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal l @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @beskarprincessjenny @readsalot73 @softmedics @jade10077 @dodgerandevans @planetariumx @pascals-cat @ajeff855 @spideysimpossiblegirl @smoldjarin

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal x you

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calif0rnia-lovers · 3 years

Text

#1: the proposal | plan b.

pairing: angel reyes x black!reader | chapter rating: 💙

total # of parts in series: 10

join my gc for updates since tags are acting weird

I keep falling for boys and mistaking them for men

series sum: After several failed relationships, you decide that you’re over waiting for Mr. Right to come around and help start a family. In a drunken ramble, you ask your best friend if he’ll be your donor. You didn’t expect him to say yes. As you and Angel enter uncharted waters, you both realize neither of you fully thought the initial proposal through.

words: 1.8 K

What is it they say…hope breeds eternal misery.

Or, as Angel Reyes likes to say, “I don’t know why you’re wasting time on that asshole.”

Asshole is the nicest term you can dub your boyfriend--correction, your ex-boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend.

It’s strange how quickly two letters--a simple prefix--can change your life.

One minute, you’re joining your boyfriend and his family on a getaway to the beach. The next, you’re being kindly escorted out of a restaurant for tossing a drink in his face.

When you’d left Santo Padre Friday afternoon, you had a single thought in your mind. He’s finally going to propose. The nervous behavior, the talks about moving to a bigger apartment, him inviting you to a weekend getaway with his family.

How else would a rational person explain this behavior?

Well, according to Michael, all of those things do not add up to a proposal. They add up to “softening the blow."

As you sit on the curb waiting for your uber, with Michael's big splurge of the evening in hand--a bottle of Cabernet, you realize his explanation was complete bullshit. How is dragging you to Santa Monica for the weekend "softening the blow?" If he was going to break up with you, he could have done it in Santo Padre.

As you double-check the ETA on your uber, you remember.

Michael didn't drag you to Santa Monica to break up with you. He dragged you to Santa Monica to ask you to "take a break."

Apparently, there's a difference.

As Michael put it, with his birthday fast approaching, he'd had an epiphany. He needed time to "get out there" and "explore" his options.

"We're in our thirties," he'd explained. "We only have a few years left before we're expected to settle down, have kids. I think we should take this time to get everything out of our system, so by the time we come back together, we're ready to start that family you're always talking about."

The nervousness you'd seen the past two weeks? Had nothing to do with hiding a ring, or trying to find the perfect opportunity to pop the question. The nervousness was Michael trying to find the right time to ask you not to renew the lease of the apartment, you share, at the end of the month.

The talk about upgrading to a bigger apartment? Had nothing to do with having an extra room for the kid you've both talked about having. It was so that he could move in with his two best friends.

Michael’s epiphany left you in shock. You were caught between realizing the entire revelation wasn’t a complete joke and realizing you were expected to ride home with his family in the morning. The drink tossing didn’t come until Michael rubbed his hands together, a knowing smile sliding onto his face.

Taking your shocked silence as a lack of protest to his idea, Michael nodded over his shoulder. “You wanna head back up to the room...have some fun our last night together?”

The weight of Samantha--wait. No. Savanna...Sabrina? No, Salena.

The weight of Salena’s body presses Angel into the mattress. Her body is nearly directly on top of his, her face nuzzled into the warmth of his neck.

He’s not used to women sleeping over. Angel has one rule. He wants to sleep alone. Translation, be gone when he wakes in the morning.

That’s why, when he wakes to the sound of a slamming door, Angel is pissed.

His initial thought is that Salena let the door slam on her way out. The only problem is, Salena is still in bed with him--sleeping soundly. If she wasn’t, he would have been up able to react quicker. Because if it’s not Salena leaving, it means that someone is coming in.

“You need to go,” Angel mumbles as he manages to escape her grip.

Salena responds by rolling over and ignoring his request.

When he leaves his bedroom, Angel finds his entire house in darkness. His hand runs down his face as your voice fills the air.

"Ow--shit!" Your keys and purse fall to the floor as you bump into the coffee table.

"Y/N, what are you doing?"

“What are you doing?” You counter the slurring of your speech causing Angel’s head to shake. “...standing in the dark like a fucking creep.”

“Are you drunk?”

Your head shakes. Even if half-asleep, Angel knows you’re not drunk. You’re hammered, at least by your standards. He’s known you long enough to realize you’re a lightweight. A two and a half-hour ride with a bottle of Cabernet meant you were well past your limit.

“And why are you back early--did you drive here?”

“No,” you scoff. “I took an uber obviously--”

A second trip into the coffee table silences the rest of your response.

“Alright, come on--” Angel takes your hand in his, preventing you from falling forward.

“I don’t need your help.” Yanking your hand free of his grip--with more force than necessary--you stumble backward. Between the late hour and his body still attempting to shake off its grogginess, the action is too fast for Angel to predict. “Or any man’s help for that matter...fucking men--always thinking they need to save me--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you--and fucking...fucking Michael--that piece of shit...” Despite your previous attempt to escape him, you turn on your heels causing Angel to bump into you. Instinctively, his hands find your waist. An innocent attempt to help maintain your balance. “--I said I don’t need help walking, Angel--”

“Clearly.” The smirk on his lips narrows your eyes.

The pathetic attempt of a shove you apply to his chest is enough to tip your already unsteady balance.

In his defense, Angel isn’t used to “rescuing” you from a drunk faceplant. Usually, the roles are reversed.

It may not be the smartest move, but it’s the quickest way to prevent another one of your escape attempts. Angel tightens his grip on your waist, pulling a small yelp from your lips as he lifts you off the ground throwing you over his shoulder.

The sudden shift in your posture blurs your vision--sending the room spinning. The rush of blood to your head causes your palm to come down hard in frustration against Angel’s back.

“Put me down…” Angel’s head shakes as your slurred speech trails off for a moment. Seizing the break in your resistance, he carries you across the darkened room towards the security of the sofa. “...what the hell are you doing in my house anyway?”

“This is my house.” Angel huffs as he lowers you onto the sofa. “If you get up, I’m not stopping you. I'm serious, I'll let you bust your ass this time.”

But moving from the sofa has already left your mind. Instead, your focus has drifted. Scanning the living room as Angel disappears. Despite his words, you're still not sure why you've ended up at his house and not yours.

“Here drink this,” Angel sighs as he returns. He hopes the glass of water will miraculously sober you up. Between failing to kick Salena out, and you showing up drunk at 3 in the morning, Angel is considering giving up women. At least for a few hours.

Angel’s steps come to a slow halt as he rounds the sofa to find you gone. Somehow, in the time it took him to fill a glass with water, you have slid down to the floor. Your back against the sofa, you’ve given up the impossible task of unfastening your heels. Instead, you’re tugging at them. Groans of frustration fill the air once the heels remain in place.

The shaky breaths and trembling of your fingers widen Angel’s eyes.

“Shit--are you crying?”

“I’m not crying.” The shaking of your head only seems to push the tears out faster. The blurring of your vision makes the task at hand impossible. “I’m not crying.”

“My bad, you’re not crying,” Angel repeats, hopeful it’ll make the crying stop. Handling a crying woman is not his strongest suit. In fact, he tries to avoid crying women at all costs. He focuses on the easier task of removing your heels. He offers you an encouraging smile once he’s done. “See, you’re all good.”

“No, I’m not.” Reaching forward, you grab the nearest heel, launching it as hard as you can. “Michael got me these.”

You manage to grab the second heel before Angel can. You launch it in the same direction as the first.

“I’ve always hated those ugly fucking shoes.”

The second heel doesn’t land in the middle of the floor like its predecessor. Instead, it flies straight into Salena’s arm as she rounds the corner.

“Ow--what the fuck? Angel!”

The overhead light cuts on, temporarily blinding both you and Angel. When you open your eyes, you find a half-dressed Salena standing over you. Your discarded heel in her left hand, her narrowed eyes focused on you.

"So, this is why you wanted me to leave? Your girlfriend is home?"

"Neither of us is his girlfriend, sweetheart." you correct.

“I’m not sleeping in your bed ever again,” you clarify, your voice muffled against your palms. “Not until you wash your sheets.”

In the time it took to get Salena out of the house you’ve found that your body has begun to crash. The idea of laying down the only thought of your mind. That’s why the moment he’s settled alongside you on the floor, Angel’s shoulder becomes your pillow.

“Please don’t say I told you so.”

Passing up the opportunity to be right, is not in Angel’s nature. But one look at you, he’s biting his tongue.

“I never liked him.”

“You've never liked anyone I’ve dated,” you laugh quietly.

“That’s because you only date assholes.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Exactly.”

Angel's arm drapes around you, the gentle squeeze he gives bringing a weak smile to your lips.

“That’s it,” you sigh. “I’m done dating. Forever.”

“Dating is overrated,” Angel notes.

It’s a phrase Angel has told you nearly a million times over the years. Typically, after you’ve watched him ensnare yet another naive woman with his smile. You typically roll your eyes at Angel's mantra, but right now, you don’t even bother.

“I’m serious, if you see me even blinking at the same guy twice grab me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Angel chuckles.

He knows there's no point in taking the promise any further. If Angel is a cynic when it comes to dating, you’re the poster child for hopeless romantics.

When you fall in love, you fall hard. When you get heartbroken, the fallout hits the hardest.

“I can’t wait until my forties to have a kid.”

“What?”

“I’ll be in my sixties when they graduate high school--my sixties!”

“That’s what this is about?”

“...he doesn’t want kids...at least not right now...he wants time to explore other options before being shackled to me forever.”

“I’m going to kick his fucking ass.”

“When you do, can I watch?”

“Fuck that, you’re getting in a few hits.”

“I can’t believe I wasted three years on him, thinking he was going to help me start a family,” you groan. “When I could’ve just asked you.”

Angel laughs, his smile growing as you giggle.

“I’m serious. Definitely would’ve happened faster.”

“If you want to have sex with me, there are much easier ways--”

“Shut up, it is not about sex,” you assure him as your eyes drift shut. “I actually pride myself in being one of the few women in this town you haven’t slept with. Being immune to your charm is a superpower.”

“You still ended up here tonight,” Angel grins.

You softly smile.

“That’s because you’re my best friend, and you always give the best hugs when I feel like shit.”

series taglist: @youlovetkay @mochachocolatteyaya @chaneajoyyy @sesamepancakes

angel + all mayans tags: @turn-thy-paige @finalgirlhales @jadesid @poetically-0riginal @diaryofkali @babaohhhriley @katastrophic04 @partypoison00 @rose-bliss @mayansxlover @joannasteez @headrushxreeta @brwnlikefoxy @nemesis729 @destiny-tsukino @inyourbackpocketisbutterflies @straightestgay-voice

all stories: @rosieposie0624 @amberritonicole @agoldin @est1887@toni9 @chaneajoyyy @relaxing-najee @awkwardtayler @siempremamita @seize-the-droid @glimmerglittergirl @cutiebubbleboo @pearlkitten33 @tian-monique @megapeacelovemusic-blog @sincerelykas @brattyfics @ladyofsoa@browneyes912 @beiroviski @sadeyesgf @mrsmarvelous1995 @everyhowlmarksthedead @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @demonquartz @appropriate-writers-name @ughdontbeboring @cocotheclown @thesandbeneathmytoes @queenbeered @starrynite7114 @wiccanmetallicrose @tomhardydallasstarsgirl

#may the queue be with you #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #mayans imagines

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an-obsessed-writer · 3 years

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Mind Over Matter - Part 2

Summary: Everyone knew the Baron Helmut Zemo, you’d have to be living under a rock to not recognize the name of the ridiculously wealthy royal attending your university. He was the school’s top bachelor, a sophisticated and confident man who obviously was wealthy. That was enough to make any woman at the university swoon, but he was always known to never keep a girl for long. What happens when (Y/N) finds herself meeting him at one of his parties?

A/N: i’ve started watching so many movies with Daniel Bruhl in it! he’s taking up every space in my mind. will i ever update my steve rogers fic? only time will tell. part 3 coming soon if ya’ll enjoy this :)

Word Count: 1.7k

Part One

You couldn’t believe what had just happened between you and Zemo. It was like something was controlling your body, not caring what was happening, only that it needed to happen. His hands lit your skin on fire, so comforting but almost dangerous. His kiss left you yearning for more, but here you were, walking back to your dorm instead of spending the night with the Baron.

Your heels clacked against the pavement, providing some distraction from the drunk classmates goofing off in front of Zemo’s house. You just wanted to get to the comfort of your room and lay in your bed until Wanda came home so you didn’t have to process this entire evening on your own.

“(Y/N)!” Footsteps came from behind you with an all too familiar voice calling out your name, and you let out a groan. Instead of leaving this night behind, Zemo had to follow you out of the party, and you’d be forced to confront the scene that had just taken place in the lovely mansion you wanted to abandon.

Before you could turn around, Zemo was by your side. His suit jacket had been discarded, leaving his arms even more noticeable under his white button-up. There were a few stray hairs clung to his forehead, no doubt from the partying, but Zemo’s face was full of concern rather than a carefree college student.

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft, making you release the tension from your shoulders, and you looked at him confused. “You left in a hurry, I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he elaborated.

“I’m fine, Zemo. I’m just ready to call it a night,” you say with a pained smile.

“Please, call me Helmut.”

“So any girl that makes out with you can call you Helmut?” A joking tone took over your voice, and your mind still couldn’t understand the effect this man had on you.

“Precisely,” he responded with a chuckle before he continued. “But seriously, I had no intentions of making you uncomfortable, and I apologize if I overstepped.”

Your smile became more sincere, and you looked down at the ground before responding, “I’m okay, Zemo. I’m just ready to go back to my dorm.”

With a defeated look on his face, Zemo simply nodded, “At least let me walk you back, it’s late and Wanda is still with Vision.”

Your eyes went wide with surprise. It wasn’t easy forgetting about this man, but you’re not entirely sure if you would want to forget about him. His accent and his manners left your head in a spin, and that’s without even thinking about his attractiveness in this moment. The hair that you were able to run your hands through not too long ago clung to his forehead, his cheeks slightly rosy due to the alcohol, and his puppy dog eyes were almost too much to handle. Too hard to say no to.

“Fine,” you conceded, “but you’re carrying my heels.”

“Naturally.” Zemo’s smile showed you a different man than you had ever seen on campus. It wasn’t unusual to see him remaining stoic and unbothered at the library during his studies, nor was it unusual to see him looking constantly formal. Zemo’s messy appearance showed his casual side, making him seem almost more domestic in your eyes.

With a sigh, you hand over the heels that you’ve been carrying and start the journey back to your dorms.

It remained quiet for a few minutes, allowing yourself to glance at Zemo whenever given the opportunity, only to find that he was constantly looking at you. A blush crept up to your cheeks as you realize this, and you shake your head as a way to ground yourself back to reality.

“This is the Baron Helmut Zemo,” you thought. “He doesn’t pine after women, women pine after him. Get a grip.”

Yet here he was walking you back to your dorm in order to ensure you arrived safely.

“May I ask you a personal question?” There Zemo was again, making even a simple inquiry as formal as possible. Is this the European manners or simply how he was trained when he was young?

“You may.”

“Why do you not go out much?” Zemo stared at you curiously, his eyes narrowing slightly at his own question.

“I’ve… got many plans for myself. Men aren’t a part of that plan,” you explain, sending a look over to the man next to you before continuing. “My plan is school first, life second.”

“What’s the point of living if you are not having fun during it? University is a big deal in many cultures, it’s the time people find themselves and experiment.”

A small smile spread across your face, “Do you just like to be poetic randomly, Mr. Baron?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Only when it’s fitting,” Zemo says with a wink.

“I can’t afford to get distracted. Unlike others, I have no back-up plan. This is what I’m doing, this is what I’m going to do. Thankfully, I’ve been able to get enough scholarships to scrape by, but I have to work to keep them.” You answer honestly, feeling almost completely bare due to the intimate conversation, but his presence had a calming effect.

Zemo only nodded and furrowed his eyebrows, signaling that he was in deep thought. He’d stay like that for the remainder of the walk, making you nervous that you may have done something wrong to offend him, but you chose not to voice your own thoughts.

Just as your building came into view, rain started pouring from the clouds overhead. Without a second to think, you grabbed Zemo’s hand and ran towards the doors under the roof, not wanting to get soaked or offend the Baron any more by leaving him in the dreadful weather.

His hand grasped onto yours instantaneously, and ran alongside you with amusement. Amused by what, you can’t understand because your luck seems to only be taking a turn for the worst.

Walking into the building, you could take a better look of the state that Zemo was in, and he seemed beautiful. His hair had flattened out due to it becoming wet from the rain, and you could see his undershirt beneath his button-up. You could get used to seeing more of this version of Zemo.

Taking pity on the already wet man who had escorted you back into your home, you keep hold of his hand and lead him to your dorm apartment where he could dry off if he wishes to stay.

Your hands were slightly shaking as you unlocked the door due to the cold and the skin your dress failed to cover.

“Just come inside and dry off. You can wait out the storm and go home after,” you say without even looking at Zemo. The thought of being alone with him in your room was nerve-wracking to say the least, and you couldn’t let him know that. Letting him know the effect that he has on you would only lead to trouble.

“You’re very kind,” he responds with a grateful smile, and follows you into the college apartment.

Thankfully, you were able to clean up the mess left by Wanda while she was getting ready. Although, you felt ashamed that you continued to live on campus while Zemo practically lived in a palace.

If he didn’t like the place, there was no way of telling by his expression. He remained stoic and took a seat on the couch, laying a blanket over so he wouldn’t get it wet, and shook his head like a dog. Water droplets flew off his chestnut hair, and Zemo smiled like a little boy up at you. This made your heart flutter.

“I’ll go grab a towel and some extra clothes, just one second,” you say softly. You had to get out of the room because he was simply making you suffocate with his boyish charms. However, when you returned with a fluffy pink towel and clothes left by old hook-ups, Zemo had already stripped down to his undershirt and boxers.

You averted your eyes, not wanting to make a fool of yourself as you handed him the things he needed.

“You can look, you know.” You could hear the amusement in his voice, but you shook your head at him.

“I’d rather not,” you respond, keeping your eyes trained on the floor. All of a sudden, you felt a finger under your chin. With slight encouragement, Zemo lifted your face to make eye contact, and he smiled down at you.

“Thank you for your hospitality, (Y/N).” Hesitantly, Zemo left a kiss on your forehead before putting on a new pair of clothes, leaving you breathless.

After gaining some composure, you remove the wet blanket from the couch and toss it into the hamper of dirty clothes before taking a seat. Zemo soon followed along after he got his affairs in order and took the opportunity to sit right beside you.

“I’m assuming these clothes are coming from men who spent the night? After all, even a woman who refuses to date needs pleasure sometimes.” He smiled at you cheekily, raising his eyebrows in a teasing way, but all you could focus on was the way he rolled his r’s. You could listen to him talk about calculus and be able to pay attention.

“That is none of your business!” You reply with a scoff and a little slap against his shoulder.

Zemo feigned hurt and wrapped his arm around your body, “I’d consider us friends now. Friends know each other’s dirty businesses, yeah?”

A giggle escaped from your lips, and you wanted to scoot away from the man, but the warmth of his arm around you was heavenly. Maybe you could make an exception for him.

#baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #zemo #zemo x reader #The Avengers #marvel #college!au #college!zemo #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #vision #Steve Rogers #Marvel AU #zemo imagine #zemo x y/n

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wherethewordsare · 3 years

Text

Till the Fever Breaks

A very happy birthday to @unremarkablegirl I hope you enjoy this!! <3 <3 <3

“This place looks like it hasn’t seen a living being in a century,” Jaskier whispered, following close behind Geralt.

“Just about. But it might have some records Vesemir has been looking for.” He held the torch a little higher, turning slowly. Around them, shelves with crumpling scrolls and molding books flanked work benches and long dead potting plants.

“Don’t touch anything,” he growled, carefully stepping over a pile of shattered glass.

“Don’t have to tell me twice. This place gives me the creeps.” Jaskier held his own torch a bit higher, letting the light throw the table in the center into a mess of shadows and grimey reflections.

Geralt scanned the shelves, kneeling to try to make out the old ruins on the side of one volume as his hand braced against the shelf above him. It barely took any pressure but he felt it as it went under his weight.

“Jaskier, get out!” he barked as there was a crash of glass and wood. Dust from the shelf fell into Geralt’s face and he coughed, struggling to get back to his feet for a moment as the taste of ash flooded his nose and mouth. The shelves around him seemed to fall apart as he scrambled out after the bard.

They both hunched over, gasping for fresh air, blinking into the bright morning as the cacophony of collapse rang out behind them.

“Don’t touch anything?” Jaskier looked over, smirking.

“Shut up, Jaskier.” But there was no heat to it. Geralt felt like his lungs were burning and his vision couldn’t seem to focus. He looked out towards where he had left Roach and blinked hard, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what had been in that dust but it couldn’t have been good.

They paced back to the road and Geralt found that Jaskier was easily pulling ahead of him, his strides even and sure where Geralt was starting to have trouble navigating the ground.

“Hmm.” He stopped, looking back at the building and finding that the stone looked unfocused and hazy, as if a fog had been put between them. He turned and found that he could no more make out Jaskier, even as he drew nearer.

“Fuck.” He felt as though the ground had shifted under him and his legs were quickly losing the battle of keeping him upright, his armor and swords feeling heavier against his frame than they ever had.

Then Jaskier was there, his arms under Geralt’s holding him up, his face only inches away. Geralt had only a moment to think how strange it was that he couldn’t quite make out Jaskier’s eyes the same way he had that morning.

“We got to get you to a healer. Something’s wrong.” Jaskier half carried him towards Roach as the world seemed to shift and crumble under him. “Shit, Geralt. You’re burning up.” His voice hitched with worry and he pulled Geralt a bit closer to support him.

“I’ll be fine Jaskier.” Geralt tried to reason but the ground was swirling now and everything seemed too hot, too much.

“Of course you will be,” Jaskier promised. “Of course.”

Geralt wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more. It didn’t seem to matter as he felt his body finally give out and he collapsed.

When he came to, he was tucked into a warm bed with the covers to his chin. He could feel the trace of fingers against his scalp and all he wanted to do was lean into them. So he did, groaning as those same fingers brushed his hair out of his face.

His whole body ached, a headache pounding behind his eyes as he tried to look around. Jaskier was sitting beside him on the bed, a book balanced on his knee while his hand still idly brushed through Geralt’s hair.

“Jask?” Geralt croaked. He made an attempt to sit up but he could not seem to find the strength in him.

“Well hello there,” Jaskier said simply. He pulled his hand away and Geralt thought he might have whined at the loss. Before he could make any verbal protests, Jaskier was sliding the book into his lap and sighing.

“Mages,” he explained simply. “They must have been some of the first to help create the witchers. I think they were trying to find ways to undo it. Why, I can’t tell, but,” and he pointed to a set of ancient ruins that Geralt could barely make out, “Whatever that dust was that hit you, they made.” Jaskier’s leg was bouncing under him, an anxious tick. “I think they only tested it on younger witchers.”

Jaskier twisted his hands for a moment before leaning in and helping Geralt sit up, piling the pillows behind him and readjusting the covers.

“Where did you get this?” Geralt let himself be propped up on the pillows, wincing at how stiff and frail he felt.

Jaskier cleared his throat, not meeting his eyes directly on. “Might have gone back in and found the shelf the powder was on.” He rubbed the back of his neck before glancing at Geralt. “Good way to brush up on my elder?”

Geralt only glared at him. He would cross his arms were he able but he hoped the scowl would be enough.

“Oh, scary witcher!” Jaskier chuckled. “Try again when you’re not laid out flat, darling.”

“The powder was supposed to do what?” He struggled against the blankets around him to bring his hands up in front of his face. Even as his vision seemed to fail him, Geralt could still make out the firm muscles and calloused pads that he knew to be his.

“Drains them- you? Makes the witchers men again.” Jaskier’s hand came up covering Geralt’s and squeezing gently. “I think only temporarily?” he plucked the book back from Geralt’s lap, flipping through pages. “They never fully succeeded it seems.” He showed the next page of ruins, splattered ink and water damage.

“And if the witcher was a few decades older than that?” Geralt dropped back against the pillow. His body shook for a moment but there was that hand again against his scalp, steadying and firm.

“Temporary, Geralt.” Jaskier nearly snapped but his hand remained gentle. “You’re going to be fine, remember?”

“Hmm.” Geralt gave in, pressing as much as his weak body would allow up into the hand, marvelling quietly as it came down and cupped his cheek. It was warm and slender and it was all he could do not to turn his face and nuzzle into it.

The powder had to wear off soon. Geralt realized that not only had it drained his strength but every ounce of his carefully maintained control seemed to have vanished with it.

Jaskier never left his side, only long enough to bring back meals and water. He was constantly hovering over Geralt, his hands never far from an easy touch. And with every touch, Geralt could feel his determination slipping. As weak as he was, there was no other weakness he knew greater than the one against the gravity that was Jaskier’s casual affections. Part of him wished that the powder would simply drain him so completely so that when this was over, at least he didn’t have to face the bard.

For days, Geralt laid there, his strength gone though his body did not show the same betrayal. He found that his senses had all been dulled as well. He was no longer able to catch the steady rhythm of Jaskier’s heartbeat or hear his footsteps on the stairs as he went for broth and ale and fresh linens.

All the while, he burned, his skin feeling as though it were on fire. He had tried to pull the covers away, just managing to do that only to find that the air around him was freezing. Geralt groaned and turned restlessly in the bed.

“You’re worse than my sisters when they catch a cold,” Jaskier teased, pulling the covers back up over Geralt’s shoulders.

“You could just give me one of my potions and we could be done with this,” he groused but shifted, chasing after the tips of Jaskier’s fingers with his shoulder. The touch was back, easily given and Geralt all but melted under it. It felt like he was duping Jaskier into the contact but he couldn’t find the strength in him to care.

“No witcher powers, Geralt. It would be over because you would be dead.” There was something distressed and anxious in Jaskier’s voice and then he was hovering again, pressing the back of his hand to Geralt’s forehead, fingers cool against the burning skin.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier made a soft sound in the back of his throat as he let his fingers slide into Geralt’s hair, pushing it back from his face, tucking loose strands behind his ears. “The powder’s going to wear off any time and you’ll be back to your old brooding self in no time.”

“Hmm, wouldn’t mind you keep doing this too,” Geralt sighed, letting himself settle into the comfort of Jaskier’s attention.

He remotely registered the press of a fresh cloth to his face, damp and cool and gentle. Cracking an eye he could just make out Jaskier’s face. He wondered if it was a trick of the light or his dulled senses that had made that look feel like it was just for him. He thought maybe it was best not to know and he tucked the image in the far back of his mind. The fever would break soon, his strength would return and he would lose those caring hands.

Jaskier was slumped over the edge of the bed, his doublet discarded and his hair rumpled. Geralt could make out his breathing, his heartbeat, the sound of the cook below preparing the stew. He had to squint against the light that flooded into their room but he was able to sit up. He felt exhausted but there was strength in his own hands again.

So he used that strength, leaning forward and letting his own fingers card into Jaskier’s hair. It was softer than he had imagined, finer hairs at the nape of his neck brushing against the side of Geralt’s hand.

Jaskier stirred and for a moment he thought about snatching his hand back. Maybe he hadn’t returned to his full self. Not quite at least as he found that he no longer cared to restrain himself. Under his fingers, Jaskier turned his head to look up at him, a sleepy smile on his face.

“Good to see you’re feeling better.” He sat up slowly, almost careful not to dislodge Geralt’s hands as he pressed the back of his own fingers to Geralt’s forehead then his cheeks. “The fever broke.” There was something small and sad about the smile he gave him though. “Guess the training is going to need a bit more time to catch up, hmm?”

Geralt slowly pulled back his hand, flexing it for a moment before it dropped back into his lap. There was a pang in his chest he was having a hard time ignoring. He felt as though he had been caught out somehow.

Jaskier slid into the bed next to him, checking him over slowly the same way he had over the past few days, waiting for the magic to wear off. His touch was still careful, turning Geralt’s hands over, squeezing and waiting for Geralt to squeeze back. When he did though, Geralt didn’t let go. He squeezed back at Jaskier’s fingers and then held on, letting his thumb brush over the back of his knuckles.

He found that he wasn’t ready to let go of this. The thought that the touch Jaskier gave him while he was sick was only temporary churned his stomach and made the need to cling only stronger. The consequences were coming for him, he knew, but he was still too weak still to stop himself.

Maybe that had been the problem. Maybe he had always been too weak when it came to Jaskier. The bard had stayed far longer than Geralt thought he would and for all that time he had struggled to maintain that last distance. Now he found himself buckling under the weight of of a need he had no right to. If he pushed, he knew he was going to lose Jaskier.

“Love how you just sit there and brood,” Jaskier chuckled as he bent down, sliding off his boots. He shifted under the covers, his hands tugging at Geralt’s shoulders. “Come on then. You’re not quite up to snuff and I desperately need a nap.”

It was all the explanation he gave Geralt before rearranging them to where Geralt’s head was resting on his chest, Jaskier’s arms wrapped around him.

Slowly, Geralt let himself slip back off to sleep, realizing that those touches weren’t lost, he just had to be strong enough to let them stay.

#geraskier #sick fic #the witcher #accidents with mystery powder #touched starved geralt #hurt/comfort #happy birthday mars

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