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kuro4thegays · 8 days

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- Steam

[Word count: 3.2k] [Dr. Ratio x male!reader] [Content: nsfw, top Veritas, bottom reader, hot spring date, just the slightest bit of angst, misunderstandings, reader may be depressed, but also a bit silly at times, massages, anal fingering, lots of steam, spanking, orgasm denial, anal, love bites]

“Why do you cover yourself even when no one is watching?” The words echoed inside your mind, bubbling up like their only purpose was tormenting you. You wrapped that soft towel around your body like a shield, all while setting your feet down into the steamy water.

You sighed, rubbing your cold shoulders. The towel was the only thing keeping your upper body somewhat of a regular temperature. You looked down into your own reflection, silently judging the face that greeted you in the water. Well, greet wasn't a very precise term. Your reflection only mimicked the same judgmental look you gave it, yet there was something in the back of your head that forced you to keep looking. Hatred always had its way with you.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting. I hope you didn't get too bored without me.” That warm, familiar voice stole your attention like it meant nothing. You raised your gaze back to reality. There he was, Veritas Ratio, the man that striped your heart right out of your chest and now just won't give it back.

“It’s really no issue.” You averted your gaze, seeing the doctor in general made your heart race, but God, you don’t think you can handle looking at his bare figure, only slightly concealed by that towel he wore around his waist. “I can wait. It's really fine.” Perhaps there was something more you wanted to say, yet ultimately chose silence.

"No, no it's my fault. I don't want such a brilliant mind to waste its time just on waiting." Veritas joined you on the edge of the hot spring. Was he just trying to fluster you with those words? Regardless, you returned your sights back onto the water's surface. Too bad that even there he couldn't avoid his face.

"Shall we? You must feel cold by now." His hand found its way to that small exposed bit of your back, causing you to immediately straighten your posture. One can imagine that while enveloped within the cold breeze Veritas' touch would feel twice as hot.

"Mm... Yeah." You answered, finally taking a chance to gaze into the doctor's eyes. "I think I'm ready.”

Veritas unwrapped the towel from your body, exposing your figure to the warm waters. Just like that, he nodded and gave you an encouraging push, not enough for you to fall into the water, but enough to lead you into its inviting warmth. Finally, coaxed by Veritas' gentle touch, you pushed yourself off the edge and into the hot spring.

“Ah, feels nice, doesn’t it?” The professor sighed, stretching his muscular back before leaning back onto the rocky surface behind him. Almost like inviting you over, he tapped the spot next to himself.”It’s not bad.” Upon request you joined him, leaning down until the water reached your neck.

“Are you feeling okay? You seemed kind of out of it just a moment ago.” He dared to bring up the difficult questions, gently rubbing your waist under the water.”Do you wish to talk about it…or maybe something more physical is what you need?” He affectionately nuzzled your neck, the warmth of his being rivaling that of the hot spring itself. How could he caress you so lovingly, you couldn’t help but wonder. Almost like on instinct you leaned back into the warm touch, craving it more with each passing moment. You were ready for it to be taken away at any second.

“Yes, please.” The words came out more desperately than you had planned them to. Uncertain would be a fitting description.

“Would a massage suffice?” Veritas’ hands slid all the way from your waist up to your shoulders, guiding you to the edge where you could lean for support. “Maybe it wouldn’t have come to this if you had listened to me when I told you to take a break.” But it wouldn’t be Veritas if his tender touches weren’t mixed with a heavy dose of scolding. “But you just had to continue on with your stubborn ways.”

“You just love being correct, don’t you?” Without thinking you spouted your retort. Your shoulders tensed only slightly, yet that alone told Veritas enough.

“Oh, believe me. In this case I really wish I wasn’t.” He trapped your smaller frame against the cool edge of the lake using his larger body, making it so that you weren’t able to escape the situation like you had many times before.”You-” “I’m not done talking.” Veritas shushed you with ease. Now the only thing separating you was the water's gentle embrace. “Are you aware of how much energy I spend just thinking and worrying about you? How many nights I have spent awake because of your idiocy?” He didn’t let go even when you tried to avert your gaze, no, he got even closer. “You can’t even imagine how much it hurts when you do these stupid things to yourself. And can’t you at least look at me when I’m talking to you?”

Veritas’ voice finally did something to earn your attention back, even if only for a moment. Your eyes looked into his for maybe a millisecond before the doctor tried to get closer, causing you to ultimately close them shut yet again. Only then did it hit Veritas in the head how he must have sounded like. “Hey, [name], I… I didn’t mean it like that. I just feel like…” The genius was so quickly reduced to a stuttering mess at the sight of his love in fear. Words managed to fail him like they never did, so he shut his mouth and tried a different approach.

“Veritas-” You gasped upon contact, pulled down into the water’s warmth until not even your shoulders were exposed to the cool breeze. Veritas held you tight, his grip not lacking in either strength nor warmth, firm and affectionate it was. He was not letting go, not now, not ever.

“Veritas… I’m fine.” You whispered, yet your trembling voice didn’t do much to ease the doctor’s worries. “I just.. I don’t know what is it with me today.” You hugged back, well, closer to clung back to the larger male’s form. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh, don’t be. It was me that got carried away.” He reassured, burying his head into the crook of your neck. Such an emotional moment it was, shame that it had to end so clumsily. Your feet eventually tangled together, sending you down face first into the water. Veritas wasn’t happy with this, there was no world where he would have been happy with this, yet at the moment he couldn’t stop laughing. His poor lungs were probably desperate for air.

Eventually, Veritas pulled both of you out, that wide uncharacteristic grin still shamelessly gracing his face. He ran his hand through his wet hair, pulling his bangs back. You could only stare. You had almost forgotten all the dark thoughts that plagued you earlier. That was just what Veritas did to you. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Veritas' grin morphed into a proud smile. Perhaps you did something to him too. “You said you didn’t want to get your hair wet.” You chuckled, eyes not leaving the larger male’s for even a moment. You traced your hand along Veritas’ forearms, fingertips only gently caressing his form. “You mentioned that massage, didn’t you?”

Veritas tensed up a bit, back straightening before taking up the challenge. “Do you honestly think that I wouldn’t hold up to my word?” He scoffed even just at the thought. “It wasn’t my intention to imply anything.” You teased back, that shine in your eyes returned like it never went missing in the first place. The terminal waters were only further raising the tension between the two. Light steam oozed from the pool of the water before sensually dancing in the air around them.

“Come here.” Veritas gently pushed you against the edge of the spring, his chest making contact with your naked back “Relax now, love. I got you.” His hot, steamy breath could be felt all the way down your exposed, vulnerable neck. He striped you bare of all control, yet also of all your stresses. Your body melted into the doctor’s first touch, the soft kneading motion of his hands causing a sensation comparable to heaven itself. It started with only your shoulders, the muscle fully giving into the affectionate motions. Your lower back was not neglected either.

“Can you feel that? Doesn’t it feel nice to let me take care of you for once?” His hands found that one particular knot that has been causing you trouble without you even knowing it, at least that would explain the uncharacteristic, explicit moan that left your choked throat. You arched your back, perhaps on impulse. That said, Veritas did not miss the chance to feel you up. “It’s nice.” The words escaped your lips. You leaned into the touch, the doctor’s hand expertly maneuvering your body like it was made all for him. You, of course, didn’t mind this at all, other than the quite distracting heat rising in his lower stomach. “I want more of you.” Your words were immediately answered with a pinch on the nipple. You gasped, the sensitive pink buds hardening after only a few squeezes. Instead of relaxation, Veritas’ massage only induced the opposite, excitement.

“I know, darling, I know.” Just like he could give pleasure, he could also take it away. He let go of your perky, pink nipples, returning his hands to your back. “But I need you to relax if you want more.” His feathery touch moved down to your soft cheeks, massaging the fat of your ass. Your breath hitched, you knew where this was going and your patience was running low. “Veritas…” You whined, but only received a slap to the ass. “Patience breeds success.” Veritas spoke his usual wisdom, though something told him that maybe it might have been uncalled for. But you bit your tongue. You pushed your rear into Veritas’ hand, hoping that the action will inflict impatience on him too.

It seemed to have worked. You felt that familiar hardness brushing against your soft ass, touching you so teasingly, making you lose your mind. Though, you were shortly rewarded. Out of nowhere, you felt a singular finger stab through your pucker hole, eliciting just the softest moan to slip out of your precious lips. You gripped onto the lake’s moist edge for much needed aid. “Just one finger in and you completely fall apart. My, I wonder how much could you really take?” He emphasized the words with a hit to the prostate, feeling the fleshy walls almost immediately clenching around his digits. It didn’t take long before the second one joined into the mix, the needy moan that spilled from your lips just a moment ago now mutating into a loud whine. “Please Veritas. It’s not enough.” You cried out, feeling as if that sweet spot deep inside you was being set ablaze.

“Say it again and I might consider it.” He dared to make such an order. If the scenario was any different you would have scoffed, yet horniness has its way with making all shame dissipate. “Please.”

Veritas had enough mercy to make that ‘maybe’ into a definite ‘yes’. The third finger slid in just as easily as the first two, stretching you open with no resistance other than the periodic clenching. “Is this how you like it? Or was it something else you were begging for?” Veritas asked, but only received an absentminded, but nothing short of enthusiastic nod. That was enough for him to understand his love’s wishes.

“Fine, I think you deserve it.” His fingers left a vacant hole inside you, but reassurance came when you felt the throbbing member sliding between your cheeks. “You can take it, I’m sure of it.” You could only gulp nervously at the doctor’s words, feeling your own burning saliva sliding down your dry throat. The open mouth kiss Veritas left on your neck sent you over the edge. You aligned yourself with Veritas’ pulsing erection, your body practically begging for penetration. And your love gave in.

Veritas stabbed into your tight ass, penetrating the petite entrance inch by inch before bottoming out completely. “God, you’re so fucking tight.” You could feel the rhythmic throbbing of his dick, your nice butt swallowing each pulse of his erection. Veritas started out slowly, dragging his dick out before slamming right back in with force. His dick felt like it was burning inside your heat. In this state of mind and body your neck felt like the tastiest treat. He started out with only gentle kisses, following with the kisses that would leave lasting bruises before finally biting fully down and piercing the thin layer of skin, provoking a choked scream to break the otherwise peaceful night.

His thrust only got faster, even if little by little. The choked scream was only built upon by much meeker whimpers uncontrollably seeping out of your needlessly addictive lips. Your nipples weren’t forgotten either. Just a single pinch and your voice rose in pitch. Veritas flickered his thumb over the hardening button, leaving it even more sensitive. “Ah.. hah.. Too- Too much.” You babbled.

“Too much? Already?” Veritas raised a singular eyebrow. “Come on, you know there is even more to come, right? I haven’t even started with you.” Just as promised, Veritas’ pace accelerated, causing the once tranquil water to now violently splash against the many rocks that built the lake. His kisses were wet, needy and absolutely devouring, attacking just the sweetest flesh of your neck. And the lewd sounds coming from your hoarse throat served as only further motivation. Though he still had some of that gentleman left in him, enough that he would never let you poor leaking cock neglected. He squeezed your shaft, perhaps too roughly at first, before starting to pump at an almost equal pace to his thrust. Considering this, the arch of your back that followed should have been expected. You pushed your ass into him while your front was still clawing at the lake's solid border. Drool slid down your chin, the absolute disheveled state you were in causing the other male's rock hard dick to twitch.

“You like that, don't you?” Suddenly, he stopped. His large hands moved up from your waist, running up your side before settling on your chest. “You like it when I grope you like this. You like it when I worship your body.” You could feel his hot breath crawling down your spine, starting from your flushed, red ears all the way down. “Admit it. Say it out loud.” His words could barely count as whispers.

You gulped. It wasn’t that you couldn’t admit it, it was just that you couldn’t catch your breath. “Mmm…” You mumbled, but the way Veritas grabbed your chin told you that he wasn’t quite pleased. “Use your words.” He turned your head to get a better look, watching your oh so perfectly fucked out face. “Y-Yes-” A slap to the ass was the only thing you received, but the stinging pain already told you everything. “I… I like the way you touch my body. Please, do it again.” You said, but his silent gaze didn’t do much to reassure you. Lucky, you got that reassurance in other ways. He pulled you into a hot, deep kiss, his tongue breaching the barrier of your lips and getting right to that tasty spot that made kissing you so addictive.

He dropped that cold mask and moaned into your mouth, the shameful sound something he would never in any scenario let anyone hear, but you proved to be quite the exception for him in most things in life. You could melt just in the kiss itself, but oh when you felt his dick move inside you again, you could have dropped to your knees right then and there. He began moving his hips again, hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves hidden deep inside your passage repeatedly until all the thrusts merged together. He caught up to the previous pace, hungry hands reaching for your erect member with a carnal need before beginning to pump in the same rhythm with each strike.

“Fuck…” The words got lost in the kiss. “You feel so good.” His nails dug into your hips, the slight surge of pain nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure. “I… I think that- ngh, I’m close.” Veritas lost control of his own hips, sloppy, but fast, thrust setting fire ablaze inside you. The act itself would have heated up your body on its own, but combined with the hot spring’s steamy water sweat was sure to stick to your body like a second skin. “Veritas, I can’t… hold it in.” You whined and, finally, after just a few pumps you screamed out his name, your whole body spasming as your cute cock sent its filthy, sinful load into the pure, clean thermal water, staining what some would refer to as holy sight. And with how tightly you clenched around the man it was only natural that he would follow. Veritas’ deep groan, hoarse from pleasure, echoed through the silent night as he practically erupted inside your tight little hole, feeling how its walls squeezed every single bit of cum out of him. Your bodies molded together for only a brief moment, but even in such a short time your pleasure felt like his and his felt like yours.

But eventually, you both fell from the shared high, bodies sore from all the action. But even the painful soreness was something Veritas wanted to share with you. The doctor’s tight grip relaxed, leaving red spots where he once held you in place like a hungry animal, though what came after felt equally loving. He nuzzled your abused neck, the poor thing left bruised, before inhaling your scent, not the one of your cologne, but the one your sweaty body oozed with on its own accord. He moaned, probably for the last time tonight, at the feeling of his now softening dick snugly hidden within your passage, he could stay like this forever.

“Such sounds don’t suit you, doctor.” You teased, leaning back into the safe embrace. “That’s because they were only meant for you.” In a somewhat strange moment of vulnerability, he kissed your earlobes, whispering such sweet words that you couldn’t believe it was him.

“Really?” You asked, trying to sound ever so sarcastic in an attempt to hide the fluttering feeling that raged inside your heart. “Then I think it’s better if this stayed just between the two of us.” He was quick to nod at your proposal, not even sparing a moment. “I think so too.”

You looked back down at your own hand, noticing your smooth skin morphing into wet wrinkles. “Maybe we should go dry ourselves before we get all wrinkly.”

“Just give me a few more minutes. I want the moment to soak in.” Reason told him otherwise, but his mind has already fallen into the love’s trap. The roles were now reversed and you couldn’t help yourself from commenting. “Such foolish words, I expected better from someone of your capabilities.” Though another, more annoyed, slap to the tush was enough to make you reconsider your words.

[Writer’s note: it's been a while, hasn't it? I started writing physically recently. Spend a notebook in like two weeks. This was supposed to be finished earlier. Oh well... As you might have seen in my answers life has not been so good to me lately. Thankfully, this tough patch might be ending soon. I just have to survive another month and I'm done. Perhaps I'll be posting more then.]

#dr ratio x amab reader #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x male reader #dr ratio #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x male reader #hsr x amab reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader

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beenbaanbuun · 27 days

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hi bunny! nice to meet you! ive started to follow you recently and im in love w all your works, but specially w the opposites attract universe! ive been an addams family enthusiast since childhood and mixing it with ateez has made it even better for me :)

ive grown curious about how san would get used to the household daily life and to darling's antics. and how much time would it take for him to grow fond of her, ofc lol :D

san tries his hardest to let everything that happens in that household wash over him like water off a duck’s back, but every single day he’s faced with a new challenge.

first of all there’s the sex. san thanks the stars that he isn’t a prude, because he wouldn’t last a day in that house if he was. his first 5 minutes in that god-forsaken house were soundtracked by the sound of a bed squeaking, and then when he finally met his boss, all he could smell was the scent of sex which clung to him like cologne. he finds pretty quickly that it’s not just hongjoong that smells that way, but it’s actually just imbedded in the walls of the house. he’s walked in on enough sex to know the reason why the scent of pleasure hangs over the house like a thick fog, and he tries his hardest to not be surprised each time he steps through a door to see someone’s dick stretching out the resident ball of energy. it’s still a little difficult…

and then there’s the ball of energy itself. there’s something about her that’s rather endearing, even from the very first moment he meets her. when she stumbled down the stairs looking every bit the princess that he’s come to realise she is, he was immediately intrigued. even more so when seonghwa and hongjoong began to dote on her slender fingers immediately moving to straighten her outfit—after all, san was still a stranger at that point and it’s only proper to look your best when greeting a new acquaintance. then the grumpy werewolf descended on her, tail wrapping around her thigh as if to claim her as his own and san found himself so curious it almost hurt.

but getting to know darling was a lot easier said than done. despite her following him everywhere for the first couple of days, a certain werewolf also decided to tag along everywhere. whilst she was rambling in one ear, the mutt would be growling in the other. san got the message pretty easily; don’t get too close unless he wants to lose his life. he tried to counter it by shooing her away so he can ‘do his job’, but the hurt look that would settle over her face only made the werewolf even more upset. san was lost for what to do, and the two of them seemed hellbent on making his life infinitesimally more difficult than it needed to be.

it was around three days in when yeosang got bored of following san around, and so the mutt kidnapped her and held her hostage in the living room with him. he didn’t trust the stranger with his pup just yet, and if he had to keep her pinned to the floor with his own body to keep her safe, then that’s what he’d do! he was a guard dog after all… it had absolutely nothing to do with jealousy and hongjoong was a liar for ever claiming it did!

after that, it was harder to get to know darling, but san didn’t mind. he still got to hear her ramble about anything and everything every time he stepped foot into the living room, and he still got to see her every time she snuck away when yeosang’s attention was on something else for two seconds. for those brief couple of minutes, san found himself enjoying her presence immensely!

and then yeosang would storm in and snatch her away for himself again…

#ateez x reader #matz x reader #yeosang x reader #opposites attract universe

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animeomegas · 6 months

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The Quest for a Second Life - Part 7 - 50 Shades of Audacity (3)

KAKASHI X ALPHA!READER

Summary: The Autumn Company Party. It had been the centre of the storyline for reasons unknown, and now it was upon you. Whatever happened though, this was sure to be your last night in Kakashi's pocket universe, and a difficult decision was right around the corner. At least you had one final attempt to get your dick wet. GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple

Word count: 10k

Warnings: N-sfw content, talks of collaring, alcohol consumption, Kakashi's abandonment issues. All alpha have dicks, fyi.

A/N: The final major part is done!!! Gosh, it's been such a journey and it's bittersweet to see it coming to an end. Happy holidays to everyone and I hope you enjoy this final part. @omeganronpa has a tough choice for the epilogue, which will be released on Christmas day :D Direct all arguments, begging and bribery here! May the best omega win! <3

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

Despite your best attempts, you never did get an explanation of Kakashi’s strange behaviour during that phone call. Kakashi had remained tight-lipped in the face of every strategy you used to weasel the information out of him. You fully believed that, if you had been given the appropriate amount of time, you would have eventually extracted the information, but unfortunately, time had been something of a rarity over the last few weeks.

The Autumn Company Party had approached like a speeding train, and you had been forced against your will to do your job and aid in the planning. You had lost track of how many times the importance of the event had been explained to you at this point, mainly to justify your massive and ever-growing workload.

“Every important investor and stakeholder will be in attendance!” You didn’t care.

“The board of directors will be there!” You really didn’t care.

“This will be your debut as the CEO’s secretary, if you don’t make a good impression, you could be fired and blacklisted!” You especially didn’t care about that one. Don’t threaten people with a good time.

No, the part itself wasn’t something you particularly cared about. It was going to be a boring work party, like every other one you’d attended in your life, that would be partially saved by the fact that you got to be the one to design the menu with the catering company.

No, you cared about whatever the other ‘thing’ at the party would be. This was the climax of the story, and that was putting you on edge. Even James didn’t know what would happen, but she seemed completely convinced that something would.

And so, it was with a weird combination of foreboding, fatigue, and excitement that you were putting together the finishing touches of your outfit, ten minutes before Kakashi was scheduled to pick you up and take you to the party.

It felt weird, standing in a still unfamiliar flat, looking in an unfamiliar mirror, to see a done-up version of yourself that you didn’t recognise. Because really, that had been the only thing you had carried with you from your real life. You had always been you, in body and mind, even as reality melted and reformed around you.

And you still were you, of course, just a version of you that was wearing more expensive clothes, had styled hair, and donned with more jewellery than you normally would. It just made you feel strange.

You straightened, brushing down imaginary creases in your outfit, and pointed at your own reflection accusatorily. “Get over yourself. You’re wearing nice clothes, stop being dramatic.”

There, that should fix it. You were just nervous about the unknown ‘thing’ that would be happening tonight, and it was bleeding into everything else.

Your phone buzzed on your desk, almost certainly a text from Kakashi telling you that he was outside. With one final glance in the mirror, you left the flat, wondering vaguely if you’d be back to see it before the demo ended. If this party was indeed the climax of this story, then you might never return.

You gave the flat a little goodbye wave, just in case.

As you exited the building, the chill of the Autumn wind caught you off guard. You wrapped your arms around yourself, already regretting the decision not to bring a coat, and hurried towards the sleek, black car that was waiting for you.

Kakashi stepped out of the car as you approached and held open the door for you.

You grinned, “What a gentleman, thank you.”

“Of course.” He followed you back into the car and shut the door behind him, leaving you enclosed in the glorious warmth of Kakashi’s heated car and its heated seats. “You look beautiful.”

You knew it was a standard thing to say in a situation like this, but Kakashi just had a way of making compliments sound so genuine. Maybe because he wasn’t the type to keep his negative opinions to himself. Either way, you were flattered.

“Thanks, Kakashi, I appreciate that. And you paying for the outfit, of course.” You took a moment to study him, in turn. He was wearing a well tailored suit like he always was, but to match the celebratory feel, he’d gone for a dark green colour scheme as opposed to his usual monochrome. Although the lighting inside the car was dim, it was easy to see how well the colour suited him. “You’re looking incredibly handsome, yourself. What a pair we make.”

“A very attractive pair indeed,” Kakashi agreed, taking one of your hands in his. He gave it a squeeze, so you gave one back.

Silence fell, and for a moment, you focused on the way Kakashi’s thumb was rubbing on the back of your hand. This was the first time you’d been properly alone for a while now, and you found your mind drifting back to that weird phone call. You decided to ask him about it again now, seeing as he had nowhere to run.

“Kakashi—”

“I—”

You had both started to speak at once.

“Sorry, I didn’t—” You started to apologise.

“No, I’m sorry, what were you going to say?”

“Oh, it was nothing, you go first.”

Kakashi looked like he was going to argue, but he clearly decided against it and said what was on his mind.

“At the party, we can’t behave as we’d normally do at the office,” he said. “Our relationship isn’t compatible with our jobs, and while the people in my office are friendly and mostly discreet, stakeholders and board members have a track record for being less so.”

Kakashi looked guilty, so you gave his hand another squeeze to show that you didn’t hold this against him. It made sense that an important work party wasn’t the right place for making out, but you wondered if he thought that you thought he was ashamed of your relationship or something.

“I understand. Old, rich people are terrible at keeping their noses out of other people’s business.”

“That’s certainly putting it lightly,” Kakashi muttered. He seemed more frustrated that you’d expected for what was objectively a minor issue.

Granted, you had kind of been expecting some kind of action at this party, this being the climax of a porn universe narrative, but you’d live if it turned out that the ‘thing’ was something non-horny. Honestly, you’d be happy if you got through the night without any more spontaneous stripping.

“Hey, it’s only one night, right? We can manage.” Kakashi looked at you consideringly, before a small smile bloomed on his face.

“One night,” he repeated, voice soft. “I can do that.”

“We’re five minutes away, sir.”

You took a deep breath. No matter what this party threw at you, you could handle it!

…

Apparently, what this party was throwing at you was extreme boredom.

Admittedly, it wasn’t an entirely lost cause. The venue was dazzling and incredibly fancy, and you knew you’d never stepped foot in a hotel so expensive before. Walking through the front doors with Kakashi, dressed to perfection… well, it had felt a little like you were royalty. It was incredibly good for the old self-esteem.

Once you had actually entered the party though, it was a whole different story.

While your coworkers were quick to compliment you, which was lovely, it was clear that they were too on edge to be having fun. The music was quiet, which was better for talking and networking, but didn’t exactly encourage dancing. And whenever you did try to speak to new people, they wanted to ask about your professional qualifications and experiences working under Kakashi. The cherry on top of this awful cake was that the only alcohol offered was champagne, which wasn’t your favourite, nor did it numb the boredom of the party very well.

You had barely even seen Kakashi, bar a few quick flashes in passing as he schmoozed his way through the hall like a pro. His serious warning about not behaving like a couple seemed a bit dramatic now, seeing as you hadn’t even had the chance to make eye contact.

‘Are you sure it was just a warning, human?’

You jumped at James’ sudden interjection. You furtively glanced around you to make sure that none of your coworkers had noticed your seemingly out of place reaction. Thankfully, people seemed too busy to care.

‘What do you mean? What else could it have been?’

‘…’

‘James?’

‘Perhaps it was an explanation, human.’

‘An explanation? An explanation for what? Surely that means the same thing as a warning in this context.’

James didn’t respond. How bizarre. You didn’t much care for having a riddle added on top of your evening. Honestly, if it were just a boring party, you would have found someway to have fun, but you knew that some kind of event would be unfolding here, which was putting you on edge. Every second that ticked by completely normally felt like it was building to something big. And James’ riddles weren’t helping assuage the anxiety that sensation was creating.

Between the stress, the lack of alcohol, and the enforced networking, it was an exceptionally mid party, even if it was pretty.

The only saving grace was the buffet table, that you were slowly weaving your way back towards for probably the tenth time that night. This time, you decided to just remain lingering by the food in the hopes that it would stop people from asking questions about a degree you didn’t actually do.

You loaded up your plate was as much as you could and then found an empty section of wall to lean on. You popped one of the mac and cheese balls in your mouth and almost moaned at the flavour sensation that followed. They were heavenly, salty and creamy, and the breadcrumbs around the outside had just the right amount of crispiness. Like everything else on the buffet, it had an impressive depth of flavour. You weren’t ashamed to admit that having access to this catering company was on the pros column for staying in this world.

Consumed in your world of cheesy goodness, you almost didn’t notice when what you thought was a member of waitstaff leant against the wall next to you. He was carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres, and you wondered if he was just taking a break or if you were somehow in his way.

“How are you holding up?” Hearing a familiar voice come from what you thought was a stranger had you doing a double take. You were met with Iruka’s charming grin. He was dressed in a standard black suit that obviously wasn’t tailored the way Kakashi’s were, but somehow, he pulled off the ‘slightly too big’ look with a level of a scampish charm.

What you had originally thought was a tray of hors d’oeuvres was in fact a plate that Iruka had stacked full of shot glasses, each one filled with a mini ramen. As he waited for your response, he grabbed one of the glasses and poured the ramen into his mouth with a satisfied hum.

Ah, you thought, amused, he’d wasted no time finding them.

“As well as can be,” you said, answering his original question. “How about you? Enjoying the food?”

Iruka, who was in the middle of eating a second ramen shot, paused for a second, his ears going slightly red. You snorted, averting your eyes for a second to allow him to finish the ramen shot in peace.

“Thanks,” he muttered, referring to your insistence that the catering team create a ramen hors d’oeuvre. “Makes this ridiculous party worth it.”

“No, thank you,” you countered, referring to his substantial help with the planning and paperwork for this event when your duties got a bit overwhelming. “I couldn’t have got everything finished without your help.”

“Too busy running around with Kakashi?” When you didn’t defend yourself, he rolled his eyes fondly. “You two are menaces. Actually, speaking of Kakashi, shouldn’t you be getting ready with him to go on stage about now?”

“What?” That was the first you’d heard about any obligation to go on stage. If this turned into a cheesy scene where you had to do something ridiculous like sing a duet with Kakashi, you were going to riot, possible retaliations from porn logic be damned. You did not sign up for High School Musical shenanigans. “Why would I have to go on stage?”

“Oh, you don’t know? Sorry, I thought Kakashi would have explained it to you.”

“Okay, fine, but he obviously didn’t, so could you please tell me why I have to go on stage?” Was this what James meant by the big ‘thing’ that would be happening at the Autumn Company Party?

“Of course.” Despite his positive response, Iruka then proceeded to eat another one of his ramen shots, and only after he was done, did he continue with the explanation. “Every year, Kakashi gives a speech around halfway through the party. Normal stuff, just summarising the last year, talking about new projects, thanking all the generation donators and stakeholders. The CIO of the company, Tsunade, stands by him for the speech, and for the first few years, his personal assistant stood behind him too. He hasn’t had one for a while, but now you’re here, you’ll need to stand behind him with Tsunade.”

You squinted your eyes suspiciously. “And I won’t have to speak?”

“Nope,” Iruka said, brightly. “You just have to stand there.”

Huh, that wasn’t so bad. It was slightly annoying that you were being taken away from the buffet table, but you would live.

‘You are being very brave, human.’

‘Thanks, James.’ Again, you had no idea if she didn’t know what the concept of sarcasm was, or she deployed it with skill on a never-before-seen scale. It was definitely either or, but which one, you would never know.

“Wait,” you said, suddenly remembering what Kakashi had told you about your interview with him. “Kakashi used to have a personal assistant? He said he didn’t want one because he worked better alone.”

Iruka hesitated. He looked left, then right, and when he saw that you were as alone as you could be, he leant in close and whispered.

“His old personal assistant is why he didn’t want a new one,” he explained. “At first, it didn’t seem like anything was wrong with him, but it turned out he had been placed there by the board to spy on Kakashi and relay information back. Kakashi fired him as soon as he found out, but he never accepted a personal assistant again, until the board forced him to hold interviews, and he hired you.”

“Seriously?” Iruka nodded, lips tight. “That’s crazy.” You wondered briefly how many of the people you were sitting with in the waiting room were plants from the board.

“We don’t talk about it, but everyone who was working there at the time this went down knows about it. That’s one of the reasons we were so surprised, not only when you were hired, but when you and Kakashi seemed to be having a personal relationship outside of work. I’m surprised he trusted you at all.”

Goodness. You leant against the wall as you considered what Iruka was saying. It was wild to think about how much resistance and betrayal Kakashi had faced from within his own company. You’d bet that they hadn’t been too happy when Kakashi turned 18 and decided he wanted to lead his company, and when they couldn’t take it from him, they kept tabs and put pressure on him as much as possible.

This information also contextualised your interview differently. Kakashi had claimed that he hired you because you were funny. You had theorised that you had awoken his submissive side, this being an erotica and all. And maybe both of those were true to some extent, but you now believed that it was far more likely that Kakashi had decided you were too rowdy, rude, and unprofessional to have been a plant from the board of directors.

It clicked his initial suspicions about your motivations into place, too. He hadn’t trusted your reasons for asking him to dinner, not at first. When you had demanded to spend time with him, you’d bet he was wandering if you were there to spy on him.

“Poor Kakashi…”

Iruka nodded solemnly, and then downed another ramen shot. You scanned the room while he did, hoping to catch Kakashi’s eye, wherever he was. It took you a moment, but then you found him, standing at the base of the stage, standing next to Tsunade. Ah fuck.

“I think I have to go, thanks for keeping me company, Iruka.”

Iruka waved his hand, “Good luck. I can look after your plate for you if you want—”

“No need.” You shoved the last handful of mac and cheese balls into your mouth, dumped the plate on the table, and then chewed furiously as you worked your way to the stage.

“There you are,” Tsunade said, two glasses of champagne in hand. She quickly downed them both and then shoved them into the hands of a poor waiter as he passed by. “Let’s get this over with.”

You tried to catch Kakashi’s eye, but he was too focused on walking to the stage. You and Tsunade followed after him, and you resolved to talk to him after the speech was finished.

Kakashi went up to the mic and you and Tsunade stood at his side, a few paces back. You spotted a few board members in the crowd, and you felt the urge to stick your tongue out at them. You just about managed to resist.

Kakashi used the knife against the champagne glass he was holding, and a sharp ting echoed through the microphone and around the room. The spotlight on the stage turned on, and suddenly you were bathed in a bright, white light. Everyone quieted and turned to face the stage.

The lights were hurting your eyes and making your skin feel hot, but at least your only job was to stand there and look pretty. You were good at that.

“Good evening, everyone,” Kakashi said, sounding effortlessly comfortable speaking in front of so many people. “Thank you all for coming tonight, and I hope you’ve been enjoying yourselves thus far.”

It was weird to hear him speak like this; he sounded very different when you two were alone. That was to be expected, you supposed, but it didn’t make it feel any less jarring.

“I won’t keep you long, but I thought it prudent to take a moment to thank everyone who has made this last year as successful as it was. To our staff, to our stake holders, and to our board members, I say thank you.” He raised his glass in a toast. “We would not have a company without you.”

This was an incredibly boring and generic speech. You had been sure that the ‘thing’ that was supposed to happen would happen now, but all that was happening was you struggling not to fall asleep in front of everyone.

“The past year has been a year of perfecting, of tweaking that which was already in place to make it perfect. Among other things, the building work on the new cafeteria was completed this year, and the debut of our first international branch went smoothly and successfully.”

Ugh, as Kakashi’s personal assistant, you knew all this stuff already. You just wanted to go back to the buffet, was that too much to ask?

“However, following the stage of perfection will always be a stage of change. We must now introduce new projects that will grow and be perfected over time, like the projects that came before them. And there is one major change that will take effect going forward.”

Confused whispers spread across the hall. You noticed a few members of the board looking specifically irritated, and you’d bet that Kakashi had not informed anyone in advance of whatever this big change was.

Even Tsunade was watching him warily from the corner of her eye.

“I’m resigning,” Kakashi announced, paired with his signature eye smile.

The room was silent enough that you could have heard a pin drop.

What?

Chaos erupted. People were shouting questions, making exclamations of disbelief, and loudly assuming this was a prank that wasn’t very funny.

Kakashi ignored the noise and leant back into the mic. “I nominate Tsunade as my successor.”

Tsunade sputtered, “Eh?! Like hell you are, brat!”

He had resigned. Kakashi had resigned as CEO of the company he had been a part of his entire life. James had said that whatever happened at the party would be a direct consequence of how you had acted in this demo. So, presumably, this was your fault, but how?

Our relationship isn’t compatible with our jobs, that’s what he’d said to you in the car. You had thought he was warning you to tone things down for the evening, but James had suggested that it wasn’t a warning, but an explanation. You hadn’t understood what she’d meant, but now you did. He was explaining to you, in his own way, why he was about to resign.

The strange phone call fit, too. He had mentioned thinking about the Autumn Company Party, and whatever was on his mind had made him seek your number for comfort, but he refused to tell what he was thinking about. He was likely thinking about whether he should resign.

While you put the pieces together, the room around you was still very much in a state of chaos. Kakashi, however looked completely calm. He put the microphone back in the stand, handed his champagne and knife to a raging Tsunade, and then turned to you.

You watched as he approached you. You could feel how wide your eyes were. You thought he was going to say something, but he got closer and closer until he was right in your personal space, where he looped an arm around your waist, pulled you tight against him, and kissed you.

He was kissing you. Kakashi was kissing you in front of his whole company. You had kissed Kakashi before, many times, but there was something about this kiss that overshadowed all the others. It took a moment for your brain to catch up to what was happening and remember to how to kiss, but you eventually found your footing.

Your lips and tongues danced together serenely, driving out the chaos of the background noise until you two were the only people that mattered. You could feel and taste the longing pouring out of Kakashi, begging you to understand him and stay by his side. You wound your hands around his neck to reassure him, and in return, he squeezed your waist affectionately.

You were quickly running out of air, but you didn’t want this moment to end.

Regardless of your wishes, however, the kiss did end. As Kakashi pulled away slowly, the bubble burst and the noise from the party came rushing back in. Questions were still being shouted, and while some people were displeased by Kakashi’s display, others cheered.

You felt like you were trapped in a daze. You half expected to topple over when Kakashi let go of you to lean back to the microphone.

“We have paid for the venue until 1am, so please enjoy the rest of the party. Goodnight!”

And with that, he grabbed you by the hand and pulled you through a stage door and out of the party. You let him, still completely stunned at what had just happened.

You walked out of the venue in silence, through a back exit for somewhat obvious reasons, and Kakashi’s car was already waiting for you both. You both slid into the warmth of the car, and the second the seatbelts were on, the car pulled away from the hotel and into the city. The bright lights filtered into the car as you drove, but the outside world had never felt so far away.

“Are you… okay?” Kakashi asked, voice nervous.

You wanted to answer him properly, really you did, but your mouth and brain weren’t quite in agreement yet, so the only thing that came out was, “I was going to fill the Tupperware in my bag with more mac and cheese bites.”

Kakashi blinked at you for a moment, before he sent you nervous smile. “I’ll order you some more, as many as you want, I promise.”

Through your embarrassment at you lacking filter, you nodded, and silence fell in the car again. Unlike the normal, comfortable silence that you shared with Kakashi, the awkwardness was palpable. You wanted to break it, but you didn’t quite know how, after everything that had just happened. When your phone buzzed, you grabbed for it desperately as an escape from the weird silence. It was a text from Kurenai.

‘Sorry for not warning you in advance what Kakashi was planning. I feel pretty guilty now, Asuma too. He says the apology is from him too.’

Right, so some people did know in advance. Honestly, you were a bit annoyed that no one had warned you. You were halfway through writing a slightly snarky text back, when she sent another message.

‘We were planning on telling you, but we had to focus on convincing Kakashi out of his idea to propose to you this evening.’

You immediately forgave them both, deleted the previous message, and instead thanked them profusely for saving you from a very awkward conversation. Oh, Kakashi.

Speaking of Kakashi, he was sitting awkwardly in his seat, staring out the window. His shoulders were incredibly tense. You couldn’t just leave him sitting there.

“So, are you really resigning?”

Kakashi swallowed heavily, “Yes… I was thinking about what you said, about having my own dreams, and I still don’t know what those dreams are yet, but I know they aren’t in that company, not anymore.”

You nodded slowly. Kakashi was watching your reaction like a hawk.

“I’m not going to leave completely, I don’t think I could,” he hastened to add. “I can’t abandon my father’s company completely, but… I need time.”

“I understand, Kakashi, it’s okay.”

“You do?” He sounded so vulnerable and lost. You undid your seatbelt and slid into the middle seat instead, before clicking the belt back on. From there, you were able to wrap your arms around Kakashi.

It was slightly awkward in the car, but you didn’t let that stop you. Kakashi fell into your arms gratefully and braced his head against your shoulder.

“I do, darling. You’ve been working your entire life at that company, Kakashi, you deserve a break. I’m already tired of working, so I can’t imagine how you feel. I’ll support whatever pathway you choose to take.”

Kakashi sagged onto you, breathing harshly and clinging onto you with desperate hands. You shushed him, and gently ran your fingers through his hair.

Poor Kakashi, you thought, holding him tightly. You could tell that he was so incredibly burnt out, but he hadn’t even noticed until someone had forced him to see that other choices existed. And once you had pulled the curtain back and showed him reality, he couldn’t bare to continue the way he had been for even a second longer.

Now that the shock had subsided, you were filled with pride for him. It wasn’t easy to leave something life-defining behind, even if you wanted to. But he had done it, and now you were going to be here to make sure he could handle the emotional backlash.

You pressed a kiss to Kakashi’s gravity-defying hair and gave him an affectionate nuzzle. If you chose this world, and your fictional family became real, you were dragging Kakashi into it.

“I want to do up my childhood home properly,” he said, pulling away and rubbing at his eyes. “I want to modernise it again, fill it with new photos and unrestrained laughter. I want to walk my dogs; I don’t want to hire a dog walker anymore. And…”

“And?” you pressed your forehead against his.

“And I hope you’ll be there with me. Because that’s one thing I do know. I love you, and I want you with me wherever I go.”

“Oh, Kakashi,” you cooed softly, pecking him on the lips. “I love you too, and I’ll follow you wherever you go, my darling.”

He sighed, relieved, “And you aren’t angry at me for not telling you that I was resigning?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. I would have appreciated a heads up, I won’t lie.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He dropped his head onto your shoulder. “Maybe… maybe you should punish me…”

It took a moment for his unexpected words to sink in, but when they did, heat rushed downwards.

Oh.

…

You had expected to end up at Kakashi’s penthouse, but his chauffeur had pulled up in front of your flat instead. It had given more credence to your theory that Kakashi preferred your flat to his. You didn’t mind, so you didn’t comment on it.

You could have done without the flat look Kakashi’s chauffeur had given you both when he said that he wouldn’t be needing a lift home until tomorrow though.

The warmth of your flat was a welcome change from the Autumn chill, but it was the hot, electric tension fizzling through air that really captured your attention. You both kicked off your shoes and put down your bags, but the second you were done, the tension snapped, and you slammed Kakashi against the door with your body, pressing your lips against his in an aggressive kiss.

Kakashi met your sudden kiss with no hesitation and just as much aggression. You could feel the clack of your teeth knocking together, but you couldn’t hear it over the door shaking in the frame. You sent a half-hearted apology to your neighbours for the kind of noises they were about to hear.

You kissed with urgency. Kakashi moaned into your mouth and his hands pawed at your waist. There weren’t any undertones of dominance or submissive yet, only passion. Your lips tangled with his as you pushed through the burning need for oxygen.

When you could hold out no longer, you pulled away and instead took the opportunity to nuzzle at Kakashi’s neck, inhaling his heady scent, and undo the buttons on Kakashi’s shirt.

“Your shirts still have too many buttons,” you panted against Kakashi’s skin. “I think we should burn them all.”

“If you want me naked, you just have to ask,” he said, chest heaving.

“Maybe I will.” You finished the last button, leaving Kakashi’s shirt to hang open. He was still wearing his tie and suit jacket, which framed the newly revealed sliver of skin. “Now that you’re not a big, fancy CEO, I can keep you as my naked butler.”

Kakashi snorted. “Of course, you’re into that.”

You pulled away from his neck and grinned, “How do you feel about cat ears?”

Kakashi didn’t seem to find your idea as amusing as you did. “You wish.”

You hummed in amusement, loosening his tie and throwing it behind you somewhere. His jacket quickly followed, crumpling on the ground at the base of the front door, leaving Kakashi in only his open shirt and trousers.

Kakashi, sensing the unfair differences in dress, attempted to liberate you from your shirt, but you caught both of his wrists in your hands and pinned them against the door.

“I can’t touch you? That’s hardly fair,” he pouted, playfully tugging at your restraint.

You slipped a knee in between his legs and ground it up against his crotch. Kakashi gave a hoarse gasp and folded forward slightly. “This isn’t supposed to be fair, Kakashi. Was it fair that you didn’t tell me of your resignation in advance? This is a punishment, darling.”

Kakashi growled lightly. You knew how much he loved to touch you, which is exactly why you denied him the honour. You growled back at him and to your delight, he immediately submitted, baring his neck. You nipped at the newly presented flesh, trying to keep yourself from getting too close to mating mark territory.

Maybe one day he would wear your mating mark, but today was not that day.

“Come on,” you said, pulling him forward by the belt. “I think it’s time we move to the bedroom before someone complains about the banging on the front door.”

“Do you have to tug me by my trousers?” Kakashi asked, although he didn’t do anything to stop you.

“Hmm, you’re right, this would be much easier with a lead, and a collar, of course.” You grinned at him with heavily lidded eyed. “Would you like me to get you your very own collar, ‘kashi?”

You were just testing the waters with that particular kink. It would be easy for him to write it off as a joke, like the cat ears, but if he liked it…

Kakashi’s pale skin lit up in a brilliant pink. Well, that answered that question.

“Figures. You’d look hot in a collar, puppy.”

“Shut up,” Kakashi mumbled weakly, still following you obediently.

On the way to the bedroom, Kakashi lost his shirt, his trousers, and his underwear, creating a trail of clothes to the bedroom like a strange R-rated version of Hansel and Gretel.

You entered your bedroom and flicked on the lights. Kakashi went to stand by the bed, seemingly waiting for your next instruction. Having a naked omega in your bedroom really was the best way to end a night.

Honestly, it was a shame you couldn’t have a naked Kakashi and naked Itachi here with you. That impossibility was far more tragic than your own untimely death.

“Now, what should I do for your punishment, Kakashi, hm?” you asked, tilting your head consideringly. “Should I replicate Makoto’s punishment? You seemed to enjoy that.”

You delicately rested your hands on his throat, teasing him with featherlight touches. Kakashi shuddered, and his eyes fluttered closed. You used both hands to complete the full collar effect around his neck, just as had been described in the Icha Icha book.

“It makes sense that you like collars, considering the amount of time you spend reading about Makoto wearing one. Is that why you like Icha Icha, Kakashi?”

“I told you, I read it for the story. It’s a masterpiece of—"

You gently applied a little more pressure to the sides of his neck and his weak argument went silent. You felt powerful watching him fold at your feet.

As much as asking him for his opinion on his punishment was a method of teasing him, you really did have to figure out what his punishment was going to be.

You hadn’t had much time to plan, and your flat was tragically empty of things like toys or bondage. You resolved to fix that if you ended up in this world, but that didn’t help you right now.

For anyone else, you might have considered just denying him pleasure while he pleasured you, but Kakashi was a service sub through and through. No, he wasn’t going to be allowed to touch you, but you weren’t going to touch him either. He needed to focus on his own pleasure, and just like that, the perfect idea sprang to mind.

“Get on the bed and present to me; I want to see that sopping hole of yours.”

You watched with rapt attention as Kakashi climbed onto your bed on all fours. He let his shoulders fall to the blanket and then, resting his weight on his shoulders, he reached behind him.

“That’s it,” you mumbled, almost drooling. “Show alpha that needy hole.”

Kakashi used his hands to bare his hole for you, holding it open for your scrutiny. And what pretty picture he made, just for you.

His hole was indeed sopping wet, glistening in the warm lighting as his fingers struggled to retain a grip on the slippery skin. His dick swung proudly downwards, framed by the A-line shape Kakashi had created with his thighs. It dribbled a few clear beads of precum onto your sheets, but the idea of having to grab a towel for your activities was quickly dismissed when you realised you couldn’t bare to take your eyes off your omega for even a second.

Kakashi’s muscles strained as he kept up the presenting position for you. Confidence practically oozed from every pore in his body, exemplified no better in the challenging grin he had on his face. Kakashi knew he was sexy, and he was willing to weaponize that against you as much as possible.

Once again, you were struck by how different he was from Itachi. Sex didn’t make Kakashi bashful, emotions did. Sex didn’t make him feel like a different person, it amplified his traits. Itachi had been the opposite in both.

Honestly, if an outsider had seen your two dimension choices, you wouldn’t have blamed them for assuming that two different people had been involved.

You sat on the edge of the bed and leant forward so that you face was eye height with his hole. It twitched under your scrutiny, and you couldn’t help but coo.

“What a pretty hole you have, omega.” You blew some cold air on it to watch it flinch. As it clenched, a drop of slick began to run down to his thighs. It was practically drooling for you, begging you to fill it with something.

Although the rest of Kakashi was very pretty indeed, his hole had to be one of his best features. Tragically, you hadn’t had much time to spend with it recently, with all the work you’d had to do. It was probably lonely without you, and that wouldn’t do.

Except… you studied it closely, noting the slight gape and softness that you didn’t expect. Maybe his hole hadn’t been as lonely as you’d thought, because he was far too stretched considering it had been more than a week.

Oh, you realised, smirking, big, bad, genius Kakashi had been touching himself. He had been lonely and horny as work kept you both apart, and he had decided to take matters into his own hands. You imagined him for a moment, splayed on the massive bed in his penthouse, one hand fucking himself and the other pressed over his mouth to keep himself from waking his dogs.

“Have you been lonely, Kakashi?” you asked, deciding to call him out on it.

“No?” You could hear the question in his voice; he didn’t know where you were going with this, and that made it sweeter.

“I only asked because, well,” -you paused for effect- “your hole is looking very ready right now. I wonder if perhaps you’ve been touching yourself without my permission.”

The pink flush crept down Kakashi’s back, and he turned to hide his face in your duvet; you’d caught him red handed.

“Ah, what a slutty puppy I have, hm?” Kakashi whined, and some more beads of pre cum splashed against the blanket. “Tell me, did you use a toy, or did you use your fingers?”

“Is that any of your business?”

“Kakashi…” you said, warning clear.

“…Fingers,” Kakashi said reluctantly, his voice muffled by your blanket. “I used my fingers.”

Perfect. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me how you fingered yourself, Kakashi. What position did you use? Show your alpha how you placated that slutty hole of yours.”

Hesitantly, Kakashi turned over so that he was laying on his back, legs splayed wide for your viewing pleasure. He then grabbed one of the decorative cushions and slotted it under his hips so that his hole was easier to reach. Kakashi held his lips between his teeth and brought a hand down so that his fingertips were resting on his hole.

“I did it like this…”

“I see,” you said, tilting your head at him. “And how many fingers did you use?”

“I started with one.”

You waved your hand at him to go ahead. “Show me how you did it.”

Kakashi slowly sunk his middle finger in, making an obscene squelching noise as he did. Clear fluid dripped out around his finger, and you were once again incredibly grateful for the immaculate horny imagery that the porn logic provided for you.

Idly, you wondered if he really had started with his middle finger, or if it was some kind of subtle ‘fuck you’. With Kakashi, you could never bee 100% sure.

He pumped the finger in a few times, obviously finding no resistance. His angry cock stood proudly, but Kakashi ignored it for the time being.

“But one finger didn’t satisfy you, did it? Your greedy hole needed more.”

Kakashi rolled his eyes but nodded, “I used two fingers next.” He didn’t need to be asked to show you this time, and his pointer finger soon joined his middle one.

Now he had two fingers, Kakashi picked up the pace and began periodically curling his fingers in search of that wonderful bundle of nerves. The wet noises increased, but Kakashi didn’t seem to be having much luck.

You watched as he got progressively more frustrated at his inability to find his prostate. He tried to hike his legs up further to get a better angle, but no luck. He tried switching hands, but it didn’t help at all. He even tried holding his breath at one point, just in case it had some kind of effect, but nothing.

His face scrunched up and he bared his teeth, but it wasn’t like his own body was going to somehow be intimidated into giving him what he wanted, so that didn’t work either.

You watched, baffled and slightly amused, as the wet patch underneath his hips grew larger and larger, completely soaking your decorative pillow, and yet Kakashi still couldn’t seem to get close to his orgasm.

For a moment, you wondered if something was wrong, before you realised what forces controlled the universe you were currently in. This was a punishment because Kakashi took an action without you. It only made narrative sense that he couldn’t find his own prostate and needed you to do it for him.

The lecherous grin that blossomed on your face would have likely scared more delicate omegas away.

You let him finger himself for almost ten minutes, at which point you could tell his hands were starting to cramp, and his face was bright red from exertion. His thighs were trembling, and he was sweating, but his release had escaped him the entire time.

You figured fifteen minutes of frustrating edging was enough punishment for now. You gently rested your hand on top on his, ceasing his frantic fingering. Carefully, you extracted his fingers with a wet plop. Kakashi whined, but you shushed him, putting his hand down on his stomach.

“It’s not going to happen on your own, darling, don’t you understand?” Kakashi peered up at you, panting. His eyes made it clear that he didn’t understand. “You need me to do it for you. I can make you feel so very good, but you need to learn to trust me. I know what you need, I can deliver what you need. You just” -you slipped two of your own fingers inside him- “need” -you pumped them slowly- “to trust” -you curled your fingers, immediately finding his swollen prostate with the power of porn logic- “me.” You pressed down on the bundle of nerves as hard as you could.

Kakashi gasped, his entire body lifting off the bed as he finally got a taste of the pleasure he had been desperately chasing. His cock was weeping, and you rolled his balls in your free hand, but stopped moving your fingers.

“Right there,” he panted, sounding close to tears. “Hit there again.”

You stared him down, pointedly not moving your fingers. “Why are you being punished, Kakashi?”

“What?!”

“Why are you being punished?” He glared at you, but you only raised an eyebrow at him, the same way he did to you so often when you first met.

“You’re playing this game now?” You refused to budge, and quickly, his desperation outweighed his pride. “Because I didn’t warn you that I was going to resign.”

“And why is that bad?”

Kakashi growled, “Because it concerned you and you deserved to know.”

“Apologise.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice desperate. He rocked his hips down on your fingers, muscles shaking. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, just please, get me off!”

It was hardly the most articulate or heartfelt of apologies, but you were happy to let it slide this time. You pumped your fingers in and out a few times and Kakashi relaxed. Now, you just had to curl your fingers just right, and— There!

You grinded your fingers into his prostate mercilessly. Kakashi’s eyes rolled backwards and the noise that escaped him was one of pure, toe curling, ecstasy.

“This feels better, doesn’t it, ‘kashi.” You didn’t phrase it as a question because you knew you were right. “That’s because I’m doing it. You’re so used to being the one in control, the one everyone comes to when they need help or advice, but deep down, you just want someone else to deal with everything, don’t you?”

Kakashi whined as you picked up the pace with your fingers. His prostate was so swollen that you caught it every time. When you used your other hand on his cock, his whine transitioned into an open-mouthed moan as Kakashi writhed on your bed.

You set a fast pace, but when you saw his balls tighten, you withdrew your hands completely. Kakashi thrashed in frustration, his swollen cock bobbing in the open air.

“Why’d you stop?” he asked, panting. His tongue was lolling out ever so slightly.

“Because you’re loose enough to take me now, Kakashi, why would I continue?” You maintained an innocent façade that Kakashi could obviously see through but couldn’t question. “Your punishment may be over, but my pleasure still outranks yours.”

Kakashi scoffed, but he was too far gone to successfully pretend that he was aching for your cock, so he remained quiet.

You decided it was time to strip. Your clothes were feeling a little tight in some key areas, and while the contrast between yours and Kakashi’s states of dress was sexy, you had had enough of wearing them.

Kakashi’s stare was red hot as it lingered on every piece of newly revealed skin, as your outfit was slowly shed. It was flattering how much pleasure he seemed to gain just from seeing you strip, and you couldn’t resist blowing him a little kiss as the final article of clothing fell to the floor. Like the utter dork he was, he mimed catching the kiss and then held that fist to his chest.

You crawled over him, giggling at his antics, as you settled in between his still splayed legs. You hummed, running your hands up and down his chest, your fingers catching on his pebbled nipples. “While this view is delectable, I was thinking about a slightly different position for the grand finale.”

“And what position would that be?”

With some difficultly, you pulled Kakashi up and slid yourself into his previous position, kicking the soaking cushion off the bed as you did. When you were finished, Kakashi was now the one hovering over you. You took advantage of your new position and stole a quick kiss from him.

“I think that it’s your turn to make me feel good,” you said, grabbing a hold of your cock and pumping it slowly. “How do you feel about riding me?”

You had a front row seat to the way Kakashi’s eyes dilated at your suggestion. He drew back, and his eyes flickered down to your dick. With obvious physical agreement, Kakashi straddled you, one knee either side of your hips, and replaced your hand with his own on your dick.

He sent you a sultry look, and then dragged the head of your dick back and forth against him, until the head caught of his loosened hole. Kakashi hovered there for a moment, until a drop of his slick ran down your dick.

“Tease me and I’ll edge you until you cry, Kakashi.”

He considered your challenge with a head tilt and eye smile. “If you say so.”

He slammed his hips down all at once, skin hitting skin with a wet slap. You choked at the sudden onslaught of sensations as his wet heat wrapped around you.

“Fuck, you are such a brat, you know that?”

“Me?” He put a hand against his chest in mock offence. “Never.” To emphasise his point, he drew his hips up until you almost slipped out, only to then drop his hips down all at once, again.

“Just get to it, pretty, before I go soft from boredom.” That was entirely a bluff, of course; you were incredibly hard and that wasn’t changing any time soon.

Kakashi did as you’d asked. At first, the pace of his hips was fast, but not particularly rhythmic. His thighs were incredibly muscular and had no trouble holding his weight as he bounced up and down, but you could tell that he had never done this before, so you settled your hands on his hips to help him.

“You don’t have to go all the way off every time,” you explained, holding him still. “Here, try moving your hips backwards and forwards for a bit, like you’re grinding.”

Kakashi tried what you were explaining, and you could tell immediately that it felt better for him, because his face screwed up in pleasure as his slid backwards and forwards on your hips, painting them with his slick.

From that point onwards, he alternated between powerful up and down riding, and sensual rocking. He seemed to delight in avoiding a noticeable pattern, so you could never quite predict when he was going to switch between them.

His gooey insides were your favourite place to be regardless, so you let him play how he wanted to. To retain some of your power, you took to plucking at his nipples whenever his pace flagged. While it was probably incredibly rude to compare two omegas’ nipples, you couldn’t help it. Itachi did have cuter nipples, it had to be said, but Kakashi had better pecs, so it evened out.

Again, you desperately wished James would tell you who created these drop dead gorgeous omegas, but extracting information from her was worse than pulling teeth.

As Kakashi continued to ride you, the squelching was so loud that you were certain that at least one of your neighbours was cursing you right now. Or maybe they were into it; it was a porn world.

The rhythmic slapping felt like a countdown to your impending orgasm, as something burning bubbled underneath your skin. You loved being more sensitive in porn worlds, but it did make it harder to last.

Kakashi was getting more desperate, too. Although his thighs were starting to slow from exertion, he was relentless in his riding. He moaned unabashedly as your knot started to inflate and catch on his rim.

Your instincts screamed at you to knot him. You felt delirious with pleasure, and you needed this pretty omega to take your seed. You needed to mark him, so that no one else, no clients, no colleagues, and no board members, would ever even consider touching him again.

You looked up at Kakashi as he hovered above you. His skin shined in the light, although it had nothing on the way his slick shined against your skin. “Good boy, you’re such a good boy, Kakashi, my good boy.”

Kakashi seized, and with a cry, he shot white ropes of cum all over your stomach and chest, while clear liquid forced its way past your dick and out into the open air. With each shot, Kakashi’s insides tensed and pulsed, and you couldn’t hold on any longer.

You came too, knot locking into place inside him, as you painted his insides white. You came so hard that you almost blacked out. You were more used to the increased number of cum shots now, but it still felt insanely good to ride the high of a good 50 seconds of orgasm.

Kakashi slowly fell forward, breathing harshly, until his face was resting beside yours. He was making a valiant effort to keep the majority of his weight off you, but that wasn’t what you wanted.

“Come here,” you said, tugging him down until his entire weight was resting on you. “That’s it, I’ve got you, you don’t need to worry about stuff like that, remember?”

Kakashi chuckled tiredly, “If you insist.”

You pressed a loving kiss to the side of his head, basking in the after glow as you both waited for your knot to deflate.

“Thank you,” Kakashi muttered, pressing a kiss against your shoulder.

“For what?”

“For staying with me.”

Guilt spiked inside your chest as you remembered the choice you were to have to make.

And of course, right at that moment, your vision faded out from the edges, dousing your vision in black. When light bled back in, Kakashi was nowhere to be seen. James was there instead, and you were back to standing in the middle of the library. You swallowed heavily as your final moments with Kakashi swelled up inside you as grief and longing.

You felt pretty rough.

“Welcome back, human,” James said, sounding quieter than normal. Her voice wasn’t really soft, but it was what you imagined she believed that soft was.

“Thanks, James.” Wow, even your voice sounded rough.

Like last time, James reached out to tap you on the head, but unlike the relief that had followed when your emotions were supressed, this time only made you feel worse as all the emotions from Itachi’s pocket dimension came flooding back in too. It made you feel like you were wearing a head several sizes too small.

You took a deep breath and tried to compartmentalise as much of what you were feeling as you could.

“I know you must be feeling overwhelmed, human alpha, but I must remind you that you will kill us both, along with many others, if you do not make a fast decision on which pocket dimension you wish to use the rest of your life energy in.” She straightened out both books in front of you on the library table. ‘Potions and Magic and Sex, Oh My!’ was on your right, while ’50 Shades of Audacity’ sat on your left.

“Fuck, James, how am I supposed to choose?” You slumped into one of the library chairs and put your head in your hands.

“I know this must be a difficult choice human. You performed remarkably in both worlds, and I am certain that both omegas love you dearly.” Ugh, that did not make you feel any better. “However, one of them will feel right in a way that the other doesn’t. Use your instincts, human, I trust that they will not steer you wrong.”

Your instincts? It felt like they were in a mess. You felt conflicting messages flood through you as your instincts screamed at you for even considering leaving either omega. But you had to leave one of them.

You closed your eyes and allowed your instinctual reaction to guide you. It was a mess in your head, but you didn’t have time to untangle anything.

“When you’re ready, put your hand on the book that you wish to enter.”

“James?” You opened your eyes and stared down at the weird Curator that had been guiding you all this time.

“Yes, human alpha?”

“Thank you for everything,” you said earnestly, sending her a smile. “I’m going to miss you.”

James seemed taken aback, but she eventually returned your smile. “I will miss you too, human. I will request to be the Curator to meet you here after your life energy is gone, so that I may escort you onwards.”

“Thanks James.” You kind of felt like crying, but you couldn’t delay this anymore. “I think I’m ready.”

Quickly, so that you couldn’t agonise over changing your mind, you slapped your hand down on world that you wanted, and everything went dark.

Next chapter

#the quest for a second life #kakashi #kakashi hatake #reader #reader insert #kakashi x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #omega kakashi #sub kakashi #omega!kakashi #sub!kakashi #dom reader #alpha reader #alpha!reader #dom!reader #n-sfw

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magicalbats · 8 months

Text

Kinktober Day 15: Noncon

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6908

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, familial death, noncon, like super noncon, debt, monetary coercion, references to prostitution and public use, implied master/slave dynamic, piv sex, blowjob, throat fucking, double penetration featuring a Fatui debt collector

A/N: at this point I think anything I write for a Harbinger is just going to be exceptionally dark and gross so tbh consider that a warning in and of itself. This one’s rough so please pay attention to the tags before proceeding any further! I love you guys and I want you all to stay safe so feel free to skip this one if you think you need to!

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Snow crunches under heavy boots as you make your way through the small village you called home. It was late, and the moon was out. Its muted, hazy glow casts over the snowdrifts and the shoveled heaps piled away from silent doorways to make it all glitter and shine like mountains of precious silver. You wished that was what it was. Wished you could dig your hands into it and scoop out palmfulls to spend on food and clothes, firewood for the hearth at home so you wouldn’t have to break your back chopping it for yourself every day. Maybe even a new comb for your hair, as a treat.

You would have been able to afford anything at all if it was something of actual worth stretching out around you as far as the eye could see, so of course you would splurge on a comb. Perhaps even two. And a dress, a fancy one that would make the other girls green with jealousy while the boys threw themselves at your feet like shameless dogs. Anything and everything would be just at your fingertips in this perfect world of whimsical fantasy. Even your freedom.

It was a nice thought. A tempting one, even. But if snow could be somehow transmuted into silver or any other precious metal then Snezhnaya would be the financial capital of Teyvat rather than the far distant Liyue. Your father had told you about it on occasion, what kind of place it was. How bustling with business and commerce the streets were. You’d thought it sounded like a strange but exciting place. So much potential for success bursting at the seams, just waiting to be struck upon, that you’d once even dreamed of going there yourself some day. Of making a future beyond the hopeless deadend you saw here.

But that was little more than a long forgotten flight of fancy now, much like your silver-snow. Fantasies were just idle hopes and wishes for children who hadn’t yet learned the crushing truths of the world, and the weight of that sags your shoulders as you work to jostle your front door open. You were tired and cold, and quickly running out of options.

The door finally gives way with a creak, and you stumble inside to knock the snow off your boots before bending to unlace them. You’re halfway through the motion, one shoe already undone and half kicked off, when you suddenly realize you’re not alone.

You aren’t sure if it’s a shift of movement at your peripheral, if the redistribution of weight had displaced one of the old floorboards to issue a squeak of warning or if it’s something in the air that just feels … occupied. But you’re immediately aware of it on an intrinsic level and your heart seems to play hopscotch across your ribcage. Frozen to the spot, you just listen to the resounding silence for a long, horrible beat. Then your head comes up to glance across the room at the open doorway that leads into the small kitchen. A warm flicker of light greets your horrified gaze, taunts you with a beckoning sputter. You certainly hadn’t left the lantern burning this entire time, otherwise you probably wouldn’t have even had a home to return to.

Slowly straightening, you hastily shove your feet back into your boots and reach for the knife hidden under your jacket. You grasp it in a tight, squeezing fist, just the way your father had shown you, and creep towards the doorway. It feels like you're hardly breathing but your pulse still jumps when the floor creaks under you. Nothing to be concerned about though, you try to tell yourself. They would have heard you come in anyway, especially since your damn door never wanted to open right. It was fine if they knew you were there because you knew where they were and it was your house, so you still had the upper hand. Probably. Maybe.

Oh, please don’t let there be more than one of them, you pray to whichever god might be listening.

Edging yourself close to the entryway, you’re more than a little relieved to find that it is indeed just a single figure standing over your rickety dinner table and you almost breathe out a heavy sigh. But then that shadowy mass turns, the cast of the lantern illuminating the face, and you nearly drop your knife in surprise.

“L - lord Regrator?”

He smiles at you, always soft and always gentle. “Hello, pet. Finally off work are we?”

You just stand there, mouth moving wordlessly around any number of things you could have said to him in that moment. ‘What are you doing in my house?’ for starters. Maybe even an impulsive ‘why are you sneaking around at night like a thief?’ But all you finally manage to croak out is a threadbare, “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, my lord” because you simply don’t know what else to say.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. I haven’t been here for very long.” Still smiling, still soft, he reaches out with an elegantly poised gloved hand as if to touch the top of your table but he stops short. Seems to hesitate. Thinks better of it, and instead sweeps those long fingers outward to gesture at the kitchen at large. “Your home is lovely. Quaint.”

Pantalone hides his grimace exceptionally well. You only barely manage to make out the slightest tension that settles around his mouth in the cast of the burning lantern that sits sentry on the table between you and him, tossing odd shadows across his face. His contempt for your lodgings is clear though and you self consciously dart your eyes around the room as if seeing it all for the first time. The old, dilapidated iron stove that looked like it was on its last leg, the crack in the wall where the foundation was starting to give, bit by bit, and the rusting coffee carafe sitting in the tub sink. It probably did look abhorrent compared to what he was in all likelihood used to but it was all you’d ever known. The only thing you’d ever had that couldn’t be taken away.

Swallowing hard, you center your focus back on him and try not to think about how much he looked like a finely dressed specter standing in the ruins of your life like this. Beautiful and nice to look at but you knew too well the venomous fangs he was hiding beneath that deceptively pleasant veneer. Like a wraith come to life to haunt you endlessly. Tirelessly. Ghoulishly.

“Please forgive me, my lord.” You whisper into the eerie stillness. “Had I known you would be coming I would have cleaned and made preparations. Would you like me to make tea?”

“Not at all.”

You wince, and try not to wither. “Then is there something I can help you with?”

Noising a thoughtful sound, Pantalone casually shifts into motion and you very nearly go scuttling backwards to escape him. But, to your surprise, he doesn’t approach you and instead wanders over to the stove to give it a shuttered but no less judgemental inspection. You start to bring your hand up to wipe the beading sweat from your brow only to abruptly realize you were still holding onto the knife.

Stealing a look at where you’ve got it clutched in a death grip, you quickly decide to keep it out for the moment. You very well might need it.

“One would think that old fool would have used some of the loan he borrowed to do a bit of upkeep on the place.” He murmurs, more to himself than you and perfectly offhand, but it still makes your chest squeeze tight. You probably should have seen this coming but the hurt catches you off guard. Makes you hate him just a little more.

“I’m sorry my home is not to your liking, lord Regrator. I could have met you somewhere else if you’d just - -“

“Oh?” Pantalone cuts across you, neither raising his voice nor sharpening his tone. It’s the same soft, gentle refinement in his voice as usual that makes you cower in the doorway when he turns to make his long cloak flutter outward like a dancer. “And why would I give you the chance to run out on me like that? I know this isn’t exactly your area of expertise, dear, but surely even you must know that that’s just bad for business.”

You find yourself prickling defensively. For him to even insinuate such a thing … “I wouldn’t do that, my lord. I’ve been working hard to pay you back this entire time, just like we agreed. I even got a second job at the mill so I could make ends meet and still be able to make my payments on time. To up and leave after all the effort I’ve put into - -“

“Then can you give me your next payment now?”

“I … my lord, I still have another week to get it.”

Looking at you through the creeping gloom, Pantalone finally allows a small frown to tug at his mouth. “So that’s a ‘no’? Such a pity. I’d really rather hoped you would be better than your father.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. Hot and nauseous, and increasingly dizzy, you just stare at him for a drawn out beat before finally giving your head a numb shake. “No. That’s not what you said. My lord, you agreed - -“

“Let me explain something to you.” He cuts across you again, the faintest note of displeasure coloring his voice now. Sedately, he folds his hands together and moves towards you with the slow, rhythmic thud of his boots on the floorboards making your heart pound even faster. It sounded deafeningly loud in your cotton stuffed ears. “Loans are not granted out of goodwill and charity. There are terms that must be agreed upon by both parties before any mora can trade hands. Would you care to take a guess what terms your father took his loan out on?”

You shake your head and back up a step, still clutching the knife beside your hip. Every fiber of your being was screaming at you to run, flee as fast as you can and never look back, but that would just make things worse, wouldn’t it? Prove that his wariness to trust you was well founded. You couldn’t afford to test the limits of his benevolence any further, figuratively or literally, so you stand your ground even when he comes within arms reach where he finally stops. Tilts his head to one side and then draws a calm breath.

“Twenty-five percent interest. That is what accumulates every single day you don’t make a payment in full. To put it in layman’s terms, the only way for you to even make a dent in your fathers loan would be to pay around, oh, let’s say … 16000 mora a week?”

Your knees almost give out right from under you. That couldn’t be true. There was no way … “Do — do you really expect me to be able to pay that much?”

Softly tutting at you, Pantalone fixes you with a truly pitying look. “Oh, sweet girl. I would never ask something so unreasonable of you. But, as it stands, you did agree to take responsibility for the loan. Rather than a personal expectation on my part, you now have the obligation to pay it back regardless of my own personal thoughts on the matter.”

“What choice did I have?” You croak. “What else was I supposed to say when you showed up at his funeral and started talking about stuff I have no knowledge of? You made it sound like I didn’t even have a say in it.”

“Well, that’s hardly my fault if you agreed to something without understanding the full consequences.”

You were starting to pant even though you hadn’t moved for some time now. It was like you were a tea kettle on the brink of boiling, so hot and messed up inside that you weren’t sure what the inevitable explosion was going to look like. You wanted to scream at him, throw yourself on the floor and sob like an inconsolable baby. You wanted to curse him, spit at him, hurt him — hurt him?

Your fingers desperately clench around the knife to make sure it was still there.

You could hurt him.

Maybe you should hurt him.

“You’re a monster,” You hiss, finding strength in your conviction, in the blade that had become a part of your arm, an extension of it. Stiffly, you shift to the side so he won’t see the way you readjust your grip on the handle to make sure you’ve got a good hold on it. “A twenty-five percent interest rate? That’s insane. No average person could pay that back in a single lifetime and you know that. You’re just a thief taking advantage of people.”

Seamlessly, Pantalone’s placid little smile slips back into place. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” You hiss the word at him, and try to work up your courage to follow through. You’d never stabbed another person before but in this instance, for him, you were quite certain you could. All you needed to do was goad him into closing the distance and get him near enough for your knife to reach. “You prey on the poor and impoverished like it’s some kind of game, don’t you? Is this what gets you off?”

“That’s a rather crass thing for a young lady to say, isn’t it?” He simpers at you. Then, much to your heart pounding surprise, he takes a step towards you. And another. “But since you asked I feel it would be remiss of me not to give you an answer. How does a demonstration sound?”

Your eyes go big, startled heat warming your cheeks quicker than you can even process it. There wasn’t enough time to think about that right now though. He was almost right on top of you, looming over you like some horrible, menacing beast in his fine furs. You seem to have forgotten how to breathe when the only thought flashing through your mind was sinking the blade in your hand through his chest. His neck. Whatever you could reach in the split second chance you were going to get to deliver the blow. Jaw clenched painfully tight, you squeeze your fingers around the knife so hard it hurts.

And you lunge.

An unseen hand materializes out of the darkness behind you and snatches your upraised wrist before you can bring it down. You’re so caught off guard that you don’t even have the wherewithal to gasp. A rough jerk on your arm yanks you off balance and right back against a solid wall of muscle that doesn’t even shift at the impact. Your animal instincts seem to take over and you wildly jerk your head up, just catching a glimpse of a red mask, a black hood, and then sharp, tearing pain is shooting up your captured limb. The masked fiend — a man, judging by his frame — twists and mercilessly bends your wrist until you drop the knife with an earth shattering clatter on the floor. Dully realizing you were caught and unarmed now, you violently wrench against his hold in an attempt to free yourself but he just drags you against him again.

Screaming and kicking, he heedlessly maneuvers you further into the kitchen but even trying to turn into dead weight in his arms doesn’t dissuade him in the slightest. All he does is haul you close, lift you up in the air and then slam you down on top of the table with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. You’re distantly aware of him shuffling back a step as you lie there, gasping and wheezing while you weakly try to pull your body upright again but it’s useless. The teeth rattling impact against the sturdy wood had effectively stunned you. Your limbs didn’t want to cooperate and it was hard just to breathe, let alone try to run or fight back.

And somehow through all the agony you’re vaguely aware of Pantalone’s approaching boot steps on the floor.

“Goodness, was that really necessary? You could have set the whole place on fire.” He tut tuts at his underling and you slowly turn your head to watch him pick up the lantern where it was tipped over. The only thing that had stopped it from shattering or rolling off onto the floor was the protective cage around the glass but you weren’t sure if you wanted to thank whoever had designed it or curse them for it. There was no telling what they were going to do to you, and you may have preferred going up in a puff of smoke when all was said and done …

Archons above, how were you supposed to get out of this?

“Now,” Intoning, Pantalone gracefully moves to set the lantern on the adjacent countertop where it wouldn’t get knocked over again. The glow from the flame dances and moves with him, and you groan when it seems to make your nausea double down. You’d never felt quite so sick in all your life. “As I was saying, I think a hands-on demonstration should satisfy your curiosity well enough. As an aside, though, I would suggest not asking men about their sexual proclivities in the future. It just might keep you out of trouble.”

“Bastard …”

He comes close again, reaching out to close his fingers around the roots of your hair so he can yank your head back against the table. Seething, you glare up at him but he just keeps smiling that same polite smile. It was hideous.

“My, my, that really is a filthy mouth you’ve got. Did you learn that from your father? Perhaps we should wash it out with soap while we’re at it.”

“Stop it! Do not speak of him!”

Chuckling faintly, Pantalone slowly lets up on your hair before moving to step around the table. Wheezing, you hastily try to roll over so you can slip down to the floor but the masked man stops you dead in your tracks. He was just standing there. Watching. Still and silent as a statue but you didn’t have to see his eyes to know how attentive his focus was. Like he was just waiting for the slightest hint of real resistance so he could use it as an excuse to rough you up again. Evil and loyal to a fault.

From out of the void, Pantalone’s gloved fingers abruptly brush over your pants leg to make you jolt and whip your attention around so fast the room starts to spin. But once your vision clears enough to see, you just find him standing over you and as at ease as ever. He would have looked completely unassuming if you didn’t know any better.

“Do try to keep your eyes on me, darling. After all, I’m going out of my way to give you a thorough and worthwhile answer, so the least you can do is pay attention.”

“Please don’t …”

Drawing a stilted breath that seems to shudder at the tail end, he slowly drags his palm up to your knee and then back down until it hits the top of your boot. Casually, much too casually for your liking, he disinterestedly nudges it off your foot to hit the floor before repeating the process on the other side. You cower on top of the table, biting back a sob when he reaches up to unbutton your jacket next, but you understood too well just how trapped you really were. The masked man was standing between you and the entryway, much bigger and much stronger than you were. You’d never be able to fight your way past him. In front of you was Pantalone and to the other side … the small kitchen door that led out into the yard was a non option because you hadn’t shoveled away the snow in months. You’d thought it was a good idea to leave as few points of entry into the house as possible now that you were alone, but you realized just how foolish that really was. You had no way out, no viable exits.

“Are you really going to do this?” You fearfully whisper into the still air.

With a soft click of his tongue, Pantalone gets the last button undone and brings his hands up again to push the jacket over your shoulders. “Only because you asked.”

A full bodied tremor tears through you at the pur in his silky voice. Sucking in a ragged, gasping breath, you turn your head against the table to fix your attention on the beckoning door while he works on the next layer, and the next, leaving everything bunched around the bends of your arms, until he at last gets down to the bottommost chemise. You shiver at the loss of heat and the chill that rushes in to replace it, your nipples already cutting up into the thin material, but your reaction doesn’t so much as give him pause.

Gloved hands drag up your front to cup around the swell of your breasts and squeeze, making you whimper in the back of your throat. “Well, this is certainly a pleasant surprise. I had no idea you were hiding such a voluptuous body underneath all those clothes.” Humming softly, as if in consideration, Pantalone readjusts his hold and shoves your tits together to make them squish under the final layer. “These are nice, aren’t they … have you ever considered going into prostitution? I’m sure you could make a pretty mora for yourself.”

You screw your eyes shut but it doesn’t do much to block out the sound of his voice. “I would never …”

“Oh? What a shame.” Pausing, he releases your chest in favor of neatly folding the material up to bunch under your chin and you outright writhe when the chilly air hits your stiff nipples full blast. “Though, if I’m being honest, I am quite tempted to take you with me back to the palace and start selling you myself. You’d be quite popular, you know. One look at this body and every man in the room would be tripping over themselves just to give me their entire savings for a mere hour with you. Perhaps you could pay me back that way, hm?”

Whimpering when Pantalone lightly brushes his fingers over the pebbled peaks of your breasts, the leather stiff and cool to the touch, you twist your neck back in a blithe attempt to escape that velvety croon. It was no use though. Like you were smothered under his presence you could feel him, hear him all around you. You could even taste him on the back of your tongue where the cloying scent of expensive cologne swarmed your senses. It was too much. You didn’t want this.

“Please … I’ll do anything, just — please don’t do this to me.”

He gently shushes you even as he takes a moment to tweak your nipples, almost idly plucking at them until you hiss and choke on a broken little sob. Leaning over you then, hunching close, Pantalone puts his face near enough to yours that his exquisite eyeglass chain slides forward to brush against your cheek. He just looks at you like that for a long moment, still pinching your teats like an afterthought.

Then, “You’ll do anything except the one thing that might actually get you out of this mess? My dear, I think you’re even more confused than I first thought. You do not have the luxury of choice here.”

Your stomach clenches. Roils and heaves. The dread that settles over you is debilitatingly crushing but you can’t quite stop yourself from looking up at him now, brows drawn in confusion and agony alike. “What do you mean?” It’s barely more than a whisper.

“What I mean is simple. I own you.” He hisses it, punctuating that statement with an aggressive twist of your nipples to make you shriek. “Until that loan is paid off in full, you belong to me. Your life is in my hands, pet. If I decide you’re going to go stand naked in the town square and present yourself to every man walking by until you find a taker then that is precisely what you are going to do. Is that clear enough for you?”

You squawk out a frantic, wild sound that might be a ‘yes’ and, to your reeling surprise, he immediately lets up on your poor breasts entirely. Just like that his mood seems to shift back to the usual placid tone and soft smiles, and you violently shudder as he soothes his palms over your aching teats as if to lessen the hurt. You can’t even begin to make sense of it but the relief you feel is staggering, and you force your quaking body to relax into it as much as you can manage. Of course you’d known what he was hiding under that pleasant facade, had seen it peek out on more than one occasion, but this was far beyond what even you had thought him capable.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised though. Maybe you should have expected it on some level, but you now knew how very fine the line you were walking really was. He could do anything at all to you if the notion struck his fancy and something told you making you sell your body on the streets was only a small drop in the bucket. He was evil and deranged. Cutthroat. You had to play your cards very carefully if you wanted to avoid the worst of it.

You repeat that to yourself, over and over again in your mind like a mantra when he finally reaches for your pants. It takes everything you have not to scream and kick, spit at him like a wild animal, but you manage, somehow, to just lay there, allowing him to get them pulled down your legs right along with your soft drawers. Left in nothing but your socks and the rumpled up heap of jackets and shirts bunched around your arms, you shyly squeeze your legs together to hide from him. You didn’t want him to see your most intimate spot. To look upon you like a lover would, but you don’t fight it when he grabs your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the table.

You had to play nice. Had to be good for him so he wouldn’t sell you to anyone that could afford to pay the hefty price tag he would no doubt ask for. Just the thought of him taking you makes bile rise in the back of your throat but even in the jittery panic coursing through your system you still recognized exactly how limited your options were. This was the lesser of two evils. You hated it beyond measure, but it was the far more bearable alternative.

So you hold your breath, head spinning at an alarming rate, when he nudges your knees apart. Let them fall open in a shameless spread that leaves you bared to him and vulnerable. Your face feels like it’s on fire and furious tears sting your eyes, but you just clench your hands into tight, shaking fists. The nails dig in to lance pain through your palms and it helps ground you. Steadies your nerves even when he coos down at you with a saccharine sweetness.

“And such a pretty pussy too … I admit, I’m rather impressed. I didn’t take you for the sort.”

You adamantly refused to respond to him now, leaving your mouth pursed in a thin line and your head turned away so you could keep your attention locked on the door. You should have shoveled the snow. Should have considered your situation a little more carefully.

The featherlight brush of Pantalone’s fingertips on your cunt makes you jolt, almost pulls your head back around, but you stay firm on this. Prone and pliant for him as he traces a brief path down your slit before nudging into the lips to feel for your entrance. You wince at the contact, grimacing when he worms one long digit into your body even when he meets resistance, even though your shuddering muscles try to keep him out. The drag of his glove along your inner sleeve pulls a muffled hiss from you but he doesn’t even seem to notice. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

“Tight too. That will help your value price a great deal. Tell me, poppet. You wouldn’t happen to be a virgin, would you?”

You don’t much appreciate the note of humor in his voice, the sly inflection that would seem to suggest he found the prospect amusing. Delightful, even. Seething through your teeth at the uncomfortable penetration, you can’t help but squirm with the overwhelming urge to run away. “No.” You practically growl the word. “I’m not, you sick bastard.”

Chuckling softly, he takes a moment to fuck into you with his finger, soon adding a second to stretch you out, but it does little in the way of good. There was too much tension thrumming through your body; too many aches and pains, and fast pumping adrenaline, and not nearly enough pleasure to be found on his cool digits to draw any amount of wetness out of you. But you keep your legs spread because you know that’s what is expected of you. You don’t protest when he eventually withdraws his fingers and reaches up to flick your shirt back open where you’d tried to pull it closed over your chest to stave off some of the cold. And you just lay there, unmoving save the harsh rise and fall of your labored breaths, when he reaches down to spread open his cloak before working to free himself from his pants.

You don’t look. You can’t look, your heart painfully wrenching as he shuffles close to line his cock up. The blunt pressure of the head sinking into your slit steals the air from your lungs and you freeze, holding yourself so still it makes the joints scream in protest when he slowly starts to sink into you. Inch by excruciating inch, he bullies his way into your cunt and you choke on a pitiful little sound when your body is forced to grant him entry. It hurts. The smooth, silky texture of his length does nothing at all to ease the discomfort when you were trembling so stiffly and your guts were tight with fear. Pantalone just grunts over top of you though, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your hips tight enough to make bruises bloom under the pressure.

And finally, an eternity later, he settles against you at long last.

A wounded groan spills from your mouth as you sensitively twitch on his cock. He was so hot, so blindingly warm inside you, it felt like he was branding you from the inside out. Leaving his mark where no one else would ever be able to see it. You’d never be able to forget the claim he’d made on your body though, with or without his stamp seared into your flesh, and you wheeze, trying very hard not to hyperventilate. Somehow spewing your guts up all over him didn’t seem like it would do you any favors.

“Oh, that is a tight fit, isn’t it?” He murmurs, allowing himself a moment to just bask in the squeeze of your body. The weak palpitations trying to push him out which only succeed in milking at him. A pleasurable tremor works through his frame, and he reaches up to adjust the position of the glasses on his nose where they’d started to slide forward. “You certainly know how to make a good case for yourself, pet. I admit, I’m suddenly feeling less inclined to sell you for a profit and more partial towards keeping you for my own personal use.”

Stiffening on the table, you shoot him a quick, wild look before you can stop it, but he just laughs, very softly.

“Don’t look so surprised. You aren’t nearly as clever as you think.” Loosing a breathy, almost dreamy sigh, Pantalone starts to slowly pull out and you jolt so hard at the gripping drag against your innards that you slam your head back into the wood with a resounding thud. “I had my suspicions when you stopped struggling but you didn’t even have the decency to beg me to stop. Although I do appreciate the cooperation on your part, I still wasn’t entirely convinced you would be worth the trouble. Housing, feeding, upkeep … there are so many different things to consider when one is thinking of taking on the responsibility of a new pet.”

He pauses, the head of his cock just wedged inside your cunt now. Tipping his face down, he regards the sight of you spread out for him, on your back with your legs curled open around his waist and his rigid length poised to spear back into you. It makes him hum a quiet groan, his usually placid smile growing a little sharper. Hungrier. He looks at you like a finely dressed conqueror about to lay ruin to a yet untouched and fertile land. His for the taking.

Slowly, he starts to sink in again. “But this sweet little cunt of yours is taking me so well. Even without the proper preparations you still fit me like a glove. Like you were made just for my cock … tell me, darling, will you be a good pet for me?”

“Y - yes …” You seethe, once more screwing your eyes shut so you won’t have to look at him. Flawless and beautiful, and horrible hunching over you.

There was an end in sight though, if you could just reach out and grasp it. Clutch it to your chest with fervent hysteria and never let it go. He’d already damned you but you were willing to take your salvation wherever you could get it. The mere thought of other men having you like this, all strangers, faces you’ve never seen before; the old and the young, the sick and the drunk, is enough to steel your resolve. If this was to be your fate you would much rather suffer solely at Pantalone’s hands than anyone else’s.

And he moans, ever so faintly, at your acquiescence. Starts to pump into you a bit quicker, ignoring the way your face pinches in pain and discomfort. “Will you do everything I say, poppet? Will you be a nice and obedient dog for me? Will you call me master?”

The breathy quality of his voice makes your stomach wrench and threaten to regurgitate all of its contents, but you force yourself to stiltedly nod. “Yes, I will. Anything … m - master.”

“Such a good, smart girl you are.” He laughs. “Then will you suck his cock for me?”

You go ramrod stiff, a fresh surge of horror washing over you. It crashes against you like turbulent ocean waves hitting the rocks on a beach, slamming with enough force to slowly chip away at their density over time. You’d forgotten about the masked man. So caught up in your own misery his presence had completely slipped your mind for the last however many minutes, but when you stiffly turn your head, you find him already working to undo the front of his pants. Evidently he did not need to be told twice.

And, to your lurching horror, you clearly had very little choice in the matter.

“Wait — that’s not what you said!” You squeak, shooting Pantalone a wide eyed, wild look, but he just purses his lips at you. Coos like he would at a baby.

“Although I might be willing to keep you for myself that doesn’t necessarily mean I won’t deign to share you from time to time, for my own amusement. Besides, it’s just your mouth. I’m much more concerned with this tight cunt of yours.”

He groans, low and faltering as his pace starts to pick up more. The dull whap of his clothed hips meeting the fleshy give of your thighs grows louder, more insistent, his cock relentlessly carving out a space within you now. It seems to punch the air out of your lungs and you gasp, bleating helplessly there on the table.

A hand suddenly materializes under your chin and locks around your jaw to yank your head back at an awkward angle. You catch a split second glimpse of the cock bobbing in your face, chest hitching in surprise and distress, and horror at what was happening to you, but it was too late. The masked man angles his pelvis forward and roughly shoves himself into your mouth. You shriek around the intrusion, tears stinging your eyes at the cloying taste of him. Salty and musky, bitter enough to make your skin crawl, but there’s nothing you can do about it. He just keeps your neck pinned down while Pantalone fucks into you even harder, his moans becoming louder when your body subconsciously squeezes him every time you writhe.

It was like you were being stretched between two equally unrelenting forces and even trying to twist away does nothing to make it better. Your breasts just jostle violently with each thrust from the man positioned between your legs and your throat constricts painfully when the masked stranger tries to shove his length straight down your gullet. Coughing and sputtering, struggling just to breathe, you force yourself to go still again and just accept what was happening on the slim chance that would make it somehow more tolerable.

But of course it doesn’t. The unknown Fatuus doesn’t stop trying until your face is covered in a slimy, bubbling sheen of spittle and saliva that slowly runs back into your hair. Finally, after many attempts that have left your throat bruised and raw, he at last manages to sink himself halfway into the squeezing passage and you violently jerk when you realize you can’t breathe. A tiny, muffled noise manages to escape your constricting airway, but he just groans in response and shudders as if it felt good. You quickly become lightheaded, stomach heaving as if to finally throw up but — he suddenly pulls out to leave you desperately gasping and choking in the aftermath.

Weakly, you try to lift your head with the intention of sending Pantalone an imploring look but the other man just palms the top of your skull and manually turns you back towards his cock again. Not having a choice, you pitifully roll your eyes up to look at him instead even as you take his length back into your mouth. You can see him snarling under his mask from this angle, his lips pulled back in a sneer of concentration while he thrusts towards the back of your aching throat to drag out more sticky sheets of drool that run down your chin in messy clumps.

It is not this degradation that finally breaks you, nor is it the fact Pantalone is using you like a mere toy for him to get off on. What eventually does it is the sticky wet click you just manage to make out over all the other lurid sounds buzzing around you, and you dully realize it’s coming from between your legs. Your cunt was slicking for him. Against your will, defying all logic and reason, your body was responding to this cruel treatment. That horrifies you perhaps more than anything else and, letting out a wailing sob, you let the tears spill out to track hot, stinging paths down your burning face.

The masked man clicks his tongue as if disgusted to see you crying like this, and he finally lets up his hold on your jaw. Allowing your head to loll bonelessly on the table, you just lay there while he reaches down to grab a pinching handful of your swaying breast, squeezing it so hard you groan in response.

Between your spread legs, Pantalone issues a quiet, insidious chuckle. “Poor thing. You already look so tired … not to worry though. I’m sure a nice warm bath back at the palace will have you back to sorts quickly enough.”

You hiccup at the thought, distantly realizing how cold you were. Yes, this was certainly the best outcome you could have hoped for. Pantalone would take care of you. Feed you. Keep you warm and clean, and comfortable so long as you were obedient. A nice pet for him to play with whenever the mood struck. It wasn’t exactly the life you’d dreamed of, but at least it was something.

It wasn’t the prosperous lands of opportunity in Liyue you’d longed for as a child when your father was still alive, but at least it was a marginally better life than the one you currently had.

The toll it would have on your body and mind alike seemed a reasonable price to pay for your freedom from debt. After all, what other choice did you even have?

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #pantalone #pantalone x reader #self insert bullshit

273 notes · View notes

avnkin · 2 years

Text

burn for you.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

when your family is summoned to court you find yourself caught in the middle of your brother's and uncles conflicts

note: didn't think I'd ever be writing on here again then I discovered aemond and here we are lmao, also I just noticed that I reached 4k followers I don't deserve y'all tysm <;3 this fic has enemies to lovers type beat cuz I can't help myself. Also, I'm a sucker for Daemon speaking valyrian to Rhaenyra so there's plenty of that type of dialogue between the reader and Aemond not to worry though the translations are all written behind the text, enjoy

wc: 3.8k

warnings: foul language, asshole!aemond, incest, family drama, Aegon being a creep y'know the usual

You fiddled with the hems of your sleeves, the inky fabric wrapping itself firmly around your arms, the dress you wore cascading down your figure all the way down to your boots, the ridiculously tight corset beneath causing you to exhale a much-needed breath, you were nervous, that much was apparent.

You just moments earlier, along with everyone else in the throne room had been left permanently scarred after having witnessed Daemon cut your great uncle's head clean in half. You didn’t disagree with Daemon’s actions quite on the contrary you just weren’t privy to witnessing such violence firsthand, it was something you hated about attending court, everyone here seemed to be in a dick-measuring competition.

You let out a huff, you had no interest whatsoever in attending the family dinner Viserys had planned for tonight, you wanted nothing more than to mount your dragon and fly back to Dragonstone this instant. Your thoughts of escape were interrupted by a light knock on your door, you glanced over your shoulder immediately feeling your shoulders tense because you knew it was time to go.

"Are you ready my love?" your mother's voice could be heard from behind you as she peered her head into your room, pushing the door fully open once she saw you were decent. "Ready as can be, mother" you turned towards her walking into her outstretched arms as she engulfed you in her embrace. “You look wonderful” her soft fingers ran down your arms straightening the fabric as she fussed over you for a bit only stopping when you swatted her hands away, sighing she stepped aside allowing you to exit your chambers.

You’d only been walking for a short moment when you felt the need to ask, “when do we return home?” her eyes met yours as she raised an eyebrow at you “we’ve only just arrived” you rolled your eyes at her reply, she knew you hated it here.

You’d never been particularly close to the other side of your family, mostly because of the treatment your mother had to endure from them specially the queen herself.

You knew of their friendship in the past and had even suspected it might have been more than that though never daring to bring it up to your mother since the mere mention of her name seemed to put her on edge. You'd been privy to the many times Alicent had unfairly treated your mother and you cared not to pretend her cruelness was justified, never mind what had happened in the past.

"I know, I know just… play nice, okay? I don't want any trouble tonight, not in the state your grandsire is in" you looked down at your feet, frowning as you pondered the stress this might all be causing him, he was barely hanging on by a thread surely all this drama wasn’t helping.

"I'll play nice if they do" you muttered, glancing up at your mother who gave you a stern look "I jest" you finally caved coming to a halt before the large double doors that led into the dining hall. "It'll be fine" you heard your mother mutter, more to herself rather than to you. You smiled at the two guards posted outside the doors as they each grabbed a handle and pulled them open allowing you to enter.

The greens were already there, sitting patiently awaiting your arrival. You immediately felt yourself shrinking underneath their harsh glances, having to remind yourself you were no longer a mere girl of six like the last time you’d dined with them. You raised your chin as your mother reluctantly let her hand fall from yours taking her usual seat next to Daemon at the dinner table.

You looked around the room frowning once you made eye contact with Aegon, he was leering at you the same way he had been ever since you’d arrived at court, his eyes roamed your figure from top to bottom coming to a dead stop at your bust. You felt sick under his gaze, he had no shame whatsoever in looking at you however he pleased, eyes following you the entire way to your seat which much to your dismay and discomfort, was the one opposite his.

"Ah my dear niece" he slurred slamming his golden wine goblet onto the table, the liquid sloshing around the rims of it, he'd clearly not been shy on the alcohol. "You look absolutely ravishing" the compliment made you squirm in your seat your eyes darting around the room before landing on Daemon who was glaring daggers at the boy in front of you.

"Thank you, uncle" you forced out through gritted teeth trying your hardest to maintain a smile on your face, your mother’s words from earlier refraining you from calling him a creep and splashing that wine in his face.

You looked around the table then for the first time properly since you sat down, smiling at Helaena as she offered an apologetic look clearly ashamed of the man she had been forced to marry. You felt for the girl she didn't deserve someone like Aegon, although it could easily be argued that no one deserved someone like him.

It was Aemond who captured your attention next, he had certainly changed since the last time you’d met him, grown. You made eye contact with him for the first time since you’d arrived stopping yourself from cringing at the eyepatch he wore, the foul memory of the event now in the forefront of your mind and you immediately looked away feeling ashamed as soon as you did, it was him who had to suffer the horrendous aftermath of that night, not you.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when the doors opened revealing the king in his dire state. He was being carried by four guards, barely being able to keep his own head up let alone walk.

Everyone round the table stood including you, brushing down the skirts of your dress finding something to distract yourself with as you could barely bare to look at him in this state. Once the king had been placed at the center of the table all of you finally sat.

“How good it is, to see you all tonight, together” he was breathing heavily already out of breath from the few words he uttered.

“Prayer before we begin” you heard Alicent declare, your brows furrowing as your eyes met your mothers who seemed to be just as bewildered at these new customs as you. You couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face it was almost comedic the flummoxed expressions on both Daemon’s and Rhaenyra’s faces

“May the mother smile down on this gathering of love…” you drowned out her words as you snuck a glance over at Aemond who had his eye closed and hands pressed together diligently listening to his mother’s prayer. He'd grown quite handsome over the years that had passed, you shook your head pushing those thoughts into the back of your mind as you looked back down at your hands, before closing your eyes once more.

“And to Vaemond Velaryon may the Gods give him rest”

Your eyes shot open at that, immediately darting over towards Daemon who couldn’t seem to help his amused expression, he looked over at you and you both gave each other sly smiles before you closed your eyes again resuming your praying stance.

Once Alicent had finally finished Viserys peeped up from next to her “this is certainly an occasion of celebration. My grandsons Jace and Luke are to marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young princes and their betrothed's” you grinned at Jace as you raised your own goblet, Daemons ‘hear, hear’ causing both your brothers to smile at their future wives proudly.

The moment didn’t last for long with Aegon feeling the need to lean over towards your brother muttering “well done Jace you’ll finally get to lie with a woman” you rolled your eyes, your uncle’s horrid personality never ceasing to amaze you. “You do know how the act is done, I presume” he continued “at least in principle, where to put your cock and all that”.

“Let it be cousin” Baela warned shooting Aegon a menacing glance as she placed her hand over Jace’s in an attempt to quell his rising anger.

“You can play the jester if you wish but hold your tongue before my betrothed” Jace cautioned seeming satisfied as Aegon backed down leaning back into his seat, raising his hands up in mock surrender.

You painfully sat through the remainder of the dinner having completely lost your appetite when Viserys had removed his golden mask revealing the decay hidden underneath. You listened to your family make their toasts, smiling at your mother in support when she tried to make common ground with Alicent who in turn surprisingly seemed to appreciate Rhaenyra’s declarations.

You were toying with the vegetables on your plate bored out of your mind when you noticed trouble seeming to brew on Aegons face as he downed the remainder of his cup in a split second, pushing his chair back and making his way towards the wine jug that sat between Baela and Jace.

You looked over at Aemond who was already starring at Aegon knowing his brother well enough to predict the upcoming wrangle.

“I…” Aegon started as he poured a decent amount of wine into his goblet. “I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask” your eyes widened at your uncle's audacity, but before you could say anything Jace had slammed his hands down onto the table his chair almost falling back at the speed in which he got up.

You shook your head at Jace and he seemed to bite his tongue his knuckles turning white as he forcibly held his hands at his sides. Your head turned at the sound of another chair being pushed back, Aemond had now also stood more than ready to come to his brother's defense if need be. His violet eye held a warning as if daring Jace to try something.

The aroma in the room felt suffocating the only person who seemed to be oblivious to the boys’ conflict was the king himself.

Goosebumps crawled up your skin as you felt Aemond’s eye on you. You squeezed your eyes shut taking in a breath before returning his gaze. He seemed to be intrigued by you, you figured it was because you didn’t look like your brothers, instead bearing the Targaryen features, silky white hair to match his own, violet eyes mirroring his as they bore into yours.

You raised your eyebrow in question wondering what he could possibly be thinking about, his lip upturned slightly at your expression, eye scanning you as he took in your new form, he seemed impressed and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

“To prince Aegon and Prince Aemond” Jace’s words snapped you out of your trance as you turned back towards your brother, his goblet raised in his hand as he continued. “We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health dear uncles”

You smiled proudly at your brother who gave you a knowing wink before taking a sip out of his goblet, giving Aegon a ‘friendly’ punch on the shoulder as he did. Aegon put on a tight-lipped smile at your brothers’ words not even looking at him as he muttered “to you as well”.

Aemond reluctantly sat back down as the building tension finally seemed to dissipate until Helaena stood a slight wobble in her step as she steadied herself against the table clearly feeling the effects of the wine she had drunk, placing one hand atop the wooden structure she raised the other squeezing the cup she held tightly between her fingers.

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad, mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk”.

Your eyes widened at her words and you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips, quickly covering it up with a cough when you made eye contact with your mother who held a warning look.

“Good” you heard Otto tell her and for the first time in your life, you agreed with him.

You looked over at Jace and you could immediately tell that he was considering something, silent debate written all over his face until he eventually seemed to come to a conclusion standing up and excusing himself to Baela before he made his way around the table over to Helaena who seemed genuinely shocked as Jace reached out it his hand for her to take, an offer to dance.

You smiled lovingly at the scene before you, your niece who seemed for the first time since you got here to be enjoying herself. Jace had always had a talent for making people smile, it was truly a gift it was like he radiated happiness and it infected everyone around him.

Servants soon began to fill the room, each carrying silver platters of delicious cuisines as they made room on the already stuffed table for the added refreshments.

You heard your younger brother giggle from across the table and as you followed his gaze you soon realized why. A pig had just been placed in front of Aemond and you immediately recalled the time your brothers and Aegon had gifted him a pig claiming they had finally found him a dragon. 'The pink dread' they had called it, a cruel childish prank, you shook your head at Luke and it seemed to quell his giggles, you hoped that would have been the end of it.

You jumped when Aemond was suddenly slamming his fist into the table causing the entire thing to shake at his sheer strength. “Final tribute” he declared a mischievous glint in his eye as he smirked at his uncles gods you thought, here we go.

Aemond raised his goblet into the air his eye meeting yours as he spoke “to the health of my niece” he gave you a smile before turning to your brother “and to my nephews... Jace, Luke, and Joffrey” he trailed off “each of them handsome, wise…” there was a long pause as he turned to face Luke seemingly taking in his appearance his head vaguely tilting to one side as he smirked he wouldn’t you thought “Strong” he did.

Your eyes immediately widened in alarm as did your mother's. Alicent's warning tone as she muttered Aemond's name didn't seem to face him in the slightest.

“Let us drain our cups to these three, Strong boys” he continued clearly trying to get a rise out of your brothers. He succeeded but before Jace could say anything Alicent had called for the guards to remove the king clearly not wanting him to bear witness to the upcoming conflict.

“I dare you to say that again” Jace warned as soon as the doors had closed signaling Viserys’ exit from the room, Aemond feigned surprise at his words. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment” Aemond put his cup down as he made his way over to Jace and you immediately stood up, coming to your brother’s defense.

“Do you not think yourself Strong?” Aemond kept pushing and before you could reach them Jace had punched Aemond square in the face earning a gasp from you as you stopped dead in your tracks.

Aemond let out a low laugh not having been affected in the least by your brother's assault and in retaliation easily pushed him to the ground. You finally unfroze at the thud that echoed around the room as Jace landed on the floor and hurried to stand between them stopping Aemond's stride as he attempted to get at your brother again.

“Dīnagon” move he warned, a glint of challenge in his eye.

“Kesan daor rual ao naejot ilagon iā ondos va ñuha lēkia” I will not allow you to lay a hand on my brother.

A low laugh rumbled in his throat, and though he seemed to be impressed as you stood your ground he easily pushed you aside but before you could come to your own defense Jace had sprung up from the floor immediately stepping in front of you and pushing you behind him.

“Don’t you dare touch my sister” he was seething you could feel the way his chest was heaving as you stood behind him.

“Mm… I don’t know, I think she wants me to touch her, don’t you gevie” beautiful your brother lunged at him, but Aemond easily moved out of the way shaking his head in amusement as he did.

“Jace!” your mother yelped as both she and Alicent finally intervened.

“That is enough!” Alicent could be heard from the other side of the room as she made her way around the table reaching for Aemond and instantly grabbing his arm as she scolded him, “why would you say such a thing before these people?” Aemond easily ripped his arm out of her grasp turning back towards Jace who was now being held back by one of the guards.

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family mother. Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.” Jace finally managed to wriggle himself out of the guards hold just as Aemond finished his sentence but before he could lunge at him once more Daemon stepped in front of him finger raised in the air "wait" and Jace listened planting like a tree behind Daemon.

You walked to stand next to your brother, Aemond and Daemon's face-off had turned the entire room quiet. Your mother didn't seem to want you or your siblings bearing witness to this debacle any longer as she ordered all of you to return to your quarters.

You reluctantly obeyed knowing that putting up a fight would get you nowhere. You followed your siblings out of the room but before you left you snuck a quick glance over your shoulder turning your head back immediately once you saw Aemond's eye was already trained on you.

You got no sleep the following night, the previous events playing over and over again in your head, you raised yourself up pushing the covers off of you as you got out of bed.

Fresh air that's all I needed you thought, hastily getting up as you grabbed the cloak that lay on the chair in front of your vanity, pulling on your boots as you quietly exited your chambers.

The castle walls were only lit by a few flames littered along the walls, you let your fingertips brush along the cold stone surface as you planned to make your way down to the god's wood.

The moonlight shining through the windows was now the only thing brightening up your path as you neared your destination taking careful steps down the seemingly endless castle stairs.

"Can't sleep?" you stopped dead in your tracks at the familiar voice behind you, slowly turning around your eyes meeting Aemond's. He pushed himself off the stone pillar he was currently leaning against how did you not see him? slowly making his way toward you only coming to a halt when you were nearly chest to chest.

The blue moonlight lit up his features which were carefully hidden underneath the hood of his cloak.

"Issi ao pikagon nyke?" are you following me? he chuckled at your words, intertwining his hands behind his back as he slowly began to circle you.

He came to a halt when he stood behind you leaning close to your ear as he whispered "you think too highly of yourself dear niece" you shuttered as his breath fanned over your ear, turning your head to face him as he slowly made his way back in front of you.

"You think you're the only one troubled by sleep?" he tuts reaching his arm up to pull down his hood, he looked absolutely breathtaking. "No, I suppose not" you admitted eyes narrowing at him as he tilted his head giving you a one-over.

"That was quite the scene you made earlier" you commented crossing your arms over your chest as you looked up at him. "Tell me uncle, does that make you feel powerful? Bringing down your cousins in front of the entire family, in front of the king" his lip twitched at your words and you could immediately tell you struck a nerve so against your better judgment you kept pushing.

"Are you so desperate for daddy's approval that you-" he cut you off, fury in his eye as he grabbed you by the throat pushing you up against the stone pillar behind you, it wasn't enough force to hurt you, but it still took you by surprise, the wind knocked out of you momentarily as you clawed at his arm in an attempt to free yourself, with no avail.

He towered over you outmatching you in both height and strength "you've no business speaking to me that way dear niece" he leaned in closer, lips hovering above your ear as he whispered "don't think I won't gut you right here in this corridor and gift your heart to your bastard brothers"

He pulled back slightly to take you in, he seemed to be content with the state of you, chest heaving as you glared up at him hatred boiling in your tummy as you pushed with all your might against his chest, he didn't move instead he dropped his hand from your throat at his own accord before taking a step back, your shove having not affected his retrieval in the least.

You let out a long breath as oxygen now circled normally in your lungs once more. It took you a second to gather yourself but when you finally did you straightened your posture closing the distance between the two of you, once more

"Iksan daor zūgagon hen ao, kepos" i'm not scared of you, uncle.

"Ao yenka sagon" you should be.

You didn't dare be the one to back down first so you held his stare, his lip upturning slightly as he raised his hand up to clasp your cheek gently running his fingers down your throat, his feather-like touch a complete 180 from the way he had manhandled you only moments prior.

He finally stepped back out of your personal space a low 'mm' vibrating in his chest as he turned to leave. "You should get some sleep gevie" there was that word again beautiful "I'll see you in the morning".

let me know if you guys would like a part 2!

#house of the dragon #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #house of the dragon imagine #hotd #hotdedit #hotd spoilers

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spacexseven · 1 year

Note

tuna I am. thinking about eelzai. for it is mermay and thus His Time.

imagine. you go out on the water. very cold night, very shitty boat. your engine stalls (definitely didn't get viciously tail-thwacked by a certain eel until it broke that's definitely not what happened) and you get stuck out there, and there's no one else out who will hear you call for a tow, so you're in for the night.

because hes just OH so nice amd has ZERO ulterior motives, dazai hauls his huge ass into your boat (with just how fucking long he is you're surprised he didn't sink it) and offers to let you huddle up with him for warmth! well less offers and more like immediately starts coiling around you before you can respond but you get it. while he's a naturally cold blooded creature, his human half runs pretty hot- perhaps in order to regulate his species' body temp in various underwater environments. it's hard to deny that the heat he radiates its very nice... even if he's soaking wet and his grip is too tight and he keeps licking you with he thinks you won't notice.

I have been Thinking about this for like 3 hours. need him so bad.

- 🩹

omg i really wanted to get to this before may ends and!! i made it cheers

if you're new to mer au check out some of the other stuff so you know what to expect from eelzai! yandere character.

the reason why you're out in the cold, guided only by your tiny lamp and the moonlight is because of dazai, since he won't leave you alone in the morning. trying to traverse the waters in daytime is terribly inefficient because a giant sea creature grabs onto the side of your boat and threatens to topple you over if you don't play (and with a perfectly unassuming smile on his face too, the devil).

you beloved boat has served you for a long time now, a simple but trusty thing that has travelled many hours with you and survived many attempts at dazai's...playtime. but there's only so much tail smacking and claw digging it can take before it gives in on itself, and it just so happens that tonight's when it finally surrenders to dazai's attacks. it only takes a little shove from dazai for the engine to splutter and come to a complete stop, refusing to budge no matter how many times you kick it or plead it to start up again.

and who else shows up but dazai himself? he doesn't even have the shame to pretend to feel guilty about stranding you in the middle of nowhere with your lamp flickering out thanks to his shove, and your phone unable to call for help, and instead he looks up at you like he just so happened to come across you, like he had absolutely nothing to do with your current predicament. he straightens himself out until he's face to face with you, and then looks at your boat with a surprised expression.

"that looks bad," he says, and the surprise morphs into something more wicked, "poor you. can a little human really survive out here on their own?"

"i have a lighter," you lie, "and i will singe your eyebrows off."

he pouts and drags himself down under the dark waters before popping up again on the other side, splashing more cold water onto you, "you must be cold," he croons, clearly relishing in your troubles, "a little flame won't help."

you can't even deny it because you're shivering, even under all your layers. but you won't let him win, can't let him hold yet another victory over your head and grin at you with his too-sharp teeth and his piercing eyes, calling you a weak human once again.

but you've come prepared, and you pull out a thick blanket to wrap over yourself while you consider your options to make it out of the water, either by rowing or finding a way to start up the engine again. except, as you unfurl the wonderful piece of cloth, dazai glares at it and dives head-first, frighteningly fast, making sure to flick his tail in your direction to drench your newfound ray of hope with freezing water. you stare at it, your mind numb and your heart shattered.

"oops," he giggles from behind you, "i didn't mean to do that."

sighing, you resign yourself to your fate. if you rowed hard enough, you could forget about the cold chilling your limbs, right? and you'd have to reach shore eventually, even if it takes...a few hours. you didn't go out that far anyway. but as you rummage in your boat for your oar—the one you went out of your way to get just in case you had to smack dazai in the face whenever he got a little too handsy and eager—you feel the boat tilt backwards, and you turn to face dazai grinning at you with his hands grabbing onto the rear of the boat.

"don't worry about the cold," he, in a motion so fluid you barely see it happening, hauls himself onto the boat, causing you to stumble over and creating a perfect opportunity for dazai to lean over and grab you, ignoring your screeching as he brings you over to him, "i can keep you warm!"

and, oh—you hate it. you hate the unfamiliar sensation of a tail wrapping itself around your legs, you hate his long arms holding your upper body still and his head on your shoulder, looking up at you with faux innocence. you hate the fact that though he's dripping wet and he should be freezing cold, he's surprisingly warm, and somewhat comfortable to be contained within. you hate the way he's careful, too, because you'd have never expected him to be so delicate with the way his claws press over your skin. of course, his caution doesn't extend to stopping himself from placing a few wet kisses here and there, or playfully nipping at the skin of your neck, but it's more than you'd hoped from the same dazai that regularly threatened to eat you.

you're practically immobilized, too, gently rocking with the waves as dazai hums delightedly, but the sight of the stars against the dark sky is gorgeous and the slow movement of the water is reassuring, even with an unfamiliar weight around your body and a predator over you. your oar is long abandoned, and your engine peacefully resting, but you can't find it in yourself to be panicked when dazai's warmth is so comforting against the chill in the air and his stroking slowly lulls you to a much needed rest.

just a few moments, you tell yourself. but when you wake up, the sun has risen and dazai is long gone, but your boat is close to shore, and you know exactly who pushed you all the way here.

maybe night trips weren't that bad.

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years

Text

Entropy.

Yan Cyno x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and unbalanced power dynamics. Word count: 2.6k.

You used to never hear his footsteps coming.

This is a detail you once pointed out to him — more in jest than anything — which earned you an unexpectedly pensive look. No matter how light you intended your words to be, he weighed them as if each syllable were law. It had always been that way, for as long as you could remember. Back in your Akademiya days, if you made a little suggestion to Cyno’s work, he’d rewrite the entire paper to accommodate your idea better. If you wondered about a strategy’s viability in Genius Invokation TCG, he’d stay up for nights on end to test and record the data for later presentation. He was always so eager to please you. What he struggled to express in words, he’d make up for in his actions; accommodating and bending to your will if it meant you might look his way.

A few days after you joked about how quiet he moves around, he solemnly promised ‘to remedy the issue’. And sure enough, he did. He started to announce when he arrived home or would make some other noise so that he didn’t sneak up on you. You didn’t give it much thought then. Certainly, it was nice that you no longer got startled or had to worry he’d been silently watching you do something embarrassing, but it didn’t particularly stand out more than that.

Until now, that is.

You’d been alternating between chopping vegetables and plopping them into boiling water, humming to yourself while you did so. The scent of spices and herbs picked fresh from the market hours prior permeated the evening air. As always, the table was set for two. You always ensure to have a hot dinner waiting for him whenever he returns home.

Nothing seemed particularly out of place. There was no sudden draft, no creak from the front door whose hinges desperately needed oiling. You carried out your meal prep routine in the same humdrum manner as always.

Then there were arms ensnaring you.

You almost jump out of your skin at the abrupt sensation. In an instant, your body prepares itself to fight back before your mind can intervene. You twist your torso around, leading with the knife still in your hand, adrenaline shooting through your veins like a geyser. The blade never connects with its intended target, for a singular hand holds it unwaveringly still midair, overpowering you easily. It’s then that you finally register just who the unknown assailant is.

“Archons above, Cyno,” you lace your tone with exasperation, “You almost gave me a heart attack. What if I had…”

You shake your head, not wanting to consider it for even a moment.

He calmly plucks the knife from your grasp and sets it aside, taking the time to straighten it while you steady your breathing. He never liked anything to be crooked, utensils weren’t an exception. What immediately strikes you is how void of expression he seems. Some may claim that the General Mahamatra is incapable of emoting, but after knowing him for so long, you had caught onto his many tells. He stands up perfectly straight when he’s looking for an opportunity to insert his joke into a conversation. He sighs quietly to himself when he’s content. The skin beneath his eyes crinkles whenever he sees you.

These various nuances you’ve spent years accumulating suddenly feel useless, like a once bountiful fruit tree that has dried and withered away.

You almost doubt if the man staring back at you is Cyno.

“I found your brother.”

There are no inquiries about your day, rushing over to lend assistance with the meal, or kisses stolen whenever he sees an opening. He delivers the grim news without tact or any other reassurance such a statement necessitates. You swallow thickly, shrinking yourself into the counter behind you. He’s scrutinizing you just as much as you are him. Your homeostasis is thrown off, somehow causing you to both shiver and sweat. The blood-orange eyes that stare back at you are reminiscent of the scalding sun in the desert. Unrelenting, pouring down heat without favor toward anyone or anything.

“... I see,” is your careful response. You grip the counter for leverage until your knuckles ache. “Does that mean the investigation into him is concluded?”

“Far from it.”

You think you can afford to look downcast upon receiving heavy news like this, so you do. That begs the question of what intonation to use next. He’s obviously waiting for you to speak up and say something more on the topic — hence his silence — yet having the spotlight thrust on you so abruptly leaves you feeling unprepared. Do you sound remorseful? Apologize for your brother’s grievances? Or do you sound satisfied, content that the arduous search has come to an end?

You decide to try a combination of both.

“I appreciate all your hard work in tracking him down,” the melancholy in your smile is genuine. You transition to something more sheepish, avoiding his burning gaze by looking to the side. “I know it hasn’t been easy. I suppose he’ll be brought to justice.”

“Everyone always is,” Cyno confirms. The corners of your mouth twitch. “He inquired after you.”

“Oh?”

“Normally, I don’t make a habit of talking to fugitives, since they’re always trying to worm their way out of due punishment. I made an exception in his case. I told him that I’ve been taking care of you in his stead; that you don’t want for anything. He seemed relieved. He must’ve assumed his assets would be seized once his academic infringements came to light… and still, knowing this, he chose to put your livelihood at risk.”

This is a safe conversation topic for you to lean into. Cyno always contended himself on the fact he solely provides for you.

“We’ve both caused you a lot of trouble.”

Normally, when you say something in this vein, Cyno rushes to reassure you that you’re no trouble at all. That he would give you the clothes off his back if you requested it. Presently, he does no such thing. You finally pick up on a telltale sign woven into his otherwise unreadable body language — how he’s struggling not to clench his jaw. Subdued frustration. While you’re used to playing an actor who must improvise their lines, Cyno must still be adjusting to the role. How unfortunate that you know he’s a fast learner.

You focus on the sound of boiling water threatening to overflow by your side. Neither of you moves to adjust the heat so that it won’t, too absorbed in what the other will or won’t do next.

“You said that it’s been hard work for me to track him down,” Cyno starts, reaching his thumb and pointer finger out to tilt your chin upward. You fight back the urge to flinch. “I agree, although, it shouldn’t have been. Not if he didn’t have help.”

He knows.

“... Not if he didn’t have you.”

The world is falling apart and you don’t know if anything can force the jagged pieces back together.

When it came to interrogation, few were better than Cyno. He understood it on an intrinsic level. When to apply pressure, when to offer a false sense of security, what words and actions it takes to utterly break a person. You thought knowing this in advance might offer you some sort of advantage. Never have you had an assumption proven so painfully wrong.

“What?” You demand, your eyebrows furrowing together. You are a virtuoso at playing the tune of ignorance. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

It’s a solid performance. Most innocent parties are rightfully outraged when faced with serious accusations they had nothing to do with. Their righteous anger is different from the guilt-ridden outbursts of their guilty counterparts, Cyno would tell you. In the same way an expert artist could differentiate between two shades that appear alike to any other unskilled eye, Cyno noticed all the minute details. This was what he did best. This was his life’s calling.

He runs the coarse pad of his thumb over your trembling lower lip, his eyes lidded. Then, he whispers, “You are a good liar, aren’t you?”

“I—”

Cyno shushes you and you’re compelled to listen.

“I’ve tracked down individuals with networks spanning across all of Teyvat in less time than it took for me to find your brother, who has no resources,” Cyno’s words are accompanied by electricity thrumming in the air — a warning that the time to be judged is nigh. “I couldn’t understand. It was as if he knew my movements in advance and planned accordingly.”

His grip on you tightens. “I lost sight of my objectivity. You… make me lose sight of objectivity. Still, that didn’t explain how exactly you were getting the information. I ruminated on this for some time. After all, what would my suspicions matter if I didn’t have anything definitive to work with? Then you asked me that favorite question of yours. ‘What time can I expect to have you home for dinner’, was it?”

You had been playing with something infinitely more dangerous than fire.

“You have enough knowledge of Sumeru’s geography to guess where I’d be going with the tiniest information,” Cyno narrows his eyes, “Isn’t that right, [First]?”

His exposed chest heaves, each breath coming out heavier than the last. The feverish skin that touches yours tingles in rhythm with the thrumming of his Vision. You wonder if any god would take pity and bestow their favor upon you. It’s a silly thought to entertain, for you know that even if they did, his strength far surpasses yours. There’s always the option of arguing your case. Combing through his words for inconsistencies you’d never find, prolonging an admission of guilt to the charges being presented. That would only add fuel to the raging hot fire.

“They were going to lock him up for life, Cyno,” your throat is tight and it all feels like too much. “I-I know that what he did was wrong, and— there are no good excuses to justify it. He told me as much before he fled. He said… he said that they’d been denying him funds for years. His research had been his dream since he was a kid. When I heard that, I just… I wanted to protect him.”

From you.

Tears gather upon your bottom eyelashes like dew on blades of grass at daybreak.

“The scales that your justice relies upon, how can you know they aren’t imbalanced? What good will throwing someone into a prison cell until they rot do? That’s no recompense for a crime committed, it’s punishment for punishment’s sake!”

Cyno allows you to finish your rambling without interruption. From what you understood, when the General Mahamatra found one that ‘must be brought to justice’, they’d immediately be whisked away. He never extended the process more than necessary and was almost considered fair for this facet of his. As a man so entirely defined by his ideals, you assume you’ll receive no different treatment. Obstructing an ongoing investigation and aiding a known fugitive were both sentences that’d be wrapped around your neck like a noose.

You decided that if the day ever came when he discovered your damning secret, you’d go down with some dignity intact. This was something you made peace with when you struggled to sleep beside someone you were actively deceiving. So you brace yourself for the absolute worst. You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing for whatever he might say while he arrests you, the inevitable tug on your wrist that’d come as he drags you off to whatever clammy holding cell awaits.

“Did you ever truly love me, or was it all a ploy?”

His voice is so quiet, you almost thought you imagined it.

This was the last thing you expected to be confronted with following such a severe revelation. The ache in his usually self-assured voice, the utter rawness that threatens to rip your soul asunder; accumulates and weighs you down. You force yourself to reopen your eyes. To own up to your mistakes, no matter how little it’d do to mend the gaping chasm that’s formed between you.

The scathing intensity in his eyes has long cooled off. What it leaves behind is far more delicate than glass.

“I’ve always loved you dearly, nothing changes that,” you reply in truth. As a friend and someone you could always rely on. You hope to leave this part unspoken, but by how close he is, you doubt he’ll leave it at that.

“Romantically?” He probes further.

You inhale sharply through your nose. “Cyno—”

“If you’re going to lie or avoid the question, do us both a favor and remain silent.”

At this, you obediently purse your lips.

He relaxes his grip on you, his arms falling to his side, though you know better than to think that means you can walk away. Anxiety swarms inside your gut and clouds your other senses. The fear of what comes next always triumphs over the fear of the present. It’s this thought that urges you to risk speaking up again, though your better judgment advises against it.

“Are you going to arrest me?”

The question seemingly pains him almost as it does you. He’s normally so certain of himself, ready to respond at a moment’s notice. His convictions were a firm foundation that he built himself up from. It never mattered to him who one was, or their reasons for doing what they did, so long as they breached the Akademiya’s rules, they would be hunted down by him without reprieve.

That’s why you can hardly believe what he says next.

“No.”

“Then what,” you lick your lips, almost not wanting to finish the dreadful question, “Are you going to do with me?”

“That has yet to be determined.”

You gape at him, incredulous. His usual calm and calculating ways have returned. He’s regained control over his voice and body, betraying nothing that you can work with. Cyno finally breaks his attention away from you, taking the overflowing pot of water off the heat source, then grabbing the knife from earlier to finish chopping the vegetables. Your heart beats faster with each thump of the knife against the cutting board. His side profile is decidedly neutral, his eyes barely flickering to you like this was just any other regular evening. The hairs on the back of your neck stand and the more primal part of your brain urges you to do something, anything.

Subconsciously, you take a step toward the door, holding your breath while you do so.

“Don’t bother,” Cyno’s tone is flat and unimpressed. “No matter where you hide, or how far you run, if you take one step out of this house, I will track you down.”

You thought your resolve was firm — that you’d be prepared for anything, if it meant helping your family — but this is something you never dreamed of.

“There’s no need to look at me like that. I won’t hurt you or let any harm befall you. After all, you said it yourself. If it’s no good to ‘throw someone in a cell until they rot’, then surely, there must be a better alternative. I’m interested in seeing this novelty myself. So, [First], what recompense do you suggest for a broken heart? In my opinion, there is only one fair trade that exists for such a steep debt.”

He tilts his head, daring you to challenge him in any way. When you don’t, he continues, and oh, how you wish he didn’t.

“And that is for you to finally give me yours.”

#yandere cyno x reader #cyno x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff

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hhnguyen · 1 year

Text

something beautiful

I managed to escape from my hundreds of assignments for a few moments to finish this one for you all, sorry its short :((

♢ Pairing: Kiri x Oldest sister!Reader

♢ Word count: 1.8k

♢ Genre: angst, sibling love, fluff - Warnings: cursing, talks of depression and insecurity

⌲ Description: Your younger sister is worrying you more for each passing day after the family’s move with the Metkayina.

M A S T E R L I S T

“The fish seem happy.”

With a startled flinch, Kiri found herself snapping out of whatever daze she had been in, sitting on the sandy beach with the water rushing up to meet her lower body and away again as the cycle repeated itself with the current.

She had been so preoccupied with her mind that your presence hadn’t registered until the very last moment.

Something that should be scolded in the current dangerous times, but not for Kiri. Never for Kiri, to be honest.

“There is no fish,” she gave a strange look as you chuckled before settling yourself down beside her with an exaggerated huff.

“Not here, but I assume they are; with them being fish in the ocean and all.”

“You really need to improve your jokes.”

You had heard that one several times already, and simply offered a light shrug in return. Mimicking her gaze, you followed it out to the crystal blue surface of the eastern ocean trying to remain in the obvious silence your younger sister had been busy with.

But patience had never been a virtue of yours.

“So, why are you sitting here all alone?”

Kiri shrugged. “Just felt like it. People got annoying.”

Well then. “Fair enough.”

The sigh mixed with a slightly exaggerated breath coming from you was enough to make Kiri roll her eyes knowingly as you stretched out on the sand beside her, eyes now stuck on the clear blue sky above your heads with the brightness of the sun warming your skin as you squinted up for a moment, one leg bent up to further support your comfortable position before closing your eyes.

And so you waited.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Fiv-

“Out with it.”

You win.

“Hm?”

There was no need on your part to open your eyes to know about her annoyance. It was already clear to you from the shift of her body alone.

“You’re being suspiciously silent. And you’re never silent unless you want something.”

Her words made you grin, but you still refused to look at her.

You could actually get used to this position on the warm sand. A nap would have been delightful in this weather.

“Y/N!”

Oops.

“Sorry, was in my own head there for a moment.”

She groaned a sound you had gotten far too used to since leaving the forest, and especially coming from her.

“Yes I know, so what do you want?”

You clicked your tongue in a slight reprimand, finally turning your head to look at her as Kiri glanced down at you with the familiar I-Don’t-Wanna-Talk-To-You downturned pout of her lips.

“No need to be so grumpy.”

“I said I wanted to be alone.”

“I’m not saying anything, you’re the one making a deal out of this.”

That was certainly not the thing to say, you realized.

“Ugh!” Kiri was about to stand up and stomp away, so you lost the playful facade as you pushed yourself back up into a sitting position.

“Stop, sit down.”

Pausing in a half crouch, you could see the indecisiveness in your little sister’s eyes as they flickered to you and the village in the distance, but as she met your raised eyebrows defeat was quick to follow as she plumped back down with a huff, stubbornly crossing her arms and looking away.

“Good choice,” you straightened up. “So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Bullshit,” your reply was quick but simple.

“What do you want me to say then?”

“The truth would be nice.”

“Why do you always have to meddle?”

“Hm, I meddle when the situation calls for it, Kiri. You of all people should know that.”

You could see her contemplating, warring for her next actions silently of whether to continue her stubborn teenage act or actually come clean to the one person who could see straight through most of her acts.

“And what situation are you seeing right now?”

Bingo.

Your little sister might have thought herself to be quite clever - not that she wasn’t. Kiri was sometimes far too smart for her own good. She was not someone who was easily roped into Lo’ak’s stupid schemes, neither was she prone to self-destruction like Neteyam sometimes did with the burden of heir on his shoulders. She was the silent, but listening type who had a sharp tongue when it was needed.

There was a reason why your grandmother had found her to be a fitting healer instead of you. You hadn’t been the only one to notice her fascinating connection to everything living around her. The earth, the trees, and the creatures both in the skies and waters.

Eywa had clearly chosen her.

And not a single part of you doubted that it would be for something great.

You just wished Kiri could see that too.

“You are unhappy.”

Her reply was dry, biting almost.“What made you think that?”

You scruffed her head at the cheek on her as she let out a sound in protest of the action. “Don’t be smart with me.”

Another roll of her eyes.

She was really layering on this.

“Just like you, I’m not stupid. Is it because you don’t like the Metkayina?”

”Of course not, they’re nice…most of them.”

There was silent agreement on your part. “Do you miss the forest?”

“We’re Omitikaya, I will always miss the forest.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “Then what is it?”

“Nothing you can fix.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, little sister,” after what seemed like a lifetime, Kiri finally glanced at you for more than five seconds. “I am trying to help.”

“You can’t help something that is not fixable.”

“Kiri,” you shifted up on your knees, facing her with a serious look as you grabbed her slightly smaller hands in yours, stroking your thumbs over her knuckles for a short moment in comfort. “You worry me. Us, our brothers too.”

“You are hardly eating with us these days. Always skulking away for yourself to the point that even Tsireya has noticed something strange. Mom and dad won’t say anything because they don’t want to push you, but at this point you are forcing me to.”

Her head was hanging down, her soft, choppy hair so different in texture from your own covering her eyes as you leaned forward to tuck some of it into the back of her ear.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

A scared little whisper that shattered your heart into a thousand pieces.

There were many words you wanted to say, to scream even. More than one emotion was circling in your mind; anger, against whoever had managed to make your younger sister so insecure in herself. Sadness, for her to even believe whoever’s words they were. And frustration, at yourself for not making her see the truth earlier.

You didn’t ask for permission as you pulled her into a hug, settling down behind her like your mother usually did for all the children, as Kiri’s form curled into a small ball between your legs, head finding support against your collarbone.

“You are something beautiful, Kiri, special and unique in this large world - do not ever let anyone tell you differently, do hear me?”

“But I’m not like you,” your shoulders dropped at those words, hurting you even further to know that of all people to compare herself to in this world it was you. Her protector and older sister. “You couldn’t see it back home. How all of the young men were always vying for your attention because you were busy with dad and all your tasks. But they were always looking at you, hoping and dreaming for a single moment of focus.”

“Stop,” a breath hitched in her. “You cannot, and will not compare yourself to me, little sister. I am not the standard for what is beautiful in this world. I admire strong people, strong hearts like our mother and grandmother, but at the end of the day, I also make sure to appreciate myself.”

“How can I appreciate myself when I’m a freak?”

Eywa, like you hated that word. It wasn’t horrible in itself, a simple word in the English dictionary used to describe a lot of things. But ever since you had been able to talk and understand words, that word had always followed your siblings and that one extra finger.

“Well, then we’re both freaks,” as Kiri met your eyes you wiggled your five fingers at her as her lips tugged. “We’re two sides of the same coin, so your argument is not valid. Because if you say I’m the standard of beauty with my five fingers, then you are too.”

She sighed heavily. “Sissy-”

“Nope! No takebacks. You are beautiful, done. You said it yourself.”

“You’re not being funny,” in despite of her words, you felt the tension ease from her form.

“If you think I’m ever joking about this, you will have to think again.”

Tucking her closer against you, as if that was possible, you rested your cheek against the crown of her head as both of you looked back out into the ocean. Letting the warm breeze act like a comforting blanket in the darkness of the topic.

“I know it isn’t easy,” you whispered. “Having your own thoughts betraying you, making you believe in…whatever negative angle it comes up with. It’s not something to fix within a day, or this conversation itself. This darkness roots itself into our very bones, convincing us that there is no other truth. But I will never let you get roped into it.”

There was a waver in her voice as Kiri spoke. “How do you know it is fixable? Because I can’t see it…”

“Because I will be here. Every step of the way.”

You thought that would be the end of it, taking her nonverbal response as her own acceptance.

But you were wrong, more often than not lately when it came to your siblings.

“Please don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Kiri nearly croaked, the whisper of her sentence so low you nearly had to strain to hear clearly.

It still managed to settle that uncomfortable feeling of unease deep in your chest as you swallowed at her meaning.

“Don’t say that, little sister,” was all you could say, because she was right, in a sense.

This stalemate that your family was in with the Metkayina was a false security. Your father might have been able to trick himself that everything was okay now - safe.

You thought differently.

“I will do my best, can you at least accept that?”

The way she snuggled further into you was a yes in her language, and you settled for it as of the moment.

If the future was set on separating your family then you would meet its gaze when the day arrived.

However, right now, your sister needed you, and that was all that mattered.

again, if you want to be added to my taglist please comment on my masterlist if you have specific stories you want to keep up with, or just all of them. I have the memory span of someone 50 years older, I will forget if you comment anywhere else but there, I’m really sorry its just who I am so please help me out 🫠

taglist @nao-cchi @eywas-heir @ssc7514 @spicycloudsalad @calums-betch @httpjiikook @ricecakeslove @fanboyluvr @iwaslikeblah @the-wandering-pan-ace @avatarloversblog @eternallyvenus @enchantinggoateefox @arianapntn @heydemonsitsme @slyvixen1029 @promiseofeywa @love13tter @directioner5life @bambisposts-blogs @melllinaa @sugarmummystuff6 @lovekeeho @marit332 @hai-kbai @missroro @lola2004sworld @kage-yaa @enchantinggoateefox> @meeeeep5 @wolfangnight @lemon-lav @singular-itae

#avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar imagine #avatar angst #kiri #sully family #sully family x reader #sully reader #sully fluff #sully family imagine #jake sully

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wndaswife · 2 years

Note

please write something with milf!wanda with next door neighbor reader im a whore for it !

wanda maximoff & gn!reader

tags: smut, semi-public sex, fingering, sub!wanda maximoff, dom!reader. MINORS DNI.

word count: 749

“Hi, it's Y/N, right?” a chirpy voice asks you while you’re scooping a spoon of fried rice onto your plate.

To raise money for Westview’s local grade school to have enough funds to participate in a regional soccer tournament, the town has been hosting a week-long fair featuring games, food, and you decided to attend to integrate yourself in the small but lively town you had just moved into.

You turn your head to see a familiar redhead beaming at you. “Yes,” you reply with a polite smile. “Sorry, and you’re…?”

The woman sticks her hand out to you. “Wanda Maximoff. I got your name from a friend at the community association. You moved into the house next door to me. I’m your neighbour to your left,” she introduces herself officially. You take her hand and she shakes it. Her hand is warm and her fingers soft.

Her features form together in your mind and you recall seeing Wanda gardening in her front lawn and coming in and out of her car in her driveway. You finally reply with an eager nod, “Ah, yes! I do remember seeing you a few times in the neighbourhood. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Wanda says, her head dipping forward in a small nod as her smile widens.

“Momma!” a young boy calls before he and another boy his age runs towards her. You recognise the children too. They come crashing into her legs and wrap their little arms around her thighs.

Wanda lets go of your hand and places both of them atop their freshly combed heads. She looks down at them to give them a smile before looking back up to you. “These are my boys- Tommy and Billy,” she tells you with a proud smile.

You lean down to them with a friendly smile. “Tommy. Billy. Nice to meet the both of you,” you greet them, your voice low and gentle as to not intimidate them.

“Nice to meet you too,” they both respond simultaneously, their words muffled as they hide their faces behind their mother’s legs.

“I apologise, they’re usually not so timid. They’re quite wild at home,” your neighbour says with a chuckle, fingers running through their hair.

Straightening, you smile at her. “I understand. Westview has a tight-knit community from what I’ve gathered, so it must not be often that strangers move in,” you note and pick a set of utensils up from a passing fair worker who offers them to you then thank her.

Wanda seems impressed by your observation and stares at you, green eyes swimming in mirth, before Billy tugs at her shirt and tells her that he and his brother are going to head back to their table. “Oh, alright,” she says and they run back to where a man sits with food and bags on what you presume to be their table.

“You must come and meet my ex-husband, Vision. Have lunch with us,” she offers, beaming at you with a hopeful glint that you’re beginning to find indisputable.

It doesn't take long after meeting Wanda’s ex and taking a few bites of your lunch before you find yourself behind a ring toss fair booth with the redhead. Her slacks are pulled down to her thighs, exposing perfect ivory swells of Wanda’s ass turned red after nearly twenty spanks.

She’s bent over, her cheek pressed up against the back of the booth as your fingers pump in and out of her pussy. The two of you silently pray for no one to round the booth for you’re in a carefully-selected area between the skirts of the fair and a small outer forest.

Still, Wanda muffles her moans as you part your fingers in her hole while your thumb draws lazy circles against her clit until she reaches her hilt. Your arm wraps around her hips to hold her up as her legs tremble under the waves of her orgasm. Your face buries itself in her neck, red hair smelling of jasmine and sweet figs spilled across your head.

“Come over after dinner. Vis has the twins,” Wanda tells you breathlessly. Her voice is so much raspier than the light sweet voice she used with you earlier. She feels you nod in agreement against the crook of her neck and she reaches up to play with your hair. Her fingers run down the back of your neck as you pull her slacks to her hips and button her back up.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #marvel smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #1k celebration ♪( ´▽｀)

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breath0ftheglacian · 6 months

Text

Discipline

Yeah I'm just gonna get this out of my system. Long live Rufus Shinra. Remember this is pure filth and NSFW. All chapters: Lesson 1 Lesson 2 Lesson 3

Lesson 2

You stand in the middle of the room, Rufus Shinra positioned across, behind his mahogany desk, gently resting his chin on his arm. "You came." You shrug. "You called."

It's been some weeks, maybe three, since your previous and only encounter with the vice president. Yet not a day has passed where it hasn't been on your mind, like a permanent stain that you can't get rid of no matter how much you scrub. His hand marks all over your body, his voice telling you dirty things.

You only got the word last night. A call from Tseng of the Turks, out of the blue, with very brief instructions. The VP wants to see you tomorrow. Wear something nice.

Despite his polite manner, there is something crooked, something unnatural in how he sees you in and out of the VP's office. He walks just a few steps in front of you, leading you to his boss. Yet you did as you were told. You chose a set of lingerie just for him. The stockings, your favourite dress. Like some high class prostitute, you couldn't help thinking, and as the door shut behind you with that familiar click, you felt a quiet rebellion rising within you. Why should it only be on your terms?

A small grunt emerges from the corner of the room, and you see a large black creature adjusting itself as it lays its head on its muscular paws, mirroring its owner. An undeniably powerful looking dog. Or is it a cat? You can't quite tell.

"Darkstar." Rufus introduces his companion, and the creature slightly lifts its gaze. "She's a darling, really."

"I'm sure."

Your eyes drift back to Rufus, and land on the single object he's placed in the middle of his otherwise cleared desk. A collar, not dissimilar to the one the creature is wearing. Black leather, silver chain.

"And this, is it for me?" you ask, nodding at the collar. "It's for a pet."

Your eyes lock. A thought flashes through your mind, a brave impulse. You could...

It seems he read your mind, as you stumble forward and reach for the collar at the same time. He traps your hand under his. Thinking quick, you manage to snatch the chain and swiftly pull the item for yourself.

"I win."

Rufus stares you down. You're not sure what this means, but you're holding the symbol of dominance in your hands. He doesn't speak. You hold his gaze, unwavering. You've decided to stand your ground.

Finally, he lets out a little "hmph," and with a little rub of his lip, proceeds to take off his suit jacket, carefully placing it on the back of his chair. You watch him, still unsure of what's to follow. Then, opening the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls the black sleeves up to his elbows. He opens the top two buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric away from his neck, and looks at you as if to ask, what are you going to do?

You take a deep breath and straighten your back. "Get on your knees," you demand.

He moves closer, and you're sure you're about to be punished. This time though, you're not scared to look him in the eye, like a beast challenging an intruder, expressing dominance. To your surprise, he stops in front of you and drops to his knees. "I knew you were going to be fun."

"Hah," you manage to respond, shocked at what's actually happening. He looks up at the collar in your hands, then you. You take the collar to his neck and he lets you put it on, waiting patiently for you to finish as you try to be as gentle as you can. Once you've buckled the collar, you pull the chain tight and lean against the desk, pulling him closer to you.

The black creature rouses in the corner of the room and lets out a low but distinct growl - a warning.

"D, it's ok," Rufus lifts his hand and with that, the beast is tamed, laying its head down again. Suddenly it hits you. You're in control. He's submitting. Something wild takes over you. You slap him on the cheek.

"Did I give you permission to talk?"

His eyes widen in disbelief as he processes what you've just done. Then, a deep breath.

"Harder." "Excuse me?" You can't believe what you're hearing. "You have to do it har--" He's interrupted by another slap from you, this time harder, as per his request. "Is that better?"

You slap him again, even harder. Your hand stings. His cheek is red, his breathing growing heavy. He looks up and gives you a little nod. You run your hand through his hair and he keeps his blue eyes on you, waiting for your command.

"You told me to wear something nice," you say softly, bringing your hand to caress his cheek where you landed your blow. "I picked this out for you."

You slowly roll up the hem of your dress, revealing the rim of the stockings, the suspenders, the laced underwear. He watches you as you bring the dress to your waist.

"Do you like it?" He nods gently, looking up at you again. "Why don't you show me how much you like it," you say with a playful tinge, giving the chain a little tug.

He moves closer to you and lifts his hands to the outside of your thighs. Looking up, he checks if you're ok with this.

"Yeah," you whisper.

He brings his face to your hips and takes a deep breath. You run your hand through his hair again, as he rubs his nose against your underwear, breathing you in, slowly, intently. A soft sigh escapes your lips. He presses a kiss on the flowery embroidered underwear as his hands move to grab your ass, squeezing you firmly. Another sigh. You're both breathing in time, heavy, hungry.

His finger traces along the rim of your panties, then moves them aside to make way to his lips, pressing kisses around, everywhere, moving dangerously close to your most sensitive area. He looks up at you, and with a little smug smile, closes his eyes as he lets his tongue slide in between your legs, lapping up, up, up towards your clitoris.

You instantly let out a moan. You know the rules - he wants to hear it, and you want to give him the reward. He's making you hot, wet, way too aroused way too quickly. He grabs your ass harder and you start to move your hips in time with his tongue. You feel your whole body tense, the hair stand up in your neck, your nipples harden, your fingers grabbing his hair. This could come to and end very soon, but it would be too soon, too hasty.

"Wait," you whimper. "Stop."

He doesn't.

"Stop," you demand, louder, as he tries to slide his tongue inside you. It takes every ounce of self control for you not to cum right then. Grabbing his head with both hands, you push his face away as he pauses to catch his breath, his lips glistening from your juices. You stare at him, painful, throbbing pulsating between your legs.

"Bad, bad pet," you pant. He licks his lips, waiting for your next command. You survey around the room. "The chair," you decide. "Sit in your chair."

He does as he's told and you instantly climb over him, starting to undo his pants. His hands join in to help you. Together you manage to fumble the buttons open and pull down his underwear, revealing his cock, already fully hard. You wrap your fingers around the shaft, and this time it's him that lets out a slow moan. You can't help but smile, feeling up his size, gliding your hand up and down as he looks at you, eyes burning with need.

Lifting your hips, you position yourself on top, bringing his tip to gently touch your moist opening, leaning over to place a kiss on his temple.

"Since you were so bad," you whisper, slowly sliding down, taking all of him inside you, "I will have my fun, and cum all over you. And you will watch, and hold yourself together. Understood?"

You turn your gaze to meet his, and he nods again in agreement, giving you a little smirk. Is this what he wanted all along? You don't care. You're drunk on your power, intoxicated by calling the shots. You start to grind yourself against him, his cock pushing against your walls. Not quite the spot, almost, you readjust yourself. And there it is. His shaft is pushing against that spot inside you, the waves of pleasure start coming, first slowly, then more consuming, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. He watches you in awe, letting out little gasps, doing his best not to get too lost in your slow dance.

You pull on the chain and crash your lips against his as you feel yourself get tight around him, so tight it almost hurts to move, but you have to, you're compelled by the pleasure. You moan loudly into his mouth as you allow yourself to finally experience the full orgasm, sending little jolts across your body, leaving you dizzy with delight. One more little twitch, then, stillness.

As you come down from the high, you shift your hips and feel him inside you. Still hard, waiting patiently. You let out a little laugh and he chuckles with you.

"Wow," he whispers. "What would my pet like now?" you ask.

He pauses to think for a moment. "I want to fuck you until you cum again."

You find yourself on all fours in front of his desk, spreading your knees on his fancy rug. He enters you from behind, with a powerful thrust, and you cry out again, fulfilling your side of the agreement. He fucks, you scream. He doesn't waste time being gentle, and you drop your upper body to the floor, pushing your ass agains his cock as he pounds you, harder, faster. He grabs your hair and leans in closer, reclaiming his position as the master.

"I love being your pet," he speaks in a low voice, sending electricity up your spine, "I love it even more when you think you can get away with it." He drives his cock into you, commanding, sweat dripping everywhere. Your skins stick together, sticky, sweaty, soaked. It's rough, animalistic, utterly vulgar, and still, somehow, it's not enough.

"I can't," you cry out from sheer exhaustion. You're so close, so desperate to get another release, yet somehow it's eluding you. "You can." He reaches his hand down, fingers finding your clit, and starts to work at the same pace he's pushing inside you. It's enough. "Can I cum?" you whine as you already start to, clear liquid gushing from your entrance and dripping all over your legs, his legs, the rug. It's the first time you've ever experienced anything like this. "Oh you dirty girl," he sighs, and with a few last forceful thrusts, joins you in the elation, releasing his seed inside you, his juices mixing with yours.

You collapse on the rug and he follows you all the way down, burying his face in your hair as he rides the final waves of his orgasm.

It's a few minutes before you finally have the energy to roll around onto your back. Rufus sits up on the rug next to you, looking down at the chain that hangs from the collar, still around his neck. You wrap your index finger around the chain and play with it as you look at each other, neither of you finding the words to say, or perhaps not needing to. Suddenly you remember something, and let out a giggle.

"Is he waiting? Behind the door?" "Tseng?" "Mhm." "Why? Would you like me to invite him to join us?" You laugh out loud, but Rufus just smiles at you. "I don't know... maybe that would be exciting." "I'll ask him." You laugh again, pushing yourself up to sitting, while Rufus finally decides to free himself from the collar. "Are you hungry?" he asks, pulling up his pants and tucking his shirt in. "I know a place just two blocks from here. We can take D for a walk, too." The beast snores quietly in the corner, relaxed and fast asleep, seemingly completely undisturbed by your carnal games.

#rufus shinra x reader #rufus shinra #ffvii x reader #x reader #tseng of the turks

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cantwritethetword · 4 months

Text

Donna, Human, Yes

Fic Descript: During an argument, Donna discovers that the doctor has a rather human weakness. When he insists he's not ticklish, she has to prove him wrong.

~A/N - I RETURN FROM THE DEADDDDDDDDDD

Yes writers blocked kicked my ASS last year (aside from squealing santa, i feel like i did ok with that one hehe) but I'm back with this lil fic.

I watched the Doctor Who specials FINALLY and I cried so many times omfg it was so good to see David Tennant and Catherine Tate back together again being lil chaotic besties through all of time and space, so of course I had to write something for it !!!!

And you are bearing witness to the magic of my adhd meds in action !!! I've been so productive in the last hour it's great !!! (EDIT: didn't write this in an hour, just to be clear. took me a little while but ADHD MEDS WORKED FOR BOTH TIMES YAY)

Just something cute and fluffy af ^^ love you all <3

- Enoy! ~

Tag List: @carrie-tate

Masterpost Link

The bond between Donna and The Doctor was certainly one for the ages.

Human words couldn't do justice to the type of bond they had, at least that's what The Doctor claimed in his newer, more openly emotional regeneration. Their love was too strong for just the term of friendship, too close for anything romantically implied, too adoring to be siblings. Even the term soulmates had a particularly selective connotation to it that left a bad taste in The Doctor's mouth.

Nevertheless, it was clear they could hardly live without the other. There was enough love between them to power galaxies, and knowing their history neither would be surprised if it had.

And it was this closeness, this fierce tenderness, that led to discussions such as this. Displays of deep affection half-heartedly disguised behind harsh tones and disgruntled gestures.

"You may be a high and mighty Time Lord, but you're still an idiot." Donna huffed, as the TARDIS finally settled after takeoff.

The Doctor scoffed. "I'll try not to take that to heart, and I thought that escape went quite well!"

"YOU THOUGHT-" Donna stopped herself, breathing deeply to try and contain her shit that was threatening to lose itself. "The only reason we even STARTED to escape was because I PUSHED YOU TO THE EXIT!"

"Well yeahhhh..." The Doctor rolled his head, letting his eyes drift away from his companion's. "But-."

"But NOTHING." Donna interjected. "It's the same thing every time! You start running your mouth and saving the day, and that's wonderful, but you don't know when to stop!"

"Donna I-"

"Let me finish." She snapped, raising a pointed finger towards him and stepping closer.

The Doctor held his hands up in front of him with a gentle nod of the head.

"You drag yourself through hell, running and ranting and... and sonic-ing!"

A small snicker escaped The Doctor, but he straightened his face almost instantly after when her angry look didn't waver.

"You can't control yourself!"

He didn't dare argue.

"I always have to pull. your. arse. out.!" She accentuated each of the last words with a corresponding poke to The Doctor's torso.

And while she expected the pokes to help get her point across, she definitely was not expecting the almost childish giggle that spilled out of his mouth. Or the awkward jerk his body made to cover the ribs she had prodded.

But Donna wasn't stupid. She didn't waste any time in a state of surprise, no she jumped straight to (correct) conclusions.

"Oh no way." She grinned, creeping closer to the now incredibly flustered Time Lord.

"Now Donna," The Doctor began, his mouth twitching upwards in a nervous smile of self-betrayal. "You don't know what this is."

Donna gave a singular breathy chuckle. "Nice try sunshine, but you're not yapping your way out of this one."

"There are countless reasons why... why I would... flinch away from you like that!" He continued rambling.

"I know ticklish when I see it sweetheart." She smiled sweetly, though there was nothing sweet about the predatory glint in her eyes.

"What?!" The Doctor tensed, almost frozen in place at the mention of the word. Though quickly forced himself back into talking his way out of the situation in a faux-calm tone. "Uh, Doctor, Time Lord, no."

She smirked, stepping closer to him.

"Donna," she paused, reveling in just how much she was getting to him. "Human," she paused again, less than a few feet away from him. "Yes."

And then she lunged.

Her hands met his sides and The Doctor curled inwards, his arms tangling themselves in a fruitless effort to push her away.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sounds of Donna's fingertips clawing against the fabric of The Doctor's shirt, before he finally cracked.

Bubbly giggles spluttered out of The Doctor's chest as he folded forwards, allowing Donna to slip behind him and trap him in a bear hug. His knees slowly buckled, and (with no chance at keeping someone his height upright by herself), Donna followed his squirming body to the floor.

"Dohohohonnahaha!" He squeaked between bouts of helpless laughter, but her name was barely comprehensible amongst the childish noises she tickled out of him. "Ihihihi-!... wahahai-!... stahahaha-!..."

She chuckled, rolling her eyes as her hands climbed up into his armpits. "What was that?"

He couldn't reply with anything other than a squeal, writhing for a few seconds before his body finally submitted to the playful torture. He tried to splutter a few words out, but nothing could make its way through the torrent of giggles currently occupying his voice box. THe man had gone practically limp, aside from his hands which were still seized up like a tyrannosaurus rex.

"I never thought I'd see the day..." Donna shook her head in amusement as she skittered her fingernails around his collarbones. "That anyone would render you speechless."

"DOHOHOHON-! WAHAHAI-! IHIHIHI-!"

She laughed again. "Keep trying space man."

"IHIHIHI-! CAHAHAHA-!" He chortled, his hands suddenly free enough to slap themselves to his cheeks to cover his embarrassment.

"Whaaaat~?" She teased, rapidly poking him in one side while squeezing the other.

"IT TIHIHICKLES!" He somehow blurted out, before breaking into cackles as Donna transitioned to dual-hand squeezing. "DONNA PLEHEHEASE!"

It was Donna's turn to cackle, though hers was much shorter and much more controlled of course. "It tickles, does it? I had no idea."

Aside from the odd jolt when Donna hit a particularly sensitive spot, The Doctor had gone practically limp. All that laughter had fully sapped his energy, and he was leaning his back against Donna's chest to keep himself upright.

Taking her chance, Donna once again decided to change her position to further destroy the man. Sliding back from under him (taking care he wouldn't fall back and whack his head on the TARDIS floor - she wasn't that cruel), Donna pulled his arms from covering his face and stretched them above his head.

In his state of ticklish delirium, The Doctor didn't quite notice what was happening. Assuming she had finally taken pity on him, he focused on catching his breath with a stupid grin still stuck to his face.

That was until the moment her shins pinned his arms to the floor.

He locked eyes with her, now fully aware of just how screwed he was. With Donna kneeling above him, she had full access to the armpits she had assaulted with ticklish claws just moments ago.

"Nononono Donna you can't!" He begged, legs kicking wildly with every word. "You'll kill me!"

She shrugged, "You'll regenerate." before putting her typing skills to good use and pitter-pattering her fingertips against his underarms.

The Doctor clamped his mouth closed, thrashing his head to one side with his eyes screwed shut in a soon-to-be vain attempt to not react to the unbearable sensations radiating through his body. But even a mighty Time Lord could only hold out for so long.

After less than ten seconds (which The Doctor would later argue was a rather impressive length of time), he crumbled. The childish, high-pitched giggles returned and he was once again a mess beneath Donna's touch.

"Oh!" Donna gasped, slowing her fingers in response to the Doctor's slightly wheezy breathing. "And if you do regenerate, I'll be the first person ever to tickle two Time Lords!"

Aside from the occasional titter, The Doctor could finally gain control over himself again. He gulped mouthfuls of air as Donna climbed off his arms, and slowly sat up next to her.

"Not-" He panted, still more than a little out of breath.

Donna chuckled. "Take your time."

"Not tw-" His huffing interrupted again. "Not two."

She gave him a quizzical look.

"Even if I-... regenerate... I'm still the same... singular Time Lord." He corrected. "You've only tickled the one, and to be honest it happened a lot back on Gallifrey so you're not particularly sp-"

She barked a singular laugh, cutting him off. "God, you really don't know when to shut up."

His confusion turned to giggly panic when Donna pushed him back to the floor again and sat on top of his hips. "Nononono Donna not agAIN-!"

#crow's tickle fic #doctor who tickle fic #tenth doctor tickle fic #is the ending kind of abrupt? idk please tell me lol #this was a cute fic tho i like it hehehehehe

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houseofhyde · 2 years

Text

dressed in white (putting off crying).

pairing. daemon targaryen x fem!reader

synopsis. he knows of those who whisper that seeing the bride in her dress before the couple stands beneath the eyes of the seven births nothing but bad luck for a marriage, but daemon targaryen cares little for superstitions.

warnings. canon appropriate sexism/misogyny, implied valyrian!reader, implied incest (if you interpret this as the reader being targaryen), daemon is a simp for his lover!, likely ooc!daemon (i'm new to writing for him, i’ll get better, i'm sorry), poorly translated high valyrian, angst, fluff, descriptions of sex.

word count. 5.6k

hyde's input. lmao the title is based off a lyric from the (superior) the 1975 song meanswear. this whole scenario has been playing on my brain since i first watched hotd and i need to get it out before it drives me crazy by living in my tiny pea-brain for too long. i literally only made this blog to post this (since it wouldn't suit the writings on my main blog), so idk if i'll actually post anything else on here but feedback would be appreciated! anyway, daemon is a menace to society, i love him. sidenote,, i've always been terrified to post any fics in the got/hotd fandoms because istg every writer in this fandom has a god-like level of prose and it intimidates me, so please be nice if you think this sucks :) i’ve only read through this once, there may be spelling errors but it’s late and i just want to post this already!!!

tight braids rip hair from skull, gold incased jewels trap a delicate neck in a chokehold, stiff fabrics snuff out any heat of the westerosi sun from gracing dampened skin.

you aim to breathe in an air of relief for your aching lungs, yet the maiden behind you denies you of such a virtue as she pulls tighter on the set of strings holding up your bodice. you grow more lightheaded, oxygen starved body swaying momentarily, as a few more of your ladies in waiting assist with dressing you in the white coffin, lace cuffing your wrists like shackles and the weight of the gown feeling akin to that of a great beast, be it the weight of a stag, or a lion, or a wolf.

or a dragon.

“please,” hardly recognising your own voice, you flinch at the broken rasp that makes its way past your lips. your throat burns, your stomach churns, your eyes carry bags beneath them. far from a blushing bride, you are. the days of celebration leading up to the ceremony have taken an effect on both your mind and body, restless nights leading to uneaten feasts and unquenched thirsts. alas, you push such thoughts to that corner in your mind you reserve for nothing but tales of docile dragons and knights in dirtied armor as you straighten your stand, shoulders rising and head holding itself high. “may i have a moment of solitude within my chambers?”

your ladies shoot their attention over to the eldest among them, a septa who's hair has grown a deeper shade of grey with the passing of time and face has grown wrinkled by a history of smiles and laughter, and who bares the name of dorothea.

“of course, lady y/n. every woman must steal her last moment of solitude before she marries herself off to her lord husband. solitude will be sparse once you are wed.”

like an army of men, though far more graceful and colourful, the ladies make way towards the entrance of your chambers, spilling out in a single file line and shutting the door behind them.

and finally you breathe.

once, twice, thrice, and then you are a mess of desperate gasps and trembling limbs. you make your way over to the mirror which centres the room, steps more of an uncoordinated tumble than a graceful walk of a future lady of court.

met with your own reflection, something feels off. like a lack of connection, your astute mind can not fathom how this frail, tired, solemn looking girl bares any resemblance to the confident, bright eyed and quick witted woman you'd grown to be.

you trace your hands over the flaring of the dress' skirt, as if working out the creases in the fabric will loosen the ones that line your forehead. so caught up in your own unfitting image, you barely register the reopening of your chambers door.

“please, dorothea,” you sigh the woman's name out like she's bound to you by something more motherly than mere duty, the years spent in her company making for far better memories than the fleeting time you've passed with your true mother. “just a few more minutes. i'm... not ready. not yet.”

“i should hope not, you've yet to finish fastening the buttons on that ridiculous gown they've forced you into.”

the first thing you notice as your eyes meet the mirror once more is that your frown has deepened.

“you can't-” the second thing is him, dressed in the onyx and blood colours of his house, his newly shortened hair styled in a way that gives him a near boyish charm. the only visible slither of dark sister- nothing but a handle pressing into his left side- reminds you this is no boy, but a man, brutal and abrasive and protective, fresh from a victorious battle in which he walked away with a crown and the offering of another sword for his brother's throne. you're quick to correct your choice of words. “you shouldn't be here, prince daemon.”

if you were anyone else, you'd think the prince cares little- if anything- for the words you cast his way, arms clasped behind his back as he strides across the room with an air of arrogance, confidence, the stature of a man who not only belonged within your chambers but within your heart.

but, alas, you are you, and that means a great deal when it comes to the study of one targaryen prince. only you would notice the twitch in his brow, the snarl across his lips that is quickly denied in exchange for a smirk, the slight shrink of his shoulders as the weight of the truth sets itself upon them.

he's displeased.

whether the reason be your unusual use of his title- an act he knows you've committed with the foolish hope of putting distance between you both, if not physically then at least in power- or your attempt to banish him from your quarters evades you, but it matters little, really, for daemon is still approaching you.

he's upon you quicker than you expected, quicker than you wanted.

“let me.” two words, simple and used from the most common of folk to the most regal of lords, uttered in an infinite number of scenarios. yet, they may be your undoing as the silver haired man welcomes himself to the feel of your skin, a single finger trailing it's way down what remains exposed of your back. the touch mimics a shiver, something that tickles down your spine in a disturbingly enjoyable manner.

you nod your approval, too afraid to open your mouth and see what sounds he elicits from you, your heart too long starved of affection and his gentle caress the first it's tasted in years.

the fear of speaking carries on even as he departs from your skin, both hands joining in finishing the task of clasping your dress together. maybe this is worse, you think, having his knuckles bump against you every so often as he fiddles with the pearly white buttons, teasing you with what could be, what could've been.

“i never imagined us marrying under the seven.” part of you believes he's mocking you, torturing you with words he knows will wrap around your heart like vines and pierce the delicate organ with its thorns. you wonder if this is the targaryen prince known for his callous words and disregard for the sentiment of another come out to show you his true colours once and for all, gone now the days where he'd shower you in expensive metals and feed you the sweetest of treats.

he catches your line of sight in the reflective glass and his smile widens, pulling his lips with a heavy sense of dishonesty that makes your insides twist. never did you think there'd come a day where daemon targaryen would fake a smile towards you.

“īlva qilōni carry se ānogar hen uēpa valyria should dīnagon isse se ways hen uēpa valyria.” us who carry the blood of old valyria should marry in the ways of old valyria. there was a moment in time- back when the sight of a man was enough to make you blush- that you believed there was nothing, and no one, that compared to the beauty of hearing daemon speak his ancestral language, the old flame of valyria setting his soul ablaze. as you stand now, eyes stuck on watching how he's focused on one particularly stiff button, you find only heartache in hearing him speak high valyrian. not even the way he breaks his composed facade- though only for a mere handfull of seconds- to frown and scowl down at the stubborn button is enough to ease the tension in your chest. “ondos bound ondoso ānogar, daor dovodedha cloth.” hands bound by blood, not silly cloth.

by the time he finishes off fastening your gown, bile burns the back of your throat as his hands smooth down your back, painfully slow in their travels, giving you enough time to think of how this isn't how things were meant to be.

daemon was supposed to be the one eagerly tearing off your dress, not trapping you in its suffocating confines.

you decide to play into his fantasy, to let not only him but also yourself indulge in the sweet naïveté of wishful thinking.

“skoros ābrar gōntan ao imagine syt īlva?” what life did you imagine for us?

he takes a breath, pausing the conversation and inhaling as if to stable his wavering heart, focus his mind on choosing his next words wisely or run the risk of you shoving him away completely.

when he at last answers, you wish you'd never asked.

“i saw us trading life in the keep for dragonstone, making a home for ourselves where the targaryen history runs deepest. it's where we'd wed, where i'd get to listen to you swear vows to me that carry true meaning, unlike the shit i’ll have to endure hearing you spew later in the sept.” relief floods over you like a great storm as he switches back to the common tongue, a downpour which serves to dampen the fiery passion in his voice. his hands have found rest upon your mid-riff, large and warm and protective in the way they pull you back against his muscular chest. “we'd host feasts for whenever my brother insists on visiting us to keep up appearances of a false bond between his new family and his old one. you'd teach me about other languages, so i could express my adoration for you in every tongue known to man, and i'd show you what it is to never want for anything, make sure you own every possession you desire and feel every emotion you require.

“when we're not busy playing politics, in the moments you're not teaching our sons how to thread needles and to be good husbands, while i encourage our daughters to wield swords and to be strong, we'd spend that time in the throes of pleasure." the blunt ends of his nails dig deep into the layers of fabric, as if he's trying to tear the dress off to reveal the real you beneath, the you he's become all too enthralled by. the you that's bare, and pliant, and begging for his touch in a way that is not only sexual but primal, as though you'd perish if not for the brush of his lips against yours and warmth of his body casting over you like a shadow meant to seal you away from the harsh world. "fuck a marital bed, we'd make it into a marital home, a marital garden, a marital beach. i'd take you anywhere, work my fingers into you till they are broken, bruise my knees just to drink your sweet nectar, fuck you so full of my seed till it has nowhere else to go and no choice but to drip out of you, covering us in our brutal lovemaking.”

“daemon-”

“they'll tire of us, eventually, all our poor maids and guards. tire of catching me with you bent over any surface, tire of hearing you chant my name like i'm your only god. they'll be running back to kingslanding with their tails tucked between their legs, ready to spread the gossip of just how insatiable the rogue prince and his ravishing wife really are.”

“daemon, you really-”

“we can still have that life, my love.” he sounds so hopeful, glances upon you so eagerly in the reflective glass that you near crumble to the ground if not for the support of his arms around you. “hmm, wouldn't you prefer we do that, instead of this over the top ceremony that'll leave you with nothing but a headache and sore feet?”

the heartache behind his intentions sedates the anger that quells within your chest, way past the layers of bodice. it is not born from nowhere, this anger. not a fiery pit lit from an explosive catastrophe but, rather, a sole flame that has simmered and festered and burned for a near three years, mothered by solitude and fathered by abandonment.

“no, we can't.” intending to put your foot down, reign in control over yourself, hands reaching to tear his tiresome hold off of you, you're bereft to find yourself sighing a breath that leaves clear the exhaustion you've been harbouring- far beyond just physical, deep in the trenches of neglected emotions- , body melting into a puddle at his feet upon watching the familiar sight of your embracing limbs in the reflection. bitterness bites the back of your throat in this repeat of familiar history: you, daemon and bodies touching away from prying eyes and gossiping courtiers. “my father... he'd have your head, daemon. after everything he has done to secure this union happened... after all the rumours... it wouldn't be fair to him.”

daemon hums out an acknowledgement and you nearly convince yourself he's in agreement, that he understands the repercussions that would entail if you gave in to his game of make-believe; that he knows these pretty words that once were a gift for a younger version of yourself to hear, all tied up in a bow made of his velvet kisses upon your silk skin, have become a punishment meant to torment a child who'd dared to play with a toy that was never hers to touch in the first place.

all hope of redemption is lost with the tightening of his hold.

muscles flex beneath the red of his sleeves, an unspoken promise of the strength he harbours, the brute force he’d be more than willing to use should someone aim to take you from his hold. what follows is a resounding silence, where you’re too shaken to speak and his head rests it’s weight on your shoulder, the near-white crown of his head staring back at you in the mirror as it blends with the white of your gown. he burrows his face into the spot where your neck meets your shoulders, hiding whatever broken, troubled, pathetic- his own word for sad- expression paints his features.

“i thought you would wait for me.”

and just like that, the illusion is shattered, an accusatory tone to his voice which leaves behind nothing of the false sense of bliss or the hopeful future but jagged shards scattered along the ground, threatening to split your skin and make you bleed should you dare to clean it up.

“how could i, prince daemon?” the anger works its way through the cracks in your broken heart, taking up the space you’d once reserved for tears and forgiveness. “you left. no words, no warning, no goodbye. my loyalty is with my father and my house, and therefore marrying to secure a fruitful alliance for said house comes above all, even petty little princes.”

“i was banished! by my own brother! by your own-” he halts the words before he can speak them. though the dragon in him is awakening- the slightest of conflict rousing the ugly defensive side of him-, he stubbornly holds his position, eyes squeezing shut a little tighter to fight out the light of reality he’s trying to evade. “and now here i return to find the one person i came back for could not wait a measly three years for me!”

“if you think i’ve waited only three years for you, you’re an even greater fool than otto hightower.”

the prince tenses, the mention of his sworn nemesis (a feat which had earned him plenty a mockery on your end, forever bereft at the fact a supposed grown man could live with a near-playground level of hatred for another) causing the fire within him to grow more violent. he unwinds himself from the hold he’s got on you, arms dropping to his side and face rising from it’s hiding spot within your skin. in the mirror, he looms over you, staring down at you like he’s the red wyrm and you are but a helpless doe moments away from having your flesh burnt by his fire.

“forgive me, lady y/n,” the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention as darkness overcomes his voice, matching the expression on his face. “i wasn’t aware of how deep your loyalty ran for you to whore yourself out so easily for some lord’s name and gold.”

with the twist of an ankle, you come face to face with the dragon prince, chest heaving with each laboured breath which fails to calm your nerves and nose blowing out what you imagine to be the steam of your fiery anger. you stagger back, he leans forward. hands land on your elbows and steady you, draw you nearer till the mounds of your breasts brush against his cloth-covered chest.

daemon is stunned to silence, a rare feat, as he gazes down at you and sees not the woman who’s wrapped up in white lace but the girl who’d been covered in tears and carried fear in her eyes as she took in the sight of the man she’d crashed into- quite literally, as he’d enjoyed reminding you whenever you had gotten a little too generous with the wine and led yourself down the path of unadulterated reminiscing in his chambers- in the halls of the keep. he remembers how it felt to truly look upon your face for the first time, to be lulled into a sedated state just by hearing your soft voice stuttering out apologies, to part ways from you with hands still burning from the heat of your flesh, refusing to cool down even as he sat among the small council, too busy clenching his fists and questioning what exactly was so bewitching about the maiden he’d caught in distress.

a sharp sting to his cheek is enough to shatter the memory, bringing him out of the looking glass of the past and into the present where your eyes are filled with more disgust than tears and the burn of your flesh is against his face instead of his hands.

you’d slapped him.

by gods, you’d actually struck him.

if the circumstances called for it, the prince wonders if his cock would be stiffening by now.

“you, of all people, have no right to call me a whore, lord fleabottom.”

“and yet i seem to recall you begging me to call you that during our past encounters.”

you grab at his collar, sharp nails digging into the dark material as if it were his windpipes, crushing them under your brutish strength. tugging him down with what you believe to be force- and what is truly just him giving into your attempt-, the pair of you find yourselves eye to eye, nose to nose, frown to frown.

oh, yes, his cock would certainly be hard, were his heart not so weak.

“you are a despicable excuse of a man.” you mean to spit the words in his face, praying to all the old gods and the new for this feeling to truly be hatred, disgust, disdain. three years have passed and, with it, so has your love, leaving a gapping hole meant only to be filled with hate. were it not for the shaking of your free hand, or the pounding of your heart in your ears, you’d believe your prayers had been answered. alas, the gods are cruel and your words fall only as a whisper on his ears. “i pity the women who have been scorned with loving you.”

“come now, my lady, you were always so against those who pitied themselves.”

“do you hear how pathetic you sound?” taken aback by his rebuttal, your response comes with a moments delay, one you hope he does not notice. the grin he casts down at you proves otherwise, and serves as yet another plank of dry wood tossed on to the blazing embers of your ire. “i am to be married come high noon, and you are already a married man! put aside your wants and realise your duty, perhaps then your king would not see it necessary to rid himself of you.”

“and what a marriage it’ll be, my lady! with your dearest lord cunt lannister parading you around as though you are some prized deer he’s caught for a feast, and you drowning yourself in riches and wines to forget the horrid memory of his red face above yours.” he matches your own grip on him, his far larger and far stronger hand shooting out to take a hold of you by the neck of your dress. he’s a brute, tugging on the expensive cottons like they are no more than the clothes of a common whore. “rumour has it your dear husband-to-be is one of those one-pump-chumps, so at the very least he’ll get it over with quickly, allowing you to roll over and bring yourself some satisfaction as his pathetic seed paints your thighs.”

“at least my marriage will be consummated!” daemon scoffs as quickly as the words have shot out your mouth, no harm coming from them, not with how many nights he’d spent in your sheets claiming he’d sooner fuck his own dragon than touch his so-called bronze bitch. the real kicker, the true spear through his pride, the thing you know only by rumour and not by fact, is what you say next. “meanwhile you’ll continue to chase pleasure in whores who look like me from the back, but just never quite sound, smell, taste, feel the same as i do.”

“keep talking and i’ll take it as an invitation to remind myself of just exactly how you feel.”

“if the recent rumours about you are true, my prince, i doubt you’ll be capable of getting your cock to rise for the occasion.”

silence takes hold of the little space between you. contemplation evident on his face, he straightens back up to his full height, eyes no longer at level with your own as they cast down a look which lacks all the sharp edges from before. no longer are his eyes daggers that threaten to slice through you but, instead, blankets of warmth and safety which ache to wrap around your tired bones and shield you from the cold which accompanies the feeling of solitude.

the hand which once held you by the top of your dress has traveled up the expanse of your neck, fingers soft and lazy in the way they stroke over the skin. before you even process your own actions, the grip you have on his own clothes loosens, till your hand is merely resting against the solid mass of his chest.

for the first time since the rogue prince had returned to the capital, victorious and wearing a crown, you allow yourself to take in the sight of him, wholly and unserved. you admire the shortened length of his hair, noting how it frames his face in a way that fully brings out its sharp edges. you trace over the new lines in his skin, unintentionally reminiscing on words you'd both exchanged between tangled limbs and the moonlight ( “they are a sign that i'm aging, sweetling.” “they are a sign that you've lived.”). you catch sight of mangled skin along his right side, peeking out from beneath his clothing. your heart clenches at the thought of him in pain, and you distract yourself from thinking of what other marks decorate his war-torn body by returning attention to his lilac eyes.

three years have passed since you had last held each other and, against your own wishes, your heart still remembers to beat harder around him.

“he will not love you.” the words are an exhale from him, like he's resigning you to your own fate.

“i do not need love.” the words you speak become the first lie you've ever told him, making even with the way he'd faked his smile earlier.

“then if not love, freedom. that cunt will not give you that." you aim to tear away from his piercing eyes, yet the force of his hand tilting your chin upwards gets in your way. he may have been at war, you think, but he's inflicting a greater torture upon you than any fallen soldier right now, imploring you to look upon his weakened state in a way he's never allowed before. "he will give you gold, and dresses, and dresses made of gold to occupy yourself with, but never freedom.”

“freedom is a fool’s game.”

“gaomā daor ȳdragon hae aōla.” you do not speak like yourself. this time, he does not prevent you from looking back at your own reflection. you wish to whine about how you do not look like yourself either, dressed in such a ridiculously white gown but don't in fear that he'll take it as invitation to slice through it with his dear dark sister. “what happened to the girl who used to make plans to see the world on dragon's back, to taste every wine, to be tied to no land?”

“she died somewhere between the first time you kissed her and six moons into your war for the stepstones.”

like the mirror were something akin to the mystical, future-telling balls you'd heard of in the stories of witches and seers, the memory of your first kiss plays out before you. you remember it all like it was merely yesterday. the way you'd at last bested him after the five moons of midnight training you'd endured. the way he lay frozen on the ground, eyes widened in a mixture of shock, irritation and pride. the way he'd marched over to you and sent thrilling chills of fear down your spine as you worried he aimed to scold you for daring to nick the right side of his cheek with your blade, drawing out blood. the way he'd ripped your weapon from your hand, thrown it off to some unseen part of the dark training grounds and proceeded to attack you. only, where you had expected raised fists and seething words, he gave bruising kisses and sighs of satisfaction, the victory of at last going against everyone else's supposed better judgement and giving into the carnal desires he'd tried to cast aside in favour of protecting your virtue in the eyes of the cunts that sat with himself and your own father at the small council.

and then, you blink and suddenly it is half a decade later and you're standing in those same dark, cold, training grounds, only this time the prince is nowhere in sight and you're hacking at a man made of straw, picturing the king's brother's face with every swing of the blade.

“most nights i barely knew if you were alive, daemon! any news of you was sparse, and never meant to fall upon my ears. were it not for rhaenyra serving as cupbearer for the council, overhearing the gossips that ensued in their meetings, i'd never have found out you'd gone to war in the first place. waiting for you to send a raven, or send at the very least a sign that you ached for me as much as i did you, it broke me. and, as i put the fractured pieces of myself back together, i found i was no longer the wide eyed fool you'd left me. i was no longer going to cry over a man who didn't respect me enough to let me know of his leaving.”

“how could i write you, my lady? was it not you who asked of me that our affairs be kept a private matter? i'd have thought our scandal was lesson enough for you to learn there are rats in every crevice of kingslanding. a single letter from me would have been your undoing.” the anger returns to his voice, though not so all-consuming this time around. behind your own reflection, you see him shifting around, body growing agitated with the need to do something, anything to expel the dark energy coursing through his veins. “we both know i have not once had an issue with making my affections for you known, it is you who was so scared to be branded as my mistress! so do not dare question my respect for you. everything you've wanted, i've given. anything you've asked of me, i've done. and it was still not enough to mark my claim on your heart.”

“why do you still not see my heart is not some land to be won?” if at any moment you pondered the possibility of the maids outside your chambers being aware of the reason behind daemon's current presence, the raising of your voice and the words you spit out at him must be enough to confirm any of their suspicions. you wonder which of them will be the one to spread the word, until it reaches your father's ears or- worse- your betrothed. “nyke daor mirri sombāzmion hen pryjata syt ao naejot hang bona jaes-forsaken bartōro hāre zaldrīzes banner iemnȳ.” i am not some castle of ruins for you to hang that god-forsaken three-headed dragon banner within.

if words were daggers, yours would have pierced through his darkened heart and twisted the blade. for there is nothing more prideful to a targaryen than their own bloodline- and many a nights you'd spent, sat at candlelight with the infamous conquest of aegon targaryen himself depicted to you in a written word, pondering if this grandiose sense of self is what lead to their customs of taking their own kin to wed-, the hot tempered prince being the greatest example of this, rumoured to have once made a eunuch of a man who dared to so little as roll his eyes as a young viserys targaryen passed by him in a brothel.

you feel him more than you see him move behind you, weight shifting from one leg to another and carrying the rustle of metals and leather with it. he's glaring at you through the reflective glass, mouth pressed shut in a straight line and hands clasped behind his back, as if holding them there is some way of holding off whatever thoughts he had of touching you with hands that had brought so many people to their end- his own wife being their latest victim.

several minutes of silence pass by before you realise he's weighing out his options, trying to choose what to say next. the rogue prince, known for his unmatched wit and possessing the ability to argue his way out of acts of war against his very own brother, is lost for words for a second time.

when the words come to him at last, you wish they'd disappear again.

“i am a proud man. i have fought, and lived, and fucked with fire and blood, so this will be the first and only time i will ask this of you.” you watch with baited breath and sweating palms as daemon's figure lowers itself behind you and, with no second thought to be found, you swirl around in your gown just in time to watch his right knee meet the floor, his other one positioned perfectly at a ninety-degree angle and holding his weight as he leans his arm against the muscular thigh. his head is tilted up, desperation dancing gracefully with the heartache in his eyes as his right hand finds comfort in tangling itself with your own, him relishing in your touch and you fighting so hard to forget each and every other time he'd held your hand so gently.

in an imitation of his return to king visery's graces, he's bowing for you as though it will win him back your favour and the warmth of your bed.

“do not make yourself a lannister, do not wed him. lady rhea royce is dead, there is nothing obstructing our path. we can make it to the dragonpit before anyone even notices you're gone, we'll be wed by sundown, i beg of you. kostilus, marizzo hen ñuha prūmia, mazverdagon nyke aōha valzȳrys.” please, owner of my heart, make me your husband.

it is a plea for so much more than your hand.

it is a plea for your life, a plea for your future, a plea for a world where you reside upon dragon's back and he resides anywhere that is by your side.

it is everything you've ever wanted to hear from him, coming into fruition in the worst way imaginable: dressed in a wedding gown meant for another man.

“skoro syt sir? skoro syt līs ao epagon bisa hen issa sir?” why now? why must you ask this of me now? you pull in a breath and push out a sob, eyes welling with unshed tears as you force yourself to rip away from his lilac irises to find safety in staring up at the cold, unfeeling ceiling. “skoro syt daor skori nyke istan nykeēdrosa dāez naejot vestragon kessa?” why not when i was still free to say yes?

before he can fumble out a response, the door to your chambers reopens.

unlike before, it truly is dorothea this time.

“my lady,” she looks past the prince on his knees as though she can not even see him, too committed to her loyalty for you to rub a greater amount of salt in the gaping wound upon your heart which is daemon targaryen. there is no doubt when believing she'd never utter a word of the scene she has walked in on. “we must make haste. the ceremony will commence shortly, and there can be no wedding without a bride.”

the grip on your hand grows tighter, a silent plea from daemon to get you to look at him again, to see him for all that he may be- a man made of untamed disrespect, a tally of war crimes, blood of the so called dragon seed and, above all else, love for you- and take him as your own.

it makes it an even greater battle when you force your aching body to pull away from him, hands patting down the creases in your dress one last time before making your way over to the door.

this time around, it is you who leaves daemon a mess on your chambers' floor, kneeling there till his knees ache and the wedding bells have long ago rang out.

#daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen oneshot #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon smut #lmao the description of this fic is so misleading.. it's basically click bait i'm so sorry 🥴

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andguesswhat · 6 months

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I wanted someone cute for Willy to have for Christmas, that's all 🤷🏼‍♀️ Christmas fluff 🎄with chocolate balls 🍬 and a bit of icing ☃️

Willy Wonka and the thing called love

The thing was this: It wasn't that Willy had anything against love. He loved many things. Chocolate in every imaginable shape and color, he loved inventions in every imaginable form. He also loved people. His mother, for example. Noodle, of course... and the friends he had met at the laundry factory. In a way, he even loved Lofty, the grumpy Oompa Loompa.

But when it came to an intimate relationship with another person, things became difficult. It just never matched with the women who wanted to get to know him better. He really tried, but it hadn't worked. Instead, he had kind of accidentally kissed his best friend once. But of course that hadn't ended well either. The thought of how his best friend, who was no longer his best friend afterwards, had looked at him still made him blush to this very day.

He had long wondered why he couldn't just fall in love with a nice girl and be happy with her. He really had no explanation for it. Except that he had always been different, so he was probably different in love, too.

He had to accept that and had decided that love relationships probably just weren't his thing.

But everyone had needs, of course, and so did he. And because he didn't want to feel bad about it, one day he developed a chocolate all for himself that could satisfy these needs. He took all the ingredients he thought would work - traveling around the world he had found all kind of unusual fruits and plants - and formed them into a round purple chocolate ball in his small laboratory in the factory.

With this chocolate, he would lie down comfortably in the evening between his cotton candy clouds, gently push the ball between his lips and let it slowly melt in his mouth...

The chocolate became soft, spread velvety on his tongue, while the sweet taste of love and lust unfolded and began to flow through his body. The individual particles of chocolate dispersed in every cell... It tickled, his body began to tingle, his eyelids fluttered, he felt hands, he felt lips, he felt hot breath on his skin. His whole body was electrified by these sensations, so that Willy soon began to gasp and pant until he finally reared up --- and whoosh, like an incredible flash of icing - even though Willy unfortunately had already realized early in his teenage years that it didn't taste like icing - it shot through his body, through his lap and out of his body.

"Aaah!" his lustful moans echoed through the factory and Willy was far too blissful to be shocked about that.

Exhausted, he let his body fall back into the clouds and smiled happily.

He had found a solution to his problem. And it was wonderful.

He snuggled into the cloud, content and exhausted, his whole body still tingling slightly, as if he could still feel the caresses on his skin, the gentle kisses...

WAIT!!! WHAT?

His smile evaporated instantly and he straightened up in irritation, his eyes wide... hadn't he felt stubble on his skin, too?

He frowned.

But then something clicked in his brain, which it often did when something was bothering him, something was released that felt like liquid brain chocolate and covered everything which could be called anxiety with a soothing comfort and just like that the unsettling feeling was gone.

The stubble had probably just been a coincidence. Perhaps he simply needed to change something in his recipe. After all, the most important thing was that he had found the solution to his problem. Everything else would work itself out.

But as it was with problems, as soon as you solved one, the next one popped up.

Though it didn't look like a problem at first. Or rather, it looked far too attractive for one.

Shortly after his first attempt with the chocolate, a man came into his store, a young father with his two children to be precise. He was tall and handsome, his clothes were not expensive but not ragged either, from the rims under his eyes he seemed to work a lot or sleep badly, but that didn't seem to stop him from being affectionate towards his children and devoting all his attention to them.

Willy watched him furtively out of the corner of his eye. There was nothing wrong with looking at a good-looking man. Beauty was universal for Willy. There were so many beautiful things in the world, lying in a meadow of flowers in spring, feeling the snout of a giraffe in the palm of his hand, the breeze tickling your nose from snowy roofs. Of course, women could also be beautiful, so why not a man, this man?

With every step this man took through the store with his children, he was beaming more with joy. And if Willy was honest, it always made Willy particularly proud when he could bring out this childlike joy in adults.

When the man with those shining eyes then paid for the two big bags of sweets that his children had filled to the brim, and Willy thanked him for his purchase with a "Thank you, sir!", Willy's heart warmed even more when the man added in a very melt-in-the-mouth dark chocolate voice, "Thank you, for making this day a fairly lovely day."

Of course, there was nothing wrong with this encounter, but when Willy went back to his special purple chocolate balls in the evening and wanted to enjoy them between his clouds, this time after the chocolate had melted in his mouth again and he had felt all sorts of wonderful things, just before he exploded, he had the feeling that those same shining eyes were suddenly looking at him and whispering something to him. In this very melt-in-your-mouth dark chocolate voice.

"Aaahh!!!"

It hadn't stopped him from filling the halls with his loud moans again, in fact, if he was honest, he felt like it was even stronger this time and had almost shaken the cotton candy around him from it, but of course this couldn't go on like this. First the stubble and now this... !

He would have to change the recipe again.

Two days later, the man was back with his children.

"They fell in love with this store," he said, as if to apologize, and something in Willy's body vibrated again at the sonorous voice, so that he forgot to answer for a second.

"I'm glad they did," he finally managed to say, smiling a little nervously, because those shining eyes reminded him of the night he had splashed a lot of icing on that sight.

That evening, he decided to leave his chocolate balls alone for the time being. He didn't want anything else to go wrong. Besides, there were more important things to do: Christmas time was just around the corner and what could be more satisfying than sweetening Christmas for everyone from young to old?

He invented little snowmen covered in powdered sugar, he invented little gingerbread houses that tasted like a cozy evening in front of the fireplace, and he invented little reindeer cookies that blew the cold wind of a snowy landscape around your nose.

On the first of December, the father and his two children came back to the store.

"I've decided that they can choose a little chocolate every day until Christmas. They deserve some little joy every day."

Willy felt a lot of emotions when he heard that. It was a real whirlwind. First of all, why hadn't he come up with this fantastic idea? Every child should be able to sweeten their time until Christmas with a small piece of chocolate every day. Secondly, his heart skipped a beat at the thought that the man would now come into his store every day, and he didn't really want that at all. Or maybe he did? And thirdly, his heart became very sad because he was beginning to wonder where the mother of these children was and the sad look on the face of the lovely man who wanted to be so brave when he said those words gave him a lot of clues.

But Willy now had 24 days ahead of him where he would see this man, so perhaps some things could be found out.

And so it was.

Every time the man came into the store, Willy dropped everything, shot up to the two children, whose names were Max and Thea, by the way, and who were sweet as sugar, had them open a little box with a small chocolate, and while the children played in the store, Willy sat down with the man for a few minutes in a little sofa corner made of rainbow liquorice, slipped him a piece of his favorite chocolate, put his head in his hands and listened to him attentively.

The lovely man's name was Arthur and at the very back, in the most convoluted corner of his brain, Willy thought of the sound he had made when he was lying in his cotton candy cloud and the purple ball had brought him to climax, and that it had almost sounded like that name.

Arthur worked in a newspaper factory and the mother of his children – as Willy had feared - sadly already died, Willy's heart sank when he heard this, she had left them in the spring and this would be the first Christmas without their mother. Despite the amount of work Arthur had, he wanted to be there for his children as much as he could. Fortunately, he still had the grandparents to look after them, but it wasn't easy.

Willy took his word for it and he made a mental note to himself that he absolutely had to invent something for these children so that they would have a nice Christmas despite everything.

Willy really liked Arthur. Arthur was not only very likeable, but also very educated and, above all, very funny. His sadness just didn't really allow it yet, Willy could tell. In any way, as well as they got on, Willy was sure that they would become really good friends.

And so the few minutes of conversation soon turned into half an hour a day, during which the children played in the store and Arthur and he had time to talk about everything. Because Arthur was also very curious to find out everything about Willy and Willy liked the way Arthur looked at him when he told him something from his life. It left a feeling of sugar coated fireworks exploding in him.

Every day Willy could hardly wait to see Arthur again and it made him want to jump with joy to see that Arthur's disposition was getting a little better every day. And though the circles around his eyes didn't get any smaller, his smile widened unmistakably.

But then one day the children came into the store without him and with their grandparents instead.

"Is everything okay?" Willy asked worriedly.

"Yes, yes, he just needs some rest," replied the grandmother, somewhat sternly but kindly. "Working every day, then the children... Every day they come here to the store. Sometimes he just takes on too much. We'll take over the visits from now on."

Willy nodded sadly and felt a little bad at the same time. He shouldn't have extended their conversation like that. Maybe Arthur had just been friendly and hadn't wanted to offend him.

Something in Willy's heart suddenly hurt a lot. Of course he wanted Arthur to rest... but did that mean he would maybe never see him again?

Lost in thought, he handed the children their daily chocolate. He had been so looking forward to showing Arthur his latest creation. But maybe Arthur needed something else this time...

"Wait a minute, please..."

Willy quickly ran into his study. This time he wanted to give Arthur a chocolate to cheer him up and give him energy. He opened the drawer in which he kept his latest creations, pulled out the cheering-up-energy-chocolate, slipped it into a small bag, hurried back to the children and grandparents and handed them the bag.

"Please give this to Arthur with my best wishes."

"Today's chocolate was extra delicious, Willy, thank you very much!" beamed Thea at him and tugged at his coat. And Max said, "No, it was extra, extra delicious today."

Willy laughed delightedly. He had become really fond of Arthur's children by now.

Fondly he waved goodbye to them.

He waved and waved until they were out of sight, and Arthur got lost in thoughts again. He was thinking of Arthur. He thought of Arthur, how he would hopefully feel better again after eating the chocolate. Thought of Arthur eating that chocolate. Biting into it. Biting into the purple chocolate ball..

Willy's smile froze.

What? Wait?? Purple?

Oh, no, that couldn't be true!

He didn't have....!

He ran into his study, hastily pulled open the drawer and there he saw it: he had given the grandparents the wrong chocolate! He had given them the purple ball instead of the pink one! The pink one was still in the drawer!

That couldn't be true!

Oh no, oh no!

He looked out of the window but the children and grandparents were long gone.

Willy sank into his chair in despair. He would die of shame! How could this have happened to him? He felt like crying. He didn't want to lose Arthur as a friend! What would he think of him now? Why did that have to happen?

Frustrated, he lay down on the cot in his study, put his arms around his legs, and didn't show his face in the store all day, even after Noodle's request.

The next day, he still didn't want to get up, his mind still thinking the most terrible thoughts it could think of.

In the afternoon Noodle told him that Max and Thea had asked about him and were very sad that he hadn't been there. But Willy really couldn't face them after what he had done to their father!

"What happened, Willy?"

Noodle was really worried now, and he didn't want her to be. "I did something bad." He really couldn't explain it any further. "Don't you sometimes wish you were different, so you'd be less different from everyone else?"

Noodle thought about it, then shook her head. "Since I met you, not really, no." She sat down next to him on the cot and hugged him. "You're the epitome of how being different can be something magical, something beautiful, something endearing. I don't want you to think that's bad."

Willy looked at Noodle. He wished she was right. He thought of all the beautiful things they had experienced. Of all the people they made happy.

And then something clicked in his brain, because whenever something made him too sad for too long, there was a little explosion of chocolate bits in his brain, like a wake-up call that told him: he couldn't just lie here and mope around forever, he had to do something!

"I'm going to invent a new chocolate, Noodle. There are so many children at Christmas without parents, I want them all to feel loved, to remember this love without being sad. With a tear in their eye, but with joy in their heart, you know?"

Noodle hugged Willy and gave him a big squeeze. "Do that, Willy. I couldn't wish for anything more beautiful for Christmas."

So Willy sat down at his little chocolate inventing machine and started experimenting. If he had already messed things up with their father, then at least he wanted to do something really good for the children.

The store had long since closed when Willy was still experimenting. He somehow didn't succeed. Something was still missing. Exhausted and tired, he looked at the bubbling tubes when he suddenly heard a knock on the door downstairs in the store.

He went down to check.

Arthur was standing in front of the door.

Willy's heart sank, so afraid was he of this encounter, but he opened the door carefully nonetheless.

Arthur took off his snow-covered cap and smiled at him lovingly. "I'm sorry to show up here like this... but I... I still saw light…. "

Willy was very glad that Arthur didn't seem to be mad at him, he was adorable as ever. He looked happy. A little nervous, but happier than he had ever seen him before.

Willy hoped that it meant, he hadn't even tried the chocolate.

"Yes, I'm still experimenting a bit. When something doesn't work, something is missing, I sometimes can't stop."

Arthur smiled at him curiously. "Can I watch?"

Willy turned dark red.

He didn't know why. It wasn't anything illegal what he was doing. But somehow Arthur's question felt so intimate.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Arthur was now uncomfortable, too.

Willy tried to pull himself together, his concerns about whatever were ridiculous. "No, no, of course you can ... watch. Come in."

Willy closed the door behind Arthur and went up the stairs, Arthur following him.

"Thanks for your chocolate, by the way..."

Willy's eyes widened and he quickened his pace. He didn't want to hear anything about that but Arthur unfortunately kept talking.

"I don't know if it was the chocolate and just the fact that you had it brought to me..."

Willy went hot and cold, his steps quickening even more.

"But ... when I ate the chocolate, I thought…”

Oh, no, this couldn’t be happening!

“- of you."

Just at that moment, Willy pushed open the door to his study and said a little too loudly and nervously, "Here we are!"

Arthur stepped in and looked around in astonishment. “Wow, this is... amazing!”

Here in Willy’s study were the most colorful vials and ingredients up to the ceiling. And although it was a laboratory, it didn't look like a laboratory, but had the charm of a cozy witch's cottage.

Once Arthur had got over the initial amazement, Willy pointed to a chair on the wall. "You can take that... And sit next to me, if you want."

But when Arthur sat down right behind him, Willy thought that he would have preferred Arthur to sit against the wall.

It was kind of nice to have him so close, but it also made Willy so incredibly nervous.

He tried to concentrate, looked at the vials… and got lost in time and space.

... and I thought of you.

What was he going to do again?

"What's missing?" he heard Arthur's soft voice say next to him.

"Huh?" Willy turned to him and looked into the most incredibly gentle eyes.

"You said, something was still missing?"

For a small second Willy closed his eyes, he didn’t want to get so lost in those eyes, in that man. He opened his eyes again and looked fixedly at the vials.

"Well, ... the joy is there," Willy said almost absently, "the sadness is there... but... "

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur slowly raise his hand. The next second Willy could feel Arthur’s thumb on the back of his neck, gently stroking the area at his hairline.

"Maybe love is missing," Arthur whispered softly and Willy immediately began to tremble.

This couldn't be right! This wasn't right! What was Arthur doing? But instead of stopping, Arthur just kept stroking him, speaking to him in that soft, loving voice.

"Shh, it's okay, Willy.”

Nothing was okay! He wasn't okay, and apparently neither was Arthur!

Arthur’s hand was now stroking his cheek. Willy felt bad, really bad.

"I'm so sorry I jinxed yo too, now, with that chocolate,” he stuttered. “I swapped them by mistake. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry..."

Arthur took now both hands and hold Willy’s face, his look almost sternly but his voice still soft. "Stop, Willy, stop."

Willy bit his lower lip and tried not to say anything, just looked into Arthur's eyes that were so gently looking at him and made him feel things he had never felt before.

"My father died young, when I was still very small,” Arthur said. “My mother brought me up with her friend Maria. They were happy together, really happy. And I had the two most wonderful mothers one could wish for. My mother told me, ´If you someday realise you are like me, don’t tell anyone. But if you find the right one, show him your feelings. Don't let the chance pass.´”

Willy’s heart hammered while he tried to process these words.

“Every day we would stop at the window of your store for awhile." Arthur continued softly. "And while the children looked at the display in the window, I would secretly watch you. Your kind nature, your pure, shy smiles. It was only two days, Willy, but I missed you so much. And when I ate the chocolate, I felt you, Willy."

Willy’s mind got dizzy.

He really wanted to believe Arthur, really, but...

Arthur ran his fingers through Willy’s hair and it felt so good, but...

Arthur's lips approached his. He wanted to kiss them so badly, but...

Arthur smelled so good too, he wanted to put his nose in his hair but...

"Can I kiss you?" whispered Arthur softly.

"Okay," Willy replied in a daze, "but -"

But by then, Arthur had already placed his lips on Willy's and it was such a beautiful feeling that Willy's concerns all flew off in a whoosh. Something like this could not be wrong.

His whole body exploded with joy as he finally let all his feelings run free. He hungrily kissed Arthur back, he felt Arthur, Arthur was so beautiful, so lovable, he wanted to crawl into him, he felt so good with him, he was on the sweetest cloud ever.

And speaking of clouds, soon Willy pulled Arthur by the hand into the factory, pulled a few levers so that his cotton candy clouds floated down and pulled Arthur onto one. All his doubts were dissolved, he tugged at Arthur's clothes as much as Arthur tugged at his. He wanted to feel everything, kiss everything.

Only when Arthur crawled down to his lap and suddenly did things that no one had ever done for Willy before, Willy's excitement was mixed with a little nervousness. "You don't... You don't have to..." he gasped, while Arthur lay between his legs, ignored his words and continued, making Willy gasp even more. Willy tried again. "It doesn't taste like..." Oh my god, he didn't know what to do, it all felt so good, he was floating without floating chocolate, but..., but... "It doesn't taste like..." and then it shot out of him, he couldn't help it, "... icing!" he gasped desperately, but by then it had already happened and it was too late.

Before Willy could even think straight again, Arthur had crawled up to him and smiled lovingly at him. "I know. But if you love the person you get it from, believe me, it's as good."

Willy looked at Arthur completely mesmerized, still a little incredulous but deeply relieved.

"Ok, I might try that, too, then?" he said with a smirk, still out of breath, his curiosity slowly taking over.

But when he was about to lean down, Arthur stopped him and looked at him, slightly embarrassed. "Uhm, I’ve already… uhm, the cotton candy was so soft... then the sight of you... it all felt so good, you looked so beautiful. …” He sighed. “I'm afraid my icing might have landed already on your candy floss. I'm so sorry that I have stained it."

Willy chuckled. "Don’t worry. Have you tried the candy floss though? It tastes like cherry mint."

He plucked off a bit of the absorbent cotton and held it out to Arthur. But instead of taking it with his fingers, Arthur grabbed Willy's wrist and tasted the cotton candy right off his fingers, licking them clean.

It made Willy feel all kinds of feelings. It triggered every imaginable fantasy in him, he had a thousand ideas of all the things he wanted to try with Arthur and he was sure that one would be more beautiful than the other.

He cuddled up to Arthur.

"All of this is ... awesome!"

Arthur pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and Willy tasted the cherry mint. "Yes, it is, I agree."

"Will you stay with me?"

"As long as you want."

The days until Christmas flew by like a dream.

Willy added the missing ingredient of love to the Christmas chocolate and it turned out exactly as he had hoped. On Christmas Day, they distributed them to all the orphanages in the city and gave them to anyone else who wanted and needed them.

In the evening, they had a wonderful, big Christmas feast. Everyone was there, Noodle, Noodle's mother, Lofty, Albacus, Lottie, Piper, Larry, all with family and friends, and of course Arthur with his children.

They ate festively, laughed, sang and danced, it was a magically wonderful night.

When all the friends had happily and contentedly made their way home and Thea and Max were put to bed in their newly built beds of soft marshmallow, Willy and Arthur made themselves once more comfortable on the cotton candy clouds.

Arthur took Willy's hands in his and caressed them.

"I didn't think I'd have such a magical Christmas, I couldn't be happier. Thank you, Willy."

Willy's nose crinkled automatically at these words, he smiled happily, leaned over and kissed Arthur. He was surely the happiest man in the whole world.

"I couldn't be happier either."

If it weren't for the tingling sensation.

And all these endless possibilities of things that were running through Willy's head.

"But?"

"Huh?" Willy couldn't even concentrate on whether Arthur meant ‘but’ or ‘butt’, he was tingling so much.

"You look like there is a ‘but’ to your sentence."

"Nooo, there's not a `but´ to my sentence,” and added quietly more to himself, “at most a ‘butt’.”

Arthur looked at him questioningly.

“There are just so many things I'd like to try out with you,” Willy admitted a little embarrassed but added hopefully, “Would you be up for it?"

"Sure, always. What is it?"

"For example…” Willy took a deep breath, squinting his eyes. “I'd love to bathe in liquid chocolate with you, would you like that?"

He was more than relieved to see Arthur smiling at him curiously. "That sounds delicious. I would love to try that."

The way Arthur had answered, though, Willy knew Arthur didn't understand when Willy wanted to try it, that he didn't want to wait any longer, so he simply held out his hand and started singing softly,

"Come... with... me…”

And Arthur took his hand and let Willy guide him.

*** Merry Christmas ***

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