#IT IS TRUE! I WISH A VERY PLEASANT EVENING FOR THEM!!!!!!!

[faevi]

GUNSHOT OF LOVE. - (gojo smut)

Scenario: You trust Gojo Satoru so much, even if he has a gun to your head. You'd do anything he says, with or without the gun. That's true love & loyalty.

Word Count: 10,167.

Content / Trigger Warning: PLEASE READ ALL OF THEM. female reader (she/her), DARK CONTENT, GUN-PLAY(!!); sucking on it, weapon touching intimate areas, pulling the trigger (no actual bullets), etc. threats; including death threats(!!), degradation, humiliation, pet-names, praise, spanking, tit slapping, dacryphilia/crying, sex over a desk (being bent over it), fear play, power play, blowjob, throat-fucking, spit, cum, blindfolded, bdsm, dominance submission, obeying orders, hair pulling, bruising, being marked up, lingerie, everything is very much consensual and planned, mean satoru, big dick satoru, unprotected sex, creampie, penetration, daddy kink, wth do i warn, lots of aftercare and love afterwards <33

I think that’s everything? Please kindly (heavy emphasis on the kindly) let me know if I missed anything!! It’s not my intention to.

Note: Firstly, EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL!!!!!!!!! It’s implied that the whole gun-play was discussed before, ok. Different kinks exist and it’s clearly a BDSM based scene. Not vanilla at all. Also idk about others but I have fun reading kinks (obviously not every single one, i do have limits like others) that I wouldn't ever do myself, so. It's fiction and reading be fun. Not my best writing (again). Always room for improvement. Please ignore any mistakes because I didn’t edit it afterwards dkfjgfd. Please don’t come at me if this isn’t for you - I have plenty of warnings and it’s dark content so :’), it’s to be expected. Satoru is a bit of a meanie during it but I swear he’s super sweet after <333 Please let me know if you enjoyed it ; - ;. I will try to do better for the next piece.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!

You’re kneeling in his office, shivering and blindfolded. He’s forgotten about the window. The gentle breeze coming through the slightly ajar window, embracing you and you found yourself wishing for his warmth to smother you instead. Now isn’t the time. Especially with his red satin tie around your head, blinding you. You could barely glance down to see your body. He’s currently out of his home office to deal with something. Only giving you one order to obey. Kneel and stay put. He’ll know if you move.

It’s impossible to disobey Gojo Satoru.

Especially since you’re the one chasing him, craving not only his attention but his touch. You’re only wearing lingerie; laced and black. It was to surprise him when he was sitting in his office, typing away and boy did it surprise him. Your lips still feel a pleasant tingle from the searing kiss he gave you before his phone rang. You sigh softly, impatience rising and your knees start to ache from having to kneel directly against the wooden floor. Hands rest behind your back, fingers laced together and squeezing so tightly to try and contain your excitement. Satoru will return soon. So, you wait.

You straighten your back when you hear the small creak of the office door opening, sock-covered feet padding lightly against the floor until you sense someone towering above you from behind. The white-haired male gazes down at you, eyes clouded with a mixture of lust and admiration he holds for you. You didn’t move, it seems. Heart swelling up with pride, Satoru’s long fingers stroke along your hair on the top of your head. Nice and calm. Soothing.

“You listen to me so well, Y/N.” Satoru praises, nails scraping along your scalp until a soft whine leaves your lips. “Though, I do remember saying to not distract me today. You couldn’t resist it.” He sighs, crouching down behind you. Even when he’s at almost the same level as you, it always feels like he’s towering above you. Blindfold or not, you’re not blind to that. “You’re lucky that I adore you so much.” He whispers, long fingers trailing along your bare arm, grinning to himself when he witnesses you squirm from his touch.

“Daddy—“ You breathe out, tongue lolling out as you struggle with containing yourself. Your thirst for the taller male continues to grow, and your sense of touch is only heightened when your sense of sight is temporarily forbidden. With both hands now, his fingers continue to soothingly stroke along your bare arms from behind you. It’s featherlight and you couldn’t help but wonder what Satoru will surprise you with.

“It’s a good thing that I have work wrapped around my finger, they won’t question why I ended early today. Although, it’s you who is utterly tangled when it comes to me. Isn’t that right, baby girl? You’ll do anything I say. No matter how scary or dangerous it is.” He whispers low against your ear, warm breath fanning against it. His large hands now cup your breasts from behind, fondling with the soft mounds and not bothered by the fabric. You feel flustered because he’s right. You’d do absolutely anything for this gorgeous human being. Maybe it’s because you know if you did use your safe word and he’d stop instantly; that you’d do anything. There’s no one else you trust more with your well-being or life as a whole.

“Isn’t that right?” Satoru repeats himself, just seeking reassurance before he continues. His fingers pinch your sensitive buds through the thin fabric and you whimper, thighs clenching together. “Yes, Daddy. I’d really do anything—.” You confess through your needy whimpers, eyes clenching tight beneath the satin fabric of his tie. You wish you could see the way his hands expertly grope your breasts because you swear, you could come from this alone if he continues. You’re in the palm of his hand, eager to take it all. You’re completely loyal to him and it just arouses Satoru. Especially your sweet obedience.

“Mm. Good girl.” Satoru says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he stands up behind you once more. The white-haired male isn’t afraid of showing you affection any time of the day, but especially during moments like this. Simply, to ease your mind that he still loves and cares for you. No matter what he’s going to put you through. Rough. Humiliating. Pain. Dangerous. It’s all just thrilling to you both and truth be told, Satoru is the best of both worlds to you. You get everything. The rough or the gentle. Whatever the day calls for. Maybe it’s his loving warmth that seeps through, that makes you call him Daddy rather than something formal, like ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’. It’s fitting for the white-haired male and Satoru loves it when you call him it. It didn’t matter what he was going to do, he’ll always be your Daddy.

He’s not behind you. You can somewhat sense him in the direction of the desk in his office when you hear sounds in that direction. You pout, impatience starting to seep through. You hear a drawer open and close. Is he just going to make you kneel here? Suddenly, you yelp in pain, hands instinctively coming up towards the source of pain. Satoru bunched up your hair before surprising you with a forceful yank, forcing you to lift your knees until he lets go and your knees meet a— cushion? Your heart flutters despite the pain tingling in your scalp. He cares. “Hands in your lap.” Satoru orders and you quickly oblige, fingers lacing together in your lap.

Satoru is crouching in front of you now, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your pouting lips. They’re impossible to resist. Something cold and hard brushes along your bare thigh and he watches your eyebrows furrow with confusion of what it could be. His eyes light up with something sinister and exciting. “You look so pretty for Daddy. So impossible to resist. I should just have you kneeling here and actually do work. You’d be like my own personal art for the day. Hold any pose I put you through, no matter how uncomfortable it is.” Satoru coos softly and you whine, still feeling whatever it is stroking your thigh, even prodding against your covered womanhood, panties already drenched with your juices. “Maybe I’ll take you to work and force you to do that. You might feel humiliated with so many eyes on you but I’d be so proud to show off what’s mine.” He says, voice laced with his usual amusement. You huff a little, embarrassed yet aroused at the idea. You really would do anything for him.

“Part your legs and stay still.” He orders with a sweet kiss to your temple. Head cocking slightly in confusion, you willingly spread your legs far enough but still able to keep your knees against the comfortable pillow. The mysterious object in his hand brushes along your inner thigh before pressing against your womanhood and you gasp sharply, feeling the cold… metal, even through the thin fabric. Whatever it is, feels good against your needy pussy. Especially when Satoru presses more firmly until your slick-covered folds manage to spread despite the panties and the object presses against your sensitive clit. “A-Ah..” You gasp out softly from feeling a surge of pleasure wash over you as the foreign object rubs your clit slowly in a circular motion. You feel your clit throb beneath the touch, whining as pleasure continues to spread through you, leaving you to crave more of it. You’ve always been sensitive so it’s a difficult task to keep your legs apart.

Satoru loves to watch you struggle before him. He continues to rub the edge of the object against your throbbing clit, eyes fixated on your quivering thighs and how the panties weren’t enough to stop your juices from seeping out further and with the use of the metal object, Satoru smears the juices across your inner thighs. You clench your fists tightly, your mind racing with thoughts you’re barely able to process. You would have been ultra-sensitive to his warm touch alone, but the object just sparks your sensitivity further, only wishing you could know what it is. Some sex toy?

Your brows stay furrowed and Satoru laughs, delighted by your needy reactions. “Bet my pretty whore just wants to know what it is, hm? Patience. I’ve barely touched you.” He sighs out heavily and you feel somewhat embarrassed to be so reactive, face feeling hot. “Daddy, I just miss seeing your face..” You whisper breathlessly, nose crinkling as a pathetic attempt to try and move the tie around your eyes. A failure. He tied it pretty firmly. “Cuuuuute.” He coos softly, tapping the edge of the object against your bare thigh.

Satoru’s free hand cups his own cheek as his head tilts, elbow against his knee, watching you with amusement. It’s funny watching your body jerk with each slow tap, head turning towards the touch. “W-What is it?” You stutter out, unable to hide your curiosity as it grows. Satoru ignores the question for the moment, leaning back and his eyes refuse to leave you. “You’ll know soon. Take your panties off.” He orders breathlessly, his own heart pumping with excitement because fuck, he loves seeing your needy cunt before his eyes. Even if you’re pretty in lingerie.

Your fingers hook beneath the lace of your panties, hastily shifting yourself so you can tug them down the length of your legs and just as you are about to toss them, you feel his grip on them. Quickly, you let go. Without even needing him to speak an order, you move back to your original position. Kneeling on the pillows with willing legs staying apart and hands draped by your side. “Such a good girl, baby.” Satoru praises, though already sounding so distracted when his crystal blue eyes focus on your pussy.

Dripping and looking so inviting, Satoru brings your panties up to his nose and inhales sharply, groaning at the heavenly smell of your sex. His cock strains against his briefs, desperate to be relieved and touched. Your pussy clenches around nothing upon hearing his delicious groans, lips staying parted and you couldn’t stop yourself from whining. You just want to see him. “You smell so fucking good, baby. Panties drenched from being so needy, huh?” Satoru says, words muffled by the damp fabric still pressed against his lower face. He grins to himself from seeing you shyly tilt your head down and stuff the panties into the back pocket of his black slacks.

His long legs bend once more to crouch in front of you, one hand still gripping the object tightly in his hand before the other comes around to swiftly unclasp your bra. Even blind, you’d never get used to how hot the action is from the taller male. He’s taken your clothes off more times than you can count. The pads of his fingers ghost along your arm as he peels down the strap until the bra is finally off and tossed to the side. Your heart is racing, wondering what he’d do next to you, finding it even more thrilling with your ability to guess becomes non-existent when you can’t see his movements.

The tip of a mysterious object presses against the side of your breast and Satoru enjoys the sight of your squishiness. You’re still trying to figure out what it is by focusing… The end is somewhat circular and ah— You feel it start to drag between your breasts, trailing down your naked stomach and back to your dripping womanhood. Satoru could practically see the goosebumps appear, trailing after the contact the object makes and he smirks.

You start to pant softly, nails digging into your own legs. “Since when did you love to take your time so much, Daddy..” You whine, lips naturally pouting. This a silly remark on your behalf as you both know that he is never one to rush if he has time. Still, you’re only being cute to try to find out what he’s doing and what his more sinister plans may entail. “Sluts need to learn how to wait.” He sighs, sliding the object back down to where it originally was, pressing against your dripping folds.

“I’m your slut, a-ah…” You whimper out, spreading your legs further when you feel the cold metal once more gliding between your folds, thankful that panties aren’t in the way anymore. The cool sensation is only heightened from the lack of sight, leaving you all warm and tingly between your legs. Satoru is still far too calm for what he’s usually like and it leaves you dying of curiosity. What is he hiding? Whatever sex toy it is; feels so damn good as you grind against it, tiny gasps escaping from the jolts of pleasure you feel when it presses against your bundle of nerves. Your head is spinning, tilting back as moans of his name spill from your lips.

Satoru watches hungrily as you turn into a needy slut for something foreign between your legs, gaze never leaving as your hips begin to pick up the pace as you hump against the metal object, only warming it up with your sweet slick and keeping it against your hot pussy. His own lips parted in silent awe, head hanging forward and refusing to look away. Sometimes it’s moments like this where he wonders how he managed to score you for his selfish self. Eventually, he pulls it away and stands up to tower above you.

Sad sounds instantly part from you, feeling despair from the lack of that pleasure and your pussy clenches around nothing, clearly desperate to be filled up. “Do you trust me, Y/N?” Satoru asks, voice nothing but serious and a hint of excitement. You blink beneath the blindfold, shifting on your knees before your lips curl up to form a genuine smile, heart fuzzy and warm. “I trust you with my life.” You breathe out softly.

“Take your blindfold off, then.”

Finally. Your hands come up, first attempting the knot behind your head and it takes a moment but you manage to tug it free, untying the knot and keeping your eyes closed as the tie drops, draping along the front of your naked thighs. You open your eyes and deep fear momentarily crashes into you hard.

There’s a gun pointing at your forehead, dripping with your juices and just beyond the semi-automatic pistol, is Gojo Satoru smiling wide at you, eyes full-blown with carnal desire. The sight of him eases your fear, even if he does look rather manic with a gun to your head. Your trust and love for him far outweigh the fear you briefly felt. Besides… why is your cunt dripping more than ever and your heart pumping excitement through you? This is beyond dangerous and yet, you want it with him.

The pad of his index finger lightly caresses the trigger, pressing the barrel of the gun against your forehead. Your breath hitches, body starts to tremble. One pull and you’d be gone. It still doesn’t truly shake you to your core. You’re terrified. Natural to be so scared when there’s a gun to your head and yet, you also can’t shake away how aroused it feels to be forced into a position where all you can do is trust and obey Satoru. His head tilts forward, looking down at you through strands of white hair. Having you in such a vulnerable position is a blessing to him. It’s a right that only he gets the privilege of seeing. A privilege to put you through. “You look so scared, baby. Daddy won’t pull the trigger if you just follow orders.” He purrs, voice low and strained. The barrel of the gun now travels lightly down the length of your face before nudging against your pretty lips.

“Suck it.”

You whimper softly, eyes almost going cross-eyed as you try to look towards the barrel of the gun. Instead, you focus on his fierce grip on the weapon, baffled by how a large hand alone can look so hot when it’s steady and having control over something so dangerous. With a nudge to your lips, you press a sloppy kiss to the tip, glancing up towards Satoru’s face as you drag your tongue directly over the hole. You notice that his finger isn’t on the trigger anymore and assume it’s because you actually obey what he said.

“Daddy..” You whisper breathlessly, swirling your tongue around the end of the pistol. It’s not as smooth and easy to do compared to when you suck Satoru’s pretty dick. It doesn’t taste as pleasant either. Cold metal against your tongue as you drag your parted lips along the side of it until you make contact with his hand. You keep your eyes on the tall male, tongue dancing along the gun, drool coating it before you repeat the same teasing action along the other side, your heart still racing from the fact that this weapon could end you.

Your lips meet the barrel of the pistol and you look up at Satoru. Silently, he nudges it against your saliva-coated lips and you’re quick to obey. Your lips wrap snugly around the tip, metallic taste filling your mouth already as you suck on the end gently, moans muffled. Satoru curses beneath his breath, hand reaching out to tenderly stroke along your hair. He’s so very pleased that you've proven his words to be right. That you really would absolutely do anything for him. Hell, he’s sure you’d even die for him and to have someone that loving and loyal to him? To no one else? Fuck, his cock throbs harder than ever before. You look cute in his eyes as you suck on the end of his pistol. It usually sits in his side drawer, but seeing you enter his office in lingerie? It just called to him.

It’s a bit difficult compared to sucking his cock. The sliding of your mouth isn’t as easy, yet you don’t care. You still feel desperate to please the white-haired male. With your jar relaxed, you bob your mouth up and down half the length of the gun, having to keep your mouth wider to be able to fit the awkward size comfortably.

Mindlessly, his free hand begins to palm himself through his slacks and groans quietly from the friction of fabric rubbing against his pulsating cock. He begins to push the gun further into your mouth until the open end presses against the back of your throat. You gag loudly, throat muscles constricting around the metal object and it causes your eyes to sting from feeling your throat ache, scraping against the pistol. “Keep it in.” He sighs out softly and you have to breathe heavily through your nose, lack of oxygen evident from having a gun deep in your mouth. His crystal blue eyes are wide and heavy with lust as they focus entirely on you and the heavenly sight of you choking on his weapon. His finger caresses along the trigger and you whimper, completely muffled. You continue to try and swallow around the pistol until finally, Satoru relents.

Satoru slowly slides the pistol along the flat of your tongue until he pulls it away entirely. You inhale sharply, a string of saliva connected from your lips to the barrel of the gun. You couldn’t stop yourself from dry-heaving, trying to inhale the oxygen you briefly missed. His free hand reaches to tenderly stroke along your hair, lips curling to form a playful grin. “Good girl, baby. Look at you, dripping all over my office.” He comments, shifting his foot until he taps it against your dripping cunt and you whimper from the jolt of pleasure that shifts through you. Your juices drip slowly onto the wooden floor from how excited you feel, despite the aroused terror you also feel from the gun still being pointed at you.

It’s coated in your saliva still, Satoru isn’t bothered to wipe it clean. Instead, his free hand begins to unbuckle his belt. He pauses, noticing how your fingers twitch by your sides. The white-haired male chuckles, delighted by how you’re always so eager to please him. “Go on, then.” He says, tapping the end of the pistol against your forehead as further encouragement for you. You waste no time. Hastily, your trembling hands come up to finish unbuckling his belt and swiftly sliding it out of the loops to drop it on the floor beside his feet. You look up at him, admiring his beauty as you curl your fingers beneath the slacks and briefs. Your hand unzips the front and you begin to pull his bottoms done until finally, his cock springs free. Satoru steps out of the bottoms and kicks them to the side.

You practically drool at the pretty sight of his thick, long cock throbbing in front of your face. “I don’t even need to threaten you. You’re an eager slut, already drooling.” He sighs out dramatically, nudging the barrel against your cheek, making it squish. You flush with embarrassment, though you can’t retaliate. Gun or not, Satoru is right. The pillow beneath you is already damp because of your dripping cunt. Long lashes flutter and you waste no time to wrap your soft lips around the leaking head of his throbbing cock. Briefly, you tease the tip with your tongue, swirling it around and lapping up the pre-cum, hot moans muffled.

Satoru breathes in sharply between his clenched teeth, cock twitching in response to your teasing. His free hand grips firmly onto your hair and roughly yanks you forward as his hips push out, forcing his pulsating length down your throat further. You whimper, thankful that your mouth isn’t filled with the taste of metallic this time and instead with something else that you love to taste. Your tongue rubs along the underside of his cock, keeping your jaw loose as he guides your head with ease by the fierce grip on your hair, mouth bobbing up and down the entire length.

You couldn’t breathe properly, throat muscles constricting every time he slides deep enough, only leaving you to gag loudly and fucking into the saliva that gathers. It feels heavenly to him. Addicting, too. To feel the soft squishiness of your cheeks rubbing against his cock as he continues to fuck your mouth onto his cock, hips meeting each time. Tears sting every time you feel the throbbing cock push down the length of your throat until your nose presses against smooth skin. It’s even harder to breathe through your nose when it happens, the lack of oxygen making your head feel all light and floaty. Eyes roll, saliva dribbling down your chin and you could feel the edge of the gun still pressed to your forehead, his heavy pants and you choking on his cock filling the air.

You trust him. Trust overwhelming any sense of fear you have about the weapon in his hand, though it will always look menacing in his grip. People would find you to be a freak for also being aroused by it at all, clit throbbing and walls clenching with the need to be filled up. “Fucking hell— fuck. Every hole of yours made for Daddy, huh?” He groans, his stomach starting to tighten with the need to orgasm. He’d rather not. Satoru is more eager when it comes to seeing his white sticky cum dripping from your fucked out cunt. Your hands stay by your side in fists as a pitiful way to try and contain yourself, feeling high off of his words alone. His hand shifts to the back of your head, thrusting deep and forcing you to take every inch of his length once more, not allowing you to move. You stay there, scrunched nose against his stomach as swallow around his cock, throat muscles squeezing around it before he pulls you off quickly, moaning your name.

You begin sputtering and dry-heaving, desperate for the oxygen to flow back. It’s complete bliss when you breathe, throat aching from the sweet abuse. Strings of spit connect your lips to the shiny tip, coated with a mixture of pre-cum and your spit. “Ah~..” You exhale out shakily, looking up at the white-haired male with complete awe. Only he can ever treat you like this and get away with it. It’s thrilling. Hot, even. The gun momentarily dangles loosely from his hand, inhaling slow deep breaths as he looks down at you, admiring how pretty you look on your knees, already looking fucked before he even stuffs you full. Satoru’s lips curl to display a wicked grin.

“My pretty princess, all mine to play with and not a single complaint. I could shoot you and you’d still be desperate to obey me and give me pleasure.” He teases through a coo, waving the gun in your face briefly. Your puffy lips form a cute pout, whining. “Daddy sees right through me. Just want Daddy’s cock so bad..” You whisper, voice breathless and ragged. Satoru hums, long fingers dragging through his white hair before he raises the weapon once more. “You expect me to get to your level to fuck your tight pussy? Bend yourself over the desk.” He orders barrel nudging once more against your forehead.

Frantically, you stumble to your feet. You feel relief for your knees because, despite a pillow, they were starting to ache. Still panting from the result of your mouth being fucked, you make your way to his desk on shaky legs. Funny how he already has you in such a state just from kneeling for too long. “Haven’t even fucked you yet.” Satoru snorts with amusement, though silently endeared as he walks behind you, free hand gripping your hip as he guides you forward. Your eyes make contact with his belongings across the desk. “Daddy, what about your—“

Your words are instantly cut off as you watch Satoru swipe his arm across the desk until everything lands on the ground. Thankfully there is a rug beneath his desk to lessen the damage. Not that you care— That was extremely hot and before you could express that, his large hand firmly grips the back of your head to force you down, upper body bending until the side of your face is pressed against the wooden desk and you whimper, feeling a dull throb. “Baby girl~, looking even more enticing.” Satoru purrs, tapping the end of the gun against the desk beside your head. You couldn’t help but tremble beneath his grip, eyes focusing on the weapon next to you, noticing how his finger once more caressed the trigger as he shifted the angle of it to face you.

Automatic fear washes over you, soon turning into excitement that drips from between your legs. Your trust in him only deepens as you begin to teasingly sway your hips. Satoru drags the barrel along his now empty desk, crystal blue eyes refusing to look away from the seductive sight of your ass. His free hand gently glides down the length of your body, neatly trimmed nails grazing along your naked back. “You’re so pretty, Y/N. Especially like this, as if you were made to be bent over my desk and take my big cock in any hole of yours.” Satoru says and you could practically hear the cocky smirk in his voice. Your thighs squeeze together, cheeks heating up. He isn’t wrong. That’s what you often think about. How you were born into this world to belong to the white-haired male, to feel excitement and pleasure as you do anything he wants. Your fetishes and kinks always line up with his. You glance towards the gun that appears, even more, shinier because of your sweet juices mixed with your saliva. You bite back a small smile. You were made for each other.

His large hand grasps your right ass cheek firmly, squeezing harshly enough to coax sweet mewls out of you and to, naturally, admire the way your ass fills up the gaps between his fingers. Fucking hell, he loves your ass. He brings his hand back, hovering before he brings it back to the surface of your ass swiftly, slapping your ass cheek firmly. You whimper, feeling the sweet sting spread across your cheek. He alternates his harsh spanks from cheek to cheek, grinning almost like a maniac as he enjoys the joyful sight of your ass cheeks jiggling before his very eyes. His palm starts to feel numb and yet it doesn’t stop him. Nor do the tears that glue to your long lashes as your gaze stays fixated on the automated pistol pointed in your direction, looking so menacing. Spank after spank, the impact each time his hand lands seems to be harder than before, causing you to squirm on the spot and bite back your sobbing. The pain by Satoru’s hands feels so good.

You gasp out sharply when nails scrape over your burning skin, knowing that light bruises were already beginning to form from how hard he hit your ass cheeks. “What are you doing just laying there, princess? It’s like you’re asking me to pull the trigger and leave you here to bleed.” Satoru murmurs, dragging the edge of the gun across the table before you feel the cold metal, slicked with your saliva and juices; pressing against your bruises ass cheek. “If you don’t show me how much you want me..” He warns, finger tapping lightly on the trigger.

Hastily, ignoring how the deathly threats invoked some sort of wild excitement out of you, your hands come back towards your throbbing ass and you whimper softly, hands trying to gently cup across the surface of your ass and spreading your cheeks wide enough to finally reveal your both of your holes. Your pussy is on full display, folds parted and strings of your slick attached to them. Satoru grins, ignoring your whimper as his free hand soothingly rubs along your waist. “Such a good girl, baby. Always obeying me... You’re just a little dumb, s’all. Need Daddy to always guide you through it.” The white-haired male purrs, feeling daring enough to press the tip of the pistol directly against your puckered asshole and chuckles when he sees it clench. “Scared I’m going to fuck your asshole with my gun, baby? Would you prefer my cock?“

You nod your head eagerly to the thought, heat rising to your cheeks and nails dig lightly into your own flesh, keeping your ass cheeks spread. He laughs and you’re delighted to hear it, unable to stop your lips from curling. “Just love Daddy’s cock so much, made to fill my holes up..” You mumble, breath hitching when the edge of the gun presses further against your asshole. You shiver, not knowing what to expect as he drags the metal object down between your ass cheeks and rubbing once more against your folds.

He loves it, really. You looking so vulnerable. Scared by the gun and yet confused for being aroused. This power that he holds over you is so addicting; something he’ll always want to chase. The dominance to pair with your submissiveness. Satoru snaps out of his trance, placing the gun on the desk and finally gripping your waist with two hands. “Keep being my perfect girl, don’t think I won’t pick it back up and hurt you. Have you crying for me, begging for me to stop the pain. Hm? Only Daddy would be able to help you, isn’t that right?” He says, voice low and soothing as his hands come down to squeeze over your own hands that keep you spread for him.

Your heart flutters and all you can do is helplessly nod. Satoru soaks it all in. The sinful sight of you bent over his desk, sweet juices smeared along your inner thighs and dripping from your core. It’s a miracle that he’s even able to hold himself back when he’s desperate to slam himself inside of you with no warning and have you choke on your pretty tears. One hand grips the base of his cock as he guides himself forward until he’s grinding his erection against you. A heavy sigh falls from his soft lips, head tilting back as he focuses on the feeling of his length rubbing between your slippery folds, each slide so smooth from your slick. His bulbous tip leaks pre-cum that smears along your cunt, pressing against your needy hole, finally. You whine, nails scraping once more across your bruised ass cheeks that leave a burning sensation across the numb flesh, wiggling back to show your eagerness for his cock.

You still find yourself nervously glancing towards the gun that rests about thirty centimetres away. One false move and your beloved Satoru could pick it up, having every right to. Yes, you’re so willing and thankful to give him that much power. To hand over all the control to the white-haired male and deeply trust him in return. He spoils you, deep down. Cares for you. Loves you. It’s only right to be loyal and obedient. Hell, it makes it so much more thrilling. One of his large hands caresses along your bare back again, his gaze fixated on your face and so he knows where you continue to glance. It makes his cock throb with so much excitement, seeing you nervous and yet, determined to behave.

“Your trust in me, Y/N…” Satoru trails off, his own blue eyes focusing on his cock, perfectly lined up and ready. It already glistens beneath the office light from being coated in your mess. You squirm a little, wondering what exactly he wants to say and— “Ah!” You strangle out a cry of surprise laced with pleasure & pain when you suddenly feel his cock pushing in deep, hard and fast. He didn't 'prepare' you with his fingers like he usually does; to coax you into relaxing and being able to adjust comfortably when something bigger enters. Not that it's usually needed. He just knows you love the feeling of his long, slender fingers. Still, the pain of your walls stretching only adds to the thrill. Satoru slams his throbbing length into you, hips snapping forward and nails digging into your soft flesh as he groans your name out in pleasure, head tilting back. “It’s so arousing—.” He finally manages to finish between heavy pants, already feeling your warm velvety walls cling right around his erection and squeezing.

“Daddy, oh—, nngh... So big—“ You whimper out, eyes closing tightly and your words only make his ego inflate, leaving him to grin down at your naked body beneath him. “Yeah? Daddy’s so big that he’s filling you right up. Don’t deny that it feels good, baby girl. I don’t like my good girl to lie to me.” He teases, hands soothingly stroking your sides. Satoru wastes no time. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust or get comfortable as he begins to thrust, nice and slow. You lay there obedient and eager to take his monstrous-sized cock, even if the stretch of your inner walls still hurt. Your cheek presses against the surface of the desk and if it wasn’t for his fierce grip on your hips, your body would have been jerking forward with each hard thrust.

The pain begins to subside already, replaced with the pleasure you often chase for. His cock sliding in and out with ease, all thanks to how deeply aroused you are. Satoru pathetically tries to contain himself by digging his nails into your flesh, muscles tensing up as he watches his cock disappear inside your needy cunt with deep fascination. “Fucking— tight.” He pants out as he feels your warm walls drag along his throbbing length as if eager to keep him buried deep inside. You squeeze around his thickness, feeling utter bliss and too deep in the pleasure to even feel flustered from the squelching your pussy makes every time he pulls out, only to push back in. “Nn, Daddy~.” You moan out happily, mind blank as you nuzzle the hard wooden desk.

Satoru laughs breathlessly, pulling back until only the bulbous tip of his cock stays inside your warmth. Naturally, a whine of complaint falls from your lips and you try to wiggle back onto his cock. His hands easily hold you in place and you yelp with surprise when he swats your ass cheek. “Fucking whore, always so greedy for Daddy’s cock. The dumb girl can’t even think of anything else. huh? Isn’t that right? So cock obsessed that you’d just lay all day with your legs open to show off your slutty pussy. Want Daddy to fuck you, baby girl? Hm?” The filthy, degrading words fall easily from his lips and you flush with humiliation. It only drives your lust further and deeper. You feel pathetic to know that it’s true. You don’t care in the end— You just want his fat cock in your tight pussy.

“Daddy, please~. Fuck your personal toy. I’m such a whore for your thick cock, a-ah!” You cry out in sweet ecstasy when he slams into you, arching your back into the air. Instantly, he’s leaning down until his toned body is pressing against yours, hand groping your breast and squeezing harshly. He’s grinding his cock into you, leaving you feeling so drunk off the pleasure as moans spill easily from your swollen lips. “That’s it, baby girl. Take all of me.” He whispers against your ear, shivering from his hot breath and teasing tongue against your earlobe. Satoru continues to grind hard, addicted to the way your inner walls seem to desperately try to cling to his throbbing length, only for your juices to make each thrust so easy. He massages your breasts, taking his time with each and it leaves your legs trembling. His hand comes down until he presses just above your womanhood, groaning softly from feeling his own cock make you bulge.

You whimper from feeling his hand pressing down, tears glued to your long lashes. Everything just feels so good! You could barely contain yourself even if you wanted to. Satoru adores seeing you already unravel before him and it prompts the desire to see more. Satoru carefully slides out of your core and you pout, hole clenching around nothing. The white-haired male’s lips are curled to form a smile of amusement, hand slapping easily against your wet cunt as you keep your legs spread. “Patience, princess.” He says, enjoying the soft cries that escape you from his slap.

Satoru’s thick and heavy cock continues to throb and he grips your wrists firmly to tug you upwards. “Eh?” You question, though happily obeying as he controls your movements. With not needing to use much of his strength, Satoru easily manhandles you. He twists you around until you’re facing him and hoists you up onto his near-empty desk. The gun still lying near one of the corners. “Not even trying to help Daddy here, I guess you really do love me handling you.” He sighs, a chaste kiss to your forehead before his hand pushes against your shoulder and your back meets the flat surface of the desk.

Your eyes are wide from feeling the impact, gazing up at him with lust and legs open, your body looking so inviting for him. Always. Satoru wastes no time. He’s too eager to feel you around him again and so with his hand at the base of his cock, he guides himself back in. Tip pressed against your hole before sinking in entirely, coaxing mewls to spill from your needy lips. Satoru shivers, feeling you squeeze around his erection once more. Your hands grip weakly onto the edge of the desk as Satoru starts to thrust fast and deep. You moan out in enjoyment when you feel his cock stretching you out every time he slams into you, eyes rolling back and lips staying parted. His crystal blue eyes refuse to leave your face as he pounds relentlessly into you, heavy pants mixed with eager grunts and groans parting from him.

The white-haired male never gives in, no matter how good it feels to have your walls wrapped snug and tight around his pulsating cock. Satoru continues to thrust hard and fast, skin slapping against skin echoing off the empty office walls. Your breasts bounce with each pounding of his length, the office desk creaking beneath you. “Daddy!” You choke out in ecstasy, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. It only drives him further to witness you in such a delicious state; utterly drunk off of his cock alone. One hand comes down to your pussy, thumb pressing against your throbbing clit to rub teasingly in circles.

Electrifying jolts surge through your body from the contact to the sensitive nub, face scrunching up as you cry out for the taller male, clenching around his cock that continues to pound into you with no mercy. Every touch, every thrust of his is so damn thrilling that your body only chases for more, even as you start to feel delirious. Sweat lightly coats your body, tiny yelps escaping your swollen lips as his other hand slaps your breasts which continue to jiggle, thanks to his cock slamming deep into your core. “Da-ah~ Nnghh..” You babble out, cheeks glistening from your tears. Satoru is panting heavily, not minding the numb tingle in his palm as he slaps your breasts in time with his thrusts. Fuck, he swears he’s never felt anyone or anything so damn perfect before. The way your velvety inner walls cling onto his cock as if desperate to keep him buried inside of you; keep you full to the brim.

You both can sense the ultimate highs coming and yet, he refuses to give in just yet. It’s almost like magic to see how fast his throbbing cock disappears and your dripping cunt taking every inch, always stretching right around and squeezing. One hand steadies you against the desk, gripping onto your hip. His eyes are wide and alive with swirls of lust as his other reaches for the gun. Just that feeling of more power, that will really fucking send him over the edge. His long fingers wrap around the grip of the automated pistol. He pulls his cock out to the very tip, listening to your cute little whines. You want him back inside of you so badly and— “Ah!” You cry as he slams back in, eyes barely able to concentrate as he leans in, hovering over you as he continues to fuck you nice and deep.

So close, you’re both so close. Nearly there.

“Would you die for me, Y/N?” He pants out heavily, refusing to look away from your face that twists with innocent confusion from the question. You’re too drunk off of the pleasure to really think, though you know in your heart, what the answer is. “Yes— Yes, would die for, nn.. you, Daddy. Anything for you.” You moan, hand coming down to rest over his on your hip to squeeze. A single laugh escapes him, pleased by your answer. Loyalty really is the best in his eyes. To have you especially, be happily devoted to him. “Prove it, baby. I want you to prove it.” He says, voice low and breathless. You open your eyes when something presses to your forehead and that’s when you notice he picked up the automated pistol mid-fuck, still thrusting deep inside your dripping cunt, balls slapping against your ass.

Fear tightly tied in with the pleasure you feel, continues to surge through your body. Your eyes filled with tears almost going cross-eyed as you look at the gun, crying. You’re babbling and incoherent, nails digging into his wrist. You have to prove it. You want to prove it. To Satoru, your entire world. The metal scrapes against your forehead as your body still jerks with every pounding. Satoru feels like he could barely breathe now when your pussy clenches so tight around his length, forcing his grip on the gun to stay steady. “I’ll do it, Y/N. I’ll pull the trigger, just say you’ll die for me. Show me— Fuck, so tight... Show me your devotion.” He antagonises further, stomach muscles tensing. In his eyes, you look so pretty as a sobbing mess. All for him.

You’re blinded by the tears that spill down your cheeks, wailing mixing into moans of ecstasy. It’s so sinful, in your mind. To be so afraid and yet aroused. That your needy pussy continues to be coated in your excited slick, making it easier for him to fuck into you. “P-Pull it, Daddy! Let me show you!” You manage to stutter out in a broken cry, refusing to close your eyes as you look up at him. To look at your everything. “Fuck—” Satoru grunts out, cock aching from witnessing something so beautiful. “I’m pulling the trigger, baby. Three—” He cuts himself off, the barrel of the gun pressing firmly against your head.

Your body is shaking, your stomach hot and tight with the need to let everything go. “Daddy!” You choke out, eyes wide and cheeks stained with constant tears. “Two.” He warns, crystal blue eyes refusing to leave yours. He cocks the gun. This is it. This is when you’ll show your true devotion to the white-haired male; your lover. Satoru’s slick-covered cock slides out until only the tip stays nudged in.

“One!”

You hear the click of his finger pressing down on the trigger as he slams one final time into your tight heat and you swear there’s an explosion of stars. You come around his cock, walls fluttering before squeezing around him. Your eyes shut tightly when you hear the trigger, too deep in your feelings of ecstasy to process the reality of no bullet. The gun slams down on the table as his muscular arms wrap around your trembling figure. He’s groaning against your ear and finally spills every drop of his seed, filling you up to the brim. Your walls clench repeatedly around his thick length, eagerly milking him through his orgasm as you sob through your own. You cling onto him, legs and arms feeling like jelly as you do so. “I’ve got you, Y/N..” Satoru whispers, hand already stroking along your back as he holds you against his warm body.

It feels like a long while for you to calm down from your high, desperately holding onto the white-haired man as you sob through your orgasm, your excited mess seeping out from your pussy. It’s mixed with his own sticky cum and he’s still refusing to pull out of you. Maybe selfish of him, but he swears to himself that’s mostly focused on you. He has to. Wants to. After everything he’s just done. Reality soon crashes over you. Even when you’re deeply in love and trusting someone; it doesn’t stop the breakdown of relief. Relief mixed with guilt and confusion. Relief for being alive, that there really wasn’t any danger. Guilt for being aroused by something so dangerous in the hands of the man you love. Confusion... Why? Why did it arouse you?

Satoru makes gentle shushing sounds, not with the intention to silence you but to comfort you. Tears continue to spill down from your cheeks, nuzzling his broad shoulder in a pathetic attempt to hide. “You’re okay, baby… It’s okay. Daddy would never hurt you. Not like that, hm?” Satoru whispers lovingly. He finally relents, sliding out of you until his cum spills out of your gaping cunt and drips along the edge of the desk. Your walls clench around nothing, already missing the feeling of being full. A small hiccup escapes and you feel your body being gently rocked. “D-Daddy..” You mumble through sniffling and he pulls back a bit.

The white-haired offers a warm smile, eyes now clouded with the love he has for you. He presses a kiss to your forehead before taking hold of the gun. You couldn’t help but whimper, gaze fixated on it. “Look.” He pauses, sliding the magazine out to reveal the insides of it. Completely empty. Not a single bullet inside. Deep down, you knew that was the case. Satoru would never dare threaten you with a live weapon. It was all part of the play; something you both discussed wanting to try weeks ago. Everything was consensual… Still, you feel confused. Was it wrong to be so aroused by having your life in his hands? Trusting him completely? Satoru slots the magazine back into place with a click before setting it aside. With one hand on you, Satoru leans down to grab a bottle of water that he kept near his desk. He’s always a prepared man, even when things seem so spontaneous. He uncaps the bottle and gently guides your head away to press the edge of the bottle against your lips. You obey and take small sips of the water, thankful for the liquid to ease your sore throat.

“You’re not gross, Y/N. What you feel is completely normal, baby. It wasn’t exactly the gun that aroused you. Nor me. It was about the power exchange and trust.” The white-haired male gently explains and it surprises you; to be read so easily. Your bottom lip trembles and you pull back slightly to look up at him, tears glued to your long lashes. His heart aches at the sight, large hands tenderly cupping your cheeks as he scatters loving kisses across your forehead. “It feels weird, Daddy... I was so scared.” You confess quietly, sniffling. “But, I trust you so much. Even with my life. You’d never really do it, right?” You ask rather timidly and Satoru shakes his head quickly. He knows such thoughts are normal after an intense scene and you only deserve the best love and care afterwards.

“Would never ever. The only fear and pain we accept in this household is consensual. I love you so much, Y/N. You did so well for me.” Satoru praises, hands caressing your bare back as he smiles down at you as you continue to sit on his desk. Your heart flutters at the sight of his smile, wrapping your arms around his middle to cling onto him, burying your face against his firm chest. So warm and comforting. “I like trying new things with you. I know people would probably think of us as freaks, but I like it. You’re the only one I trust.” You mumble, voice muffled by your face refusing to pull away from his chest. Your words ease his mind and he presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. Even a dominant person in a relationship needs aftercare and to be reassured. You know that very much. Especially with Satoru. He may be intense during the scene and heavily aroused, but he’s still someone who is soft and gentle; behind all that cockiness. “I like it, too. We’re made for each other, Y/N. Thank you for trusting me… Now, come on.”

You cock your head to the side in question before you let out a soft squeal as you feel Satoru lift you up with ease. Satoru’s hands cautiously cup your ass cheeks as he walks to the closed door. You look back towards the office — items scattered across the floor and cum dripping down the table. You feel your cheeks heat up. “Shouldn’t we clean that up?” You ask quietly and Satoru laughs, warm breath tickling your neck. “I’ll clean it up later, we’re focusing on you right now. How does a bubble bath sound? Let me take care of you.” Satoru says through a dramatic whine and you can’t stop the giggle from escaping, resting your head against his broad shoulder as he carries you to the bathroom.

“You’re the best at taking care of me, Satoru.” You say through a happy sigh. He sets you down on the counter, finally shrugging off his unbuttoned shirt off properly. You watch, eyes glazed over with love as he’s preparing the bath. It’s thankfully quite big and will be able to fit both of you comfortably. Even with his long legs, that your eyes currently admire. His hand glides under the tap of running water, adjusting the temperature to the warmth that he knows you prefer. He looks back at you for a moment, noticing you looking. “Are you admiring my ass?” He teases, lips curling into a grin and you huff, looking off to the side. “Your legs, thank you very much. Though, you do have a nice ass.” You grumble and Satoru snorts.

Once the bath is prepared and nearly overflowing with bubbles, Satoru walks over to scoop you back up into his arms. “Admire all of me.” He says with a playful pout and chest puffing out. You lightly smack his muscular pecs, smiling. “Always.” You respond with a kiss to his lips as he settles both himself and you into the water. Your back is against his front as his long legs trap you within. Briefly, he tilts his head back and sighs, enjoying the warmth of the water and your body pressing against him. You nuzzle back into him happily, prompting him to smile. Quietly, he grabs a loofah, squirting your favourite scented lotion on it before he begins to scrub it gently against your arms. He firmly holds each arm up as he rubs in a circular motion, spreading the suds across your skin. You feel butterflies flutter in your stomach as he continues, feeling the loofah against your back and across your front. No one else in the past ever took care of you to such lengths.

Still, it’s not fair. “Satoru—” You begin, taking hold of the loofah once he is finished. You manage to wiggle yourself around until you’re facing him. With an eager huff, you begin to scrub against his skin and across his muscular body. Satoru’s playful gaze softens, keeping his arms up against the edge of the tub as he watches you. “Is this an excuse to touch my hot body?” He asks, unable to keep it in. You splash water at him and he laughs, leaning in to press a loving kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment.

“I get to touch your hot body whenever I want anyways.” You say as you pull away from the kiss, feeling giddy. There’s no sense of fear or insecurity within you anymore, completely comforted by the white-haired male’s presence. He loves you so perfectly. Satoru rolls his eyes as he sighs dramatically. “Yeah, I’m just a piece of meat.” He jokes, kissing you once more before wrapping his arms around you. “Just kidding.” He reassures, pulling you against him.

You both stay in the bath until the water starts to feel cold and so, Satoru stands up. He quickly dries himself off so he’s not dripping water across his apartment, wrapping the towel around his waist. He grabs an extra fluffy one for you, guiding you to stand up before he wraps it around you.

“I can dry myself—”

“No.”

You bite back a smile, now standing on the bathmat as he dries you off and even going to great lengths to squeeze the water out of your hair carefully. Satoru bends down to peck your lips, the towel now replaced with a fuzzy bath gown in your favourite colour. “Can you go to the bedroom? I’ll be quick.” Satoru promises, nudging you to the exit of the bathroom. Happily, you oblige. You walk down the long hallway— You still find yourself surprised sometimes by how big his apartment is… Bedroom, too. You push the door open to reveal the master bedroom, walking over to sit on the edge of the king-size bed that you happily share with the male.

Satoru quickly unplugged the bath before hanging your towel and leaving the bathroom. He walks in the opposite direction until he’s in the kitchen. He grabs another bottle of water from the fridge and two granola bars from the pantry. Perhaps some would think his actions during aftercare are a bit extreme. That cuddling is ‘enough’. A few nice words. To him, that’s barely anything. He remembers briefly of the past— You being surprised by how far he goes to make sure you’re okay. Maybe it’s surprising cause he doesn’t seem like the type. Not with an overly confident persona and playfulness. There will always be layers to discover when it comes to Gojo Satoru.

Once in the bedroom, Satoru walks over to set the bottle and granola bars down on the bedside table. Your gaze softens. “What if I wasn’t hungry?” You ask, allowing him to scoop you up to drop you down against the middle of the mattress, sinking into it. “Don’t care, you’ll still eat it.” Satoru says, guiding you to roll over onto your stomach. You make a questioning sound, sensing him moving away and you tilt your head to watch him. He walks over to a set of drawers to grab a pair of sweatpants, tugging them up his long legs and tucking himself in before grabbing a bottle of lotion from the top surface. “Satoruuuu, you do so much. Let me take care of you, too.” You whine and Satoru settles beside you, grinning a little. “You do plenty.” He reassures, pressing a kiss to your temple.

He slides the gown up until your ass is revealed to him and he sighs. “You do have a perfect ass. My favourite.” He says, slowly squeezing some of the lotion onto his palm and you pout. “I hope you don’t see any other asses.” You mumble, breath hitching when you feel the coldness of the lotion before he begins to massage the lotion in. “I don’t know, hard to not look at my own.” Satoru says lightly, kneading the supple flesh gently. He never wants to take any chances with bruising. The spanking was barely anything compared to what he had done before, but it will never stop Satoru. Maybe it’s an excuse to touch you further and the thought makes you giggle. Thankfully, his tender massage does ease the throbbing in your ass. Once finished, Satoru leans down to press a playful kiss to each cheek. “Mwah, mwah.”

You laugh, prompting him to grin before he tugs the gown back down and rubs his hands on his sweats. He sets the lotion aside before his firm grip rolls you back over. Satoru easily hoists you up until you’re settled against the pillows. He tugs the blankets over your lower half, making sure the pillows are nice and plump for your comfort. He joins you under the blankets, settled against the pillows next to you. His arm reaches behind you to grab one of the granola bars and drops it on your lap. “Eat.” He orders gently, now wrapping his arms around you to snuggle into you, happy to just finally embrace you in bed and relax... Not that he doesn’t love doing aftercare, he really does. Especially after an intense session. It’s just that nothing quite beats cuddling in the end. You feel extra cosy still in the bath gown to relax in and have your boyfriend clinging onto you. He’s always been the affectionate kind and you adore it.

You snack on the granola bar in a comforting silence, breaking a bit to feed to him. He happily takes it between his teeth before chewing. One hand comes up to stroke along the back of your head, smiling softly. “Feeling okay now? Do you have any regrets?” Satoru asks, needing to know. You tilt your head, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “No regrets at all, my love. I had fun and it feels comforting to know that we can be freaks together.” You say with a soft giggle and Satoru relaxes. “Agreed, my love.” He copies, keeping his arms wrapped around you. You smile, noticing his eyes closing for the moment. You briefly think back to the gun that was pointed at your forehead. Fear doesn’t flare up within you. You know that no matter what happens between you both— No matter how intense things could be; there will always be love and trust. You will always be happy and willing to try something new with the man you love. Besides, it’s not like it’s the only thing you both do. There’s plenty of gentle love-making, too. “I love you.” You mumble shyly, nibbling on the granola bar. He smiles, eyes still closed and snuggling into your warmth.

“I love you, too.”

#fae's writing #fae; writing. #fae; satoru. #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru x you #jjk scenario #jjk writing #gojo scenario #gojo smut #satoru smut #gojo satoru #gojo #gojo writing #anime scenario #anime smut #minors dni #jjk x reader #jjk x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #female reader #reader insert #dark content #dc warning #dark content warning #gun warning

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 30 (Free Use)

Kinks: Free Use

Pairing: Male!Shrine God x GN!Shrine Keeper!Reader

Other Kinks: Doggy Style, Cowgirl

Warnings: Slightly Dubious Consent (Reader is subservient to the god, but has fully consented to this free use relationship)

Word Count: 1087 words

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: I personally imagined the God character in this to look similar to Gintarou from the anime Gingitsune (though he would never treat you this way)

A lighter flicks in your hand, struggling to produce any flame. You know it has enough fluid, having refilled it not two days ago, but your thumb keeps slipping across the button.

“My l-lord, please,” You pant, sweaty hands struggling to keep a grip on the lighter, “-the incense has to be lit. Please, just wait-”

You gasp, lighter falling out of your hand as you’re forced to press it down to the ground, stopping yourself from falling face first into the temple floor. Sharp hip bones press into your backside, claws digging into the fat of your ass as your lord swivels his hips.

“I do not care about some damned incense, pet.” Your lord spanks your ass hard, his calloused paw leaving a large mark on your skin. “Nor do I care for your obstinance.” Your lord grasps onto your hips, yanking them back onto his eager cock.

A shiver runs up your spine, feeling your lord’s dick twitching inside you. The head rubs deliciously against your insides, scraping along your walls with each thrust, stretching you beyond limits.

“I don't mean to-” You yelp, your lord spanking you again.

“Yet, you don't give your lord his rightful respect.” Claws scrap along your hip, enough to leave irritated stripes on your skin. “It is your duty as shrine keeper to follow my commands, my wishes.” Your lord leans forward and grabs you by the jaw, forcing to arch your back and press against him. “And my wish is to fuck you without distraction.” Your master begins thrusting faster, wrecking your insides, a gasp tearing from your lips. “Is-” slap, “-that-” slap “understood?”

“Yes, my lord!” Your cry, nails nearly clawing into the concrete as you're overstimulated. Your lord gyrates his hips once he’s balls deep, a deep growl in his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“You are forgiven.” Your lord growls directly into your ear, leaning over your pliant body. His rough tongue licks up your neck, sharp canines dangerously close to your jugular. “Only because you are usually so good for me.”

Its true. Since coming to tend to this temple 2 months ago, you have been an exemplary shrine keeper. You follow your lord’s orders to the T, always diligent and reverent to your god. Falling to your knees when he commands, opening your legs whenever he deems fit. As his subject, your body belongs to your god, an offering he could always indulge in, a hole he could fuck whenever the urge striked him.

You knew what you were signing up for. But you can’t deny your lord’s fervent appetite has made maintaining the temple quite a challenge. You could hardly bend over to scrub the floors without your lord throwing up your robes and indulging in your hole, his covetous hands fondling you at every hour, even when the temple had visitors. The common folk could’t see your god, of course, but still! The impropriety of it all.

Even so, you could hardly complain when your lord brought you to dizzying heights of pleasure. Like right now for example.

“Unggh! How do you stay so tight?!” Your lord calls like an insult, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “I’ve stretched you open so many times, yet you still milk my cock like a virgin sacrifice.”

“I am yours to use, master.” You pant, eyes sparkling with tears and reverence. “I hope to always satisfy you.”

“That you have, pet.” Your lords voice is a purr in your ear. “So obedient. I am rather lucky to have such a pleasant shrine keeper.”

The compliments have you buzzing in happiness, unintentionally clenching harder around your lord’s cock. He growls in your ear.

“C’mere.” He grabs you by the hips and sits himself backwards. Cock still inside you, you are tossed back onto your masters lap, his fluffy white tails now between your thighs. He deftly spins you around, your hands digging into his furry chest.

“Ride me, pet. Consider it a reward for your hard work.”

You nod, body aching and breathless, but immediately bidding to your lords will. Your hips grind down on his lap, ass throwing up and down onto his cock. You sigh as your nails clench into his fur, your God watching your debauched face with a proud smirk. The same claws that left marks now rub comfortably onto your hips, admiring the scars he left on his pet.

“Does that feel good?”

“Y-yes, my lord.” You pant, ignoring the way your thigh muscles scream.You had been gardening today and were already quite sore. But what your lord commands, you do. “Your cock is magnficiient.”

You can practically see the pride light up on your God’s face, so unbefitting of a deity. By now is usually when he lets you off the hook, grabbing your hips and bouncing you like a fleshlight. It can be a bit rough, but at least it’s a break for your poor quads.

But your lord is cocky, bolstered by the compliment, instead resting both paws behind his head. He likes hearing your heavy breaths, seeing the sweat begin to drip down your chest, your eyes clenching shut. He likes to see you work for it. The rush it gives him is incomparable.

He couldn’t have asked for a better shrine keeper, both in dedication and appearance.

“My l-lord, I’m close.”

You whine, a warning courtesy your master demands. You had expected your God to only chase his own pleasure, to use your body like a tool. But your lord seems to delight in your orgasms, insisting you tell him when yhey wrack your whole body, leave you milking his holy cock.

“Yes, my dear, I can feel it.” Your god licks his lips. “Lets cum together.”

You breathlessly nod, forcing your eyes to open, to watch your master as he likes. Like always his gaze is covetous, dark and almost…menacing.

If you were anyone else, you'd think he was a demon, not a god.

“Ohhh!”

You whine as your lord howls, uncaring of any potential passersby. His cock juts against the very edge of your hole, hips thrown up as his cum fills you to the brim. Your muscles tremble as you feel your own crescendo, feeling slowly returning to your extremities.

Your master is gracious, letting you rest on his warm chest, catching your breath. A soft paw rubs the back of your head.

“Rest, pet.” A claw massages the back of your neck. “The chores can be finished tomorrow.”

#my writing #reader insert #gender neutral reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #monster romance #monster x reader

[strniohoeee]

Hidden In The Shadows

Part 2 Here

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Following a lesson about this town that seemed to suddenly vanish, Y/N is intrigued to figure out what truly happened. However she might’ve bitten off more than she can chew….

Warnings⚠️: Nothing crazy, talks of/explanations of a cult, creepy rural town. This was from a Drabble about matt based on a type of horror movie he’d be done by @gamermattsgf she’s wifey and I had to adapt this into an imagine😫 @st7rnioiossblog

Song for imagine: Oblivion- Grimes

I never walk about after dark

It’s my point of view

Cause someone could break your neck

Coming up behind you

Always coming and you’d never have a clue

Moving out of my hometown wasn’t on my bingo cards for this year and moving out of my hometown for a research project was 1000 percent not on my bingo cards. Yet somehow I was packed up and on the road within three months of starting my project.

I’ve always had a weird niche for all things history, but especially history that just seems to vanish into thin air. I began to become extremely interested in towns that are no longer on the map due to poverty, weather change or even these people becoming hunters and gathers. Packing up and moving out in an instant. It all started in my senior year of college. I was studying geography at my local four year college in my hometown of Nevada.

Honestly I hated college all the long hours, all the homework and also having a full time job on top of that, but I had a full ride so I decided to suck it up. My very last year I had some space for a filler class that got me extra credits so I landed on the study of United States Lands focusing on increase and decrease of population throughout the recent centuries.

Personally I thought the class was going to suck, but to my surprise my professor was amazing. Towards the end of my final semester we began to learn about Pleasant Town Oklahoma. A once booming town immediately vanished off the face of the earth.

“Now class you may be asking yourself why was this town so rich? And I’m here to tell you it’s because the mayor at the time in the year 1915 had connections with our president. They hid money, fabrics, food and all types of expensive items within this small town” Mr Wayne stated

“I mean with hiding all this stuff how did they become so wealthy?” One guy had asked, my eyes darting to him

“They were being paid off for hiding these things, however the money was dirty money, so they created many businesses to get the cash flow moving. From one store to one man’s pocket to the next and then next thing you know that dirty money is in George's hand who lives in Virginia! It was all an amazing scheme, very smart. But as you can see it didn’t last long nor did it end well” He had stated as he clicked the laptop to show the next slide shown on the board

“Within three years of this operation this small town alone was bringing in about $100,000 a month which is over $2 million dollars in today's money. So then you ask yourself how does such a rich state with so much money just disappear? And all the money too?” He states scratching his chin

“So Professor Wayne….what exactly happened to them?” I asked after raising my hand

“No one really knows” he states uncrossing his arms and leaning off the desk

“I mean there has to be a reason right? That’s a lot of money to just disappear” I state as I jot down notes

“Well here’s the other thing, there are many rumors dating back to the creation of Oklahoma which was 1907. Sources have stated that Pleasant Town is evil and I’m talking demonic evil. People have said the reason the cash flow never stopped was because they were all a cult and seemingly used one another as sacrifice.” He stated clearing his throat

“Sacrifice?” I questioned raising my eyebrow

“Well yes! In many cultures it is stated if you do a blood sacrifice for the devil and/or sell your soul then your wishes shall come true. Their wishes were to stay wealthy. This came with problems however” he says as he sits down at his desk

The whole class was on the edge of their seats waiting for him to go on.

“Many of these men had short arms and deep pockets. Making it very easy for one man to kill the next out of greed” Wayne goes on

“And didn’t they get caught? I mean the president wouldn’t allow that” one classmate states

“Very true! The town was very small, only about 80 people now if 10 people suddenly die many eyebrows are raised. For a while they covered up the stories claiming a sickness like smallpox. The mayor decided to bring animals claiming this would make them richer since they produce meat, eggs and milk. Now he wasn’t wrong, but the animals were used in these blood sacrifices to hide their tracks” he says nodding his head

“God these people were ahead of their time” I blurt out and crossed my arms over their chest

“Oh they were, but that might’ve costed them their fortunes and their town” Professor Wayne states

“So that’s it? They just left? And what now?” I asked him

“It’s stated that they just separated, leaving most of the money to the whole state of Oklahoma. Afraid the president was after them or maybe they danced with the devil for too long and ended up paying the price” he states bluntly

“And the price is?” I asked him

“Death” he says frowning a bit which caused a chill to run up my spine

“But this is all speculation. About 30 years later Pleasant Town was rebuilt and supposedly none of that cult stuff was brought to that town. And till this day it’s still up and running. I believe the population is only about 200-250 people max?” He says rubbing his chin in thought

“I mean that’s just sad… we’ll never know the truth” I said to him shutting my notebook

“I mean you could always go and visit, spend the summer there. See what it’s like……anybody up for a challenge” he says laughing as the class shudders in fear and averts their eyes to the floor

I mean I was super interested in this lost town with such a dark history that suddenly reappeared 30 years after weird cult shit was happening. I could always take the summer off from work since I graduate in May….. take a road trip to Pleasant Town Oklahoma. Find the real history and report back to Professor Wayne.

My thoughts were interrupted when the bell rang and he bid his goodbyes to the class. Everyone was quick on their feet out of the door, but I stood back very interested in talking to him.

I trotted over to his desk as he shut his laptop, stuffing it into his book bag. His eyes darting up once he felt my presence

“Ahh Ms. Y/L/N…. You seemed very intrigued with today's lesson, planning a weekend getaway?” He asked me playfully

“Funny that you mention it because I was thinking more of a whole summer get away” I stated

“A whole summer?” He says brows lifting immediately

“I’m really interested in this town. I mean a mayor in on cult rituals to bring tons of cash in and the president not having a clue? And then they just vanished? This is like a movie sir” I state as I ramble on

“I mean it’s all just speculations Y/N” he says smiling at me

“I know sir, but is there any way I can get your research on this town so I can study it a bit more? I plan on building a whole case for this and figuring it out” I pleaded

“You’re really interested in this aren’t you?” He asks opening his bag up

“I really am Professor Wayne” I say back

“Here, but listen this is a tight knit community. Don’t go digging your nose where it doesn’t belong. Tread lightly this isn’t your turf, okay? In a town like that with such a small population and a dark history, you don’t want any enemies” he says handing me the folder titled “Pleasant Town”

“Yes, and thank you sir” I stated nodding my head

After that I finished my final semester two months later in May. Between work and classes I built up more of a file on this town jumping from a folder to two binders stacked with information.

Two days after my graduation I did some research on the town. This place had no hotels, no motels and for sure no air bnbs. That’s where I ran into my first problem, attempting to find a place to stay.

Searching on Zillow I had found a house for rent. In the middle of nowhere. One gravel road and corn fields. From the pictures it did seem there were few houses across and next to it, so I figured that was perfect. I'd make friends with neighbors.

I mean the house was decent for the area. Seemed to be a two bedroom two bathroom house. The bedrooms upstairs, one bathroom down stairs and one upstairs. Had a pretty average sized kitchen in the back of the house, a dining room to the right of the front door, a living room to the left of the front door, the stairs faced the front door, and then there were small hallways that lead to the kitchen. And there was a basement that seemed small, well kept and empty. It sucks to say I actually liked the place

My second problem began when I called the realtor a very old southern man by the name of Beaufort Smithson. I dialed him that morning and from the moment he heard my accent he seemed to turn a cold shoulder.

“Please sir” I pleaded with him

“Listen ma’am you sound young and not from these parts. What bring someone like you around this small town” he states deeply

“Well I’m from Nevada and it’s just so crazy here and I’ve been looking to stay somewhere a few states away that’s quiet and small” I state

“But you’re looking to rent from June 1st to August 31st…. We do 7 month rentals” he says bluntly

“Well I want to see it I like it first” I say lying through my teeth

“Can’t you see from the pictures if you like it or not” he says sucking on his tobacco tucked in his lip

“I can have the full rent for those three months ready for you in cash” I state desperately

“In cash you say” he says as I hear his chair squeak from underneath him

God these people really were money hungry till this day…

“Yes sir $800 a month for 3 months I can get you that $2,400 in cash June 1st” I state

“Well little lady you have yourself a deal. Now get yourself a pen and paper and jot this down. June 1st 12 in the afternoon we’re going to meet at the gas station in Pleasant Town” he states spitting his tobacco into a styrofoam cup

“Uhhh what gas station is that sir?” I ask as the pen dangled in my hand

“Sweetie we only got one gas station down yonder….you can’t miss it” he says chuckling

“Right…. Well thank you Mr. Smithson, my names Y/N Y/L/N, and I’ll be seeing you on June 1st” I state

“Well alright darling see you then” he says chuckling

“Oh by the way I look like-“ but I was cut off

“Oh trust me I’ll know what you look like…..safe travels” he whispers before hanging the phone up on me

That phone call made me slightly regret my choices of spending my summer with some shit kickers than on the Las Vegas strip…..

I spent the last two and a half weeks packing, purchasing what I know I won’t find in Oklahoma and doing more research.

I think I was on page 4,000 on google before I found a new article with information I hadn’t seen before. I placed my plate of pizza down as my eyes scanned the laptop screen quickly.

It was a newspaper clipping dating back to the year 1953. Only 70 years ago…. Interesting. The title stated “Farm owner questioned in the massive slaying of all his animals” my brows furrowed.

There’s no possible way that 70 years ago these cult killings continued? But my fingers scrolled down further as I began to whisper

“Confused and angry farm owner, Thomas Sturniolo was seen today yelling at cops as he was taken out of his small Pleasant Town home. After all his farm animals died and weird things happened around town he was suspected of killing his animals in a weird cult-like way. Demanding he be let loose, and that the town was crazy and out to get him because he is the wealthiest farmer. Insisting his competition killed his livestock and not him.”

My eyes couldn’t believe what I was reading…this was pretty recent honestly. This was happening around the time my grandparents were young children… I printed those news clippings out along with many other clippings of his arrest, his release and his disappearance…..

Adding them to my binder as I finished my pizza. This was so insane to me, and this would make a great conversation with professor Wayne after my studies.

I opened up my email and decided to email my professor.

Hello Professor Wayne! I hope your summer treats you well. In about three days I am off to study the lost town of Pleasant Town Oklahoma. That folder of information you gave me has grown into two large binders, and I found more information today. Down below you’ll find links to news articles dating back to the 50’s about weird cult animal killings! I think you’d find it fascinating! I’d like to update you here and there through my three month stay, and then maybe when I get back we can discuss all my findings over lunch! Thank you for your time! Hope to talk to you soon. -Sincerely, Y/N Y/L/N

Two days later I was all packed up into my car. About four large luggage and two duffel bags…. I was well prepared to say the least. Saying bye to my family and friends I began my venture to Pleasant Town.

My venture was a full day, and I made sure I counted for gas breaks, nap breaks and food breaks to make sure I got to Mr. Smithson at 12 on the dot.

June 1st 11:25 am- 35 min ETA Pleasant Town Gas Station

I was coming across the entrance to the town. I was jamming out to SZA, bobbing my head I looked over to my right smiling as I read the sign

“Welcome to Helltown….once you get in you’ll never get out!” It read

My smiled dropped, I snatched my sunglasses off my face and turned the radio down….. a cold sweat began to form on my back as I looked in the rear view mirror

What the fuck was that? I was becoming increasingly anxious and wondered if I just made the worst mistake of my life. I rubbed my lips together in anxiety as I gripped onto the steering wheel harder.

I chose to shake it off, there has to be a logical explanation for this I thought to myself. Putting my sunglasses back on, I turned my music up a little bit and continued down the silent road.

My map told me 1 minute, and slowly I pulled up to a very old and very dusty gas station. Coming to a stop as the gravel left a smoke trail ahead of my car.

I put the car in park and hopped out, stretching my back and cracking my neck. Suddenly an old man hopped out of his large red truck. Spitting tobacco on the ground as he waddled over

“You, young lady must be Y/N?” He asks as he sucks the tobacco

“Yes sir I am” I state as I smile and place my hand out to shake his

Looking down as he smacks his lips, he firmly shakes my hands.

“Good to met ya, welcome to Pleasant Town” he states coughing

“Thank you Mr. Smithson” I state smiling once again

“Well uhh” he states smiling at me

“Oh right” I say, eyes going wide as I walk over to the passenger side. Grabbing the envelope with all the money in it.

“Here you go, $2,400 cash” I state handing the envelope over to him

He grabs the envelope and takes the money out, beginning to count it

“300,400,500-“ he says flying through the money

“Uhh what’s with the welcome sign saying welcome to Helltown? Once you get in you’ll never get out?” I ask pointing over my shoulder

He immediately stops counting, sucks his teeth and looks up at me through his lashes

“Idiot teenagers who have nothing better to do than destroy property that isn’t theirs” he states as he goes back to counting

“Oh…” I state rocking back and forth on my heels

“Alright it’s all here! Thank you sweetheart. I’ll drive you to your house just follow behind me” he states stuffing the money back in the envelope

“Thank you sir” I state as he turns and walks back to his truck

I hop in mine and wait for him to go, following closely behind him I take in the surroundings. Trees, dirty roads, corn fields, farm houses, large stacks of hay and pretty decent sized homes. They were just super outdated.

It was only about a 15 minute drive, but man it felt like forever. I’d hate to get stuck with no gas on a road like this.

Pulling up to the house he pulls onto the gravel driveway as I do too. We both hop out and we walk towards the house. We walk up the steps and wait on the front porch as he digs around for the keys.

Looking around I take in the surroundings, there’s quite a bit of farms around here…. My thoughts are interrupted when he finds the keys and opens the door. Allowing me to walk in first

“I had my crew clean up the place for you” he states shutting the door

“Oh, do you own a cleaning company?” I ask looking at him

“No.. I get these young boys out here to do what needs to be done around these parts” he states bluntly

“Oh the young teenagers who mess around” I say laughing

“No, I send those boys to work the corn fields…. The older men do the hard work round here. The cleaning, the lifting, the shootin” he says sucking the tobacco

“Shooting?” I ask as I turn to face him

“Yup they shoot the ones for my man down under” he states looking me dead in my eyes

“What?” I ask as I began to get nervous

“Oh I’m sorry sweetheart I must be confusing you, you see my dad loved to hunt but he’s too old now and lives in my basement. He has me send out the young men to shoot for him and bring him back some animals” he states chuckling

“Ohhhh yeah” I say laughing awkwardly

“Well young lady this is your home now” he says handing me the keys.

“Thank you” I say meekly

“You got your dining room, living room, and kitchen all down here fully furnished as you can see. Bathroom down here one upstairs and both bedrooms upstairs. Oh uhh I’d suggest food shopping early in the day, you don’t want to be out late at night around here….that is due to the wild animals of course like bears and coyotes” he states looking at me

“Of course” I say nodding politely

“Make sure you lock your doors at night. Especially the back door….. animals in the kitchen are never a good thing” he says turning around to head to the front door

“Got it” I state

“And uhhh we’re a family here….youre house is my home….or whatever the saying is….my house is your house….ah you know what I mean” he says shaking his head

We bid our goodbye and I watched him drive off. My hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. This whole conversation was making me nervous and uneasy. One other thing I realized was I’d be having no WiFi here. However my phone had 5G and the service wasn’t awful here shockingly….. I immediately sent an email back to Professor Wayne

“Just got here! The house is actually super nice. It's very historical and artsy. The realtor is a total creep though. His name is Beaufort so that explains a lot! He said some weird things and made weird analogies. Making it seem like beyond the naked eye there’s more to this town…. I’ll keep you posted”

I hit send and slid my phone back into my pocket. I placed the keys in my front pocket and walked outside. The warm sun kissed my skin as I squinted. Walking over to my car I popped the trunk and began to take my luggage’s out.

Suddenly I felt like there were eyes on me. The way the area got super quiet. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. I looked over my shoulder in the least scared way possible. There was nobody there. I rubbed my forehead and let out a breath.

“Y/N relax” I whispered to myself as I took my last luggage out

However unbeknownst to Y/N, she was in fact being watched. A young man on the second floor of his parents house. He stood in his room peering at the young woman through his sheer curtains.

His gaze was dull as he stared out the window, sweat trickled down his forehead, his mouth hung open slightly and his breathing became deep. His fingers swirled and tugged at his red flannel.

She was like out of a movie. He had never seen a woman like that down here. Those are the ones his mom warned him about. The type who didn’t like boys like him, the type he should….hate. However when he looked at her he couldn’t hate her….she seemed precious….precious just like his horse Bertha.

“Young Man! What did I tell you about standing at that window” he heard from behind him, he jilted and turned around

“I’m sorry mama…I wasn’t doin nuffin” he states as he looks at her

“It is not polite to stare at people you aren’t a child anymore. You don’t do that” she says to him

“I wasn’t looking I swear” he says with pleading eyes

“Well you go on now. Your father and I are leaving for the afternoon” she says to the boy

After his mom leaves he pears out his window again. The young woman had stopped to talk on the phone. He was so fascinated by her he simply couldn’t look away.

I hung up the phone after saying bye to my mom and pulled out my second luggage. Rolling it into my house and coming back out to get my third luggage. I huffed out a breath of air and wiped the sweat off my forehead

I leaned over to get the third luggage but it was stuck on something. I sucked my teeth and began to tug on the handle harder.

“Need a hand ma’am?” I heard from behind me

“OH SHIT” I yelled turning around and grabbing my heart

“Oh im sorry darling I didn’t mean to scare you” the young man states backing up a bit

“No it’s okay, I’m new to town so I’m a bit jumpy” I state shaking my head

“My apologies for sneaking up behind you, may I help you?” He asks looking at my trunk

“Yeah please that would be great” I say smiling as I tried to control my breathing

The young man grabs both of my luggages for me and I grab my duffel bags. We walk to the house and he leads the way to my other two luggage’s.

“Thank you so much” I say placing my bags on the couch

“My pleasure sweetheart” he says nodding his head

“I’m Y/N” I say sticking my hand out

“I’m Matthew, but I go by Matt” he says wiping his forehead with the inside of his shirt. The shirt lifted just enough for me to get a perfect view of his lower stomach.

Damn…why were the shit kickers in a creepy town always so hot…. I guess the movies aren’t wrong..

“Well Matt thank you once again, can I offer you some water?” I ask him

“Water would be nice” he says smiling a bright smile

We walked to the kitchen and I found some old glasses left behind. I rinsed it with water and then gave him some water from the sink.

He drank the full cup, allowing the water to dribble down his chin and to his neck. My gaze ever so slightly following the head of water.

“So, what brings you to this part of town darling?” He asks, his accent so thick I couldn’t even focus

“I come from a busy town and I’ve always wanted to move to a small rural area. Pleasant Town seemed just right” I state licking my lips

“Once you see what this towns like you’ll go running for the hills” he says smirking darkly

“What do you mean by that?” I asked clearing my throat

“Well we hunt, we drink beer til we’re piss drunk and race in old cars for fun, we sneak into farms at night and tip over the sleeping cows…. Amongst many other things” he states handing the glass back over to me

“Oh that’s nothing compared to where I’m from” I say placing the glass in the sink

“And that is?” He asks crossing his legs as he leaned against the wall

“Las Vegas Nevada” I state nodding

“Never been” he states

“You should visit one day” I say

“If I ever leave this town” he states swallowing thickly

“If you ever leave?” I question once again

“Well you know this place is home I don’t know how I’d do in a big place like that” he says smiling at me

“I suppose you guys are pretty far behind on a lot” I say giggling

“Oh trust me aren’t we all” he says kicking himself off the wall

“Well uh thank you so much Matt I don’t mean to keep you” I say to him as I begin to walk out the kitchen

“Oh no worries darlin” he says as he follows behind me his thick cowboy boots hitting the wood in all the right places

He opened my front door and began to head out

“I’ll see you around neighbor” I state to him

“See you around, oh and if you ever feel like there’s eyes on you….that's because there is….you know small town haha we can’t escape each other” he says coldly before adding a laugh at the end

“Right…right” I state smiling at him and blinking quickly

I watch him walk across the street and head into the home. I lock my car doors and shut my front door. Locking the door before walking to the kitchen back door, locking that one as well.

I spent the rest of the day sweeping up, cleaning and setting up my room. I hadn’t realized how late it gotten or how hungry I was till my stomach growling woke me up from a small Power Nap.

I got up and realized it was 8pm, I wasn’t sure what food stores would be open, but it was worth the try. Ignoring the warning not to go out at night I grabbed my house keys and car keys.

Locking the front door, I got into my car. Turning it on I put it in reverse. I looked over my right shoulder and when I went to look over my left Matt was there and had banged on my window.

I jumped out of my skin and hit the breaks. Rolling my window down I was breathing heavy

“Sorry sweetie” he says as he looks down at me

“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked him genuinely curious

“Oh me? No no, but you, you shouldn’t be out at this hour” he states

“It’s 8pm though?” I say furrowing my brows

“Yeah well the bears and coyotes come out this time” he says tapping the hood of my car

“I’m just running to the local store” I say

“You shouldn’t be out at this hour” he says again a bit firmer

“Umm okay” I say to him, remember what Professor Wayne said “no enemies this isn’t my turf”

I placed the car back in park and got out. Shutting the door and locking it I looked at Matt, a shot gun in his right hand as my eyes darted up.

“Don’t worry darling this ain’t nothing special. I use this to hunt” he says to me as he moves the gun back a bit

“For uhh Mr. Smithson’s dad?” I ask as my eyes slowly track up to his

“Oh no I do a different type of hunting for him” he says clearing his throat

“Do you now” I say rocking on my heels

“I get the animals causing issues for us here, the ones eating up all our crops. We can’t have those round these parts” he states chuckling

“Yeah…yeah bad for business. I’m going to head in for the night then” I say pointing behind myself

“Well alright now! You have a great night” he says in a whisper while offering me a smile

I smile back before turning in my heels and heading back into the house. Locking the door immediately as I run up the stairs.

I decided to shower and eat some leftover snacks. By this point it was midnight and I decided to brush my teeth so I could lay down for the night.

Shutting the bathroom light off I walk into my dark room using the brightness of my screen to lead me to my bed. Shutting my bedroom door behind me I trot over to my bed. However something in my peripheral view catches my eye.

Through the little dent in the Venetian blinds I see a light on in the house across the street from me. Slowly walking over to the window I peak out the small dent and look across the street.

All I can see is the silhouette of a skinny man with a shotgun in hand standing at the window. Almost like he’s staring out the window….

Suddenly he slides out of view and the light goes out, but I stay looking and I get an uneasy feeling. It’s like he’s still by the window…hiding in the shadows…watching….waiting….

I scared myself by doing this, so I backed away from the window and decided to lay down. Listening to my heart thump in my ears as I focused on controlling my breathing. My mind was racing because I was so nervous about this town and whether or not I made the right decision…..

I attempted to clear my mind and doze off to sleep. I knew I had a full day of adventures the following day especially since I needed to find a supermarket of some sort here!

The End…. For now

Alright guys I know I’ve been GONE, but it feels good to be back! I hope you enjoyed this part. Can’t wait to start working on part 2 shortly 🤭🖤 we’re at 2,009 followers! I love yall soooo much 🥺

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo imagines #Spotify

[temis-de-leon]

Replaced MC AU/AU - Part 1

Characters: demon brothers, Diavolo, fem!MC and high school crush! male! NES (MC x NES)

How’s it gonna be , Intro – Part 0 , Part 2 , Part 3

Masterlist

CW: unrequited love, rejection, insecure demons, i refuse to let MC be a doormat, lesson 16 mentioned, my interpretations of the pacts, suggestive (kinda? i dont know), MC is down bad for NES, golden retriever NES, both MC and NES are in their 20s

There were two songs during the writing of this part: Rock Lobster and Girl With One Eye; do with that information what you will

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Diavolo liked NES. What a fine addition to the program he was! Invested in his studies, clearly interested in the new world he had been suddenly thrown to and cooperative as an advisor whenever MC was occupied with other matters. Charismatic, polite and respectful, still acting with naiveness, but quickly adapting to his surroundings.

No wonder MC used to be in love with him.

That was a surprise for everyone, although he’d be lying if he said it was a pleasant one. Solomon had laughed at the turn of events, stating how lucky MC was finding NES years later. In hell, no less! And while that made everything easier in terms of getting to know the Devildom from a familiar face, seeing MC smile with that bashfulness whenever she crossed paths with NES wasn’t something none of them were keen on. 

Sending him to Purgatory Hall despite MC’s protests was the obvious choice. The House of Lamentation was already crowded and having MC share her room was both unnecessary and unfair; at least, that’s what Lucifer said.

Both of the angels’ and Solomon’s reports were as positive as they could be. Luke thoroughly enjoyed baking with him, Simeon described his company as delightful and the sorcerer was ecstatic when he announced that NES tried every single one of his dishes, which just proved his bravery and resilience. 

Diavolo liked NES, yes, but he’d like him even more if MC liked him a little less.

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“So those are pacts?”

MC stared at NES, mouth dry and words stuck in her throat. She needed to blink, but she didn’t know how to do that without looking weird. Of course NES’s eyes had to look like that under the light of the fireplace. 

“MC?”

“Yes?”

He laughed and her heart skipped a beat. There wasn’t an ounce of malice in his voice, making her wish his soft smile was born out of the intimate bubble encasing them. If she focused enough, she could swear NES had a blush in his cheeks. If only that wasn’t due to the heat.

“The pacts, MC”

“Oh, yeah”

Could the earth swallow her if she was already in hell?

“They’re bonds I share with the brothers. Kinda like…”

She didn’t know what to say then. That she could command the brothers and they had no other choice but to obey her? He'd discover the true meaning of the pacts if he asked the right people, mainly Solomon, but it still seemed like a fact too vulnerable to share.

“It means she’s part of the family” a voice behind them intervened. “That she belongs with us”

MC jumped and turned around at lightning speed, drowning in embarrassment at the realization that she’d completely forgotten about Satan’s presence in the library. However, something in his words irked her mind. Did he want to say that? Or rather that she belonged to them?

“That’s nice, right?” 

She looked at NES, who was smiling despite the heavy silence in the air. Satan scoffed, no doubt in a mocking tone, and MC wondered with sudden ire how far she could go.

“Well, these are just two of them”

Mammon’s, covering the tip of her fingers in pure black with golden swirls; and Beel’s, dripping out of her mouth down the length of her throat.

“And where are the others? They look really cool!”

“Come closer, I’ll show you Satan’s”

Said demon snapped his book close, turning around with glaring eyes. MC ignored him and opened her mouth, letting herself enjoy NES’s presence so close to her body. There was ink in her tongue, drawing hard edges in the shape of a very elaborated arrow. NES stared at it in amazement, unconsciously grabbing MC’s chin and moving it side to side, up and down, to admire the tattoo better.

“Do you want to see the others?”

NES took his hand away, discreetly looking at Satan out of the corner of his eye.

“Would you…?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary” 

The blond glared at them and MC stared him down with a silent warning.

“I don’t think that’s your decision to make”

The tension was thick once again and MC sighed when NES looked away in awkwardness, but she couldn’t let Satan spoil what she wanted to be a nice date.

“Come with me to my room, NES, I’ll show you the rest of them”

He didn’t need any reassurance, taking his DDD and MC’s blanket with him before following her out of the room. 

The fireplace was still lit, but Satan felt unusually cold. 

.

.

“She invited him to her room?!” Asmo clutched his chest before covering his annoyance in fake saccharine words. “How daring!”

“Lucifer will be furious!” cried Levi trying not to drop his DDD in his drink, finally letting it rest on the table and keeping his trembling hands inside his pockets.

“Why didn’t you stop them?” 

Satan looked at Mammon in disbelief, sneering at his brother’s furious expression. 

“Do you really think I didn’t want to? She wasn’t exactly happy with me at the moment!”

“Well, no wonder! You cock-blocked her!” 

Levi screeched at Asmo with a horrified look in his face, tears already in his eyes and fingers fidgeting with his jacket’s zipper.

“She’s raising their intimacy levels at ultimate speed! She’s taking the shortcut! There’s no way a yucky disgusting otaku could compete with that!”

Asmo rolled his eyes, patting the sobering demon’s back.

“None of us can compete with that, Levi”

Everyone looked at Mammon in surprise, but he was staring at his fingers, completely defeated. 

“As much as it pains me to say this, Mammon is right”

“Oi! Have some respect for your older brother!”

“Shut up, you moron! I’m taking your side” speaked Asmo once again. He sighed and crossed his arms, hugging himself with sadness. “MC already made her choice. The only thing we can do is slow the process”

“Then we’ll do that”

Satan seemed determined, rejecting Mammon’s supporting touch when he leaned over his chair to grasp his arm. He got up and started to grab his things, stopping only when he heard Levi’s nervous voice.

“She’s already mad at you, Satan. Like… bosslike mad at you.”

“Do you really want to risk that?”

He refused to meet his brothers’ eyes, nor their fear, their empathy or their dejectedness. Without saying another word, he stepped out of Café Lament and set foot to the House of Lamentation.

.

.

MC loved the brothers. They’d become family, even with the death threats, the broken wall and the murder. They knew what she liked to do and eat and wear and they were more than happy to indulge in her wishes. 

But if they interrupted her time with NES one more time, so help me God, she’d give Hell a whole new meaning.

First it was Satan, sitting next to her in every class and cutting every attempt at a conversation with NES short in the name of a proper education. Then followed Belphie, who slept on the floor by her bedroom door, locking her inside and forcing her to jump out of the window, which gave everyone a heart attack. 

Lucifer mildly scolded them for that, stating himself above the poor behavior they were displaying, but still found multiple reasons for MC to be in his office for hours on end. Same as Levi, who pulled three all-nighters in a row and left her half-dead for a week. 

Mammon and Beel had been more subtle, both inviting her to movie nights, cooking sessions and shopping sprees. She only put a stop to all of the nonsense when Mammon tried to intercept her when she was on her way to a date with NES, excusing himself with a poor idiotic story about some angry witches. 

Strangely, the only one not to have a stupid scheme against her crush was Asmo. She almost expected him to be the most obvious about it, but nothing happened. He still did her nails and he helped her choose her outfits whenever she had a date with NES, albeit with a harsher critical attitude. 

He quickly became the nicest one to be around and she had no qualms in saying so.

“Oh, MC! You always know how to make me happy!”

“But it is true! I don’t know what’s wrong with the others! They’ve been acting so weird…”

Asmo stopped rummaging through her closet, turning around to look at her with an unamused expression. He looked tired.

“Honey… Surely you know. You must know”

They stayed in silence for a few seconds, both knowing that MC knew what he was talking about. All seven brothers had been interested in her to some extent, claiming ownership over her soul on more than one occasion, and this was the first time she’d rejected all those statements in such an obvious way. 

“We miss you, MC” 

Not the whole truth, but something neither of them could deny. 

“I miss you too”, she assured him. 

She could’ve left it at that, ending the raw, vulnerable talk in a positive tone. Alas, things weren’t always that easy. 

“But I like him. So, so much”

MC didn’t want to cry, but she was close. The dejection in Asmo’s eyes lasted long enough for her to almost regret knowing NES for so many years. In the end, he hid himself amongst her pile of clothes and continued looking for a good outfit.

“I’ll find time for you, I swear. For all of you”

Asmo nodded without looking at her, ending the conversation when he threw some clothes in her direction and waited for the mandatory catwalk. 

It wouldn’t be enough, but it was the best the brothers could ever get. After all, if someone deserved to be happy and in love, it was her.

.

.

.

Taglist: @stfuchaase @k1-an @megs-wonderland @kkeromenoo @va109 @marvelous-maniac @cruzerforce4256 @blarsh @marathedemonoverlord @junni-berry @arylleb @b-a-m-2006

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me angst #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me mc #obey me oc #replaced mc au #obey me x female reader

[merakiui]

[01] 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁.

villain!azul ashengrotto x magical girl!reader note - welcome to this very impulsive magical girl parody! i'm not sure how many chapters it will be exactly, but i'm looking forward to writing more. i hope you'll enjoy reading! chapter navigation: [01] (you are here) // [02]

Magic is a messy, complex thing.

It can enchant and amaze with beautiful, endless possibilities. It can terrify with traumatic results. Like any sort of power in this world, it is a heavy responsibility for those who wield it. Everything has its dark side; you’re sure the same holds true for magic. No matter how marvelous it may be, surely there exists some shadow.

It’s also something you can’t use, and so the good and the bad don’t really apply to you!

Not that this is cause for envy. Rather, you’re relieved you don’t have to worry about experiencing the problems that accompany magic. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is; magic would only further complicate it. With no other plausible way to return to your world, you’ve had to make your home here on Sage’s Island. It’s an isolated place, boasting two elite magical universities and a bustling town.

It also happens to resemble a chicken wing on maps, so that’s a plus. Truly an ideal getaway! If only you weren’t trapped here indefinitely… Maybe then you’d have better appreciation for it.

As it happens, you’re a janitor living in the abandoned, decrepit dorm on the outskirts of campus. It took a month since you moved in, but you’ve managed to clean it up into a habitable space with the help of its resident haunts. The Headmage hasn’t been very helpful or present since your arrival, and so you’ve had to make do with what little you’ve been given. But for all of his troubling qualities, he isn’t inherently cruel. He’s kind enough to pay you for your services (but then that was only after you threatened him into an agreement), and he doesn’t overwork you (again, this is because you made it abundantly clear you won’t do anything if it violates your own sanity in some way, shape, or form). At least he’s willing to negotiate every time you argue for humane working conditions.

He’s an irksome guy. You can’t believe he has the gall to call himself the ‘embodiment of magnanimity’ when he’s done the bare minimum. Even the ghosts have offered more assistance and they don’t have any sort of authority here! You’re pleased to share a space with them. Sometimes they seem more reliable than the Headmage.

Despite your attempts to acclimate, the illustrious Night Raven College is still a place wholly unsuitable for a magicless human such as yourself. You’re the same age as some of the students here, but they feel like they’re on another level. Flying overhead on brooms, casting spells, mixing up potions… You listen in on some of their conversations while washing windows or sweeping the floors and wonder if all magic schools are this rigorous.

Maybe that’s any school regardless of its curriculum. Any sort of academic pursuit comes with difficulties; that’s normal. But magic is a facet unique to this world. There aren’t any arcane academies where you’re from, but now you wish there were. They seem so fascinating.

“Not much of my problem, though, is it?” you mumble, shaking free of that thought. Being a janitor is great. You can avoid the stress of school and keep up with the gossip exchanged in the halls. It’s like reading the newspaper, only it’s spoken instead of written.

Morning spills through the part in the curtains when you open them. You shut your eyes and bask in the warming glow of a sunshine smooch. It’s going to be another great day—you’re sure of this—and a day as pleasant as this deserves to be lived in its entirety. Perhaps you’ll have a picnic outside or you could even—

BAM.

Your eyes snap open just in time to view the raven who’s slammed itself against the window. Disoriented, it jerks itself up and away from the glass, flapping its wings wildly. You watch its attempts with a pitying frown. And then, inching closer to pull the window open to allow the raven respite, you see it: the blue flames racing towards you at a rapid speed.

With a yelp, you dive out of the way just in time. Due to the forceful blast, the window shatters in a spray of glass. Heat licks at your face, so hot it almost singes your brows, and you stumble to the other side of the room in a panicked daze.

“You lousy bird!” someone exclaims, the words pronounced in a growl. “Get back here so I can nab ya and prove that I’m worthy of bein’ at this school!”

The raven squawks, fluttering wildly about your room. A sleek, obsidian-colored feather floats into your hand. You don’t have time to admire it, for the curtains have just caught fire.

“Come on—I just put those up last week!” you bemoan, looking on in abject horror.

From the opening, a furry creature bursts through. He resembles a grey cat with his short, fluffy stature, but his tail is shaped strangely and there’s blue fire flickering from his ears. The same blue fire he’s currently conjuring in an attempt to catch the raven…

You grab hold of the coat rack—the nearest viable weapon you can think of—and jump in front of him. He startles and leaps back when you swing.

“What’re you doing?! You can’t do that in here! Fuck—my curtains! Don’t light anything else on fire!”

Baffled, the cat-creature scoffs at you. “How was I supposed to know someone’s livin’ in here? Not my fault!”

“It’s a residence! Of course someone lives here! I live here!”

“When they make me the Great Mage Grim, I’ll fix this place up for ya. That’s a promise! I just gotta catch that bird and prove myself a worthy candidate. Just you wait—they’ll be puttin’ my name up in lights!”

“Like hell they will!”

With a devastated groan, you whack the curtains down with the coat rack. They land in a heap, smoke curling from beneath the pile and sliding out the shattered window in dark, wispy tendrils. It takes a frazzled few stomps and smacks before the fire fizzles away, leaving you with charred curtains and the distinct stench of something scorched.

Still panting from the adrenaline rush, you loosen your grip on the coat rack. This is a mess. What am I going to do? I don’t have enough money to fix this!

You turn your hateful scowl on the cat-creature. “You!”

“W-Wait! Wait!” He raises a paw to his lips and gestures towards your bedside table. The raven sits perched, a golden chain wrapped around its neck and an envelope clasped in its beak. In all of the chaos, you must have missed that. “Don’t say a word. It’s right there.”

He approaches stealthily, slow as a sloth, and pounces. He misses narrowly, ending up with a mouthful of feathers instead. The raven caws and takes flight, circling overhead.

He spits feathers. “Myahaha! I got it! I actually—oh. Dumb bird… No one can escape the Great Grim.”

The raven lands on your shoulder next. It cocks its head at you.

“What? Is this for me?” you ask, even though you’re certain of the answer. You pluck the envelope from the raven, who sets to preening itself now that it’s no longer occupied.

“Give it here!” The cat-creature hops up onto your bed, reaching with an expectant paw. “That bird’s got my admission letter!”

“Your letter?” You hold it out of reach and stick your tongue out at him. “No ‘great mage’ sets someone’s home on fire. You’re a subpar mage, if anything.”

“I am not! You just wait—I’ll show you!”

“I don’t want to see anymore.” Turning away, you break the wax seal and procure the parchment waiting within.

He swipes at you impatiently. “Lemme see! What’s it say?”

Written in elegant script, complete with a stamp you’ve never seen before, it looks very official. Whoever wrote it is exceptionally good at cursive, their letters swooping together seamlessly. It’s almost like a decorative artwork with its double-looped O’s and dancing cursive. You marvel at the craftsmanship, wishing your handwriting could look as refined as this person’s.

To whom it may concern,  Greetings and congratulations on your admittance into the program! We recognize your outstanding achievements as a model student and believe you have what it takes to do wonderful things. It is with great pride that we bestow upon you a piece of magical history, referred to as The Tried-and-True Trident. You will find it enclosed in this letter.

You look up from the letter just as an aureate necklace lands in your palm. The raven blinks at you once before lifting itself off of your shoulder with a flap of its inky wings. It departs through the window, up into the cloudless, cerulean sky, in a flurry of feathers. There’s a tiny trident pendant hanging from the chain. It winks at you in the light, so shiny you think you might catch your reflection if you stare long enough. You’re not sure what part of it is tried or true, for it looks more like costume jewelry than anything. At least it’s cute. Kind of fashionable, even.

With this historic piece, you are now free to wield the wonders of the sea as you please. You are expected to use these powers to defend those you hold dear from the threat of tragedy. You should have met with your mentor already. If not, we shall send someone to escort you. We look forward to beholding your excellent heroics. Sincerely,

“Gimme that!”

Grim snatches the letter before you can glimpse the name signed at the bottom. The enchanted letter tears in two and then, before both of your eyes, it promptly disintegrates.

You eye the fuzzball with a fresh bout of vitriol. “What did you say your name was again?”

“It’s Grim—the Great Grim—and I promise ya as soon as I—”

“Good. Now I know what name to carve on your tombstone when I put you in the ground for ruining my letter!” You reach for the coat rack, expression ablaze with newfound ferocity.

Grim yelps and scurries away. “H-Hold on! I can fix it!”

“How? It’s ash!”

“Well, what did it say? I’m sure I can explain it to ya!”

“It said something about this necklace. The something-something trident. Protecting loved ones from tragedy. Admittance into some program. A mentor…”

“Mentor… Mentor! Yeah, that sounds about right!” Grim laughs proudly. “Aren’t you in luck, human! I’m gonna be your mentor.”

“Sure you are.” You rest your hand on your hip, brows raised. “The same cat who destroyed my window and curtains is gonna mentor me in whatever this is. Funny story.”

His jaw drops. “A-At least pretend like it’s cool! And I’m not a cat!” He hops off of your bed with a huff. “Ungrateful human. You’re undeserving of the Great Grim’s teaching anyways! I don’t need you!”

“Other way around.”

“You don’t need me!”

“There we go.” You applaud him sardonically. “Look, I don’t know what any of this is. I’m sure it was a mistake. I’m not even a student here.”

Grim, who had been on his way towards the door, halts. He turns to face you slowly. “Yer…not a student?”

“I work here. There’s no way for me to be enrolled here because I can’t use magic.”

“W-Wha—can’t use magic?! Then why did you get in, but I didn’t?!”

You can only shrug. The necklace twists idly when you hold it up for closer inspection. “So this thing is supposed to help me? Hey, Grim, do you know what this is?”

You lower to his height and hold your hand out. He watches you dubiously before approaching and leaning in to sniff at the chain.

“Smells fine to me. Kinda like wet metal.”

“I didn’t ask for a flavor profile.” You heave a tired sigh. The day’s only just begun and you’re already swamped with nonsense. “Maybe that Headmage knows something.”

Grim gasps. “You’re chummy with the Headmage? You think you could talk him into lettin’ me join?”

“Why do you even want in so badly?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a renowned mage! They should be begging me to join!”

Anyone could’ve sent that letter. It might not even be from the Headmage… If I knew the sender’s name, I could just track them down and ask them. 

“You said you wanted to prove yourself, didn’t you?” You offer your hand again, this time to shake on it. “Become my mentor. That’ll show that Crowley you’re plenty capable. Then you can get into this school and I can find a way to return this necklace to its rightful owner.”

Grim folds his arms over his chest, avoiding your hand like it’s the plague. “And what’s in it for me? My services aren’t cheap, y’know!”

“You can live here with me. I’ll find ways to sneak you into the lecture halls if you wanna sit in and observe the class.”

“How about food?”

“Food is…” Nonexistent, really. That cheapskate Crowley! I’ve got to talk him into raising my pay. “I get paid at the end of this week. We’ll have to survive off of what’s in the fridge and the lunch I’m allowed to get from the cafeteria for now.”

Grim’s features soften. “Hm… I guess it’s not terrible. Could be better. But all great mages start from humble beginnings—including myself, but you’d never be able to guess!”

“Right…”

With how carelessly you tossed that fire around, you’re the last mage I should be partnering with.

“Do we have a deal, Grim? You’ll be my mentor and I’ll help you wherever I can.”

Grim places his paw in your palm, his chest puffed out. “You’d better start callin’ me Teacher!”

A smile strains on your lips. “Not happening.”

With a firm shake, your pact is made.

“So what spells do you know? Any that might be able to fix up a window and some curtains?”

“You don’t need those lame spells! The Great Grim can do plenty of other amazing feats.”

“Like?”

“Very amazing feats. Didn’t you hear me?”

“You don’t know anything, do you?”

Grim flinches, guilt flashing across his countenance.

“Is blue fire all you can summon?”

“I… I can do much more! This is just a fraction of my true power! If I had a magestone, this whole spell business would be a lot easier.”

“A magestone? Ah, those things the students have on their pens? I guess that would be helpful. Where can we get one, though?”

“I’d tell ya if I knew.”

“The library might know. If we head there now, we can spend the rest of the morning researching and then we can get lunch.” You reach to fasten the chain around your neck. It’s tucked under your shirt next, safe and sound. “Wait outside for a minute. I’ll change out of my pajamas, clean up the window, and then we’ll be on our way.”

Grim trots out the door without resistance. “I’ll grab a snack from the fridge while yer doin’ all that stuff.”

“One snack! Don’t eat everything!”

But he’s already bounding away, singing as he goes: “Free eats can’t be beat!” Sighing, you shut the door and turn to assess the state of your bedroom. It could be worse. Your bed could have been damaged, or you could have sustained quite the nasty burn.

One mess at a time.

You change into your uniform, which is really just a PE jumpsuit. The same one the students wear. This one has seen better days and it’s a size too big on you, but it’s all Crowley claimed to have on hand when you asked about work clothes. Once again, you soothe yourself with your favorite adage: It could be worse.

You could be homeless. You could be starving. You could be dead.

So it’s not so bad to wear the spare. It’s still got the dorm patch and class numbers sewn onto it, albeit both have worn considerably. Your eyes are drawn to them as you admire yourself in the mirror. Octavinelle Dorm… You’ve heard there are seven dormitories at this school, each based on a historical figure and representing the various spirits of these people. The sorting at the entrance ceremony was something special for the incoming first-years. You’d felt a little awkward to disturb such a grand occasion, even more so when the Dark Mirror announced to a hall full of talented mages that there isn’t an iota of magic in you.

Quite the humbling experience.

But sometimes you wonder which dorm the Dark Mirror would have chosen if your soul was bursting with magical capability.

As of now you’re a faux member of Octavinelle—whatever that implies.

By the time you’ve managed to sweep the glass, dispose of the ruined curtains, and patch the window with a temporary placeholder—what a relief for pasteboard and masking tape—Grim’s nearly through the few items left in your fridge. You yank him away just as he reaches for a container of leftovers.

“If you eat too much, you’ll spoil your lunch.”

“Can’t imagine that problem.”

“You sound so proud of your bottomless stomach.”

“And you’re not?”

You roll your eyes and tug your sneakers on. “Let’s be off.”

“How’re we gonna sneak me in?”

“How do you feel about becoming my temporary purse pet?”

Grim looks unimpressed when you hold your tote bag open for him. “No way!”

“It has lots of space and it’s stylish. Besides, shouldn’t your dedicated student pay proper respect to her great, glorious mentor?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his approving smirk. “Well, when ya put it like that…”

After Grim clambers into your bag, you lock the front door behind you and set off for campus.

“Please don’t blow our cover, Grim.”

From within the depths of your tote, he scoffs. “The Great Grim is the stealthiest mage you’ll ever meet!”

“I highly doubt that.”

It’s the second time you’ve found yourself in the library, but it’s still just as impressive as ever. You could spend hours here, wandering between shelves and skimming all sorts of tomes. Some of them are written in languages you can’t decipher, so you observe the pictures provided in hopes of gleaning any clues. Grim lounges on a chair beside you, absentmindedly turning through a thick textbook. You managed to find a relatively isolated corner in the very back and it’s not especially busy today. The promise of a hearty lunch keeps him well-behaved.

“Find anything?”

“Nothin’ important. Ugh. This stuff is the worst! Why can’t a magestone fall from the sky? That’d be a whole lot easier than this.”

“It sucks, yeah, but what else can we do?” You rest your face against your palm and scan through yet another page of information. “Let’s keep looking. I’m sure we’ll find something useful.”

“Nngh… I’m hungry.”

“You just ate.”

“That was hours ago!”

“Has it really been that long?”

“Feels like it.”

You lean back in your chair and stretch, listening to the satisfying snap of your joints as they crack into place. “Can you understand any of these words?”

“Most of ’em.”

You point to a specific place in the paragraph. “Can you tell me what this one means? I think I’ve got the general idea based on the graphics, but I could be wrong.”

Grim glances at it, his blue hues waltzing across the page. “It’s about merfolk.”

“Merfolk? They exist in this world?” And then you pause to gather your delayed thoughts. “Never mind. That would make sense.”

“What about ’em?”

“Where I’m from, merfolk aren’t real. They’re fiction.”

“Huh. A place without any merfolk… Bet they don’t have anyone like me either. I’m one of a kind!” Grim chuckles. “So where’re you from?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts. You usher Grim under the table, who goes but not without protest. He ducks under just in time, hiding within the shadows. A student rounds the corner and stops short when he sees you. He’s holding a few books in his arms, each looking more heavy than the last.

“Ah,” the both of you say in unison.

He clears his throat and offers you a cordial nod. “I wasn’t aware someone had already claimed this corner.”

You eye him carefully. He looks familiar. Glasses. Silvery-grey hair. Blue eyes. Where have you seen him before?

“It’s all yours. I was just leaving.” You move to stand, but he steps closer.

He peers at the open textbook lying in front of you. A smile you can’t quite classify as friendly spreads on his lips. “Is that so? You seem especially engrossed in this book.”

“I like to stay educated.”

I genuinely can’t understand a word in this text.

“On the anatomy of merfolk?”

You shut your mouth at once. That’s what this is? No wonder the diagrams looked…unique. But you’re too committed to your story to falter now.

“Especially the anatomy of merfolk.”

The student chuckles, but it sounds hollow to your ears. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. You’re in Octavinelle?”

You gape at him like a fish out of water before realizing the jumpsuit and its patch. “Oh! Ohhh, no, not at all. This is an old uniform.”

He looks at you with more scrutiny until it clicks. “I remember now. You’re the magicless girl who so carelessly interrupted—ah, forgive me—fortuitously appeared during the entrance ceremony last month.”

What a little fake. You narrow your eyes at him, suddenly defensive. Now you’re made aware of who he is. He was one of the few in the audience during your awkward arrival. Back then, he was clad in a robe with his hood up and so you only caught sight of his glasses and the swoop of his silvery-grey hair peeking out. You’re certain this is the same guy. You could’ve said that without the backhanded barb.

“So my reputation precedes me.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “I disagree. You’re still quite the mystery.”

“Well, there’s nothing to solve.” You rise from your seat, reaching for your bag. “I’m just a janitor trying to get by.”

He hums. You can’t decipher the meaning in that, but you don’t particularly care enough to drive yourself mad over it. You feel around on the chair for Grim. He was just here a moment ago…

You drop to your knees to check under the table. Your heart plummets into your stomach.

Grim, you had one job!

“Is something the matter?”

You pop up from beneath the table so fast that your head knocks into it. “Shit! Ow! Yeah, no, I’m fine. I thought I dropped my pencil.”

You scan the rest of the space as discreetly as you can. The student watches you. You don’t like the way he seems to stare through you as if intending to gain access to your very soul. As if he sees something you don’t.

“Have a wonderful day. Study hard. Pass your tests. Get—uh—the scholarship or whatever.” 

Flashing him your most nonchalant grin, you make your way down the aisle at a pace that is the exact opposite of relaxed. There’s no time to dwell on that off-kilter exchange. You’ve got a runaway cat-creature in dire need of capture!

The one day I take off and it’s the day my window’s ruined, I get a weird letter, and my new roommate is missing. That’s horrible luck!

You walk briskly through the library, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Grim couldn’t have gotten far. You were only distracted for a few minutes, and the library is huge. Perhaps he’s just lost and waiting in place for you to find him. For some reason you can’t fool yourself into believing this train of thought.

Your search takes you out of the library and down the hall. Where could he have possibly gone? Surely he didn’t make his way back to Ramshackle. You check the time on your watch. It’s almost lunch.

Lunch! Of course!

You hurry towards the cafeteria with rekindled purpose.

I’m going to start calling him Gluttonous Mage Grim if he makes this a habit!

Fortunately, Grim is predictable. You’ve only known him for a day—not even—but it’s not so difficult to pinpoint his location after you’ve worked out his motivations. Unfortunately, you make it to the cafeteria just as the grand chandelier falls from its support in the ceiling, crash-landing in a broken heap. And standing just feet away from the damage, looking very guilty, is Grim alongside two students you’ve never seen before. Crowley’s there as well, just as frazzled as the feathers on his coat. He’s in the middle of lecturing them about the importance of this relic—how it’s been with the school since it was founded and it’s an irreplaceable piece that would cost over a billion Madol to fix—when he takes notice of you.

“(Name), it’s devastating! A most heart-wrenching tragedy! Why, it’s enough to bring one to tears.”

“Seems so…” You shoot Grim a vicious look. So much for being covert. Not so stealthy now, huh? “I’ll get the broom.”

“No, not yet. These three—” he turns towards them, yellow eyes fierce— “are expelled!”

“Expelled?!” the navy-haired student exclaims. He looks like he’s just stared Death in the face. “This can’t be… What will my mother think? I promised her I was gonna get good grades, attend all of my classes, pass my tests…”

“Hey, it’s not my fault. That hairball’s the one who started it!” the other argues, his arms folded over his chest.

“No way! It wasn’t me!”

Crowley clicks his tongue. “Unbelievable. This school has zero tolerance for blatant tomfoolery. Surely you’re all aware…” He pauses to look at Grim. “And you! You’re not even a student here! Just what are you doing, trespassing on school property?”

Grim flounders dizzily. “Spinning…”

“He’s my roommate.” All eyes flick towards you. “I’m letting him stay for now. Sorry if that breaks any rules. I just don’t believe in turning others away, even if they’re prone to causing trouble.”

“What a noble soul,” Crowley murmurs, impressed. “Well, if that’s the case, seeing as he’s nothing more than a talking pet cat—”

“I ain’t a pet or a cat!”

“I’m afraid my previous statement still remains in place. He’s not to be on school grounds.”

“You heard the Headmage. No school for you.”

But Grim’s already lying flat on the floor like a defeated pancake.

“Then what about us? That hairball can’t get the easy way out and leave us with the worst of it!”

“There’s a way to fix this, isn’t there?”

“Y-Yeah! Can’t you just use magic to fix it right up? It’ll be good as new. Someone with your skill should be able to do it.”

Crowley shakes his head, mournful. “Magic is not limitless. Not only that, but the magestone powering this great chandelier is cracked. And those are not so easily replaced. I fear this is the final day this miraculous chandelier will ever grace this grand hall with its light.”

The ginger-haired student grimaces. “Not good…”

The other withers. “Expelled… What am I going to do? I can’t go back home with this news!”

A magestone… That’s what Grim needs. You glance at the one set into the chandelier. A ghastly crack runs up the surface. Are they really that special?

Before both can succumb to their melancholy, Crowley says, “There is one way! Possibly…”

“Really? What is it?” they say at once, eyes bulging with hope.

“This very magestone was mined from the Dwarfs’ Mine. Perhaps, should you procure one of similar qualities, the chandelier can be repaired.”

“Then… Okay! I’ll get a magestone! As long as it’s all right with you, sir.”

“Ah, but the mines have been closed for some time. I reckon the magestones are all but gone.”

“I’m sure I can find one. Please, sir, I’ll do anything to stay here!”

Crowley seems to consider this. Eventually, he nods his approval. “I’m willing to postpone your expulsion for now.” The navy-haired student’s relief is short-lived when he adds, “However, if you fail to bring a magestone to me by the first rays of the morning sun, it will be expulsion for the both of you. No further exceptions.”

With a hasty nod, he says, “Of course! I understand! Thank you so much for the second chance. I won’t let you down!”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s get this over with.”

You gather an unconscious Grim in your arms while Crowley instructs the students on how to access the mine. They stride off with different degrees of enthusiasm. You open your mouth to ask permission, but Crowley beats you to it.

“Please do accompany them. I trust you’re responsible enough to handle any trouble?”

“If you raise my pay, I’ll do anything.”

He clutches his chest. “Your proclivity to bargain strikes through to my very soul! Ah, but since I am the kindest Headmage I shall grant your request.”

With a satisfied grin, you hold Grim tighter and run off after the pair. “Thanks again, Headmage!”

You follow them all the way to the Mirror Chamber. It’s just as imposing as you recall, but there’s a serene quality to the space that wasn’t there before. Maybe it’s because you’re here willingly and there isn’t an audience to witness your poorly timed debut.

You approach both of them. “Hey! Sorry to bother, but could I join you?”

They turn to look at you. Grim shifts in your arms, groaning.

“I don’t see why not. Welcome to the team,” the navy-haired student says with an awkward smile.

“Might as well. More people means a faster chance at finding that magestone.” He points at Grim next. “And he better be coming, too.”

“That’s the plan. I’ll make sure he won’t cause any problems for you.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Today’s just not my day. What bad luck…”

“No time to sulk. We’ve gotta get that magestone,” the other says, turning towards the mirror. “Dark Mirror, the Dwarfs’ Mine!”

Grim jerks awake then. “Myaah?! Where am I? What’s goin’ on?”

You hold onto him tightly, preventing him from squirming out of your arms. “Relax. You’ll be fine. I think.”

“What d’ya mean by that?!”

The Dark Mirror brightens with life. There’s a blinding flash of light and then, just like that, you’re taken to the mine’s entrance.

Magestone, here we come!

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #marvelous marine magic: sweet sea sorceress #3M:3S #3M:3S chapter one

[oddduckthatgirl]

Pray For Us Sinners

Title: Pray for Us Sinners

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Warnings: religious guilt, religious themes, discussions of sexual themes, smut

Summary: Aemond thought himself to be a devout servant of the Seven. Until her.

A/N: I tried. Really. Don’t hate me.

Aemond rolled over, restless in his bed. He growled in frustration. Sweat covered his bare torso, the sound of his own breath was ragged in the darkness. His thoughts drifted to his betrothed; even his darkest ones. The brush of the cover over his hardness made him groan.

He was beyond frustrated. His stones ache with the memory of her laughter. He longed to hear all the sounds she could make.

Tossing the covers off his overheated body, he begins pacing the floor of his bedchamber. He never felt temptation like this before. He is a faithful servant of the Seven, despite the wrath he would love to unleash.

Lust was a new affliction to him, but he’s seen through his brother exactly the ruin it can bring. Aemond had decided long ago he would not be seduced into depravity like weaker men. He always kept proper distance with any woman he encountered. Never letting his gaze linger too long or speaking in a manner that would be offensive.

Deep down, he did not believe women to be less. They are mothers, sisters and daughters and should be treated with dignity. He couldn’t understand why anyone who called himself a man could hurt these precious gifts from the Seven. It was true he had seen a few women he thought were attractive but he put them out of his mind. They were allowed to just be beautiful without him imposing himself on them.

It was so simple. Until her.

Aemond thinks of the day they were introduced. He was convinced this would be a marriage of convenience. To keep the peace. Her family were very devout followers of the Faith and his grandsire thought the match to be amenable. Mother believed this girl to be an ideal match based on her faith and her love of reading. Aemond thought she sounded pleasant enough according to the letters; that her portrait was pleasing.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of her leaving the carriage that day. The way her golden hair shone in the sun. The shade of pink that painted her cheeks when her dark eyes met his pale one. Her voice saying “my Prince” was the finest song he had ever heard. The way her dress accentuated her shape without it being vulgar. Everything about her is exactly as it should be and more.

Then this feeling began. He was always hot blooded, fire beneath his skin. This, however, was different. Every word she spoke, every shy glance his way, and every touch burned through him. No woman he had ever met had this effect on him.

He decided that he would have to devote himself even more to the Seven. He needed guidance and strength. He knew he deserved it. All he needs to do is ask and the Seven will grant him all he needs.

He doesn’t wish to insult his lady or her virtue. He wanted to be the husband she deserved. She is a pure lady and shouldn’t even be in such lecherous thoughts.

Their wedding was in a sennight but it might as well be six moon turns away. He longed for her presence beside him but it was agony. He wondered if she felt this burning as he did but of course he couldn’t ask. That would be improper. He was sure she felt something. Her face flushes when he kisses her hand. Her breath catches when he pulls her close.

….but his lady wouldn’t trade in depravity. She spends much time in prayer, which he has taken to accompanying her to the Grand Sept. However after seeing her kneel in prayer, that pose has been imprinted into his mind. He had great difficulty concentrating on anything but how tight his breeches had become.

Ashamedly, he has used that image of her kneeling to sate his lust. He imagined standing in front of her, fingers tracing over her perfect face. The way her breath would catch when he said her name. Asking her to show him her devotion. The way she would accept his thumb pushing past her lips. The feeling of her hand unlacing his breeches. How warm her mouth would be as she took his cock. The sounds she would make.

Aemond played these thoughts out time and time again. Especially at night. Sleep would elude him for hours and even if he did drift into slumber he would dream about taking all the pleasures of the flesh with her. He would take his cock in hand, hissing with the first stroke. Never had he been so hard that it hurt. He wanted her, every way he could. Pumping himself while thinking of her lips on him instead of his hand made him a simpering mess. Writhing against the cool sheets of his bed, his moans echoed off the walls. Once the tightness would begin to coil, he would cup his stones while he fisted himself with a tighter grip. His peak would wash over him in moments; her name falling from his lips.

He could find sleep after that but when he would wake shame gripped him. He hates himself for his thoughts and actions. He would pray to the Father to not succumb to this weakness and to be forgiven for wasting his spend on his own pleasure. He would find it difficult to meet the eyes of his Lady the rest of those mornings. She would smile shyly at him and he was once again lost.

He was desperate about these feelings, so he turned to Aegon. Thinking that perhaps just once his brother would give helpful advice.

“Claim her, brother,” Aegon whispered, “all that needs to happen is ceremonial at best. The only way to get rid of temptation is to give into it.”

“We must be wed first. I will not tarnish the good name of my Lady or her house!”

“You fucking virgins. So consumed with your purity and chastity. It’s just fucking.”

“It is NOT just fucking. You give a piece of your soul to them. Every time. Perhaps that is why you have none left.”

“Save your lecture. The only other option is to relieve yourself anyway you can. There’s always the street of silk….or you do it yourself.”

Both options were not what Aemond wanted. He wouldn’t lower himself to visit a pleasure house. Relieving himself was the only suitable option, even though the thought filled him with shame.

It began only at night, after he was alone. Then he would find the need arising after breaking his fast with her and then again after any time spent together. It was affecting his training; he was distracted. He didn’t even read as much as he once had. His thoughts were consumed with her and his need to claim her.

He gripped the edge of his desk tightly now just to keep his hands away. His need is throbbing, begging to be touched. He slammed his fist down against the wood. Why was he so weak? Then she would drift into his mind: her hair falling over her shoulders, the look of complete devotion she has, the cut of her dress…

No! Aemond shakes his head as if to throw the thoughts away. He tries to think of anything else. Small council meetings, mother’s singing, time…yes, what time has it become?

Aemond gathers it must be near the hour of the wolf. The city is sleeping soundly while their Prince suffers. Lust has a hold on him: mind, body and soul.

His soul. That’s it. Now would be the best time to pray. Surely with the world asleep the Seven could hear his prayers without question. He hurriedly dresses, puts on a dark cloak and makes his way from his chambers down the secret passage that leads out from the Keep.

The streets are nearly empty except for a few beggars sleeping there. Aemond is careful to ensure his face and hair are obscured from view. No sense in any passerby to question the presence of a Targaryen Prince at this hour.

Concentrating on his journey to the Grand Sept keeps his mind busy. The need still burning in his veins feels less desperate for the moment. Thankfully the distance was enough for him to calm himself. He’s grateful that he will be able to have his wits about him for this.

He opens and shuts the doors as quietly as possible. Not that he believes anyone would be here, he still wouldn’t want to disturb them. He stands in the entryway and takes a breath. His mind is more quiet now.

He walks towards the altars, confident in what he will ask for until he hears a sound that stops him.

Her. His Lady. Begging.

“Please Maiden, I wish to be pure for him. These desires are consuming me. I do not want him to reject me. I carry such affection for him in my heart. But my thoughts….,” she lays prostrate while sobbing into her hands.

She does feel what I feel. I also carry much affection for her in my own heart, Aemond mused. He cannot bear the sound of her tears. His chest aches to hear her in such pain. He wants to rush to her side, take her in his arms, and hold her until the tears abade.

He slowly approaches. He doesn’t wish to startle her, “my Lady?”

She pulls herself to her knees and turns to face him, “my Prince! Why are you here at this hour?”

He rushes to keep her from standing and instead kneels beside her, “I was restless.”

Her breath catches as he wipes the tears from her eyes, “thank you,your Highness.”

“It’s just us and the Gods. You may call me by my name here.”

Her cheeks flush, “as you wish Aemond.”

His resolve nearly breaks at just his name from her lips, “what troubles you? I would be happy to listen if you wish to unburden yourself to me.”

She begins to speak but silences herself for a moment, “I cannot tell you. This…it’s not befitting a proper lady,” tears well in her eyes again.

Aemond pulls her into his arms and holds her while she cries. Even though the sound breaks his heart, he will not leave her to her tears. Running his fingers through her hair, he presses a gentle kiss against her temple, “all will be well ñuha jorraelagon. I’m here.”

“Not if I unburden myself. You will be completely repulsed.”

He takes the edge of his cloak and begins to wipe the wet trails on her face dry, “you would be amazed at my resolve.”

“I have no doubt of your resolve Aemond,” she wheezed as new tears threatened to fall, “it’s so shameful I fear you will find me to be unworthy of marriage.”

“No more tears. Please. It wounds me to see you so distraught,” he takes her hands in his, “perhaps we can just be still for a few moments. Find peace in this Sept together. Will you try for me?”

She frantically nods her head.

“Good. Let us close our eyes and just breathe together.”

He watches as her eyes close and she bows her head. It caused the fire in his blood to heat once more. He quickly closed his eye and began to concentrate on keeping his breath steady. He also listened for her. He tried to not think of how warm her soft hands were in his. He needed to be strong for her. To help her.

They sat quietly, hand in hand for several moments. Aemond noticed when her breathing became calm. Tension rolled out of his shoulders knowing that at least he could help calm her.

“Aemond,” she whispered in the silent chamber, “why could you not find sleep?”

He opened his eye to see her soft expression. It was one of concern. He kissed her hands before meeting her gaze, “sleep has been elusive as of late.”

“Are you well? Is it,” she glances at his scar, “perhaps the maesters….”

“All they will wish to do is give me essence of nightshade to help me find sleep. Or worse believe I have pains and wish to give me milk of the poppy. Those are not the reasons I do not find sleep.”

“If it is not physical, may I guess you believe something weighs on your soul?”

He swallows thickly, “Something does indeed.”

“And I have kept you from your prayers. Forgive me.”

She begins to pull away but he grips her hands tighter, “please. Stay with me.”

A soft smile accompanies her words, “of course Aemond.”

“I would like to propose something. First I swear to you that no matter what you may say, I will never judge you or wish you gone from my side. Can you make me the same promise? To not judge me or wish me gone?”

“Yes. I swear.”

Her tongue wetting her lips nearly has Aemond lunging for her. He shifts his focus back to their joined hands, “I did not intend on anyone else to be here. When I entered and heard a voice, I thought….it isn’t important. I heard the last part of your prayers.”

Hanging her head in shame as he mentions her prayer, “I am not worthy of you.”

He leans forward so their foreheads touch. Aemond feels a hot tear slip down his cheek, “it is I who isn’t worthy of you.”

She shakes her head, “impossible.”

“Ñuha jorraelagon, the things I have wanted…from you…someone must know what I have imagined. What I have done.”

“Aemond,” her voice waivers, “it is shameful. This sin...”

“We are all sinners my Lady,” he states simply, “we are asked to unburden ourselves with confession. It is only then we can begin to do penance and seek absolution. It should not matter who we give our confession to, just that we make it known and seek to atone for it.”

“You are correct,” her gaze shifts to the face of the statue before them, “I don’t even begin to know how to atone for this.”

“Would it put your mind at ease if I told you of my sin,” a plea in his voice. He needs her to hear him. That is the price of his lust.

“Could you tell me what is your sin?”

He nods, swallowing his fear before he speaks, “Lust. Lust for my betrothed.”

She draws a shaky breath. Her eyes drag over his body, “I too have lust for my betrothed. I have tried so hard to not think of you that way…”

“In what ways do you think of me, sweet girl?”

“That you are a good man. You are kind, despite what you would have others think. You are a man who values his family and those he holds dear. Unlike other Targaryens, you are a man of the Faith.”

“You are too kind to me,” a genuine smile is on his face, “but that is not what brought you to the Sept at the hour of the wolf. I swore not to judge you. I will not.”

She closes her eyes, “it’s just….your hands. I find myself thinking of them. How it feels when you take mine in yours or how safe I feel when you hold me. Then I wonder about your hands on….other parts of me.”

Despite her confession, Aemond takes her hands in his. His chest is heaving; he can feel his heart pounding. The fire is back, “Other parts?”

“Yes,” her own ragged breath sounds too loud in this place. She places his hands on her thighs, “everywhere. In my weakness, I have imagined what your hands would feel like on my bare skin. In….inside me.”

“Tell me,” he flexes his fingers away from hers while dragging them toward her center, “you are a lady of virtue. What do you know of a man’s fingers touching a lady?”

She bravely meets his gaze, “My sister….she never wanted for me to suffer at the hands of a cruel lord. She told me things about my body, of pleasure. Things I now imagine you doing to me.”

“What things,” he felt as though his senses had left him. He’s now so depraved that he’s harder than he’s ever been, on his knees in a Sept alone with his betrothed.

“Things,” wetting her lips before she continues “I have done with myself alone in my chambers at night. I would imagine you touching me instead. I’m so lost to my sin that I wait for the night to come so I can revel in my depravity. It consumes me.”

Aemond gently cups her cheek. He does not trust himself to leave his hands on her thighs, “You desire me.”

“Yes,” no second thoughts to her answer.

“Then I have nothing to fear. For I have desired you from the moment we met,” he brushes his thumb over her lips, “this very moment I am fighting the desire to capture your lips with mine.”

She gasps, parting her lips. His fingers trace a line down her neck and along her collarbone. His eye focused on the swell of her breasts and the small hint of cleavage.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms and you are mine. You don’t even know how beautiful you are. The hold you have over me. I would burn every city in Westeros if they dared to speak against you.”

“Aemond….”

“I want to spend every moment with you but I am weak. Even the most innocent way you smile makes me think of all the ways I wish to let this realm know you’re mine. My shame doesn’t end there my lady.”

She kisses his fingers and takes his hands in hers as if they were folded in prayer, “unburden yourself to me, my love. Although my love sounds much better the way you say it. I wish I could say it well enough.”

“You will learn,” he suppresses a groan at the thought of hearing her speaking High Valyrian, “the reason I could not find sleep is I was trying to resist my desire. Today, while we had walked in the Kingswood, that rider passed too close to you. Do you recall what I did?”

“You pulled me back against you, to keep me safe.”

“I did. However, in doing so, my thoughts were not innocent. The friction of your body against mine was too much to bear. When we returned to the holdfast, I excused myself from you. I was worried that I would no longer be able to control myself. I went back to my chambers and lost myself in the thoughts of claiming you. In truth, when I felt your body against mine, I wanted to bury myself inside you.”

Her mouth went dry.

“I went back to my chambers because I needed to relieve myself, as I have done every night. So, I fisted my cock while thinking of how warm and wet you would feel around me. About the sounds of pleasure you would make as I touched your pearl while thrusting myself deep inside you. I can think of nothing else. I have my hands on my cock more than my sword.”

It felt too hot in this stone building. Both of them flush with color from their shared confessions.

“Whatever are we to do Aemond,” pressing her knees against his, “we are not yet wed. We cannot let this control us.”

He nodded and cupped her neck in his hands, “it will not control me any longer.”

Aemond stands and offers his hand to help her from the floor. As soon as she is standing, he pulls her body against his. Her eyes dart around the room, “Aemond!”

“Did you make the journey here alone my Lady,” he purrs in her ear. She can only meekly nod in response, “good.”

He presses his lips to hers and both of them moan. Luckily their sound is muffled. He was desperate and wanting. She was pliant in his arms. His hands explored the curves of her body, squeezing the parts he enjoyed the most which elicited a gasp from her.

He silences her with his lips again, swallowing every groan he makes. Her hands travel along the lean muscles of his torso and chest, then up his arms, only to land in his hair. When he slipped his tongue between her lips, her grip tightened in his silver locks. It only seemed to encourage him more.

He pulled away suddenly, “we shouldn’t be doing this here. Someone will find us. Surely the Septa’s will be here for their morning prayers soon.”

She nodded in agreement.

“Come. We should return to the Keep while we still have the cover of night,” Aemond pulled his cloak back over his head and ensured she also concealed her identity. He watched for anything out of place, “stay close to me.”

She could feel the heat rolling off of him in waves. It made her center ache with want. She knows she cannot give in but she would like nothing more.

They quietly made their way back to the Red Keep. Thankfully no one was yet out in the city to have seen them. Aemond led her up the stairs to the passage back to his chambers.

Once inside, he removed his cloak and saw her taking in his space. Soon these would be their apartments in the holdfast. He stands behind her and whispers, “let me take your cloak my Lady.”

She watches his hands slip to the clasp of her cloak. He was painfully slow opening it but once he removed the fabric, his lips were on her neck. Soft, warm kisses up to her jaw line. He pushed himself against her backside, “see the effect you have on me.”

He spun her around and again captured her lips. He couldn’t get enough. It was like he had been starving. They both held so tightly that she hardly noticed his hands pulling a leg over his hip until she felt her skirts rise.

“What are you,” yelping in surprise as he lifts her with ease to the foot of his bed. Shame burns within her as she whines, “Aemond…please…we cannot.”

He climbs over her body as she lays against his bedding, “I will not take your virtue this night. But it would please me to hear more.”

Before she can ask what he meant, he grinds his manhood against her clothed center. Their shared moans ring through the chamber. He repeats the motion to much the same result.

“Do you wish me to stop,” his eye meeting hers as he kisses the swell of her breasts, “I will ensure you get back to your chambers without being seen.”

“Please continue,” she rasps, “I fear I might die if you stop.

He chuckles darkly and continues, “gods…I can feel your wetness through all of our clothing.”

She attempts to cover her face but Aemond claps his hands around her wrists, pulling her arms over her head. He kisses down her neck as he rolls into her, “Gieve. Just like this. Never hide from me.”

She wails when his movements become faster. She locks her legs around him. She feels the way her body begins to tighten. She has never felt this, even when she is by herself, “Aemond…what’s…I feel strange…”

“All is as it should be,” panting as his pace is beginning to falter, “don’t fight it. Give into it.”

He kisses her again, the want evident in the way he captures her lips. They are both a whining mess of sound and heat.

Aemond feels her hands tightening against him, “let go for me. Don’t fight it.”

His eye goes wide as she falls over the edge of pleasure. The sounds she makes goes directly to his cock. Soon after he shouts her name as he spills into his breeches.

He pulls himself to lay beside her. He takes her hands and presses soft kisses on her fingers, “please forgive me. I have forced this upon us. I thought I could control it. Instead…”

She watches as panic paints on his face. She quickly reaches for his face; he doesn't shrink away even as she is touching the scarred side.

He pulls himself into her and sobs, “please forgive me. I’m so sorry. I told you I was not worthy of you.”

She strokes his hair, “we promised not to judge the other. I am not judging you. You asked if I wanted you to stop and I did not. We should seek the forgiveness of the Seven for failing this small test.”

He nods as she rocks his body, “we should pray. Now.”

“I agree.”

He sits up and offers a hand to her. He kneels first. Looking up at her he sighs, “you are far more than I deserve.”

She kneels in front of him, “you are more than I deserve my Prince,” shame heats her cheeks, “what if someone hears?”

“Not here. The walls are quite thick,” his gaze fixed on her.

“We should begin,” she bows her head and begins her prayers with thanking each of the Seven.

Aemond joins her, repeating the same words he’s heard since he was a boy.

He also offers his thanks when they have finished, “I wish to thank the Maiden for sending this perfect wife to me. I’m sorry that I would let my lecherous thoughts taint her purity. Forgive her slight as I was the one who enticed her. I seek the Father’s forgiveness for my weakness. Give me the strength to not tempt her or myself further.”

“I thank the Father for sending me a man of Faith as my husband,” she smiles at the words, “forgive his slight as he did nothing to sully my virtue. He is but a man and I, a woman. I seek the forgiveness of the Maiden for my vile thoughts. Help me to not be a temptation. Let my virtue warm him until we are wed.”

The silence between them is broken by Aemond, “we shouldn’t…we cannot do this again even though it was…”

“Yes. Even though,” she agreed, “I should go.”

He nods in agreement, “at least let me lead you back through the passages. They can be confusing.”

She grabs her cloak and allows him to escort her back. She more than likely would have lost her way on her own. He pushes the hidden door open and listens for any sounds, “it is safe.”

She enters her chambers, “it will be morning soon.”

He presses a soft kiss against her forehead, “then you should try and find rest. We will have long days and longer nights ahead of us.”

“Go before I ask you to stay,” sighing as he releases her.

He takes one look back at her before disappearing into the passageways. Now that he is alone with his thoughts again, he relives what has occured. If he can endure this night, six more days should be far more simple.

Aemond settles himself back into bed as quickly as he can upon entering his chambers. He nearly drifts off when a sweet smell drifts to him. Her. The fire in his veins is rekindled.

“Seven help me.”

#aemond smut #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #oddduckthatgirl #prayforussinners #aemond x you

[justporo]

Could I request no. 44 (Public Kisses) please?

Maybe the kisser proving the kissee that they don’t care who’s watching and that they’re proud to be with them

(with either Astarion being worried about Tav being seen with ‘an undead’ or Durge worrying about Star being seen with a Bhaalspawn).

Thank you!

Last one for the kiss prompts - allow me to take the "not caring who watches" a bit further even. I fully didn't intend this to become this long (like always...) but here we are... Oh, and then I edited it and it became even longer. Enjoy Tav making clear they belong to Astarion and vice versa!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) | Wordcount: 2,2k | Warnings: light mention of violence / Act 2 spoilers

MASTERLIST | AO3

Affirmations

Everyone was staring - all the time.

It wasn't enough already that, entering Moonrise Towers again, meant venturing deep into the lion's den. But to add to this you couldn't even go unnoticed.

Of course not, you were a True Soul! In touch with the Absolute itself! Destined for great things! So there wasn't a single moment without a pair of eyes upon you. And you hated it - deeply.

Quite frankly, it seemed like the primary requisite to becoming a cultist of the Absolute was being way too fucking nosey. But you had to be honest with yourself you were at least partly to blame with the scene you had caused with this godsdamned drow yesterday.

Just thinking about her made your blood boil again. Just the way she had looked at you, but most of all Astarion. The arrogance, the unquestioned privilege - it immediately conjured another wave of bile rising up within you.

If not for the sake of the greater mission you would have very much liked shredding her to pieces so she would have never been able to even look at Astarion again. You would have done it with a pleasant smile on your face. But alas, it would have only complicated matters even further

Your visceral reaction had been surprising even to you. Normally you weren’t one for excessive blood shed. Actually you much more liked solving things without weapons: talking your way out of situations, tricking others. That was much more your style. But your bloodlust, brought on by a powerful urge to protect Astarion, had almost taken the better of you yesterday.

It had shaken you; not least  your companions as well - and most of all Astarion.

All the way back to camp the vampire had been barely able to hide his wild mix of feelings - shock, admiration, insecurity. You had felt his wide red eyes on you the whole time and had known that something was about to happen. A tipping point had been reached.

But you hadn't even remotely been prepared for what had followed when Astarion had approached you when everyone else had already retired to their tents for the evening.

On the other end of the night the two of you had come out with a new layer added to your bond: fresh still, barely fully formed - but fueled by both of your deep desires to hold onto the other and not let go.

Immediately, it had been weird for the two of you after. The next morning you had barely been able to look at each other. Simply because this was daunting for either of you. Hells, not even the two of you knew how to go on from this but you were determined to make it work. And unsteadiness had quickly turned to small glances, short touches in passing as you all got ready for a new day ahead, affirming smiles - and some suspicion from your fellow companions.

When you had made your way back to the godsdamned towers you had felt uneasiness rise up again, tendrils of negative feelings forming a tight knot in your chest.

And in an overly brave moment you had grabbed for Astarion's hand when you had been about to enter the towers again - repeating a gesture from last night. Wishing to feel same kind of warmth and steadiness again and also relaying the same sentiment to the vampire you saw slightly nervously move his head to loosen the tension in his neck.

It had made the vampire almost recoil as he looked at you with shocked wide eyes and you were sure you had heard a surprised gasp from your other companions behind you. But when you had tried to let go again, immediately regretting your short-circuit action, you found that Astarion had been lightly holding on to your hand and had thrown you a small smile. You would have called it coy with anyone else but him.

The gesture hadn’t gone unnoticed by Lae’zel whose eyes had been steadily narrowed at the both of you from there on out.

Only when you had come across the first guards had Astarion let go, but not without squeezing your hand in his a last time. 

You had stayed close to each other walking through the headquarters of the Absolute, trying to investigate this damned place further. An unsettling feeling was filling all of you but the only thing you could do was trying to pull through.

In the main hall - Ketheric's throne thankfully empty - most of the cultists had gathered for some strategy discussion. So, an excellent opportunity to listen in on them and maybe find someone to squeeze for some more information.

Thankfully, Gale and Shadowheart had somewhat taken the lead today giving you and Astarion some time to recover from everything that had happened. You were standing next to the vampire - your partner now, you reminded yourself - stealing glances up at him from time to time. He usually caught you while he stood there, arms crossed over his chest, throwing you a small smile in response that always made you turn away again, slightly blushing. But then you also noticed him peering at you out of the corner of his eyes. And despite your dire situation as a whole you couldn’t help but feel a little giddiness inside of you - maybe all wasn’t lost after all.

At the moment, Gale was talking to another higher-up drow, trying to convince her to give up some more details about Ketheric Thorm. She very much was having none of it, but the wizard kept deliberately trying. Shadowheart, meanwhile, did next to nothing to keep him from verbally digging his own grave.

It was then that you felt the hairs of your neck stand up and felt someone staring at you. With a sinister suspicion, you turned to look over your shoulder to find: Araj Oblodra looking at you angrily. The drow from the day before was openly staring at the two of you, after having just entered the hall, wearing a massive displeased snarl on her face.

You immediately felt your own face sour, a deep fold forming between your furrowed brows. At your negative reaction Astarion’s brows drew together quizzically and he looked over his shoulder as well. When he found what you were looking at his nose scrunched up in distaste, mirroring you closely. You even heard a low growl rumble in his chest. Had he been unsure yesterday how to react you had worked wonders to help him draw a line. Astarion’s repulsion was radiating off him, almost physical.

The drow kept staring. And so did you - not willing to give her the impression that her presence was bothering you.

Moments became minutes while Gale kept rambling with some half-hearted support from Shadowheart (the rest of the group staying painfully silent). Meanwhile, others noticed the silent staring contest across the room. Even more pairs of eyes were observing you now. Probably everyone here knew to the tiniest detail what had gone down yesterday. And the longer this moment was drawn out, the more you felt your grip on your emotions slip. One of your hands had formed into a fist at your side - nails biting into the flesh of your palm and leaving crescent moon indents behind.

Then an idea, or just an impulse really, sprung to your mind. Your eyes jumped to Astarion who was still staring down Araj through his brows, crimson eyes sparkling dangerously. One of his hands had casually wandered to the dagger at his side, wrist languidly resting on its hilt. A leisure threat, but an open one.

“Astarion,” you whispered silently to him, “you trust me, yes?”

The vampire’s brows furrowed a bit more, gaze flitting to you, then back to the drow still glaring at you.

“Of course, my love. Why-,” he began and quickly looked at you again. Then he interrupted himself. He must’ve seen your intention on your face and now he turned his head to fully look at you. His fingers unconsciously clenched around the pommel of his dagger now, focused on something entirely else than making barely hidden threats.

You threw him a questioning glance as you took a deep breath. He lightly nodded, a soft smile curling up one side of his mouth while he turned to you.

And then, before you would get too scared, you moved to grab Astarion’s face with both hands, stepped even closer to him and stood on your tiptoes to reach for his lips with your own.

There was another short moment before your mouths met in the kiss: his full lips slightly parting, his eyes open almost vulnerable, glinting with something much different from the anger before, if not less passionate.

A shaky breath left you as you stared up at him. You knew you must be pretty much mirroring his expression at this moment.

And you were sure that this, all of this, had been the right decision.

Then your lips met. A sigh immediately wandered from your mouth to his as Astarion kissed you open-mouthed, softly opening up yours. Then his tongue shortly ran over your lips, then entered your mouth, taking up yours in a dance you were already familiar with.

Astarion’s arms moved around you. He placed his hands on your hips but immediately let them wander to your behind to pull you closer to him, making you almost slam into his body. You felt him grinning as he did that. A yelp left your mouth, pleasantly surprised by his initiative, but didn’t break the kiss for a single moment.

You had done this dozens over dozens of times, almost the exact same motions. It had been enticing and electrifying each time, enjoying each time it had happened.

But this was different. Everyone’s eyes were on you. You were making it very official what you were to each other. Not only to your friends but for the whole world to see. And in that sense it felt very much like a first kiss altogether.

The passion was there, as Astarion kept deepening the kiss, turning his head, looking at you intensely as you batted your eyes open for a short moment. His hands were stroking up and down your back while yours had entered his hair, tugging on some curls, pulling his head closer.

Somewhere in the middle you had almost forgotten that you weren’t alone. You felt him smile as you desperately wanted to keep going. Gods, you never wanted to let go again.

But Astarion slightly withdrew, his lips hovering slightly over yours, looking at you through his lashes. His voice was sinful. “Think we’ve given them enough of a show, darling?”

You frowned, shook your head. And without another word you pulled him in again as you heard a low laughter from him vibrate through his chest and by proxy through your body as well. He was intoxicating and he knew it. You’d given him the room to start feeling good about it. And you were merely getting started.

The kiss went on for another few moments although becoming softer now, slower. Less a show than a treat for the two of you. Then you softly lifted your mouth from his and looked up at him: breathless and a little shaky now, but a wicked smile already forming on your lips from the passionate kiss as you were still on your tiptoes.

Astarion mirrored your smirk before he pressed a quick peck to the tip of your nose - in just a whim of the moment. His arms were still firmly around you, holding you close to him. You kept smiling at him.

And then your smile grew icy and vicious as you turned to Araj who was looking at you in shock now. You let your tongue run over your bared teeth as you kept up the eye contact, daring her. And eventually the drow turned away, unsettled while your grin grew even broader.

You noticed that almost everyone else around you had also turned away from the public show of passionate affection. Only some still dared to look at you out of the corner of their eyes.

A victorious smile crept onto your face as you looked at Astarion again who looked at you with his signature smirk and a keen sense of pride he didn’t even try to hide.

Then, after a while, you turned to the other side.

And were faced with your friends staring at you in disbelief, just blinking at the two of you. Even the unshakable Lae’zel looked slightly irritated, not being able to hold your gaze for long

“Hot!” Karlach exclaimed, her expression of shock quickly turning to a smug, broad grin. And in true Karlach fashion she gave you a thumbs-up and a wink - causing you to blush and bite your lip. “Get a tent, am I right?”

You must have gone a little overboard with your public display of your newly formed bond. Your heart dropped a little. But Astarion only softly laughed at that and affectionately bit into the tip of your pointy ear. Seemingly the ice for public displays of affection had been broken for him - with a cannonball.

“So, you guys are official now?”, Wyll asked while cocking his head, looking kind of sceptical. Shadowheart just rolled her eyes, while Gale seemed stuck in a state of being too flustered to react.

“I guess you could say that, little lord”, Astarion answered, grinning smugly, one eyebrow twitching and pulled you to his chest again with one arm casually around your waist. He couldn’t keep a proud tone out of his voice as he looked down at you again.

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3 #kiss prompts

[geekgirles]

"I would've preferred it if Amalia were our Queen instead."

"Like many others, sweetie, but you can't say that right now."

"Where did Amalia go, Mum?"

"She's gone explore the world, like she usually does."

Okay, but this little piece of dialogue is crucial to understand so many things about the Sadida and their opinion on their royal family.

And we stan that little girl. Yes, baby, I, too, wish Amalia was queen instead. I don't trust Armand and Aurora as far as I can throw them.

It's already been established Armand resents his sister not only because of her wanderlust or the fact that their father seemed to favour her, but because so does their people.

The fact that there are apparently many who support Amalia, the younger princess, over her brother, the Crown Prince, comes to show that for the Sadida actions speak louder than words.

There is no denying that both royal siblings care immensely about their kingdom. Armand was in the front lines when Nox attacked alongside King Oakheart and many of Amalia's best, most mature moments were in relation to her wanting to protect and serve her people. Like when she decided to stand up against Armand and inform their father of Nox's attacks back in season one, or how she was more than willing to forego her chance to marry for love and marry Harebourg instead if that meant her kingdom would survive Ogrest's Chaos in the OVA.

The difference between the two of them, however, especially in the eyes of their people, is their actions or, more accurately, the consequences of said actions.

Armand is the Crown Prince, and he remains in their kingdom carrying out his duties while Amalia went off to explore the world and have fun, away from her duties. At first glance, that should make Armand the better choice in the eyes of the Sadida, except that also means they've probably been far more subjected to his less pleasant moments.

Having to watch your tongue out of fear of severe punishment or even death just because the prince is sensitive over his bad breath is overkill, plain and simple.

Not to mention, every time Amalia left her kingdom, her adventuring evolved into a life-or-death mission to save the world.

With Nox, the fact that she ran away allowed her to gain the intel needed to go back home and warn them of the upcoming attack. Something Armand refused to do anything about until King Oakheart entered the picture and took matters into his own hands, all because he couldn't believe his sister would ever be more than a spoiled brat trying to run away from her responsibilities.

With Quilby, what at first was a simple, humanitarian mission to retrieve his dofus and welcome the Eliatrope children eventually turned into a desperate battle for the survival of their world.

Again, in the OVAs, the entirety of the Sadida kingdom was aware and celebrated Amalia's sense of responsibility and selfless decision to enter an arranged marriage for their sake. I haven't watched beyond the Throne of Ice, so I don't know if the Sadida ever found out Harebourg's true plans for their forest, but if they did, all the more reason to respect Amalia for refusing to put her people in jeopardy.

Finally, people talk. In season 3, it's made apparent that since Aurora entered the picture (at the very least), the royal siblings' relationship has strained practically to the point of no return. And while Amalia isolated herself and mourned her father's deteriorating health, it's very likely the castle guards and servants bore witness to how the prince's treatment of his sister worsened each day. So I wouldn't be surprised if word got out and the rest of the kingdom sympathised with Amalia either.

Now, it is true that while Amalia does have a sense of responsibility and duty to her kingdom and a deep love for her people, despite her royal upbringing, she is not really made for the stifling life of royalty. Hence, her constant wanderlust. In that regard, Armand is indeed the most reliable of the two.

It just so happens that when it comes to personal flaws and his treatment of others he is wholly unreliable. It's his way or the highway. And that is a very terrifying quality for a king to have, to be unable to compromise.

But most importantly, what really sets these two apart in the way their people perceive them is that while Armand is a prince, Amalia is a hero. And she has proven time and time again that she will do everything in her power to assure everyone's safety and well-being.

And that alone speaks volumes of a ruler's true character.

#wakfu #wakfu spoilers #wakfu season 4 #wakfu season 4 spoilers #wakfu analysis #loin du monde #far from the world #amalia sheran sharm #armand sheran sharm #king oakheart sheran sharm #aurora #sadida #sadida kingdom #count harebourg #ankama #wakfu ova #nox #quilby

[gabessquishytum]

My brain got possessed by the typo (accidental monster Dream from https://www.tumblr.com/gabessquishytum/744409898494853120/okay-au-with-mpreg-monster-dream-is-heavily?source=share), so let's have a pregnant monster Dream now! Dream is an ancient Mara spirit who used to visit people in their sleep and torture them with nightmares. Not anymore, though - he's been depressed for the last millennia or so, and he's in semi-retirement or on an extra-long vacation, and he just chooses some good, solid houses where he hangs out as a monster under the bed. He needs to spin nightmares to feed, but since he's depressed and all, he gets sustenance simply from being near sleeping minds. It's less nutritional, but it keeps him alive, although he starves. He's been living in a nice Victorian townhouse for the last century, and he loves the place. There's a king-size bed with a canopy in the master bedroom, and Dream very much approves of it. All of a sudden, his routine is somewhat disturbed: the house is sold, the previous owners move out, and there comes a new man. Dream is wary of him at first (what if he picks up a bed Dream doesn't like?), but they get on well. Hob - that's his name - is rather unobtrusive. He reads a lot and always keeps piles of interesting books on the bedside table, has a pleasant voice (he often laughs when talking with his friends over the phone and sometimes talks to himself), and even cleans all the dust under the bed. Regularly. Dream is enchanted! His curiosity picked up, he visits Hob in his dream. He doesn't mean to make it a nightmare and just wants to peek to know him better, but the dream takes a surprising turn. Hob...comes on to him. Dream looks essentially like a corpse, with paper-white skin, glowing eyes, and wild black hair, and he's well aware of his looks. Humans are supposed to find him scary. They always do. And here is Hob, who looks at him reverently and wants to fuck him. Dream is very confused, but he doesn't mind at all: while he's never done it, he knows about the things humans like to do in their beds at night. He's lived under those beds long enough, wishing there was someone to touch him lovingly and whisper sweet nothings to him, too…And if he seizes the opportunity to make that wish come true, even if just for one night, who's there to blame him? He lets Hob make love to him and retreats under the bed in the morning holding that memory dear. Hob wakes up with a distinct feeling that he's never had such a vivid (and hot!) dream before and wishes that his otherwordly lover, who was so shy, responsive, and passionate, was real. A few weeks pass in mutual longing: Dream wishes he was someone loveable, Hob wishes he met someone like that in reality. Or at least saw in his dreams again! Soon, Dream feels that his hunger intensifies and walks the dreams of neighbors to feed properly. It gets worse. He's always hungry and miserable, and his lower back aches, and when he takes a minute to think what the hell is wrong with him, he feels a life growing inside and realizes that he's knocked up. Dream considers his options and decides to talk to Hob. He was so gentle and loving with him, after all...Of course, there's no way he would want Dream and his baby if he finds out the truth. Or is it?

Magic monster dream baby conceived from magic dream romance!!! I absolutely love it. Hob sure is in for a surprise, isn't he?!

At first, Dream goes back into Hob’s dreams to speak with him. He's far too scared to just wriggle out from under the bed and confront Hob in the real world. He appears to Hob and explains that he's pregnant, and that it's all real, and Hob is very kind to him. He hugs Dream and kisses him and promises him that all will be well. Still, he gets the shock of his life when he wakes up and finds Dream anxiously sitting on the edge of his bed. When Dream said it was real, Hob didn't quite believe him... until now.

But Hib doesn't freak out. He asks Dream to explain who/what he is. Dream gives an outline of what his species are, how he's supposed to create nightmares and absorb the energy that comes from the fear and dread. He also explains that he hasn't really done much of that lately. And that's he's worried about the baby. He doesn't even know how this pregnancy is supposed to work.

Hob listens carefully and wholeheartedly promises to help. He tells Dream that he must start weaving nightmares again - he needs to eat! He can start on Hob, who really doesn't mind being scared (fear makes him horny, more than anything). As for the baby, well, they'll work it out together. Whether it's half human or all dream, Hob wants the child as much as he wants Dream. He would like to try and make a relationship work between them.

He even shuffles under the bed with Dream to cuddle him where he feels safe and secure. Although he makes clear that Dream is also welcome IN the bed, too.

Dream is just awestruck by the whole situation. Hob seems to genuinely want him, a thing that seems utterly impossible. Dream has long considered himself unlovable, hence his prolonged periods of isolation and depression. It seems impossible that Hob would to build a life with him. But he looks at Dream like he's precious, magical, worthy of love and adoration... is it truly possible that Dream could live in contentment with his baby and this human?

Hob (who is falling more and more in love with every passing minute) sure hopes so.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw monsterfucking #cw mpreg

[murdocksdaughter]

missing you, kissing me (jacaerys velaryon x fem!velaryon!reader)

a/n: no this is not canon complainant. also im trying to feed my fellow jace girlies. and i did write this on my 9 hour flight home no joke 💀.

warnings: kissing, technically targaryen incest, aegon slander, helaena and rhaenyra are besties, the reader is a velaryon reader but physical descriptions are neutral minus mention of hair color, luke yelling at jace, happy targaryen family au, also rhaenyra is queen (whoo hoo no war)

summary: leading up their wedding y/n and jacaerys has had any alone time together

word count: 1.3k

“let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain”

She loved everything about him. From his smile to his war hardened face. Y/n was so utterly in love with Jacaerys. They were to be wed in a few weeks and time couldn’t move any slower. With Jacaerys being in line for the throne, the wedding was to be a week long event to be followed with a giant ceremony.

Y/n hadn’t gotten to spend alone time with Jacaerys. It was only either in meetings to plan the wedding or at family meal. Along with Jacaerys’ High Valyrian lessons and training with Aemond. The spare time they had together was nonexistent.

And since the betrothal sneaking out to see each other at night wasn’t an option. With the watchful eyes of the Queensguard, it was impossible to have moment to themselves.

Y/n dreaded it.

Looking out the window as she half heartedly worked on her embroidery of the day, Y/n was bored. Even the pleasant company of Helaena couldn’t hold her attention.

Y/n’s face held a longing look as she continued to watch the clouds roll over King's Landing.

“You miss him.”

The voice of Helaena broke Y/n’s trance- (More like startled her). Y/n jumped slightly before looking at the Targaryen princess with her face and her neck feeling hot.

Helaena only smiled at Y/n, “I would miss him too, he treats you well.” she continued before she went back to her embroidery of caterpillars.

Y/n always valued the words of Helaena; they were always truthful albeit sometimes cryptic. Y/n smiled at Heleana and nodded.

“I do, we haven’t had much time to ourselves since our betrothal. I just wished to be married already.”

Helaena giggled at Y/n’s eagerness.

“What’s so funny?” as the Queen Rhaenyra walked in.

“Y/n’s eagerness to marry.” Helaena confessed. Rhaenyra cackled, sitting next to her future daughter-in-law. “So eager to be a bride yet I doubt my son knows how to undo a bodice,” she commented.

Y/n blushed at Rhaenyra’s comment.

“Ageon still can figure out a bodice, we’ve been married for years. Marriage is a very…complicated thing,” Helaena said with a small frown forming. Rhaenyra reached out for her sister’s hand and squeezed it lightly.

Y/n’s lip tightened in a thin line. She knew how Aegon treated his wife. That was typical for marriages for women like them; loveless and only to strengthen alliances, the men are sleeping around sire-ing bastards. Women always stuck drinking their woes away and becoming bitter of any younger woman in their presence.

“Jacaerys adores you Y/n. Your marriage will be an amazing union.” Rhaenyra tried to lighten the mood.

“He’s a truly good man, better than most I’d say.” Helaena continued. Y/n smiled and looked down at her lap. “That is true, he’s more like a prince from the books we read as children than what we usually get.” Y/n jokes.

“Leagues better than the drunken excuses we get,” Helaena slyly commented, taking a jab at her husband.

Rhaenyra laughed loudly, grabbing Helaena’s hand. Y/n’s face scrunched as a silent laugh shook her body. Helaena smiled to herself proud of her joke.

Rhaenyra took deep breaths as she continued to giggle to herself. “Oh by the gods Heleana that might be the funniest thing you’ve said.”

As the three women calmed down to a comfortable silence, a member of the Queensguard came in.

“The Prince Jacaerys requests the presence of Lady Y/n Velaryon,” He announces. A grin grew on Y/n’s face. She stood up, smoothing her dress out as she quickly made her way to the entrance of the room.

Y/n followed the Queensguard out of the room when she noticed it was pouring. Her eyebrows furrowed. Training must had been cancelled due to the weather.

Then a bigger smile than she had before grew on her face. Training was cancelled.

As Y/n followed the Queensguard she could feel her heart squeeze in excitement and her body set aflame.

She was so excited to see Jacaerys. Y/n felt like a little girl at a jousting tournament and watching all the handsome knights come out on their horses. Her whole body was shaking as it inched closer to her betrothed.

Once she arrived there Jacaerys stood leaning against the arch way of the court yard.

“The Lady Y/n Velaryon my prince.” The Queensguard announced their presence. Jacaerys turned around to see Y/n standing there with a grin on her face.

Such a simple thing brought her joy. Just seeing Jacaerys. No one but him.

“My love.” He stretched out his arms. Y/n swiftly moved to his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Jace…” she whispered.

His warmth surrounding her completely. His arms caging her waist pulling her closer to his chest. Jacaerys hummed im content. “I missed you,” He mumbled into her white curls.

“I hate being engaged, I never want to go through this again,” Y/n whined into Jacaerys chest.

Jacaerys pulled away slightly, “Are you planning to marry someone else?” he jokingly asked, raising an eyebrow. Y/n rolled her eyes at him. “Oh and you roll your eyes at me?? The heir to the Iron Throne.” Jacaerys put a hand on his chest in disbelief.

Y/n shook her head. “You’re ridiculous Jace,” she muttered, pressing her lips on his jaw. Jacaerys laughed, pulling Y/n back to his chest. He squeezed her tightly.

Y/n felt content with the only sounds of rain and her betrothed breathing filling her ears. It was a moment of peace. Jacaerys planted a kiss on her cheek and muttered “I love you.” Y/n could feel her heart swell.

“I can never get tired of hearing that from you.” She looked up at Jacaerys.

He just smiled at her, “I never get tired of saying it,” he whispered leaning down his lips ghost past hers.

Just as Y/n started to lean forward to meet her lips with Jacaerys a voice called the prince’s name.

Both groaned as they pulled apart and looked to find the source of the call. Y/n found the dark hair of Jacaerys’ younger brother Lucerys. Giving Jacaerys a sympathetic look. The prince just rolled his eyes.

“I suppose our time ends. I’ll see you at dinner, Mother wants me to sit in on her small council meeting today,” Jacaerys half heartedly mutters. Y/n just nodded, running her hand through his hair.

“Of course my love,” She said with a half smile. Jacaerys slipped put of her grasp running across the court yard trying his to escape the rain as fast as possible.

Before he made it across Y/n called his name. Jacaerys stop to and to find her running to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. Jacaerys wrapped his arms around her waists pulling her deep into the kiss. Y/n’s hand traveled from the back of his neck to his cheeks, cupping them both feeling how wet they were from the pouring rain.

Jacaerys gripped Y/n’s waist squeezing it lightly. The kiss seemed to last forever as they stood in the rain, drenched. Lucerys called his brother’s name again this time far louder and with an annoyed tone.

This time they pulled slowly from each other, smilies dawn both their faces. “I’ll see you at dinner?” Y/n asked despite knowing the answer.

Jacaerys nodded frantically. “Yes. I’ll see you then-”

“JACAERYS!! DON’T MAKE ME DRAG YOU FROM HER MYSELF!!” Lucerys voice engulfed the courtyard.

Jacaerys laughed throwing his head back. “Goodbye my love,” he said before running off to his brother who was leaning against an arch with an disgusted look on his face.

Y/n was left standing the pouring rain with the biggest grin on her face. Her hand gripping her soaked dress.

By the gods she really did love Jacaerys Velaryon.

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon imagines #fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #house of the dragon #hotd one shot #hotd imagine #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagines

[sjax001]

My (not-so-pleasant)version of the Lion and Guilliman's reunion

This idea emerged during a conversation with a friend, and because of my reluctance to laboriously craft it into a fanfic, I presented it in this form:

Guilliman heard numerous rumors about the Lion's return, but he struggled to believe it. Even before he entered the stasis field, he had already believed that the Lion was dead. Yet, he wanted the rumors to be true because of his overwhelming desperation for a brother's companionship.

So, he once again captured a Tzeentch daemon and interrogated it，seeking truth about the Lion's return.

The Tzeentch daemon affirmed that the Lion had indeed returned, untainted by Chaos. However, before Guilliman could find solace in this revelation, the daemon continued.

"He holds two distinct opinions of you, and you can guess which one is true.

The first: He is immensely relieved to learn that you are still alive and believes he is no longer alone.

The second: He thought he should have dealt with you and asked why could it not have been you who fell."

The daemon pulled a sly maneuver, withholding context about the Lion's words. It also conveniently changed the Lion's true meanings, "why could it not have been you who fell instead of Sanguinius," which Guilliman might have concurred with, and it also omitted that the Lion had also wished he had died in Sanguinius' place.

Guilliman was quick to conclude that only the second statement held truth. Given his understanding of the Lion, he reasoned that the Lion had never held him in high regard and was very likely upset with him.The Lion may believe he should be held accountable for the current state of the Imperium.So it's logical that the Lion wanted him dead.

In theory, Guilliman should have accepted this reality calmly, but he found himself unable to do so.

Imagine you awaken in a nightmarish world, utterly alone, burdened with the responsibility of saving everyone, yet no one could save you in return. Your father appears mad and treats you like a tool, and you lack a confidant to confide in. Amidst the ceaseless toil and isolation, a glimmer of hope emerges when you hear that one of your brothers has returned.You two weren't close before, but you've been alone for too long. You're so exhausted and you want to talk to someone. Despite past misunderstandings and disputes, he could be the sole person who comprehends your solitude and shares your burden.

But this brother, the only person in the world you can rely on and trust,thinks you're better off dead.

Thus Guilliman crumbled.He had a will as unyielding as steel and rock, but he had already pushed himself to the brink. And this was the straw that broke the camel's back.He could have continued to endure all the loneliness and despair, had the Lion not denied the value of all his effort and his life with a single sentence.

Meanwhile, the Lion was making preparations for his impending reunion with Guilliman. During his time with his sons, he felt that he should understand Guilliman's perspective beforehand. He turned to Azrael, inquiring if Guilliman had ever spoken about him. He was told by Azrael that when Indomitus Crusade fleet delivered primaris reinforcements to the Rock,Guilliman admitted to Azrael that he had always admired the Lion. Despite not sharing a particularly close bond, the Lion had always been the one Guilliman looked up to among all their brothers. This left the Lion both moved and reassured.

Therefore, when the Lion and Guilliman finally met again, the Lion tried to express his brotherly feelings of reunion, but Guilliman reacted with extreme indifference and restraint. The Lion was puzzled and annoyed by this and suspected that Guilliman thought he was trying to usurp power. The misunderstanding between them deepened.

Eventually, the Lion could bear it no longer. He used his forestwalk ability to reach the Honor of Macragge and wanted to have a sincere conversation with his brother. However, when Guilliman spotted him, he misconstrued the lion's intentions, believing that the lion had come to assassinate him. He instinctively raised the flaming sword in "self-defense." When the lion attempted to clarify that he had no such intentions, Guilliman questioned him, "Aren't you the one who wished I were dead?" The lion was speechless, as he had indeed uttered those words. A confrontation between the two ensued, but Guilliman eventually abandoned the fight midway due to overwhelming heartbreak.

This is the very first time when Lion witnessed Guilliman shedding tears. Even after the siege of Terra, when all were in mourning, Guilliman had immediately embarked on the task of reorganization and reconstruction.At that time,he was so driven that he seemed almost insensitive and indifferent.So all his brothers, including the lion, thought he's cold or strong enough to never be swayed by emotion.

Now,Lion realized that Guilliman even remained oblivious to his own tears,still convinced that he sounded resolute and intimidating to Lion.Suddenly, the Lion comprehended the relentless battle Guilliman had waged against despair,but he couldn't hold on any longer.And it's because of Lion.

I haven't figured out how this is supposed to end.My hope is for them to reconcile sincerely. However, I'm uncertain about how the Lion could offer solace to Guilliman and gain his trust again.Even he had changed a lot,I still think he is not good at comforting...and Roboute was devastated.

Any ideas ?

#warhammer 40k #roboute guilliman #warhammer 40000 #lion el'jonson

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Hi! Can I pls request dating headcanons for Bale Batman with a female reader who used to works as his assistant but now helps Alfred with batman related work? Like reader is not a superhero but helps Alfred with his duty? Also reader is a very sunshiny person, kind and loving? Thank you ❤️

Thank you so much for requesting, anon! <3

A/N: This is a warning, I got carried away. I blinked and suddenly two hours were gone and I had this. Also, let's pretend Bruce took over Wayne Enterprises before he came Batman.

Enjoy!

~ Fi🪻

Dating Bruce as his assistant ♤

◇ You'd been working for Wayne Enterprises even before Bruce took over, under the supervision of William Earle.

◇ Your parents always told you what good people the Wayne's were, helping the ones less fortunate. Naturally, you wanted to work for their company, hoping to help keep their legacy.

◇ Once you started working there, however, it was different than you'd expected. This Mr. Earle didn't seem to respect the Wayne's wishes of helping the poor people of Gotham.

◇ It did pay well and you really needed this job, so you reluctantly kept your mouth shut, doing as your told.

◇ Which was refilling coffee cups and occasionally taking notes during meetings.

◇ Once Bruce took over, your faith had been restored. He was his father's son, and actually seemed like he wanted to help.

◇ Now, you were way more involved in the inner workings of Wayne Enterprises, working closely with Lucius and Bruce.

◇ You still handled most of the paper work, but you were allowed to voice your ideas and suggestions, which was heavily encouraged by Bruce.

◇ You were on coffee duty, but because you actually wanted to. You enjoyed bringing Bruce his coffee and being rewarded with a gently thanks and a smile that made your heart flutter.

◇ Bruce had moved your desk directly into his office, saying it was more convenient that way, for the both of you.

◇ Which was true on one hand, but he secretly liked having you around him. Your presence put him at ease, watching you calmly look through a bunch of documents for him to sign.

◇ Your bubbly and bright personality contrasted him so well, you were always humming a tune or doodling on some expired documents.

◇ He loved when you hummed, it made him able to concentrate better on what he was doing.

◇ You two just clicked. In more ways than one. The company was thriving thanks to your teamed efforts, and he was... happier.

◇ Little did he know, he made your heart sore. Being around him so often made you happy too, always engaging in pleasant conversations between the workloads.

◇ Eventually, he asked you out, making your brain short circuit. It left you unable to focus on anything for the rest of the day, as a stupidly wide smile sat on your face.

◇ You hit it off from there.

◇ The first few months you could not stop talking. About anything, really.

◇ You told him about everything, always bubbling over with excitment and joy.

◇ The fact that you could always find something positive in life made him smile and potentially have made him a little more optimistic as well.

◇ You did have your doubts about whether or not this could work since he was your boss and you were working together all the time.

◇ It did work.

◇ Maybe a little too well, you ended up moving to Wayne Manor.

◇ And Alfred became your best friend immediately.

◇ You helped him around the Manor, it was a huge house after all, although he insisted you didn't have to.

◇ You wanted to, you enjoyed it.

◇ Alfred sharing funny and cute embarrassing childhood stories about Bruce while you were doing mundane household tasks was your favorite part.

◇ He talked about Bruce's parents as well, you wished you could've met them.

◇ Then, things changed.

◇ Bruce would come home bruised and limping, which he would always dismiss as some sort of bar fight.

◇ You weren't stupid. Bruce didn't get into meaningless bar fights. You worried, but refrained from questioning him about it since he had to have a reason not to tell you, right?

◇ You worried your ass off the more he came home bloody and beat up.

◇ You couldn't take it anymore, it broke your heart to see your lover come home hurt.

◇ You confronted him, he tried to play it off somehow but eventually he caved and told you everything.

◇ He was the Batman.

◇ You had to sit down after he told you.

◇ And that is how you got here.

◇ You still worked at Wayne Enterprises but much less frequently.

◇ Lucius had taken the main reigns now, as Bruce was occupied otherwise.

◇ Your main purpose was now in the Batcave together with Alfred, helping with whatever basically.

◇ Gathering Intel, talking to Lucius about more Bat gadgets, and most importantly, patching him up after a rough night.

◇ You were so gentle with him, Bruce could've sworn your touch and kisses immediately healed any ailment he had.

◇ He looked at you with the most loving eyes as you stitched up the giant gash on his arm. Your brows were furrowed in concentration and you mumbled out a quick apology everytime he winced.

◇ Bruce will spoil the shit out of you.

◇ You've done so much for him, and he just needs to give you something back.

◇ Doesn't matter if he buys you whatever you want or hold and praise you at night.

◇ Will not keeps his hands off you.

◇ Like ever.

◇ The second he gets back from patrol he's wrapping you in his arms, kissing your forehead.

◇ Doesn't matter how hurt he is, if he's dripping in blood or barely able to keep himself on his feet.

◇ You are and forever will be his priority.

◇ You, of course, scolded him everytime he did this, telling him he could shower you in his love and affection when he wasn't bleeding out.

◇ He doesn't listen to you, stubborn as he is, and continues to do whatever he wants.

◇ Which is loving you, no matter what state he is in.

◇ You two have gotten into several arguments about his behavior, but you always talked it out in the end.

◇ You held eachother at night, whispering praises and compliments until you eventually drifted off to sleep, both with a content smile on your face.

◇ He absolutely loves waking up with you. You always tell him about the dreams you had, talking and laughing about a time traveling cow with a briefcase.

◇ Your laugh is his favorite sound.

◇ If he could listen to it 24/7, he would.

◇ Now that you were also helping Batman when you're not in the office, you were obviously on the black list.

◇ Something was bound to happen at one point.

◇ After staying late and finishing some blueprints with Lucius, some wannabe villain got his hands on you.

◇ When Alfred told Bruce, he lost his absolute shit.

◇ All rational thoughts were thrown out the window, the only thing that mattered was you. And getting you back.

◇ He almost went in as Bruce, absolutely enraged, but Alfred managed to talk some sense into him.

◇ You were tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse, mouth taped shut.

◇ How original.

◇ Once Bruce had found you and seen how tightly your hands were bound, the rope digging into your skin, and that absolute fool of a leader roughly grabbing your face, waving around a gun in front of you, he went ballistic.

◇ He was so ready to burn this place to the fucking ground.

◇ That was the only time he almost actually killed someone. He beat that fucker into the next decade.

◇ He only stopped when he heard your muffled cries, snapping out of whatever enraged trance he was in.

◇ Bruce whisked you away so fast, you were back in the Batcave in the blink of an eye.

◇ Immediately checked you for any injuries.

◇ Your face was slightly bruised, your lip split and rope burn was sitting on your wrists.

◇ He had to take a moment, his fists clenching.

◇ You assured him again and again that it wasn't his fault and that the minor injuries you had sustained were nothing.

◇ He never really forgave himself for this, he never told you, though.

◇ Took the next two weeks off Batman duty to be with you.

◇ Held you for those two weeks straight and took care of your wounds.

◇ He promised you, more himself really, that something like that would never ever happen again and that he would protect you with his life.

◇ Will kiss you all the time, especially after the incident.

◇ He will become so clingy, but you love it.

◇ You moved on with life after what happened, and seemingly so did he.

◇ But there was something you didn't know.

◇ He went back, tracked that bastard down and finished the job.

◇ That was the only time the Batman has ever killed someone.

◇ It was more Bruce Wayne than Batman when he did it.

◇ He would do it a hundred times over if it meant protecting you.

Some bonus NSFW hcs

♤ Is smitten with you the second he meets you.

♤ has fantasized about bending you over his desk and fucking you.

♤ After you started dating and made things official, he fulfilled that fantasy.

♤ basically lives between your thighs.

♤ would stay there all day if you'd let him.

♤ You don't. (because you would be sobbing by the end of it)

♤ he's so pouty about it, very upset at you.

♤ so loving in bed, he has made you cry simply from telling you how much he loves you while he fucks you into oblivion.

♤ You sucked him off from under his desk once and he fucking loved it.

♤ I'm gonna say it again

♤ PUSSY EATING KING

♤ just loves eating you out so much it's ridiculous.

♤ You've woken up on more than one occasion with his face buried in your cunt at 8 in the morning.

♤ after you got kidnapped, he fucks you so hard and rough.

♤ he needs those emotions to go somewhere and you happened to be sitting there so pretty, he couldn't help himself.

♤ he feels really bad about it after, you deserve nothing more than to be made love to.

♤ You tell him you actually liked it and wouldn't mind if he did it again sometime.

♤ fucks your brains out the second that statement left your mouth.

♤ the best at aftercare, will love on you to your hearts content. Always draws you a bath and kisses your neck and shoulders, he's so sweet.

♤ He loves you like he has never loved anyone before, and he would give you the world if he could <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you liked it, anon!

#bumblebeesfromvenus #bale!bruce x reader #bale!bruce wayne smut #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #christian bale #batman begins #alfred pennyworth

[miss-hyoko]

His Clothes

Character(s): Jade and Floyd

Summary: You wear his clothes and he caught you red-handed

Tag(s) and warning(s): GN!Reader, fluff, romantic, established relationship, a bit spoiler for the character's dorm uniform voice lines

Note: Although I said I would post something once every three days, but this idea has been stuck in my head for a while. So, here I am delivering these two eels for you (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

1. Jade Leech

Wishing to spend more time with your boyfriend, you decided to help him at Mostro Lounge. Even if it's a little tiring, at least you get to spend some time with Jade. But while you were busy taking the customer orders, one of the customers accidentally spilled their drink on your shirts.

Seeing that your front shirt was soaked with juice, Jade just chuckled while shaking his head before handing you his bedroom key, saying that you could borrow one of his clothes.

So, here you are, in Jade's room and going through his wardrobe. When you find his spare dorm uniform hanging neatly, there's this sudden urge in your head to try it on.

And what can you do besides following that urge of yours? So, against your better judgement, you took his dorm uniform and started trying it on. The result….

“The uniform is too big….” You winced, looking at your reflection in the mirror.

When Jade wears his dorm uniform, he always looks very gentlemanly, while at the same time he still has this dangerous aura around him. But when you try on the same clothes, you look like a child trying on their parents' clothes. It's all because of your height difference with him is quite far. But really, there weren't many people who could rival Jade's height. So, the problem is not your height. Jade is just too big for human size.

When you try on his uniform, the light-purple undershirt is long enough to cover half of your thighs. As for the pants…. well, the waist was too wide for you to fit into, so you decided not to wear them and continued wearing his white bow tie, Octavinelle's signature lavender-gray scarf, and the black suit. With white gloves and another spare black fedora that Jade has, you successfully nailed your boyfriend look.

But for some reason, it feels like something is missing, doesn't it? Oh, that's right! His signature smile! Jade wouldn't be Jade without his ever present customer service smile.

So, putting one hand in front of your chest, you mustered your most polite smile, and with the softest voice you have, you try to imitate your boyfriend's way of speaking.

“No need to be so concerned. I only wish to help. Ha ha ha, it's an honor to have you call on me. I know the secret to making all your dreams come true.”

“Oh my, I didn't know you had this kind of hobby, my pearl.”

Hearing your boyfriend's friendly voice, you suddenly turned around and found his standing in the doorway, looking at you full of amusement. With his usual smirk donning his handsome face, he walks towards you with unhurried steps.

“I came to check on you because you took a while to change. But it seems there's nothing to worry about, seeing you enjoying your time trying on my uniform and trying to impersonate me,” he said while fixing the bow tie you were wearing.

“Are you angry?” You ask, a little nervous. “Since I wear your uniform without your permission…”

Hearing your question, Jade chuckled softly. “Why should I be angry? It's a little surprising, but it's a pleasant surprise.”

Just as you were about to breathe a sigh of relief, Jade suddenly leaned over and whispered softly in your ear.

“Besides, I also like your little impersonation of me. Say, how about we wear the Octavinelle uniform for our next date? I can get one for you from Azul, you know.”

2. Floyd Leech

When you visit Mostro Lounge, you expect to see your boyfriend working. Unfortunately, you came at the wrong time. Floyd is still at school because the basketball club is suddenly holding an impromptu meeting regarding the game they will take part in next week. Normally, Floyd wouldn't join a boring meeting like that, but this time the whole team tried hard to make him stay because he is one of the key players.

Jade or Azul will usually chat with you until Floyd comes back and takes your attention away. But today Mostro Lounge was too crowded so the two of them couldn't accompany you. And because you didn't want Azul to ask you to help in the lounge, you immediately fled to Floyd's room.

Once you enter his room, you find that Floyd's room hasn't changed at all since your last visit. It's still a mess.

Sighing, you rolled up your sleeves and started cleaning Floyd's room. Even though you call it cleaning, you're actually just throwing away the trash and returning things to their original position.

While picking up his things, you find his dorm uniform suit lying on the chair. Looking at the suit, you suddenly imagine your boyfriend's figure when working at Mostro Lounge while wearing his dorm uniform. With his droopy eyes, wide grin, and lazy voice, Floyd Leech always manages to catch your attention. If you wore it, would you be look as good as it is in Floyd?

…. He won't mind, right?

With that kind of thought, you started looking for the other parts of Floyd's dorm uniform. After successfully finding all the other parts, you immediately put on the uniform.

Standing in front of the mirror, you stare in awe at your reflection. Even if you're only wearing the top of the uniform -because Floyd's pants are too big for you- you really feel like totally a different person. The uniform is a little big on you, but you still feel satisfied with your new appearance. The light-purple undershirt covered in a black suit, accompanied by a white bow tie, makes you seem like an intellectual. Guess what Vil said is indeed true, clothes can change people.

You then wear white gloves, a lavender-gray scarf, and a black fedora hat that is the trademark of Octavinelle's dorm uniform. Satisfied, you then started trying to imitate Floyd's character when he was doing his job at Mostro Lounge.

Putting your left hand on your right shoulder, you tilt your head a little while your face is donned with a cheeky grin. Then, with a lazy-like mannerism, you said to the mirror in front of you.

“You got a very serious problem? There might be something we can do. Heh heh heh... Don't be so scared. I just wanna give you a nice squeeze.”

Before you can compliment your imitation, something -or rather, someone- has already seized you up.

“Guppy!”

Floyd's unique shriek entered your ears, stopping you who were about to struggle. Well, it's not like you can really free yourself from the eel's strong embrace, considering how tight his hands wrapped around your body.

“My little guppy is so cute, tryin' to imitate this eel~” Floyd nudged his cheek on the top of your head while chuckling.

“You… you don't mind me wearing your dorm uniform?” you ask rather anxiously.

“Nope~” Floyd answered quickly without having to think twice. “If it were someone else, I would definitely squeeze them dry. But since it's you, I don't mind at all.”

You just breathed a sigh of relief, but then Floyd let go of his arms and looked up at you with a frown.

“But it feels… somethin' is missing.”

Floyd's words made you suddenly nervous, “W-what's missing?”

Floyd doesn't answer your question, instead his hand reaches out to the bow tie you're wearing and yanks it off, leaving the bow tie hangs around your neck. He also unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt before finally the frown is gone from his face.

“Now, that's more Floyd-like, don't cha think?” He smirked playfully at you, before he leaned closer and gave a lingering kiss to your exposed cleavage.

“Hey, little guppy, why don't you wear my clothes more often in the future? That way, people would know that you're mine. Good idea, right?”

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst imagines #jade leech #floyd leech #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade x reader #floyd x reader #klepon #🍴_comp

[anika-ann]

Back and Forth - part 5

Part 5 - Backdrop

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 16500 🥹 (bestie I-)

Chapter summary:  In which secrets are revealed - by you, by Steve... and by your captors.

Series masterlist

Warnings: pain and unhealthy relationship to pain, mentions of chronic illness and chronic pain (and the relationship to it), blood, canon-typical violence, gunshot wounds, issues with self-worth, implied emotional abuse from a parent (or just shitty parenting), brief torture, mention of human experimentation and Nazi doctors, multiple mentions of death, plenty of swearing

A/N: ALWAYS MIND THE WARNINGS; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader’s appearance

A/N2: Going full circle, sweet readers - aka yes, the beginning might sound familiar, because it is where the prologue came from. And yes, it’s a very long chapter, but it truly feels it works better as one. If you do wish to split, the best point is at the two thirds (the divider). Dooon’t though :)

The exhaustion was coming and going in waves, alternating with pain, concern and fruitless determination.

You wondered if Steve felt the same; you assumed he did. Asking would feel a little silly though; you didn’t see the point and frankly, you and Steve had never been close enough to just sit down on a couch and share your feelings, keeping them close to the vest except for the heat of your occasional arguments. So you stayed quiet, alone in your wondering.

The pulse of pain in your legs dulled a while ago; you let your head lull back against the wall you were leaned against, the thud sounding just as dull.

The irony wasn’t lost on you; you and Steve were colleagues, very reluctant friends as best, guarded and unsure about the other most times despite him being one of the most honest people you had ever encountered. It was true that you stood by his side and he did by yours, but there had always been an invisible wall between you. By the irony of fate, now, when an actual wall separated you, you could feel the figurative one crumble down.

It was surreal and frankly scary; which was just as ironic, given your circumstance that should feel much more terrifying. And yet… you couldn’t help the little warmth spreading in your chest, knowing your back was aligned to the same wall Steve’s was, mere inches apart, and while admitting certain things to him hadn’t been pleasant, in hindsight, it felt good. No matter the outcome, you had no doubt that if you survived, you’d remember these moments fondly, at least to some point.

And yes, it probably made you a masochist; but what else was new.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the files?” Steve’s low voice snapped you out of your musing, making your heart jump a bit in fright.

It shouldn’t have surprised you he asked one of many questions you didn’t want to answer. It was another of his annoying and endearing talents – and you rarely gave him the satisfaction of replying fully, just for that. But what the hell, right? Maybe you were about to die here. And you had just thought about how telling the truth, while embarrassing, felt liberating too.

“Would you have listened?” you questioned him back anyhow.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

You heard him shift, the clank of metal and a low hiss escaping his lips making you gulp. You weren’t the only one battling pain.

“I would have heard you out. I admit I was angry at that time and I wasn’t… behaving as I should have and I’m sorry. But I would have heard you out.”

A brief barely-there smile curled your lips as he apologized again. Steve Rogers, ladies and gentlemen, unable to bear the fact he himself had been less than a gentleman. You might have been far from a friend and even farer from being able to tell you knew him and understood him despite having screamed at him the opposite, but you understood enough. Even if you sometimes wished you didn’t.

“But would you have listened?”

He didn’t reply.

You both knew the answer: no. He wouldn’t have, because he was the damn Captain America and he believed he knew the best, blindly following his inner compass pointing the true North even should all hell break loose, and those files weren’t a real concern anyway, were they?

Damn him.

And yet. As you challenged him further, you couldn’t stop the warm feeling in your chest humming louder, because yes, that was who he was, and you liked him that way, even if he was driving you mad at the same time.

“Or would have you just waved it off, because you are invincible?”

Silence stretched again.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus on hearing his breathing through the wall, still startled and relieved at how easy it was to do so. It was a good distraction from the pain still radiating from your wounds; and it kept your hope alive.

Dum spiro spero, right?

Despite the situation – or maybe out of spite, given both yours and Steve’s nature – you were still breathing and so was Steve. As infuriating as he was, you knew your heart would break to pieces if he stopped. Unable to walk or not, you’d find a way to break through the wall in mere seconds if he stopped talking to you.

Which he did just now.

Something in your ribcage contracted painfully, your voice shaky when you spoke his name, praying he was only offended at you calling him out. After all, being shot really fucking hurt, so you’d rather not move at all, let alone try to crash through concrete; that was the sole reason for your prayers. Liar, whispered a breathless voice, but you ignored it, your heart hammering against your sternum.

“…Steve?”

Blood rushed through your ears, making it impossible to tell, again, whether you could hear him breathe at all, or whether it was just your wishful thinking; long bony fingers of an invisible hand curled around your throat and squeezed at the mere thought that the latter was the case.

You swore, you swore to all Gods you knew, that if he had lied and his fresh bullet wound wasn’t just a graze, if he was actively dying right now and you didn’t even know and you couldn’t tell, if this infuriating bast-

“I don’t think I’m invincible,” he said at last and you released the breath you were holding, the coil in your chest loosening.

A brief flare of anger tried to replace the heavy weight on your chest – because God, you could kill him yourself for giving you a scare like that – but it was hard to stay mad at the man. It was, in fact, one of the most maddening things about him. That, and the fact he made it impossible not to care about him; a deadly feature on someone who was always the first to rush to catch a bullet with someone else’s name on it. Because he did think he was invincible.

God, he was such a likeable ass.

“Oh? Could have fooled me, really,” you sassed him, pretending you didn’t only barely manage to choke out the words. Honestly, it was a small miracle that you did, considering you had just swallowed the hysteria threatening to creep into your voice.

The responding groan of annoyance had the corners of your lips turn upward. It was like a drop of honey melting on your tongue; warm sweet satisfaction and relief at once, calming your nerves. Steve sure had plenty of fight in him left and you could kindle that fire if you pleased.

He had plenty of spite left too; and that was a very good thing.

“Don’t get snarky with me now.”

“Don’t bullshit me then,” you threw back, earning a huff – and then, a sigh, a few beats of silence, as if he was gathering strength to deal with your bullshit.

Frankly, at times you were surprised he still found that strength.

The other thing you noticed, however, was the pattern of his breathing not having changed. It was erratic in comparison to before he had projected and remained that way. There were many things this could mean, but one – the most likely one – had your heart clench painfully.

He hadn’t dodged the consequences of getting hurt in spectral form. It wasn’t just a startle; his pain did linger, just like yours would have. Your own chest ached at the realization; and your heart raced, because surely it was just a matter of time before he’d ask.

Ask the one forbidden question.

Then, guilt twisted you stomach for not having prepared him for the aftermath of getting shot as a spectre; however, the wise insistent voice in your head reminded you that you couldn’t have. You couldn’t have afforded him to know – you still couldn’t.

And it would have never been an issue if Tony damn Stark hadn’t insisted on dragging you to the stupid charity auction and Steve hadn’t agreed to it and then if he hadn’t projected, but he just had to be the ultimate good guy and take care of his injured teammate by any means necessary. Mr. Hero. Mr. Invincible. Case on damn point. You might have not been the best agent the agency had, but you used your brains at times and if they had only listened goddamnit-

“I don’t think I’m invincible…” he repeated slowly and you bit your tongue as not to protest to such claim again, taking a deep breath instead.

Silence stretched; then, a wavering breath of hesitation, his own this time. He was probably pondering whether he should tell you whatever he was about to say; whether you could be trusted not to turn that against him later.

You gulped, guilt nagging at your mind again.

You truly must have been excellent at your open despise for some of his decisions and him himself if his reluctance was anything to go by. Then again, that was hardly any news – his shouts from earlier had been enough of a testament to that. Even as the moments were hazy, wrapped in a fog, his voice still echoed in your ears.

‘Forget you hate me.’

‘Forget you think I don’t deserve the smallest bit of my fame.’

‘Forget that you think I’m just a glorified science experiment.’

God, he really had no idea in how high regard you held him, did he?

Sure, you hadn’t considered him entirely flawless, even as it was a close call; but you knew he deserved every bit of the reverence some people had in their eyes when they met him. Sometimes, it was just hard to remember that when he was flaunting his perfection right in front of your peasant Inhuman eyes, when you knew you could never reach that perfection yourself.

And yet, for whatever reason, he must have decided you were worthy of his trust; or perhaps he, just like you, thought there wasn’t much to lose anymore.

“But… people deserve a strong leader,” he whispered, the determination in his voice almost scarily firm even as he spoke with strange softness. “Agents need to feel they have someone they can lean onto when they feel like they have no more strength of their own left. They need order and someone to follow when everything else is chaos. They need someone fearless when facing the horrors we face every day. They need someone who swallows their own pain, so they find it in them to continue even when they feel like giving up, someone to take all the punches and kicks and stabs in the back and keeps going nevertheless, because-“

“No.”

His voice fell silent at the single word that spilled from your lips without a warrant, just like the tears that suddenly seemed to find their way to your cheeks. You didn’t think to blink them away before they were already out; you hadn’t realized they had started gathering in your eyes in the first place.

The breath you dared to draw was shaky, hesitant, and painful. Every single word Steve spoke drove a small needle through your lungs; painfully familiar and yet so foreign.

Be strong.

Be fearless.

Don’t let them see.

Get up. Now.

Swallow your pain.

I believe in your potential.

You are a marvel.

You have a duty.

Do good.

Do not dare to fail.

Lead.

Inspire.

All but the last two echoed through your head, spoken in your late father’s voice, clear as ever. Warm and distant; high praise and endless disappointment; a gentle touch and its screaming absence. The light at the end of the tunnel and the ball and chain at your neck, all at once.

It was hard to breathe, your mind hazier than your vision, emotions swirling in your chest violently; guilt, anxiety, longing, compassion. Recognition. Clarity.

Steve Rogers had it different, so much different, and yet, the weight of his burden felt familiar. Only his burden was the heavier for all the watchful eyes following his every move, as reverent as judging; with yours right there in the sea of millions, just waiting for an opportunity to lift yourself up on the ruins left behind by his failure, because if even Captain America made mistakes and wasn’t enough at times, then you could all shine just the same and there was still hope for lousy ordinary people like you to be excellent.

Didn’t you all wait in the shadows of his greatness, praying that he’d prove to be human like the rest of you – and stayed terrified of it at the same time?

Because he had a point, didn’t he? If not even Captain America could lift himself up after getting knocked down, then the rest of you might as well call it quits and abandon all hope.

Steve Rogers lived in own personal circle of hell just to keep you all a little further from your own.

He remained silent as you fought to form words after his admission; rendered speechless and stunned.

“Steve, no. I mean… yes. I— you’re not-“

The cacophony of feelings awoken by the epiphany of how painfully familiar these feelings were tasted salty on your lips, for the nth time in the past few hours. You struggled to explain, but you couldn’t just leave it at ‘no’, you couldn't, because while you heard him, you truly did, he was also so, so wrong.

And yet, he was terrifyingly right. Hadn’t you benefited from his immense strength just moments ago when he projected and treated you? Hadn’t you been insanely grateful for the strength that had nothing to do with the serum, with being a supersoldier, but had everything to do with being Steve Rogers?

The Captain America himself.

It was no wonder he had seemed like an angel at times, looked like he’d been carved by an ancient master of sculpture; a Greek demi-god, a Titan. If he truly believed what he said – and there was no doubt he did, it now screamed from every move, every decision, every tinniest gesture of his that you could recall in your pitiful state – he might have as well been Atlas himself. The world's beast of a burden.

And that was one hell of a burden to take on for one person. Even a person like him.

“I mean… you’re right, Steve, obviously. But… you’re wrong, because that’s just--- too much. And because we---we need to know you’re only human too, that you’re--- well,” you hummed, chuckling humourlessly, “if you are human at all, that is.”

He didn’t scoff, but it was a close thing. A funny sound he should make more often. It did sound quite human.

“I’m plenty human… and I’m not perfect,” he spat the word as if it burned his tongue, drawing a lovechild of a sob and a chuckle from your throat.

“Oh I know. You’re a stubborn reckless son of a bitch.”

And yet, you’re the best of us.

You let your eyes slipped shut, shaking your head, feeling like crying and laughing indeed as he chuckled, a breathy surprised sound.

This was the strangest fever dream. Were you and Steve really talking like this, so scarily open and unapologetic? Had you really just told him he was a stubborn and reckless SON OF A BITCH? If you had the courage and hadn’t you been in plenty of pain already, you’d pinch yourself to make sure it was still reality, as surreal as it felt.

“…I practically asked for that, didn’t I?” he noted self-deprecatingly and you could hear a faint smile in his voice, driving the corners of your lips up as well, the dangerous warmth in your chest rising again.

Warmth and the feeling that with a wall between you, with the note of humour in his voice, with his touch having been so gentle and careful, you could trust him and tell him what you thought without consequence.

Most definitely a fever dream, with your brain drunk on blood loss.

“Yeah, a little bit,” you said, unable to keep the smile from your voice too, despite your heart thundering in your chest.

That smile was quick to slip as something whispered in your head to continue, to share the thought that had your smile slip just as quickly. The mere idea of saying it, of indirectly revealing a huge tender area he could poke at if he pleased, made digging a bullet out of your leg look like a simple inconvenience – but he had to know. He had to realize; it was honestly baffling a man of his intelligence was absolutely blind to the powerful impact he had on others.  

“The problem is… well, that other than that, you just might be less human than all Inhumans combined and that’s… that’s a really hard standard to meet, you know?” you whispered, almost soundlessly, unsure you truly wanted him to hear.

The response came much more swiftly and much more baffling that you had expected. If voices could frown, Steve’s was most definitely frowning.

“I think you’re meeting it pretty damn well.”

You snorted, humourless laugh gathering in your chest and threatening to burst out – you only contained it from the fear of the intense pain returning if you shook too much. But your hands rose on their own will, palms up; a mute gesture of confusion he couldn’t see.

“Since when? You projected here just now because I needed your help to do what I should be doing on my own. You nearly ripped me a new one when I was irresponsible and projected without a second thought to protect Natasha and Sam – which I don’t regret in the slightest, by the way – but that doesn’t exactly meet that standard either,” you added, words spilling without filter now that you opened the floodgates. “About two weeks ago, you literally shook me to snap me back because you thought I was going to pass out before I could do what needed to be done – and you were right. As always. You knew I couldn’t do it even before I did, so really, thanks for the attempt at compliment, but we both know not even you believe you could ever mean it.”

You were breathless as you finished; and the aftertaste of your words was bitter as truth often was.

You could scoff again. How could he mean it?

‘Meeting it pretty damn well.’

Right.

You weren’t that deep into your fever dream to believe that; to believe he believed that. As if meeting that standard was even possible by anyone but Steve Rogers himself.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. Your direct superior.

You gulped, panic seizing you as the small alarm in the back of your mind reminded you with urgency that you were still talking to your Captain, this was reality, and he could easily bench you and maybe, maybe listing all your shortcomings of the past weeks wasn’t the best idea if you wanted to keep your damn job.

“And I know that’s not alright, but I’m… I swear I’m trying to get better,” you added swiftly, lump growing in your throat as the silence that followed your words. “I can get better and I will!”

…Captain, Sir.

You only swallowed his rank and the sir because it felt like he’d think you were mocking him. Not that it mattered; because Steve remained quiet.

You could hear him breathe – without any real change, so you didn’t think the reason for his silence was loss of consciousness.

Which meant that the reason was the complete loss of the last remnants of respect he could have ever held for you.

It was selfish of you, but for a moment, you almost wishedhe had fallen unconscious somewhere during your monologue or at least entered some altered state of mind which would make him forget you had said anything at all, because then he wouldn’t have that muchreason to fire you, to send you back to Coulson like a faulty goods, demanding a refund.

You should have kept your stupid mouth shut.

You should have—he was going to fire you. He was going to take away the one thing you were remotely good, at, he was going to--- he was- fuck, fuck, fuck-

Finally, the sound of your name washed over you like a calming tide wave.

It didn’t sound condescending. It didn’t sound unkind, despite you having basically asked for the exact opposite by serving your failures on the silver platter. If anything, Steve’s voice seemed to waver, thick with an emotion you couldn’t quite understand.

“You are more than meeting the standard. You truly are,” he said again, sighing and for some reason, it sounded as if he was gathering strength to do… something. “But you’re wrong. I… the truth is that I knew I couldn’t do it.”

You sat up straighter, frowning; curious and absolutely dumbfounded – for many reasons.

One was obvious – you had no idea what he was referring to. Two – did he just… was that praise? He truly sounded as if he meant that you were somewhat good enough in his eyes. Since when? That was just too insane even as the past 24 hours were the very definition of insanity. And three – he was once again admitting to some sort of a shortcoming, which was surprising too to say at least.

And your voice reflected all that.

“Do what?”

He sighed again, his breath hitching, the smallest noise signalling pain escaping him, one you probably wouldn’t have heard hadn’t it been for your enhanced senses. You winced, guilt gnawing at your stomach again even as it was already tight with apprehension.

Do what?

“Watch you pass out again, knowing you got shot,” he whispered, effectively turning you into a statue, every muscle, including your heart, freezing. “I always try to plan so nobody gets shot. It’s my responsibility to ensure that no one gets hurt, let alone like that, and yes, sometimes that fails, but… that is the primary objective. To bring everyone home. And then you go and… I simply couldn’t take that again.”

You blinked, a strange feeling settling in your gut, one you couldn’t seem to grasp.

You felt like an idiot. You must have looked like one too, because you had no damn idea what the hell he was talking about.

You understood every individual word, you understood the sentences, but you… didn’t understand.

Worse, you did understand, but that understanding didn’t fit into the big picture, didn’t explain what that had to do with him making you snap back.

Irritation flared up in your gut as your brain raced and kept coming up empty of any coherent image of Steve Rogers. You had thought you had begun to understand better and better; and then his last words shattered the picture again, leaving you baffled.

And frankly, you despised being put into a position where you felt like less than a half-wit.

“…why? Does it really hurt your pride that much, that someone from your troops would disobey your order and mess with your perfect plan? So much that you throw the plan out of the window just to throw a fit? Just so no one gets hurt on Captain America’s precious watch?”

The moment you asked, you knew the questions were much sharper than he deserved, meaner and entirely unfair. You knew it was a lame defence mechanism clicking into place the moment it even remotely appeared that the sincerity in his voice was giving you just the last piece you needed to complete the absolute puzzle he was; because that was just not right, it couldn’t be. It never had been right.

‘I couldn’t watch you pass out again, knowing you got shot.’

He couldn’t be saying that. He shouldn’t be saying that. It made no damn sense. He couldn’t- that wasn’t--- yes, you had established he cared about bringing everyone home indeed, but that wasn’t--- it didn’t sound quite like what he was saying.

What was he saying?

Your body, your brain specifically, had rebooted, neurons firing all messy as you tried to make sense of this and was now coming up with either absurd explanations or none at all.

Steve’s laughter was both bitter and genuinely amused, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Sure, that too. But… it’s up to me to keep everyone safe. I need to do it. I want to keep everyone safe. Including you,” he added, almost softly and the shudder that ran down your spine was unlike anything you had ever felt.

It wasn’t… bad, not necessarily, not when you let it happen. It was the thrill of danger, the call of unknown, luring you in; and at the same time, something pulled at your heartstrings so violently you weren’t sure anymore whose chest hurt more. Your eyes burned and so did your lungs as you couldn’t take a deep breath all of sudden.

He really cared, didn’t he? He cared so damn profoundly for everyone under his command it was a wonder he got up from bed in the morning with such heavy responsibility on his mind. And somehow, that group of people he cared for included you.

He would have taken that bullet for you even if he hadn’t in his spectral form, wouldn’t he? Because that was the weight he had taken upon his shoulders, the weight of the world indeed, the weight he agreed to carry whenever he picked up his shield.

The symbolism of choosing that weapon – a weapon as much as a tool of protection – had never been lost on you, but it now appeared heavier and more tangible than ever.

You gulped, letting the new unbelievable piece of knowledge wash over you, another shiver brushing your body.

And still.

Even with all he said, even if you were crazy enough to believe him, it still made no damn sense that it would make him shake you awake and snap back over two weeks ago. And it didn’t explain why he kept putting himself into the position of your own personal guard dog so often whenever you were to project on a mission.

“I… okay.”

You were the farthest thing from okay, but that was beside the point.

It just made no damn sense.

“But that is what you do, always. I am safe. Even if I do get shot out there,” you said slowly, not sure if you were reminding that to yourself or him. “Even if I get beaten up to a pulp and keep going long enough to almost bleed out after that… it’s not real. The pain is, yes-” More than you’d ever know… or as you already know, you thought, swallowing against your dry throat.“And I do have to push through it hard to keep the spectre going, but--- that’s it. All that happens to the real me is losing consciousness and some serious exhaustion, Steve, it’s not-”

“Until it isn’t,” he interrupted you with urgency, causing your voice die out mid-sentence. “What if I fail? What if I fail to protect you, leave you there unconscious and vulnerable – your real body? What if one of those days your abilities act out? What if, one day, the injuries of your spectre transfer to your body, without prior warning? Look at us now. Nobody could have predicted this and yet here we are. Not to mention the pain you feel, passing out… that’s not nothing and we don’t even know the long-term consequences of that. So no, I--- I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let that happen to you again.”

‘I couldn’t let that happen to you again.’

The last words echoed through your skull in a bizarre echo, the room out of focus despite your gaze turned to the opposite wall and your frantic blinks.

It still didn’t make a lick of sense, none of the things he had said, words built on fruitless pondering about what-ifs – except it made the perfect sense.

Hadn’t you worried exactly about that just a few moments ago? When Steve had got shot right in front of your eyes – an image that would haunt you forever, you suspected – even if it had been just his projection?

Yes, you had much more reason to worry; the transition of the effects of the serum to you wasn’t complete either, since you hadn’t exactly grown several inches tall nor gained a hundred pounds of muscle, so it was reasonable at least to assume the transition of your powers to him hadn’t been complete either. But you could see what he meant: powers, no matter how useful, were a volatile thing. You had seen how difficult the beginnings with Daisy’s powers had been and how she was still discovering what she could do to this day, almost two years later. And she was someone whom you considered extremely capable with her abilities.

Was it truly so unfathomable that in his overbearing responsibility for his team, Steve would worry about things going awry with your powers, resulting in you being a lot more hurt than anticipated?

Something had grown in your throat, making it hard to speak, but you pushed the words out anyway, even as they had the strangest taste on your tongue.

“You… never told me it worries you. You never told me that it bothered you.”

You never told me that you cared, not only if I get hurt, but if I hurt. Never told me you cared. Not like this. Not… for me.

Even as your whole frame shook under the weight of the realization, your chest too full for you to breathe properly, gaze swimming in tears you had miraculously kept from your voice, it dawned to you how it all added up with him being the one guarding you.

He truly didn’t trust anyone else with it, but not because he was so full of himself.

With everything you knew about him, when you had gathered all the facts, it should have been clear in any moment when you hadn’t been at odds with him. It had just never clicked, not when it was you; apparently, to him, a part of the Avengers just like any other of the heroes he called friends. His team.

You were the newest addition. Your powers were ones of the most unpredictable and volatile, possibly more than the Hulk’s, even if less deadly.

He felt the responsibility in his bones. He wanted to make sure, personally, that you’d be okay, because that was what he did.

“No, I didn’t. Not without my concern shouted in harsh words instead of spoken in clear ones.”

You gulped, brushing over the slightly veiled apology. He had apologized enough; he had done his atonement a long time ago. Not to mention you hadn’t been exactly receptive to what he might have been trying to say besides clearly being disappointed in you, so there was he wasn’t the only one to blame.

There had been a lot happening under the surface; things you should have known that or at least guess, but you had refused to even consider there could have been anything written between the lines for the fear of revealing another deeper layer of perfection you could never even hope to reach yourself.

And for the fear of falling for him deeper.

Too late, wasn’t it?

Because there was no going back now, was it? Not with the memory of his soft touch. Not with the memory of him admitting he cared so profoundly, even if not in the way you foolishly dreamed of and dreaded all the same. Not with being a wall apart and yet finally allowing yourself to see him. Not with him letting you see him.

What was adding a little insult to the injury? 

“You never told me how hard it is to control your strength either and… or how much it hurts to heal. Or how heavy your responsibility feels,” you said, not having the will to silence your mind.

You never even hinted there was so much more to you. You never shared that you feel like the rest of us, that you are so perfectly imperfect and human, just a speckle of fault that makes you all the better person; just like there’s but a speckle of green in your cerulean eyes that make them all the more beautiful.

Jesus you needed to get a grip before your loose tongue revealed even more of your unhinged train of thought. Maybe it was the time for that pinch to your forearm; to remind yourself you were very much in reality still; even as the ever-present breathy quality of Steve’s voice reminded you that he was in a very real pain, just like you.

“I didn’t think you needed to know. And it gets easier with time… most of the time anyway,” he added with a slightly humorous note before he grew serious again. And softer. “A far cry from keeping an astral body and controlling it, even when you’re in a lot of pain.”

It was but a hint, a dangerous hint to the great scary secret you harboured. You had been forced by circumstance before, to project while you still felt the aftermath of your spectral injuries by circumstance, since missions didn’t tend to wait until your imaginary yet painful wounds from previous projections healed. And yet; all Steve could have been talking about was simply getting hurt as a spectre and staying focused on keeping up the illusion anyway.

An illusion a bit like the one in his words; you doubted ‘it got easier’. You knew enough about what it was like to hurt. It didn’t get easier; it just became a routine to ignore it for the sake of something else. For others. For the job. For survival.

Just like it became easier to build impenetrable walls to protect what’s left, no matter how little the scraps were. Just like it became easier to let another of his compliments fly above your head, or at least to pretend it had, while it effortlessly climbed over the ruins of the very wall that had fallen when you and Steve ended up here and it touched you in your very soul.

“It gets easier with time,” you echoed his words with an absent smile, resting your cheek against the literal wall, almost as if the little turn of your head could offer you a glimpse of him. You wondered if he believed you that you meant it any more that you believed he meant what he was saying. “And I don’t know… it’s what you do that feels pretty impossible to me.”

You thought he shook his head; the quiet rustle of fabric and the note of something in his voice made it sound as if he had shaken his head.

“It was never my intention to make you feel like anything less than absolutely incredible,” he whispered sincerely, the grip he had taken on your heartstrings insistent, tugging again. “To make you think I believe you are anything less than that. What I actually believe is that you are that and more.”

You blacked out for a moment.

You must have blacked out, because when you came to, there was a static noise in your ears and burning in your eyes; your palm was laid over your ribcage, the feeling larger than life still swirling in your chest so hot and brutal you must have felt the need to make sure your body remained in one piece, unchanged.

However, the wavering rise and fall of your chest told you that hearing Steve say that, in the sweetly sincere voice and sounding as if it was simply another fact of life, had changed you fundamentally.

He truly cared for people, didn’t he? He cared and he believed in them, no matter how messed up they were. That was his true superpower and no stupid alien artifact could ever take that from him. And if the damn Kree couldn’t do that, if realizing he had lost everything good he had known when he woke up in the new millennium hadn’t done it, Hydra shouldn’t even hope to succeed.

They could develop the antiserum, they could strip him from whatever power Doctor Erskine had gifted him, but couldn’t take that. And that was the reason why even if you damn well died in here – and fuck did you not want to die – he would win. And they’d lose. Because they might eventually succeed in knocking Captain America down, but Steve Rogers would get back up and end them.

And damn, did he deserve better. He deserved the truth.

“I never meant to question your leadership either, Steve,” you responded in kind at last, trying your hardest to ignore the creaky quality of your voice. “I follow your orders, though sometimes with a few adjustments, for a reason. I… I would follow them if they led me through to hell because I know-- well, I know you’d send me there for a good reason. I just… couldn’t follow them that back in that base, because I knew better.”

“Because you were trying to protect me.”

He voiced your true motivation so effortlessly; and yet, his words were wrapped in such an agonizingly tender awe you nearly choked at the tone – and at your own laugh.

Because it was a laughable and unbelievable concept, wasn’t it? One little you trying your best, one little enhanced human thinking they could at least help to protect a demigod.

Worked well for you both, didn’t it?

“Well. Someone needs to try and protect our fearless reckless leader, right?”   

“Right,” he echoed and you could hear a smile just as tender as before, so unlike the light self-deprecating note you had allowed to creep into your voice. “Can I… can I ask you something?”

You felt your eyebrows arch involuntarily, curious – grateful for the distraction from how unbearably full and warm yourheart seemed to be.

“Pretty sure we crossed that line, Steve. Shoot.”

You regretted the choice of words the moment they left your mouth, the beat of silence that followed awkward at best; and yet, a small snort escaped you before you could contain it.

“That’s really not fu-”

“No. No, it’s not,” you agreed quickly, even as the corners of your lips kept twitching for some reason. But could anyone blame you? It was a little funny. It was absurd how all of this felt like a bad joke… even the lovely parts, which were the most absurd of it all. “I’m sorry. I didn’t--- I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

“You’d better,” he grumbled, but the scolding got lost somewhere in translation, because he sounded a little bit amused at least at your horrible choice of words.

You let the smile tugging so insistently at your lips win, feeling like Steve had done the same – at least before his voice fell quieter.

“But what I mean is… when we were fighting, when I was--- yelling at you, and you mentioned pain.”

Your smile froze in an instant, your eyes slipping shut, the feeling of your thundering heartbeat consuming you. There was no doubt where this was going; frankly, you were shocked it took him so long to call you out.

He must have been hurting this whole time, even as the only indication he had given you was his heavier breathing due to the pain in his chest.

“You… curled up, recoiled,” he continued, slow and hesitant – everything your heartbeat was not. “As if you could still feel it. It wasn’t the first time it happened either and it’s been on my mind for a while. Does it--- I’m sorry, I can’t stop thinking about it, I do realize I have no right to ask, not really. I-”

“To ask what exactly?” you interrupted him in a small choked voice, even if you knew all too well what information he was interested in.

It was funny though.

‘It wasn’t for the first time it happened either.’

‘It’s been on my mind for a while.’

There was no way you could confirm what he was saying, but he had no reason to lie. You weren’t sure Steve Rogers was capable of lying, or at least being capable of being good at it. You had no prove but you felt it in your bones that he was telling the truth, tiptoeing around the uncomfortable question awkwardly as if he had been there before indeed. As if he had wanted to ask before.

He had noticed.

Of course he had fucking noticed, who had you been kidding. He was too observant for his own good; and too respectful to ask before. Perhaps he had thought the pain was simply something that had passed in a few minutes – you had been careful to hide it – and thus he had thought it was not his place to pry.

‘I do realize I have no right to ask.’

Except he had every right. As your superior who needed to know your condition to plan missions accordingly – even as you pushed hard enough not to let it affect your results in the field – and as someone who was experiencing the pain no one had warned him about right now.

You didn’t know whether you should burst out laughing or silently weep, the two tendencies pulling you in different direction so skilfully you ended up doing neither, giving Steve the opportunity to ask his question.

“To ask how much of that pain you remember when you snap back. How much of it… you feel after.”

You let your eyes slip shut, your stomach somersaulting despite knowing it was coming.

You could lie. You could tell him it was but a brief temporary side effect which would pass. You could deny you felt anything at all, leaving him thinking it was something he was experiencing due to the questionable power switch between you. The former could come bite you in the ass if you wouldn’t be able to reverse the artifact’s effect eventually; that was, if you’d live long enough to even try. The latter would mean leave Steve thinking he was the problem, the pain not being a universal part of the glorified power you had, only some shortcoming on his side.

Neither of the options seemed fair – in fact, the latter felt downright nasty, sending bile up your throat.

Steve had been doing everything in his power, quite literally, to ease your suffering. He had done justice to the golden part of his mocking moniker and had been nothing short of a good man, offering compassion, kindness and honesty. As much as any kind of lie would make your life easier, you didn’t think you’d be able to look yourself in the eye in a mirror. Steve deserved better than a lie or even a half-truth.

Sharing that burden with him now didn’t seem as scary as it had before either. He was only human too; he was the one person who would, given his past, knew that feeling pain didn’t mean one was completely helpless or useless.

Not to mention that chances indeed were you weren’t going to make it out of here. The least he’d deserve was to know the truth; and to know he wasn’t weak or messed up to feel the pain still. That, or you were both messed up.

The silence stretched as you took a deep breath, gathering courage. While sharing the burden whispered of relief, you weren’t a complete idiot. You had no doubt that Steve was going be less than thrilled to learn you had been hiding this from him. Dread pooed in your stomach as your heart threatened to jump out of your chest, but at last, you forced the words out with a sigh.

“…all of it. I… if it’s something big, I can still feel it even days after, gradually fading away. A bit faster than an actual wound would take to heal by my estimate, but… yeah.”

Dead quiet.

If the silence before had stretched, the quiet that followed this was endless. And deafening, even with Steve’s still ragged breathing.

“So it’s not just me now. It never switches off when you snap back,” he more stated than asked, suddenly sounding at highest alert. And stunned.

You could hear it in his voice, bubbling just under the surface of a matter-of-fact voice, gasoline waiting for a lit match. The anger – and a whole set of emotions you hadn’t dared to guess – he was holding back was almost palpable, even over the wall. There was no going back from your admission; but the safe way was to carefully choose your next words, as to minimize the damage.

And yet.

Maybe you had a death wish. Maybe you were a bit too reckless – that had to be the reason why the words you chose were precisely those, throwing back his assumptions even if with without malice, but with a tiny shrill of satisfaction.

“No. Contrary to the popular belief, it doesn’t.”

A beat of silence; the lit match nearing the gasoline, almost as if in slow motion, anticipation of a catastrophe to sweep the world.

Then, the explosion; a lick of fire on your cheek even if the only thing that happened was Steve tugging violently on his chains as if he wanted to hit anything in reach and a frustrated noise that sounded almost like a growl, causing you to wince and squeeze your eyes shut tighter.

“Goddammnit Spectre! Why wouldn’t you-"

Steve cut himself of mid-sentence, a deep breath of his reaching your ears, even as taking it must have hurt like hell with his spectral wound. And then another. A low noise full of something you couldn’t quite decipher.

But when Steve spoke again, it was on normal volume, perhaps even lower. “How many times have you… why would you-- I’m sorry. It never--- it never even occurred to me. It should have. And I’m sorry.”

Your eyes had snapped open at the first sorry; at the other, you were blinking uselessly, mind having come to a screeching halt as if his reaction had pulled at some sort of a figurative emergency break.

Except everything in your now screamed there was an emergency.

You understood nothing. Not anymore. Not how his anger could have given way to some sort of guilt.

Guilt? How could he have felt guilty?

Everything in your insisted it was wrong, so so wrong, the world not making any sense again. Except just as fast as the shock had overtaken you, soft understanding pushed it away in an annoyingly gentle manner that made a lump grow in your throat.

“You couldn’t have known,” your caught yourself whispering, a tug at your insides insistent as the realization started to take root; Steve felt responsible.

He felt responsible for your choices.

It was absurd. It was stupid. You had taken him for a noble jerk, but not a martyr – not this kind of martyr anyway. Not an idiot.

“I could have asked. But I assumed instead. I’m truly sorry,” he repeated, causing you to blink again, realization dawning to you anew, this time much more logical. That… he had a point in that. That was exactly what you had threw back at him earlier. He was quick to catch on; you less so. You were beginning to understand that despite the intriguing, terrifying and liberating conversation, your brain was registering your blood loss more and more by the minute. It had to be if it was so slow. “I’m sorry not only that it’s happening but for not being understanding of it.”

The thing was, you weren’t sure you’d tell him even if he had asked.

Scratch that. You knew that you wouldn’t.

“It’s okay. Apology accepted, Steve,” you echoed your words from the auction, a brief smile passing your lips as you did so. Your face had grown damp with tears again, you realized distantly; released pressure, dark secret coming to light. Relief.

He hadn’t yelled at you – not really. And he knewnow. You almost wanted to laugh. He knew.

His guilt was misplaced however, you we aware as much; he shouldn’t have to ask. Such thing was expected to be listed on file. Except you had made sure that it wouldn’t when erasing Andy’s records of your sessions.

The sudden urge to sooth Steve, feeling a physical manifestation of how he was beating himself over the fact he had made a half-wrong guess where he shouldn’t have, the burden on his shoulders having now grown another ton heavier as a consequence, slammed into your weary bones.

“It’s okay, Steve. I was hiding it. You simply couldn’t have known.”

“But why? Why didn’t you tell us?” he demanded, urgency bleeding over his shock, his investigative Captain mode activated again. Hadn’t it been that he was asking uncomfortable questions, you’d smile at the change. The man with a plan. A man of action and analytic mind. Steve Rogers, ladies and gentlemen. “You never took breaks after you got hurt. Not as Spectre anyway. If… if the pain lingers… if there is nothing that can to be done about that once it happens, why wouldn’t you let us know you needed time to heal?”

Because you’d take away the only thing I can cling to, your mind but breathed out weakly, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks, hands flexing into fists, brief panic seizing your throat at the mere idea of thathappening. You’d take away the only thing I can do with my life. The only thing I know how to do.

You couldn’t tell him that. You had whispered too many secrets over this wall already, the majority of your defences down. But not this one. This one you had to keep in order to keep your sanity, to keep your place.

You were still an agent. There was no more place for whining; god knew you had already whined for enough to run out of a limit for years and years to come.

But you could still tell the truth. You should. Steve deserved nothing less; but you deserved to have some dignity left dammit. You scrambled to gather the last remnants of your pitiful shield and put it up, along with scraps of rationality.

“I’m an agent – I need to be able to handle pain, more than most. And I can,” you said firmly, ignoring the pull at your muscles as if your wounds wanted to confirm your words; or disprove them “Pain is a part of our life every day.”

“… it really shouldn’t be. Definitely not like this,” Steve protested, voice sounding a little weaker than before. You couldn’t tell whether it had anything to do with his physical state or whether he was simply struggling to protest when he actually agreed with you.

Pain was an undeniable and inevitable part of life; for some people more than others. He should know, shouldn’t he?

A hundred-pound asthmatic with a list of illnesses longer than your resumé in what probably felt like his past life; now, a proud sturdy shield taking punches and bullets left and right to protect others.

He’d know all about pain; back then and now. It suddenly barely made any sense that you had ever kept this from him if you looked at it from this angle. Then again, that was Steve Rogers.

Your life would be a lot easier if Steve Rogers and Captain America – your boss – were two separate people. But they weren’t. Looking back, you truly hated it as much as you loved it, every single day.

With a bittersweet smile on your lips, you wiped at your cheeks.

“I suppose it shouldn’t, but we don’t get to choose. You of all people should know that. You used to live it. You’re Captain America – you still live it.”

He a took a deep breath, sounding outraged and defeated at once – because you were right.

“True, but-“

“But nothing,” you interrupted him, indignant to make him understand. Without revealing too much. He was a smart cookie – he didn’t need all the information. “I have to handle it and I do. Thousands of people handle pain every day. What I have is no different from other chronic conditions, except it is. I have an advantage. Because to a large point, I can prevent it. Unlike other chronic pain, mine is simply an occupational hazard that occurs if I mess up as a spectre. And my occupational hazard is way kinder than any other agent’s, because when other agents get shot, they bleed. They die when they bleed out. I pass out. So really. I’m the lucky one.”

You expected it would shut him up; you expected him to ponder over your words.

You were wrong. Again.

“That is debatable,” he threw back in an instant, though not unkindly. A gentle reprimand rather than a challenge to argue. “And you can still bleed. And it doesn’t answer my question, not entirely at least.”

“I know,” was all you said.

You’d let him pick to which of his words it applied to. It applied to all of them.

“…I’m not… ordering you to answer it,” he continued softly, voice quieter again. “I understand you can have plenty reason to keep it to yourself, I just… I want to understand so we can adjust your schedule to accommodate your needs. You already give more than enough. This… this is beyond anyone could ask of you.”

You smiled bitterly, for once able to stop fresh tears from spilling even as his words struck you straight into your heart.

Of course he would think that. Of course he would want to do that.

Stupid big-hearted hypocritical dumbass.

And what about what we ask from you? What about you ask from yourself? you wanted to retort, but swallowed your rhetorical questions you already had an answer to, opting for a tired smile instead.   

“That’s not necessary, Steve. I’m fine.”

Most of the time. And when I’m not fine, I have to be anyway.

He repeated your name, somehow sounding both compassionate and pissed beyond belief; patient and insistent.

“Why?”

You almost, almost grinned, recalling Simmons’ words with stunning clarity, the words etched into your brain and bones, her British accent included.

An absolute marvel. You… you are a marvel.

And who wouldn’t want to be that? Even if for a while? Who wouldn’t swallow their pain, their cries, their blood?

A marvel.

It was embarrassing almost, to cling to it like that, you knew that.

And yet. Something about Steve’s voice, the gentle insistence, the genuine desire to simply understand you, pushed you to tell the truth. He’d understand. You had kept telling yourself he wouldn’t, because he had always put on this brave invincible face – or maybe you had believed he did, to make him even more unreachable – but the truth was that he truly was the one person who could understand all too well.

“I can’t afford to have a weakness. Not another one.”

I can’t show any weakness was written between the lines and you had a feeling Steve read just as easily as if it was written explicitly in all capital letters in your blood instead of in ink.

“You’re only human too,” he whispered, so damn quiet and as tender as his hands had been. “You’re allowed to be human. It’s no different than Bucky having a prosthetic, than people taking time off to heal and then rehabilitate after a physical injury to their non-astral body. We would never allow you back to field if-”

“I can handle it!” you exploded at once, a raging fire licking at your veins the second he implied you were unable to do your job properly, the job you had trained for your whole life, since you were a damn child, you were just fine, dammit! “I’m not a charity case, I don’t need any special treatment! I’m nothing less than-“

“But you don’t have to handle it, that’s my point!” he snapped in response to your shout. The authority and conviction his voice held, even on normal volume, had you shut up in immediately. And listen. “And it doesn’t make you less of an agent to be treated accordingly to your condition! I didn’t mean to say that we wouldn’t let you into the field because you’re weak, because I know you’re everything but that – but we wouldn’t let someone with a healing gunshot wound into the field either. All I’m saying is that if we knew, you wouldn’t have to suffer. You’re a person first, an asset to the team next. No one would think any less of you. You deserve to rest, you deserve having your needs met, you deserve to be treated like a damn human being!”

A sharp inhale and exhale; a brief moment to process what he said while he gathered strength to speak again. A brief moment for you to gather the pieces of the world he had shattered for you.

In that moment, a strange feeling of peace washed over you, one you imagined one might find in an apocalyptic world, a place when all that had been known was ruin and fleeting wistful pleasures, when the sun came of for the first time in centuries; so peculiar, incomprehensible and untouchable. But warm. And beautiful.

“Why--- why wouldn’t you--- don’t you-?”

“Not where I come from,” you whispered, smiling tight and bitter through the tears even as Steve couldn’t see you.

The metaphorical sight of that sun was beautiful and you basked in it. But it was as gorgeous as hurtful; tied to the knowledge it would not last.

A pregnant pause followed your words and you knew. You knew you had said too much. Shared way too many things that no one but your therapist should know – and that was already one person too many and she was aware of considerably less.

And then, creeping horror. Steve was quiet – for too long. Deadly quiet too – couldn’t hear his breathing.

Panic hit you like a ton of bricks all over again, digging into your heart with sharp nails, deeper than before with a profound knowledge of the universal truth.

This was how it went, didn’t it? You opened up to someone too much, you told them about your pain, about your most pitiful secret and they showed understanding and compassion – and then they died. One of the great reasons why you had kept it secret, why you had insisted on being in the field so much; if you weren’t there, if you weren’t doing what you were meant to do, people died. They would too if anyone learned and you got benched for your comfort.

Death followed your potential confession in so many ways. You knew that, always had, so why had you been so stupid again to-

You should have never told anyone. Especially not Steve.

“Steve?! Are you-“

“You deserve nothing less than having your needs respected and met,” he said slowly, every syllable carefully measured, unshakable despite the shaky breath he had finally released and you could kill him, your heart thundering in your chest at the brutal scare he had given you and his words alike. “You deserve better than that. You always have. And you are sure as hell going to get that when you’re with us.”

With me, said the steel in his voice.

The shudder running through you had nothing to do with cold, your breathing shallow and quick, something in his voice, something untouchable and so perfectly tangible and the realest thing you had ever touched, forcing you to listen and accept, and accept willingly, because what he said was nothing but the very essence of kind.

This was who he was. Righteous and fair. A vessel for violence to be unleashed, if necessary, but an infinitely kind man. It had nothing to do with you – he would do that for anyone, you were more than aware, because care was in the very core of Steve Rogers; but to have it aimed at you still felt like the warmest hug you had never known, one you got without working hard for it, without deserving it first for once.

It felt like Steve’s large hands gently cradled your heart, fingertips running over the cracks mended with concrete, smoothening the rough edges. It was terrifying because one second of his superhumanly strong grip and the hasty repairs would crack irreparably; but it came with a soft thrill and warm waterfalls of tears running down your cheeks instead, because every tender stroke whispered there was not the tiniest need for caution. Not if these were his hands.

Was it strange to still see them as impossibly strong even if you now carried the supersoldier abilities yourself?

He was waiting, patiently so, you could tell as much – but he expected a reaction. Of any kind. A scream, a scoff, a whisper. A protest or a confirmation, a vague hm. Anything.

What he received was a creaky voice and a bargain, a whisper sounding so shallow in comparison of how terribly profoundlyhis words touched you and rearranged your soul.

“I’ll remember that if we make it out, hm? But only if you take your own advice and allow yourself to be a human too.”

“Sounds only fair,” he whispered warmly. “Deal, Spectre.”

‘Deal, Spectre.’ Just like that. As if you two hadn’t just agreed to try to fundamentally change., but agreed what time the next training session would start.

But the lightness was deceiving; you were both all too aware. But what was a little promise when you had no idea how long you’d live, right?

“Deal, Cap. …but don’t you fucking scare me like that. Don’t you dare to stop talking to me or to close your eyes,” you said sharply and damn, you meant it. Hadn’t you had bigger thing to process, you’d smack the wall and imagined it was him.

Holding him damn breath, was he trying to kill you?

“Sorry. But one of the strongest people I know told me it doesn’t work like that. No amount of talking keeps someone awake.”

You gulped even as the corners of your lips twitched a bit as his sassy response – bless his observation that after dealing with such heavy matters, humour was the most welcomed reprieve. You wanted your reply to reek of snark, but probably failed. Because damn him, you were still too deep into processing what had just happened and he was not sparing a single opportunity to compliment you – the feeling it elicited inside you was foreign and difficult to contain.

“Sounds like a smart girl. But she fails to take into account that hearing a voice might not keep a person awake, but can be just… nice,” you said, not fighting the softness that crept into your voice anymore. “So unless the other person is being an ass… it can feel really good to hear their voice.”

It was too intimate to say that, scarily so; but the warmth that enveloped you when you heard his response was worth it, you thought.

“I like hearing your voice too.”

One of the important things agents were taught at the SHIELD academy was keeping track of time when there was virtually no way to do so; no watch, no phone, no indication of a day or a night. How to keep your head straight, when deprived of one of the basic stimuli – daylight. No training done purely in kid gloves ever worked, so this, being held captive in a room without windows, was how you practised.

And yet; you had no idea how long you had been in captivity. It was a fact that no training could have prepared you for everything – like getting shot twice, having your friend (colleague, Steve was colleague, a superior) shot in front of you, having your powers exchanged – but that made it no less frustrating to not being able to tell how long it had been.

You had a few indications, sure; there was only so many hours one could survive without water, but all that your parched throat, dizziness and occasional zoning out told you, was that it hadn’t been three days – because you were still alive. The water bottle the asshole who had shot Steve had thrown in was staring at you mockingly, your fingers twitching at weak moments of pondering whether you should simply give in; but since you could resist so far, you knew it couldn’t have been that long. Given the blood loss and the fact you hadn’t passed out, your rough estimate was that it had been a few hours.

But god, were they endless.

At least you had good company still; Steve’s soft check-in reached your ears again, a ghost of an exhausted smile passing over your lips.

“What was your favourite class at the academy?” he asked then, causing you to chuckle self-deprecatingly.

It was selfish. Self-centred. But it was the truth – but could anyone really blame a person for liking doing what they were good at?

“Gymnastics. I… I had a head start,” you admitted reluctantly, Steve’s voice warm as he hummed in response.

“That’s fair. It does sounds like you’re underselling though.”

Your smile widened, a small spark of a giddy feeling that was most definitely not supposed to arise in your chest flickering to life.

“What did you like the best back at the camp?”

“Hand to hand,” he replied simply, the smile in his voice puzzling you as much as his answer. You had purposely asked about the camp, thinking he might… tell you about what it was like before the serum. It was naïve, you berated yourself; this was nothing but small talk to kill time, while Steve no doubt kept working on any possible solutions to your shitty predicament. You were an idiot to think- “That is after I was shown that size and strength don’t always matter. That I could still win if I worked hard to improve my skills. And had a bit of smarts.”

Your shoulders sagged, the warmth in your chest spreading again. He was being honest. Open. And the vague image of a small guy kicking arse due to his brains and determination alone was most endearing and powerful. And you had it now to keep; because Steve had shared it with you.

While this was just a conversation to kill time while your hazy brain too vainly tried to come up with a way out of this mess, it was more than you had ever talked. More than you would ever talk in the future, probably. If you lived long enough for the future lasted for longer than another few hours.

You had right to feel like weeping, you thought briefly, to feel like someone had reached for the rug under your feet and tugged, causing you to hit the floor hard; but you had no right to feel an unfamiliarly powerful tug of longing for things that wouldn’t come. And yet you felt it anyway.

You were more than ready for this whole insanity of Hydra captivity to end – one way or the other. And yet, there was an unfairly large part of you, circling around your heart, that wished some things to linger. The delicate bond you and Steve had threaded together over the past few hours was precious beyond anything, as palpable as the wall between you.

Precious things never lasted.

And you already missed it.

You should never get attached, it was the number one rule, but you were the troublemaker sometimes, weren’t you?

When you spoke again, you hoped the sudden acute dullness in your ribcage couldn’t be heard in your voice.

“That’s fair,” you echoed his words, a brief intangible image of his smile flashing in front of your eyes.

He had to be smiling, right? It seemed-

Your heart leaped into your throat, back straightening as the sound of multiple footsteps coming from behind your door reached your momentarily enhanced ears despite the ever-present low whooshing of blood in your temples. 

“Steve-“ you whispered tightly, and that was how far you got before the lock was rattling and people started flowing into your cell. People, plural.

A man in an obnoxiously luxury suit. A three-man army with confidence of men with enough firepower to have a back-up weapon of a back-up weapon, Mr. Hydra Douche With A Twitchy Finger included. A man with a briefcase, in a telling white lab coat.

Instinctively, before you could think better of it, you scooted closer to the wall, instantly regretting it as a jolt of pain shot up your aching legs – and as a ghost a smile passed over the Mr. Hydra Douche’s otherwise blank face.

You swore that if you got your hands on him-

“Morning, Agent. Or should I say afternoon? How are we doing?” the man in the suit – clearly the Head Douche – asked with feigned politeness and had your gaze not moved back towards the doctor, you would have felt like spitting on him just for that. But it had.

And you recognized the man in white. You had seen him before, you were sure of it, despite the light fog wrapping around your brain tighter with every passing second of your heart racing.

You had met him at the Tower, you had no doubt about that and the fact alone caused goosebumps to rise on your arms, your stomach somersaulting.

You didn’t know his name; if someone asked about him, you probably wouldn’t have been able to describe him. He wasn’t any kind of conspicuous, yet he was here. He wasn’t memorable –then again, that was the point of undercover, wasn’t it? That was the mission of double-faced assholes. Be bright enough to get hired to the Avengers Initiative; be the right amount of ordinary to fit among all the extraordinary minds of the scientific department as to not stand out.

If you had enough strength to stand up, you’d punch his fucking teeth out.

“You fucking son of a bitch,” was what you settled for, earning a half-smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Rich, coming from the daughter of the ultimate All Work No Play Bitch,” he replied calmly, the vindictive tone like a slap to your face, causing you to recoil further.

That, and the mention of your mother.

You did not disagree with his assessment, you supposed; but she was your mother. Was she with them? Was she not – and had the hurt her?

Bile rose up your throat at the idea of either of those being true. It shouldn’t have – you didn’t care, you shouldn’t care, not anymore, god knew she certainly didn’t – but it sent a violent shiver down your spine anyway. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to supress the tremble.

Fuck him. Fucking fuck Hydra as a whole.

“Now, now, no need to call anyone names…” Mr. Head Douche said, even as he seemed rather amused by your exchange. “We have more important matters at hand. Doctor Barret?”

A low voice sharp enough to cut steel spoke before the doctor could take a single step in your direction, causing your heart to skip a startled beat even as it spoke in your favour; even as it was Steve.

“Leave her alone.”  

The suited man briefly looked as if behind you, a supposedly pleasant smile on his lips that came out as a sleazy one, condescending. It made your hair stand on its end. Then again, this whole room, this whole situation had done good enough job of that already.

“Patience, Captain. We will deal with you in a minute. No need to be jealous about your inferior getting the bigger company.”

Your gaze snapped up, alarm bells ringing for two reasons.

Steve wasn’t alone either.

And you were the one to get the welcoming wagon.

Why? Why you first?

You weren’t a complete idiot; Steve was the more valuable one in terms of intel and strategy. He was the one with supersoldier serum they had been trying to neutralize, even as now they could probably poke both of you like lab rats and get some ‘intriguing’ results for sure.

So why you?

Saving the best for the last? Did they think you were weaker, that you’d crack more easily? Did it have anything to do with you being Inhuman? Did it have anything to do with you being the one, momentarily, in whom the serum effects were manifested? Why-

When the man met your gaze again, calculating, it felt like an icy liquid injected straight into your veins, realization slamming into you with full force along with your panic skyrocketing.

You were the leverage.

They could probe you all the wanted, they could punch and kick and cut, and they would torture Steve – because they knew enough to realize he would not want it on his conscience, not him of all people, not after they had watched you interact – and they wouldn’t have to as much as touch their more valuable prisoner.

Your gaze involuntarily flickered towards the briefcase in Barret’s hand as he stepped closer to you, your chest suddenly too tight to breathe in.

Don’t let them see. Don’t let them see that you’re scared.

You weren’t naïve enough to think you managed to hold face despite the anxious chant in your head.

The boss beckoned wordlessly to two of his brainless henchmen as Barret set the briefcase down, opening it with the lid towards you, obscuring whatever was in from your vision; but it wasn’t necessary.

You were too busy gulping and measuring the two men who approached you and stood each by your side in a blink of an eye, large greedy hands already reaching out.

“Don’t touch me-“ you blurted out, hands curling into fists in an instant to ready yourself to what would probably be a pathetic fight but still a fight.

They gripped your biceps in a vice and pulled you up to your feet before your weary sweat-soaked body could take a single swing at them, holding you upright with your feet barely touching the ground.

And then one of them kicked the back of your knees the same moment they dropped you low enough to force you stand, sending you instantly to the ground due to the weakness in your legs, their hands but a thin rope keeping you from falling face-down on the floor.

The majority on your weight landed on your knees. The rest was held up by your thighs.

Your agonized cry got drowned in the blinding pain seizing your body, tears springing from your eyes as you felt like you were going to be torn from inside out.

An agonizing déjà-vu; except now you had no strength left to keep your pain for yourself.

It hurt. Goddamn fucking Jesus, it hurt, pain consuming all your senses, only leaving space for vague awareness of the dull sounds of Steve’s protests and loud cries of metal as he vainly fought his bound again.

Bless his soul, he was not about to give up even when it was clear there was no other option but that left.

You wished you were that strong.

As you hungrily gasped for air, Steve’s efforts having fallen silent upon a promise of catching another bullet, you blinked your eyes open. Vision blurry with tears, you noticed the doctor had put on thick lab gloves – and was now holding a part of the Kree artifact.

Of fucking course.

Through the white-hot pain still gripping at your brain, your felt a tiny part of you sigh in relief. You supposed it could be worse than being about to get exposed to the effects of the artifact; then again, at least knives and needles were predictable enough. You had no idea what this thing would do now. Send the powers back to their rightful owner? Pass them on? Or take them altogether, somehow absorbing them?

“Fantastic, fascinating thing, isn’t it? We knew the item would be valuable as soon as it appeared on the auction list, but to have such unforeseen properties… had we known, we could have saved ourselves a lot of work,” the boss pondered out loud, tilting his head to side a bit when you grinded your teeth and tried to meet his insane eyes even as your head was spinning and it was hard to focus on anything.

“What work?” you hissed, biting your tongue hard when one of the asshole henchmen tugged at your arm a bit, sending a fresh wave of undiluted agony through your wounds.

You didn’t know where you found the will to ask. You doubted he’d take the bait. But if you were about to pass out from pain and blood loss alike, you might as well be useful to Steve and whoever was hopefully coming to the rescue – and collect your body – eventually.

“That might be the oldest trick in the book, Agent. Tempting the supposed villain to reveal his plans… but frankly, I think you should know, if for nothing than for appreciating my genius,” he boasted, so smug and proud of himself you wanted to tell him to bite you.

But knowing Hydra were goddamn lunatics, you didn’t, because he might do exactly that – and you were not interested.

God, your head was spinning. You were sure that one rapid movement and you’d throw up.

“By all fucking means.”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly amused. Fuck him.

“…cute. You see, you wouldn’t believe how troublesome you can be, Agent,” he said, causing your breath to catch in your throat and your thready thoughts to scatter. Huh? “We really counted on all of you to be much more capable, but in the end, forgive me, you especially turned out to be a real pain in the ass. A real disappointment.”

It was absurd – the most absurd thing of all, you supposed, despite the past hours being a complete funhouse – but being called a disappointment, by a Hydra lunatic, felt like a blow to your solar plexus, shame filling every ounce of your being for a moment.

How utterly useless a person had to be for a Hydra lowlife to find you disappointing, for whichever reason he was cryptically referring to? It truly felt like you hit a new low.

And yet. A defiant smirk somehow found a way to your lips, however weak, a little piece of pride at having made their lives complicated, even if unwittingly.

“My pleasure,” you said, pointedly ignored.

“The data was right there. You had them in your grasp and then you failed to deliver them to your base of operation. Doctor Banner’s and his team’s contributions to our uncomplete attempts to develop the antiserum would have been invaluable.”

…what?

“I mean, their motives for researching the scraps we left behind would obviously be of the purest nature, retracing the ‘big bad Hydra’s’ steps, developing the very antiserum we were working on themselves in order to find an antidote to it, believing we already had the substance in possession. And we’d have it delivered, a sample and a formula, developed and perfected by them. It was brilliant. They could have done all the work, found the solution we needed. But no. The data was planted for you team to find, the perfect bait… and you had to go and muck it up, didn’t you, Agent Spectre?”

Blank.

Your mind turned blank.

Your jaw had fallen slack, ears filling with a strange static noise growing louder and louder with every word he said. And yet you could hear him perfectly clearly, hear him paint an image so bizarre you would have had trouble comprehending it had you been entirely healthy, let alone when missing around two pints of blood.

The reality he described felt everything but real – but it made sense. Despite the plan being absolutely insane, it made sense. And you had to give it to him, it indeed was irritatingly brilliant.

But at the sae time, you could have laughed at the irony, downright wheeze at the cosmic sense of humour.

The data. They had planted the data which you had felt so desperately useless for having lost, the ones you and Steve had fought about.

The blankness of your mind was replaced by a rapid fire of thoughts, even as they seemed to come too slow as seconds ticked by and you were holding your breath in anticipation of his laughter, anticipation of his revealing he was just pulling your leg for laughs, a confirmation you had somehow misunderstood, .

But it didn’t come.

Because it was the truth.

You had messed up, but in a different way than you thought. Not by failing to deliver the drive. They had wanted you to find the files and deliver them; and you had taken the bait like a stupid goose, your instinct to protect the team, Steve in particular, flaring up.

Failing to deliver the flash drive had actually been a good thing. Because otherwise you would have helped Hydra to have the scientists with the AI do Hydra’s work for them instead of just offering vague scraps which doctor Banner and others could barely work with.

Screw exchanging powers, screw the existence of an artifact that caused the switch; THIS was a large mindfuck you weren’t sure you could ever wrap your head around.

Your failure had meant Hydra’s failure. And Steve, precious annoying Steve, having snapped you back before you could have delivered the intel, had actually been a hindrance in Hydra’s evil plans as well. He had been angry with you for taking a risk, he had cared, and so he had broken your concentration for it and you had thought that it meant he thus put himself at risk – but in fact, he had unwittingly got himself further from getting caught in Hydra’s bullshit.

You were stunned.

And rendered entirely speechless with both awe and absolute horror.

“Is that your impressed face, Agent? I can’t quite tell with all the panting for air and smudged black-tie worthy make-up,” the boss hummed mockingly.

You kept absently staring at the Hydra pin on the lapel of his suit, your mind still racing and trying to fathom the things that could have happened and hadn’t.

Hydra didn’t have an antiserum. They had wanted the AI to figure out what they couldn’t. They wanted to hurt Steve in a most effective and most painful way possible, no doubt. And you could have delivered that opportunity to them on a silver platter. You had almost assisted to Steve getting hurt, even more than he was now.

The idea made your ribcage feel tighter.

Fresh panic filled it instead of air when you realized that Steve was quiet, again. He had been quiet for a while now.

Why was he quiet?

You strained your ears despite the loud frantic thump-thump-thump of your own heart echoing in your head, slightly relieved you could still hear his ragged breaths.

“Well, that plan is obviously in the past now. We have something much more effective – a way to take all your powers, hopefully, and maybe even replicate them. Bless the Kree.”

Fuck the Kree, was your thought, but you bit your tongue.

Only when Doctor Barret took the other part of his artifact in his hand as well and rose to his feet, eyes unmistakably set on you, you realized how terrifyingly still everything and everyone had been. Almost robotic. Perfectly obedient; perfectly compliant with Hydra Head Douche’s wishes.

Had he made them comply? The brainwashing program? Was that what awaited you after?

Barret barely took a single step towards you. You immediately tried to move backwards, meeting the unrelenting resistance of the men who held you instead.

The only thing you managed was causing yourself more pain, the grip on your arms growing strong enough to bruise.

“Well, we’re nothing if flexible,” the Head Douche hummed, shrugging almost jovially as the other Trigger-Happy Hydra Douche stepped closer to you as well. “You see, it looks like now we have two supersoldiers now and that changes the game completely too. Generations of scientists thought replicating the serum’s effects was impossible – Doctor Banner being one of the few who live to tell the tale, but your DNA is… vastly different to the Captain’s and yet. You carry his abilities now – and he carries yours, without your bodies visibly changing. I wonder… if we start probing you, we could have a whole new set of data on how to synthetise it...”

You gulped. You had worried about them reviving Daniel Whitehall’s program of brainwashing people to make anyone do Hydra’s bidding; but the mention of the doctor’s other favourite pastime had a shiver ran down your spine.

You hear a soft rattle of chains and you knew Steve was fighting hard to do anything – and then there was quiet again, sharp one at that. Your heart hammered against your chest. Did he pass out now?!

Steven Grant Rogers, you open your eyes right fucking now or so help me god-

“And we can actually have Captain Rogers’ samples, even if tainted by your own… mutation? There are so many questions to be answered. I wonder… if I simply take this, and have you touch the other part, will that make me a supersoldier, just like that? A game of hot potato, so to speak? Is it that simple? To think we went through all that trouble and all we needed was a piece of an alien rock… or is it genetics too? How can we only find out, huh?”

You just glared, forcing your muscles to stop the tremble the man’s words fought to leave in their wake.

Somehow, the fact theydidn’t have a single idea what would be their next best step was so much worse than the opposite, bile rising in the back of your throat and burning.

They’d do anything to get their answers. They’d do everything.

And you were alone.

“Our brightest minds have been analysing this extraordinary piece of work for the past hours and came up with nothing conclusive, nothing that would tell us what will happen…” he said, eyeing you thoughtfully, beckoning to the Trigger-Happy Douche, who put on a single glove himself, taking one part of the artifact from the doctor without his skin making contact. There was no glow to the metal yet; neither of these men were Inhuman, apparently. Then again… were you? Still? “So we must resort to the old-fashioned trial and error, it appears. I wonder if the transfer will be complete… if we take that power from you right now, before you can heal, will it be lights out for you, darling?”

Your heart seized in your chest, the rest of your body outside your control; you attempted to tug yourself free despite the roar of pain it caused, not moving an inch.

That was one option you hadn’t considered yet. If it was this simple, as the Hydra Head Douche just said, if he stole the healing factor from you, you’d— right away. You had lost too much blood already, you had no doubt.

You’d be dead before you could as much as breathe in once.

The shudder that ran down your spine was violent and rattled your bones; you had no strength to stop it.

‘Will it be lights out for you, darling?’

You closed your eyes; and then there was a frustrated sound from behind the wall and you snapped them back open, a blissful flicker of relief.

Not unconscious, apparently. Good.

And then it finally dawned to you, the reason for Steve’s silence; and it made spite rise in your gut along with anger and completely unfair fondness.

Steve Rogers was still fighting; he was still fighting to help despite his unbreakable bounds. He was trying to focus and project, even though the pain.

He truly was stronger and more determined than the entirety of SHIELD together, wasn’t he? If he was about to go down – and you prayed he wouldn’t, you prayed he’d get home somehow, back-up arriving just in time for him to survive somehow – he’d go down fighting, taking as many Hydra lunatics as possible. He deserved so much better than he was getting. He deserved and needed you to get your shit together.

You weren’t dead yet.

There might not be hope left, but that didn’t mean you had to go down without a fight. If you’d die trying to make these bastards lives a little bit more miserable than they were, you could not only take fear and regrets to the grave, but also a fair amount of satisfaction.

You lifted your gaze to the Head Douche’s face with gritted teeth, eyes hard. You hoped.

“Nah, I hope not,” the man mused, eyes following Doctor Barret who now approached you with the other half of the artifact. His eyebrow rose along with your awe, as the artifact lit up with uncomfortably familiar symbols in your proximity. Still an Inhuman, it seemed, at least in body. Still capable of being a pain in the ass. “That would be sad, wouldn’t it? We’d like you to tell us how exactly your abilities work. Even if the Captain seemed to get a hang of it pretty quickly…”

“He’s trying to do it again, I think,” sounded from behind the wall, the new voice startling you despite your determination and making your stomach drop.

Hydra might have been reduced in numbers, but sadly grew in brainpower, apparently. Fuck them.

“Tsk-tsk,” the Head Douche licked his tongue, extending a hand towards the doctor, stepping to you himself. “That’s not wise. We don’t want to waste any more bullets, do we…? Really, SHIELD and Avengers need to work on teaching their agents not to get attached. It makes you all so weak.”

The gun was out of a holster you had missed earlier and aimed at your forehead before you could as much as startle.

And then the safety of it clicked, your view of the man’s face partly obscured by his hand and metal, forefinger firmly resting against the trigger.

Your heart jumped to your throat; your determination bled out of your body in an instant, horror replacing it.

One minuscule movement and you’d be dead.

It didn’t matter if you’d miraculously survived the power switch, if there would be no power exchange at all, since no one knew how the artifact worked, not really. For all you knew, it could have had a mind of its own, you had seen a monolith that changed into liquid seemingly at whim before, you had seen too much insane to believe you knew anything at all.

But that didn’t really matter anyway, did it?

You had thought so many times in the past hours that you would never seen the world outside of this cell, that you’d meet your end here – but it had never felt as tangible as the cold muzzle of the man’s gun hovering an inch from your head.

“Let’s make one thing clear, Captain. You try to project again and each of you gets a bullet. Equality is a virtue, after all, isn’t it,” he announced rather than asked, voice flat all the same as he threatened and mocked what Steve had fought for even since the damn 1940’s. “But I feel like I should inform you that the gun is aimed at Agent Spectre’s head, ready to make her open her third eye to eternity.”

You winced at the imagery and squeezed your eyes shut, a ghost of pain you had never felt circling at the centre of your forehead already.

“Where should we aim at the Captain’s body, what do you think, Agent Spectre?”

“Steve, please stop.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could think twice, quiet and shockingly calm to your own ears.

And even more surprising was the soft sound of metal and fabric as Steve shifted and a single deep ragged breath of his – and the silence that settled after.

He listened to you.

It was as scary as soothing.

You’d get to live a few more moments. And hopefully, he wouldn’t get punished by another gunshot wound. It was a little naïve to believe Hydra would have had any morals and wouldn’t shoot him just to prove a point, but a girl could hope and send a last wish, right?

You had two of those. For Steve to survive and be okay. And for every single person who was in this room with you to suffer unimaginable pain. You weren’t as virtuous as Steve was; had it been a little more realistic than it was, you’d have even wished for you being the one who would be the cause of it too.

The gun lowered minutely, the safety clicking back on, the softest shift of the air telling you the Head Douche let his arm fall to his side. You allowed yourself to breathe in shakily, eyes fluttering open despite your eyelashes growing heavy with tears.

“Touching,” the man commented, unimpressed. “I guess the other shoulder will do then, Mitch. Be ready. Now, as for you, darling, you just stay still. I believe it’s time to proceed. After all, discovery requires experimentation.”

Another violent shudder rocked your body as you recognized the words; the man smiled slightly, a twinkle of vicious glee in his hard gaze when he noticed.

A fire of rage lit up every achy cell in your body.

Asshole. Revelling in suffocating people with fear. Smiling when he had his henchmen to do his dirty work. Feeling so powerful with brainless goons to protect him and do his bidding. The perfect stereotypical bully, all the worse for Nazis being his divine inspiration.

You had no chance of overpowering him whatsoever and he had aimed a gun at you just a few seconds ago and yet, you couldn’t but spit the words burning on your tongue, disgust dripping from your tone despite being aware you truly shouldn’t poke the bear. Or the ancient strange octopus they worshiped for that matter.

“You really should lay off reading all that Reinhardt’s crap.”

The Head Douche cocked his head to side, one corner of his lips rising as he stepped away to make space for Doctor Barret and the glowing artifact.

“That’s doctor Reinhardt to you, Agent Spectre,” he corrected you, the dark glee in his face shining brighter. “He was quite the visionary. I’m glad you’re familiar with his work. Because if this simple exchange doesn’t work as we hope, we’ll move on to his methods. I heard the last Inhuman he had in his care, while still carrying the name you just used, ended up in so many pieces they had trouble reconstructing her body to stitch her up. They barely succeeded, even with her regenerative abilities… I think bleeding out from bullet wounds would be the merciful route for you, wouldn’t it?”

You weren’t proud of it, not in the slightest. But as panic slammed into you, you trembled, your lower lip wobbling.

You had heard the story of Jiaying. An Inhuman who had fascinated Reinhardt, or Doctor Whitehall, as he had been known later. At the death’s doorstep himself, he had been freed from SHIELD’s prison and got his chance to finally examine the woman who hadn’t aged. To experiment. To cut her open, taking a sample of anything he could, and another and another, eventually succeeding at reversing his own aging process.

And dumping the remnants of her body, only for her husband to stitch her up; ironically, for both her to become a villain just as bad.

You supposed Head Douche had a point after all. A bullet would be a mercy, even as that was hardly a pleasant option.

You had no doubt they would shoot you one more time the second they’d find out they stole Steve’s power.

Then again, maybe they would take great joy in seeing you die slowly and in pain, digging into your wounds for fun and took a few samples anyway, in the name of science, despite already getting what they wanted. That was the kind of fuckery Hydra did, didn’t they?

And then, they would do the same with Steve.

But if he was the second, that meant he had more time. And by then, the backup might finally arrive.

The glow of the artifact felt warm, even as the metal still hadn’t touched you; an undeniable reminder of who you were. What you were.

Last flare of fight rippled through you, but it was gone just as fast.

You’d be too slow. You could eliminate the henchmen who held you, maybe, if you pushed hard through the pain, but they were still gunshot wounds. You had already seen and felt the results of standing up, the damage to the muscles too severe. And even if you by some miracle managed to get rid of the doctor too, there were still two other people, both of them with a clearly twitchy finger. Anything less than superspeed combined with superstrength was useless.

You were useless.

You closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you whispered, trying your best to block your hearing so you wouldn’t hear his reaction, whatever it might be.

You didn’t want to leave this world hearing his disappointment. You had had enough of it throughout your whole life. You were ashamed enough all on your own, but you didn’t have any strength, will, or chance to keep fighting.

So you slowly breathed in and out, vainly trying to relax as you felt the artifact pulse near your cheek, and you accepted your fate.

Had Steve been in your place, he wouldn’t have – you were sure of it. But you weren’t him. Despite what he had said, unlike him, you were only human. And the fact was that even if you did somehow neutralize everyone in the room, Mitch and whoever was in Steve’s cell would just… neutralize Steve.

And you couldn’t have that.

You squeezed your eyes tighter, feeling your body shake even as you tried not to give them the satisfaction of seeing you scared. You cursed the lonely tears rolling down your cheeks. You sent a quick prayer to whatever messed up God listening.

And then you realized it wasn’t you who was shaking.

It was the ground.  

And it wasn’t shaking – it was quaking.

In your mind’s eye, you smiled and then laughed – hysterically. These assholes should quiver in their boots. They had no idea what force of nature was about to hit them.

Agent Daisy Johnson had been a force to reckon with even since she had joined; but Quake would take them by storm.

Or more precisely, by an earthquake.

“What the-“

Before you could let the relief envelop you, a deafening noise swept over the room, the wave of sheer power seemingly shattering your bones.

When darkness pulled you under, it was with a weak, but real smile on your face.

Next chapter

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

That’s right, folks, Quake is coming 👀

This chapter took a long time and I'm aware... life's been happening (and not always in a good way) and this chapter was a long one and heavy one to write, despite the oy it brought me. Please, consider leaving a comment if you can - let me know your thoughts, I love reading them!

FYI, I couldn’t resist Quake making an appearance and I couldn’t resist the heart to heart over the wall, it was actually one of the scenes I’ve had written down first along with the screaming match at the beginning of the series 🥹

I hope March is kind to you 💕

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #shield agent reader #agent reader #inhuman reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #back and forth #anika ann

[underdark-dreams]

Rolan x Fem!Tav Unnamed: Hurt/Comfort.

Grateful thanks to @obibail for letting me take inspiration from their headcanons for our beloved Tief sibs. (read them here---they are excellent!)

In Corpore Sano

"Where does it hurt?" Rolan accepts her offer to mend his broken self. To his reluctant surprise, she is tending to more than his flesh.

Tags: Fem Unnamed Tav, Hurt/Comfort, Injury

Word Count: 2,213 [Read on AO3]

"Welcome to the infirmary!"

Rolan’s favorite cleric stood at the entrance to her tent, holding the flap open for him with a smile. He glanced back over his shoulder toward the campfire. Cal and Lia were still sitting deep in conversation with the loud friendly one—Karlach, he seemed to recall.

Yet again, Rolan wondered whether he made the right choice accepting her invitation tonight. She had posed it as a social event to reunite his family and her motley group of companions—a credit to her discretion, one that he appreciated. She and Rolan both knew the true reason.

One bright morning last week, she had walked into the Sundries with her companions in tow. He droned the usual greeting before catching sight of who it was. She was intelligent; one look at his face and a short conversation were all it took for her to piece things together. 

She'd respected his pride, however, not asking any prying questions in front of her friends. Only after she descended the stairs from a meeting with his master did she pull him aside privately. 

Rolan knew from personal experience that she was a gifted healer, but she could be very convincing as well. She phrased it as if he'd be doing her the favor: as if she'd be so grateful if he just agreed to let her help him. Her eyes swayed his resolve.

 Perhaps it was his reluctant happiness at seeing her again and the chance to spend even more time with her. Or perhaps it was the lingering ache in his ribs that made it painful to breathe let alone incant. Rolan gave in.

And now he was here, and whether or not he might wish he could, it was too late to back out now. Rolan ducked under her waiting arm.

Inside, his nose was hit with the smell of fresh herbs and candle tallow. She’d packed her bedroll away in the corner; instead, a couple threadbare cushions lay in the center of the space. An abundance of candles burned here and there, shedding enough light for her to work no doubt.

"Have a seat," she invited, fastening the tent flap securely behind them. 

Rolan did so, sitting cross-legged on one of the waiting pillows. He tucked his tail in carefully, mindful of all the hot candle wax surrounding him.

She kneeled down opposite with a little "right." He pushed away the knowledge that she would be laying hands on him in a moment.

"Where does it hurt?" She began.

"Where doesn't it," Rolan grumbled. He'd instantly made himself sound pathetic—excellent start.

Her eyes flashed with something, but she moved on. "Let's start at the top," she suggested.

She pushed up her sleeves and pressed palms together to concentrate her magic; a pale light glowed between them. Then she reached out to place them on the top of his head.

The gentle pressure on his scalp was pleasant in a way he didn't expect. He felt her magic reaching out through him, searching steadily for any signs of injury, soft as a bird's wing. He ducked his head to let her reach past his horns more comfortably.

"So, want to tell me why you're doing this to yourself?"

From this angle he couldn't scowl at her the way he wished to. "Jumping right in, are you?" A scabbed wound under his hair closed up as he spoke.

"I just don't understand why you're putting yourself through this," she said calmly. "You always seemed smart to me."

"It's hardly any of your damn business." Rolan's hackles rose in defense. He thought he'd have longer to prepare before her inevitable meddling.

"I disagree, actually." Her fingers searched lightly through the rest of his hair. "You're my patient now."

Though she made a fair point, and he already felt her touch soothing away the aches and pains, Rolan wasn't about to entertain this conversation to any lengths. "You wouldn't know the first thing about what an apprenticeship with an archwizard is supposed to be."

"Maybe," she admitted, and guided his head back up to continue the exam; her expression was impassive. "I certainly don't understand how this helps you study the Weave."

"You don't just study the—" He momentarily lost focus as her fingers felt along his pointed ears. "It's about attuning each of your senses with the Weave, learning how to channel it with your whole self each time you cast the simplest spell. Master Lorroakan is teaching me how to set aside distractions of the body." He would probably earn a losing mark on that subject at the moment.

"Doesn't the pain make it harder, though?" She asked. Her focus had moved to his face, which he knew was in a pathetic state. 

"At times," Rolan said, begrudging. "But that only proves I can focus harder."

They were both silent for a while, and he was relieved to feel the subject finally drop. Outside the walls of her tent a chorus of nocturnal insects and the muffled conversations near the fire were the only sounds filling the air. 

He sneaked a glance at her face as she hovered close, concentrating on a deep bruise over his temple and cheekbone. He knew she'd healed the spot once the dull headache lifted from him. It had been there so long he forgot how light his head could feel without it, and he sighed to release a knot of tension curled up in his chest.

"I never noticed you had so many freckles," she said suddenly, her lips curving up in a smile. "They're cute."

Rolan had no clue how to respond to that; no one had ever described him in such terms before.

"Other children used to tease me," he said, the admission surprising even himself. When was the last time he thought about those days? Why bring up the miserable past now, with her of all people.

She met his eye with curiosity. “In Elturel, right? That’s where you and Cal and Lia grew up?”

As her hands continued to ease the bruised flesh on his cheek and jawline, he decided she deserved a simplified version of the truth, at least.

“Where we met. They’re brother and sister, but we’re not blood kin.” Rolan closed his eyes to focus on the soothing ease that spread outwards from every spot she touched. Not seeing her face also made the talking easier. 

“We were orphans. We met each other in one of the city’s worse homes." Behind his eyelids, snatches of those days floated back to him. Dark, crowded rooms. Gnawing hunger in his gut. Always someone crying. Rolan steered his mind past them like always.

"After a while they just wouldn’t leave me to my damn self. They were young and hungry. And I was old enough to work, and I didn’t have anything else keeping me from—” He stopped, redirected himself. “They needed me to protect them from some of the world. I told myself I took them in, but in truth, they adopted me.” 

She had paused her work as she listened. "No wonder they love you so much."

"They're a couple of damn idiots," he said, the bridge of his nose wrinkling with frustration just at the thought. "But they're my responsibility."

His eyes were still closed, but he could hear a soft note in her voice. "I'm sorry that little Rolan went through all that. But I appreciate that you told me…it means something to know."

Something soft grazed Rolan's forehead, and he realized with a jolt that she had kissed him. His eyes flew open.

"Sorry," she said, looking just as shocked by her own actions as he felt. "It's—an old human folk remedy. Forget it.”

There was not a gods damned chance of that, but she was already leaning back on her knees to a professional distance. "Did I get everything? Any other spots?" She asked.

As his heart drummed against his ribs, the wound there twinged in reminder. The idea somehow felt far more personal than her hands on his face. Then there was the embarrassing thought of having to disrobe in front of her. Could she heal him through his clothes? Healing magic was not Rolan's area of expertise; he couldn't be sure.

She was a battle cleric, he reminded himself, she certainly wouldn't be affected by his bare torso. Not the way he would, anyway. To her he was just another poor stray in need of her kindness.

"Here," he said, indicating the spot. "Feels like a cracked rib."

Her brow furrowed. "Show me?"

Rolan undid the clasps of his robe, just enough to gingerly work it over his shoulder, clenching his teeth as he freed his one arm. The motion hurt like hell.

She leaned close to inspect him in the candle light. He felt the same searching warmth of her magic around the spot. Whatever she discovered, her face was somber as she drew up to meet his eyes.

"I don't care if he's the archwizard of Baldur's Gate," she said. "Find someone else to teach you. Please. Anyone."

Her face was almost enough to make him ashamed of defending his choices. Almost. "If you're going to bring this up again—"

"You've been hit here other times, haven't you?" She pressed. "Recently."

Rolan set his jaw. "He's got a temper."

"Rolan, I am begging you." She truly was, hands clasped toward him, her eyes large. "Don't go back to that tower tomorrow. What if next time—what if he—" There was no need for her to finish.

Rolan stared her down with every shred of his stubborn certainty. "Whether he knows it yet or not, Lorroakan of Ramazith is going to make me the most powerful wizard in Faerûn," he told her. Told himself. "I've known it's where I belonged ever since I was that little nothing on the streets of Elturel. And if this is the price it costs, then I'll fucking pay it."

He hadn't convinced her, would never convince her, he saw that in her face. As he watched, her eyes welled with liquid that spilled out, one droplet rolling a path down her cheek. Rolan had never felt more fucking monstrous.

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry," he repeated dumbly, grand ideals gone from his head for the moment. Whatever it took to stop her tears. Her palm wiped the wetness away as she looked down at him.

"You're always sorry for the wrong person," she sniffed. "I can fix you. You're the one who's going to keep getting broken."

She was crying for him, and he couldn't remember the last time anyone did that. Before he could find what to say, she gave herself a little shake back to herself and bent wordlessly to tend to his side.

Rolan sat quiet in his guilt as she worked on him. Before long a prickling sensation of warmth spread out along his ribcage, as if his sinews were stitching themselves back together under his skin.

"Your collar bone was broken as well, wasn't it?" She was bent in such a way that Rolan couldn't see her expression, but her tone was almost back to normal. Cautious relief filled his chest.

She went on. "It's healed, but the bones are set wrong. Does it hurt to raise your arm?" Without waiting for his assent, she straightened up to start gathering the magical energy between her hands again. "I can fix that too, but it'll take a while."

"Thank you," he finally said, far later in the evening than he should have. 

She gave him a little smile. "You're welcome. Now, hold still."

Her face leaned very close beside his while she worked. A short pang of discomfort in his shoulder was followed by the same sensation of his viscera being mended from the inside out. Her fingertips brushed his skin as she guided small bursts of magic through him.

Rolan examined her features in the moment, bathed as they were in the pale light of her own spell. There was a tenacity to her that he found irritating and endearing in equal measure.

A strange spirit possessed him, and he brought his hands up to rest them on her hips as she worked. Her fingers paused almost imperceptibly on his skin, but she didn't look at him.

"There." She pulled away slightly, though not out of reach of his grasp.

Rolan flexed his shoulder forward and back, testing the range of motion. "Damn that feels good," he said appreciatively.

"I'm glad," she said with a smile. "Is there anything else?"

The question hung in the air between them. Rolan's hands still held her as he tried to decide how best to proceed.

"Would you mind if we stayed here for a while?" He asked boldly. 

She cocked her head at him. "That depends. Are you planning to be nice?"

He was, he very much was. Rolan drew her a little closer to him in answer. Cal and Lia would interrogate him endlessly at the soonest chance, he just knew it, but he'd deal with them later.

Her forearms rested on his shoulders, drawing him nearer to her through the candle light. "Come here, then."

And he did, and he did.

#rolan x tav #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3

[it-happened-one-fic]

Reliable - Sebek

Author's Notes: This fic is for @rainbowcake1212 for my 300 Followers Event! I hope you enjoy your Hot Chocolate and Cheesecake fic!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ romantic/ Hot Chocolate and Cheesecake prompt

Word count: 2454

I stared, flabbergasted, at Sebek, who merely looked at me with that point-blank stare of his.

“So let me get this right…. You are getting harassed by overly pushy noble ladies seeking a…”

“A relationship.” He finished impatiently, scowling slightly before he continued, “I have rejected them countless times, but they still return. They no doubt wish to use me to get close to my Lord, but I will not allow it.”

A smug grin crossed his face as he finished, no doubt proud that he was protecting Malleus from a perceived threat. It was just sad that he didn’t realize he was perfectly worth being interested in all on his own without his connection to Malleus.

“And you want me to accompany you to this ball as your fake date?” I questioned him, hardly even able to believe that he had even brought this up.

And he simply nodded in confirmation, like there was nothing odd about it. 

I shook my head incredulously, “Wouldn’t it be better to find someone a little more… I don’t know, impressive, to scare off your suitors?”

His eyebrows rose in a surprisingly slow climb for someone quite as hot-blooded as Sebek, “No.” 

His hand twitched at his side, no doubt a sign of agitation at his having to request assistance from a human such as myself, “You will do perfectly well.”

I found myself shrugging, still not entirely certain about Sebek’s grand scheme but also willing to help. After all, it couldn’t be pleasant to be pursued by someone you’d already rejected.

 “Alright, I’ll do it. What do I need to know?” That ended up being the question I wished I’d never asked since that was the question that led to my copious and detailed instruction regarding the Valley of Thorns and its many, many customs.

But, come the day of the ball, I was certainly prepared. Especially since Mrs. Zigvolt herself had gotten me a suitably dressy outfit ready.

She’d been thrilled that Sebek had brought a friend home, and then even more delighted when she found I was going to be his partner for the evening. Even after I’d told her I was just his fake date, she remained delighted. Chuckling slightly to herself as she’d gotten my measurements, “Of course, dear. Of course.”

I’d frowned at her but kept my silence, not quite having the heart to tell her that Sebek was anything but interested in me. I was just handy for the current situation he was in. 

We were friends, but I doubted that line would ever be crossed since I was human and he’d made it painfully clear how he felt about humans in general. But, at the very least, pretending to be his date for the evening might be fun. Even if just a little.

And so I entered the palace on Sebek’s arm, doing my best to not be distracted by how good he looked in his clean-cut suit that made him look like a true knight even though he was still in training. 

If I hadn’t been able to see it before, I could certainly see why he had a great many suitors who were apparently hounding him.

The doors swung open as we arrived, carefully walking down the wide staircase into the ballroom filled with fae, who all turned to openly stare at us.

 Over at the raised dais, I could see Malleus, guarded by Lilia and Silver, alongside a seated woman whom I could assume was the queen.

The three of them seemed pleased to see me alongside Sebek, but I couldn’t say the same for everyone present.

There were several women, in particular, who seemed rather annoyed by my presence. Or perhaps it was more who I was with.

I leaned closer to Sebek, smiling relaxedly even as I whispered to him, “So what is it, exactly, that you’re wanting me to do?”

He glanced at me with one raised eyebrow, totally ruining the image of a happy couple by the lack of smile on his face, “You merely need to stay by my side.”

He spoke like that was obvious, and I sighed. Apparently, selling this relationship was going to be entirely up to me. 

And our first test came all too soon as a younger-looking noble came over, a smile on his face as he greeted Sebek, “Ah. It is good to see you again, Master Zigvolt. I am sure you are relieved to be home from school.” 

I watched awkwardly as the formalities were dispensed, feeling halfway like I was watching some sort of period film from a front row seat, until the man twisted to look at me, a charming smile on his face as he looked down at me, “And this is…?”

“Mine.” The response was blunt and immediate and had me looking up in utter shock at Sebek, who seemed perfectly relaxed. Like he hadn’t just spouted something utterly ridiculous, even if I was his fake date.

I smiled awkwardly as I looked back at the young man, who looked just as startled as I was, confirming that ‘mine’ was an odd way of introducing one’s partner even in the Valley of Thorns.

“Yes, I am Sebek’s partner,” I calmly let my hand continue to rest where it was, tucked through the crook of Sebek’s elbow, even as I squeezed his arm slightly in annoyed revenge. Earning myself an odd look from Sebek as I began cleaning up his mess.

“Please, call me Y/n,” The man nodded, smiling awkwardly as the two of us pretended that Sebek hadn’t just calmly asserted that I belonged to him. The man went on with what I assumed were more common pleasantries before at last bidding us adieu.

“It was a pleasure to have met you.” He bobbed his head awkwardly before quickly retreating as soon as he’d finished his piece. Leaving me to look up at Sebek in still frustrated shock.

“What was that?” I hissed at Sebek, earning myself an incredulous look from the young man, who apparently had seen nothing wrong with the introduction he’d given for me.

“I was letting him know that you were with me,” He was still utterly flummoxed, dragging a sigh out of me.

I’d known that Sebek was utterly hopeless, but this… I honestly hadn’t expected it to be quite this bad.

“Sebek, you can’t just introduce me as yours. No one does that. You need to just let people assume we’re together,” I quietly explained as we continued to meander through the room. Dodging various other guests who continued to watch the two of us with curious gazes.

“And why are people staring so much anyway? Is it that odd for you to come with someone?” Sebek was apparently more prepared for this line of conversation since he responded much more promptly and with less confusion as he shook his head.

“No. They are not used to humans. My father does not come to these… celebrations. The only human usually present is Silver, and he has already proved himself to be a competent knight. Other than that, it is only ever dignitaries.” I nodded as I mulled over his words, not entirely liking what they meant.

“So I’m the odd one here?” His nod confirmed my words, and I sighed, wondering for the thousandth time why he thought I would be a good choice for his fake date.

“Alright, what do we do next? Is there anyone you need to greet?” I looked up at him questioningly as he stopped us off to the side of the room. Glancing around as if to check that no one was too close to overhear us, even though people had been giving us wide-berth the entire time.

I suppose it was easier for them to observe from a distance.

“No, if anyone wishes to speak to me, they will come. At most, we’ll have to do one dance. For now, I’m going to get something to drink. Stay here,” So saying, he strode off. Straight-backed and proud as ever, even though it seemed like absolutely everyone was questioning his choice on his date. Including myself.

But that was the way Sebek often was. It was impossible to tell what was going to bother him and what wasn’t. While certain things being said about him would bother him endlessly, others wouldn’t. 

What surprised me was that the others whispering about the fact he’d come with a human didn’t bother him. It was true that his parents were a human and fae match, but I’d figured that such a thing would bother him.

I frowned, watching as one of the fae broke off from the crowd and approached me. It was a woman.

She was, just like the other fae, absolutely gorgeous. But, more importantly, she had me pointed and was obviously approaching to have a word with me. And if my reasons for being at this ball were anything to go by, it was going to have something to do with Sebek and what I was doing with him.

This was quite likely one of the suitors he’d wished to deter.

She smiled as she stopped in front of me, “You must be Sebek’s partner. I confess I wasn’t aware he had someone he was with until the two of you appeared. It is lovely to meet you.”

Her tone was sweet, and, to anyone watching, she would appear quite genuine. But there was something in the way she held herself, like a snake poised to strike at the very instant I gave her an opening, that spoke of anything but sweetness.

But this was something I’d already been prepared for. While Sebek hadn’t mentioned it, Lilia had.

The suitors Sebek so wished to deter weren’t likely to just accept that he’d found someone that he preferred over them. Much less if that person didn’t have a rank and wasn’t fae.

So I smiled back, preparing to play whatever game was being laid out in front of me, “Oh, we haven’t been together that long, and Sebek wanted to make sure I was ready to attend one of these balls before he brought me with him. He’s incredibly attentive, you see.”

Attentive indeed. I doubted I would ever forget the rigorous testing I’d gone through before he’d at last decided that I was ready for tonight.

“Indeed, he is quite a charming man. It’s good that he prepared you, though. It would be so unfortunate if something went wrong. After all, it wouldn’t just affect you, but him as well. Better to be safe than sorry, as they say.” 

She was an insincere one, that was certain. I could understand why Sebek wouldn’t like her, even as lovely as she was. 

And charming wasn’t the first word I would use to describe Sebek.

It was true that he had some endearing qualities and that he was quite attractive, but still… Charming didn’t quite encompass all of Sebek when one thought of exactly how loud and blunt he could be at times.

But I didn’t miss her oh-so-subtle threat about how if something were to occur, it would affect him. That was something I’d already realized and had been the only reason I’d accepted his lessons with little complaint.

“Well, yes, of course. I could never let something happen to harm him.” They weren’t untrue words. In fact, nothing I’d said was untrue. But, just from watching her, it didn’t look like I had to lie to upset her.

“My, you are a sweet one. I can understand why he likes you so well. However, I can’t help but wonder if you’ll be able to handle the pressure?”

I would have almost preferred if she’d thrown a drink in my face rather than attempting to slip through the cracks and hit me with attacks meant to weaken my resolve and cause uncertainty. But that was also her trouble. She wasn’t going to be able to sway me with such threats.

“Ah, well. I have faced certain pressures before, and I don’t want to disappoint Sebek….” I trailed off, watching as the man in question approached with a frown on his face.

“Y/n?” The woman turned to face him, her eyes wide at the tone he’d used. One that spoke of concern while simultaneously promising to handle the situation if I needed him to.

And that was one of the reasons this woman wouldn’t be able to sway me. Not only had she underestimated me, she’d underestimated exactly how much Sebek and I trusted one another.

I smiled at him, resting my hand on his arm, “Everything’s fine. I was just about to tell the lovely young woman that she needn’t worry about me. How could I ever crumble under any pressure and disappoint you when you are always so reliable?”

It was subtle, but I could see her fist clench behind her as she looked between me and Sebek. The picture of a supportive couple who wouldn’t crumble just because of a few spiteful words.

“I see.” He looked down at me for a brief moment, with a certain softness to his gaze before he looked her way. A proud smirk appeared on his face that had me bracing for the loudness that was coming.

“I THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONCERN FOR MY PARTNER, MISS RAFFLESIA. BUT AS YOU CAN SEE THERE IS NO NEED FOR SUCH WORRIES!” 

I barely managed to not cringe at his loudness but smiled nonetheless as he broadcasted the entire situation to everyone at the ball.

Whether calculated or not, he had certainly embarrassed ‘Miss Rafflesia,’ as evidenced by the way she retreated at impressive speeds.

“Was the yelling really necessary?” I looked up at him, still smiling at his customary volume, which had been oddly absent this evening.

He looked down at me, nodding firmly as he lowered his voice, no doubt because I’d mentioned his yelling, “Indeed. They all need to know that you have my utter trust. That way, they won’t bother trying to harass you when I am not near. It would take more than just a few words to break my trust in you, and I have faith that it is the same for you.”

My eyes widened at his words, ever blunt in his honesty, no matter the topic. I laughed slightly as I recovered from my surprise, earning myself a surprised look from my partner, which only amused me further.

But how could I help it when I’d long since realized that even though this was just a fake arrangement, I could have a far worse partner than someone quite as reliable as my very own knight.

*Rafflesia is a genus of parasitic flowering plants in the family Rafflesiaceae. 

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