#CERTAINLY YOU’D KEEP CLEAN IF I BATHED YOU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

squishycheekanon · 2 months

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I have a request: how would the Techno react if Reader dies but appears a few months later alive but very injured?

Now this inspired me.

Warnings: 18+, angst, suicide mentioned, hints at nsfw, blood, alternate timeline where she was never pregnant; adding Athena and Apollo into this would have made me cry so no.

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Techno was distraught, it was against his nature to love and be loved and yet you taught him how. You were his everything and more. From the moment you shot him in those woods all that time ago, when the voices went quiet when your face came into his eyesight, everything changed for him.

He loved you more than life itself, so when Phil broke the news to him that you were dead, he lost it. Standing in the living room of the home you had shared together, rage burned through him, his shaking hands ripping, shoving, destroying. By the time he was done, Phil had witnessed something he thought he’d never see.

Techno was weeping, sobbing, screaming for you. A broken man wanting the only thing he couldn’t have. For months Techno barely ate, barely slept, contemplated suicide daily. How could he live without you? Why would he even want to? Without you there was no meaning to his life. It was like a huge hole had been punched through his chest.

The absence of you was everywhere he looked, the little touches you had slowly added to the house over the years. Your perfume, oils and lotions on the white vanity in the corner of the room. Techno remembers vividly, when you had talked about wanting one and he worked for weeks to build and paint one you’d love. He sat for hours carving intricate designs onto the legs and around the mirror just for you.

The wardrobe filled with your clothes, the beautiful materials you covered your body with, he was always envious of them, they got to touch you all the time. Dresses hanging there that hugged your figure perfectly, that made his heart beat faster.

The bathroom filled with your sweet bath oils and bath salts, countless times he had come home from fighting and you drawn him a bath and washed him clean. Countless times had he taken you apart in the sweet smelling waters and steamy room.

The bed was the hardest to deal with, it reeked of you. The mouthwatering smell he wanted nothing more than to roll around in, it was always present when he slept. It was a slight comfort to him, but always left him distraught. He thought about sleeping downstairs but had to remind himself that he had destroyed the couch.

More time passed, around six months now since Phil had told him about your death. He was a hollow shell of himself, he had lost a lot of weight and always had dark bags under his eyes. He was surprised he was still breathing.

“Techno!” Phil had screamed, a dreaded, fear filled, confusion dripping scream. Techno sighed, it took so much energy out of him to simply stand. Feet practically dragging along the floor, he shuffled to the front door sparing a longing look to his axe of peace. Whatever was on the other side of his door was dangerous if Phil’s scream was anything to go by, and he was happy to let whatever it was kill him.

Opening the door and stepping out onto the wood panels just before the stairs that led down to the snow, red cloak and gold crown nowhere in sight, The Blood God isn’t who stepped out to fight, but a broken man ready to die.

That all changed the second he saw you. You who had been dead for six months, you who he had mourned for six months, you who was bruised and covered in cuts with blood dripping from them. You who looked just as starved and exhausted as Techno did, in fact you looked worse.

“Sweetheart?” Techno’s voice cracked as he uttered the term of endearment he hadn’t spoken in so long.

“Tec.” Your voice was small and fragile, your hand reaching for him. The clothes you wore were torn and certainly not enough to keep you warm in the freezing cold snow you had trekked in to get home.

He ran to you, feet moving quicker than they ever had before all so he could take you in his arms and hold you close. “I’ve got you darlin’, I’ve got you, hold on to me.” He used all his strength to help you into the house, Phil running to your aid too.

You took in the state of your home and honestly it was alot better than what you had expected. Glancing at your husband, he avoided eye contact sheepishly, normally it would have made you smile. You don’t even think you know how to do that anymore.

“Let’s uh, get you upstairs.” Phil said awkwardly, helping Techno carry you up into your bedroom, and onto the bed. You sighed in pure relief that you body didn’t have to hold itself up anymore, that you weren’t on a nasty cold stone floor too but the soft, Techno smelling, mattress you had been dreaming of for six months.

You were so happy you cried. You cried ugly, hard, loud. Letting all your emotions out. Techno was there stroking your filthy, greasy hair and holding your dirty, sore hand. “Sweetheart?”

“I’m just so happy, I thought this day would never come. I had convinced myself that it wouldn’t. And yet here I am. Home.” You sobbed out the words, looking at your husband through your tears blurred eyes, just about making out the crooked smile on his gorgeous face.

He wanted to ask what had happened, wanted to know who had done this to you. But just seeing your relief to being in a bed, to being home, he knew you’d need time.

Phil went home after Techno had asked him to, they agreed not to tell anyone you were back until they figured out what had happened to you and by who.

Techno ran you a bath and took extra time and care into washing you off, he had to pull you out of the disgustingly mucky water and run you a new bath. This one you could soak in, allow yourself to relax, even when the clear water did dirty again, only a little this time though.

You saw the look in Techno’s eyes as he washed you and you knew, remembering the vow he made to you all those years ago; “I love you, it took me a while to say it I know. But I need to know you understand—“

“Understand?” You asked.

“How much I love you. I’d destroy empires for you. Pillage country’s for you. Kill for you.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “If anyone ever even thought about hurting you, they’d be dead before they could finish that thought.” He growled, deep from within his chest. The ruby of his eyes shining brighter the more he talked about it.

“I understand.” Of course you did. You knew from the moment you said ‘I do’ exactly what that meant.

“You’re going to kill him aren’t you?” It was a question you knew the answer to but you still felt compelled to ask nonetheless.

“Yes.”

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candycandy00 · 5 months

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Serve Me, Save Me - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 2

After Ryomen Sukuna inadvertently saves you while killing his enemies, you decide to devote yourself to him as a servant. But the trauma from the attack triggers panic when you find yourself in his bed.

Part 1 | Part 2

Smut. 18+. Oral sex. Masturbation. Slow burn. Softer Sukuna than I’ve written before but he’s still a monster. True form Sukuna. Rape and its aftermath feature prominently as a plot device but rape does NOT occur between Sukuna and Reader. Features PTSD, panic attacks, etc.

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts (I have no idea how many there will be), comment to let me know! You must have your age in your bio or intro post or just tell me you’re an adult in the comment! Likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs (especially with feedback in the tags) make me feel all warm and squishy! Seriously any feedback at all is so wonderful! Divider by @benkeibear!

Several days later, when Sukuna went into his bath, he found the same servant preparing the water and laying out fresh robes for him. The heat and the steam in the room had made her skin look dewy, her hair wet. The thin work robe she wore clung to her shape as she moved about the room.

When she noticed his presence, she bowed, touching her forehead to the floor. “Your bath is ready, my lord.”

He looked down at her as he untied the silk belt around his robe, but before removing the garment, he paused. “You’re the servant who refuses me,” he said. It was not a condemnation, but a statement of fact. If he insisted, she would let him do whatever he wanted. She was too obedient not to. But he didn’t have the patience to deal with whatever trauma that would cause.

She was otherwise a good servant, keeping the shrine spotlessly clean. Even Uraume had praised her, seeming delighted while reporting that she had organized their spices in a neat and efficient manner and always took care with the plates and utensils while washing them.

“Go and fetch another servant to attend me,” he said.

She slowly raised her head. “I can attend you, my lord, if you’ll allow it.”

“I don’t feel like hearing your screeching tonight. Will you go into hysterics again if you see my cocks?”

Her face reddened slightly. “I don’t mind seeing them, my lord.”

He sighed. “Alright then,” he told her, shrugging off his robe. She hurried to retrieve it from the floor, folding it in a quick and deft motion before placing it in a basket by the door. She didn’t stare at his naked form this time, but she certainly wasn’t avoiding it. Her eyes darted all along his body as he sat down on a stone stool and used the readied cloths and soaps to wash himself.

She didn’t hesitate to come closer, taking a soapy cloth in her hands and using it to scrub his back. He wondered where she’d learned how to wash a man’s back so well, being unmarried. She was using the perfect amount of pressure, moving at the exact speed that felt the most pleasing.

“You have practice at this,” he remarked.

“My family owned a bathhouse, my lord. I attended to the customers often,” she said.

She used past tense. Meaning her family had probably been slaughtered in the attack. Ah well, at least they’d left her with a useful skill. He could feel his muscles relaxing under her ministrations, any tension completely gone. She was very good at this, even knowing the right time to stop and move on to another task without being told.

She soaped up her hands and then used them to lather his hair. He found himself leaning back slightly, into her touch. He normally washed his own hair, but like with his back, she used skillful motions to make the experience as pleasurable as possible. When finished, she lifted a bucket of warm water as she said, “I’m rinsing now, Lord Sukuna.” Without waiting for his response, and with the practiced ease of someone who had done this countless times, she held the bucket over his head and tipped it forward, spilling the water over his form and washing away the soap.

He made a mental note to send for her every time he bathed in this village as she stepped around in front of him and offered a warm cloth to wipe his face. She watched him, her eyes flicking down between his thighs. She didn’t look upset or frightened. In fact, she appeared to like looking at his body.

She lingered in front of him, and when his eyes met hers, her skin looked slightly flushed. “May I… touch you, my lord?”

It was a surprising request, coming from her, but he wasn’t in the mood to tease her. “Do as you wish,” he said.

She gave a quick bow of thanks, and then got down on her knees, smoothing the fabric of her robe as she scooted in between his spread open legs. She lifted one hand to his upper cock and gripped it softly, her eyes fixed on the organ as it twitched and began to harden under her touch. She stroked it lightly, gently moving her hand up and down the length. His lower cock hardened almost immediately after, eager to be touched as well. She used her other hand to stroke it, using the same rhythm.

Her feathery touch felt nice, but it was a bit too soft for his taste. “Harder,” he told her, and she looked up at his face. With a hint of a blush on her cheeks, she nodded and took a firmer grip with both hands, moving them up and down at a faster pace. Eventually she paused and looked at his cocks for a moment before leaning forward and licking the upper one, coating it in her saliva. She then went back to stroking the now slick shaft with her hand while she took the lower cock into her mouth.

The servant’s warm, wet tongue circled the throbbing organ in her mouth, and with her thumb she mimicked the motion on the upper one. Sukuna watched her work, enjoying the way her pretty eyes darted up to his face occasionally, the way her full lips looked wrapped around him. He couldn’t remember the last time a single woman had pleasured both cocks so well at the same time.

Sukuna leaned his head back, closing his eyes and listening to the wet, slick sounds she was making, feeling her velvety mouth enveloping him, her silky hand stroking him. The lower cock came first, into her hot mouth, and she took in every drop, her throat working to swallow it all. Then, in the next instant, she quickly pressed her tongue to the upper one as it began to shoot out his seed, catching all but a few spurts that landed on her face.

Looking down at her, he thought she was exceptionally beautiful with his cum dripping from her chin. She slowly rose to her feet and gave a small bow, then motioned toward the waiting bath. “The water is at optimal temperature now, my lord, if you’d like to enjoy a soak.”

He stood and crossed over to the huge stone basin full of water. Several people could fit inside it at once, but unless someone snuck and used it while he was away, Sukuna was the only person who had ever been in it. He stepped over into the water and lowered himself into it. The water reached his stomach, and was perfectly warmed, with some sort of fragrance drifting into the air.

As he slid down a bit further into the water and relaxed, he looked at the servant. Across the room, she was wiping her face with a cloth. Her robe was so damp from the moisture in the room that it stuck to her body all over, hugging every curve. After watching her for a moment, he said, “Come join me in the water.”

She lifted her face and looked at him. Several different emotions seemed to flicker in her eyes. Panic, flattery, excitement. But she didn’t move from her spot.

He sighed. “I won’t touch you.”

Her face seemed to relax. “Thank you, lord Sukuna,” she said with a smile.

*******************

You opened your thin work robe and slipped it off your shoulders, folding it neatly and dropping it into the basket of used clothing by the door. Fully nude, you walked over to the bath and gingerly climbed into the hot, steaming water. It felt wonderful as you sank down, the water level hitting at just below your breasts. You could slide down further, but you had the feeling lord Sukuna wanted to look at them, so you remained sitting up straight, a few feet away from him.

“Did the men who attacked you not use your mouth?” he asked suddenly.

The question shocked you with its abrasiveness. “They did, my lord,” you replied, looking down at the water.

“And it didn’t bother you to suck my cocks?”

You could feel your face growing hotter. “It didn’t.”

“Hmm,” you heard his voice say. “Then what happened the other night in my bed?”

You glanced up at him. “I think it was being pinned down that triggered the memories of the attack, my lord.”

“I see,” he said, shifting slightly in the water to get more comfortable. “Still, it’s only sex. I don’t understand what’s so frightening about it.”

You’d heard sentiments like that before from other men. “It’s not just sex,” you told him, “it’s a violation. It’s having someone use your body for their pleasure, against your wishes. And in this village, it robs you of your future. I’m a used, broken woman now.”

His eyes had shifted to you again, and you worried that you’d said too much. “What a stupid custom,” he said, surprising you. “Being a virgin does absolutely nothing to increase a woman’s value. If anything, I find them less desirable.”

You blinked, gazing at him with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Of course. What does a virgin know of pleasing a man?”

He probably wasn’t saying it to make you feel better, but you were comforted nonetheless. If the god of your village thought you were still desirable, then maybe you weren’t damaged after all.

“Thank you for saying so, Lord Sukuna,” you said, dipping your head slightly in a subtle bow.

He stared at you for a moment, then spoke again. “There’s still one among the attackers of the village I’ve left alive. He’s been useful for extracting information. It would probably be easy to find the families of the men who raped you. I could have them executed or-“

“No, please!” you said, the water around you sloshing as you moved closer to him. When he looked at you curiously, you went on. “I’m glad those men are dead. I’m glad you killed them. But their families did nothing wrong, so I’d like to leave things as they are.”

He shrugged. “If you say so.”

The two of you sat quietly in the water for a while. He laid his head back, and after a few minutes you wondered if he’d fallen asleep. You watched his broad chest rise and fall with his breaths, the water droplets sliding down his neck. He really was glorious. You found yourself rubbing your thighs together under the water. Since the attack, the only times you’d felt aroused were when you with lord Sukuna.

Silently, careful to avoid disturbing his rest, you slipped your hand down between your legs, then gently rubbed your slick, heated flesh. You’d pleasured yourself occasionally before the attack, but never after. You just didn’t have the urge. Until now, sitting so close to lord Sukuna in the steamy water.

You pressed one finger inside, leaning your head back and closing your eyes, your breaths hitching in your throat.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Your eyes snapped open when you heard Sukuna’s silky voice. You looked over to see him wearing a grin. You hastily straightened up in the water. “I’m sorry, my lord, I was just-“

“Don’t stop because of me,” he told you, a look of delight in his red eyes. “Continue if you wish.”

“You’re not offended?” you asked.

He laughed. “Why would I be?”

“Then, I’ll continue, my lord.”

Under his crimson gaze, you began touching yourself again, sliding one finger back in, your thumb stroking your clit. Your back arched in the water as you moaned softly. You hadn’t felt this sort of pleasure in so long, and now it was overwhelming. Was it because lord Sukuna was so close, his incredible body almost touching yours?

You glanced up and met his hungry eyes as you came, your body quivering. You shivered in the water as you came down from the high of your orgasm. The way he was looking at you… it was like he wanted to devour you whole. Something about that thrilled you.

Later, after you both left the water and dressed in fresh clothes, lord Sukuna turned to you. “From now on, you’ll be my bathing attendant.”

You bowed your head. “It is an honor to serve you, my lord.”

After he left the room and you began cleaning up, you smiled to yourself. You finally felt like you had a purpose again. And maybe, you thought, you might be called to his bed again some time, and things would be different. Maybe you were beginning to heal.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #x reader #tw: rape

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maislovebot · 7 months

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I love everything you do

Bram Stoker x reader

Title is from training wheels by melanie martinez

Hello! I finally finished the Bram thing!! I actually finished it two days ago but I’ve been so busy with work and school I haven’t found time to proofread it till now:’)

Containing: S5 SPOILERS!!, afab reader, no pronouns, oral sex (afab receiving), riding, domestic fluff & smut, porn with plot, aftercare, premature ejaculation, bath sex, hand jobs, cum eating, clit stimulation, Bram wants to bite reader but can’t for obvious reasons, very brief groping, human/vamp relationship, post-vampirism arc

Bram officially had a body now. Everything with Dostoevsky and Ouchi had been solved, and there were many changes that Bram had to figure out how to deal with.

To start, Dostoevsky is now dead, and Gogol seems to be grieving with this fact. Ouchi is also dead, and now the nation is in a panic knowing that the war hero everyone looked up to was some sort of terrorist, even if all the people personally involved knew he meant well.

Including Bram Stoker.

Bram wasn’t entirely sure how to live now that Ouchi was dead, and he especially didn’t know how to live now that he had a full body again.

But this was certainly a good way to start.

“Alright, Bram. I know things are difficult, but do you really need me to explain this again? You don’t need that much shampoo.” You sighed, seeing Bram with at least seven pumps of shampoo in his hands.

“But if it keeps my hair clean, the more I use the longer it’ll be clean, no?” Bram deadpanned.

“That’s not how it works!” You ran your hands through Bram’s hair. You weren’t really annoyed with him, but you’d be lying if you said Bram’s lack of understanding wasn’t comedic.

“The one pump I told you to use works just fine.” You laughed at him lightheartedly.

Bram looked at your naked form up and down in confusion, your body slightly altered by the swishing of the water in the bath.

“But you used a different amount than I did.” Bram looked so genuinely confused, and it was honestly very cute.

“Yes, because our hair is different. Your hair is much more sensitive than mine because of how long it’s been without being washed properly. You need a different amount than I do.” You spoke to him gently, running your hands through his hair, much more successfully this time. When you met Bram for the first time, his hair was so matted it took hours to brush through. He was lucky he met you a few months ago. If he hadn’t, he’d probably still be living life without even washing his face.

“Once your hair is healthier I bet we can start using more shampoo, but for now this is all your hair can handle.” You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around him. Your naked form pressed up against his chest, and he let out a small whine, so you pulled away.

“Is everything alright?”

Bram nodded.

“Yes, it’s just..” Bram trailed off, and you soon realized what he meant once you looked down into the water at his crotch.

“Bram!” You jokingly flicked his arm. “You dog!”

Bram raised an eyebrow and looked away from you.

“It’s not like I can help it.. I haven’t had a body in so long it’s overly sensitive. My body isn’t used to it, I think.”

You smiled and looked at him right in the eyes.

“We’re gonna have to fix that soon. Not yet though. We still have to wash your hair.”

“Really? Why can’t you make an exception?”

You shook your head, and kissed Bram on the neck.

“You’re gonna love it once I clean you off. Trust me, it’ll make it more enjoyable.”

Bram sighed and nodded his head.

“Alright.”

You grabbed some of the shampoo left from his hands and let the rest trickle into the water, rubbing the shampoo into his hair, gently scratching his scalp. The shampoo that fell from his hands caused the bathwater to have small white bubbles scattered everywhere. Bram rested his head in the crook of your neck, getting your chin bubbly and wet. You slowly trailed it down to the tips of his hair that were recently trimmed, courtesy of you taking him to a hair stylist for the first time in who knows how long. His hair was still long, reaching far beyond his back, but the dead ends were gone. You took the shower head and turned the notch to make it spray a gentle stream of water and aimed it towards his head.

“Turn around and close your eyes,” you warned, “it stings your eyes.”

Bram nodded and turned, his back facing you. He tilted his head up to the ceiling and shut his eyes, the warm water running through his hair and down his back. His new skin was very soft, you couldn’t stop touching it. It felt brand new (although it technically was). The water ran down the front of his face, getting his eyelashes droopy with water droplets. He really looked ethereal. The shampoo was all washed out of his hair, so he turned around to face you and rested his face in the crook of your neck again.

“I’m gonna wash your body now. It’s unscented soap because I’m willing to bet your new skin is sensitive,” you kissed his shoulder, “ just letting you know.” You smiled into his newly washed hair.

“Are you going to use hair conditioner?” He asked.

“Not yet. I don’t think your hair can handle it yet.” You chuckled, grabbing a pastel loofah. You put the unscented soap on it, and ran it under water for a short amount of time, getting it all sudsy.

“Lift your arms!” You said, and he complied. He brought his arms up and washed along the undersides of them, trailing the loofah up and down, until both of his arms were covered with the soap. You slowly moved over to his chest and you began to rub it into his chest, covering his nipples and lower stomach, at least what wasn’t covered in bathwater. He whined a little at your touch and you chuckled.

“You’re awfully sensitive.”

“I haven’t been touched at all in hundreds of years,” Bram deadpanned, “I physically couldn’t have been touched.”

You gripped his chin with your sudsy hand and brought it to level with yourself.

“I love you, Bram.”

Bram let a small smile escape his lips, and he leaned down to kiss you. The kiss was gentle, pleading, and generous. He closed his eyes once his lips made contact with yours, as did you. You two stayed like that for a while until Bram moved his hand to rest on your hip, and you began to gently play with his hair. You pulled away to breathe, and Bram gripped your shoulders and pulled you back into the kiss.

You could hear Bram mumble a “no..” under his breath, seemingly saying no to you pulling away from him. You stuck it out for as long as you could before you laid your hands on his chest and pushed him away gently, the soap covering it now running down and collecting at the rim of the water.

“Sorry, Bram. I don’t have the literally inhuman stamina you do.”

“Ah,” Bram responded, recognizing your reasoning. “I forget that I can hold my breath longer than the average human.”

You caught your breath, and Bram grabbed the loofah that was floating in the water to bring it to your naked body, rubbing it along your shoulders, collarbones and your chest. You appreciated the intimacy. He cupped water in his hands and dropped it along your shoulders, watching the soap drip down your body and land in the water, almost sizzling away once it made contact. You began to reciprocate, washing off what hadn’t fallen down his body already.

Eventually, you had both washed each other's hair and bodies completely, although it took longer than normal as you both took breaks in between many of your actions to kiss and caress each other. There was only one thing left, and Bram knew exactly what it was.

“Ah— dear, it’s sensitive..”

Bram whined, your movements causing a pleasurable buzz to be sent to his brain. You were currently jerking Bram off, bringing water up every now and then to wash it off.

“Now, you see, Bram, you aren’t supposed to use soap down there. It could irritate it.

“Alright, understood.” Bram barely got out. You liked this side of him. He was strangely submissive. Obedient, if you will.

Bram was so sensitive, it didn’t take very long for him to come all over your hand with a loud moan and shaking thighs.

“Now, look at the mess you made..” you trailed off, bringing your hand to Bram’s lips.

“Clean it up, Bram.” You demanded.

His movements stuttered, but he reluctantly opened his mouth and grabbed your wrist. He licked your hands clean, tasting himself on his tongue, and you kissed him to taste him too.

“You taste sweet.”

Bram looked away from you, so you grabbed his wrist, and he turned to see what you were doing. You brought his hand down into the water.

“Why don’t you help me out, too?” You questioned.

Bram smirked, then moved his hand away.

“I think I have a better way of going about that.” Bram said as he dove his head down, his head now underwater. You knew he had more stamina than you, but you were still worrisome, so you lifted his head up by his chin.

“I love the idea of that, but shouldn’t we do that outside of the bath? You might drown.”

“I can hold my breath for up to eleven minutes. I learned when some village folk attempted to drown me in 1897.”

You bursted out laughing.

“What’s funny?” Bram questioned, looking up at you from his position of resting on his elbows below you.

“Nothing, it’s just—you went from being a menacing vampire who overruled society to..this.”

Bram smiled up at you, then moved his hand to play with your clit, and you whined, gripping the railing of the tub.

“Are you convinced?”

“Well..” You trailed off.

Bram looked at you, awaiting an answer. Not moving an inch lower.

“Fine, but you better do a good job if you wanna be done before you run out of air.”

Bram nodded, and dove his head back down, his hair floating to the top of the bath. If there was one thing Bram was good with, it’s his tongue. After all, it was about all he could use for a very, very long time. He knew just how to touch you, and you tried to ignore how much practice he must’ve had to have gotten this good.

Your sounds were muffled from his point of view, but he could faintly see your mouth open from where he was, the glare of the bathroom lights reflecting against the water making it difficult to see. He moved his tongue to lap up the precum gripping onto your heat despite the water washing most of it off. It appears your slick is more dense than water, as small amounts of it was staying in place. He teased along your outer lips, then your inner lips, before finally moving along your hole, feeling it clench around nothing. He moved his tongue up to give small kitten licks to your clit, relishing in the way your thighs tensed around his head. The touch he was giving you was gentle, but Bram was going feral from the way your thighs quickly clenched around his head, making him move his mouth around your clit to vigorously suck on it, and you bucked your hips into his mouth, gripping him to pull him closer to your heat, and he could faintly hear you moaning from above the water. He moved his hands up to circle your inner thighs, and moved his tongue down to your hole, tongue fucking you. The movements of his tongue were slow and calculated, as they always were. He gradually switched between sucking your clit and fucking you on his tongue, and whenever he switched he would move his hands to either finger you or rub circles on your thighs, depending on what he was doing.

The way you clenched your thighs around his head and pulled his hair made him bring a hand down to jerk himself off, desperate from the way your body language spoke to him. You finally came, and it only took him about four minutes.

He could faintly see your cum taint the water, so he moved his head up, breathing heavily as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“Hey, I thought you said you could hold your breath long enough..”

“I said I can, not that I should.” Bram kept breathing heavily.

“Bram..” you gently scratched his scalp to calm him down, and once he caught his breath again, he took the opportunity to kiss your collarbones and shoulders, refraining from biting you.

Oh, the things he would do if he was able to bite you without turning you into some mindless, bloodthirsty animal. He instead settled for grazing his teeth over your shoulders, but light enough for it to tickle more than anything, and definitely not drawing any blood. You whined at his movements, wrapping your legs around his hips, and he sat up, grabbing your hips so you’d go up with him, making you hover over him. He laid his back against the side of the tub, and you got the signal, so you jerked him off a few times before dipping yourself down slowly. This is the first time you two were doing anything past him giving you head, as at the time, that’s all he really could do.. and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. He’d had hundreds of years of experience, and you wondered how you could compare. But if anything, Bram was twice as nervous. He hadn’t had sex in so long he could guarantee he was extremely rusty, and sensitive. He knew he wouldn’t last long.

Regardless, you continued lowering yourself down until you were linked by the hilt, and you felt full. But you also felt so happy to be linked with him. You let out small whines, his size getting to you. Once you two get more practice with one another, you could figure out how much foreplay you’d need to not be in pain, but for now, the sting is tolerable.

“It’s shockingly clean.” you remarked, laughing.

“Well, it is brand new..” he replied, and you bursted out laughing, and Bram looked at you funny before chuckling along with you.

“I swear, you say the funniest things sometimes. But I am curious,” you looked down at where you two were linked, “does it look the same as it did before? Or is it like a new and improved situation?”

“I believe it looks the same, but I don’t remember exactly what it looked like.”

“Damn, I guess you were just born lucky.”

Bram lifted an eyebrow,

“What do you mean?”

You leaned down to kiss him, before lifting your hips up slowly.

“It’s very pretty. Just like you.”

Bram always melted at your praise, and you knew this. His grip on you tightened, before he pushed you down onto his length all the way again, and you let out a loud moan.

“O-oh, God, Bram—”

He kept his grip on your hips, pulling you up and down, before thrusting his hips to meet you halfway.

You slowly gained more control over your actions again, he was still pulling you up and down, but you wrapped your thighs around him tighter, going along with the actions, moving yourself up and down with him. He moved his face forward to kiss and lick your nipples, and you cried out. He used his dominant hand to help you keep your balance, and used his other hand to toy with your clit, and the overstimulation really got to you, making you almost cry a few times. Bram on the other hand, was actually crying. He was so overwhelmed, in the best way possible. He hadn’t felt this sort of touch in so long, and here you are, being his saving grace. It also simply felt very, very good. He could feel that he was close, and he sped up his actions inside of you, before cumming inside of you. His hips slowed, and he felt overstimulated, but he simply couldn’t leave you unsatisfied, so he took a deep breath and kept going at it. The overstimulating feeling made him cry out, his mouth no longer connected to your chest.

In total, he had managed to come two more times before you finally did. As he predicted, he wouldn’t last long. His cock had turned an angry shade of red of the overstimulation, but he didn’t care. He simply needed you to come. And once he finally did, he moved his hands away to grip the sides of the tub, breathing heavily. You two sat there for a short amount of time, before you lifted yourself off, mostly his, and a little of your cum dripped out of you and into the water and onto his stomach.

Your thighs gently shook, and before you could move any further, he gripped your shoulders and pulled you down to kiss him, and he moved his hand down to toy with your clit.

“I need.. I need you to come at least one more time.”

You wordlessly connected your lips to his, diving your tongue inside of his mouth, licking along his bottom lip every now and then. You gripped his arm tightly whenever he rubbed your clit in a particular way that made you go crazy, before he moved his fingers to tease your entrance, kissing you desperately. He placed two fingers inside of you, curling them and dragging along your walls, still playing with your clit with his thumb. You had come twice only a few minutes earlier, so it didn’t take you long to come with a silent scream. You grabbed his wrist, pulling it up so he couldn’t touch you anymore, the overstimulation getting to you. You wordlessly licked his fingers clean, and he watched you, the sight making him hard yet again. Once his fingers were clean, you intertwined your fingers with his, licking along his neck desperately, then kissing him again.

Needless to say, you two went at it even longer, and once you two were done you were both shaking and trembling in each other's hold, your breathing heavy.

“I love you, B-Bram—” you slurred your words, but Bram got the idea. You loved the way he tightly gripped your arms. By this point, his cock was a bright shade of red, desperate for him to give it a break, his body relieved to get what it needed. Your bodies were sweaty, in need of being washed all over again, so you simply turned around and dove under the water, letting the soapy water coat your entire body, washing off your sweat. You turned back around to kiss Bram, but he held you in place with your back facing him, and he kissed your shoulders, resisting the urge to nibble on your skin. You leaned back, allowing yourself to rest on Bram’s chest. His heart wasn’t beating. As it never was, but yours was, and rapidly at that.

Bram always found comfort in your heartbeat. Something about feeling or hearing it calmed him down, it’s similar to the way that ever since he’s gotten his body, he’s been resting his finger under your nose so he could see if you were still breathing. He did this any time you slept. His hands often gently touched your upper lips, waking you up, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you found it cute.

Bram rested his hand on your chest, partially just to grope you but also so he could feel your heartbeat against his hand.

You two simply sat there like that for some time, relishing in each other's presence. You had washed Bram off again, and he was petting your washed hair. Over time, you two began to talk to each other again, and the conversation managed to get to Bram talking about his past stories from his prime when he was a vampire who overpowered everyone, even royalty.

“I’ve met many people in the history books, and in my personal opinion, not many of them have as remarkable of a personality as the books make them out to be.” Bram commented, and you smirked, turning towards him.

“Do you know how long you’ll be alive for?”

Bram went silent. He tried to forget it, but he was commonly reminded of how in a short amount of time, he’d be gone again. You’d be long gone by the time Bram finally met his end.

“Bram?” You waved in front of his face.

“Apologies. Because my ability is genetic, I noticed that most of my family lives for about 300 years. I’ve been alive for 190 of it.”

“Really?” You looked bittersweet, but you quickly pushed the sad feelings back.

“Our relationship is anything but conventional, but I think we can make it work.”

Bram raised an eyebrow at you, tightening his grip around your waist.

“Well, we won’t have much time together, but we can enjoy what we will have.”

Bram sat silently, taking in your words.

“That’s a nice sentiment, but I doubt I could bring myself to live without you for that long. I’d go mental.”

You began to toy with Bram’s hair, before you turned around and kissed him deeply, the kiss was meaningful and loving, and Bram shamelessly gripped the back of your hair to keep you in place, before you pulled away.

You two were silent for some time again, but then Bram had an idea.

“Wait..wasn’t that Dostoevsky man after the page of that book?”

You nodded.

“Now the Armed Detective Agency has it. If they have any space left on that page, perhaps we could negotiate for them to write down that I’ll become human.”

You jolted up, and looked at Bram.

“Would that really work?”

“Most likely.”

You hugged Bram tightly, resting your face on his chest.

“If we did that..” Bram trailed off. He was embarrassed to say it, but he simply had to tell you his plans for if this worked out.

“If we did that, me, you, and Aya could all be like a family. A normal family.”

Your heart melted at his words. Despite everything, all he really wants is to be like a father to Aya, and a husband to you. You kissed his chest, before pulling away and wordlessly draining the bath, Bram looking at you confused.

“We might as well try to convince them now! No point in waiting.”

You stepped out of the bath and wrapped a towel around your body, Bram soon following and doing the same.

“You’re rather motivated.” Bram remarked.

You smiled and looked at Bram, his new body completely devoid of the many scars you were sure he had before his body was detached, because he had completely regenerated.

You sat down in your kitchen and wrote down your plans on how to convince the Armed Detective Agency, and Bram nodded and made remarks or criticisms every now and then, brainstorming your plan to perfection. Bram was so in love with you, even the way your hand drifted across the paper with the pencil so effortlessly. Even your handwriting was captivating.

He wasn’t sure if these plans were going to work out, but he was determined to figure something out.

He would figure something out.

He simply had to.

Wc - 3.9k

Hope you enjoyed:)

#bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd smut #bsd #bram stoker x reader #bram stoker bsd #bram stoker x reader bsd #bram stoker

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captain039 · 7 months

Text

PART 8

The lords servant

Astarion x reader

Warnings: plus size reader, light swearing, vampire things, sexual, first times, smut, harassment, sexual harassment, angst, slowburnn, oral f receiving

Previous part <-

Smut!

Morn came and you felt rather woozy, you didn’t want to get up and be awake. You certainly wouldn’t go out again that’s for sure, not after that Bastard. You had to get up though, lying here wouldn’t do any good. You dressed and age before cleaning your room despite it not needing to be cleaned, you needed to do something to keep your mind entertained. The day went by slowly you stayed in your room mostly, by dinner you were ready for bed till you were summoned. Daenan had stopped you in the hall as you were heading back to your room saying the lord needed to see you, you agreed heading there with nerves in your stomach. You knocked listening to the ‘come in’ he said and opened the door. You headed inside keeping your head down and closing the door again.

“You wished to-“ before you could finish you felt lips on yours, desperate. You made a confused noise before your body gave in and you closed your eyes. Your lord pressed you against the door, hands going to your sides, gripping your hips.

“My lord-“ you said brokenly between the kiss, but he didn’t listen.

“Astarion” you said quietly and he stopped, it’d been the first time you said his name alone. He sagged against you head on your shoulder and you felt your heart break, you gently ran your fingers through his hair and rubbed his back, he smelt like wine, could vampires get drunk? You glanced to the table, three empty bottles, well that explains it.

“What’s the matter?” You asked softly feeling his body tremble slightly.

“Has something happened?” You added but got no answer, you hoped there was no real danger involved, he just needed a comforting touch. He smelt though, awfully strange for him, had he not bathed last night? He smelt like wine and dead rats? Gods what was that.

“My lord I think you should have a bath, it’ll sooth your body” you suggested, but he didn’t move from your shoulder.

“Astarion” you whispered gently lifting his head, his eyes looked dull and hallowed, his cheeks lost their light redness they had. You cupped his face and stroked his cheek with a soft sigh. You pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Come on” you said softly as he followed you to his bathroom. You started the bath opening his cabinet finding many oils and soaps, you faltered over then, reading the different smells for going with something earthy. You poured some in the bath watching it cloud and bubble lightly. You had sat Astarion on the seat in his bathroom, he looked like a kicked puppy, it broke your heart.

“You’ll need to undress” you said as he just looked at the bath. You sighed softly going closer, hands hesitating at his buttons. You undid his shirt and slid off seeing the lean muscles he had, you suppose for two hundreds years you’d need to be fit, living in the shadows.

“Astarion” you said and he finally looked to you some cloud leaving them.

“Hm?” He said as you nodded to his pants.

“Oh” he muttered standing up and unbuttoning them. You turned around to give him privacy as you turned off the water. You waited a bit before you heard him enter the bath and turned around again. You smiled softly, nodding your head before going back to the cabinet. You grabbed a small container and a hair oil before kneeling by the bath, you froze slightly seeing scars jaggered into his back, something done on purpose.

“I can wash my hair” he defended and you flinched slightly at his tone.

“My lord- just, let me” you said as he scolded but nodded, what was going on with him. You filled the container with water before gently touching his head.

“Lean back” you said and he did. You wet his hair before ringing it out slightly making sure nothing went in his face before getting him to sit up again. You put some oil on your hands before rubbing them together then to his hair. You gently massaged it into his scalp seeing his eyes flutter close and a soft satisfied moan leaving his mouth. You smiled briefly making sure you lathered his hair before washing your hands off and picking up the container.

“Lean back again” you said and he did. You washed his hair out making sure no suds remained, the oil made his hair extra soft, how he liked it you assumed. You let him sit up and grabbed a sponge next dampening it in the water before going to wash his arms. He frowned at you and you hesitated slightly before washing his arms and around his shoulders, before going to his chest. He truely had a beautiful form, it matched his face perfectly, you shook those thoughts from your head though as you ran the sponge over his upper chest. You felt his eyes on you the whole time and you felt your body go hot. You sat back on your heels embarrassed before a wet hand cupped your cheek. Your eyes snapped to his giving him a small smile. He didn’t return it though, just looked over your face, going over every detail of it before he pulled you close and kissed you. It wasn’t as desperate as last time, it was slow and warm. You hummed clenching the sponge against the edge of the bath where your hands lay, water spilling over the edge. You didn’t care though feeling your pants get wet, you just leaned into him more.

“I want you” he muttered against your lips and your body tensed as you pulled back.

“You have me” you said quietly as you stood, put the sponge down and grabbed his towel. He stood as well, the water moving with him, you kept your eyes away as he took the towel and dried himself. You drained the bath going to put the oils away till a hand tugged you.

“Cleaning can wait” he said and you stuttered going to say it will only take a second, but let him pull you to him. He had discarded his towel on the floor as he tugged you close, your hands resting on his chest so you didn’t trip. You kept your eyes on his upper chest, feeling your body grow warm, you saw two puncture holes like the ones in your wrist, only more prominent. You looked to him again and he took the chance to kiss you. His hands held your waist as you closed your eyes again. You felt a very faint heart beat in his chest making you frown slightly.

“I still have a heart” he whispered and you froze.

“I didn’t mean-“ you stuttered and he smiled kissing you again.

“I’m not a full vampire” he explained and you frowned.

“Merely a vampire spawn” he added a small sneer on his face.

“I don’t know what that means” you muttered a little embarrassed as his smile returned.

“I have a vampire master, the one who made me, turned me into this” he made a disgusted face.

“You didn’t choose?” You asked and he scoffed.

“Who would choose this?” He said sternly and you winced.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know” you said ashamed and looked away.

“No, I’m sorry, again” he sighed his forehead pressing against yours.

“I was beaten up on the street, left for dead when I was offered a new life for eternity, my master took all my blood that I had left, killed me and turned me, when I woke up I had to claw my way through six feet of dirt” your heart shattered at his words as you felt tears in your eyes.

“I somehow escaped him and his claws, I found home here in Baldurs gate, made a name for myself, made lots of gold” he scoffed lightly lifting his head from yours. You were crying, you hadn’t meant to, it made him frown.

“Why’re you crying?” He asked as you sniffled and wiped your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I, it’s horrible what you went through, I’m sorry I press so much about it, I didn’t realise how much you went through” you said trying to stop your tears as he looked surprised.

“Sweet thing” he muttered as you scoffed lightly wiping your eyes again.

“I complain about my past” you huffed at yourself.

“Just because it’s different doesn’t mean it wasn’t worse” he said and you looked to him.

“As much as I enjoy talking, I meant what I said” he said eyes darkening.

“I want you” he murmured, heat going straight through your body.

“You have me” you said a little nervous.

“Not yet” he whispered pressing his lips to yours more desperately this time. You gave in, pressing yourself against him, hands on his chest again. His hands trailed to the hem of your shirt, tugging gently before he pulled back. You hesitated before lifting your arms up, he lifted your shirt up and over your head before dropping it in the floor. You instantly went to hide your stomach, at least your bra covered your top. He kissed you again, his hands holding your wrists gently and pulling them away from your body. He made you put your hands back on his chest while his untied your bra, you pulled back from the kiss again feeling nerves get a hold of you.

“You’re breathtaking in every way” he whispered pressing his lips to your neck making you sigh and tilt your head. He slipped off your bra while he kept kissing your neck. His hands rested on your sides before they slid up, you tensed a bit, but his hands just went back down to holding your hips, pulling them against his. You didn’t realise he’d gotten aroused in that time, you felt him hard between your body’s and your cheeks went hot. You were unsure as to what to do with your hands, never having touched a person before like this.

“You can touch, explore, I won’t bite unless asked” he teased nibbling your ear gently making you let out a surprised sound. He grinned against your neck continuing to kiss it. You moved your hands across his chest, around his shoulders and up his neck. He hummed against your own neck as you continued feeling him. He was smooth, only hair was on his head, still damp from the bath, he looked funny without it all curled and fluffed up, it made you giggle softly.

“What?” He asked pulling back with a smirk.

“Your hair” you smiled and he pouted.

“What about it?” He huffed and you laughed softly.

“Nothing” you shook your head grinning while he huffed.

“Cheeky pup” he muttered and kissed you again making you moan suddenly. His hands went to your pants, unbuttoning the front slowly. You expected him to shimmy them down, but you felt his hand go under your under wear and downward. Your body tensed before you whined against his lips as he dragged a finger through your folds. He growled then, feeling you, you grew embarrassed instantly.

“I can’t wait to taste you” he whispered breathlessly and you frowned slightly not understanding, before it clicked, he wanted-? On you-? Gods. His finger continued slow strokes making you jolt slightly when he ran his finger over your clit after every pass. You huffed gently against his lips feeling like your clothes were suffocating you.

“Impatient?” He grinned pulling back and you flushed looking away as his hand left your pants and gripped their hem.

“Cute” he said as he tugged down your pants and underwear before you shimmed and stepped out of them. He looked at you, eyes trailing down your body, you wanted to cover yourself quickly, but he was quick to tug you against him and kiss you quickly. You gasped softly finally feeling his cool frame against your whole body. He lead you over to the bed pulling back from the kiss and smirking. You gazed at him as he gently gave your shoulders a gentle push. You landed on the bed with a soft Oof, before you shuffled back slightly and he crawled over you. His lips met yours and his hips ground down into your body, you moaned softly against his lips, hands holding his biceps. The kiss was short as he kissed down your neck and upper chest before shuffling down the bed. He kissed your thigh next eyes on you intently before he pushed your knees open. You looked away embarrassed and put an arm over your eyes as you held your breath. The gasp that left you was quick and loud as a tongue went through your folds. You moaned biting the inside of your cheek as he began to eat you out. Your legs jolted every time he hit a sensitive spot which was everywhere. He hooked your legs over his shoulders and held you still making you whine. You began to pant as he continued, low groans leaving his mouth every once in a while. You gripped the sheets under you, back arching before he stopped. The whine that left you made you feel pathetic, your arm moving away from your eyes so you could see him as he panted and smirked. He licked his lips before wiping his mouth and crawled back up your body.

“Delicious” he muttered kissing you roughly. You moaned tasting yourself on his tongue, the feeling strange. His hips moved against yours gently before his hand went between your body’s again. Your mouth opened with a gasp as his finger pressed against your entrance and slowly slid it, his tongue going to tangle with yours as he did. The feeling was odd, but not unpleasant, different when someone else did it. He slowly moved his finger in and out your hips slowly moving to meet his movements. He smiled against your lips as he added a second finger. You felt the stretch this time, brow furrowing slightly at the intrusion.

“Relax” he whispered against your lips as he kissed down your jaw and to your neck again. You did the best you could to relax as he slowly moved his fingers and spread them. You moaned quietly as his thumb pressed against your clit and moved slowly. He set a pace, enough for you to feel the coil in your stomach. You were moaning quietly with every breath, unable to get words out as he sucked along your neck. You gripped his arm feeling him grin against you before he lifted his head and removed his fingers.

“Are you ready?” He asked your eyes fluttering open and your head nodding.

“I need you to relax” he said pressing soft kisses on your face. You nodded letting your legs relax and your body. You glanced down seeing him giving himself a few slow pumps making you flush before he lined himself up. You held his arm nervously, fingers clenching. He moved his arm though and you frowned as he moved to hold your hand is his. You looked to him, giving him a small nod as he pressed against you. You clenched his hand tightly as he slid in. You whimpered at the stretch while he moaned above you. You felt tears sting your eyes as they rolled down your face, your lord quickly kissing them away.

“Breathe” he said and you realised you were holding your breath. You panted softly as the sting died down a little as you finally relaxed.

“Good pup” he whispered making you flush. He allowed you to adjust before you nodded with a small hum. His hips slowly moved back then forward, you closed your eyes trying to relax your body so it didn’t sting as much.

“It gets better I promise” he whispered, kissing your cheek and you trusted him with a nod. You kept a hold of his hand as he set a slow pace, the sting leaving and small pleasure replacing it. Your face wasn’t scrunched up anymore as he sped up and your breathing quickened.

“So good” he said breathlessly as you moaned softly. Your hips met his without you realising, the feeling making your stomach coil again, you needed something more though. You didn’t know what though, to afraid to ask.

“What’s wrong little pup?” He asked slowing down slightly.

“More” you whispered opening your eyes and he grinned.

“Of course” he said hips moving rather harshly into yours. You moaned eyes rolling into your head again as he quickened his pace. You felt his hand between your body’s again and moaned loudly as his fingers went to your clit. this is what you needed. Your back arched and you clenched his hand and the sheet as he began to rub quicker. You moaned out his name brokenly, hearing him groan softly in response as your stomach tightened. You felt your breath hitch and your back arch as you came. Your body shook with a broken moan as he rode out your high. His hips began to stutter as he mouthed around your neck.

“You can bite me” you whispered and his hips snapped into yours. He growled against your neck hips stuttering more as he bit down and came. You cried softly feeling the shards of ice going through your neck before it numbly throbbed. His hips still moved slowly as he began to feed. He held you tightly, greedily drinking you before you gave a weak moan. He pulled back panting harshly as he slipped free. He licked the wound muttering small praises as your head spun slightly. You were in a daze as he panted above you stood. You frowned making a small whine of complain and he chuckled dampening a cloth and coming back. He cleaned you up, from the blood on your neck to the come dripping from your entrance. You shuddered when he cleaned you, your body over sensitive before he cleaned himself and threw the cloth away.

“Stay?” You said thinking he wouldn’t as he stopped by his desk briefly as you admired his body.

“I’m not going anywhere sweet thing” he said turning and walking back to you.

Next part ->

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#astarion x reader #lord x servant #astarion #vampires #bg3 #plus size reader

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kindasleepywriter · 5 months

Text

Bird of Prey - Chapter 5: Smoke and Fire

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: A russet eyed friend welcomes you back. Heat overwhelms you and Azriel.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: Some smut. Mentions/flashbacks of past abuse. Slight fluff followed by a LOT of angst.

Word count: 2.7k.

Previous | Next

The bed was uncomfortable, too soft. Everything, in fact, felt too accommodating. You’ve been living in forest and mountain hideouts for decades now. Taking a hot bath felt wrong and wearing freshly washed clothes even more so.

In the wild, there is no such thing as clean. You can get close to it, certainly, but there was always a bit of grime that lingered in the handwashed cloth or the length of your hair. It didn’t bother you, as the absence of plumbing in the forests also meant a lack of people that would try and hurt you.

If you were being honest, the so-called normalcy of your new forced habits made you panic. You felt too exposed, too vulnerable. When you look like you’re not a part of common society, most people who were curious about the presence of a fae of your kind in other courts were too offput by your clear distance from common society. Too feral, too wild. But out there you were protected, you were safe, and you didn’t have to live your life waiting for another person to inevitably try to use you for their own gain.

You’d filled the tub with the coldest water the house could provide you with that morning.

You hadn’t missed your new markings, either. This was the first real bargain you’d ever made, having naturally made petty bets like all the other kids on childish games. This one, however, you would have to keep more than a few minutes.

You knew they went up to the base of your scull, but you hadn’t realized how far down your backs they reached. It looked like a long wisp of smoke, starting along your spine just above your rear, and trailed up until it disappeared in your hairline. You quite liked the design, honestly. You had seen some godawful ones in some very visible places, so you thanked the mother for the simple spine design. The way it trailed in between your wings, partially buried beneath soft feathers, made you quite content. You felt quite vain thinking it, but you thought it looked beautiful on you.

Azriel hadn’t visited you once for the first two days since the beginning of your stay. In fact, you hadn’t seen anyone but Cassian and Nesta, who alternated the role of babysitter with a great deal of annoyance. You got along relatively well with Cassian, if training together in silence could be considered as such. Nesta hadn’t exactly warmed up to you, but she’d stopped sneering at you every time she replaced Cassian. No conversations were had during those 48 hours, the house only resonating a tense silence except for when Cassian and Nesta spoke during dinner.

On the third day, however, the atmosphere completely changed. You were walking out of the sitting room towards the training grounds with Cassian, ready to beat your body into submission again, and as you traversed the main hall of the House of Wind, beating wings were heard, growing increasingly louder. The noise was followed by a voice calling out:

“Hey, Feathers, look over here!”

You turned around to the familiar voice, unable to resist grinning at the newcomer – Lucien. You couldn’t believe it. It must’ve been at least 300 years since you had last saw him. The second he landed and jumped out from the arms of the Illyrian who had carried him, Azriel, he started running towards you at full speed. You braced for impact as he collided with you, sending you both tumbling to the ground, holding on tightly to each other. You both sat up, still in an embrace.

“God, you don’t know how much I missed you, I thought you were dead!”, he exclaimed, his face solidly buried in your hair.

You let out a laugh. “Come on Kit, did you really think I’d go through all that we did just to die on you? Be realistic, please.”

He separated from you holding your face in his hands, pushing his forehead to yours.

“From the ashes and smoke-”, he began.

“-rises the fiercest fire.”, you finished softly. “I remember, Kit.”

“I thought you were gone, Feathers.”, he said, his voice shaking. “No one had seen you, even Amarantha couldn’t find you, I thought it was over.”

“I followed our deal, I always made sure someone could inform you if a mission went wrong. I’d never leave you in the dark like that, Lucien.”

You both finally separated, standing again, still holding on to each other’s forearms. You looked him over, shocked to see how different he looked.

“Gods, what happened to your eye?”, you exclaimed as you cradled the left side of his face and softly ran a finger along his scar, “What Puca did you piss off this time?”

“Ha! well, not-so-funny story-”

A loud Ah-um reminded you both that you were in the presence of other people. Cassian looked at you both incredulously, while Azriel’s were narrowed and fixed on Lucien.

“When you said you knew her, you didn’t mention you two had… history.”, the Shadowsinger declared.

You and Lucien burst into laughter again.

“Wait you think that he- that we-”, you let out, wiping at your eyes as tears leaked out of them, unable to complete the sentence as you fell victim to another fit of laughter.

Lucien looked torn between amusement at your reaction and panic “Oh gods no, never- don’t try to imply that to Elain, I swear to you I’ve never touched her that way in my entire life!”, he rather suddenly exclaimed.

You, finally calming down and only chuckling, let out: “I can’t believe you would keep our eternal love a secret, Lucien, I wouldn’t have told my father to prepare for a proposmmm-”

Lucien had clasped a hand over your mouth, clearly not happy with your sarcasm, worry in his eyes.

“You’re not helping, Feathers.”

Oh. You’d forgotten one crucial piece of information in the shock of seeing him: he was mated and, if the rumors were true, it was to the third Archeron sister, the one you hadn’t met yet. Elain, apparently. You brought up two hands in a peace gesture, and he let you go with a friendly shove. “Sorry, Sorry, should’ve read the room. You do have to tell me about her Luc, I’ve only-”

“While this reunion is clearly the height of fun for you both, Lucien came here for a reason, he’s the one who’s supposed to watch over you for the next few days, although I’m now heavily doubting that decision.”, Azriel interrupted. You scowled.

“Ah come on Az, let them have their little reunion, they clearly haven’t seen each other in years”, Cassian said, “She hasn’t done anything troublesome since she’s been here, and I think she talked more in the last five 5 minutes than she has in the last three days. How about you cut her some slack. Oh, also, being able to go to the loo alone would also be an appreciated gesture. It gets awkward fast when you listen to each other pee.”

Azriel didn’t look pleased. “Fine. As long as she stays in this house.”, he gritted out.

He glanced at the others before marching himself over to you, taking your wrist and almost dragging you to another hallway. You looked over your shoulder at Lucien, hoping he might try and stay something, but he was only watching with amusement. Traitor.

The Shadowsinger led you into a room at the end of the corridor, pushing the door closed and turning you around, trapping you between his body and the door, his hands resting on the wood on both sides of your shoulder. He wasn’t much taller than you, your Peregryn genes made sure of that, but he had his wings flared wide behind him. Consequently, the only thing you could see was him and his shadows. Not that they were very intimidating, mind you, only curiously climbing up your arms and settling on your shoulders. They were cold but almost… comforting. They reminded you of the winds of the Illyrian mountains when winter was just settling in.

You battled the urge to also spread your wings and physically push him back, but you took every ounce of patience you had to keep yourself calm. He couldn’t hurt you; he was just trying to look more intimidating. You could handle that. He looked furious.

“What the hell was that back there with Lucien, huh?”, he growled, “Involving yourself with a mated male?”

“By the mother, you really think we were together, don’t you?”

“Well, you two were certainly acting like it, Feathers.”

You gritted your teeth. Yes, you and Lucien had nicknames for each other, but it wasn’t like that.

“We’ve never laid together, we never will, and I’m not lying!.”

“You better not be. He’s already lived too much pain for the sake of his bond, and I will NOT have you destroy all the effort he and Elain have put in to reach where they are now.”

Pain, for his mating bond? You’d have to ask Lucien about it later, but Azriel sounded so angry about the past events that you doubted you’d get full answers- relationship troubles had never been your forte, not really a model of the healthiest relationship back then, and Lucien had never felt the need to come to you for those types of things. Some things were too personal, even between you two.

“Look, we were barely out of our teenage years when we met! I was in an unfamiliar court for a man that didn’t give me the time of day despite our engagement. I was harassed constantly by all the other Vansera brothers, just like Lucien. We were scared and we were alone.”

Your voice cracked, and you took a breath, trying to steady it. You were shivering with anger, despite the shadows around you attempting to soothe you, caressing your neck. You wouldn’t have anyone try to twist your relationship with Lucien, he was the only real family you had left. Time hadn’t changed that, and neither would empty threats.

“We protected each other until the end. We were going to make it out of there alive no matter what it took, and we did. He’s the only reason why I made it out. So, before you start throwing accusations of situations you have absolutely no idea about, learn to trust your fucking friends. Doesn’t he deserve that, at the very least?”

The both of you were breathing hard, both absolutely on edge. You had no idea what was happening to you, you felt like your insides were catching on fire. You hadn’t let yourself feel in years, and this… rage, within you, it suffocated you, it was too. much.

Your faces were only inches from each other, staring into each other’s eyes. His were hazel. You hadn’t noticed that before.

You had no idea who lunged first, but suddenly were brushing against Azriel’s torso as your lips collided. His hands dropped from the door to your hips, pressing you fully against his chest as one of yours reached for the base of his neck and the other his hair, tugging him closer. If you’d felt like fire before, now you were consumed by the sun itself. Every inch of you was burning from his touch, too much and not enough all at once. His lips moved against yours in a relentless battle, neither letting the other take control. His shadows covered the both of you. You could feel them trailing along your skin, the only source of relief from the heat burning through you.

His hands gripped your backside harshly when you thrust your hips up into him, and you let out a soft moan of pleasure at the contact. He didn’t waste a second, using the opportunity to thrust his tongue into your mouth, sliding against yours as he let out a groan. Something in the back of your mind was trying to get you to stop this, to escape, but you ignored every warning.

Your scents had sharpened, arousal flooding the both of you, mist and cedar overtaking your senses. He tugged at your thighs and you immediately obeyed, jumping to secure your legs around his waist. He crossed the room and deposited you on a wooden surface- a desk? A table? It didn’t really matter. He fit himself between your legs as your lips continued their furious movement, only halting to breathe before you started again, while you slid your hand down his front, feeling every inch of muscle that wasn’t covered by his thick Illyrian leathers. You could feel him against your core, the visible proof of his arousal providing you with only the slightest friction.

His right hand trailed down to your hip and then down between your legs. His thumb pressed ever so softly on your bundle of nerves through your thin pants and panties, and just that had you letting out a low cry against his mouth. He softly shushed you, his teeth nipping your bottom lip.

He reached for your back again, and you arched as you waited for him to pull you closer, but instead you felt his fingers softly brush the back of your wings, treading lightly over the sensitive spot where white feathers connected with delicate skin, making you shudder.

Instantly afterwords, it felt like a cold shower had rained down on you. His hand had trailed up almost exactly to the area where an Illyrian could be clipped- the most vulnerable part of their wing. A Peregryn’s anatomy wasn’t quite the same but whether he knew it or not, the message was the same: he had you completely at his mercy. Gone was the pleasurable consuming heat, replaced by white-hot panic. What was happening to you, letting him touch you, your wings? He was part of the Inner Circle, he contributed willingly to the suffering of thousands of women in this Court, and now he was willing to use those same wings as a sexual tool. Absolutely. Not.

You swiftly pushed him off and jumped down what you could now see was a desk, breathing erratically. Your wings reflexively tucked themselves so tight against your back it felt like you were going to pull a tendon; you leaped across the room making your way to the door.

“Wait!”, he called, his voice scratchy, a hand closing against your wrist. You glanced at him, looking up to see him shocked, concern lacing his eyes. Your fear increased tenfold.

“I can’t- You’re- , FUCK, don’t you dare touch me.”

You harshly tugged your hand out of his, running towards your bedroom at full speed, immediately locking the door behind you. You silently slid to the floor, your back against the door and tears filling your vision as you replayed what had just happened repeatedly. How had you lost control so easily?

Your feathered wings stretched around you as you tried to soothe yourself. You were itching to jump straight off the room’s balcony, let the air stretch your neglected muscles and fly back to the same caves and mountains where no one would find you, but you simply could not, all because of that stupid bargain.

Your hands reached the tendons and muscles of your wings, trying to ground yourself in the present. He couldn’t hurt you; he couldn’t even touch a single feather if you didn’t want him to. Your wings were safe, you were still free, they didn’t know. There weren't sharp hands tugging at your feathers in reminder of your forced submission, no one holding you down as you begged for mercy. You sat there, obsessively running your fingers through the feathers, feeling each and every one you could reach until you let yourself fall to the side, your wings still cocooned around you as you stared at the opposite wall in silence.

In your panic, you hadn’t noticed the doorknob’s wooden surface had smoked beneath your hand in the study. Someone else had.

I couldn't help posting it early!

Many revelations in this chapter! I had absolutely not planned the study scene to be so steamy but sometimes you have something planned and the story decides it knows better than you x)

Please let me know what you think!! This is my first time writing anything explicit, I'd love to hear how it reads <3

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

Taglist: @sapphenaa

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel POV #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #enemies to lovers

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proxima-writes · 9 months

Note

Joel/the moon with smut and/or angst.

Maybe he’s seeing someone he isn’t supposed to be seeing and they have to sneak around and find time to fuck 🤷🏻‍♀️

Maybe he sneaks into her bedroom when there are other people in the house and they have to keep quiet (with his hand over her mouth et )

hi anon! i'm sorry you've been waiting FOREVER for this, but i hope you enjoy!

xviii - the moon - deception, fear, secrets

The Moon may represent a secret love affair.

swimmin' pool glimmerin', darlin'

pairing: pool boy!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 2k

summary:

Your husband is frequently away for business. You may be a housewife, but you're certainly not lonely. Not when Joel Miller of Miller's Water Works shows up to clean your pool.

dear reader:

i hope you enjoy this little fic. if you do, please consider reblogging, commenting, or even sliding into my inbox. i love hearing from you <3

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), alternate universe - pre/no outbreak, no mentioned age difference, infidelity, no use of y/n, reader wearing a bathing suit, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, pet names, almost getting caught. let me know if any are missing!

“Don’t forget the pool guy is coming today,” your husband says as he fits the lid on his travel mug of espresso. His suitcase waits for him by the door, packed and ready for another business trip. You hold back a sigh. Of course you know the pool guy is coming. You’re the one that scheduled him.

“Of course,” you reply, a serene smile on your lips. Your husband comes around the island, leaning close to kiss your lips.

You let your eyes flutter shut, let your lips press to his. He smells like the Armani cologne you bought him last Christmas and he tastes like the protein bar he ate for breakfast. He pulls back and smiles at you.

“I better get out of here before I get stuck in traffic,” he says, pulling away. You follow him to the front door, watching as he sets the suitcase in the trunk of his fancy sports car, the black exterior sparkling clean. As he starts the car and pulls away, you blow him a kiss that he pretends to catch before driving off. You watch the car grow smaller and smaller until it disappears around the corner.

You shut the door, the house quiet and empty. Just a few months ago you would have hated the crushing loneliness but you’ve grown used to it now. Besides, you won’t be lonely for long.

About an hour after your husband has left, you hear the familiar rumble of a pickup truck, the sound of it kicking your pulse into overdrive. There’s a knock on your front door and you rush to open it.

Standing on the other side of the threshold is Joel Miller, owner of Miller’s Water Works. His tall, broad frame blocks out the early morning sun rising at his back, casting a halo around his already sweat damp frame. He smiles at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he says, “Mornin’, m’am.”

You lick your lips. “Good morning, Joel,” you say. His t-shirt stretches tight against his thick chest, the material thin enough that you can see the outline of his pecs and the sleeves squeeze his biceps. You know if you let your eyes wander further, you’d see his customary red bathing suit shorts, the ones that hit mid thigh and highlight his shapely ass when he bends over the filter or skims the pool surface with the net.

“You mind openin’ the gate for me?” He asks, resting a forearm on the doorframe and leaning close. “You gonna join me outside today?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, voice breathy as you stare into his brown eyes. You clear your throat. “Let me just grab my stuff and I’ll let you inside.”

“Sounds good.”

He steps back from the front door and you shut it, leaning against it to take a steadying breath before heading to your bedroom. In your massive closet, you rifle through your designated swimsuit drawer until you find the matching pieces of your favorite suit and change into it.

You pull on a cover up and step into a pair of flip flops, consulting the full length mirror to ensure you look good. Satisfied, you fill a bag with your sunscreen, a towel, your sunglasses, and a book you’ve been trying to read. Finally ready, you enter the backyard through the glass french doors in the master bedroom, dropping your bag on a lounge chair and heading for the side gate of the metal fence surrounding the back half of you and your husband’s two acre property.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you say to Joel as he walks through, carrying all his necessary equipment. He grins at you.

“You’re worth the wait,” he says with a wink.

You can feel your entire body grow hot at his flirtatious words. You follow him to the pool deck, laying out your towel on a lounge chair and positioning the backrest to your liking as you watch Joel get started with his tasks. You settle yourself in your seat and retrieve your sunglasses, settling them on the bridge of your nose. Your book is open on your lap, but the words are lost as you watch Joel work.

He’s kneeling down by the filter, swim trunks riding high enough up on his thighs that you can see the paler skin that doesn’t get as much daily sun. He sits back on his heels, running the back of his hand over his sweat damp forehead. You watch him reach behind his neck, dragging his shirt up over his head.

Your mouth goes dry as you let your eyes scan the strong muscles as he works. He stands, turning to face you and giving you the opportunity to ogle his tan chest and the way his abdomen is trim but still soft, looking particularly delicious glistening in the sun. He grabs the leaf skimmer and begins cleaning the surface of what little debris has accumulated since he was last here a week ago.

When he’s done, he gathers his supplies and tools together, approaching your chair with a smile.

“Alright, I’m all done for today. Is there anythin’ else I can help you with before I go?” He asks. His eyes trails down your body and you can feel his gaze like a caress across your skin.

Feeling bold, you sit up and grab your sunscreen, holding the bottle out to him. “Actually, would you mind getting my back for me?”

“‘Course not,” he replies, setting his stuff down. “Lean forward a bit more.”

You expect him to remain standing, to simply smooth the lotion across your back and be on his way, but to your surprise he throws a leg across the chair and sits behind you, thighs bracketing yours. You hear the click of the lotion cap behind you, followed by the sound of Joel squeezing some into his hands and rubbing them together.

He starts on your neck, a broad palm on either side of your throat pressing with enough force that you worry he may feel the way your pulse races beneath his hands. He smooths the lotion across your shoulders and down your arms, returning to your upper back. His fingers dip beneath the strings knotted together in the middle of your back.

“You’re so warm,” he says, his hands now at your waist. You inhale a shaky breath.

“S’hot out,” you manage to reply. His hands slide to your low back, his thumbs dipping beneath the elastic of your bikini bottoms.

“Mm, that the only thing makin’ you hot and bothered?” Joel asks. He rests his hands on your thighs, his back pressed to yours and his lips close to your ear. “Anythin’ else I can help you with?”

You swallow nervously. You want him to touch you so badly but you can’t find the words. Instead, you place a hand over one of his, hoping it conveys the message you want to send.

“Show me what you want, pretty girl,” he whispers. You widen your legs, moving his hand to your inner thigh. “Only here?” He asks, squeezing the flesh of your thigh in his hand.

You whimper at the rough grip, your head dropping back to his shoulder. He turns his face to look at you, those sweet brown eyes now dark with lust, and you can’t help but press a tiny kiss to his jaw. His eyes flutter shut as you do, so you kiss him again. And again.

His fingers find the edge of the bathing suit, slipping beneath the fabric and dragging through your slick folds. You moan, hips bucking against his hand.

“Oh, poor baby,” he coos, “sittin’ pretty over here with your cunt achin’ to be touched, ain’t that right?” You nod your head rapidly and he withdraws his hand, sliding it into your bottoms from the front so that he can cup your whole pussy. “Christ, how’d I get so lucky, huh? Lettin’ me pet this pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

“Joel,” you whine, writhing against him as he circles your clit with his rough fingers. He sets an unhurried rhythm, like he’s got all the time in the world and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than bringing you pleasure.

“That’s it, sweetheart, tell me who’s touchin’ you so good,” he says, teeth scraping your shoulder. His other hand moves the fabric covering your breasts to the side, exposing your tight nipples to the warm air. He pinched one bud in his fingers, making you cry out. “Say it.”

“Joel! Oh god, Joel, please,” you plead. One thick finger slips inside of you, making you gasp and arch your back against him. The movement makes you aware of a hardness pressing against your low back and the idea that he’s enjoying this as much as you has your mind reeling.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel growls. He adds another finger and the stretch of it is delicious, the slight sting making your breath short and your mind fuzzy. His thumb presses on your clit as he works his fingers in and out of your tight heat. “You wanna know somethin’?” You nod your head, hips chasing his fingers as the pressure of your release begins to build.

“Every time I come here to take care of that fancy pool of yours, I think about bendin’ you over one of these chairs.” His fingers move faster, curling inside of you. “Or maybe you’d be nice enough to let me cool off in the pool on a hot day and you’d sit on the edge, legs spread wide as they’ll go so that I can taste your sweet pussy.”

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you beg. Your hand grips his thigh, holding on desperately. You’re so close, your toes curling with the impending rush of pleasure.

The sound of an obnoxious sports car engine breaks through the cloud of lust fogging your brain. You try to sit up, but Joel wraps an arm around you and holds you tight to his chest. He works his hand harder, circles your clit faster, the sudden change making you cry out.

He brings his hand to your mouth, bringing his mouth close to your ear to whisper, “Sounds like that pretty boy husband of yours might be home, baby, but I’m gonna finish what I started, alright? You’re gonna cum on my fuckin’ hand, okay?”

You nod, muffled whines spilling into his palm. A car door slams. Your muscles grow tight, pussy pulsing around Joel’s fingers and your mouth drops open behind his hand in a silent scream.

“Honey?” Your husband calls, far enough away that you think he may still be near the front door.

Joel withdraws his hand from your suit bottoms and drops the other from your lips. Your chest is heaving with labored breaths as he calmly stands, adjusting himself in his swim trunks and grabbing his shirt from his pile of stuff. He slips it on as the glass door to the kitchen slides open, your husband stepping out into the backyard, hand held over his eyes to shield them from the bright sun. Joel turns to face him.

“Hey, sir, how’re you doin’? I was just finishin’ up out here for the week,” Joel says, holding a hand out for your husband to shake. Your eyes widen as you watch him grasp your husband's hand with the same one that had just been buried between your legs.

“Could be better. Flight got canceled and there’s not another until tomorrow. But it does mean some extra time at home,” your husband replies, looking over Joel’s shoulder and giving you a wink. “Good to see you, Joel.”

“Likewise, I’ll get out of your hair,” Joel replies. Your husband comes to stand beside your chair, his back turned to Joel as he leans down to kiss your cheek. Behind him, you watch Joel slip his fingers into his mouth, his dark eyes glued to you as he licks them clean. He gathers his stuff, heading towards the gate.

“I’ll see you next week! It’s supposed to be a scorcher!” He calls out. You bite your lip to hide your smile.

Maybe you’ll be nice enough to let him cool off in the water next week.

Joel Miller masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #proxima writes tarot pull #fic request

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jaynovz · 10 months

Text

Silverflint Bathing Fic Rec List

So I realized I had most of this rec list already compiled because I really like reading about the Pirate Lads getting squeaky clean. So here ya go!

All Our Yesterdays by trill_gutterbug:

Summary: “It might do you good to stop wallowing in your own filth,” Flint replies. “Although just as likely you’d dissolve completely.”

Silver shakes his head. “If you haven’t, I certainly won’t.”

Flint opens his hand invitingly. “Come find out.”

Silver regards him thoughtfully for a long moment. “We won’t fit.”

Flint adjusts himself, sitting up straighter. He lifts one dripping leg onto the edge of the rim, opening a vee of space in the water. “There’s room.”

Bathed by twofronteethstillcrooked:

Summary: An itch had caused him to reach back to scratch. His fingers came away red as the pain shot like cannon fire across his shoulder.

Silver went pale as he rushed nearer. “You told me you weren’t injured.”

Flint shrugged. “I didn’t think I was.”

Silver seemed to be clenching his teeth hard enough to crack rock. His nostrils flared. “We should see to it before you head much further inland.” He sounded like someone Flint did not want to test on the matter.

what the water gave me by youatemytailor:

Summary: "Captain," Silver says, firmly, like this is the most important discussion they have ever had, "Come here now and let me smell your goddamned hair."

Aftermath by Thiebes:

Summary: It had only been days without Silver in front of him, but Flint couldn't take his eyes away.

Flint gives Silver a bath after being captured by Israel Hands.

I wish for once we could stay gold by jaynovz:

Summary: Madi has discovered that pirates truly are a grimy bunch, but her two have managed to keep fairly clean the last few months when they had access to fresh water.

The governor’s mansion is filled with bustle, men scurrying about, seeking answers from both Captain Flint and their new King, but there is time enough to steal them away. Time enough this evening for some respite, to cleanse the grief and violence from the last few days alongside the dirt.

the only way out is the way back in by samedifference61:

Summary: And Silver obviously means to further agitate Flint’s state when he says, “Do you know what she said to me this morning? She said, ‘I cannot understand why the two of you have not been intimate yet.’”

a shared bath, a conversation about death, and a promise

A State of Undress by mycapeisplaid:

Summary: It's not everyday you get to undress your Captain.

Note: Specifically chapter four for the bathing, but the whole series is great :))

from whence we came and to where we shall go by princesskay:

Summary: Only a starving man could be this hungry -- this recklessly wanton.

Our Longed-For Bed by mapped:

Summary: Flint wishes for something he may call home again. Perhaps Silver is that something.

Surety by Magnetism_bind:

Summary: After Silver's finally returned from the sea Flint has to deal with his feelings.

Here there is liberation by frau_kali:

Summary: The water was cool against his skin, making him shiver, probably visibly. He touched the sponge against the area around his stump, doing his best not to wince. The water always helped, always lessened the pain.

“I'd be careful not to waste a single drop of that, if I were you,” Flint spoke up from his desk, making notes in his log. He hadn't looked at Silver since his quartermaster had removed his clothing. Probably too distracting, Silver thought, with a twist of newfound pride. - In which Silver teases Flint, is teased in return, and begins to discover a thing he didn't know he wanted. Oh, and also hair washing and pulling :)

Princes of the New World by x_etoile_x:

Summary: “This is your plan?” Flint sneers, looking at Silver like he’d expected no better. “Hiding below decks like a rat?”

“Now Captain, that’s unkind,” Silver pouts, trying to hide his hurt behind teasing reproach. All day he has tried to match Flint, to fight alongside him though he is ill-suited to it, and it has earned him nothing but disdain. Now it’s time to do things his way for a while. “Like a stowaway, at least.” --- After they have taken the warship and been cast out of the crew, Flint and Silver are forced to contend with each other and the nature of their relationship.

Note: Bathing specifically in chapter 4, but the whole series this belongs to, our feast is but beginning, is top tier, highly recommend.

As always, hit me up if there is a fic you think I’ve missed! <3 <3

#black sails #silverflint #john silver #james flint #jay's esoteric rec lists #fic recs #black sails fic recs #silverflint fic recs #I was compiling some fluff for a friend the other day and so here yall can have this too

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raccoonfallsharder · 5 months

Note

I’m really excited for your “drink some goddamn water” chapter because water has all of the sudden become too boring for me to drink. I’ve been drinking everything except water because it just isn’t stimulating enough. My anti-depressants sure are anti-ing my depression, but it makes my adhd way worse.

✩࿐࿔ drink some goddamn water [new 12/10]

smut-free| no use of y/n | gn reader | drabbles | word count: 1,209.

✩࿐࿔ take what you need.

࿔ eat somethin. at least grab a frickin’ snack. (wc: 576) ࿔ go to frickin bed already. (wc: 737) ࿔ get outta bed & get your shit done. & stop doomscrolling (wc: 925) ࿔ take a damn bath. (wc: 1,375) ࿔ leave your frickin skin alone. (wc: 1,579) ࿔ take a fuckin study break. (wc: 1,020) ࿔ drink some goddamn water. (wc: 1,209) ࿔ stop destroying your frickin clothes. [est 12/19] ࿔ just buy the damn thing already. ࿔ did you take your meds today?

how much water you should drink depends on your body mass, activity level, and the amount of hydration you get through other foods and beverages - but you almost certainly need more than you're drinking. this is your sign to go hydrate, babe.

this is about as wholesome as it gets (for me) i think. can be read platonically or romantically. mcu-based, meant to take place post-volume 3, but headcanon however you want ♡

“You all right, kid?” Goddammit. The Captain’s caught you squeezing the spot between your brows, eyelids crushed closed and forehead creased. “I’m fine, thanks,” you say quickly, with a pale attempt at a nonchalant smile. His nose twitches and he eyes you consideringly, leaning against the wall. “Busy day?” It has been. Trying to balance maintaining some semblance of a life you can go back to on Terra – just in case – with your admittedly-far-more-enjoyable Knowhere responsibilities always feels like the equivalent of at least two full-time-jobs. Plus, regular life-stuff doesn’t stop either. There’s still laundry to do and an apartment to keep clean. “So busy,” you deadpan. Rocket is being awfully empathetic right now – which usually means he has an agenda. “Did you need something?” He raises a brow. “What, I can’t just check in on my favorite local Terran?” You snort. “It’s a well-documented fact that I am currently the only local Terran, dude.” He shrugs. “All the more reason to check in. You’re practic’ly frickin’ endangered out here.” “Well, thanks for your care and concern,” you say dryly. “I’m fine.” “Really?” His second brow joins the first and his tail flicks – annoyed, or entertained. You can’t tell for sure. “‘Cause you look like you got a headache.” You sigh and flick off your datapad, then slide away from the empty bar. “I just need to get some more caffeine,” you tell him tiredly. “Uh-uh,” he says cynically. “I don’t think so. Sit down. I’ll make you a drink.”

read more on ao3

if you find any of these at all helpful, they're meant for you.

feel free to ✩ request reminders ✩ via reblogs, asks, and tumblr or ao3 comments if they would be helpful for you. it may take me a hot minute to get to them depending on life n stuff, but i will do my best

if you’d like to join my fanfiction taglist, please comment or send me a message or ask! ♡

@suicidalshitstick ✩ @glow-autumz ✩ @evolvingchaoswitch ✩ @wren-phoenix ✩ @pretty-chips (total word count: 7,412)

#thanks nonnie!#this one was actually really hard to write #stay hydrated #drink some fucking water #rocket raccoon fluff #rocket raccoon fanfiction #take what you need #rfh fanfic #rfh fluff #self care reminder #self care tips #gotg fanfiction #gotg fanfic #guardians of the galaxy fanfiction #rocket raccoon

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giggly-squiggily · 10 months

Note

Hi Squiggly! It's the bish anon who requested the Kokushibo x reader for tickletober! I saw your mini-vacation post. I hope you're doing better...If you feel up to it, can you please consider writing a 'cuddle' fic with soft lee! Kokushibo x Ler! Reader? I'm sorry, the six-eyed terrorist makes me melt more than he should😭. Get well soon!

Koku my beloved! I've gotcha covered, anon! :D It's time we give our six-eyed demon some much needed love, shall we? :3

Cloud 9 (Taglist)

@cupcake-spice13, @thatbigbisexual29, @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022, @backy-san @t-wordiiish, @sarahmaystock5578

“Good evening.”

Kokushibou froze, the sheath holding his sword halfway towards its destined spot. Slowly, he peered at you, finding you standing by with a furious glare. “Good evening, (Y/N)...did you sleep well?”

“Not at all. I was too busy worrying about my husband. See- he hadn’t come to bed yesterday morning. Or the previous morning. Or the mornings before that.” You kept your voice low, but your temper sharpened each statement until you were practically biting them out. “From what I’ve gathered- he’s been out training from dawn till dusk.”

“That…certainly is an issue.” Kokushibou placed the sword against the wall, turning so he was facing you. An outsider would likely find this comical- the highest rank moon being scolded by a lesser demon. Of course- Kokushibou would have had their head for even thinking of you as anything less than his equal. Regardless of hierarchy and Lord Muzan’s blood; to Kokushibou, you were just as strong as he.

And in a game of wills; even stronger.

“Yes, it is. Tell me, my dear husband- have you already forgotten what you promised me?” You tried to keep your anger, but the longer you looked at him the more soft you felt. He was clearly ragged, the visible skin along his arms bruised and scratched. His clothes were dirty, and his hair was a wild mess of twigs and leaves. It was his own fault, sure, but that didn’t mean you were completely shut off from the visible aches.

“...That I’d return when the sun began to rise so I could rest and in turn spend time with you.” Guilt touched his eyes, and he bowed his head in apology. “Forgive me, (Y/N).”

Your anger melted away as you shook your head, walking to your husband. “I always do. But my forgiveness isn’t going to help you in the long run. If you overwork yourself, you’ll be sloppy. Isn’t that what you told me when you were training me the first time?” You reached out, tracing his face with your hands. “Come on- let’s get you out of these clothes and into something comfortable. I’ve already got a bath running.”

~~~

“I can do this myself, (Y/N)...”

Despite the words, Koku’s voice lacked any real argument. You sat behind him in the bath, combing through his mangled hair gently as you removed the various twigs within. It took some mild persuasion to get him to let you help. “You’re my husband; don’t be so modest,” You teased, even though you knew why he hesitated on you seeing him nude. The water reflected the scars along his skin, old and fading- full of stories. You didn’t pry about them; instead choosing to wait for the day he was comfortable sharing.

“Nope. I haven’t seen you in days. This is our time.” You smiled as you pulled the last tangle free, watching his hair pool around him in soft waves. “Besides- for all that patience of yours, you’d give up not even halfway with your hair.”

“Hm.” Was all he said in response. You grinned as you picked up a washcloth. Victory was yours.

After he was bathed, dressed and clean, you pulled him along to your bed, pushing him gently into his side before sitting behind him once more, tugging at his robe. “Take this off- I have something for you.”

“Didn’t you just insist I put this on?” He asked as he did as told, shedding the upper half of the robe. “So indecisive.”

“Hush.” You pinched his bicep before reaching over, gathering up a bottle of oil. Daki snagged it on her last mission but hated the smell, giving it to you because “It seems like something you’d like.” Sure enough- you found it pleasant. “I’m gonna give you a massage.”

“Oh?” Kokushibou blinked, looking at the bottle curiously. “(Y/N)...You do know we regenerate. Muscle aches are no longer a thing for any of us.”

“There’s more to massage than just ache relief, love.” You told him after he investigated the bottle, returning it to you with suspicious eyes. “You’ll see what I mean.”

Kokushibou didn’t argue as you gathered his hair up, tossing it over his shoulder and out of the way. Nor did he complain when you pressed your now oil bearing hands into his upper back, gliding them across his skin. If anything- he seemed to have suddenly lost the will to fight, his tense shoulders easing almost immediately.

“Feels good?” You asked, grinning when he groaned in response. Another victory for you.

~~~

By the end of your massage, Kokushibou was puddy in your hands.

Lying beside you, he didn’t argue as you scooted closer, pressing his head against your chest as you stroked his hair, humming a song you remembered from your time being human. There was a twinge of sadness with it, but it was nothing compared to the sight you got to witness.

Kokushibou felt so sturdy yet so vulnerable in your arms. You didn’t say anything when tears dripped against your chest, only wiped them away as they came. Just how long had it been since someone held him? The thought made your soul hurt far worse.

As if sensing this, you felt your husband squeeze you tighter, his way to reassure you. He always seemed to know when your mind began to wonder. No words were exchanged, you just leaned down and kissed his crown.

Eventually, his tears dried and the ache you felt had eased. The two of you were just lying there, entrapped in each other's arms. You were happy- it felt so good to finally have him back with you.

At the same time however, all the petty revenge schemes you made when he was gone came to mind. You were no longer angry, yes- but that didn’t mean you were completely over it. Feeling sneaky, you let the hand stroking his hair drift down to his back, keeping your touch feather light as you traced along the back of his ribs.

“Hm!” Kokushibou made a noise resembling a muffled laugh. Then another. Eventually, you felt him shake against you, muffled giggles creeping out his throat as you carried on tracing his ribs up and down. He didn’t pull away and you didn’t press in- neither of you wanted to break the serenity of this moment. “(Y/N), pleahhahahahse.”

“This is what you get for overworking yourself.” You told him simply, kissing his crown once more as you danced your fingers over his lower back. Again- you earned a round of muffled giggles, the sound deep and rich that vibrated your bones in the best way. “I missed you- and I missed your laugh. Don’t leave me alone like that again.”

“I prohooohohmise! I prohooohohmise, my mohoohoohohon, now stahahhhap thathahhahat!” He laughed out, relaxing once more when you stopped, returning to his hair. “Heh…you are a devil, (Y/N).”

“I’m your devil.” You smiled, feeling him take your chin in his hands before his lips found yours, kissing you deeply.

“And I love you for that. I’ll…be more aware. Of my limits going forward.” He traced your face with his thumb, taking it in like it was the only sight in the world worth looking at. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

“It’s okay…as long as you come home, that’s what matters.” You pulled him into you, returning to your serene state. “I love you, my great swordsman.”

“As do I, my beloved moon.”

Thanks for reading!

#demon slayer #kokushibou #reader insert #kokushibou x reader #fluff #soft tickles #this is mostly loving Kokushibiu hours if I'm to be honest #he deserves the love I swear #thanks for reading!

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

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Your Grace

Winter Prompts Masterlist | Winter Prompts List

Pairing: Duke Leto Atreides x Reader

Prompts: Soup/ Memories/ Next Door Neighbor

The entire household is scrambling, and in something of a subdued uproar. Well, it’s not every day that Duke Leto Atreides turns up at your door, asking for a meal and a place for him and his men to stay for the night.

You live in one of the furthest reaches of Caladan. Your house sits on a high hill overlooking the ocean. There’s a damnable chill in the house, one that you typically endure, but certainly can't expect royalty to suffer through. You’ve already worked through three-quarters of the corded wood to heat the home; you’re not sure there’ll be any more.

Your mother sends you out back to cord some more, despite the Duke’s insistence that your family puts himself and his men to work for the inconveniences that their presence is causing. You tighten your coat around yourself at the evening’s rising chill, and the damp air.

You can only hope there’ll be enough hot soup for your dinner when you get inside—though you're not sure there will be. The Duke and his complement of soldiers have taken up more space and resources than your small household is typically accustomed to entertaining.

It’s been raining for nearly an hour by the time you make it inside. Your mother’s left you a bundle of dry clothing to change into in the mud room by the back door. You want to take a hot bath to warm your chilled bones, but you’re almost the Duke and his men will be busy tidying themselves up. You hurriedly change into the dried clothes, swiping your dripping nose with the clean sleeve of your henley. You draw your sleeves down over your hands, stepping out into the hall and leaving the wet clothing in the hamper.

The house is quiet for the most part. Several of the Duke’s men are sleeping in your parents’ room; mortifyingly, the Duke is staying in yours. You’re desperately hoping that your mother will send you on some other errand tomorrow morning—something that will keep you out of the way again.

You step into the vacated, quiet kitchen, carefully stepping around the scattered things left by the Duke’s men. You walk over to the tall pot still on the stove, lifting the lid and peering inside. You sigh softly, relieved as you see just enough soup left to sate your hunger. You set the lid aside and take up the clean bowl beside the stove, ladling the piping hot soup into it. There may be some fresh bread in the oven still, but you can’t bring yourself to check. You sit at the small table, poking and stirring your soup a touch, trying to release some of the heat.

“Your mother said you made that.”

The sound of the Duke’s voice makes you startle, and you bolt up from your seat, your spoon clattering to the table. The Duke looks a touch apologetic under the gleam of the glowglobe as he waves for you to sit again. You remain standing, unable or unwilling to take your eyes off of him. You’d caught only a glimpse of him when he’d arrived, and nowhere near this closely.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” He apologizes.

“Is there something that I can get for you?”

“No—Please, sit, eat,” He insists, walking more deeply into the kitchen. You lower yourself back into your seat hesitantly, mind racing. What would your mother tell you to do? Leave the room and give the Duke some privacy? Offer him something else to eat, or drink?

Before you can act on any of those, the Duke is taking up two wine glasses, and an opened bottle from the counter. He arches a brow, holding them both up, and you give a nervous little nod, and a mumble of, “Please.”

“I should be asking you, frankly,” He says, setting both down and pouring a healthy amount into both. “This is yours, after all.”

“We’re happy to—”

“I know,” He waves you off gently again, setting the two glasses and the bottle down on the table. You take hold of one a touch warily, raising it to your lips and allowing yourself to take the most lady-like of sips.

“Is everything alright with the room?” You ask.

“You mean your room?” The Duke bats back, his brows raising as his lips curl in slight amusement. Your face warms with embarrassment, and you duck your head just a touch, taking up your spoon and pushing the soup around a bit.

“It’s very comfortable,” He adds.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Interesting books on the shelves.”

Your eyes flit nervously toward him at the comment, but his expression seems genuine. His eyes are dark, and have an inviting warmth to them.

“May I ask what’s keeping you awake? Your Warmaster said that you’ve had a long journey,” You hedge. The Duke’s lips quirk a touch wider before he peers down at his wine.

“I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. My mind is muddled with memories.”

“Of what?”

The Duke’s eyes lift to yours again, smile widening at your question.

“The last time I was on this side of the planet.” He nods toward your bowl. “Your soup will get cold.”

You take a taste of it almost dutifully, and hum contentedly as it warms you.

“I’d’ve preferred your mother had let us help you,” The Duke comments.

“You’ve had a long day.”

“And now, so have you.”

You smile a little, shaking your head.

“I’m accustomed to long days…As I’m sure you are, Your Grace,” You hurry to correct. He chuckles softly at the nerves in your voice.

“I can guarantee that there’s almost nothing you can say to offend me,” He offers. “And I’m no Duke tonight. Merely a man that’s incredibly grateful for your hospitality.”

Tag list: @amneris21 ; @elen-aranel ; @brandyllyn ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight

#Duke Leto Atreides x Reader #Duke Leto Atreides x You #Duke Leto Atreides/Reader #Duke Leto Atreides/You #Duke Leto Atreides fic #Duke Leto Atreides imagine #Fluffcember #Writing Prompts #Winter Writing Prompts

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zeciex · 6 months

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A Vow of Blood - 21

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Chapter 21: Moon Flower

AO3 - Masterlist

The Kingswoods provided a much-needed respite, offering a breath of fresh air. Escaping the city’s stench, Daenera reveled in the crispness of the spring breeze. The fragrance of the trees and damp soil lingered in the air, and she inhaled deeply, embracing the contentment it brought. It was so quiet in the forest, a solitude one usually only found in the Godswood within the walls of the Keep.

Fenrick trailed behind her as they ventured further into the forest, their purpose being the search for mushrooms and plants–subjects of which he possessed little knowledge, but Daenera made up for his lack of interest.

“You seem strangely at home out here,” Fenrick remarked, breaking the silence.

Daenera responded with a cheeky smile. “So, you’re suggesting I fare well in the wilderness for a pampered princess, is that it?”

“Don’t misconstrue my words,” Fenrick chided, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “You’ve never shied away from getting your hands dirty, is what I'm saying.”

“Actually, I detest getting dirty,” Daenera corrected. “I am simply privileged enough to be able to change soiled clothes and request hot baths. Look at this!”

She hurried towards a fallen tree, its trunk overgrown with moss. Near its upturned roots, a small cluster of whitish mushrooms grew, their caps flattened and slightly turned upwards, creating a funnel. Ignoring the wet ground that seeped through the knees on her trousers as she knelt down in the dirt, she leaned down to get a proper look at them.

Fenrick leaned against a tree and observed, “Well, it is certainly not dirt that fails to impede you. You would crawl through the wilderness if it meant you’d get to whatever plant captures your attention.”

Daenera rolled her eyes and tossed a rock at him. It flew through the air and failed to hit him, missing him by a long shot.

“Maester Orwyle speaks highly of your healing abilities.”

Daenera made a snorting sound. “Please, Maester Orwyle despises my presence in the infirmary. He may be impressed, but that doesn’t mean he’s pleased with me invading his spaces. I’m certain he’d be delighted if I stopped showing up for lessons.”

“As if that would stop you,” Fenrick remarked.

Daenera unsheathed a small dagger and began using its blade to carefully free the mushrooms from the earth. Uncertain of their exact type, she intended to bring a specimen back to consult the more helpful Maesters. And if they proved unhelpful, she had a book dedicated solely to the study of mushrooms.

“I think these are woolly milkcap,” Daenera held up the mushroom, turning it over to look beneath the cap where among the veil of thin white hairs, a drop of ‘milk’ gathered along its gills. “And if they’re woolly milkcap then they’re poisonous, unless prepared correctly.”

“Why would you need such a thing?” Fenrick questioned with a skeptical expression, as if she had spouted something insane.

“Because, at times, poisons serve as a remedy,” Daenera answered, carefully wrapping the mushroom in a piece of cloth before putting it in her satchel.

“If you weren’t a princess, you’d be a woodswitch,” Fenrick muttered, shaking his head at her.

“Ah, the life of a woodswitch,” Daenera said with a grin on her face. “I would create potions and remedies for weary townsfolk who would curse my name the moment I turned my back on them. It’s such ungrateful work… And who’s to say I’m not a witch?”

Daenera used the edge of her trousers to wipe the dagger she had employed to extract the mushroom with, ensuring it was relatively clean before she sheathed it with a swift motion, returning it to her satchel.

“Isn’t it more likely that it would be you cursing them?”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I must admit, I would relish having the power to curse others. But alas, I am no woodswitch.”

“Curses are not to be trifled with, Princess,” Fenrick warned, his arms folded over his chest. “Especially those made in blood, let alone royal blood.”

Daenera raised a brow at him. “Don’t tell me you believe in curses.”

“There was once people who did not believe dragons existed, and then House Targaryen came to our shores.”

“And you believe my royal blood holds the potential for more powerful curses?” Daenera questioned skeptically. A flicker settled deep within her, as if something stirred away in the darkness. She shook off the sensation, reminding herself that she had indulged in too many tales of Dragon Dreamers, Green Seers, the Children of the Forest, and the Fall of Valyria.

“With the blood of the dragon and royal lineage, who knows?” Fenrick replied, shrugging. A frown had settled upon his brow, as if he was uncomfortable with the idea of curses. “It is not something to be tested.”

“I don’t possess that much dragon blood in me,” Daenera noted. “It seems the magical aspects associated with Targaryen blood have skipped over me. Any curses I might attempt would be feeble at best.”

Daenera stood up and brushed the dirt off her knees. Two dark spots emerged on her trousers where the fabric clung uncomfortably to her skin. She kicked her leg, attempting to alleviate the discomfort. It only offered temporary relief as when she put leg back down to shake the other, the fabric once again clung to her knee.

Fenrick observed her little performance with a gentle smile on his lips. “There are other ways to acquire a dragon besides hatching an egg.”

“Yes, yes, I’m aware,” Daenera responded shortly, having heard countless times that she should claim a dragon. “I have come to terms with the fact that I will never have a dragon.”

Fenrick gave a short nod, acknowledging that he would not press the matter any further.

Memories flooded Daenera’s mind, harking back to her childhood when she clung to the hope of hatching her dragon egg by placing it by the hearth. The egg had possessed a deep blue hue, a similar color to her eyes. Her mother had chosen it for her, and its enchanting shade held a touch of wistfulness.

When Lucerys came into the world, she and Jace had joined together in selecting his egg. It bore the ethereal tones of morning mist, with a subtle gray-blue shade underneath and delicate red embellishments. It reminded Daenera of a tempestuous sea. She had felt joy for her brother when his egg eventually hatched, but there had also been a lingering sadness for herself. And so, she persisted, attempting to warm her own egg in the embers within the hearth until her mother had caught her in the act.

Her mother had sat down beside her, gazing into the flames that engulfed the shell of the egg. She had pulled Daenera onto her lap, pressing a kiss to her temple while enveloping her in a tender embrace. In that moment, Daenera had managed to muster up the courage to ask, “Why won’t it hatch?”

“It happens more often than not,” her mother had replied, nuzzling her head against her daughters.

Daenera pondered whether the whispers of Aegon held any truth–that her inability to hatch the egg was somehow a sign that she was not really a Targaryen. “Is it something I have done?”

Her mother’s arms tightened around her, seeking to provide comfort. “Oh, no, my love, it is not your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong. Sometimes, these things just happen.”

“But Jace and Luke’s egg hatched. Why won’t mine?” Daenera’s voice quivered with disappointment.

“I don’t know, my love,” Rhaenyra responded, her voice heavy with sadness for her daughter.

“Does it mean that I’m not a Targaryen?” Daenera asked in a voice no higher than a whisper.

Her mother gently turned her in her lap, their eyes meeting. Concern and sadness was etched across her features as she brushed a lock of Daenera’s dark hair away, cradling her cheek. “Why would you think that?”

Daenera hesitated, reluctant to disclose the things she had overheard from the servants. Moreover, she harbored even greater apprehension about revealing the comments made by Aegon and Aemond. She did not want them to get in trouble, no matter how much their words stung. “I don’t look like a Targaryen.”

Her mother regarded her with an inscrutable expression. “You have the blood of the dragon in your veins. You are of my womb, and no one can deny that. I carried you. I gave birth to you. You are Targaryen, and you are Velaryon.”

“Aegon said that all true Targaryens have dragons, and those who do not are kraven,” Daenera muttered, eyes remaining on her own hands, unable to look her mother in the eye.

“Aegon didn’t hatch a dragon either. None of my siblings did. They claimed dragons–Aegon with Sunfyre and Helaena with Dreamfyre. Your aunt Laena did not hatch her egg either, she claimed Vhagar, the oldest and largest dragon of them all when she was only three and ten. You have time,” her mother explained, holding her tight.

“But what if I can’t claim a dragon?” Daenera’s worry spilled forth.

“You do not need a dragon, my love. Not all Targaryens are dragonriders. It does not make them any less Targaryen,” her mother assured her. “You are a force of nature in and of itself.”

Daenera buried her face in the crook of her mother’s neck, listening to the comforting rhythm of her heartbeat and feeling cocooned within her loving embrace. In that moment, she beseeched the gods, begging them to hatch her egg. But the gods would not answer her prayers, and so they dissipated into nothingness.

“I have accepted my fate as the only Targaryen of this generation without a dragon,” Daenera declared, looking back at Fenrick.

As they made their way back through the forest toward their horses, they traversed a familiar cluster of trees that evoked a shiver of remembrance. It felt like a lifetime ago since she had walked through these woods with Ser Harwin by her side.

A lifetime ago when she first learned of the treacherous betrayals, of death and suffering.

You will be tested by fire and betrayal, as those around you seek to use you for your own gain… The whole of the prophecy ran through her mind.

“Princess?” Fenrick’s voice cut through her contemplation.

Daenera blinked, realizing she had come to a standstill, fixated on the spot where the witch had once greeted her. Memories of the witch's intense, kohl-lined eyes that seemed to strip her bare to the bone were burned into her mind.

“Sorry,” she muttered, snapping out of her daze. She flashed a smile at Fenrick, hoping to alleviate the tension etched on his face. He eyed her suspiciously but remained silent.

They found their horses where they had tethered them to the trees. Daenera effortlessly mounted her horse, grateful for the freedom trousers provided her compared to riding in a dress.

With Fenrick in the saddle of his own horse, they began their journey back through the forest towards King’s Landing.

As they emerged from the tree line, the sight of the city rising before them could not be ignored. Even from a distance, the columns of smoke billowing from within made it appear as though the city were aflame. The stench of filth wafted through the air. For a fleeting moment, Daenera contemplated turning back into the woods.

Instead, she urged her horse forward, traversing the grassy plains towards the road leading to the city.

Suddenly, a shadow passed overhead, accompanied by a fierce gust of wind that whipped at her hair and tunic, as the fabric billowed and fluttered like sails catching wind. The horse beneath her began stomping the ground and neighing, before abruptly bolting off in a wild frenzy. The wind lashed against her face, her hair a chaotic flurry, blurring her surroundings. Her grip tightened on the leather reins, desperately attempting to rein in and halt the horse, her thighs burning from the strain of which she held onto the horse. Her heart leapt into her throat.

Curses spilled from her mouth, her teeth clenched as tears welled in her eyes. The horse galloped over the hills, hooves tearing through the soul as it ran for its life. Daenera exerted all her might, pulling at the reins, but the horse remained unyielding in its panic.

Upon reaching the crest of a hill, the horse reared up on its hind legs. Daenera’s hold slipped, and she tumbled from the saddle, hitting the ground with a startled grunt, the impact knocking the air from her lungs. Above her stretched the vast expanse of blue sky, while blades of grass tickled against her palms. She gasped, forcing air back into her lungs again. Amidst her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, she heard the sound of her horse galloping away, and for a fleeting moment, the sky darkened.

Groaning, Daenera sat up, attempting to brush her disheveled hair from her face. She scowled upon seeing Aemond land Vhagar a few paces away, the massive dragon casting an even larger shadow. Her blood roared within her veins as she rose to her feet, brushing off the dirt from her trousers, trying to collect herself. She watched Aemond from the corner of her eye as he descended from Vhagar, murmuring to the dragon in High Valyrian.

She was going to throttle him.

Fenrick and her horse were nowhere in sight. Grinding her teeth, Daenera tried to calm her raging blood. Vhagar fixed her with its distinctive serpent-like eyes, emitting a low rumble. Daenera paused her approach.

Aemond chided in High Valyrian before motioning for Daenera to come closer. She hesitated for a brief moment, gauging Vhagar’s reaction, before storming towards him, hissing out, “You could have killed me!”

“You should have held better onto your horse, then,” Aemond countered, his lips in that perpetual smirk. His cheeks bore a faint pink hue, his pale hair windblown yet somehow perfectly untangled, in stark contrast to Daenera’s own disheveled locks.

“It’s not easy to hold onto a frightened horse, especially one that wouldn’t have panicked if you hadn’t chased after me with your dragon!” She retorted, her frustration evident as her voice continued to rise.

“If we were truly chasing you, you wouldn’t have been alive,” Aemond assured her, as if offering some solace that he hadn’t intended for her to fall off and break her neck. “We simply flew over you.”

“You never do anything ‘simply’,” Daenera remarked, contemplating the opportunity to punch Aemond in the face, knowing there would be no witnesses other than his dragon. However, the prospect of being engulfed in Vhagar’s flames stayed her hand. She glanced begrudgingly at the imposing beast.

“Do you wish to come closer?” Aemond asked, his gaze shifting from the dragon to Daenera, a curious gleam in his eye.

“I’ve seen dragons up close before,” she replied, her narrowed eyes betraying her wariness.

“But you haven’t seen this one up close before,” Aemond noted, turning towards Vhagar and motioning for Daenera to follow. Tentatively, she complied.

The she-dragon observed them, allowing their approach. Vhagar possessed the color of a thunderstorm. At times, her hue appeared deep gray, only to shift to shades of green and gold. She was a colossal creature, marred by age. Sagging skin hung beneath her chin, and her body and wings bore the scars of The Conquest and the battles with the Dornish. She embodied years of war, a living testament to history.

“ Sagon gīda ,” Aemond cooed to the dragon, his hand brushing against the rough scales as if he were caressing a horse. Be calm .

“She is formidable,” Daenera admitted, awestruck by the magnificent dragon.

“You may touch her, if you wish,” Aemond said, observing her with an inscrutable expression, unable to discern her intentions.

Biting her lip, Daenera hesitantly reached out, allowing the tips of her fingers to brush over the scaly skin. It felt like weathered leather. Slowly, she pressed her palm against Vhagar’s side, patting the dragon as one would a horse.

“Why have you not claimed a dragon for yourself?” Aemond inquired, his curiosity apparent.

Daenera withdrew her hand. “I don’t need a dragon.”

She felt his eye search her face, attempting to decipher her expression. “Your brothers have dragons.”

“An astute observation,” Daenera answered dryly. “They were fortunate to hatch their eggs.”

“Claim one,” Aemond suggested.

“I will not steal a dragon,” Daenera stated firmly, locking eyes with him. A muscle twitched in Aemond’s jaw, a clear indicator that she had struck a nerve.

“I did not steal Vhagar. I claimed her,” Aemond defended himself, his voice reverberating with exasperation.

“Before Rhaena even had a chance.”

“She should have been quicker then,” Aemond retorted indignantly.

Daenera did not let it go. “She was in mourning. They had barely even laid her to rest.”

“I rightfully claimed Vhagar,” Aemond sneered, his blue eye shimmering with anger. All pretense was gone. He gestured towards his eyepatch. “And I paid for it.”

“A ‘fair exchange,’ as you put it. Yet, for a fair exchange, you seem rather bitter,” Daenera responded coolly, aware that she was getting under his skin.

“What would you give to claim a dragon?” Aemond asked, his voice hardened. “Or are you too afraid the dragons will reject you to even try?”

Daenera glared up at him, her eyes locked onto his face, his features sharp as cold steel. There was something dangerous within his gaze, something that ran deeper than his anger or the amusement that always seemed to play along the edges of his features.

Aemond continued in a smooth drawl. “Do you fear you don’t have enough Targaryen blood coursing through your veins to lay claim to one?”

“We share an equal amount of Targaryen blood,” Daenera bit back. “Maybe you harbored a sense of inadequacy as a Targaryen without Vhagar. Undoubtedly, Aegon would have reminded you of your weakness and inferiority, I am sure. And perhaps you believed him. But I do not need a dragon to feel powerful.”

Power manifested in various forms. While a dragon represented an overt display of power, a formidable weapon that instilled fear in others, Daenera discovered that a subtle knife could wield its own strength.

She braced herself for his retaliatory outburst, expecting a barrage of insults hurled back at her, along with the reminder that possessing a dragon equated to absolute power. Yet, contrary to her expectations, he remained silent. The charged atmosphere between them crackled like a thunderstorm on the horizon.

“It’s a shame,” Aemond murmured, his eye softening ever so slightly. His head tilted, and Daenera felt a rush of heat creeping beneath her skin. “It would be quite a sight.”

Caught off guard, her cheeks flushed, and she gaped at him, uncertain of his intentions beyond wanting to cause a reaction.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Aemond continued with a remark. “Though I suppose you wouldn’t know what to do with a dragon.”

Daenera bristled, her voice laced with defensiveness. “I’ve received the same training as you.”

“If I remember correctly, you did everything you could to avoid spending time at the Dragonpit,” he countered smugly.

“I did not!” Daenera snapped indignantly, offended by the vaguely true accusation.

“You were far more interested in playing in the dirt,” Aemond stated, his words striking a chord of truth.

While she had indeed spent ample time in the gardens, she had also promised her father that she would attend the lessons at the Pit. However, attending and actively participating were two separate matters. She had lingered in the shadows, and distanced herself from the forefront. And then they moved to Dragonstone, where there were no Dragonpit but instead windy beaches and rocks.

“I learned the commands,” Daenera argued.

A smile played on his lips. “Have you ever flown a dragon?”

“My mother has Syrax and Daemon–Caraxes. Jace and Luke have Vermax and Arrax. I’ve been around dragons all my life. Do not presume to know more about them than I do.”

Aemond let out a breath that played along the edges of a chuckle. “I did not inquire about your knowledge of dragons. I asked if you had ever ridden one… Well, besides me.”

Daenera bit her tongue, looking away from him, her eyes searching the horizon as she tried to hold in the laugh that threatened to erupt from her. The whole situation felt absurd. When she looked back at him, she found his eye ticking across her features with a gleam in them she remained unfamiliar with.

“No,” she admitted.

“Would you like to?” Aemond inquired.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “If I wanted to fly a dragon, I would ask to ride with my mother or Daemon.”

“Why haven't you?” Aemond asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle. It was disconcerting.

Daenera impatiently brushed her hair out of her face, nearly tangling her fingers in the tresses. She hesitated. “Because I fear I’d want to do it again.”

Her admission held more truth than she cared to admit. The temptation was ever-present, and she dreaded becoming reliant on it. She feared realizing what she had missed out on all these years. Deep down, she also feared rejection once more; and a dragon’s rejection spelled certain death.

She had buried the longing, the desire to fly among the clouds on a beast that should have been her birthright.

“I’ve witnessed the profound bond between my brothers and mother and their dragons,” Daenera continued, her voice filled with uncertainty as she searched for the right words. “Despite dragons having minds of their own, the connection between rider and dragon runs deep, like two souls intertwined. I fear if I were to experience flying, I would yearn for it relentlessly.”

Aemond studied her face, seeming to search for something. “Dragons are forces to be reckoned with, that much is true. But that shouldn’t prevent you from claiming what is rightfully yours.”

“I would think you, of all people, would prefer me to remain dragonless. It wouldn’t serve your interests if I were to gain one,” Daenera retorted, a hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips.

Aemond conceded with a wry smile. “You’re right. Managing you alone is already exhausting. Introducing a dragon into the equation… well, the realm might just find itself engulfed in flames.”

Daenera’s eyes flashed with amusement at the thought. “And you will be the first to feel its scorching heat.”

“I'm sure,” Aemond simply hummed, seemingly unfazed by her threat. “My offer still stands.”

“I have no intention of flying with you,” Daenera replied stubbornly.

Aemond’s smirk grew. “But it appears you’ve lost your horse.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “And who should I thank for that?”

“If you set out on foot now, you should reach the King’s Gate by evenfall… or you could choose to fly with me to the Dragonpit.”

Daenera’s voice dripped with defiance as she retorted, “I have far better odds on the road than risking my life flying with you. I cannot trust that you wouldn’t let me fall to my death.”

Aemond chuckled, the sound resonating through her body, warming her from within, though she hastily swallowed the feeling. He reached for her, tracing a long finger from her cheekbone down along her jaw, the touch making her skin tingle. “I would not let you fall, Daenera”

The sound of her name falling from his lips twisted something inside her, a mixture of agony and excitement. It felt like a dagger plunging into her heart, twisting and turning, bringing her closer to death and a heightened sense of being alive–like standing on the edge of a cliff with the crashing waves beneath, the wind swirling around, and the looming threat of doom intensifying every sensation.

“Why not? It would be a fitting end to this war you’ve initiated,” Daenera challenged.

“Well, for one, if you were to meet your demise at my hand, whether by accident or not, I would be branded a kinslayer, and the King would surely punish me severely. Your tragic death would eradicate any notion of ruin. If I desire your ruin, I would need you to remain alive,” Aemond explained with a smirk.

“How reassuring,” Daenera hummed, far from reassured. “You possess everything necessary to bring about my downfall. And yet, you haven't used it. Why is that?”

She had finally given voice to what had gnawed at her. The relentless waiting had become its own torment, with the lingering dread that everything would collapse in an instant should Aemond chose to expose her. Day by day, she grew increasingly perplexed by his silence. Why hadn’t he exposed her indiscretion?

“If I wanted your reputation destroyed, I would have done it already,” Aemond answered.

Daenera let out an exasperated huff, throwing up her arms and shifted on her feet with irritation. “So, what is your plan? To torment me? To threaten me?”

Aemond seemed pleased by her suggestions, and wildly entertained by her annoyance, his gaze searing into her skin, his touch growing even more intense as his hand braced the side of her face, cupping it.

Daenera swallowed, attempting to regain her composure. “You’ve gotten everything you wanted from me. What more could you possibly want?”

Aemond held an arrow aimed at her, ready to fly and hit its mark, yet he did not release it. At times, she wished he would. She could trust an arrow, trust its aim and where it would land, but only if he let it fly.

A voice cut between them, and Aemond withdrew his hand, leaving the heated area chilled without his touch. Her eyes snapped towards the owner of the voice.

Fenrick came into view, sliding off his horse and pulling it along with him by the reins. The world seemed to come into focus, and Daenera instinctively took a step back, creating some distance between herself and Aemond. “It appears I’ve found another way to get back to King’s Landing.”

Aemond couldn’t resist goading her further. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a coward.”

Anger flared in Daenera’s eyes. “I am not a coward. I simply possess the good sense not to entrust you with my life.”

He maintained his arrogant facade, that smug smirk etched on his face. He would never let her forget. “As opposed to entrusting me with more delicate matters?”

Aemond pushed further, testing the boundaries. “What’s improper about an uncle flying his niece back to the city?”

“What would your mother say when she hears?” Daenera shot back at him, knowing Alicent would disapprove.

“She would consider me a gentleman,” he claimed, and they both knew it was a lie. “Fly with me.”

“Princess,” Fenrick interjected in a warning tone, urging her to listen. “We should return to the Keep.”

The intensity in their gazes persisted, Aemond’s lips maintaining their taunting smirk. The challenge hung in the air, undeniable and tempting. Bitterly, Daenera came to the realization: she wanted it. Despite her better judgment, she desired to soar through the skies with him. It should have made her turn away, resist the temptation, but something inside her refused.

“Aemond will fly me back, Ser Fenrick. Meet me at the gates of the Keep,” Daenera declared, shooting Fenrick a fiery glare that warned him not to question her decision. Her loyal shield reluctantly nodded, his lips forming a tight line beneath his beard. She was aware of Fenrick’s lack of trust in the princes, but she needed him to respect her choice. With a bitter and disgruntled expression, the guard turned and mounted his horse, casting a final glance over his shoulder before riding off.

Aemond’s victorious smile widened as he grasped the net encircling Vhagar’s form. Extending his hand towards her, he expected her to take it. However, Daenera swatted his hand away and instead gripped the rope tightly, mustering a breath to steel herself for the climb.

Although she had grown up around dragons, the apprehension still lingered within her. It was a feeling she couldn’t shake, even now.

Daenera had always resisted her mother and father’s suggestions of flying with them. The same went for Daemon, who had wanted to show her the power that came with flying a dragon. She had staunchly declared that she was content with being rooted to the ground and had no need to experience it firsthand. It was easier to live without knowing exactly what she was missing out on.

The rope she clung to was coarse and matted from years of being wrapped around the dragon. As Daenera pulled herself up, she felt Aemond’s hand sliding up the back of her thighs, attempting to offer assistance. Once again, she slapped his hand away, the sound of his chuckle lingering in the air.

By the time she reached the top, her breath came in ragged gasps. It wasn’t solely due to the climb itself; it was the knowledge that she was now perched upon a living, breathing creature with the power to toss her off at any moment. It reminded her slightly of mounting a horse for the first time, if the horse possessed the power to level all of King’s Landing in a matter of hours it so desired. A horse couldn’t really compare to that.

With a firm grip, Daenera settled into the saddle, her knuckles turning white. The wind whipped at her more fiercely than it did closer to the ground. Aemond smoothly settled into the saddle behind her, guiding her forward so that he could swing his leg around to the other side. She had anticipated that she would have been the one at the back, but instead found herself enveloped in his embrace as he reached around her to grip the reins. Her back found his chest.

Daenera mustered her courage and swallowed her anxiety. “Let me fall, One-eye, and I shall haunt you for the rest of your days.”

Aemond’s laughter rumbled into her, stirring something deep within her. He didn’t give her much time to dwell on her words or change her mind as he exhaled, the breath tickling against the nape of her neck. “ Sōvegon Vhagar.”

Fly, Vhagar .

A startled yelp escaped Daenera as the dragon shifted beneath her, stretching its immense wings. Her stomach lurched with a mix of fear and excitement. Vhagar took one step, then another, and then another, her wings billowing as they caught the wind and propelled them into the air. Her breath caught in her throat, and her nails dug into the leather of the saddle. Her back pressed against Aemond, his presence a reassuring anchor as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Whether it was the howling wind or the rush of blood that roared in her years, she couldn’t tell. All she knew was the wind that wrapped around her, blowing wild and recklessly, as it did on Dragonstone. Her heart pounded fiercely, threatening to burst from her chest. She had never anticipated flying to be so chilling, but the warmth of Aemond’s body against hers provided some solace.

She felt his lips brush against the shell of her ear as he spoke softly. “ Lēda aōha laesi kesā ūndegon.”

See with your eyes, moon flower .

The term of endearment was lost on her as she cautiously willed her eyes to open. Instantly, her eyes began to water, unaccustomed to the force of the wind.

They soared high above King’s Landing, the capital city appearing a miniature below them, resembling a collection of dollhouses. Even the Red Keep seemed diminished in size. Waves crashed against the shore far beneath them, the expanse of the sea harrowing in its vastness.

Daenera released a breath, her eyes wandering to the sky that still remained above them, almost shocked to find that they could still rise higher. Each beat of Vhagar’s wings propelled them upward until they soared through the few clouds there were, emerging above them. The clouds rolled beneath them like a serene sea of white. It was a sight that took her breath away.

Closing her eyes, she turned her head towards the sun, relishing the warmth upon her skin and the exhilaration she felt with every breath she took. She felt liberated, empowered. This was what she had missed out on all her life.

The realization cut deep.

“It is thrilling, is it not?” Aemond whispered in her ear. “Do you feel the power inside of you, as if the whole world is in the palm of your hand?”

Daenera refused to let the tears fall, and she felt them strain painfully at the back of her throat. “Do not mock me.”

She felt his hand snake around her waist, pressing against her stomach, keeping her firmly against him. The touch sent a shiver down her spine, and a breath left her lips.

“I am not mocking you.”

She couldn’t fathom any other reason for his actions, except to mock and insult her. The urge to cry clawed at her insides. It would have been less painful if he had just thrown her from the saddle. Aemond was a cruel man, she reaffirmed.

If given wings, he would be quick to take them away again. He was showing her exactly what she lacked.

“What other reason could you possibly have?” She yelled above the wind as Vhagar soared above the clouds, her wings skimming their soft hills and stirring them into the air.

“You think me cruel,” Aemond stated.

“I do.”

“I suppose it is cruel to show you what you could have.”

Years of mocking and thinly veiled insults rang in her ears, and they were only emphasized by the sting of his words. “I don’t need a dragon to be formidable.”

Vhagar descended below the clouds, reentering the realm of men. The vast, never-ending ocean stretched out below them. Aemond pressed himself further into her, his breath hot against her ear as he taunted. “Formidable, you say–”

Daenera cut him off with a growl. “I wonder what they would say if I threw you from the saddle and claimed Vhagar as my own.”

A genuine laugh fell from his lips, the sound sending a shiver down her spine, and she felt her stomach flutter. “Daemon would be ever so proud. But I can assure you, hūra rūklon, that if you were to do such a thing, Vhagar would kill you in an instant. And if not, then I shall surely haunt you for the rest of your days.”

You’re already haunting me, Daenera thought.

The whirlwind of emotions and the exhilaration of flying coursed through her veins with a tingling sensation that threatened to erupt. A deranged laugh bubbled from deep within her chest, escaping her lips uncontrollably. Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest, matching the frenetic rhythm of her laughter. It was a strange mixture of joy, fear, and madness that consumed her in that moment, creating a wild, almost unhinged energy she couldn’t contain.

Vhagar descended lower and lower. The city began to grow larger, and before she knew it, Vhagar landed at the Dragonpit, creating a cloud of dust. The dragon shook her head, jolting both of her riders from side to side.

The dismount was embarrassingly slow. Her legs felt weak and wobbly, and she could hardly feel them at all. She nearly fell on her rear by the time her feet finally touched the ground. Had her mother ever felt this weak after a flight?

Aemond had an easier time dismounting, landing gracefully beside her. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were flushed with color. He grinned at her, and despite everything, she found herself grinning back.

“Perhaps it’s for the best that you don’t have a dragon. Your hair can’t handle the winds,” he teased, pulling at a strand of her hair.

Her hands instinctively went to her tangled mess of hair, realizing just how unruly it had become. It would take hours to comb through.

“It’s a wonder your eyepatch stays in place,” Daenera retorted, giving up on trying to untenable her hair with her fingers. It was a futile task anyway. “It makes me wonder if you’re able to remove it at all or if it has grown stuck to your face.”

They regarded one another for a moment, before Daenera broke the silence. “I thank you for the ride, One-eye. It was… eye-opening.”

Aemond let out a breath, shaking his head at the astonishingly bad joke.

Daenera turned and began to make her way towards the stables, her steps unsteady.

#aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #hotd fandom #A Vow of Blood

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lipstickitty · 1 month

Text

I Wanna Be Yours

Chapter Four

1.8k+ words

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS GO AWAY!! demon!reader, language, fluff, mention of alcohol, mention of sex, angst!, pet names, tears

To wrap up the night, you’d ran Jake a bath complete with candles, bubbles, soft music and wine. You’d intended it to only be for him, to spoil him a little after he’d been so good for you, but he’d insisted you join him. It didn’t take him long to wear you down and you slid down in the tub behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle and placing a soft kiss on the back of his neck. You washed his hair for him, loving the way he nuzzled his head into your touch as you ran conditioner through his long strands. Finally you finished cleaning both of you up, draining the water and beginning to gently towel dry his hair.

“Mmm, you’re too good to me.” He mumbles with his eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the feeling of your fingers combing through his long locks.

“Nah, you’re just all fucked out and sleepy. You’re delirious.” You giggle, dropping the towel and pulling him in for a sweet kiss. “There are things that you don’t know about me, Jake. Things that I want to tell you, and that I will tell you, but not tonight. Tonight I just want to be like this, with you. Fall asleep wrapped up in each other. Is that okay?”

“Y/n you don’t owe me anything, not an explanation or anything else. I know you’ve been through a lot and it’s hard for you to get close to people. I also know that you said you aren’t interested in being in a relationship, and you don’t owe me that either. I’m content just being with you, okay? In whatever way you want that to be. I like you y/n, I really care about you. You’re… truly special.” He keeps his eyes locked on yours the entire time, making sure you’re understanding him, not missing the slight flush of your cheeks when he says that he really likes you.

“Jake, you’re so, so special. It’s… it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted… this with someone, the intimacy and the closeness. I really like you too, Jake. Truly, I do. C’mon sweet boy, let’s go lay down.” You take his hand and lead him back to the bed, not bothering to find clothes for either of you- you craved the feeling of his skin on yours, wanted him pressed against you.

Jake flopped down on your bed, wiggling around until he found a comfy position, and you pulled the sheets and comforter up over him. He made grabby hands at you, craving the skin on skin just as much as you. You laughed, “Hang on, baby. I’m gonna get you some water and then I’ll be right there.” You kissed his forehead, nose and lips before making your way to the kitchen and retrieving two bottles of water. His eyes were closed when you walked back in the room so you took the opportunity to admire him for a minute, assuming he had just fallen asleep.

“Mmm, quit staring. C’mere, gimme kiss” he mumbles and puckers his lips in your direction without even opening his eyes. You giggle, placing the waters down on the nightstand before climbing under the covers with Jake and wrapping your body around his. He relaxed into you as soon as he felt your skin on his. You gave him a few soft pecks to his lips and then an even softer one on his throat, taking the time to really inhale his scent. He always smelled so fucking good.

“Sleep tight, sweet boy. We’ll talk in the morning.” You whisper, pressing one more small kiss to his forehead before closing your eyes. “Goodnight, Angel.” He mumbled sleepily, already starting to drift off. The irony of the nickname was certainly not lost on you, making the corners of your mouth quirk up just a little as you drifted off, all wrapped up in Jake.

You only knew it was a dream when you saw your old home, the one from centuries ago, from when you were still… human. Your dream self opened the door, and you were shocked to see Jake sitting inside waiting for you. “Hello, love. Missed you.” He puckers his lips, waiting for you to give him a kiss. You oblige, taking your spot in his lap before pressing your lips to his. He kisses back immediately, humming softly against your lips at finally getting what he wanted. Your left hand leaves his chest and makes its way up into his hair, but the light catches on something on your finger. Your eyes open wide in shock as you take in a wedding ring on your ring finger, a matching one on Jake’s.

“Love you. Love you so much.” He mumbles against your skin, his fingers gently moving up and down your spine.

“I love you, Jakey. I’ll love you forever.” Your dream self promises him, kissing him again, and then you startle awake. When you realize his skin is still pressed against yours and he’s still snoring softly, you instantly calm down and gently run your thumb across his cheekbone, leaving a small kiss on the top of his head.

The dream still had you rattled, though. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d dreamt about a man, and now you’re married in your dreams? You halfheartedly tried to convince yourself that you only dreamt about him because he was in your bed, but the way he had just fit into your old life so seamlessly made that a little more difficult. You had a sinking feeling in your stomach that said you were falling for Jake Kiszka, and falling hard.

Your immediate instinct was to try and push him away because you knew you were bad for him, but the way his soul called out to you, you knew you’d never be able to stay away from him. You never could, even before you’d known him. You decided that you could do this, you could give it a try. You could do things the right way, make him yours and make him happy, but never take from him. But he had to know the truth first, had to be able to make an informed decision. He might not even want you once he knows the truth.

You tiptoed out of your bedroom so as not to wake Jake’s sleeping form cocooned in your blankets. You planned to let him sleep as long as he could, and then you would have to discuss things with him. You tried not to let the anxiety eat you alive as you ran through your morning routine- using the bathroom, showering, brushing your teeth and putting on a clean change of clothes.

You nearly screamed as you walked out of the bathroom and peered into your living room- there was a man sitting in there. You swallowed down the panic, you are a demon after all, and marched out there to see just who the hell was lounging on your couch uninvited.

“Ah, good morning y/n. I trust you slept well.” You nearly jump out of your skin when he speaks.

“Malachi, what the fuck? You scared the shit outta me. What the hell are you doing here?” You whisper-yell, trying not to wake up Jake.

“Oh, I just came to check on you, see why it is that you haven’t been doing your job. But you just gave it away- it’s him, isn’t it? He’s here right now? And you haven’t even fed.” Your eyes open wide in shock at his words, you hadn’t been expecting that.

“Malachi, I’m sorry. I got wrapped up in everything and-“ he cuts you off before you can even finish your thought.

“You were just caught up playing house with a human and forsaking your nature entirely. You are a demon, y/n! Act like it.” His booming voice makes you yelp.

In all the commotion, you hadn’t noticed your bedroom door opening and Jake standing in the hallway, awoken by the noise and listening to every word.

“Jake, everything’s okay, just go back to the room and I’ll be right in to explain, okay?” Your voice shakes as you try not to cry.

“Don’t bother, I’ll explain! Our sweet y/n here is a demon, a succubus. She gave up her soul in exchange for eternal life and the only thing she had to do in return was do her job. Which she hasn’t been doing, presumably because she’s been spending all her time with you… but she hasn’t even fed on you, has she?”

The tears finally start rolling down your cheeks at his words. You had been clinging to the idea of telling him yourself, being honest with him before he found out some other way, but Malachi had just ripped that away from you. “I’ll do my fucking job, Malachi, okay? I’ll fucking do it. But not to him. And you need to go.” Your voice shakes with tears and rage.

“Fine.” Malachi crosses his arms over his chest and poofs out of your home. There was a perfectly good door, you knew he’d just done it to further scare Jake.

“Jake-“ you sob, and he pulls you into his chest immediately, smoothing his hands over your hair and gently rubbing your back.

“Shhhhh. You’re okay. Is that what you needed to tell me?” He whispers softly. You nod miserably into his chest, a new wave of tears coming.

“I mean, I wish I had known sooner- please don’t cry, honey, I’m not angry. I wish I had known sooner, but you had every intention of telling me the truth, I can see that. And you- you really found a way around your nature for me? So you wouldn’t hurt me?”

You pull back slightly in his arms to look up at him. “What Malachi said was true- I’m a succubus. My job is to sap the energy from human men by sleeping with them. But I couldn’t- couldn’t bear the thought of taking from you, of hurting you. I tried to distance myself from you, but I can’t. I just can’t, Jake, I’ve fallen for you. You need to know that. Even if you never want to see me again, you need to know that. And that I would never, ever do anything to hurt you.” You wipe at the tears that are still falling, but slower now.

“You’ve fallen for me?” He whispers, in awe.

“Yes, idiot.” You laugh through the tears.

“So that’s why I can’t fuck you?” You bark a laugh. He’s so clever, and of course he’d find the crudest way to word it.

“Yes, Jakey. That’s why. But… there’s always… other things we can do.” You giggle, wanting to pull him close but waiting until you know how he’s feeling.

“Y/n this doesn’t change anything for me. I’ve fallen for you too, I’m crazy about you. Can’t you see that? I know you won’t hurt me. I trust you completely. Now will you let me take you to bed? I dreamt of eating that sweet pussy all night long.” He pulls you into a searing kiss, giving your tongue entry to his waiting mouth as soon as he feels it touch his bottom lip.

“Yes, baby. Take me to bed.”

Tags: @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @gracev0609

#jtk x demon!reader #jtk x reader #jtk smut #jtk fluff #jake kiszka fanfic

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shirohige-pirates · 7 months

Text

Birds of a Feather

CisFem Reader x Marco

CW: Violence, blood, language, adult themes and scenes. 18+ only

Summary: Life has not been kind to you. After a string of bad relationships, you're a little jaded and a little depressed in all honestly. The worst day of your life seems to be the turning point, but the roller coaster ride that follows could either throw you soaring free, or have you caged forever?

Chapter 11: Condominimum

You groan a little. Waking up you felt warm and comfortable, but it took your brain a moment to understand why it felt like you had a weighted blanket on. You could feel the blood rushing through you for a moment as you felt Marco’s chest against your back. His arm was under your head and his other arm was against your side, hand resting on your waist.

Marco had run himself out of condoms last night, and with a little help from you had gotten things going in the bathroom for you both to clean up. You’d tossed his clothes into the wash before you both got in the tub, and you took your sweet time with everything. You didn’t want to go to bed yet, and you hadn’t been completely worn out by the time the condoms were gone.

It wasn’t to say you hadn’t been satisfied, however, but you could’ve happily gone a little longer.

“How is it I’m covered in bruises and bite marks, and you don’t even have a scratch on you?” You questioned, running your fingers over his back. “I know I wasn’t that gentle.”

“It’s… kind of automatic.” He admitted hesitantly.

“Auto- … oh, you’re, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” You say reassuringly, remembering that he’d mentioned he had a devil fruit. “I was just admiring your back… side.” You hum, tilting your head a little before kissing his shoulder and hearing him chuckle.

“And it’s alright, yoi. If you’re willing to keep your eyes closed for a few minutes I can make sure you don’t wake up sore tomorrow.” He offers, looking at you pointedly from behind those half-lidded eyes.

You’d taken him up on the offer and had sat on the edge of the tub for a moment while he moved his hands over you. It felt good, almost like a massage, but it left you feeling even more tired than you had already been and he’d ended up practically bathing you. You were fairly certain that was really his end goal, the smooth bastard.

Marco asked you about the evening, your back to his chest as he took his time washing your fingers and arms. His voice hummed against your back and you’re pretty sure you nodded off a few times, nudged gently back into wakefulness when he needed to adjust you. It was times like this that you were glad you had one of those massive claw-foot tubs.

It was a treat you limited to once a month at most for yourself, but it was certainly big enough for two people. Three, if they were flexible enough.

After the bath, and a quick shower, you tossed Marco’s clothes in the dryer and made some tea. It was really hard to keep your hands to yourself when he was sitting at your kitchen table in nothing but a towel. But you didn’t have the energy to do much more than tease him, and it wouldn’t be polite to rile him back up and then fall asleep on him.

You wanted to be able to do this another night, not frustrate him so much he didn’t want to come over again.

Mostly you got him to talk about his family and his brothers. You learned more about Ace, and Izou, and Thatch. He told you stories about Ace’s brothers Luffy and Sabo and the trouble the three had gotten into when they were younger.

When the dryer was done Marco had just asked for his boxers, unless you “needed him” to wear more.

“Nah, boxers are fine.” You admit, tossing him the clean boxers and holding the dark blue t-shirt up to yourself. “Oh this is so warm, it’s tempting.” You add, giving him a pointed look.

Marco cleared his throat. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, yoi.” He starts, hand over his face. “But, please not tonight… that’s a battle of wills I don’t want to face right now.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. “Another time then.” You agree, tossing the shirt back in the dryer. “We need to get to sleep so we can actually get some sleep. We hafta be up at eight at the latest, and that’s if you want toast and coffee for breakfast.”

And now, here you were.

The last thing you wanted to do was get up and get out of bed. The idea of lounging around for the entire Sunday with Marco was immensely alluring, but you had promised, and you needed to work with Usopp if you wanted to get your car back the way you wanted it.

Besides, even if you decided to just throw caution to the wind about your car’s custom paint job, you would still need to get up and go outside. You needed more condoms. A box, at minimum, you decided firmly.

Maybe two.

Something about the way Marco acted told you that he had stamina for days, and you wanted to know what it was like to get him to the end of those reserves.

But that was for another day, either way, and so with a defeated sigh you moved to get up and Marco shifted. Quickly and smoothly, his arms and legs moved carefully to cage you and pull you back. You made an undignified squeak of surprise at first, but you were laughing quickly, and he snuggled his face into the back of your head.

“Good morning,” you hum, squirming back into him a little. He grunts in response. For someone whose hands had been pretty much everywhere on you the night before, he was keeping them under control this morning.

“We need to get up.” You try to assert, but his grip on you tightens a little in response.

“Alarm hasn’t gone off yet.” He replies sleepily.

“If I wait until the alarm goes off, I won’t be able to make a decent breakfast.” You point out.

“Toast is fine, yoi.” He replies, shifting enough to kiss your neck.

“Toa-ahh-mngh. T-toast isn’t, haa, M-Marco!” His hands had started to wander, and you could feel your body heating up at the prospect.

“Want me to stop?” He questions, shifting you enough that you’re mostly on your back with him looking down at you. He hasn’t pinned you underneath him completely yet, but it wouldn’t take much.

You make a very strange, very strangled sound as the internal conflict bubbles up in you and Marco laughs, laying down on his back before you have to try and answer. You were hungry for a decent breakfast, but you couldn’t deny your more carnal cravings.

“Only because we’re still out of condoms.” You insist, sitting up and giving him a grin.

He sits up enough to rest his chin on your shoulder, hand squeezing your thigh a little. “I was only planning on having my pretty bird sing for me.” He assures you, before kissing your neck and getting out of bed.

You sit on the mattress for a moment, not moving toward the kitchen until you hear the click of the bathroom door. “Breakfast, right. Right. There’s only one objectively nutritious meal in this house, (Y/N), and it’s not in the bathroom.”

You slide out of bed and grab a pair of sweats, pulling them on as you start to gather up stuff to make breakfast. You’re up almost a full hour before your alarm, and that’s plenty of time. You get the coffee rolling and bacon cooking and set up some eggs and toast to round it out.

You hear Marco yawn as he comes into the kitchen, just a couple minutes after the coffee was done. “Scrambled or over easy?” You prompt, handing him a cup of coffee and he sits down out of your way.

“However you mean to make ‘em for yourself, yoi.” He answers sleepily.

You smile. “Not a morning person, eh doc?”

He stretches, much to your delight, and gives you a sleepy smile. “Unlike you, I need at least half a cup it seems.”

You give him a quick glance before smiling and cracking some eggs into a bowl. “Thank you for staying the night.” You reply.

“… Anytime, yoi.” He says quietly, eyes meeting yours for a moment before you both look away. After a couple sips, he stands up and goes to look out into the backyard.

You consider inviting him to stay the night again that night, but you both have work in the morning, so you shove the wishful thinking into the back of your mind and focus on breakfast.

After a few more minutes, breakfast is done and the two of you sit down to eat.

“It’s good.” He says between bites.

“It’s hard to mess up,” you reply, a smile on your face.

“I’ll have to let Ace or Luffy cook for you one day.” He says with a crooked grin.

You laugh. “You know, my instincts are telling me to pass on that.”

The two of you finish breakfast and get ready to leave. Marco wears effectively what he had yesterday, just with less layers and accessories. Long-sleeved shirt only and the pants and boots he looks pretty casual.

You give him a smile when you see him. “So… how’s your will power this morning?” You prompt, with a devilish grin.

There’s a moment of confusion before he laughs, handing over the t-shirt he’d worn yesterday. “I hope you mean to wear it with pants.”

You shake it in your hand lazily, as you head toward your room to get ready. “So that’s the defining factor, huh? I’ll have to remember that.”

You can hear him mutter something to himself even though you can’t make it out, and pull your morning clothes off, slipping into jeans, Marco’s t-shirt, and little else. Shoes and a coat and the two of you were out the door and on your way to Kid’s shop.

The car ride there was fairly quiet, but just before you arrived at the shop, Marco breaks the silence.

“Nervous?” He prompts.

“Huh? Oh, no, not really. Kid’s a professional, I just… I don’t know. I’ve never been in this situation before.” You admit with a chuckle.

“… And what kind of situation would this be, yoi?” Marco questions, looking over at you for a second before looking back at the road.

“Having my… uh… I mean.” You feel your body heat up in embarrassment. It was a perfectly logical assumption to make, with how things had been going, to assume that you were both effectively dating. Some people didn’t like using labels though, and you knew that, and you didn’t need those labels either, but you’d certainly been thinking it.

Still, trying to say it out loud was making you realize you hadn’t exactly talked about it. You grin despite it, there’s nothing really for you to worry about, and you understand that quickly.

“I mean, are you my boyfriend, my boy toy, or my sugar daddy, hm?” You manage to recover well enough that Marco coughs.

“Your sugar daddy?!” He questions in disbelief before he starts laughing.

“Not what I expected you to pick,” you shoot back and you both laugh.

Marco pulls into the shop’s parking lot, taking a moment to consider things before answering seriously. “Boyfriend works for me, yoi.” He says, parking his car. “If it works for you.”

You chew on your bottom lip lightly for a second. “Yeah, it works for me too.”

#Birds of a Feather #Marco x reader #x reader #reader insert #marco the phoenix #marco the pinepple #modern au

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