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florencemtrash · 1 month

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Eighteen

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Nothing super specific, but things get pretty dark (at least in my opinion). Mentions of torture.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Azriel grabbed Rhys by the front of his jacket, hands shaking horribly despite all his efforts to stop. It had started this morning, when another disastrous attempt to talk to Andrian had left Azriel with his mind in shambles, knife pressed against his own throat. It had been going on for weeks now. Someway, somehow, Andrian would find a way to break through Azriel’s defenses and force him to relieve his worst memories. Sometimes he dreamt of his burning hands. Mostly he thought of you, and the day he’d nearly killed you.

“Tell me you didn’t,” Azriel growled desperately. “Tell me!”

It was too easy for him to pick out when his brother was speaking with Feyre, and something about the way Rhysand had been looking at him— like he was a fraction of a second away from splintering into a million pieces — told Azriel enough about who had been sent for. You were the only one who could calm him. The only one who could do what he and Rhys had failed to do.

Violet eyes shone from a perfectly handsome face. A face he knew too well. A face that he wanted to punch right now.

“I’m afraid I can’t, brother,” Rhysand responded gravely.

Azriel slammed his fist against the wall instead, taking out a chunk of granite that spit grey dust into the air. He swore beneath his breath, pacing the hallway and trying to steady his racing heart. He’d never wanted you to see this place. He’d never even wanted you to step foot on the island above, its rolling peaks a stark contrast to the tunnels below where Azriel conducted his business. Business that stained his hands a thousand shades of red.

“You’ve been working yourself ragged, Az, and Andrian still hasn’t said anything. Not to you. Not to me. We need to know all we can about Koschei. Vassa’s on the brink of madness. Henna’s dead. I can’t even get past Andrian’s mental wards. What the fuck are we meant to do?”

“So you thought to go behind my back and bring Y/n into this?! She’s not something for you to use, Rhys.”

“She’s already in this mess.” Rhys reminded him, as he often did. His eyes softened as he looked to the locked door at the end of the hall with its small, rectangular window. Bars breaking up the lamplight glowing from within. “And you know she’d agree this is the best course of action. She’ll be able to do it.”

Azriel’s hands shook. “Give me another week and I’ll get us the information we need. Tell Feyre to turn around. Don’t bring Y/n here.” Don’t let her see this part of me.

“The boy doesn’t have another week. He doesn’t even have a day.”

The shaking traveled throughout Azriel’s entire body. His eyes darkened and he began the process of hiding his heart away within the void that curled inside of him. That wicked beast that was always on the verge of swallowing him whole.

Feyre winnowed you both to the outskirts of the northern territories and you went from sweating in your fur-lined leathers to shivering in the knee deep snow. The Illyrian Mountains rose behind you like predatorial rows of shark teeth and the endless sea stretched in front, slate grey and empty except for lonely ripples of sea foam. Through the frosty haze you could make out a smattering of islands, each with their own tooth-like tips capped with snow and ice. Feyre looked at you, her eyes leaning more towards blue now that she’d tapped into the Winter Court’s power to stave off the cold.

The Warren was protected by wards that made winnowing impossible, so you let Feyre scoop you up in her powerful arms, wings growing from her back like unfurling shadows before the ground dropped away from her feet and she took off into the sky.

You clung to her shoulders, eyes slamming shut so you wouldn’t have to look down at the churning black waters and the rocks they crashed against. If you were to fall now, you could only hope you drown before the waves ripped your body to pieces against the rocks like meat torn between a pair of canines.

You stayed frozen and tight as a coil until the rush of wind stopped and you no longer felt your stomach creeping up into your throat. You could have dropped to your knees and kissed the ground if you weren’t sure your lips would freeze there. You did shove your hands into the gritty sand though, breathing slowly through your nose until you finally had the strength to stand.

Feyre led you down the long stretch of beach, waves whistling in the wind — a haunting, beautiful melody, like a woman crying.

Azriel had discovered The Warren centuries ago. After a particularly brutal brawl that had left him with a broken arm and cracked ribs, he’d taken to the skies, desperate to escape the hard packed floors and burning scent of sex mixed with alcohol that seemed to invade every corner of the Windhaven barracks. He’d been fighting over a woman, a woman that had been dragged into the rowdy common room trembling with the telltale sign of a whisky haze over her burnt umber eyes, dress ripped and muddy.

Did it even matter that he’d brought her back untouched to that leaning house with its wooden slabs frosted over and the chimney coughing up black smoke like a diseased lung? Azriel had wondered as he flew without a destination in mind. And when he’d finally collapsed on the island, frozen ground beneath his hands and knees and spitting out blood from his cut up gums, his shadows had tugged him towards the gaping mouth of The Warren, urging him to explore a darkness that was his and his alone. It had been his escape. A safe place in the world that had so few. But when Rhysand became High Lord and he the Spymaster, Azriel hadn’t hesitated to give up The Warren in the service of the Night Court, adding it to the long list of sacrifices he made so that he might actually start to feel like he deserved his place with his family.

You stilled in front of The Warren’s entrance, black walls glittering and damp from sea spray. Jagged, cracked bone rocks hovered overhead like axes ready to fall, jutting out of a cliffside and curling over the beach in the shape of a hunched back or an unhinged jaw. Wind whistled from within like asthma — high-pitched and keening.

“This is where you keep all your prisoners.” You weren’t asking a question, merely stating a fact.

Feyre had had little time for explanations back at the House. She’d focused on defending your body against the frigid cold to come, her mind split between you and Rhysand as he worried over Azriel from miles away.

“Not all of them. Only the ones Azriel finds useful.”

“The ones he plans to torture for information.”

From somewhere deep within the earth you swore you heard the clanging of chains, a growl, and a desperate groan that had the hair on your neck rising.

Feyre’s usual warmth was gone, replaced by something with more tact and less care. “This isn’t a place for the faint of heart, Y/n. And neither is Azriel. He’s tried to hide this from you, but it’s as much a part of him as anything else and if you care for him as much as I believe you do, you’re going to need to get used to this.”

There was the faintest flicker of doubt in your heart. “Andrian… he’s just a boy… you haven’t—Az hasn’t—”

“No,” Feyre said quickly. Horrified. “Azriel found him weeks ago trying to slip back into Day Court. We brought him here because it’s the most heavily warded place in Prythian and because the world needs to be protected from him as much as he needs to be protected from the world.” She grabbed your hands. They felt cold as ice. “Y/n. I swear to you, we haven’t hurt that boy. We won’t hurt him.”

“I know. I just… I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Already you felt sick to your stomach just for asking. Azriel was many things — dangerous, cruel to those he felt were deserving of it, maybe even murderous at times — but he was still Az… and you weren’t afraid. Not even as you let Feyre lead you into The Warren, and you were swallowed whole.

The mouth of the cave quickly narrowed into a tunnel before turning at a severe angle and twisting like a corkscrew downward. If it weren’t for you and Feyre’s glowing bodies, you might have missed one of The Warren’s slick steps and tumbled down forever.

You passed by two offshoots, each branching out into their own secret tunnels that whispered and echoed and smelled faintly of blood. Coppery and sour.

One of the rooms you walked through smelled like metal and limestone. The rust-colored ground and drain in the center of the floor told you all you needed to know about its purpose and before you could stop yourself, before you could even think about whether this was truly a good idea, you found yourself pressing a hand against one of the chains hanging from the ceiling.

If Feyre was right and this was truly a part of Azriel — something horrible that needed to come with all of the good that he was — then you wanted to know. You felt that you had some right to know, and if it was the power the Mother had granted you, then you would use it when you saw fit.

Feyre froze when your power flooded the room without warning, feeling the energy and fury radiating off your skin without even turning to look at you. You kept the memories a safe distance away, but drank in the knowledge of every horrible hand that had hung from that ceiling like you were reading a list of names from a book. You read their crimes. You read every drop of blood that Azriel had spilled on the ground.

“Y/n?” Feyre asked tentatively, fearfully, when you blinked and released the chain.

She had every hope the bond would snap in place for you soon and that you’d help end Azriel’s centuries of loneliness. That you might be the one to finally show him he was deserving of kindness. But to love Azriel as he was, with all his rough edges and the pain he could inflict as much as he carried… it was not for the faint of heart.

“I understand why Azriel wanted to hide this place from me. This part of him,” you said quietly and to no one in particular. Not even to Feyre. “But he shouldn’t have.” Your eyes turned harder than stone. “They deserved it. Each and every one of them.”

Feyre stood, shocked into silence, and it wasn’t until you gripped her arm and nudged her into the next room that she found she was able to walk again.

You passed by more hallways and more rooms, some disturbingly clean and empty, others with chains hanging from the ceiling or littered on the floor. But the strangest part was, you could smell Azriel within these cramped walls, and that alone made you quicken your steps.

You chased that familiar scent, walking confidently through the dark and passing Feyre until you were spit out in a long, neat tunnel with one metal door at the end. Tendrils of shadow flickered from around the corner.

“Azriel?”

Your heart pounded in your chest when you saw him leaning against the wall, hands folded behind his back. Rhys’s eyes flickered to you, then to his mate as she followed closely behind. Azriel stiffened, his eyes locked and heavy. Shadows tugged at his eyes and accentuated the sharpness of his cheeks. He looked like he hadn’t slept since the day he left you… which wasn’t so far from the truth. Because the whole time he’d been here, he’d been thinking of you, and the ways you might hate him for what he did and the sick corners of his soul. For—

You sailed into his arms, wrapping yourself around his torso and pressing your face into the hollow of his neck. Part of your mind chastised you, calling you silly and desperate as it reminded you it had only been ten days since you’d last seen him. But you didn’t care. It felt far longer than that. Too long.

You needed this almost as much as he did.

You disappeared behind his wings, cocooned safely in membranous folds and shadows that kissed your skin. Azriel himself buried his face in your hair, feeling some of his worst worries dissipate. You hadn’t run away. You hadn’t been so disgusted as to leave just yet.

“Y/n,” he murmured your name before kissing your temple. “Gods, I missed you.”

“I would hope so.” You murmured into the curve of his jaw, “I might be a boring bookworm but I’m better company than this place.”

Azriel winced. “You have no idea.”

You missed the pointed look that Rhys and Feyre threw your way, but Azriel didn’t. He was tall enough to see over your head as Feyre pointed to the door at the end of the hallway, eyes glistening. They had come here for a purpose, and the sooner it was over with, the sooner they could all go home.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you. “I didn’t want you to come here. I didn’t want… I didn’t want you to see the things I do.”

“I know.” You traced the curve of his jaw, thumb smoothing over his cheek. “But I’m not afraid, Azriel.”

His eyes flickered from fear to relief to love, like one of those picture books you had to flip through to see the scene play out.

“You’re not?”

You shook your head no. Then you kissed him on the lips and whispered the words for him and him alone. “I trust you. You’re the most terrifying thing here anyway, and you’re mine.”

Yours.

Azriel quitel liked the sound of that.

Even here in the dungeons burrowed beneath empty frozen lands, Azriel found it within him to hope. Horrid creatures might be hidden elsewhere, creeping like slugs under the earth that he’d have to crush beneath his boot or tear treasured secrets from, but for now you were still by his side. For now you were still his and he would always be yours.

You looped your arm through his and moved towards that door at the end of the hallway, steeling yourself for what you already knew was behind it.

The light from the barred window flashed warm and cool then warm again. Light warped and pranced. The scent of rot hung in the air, humid and choking. You touched the door handle, feeling the magic fall away like it recognized you and opened up into a makeshift, but quaint bedroom. There were no windows here for there was nothing to see below ground, but some of Feyre’s landscape paintings hung on the wall. Faelights bloomed overhead, throwing light and heat on a child’s bed with green sheets, a table, and a bookcase overflowing with an assortment of puzzles and novels and toys. You felt your blood turn cold. They’d once belonged to Nyx before being repurposed for the little boy trembling on the floor.

You stared at him in horror.

The little boy who’d been so violently bright that morning in the marketplace was dull. Although he was wearing fresh clothes, his skin had turned a stone gray, black marks dotting his once silken, silver skin like a disease. He was aware of his condition, weeping on the plush rug cut in the shape of a flower as he batted at his arms, willing them to turn healthy again.

“No no no no no no,” he sobbed. He grabbed at his pillowy hair in frustration and tugged. A cloud of fragile strands came away and he cried harder, trying to stick them back to his scalp.

Rhysand’s face was broken and pale. He tried not to look at Andrian. He was too young. Reminded him too much of his own son.

“You were right.” Rhysand’s voice was hollow, laced with a pain that grabbed your throat and squeezed. “Koschei did kill him. He’s been dead this whole time.”

“NO!” Andrian screamed. “HE DIDN’T! HE PROTECTED ME!”

Fat tears rolled out of filmy eyes, dusty and brown as pond water. Rage filled him with new energy and he tried to attack your mind as he’d already done with Azriel. But there was something altogether different about your magic, something flexible that morphed and rearranged your mental walls until it felt like he was trying to attack himself.

He gave up when your walls didn’t fall, and chose the physical route instead. You recoiled as he took a swipe, bony arms reaching out in an awkward lunge. But his legs were too weak and crumpled beneath him. He looked like a fish laid out to rot on a summer day — bloated and slick.

“Koschei brought him back to life for his powers—”

“HE LOVES ME! PAPA LOVES ME!”

“To use as he saw fit when the time was right.”

“But he can’t survive being separated for so long from Koschei’s power, can he?”

Just like Vassa. Left on their own without their maker they couldn’t handle the curses that had been placed on them. They’d bend until they broke… unless they found another way…

“The killings,” You murmured as the pieces slowly fell into place, “He killed those Librarians and the tailor and the florist…” You didn’t want to be right about this. You prayed to the Mother that you were wrong.

But Azriel read the thoughts in your eyes and nodded. Feyre could only stand still and Rhysand couldn’t do more than speak out in that dead voice of his.

Andrian had killed those fae, not just to send a message, but because that was the price for going against nature, for being brought back from the dead. Power demanded balance. To stay alive, Andrian had needed others to take his place. Those Librarians and the Velarians hadn’t been murdered. They’d been sacrificed.

What Koschei had done to this boy — what he’d turned him into — made you want to crawl into a dark corner and stay there forever.

Andrian’s sobs died out. A crack of lightning followed by unnerving silence that had Azriel’s blood freezing in his veins. Andrian wasn’t much older than he’d been when he’d first been tossed into that dark cellar. When his brothers had set his hands aflame.

“He loves me,” he declared, as if saying it would make it true. He stayed curled up in a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth on his heels. “He stayed when Henna left me. He wasn’t afraid of me like the others. He took care of me.”

But Koschei hadn’t taken care of him. He’d taught Andrian to love him. To worship him, because that’s what he craved above all else. He’d helped the boy control his powers and had allowed him to live so he could send him off to die when it was most convenient. You’d thought Henna was Koschei’s perfect soldier, but you were wrong. Andrian was. He’d been broken and molded into something that should never have existed. He’d been sent to Prythian after his sister’s death to take her place. A boy who would have no choice but to return to the lake or die trying.

And he was dying. You could see it clear as day. Two teeth clinked onto the floor and Andrian’s hands flew up to his mouth. He whimpered, eyes locking on you like you might be able to fix this.

You wanted to beg Rhys and Feyre to do something, to fix him, but it was a useless endeavor. They wouldn’t have brought you here if they could just reach into Andrian’s mind and end it all peacefully. Andrian was too powerful for that. But you could use another way.

You approached him like a wild, injured animal, grimacing when he tried to run at you only for his ankle to twist and then snap. He fell to the floor in a pathetic sprawl.

“Hey there, little feather.”

Andrian paused at that familiar nickname, watery eyes looking up. You said it just like Henna had once upon a time. The same inflection in a differently pitched voice. His lips trembled.

“She left me.”

You shook your head before kneeling on the ground in front of him. He smelled of death. It clung to his linen shirt and trousers. It clung to the few strands of hair still woven into his scalp, skin so thin you could make out his skull.

“She didn’t leave you, Andrian.” You poured your voice out over him, as soothing as you could make it, forcing the tears down. “She thought you’d died and that you’d stayed dead. She had a little ceremony for you out near the willow tree and buried your favorite toy beneath it with a handful of water lilies. Do you remember it? The little wooden doll you dressed up like a soldier with the red cap and the silver shoes?”

He clamped his hands over his ears, shaking his head while his weak neck teetered dangerously atop his shoulders.

“Andrian—” You pulled his hands away and in a bold, dangerous move brought them to your temple and slowly lowered your mental wards. You didn’t give him free reign, but rather guided him through snippets of memories you’d taken from Henna before her death. They all revolved around him. Before, and even after Koschei had poisoned their minds, Andrian had remained her true priority.

The boy’s eyes flashed from anger to confusion then, finally, to despair.

“She didn’t leave you.”

Andrian waited a few moments that had your heart seizing, then rushed into your arms, tightening them like a vice around your shoulders and burying his face in your hair. You held your breath, but tightened your grip. You weren’t his sister, but you were the closest thing he had.

Slowly, like sand falling through an hourglass, you felt his arms weaken and fall from your shoulders. He stared at you, wide and terrified as his hand snapped off at the wrist and fell to your side in a grey heap.

“Make it stop. Please make it stop.”

You smoothed back his hair, shoving down the tears that threatened to fall. His eyes were white now and unseeing. “It’s ok, little feather. It’s ok.”

“I don’t—” Even his voice was crumbling apart. Raspy and broken like cracked glass. He had little time left. The fight in him gone. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go to that dark place. Please don’t make me go.”

Azriel had been watching the entire time, trying not to picture the little boy with dark hair, weak wings, and bandaged hands. He went so, so still.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. It’s going to be ok.” You promised. You forced your trembling lips into a smile.

He took in a rasping breath. “Will you go with me this time, Henna? Please.”

You gritted your teeth, brows furrowed in an effort to stay here instead of turning and sprinting back to the surface.

“I will. That’s why I came” You brushed his hair away from his forehead, saying nothing when the wispy white strands were torn away from his scalp like silk… just like the memories of Koschei’s lake you plucked from his mind without him knowing. You swallowed the pain of what you knew was coming. “I won’t let you be alone.”

He went quiet after that. Maybe his voice had deteriorated beyond saving, maybe he finally felt at peace. All you knew is that you needed to keep brushing his hair and holding onto his hand when he laid down and placed his head in your lap. He was like a little windup doll that had run out of string. He kept breathing until he finally stopped.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

So... this was a rather sad one, bit of a tonal shift if you ask me, but I wanted to wrap up the stuff with Henna and Andrian before we continue on to other things.

BUT, you have to appreciate when Y/n walks into what's effectively a torture chamber and goes "yeah, nope, still in love with Azriel." It's just one of those things that gets brushed under the rug but like... this guy's WHOLE JOB is inflicting pain upon people.... and you know what, it's a fantasy book, so who the hell cares. We stan Y/n being supportive of Azriel's career lol

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel shadowsinger

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anantaru · 13 days

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⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ ACE OF SPADES

part two. | rich boy aven masterlist.

synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ your first date with rich boy aventurine is more fun than you initially expected, who knows where things will go from there // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡

cw. fluff, slightly suggestive, rich boy au, reader wears a dress, flirty aventurine, a/n. this will have a part two if you can't tell, fem! reader ♡

you turn your face to the left and let your visual perception take in the luxurious casino you've been invited in— undeniably, your first reaction was dedicated to the chimes of whistles of various slot machines announcing wins and losses, in combined action with racketing noises of their shafts being pulled.

your jaw parts and your eyes grow, it felt surreal to stand here with an expensive dress hugging your body tight, a small gift from your date, nothing more, nothing less. rich boy aventurine slowly slides his palm over the back of your hand to lure your thoughts back to himself as he intertwines his fingers with your own.

you stiffen, it didn't take a genius to notice that you were slightly nervous about your first date with the infamous gambler. if only he would've picked a better place to get to know each other— alas, in a way it was exactly what you've expected.

well yes, aventurine choose the probably, most unromantic spot for a first date— but, you got a dress as a gift, together with an embellished necklace and a free entry to a luxurious, private casino.

so, did you really mind? hmm, not really. in fact, it was quite unique and exciting to be here, you also felt safe by his side, and especially intrigued to get to know more about his, quote on quote, playground.

men, or how people called them here; high rollers in pretentious suits, glide like sharks over the soft tumble of the dice. it's all very crowded and distracting, needless to say it was interesting to witness, but you notice how your heart was thumping faster, that's when you began to feel yourself getting difficulties to breathe evenly.

snugly pressed against aventurine, you walk past the shrill murmur of crowds and bells of roulette wheels as the gambler spins you towards his chest, his hand carrying on to hold yours gently, "are you okay? you look a little nervous," he says nonchalantly, although his handsome voice told you a different story, an affectionate perception, "our table is right there, we can take a seat and talk if you want. "

your gaze slowly shifts to where aventurine was pointing his head towards as you look at a large table right next to the exclusive sight of exquisite gold and silver fountains and statuaries. this must've cost a fortune, you were certain that this area alone was the most breathtaking one.

you awkwardly glare up at him, your breathing picking up on tempo, "of course, but..." your last note was drawn out as aventurine cocks a curious brow at you, "would it be okay to excuse myself for a bit?"

you continue shortly, fists balled, "it's a little stuffy here, you see, i'd love to take some fresh air without bothering you about it,"

in all honesty, the air was, well, utterly despicable. the lofty mixture of overpriced cologne and sweat penetrated your nostrils to the point where it began to ache and scratch your brain.

despite the fact that everything was overwhelming in its entirety.

being embarrassed by your human reactions might be an imprecise wording and false emotion to feel, you shouldn't feel bad about this. although you felt awkward and uneasy to ask aventurine if you could take a swift breather outside.

what if he found you to be boring now? or even worse, ungrateful when it was him who made it possible for you to see something like this in the first place.

a high class casino that could never be visited by the ordinary.

he looks at you through his glasses and you could swear his eyes had a mellow glow, a tender glimmer of serenity as his lips carve into a handsome smile, "oh of course, lets go right away so you won't get nauseous," he utters out, his stomach sitting heavy with lead and eagerness to look out for you.

you freeze for a second, "uh, wait, i really don't want to ruin this night for you," and sigh, letting your gaze wander around everywhere but his direction before tapping out a nervous rhythm against the soft marble on the floor.

all aventurine does was laugh airily, "you're adorable,"

"you're not ruining anything, in fact, you really couldn't, even if you tried,"

ugh, everything about you is just so pretty, you're sweet and angelic and he's glad he's bought this dress for you, it fits you like a second skin— aventurine takes note of your beauty, he stores it into the most important places in his brain so he could dream about you later.

memorize how this dress looks on you. closer and closer.

"but here, take my jacket, okay? it's rather cold," he flips his jacket down his shoulders before draping it over your own before suddenly closing the distance from his lips to your ear— silent, there's a voice next to your skin, it's deep, handsome and smoking hot. barely above an octave as it holds a teasing verge to it, "i wouldn't want you to catch a cold, yeah?"

you hum in agreement as you rest your hands above his clothed chest, butterflies storm through your belly and settle heavily inside as aventurine wraps one arm around your waist, his breath wafting around your lovely lips.

you felt the need to kiss him, and so did he, feel the same towards you. for a moment, you two linger feeling each others warmth a little longer, relishing in your precious attempts to getting to know each other better. it's slightly awkward, you could tell that aventurine noticed how your eyes were fighting the urge to keep admiring him.

yet, he's not complaining— he could never, not when you're so cute, and your touch on him was consistently warm, your trace firm but confident, content and safe.

he hopes you will enjoy yourself tonight, and maybe, only maybe, you will invite him over to your place later.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #aventurine x you #hsr drabbles #honkai star rail drabbles

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ccalxx · 5 months

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Dating Wriothesley Headcanons

What is it like dating the duke of the Meropide Fortress?

Wriothesley is very sharp and observant, even the faintest difference in your actions, he will know if something is wrong. He may be busy but he won't waste any time in asking you what's wrong or he would be comforting you if you need comfort.

Given that he is the Duke of the Meropide Fortress, a similar title to the Iudex of the Court of Fontaine, do expect that he'd really be busy. But not busy enough to prevent him from visiting or contacting you.

If you're the type of person that would make him cute bento boxes hoping to embarrass him (prank), well think again, because he actually doesn't care! He might chuckle a second or so, but he really thinks that your bento boxes are cute and something (despite being consumable) to cherish. He appreciates the thought and designs you put into.

He likes eating meat because of protein, just how he likes eating yo-, so you mostly make meat dishes in your bento. Tonkatsu that looks like a shark? Cute! Teriyaki chicken that resembles a wolf? Looks good! Pasta with shark shaped sausages? Thats nice!

On the outward appearance, you'd think he's scary or someone who has anger issues but he's not. He's really soft, caring, and cheeky too!

Do expect that he'd melt into your touch once he gets home from work. He may also fall asleep on times you didn't expect him to.

"[Nameeeeee] I'm home!" Wrio said as he wrapped his hands behind you and kisses your cheeks. You both went and sat on the couch, Wrio still clinging to you, as you ask him about his day, you noticed he isn't responding. He fell asleep while clinging to you, looks like you're not gonna feel your arm later.

He may have prevented you in going to Fortress of Meropide many times.

"Y/N, No. You might be in danger." "But Wrioooo" "No.".

But that didn't stop you from going and having lunch/snacks/dinner (he sometimes stay in the office even at night to finish paperworks). Instead he taught you some self defense moves in case you needed. "Okay Y/N if someone grabs your arm what should you do?" "Break their neck?" "Ye- what no!"

He likes tea, but you know what he likes more? You brewing him tea. You somehow learned different brew mixes just for him and he appreciates, no, he loves it so much! Because he doesn't really have the time to mix tea with lemon or whatever, because he's busy.

He isn't really a fan of PDA since he respects your personal space but in certain occasions he will assert that he's your man.

For example, someone in the overworld was harassing with you while you were selecting meat for his next meal. "*Whistles* Looking good pretty/handsome, just like that piece of meat you're holding" You were contemplating to slap the slab of meat on his face but you suddenly felt familiar hands around your waist. "My, my, that's not how to talk to a lady/gentleman is it not? It looks like you need to learn some manners, don't you think so Madamoiselle/Monseiur?" He looks at you with a warm smile and he looks straight up to the eyes of the guy. "Scram if you don't want me to report you to Monseiur Neuvillette for harassment". "Why are you here sweetie?" "Please don't tease me but... I kind of missed you... So I was looking for you at home but you weren't there..." "Aw, Wrio!" He looks around then he buries his head on the crook of your neck.

When there are times that you needed comfort, he will try his best to be there (ex. documents finished early) . If not, as a promise or a substitute he will leave his fur coat draped on you. He'll make up to you by bringing you food though (or flowers/things if you don't like food as much).

If you feel sick, he'd take a leave to work, he'd care for you until you are healthy.

Wriothesley is really sweet and caring, despite of how sharp or scary he looks. He'd do everything to make you happy and comfortable, and it's not an exaggeration that he'd risk himself for you. He loves so much and he never felt so drunk in love before, but now he's drunk in love with you.

#genshin impact #genshin #fontaine #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin impact wrio #genshin impact wriothesley x reader #duke of meropide fortress #wriothesley genshin #wrio genshin #wriothesley x reader #wrio x reader #wrio x you #wrio the slay #wriothesley #wrio fluff #12/ 06 / 2023

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llamagoddessofficial · 6 months

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Hey, how would the siren guys react to a whale shark mc? Heheee, :0 (whale shark face) fella

HEEEE

Sans: Since whale sharks are filter feeders, she's technically a mermaid!

I imagine that a whale shark Mc is incredibly chill and relaxed. She's very big, very beautiful, and very friendly... adult whale sharks don't really have anything to fear, so she's easygoing and sweet-natured with pretty much everyone.

She thinks he's handsome, and very smart. Orca would only pose a realistic threat to her if they approached in a big group, but he's alone- she's not even slightly worried. She asks him about life as a predator, his adventures around the world, she dreams of seeing the poles but she's not built for staying in cold water. He entertains her with stories of the arctic.

... Sans isn't used to encountering mermaids who aren't terrified of him. He isn't used to encountering sirens who aren't terrified of him. She talks to him like he's a normal person, engages with him... it actually makes him less insane and murderous, as it's the first time he's been treated like a person since his pod died. He naturally becomes deeply attached to her... she's delighted he wants to keep her company and she welcomes his presence. They're 'best friends' that travel around together. It's good that she's a filter feeder, because though he'd absolutely kill for her, he has no need to.

Red: Red loves a big beautiful lady. This is one of the fundamental laws of the universe. The bigger the better- and she's literally the biggest shark out there. What's not to love? He's head over heels. His only regret is that they can't seriously play fight, because she could probably snap him in half. That's hot- but it would be inappropriate in public.

She loves his attention. Sure, Sans is handsome, but... well, Red is literally the ideal by shark standards. Being a filter feeder doesn't make her resistant to his scars, his teeth, his charms. She giggles when he calls her majestic, she flushes when he says he'd like to sightsee coral reefs with her. But she doesn't really take his flirting seriously. She thinks he'd want a girlfriend who's more aggressive, an apex like him- someone with more 'bite'. She's seen how feisty female tiger sharks are. She's not like that.

Sans is absolutely seething that this asshole is trying to steal his girlfriend. They're regularly at each other's throats when her back is turned. It's very easy for her to break up their fights, though, since she physically overpowers them both.

Skull: Pretty similar to Sans, in respect to Mc being sweet and friendly has the dual effect of calming him down but also driving him kinda wild for her. Whale sharks do occasionally make dives to deeper water, so it makes sense their paths would cross.

He's enraptured. She's like a big, friendly angel, her pattern is literally rays of sun. He wants to be near to someone who isn't afraid of him. He's a little heartbroken he can't bring her food gifts, since they don't eat the same way, but pebbles still work. And he's deeply impressed by how much plankton/krill she can eat in one go.

Though the difference between them isn't as intense as it is with leaf sheep Mc, she's still a very pelagic creature, and he's a very NOT pelagic creature. She's fascinated by his completely alien, deep-sea biology. Lots of her being delighted by his light shows.

#llamagines #siren sanses #mc breaks up a fight between red and sans by grabbing their arms and literally pulling them apart #red makes everything worse by saying “harder”#days since sans has tried to tear out red's liver: 0

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usedtobecooler · 2 years

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Sorry I keep blowing up your inbox w virgin Eddie thots. I just have so many. 😓 latest since I’m currently suffering: Virgin Eddie + period sex

do not say sorry cause this had me feeling some type of way and it's given me inspo for the first time in a few days!!

part one // part two // part three // part four

pairing | eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), fingering f receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), period sex, mentions of tampon removal, eddie taking care of reader, eddie being endearing (when is he not), dirty talk, lots of fluff and reader being nice to eddie, reader also kind of snarks at him for being annoying, eddie professing his love for reader, no use of y/n. i think that's it? possibly. maybe.

word count | 3.6k

a/n | i made this way fluffier than any of my past stuff so this is really off brand for me. i'm also currently suffering on shark week and i'm definitely in my feelings about it so that probably explains it. reader is softer than her usual self here which gives eddie time for his more dominant, carer side to shine. hope u all love it.

You'd been doubled over on your chair all day, not even your heat pack and strongest pain killers were relieving your cramps. Everything hurt, everything ached, and you were being exceptionally snarky (even by your own standards) for no reason.

It was quiet in the store, a weird Tuesday where the weather was putting off anybody from stepping foot out of their house. Misty, grey, dull and wet. A bit like you were feeling yourself, almost like the sky knew you weren't on top form and was sympathizing with you.

Eddie was whistling along to whatever crap he'd put on the store's boom box; in the back of your mind, you think it's Motley Crue but you can't even find it in you to tune into the song enough to make it out properly.

You felt anxious, every little noise creeping into your ears and booming loud, making you feel like your head was about to explode. You hated to admit it, but Eddie's voice in particular was grating on you, every time he opened his mouth you wanted to snark at him, tell him to shut the fuck up.

You were trying your best to block him out before you blew up at him, twirling in your chair a little for comfort whilst you redundantly pressed the useless heat pack closer to your aching tummy, when he suddenly jumps out of nowhere at your side and starts doing the air guitar to a particularly loud and annoying solo.

"Eddie, shut the fuck up. You're driving me up the fucking wall." You snap, voice stern, angry, gruff, and it makes him stop in his tracks, looking crestfallen. You'd usually feel bad, but not today. He'd been pushing your buttons since you opened up, albeit he wasn't doing anything wrong and wasn't meaning to upset you, but your temper was short, and he wasn't getting the fucking hint.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck absentmindedly, big puppy dog eyes looking apologetic and sad, "M'sorry, sweetheart. I know you're not feeling good, I was just tryin' to make you laugh."

Your face softens a little, the guilt creeping in as you look at Eddie's sad features, "I'm sorry, handsome. I'm just exhausted these cramps are wiping me out." You sigh, groaning a little as your tummy coils up unpleasantly, radiating pain throughout your belly, back and legs.

Eddie comes over to lean over the counter, rubbing at your shoulder softly, and you melt into the touch, tense body slackening under his fingertips, "You know, I read in a girly magazine-" Eddie cuts himself off, like he's pondering on if he should actually continue on his sentence, you egg him on by nodding your head, "it was in the doctor's office, okay?"

"Hey, I never said anything." You hold your hands up in self-defense, giggling a little and trying to ignore how Eddie's inner brat jumps out as he rolls his eyes and lets his hand fall from your shoulder. You make a show of pouting until his hand comes back out, this time brushing down your arm.

"Anyway, in this girly magazine there was this article, about how to relieve menstrual cramps..." Eddie cringes at himself, screwing his face up at his wording and you laugh properly then, "Apparently, orgasms are the best way to relieve the pain. Something about the hormones it releases."

You balk at him a little, dumbfounded by the fact that he, for one, chose that article out of all of the pages in a women's magazine. And, for two, that he actually took in what the article said and stored it somewhere in the back of his head, almost like a mental note for if this were to ever happen.

He furrows his brows at you, "Is that- is that not right?" He asks, cocking his head a little, tips of his fingers still brushing your arm absentmindedly, "I thought since it was in a girly mag it'd be true."

"No, I mean I think it's true, I've heard that before." You shrug, trying to ignore the ache in your back at a particularly strong cramp, "But I don't really like to touch myself when I'm on my period. I'm usually too sore to focus and it makes a mess."

"Well," Eddie starts, cheeks flushing dark and his breath shaking, "I'd be more than... more than happy to help you with that. If y'want."

You suck your cheeks in, looking at him with narrowed eyes for a second before they soften, and you're pretty sure if he looked at you properly, he'd see the love hearts swirling round in your irises, "You're the sweetest boy I've ever met, Eddie Munson. Don't feel like you have to do that, though, I've gone like at least ten years on my period and am yet to do that."

"I'd like to," Eddie cuts in all too quickly, and now you wonder if he's doing this for your sake or his own morbid curiosity, though you suspect it's somehow both, "I'd like to help you feel better, that is. I don't - I don't mind the mess."

"Well, okay then." You shrug, trying to ignore the way that your thighs clench a little at the thought of Eddie touching you whilst you're menstruating. It was never something you'd thought about before, but now that Eddie had said about it, you wondered just how much you'd actually be into it.

"We can go to my place, uh, Wayne's gone until tomorrow, took a double shift for the extra money." Eddie rambles, like he has to justify every single detail to you. It's cute, endearing almost.

You nod your head in reply, subtly drifting your eyes to the clock and realizing there were still four hours left until closing. You couldn't help but wish the time away.

***

Eddie ushers you into the trailer slowly, a hand hovering over your lower back in a soothing motion, "You can go to my room and make yourself at home, sweetheart. I'll go get some, like, towels or something?"

"Towels should work, handsome. I don't think it's bad enough to justify a tarp." You say it as a joke as you toe your Docs off, but Eddie's eyes widen comically, "It was a joke. Though a tarp would be easier to clean."

You saunter off through to Eddie's room, sliding a comic book off of his desk and plopping down on the bed. You have no interest in it as you flip through the pages, tummy doing flips for two reasons now - your obvious cramps, but also the nervousness of what was about to happen.

You? Nervous? This never happened. You and Eddie had only had actual sex once, but you were in control, in a situation you'd been in plenty before. You showed him the ropes and took charge, that was your comfort zone. This was... different.

There's no more time to worry and ponder when Eddie comes bursting through the door carrying an array of things he thought you might need. Pain killers, a bottle of water, two towels and what looked like one of his oversized, ratty Metallica shirts.

Your heart melted a little. Eddie was just so, so sweet. You couldn't believe nobody had snatched him up before now, he was caring and attentive to you, albeit a bit fumbly and nervous but you think that's just because of how you are towards him.

He had the biggest heart. To match his dick.

"D'you need these before we start?" Eddie asks quietly, pulling you out of your trance and shaking the bottle of pills at you. You can tell he's nervous too, his breathing all jagged and his hand holding the pills jittering enough for you to notice.

"No, no, that's okay. I took a few before we left the store so they should start kicking in soon. Hand me the towels, would ya?" You lift yourself up off the bed, gently plucking the towels from Eddie's open arm. You strip his comforter out of the way in silence, laying the towels flat and spreading them out as well as you could. His twin bed was small enough that it covered just fine, but you spent extra time focusing on it and trying to block out the pounding in your ears.

Eddie's warm hands on the base of your spine jolt you out of your thinking, you melt into the touch slightly and lean back against his chest. He huffs into your hair, "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, sweetheart. Was just a suggestion."

"I'm just used to knowing everything and showing you the ropes. I dunno how to do any of this and I'm worried I'll gross you out." You say it matter of factly, making sure that as always you have the upper hand in showing him that you don't panic and you're always in control.

"S'not gonna gross me out, it's you. What if we... what if we did this in the shower instead? Would that make you feel better?" Eddie suggests, voice barely above a whisper and a clear nervousness breaking through. He's worried you're going to say no, you can tell.

You don't want his second time to be messy in a shower. But you make note of it for another time, now that you knew that was something he was clearly into.

You turn in his arms, shaking your head and nudging up to press your lips to his softly, just a brief kiss. But, Eddie grabs hold of your waist gently, deepening the kiss and forcing you to stay in place when you went to move away.

He's still not a good kisser, you make a mental note of that. He's still sloppy and giving too much tongue but you can't help but suck on it, causing a moan to escape him as he nudges you back towards the end of the bed until the backs of your knees knock on it. You fall backwards with a small thump and Eddie's lips never leave yours as you shuffle up the bed, until your head is cushioned by his one lonely pillow.

"What do you want me to do?" Eddie asks gently once your lips part, soothing your hip with his big hand. You keen into the touch, loving the feeling of how soft his hand was, unwinding how tight you felt with nerves.

"You don't have to do anything you don't wanna do, pretty boy." You start, and Eddie's eyebrows furrow at you, "You can finger me, if you wanna? You can just stick to rubbing my clit, though."

Eddie doesn't humor you with a reply, simply tucking his fingers under the waistband of your leggings to drag them down your legs and off in one swift motion. You raise a brow as he goes to strip his jeans off as well, leaving him in a pair of tight black boxers which you swear you've never seen him wear before.

They leave nothing to the imagination - you sit up on your forearms for a better look at his half hard cock already straining a little. You catch it kicking up in interest as you stare at it with wide eyes.

"Theyre - they're new." Eddie stutters over his words, flushing a dark shade of red and there's the Eddie you know all too well, all flustered and embarrassed.

"They look great, Eddie." You say with a strained voice, gasping as he slides back onto the bed and in between your spread thighs, only your respective underwear and shirts blocking your touch. "I still have a tampon in so that I, like, don't leak everywhere."

Eddie slides his palm over your hot cunt, eliciting another small gasp from you. It makes you feel, well, weird. And kind of dirty. But he doesn't seem to care, as his fingers pull the material of your panties to the side and he dips the tips in between your folds, seeking out the tampon string.

"Can I take it out?" He asks, eyes wide in earnest as if he doesn't realize how strange and weird of a request it is. You cringe a little, falling onto your back so you don't have to look at him whilst you nod your head yes.

It's not like you to be so mortified by something so normal, always one to not be a priss and try anything at least once. This just makes you feel vulnerable, and Eddie is so inexperienced that it makes you question if he knows that this isn't necessarily 'normal' to do during sex.

You throw your forearm over your eyes and squeeze them shut as you feel Eddie's fingers grab the string and tug your tampon out gently, then the telltale sign of him lifting off the mattress, clearly leaving to dispose of it.

His footsteps come back quickly; you feel the bed dip as he gets back onto it and snug back in between your spread legs. Then, you gasp as he runs two fingers back in between your folds, this time to slide them through and gather some slickness.

You let your arm fall from your face, plucking up the courage to finally look back at him and he's smiling with this dumb look on his face. It makes your cunt clench around nothing - you didn't realize through all your nervousness that you were clearly into this, slick mixing in with your menstrual blood to make things extra wet.

Eddie doesn't seem to care about the blood at all, swirling his fingers around like you'd previously taught him to, finally catching them on your clit and rubbing in slow circles. He leans over the top of you, mouth against your neck to press a sweet kiss, "Does this feel good?"

You nod your head, shivering at the feeling of his breath on your soft skin, goosebumps blooming down your arms. He probably didn't mean for his words to sound dirty, but they did, made you flush warm with want for him.

His fingers slip through the mixture of fluids with ease, rubbing relentlessly on your clit until you're a whining, shaking mess under him. Somehow, this feels more intense than it ever has before, and you can't tell if that's because of you being on your period, Eddie taking the lead or a mixture of both.

"E-Eddie," You choke, hips jolting up of their own accord, a loud whine escaping your lips, suddenly you're aware of how submissive you're being but you can't find it in you to care, "f-feels so good, Eddie."

"Yeah?" He asks, fingers rubbing at your clit with purpose, clearly trying to get you there and it's working, "Y'gonna come?"

Eddie can sound so dirty without even trying and you feel your cunt clench, can feel your warm fluids dripping down your ass, pooling there and probably making such a mess. It shouldn't be as hot as it is, you shouldn't be as turned on as you are, but it feels so dirty and Eddie loves it more than you do and it's making your brain short circuit.

You nod your head, squeezing your eyes shut but Eddie's free hand grips at your jaw, shaking your head a little until your eyes reopen to see him staring at you intently, "Look at me whilst I finger you, sweetheart. Wanna see you come undone on my hands."

You gasp, the coil in your belly tightening at Eddie's vulgar words, the loud slick sounds of your cunt being violated by his hands filling the air and engulfing all of your senses. Your mouth opens in a soundless moan and Eddie sees that as an opportunity to shove his thumb in your mouth.

"Suck on it." He says it like it's casual and like he's told you to do it before, the way you obey and immediately begin licking and sucking at his calloused fingertip makes you question yourself, but then his fingertips dig into your cheeks a little rough and any thought leaves your brain.

Your body feels like a livewire, tummy tensing up impossibly tighter. You're looking into Eddie's glassy dark eyes, his puffy pink lips open slightly as he stares you down, feeling every catch and drag of his fingers on your clit and you're a goner. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train and you're biting down gently on Eddie's thumb, moaning and squeezing your eyes tight as you come so hard you see stars.

"That's my girl." Eddie grins, rubbing your clit slowly as he works you through it, not stopping until you're trying to clench your legs shut from oversensitivity.

You open your eyes again just in time to catch him wiping his fingers on the towel below you, a creamy dark pink colour staining the grey fabric. You're still trying to catch your breath, can feel your shirt clinging to your back with sweat.

You grab Eddie by the front of his own shirt and pull him down to kiss you, all needy as you gasp into his open mouth, tongue lapping in to drag against his own.

Eddie moans, shuddering against you as his hands roam up under your shirt, soothing the hot, damp skin under his fingertips. You slide your own hand down his torso, grabbing at a handful of his hard cock through his boxers and squeezing until he bucked into your hand with a whine.

You're honestly surprised he didn't come in his pants again, it seemed to be a running theme with him. Not that you minded, you liked having that power over him.

"Can I..." Eddie breathes into your mouth, cut off with another groan as you attacked his neck, nipping and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, "Can I fuck you?"

You nod into his neck, hands deftly sliding over the waistband of his boxers, blindly tugging them down his thighs as you continued your assaults on his pale skin.

You grab a hold of his cock by the base when it springs out of his underwear, giving it a few quick tugs for good measure, which has Eddie shivering and almost collapsing on top of you. You slide the wet head of his dick in between your folds, shuddering at the wet sounds as it catches on your entrance.

Eddie has no patience and shoves his hips forward, sliding into you with ease. He grips at your hips tightly, sucking in a shaky breath as he bottoms out, "Jesus, you're so fucking wet."

You clench around his cock at his words and he positively mewls, pulling out a little and thrusting back into you, eyes tearing away from you to look down at where your bodies meet, the absolute mess you're both making. He's so mesmerized, watching how your cunt sucks him in so well with every thrust, "Your pussy is so greedy."

It tumbles out like word vomit, but there's no embarrassment in Eddie's eyes when yours fly open to look at him, watch him looking at your cunt with hearts in his eyes. You cry out, hips bucking of their own accord as his thrusts pick up, finally gaining a good rhythm and abusing your gspot with ease.

"Harder, Eddie, please," You gasp, tears pricking at your eyes as he doubles down his efforts and leans over you, fucking into you harder, faster than before. His curls are matted to his forehead, this wild look on his face as you lean up to brush his hair back, fingers gripping into it at the crown of his head so your foreheads are touching, "You're so fucking pretty like this."

Eddie lets out a shaky laugh, grinning like the Cheshire cat, "Don't say that, I'm gonna come." He grits his teeth, hips beginning to falter and stutter.

Your soft spot is being abused by his cock, grazing at it with every thrust and you too feel your orgasm impending on you, "Come with me then. Come in my wet pussy."

Eddie whimpers, that in turn makes your cunt throb around him and he's shoving his cock into you so hard you move up the bed a little, the slick sounds invading your senses and making you clench sporadically until you're coming with a loud shout of his name.

"Fuckfuckfuck, god you're so tight, fuck." Eddie's babbling nonsense, clearly struggling at the feeling of your pussy sucking him in so well, then he's coming too, hips stilling as his eyes roll into the back of his head.

You watch him in awe, you don't think you'll ever get fed up of watching him come undone inside of you the way that he does. He's so perfect it makes you feel like you're suffocating every time you look at him.

He collapses down on top of you, breathing heavily as you pet his hair gently, soothing him quietly, "I think I'm in love with you, fuck."

"I'm in love with me too." You say jokily, trying to hide the way your words come out panicky, though you're sure Eddie can hear your heart going a million miles an hour under his head.

Eddie barks out a laugh into your chest, snuggling up a little, "You'll say it back eventually." He shrugs, nonchalantly like he could care less that you brushed off his confession.

Little did he know how much you'd been in love with him from the day you set your eyes on him. But that was a conversation for another day.

"Yeah, yeah. We need to get up before these towels stain your bed." You giggle, "That was... perfect, by the way. Thank you for always taking such good care of me."

"So long as your cramps are a bit better." Eddie sighs sleepily, snuggling into you a little more. You lie there a bit longer before you're shoving him out of the bed to clean up, worried he'd fall asleep in the mess.

If you followed him into the shower and sucked his cock clean later, then nobody needed to know.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female!reader #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #my fanfic #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #virgin!eddie #virgin!eddie munson

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asumofwords · 8 months

Text

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Fighting, Aemond being an asshole, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, degradation, hair pulling, spanking, daddy kink.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Okay so, two things. I should preface this by telling you all that Harold Holt was an Australian Prime Minister who went swimming and never came back. It was assumed he drowned, or got eaten by sharks, or if you want to go with the more fun conspiracy theories, got abducted in a submarine. But to do a Harold Holt is basically to do a runner, no show, disappearance with no word, smoke bomb, etc. Hope you get it now lol. Secondly, the song Aemond is listening to is from one of my longtime fav bands who I got to see live! The song is ‘Kletka - Molchat Doma’ and its such a vibe, anyway, thanks for your patience on the update! Its a long ass chapter because I don't know how to stop.... Enjoy <3

Chapter 6: Lapse in Judgement

Waking up the next morning was something that you had dreaded the moment you ran and hid in your room, diving beneath your sheets as your heart raced and your core throbbed.

Your fingers had grazed your lips, sensitive from the bruising kiss he had pulled you into.

Fuck.

You had kissed Aemond.

And Aemond had kissed you.

You had felt the phantom feeling of his fingers on your core and had tossed and turned all night, desperately trying to ignore the heartbeat that settled between your thighs and the mounting anxiety that followed.

What would Helaena say?

When you woke that morning, the turning of your stomach began almost immediately, anxiety winding its way higher and higher, palms sweating, knowing that you would have to face the music and exit your room.

A small headache had formed behind your eyes from the alcohol, but it was barely noticeable in comparison to your racing thoughts. Or perhaps the cause for your headache was the conundrum you now found yourself in.

Note to self, no more Porn Star Martinis if a handsome and brooding man was in your apartment.

You dressed, and ran to the bathroom, noticing Aemond’s door was open.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, there were bags beneath your eyes, and your hair a mess from tossing and turning all night. You paid careful attention to concealing the dark shadows and fixing your hair before you took a steady breath and exited the loo.

You expected Aemond to be gone for his morning run as he usually was, as the creature of habit he seemed to be, door open and all that, but nope, fate had other plans for you. Aemond stood, in his over six foot glory in the kitchen, mug in his hands as he looked out the window. He was dressed in his running gear, grey shirt today and his hair was down, cascading over his shoulders, strands tucked neatly behind his ears.

On your approach, he lifted his head to look at you.

You swallowed dryly, feet stumbling slightly against the floor boards as you made your way over, heat rising in your cheeks. You were mortified, and beyond that, ashamed.

Ashamed of who it was.

Ashamed of how you had acted.

Ashamed that it was Helaena’s brother.

And ashamed that you had liked it.

You had to tear your face away from his gaze, diverting your eyes to the floor as you made your way over, picking up the kettle to make yourself your morning tea. You didn’t greet him verbally, too unsure of what to do, and so you gave him a soft nod.

A sliding sound caught your attention.

You took your eyes from the sink, and beside you on the bench, Aemond had pushed with two knuckles a mug of tea towards you.

It was your favourite mug, and it looked like he had managed to make it perfectly.

You blinked up at him, putting the kettle back in its holder and reaching for the tea. Your fingers grazed over his momentarily, heart racing as you took the mug from him. Warmth spread through your chest and you swallowed.

“I’m sorry.” You breathed, picking up the mug to your lips, “I, uh,” You let out an awkward chuckle, “I think I had one too many martini’s last night.” Another awkward laugh, and then the words didn’t stop, Oh god, “Sara took me to this new bar, and it was so cool, it actually reminded me a bit of you. We had one drink aft-“

“-Don’t worry about it.” Aemond interrupted your anxious rambling, his cool gaze on you, face blank.

You nodded and sipped at the tea.

Your heart raced in your chest.

It was perfect.

“Thanks for the tea. And for dealing with me last night.” Another awkward laugh, you lifted the mug towards him.

Aemond hummed, looking away to sip at his coffee, the strong smell of the beans surrounding you.

You stood together in the quiet of the kitchen, awkward energy surrounding the both of you before he set down his empty mug. He stepped closer, his chest almost bushing yours. Your breath caught in your throat as his hand reached forward.

And then over you to turn on the sink, a small ‘excuse me’ falling from his lips as he rinsed his mug and placed it into the dishwasher.

Your cheeks felt hot and you sucked in a shaky breath.

Aemond didn’t speak another word, and turned away from you, heading towards the front door as he pulled out his AirPods and placed them in his ears. He disappeared down the hall, and the last thing you heard was the keys being pulled out of the dish, and the door opening and closing.

You let the breath you had been holding in out in one big gust. Hand moving to rub at your neck awkwardly.

What the fuck was that?

The day droned on as it would with Larys hovering over your shoulder as usual. It didn’t help that you had not heard a word from Gwayne Hightower, and were swamped with endless calls from investors and clients whom he had meetings with and didn’t show.

“Do you know where Gwayne is?” You leant over your desk, looking to the one next to yours, a solicitor names Jasper Wylde watching at you with steely eyes.

His curly hair shifted as he turned to face you, dark beard trimmed perfectly against his chin, “No clue. He may be at the magistrates office. Got a text from Tyland this morning saying that something went down at the case this morning.”

You sighed loudly, leaning back in your chair, “That’s the last thing we need. How come Tyland texted you and not me? I’ve got calls coming out of my ass from angry and disgruntled clients about Gwayne missing their meetings.”

Jasper shrugged, “You know what Tyland is like, useless at the best of times.”

You snorted and rolled back to your desk.

Jasper was nice, stiff, but nice.

He took his job very seriously, and Tyland Lannister often called him Ironrod as a joke. Though he was older and a complete professional, it didn’t stop him from sending an occasional flirty glance your way, or rise of his dark brows.

Recently divorced.

You knew he had had four wives, all ending in divorce, and multiple kids with each one. You didn’t know how he had the time to support them all, let alone spend time with them. But he did, and you had been surprised when you first started and saw the pictures pinned to his cubicle of all his kids.

There was, at the very least, ten.

Ironrod might be more fitting for something else.

By the time the day ended, you had slumped in your chair, sighing loudly as you packed away your things. You turned to look at Jasper who was still working.

He never followed the clock ‘off at five’ rule you had, and would often stay behind to get everything perfect.

A real stickler for law.

You walked to the train station and jumped on the next one that rolled slowly into the subway. On your way home, your anxiety flared again. You hadn’t even answered Helaena’s texts asking about how you were and how Aemond was. Each time your fingers hovered over the notification a wave of guilt would crash over you.

You didn’t even know how to respond to it. What could you say? ‘Everything is great! It’s super awkward, but so fine. By the way, did I mention that I almost let your brother take me against the kitchen bench? Haha, anyway, how are you?’

You shuddered at even the thought of telling her yet.

Stopping at the grocery store, you decided to pick up some things you knew you were running low on, as well as grabbing the ingredients you needed to make dinner with for the night.

What you hadn’t expected when you arrived home, was the smell of cooking food filling the apartment and the sound of sizzling vegetables coming from the stove, ‘Kletka - Molchat Doma’ streaming out of your speaker. You chucked your keys in the dish atop Aemond’s and kicked off your shoes, shuffling to the kitchen.

He stood facing the stove, hair pulled back in a low and messy bun, shorter strands tucked behind his ears.

The tall man had changed out of his running gear, and was in a black t-shirt and some black dickies cuffed at the bottom, large black Doc Martins tied tightly on his feet.

You watched as his shoulders spread, muscles rippling beneath his shirt as he cooked, the smell of spices filling the kitchen and lounge room.

It smelt so good that your mouth watered.

Aemond effortlessly flipped food in a pan, arm tight and tensed, veins visible on his pale skin as he worked. It was almost enchanting watching him cook, and your stomach did a flip as you gazed, warmth spreading into your gut.

“You going to stand and watch the whole time?”

You tensed, and sheepishly cleared your throat, “What are you cooking?” You walked over to stand next to him, his eye slipping to you from the corner of his eye as he continued to flip and stir the food.

“Dinner.”

You snorted, “I can see that.” You turned away and began to put your groceries and things away, opening the fridge to see that it was already full.

Aemond had gone grocery shopping.

“Do you eat meat?” He asked, chucking in some before you answered.

“Yea, I do.”

He hummed, flicking a finger out to turn the speaker down slightly so he could hear you better. He reached above him and pulled down two bowls, stirring the dinner again in the saucepan before he flicked it over into the two bowls.

He spun and gave you one, turning the speaker off.

Aemond made you dinner.

“Oh, thanks.” You uttered, taking the bowl from his hands before digging into the cutlery draw to pull out two forks.

Aemond hummed again, grabbing a fork from your hand as he turned the stove off and grabbed his own bowl, moving to the couch to eat. You followed after him, still in your work clothes and sat on the opposite end of the couch, feeling static energy between you both.

He flicked on the tv and began eating, dropping his phone on the table face down. You followed and began eating, watching some show about dragons and royalty.

The dinner was amazing.

You even groaned audibly as you ate.

Aemond was a good cook.

“This is amazing.” You complimented him, shoving another forkful into your mouth, flavour exploding on your tongue.

Aemond hummed in acknowledgement.

“Who taught you to cook like this?”

“Helaena.” He smiled.

“Of course she did.” You chuckled, feeling the tension between you begin to dissolve.

This was fine.

You could pretend nothing happened.

He totally didn't have you pressed against the kitchen bench with his finger on your cunt last night.

“How was work?” He turned his head to you, eye concentrated on your face, watching your reaction.

You groaned, “Shit. Gwayne did a Harold Holt and left me to clean up the mess.”

Aemond’s brows frowned, “Harold Holt?”

You flicked your hand in dismissal, “Australian Prime Minister. Anyway, absolute nightmare of a day, so thanks for dinner. I was thinking after I got groceries I would just come home and make some noodles.”

Aemond smirked, and your stomach fluttered at the sight, “I got groceries too.”

You smirked back, “I saw that. Thanks by the way. Great minds do think alike.”

The coffee table buzzed from Aemond’s phone, once, twice, three times in succession. You watched as a long arm reached out to press the silence button, dropping it back onto the table with a huff.

You polished off your dinner, watching the show together.

“Why doesn’t she just take her dragons to the castle and kill everyone?” You watched the silver haired woman on the screen and couldn’t help but think of the man beside you.

“That would mean she kills innocents and proves a point to her enemies that she is cruel like her father.” Aemond mused.

His phone buzzed again.

“But she’s proven that she’s not. If anything, she’s shown restraint and empathy.” You argued, before a large smirk wound on your face, “Now that I look at her, you guys look similar. You’re more brooding though.”

“Brooding again.” Aemond huffed a laugh and you followed.

“Brooding and a chef. You won’t get any complaints from me.” You paused tilting your head and nodded to the screen, “If I was her I’d just kill everyone.”

“Spoken like a true tyrant.”

“Tyrant of this apartment, and this apartment only. Maybe my office cubicle if my boss is being particularly slimy.”

Aemond hummed, “Larys giving you a hard time?”

You grimaced, “When does he not? I don’t know what your mum sees in him.” Aemond nodded in agreement, “At least I don’t work under Tyland Lannister, he would be a nightmare not even I could survive.”

The thought of working under your ex’s brother made your skin crawl, you didn’t even want to think about it.

The table vibrated again, and then again. Aemond snatched up his phone, pale brows frowning as he looked at the screen. His lips twitched and you watched any inkling of the good mood he had been in disappear.

He threw his phone down on the table with more force than needed, the sound causing you to flinch.

“Who’s that? Don’t tell me Aegon’s stuck in some sorority bathroom again.” You tried to lighten the mood, teasing tone in your voice.

Aemond’s cheek twitched and you watched as his hands flexed, “No one.” His voice came out almost like a growl.

You felt a pang of concern for him, “Are you ok?”

Aemond stood abruptly, grabbing his bowl and shoving his phone into his pocket roughly, “Drop it.”

You blinked up at him as he snatched your finished bowl and made his way to the kitchen.

Over the next two days Aemond avoided you completely, leaving early and coming home late, opting to either eat outside of the house or in his room. His avoidance of the apartment came at a great relief as well as a disappointment.

You were back to square one, and you had a sneaking suspicion that his mood came from either his ex or news of his father.

You had finally replied back to Helaena, shooting her an apology and then calling her after to tell her about work and see how she was doing. She sounded a bit shorter than usual, but she told you that being back with the family had been tense, and that her dad was not doing great.

You wished you could console her, hold her and let her cry, but you were stuck in the house with her brother and unable to go to her with the pile of work that was mounting on your desk.

When she had asked about Aemond, your heart had raced in your chest, anxiety peaking as you lied and told her that he was nice enough but rarely home. You didn’t tell her about your kiss in the kitchen, or how his hand had gone up your dress, and guilt ate away at you because of this.

You told yourself you would tell her, but not now. Not with everything else going on in her life. You couldn’t add another pile of flaming shit to the stress she was going through.

You would reap the consequences later.

After the third day had passed of Aemond avoidance of you, you found him in the kitchen that morning where you had found him on Monday, leant against the bench, coffee in hand, and a steaming mug of tea beside him.

An apology.

Or at least, one in his opinion.

He greeted you with a soft and rumbling ‘morning’ before he left to go on his run, leaving you with the tea. You stood leant against the bench and drank the brew that was perfectly steeped to your liking.

Helaena must have told him how you liked it, or maybe he taken a good guess. Either way, you were gladdened for his shite apology and drank it happily.

You went to work and made sure to politely chew Gwayne out with multiple ‘per my last email’s and flooded him with rebooked meetings that were back to back for him to chase up on. He had come to your desk, leaning against it as he watched you and explained the reason for his absence, all the while Jasper pretended to not be listening in.

Gwayne often tried to ‘connect’ with you on a more personal level, but he annoyed you more than anything. He had this air around him that screamed ‘Trad Wife Fantasy’ and you were definitely not one to entertain that. Misogyny seemed to be ripe in the Hightower circles.

When you had got home that evening, Aemond was not, and so you began to heat up leftovers from the night before.

The apartment had felt cold despite the warmth outside, and you realised that the aircon had been left on for likely the whole day. You turned it off, making a note to check it before you leave in the mornings, chucking on an oversized jumper before sitting down to eat.

You flicked on the tv to put a show on and zone out, needing to let your brain turn to mush after the long day, before finishing your meal and putting your dishes in the washer. You were curled up amongst the pillows with your jumper sleeves tucked over your hands when you heard keys be pushed into the door.

Aemond entered the apartment, long silver hair shifting against his back as he sauntered in. His eye dropped to you on the couch and gave you a small nod. You nodded back, greeting him with a small ‘hey’ before going back to watching the television.

Aemond moved about the kitchen to make himself dinner and you scrolled through your phone, wondering if you should reply to Cregan’s text asking if you wanted to go out drinking with him and the boys that weekend.

The couch dipped beside you, Aemond having sat in the centre of the couch, thigh brushing against yours.

“What’re you watching?” He asked, face turned to the tv.

You turned to look at Aemond’s, who’s attention was locked on the screen.

Everything about him was so severe. The way he spoke, the way he moved, the music he listened to, all way to how he interacted with others, and his features reflected it. His nose was long and sharp, and it matched his chin and jaw, his scar slicing through his eye to his cheek.

But his lips were different. They weren’t sharp like the rest of him, they were soft. So soft, and the way he had held you in the kitchen was softer than you had expected he would have been.

You had expected him to grip your neck roughly, whisper in your ear obscenities, shove you backwards into the shelves, and bend you over the bench to wrench your dress over your ass, and d-

His face turned to you as he asked you again, and you swallowed feeling heat rise in your cheeks, “Some show about a zombie apocalypse.” You answered.

Was it hot in here?

Why was it so hot all of a sudden?

Aemond hummed, lifting a long leg to cross over a knee, his thigh hovering above yours, as warmth from his body spread up through you, travelling straight to your gut.

He smelt good.

Spicy and dark, with a hint of cigarette hanging in the undertones.

Feeling suddenly warm, you gripped the underside of your jumper and lifted, pulling it up and over your head. Cool air met your stomach and chest, and you snapped a hand down to pull the shirt that had gotten caught in your jumper back over your skin.

Shit.

One arm after the other, you took the jumper off in a flustered set of movements, chucking it onto the arm of the couch as you tried to hide the blush of your cheeks.

Ok.

He hadn’t said anything.

Clearly he hadn’t seen otherwise he would have said something. It was Aemond, he would have been snarky and sarcastic or chastising. It’s fine. So fine. Totally fine. Not as if you didn’t just flash him. Not at all.

Everything was fine.

You sat for a moment, adjusting yourself against the couch cushions, suddenly not being able to get comfortable, feeling a shyness spread through your chest. You breathed shallowly. A peak couldn’t hurt. You let your head turn slightly to look at Aemond.

His jaw was clenched, hand against his knee in a tight fist, small blush on his cheeks.

The couch vibrated and Aemond stiffened, this time not reaching to look at his phone.

Okay.

Maybe he had seen.

Fuck.

You stood awkwardly, grabbing the discarded jumper. Aemond looked up, watching you, chest rising and falling slowly beneath his shirt.

“Gonna have a shower,” You blurted, watching his silver lashes blink up at you, “Unless you want first dibs?”

Aemond shook his head and you moved away, walking straight to the bathroom.

Your stomach was full of butterflies as you made your way to the bathroom, stripping quickly to turn on the shower and let the water run cold, trying to cool the rising heat inside of you.

You spent ample time in there, goosebumps erupting on your skin as you attempted to ignore the way the man in your lounge room stoked a fire within you.

But no matter how hard you tried, it didn’t work.

You turned off the shower and stepped out, looking over at the towel rack to grab your towel to dry yourself.

Nothing.

Fuck.

On the back of the door was Helaena’s lilac silk robe, something she always wore when you would do a girls night in, face masks and hair care, and painted nails with your favourite movie, always Pride and Prejudice (2005 version), and a bottle of red. You grabbed the robe off the rack and threw it over your body, the silk clinging to your wet skin.

You swung the door open to run to the linen closet and grab yourself a new towel, running straight into a warm and broad chest. Hands steadied your shoulders as you stumbled backwards, eyes snapping up to meet Aemond’s gaze.

His fingers were tight around your arms, clenched into your flesh as he looked down at you. You swallowed, breathing heavily as your heart raced, the air between you charged.

“You can let go of me now.” You breathed, still in his grip as he looked at you.

His gaze darkened as his eye roamed down your body, and you felt heat brushing against your skin from it. Aemond’s gaze dropped further down still, hovering over your chest as he breathed heavily.

His fingers twitched and then skated down your arms to his side, raising goosebumps along your skin. He took a step back as you moved around him to open the linen cupboard, pulling down a towel.

From behind you could still feel his eye roaming over you, warmth sliding down your spine and into your gut. You gave him a small and shy smile before you stepped back into the bathroom, towel held against your chest.

Why was he staring at you like that?

You turned in the bathroom and caught your reflection in the mirror, you could now see why.

The thin lilac silk had stuck to your wet skin, becoming almost sheer, patches of the wet robe clinging to your curves, whilst the rest was dry and soft. The dark of your nipples were revealed against the soft material, and the curve of your breast was visible.

You blushed deeply, taking off the robe to hang it back the door to dry as you towelled yourself down, dressing into some comfortable pyjamas to get ready for bed.

Anxiety nipped at you again.

Gods.

Had you just flashed him twice in one day?

What was he going to think of you?

He probably thought you were doing it on purpose.

Deciding to go back out to the lounge room and swallow the embarrassment that sat heavily in the back of your throat, you trudged quietly into the room, Aemond sitting stiffly on the couch as he continued to watch the show that was still playing on the screen.

When you sat beside him, his head had turned slightly to look at you, eye taking in your now clothed form, a blush spreading across your cheeks. You tucked your legs beneath you and began to watch it, still feeling his gaze solely on you, and no longer paying attention to whatever was on the screen.

“Did anyone die?” You asked, not daring to turn your head to fully face him, knowing that you would lose all composure once you did.

“Don’t think so.” Aemond’s voice was low and gravelly and it made you shift on the cushion.

You made an awkward sound in the back of your throat, an attempt at a laugh, but it came out more like a whine, “That’s good then, I don’t want to miss anything important.”

Aemond huffed, “You could have paused it.”

His shift in demeanour caught you off guard, “But you were watching it.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Then how do you know if anyone died?”

“I don’t.”

You turned your face to look at him annoyed, “Then why say no-one died?”

Aemond lifted a brow at you, lips beginning to pull down, “I didn’t say that at all. I said I didn’t think so.”

“That implies you were paying attention.” You argued, feeling annoyed at his snarky attitude again.

Aemond dragged an irritated hand through his hair, “I don’t care about your stupid fucking show. If you didn’t want to miss something, then maybe you should have been smart and paused it.”

Your head reared back as you looked at him, his mood rapidly having soured, “What the fuck is your problem?”

The man let out a hollow laugh, “Fuck off.”

His phone vibrated in the couch cushions.

“No seriously dude. What is your deal? You’ve been on my dick ever since you moved in. I’m doing you a favour here.”

Anger flashed across the Targaryens face, his brows pulling down into a sneer as his scar crinkled across his cheek, “You think you’re doing me a favour?”

You were wrong, his lips could be sharp.

Buzz.

You turned on the couch to face him, “You’re the one who needed change. Who needed to leave Harrenhal and come back here. You took Helaena’s room so you could get settled and start fresh.”

“You don’t know anything about what I need.”

Buzz.

“You need to check your phone for a start, because whoever is messaging you is clearly desperate to get in touch. Maybe it’s Alys.”

The air in the room dropped, and Aemond’s face became stoney, as though he had pushed away all emotions to the back of his mind with cool practice. The way his posture had even changed looked as though he was on guard, ready to fight.

Regret flooded you as you looked at him.

You felt immediately terrible, having crossed a line that should never had been crossed. You knew his break up with Alys was bad, and their relationship was not great, and you had just rubbed that in his face.

“That was uncalled for, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” You apologised quietly, watching as his chest rose and fell jaggedly.

Aemond’s jaw was tensed, lips pursed together in a hard line as his eye narrowed on you, “Do you want to know what my problem is?” He leant forward, voice barely higher than a whisper.

You swallowed.

“My problem is that I live with someone who parades herself half naked around the apartment, and brings home men to fuck her loudly, all night, like a tart.”

You blanched, anger rising up your throat, “A tart? Wow.” Your voice dropped, “That's low. Even for you, Aemond.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough.” You sneered, standing from the couch to look down at him, “You have this ‘woe is me’ performance down to a T, when in reality you were born into a family of old money, not having to work a single day in your life, yet you still act as though you are downtrodden. You’re a spoilt, narcissistic asshole who looks down his purebred nose at people. You have more in common with Jason Lannister than you’d like to think.” You spun on your heel, anger bursting inside of you as you moved to storm away from the lounge room and into your bedroom.

Aemond’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist tightly as he began to stand, “Is that what you really think?”

“It’s what I know. You’ve so far treated me as lesser than the dirt on the bottom of your shoe. You’ve got some serious social deficiencies, Aemond. Did Daddy not hug you enough as a child?” You mocked, striking him where you knew it would hurt the most.

Fuck him.

Fuck being nice.

Arrogant, rich, prick.

Aemond straightened to his full height above you, looking down as he silently seethed. The air around you was charged, and the tension continued to mount as he watched you, eye locked on yours.

“Careful, bunny.”

“Stop fucking calling me that.”

“Why?” His voice dropped, “It’s what you like, isn’t it? Being called bunny, being treated rough. I could bend you over this couch right now and I bet you’d be soaked.”

Your eyes widened, breath stilling in your chest.

Aemond took another step forward, dropping your wrist, “I’m right aren’t I? You act out like this because you want to be put in your place. You want to be a brat so daddy will fuck you, don’t you?”

A chill ran down your spine as he loomed above you, “Don’t you?”

You swallowed thickly, eyes narrowing, “Fuck you.”

Aemond chuckled, “I bet you’d love that.” His hand moved swiftly, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, tingles rippling down your neck.

His hand kept going, brushing through your hair softly, before he gripped a large chunk harshly at the nape of your neck.

A shocked gasp fell from your lips.

“Answer me.”

“No.”

Defiant until the end.

“No?” His brows raised, “Then if I check, you wouldn’t be dripping right now, would you?”

You raised your head in false bravado, a blush creeping across your skin, standing as impossibly still as you could. Challenging him.

Aemond hummed, spinning you around by the grip on your hair, swiftly bending you over the arm of the couch. A cry fell from your lips as your hips and stomach collided with the edge, hands gripping the side to catch yourself.

Your heart was beating against your ribs as you shifted in anticipation, the heat of Aemond’s body loomed behind you as he bent over you, lips coming to beside your ear.

“Now, if I check, and you are wet, you’re in trouble.” He purred.

You squirmed, his hand tugging on your tendrils sending pleasure down your spine and straight to your core. He chuckled, and you whined again, feeling one of his large palms skate down your side agonisingly slow before he reached your pyjama bottoms.

Aemond’s long fingers dipped beneath the elastic and paused for a moment, as though he was giving you a second to say no. But you said nothing, eyes focused on the cushion in front of you as he tugged the shorts down in one swift yank.

Aemond tutted behind you, dragging one long finger to swipe through your folds. Your back arched as you whined, teasing pleasure rippling up through you.

You could feel how wet you were, and your thighs rubbed together in anticipation of what was to come.

He clicked his tongue at you, “You’re soaked.” Aemond’s hand left your core and you turned your head to look at him, watching as he brought the slick finger up to his lips to suck.

Your lips parted as your watched, his eye sliding shut as he licked his finger clean, humming.

“So sweet.” He cooed, “But I was right.” His voice lowered, and he loomed back over you, looking into your eye as his face hardened, “You’ve been such a brat tonight.”

You shook your head, tilting your hips back towards him, biting your lip as you looked at him. A smirk wound on his face as he watched you, hand moving back between your thighs where they instantly found your bud.

He pressed into it meanly, and a sharp cry fell from your lips.

“Shut up.” He hissed, diving two long fingers into your core with no warning.

Your eyes clenched shut as he immediately began to fuck his digits in and out of you, delicious stretch blooming within as the lewd sound of your wetness was all to be heard over your shallow breaths.

Aemond stayed bent over you, watching your face contort with pleasure as you tried to keep your moans inside, biting your lip roughly.

It was so hard.

Every drag of his fingers found the soft spongey spot within you with practised precision and without mercy, roughly pressing into it with each thrust of his hand, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine and heat to settle in your gut.

“So quiet now.” He teased, “Where’s that attitude gone?”

“Fuck you.” You grit through your teeth panting, eyes half lidded.

Aemond huffed, straightening up to his full height as his other hand pressed down on your lower back, pinning you to the couch arm. His hand began to fuck into you rapidly, slick leaking down your thighs as you writhed beneath his grip, coil beginning to tighten.

A broken moan fell erupted from your lips as the knuckles of his hand beat harshly against your clit, pain and pleasure being pulled through you in equal measure. The pain eventually being overridden by the euphoria that he was pulling from you.

Your walls tightened around his fingers and you felt him shift, the width of his other hand spreading widely across your back as he knelt behind you. You squeaked, trying to move, feeling suddenly shy, which earnt you a particularly harsh swat against the flesh of your ass.

“Stay still.” Aemond growled, and you did, feeling the warm of his breath at your core.

Your legs shook as his fingers were pulled from within, and you heard him lap at his digits once more, humming almost pornagraphically.

“Such a dirty, little girl. So wet and wanting for daddy, aren’t you? Such a slut.”

You mewled, hips shifting upwards, trying to take his fingers back inside of you.

You were so close, so fucking close.

Aemond leant forward, and dragged a wide stripe with his tongue up through your folds, humming as he moved, his sharp nose pressing into your backside.

“Fuck.” You whined, jolting forward.

Aemond’s hands grabbed your cheeks and spread them wide in a bruising grip before he dived between your folds, licking and sucking at your pearl with no abandon, your release coming closer and closer with every swipe of his skilled tongue.

He moaned as he lapped at your arousal, tongue dipping between your folds to collect it straight from the source. Aemond’s fingers dug into your flesh meanly as you whined, hips jerking backwards, chasing your release. He held you still, fucking you with his tongue as your climax hurtled towards you.

“Please.” You begged, fingers gripping the couch for dear life, knuckles going white.

Aemond paused and pulled back, “Please what?” He asked coyly.

You groaned, “Please make me cum.”

“But you don’t deserve that, do you? You’ve been a bitch all night, haven’t you?”

You whined, pushing your hips back as you felt him stand behind you again, “Not true.” You argued pathetically, “You were mean first.”

Aemond’s hand pulled your head back by your hair, eye boring into your own, “You haven’t seen mean at all, princess.”

His fingers pressed back into your walls, head still wrenched back painfully as he fucked his hand into you harder and faster than before, the coil within winding rapidly.

“Fuck. Fuck. Aemond, fuck.”

“Not my name.” He yanked on your hair, pain pulling at your scalp, “What’s my name?”

“Aemond.” You breathed jaggedly, last bit of cheekiness coming through.

His hand stilled inside of you, “No.”

You wriggled and whined, trying to push yourself back to fuck yourself on his fingers. His grip in your hair tightened again, preventing you from making any movements as he kept his fingers still.

A warning.

You swallowed the last of your pride, and whimpered, “Daddy.”

“Good girl.” Aemond cooed, his hand began to fuck into you again, thumb curling beneath to press into your bud and rub with every thrust, “Beg.”

You whined, biting your lips as pleasure began to mount, your release so close you could begin to feel the peak.

“Beg.” He growled again, thrusts getting harder.

“Please,” You sobbed out, “Please let me cum. Please let me cum, daddy.”

“There, that wasn’t so hard was it?” He mocked, fucking his hand into you as fast as he could go.

The swirling of his thumb combined with his fingers moving rapidly, caused heat to bloom through your gut as your breath held in your chest. It was all too much, and the coil within wound pathetically fast as his skilled hand brought you to your peak.

“There you go.” He cooed from behind, feeling your walls clench around his digits, “Good girl.”

You came with a cry, hips pressing backwards into his hand as he fucked you through your climax, drawing out each and every inch of pleasure that he could. The room was filled with your moans and whines, the wet sound of your heat engulfing his fingers behind you.

Aemond slowed his thrusts down as you slumped against the arm of the couch, mind going fuzzy as pleasure coursed through your veins. Aemond removed his fingers carefully, wiping your slick on the inside of your thighs as you felt him look down at you.

Buzz.

You breathed heavily, lost in bliss as a small smile wound on your cheeks. You heard him chuckle behind you at the sight. Completely fucked out on the couch. And only with his hands and mouth.

Buzz.

“You gonna get that?” You sighed dreamily, pants still pushed down to your knees as lay slumped in a daze.

Buzz.

You turned your head to look at Aemond as he pulled out his phone in agitation, face scowling at the screen. You moved to sit on the arm of the couch, pulling your shorts up as you looked at him scrolling through his notifications.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, feeling concern at seeing his sudden change in nature, “Is it your dad?”

His cool gaze flicked to your face, and you felt the warmth that had once surrounded you grow cold. It was like he had flicked a switch, “How about you mind your own business.” He scowled.

You furrowed your brows at him, “Woah, relax. I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

Aemond scoffed, shoving his phone back into his back pocket, “Are you always this overbearing?”

You blanched.

What the fuck?

Buzz.

“What?” You said in disbelief, brows furrowing.

“Oh, please.” He growled angrily, “Making me dinner, asking after me all the time. If I had known you were that desperate-“

“-Desperate?”

A flash of regret washed over Aemond’s face. He sighed through his nose and stepped towards you, “Y/n, I-“

“Don’t.” You held a hand up, feeling tears begin to prickle at your eyes standing on shaky legs, “This was a mistake.”

Aemond’s face dropped.

The silver haired man sighed again, “If you would just l-“

“If you treated Alys half as bad as this, it’s no wonder she left you.” You snapped, watching as his jaw tensed, feeling an ache bloom in your chest, “You have no regard for anyone else but yourself, and what we just did was a lapse in my judgement. I thought that you-“ You paused and swallowed, not bothering to finish what you were going to say.

Aemond stood deathly still as you sped past him, not waiting for his response as you fled to your bedroom, slamming your door shut behind you. You crawled immediately into the sheets, tears finally falling from your eyes as you cried softly, turning onto your side to curl in on yourself.

You felt used.

If there was one thing that you knew, it was that Aemond was not a good person, no matter what Helaena said.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Taglist:

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aryxchse · 2 months

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percy doesn't know.

— leo valdez x daughter of poseidon! reader.

inspired from the song ;; scotty doesn't know by lustra

summary ;; percy is oblivious about leo fucking his sister at every chance he gets.

warnings ;; nsfw stuff i guess, no full smut though. percy is being oblivious as hell, reader is sneaky and leo's a little bastard <3

a / n ;; wish my english was good enough to actually write some good smut, but please don't kill me because i just implied it 👐🏻 OH and they're aged up, obvi.

Percy doesn't know that y/n and me

Do it in my cabin every Sunday

She tells him she's in lake but she doesn't go

Still she's on her knees and Percy doesn't know

y/n l/n, percy jackson's precious little sister. she was only a year younger than him, but he still acted like she was a baby. he tried to protect her at all costs and sweared that he would kill anyone who looked at her wrong.

and when she told him that she was dating with leo, he couldn't help but get even more protective. but he did not have the right to say something, because he was happily in love with annabeth. and y/n just wanted to live that kind of love too, she deserved it.

so when she told him she was going to lake, to swim and meditate a little, he believed her. she was too soft and naive to do something secretly behind him anyways. at least, that's what percy told to himself.

little did he didn't know was that y/n, was going to bunker 9.

"finally," leo breathed out when he saw his perfect girlfriend y/n. "thought percy didn't let you be alone."

y/n smiled mischiefly as she approached to him, already seeing him hard. it looked like it hurt, and she would do anything to make her sweet boyfriend satisfied. "doesn't matter, i'm here right? let me help you with that." she said, pointing his arousal.

leo only smirked when she got down to her knees.

I can't believe he's so trusting

While I'm right behind you thrusting

y/n's got him on the phone

And she's trying not to moan

"h-hi, perce. what's up?" she said, trying to hold her voice stable.

she wasn't going to open the phone, really. but leo, being a little shit he is, insisted. appearently he wanted to see how much his girlfriend was capable of holding herself.

besides, leo was too heated at the moment that he didn't even cared when percy called. she was close, he was close, they were so close to having the feeling of paradise. percy would enter the room and leo would still keep pounding into her, that's how hot he was. he couldn't stop.

leo bited back a laugh, thrusting into her more. he bended her over at his working table, the metal stuff throwed on the ground long ago. she tried to scratch the table but of course, failed.

"no, thank you i don't want anything." she said, arching her back more as leo kept his speed. she was so close to exploding that she was afraid she wouldn't be able to muffle her moans like she did now.

percy was on a date with annabeth at the amusement park and he was catching some plushies now. and he knew how his sister loved plushies, especially sea creature themed ones. "well, m-maybe you can get the shark one, thanks perce." she said, tears rolling down as her voice shaked a bit.

"okay, love you too. kiss annabeth for me." she said before hanging up, and releasing herself with a loud cry. she screamed all of the voices she kept inside while she hit her orgasm, panting on leo's desk. it didn't take much longer for leo to cum after her, a breathless chuckle leaving his lips.

"you did so well, princesa." he panted, kissing her back.

I did her on his birthday

percy doesn't know

it was august 18th, percy's birthday. everyone of their friends were invited, so it was normal for leo being there too.

the house was full of people, that percy couldn't even look or talk with his sister more than two minutes. everyone congratulated him on his new age and how handsome he turned out. bla, bla, bla.

y/n wore a white skirt with a blue crop top that leo got her at her birthday. he didn't said anything while he handed it to her, but the low neckline was making her boobs look gorgeous. and he don't even mention of how hot that top looked with that skirt.

leo held her hand as he whispered in her ear. "i need you, right now." he whispered in a desperate tone, a tone she couldn't say no to.

"leo we can't— the house is too crowded and-" leo kissed her neck secretly, only making her squirm under his touch. "that's why no one would notice." he whispered in her ear.

percy was talking with annabeth when he saw y/n taking leo's hand and dragging him to somewhere. "y/n!" he called, making the couple turn around.

"w-what's up?" she asked, trying to sound not too panicked. percy didn't noticed, thanks to gods. "where are you two going?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. which annabeth was going to be mad at him for it later.

"i gotta pee man, and she's leading me to the bathroom." leo explained, hiding behind her so that percy won't see his boner. percy was going to say something, but was intrupted by annabeth.

"okay then, we wouldn't want leo to pee in his pants on your birthday, right babe?" annabeth asked, not caring if percy was going to answer or not. and not waiting for it either. "but-" percy tried to say.

"great! be quick though, we're about to give him his presents." annabeth said like she knew, she winked to the couple. y/n gave her a warm smile, in a way only she could understand what she meant behind it. thank you, you're the best!

annabeth dragged percy to the kitchen while the couple got upstairs, making out the moment they entered the bathroom.

a / n ;; thanks for reading, you really survived to here fr 🫶🏻

#annabeth the cupid she is #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson series #pjo hoo toa #pjo show #pjo tv show #leo valdez headcanons #leo valdez imagines #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you

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lostloveletters · 3 months

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Give Me Shelter, The Night Is Dark (Vampire!Michael Corleone x Reader)

Summary: Local superstition and a reclusive man offer you refuge when your parents grievously misstep in Sicily, putting your life in danger in more ways than one.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This incredibly self-indulgent gothic romance-esque idea came to me while I was half-asleep, and the time period is intentionally vague, but it’s not a modern setting (here's a little aesthetic tag for this fic). Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Major canon divergence. Canon-typical violence. Emotional manipulation. Vampirism, including non-consensual blood drinking and compulsion (in the context of it being an ability vampires possess and can use on humans). Sexually explicit content involving elements of bloodplay. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

You couldn’t remember what had brought your family to the village of Corleone, only that your father had promised you and your mother an extravagant Sicilian vacation. Three days of beachside paradise in Mondello, eating fresh seafood cooked to perfection and entertaining the antics of handsome men with scars that stood out like bolts of lightning against their tanned skin were hardly enough to sate your voracious appetite for the weeks of bliss you were promised.

Despite your attempts at bargaining to stay in Palermo on your own, your mother refused, insisting she’d be better off throwing you into shark-infested waters than alone with the men who came calling to your hotel. Some days of travel through the breathtaking Sicilian countryside later, you and your parents arrived in Corleone, a village that appeared all but frozen in time, as if decades had passed it by with no one any the wiser.

To your dismay, you found the selection of eligible men to spend your time with far more limited than in Palermo. The working young men were too tired from their labor in the fields or their trades to engage in foolish antics with a vacationing foreigner. The rest were mafiosi, as you gathered from the veiled comments and numerous euphemisms the older villagers used.

These elderly became your companions during your stay in Corleone, talking wildly with their weathered hands over coffee or wine. Filomena, a woman of nearly eighty years and fluent in English, lived in the house next to the one your family was renting. Her husband Gianni only left the house if absolutely necessary, and she considered him a burdensome hermit. Each morning, she fetched you to accompany her into town. Some days, you’d do little else than sit outside of a cafe on the sleepy main street, eating and drinking and gossiping.

Your Sicilian improved immensely in the near month you kept up with their chatter. Those women always had their ears to the ground, as far as knowing more about your father’s business in Corleone than you did. The vacation he promised you was little more than a gesture of confidence toward Don Manusco, a man notoriously difficult to meet directly with. That your father achieved this naturally generated interest in the village, as no one knew of him. When pressed for more information about your own family’s line of work, you answered what you knew, that your father invested, mostly in stocks, but occasionally in new business ventures.

You were privy to little else, much to the disappointment of your companions, who moved onto other topics of discussion. One woman’s son sought work in Milan and within three months of getting hired at a factory, married a Northerner, much to her displeasure. In contrast, Filomena’s daughter was cloistered elsewhere in the countryside, preparing to take her vows and become a nun.

Their superstitions, however, intrigued you most of all. A curse and blessing existed for nearly every conceivable situation. The most striking tale they spun regarded an abandoned villa about a mile past the rental house. Foreboding and hostile, its faded facade peeking out from thorny vines, it was once the envy of the village. At one point in time, though no one could agree quite when, the Don of another family lived there. He took in a strange young man, reclusive yet polite, wandering the countryside with two armed shepherds as bodyguards. He married a local girl, but the marriage ended tragically soon after the wedding. In a sudden blaze of fire and betrayal, she was killed. The strange man vanished not long after, and anyone associated with the villa—including the old Don Tomassino—were soon found dead or had disappeared altogether. Thus, no one dared approach it for fear of the curse surely cast upon the place.

Some of the gruesome murders in the vicinity of the villa could have been attributed to the tradition of violence Don Manusco carried on following Don Tomassino’s death. It didn’t explain the livestock dying of unusual causes, an older woman interjected. Even the land surrounding it was cursed, and the local shepherds knew better than to let their flocks graze nearby, explaining the abnormally tall grass and overgrown foliage that surrounded the villa.

Yet another woman claimed to have seen a demon or ghost in the form of a man wandering the villa’s grounds at night. Of course, she didn’t get close enough to take a good look, instead uttering Hail Marys as she ran into the local church to take refuge until her husband found her some time later.

Your mind drifted to the villa sometimes, this forbidden and mysterious monument to grief and superstition that seemed to cast a longer shadow over the village than the mafiosos who ran it. Like Don Manusco, who your parents were joining for dinner one evening, and Filomena insisted you join her and Gianni instead of eating alone.

The scent of stewing summer tomatoes with garlic and mouth-watering spices invited you inside the house, its windows open for hopes of cool breezes moving through. Gianni offered you wine and a simple antipasto spread of cheese and oranges to snack on while Filomena cooked dinner. Despite his reclusiveness, he somehow knew that your father’s dinner with Don Manusco involved more business than a friendly visit, the final chance for your father to seal what he hoped would be a lucrative deal with the mafia boss.

Two hours later, you sat across from Filomena at the small wooden table in their kitchen, filling your plate with the delicious meal she prepared. You ate silence while Filomena spoke, bickering with Gianni every now and then. As the sun set over Corleone, unease crept over you, though you chose to attribute it to the heat of the day and eating too quickly.

Until a commotion erupted up the street, almost deafening as it approached, finally arriving outside of Filomena’s house. Frantic Sicilian shouting mingled with rapid pounding on the front door startled you into dropping your fork. Filomena and Gianni shared a worried glance before both getting up from the table to answer.

Wailing.

Screaming.

Arguing.

All you found yourself able to do was sit in confused silence. When they returned to the kitchen with a few other locals, panic truly set in.

“You have to leave!” Filomena cried, pulling you out of your seat by your arm.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“Your father’s a fool–”

Gianni shook his head. “A dead fool–”

“Your father should have never brought you here if he were going to try to cheat Don Manusco!” an older woman said.

Another cursed. “Selfish bastard!”

“Go! As far from here as you can!” Filomena implored.

A hard push toward the back door was the extent of the help you’d receive from the villagers of Corleone.

Blood pounded in your ears, your heart beating in time with your feet against the uneven dirt path that nearly tripped you up in your desperate rush to the rental home. You opened the door, scrambling upstairs in a frantic half-crawl to reach your room.

You shoved clothes and essentials into a bag, hardly paying attention to what exactly you were packing, just knowing you couldn’t flee empty-handed and hope to rely on the goodwill of strangers.

In the kitchen, you grabbed what you could from the pantry and shoved everything into a wicker basket. With just that and your suitcase in hand, you clumsily ran across the uneven countryside roads, hoping to find somewhere to take shelter for the night. Every rustle of leaves and animal cry sent chills across your skin. Just when you felt hopeless for a place to hide, you saw the abandoned villa's high walls, overgrown with vines and bramble in the distance. Superstition be damned, it was better than dying at the hands of a mafioso.

The iron gate was closed, but not locked. You held your breath as you opened it, sending out silent thanks to the universe that it didn’t release some otherworldly screech and announce your presence. Hardly visible in the dead of night, the villa peeked out from beneath the plants that had overtaken it. Even from a distance, it appeared as if the building were hollowed out somehow. It remained your best bet.

Superstition offered you refuge, as masculine voices drifted above the villa’s high walls, the structure still sturdy despite the general state of disrepair.

“Should we go in?”

“You sound as much of a fool as that old man. That place is cursed. Even if she were in there, she'd be dead anyway.”

Their heavy, rushed footsteps against the rocky terrain fell silent after a few moments. You sighed in relief, allowing yourself to relax just the slightest bit. Until you glanced back at the villa again, a new sense of dread making your stomach turn at the prospect of having to go inside the place. While you didn’t believe all of the rumors you’d been told over the previous few weeks, being in its presence unsettled you.

Then again, feeling unsettled in an abandoned villa was preferable to whatever would happen if Don Manusco’s men got his hands on you.

After a moment of hesitation, you approached the shadowy building, hoping your luck wouldn’t run out when you got inside.

To your surprise, the interior wasn’t as poorly maintained as the exterior. The furniture betrayed the wealth of whoever lived there previously, though they’d seen better days. Dark wood scuffed or splintered. Dull fabrics that must have been rich violets or crimson upon their initial purchase.

You walked into the living room, freezing upon seeing lit candles around. Someone was living there after all.

“Hello? Is anyone–” you gasped upon seeing a man standing on the other side of the living room, partially obscured by shadows.

Even in the cover of darkness, his features rendered you speechless as he approached. Handsome seemed too pedestrian of a word to describe him. His raven hair fell across his forehead with a deceptive boyishness. Brown eyes, almost black as the night itself bore into your own. His skin wasn’t nearly as tan as the villagers you’d met, but you supposed someone who lived in such a place was wealthy enough to not have to partake in the grueling manual labor typical of the area, the strong Sicilian sun giving its residents a healthy glow which he lacked.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

“The men who were outside before—I think they’re going to kill me,” you said, panic overtaking your senses as his face remained unmoved by your explanation. “Please, I didn’t know anyone lived here.”

“Why do they want to kill you?”

“I think my father tried to cheat Don Manusco. I don’t know all of the details, but if they don’t want to kill me, then they’ll probably—“ Your voice caught in your throat.

“You can stay.”

“I’ll leave tomorrow and find a way to get back to Palermo.”

He shook his head. “You have a vendetta out against you now. Getting back to Palermo so soon will be nearly impossible, especially if Manusco has allies there.” He watched in unreadable silence as hopelessness ate away at your resolve. “You can stay,” he finally repeated. “Don’t leave the villa. Not during the day, and especially not at night. You’ll be safe.”

“Thank you. I owe you my life.” You offered him your name, as a courtesy and as collateral. More valuable than anything else you carried with you, he could use it to betray you for his own gain whenever he wished. You prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

“Michael Corleone,” he said.

“Like the village.”

He smiled the slightest bit, his dark eyes shining an almost betraying crimson in the moonlight. Ethereal. That was the right word for him. “Yes, like the village.”

Your host led you upstairs, helping you with your meager belongings despite your insistence you could handle your small suitcase and a basket of food, which you left on the console table in the foyer. The villa had certainly seen better days, its plaster walls cracked, crumbling in some places. You would’ve used caution going up the stairs if Michael hadn’t been so confident as he ascended them.

He paused at the top of the stairs, glancing at each of the doors along the hallway. After a few moments, he seemed to settle on one, leading you to a dark bedroom, full of odd shadows that made you pause. It seemed otherwise better taken care of than the rest of the villa you’d seen up to that point.

“It’s just me here. I’m afraid I’m not the best homemaker,” he half-joked in response to your hesitation to enter the room.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s nice. I can’t thank you enough, Michael.”

He nodded. “I have insomnia, so you’ll see more of me at night than during the day. The cellar stays locked, but you can have the run of the place otherwise.”

You bid each other good night.

When he shut the bedroom door behind you, you collapsed onto the bed and cried into your pillow, both from heartbreak and exhaustion, until you fell asleep.

The following morning, you awoke to fresh bug bites on your arm–inflamed and itchy, though perfectly in line with each other, oddly enough. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and you supposed you’d rather deal with mosquito bites than whatever Don Manusco and his soldiers had in mind for you.

True to his word, Michael was nowhere to be found when you went downstairs to eat a breakfast of bread and hard salami. Again, not ideal, but you’d make do with what you brought with you. For the rest of the day, you explored the villa, acquainting yourself with your new albeit temporary home.

You found yourself with little to do to pass the time. Venturing out onto the surrounding grounds of the villa was hardly an option, most of it so overgrown you couldn’t take a proper walk. There were a few books in the house, but often you found your mind drifting to your parents, what their fate looked like and what could await you if Don Manusco found out where you were hiding. By the time you’d finally see Michael around in the evenings, you’d force yourself to stay up as long as you could to be in his company. Soon, your schedule nearly matched his nocturnal one.

Over the following weeks, you got to know Michael. At times, you couldn’t help but stare at him, but sometimes it felt as though you couldn’t do much else if you tried. He was a gracious host for how you imposed on him, showing concern for the bug bites you tried to hide from him. A good thing he noticed, as he brought you a cup of tea, a deep maroon color that he explained was a natural remedy from the village for the discomfort you were experiencing. A common occurrence that you’d been fortunate enough to avoid since arriving in Corleone.

“You’re not from around here either,” you said one night. “I can tell from your accent.”

“I’m from New York, but my father was born here,” he explained. “My last name is a mistake from when he immigrated.”

“Do you miss it?”

He was silent for some time, lost in thought before answering with a soft, “Terribly.”

“But you can’t go back.”

“No, I’m very sick. I wouldn’t survive the trip.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your curiosity getting the better of you when you asked, “What do you have?”

“What I have is incredibly rare, there’s no word for it. Sunlight puts me in excruciating pain, and my appetite is abnormal.”

“How long have you been sick for?”

“Years. More than you’d believe.”

“You know, everyone in the village thinks this place is cursed. If you just talked to them, then they’d understand what was going on and maybe be able to help.”

“I can’t be around people. It’s not safe for them.”

“I don’t understand,” you said. “Are you contagious?”

He hesitated. “Not how you’d think.”

“No matter what you have, it’s not good to be alone,” you argued.

“You’re here now.”

“Only until it’s safe for me to go to Palermo and leave Sicily.”

He shook his head. “You won’t be able to leave. Not when a man like Don Manusco has a vendetta out against you,” he said, his intense gaze boring into you. Your chest grew tighter as he spoke. “This villa is the only place you’ll ever be safe.”

“Michael, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just know what he did to your parents…he and men like him have done to many others on this island, too.” Your silence perturbed him. He grabbed your shoulders, squeezing them gently, though his eyes seemed to blaze with fury. “I’m keeping you safe here, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice nearly catching in your throat.

“Then what’s there to be afraid of?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s right, as long as you stay here.”

“I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed dismissively, not bothering to acknowledge your statement. You soon excused yourself to go to sleep, a sudden uneasiness settling in your stomach.

You awoke late into the afternoon the following day, judging by the amber sunlight that streamed through the broken shutters. Still, your limbs felt heavy, and your head pounded as if you’d hardly slept at all. A quick glance at your arm revealed twin bug bites on your wrist again, this time darker than the previous ones, leaving your skin tender to the touch.

Dizziness turned the room over when you sat up from the bed, and you nearly considered going back to sleep, if it weren’t for the hunger that ached in your bones.

You ventured down into the kitchen, relieved to find a pot of tea sitting out. You didn’t even bother reheating it, though the consistency was odd, thicker in its room temperature state. The texture didn’t deter you, as the more you drank, the better you felt, your dizziness and aches gone as the tea overflowed from the corners of your mouth and dripped down your chin, insatiable until there was nothing left. Wiping off your face, you went back up to your room and fell back asleep.

A knock on the door woke you up in the pitch black some hours later. You lit the candle on your bedside table before getting up to answer. You knew it was Michael, concerned about why you hadn’t joined him yet.

Just as you got up to answer, he opened the door, letting himself into your room–except it wasn’t your room. It was his, and you supposed he could enter whenever he wanted.

Frozen in place by his gaze alone, you stood still and silent as he approached, demeanor darker and more intense as his presence filled the room, as if his essence somehow intermixed with each breath you took. A citrusy sweetness with a bloodcurdling undercurrent of violence filled your lungs. Despite this, you felt no fear, but rather anticipation when he finally reached out and caressed your cheek, his hand freezing against your warm skin.

“Michael,” you whispered.

“Don’t fight me, sweetheart.”

And you couldn’t. Not even if you tried. His eyes took in your face with a softness that betrayed his fondness for you. His lips pressed against yours, a chaste kiss to start, but it proved to be insufficient for him, as he claimed your mouth with the fervor of a man long starved for affection. His desire for you tangible as you kissed him back, allowing his hands to roam your body above your nightgown until his fingers brushed your thighs, pushing the hem up to your hips.

He laid you back on the bed, ridding you of your panties and slipping his fingers between your folds. “Tell me how it feels,” he said, his lips against your skin. “Tell me everything.”

Before then, you would have died rather than admit it to him, but at his urging, the dam broke. Of course your thoughts of him weren’t always innocent. Some nights, when you were sure he was elsewhere, you touched yourself to the thought of him. The confession slipped from your mouth so quickly that shame couldn’t catch you, not when Michael pushed his fingers inside you, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit, denying you any sensation but absolute pleasure.

“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you,” he whispered, pressing desperate kisses into your neck. “You have no idea how hard it’s been for me not to–”

Your whine interrupted his train of thought, and a knife-sharp pain jolted through you when he sunk his teeth into your throat, breaking the fragile skin. His fingers curled inside you, a moan clawing its way out of you as you came, ecstasy pulsing through your limbs in waves that threatened to drown you in it. Spots clouded your vision and breath evaded you, the poignant scent of copper mixed with your sex made your head spin.

“Michael, I–” You passed out, though you awoke later, curled up next to him, your body sore and more fatigued than ever. You winced when you tried to move your head, a dull ache coming from your neck. “What did you do?” you mumbled.

“Sweetheart?”

“To my neck.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, petting your hair. “I got carried away. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.”

“Me either,” you admitted.

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. From then on, he was ravenous, and like a woman possessed, you gave in to him every time. Nights with him blurred together as thoughts of escaping Sicily and the danger that waited for you outside of the villa walls were almost nonexistent.

Some time later, though you’d largely stopped keeping track of the days by then, you realized your food supply was running low. Michael would go out at night and get some for you if you asked, though he never revealed where exactly he went. Still unsure of your safety from Don Manusco, you figured the farm up the road would be a good place to swipe some fruit from the orchard and anything else they might have lying around and not exactly miss.

The sun felt especially harsh when you went outside. Each step brought about unimaginable fatigue that made your bones ache. You hardly made it halfway to the farm before you had to rest beneath a large tree’s shade to rest your tired limbs and eyes.

“Excuse me, miss? Are you okay?”

You jolted awake, surrounded by a handful of elderly villagers from around the countryside. You recognized at least one of the older women as one of your old cafe companions in Corleone.

“I’m fine.”

The woman in question squinted at you. “Where do I know you from?”

“We’ve never met before,” you said, voice tight with panic. “I have to go. Goodbye.” You forced yourself up, using what little strength you had to return to the villa, ignoring their calls for you to wait. Exhaustion swept over you by the time you made it inside, promptly collapsing in the foyer. They had recognized you, and surely they had seen you retreat into the villa and were on their way to let Don Manusco know of your whereabouts. They’d be foolish not to with the price on your head.

Michael was nowhere to be found, and you worried that by the time you finally saw him that night, it’d be too late to tell him what transpired. Tears rolled down your cheeks as fear and guilt crept up on you. Your carelessness had put Michael in danger, too.

With no way of knowing how long it’d be until word got back to Manusco, you considered the layout of the villa, which you knew like the back of your hand, and the best place to hide if he or his men intruded in search of you.

In hindsight, the kitchen cupboard was a more obvious choice for a hiding spot, but it was the most your fatigued brain could come up with while you were panicked.

Your instincts had been right, though. The inevitable intrusion did come.

The voices that echoed through the foyer were the same ones from the night you first arrived in the villa. You kept a hand over your mouth, the other with an iron grip around the kitchen knife.

“Come on, Don Manusco isn’t angry with you. He just wants to talk,” one of the men called out.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” the other added. “He knows you didn’t have anything to do with your father’s schemes.”

You couldn’t take a chance on whether or not they were telling the truth.

Footsteps approached, growing louder with each passing second. You readied yourself for attack, until you heard a blood-curdling scream rip through the night and you dropped the knife in shock.

With all of the foolishness of your father, you opened the cupboard door. Blood pooled around the man’s head, a look of terror etched into his face, betraying his final thoughts. Your gaze lifted, and you stumbled backward, unable to comprehend the gruesome sight before you. If you hadn’t been watching Michael with your own eyes, you would have assumed an animal attack was responsible for the carnage at your feet. What more, after the initial shock wore off, an almost physical pull drew you to the spilled blood.

The villagers had been right. It wasn’t mere superstition, but reality, one more horrific than any of them could have fathomed. The unexplained murders, the livestock deaths, all by his hand. His illness a fabrication to conceal the true nature of his being, something unnatural that existed in the worlds between life and death with a hunger to match. He’d been feeding from you for weeks, allowing you to carry on believing lies. Of course you felt awful, constantly fatigued. You could only hazard a guess as to what was really in the tea you’d been drinking like a fiend.

You wished you could scream at yourself for your naivete, as if he’d help you out of the kindness of his heart and not expect something in return. Your willful ignorance of his odd behavior in exchange for refuge in the one place where you’d be safe from who you thought were the only men who wanted to harm you. But he saved you from Don Manusco and his men. He kept you alive. He could gain little from drawing out your death for so long. Unless…your eyes widened, and you looked at him in horror.

Michael spoke your name softly. “Do you understand now?”

“You–You’ve been making me like you.”

“I should have done it sooner. It’s the best way to keep you safe.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have believed me?”

“I guess not.”

He cupped your face in his hands, “Things won’t be that different. We’ll be together. No one will be able to hurt you.”

“How–How much longer until I’m–”

“As soon as tonight, if you’ll let me.” Sensing your hesitation, he pressed a bloody kiss to your forehead. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the urge to trust him, to commit to an eternity of all-consuming, reclusive violence with him. “I want to be with you. I want to be like you.”

His hands drifted down to your neck, his fingers digging into your pulse as he leaned in, his teeth grazing the half-healed wound he’d inflicted all those nights before. “I knew you’d make the right choice.”

#the godfather #michael corleone #michael corleone x reader #the godfather x reader #michael corleone imagine #michael corleone fanfic #the godfather imagine #the godfather fanfic

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milaisreading · 1 year

Text

The manager has a type?!

Pairings: Blue lock x manager!Reader

Warnings ⚠️: reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue lock belongs to:Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Pt2

'Today is a nice day.' Kurona hummed as he was in particularly good mood. The reason? Ego wasn't as nasty with the training as he usually was. He had his favorite food for breakfast and (Y/n) complimented one of his passes. Yeah, today is a nice day.

"He is so dreamy~" Kurona stopped in his tracks as he walked past the medical office as he heard (Y/n)'s voice from the inside.

'Who? Is she talking about one of us?' Kurona gulped as he leaned against the door to listen in.

"Who? He? I didn't think you would be still into footballers after having to manage a whole group." Anri's voice was heard as she chuckled.

"I can't help it. He is so handsome and tall. Also talented."

'Tall? Handsome? We do have tall people but that's about it.' Kurona thought, a few players already coming to his mind.

"Now that I think of it, you never told me if you have a type or not?"

"A type... hmmm" Kurona was now all ears, he needed to know who it could be out of them all.

"I think someone expressive and free spirited! Strong willed too! Maybe even that he is into dancing with blonde hair..."

'Blonde hair?!' Kurona thought as he touched his pink one.

"Now you are straight up describing Lavinho. I never expected him to be your celebrity crush."

"Stop saying it like that! You make me feel embarrassed! Also he is so good looking and talented~"

Kurona's face paled at that revelation and he felt his whole world crush then and there.

'No way does she like that obnoxious man?! He is so ugly and old! First that Ness guy and now Lavinho?! My poor manager!' Kurona thought as if he was told someone is dying.

'Do I have to dye my hair now?'

"Kurona, you have been pretty quiet the whole day. Did something happen?" Hiori asked the same night as the boys were getting ready to sleep.

"Yeah, you were looking at (Y/n) like she is about to disappear, too." Gagamaru said sounding annoyed.

"Leave him alone, maybe he is just tired." Rin said, knowing good and well that even he was annoyed with Kurona today.

"Ah..." The boy started speaking after a whole day of complete silence.

"He finally found his voice!" Karasu teased.

"You look and sound like someone ran you over." Otoya chuckled.

"Let him breath, it was a long day." Isagi defended with Bachira laughing.

"You would feel the same if you heard your own manager say she has a crush on Lavinho." Kurona finally spoke up, like he was in a trance. The room fell eerily silent as the boys looked at him in disbelief.

"Hold up! What did you just say?!" Chigiri and Reo shrieked as Nagi got up from his bed.

"You better be lying, shark teeth." Baro warned, grabbing Kurona by his collar. Kunigami quickly intervened and separated the two.

"Calm down, Baro. I am sure Kurona got the wrong idea." The orange-haired boy said, trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

"Yeah! There is no way that loud guy could be someone our sweet manager likes." Aryu added.

"Yeah, I am sure (Y/n) would like peace and quiet more. She sure wouldn't like the opposite." Gagamaru agreed.

"I know what I heard! She was talking about it with Teieri-san and she admitted to it! Plus that guy dances and has blonde hair, we lost." Kurona said as one part of the group went into complete frenzy and the other tried to keep calm.

"Hold up! Panicking won't help us! Bachira let go of Chigiri's hair!" Yukimiya said, clapping his hands as Niko spoke up.

"How are we supposed to keep calm when that bastard is all (Y/n) thinks of apparently!" The blue-eyed boy questioned, knowing well that he couldn't keep up with someone like Lavinho.

"Reo, could you get him banned from playing football?" Nagi asked the already annoyed boy.

"How am I supposed to do that?!"

"I don't know, you are the rich one!"

"SILENCE!" The group froze and they turned to look at Rin, who looked like he was about to kill someone.

"So what's the plan, under lashes junior?" Baro asked, turning his attention away from Isagi and Kunigami. Ignoring the last part, the younger Itoshi sighed and thought it over for a moment.

"The best way we can get rid of this little crush of hers is by making her realize she actually doesn't like him, but someone else."

The room fell silent as they tried to figure out how her falling for someone else will help them.

"And as the captain, I will take the burden of her falling for me." Rin said dramatically.

"Eh?! No way, you and your eyelashes stay away from her! (Y/n) would much rather be with me! We shared food!" Isagi immediately yelled, followed by Baro.

"And what is there to fall for by you? Brother issues?!"

"You two are not any better, one is a wannabe striker and the other one scares the shit out of anyone who approaches him!" Rin argued back.

"I think I would be a much better choice. After all, Lavinho and I are similar. Her falling for me is more realistic." Bachira said, earning a disapproving look from Kunigami and Hiori.

"No way! You are too wild for her. (Y/n) needs someone calmer and who can protect her."

"You go into your emo phases, Kunigami. You are not that reliable either." Hiori protested.

"You guys are too ordinary for her, what she needs is someone spontaneous, someone who cab knock her off her feet... someone-"

"Someone like me! Thank you for seeing it my way, Karasu."

"Shut it, Otoya! You are like a watered down version of Oliver!"

"So now we are insulting, Yukimiya?! And your blind ass is somehow better?"

"Of course!" The boy yelled back.

"I think (Y/n) would much rather be with me. I am calm, a gentleman and fun to be around. Also I have great hair." Aryu said, causing Chigiri to butt in.

"Long hair doesn't equal better. After all, (Y/n) braids mine more often than yours."

"I think (Y/n) would fit better with me. She is always so calm and we do have a lot of common topics. Plus she does like nature." Gagamaru said, earning a looks from Niko and Nagi.

"You are too bland for her, Gagamaru. A wild moment here and there never hurt anyone."

"Then the same goes for me, except that I have money." Nagi told Niko.

"You do?"

"Of course." Nagi said, pointing at Reo.

"Excuse you! Why would I give money to you! I will spoil (Y/n), not you!"

'I hate it here.' Kurona thought to himself.

"Why is your face red?" Anri questioned (Y/n) as she walked into Ego's office.

"I told her Chris and Lavinho will be here next week to train with the guys." Ego answered, confused as to what he even said wrong. Anri's expression turned into a teasing one and she started nagging the teen, who was on the brink of fainting.

'Why did I have to say anything?!'

808 notes · View notes

xreaderanonaccount · 5 months

Note

HIII!!!! is it ok if i can request some smut with Dottore? :33 the webtoon verison specifically pls. And i would like it to be fem reader if ur comfortable with that!! if not i understand.

Synopsis: Webttore needs to remind you who you belong to after a certain Red hair tavern owner had the audacity to talk to you. Especially when you wear such a pretty dress.

Tags: NSFW MINORS DNI, Afab Reader, Jealousy, rough sex, semi-public, orgasam denial, light choking, grinding,

A/N: YES FINALLY AN EXCUSE TO WRITE FOR WEBTTORE, I have loved this man since the very beginning.

Words : 1.6K

You were just idly chatting with the owner of the Dawn Winery. You’ve heard about him before as Lord Regrator was talking, well more like ranting, about the owner. He was a handsome man you must admit but you can’t help but to wander your gaze over to your dear lover who was glaring at the two of you.

“I’m still in awe that you are in love with Lord Dottore.” Diluc’s voice snapped you back into your conversation.

“Why yes, he is everything I love in a man.” You felt your cheeks heat a bit as you talked about Dottore a bit. Diluc just nodded his head in politeness as he sipped on his drink. The party seemed to be going nowhere and you were just bored out of your mind. Luckily Diluc seemed to be in the same boat so you two chatted it up. You wanted to know more about this Lord Ragnvirdr of the Dawn Winery, just in case you can have some leverage against Lord Regrator. As you two continue a random conversation a white haired man approaches you two.

“Lord Ragnvirdr, master Alberich is here to see you.” The white haired man spoke. Diluc nodded his head as he handed his glass to a random butler.

“It was nice talking with you madam, hope you enjoy the night.” Diluc smiled gently, taking your hand in his, he was about to plant a kiss on your knuckles before you were ripped away from his grasp. You gasped as you were dragged away from Diluc who he and the white haired man looked confused. You turn to see your assailant and spot the icey blue hair bouncing with each step. You knew who it was, very well.

“D-Dottore!” You stammered as you were continued to be pulled away. Dottore’s grip was harsh on your wrist as he pulled you through the twist in turns of the Cathedrals till you two were in a very secluded part of the Cathedral. Dottore shoved you against the wall entrapping you within his arms. His ruby red eyes stared straight to your core. His shark-like teeth catching a glint of the moonlight.

“Dottore?” You whispered, you wanted to say something else but the thought was quickly thrown out as Dottore slammed his lips onto yours. His lips were rough and chapped as he was passionate about taking the air out of your lungs. You felt as his hand dragged down to the slit of your dress trailing up your exposed skin. You gasp as Dottore gives a harsh slap onto your thigh giving Dottore access to your mouth. He plunged his tongue down your throat, you tried to pull out but Dottore used his free hand to take hold on your throat. Giving it a light squeeze. When he finally decided to part you were taking deep breaths trying to catch your breath. You watched curiously as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“How dare he. '' You barely hear him whisper, you let out a curious what before yelping in pain as Dottore bites down hard on your exposed shoulder. He continued biting your shoulder going up and down. You were moaning in a mix of pleasure and pain as his shark teeth sank down on your shoulder, drawing blood. When he finally finished his ruthless attack on your shoulder he pulled back giving a soft cackle as he admired his handiwork.

“What would he think, hm?” He smirked as he was only inches from your face.

“Who?” That answer seemed to piss Dottore off as he flipped you around pressing your chest against the stone wall, the cold biting into your skin. You felt his hand snake around your throat again and the other slipping your dress slowly over your hips exposing your now soaked panties. You shivered as you felt his hand tracing slowly up till it was resting on your rear end. He pressed himself against you, feeling his hard on against your ass.

“Do you know what you do to me?” Dottore started as he started to slowly grind against your ass, “What this does to me?” Moans kept falling out of your mouth as he teased you. The hand that was around your throat slowly trailed down till he was cupping your breast. Kneading it and pinching your nipples through your dress.

“P-please, I need you.” You whimpered pushing yourself against him.

“Oh so you want me now? How about when he was talking to you?” Dottore sneered at the mere mention of him. Him? Who was he talking about- oh… the Dawn Winery owner, Diluc.You tried to protest but Dottore slammed his lips back on you gnawing on your lips. Finally, finally Dottore gave you the grace of touching you. You felt his hand push your panties aside, giving your vagina a slight tease, spreading your juice around before plunging three digits straight into your vagina. You moaned loudly into his lips as he set a rough pace, pistoning his fingers in and out. The sinful sound of your juices echo across the empty hall. Dottore removed his hand trailing his fingers down to your clit giving it slow uneven circles. You pulled away from Dottore’s kiss giving a pornographic moan, throwing your head against his shoulder. You pushed your hips back meeting Dottore’s fingers midway, setting your own pace.

“Please, please, please” You were breathless chanting, hoping for Dottore to give you that sweet release. Your walls clenched around his fingers, the coil in your stomach ready to snap but was ripped away as Dottore pulled his fingers out of your soaking vagina. You let out a high pitch whine from the empty space inside you. You were roughly turned around, your legs instinctively wrapping around Dottore’s waist. You stare as you watch Dottore unbuckle his slacks only allowing for his dick to spring free. Dottore chuckled as he gave a teasing couple of thrust, his dick giving your clit some stimulation. You panted as you watched Dottore pull away a bit, lining up his dick to your hole. You couldn’t watch Dottore plunge his dick into you as he captured your attention again by muffling your moans with his lips. His pace was brutal as he slammed himself deep into you, pulling away till he was almost out and slamming back in. The once quiet hallway was now filled with sin. As the slapping of his balls against your ass and your muffled moans echoed in the hallways. He continued his brutal pace, he pulled his mouth away from yours allowing his soft moans to fall on your ears.

“You’re mine. Mine, mine, mine.” He cackled as he smiled watching his dick disappear into your soaking vagina. You walls are sucking him in more and more, greedily taking his dick like it was the last dick on Teyvat.

“Look at how good I make you feel darling. You're practically sucking me in.” He smirked as he started to draw circles against your clit. You moaned loudly, throwing your head back from all the stimulation that he was giving you. You can feel your coil winding up again, you chanted Dottore’s name like he was Barbatos himself.

“Yes, keep saying my name. Let him hear you. Let everyone here in this god forsaken country that you're mine. Mine.” He snarled as he picked up his already brutal pace. The stimulation overwhelming you the coil kept winding and winding.

“C-cum, please let me cum.” You were able to get out in between moans.

Dottore snickered, “You want to come? Sure then, but scream my name, yell it to the Tsaritsa herself. Let everyone know who you belong to.” Obliging with his request you shouted his name to the stars.

“Dottore. Dottore. Dottore!” You moaned loudly practically chasing your high, which Dottore gracefully allowed. You clamped down hard against Dottore’s dick cumming down hard on him. You gave a final shout of his name before you slouch against the wall. Dottore continued fucking you through your high, cumming a few moments later. You felt his thick seed filling you up and spilling out as he pulled out. You both were panting as Dottore fished something inside his pocket. You tried to get up but was pushed back against the wall.

“What are you doing?” You softly asked, watching as he kneeled before you pulling an object out of his pocket. You shivered as you watched him trace his finger scooping up his cum and shoving it back inside your vagina before plunging something teardrop shape into your vagina. You yelped at the foreign sensation. Dottore chuckled as he got up pulling your dress down.

“Don’t want any of that falling out.” He gave a wicked smile, as he took a couple steps back. You pushed off the wall soothing down your dress and hair, fishing in your purse for your compact comb.

“Come now darling, let’s head home. This part is a bore.” He offered jerking his head towards the exit. You nodded as you took a step forward. But you suddenly dropped to the floor, your knees giving out. Dottore was already a few steps ahead before he heard your fall. He turned his head and saw you trying to get up. He cackled as he walked up to you.

“You look like a newborn deer trying to get up.” You cursed him as you tried to straighten up but your knees were not giving you the strength.

“Hmph, come now dear. Can’t have you looking like this.” He smirked as he looped his arm around yours guiding you out to the exit.

“I’m going to have marks all over my neck.” You muttered as you two left the cathedral, the night wind blowing against you.

“Now people will know who you belong to.” He sneered as he strong armed you towards the Goth Grand Hotel in where Lord Regrator rented out the hotel. You rolled your eyes as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

“And who said I’m going to hide it?” Dottore gave a hearty laugh as you two continued your nighttime stroll to the Hotel.

A/N: divider credits: cafekitsune

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #genshin smut #dottore x female reader #il dottore x reader #il dottore #dottore #genshin x reader smut

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defectivefanboy · 1 year

Note

hey i’m just asking maybe could you do dating head canons for crimson from helluva boss? nsfw or sfw i don’t mind <33

Absolutely. I love how the fandom is already down bad for mafia man.

hey i’m just asking maybe could you do dating head canons for crimson from helluva boss? nsfw or sfw i don’t mind <;33

Overall notes: Stories written on this blog are GN until specified. While this story uses they/them pronouns, and I don't mind female readers on my blog, I do not write for y'all, and if you are a fetishizer fuck off????????????????? ew.

C/W: Possible OOC, Mentions of kidnap, abuse, torture, murder, death threats, mentions of sexual assault, cursing, spoilers (duh)

Notes: I tried making it as close to mafia man without him just beating you low-key /j, the first part of this I made into a small story without realizing, I hope that alright. Just some build up to it. <3

SFW

Prior to the relationship

"Earth Hell Angel"

Let's ignore the fact he would probably, most definitely never come into contact with any of us. Point blank.

You would have to be making some kind of deal with the Knolastname family, born into riches, or work for him. (I have stories for each in my head)

But let's tinker with the process shall we

The way you two met was by young Moxxie

You were a musician playing at one of the very few operating clubs in greed, operating meaning wasn't just a front for something else.

Moxxie was a teen at the time and being a teen felt a little rebellious. Like of course who wouldn't rebel against their mafia father.

Only issue was, Moxxie was in the middle of a mission when he decided to rebel leaving his father's men to find him in a club listening to a singer.

Crimson was just gonna burn the place down, maybe this time Moxxie would learn to not fuck with him anymore, but he wanted it to run deeper.

He wanted to kidnap who ever the singer was and torture them in front of the young imp to properly ingrain the lesson into him.

What he didn't expect was to be seated at a table each passing night, lit cigar in hand as he waited for the performer of the night.

It slowly became routine for him, and he slowly become your top patron. Enough to were you didn't need to preform so much.

That was until you met a bright eye imp with a tune for music...

And his devilish father

The young imp for express his passion for music, which you could only respond with the same enthusiasm, if It wasn't for the menacing eyes scanning over your body as he whispered to the shark behind him, eyes never leaving you.

This went on for months, moxxie would come and talk to you after shows and show you some songs he made. Though it wasn't just Moxxie paying you visits.

If it wasn't moxxie in your dressing room after a show, the older Knolastname would take his stay.

He often made snide remakes on working in, as he would say, "The only place where even the roaches don't wanna go" while he made himself comfy on the couch in the room.

Originally he had body guards posted around the room, outside the door, and around the outside of the building.

But that ended when one of his men tried to make a move on you while he was on the phone.

Oh boy the look on his face when he came back into the room and saw you being held down by one of the guards.

He doesn't know why, but when he saw the scared look on your face, a silent plea for help was all it took for a whole new line of guards to be instated.

"One bad apple can rot the rest. So its only best he gets rid of them all right?"

He was gonna need a LOT more walls in his home for plaques.

From there on out the only people that were allow in your room were him, Moxxie, oh and him, did he forget to mention that handsome imp right there? yeah him, oh wait thats him, whoops.

It became routine, well, as much as mafia work can be routine.

Each week he'll ask you when you're preforming, then not respond to any other text or conversation after that, because why would he? That's not what he's asking for.

Don't worry though, he still actively listens and pays attention, even making mental notes here and there on some things, but nothing else matters.

He's just going through his mental calendar of the week to make time for each show. <3

And if he's unable to make it, he'll either send Moxxie or a goon with a stack of money to make up

Though half of it just goes to the person who delivers it, you tried sending it back once and the poor goon had to walk back to the club with a bullet in each knee

Soon after moxxie was the only one allowed half the money

He found out the goons were given half the money and were made to give it back, half alive of course.

Dating Crimson

This old man only realized he liked you when he was in an argument with Moxxie.

Moxxie had a date with chez, but Crimson wanted to send him to the club with yet another stack of money.

"Sir, this is the third time you sent them money today. I think they are well off for the night."

"I didn't call you here to think, boy, I called you here to go to that club. I don't want to repeat myself."

"Well, sir, I don't think sending your son with a stack of money is gonna win their love."

The air grew still in the room as silence over took them

"Get out."

Moxxie needn't think twice with that one, as he raced off to his fishy lover (pun intended)

Jesus and thats just before the relationship, I couldn't even imagine what it would be like to date him. (yes I can thats why im here, albeit VERY OOC cough you're not abused cough)

When this man finally has you in his grasp, I hope you don't like traveling far.

He is a possessive lover, like Possessive lover with a capital p.

As much as he hates it, he'll allow you to play at the club, it's not like he owns it or anything.

He does, he bought it awhile ago when he overheard how your boss talked to you. good to not he's not missing... side eye

Oddly enough (I say as I write) he's very touch starved.

He is very handsy the moment you allow him to be, a hand is always on you, if you're not already held close to his side.

"What are you talking about? I keep you close to me so you don't get lost. Can't have you winding up in an unsavory deal down here."

His favorite thing to do is come into your dressing room and hug you from behind as you get ready in the mirror.

Face buried in your neck as his body slumps and his tail wraps tightly around your leg.

Only looking up when your hand runs through his hair and you let out a light giggle, a soft glare pointed at you through the mirror.

Another has to be when you're sitting on his lap in your dressing room, music playing in the background as you softly sing the words to him while you chart your hands through his hair

Crimson never cared for music, to much of a sinner thing for him, mostly because he did business with other hell-born and never interacted with them, but he could appreciate it a bit if you came along with it

Especially when you give him that look, one that would carry the seven rings of hell alone, and it was all for him.

God, he would lock you up away from all of hell in an instant if you let him.

He actually tried once, though it went over quite quickly when you threaten to no longer give him kisses or attention in general, he surprising backed down quickly.

Though his next statement was for you to move in with Moxxie and him. No, not a question, Yes, a statement.

Your belongs had already been moved while you had this conversation. Hope you don't mind.

Oh Oh OH did this make Crimson happy. The first morning he felt a warm body wrapped in his arms, he dug his face deeper into the source.

He could call off his meetings for the day, not like they could do much about it.

Not when he has what he wants right in front of him.

He may never encounter an angel from heaven, but why would he need to, he had his own right here.

Crimson only truly realized this when you barged into his office one night, grumbling incoherent insults carrying a plate of food in your hand.

"You know for someone who gets on me for not eating right you always take it above and beyond."

placing the food on his desk you pull a chair around and sat next to him reaching into your pocket.

"I hope you're not planning on killing me, darling."

"You have a headache, don't you?" "huh?"

"You've been at work for over a day, you gotta have one by now."

Placing a bottle of pain killers on the desk you picked up the fork and softly blew on it to cool it down, before bringing it to his mouth.

Yeah, he could get use to this, he could get really use to this.

And yeah he may not be his son's biggest supporter, but when he sees Moxxie and you gushing over whatever nonsense that came to mind, his home no longer felt as cold like it once did.

NSFW

C/W: Marks, Degrading, Collars, Choking, Smoking,

Did I mention he was a possessive lover? Because he's also a jealous lover, and it tends to end with a few REALLY obvious marks on your body

From the dark and almost concerning hicks that adorn your neck, to the red and angry claw marks that riddle your thighs, the guest started to wonder if you were mauled by a bear.

or a cannibal... Say, did he sound like a radio host?

He doesn't even want you looking at anyone else and if he found out anyone was trying to be with you it would mean their head was mounted on the wall

and yours was planted in the bed... <3

"To think we would go through this again, it's almost as if you want to be treated like a dog"

Mind you he's still an old timer, he isn't one for anything fancy. Aka: you brought up toys in bed and he got a little too jealous at the thought of you cumming from something that wasn't him

"Saying I don't fuck you well enough? That's funny, because if I do recall, your pretty little head was cock drunk before I even did anything, or are you just that much a whore that you need more then one?"

The thought of getting an Ozzie's Mold your own Cock kit did pass his mind once or twice.

Remember how I said he was handsy, I don't know it's because he's a murderer or not, but I do see him being very fond of choking.

It reminds him of a collar in a sense, getting you one has passed his mind too

You would wear it for him right? At least when you two are alone? Just for a bit.

Long enough that he can take some photos of your blissed out face saving it for later, as the metal tag shines slowly with each rise of your chest.

But in all honesty his hand looks much better wrapped around your neck as he ruts into you from behind, growling in your ear as his grip tightens.

Crimson is literally the definition of Grr, bark and growl, and they all happen at once.

It started out with a low growl from him as you talked to a male coworker, soon it turned to him barking orders at you to get on your knees in your dressing room.

What? It's your fault you decided to talk with that low life. He should be rewarded for letting him walk away with half his vision.

I must say though, the old school charm does such wonders.

Especially on date nights <3

He may have already been in your pants, he still goes out of his way to treat it like it's the first time.

Compliments thrown your way as he pours you a glass of wine, all of it over looked by a sneaky tail trailing its way between your legs in the middle of dinner.

You ARE at Ozzie's after all

Those nights end up with you slowly riding him, his hand on your jaw to keep you looking at him.

"Something the matter dear? Do you need help finishing? Just ride me a bit more, yeah? You've been doing so good for me."

Crimson's strong suit... is definitely not his praise, but he does pick up on the small noises and movements you make each time he does.

Yet, he saves it for those soft and affectionate nights. He's still a mafia man at heart, but hey, he's coming around.

One last thing that will set this imp off is you smoking, as random as it may seem. Be it weed, a cigarette, shit, even one of his cigars, his lips(?) are on yours inhaling the smoke you exhale.

You did mention a band named cigarettes after sex at point. Why not put it into action.

Talking about after sex.........

He's fucking terrible at after care. You would be lying through your teeth if you said he was.

He's gotten better after a few months, few meaning over half a year. He's gotten better at least?

It's not everyday a Mob lord is on his knees cleaning up after himself, or running to fetch a glass of water.

Though he makes it up with more trips to the lust ring~

He can't help it, they have the best clubs in all of hell <3

“I never learned to like something, darling. I only let it consume me.”

#foolish writing #request #helluva boss #helluva boss crimson #crimson x reader #crimson x male reader #crimson x female reader #vivziepop #I story on which he is just beating on you is LK funny to me #thats as canon as you could ever get #request open

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