#To War Rather Than to Bed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojorgeous · 4 months

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"business or pleasure?"

pairing: gojo x fem!reader summary: the gojo clan decides it’s time to secure an heir… and you’re the lucky woman selected for the job… content: HEAVY breeding, arranged marriage, language, praise, dacryphilia, p->v, fingering, mating press, a lil’ blood (if you squint), pet names, implied multiple rounds, gojo just generally being a menace, no established relationship, reader and gojo literally just met, reader is literally there for the purpose of getting pregnant, positive pregnancy test at the end, ideas of women as baby incubators :x, consent king gojo. wc: 3.7k a/n: I HAVE RETURNED!!! Hey!!!!!! Long time no see, babes. I was looking at my account and I haven’t posted a fic in *cough* TWO YEARS. There is simply no way that’s real 😭 Anyway, I’ve returned with something slightly different: A Gojo fic. You’re welcome. Mwah. Also, please send messages I miss y'all. happy new year bbs. and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

It’s only your third time in Japan. The first had been to visit family friends when you were eight, the second for a girls’ trip after you graduated college. You liked it. Tokyo was bright and busy and full of shops and things to do. The countryside always offered beauty and peace. But this third time was different. No shopping, no temples, no amusement parks. You were here for business, not pleasure.

You run a finger along the edge of a mahogany bookshelf. Your feet are killing you, a flick of your ankles tossing your heels across the room. Your nose wrinkles when you land on a particular title. The Art of War? Interesting choice… You scan the other books, and your brows rise when you find a strange combination of academics, young adult, manga, and high fantasy? A multi-genre reader, then…

You absentmindedly rub at the arch of your foot, pushing out the ache as best you can. A day so full of stress has left you weary. Your mother hadn’t stopped hovering until the moment you’d escaped into your car, a new husband on your arm.

You sigh. You could still hear the shower running along with said husband humming loudly to a tune you didn’t recognize. At least your groom wasn’t shy.

A glance toward the bed has your brows raising. Were those… squishmallows? One looked like a shark, the other like a… sushi? You press your lips together, avoiding a laugh he would surely hear. You make your way to the mattress, sighing when you finally get to sit. You pull the sushi into your arms, hugging the pillow to your chest, but it no longer seemed so funny anymore. You had bigger things to think about. Your legs press together in a mix of anticipation and anxiety. All the way from America you’d come to marry the Gojo heir. It had been a rushed arrangement. Apparently, the Gojo clan had finally put their foot down and decided their heir should finally get to the business of making another heir. There’d been a search far and wide for the best match and somehow, they’d settled on you. An accomplished sorcerer yourself and abilities in your blood that only strengthened those of the Gojo line, you’d been an suitable pick. It didn’t hurt that you were young, healthy, and (upon a trip to a renowned fertility clinic) proven to be very fertile.

Your parents had been oh-so eager to accept the Gojo clan’s proposition. The Gojo heir’s power hadn’t been matched in nearly 400 years. Any and every family would jump at the opportunity to be tied to them, especially through marriage and heirs. You were surprised you’d been chosen considering all of the options there must have been.

Satoru seemed… fine, you thought. You hadn’t had much time to talk with him privately. The first time you’d met had been on a phone call with both of your sets of parents present and the next had been at the altar. At one point in the night he’d asked a waiter to refill your wine glass and he’d been a rather good dancer. Other than that, you’d been pulled apart at all odds and ends until you’d come back here: his apartment.

You’d expected something a little more lavish for your wedding night, especially considering the spectacle that your wedding had been. Ice sculptures, thousand dollar bouquets, and diamond encrusted wedding rings had turned to an elegantly decorated bachelor pad. A glance around revealed a space that was obviously lived in, with odd mixes of $10,000 dollar chairs and… squishmallows.

You sink onto the edge of the bed, eyes peeling over the half-moons of your nails and the heavy gems that now sit on the fourth finger of your left hand. They are a weight you feel the pressure of. A pressure to live up to expectations, to produce a much-desired product.

A door opens down the hall and you realize the pounding of water and the lilting of a hum has ceased. Your husband is done with his shower.

A few seconds later he reveals himself, prancing down the hallway and into his bedroom like it’s just another Tuesday and not his wedding night. A plush blue towel is slung low around his waist and from the rivulets of water running all over his body you judge that he hadn’t even taken the time to properly dry off. Not that you mind.

You’d known your new husband was beautiful but you’d never imagined he’d be so… so goddamn seductive.

Washboard abs, toned arms, sculpted back, wet hair and icy eyes… he was the image of a god.

“Sorry for making you wait. I really needed that.”

Gojo prods at his temples, eyes squished shut in what looked like a moment of pain. You’d heard of this problem from the clan. He hadn’t worn his blindfold all day for the sake of the wedding. It was no wonder the effects were catching up with him.

“No problem.”

A small smile reveals just a few blinding teeth and you could swear your vision went out for just a moment.

“You hungry?”

You arch a brow. The man had eaten two full plates and practically half the cake not yet an hour ago.

“Can’t say that I am.”

“Hm.”

He nods and you watch as he plucks a stray candy off his bedside table, tossing the wrapper to the floor.

“So, uh-” You watch the butterscotch bulge in his cheek. “You really wanna do this?”

You glance at your half-naked husband who is practically a walking temptation. You take a breath. He’s standing so casually, as if this is a normal conversation to be having and not something life-altering.

“You don’t?” you ask.

All that gets you is a shit-eating grin.

“Never said that.”

You can’t help the smirk that crawls across your lips.

“Well, we might as well get it over with, no?”

Another flash of pearly whites.

“Get it over with, hm?”

You miss his meaning, pulling at a loose thread on the bedspread.

“It shouldn’t take much effort. I’m on so many fertility meds you could probably spit on me and I’d get pregnant.”

You pick at the thread a little more, biting your lip when you realize it’s one of those strands that’s infinite.

“That so?”

You jolt when a speck of wetness lands on your cheek. A quick glance reveals a fuzzy blue towel far too close for comfort. A half-naked Gojo is a whole lot closer than he’d been just seconds ago. How is he so quiet?

Blue eyes bore into yours, water dripping down white strands and onto your skin. He’s so damn tall. He has your neck craned all the way back just to meet his gaze.

“Yes.” You swallow. “It was part of our prenup.”

Dazed. You’re absolutely dazed.

“Well, we probably shouldn’t risk breaking a legally binding contract, hm?”

Closer. He’s coming closer. Too close.

You lean back, scooting yourself up the bed in a feeble attempt to get a little more space, your emotional support sushi tumbling to the floor. He follows right after you.

Something primal thrusts through your veins at the sight of a man, sopping wet and smirking, crawling after you, some mix of teasing and pure drive hidden in his eyes. Gojo doesn’t stop, not until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard and his arms cage your waist. Close. Too close.

You’d thought he would have dried a bit by now, but water still slicks off his skin and hair, showering you lightly. You shiver and your husband notices. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and you get a breath of the sweetness of butterscotch and mint toothpaste.

“You say stop,” he breathes, “and we stop.”

He leans closer, so close you can smell the eucalyptus and myrrh of his shampoo, the musk of his body wash, the candied sweetness of his breath. Those piercing blue eyes flit to your lips and back up again.

A breath, a pause.

“Stop?” he asks. His eyes are piercing.

You shake your head.

“Go.”

Lips, teeth, tongue. All of it hits you at once. For a moment you’re too shocked to respond, but then his weight is leaning on you and his hand is on your waist and his mouth tastes like candy and- and then you’re kissing him back.

A heavy hand digs into the flesh of your waist and your hands find a patch of damp white hair to tangle in.

He tastes good- too good and when a deft hand guides you down to the mattress you start to think that this whole baby-making business might not be so bad after all.

Teeth knock, tongues touch, and you are on the edge of what would have been a particularly throaty moan when he pulls away.

His attention shifts elsewhere, kisses trailing down your neck and hands straying to your hips.

“Have you-” a kiss to your collarbone. “Done this before?”

You freeze.

“What?”

Gojo raises his head a bit and the most irritating kind of smirk plays on his lips.

“Don’t know- thought maybe this was a virgin for your super rich husband kinda thing?”

You shove his head back down.

“Shut up.”

He chuckles and the sound vibrates against your skin.

“Okay, sp no need to go slow then…”

His lips continue their assault, brushing and grazing over your skin until it lifts with goosebumps. Your breaths come a little faster, a little heavier and you gasp when his hand curls beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Oh? What’s this?” His fingers brush against the garter that rests at the top of your thighs. Your cheeks heat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had you agreed to wear the damn thing? You reach down, hoping to quickly rid yourself of the scrap of fabric before you can become oven more mortified. You’re just about to clamp down on it when Gojo catches your wrist. “Ah, ah. No need to be so hasty.” Your hand is easily pinned down to the mattress and, for some reason, you don’t fight it.

Your breath catches when your skirt lifts only for Gojo to dive beneath it without a second thought. You feel his teeth grazing across the skin of your thigh.

“Gojo-” you breathe, squirming.

His head reappears suddenly, another one of those mischievous grins gracing his lips. “Satoru when I’m about to be inside you, baby.”

He disappears again and you gasp and wiggle when you feel his tongue laving across the inside of your thigh.

His teeth graze you again, but this time they clamp down on the garter and you feel it slowly sliding across your skin, down, down, past your knee and eventually to your ankle where Satoru finally yanks it past your foot with a final tug.

You stare at him, wide eyed and lustful. That had to have been one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.

Satoru plucks the garter from his teeth and dangles it in front of his eyes. It’s a white, lacy little thing that matches the shade of his hair. He’s grinning again when he slides it onto his wrist like a bracelet– no, like a trophy.

“Thanks for the present.” He’s still grinning, still staring, his fingers still fiddling with the hem of your skirt. “How attached are you to this dress?” he asks.

You blink, swallowing nervously, unable to break away from his gaze. It’s too strong, too mesmerizing. “Not… attached at all,” you manage. It’s true. Somebody else picked it out, and you’ve only been wearing it for about an hour– and it’s not like you can’t just buy a new one now with access to the Gojo bank accounts.

His grin somehow grows even wider. “Good girl. Just what I wanted to hear.”

There’s a splitting sound and suddenly your dress is tearing straight down the middle. It’s slow and controlled and you wonder if he’s practiced at this or if his strength is just that regulated. You find yourself hoping it’s the latter.

The dress is ripped from your skin and you see it land somewhere across the room. You hear something shatter along with a thud, but Satoru seems anything but worried, so you ignore it.

You’re bare in just your undergarments, a lacy white set that you’re now half proud of and half embarrassed by.

Satoru whistles and his hands settle on your waist. “Damn, baby. Why’d you keep all this hidden for so long?”

You scoff, your confidence surging. You reach for him, grabbing a scruff of hair at the back of his neck and pulling him close. “You’re the one taking your sweet time, Toru.”

The sound of the nickname on your lips makes him shiver and you smirk triumphantly.

“Hmm…” is all he says as his fingers trail lower, lower, lower, until they’re dipping beneath the band of your panties. It’s somewhere between tortuous and ticklish and you squirm. “Ah, ah. Hold still for me, now.” He presses one hand to the valley between your breasts, holding you down as his other hand continues lower. When his thumb finds the wet spot on your panties and presses down your back arches and your breath escapes.

He chuckles. “Little needy, aren’t you?” His thumb moves a little higher, grazing your clit, and you whimper.

With one deft movement he unclasps your bra, tossing it aside. You register for just a moment that your chest is now completely bare, but soon enough his mouth is closing around your nipple and all else is forgotten.

“S-Satoru!” you whisper. Your voice feels hoarse, even if it has no reason to be.

His thumb continues its assault between your thighs. “So wet already, baby…” He sounds ecstatic. The grin on his lips makes you whine. “Let’s get these out of the way…” Before you know it, you hear more tearing and then cold air hits your cunt. You cry out when Satoru’s thumb returns to its ministrations, but this time there’s no cloth barrier to dull the sensation. Your hands push out and your nails curl into his bare shoulders. You need him closer.

“Satoru…” you breathe. “Kiss me…”

That shit-eating grin returns, but he follows your command. “As my wife wishes.”

When lips meet yours it’s hot and messy. Your nails claw down his back and you’re sure you’re leaving marks. If he minds, he certainly doesn’t show it.

His thumb continues at your clit as a finger prods at your entrance. When he slides in slowly, you gasp. He murmurs something about you being so sensitive, and proceeds to quickly find that gummy spot inside you that makes you see stars. Before you know it he’s adding a second finger and soon your hips are rocking against his thrusts, meeting his pace as you chase your high.

“God, you’re so wet.” he whispers against your lips. True to his word, he’s been kissing you, never letting up in his attack on your mouth. “Bet you taste like fucking heaven.”

You whine, your hips stuttering against his hand. “G-Gonna… I’m–”

He grins again, and pulls away just enough to meet your gaze. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me.” Your eyes flutter shut, your head rolling back– “Nuh, uh. Keep those eyes open. Wanna see every second.”

Your breaths flutter and you whimper loudly, the sound bouncing on the walls. You’re not sure why you listen, why you fight to keep your eyes open, locked on him, but you do. Maybe you’re afraid he’ll pull away and leave you wanting… or maybe you just want to please him.

You feel your muscles clenching in your stomach, hear the sloppy sounds of Satoru’s fingers thrusting in and out of you, see the gleeful anticipation in his eyes. His thumb rubs a particularly delicious circle around your clit and you feel yourself thrown over the edge.

You can’t help but be loud. You hold his gaze the whole time, whimpering and whining his name as you gush all over his sheets. Your cunt spasms around his fingers, clenching, holding him inside, desperate to be filled. You hear him panting above you, like watching has somehow taken his breath away.

“Good girl,” he whispers and you feel a second wave of pleasure ripple through you.

You feel weak by the time your orgasm leaves you. Your muscles are limp and your cunt is so sensitive that you flinch when Satoru removes his fingers. He brushes a tear from the corner of your eye and you watch as he brings his sopping fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices clean. He moans, a deep throaty sound, like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. You watch his eyes roll back in his skull, watch his throat bob as he swallows. Your lips part at the sight.

His fingers fall from his mouth with a pop and his grin returns.

“Just like I thought,” he says. “Heaven.”

He’s back on you in a second, licking a stripe from your collarbone to just beneath your ear. His hips slot between your own and a strong hands hook around the backs of your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest. You whimper. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so completely and utterly exposed.

“On to the main event, yeah?” The twinkle in his eye has your heart racing even faster. His fingers catch the towel that is somehow still wrapped snugly around his waist. With one tug, it’s gone and your mouth is watering in anticipation.

Your jaw drops lower, if it’s even possible. He’s… huge. Long and pretty with veins that you know are going to rub just right. His tip is pink and leaking, ready.

“Satoru, it won’t–”

His lips connect to your pulse, licking and sucking when you feel him prodding at your entrance. “It’ll fit, baby.”

He slides himself through your folds, gathering your juices and torturing you every time his tip bumps your clit. By the time he’s finally lining himself up, you’re practically begging.

The first push is heaven. You’re both moaning when he prods past that first tight ring of muscle and you’re gasping, crying out his name and clawing at his back. He keeps pushing, filling you inch by inch until he’s pressed snugly against your cervix. You thank him aloud when he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, to the feeling of being filled to the absolute brim. He only kisses the tears from your cheeks.

The first thrust has you seeing stars, little white spots clouding your vision. The second has your nails embedding in his skin hard enough to draw blood. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it has him moving faster, grunting in your ear and whimpering your name.

“Sooo… f-ahh-ucking t-tight…” he whispers.

A hand slides between your sweaty bodies, a thumb rubbing familiar circles against your swollen clit. You cry out, clenching down like a vice.

“F-Fuck, princess.”

His thrusts rock your body and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes in the air. You feel that familiar coil begin to form, to heat at your core. Your muscles tighten and your legs begin to shake.

“Atta girl. Cum on my cock, baby.”

You whimper at the praise, at the incessant rubbing of your clit, at the relentless pounding of your cervix. It’s all too much, too good.

“Satoru…” you cry. Your legs burn and ache. Satoru has your knees pressed so tightly to your chest you’re afraid something might snap. It only adds to the tension beginning to unravel at your center. You feel as if you’re burning, as if you’re going to snap– and then you do. Heat unravels beneath your skin and your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Your legs tremble and your toes curl and you vaguely hear your husband whispering a mix of curses and praises in your ear. You’re still lost in the sensation when he starts groaning and you feel him flooding your insides with shallow thrusts close to your cervix, filling you with rope after rope of his hot cum. You’re still panting when you finally regain your mind. Satoru’s still on top of you, completely limp with his head buried in your neck. You curl a hand into his hair, silently holding him close. That was some of the most mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had. You smirk. Yeah, maybe this baby-making business wasn’t going to be so bad.

You shiver when you feel Satoru licking and sucking at your skin. There’s a tenderness in the action that makes you pull him closer. He hasn’t even pulled out yet, but you can already feel him hardening inside you, ready for another round.

“Think it stuck?” he asks. You smirk and answer with a breathy laugh.

“Don’t know.” Silently, you think that there’s no way it didn’t. You can feel his cum dripping down your thighs and there’s just so much of it.

He lifts his head, eyes bright and sparkling even in the dim light. He grins. “Guess we’d better make sure.”

With the rate at which Satoru fucks you it’s no surprise when you get two positive little pink lines a few week later. You tell Satoru by unceremoniously dropping the test in front of him while he’s drinking his morning coffee. He only grins and kisses you before he bends you over the counter, whispering something about needing to show you how appreciative he is when he slides inside you. The next morning you wake to Satoru’s lips on yours, a brand new credit card, and a new car in the driveway, fitted with all of the newest safety features (only the best for his wife and baby, he says). You sigh and smile when you see it. Yeah, this whole baby-making business definitely wasn’t so bad.

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri

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#jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #tw: breeding #bree’s fics

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frogchiro · 6 months

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sacrifice!reader virginity loss with war god!Ghost? 🥺 and adjusting to her new life?

size and breeding kink go brrrrr

It may come off as a surprise but it was first adjusting to her new life and then the ritual coupling :( War God!Ghost is many things but he'd never hurt someone innocent, much less the pretty maiden that was sacrficed against her will and left to die by her own village, not to mention that he actually took a fancy to you which is why he decided to keep you around :(

Why he's not coming onto you strong, his advances and courting are pretty obvious if a little awkward due to him never taking a bride and never courting anyone.

You won't ever need to lift a finger; the back chamber of the temple may not be quite as large as the main hall, more like a small hut in size due to it being technically 'symbolic' that the god of war is staying there but no one would ever think that Ghost ACTUALLY stays there from time to time.

You have there anything you could ever want: a large hearth, baskets of fresh fruit and vegetables that never seem to go bad and of course the large stone bed that takes up a good portion of the room covered with layers of hay, skins, warm furs and luxurious blankets so that it will keep the cold away and keep you warm and snug. Of course Ghost will bring you trophies from his beloved hunts; great beasts he slayed in your name, pretty new pelts, the best cuts of meat, silks and dresses, everything your heart ever would want♡

But when it finally comes to the coupling ritual...it's something like out of a myth, you fluster and feel warmth in your chest and tummy that you will be officially wed to a god, Ghost, or Simon how he insists you call him, no less.

The mating would take place in the same great hall you were thrown in that one night a few weeks ago, except now instead of being cold and lifeless, it's lit by the warm glow of candles and hearths and the altar you were once tied to and awaited your death was now covered in many furs to ensure your comfort.

The once silent halls would be filled eith a symphony of your moans and roars of pleasure from Ghost, the furs underneath you stained a little with your maiden blood but there was no one in the world you'd rather give your virginity to than your now-husband♡ The lovemaking would continue through thw whole night with a few moments for rest and with Ghost carefully feeding you fruits and giving you cool water to drink.

Between moans and groans Ghost would make quiet spells that you later found out when you laid back in your bed with your husband in your chamber were spells for fertility, and you couldn't help but whine and nuzzle against the much larger male as he ran his sharp teeth gently over your neck in response, a gentle nuzzle behind your ear and a large, warm palm pressed against your belly♡

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #war god!ghost #god of war!ghost #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley

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peppermint-toads · 2 months

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*not proofread at all not even a little*

simon had finally, finally left you the fuck alone.

he’d been staying the night at your apartment for days on end, not that you minded. not really, at least.

you only started getting frustrated when you started getting… frustrated.

he’d left to go do some grocery shopping because you had “no fucking food in your house.” he needed to eat. sue him.

you played it casual, shrugging and throwing a sarcastic apology at him as he left. as soon as the door slammed shut, you were running to your bedroom and flinging open your nightstand drawer.

you grabbed your pink vibrator, a nice g-spot one.

this had to be quick. you’d never live it down if simon came home to see you in the midst of that. you got right to business, holding the power button until the familiar buzz overtook you.

you didn’t hear simon reentering. cheeky bastard only caused a ruckus when he was leaving.

“forgot it’s sunday love, shops are closed by now,” simon chuckled to himself. you didn’t respond, and you were nowhere to be seen. ah, your door was closed. you probably just wanted a nap.

simon approached, and his heart dropped when he heard cries of pain? he was immediately reaching for the door handle, but then the pain morphed into a sound he’d never heard you make. it was whinier than a cry of pain. it gave him pause.

“holy fuck! yes, yes, yes, yes!”

oh.

simon was totally not supposed to hear you climaxing.

he heard rustling behind the door and the squeak of your mattress as you got up. he’d memorized every creak the floor made and you were heading straight for him.

he took a few steps back as to hopefully look casual.

you opened your door with your eyes squeezed shut, arms reaching into the air as you stretched, shaking off the last bits of stress that washed away with your orgasm.

when you opened your eyes you were met with a rather stiff looking simon. why was he feeling so embarrassed? he’d gone to war for chrissakes and can’t handle just hearing the female orgasm?

luckily, you were completely oblivious.

“shops are closed. it’s sunday.” he repeated, more meekly this time.

“oh, okay. i’m sure there’s something in there. i’ll whip somethin’ up for you after i shower.”

you shoved past him and into the bathroom. the squeak of the shower head was mere background noise to all the thoughts racing through simon’s brain.

he stood paralyzed for at least two minutes.

the sliver of mussed sheets he could see through your cracked door was all too tempting.

he sat on your warm bed, and he swore he could smell you. he looked over at your nightstand. no. he shouldn’t. he can’t. that’d be wrong. so, so wrong.

andddd he’s reaching for the drawer.

he sees the toy, can see the slick on it from where you’d hastily shoved it back in just in case simon came home before you could clean it.

it was still warm. he looked at it, imagined the almost painful moans tearing from your throat. and he laughed. he laughed! the absolute gall of this man.

he’s sorry, it was just so small compared to him. he’d hate to imagine the struggle you’d go through taking him. he actually doesn’t hate it. he really loves it. loves it so much actually, all the blood in his entire giant body rushes right to his cock.

he leaves. immediately. he runs, literally runs, back to his apartment to rub one out. he returns to your apartment about an hour later with takeout in hand.

“didn’t want you to have to cook anything, love,” he lied. and you were none the wiser

#simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader smut

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shanieveh · 9 months

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when im no longer young and beautiful...

— growing old with the genshin men

you both wander the world — kazuha, KAVEH, itto, bennett, TARTAGLIA, kaeya, xingqiu, heizou

Even as years and decades go by, you and him travel the world in order to really feel its beauty. And the best part? Even as your hair color turns gray, you both were still together. And it was the most beautiful part in all your adventures.

Seeing every single part of the world and cherishing all it's glory. You were glad to do it with him, his smile never really changed after all these years. In some cheesy way, in all your adventures his utter joy is the best view.

settling in and starting a family— alhaitham, DILUC, ayato, thoma, TIGHNARI, gorou, tartaglia

It probably is adopting or other means, but with him you finally have family. Full of cheers, full of parenting but always full of love. Every day you were never alone, there was never an instance where you felt unwanted. Home. That was one word to describe it.

But watching all your little babies grow up was the hardest part, and as they all go on and live their lives he was still there. Doing the same lovey dovey gestures he did when you first fell in love, when you married, and when you grow old in each other's arms.

living a quiet life— kaeya, xiao, THOMA, tighnari, CYNO, dainsleif, SCARAMOUCHE, KAVEH, albedo

Both of you have gone through so much, and this domestic bliss is really the heaven. The happy ending. Everyday growing the plants to eat, doing laundry, cleaning the dishes. These little mundane tasks, just being in each other's presence. No one to bother you, no more pain. Just... peace.

Even as time fades by like sunsets in the afternoon, it never really got boring. Just living in a simple house, sleeping in an always disorganized bed. Playing with the little kids in the farm. You couldn't ask for anything else, with him by your side you couldn't ask for anything more. Because what else can you even ask for when this is enough.

still acts like young couples— kaeya, ALHAITHAM, xingqiu, VENTI, heizou, itto, cyno, ZHONGLI

It doesn't matter even if wrinkles cover your face, he would still kiss every part of you. The same over the top pet names. Still twirling you around like your first date. Still sharing the same straw in your favorite drink. Sometimes people would share a look of judgment but he really didn't care.

Dancing in the rain, the water droplets as your very own music. Laughter as your melody. 5 years.. turned to 20 years turned to 30 years. Even then the dance never had actual steps, more so the tapping and intimacy of two soulmates in the comfort of the rain.

BONUS: visiting your grave— scaramouche, VENTI, zhongli, xiao, DAINSLEIF, pierro, albedo

Knowing that one day his immortality would catch up, he cherished every single day with you. And for a very long time he never had been so happy—so content. Looking at your grave, one that he himself carved your favorite flowers. Making a garden surrounding it. It became more of a haven for him, rather than a mouring spot.

He was grateful for everything, the memories, the time even if finite, and you. His mind always full of war for a minute... finally became happy. He finally learned to be grateful for what he had. And even years after your death, he was still so glad... that you grew old with him.

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awkward-sultana · 3 months

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(Almost) Every Costume Per Episode + Catherine de Medici's metallic purple riding habit in 1x02,3

#The Serpent Queen #TheSerpentQueenEdit #Catherine de Medici #weloveperioddrama #perioddramaedit #period drama #historical drama #To War Rather Than to Bed #The Price #costumeedit #costumes #costume drama #Almost Every Costume Per Episode #Awkward-Sultana

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ohbother2 · 3 months

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I read your Lucifer headcanons and OH BOY I'M IN LOVE!! You write him excellently!!

Could I request some more Lulu pieces? :') Maybe a reader who's sad and melancholic by nature being drawn to Lucifer's absolute banger of a personality because he's so showy and fun (while also like. he Gets it, he gets sad too)?

Hi! Aahh thank you!! That's so nice of you to say!

I'm not sure if you meant you wanted this as a head cannon or a fic so I wrote it as a fic? Hope you enjoy! (if it's not what you want you can always request again and I'll be MORE than happy to do another one :) srsly)

Word Count: 6.5K

Lucifer x melancholic reader

You had been in hell for quite a few years, carving out a small life of your own through the decades that had passed, and after many years of working any job you could find, taking up any extra shifts that presented themselves, and spending and living cautiously, you had managed to rent a nice flat for yourself in a rather affluent sector of the Pride ring. That accomplishment, however, did not last long. Good things never did in Hell.

The last extermination had been particularly cruel, and your street had been targeted particularly hard. Thankfully you had been away at a friends place at the time (a little tradition the two of you had formed over the years) but when you returned the next morning the street you used to call home was no more. Barely any citizens of the accompanying streets had survived, and all of the buildings and businesses had been forced to collapse in on themselves as a final fuck you from Heaven.

Life in Hell was hard, and every year the weight across your shoulders and pressing down against your heart seemed to grow. It was endless, and by the time you had managed to scramble the remnants of your life back together the next extermination happened, or the next Overlord turf war, or god-knows what else happened down here. You were not a particularly optimistic person, and this recent upheaval of your life had placed you in a rather dire situation. It had been a steady declination over the years: you barely smiled, the gnawing worry of something about to go wrong always sitting heavy in the pit of your stomach, you couldn't really remember the last time you had felt truly, inexcusably, happy.

That had been three months ago now, and in that time you found yourself a steady job working at Hell's newest establishment: the Hazbin Hotel. The owner, Charlie, was a sweet girl and always bound over ecstatically to tell you about her ideas for the 'redemption of sinners' (you had a hard time believing in her dreams yourself, but you admired her unwavering optimism). She always tried her damnest to drag you into the 'group-activities' the residents of the hotel partook in, and you often found yourself being wilfully dragged along by the wrist, muttering lame excuses about needing to clean, before plopping next to someone and joining in on the fruitless fun.

Charlie's father was an illusive figure, and in the three months you had been here you hadn't seen him, but you often heard Charlie muttering about him to Vaggie. Despite his physical absence, the head honcho of hell himself seemed a rather doting father, constantly ringing Charlie and a gift-basket arriving at the front door whenever she lamented about a particularly bad week.

You had accepted this new style of life, dutifully completing your chores, keeping your head down to avoid trouble in the form of the Radio Demon, and spending your nights drinking at the bar with the other residents. You were secluded, quiet, but a pleasant presence that the others around you slowly grew to appreciate. Everything had finally settled, and after three months, you had mistakenly believed nothing would change until the next extermination came along.

How wrong you were.

You had been abruptly awoken one morning by Niffty of all creatures, picking your lock with the knife Alastor had gifted her and clambering onto your bed, bouncing on her heels excitedly and yanking the quilt from your shoulders.

"Niffty? It's 6- go back to bed." You motion away laconically, trying to burrow into your comfy sheets. You didn't have to be awake for another hour.

"He's coming! He's coming!" She chirps excitedly, brandishing her knife dangerously as she jumps about. "Up! Charlie wants the place spotless before he arrives!"

"We have another guest?" You stifle a yawn as you sit up, one hand rubbing at your eyes as Niffty attempts to drag you by your fingers to your dresser. You let her struggle, not budging and watching tiredly. "Arriving this early?"

"Yes! He'll be here in two hours and we need to clean!"

"Two hours?" You sigh heavily, making a show of laying back down as Niffty squeals at you to get up. The little woman is persistent, and you can feel her shadow looming over you even from behind closed eyelids. "Is he that important? He better be fucking royalty if Charlie expects us to clean for two hours."

"He is!" One eye cracks open, and you stare at Niffty incredulously. "Lucifer is coming! WE-" She grabs a firm hold of your top and yanks. "NEED-" tug "TO-" tug "CLEAN."

"Lucifer?!" You bolt upright, Niffty falling off the bed to the floor with a yelp. You peer over your side-table to look at her. "The Lucifer? Charlie's Dad Lucifer? The King of Hell Lucifer?"

"What other Lucifer would it be?" Niffty sasses, dusting herself down as she springs to her feet. "The baddest bad boy." She grins at you, and you suddenly feel incredibly uncomfortable. "We need to make a good impression! I need to make a good impression! You know he's single?" She bounce on her feet as you clamber from your bed, hurriedly sifting through your drawers. Two hours to sort this mess of a hotel out? You'd have more chance of suddenly coming back to life. "I love bad boys- Sir Pentious was such a let down but Lucifer? Oh My Go-"

"Yes, we all like a bad boy." You nod along, Niffty's eyes brightening as you agree. "Don't tell Sir Pentious that, he considers himself quite a bad boy, you'll hurt his feelings."

"Oh, he already knows." Niffty shrugs nonchalantly, hopping restlessly from foot to foot. "Now come! We have work to do!" and with that, the small woman goes speeding from your room, leaving you standing, disheveled, with a cluster of clothes in your arms. You blink slowly, rolling your shoulders, this was going to be a long day.

---

Two hours had gone by in a blink, and now you stood, slightly out of breath, lined up with the rest of the staff near the bar as Charlie paced in front of the entrance to the Hotel. You hadn't stopped moving all morning and your back and shoulders ached, having to hoist Niffty above your head to reach the hard-to-reach places you usually wouldn't bother cleaning. You were wedged between Angel Dust and Husk.

The door opens with a slam, ricocheting into the wall as a man bundles the princess of hell into a tight embrace with a gleeful yell. "Charlie!" The short-statured man lifts the blonde from the floor, swinging her around as he continues to chirp happily. "It's so good to see you! Have you grown? You feel taller!"

"It's good to see you too Dad!" Charlie tries to respond, and you stifle a chuckle into your hand as she gasps around the vice-like grip Lucifer has around her torso.

"Dad-!" Charlie finally tugs free, and you elbow Angel Dust as he snickers. "Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. These are our residents, this is-" Charlie begins to introduce everyone, but Keekee takes that moment to appear between Lucifer's legs.

"Keekee!" He all but squeals, and your eyes widen in shock at the pitch his voice takes as he squats down to fuss the happy cat. You share a pointed look with Angel Dust. Lucifer is distracted, again, as Razzle and Dazzle fly into his vision, and he immediately reaches for them with a joyous laugh.

He fusses them even more so than the cat, laughing to himself and twirling his cane between his fingers as he beams at the creatures. Charlie looks embarrassed, you notice with a sly smirk, rubbing her arms and trying to guide her Dad's attention away from the animals fluttering about his head.

You can't help but find this version of Lucifer rather jarring. You had been expecting a rather serious, intimidating, and otherwise authoritative man to come stalking into the Hotel. This version? This white-suited, rosy-cheeked, tall-hatted man with an ear-splitting grin was anything but the image you had been conjuring in your head ever since you had stepped foot in Hell. The brim of his hat flops as his head finally snaps towards your direction, and he straightens it with unfaltering confidence as he swaggers over.

You can't help but notice how much warmer his grin is compared to Alastor's, whose grin seemed to hide a threat behind it in most situations.

"Oh!" He stops short as Niffty barrels through Angel Dust's legs brandishing a pan of freshly baked cookies, with copious dollops of red icing splattered across their surface. A welcoming gift no one had asked for, but she had taken it upon herself to provide them anyway.

"Ah! What kind staff!" Lucifer entertains the woman, bending at the waist and looking at the cookies with raised eyebrows. "Thank you! But I will have to decline my dear, as young and dashing as I look" he wiggles his brows mockingly. "I must be careful with what I eat! When you reach 10,000 you'll understand."

He skilfully breezes past the tray with a bow of his head and a wave of his staff, distracted once again on his journey to greet Sir Pentious.

"Oh my-" He taps his cane against the carpeted floor as he spins, soaking up the main foyer. You had to admit, it didn't look much better from the state it was in before you had woken up. You pick at your sleeve nervously.

"Oh well, would you look at-" He makes a series of sounds as he surveys the inside of the hotel, brows furrowed contemplatively as he nods to himself, gesturing at nothing in particular. "Well- it certainly has character Char-Char!" He turns to his daughter, still beaming, completely unaware of Charlie's growing regret at having invited him over in the first place.

"Now! Time to introduce me to your friends. Who are these fine ladies and gentlemen?"

Charlie is quick to pull Vaggie to her side, holding her hand as she nervously introduces her girlfriend.

Lucifer practically vibrates at the news. "You like girls! Oh- so do I! Look at that, we have so much in common!" He motions between them excitedly, immediately extending a hand out to Vaggie, and yanking her into an equally as crushing hug as he tells her to 'put it there'. You watch as Vaggie struggles to breath over the man's shoulder, the man finally releasing her with an airy laugh and a comment about how pretty she was and how lucky Charlie is.

You smile despite yourself. You rather liked this version of Lucifer.

He finally turns to Sir Pentious, who withers in his skin and salutes, half out of respect, half out of terror.

"Your Majesty." Pentious doesn't move as Lucifer watches him, grin faltering slightly at the snake's lack of movement. He swiftly moves on with a 'thank you' grin brightening as he extends a hand to Angel Dust.

"Look at you! What I wouldn't do for those legs-" Husk splutters from beside you and you have to bring a hand up to hide the way you bit your lip to refrain from laughing. Lucifer only reached halfway up Angel Dusts' torso, and didn't shy away from emphasising the height difference by craning his neck at a near 90 degree angle to look at the others face. "Oh not like that! Forgive me. Though, you do have very nice legs, I meant your height. You could make a man jealous."

Angel Dust takes the opportunity, Lucifer spluttering over his apology, to bend down in some semblance of a bow, sultry smirk permanently etched onto his cheeks. "Heya, short King." For good measure, he places a kiss on the back of Lucifer's hand.

"My, my-" You have to commend him for not yanking his hand out of the spiders grip immediately, and watch tensely as he takes a minimal step back, straightening the lapels of his jacket: you were next. "what charming guests! I see why you insist on staying here Char-Char."

He stops before you, both hands resting atop his cane as he grins widely, a soft energetic thing that you can't help but replicate. "And who might this lovely lady/gentleman be?"

"And this," Charlie rushes to your side, evidently aware of your nerves. "is an incredibly valued member of our staff. Y/N. They've been working here for around 3 months and the place would've fallen to disrepair without them and Niffty."

You smile softly, bowing your head in respect as Lucifer finally stands before you.

"No need for that my dear, a friend of Charlie's is a friend of mine." He extends a hand which you tentatively take, shaking your hand firmly and watching you from beneath the brim of his hat. He was nothing short of charismatic, a perfect image of gentlemanly friendliness and cocksure confidence. Despite this, you couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated, he was the King of Hell after-all. "To say this place is still standing after all these years is nothing short of a miracle! You must truly have a golden touch." He waggles his fingers at you to emphasise his point, tilting his head inquisitively as you lightly blush at the compliment, averting your gaze for a moment. The man before you was truly some sort of magician, a purveyor of witchcraft of some sort: his presence was so large, so demanding, so absolutely enchanting you didn't have the capacity to think about any of your normal worries, nor the way your shoulders and back ached. In that moment, it was just him, and his silly little antics, and that was all.

"Thank you, sir. I'd truly be lost without Niffty-"

"Yes, the baker." He nods, cane nestled in the crook of his arm. You both decide to ignore the way Niffty squeals at the fact he remembered her from not even 10 minutes ago. "And no, absolutely not. Do not call me 'sir' under any circumstances." His voice was light and airy, clearly poking fun, not conveying any of the threat of violence that would usually accompany someone of such stature. He tilts his head again, grinning at you, wafting his hands around aimlessly. "Makes me feel old. I certainly am old, but I like to play into this fantasy that I'm not. Help an old man accomplish his dream won't you?"

"Certainly, Lucifer."

"And how have you been finding working at the hotel? I hope my dear Charlie here hasn't been working you too hard - she does sometimes forget not everyone is as energetic as she can be."

"Dad, stop making fun of me in front of my friends." Charlie goes to loop her arm with his and drag him away, but he remains rooted on the spot. Battering her reaching hands back with a laugh and a spin and a tap of his cane.

"I'm not poking fun at all Char-Char!" The grin he adorns, and the upturn of his voice indicate he very much was, and was very much succeeding in embarrassing her. "and you, Y/N? The hotel?"

"Hard work, but I've loved every moment of it." You lie, thinking back on the many times you had been up to your shoulder in some sewage piping, and the stench that had followed you for days. "The people definitely more so than the actual work: the plumbing." Your pinched expression and open disgust has Lucifer laughing, leaning onto his cane as he listens intently. "I don't know how it's all still standing but it is so we must be doing something right."

"That's it!" He hops excitedly on the spot, cane falling into his hand and tapping against the floor. In a surprising turn of events, he grabs your hand and spins you along with him. "That's the spirit! I see why Char-Char hired you."

He releases you surprisingly delicately, leaving you in the same spot he found you, withdrawing his hand from your elbow and returning it atop his cane. With a nod of his head and another grin he moves on to Husk, before being whisked away by Alastor, the man gripping the tip of Lucifer's cane firmly and practically dragging him to another part of the hotel with Charlie and Vaggie in tow. No one dares move until the chattering of the group fades into the distance, and you release a breath you didn't even know you'd been holding. You go to turn to Husk, about to make fun of him for his reaction over Lucifer's comment about Angel's legs, but four arms gripping your shoulders and biceps has you spinning in the other direction. Angel Dust has a firm grip of you, and drags you close, face mere inches from yours. You stare back with wide eyes.

"What the fuck was that?" He asks, almost giddy, shaking you at the shoulders as Husk and Sir Pentious stand either side of him. "You sly little- our little friend has the King of Hell gagging for it!"

"What." You attempt to pull yourself away, but the spider is surprisingly strong. Your eyes flicker between each of the men: Angel Dust is practically gushing on the spot, shaking you excitedly, Sir Pentious looks rather teary-eyed, and Husk has an infuriating smirk that he was doing a poor job at hiding.

"He asked you to entertain his fantasy! That's foreplay!" Angel lifts you from the floor for a moment, dragging you close to stare deeply into your eyes. "And you played along! Ha! Didn't know you had it in you, toots."

"What? Angel- that is not foreplay!" You just accept the shaking, moving your arms with what little freedom they had to try and calm the ecstatic man. "It's small talk! This is a hotel, not a porn set, not everything leads to sex."

"You liked it!" He ignores you completely.

"You did have a rather besssotted look." Sir Pentious unhelpfully adds, clasping his hands in front of his chest and rocking himself side to side. "It was sssweet-"

"I've never seen you smile so much." Husk pipes up, arms crossed in front of his chest and a smug smirk aimed your way.

"He's very charismatic." You argue, and that was true. The man had come barrelling into the hotel with an entertainers flare and had somehow maintained the thousand-mile-a-minute charisma no matter what had been thrown his way. You could admire that. "And that's rich coming from you." You chirp back, finally untangling yourself from two of Angel's four arms. "You nearly choked when he mentioned Angel's legs."

"I was taken by surprised." Husk remains unflappable, but you don't fail to notice the bristling of his wings. "Stop deflecting. For once, I think Angel's right."

"I'm always right!" Angel Dust argues, finally releasing you and swinging an arm over Husk and Sir Pentious' shoulders. "And I say Lucifer's whipped, and you're gagging for it too."

None of you had noticed Niffty, who had been stood behind Angel Dust's legs for the entire conversation. You do notice her, however, when she starts sobbing on the spot, big fat tears streaming down her cheeks. The three men spring apart at the noise, and you all turn to look down at the distraught woman. This was not going to be easy.

---

Lucifer had stayed at the hotel for quite a while, being shown around by Charlie, Vaggie and Alastor whilst the rest of you returned to your normal duties, except on your best behaviour. Niffty had set to work exterminating the bugs around the hotel, throwing herself into work to avoid thinking too hard about how the 'baddest hottest boy' didn't seem all that interested in her or her biscuits, Husk remaining stationed behind the bar and dutifully serving drinks to Angel and Pentious, and you with a broom sweeping the foyer just to give yourself something to do.

One of Alastor's 'friends' had shown up whilst he and Charlie had been showing Lucifer the bar, and now Mimzy was left in Husk and Angel Dust's faithful hands as Alastor continued the tour. You didn't like her very much, and had been pretending to be incredibly busy to avoid having to talk to her.

Vaggie had joined the bar 10 minutes ago, and you had swept closer and closer to hear the discussion, despite the proximity to Mimzy which you'd rather avoid.

"Alastor's dragged him into some pissing contest." She groans, reaching for the drink Husk slid her way. "The Radio freak really doesn't like him, it's non-stop. I've never seen Alastor this close to going full freak-mode, it's worse than when Angel tried to sit on him."

"Maybe he's jealous." Angel grins, gaze turning towards you. You take this as your sign to leave, but he calls your name before you can. "Y/N here captured the Big Bosses attention earlier. You know Alastor, he doesn't like being upstaged."

"Oooh, you captured Lucifer's attention?" Mimzy swivels in your direction. You grip your broom harder, really wishing you had left the room when you had the chance. "You?" She doesn't hide the way she looks you up and down, and suddenly here voice becomes much more snide. "What did you do to impress him? Care to tell a girl a secret?"

"I didn't." You argue, tapping your broom against the floor. "He said hello to all of us, and that's that. He's just very friendly."

Mimzy opens her mouth, but the building suddenly rocks and the font doors bend under the weight of something. A man's voice yells from outside the hotel, and Mimzy suddenly has other worries on her mind. "Oh, shit."

A portal opens in the foyer, and Charlie and Lucifer hop through, Lucifer closing it with a snap of his fingers.

"What's going on?" Vaggie shouts over another loud slam. Mimzy hides behind the bar, much to Husk's dismay. After revealing the debt she was currently under, and the reason the loan sharks outside were particularly angry, you all stand in silence, every glare aimed in the short blonde's direction.

Suddenly, a flaming ball of something crashes through one of the ornate windows on the face of the hotel, and everyone shrieks as they dive for cover.

"My windows!" Niffty shrieks as Angel hauls her out of the way of falling debris. Sir Pentious off-handedly passes you a plate of biscuits as he slithers past, yelling about being under siege. You don't have time to acknowledge the plate in your hands, dropping it abruptly as you dive out of the way of another piece of ceiling. You were too far from the bar to seek shelter, so you begin sprinting in the other direction, aiming for the stairs. Suddenly, a figure crashes into you, strong hands grasping your arms and tugging you along with them. The staircase you were about to charge up explodes in a shower of wood and cement.

Your head snaps to the right and you make eye-contact with your saviour, Lucifer's bright red eyes staring back at you, and releasing your elbow with a smile and a pat of your shoulders. "This is exactly what I was telling Charlie!" He seems satisfied at his correct predictions, but he frowns at the damage as he pulls you further back from the creaking pile of wood. "You can't have nice things in Hell."

You breath deeply, rattled at how close you had come to being crushed, but Lucifer seems completely unaware of everyone's terror, standing back and commentating to himself, and now you.

"I'm afraid all your hard work, and golden fingers, and whatever else is going to waste." He laments, tugging you away from another falling piece of ceiling. "It's a miracle it stayed up this long- hey!" He pulls you towards him again, side-stepping a piece of rubble elegantly as it crashes into the floor where you just stood. One hand still on your waist, he twist his cane with his other hand, frowning at the big lump of brick and cement.

"We just finished fixing the ceiling." You comment, frowning at the chunk of beam along with him. Your arms cross in front of your chest: this would take weeks to clean up. You could feel how sore your body would be afterward.

"I'm sure I could lend a helping hand, my dear." He grins, swinging his cane in an effort to bat a piece of ceiling tile away from his foot. "In fact, I'd love to. There's nothing better for the soul than some good hard physical work!"

As if suddenly realising where his other hand was, he lurches back, eyes widening as he makes a show of fixing his hat, gloved hands sliding along the brim and collecting the dust that had fallen onto it. "Ah, sorry about that. You just, seem to have a knack for standing right under the debris about to crush you. HA ha." That laugh was the first one of the afternoon that lacked genuity, and you didn't fail to notice the way he corralled you close to him as he kept an eye on the ceiling. "Can't have my daughters favourite employee turned into mulch after only meeting you for an hour."

"I'm not her fav-"

"Oh yes, you are." This time, he uses his cane to playfully guide you towards him, hooking it around the crook of your arm and pulling you along, walking backwards as he chats and surprisingly avoiding all debris in his way. "She won't ever say, but I know. And I can see why, you're mine too." He makes an extravagant shushing movement with his free hand, and pushes the tip of his cane into your side to emphasise his point. "Don't tell the others, they'll be jealous and I'm afraid there's simply nothing they can do to take your pedestal from you."

"Well, I-" You nearly fall over your own feet: what the hell were you supposed to say to that?

"But that's our little secret!" The pair of you finally make it back behind the bar, where Angel Dust, Niffty and Husk squatted, covering their heads. Upon seeing you both, Angel Dust makes a grab for Husk's attention, grinning wickedly. "Now you're all safe, I'm needed elsewhere." Lucifer unhooks his cane from your arm, pushing you with the tip of it towards Angel Dust. "Don't let that one go." Lucifer points at Niffty, who was trapped in Angel's arms as she moaned about the state of the hotel. "Or this one." He points at you now. "Abysmal survival skills, I'm telling you." And then he was gone, disappearing through a portal to some other location in the hotel.

You shuffle in closer to Husk, the feline stretching one of his wings above your head in precaution, the other doing the same for Angel Dust and Niffty. You see Angel Dust lean forward, shit-eating grin on his face. You pretend you can't hear his teasing.

---

Lucifer had frequented the hotel much more often after that, and true to his word had assisted in some of the restructuring despite Alastor being able to fix the majority of the damage with his magic. You had found yourself, despite knowing better, growing closer to Lucifer, finding yourself actually looking forward to his visits. He was so energetic, so absolutely unhinged but in the best kind of way, that you couldn't help but look forward to his presence.

He almost always sought you out during his visits, always checking up and asking about how you had been finding the work. He often jabbed, asking if you felt as though you were being redeemed, and you actually entertained his jokes. They weren't at your expense, unlike Angel Dust and Husk, and they weren't targeted at some deep-rooted insecurity, like Alastor's often were. He was like a caricature come to life, and brought just the right amount to excitement to your life. You called your feelings towards him merely friendly, everyone else said otherwise.

Despite this newfound friendship, or 'this absolutely maddening foreplay' as Angel Dust called it, you still had bad days. Today was one of those bad days. The next extermination was closer than the previous one, and you had been feeling the typical stress around such an event. It didn't help that you had grown to care so deeply for the other inhabitants in the hotel - even Alastor to some degree, despite his aloofness - and your worries only seemed to grow the more you realised you didn't want things to change. You were happier here then when you had had your own flat the year prior, and the realisation that it could all be whisked away just as easily was terrifying.

You needed a day to yourself to sort your mind out, but you didn't want to pressure Charlie with your worries, so here you were, sweeping, hiding a frown and trying not to think about too hard about anything in particular. No one had seemed to pick up on your downtrodden mood in the last few days, but Lucifer always had a way of shaking things up.

Lucifer arrived around midday, greeting everyone with typical pleasantries and whisking Charlie away to discuss something about her meeting with Heaven. You were secretly glad he actually had something to do during this visit, you didn't want to ruin the relationship you had by raining on his parade.

You busied yourself, taking control of the tasks outside of the communal areas in the hopes you wouldn't bump into the blonde man. You would just catch up with him next time he visited. Lucifer however, had began searching for you as soon as he had finished discussing what he needed to with Charlie - he hadn't seen you in nearly a month, having been too busy to stay the last few times he had visited, and he was beginning to miss you.

He had had to school his behaviour massively after the first month of knowing you, finding himself thinking about you a little too often, modelling his ducks with features similar to yours, and just being a rather sappy mess. Charlie had mentioned this newfound behaviour to him, noticing the uplift to his mood around you, and the way he always just so happened to find himself in the same room as you in the hotel. He had denied the allegations at first, and had tried his hardest to remain nothing but friendly. But that had absolutely wrecked his mood, and the amount of space you took up in his mind only grew the more he tried to stay away. He had admitted to Charlie his growing feelings towards you, feeling his daughter had a right to know. Charlie had been ecstatic, and had been his biggest wing-woman.

He had even stopped wearing his wedding ring, and it now sat in the first drawer of his desk wrapped in silk. Charlie had cried when she noticed, hugging him tight and telling him how happy she was that he was finding someone for himself. He had cried too.

He still had yet to tell you, but baby steps.

He eventually found you on the hotel roof. He had searched everywhere, and was about to give up his efforts before he remembered helping you bring some furniture to the ceiling, smiling at your comments about enjoying the peace and quiet and the cool fresh air. He found you where he expected; sat on battered sofa he had helped you carry up here, a book in your lap and head turned towards the skyline.

"Y/N, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you." He closes the door to the roof behind him, walking over with leisurely steps, tapping a soft rhythm with his cane as he approaches. "My what a beautiful sight! Lugging that god-awful sofa up all those steps was definitely worth it!"

You jolt in your seat, and he frowns as your furiously wipe at something on your face. You think better of turning towards him, bowing your head down as you curse internally. You had thought he had left, fuck.

"Lucifer!" You still don't turn towards him, head held low and trying your best to remain composed. His frown deepens at the shake and crack to your voice. "I- I didn't realise you were still here."

Lucifer hesitates in his steps, approaching much more slowly. "I wouldn't leave without at least saying hello, how rude of me that would be." He comments softly, coming to stand behind the sofa. "My dear, is everything all right?"

You breathe deeply, wishing you would disappear on the spot as he rounds the side of the sofa, hand sliding along the fabric as he does.

"Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong?" He questions, crouching next to you and trying to catch a glimpse of your face. His voice was so soft, so utterly and completely different to anything you had ever heard come from him. You almost sob when you glance at his big round eyes, filled with nothing but concern. You didn't want this, you didn't want him to see you like this.

"I'm sorry." You stutter out, pressing your palms into you eye sockets and leaning on your knees. "I just-" What? You were sad? For reasons completely out of anyone's control? What would be the point in telling him? "I don't know- it was a bad day."

Usually his cane tapped against you to gain your attention, but this time you felt two warm hands - he had taken off his gloves, when had he done that? - grasping delicately at your wrists. He tugs lightly, coaxing them down into your lap and holding them there, a thumb running over your knuckles as he waits, patiently.

Realising you weren't going to say anything else, he takes a deep breath.

"You know, everyone has bad days. But I don't think sitting all by your lonesome will help." He hesitates, and your bloodshot eyes lock with his. For the first time you've seen, a frown tugs at his lips, and his eyes look sad. "I would know."

He slowly sits next to you on the sofa, placing his hat on the floor with one hand still holding one of yours in your lap. "You know, I have a fair few bad days - more than I'd care to admit." He speaks slowly, gently, careful with his words but honest, genuine. "When I fell from Heaven, hell, even once Lilith left- well, I didn't know what to do with myself. I'm man enough to admit."

You huff out a laugh, and he smiles sadly at you. "And sometimes, sometimes people are sad for no particular reason because being here is hard. Life was hard, never mind death." You laugh again at the accuracy of what he was saying. A hand comes to gently rest against the underside of your chin and jaw, gently lifting your face to his. You follow his movements, and your lip quivers at the look of complete concern he sends your way.

"But you're- you're you." You stress, and he laughs at the absurdity of it. "You're amazing, and so good at cheering others up, and you make the people you're around so happy." You sigh deeply, completely unaware of the way his heart flutters a the compliment - he made you happy? A watery smile makes its way to his face. "And I- I don't. I'm just-"

"You make me so happy." He interrupts abruptly, not caring for his dearest secret that he was letting slip. "and the others in the hotel, even Alastor, who you know I despise, and it infuriates me that he gets to spend so much time with you, because he is so lucky." His hand falls from your chin, playing absentmindedly with a strand of your hair. "So lucky that they get to spend so much time with you. And they know, Alastor wouldn't stop bragging about you when we first me, it drove me nuts. And Angel Dust? He practically never stops talking about you."

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you feel your chest swell with something, not pride, not confidence, but something far more fond.

"But, that doesn't always fix our problems. You can be sad regardless of all that. Sometimes there is nothing you can do, but it always helps, and I mean always, when you talk to someone." He scoots minimally closer on the sofa, knee pressed against your own. "You don't even have to say what's wrong, but company is so much better than one's own thoughts."

He sends a pointed look towards the book you were attempting to read, and now lay against the floor. "And for one I think I'm much better company than some book."

You laugh properly this time, wiping at your puffy eyes. "Thank you."

Lucifer seems to gain some confidence back at hearing your laugh, and he puffs his chest in pride. "Having said all that, I hate seeing you cry. Can I please stay?"

You smile, agreeing.

"I have just the remedy for days like this." He grins, his usual cheerfully personality returning. "Now, come here." He extends his arms, beckoning joyfully. You stare, uncertain. "I may be the Big Boss but I don't bite, all the time." He winks, and he pulls you towards him without further question, dragging you in close to his chest as he rests back against the plush armrest. You freeze for a moment, unsure where to place your hands, where to rest your head, and he seems to pick up on your dilemma. A hand comes to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in close to rest your cheek against his chest, right above his heart, and he tucks you tightly under his chin, arms snaking their way tightly around your waist.

You sigh, relaxing into his warm embrace, and your heart rate picks up as you feel warm lips press against your temple, a soft murmur of "There, much better." breathed against your skin in a low voice.

He rests his chin back over the top of your hair, watching the skyline and trying his best not to combust on the spot. He hopes you can't feel his heartbeat through his jacket, but he would much rather you be pressed against him than not at all.

"Fuck that book, next time something happens, or there's a bad day, you come and find me. Yes?" A hand runs up your bicep absentmindedly, and you can feel the rumble of his chest beneath you.

Your worries were not gone completely, and that familiar sadness still clung to the pit of your stomach, but you could get used to this. This was definitely better than some book.

Perhaps Angel Dust was right, for once - perhaps you did feel a little more than friendship for Lucifer, if the thrumming of your heart and the fluttering of your stomach was anything to go by.

"Of course, Lucifer. And the same if you have 'one of those days'. Deal?"

He grins. "Deal."

Charlie screams when Lucifer tells her about what he did, and Angel Dust screams even louder when she lets him know.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel husk #angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbinhotel niffty #niffty #husk #charlie morningstar #Lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel Lucifer x reader #Lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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mikareo · 3 months

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“ ࣭⸰ ★ THE MOON SAYS HELLO. . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀呪術廻船; geto suguru x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . part one of three ꒱ . . . word count; 3.6k

⊹ ⠀⠀despite his insistence on never falling in love, suguru fails to stop himself from becoming smitten with his best friend’s beloved. you’ve become a flicker of hope in his darkness— though you’re someone who can never and will never be his to have and to hold.

series contains; if gojo didn’t kill geto n geto was given a chance to redeem himself, redemption arc!geto, human caretaker!reader, kind of e2l but also not really, love triangle, gojo x reader, fluff, major angst, heartbreak, wedding at the end, swearing probably, geto refers to humans as monkeys per usual author's note; rewritten fic, will be 3 parts in total (i'm half done pls be patient w me im a slow writer...)

YEAR ONE, DAY ONE

His face is sore. So sore. It’s red, swollen, and sore after he’s spent the last three hours screaming in frustration with his current predicament. This is absurd, Satoru should’ve just killed him when he had the chance. Geto’s lost count of how many times his palms have slapped his own face; over and over again with wishes that he can wake up from this hellish nightmare the higher ups call ‘rehabilitation’— though he can somewhat still recall the first slap that he’d given himself around the half-hour mark. He’s got a pretty good memory…that doesn’t stop him from hoping his veins aren’t too noticeable as they angrily protrude from his forehead in crimson currents.

He’d rather be dead than imprisoned like this…like an animal…like one of those damn useless monkeys.

The intensity of his wails continue to bounce off of the barren walls— barren aside from the dark mark he’d punched in earlier— and echo like a party of lost ghouls in the bottom of an empty well. Geto feels like a mad man.

He’s only just begun his isolation and he’s already growing mad with boredom.

A huff escapes his lips as he plops himself down onto the twin-sized bed that’s nestled in the corner of his so-called ‘suite’. With linen sheets and a dark maroon comforter, it’s almost a cozy living situation; in another life, Geto could imagine himself cuddling beneath the covers with his favorite book and a soft record playing in the background for some ambience. That world is far far away now. Even if he asked for a record player, he doubts the higher ups would grant him one. He’s their most valuable prisoner, and they’re sure to keep him as miserable as possible until he’s one-hundred-percent pure hearted once more. However, despite their reluctance to grant him the things he wants, these aren’t the worst living arrangements he’s ever encountered and he knows that Gojo did his best to give him the best commodities he could to…well…a highly dangerous criminal.

This is the only path to forgiveness, he reminds himself, constantly trying to be optimistic about the utter absurdity of it all.

Optimism hasn’t been his specialty in a long time; anyone with a working pair of eyes would be able to deduce that, and he despises it. He’s quite rusty with the characteristic and has looked on the darker side for a while now— but wishes that he could be as reckless as he once was as a teenager. He can vividly remember how loud his laughter was with Gojo and Shoko, laughing as they chased each other throughout the school yard and using each other's cursed energy to their advantage in games of tag— but that would be near impossible now. His two best friends can barely look him in the eyes after the treason he’s committed. Gojo views him as a ticking time bomb and Shoko’s healed too many people to count that he’s harmed.

If he stepped one foot out of this room, he believes he’d be smothered on sight.

The Jujutsu Society fears Geto Suguru..

…and Geto Suguru fears himself.

In all fairness, he deserves everything that’s come to him. What he did was awful; mass murdering humans…trying to murder even more humans…harming innocent students…starting a war during the holiday season…the whole gist. There are obviously bad actions from the past that continue to haunt Geto to this day and will continue haunting him so long as he breathes— but that’s all it is now…the past. He wants redemption. He needs redemption. If Gojo managed to reach clarity within Geto’s awful decisions, then maybe he can too.

Geto wants to get better, to be better…not only for Gojo…but for himself.

This is exactly why he and his best friend has devised a plan, one that will hopefully help lead Geto on a better path— a five-year path that will only be completed if he truly wants it to, and a half a decade seems like quite a bit of time to most; but for Geto, he doesn’t know if it will be enough.

For Satoru…do it for Satoru…

He wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to comfort his heart that beats with fear every second of every day. It’s been so long since he’s been hugged by another, and he doubts he’ll ever feel that love and comfort from someone in his life. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s been alone with his thoughts with no one else to turn to; and if he’s being honest, there’s nothing in the entire world that scares him more than his own mind.

“Geto Suguru?”

He doesn’t recognize that voice.

The soft sound comes from seemingly nowhere, startling Geto with a slight jump. Whomever it is sounds frail and weak, obviously intimidated by whom they’re going to be in the presence of in mere minutes; and Geto already finds nothing but annoyance at his new companion. Of course they’re going to have prior judgment. He bets you already hate him for the rumors and stories. He doesn’t really have a choice whether or not you come in, though. Gojo insisted on a caretaker— someone to talk to so he doesn’t go insane by himself— and Geto will do anything to make his best friend happy. So, he stands up and dusts his pants off, making sure to look more presentable, and stalks towards the entryway. His hand meets the knob, yanking it open, and ready to meet the stranger on the other side.

Standing before him is you, a woman around his age. You can’t possibly be older than twenty-six, but perhaps you’re a few years younger. In your hands are various sweets and snacks that Gojo knows Geto loves, balancing on a silver tray that shines more light in the room than he’d care for. The reflections dazzle straight into his eyes, blinding him briefly with a scowl on his face. Of course Gojo would know to send you in with his favorites. He’s so predictable. His best friend is less surprising than he thinks, causing Geto to roll his eyes to the top of his head; though he appreciates the kind gesture. It’s far past dinner, though. Gojo must’ve struggled to convince the others to allow him a proper meal.

“Don’t just stand there, monkey.” Geto commands whilst gesturing to the small dining table in the center of his confined space. “Come inside.”

The instant you stepped into his presence, it was horribly noticeable that you have no cursed energy. Zero. Not a lick of it…and he struggles to hide the disgust with his body language. He can’t help but be annoyed that a monkey such as yourself is going to be in his company for the next five years.

With his distaste for you clear as day, he pulls out a chair for himself and disregards the kind option of pulling out yours prior; expectantly looking towards you with the expectation that you’re going to serve him his meal like a servant.

“Well, monkey…” he trails off disinterested, “I’m waiting.”

You hustle towards him, quickly and efficiently placing the special grade sorcerer’s meal on the placemat before him and taking the empty seat opposite. There’s a small breath you’re holding in, Geto can see it in your throat— it’s suffocating you with fear for your life as your fingers lightly tap the dark wood in a nervous fit.

You’re completely pathetic. As if a monkey would ever have the courage to speak to him. This is ridiculous.

His hands slam against the table with a loud bang. “What are you doing?” he questions, heavily interrogating you as you cower in your seat like a meak mouse. “Does Satoru expect you to monitor my meals?”

He really is nothing but a prisoner, isn’t he?

“What damage could I possibly do with this slob that’s been served to me by the scum of the earth? Start a food fight in the halls? Overthrow the Jujutsu world with a biscuit?” (If that is the case, in your defense, the biscuits are quite hard. There must be a new kitchen hand in training who based them.) This is a horrible day.

As Geto impatiently awaits your answer, a deep breath escapes your lips— perhaps a way to soothe your heartbeat into something less than a record-breaking speed— and you attempt to focus your stress and fear into a fleeting moment of zen. Your large eyes shut for a total of three seconds; one, two, three…before opening again. This time, as his own eyes make contact with yours, they’re shining with slightly more confidence than before as you swallow hard and settle your gaze on Geto— the look in your eyes evolving from that of anxiety to empathy.

“Actually,” your lips rise into a thin smile, “Gojo Satoru didn’t send me here, the higher ups did.”

Your eyes search Geto’s for any signs of discomfort or inner rage that could be boiling beneath the surface of his poker face. It appears that he’s grown even stronger at hiding his true emotions towards humans; however, you can see through the veil. Yes, it’s thick and difficult to brush past, but there’s a slight opening in the center that you peek inside— and what you can see in his heart is a man who simply wants to finally do what’s right.

“The higher ups are aware that Gojo Satoru has a soft spot for you— hell, everyone who knows your name is aware that when it comes to you, he has no reason. He has no right of mind. I’m only here to monitor and report your progress in an honest manner. That’s it. That’s all. I promise I won’t intrude on your life more than necessary.”

Shit.

“I’m sorry, Geto Suguru…but you’re stuck with me.”

It’s as if his left and right sides are arguing between themselves. His good conscience says that he should give you a chance, perhaps you could be different than the monstrous humans that attempted to kill his beloved Mimiko and Nanako; while his bad conscience tells him to let out one of his cursed spirits to devour you where you stand. Listening to his right side would definitely get him his best case scenario…a chance to see his girls again…but the left side would be so much more enjoyable. Oh well. At least the higher ups sent someone somewhat his age and not an ancient and decaying corpse like themselves. That’s a disgusting thought. He’d rather be hugged by a hundred humans than be forced to befriend a higher up. A shiver runs through Geto’s spine as a newfound appreciation for you is birthed within him.

“Do you have a name?” Geto taunts as he begins to pick at his meal, slightly disgusted with the stale quality of some of the snacks but nevertheless thankful that he at least has something to subside his aching hunger. “Or should I just call you ‘monkey’ as I do with the rest of your kind?”

That sound?

You’re laughing?

Your giggles are surprisingly pleasant to Geto’s ears as they harmonize into a song that he can imagine himself listening to each morning. Why did you find that funny? He was quite literally insulting your entire existence. Geto is dumbfounded by the strange humor you seem to have, considering that he was being entirely serious with his question. Humans are so strange. He’s never really been able to understand how your peoples’ minds work, but perhaps he could begin to learn the basics. It’s not like he has anything better to do, and some entertainment would be nice.

He’ll keep you around…it wouldn’t hurt and you can be his companion kind of like a pet.

Pets are cute…

…your smile is cute too.

You smile once more, answering his question with a blush on your face. “Please,” your cheeks redden, “Call me by my name, Suguru.”

YEAR ONE, DAY NINETY-FOUR

“You’re late.” Geto crosses his arms over his chest, exhaling a large breath of air in a loud and annoyed huff as he attempts to seem seriously angered by his new friend’s awful timing.

It’s nearly twenty minutes past the time that you were supposed to be here; emphasis on supposed. He’s been waiting with his eyes staring at the clock, watching it tick and tick as the time passed by with no you knocking on his door. That’s twenty whole minutes of time in which he was forced to entertain himself rather than listen to your rambles and rants about whatever the latest scandal is in the outside world. You love that pop culture gossip stuff that social media and magazines rave about, and in a weird way, you somewhat remind him of his daughters— personality-wise…not attraction wise…that would be weird.

Over the past few months, Geto’s grown severely accustomed to the daily routine that you��ve developed, becoming so fond of you that he strangely pictures your smile and recalls your laughter when you aren’t even here. Friendship is a funny thing. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a friend like yourself; yes, Satoru will always be his closest confidant…but his relationship with you is different in a way that he can’t quite put his finger on. He’s never considered anyone else the highlight of his every day like he does you. Your company is the kind of presence that he overwhelmingly enjoys; with such a positive and warm nature exuding comfort to Geto’s loneliness, and your judgment-free outlook on life rivaling his pessimism in a perfect mixture of negativity and optimism. He wishes he’d met you sooner, perhaps when he was a child— and if he had, maybe he wouldn’t have turned out the way he did.

It’s too bad you would’ve only been an awful human to him back then…he would’ve called you his infamous nickname without batting an eye…a monkey…

…a mere monkey whom he never ever thought he’d develop unwanted feelings for.

For his entire life, Geto always told himself not to fall in love. That love isn’t real. It isn’t obtainable, not when there are people like Satoru in the world— people that you can’t help but love— and then people like him; people who you can’t help but hate. With that being said, he’s never necessarily been looking forward to any potential love matches in his future.

…no matter who he was involved with…

…until he met you.

“Sorry about that, Suguru!” you hustle through the doorway, your appearance a tangled mess with dusty dirt particles littered with gravel.

There’s a large scratch on your right cheek, not deep or in danger of infection in any way, but noticeable enough that he’s able to see it from a distance. Knowing you, it’s most likely accidentally self-inflicted in some sort of way; you being notorious for tripping or snagging your skin on the sharp end of a table. How do you always manage to be so uncoordinated? Geto can’t help but let out a short laugh, his eyes scrolling up and down your body and taking in your entire appearance, dirt and all. You even manage to make dirt look good. What the fuck? He hates this.

Your voice carries on as you approach him. “I was running on time, but then I saw this adorable shop downtown and I just had to make a stop.” The overexaggerated tone you hold is amusing as your hands wave through the air in a physical storytelling of your experience. The skin of your cheeks is flushed red from your sprint through the city, looking beautiful in resemblance to that of a blooming rose.

Geto can feel his own face heating up at the sight of you, choosing to shrug nonchalantly in an attempt to seem as if he doesn’t care at all about your dilemma…

…as if he doesn’t care about every second of your everyday…

…as if your overall excitement isn’t the only thing that truly keeps him going nowadays.

“You tell me these things as if what you do outside of this room matters to me.” He hopes his words mask his rising blush. (Spoiler alert: They don’t.)

Flawlessly, you brush off Geto’s phony disinterest without the slightest acknowledgement. It’s as if the phrase had never even left his lips, with no evidence and proof of insult. This isn’t an uncommon occurrence when the topic of what you do when you’re not with him comes up in conversation, as the prisoner typically tries to ignore his interest in your daily shenanigans— and you can’t deny that it hurts. Most of the time, it feels as if Geto never actually listens to anything you say, and you were able to quickly realize that in the early weeks of your arrangement when the pain began to torment your heart; ripping and shredding it to bits with every eye roll and mocking scoff. You don’t seem to matter in Geto’s point of view. He doesn’t care…at least that’s what you believe.

In contrast to Geto, you’re an emotional spirit— you crave love.Love is all you’ve ever wanted, needed, and desired. In your time with him, you’ve developed inklings of feelings as well. However, you’ve chosen to let your feelings grow and blossom out of the dirtied patch of grass they were planted in— ignoring the warnings every single person in your life has given you in advance. Despite that, Geto continues to stomp on your budding flowers. He takes a heavy watering can, filled to the brim with hose water, and drowns your garden in the tears that you shed in the privacy of your bedroom. Those tears that are a never ending waterfall due to the fact that you know it isn’t your job to fall in love with your client. Your duty to Jujutsu Society is to help Geto learn to love humans and sorcerers as one in the same and to gain the trust of his community once more— not to love you.

“Okay, before you judge me, at least give me a chance to explain myself.” Stumbling towards Geto, you accidentally trip over your own feet in embarrassment, and proceed to hold out a single flower not yet in bloom. “It’s freshly cut. I saw a bouquet in the window and it caught my eye, because it reminded me of you; but I knew you’d hate a flashy bunch of them so I just bought the one.”

It reminded you of him?

Taking the gift into his own hands, Geto studies it intensely. The rose is a dark shade of red, crimson, or scarlet depending on your vocabulary. The petals are a brighter color while the plushness near the stem turns dark, more sinister as it approaches the thorns lining the sides. Just by looking at the rose, he can understand why it made you think of him. It’s gorgeous, but practically untouchable figuratively and literally. There’s only one angle that he can hold the stem at that doesn’t prick his fingers. Ouch. And he just did the very thing he was being so careful of avoiding.

All his life, he’s never been the kind of person who longed for gifts or compliments, but when coming from the right person…perhaps he is.

Whilst he struggles to come up with a reply— a simple ‘thank you’ or ‘i appreciate this’— you mentally applaud yourself as you’ve finally found a way to make him speechless…

…but your praise for yourself is short-lived.

He can’t be weak. Not even for you.“I guess it’s not terrible.” Geto throws the flower to the ground and lightly kicks it away with his right foot. As one of the beautiful petals drifts away from the lonely flower, he turns away, not being able to endure the heartbroken look on your face and the offended rose on the floor. Why does he have to be like this? “I’m sure that garbage is all a monkey like you can afford anyways.” Why is he so cruel?

His eyes clench shut as he hears the door begin to close. You’re so gentle even when upset. He admires that about you— you’re the calm to his ever-raging storm, the sailor to his tsunami, and the lifeboat to his wreckage— you’re the most pure-hearted person he knows, and you don’t deserve this awful anger he holds within him.

Is he…crying?

As tears begin to drip down his cheeks, Geto collapses against the wall with his knees buckling beneath him and his weight crumbling down to a pile of patheticness. He’s just a shell of a man undeserving of someone like you. Soft sobs escape his lips and silent cries fill the hollow room, absent of your joy, crying out until he notices the faint outline of the young rose beside him. With the flick of his hand, he snatches the flower off the ground and lifts the thorny plant with careful hands— finally and truly understanding your meaning behind the gift. This is how you see him? He’s dreadful and hurtful to others on the outside, prickling kind people away with his thorns…but when encouraged and supported, he has the potential to become something beautiful.

Someone that could one day be compared to the beauty that is of a blooming rose.

With the budding rose in his grasp, Geto sits alone. He realizes that he’s only able to become that person with the help of you. You’re the only person that has even come close to seeing him for who he truly is; aside from Satoru you’re the only person who would think of giving such a gift to the number one enemy of the Jujutsu world. You’re the only person who he’s ever come to feel true and honest romantic love towards.

Geto has to become better. Not only for himself and Satoru…but now, for you.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀i promise i'll post the next 2 parts soon pls be patient :3

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mionemymind · 17 days

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Blood Drive

Summary: While donating at a local blood drive, Y/n stumbles up the best nurse in town, Wanda Maximoff. Unable to get Wanda out of her mind, Y/n goes through a lengthy process just to ask her out.

Warnings: Fluff, Blood Donations, Passing Out, Needles, Happy Ending

A/n: Not gonna lie, I think it's somewhat getting easier to write kissing scenes but I still have to look at a tumblr post just to figure out the wording for it. Let me know what you think :)

Word Count: 4.0k

Masterlist

In an era of new politics, the Mayor of New York City declared that registered heroes of the city had to do mandated community service. This was a new mission to help build relationships between the regular folk of New York City and the heroes that harbor it. Because let’s be honest, having Hulk throw your new car at the enemy was not the best introduction for regular people.

Those who harbored powers relaying force or strength helped out in the trade industry. You’d often see super soldiers helping out in the demolition zone by crushing what was needed. Those with magic tried their best to help heal the homeless or aided at soup kitchens. Anywhere you can unconventionally help, the heroes did.

For Y/n, it was a lot of physically demanding tasks. Such as helping families move from apartment to apartment. Or helping police officers move accidents out of the way. Sometimes, she would even demonstrate how to safely carry a person through a burning building for the local firefighters.

Today, however, Y/n decided to do something different. Rather than focusing on the same physical tasks, she chose a simpler mundane task. “Hi there, are you here for the blood drive?” Y/n nodded in agreement to the receptionist upfront. “Just sign in for me right here. Have you filled out the online rapid pass?”

“Yes, I have the QR code screenshotted.” The receptionist smiled warmly. “Perfect. Someone will be with you soon. Please have a seat in our waiting area.”

Y/n walked towards the waiting room area. This was the fourth thing on her list of community service opportunities to try. She wasn’t quite sure if her blood was even allowed to be donated, having the super soldier serum in her surely could cause a reaction to a regular human.

After some tests back at the compound, the staff found everything to be okay. That’s how Y/n ended up in a place like this.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” Getting up from her seat, Y/n followed a nurse in red scrubs to a different area. “How are you today?”

“I’m good. I'm a little nervous. I’ve never done this before.” The nurse led them to a private part of a huge common room. Multiple stations were built throughout with various people donating blood. “It’s okay to be nervous, but the worst feeling you’ll get today is just a small prick.”

Y/n breathed out slightly in relief. “Let me first get your basic information.” The nurse had gone over Y/n’s personal information but was immediately flagged by the date of birth. “It says you were born on April 2, 1917. It must’ve been a typo.”

The nurse almost changed it to 1971. “Actually ma’am, that is the correct birth date.”

“So you mean to tell me you were born during World War I?” The nurse was unwilling to believe the joke that was being played. Y/n could immediately tell from the look she gave. “It was the Great War at the time, but yes ma’am I was born in 1917. I’m actually a super soldier.”

The nurse went back to her computer and typed in more information to store on Y/n’s file. “Ah - I see. I’m sorry about that. There’s already a note on your file. It looks like your director has already approved your donation today.”

Y/n sighed in relief, while she didn’t mind explaining to people her situation of being frozen for so long, it was strenuous trying to get them to understand it all. The rest of the consultation went along smoothly as she gathered the remaining information such as Y/n’s hemoglobin and her rapid pass.

“Alright dear, let’s get you to a bed.” The nurse led them back to the common area where all the beds were laid out. “Just sit right here for me, right now we currently have a special volunteer today that’s helping out with the drive. She’ll come over in a couple of seconds to help you out. But if you have any questions, please feel free to let us know.”

Y/n sat up on the reclined bed and looked at her phone. She scrolled through her messages to make sure nothing important was happening. The sound of someone clearing their throat gained her attention. “Y/n?” As Y/n looked up, she could physically feel the moment that time stopped again. Was it possible that she fell back into the ice again? Surely she would feel the same numbness as before. But it was all different. Because from just one look from this girl would be enough to melt all the ice away.

Y/n’s breath hitched as she locked eyes with her. “I- yes, that’s me.” Y/n cleared her throat, embarrassed at the lack of composure she had.

“Nice to meet you today. My name is Wanda Maximoff and I’ll be helping you with your blood donation today.” All Y/n could do was nod as she further realized that the woman in front of her was the Scarlet Witch.

Wanda looked through her notes on the clipboard. “It looks like it’s your first time donating, is that true?” Y/n’s eyes remained locked on Wanda. It was embarrassing how much she couldn’t look away. “Uh yes. It is.”

“Do you have a preference on which arm you would like to use today?” Y/n shook her head in disagreement. “No preference at all.”

Wanda wrote down more information when a note caught her eye. “S.H.I.E.L.D. approval - are you a member?” Wanda looked over at the young girl in front of her trying to see if she could remember the pretty face.

“I’m one of their new recruits. Only been active for three months.” And suddenly, Y/n seemed to never mind all the questions that Wanda could possibly ask. If it meant talking to her, Y/n would oblige.

“That’s great to hear. If you don’t mind me asking, do you have any powers that we should be aware of?”

“Well, I think you’re aware of my counterpart, Bucky Barnes. We both have a super soldier serum.” Wanda smiled at the mention of her old teammate/acquaintance.

“Interesting. How come I haven’t heard about you before?” Wanda couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow she had managed to miss this girl for three months.

Y/n scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. “You know how Steve was found in ice right?” Wanda nodded. “That’s basically the same situation I was in but rather than crashing into the arctic, I was in a freezer chamber. I’ve been awake for only ten months.” The shock on Wanda’s face was apparent.

“Sorry to keep asking,” Y/n never minded, “how has it been like adjusting back to the new life?” Y/n shrugged indifferently.

“A little rough. I do miss my friends back from my time, but Bucky has been trying his best to help me. However, he has been focused on helping the new Captain America, Sam?”

Wanda nodded, confirming that Y/n’s information was correct. “I do enjoy the fact that I’m no longer Hydra’s soldier though. More than anything, I’m just glad to have a second chance in life. Not a lot of people get that so I’m pretty thankful.”

Wanda digested Y/n’s words and was pretty enlightened at Y/n’s outlook on life. “Thank you for answering all my questions.”

“It’s no problem.”

“Now, let's get you set up to donate.” Wanda proceeded to bring out a couple of items from the nearby stand. On the table beside Y/n, Wanda placed various tubes and empty bags. Although it was nothing, the sight made Y/n feel slightly uncomfortable. It reminded her too much of Hydra’s labs but minus the dark atmosphere and torture that came with it.

As if sensing her discomfort, Wanda grabbed a disinfectant and started to disinfect Y/n’s left arm around the area inside her elbow. “Ya know, for being so nice and cooperative. How about you ask me a couple of questions? It makes the day go by faster.”

Bringing herself out of her internal thoughts, Y/n asked the first thing that came to mind. “You’re the Scarlet Witch, right?”

It was Wanda’s turn to blush. She hadn’t expected Y/n to recognize her so quickly, especially since she just got back to the real world. “I am.”

“I wasn’t aware that you could help with the American Red Cross as part of your community service.” Wanda grabbed a marker and a squeezable toy. She placed the toy in Y/n’s left hand stating, “Give me three big squeezes and hold on the last squeeze.”

While pressing around Y/n’s elbow, she continued with, “I had to do some training to get qualified. A lot of the people who use magic generally help in other areas.” Wanda marked a dot followed by a line. “You can stop squeezing now.”

“I’m gonna disinfect one more time and then I’ll have to poke you. Are you scared of needles?” Feeling more embarrassed, Y/n looked away as she said, “Yes.”

“All good. Just means I’ll have to give you a small distraction.” Wanting to distract herself even more, Y/n asked, “Why did you decide to do this rather than something in your wheelhouse?”

Wanda thought about it before replying with, “I like the normalcy of it. On the plus side, it feels more rewarding. Like I’m actually earning my community time rather than going the easy way of using my powers.” As Wanda finished disinfecting, she blew on Y/n’s elbow hoping it would dry fast.

“When I give you the go-ahead, I’ll have to ask you to give me three more squeezes and hold on to the last one, okay?” Y/n nodded and waited for the signal.

“And - go.” Y/n did as told, but as she did her last squeeze and held, red wispy magic flowed in front of her morphing into swirls in the air. “Woah.” She followed the magic with her eyes, not even noticing that Wanda had already poked her and started the transfusion.

“Should be about 10 minutes. Every couple of seconds give the toy a small squeeze to keep it going.” Y/n glanced away from the magic amazed with Wanda. “That didn’t even hurt.” For the first time in Y/n’s life, she didn’t scream when the needles came.

Wanda couldn’t help but keep the magic up for a little longer. The dopey look on Y/n’s face was something she didn’t want to go away.

“I told you I would distract you.” Y/n was at a loss of words. Her brain jumbled for anything but all she could focus on was that Wanda Maximoff successfully distracted her. She had a natural caring heart, something the media failed to show.

“Your magic is beautiful by the way.” Y/n savored the last few seconds of it before it completely disappeared.

Wanda’s magic has been called many things in life, powerful, destructive, and manipulative but none have ever said beautiful…till now. “Thank you Y/n.”

There was a small silence as Wanda stayed to make sure Y/n was okay. “I’ll be assisting other volunteers, but if you start to feel like you're fainting, just call me over, okay?”

“I will.” Would it have been wrong to immediately fake an injury just to get Wanda back? Possibly but Y/n weighed the consequences and none could compare to her. So as Wanda left, Y/n used her free hand to call Bucky. After a couple of rings, he picked up the phone. “Hey, Y/n.”

Getting straight to the point, “Is Wanda Maximoff single?”

“Uhh - I think so. She and this synthezoid, Vision, used to date but I believe they broke up a year ago. Why do you ask?” Y/n looked at Wanda who was across the room. Her radiant smile could be spotted from miles away. “Just wanting to gather intel. Thanks Bucky.”

Y/n hung up the phone, not caring about what Bucky had to say back. Her eyes lingered back to Wanda. No matter how much she distracted herself with her phone, her eyes always glanced back on Wanda Maximoff. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail and all she wore was matching red scrubs. But everything about her looked and felt beautiful.

Little did Y/n know, Wanda was admiring her too.

The blood donation was soon over, quicker than Y/n anticipated. Wanda had already come over, stopped the machine, and disconnected the line from Y/n’s arm. She taped a cotton ball on top of the area she poked and proceeded to wrap a red bandage around Y/n’s elbow. “You keep this red bandage on for two hours and the cotton ball for four hours.”

Wanda grabbed a pamphlet that had Y/n’s personal information and gave it to her. “Don’t miss a single meal for the next eight weeks. Make sure to drink plenty of water as well. If you feel dizzy in the next couple of hours, be sure to call this number, okay?”

Y/n nodded. Her mind was elsewhere at the moment, trying to find ways to ask Wanda Maximoff out. “Do you have any questions for me though?”

Y/n opened her mouth, wanting to ask her, “Are you busy after this?” But nothing came out. And the more she tried to say words, the more silence that remained.

“Wanda!” The pair turned to the employee that shouted her name. “I have someone that needs your help after you're done with your current volunteer.”

“Understood.” Wanda looked back at Y/n. “We have snacks and shirts over there but I think you should be good now. Thank you for donating today.”

As Wanda walked off, Y/n couldn’t help but beat herself up for not asking. She took a couple snacks and juice boxes before walking out of the donation center.

Was Y/n in love? Not quite yet. Infatuated? Probably. It was the best explanation as to why she was back at the blood drive the very next day. The brown eyed girl paced around all night trying to think of ways to see Wanda again. And the very first realistic idea she thought of was to donate blood again.

The super soldier practically begged the compound to give her another approval to donate blood stating that her super serum allowed for faster recovery. When no one could argue with her logic, they allowed a special approval to donate so soon.

So when Y/n followed all the same directions, all the same questions, she was met with disappointment when she didn’t see the redhead that captured her mind. “Hi, my name is Lucy and I’ll be helping you today.”

As Lucy proceeded to set up, Y/n couldn’t help but ask, “Is Wanda Maximoff here today?”

The blonde shook her head with a small smile. “I’m sorry dear. She’s not going to be here today.” Y/n couldn’t hold back the frown that escaped. It was stupid to think that Wanda would come back the very next day, but she had hope.

And as much as Y/n wanted to ask when she’ll be back, she knew the blood center wouldn’t give out information like that. Regardless, Y/n was determined. She was going to see Wanda again.

It was a new month and a new day. Although Y/n was glad to help a good cause, her hope waned as each day passed with no Wanda. By now, everyone in the blood center knew Y/n by name. On the bright side, the other volunteers were not bad to talk to but none compared to her.

So as Y/n sat down once again, she scrolled on her phone, expecting much disappointment. Until the voice that captured her heart called her name. “Y/n?”

She looked up from her phone and saw that familiar smile that was ingrained in her head. “Wanda.” Y/n couldn’t hold her smile back as she finally saw the girl that she’s been begging to see.

“Looks like you’re here for you…18th donation? Look at you being a star citizen.” Y/n blushed knowing that those donations were mainly for something else. “I think by now you should know the drill. Are there any concerns you may have?”

Wanda looked back at Y/n, ready to disinfect her arm. “I-” Y/n’s brain short circuited at the feeling of Wanda’s hands on her arm. It was like everything that she wanted to say suddenly left her brain. But the feeling was just on the tip of her tongue.

“You know, they should give you a badge or something for donating so much. I didn’t even know that was possible. Didn’t you start donating like last month?” Again, not a single thought formulated in Y/n’s head when all she could focus on was how soft Wanda’s hands were. Because if Y/n was able to focus, she would be able to say that her donation was 17 days, 13 hours, and 5 minutes ago. But who was counting?

Wanda looked back at Y/n’s chart to confirm her suspicions. “Are you still scared of needles though?” And that’s when Y/n finally got back into the real world. For all the times she’s been back, she’s had to look away from the needle while using a nearby pillow to control her nerves.

“I think I might need your magic again.” Y/n blushed at the request but felt proud at the smug look that came from Wanda. “I might have to start charging you for the show.”

With sudden blind confidence, Y/n asked, “Let me take you out on a date in return.” Wanda almost missed the vein at Y/n’s sudden question. She had an inkling that the girl liked her but never expected her to actually pursue her thoughts.

“You didn’t even need it.” Y/n looked down and saw that Wanda had poked her without realizing it.

“Does that mean you won’t go?” Wanda looked at the time on the clock and smiled at Y/n.

“It actually means you have three hours till my shift is up.” Wanda patted Y/n’s arm, reminding her to squeeze the ball in her hand. “So pick me up then. How should I dress?”

“Something casual. I hadn’t really planned out what I was going to do after you said yes.” Wanda blushed at the idea of Y/n practicing this moment.

“How about this? You and I walk around New York. I don’t think the guys have given you much of a good tour. So I’ll tell you all about the new New York and you tell me about the old New York.”

“You have a deal.”

Wanda and Y/n were in the back seat of an uber. The small date was something Y/n never wanted to end but the lack of energy made it hard to keep up. So when Y/n asked if it could be an early night, she was relieved that Wanda wasn’t mad at her.

Right now, the uber was at a stoplight and the two hardly spoke as their shoulders touched.

“Can I hold your hand?” Y/n whispered as she lightly placed her hand above Wanda’s. The small smile was hard to miss on Wanda’s face. She could feel Y/n’s internal battle to ask her that. She leaned into Y/n’s ear and whispered, “You don’t even have to ask,” and pressed a small kiss on Y/n’s cheek as they interlaced hands.

A small blushed and a wide grin appeared on Y/n’s face. “I hope you had fun today.” Looking away, Y/n yawned into her hand.. “You tired dekta?”

Looking back at her, Y/n tilted her head in confusion. “Dekta? What does that mean?” Wanda blushed more. She hadn’t meant to call Y/n that, but it left her lips so easily. Like it was second nature.

“I’ll tell you later,” Wanda placed her left hand on Y/n’s bicep and gave it a small squeeze, “Aren’t you supposed to be a super soldier? It's barely past 10 pm and you’re already tired.” Y/n scratched the back of her neck, slightly embarrassed at how tired she was. But all Wanda could focus on was the feeling of Y/n’s muscles as she gave one more squeeze.

Y/n yawned again, unable to fight the sleep that took over her body. “It’s what happens when you donate blood every day to try and see a pretty girl.” They hadn’t even kissed but Wanda could’ve sworn she was in love. The dopey smile on Y/n’s face would make any girl’s heart melt. The red head mentally thanked that it was her that Y/n was looking at and nobody else.

“You did that for me?” Y/n could think of many things she would do for Wanda, rescue a billion people, punch a hole in the moon, even kidnap someone. Regardless of how unrealistic it was, Wanda Maximoff was worth changing the tides on Earth. So how could someone so wonderful could ever question that someone would do something for her attention?

“I wanted to see you again.” Y/n bit her inner cheek, trying her best to stay calm but all she could think about was how soft Wanda’s lips looked.

The red head hadn’t meant to hear that thought, but she was glad she did. She bit her lip wishing that Y/n would just kiss her already. But something about the way they stared into each other's eyes was already enough for her to feel alive. And for someone so sober, her body grew drunk at the touch of Y/n.

“So you donated blood to see me?” It was still all unbelievable to Wanda but Y/n would tell her a million times until she believed it.

Their eyes interlocked causing Wanda’s breathing to hitch. She swore she could look into those brown eyes forever. “18 pints and counting.” Y/n couldn’t hold back her grin as Wanda looked away, unable to hold back her wide smile.

Y/n gave a gentle squeeze in their interlaced hands as Wanda turned back to face Y/n. “You’re gonna get yourself sick if you keep donating.” Wanting to focus on something else, Y/n caressed Wanda’s cheek as she tucked a loose strand back.

Not wanting her touch to go away, Wanda placed her hand above Y/n’s. So many thoughts ran through both of their heads. Wanda could feel the weight inside Y/n’s mind but didn’t dare to peak.

“Tell me what you’re thinking…”

“...I think you’re really pretty,” Y/n admitted in secret.

“What else?” Y/n rubbed her thumb gently across Wanda’s cheek.

“I think I want to take you out on a second date.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And I…I think I want to kiss you.” Wanda swallowed all the nerves in her chest.

“...I’d really like that…” And as brown eyes looked at greens eyes one more time, Y/n slowly leaned in and kissed Wanda. There was no rush with each kiss, something Wanda never experienced before. All she could remember was the sloppy kisses and fast make outs. But something about kissing Y/n slowly drove heart mad because how dare she live this long without being kissed like this.

And as they kissed, their hands never broke apart, instead, they gave gentle squeezes with every kiss. And when slowly pulled apart, Wanda knew then she was love sick.

Bonus

“Let me get this straight,” Bucky rubbed his forehead, feeling the headache coming forth, “Y/n passed out from kissing you?”

“Well, the kissing didn’t help but she also donated 18 pints of blood in the last three weeks.” Wanda looked at Y/n’s sleeping figure. Her head rested comfortably on Wanda’s lap.

Bucky sighed. “Okay, I’ll meet you at her place.”

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #fluff #Blood Drive #mionemymind #wanda maximoff fluff

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sinnaminsuga · 2 months

Text

𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖉𝖏𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙 - sub!hyunjin x sub!reader x dom!chan

wc: 2,804

cw: hyunjin is a slut, so is the reader, chan likes it that way. SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: while shooting the red lights mv chan noticed something about hyunjin and now he's got a theory he wants to test, he just needs your help.

a/n: was literally plagued with visions of overstimulating hyunjin and making him cry soooo this is what i ended up with. oops. also if there are any spelling errors pls don't tell me bc ive read this trash so many times trying to work it all out and if i have to re-read it again i might go blind.

sw: dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), bondage, threesome, some gay shit, breeding, blowjobs, lingerie, deepthroating, general toughness, waxing poetic about hyunjins beautiful face. idk probably more but im bad at this shit.

hwang hyunjin is beautiful. its a well documented fact, no ifs ands or buts about it. he has the kind of face ancient civilizations would have gone to war for. old world dynasties would have been reduced to rubble over a face like his. hwang hyunjin is the kind of beautiful where it almost hurts to look at him. it makes you question your belief in a higher power because, how could there possibly be any room for debate on if there is a God when there is simply no other reasonable explanation for how a devine creature like him came to exist on this earth? so with all that being said, there's no way he could get any more beautiful. or so you thought.

it had always been your assumption that there was no possible way he could look any more stunning than he naturally does; but your mind was changed the minute you saw the lithe expanses of his smooth milky skin held captive by blood red ropes. you felt an astounding amount of pride as your eyes bore witness to his soft flesh being pulled tight by the coarse material; the blood under his skin rushing to the surface where the ropes were knotted artfully over his collarbone, across his abdomen, splayed over his pelvis, looped around his upper thighs and finally circling the base of his dick. and you had worked hard to make sure the knots around his wrists and ankles were comfortable yet sturdy before attaching them to each bedpost.

you had taken your instructions very seriously, as the man giving them to you from edge of the bed, wouldn't allow any of this to continue if either of you were to disobey his direct orders, and dear god you would rather die than see this endeavor be cut short.

you admired your handiwork a bit more before the rumbling of a particular voice hit your ears.

“how do you feel baby? is this what you wanted? y/n did a good job huh? you look so pretty.” chan spoke softly to hyunjin, absentmindedly petting his head. hyunjin looked up at his leader and nodded, unsure if he could speak without whining as the ropes pulled across his body with every move.

“yeah i knew you'd like this. the whole time we were shooting “red lights” i saw you ya know? the way your breathing got shallow when the staff chained you up. the way your eyes glazed over when they gave you instructions to pull against your restraints. god, standing above you on that bed, watching you writhe below me was a sight to see. my good boy just wanted to be tied up and used huh?” chan said to him, his finger hooked under hyunjin's chin forcing his head up to look him in the eyes. a whimper forced its way out of him as his hips instinctually bucked and the the sensation of the ropes took over.

you couldn't drag your eyes away from his lower body. the sharp angle of his hipbones jutting up to the ceiling as his cock drooled uncontrollably, the fluid flowing from his tip dribbling down to darken the rope wrapped snugly around the base of him. without even thinking you reached out and wrapped your hand around his shaft, you were just so overwhelmed with the desire to touch him. the feeling was unexpected and the sound that punched its way out of hyunjin's chest was glorious. his body attempted to curl in on itself but the ropes kept him firmly in place. you watched the range of emotions flicker over his face in rapid succession; surprise at your initial touch, pleasure from finally being granted a little stimulation, sensitivity from being denied his pleasure for so long, shock when he remembered the restraints keeping him spread open, frustration at not being able to move, and finally acceptance as he gave in to the languid stroking you were doing. he continued to toss as the pleasure took over, thrashing wildly against the mattress and moaning into the pillow.

hyunjin's noises were reduced to whimpers as chan’s hand squeezed around his jaw, directing hyunjin to look him in the eyes. “shhh baby boy, y/n is gonna make you feel good okay? you'll let her do that, won’t you? you'll lay there and take what i let her give you, understood? words please, jinnie.” chan cooed. “yes daddy. i'll be good for you, for her too i promise. i'll be your perfect boy just like always, i promise, please! god just please keep touching me!” hyunjin choked out, making chan grin. he leapt up from where he was perched on the edge of the bed and rounded the corner until he was standing behind you. you repressed a shudder as chan’s hand slid up your back, tracing over your spine and occasionally tripping over the straps of the lingerie set you were wearing. his hand glided up into your hair with ease until his palm cradled the base of your skull, then suddenly he locked his fingers to grab your hair firmly by the roots and pulled you upright so your back was against his chest as he angled your head to the left exposing the expanse of your neck. the suddenness of his movements caused you to lose your grip on hyunjin’s dick and he cried out from the loss of contact, his hips frantically bucking into the air in a fruitless attempt to find friction.

chan hummed as his lips made contact with the skin of your neck and continued as he licked, nipped, and sucked at your flesh. he hooked his chin over your shoulder as his right hand charted a course down your abdomen to the apex of your thighs where the pads of his thick fingers rubbed over your damp slit. when you could finally manage to pry your lids open, you locked eyes with hyunjin. he was practically panting watching chan devour your throat and palm your pussy. “so pretty y/n, y’look so pretty. like a dream. want to paint you one day, just like that.” he whispered. hyunjin's words and gaze coupled with chan's wandering hands and skilled mouth were almost enough to send you over the edge.

“now here’s what's next my loves. y/n, you're going to get on your knees, lean down on your elbows and suck hyunjin's pretty dick right into the back of your throat okay? i want you to take him as far as you can, and quickly. do not stop until i tell you to. not if he begs, not if he cries, not if he screams. got it?” you nodded as well as you could with his left hand still in your hair. chan released you and you quickly got into the position he had described, gently grabbing hold of hyunjin's cock. “i’m sorry jinnie, but you know i have to.” you quipped right before you took him into your mouth and as far into your throat as you could manage. the garbled noise that ripped its way out of hyunjin's throat threw you into over drive as you bobbed your head and sucked him like your life depended on it. he was groaning deeply and his limbs were flailing the best they could in his current predicament. his back arched up off the mattress so beautifully you wished chan would take a photo.

“fuck, fuck, FUCK. jesus chri- oh my god! y/n, sweetheart slow down- PLEASE! oh fuck i can- i can feel- fucking fuck. i can feel your throat squeezing me so tight!” hyunjin wailed throwing his head back, the veins in his neck becoming more prominent as he grit his teeth.

suddenly chan’s hand made its way to your pussy again and you gasped around the thickness embedded in your throat causing hyunjin to hiss.

“crotchless panties angel? so proud of you. always so prepared for daddy huh? know just what i like.” chan muttered from behind you. you heard the telltale jingle of his belt being opened and the zipper being lowered on his jeans. he had already removed his shirt earlier so he was naked quickly, and he wasted no time before rubbing the head of his dick along your weeping folds.

“now i'm going to fuck you nice and deep the way you like and i want you to keep sucking my good boy okay?” chan said but before you could respond he shoved himself into you in one swift thrust. chan was not small in girth or length for that matter but the stretch you felt every time he fucked you open was delicious. you couldn't help but moan around the cock in your mouth which in turn caused hyunjin to scream at the unexpected vibration. chan’s laugh that followed was dark and proud, thrilled that he held so much power and that you both let him use it.

“fuuuuck sweet girl this cunt is always so fucking tight huh? doesn't matter how many times i fuck you or let someone else fuck you, you always snap right back. god i love being inside you.” chan growled as his hands gripped your hips and held you steady as he pummeled his way in and out of your slippery hole. the whole time he was fucking you, you were being forced onto hyunjin's cock as well, every moan muffled by the thickness battering your throat.

“hyunjin is y/n a good cocksucker? hmm? you think? you think she's better than you were?” chan taunted him as he drove himself inside you over and over again. “remember when we had our first one on one meeting? just me and you alone in the studio? i said 'hyunjin if you really are serious and want to stay in this group i need one thing from you’ do you remember that? i do.” you could hear the grin in his voice even if you couldn't see him. hyunjin groaned and mumbled what sounded like a yes. “i also remember how fast you sank to your knees and scrambled to try and open my belt. you thought i wanted you to suck me off to stay in the band. and you were so willing to give me whatever i wanted. all i was going to ask you for was your loyalty and your honesty in all things. but you offered up that pretty mouth quick as a bitch and who was i to say no?” chan laughed at the memory as he threw a foot up onto the bed to change the angle he was fucking into you from so he was now nailing your gspot on every thrust.

“y-yes i remember. ‘course i do. i knew w-what you were gonna ask me because felix told me beforehand what you were going to ask, what you asked a-all of them. i just- fuck yes keep sucking y/n im so close. i jus’ wanted you so bad i thought if i tried and y-you didn't want me back it would just be an easily brushed off m-misunderstanding.” hyunjin whined, his hands balled up into fists, knuckles white.

“y/n suck him dry. now.” chan ordered and you sucked harder pulling a squeal out of hyunjin. “go on sweet boy. go ahead and cum. you earned it.” chan encouraged as he delivered a heavy smack to your ass. your muffled yelp was the final straw and hyunjin came hard into your mouth, his body attempting to lurch off the bed. you swallowed everything down and pulled off of him, replacing your mouth with your hand. as chan continued to ram into you, you mirrored his thrusts with the fist wrapped tightly around hyunjin's still hard cock.

“stop stop stop please! god please i can- i can't take it! it's too sensitive please!” hyunjin cried. “yes you can baby. you can take it. trust me.” chan cooed. feeling bold you leaned forward once again and sucked hyunjin's tip harshly while lashing the tip of your tongue over his slit.

“FUCK! no no no no it's too m- too much. stop stop stop!” hyunjin continued to wail. he was begging you to relent but he also didn't use his safeword so you knew he didnt really want it to stop. the sound was like music to chan's ears and the rhythmic clenching of your cunt around him propelled him quickly toward his own orgasm.

“i'm gonna cum in you okay baby? gonna breed this pretty pussy, stuff it full of my cum. that what you want? yeah it is isn't it?” chan rambled and you moaned out a “yes please daddy” right before he exploded inside you. your hand around hyunjin never stopped moving and he was crying now. big fat tears rolling down his cheeks from the overstimulation.

chan pulled out of you and watched your hole flutter, pushing out his seed. he murmured a string of praises as he watched the glistening fluid drip out of you. you looked over your shoulder at him, jutting your lower lip out.

“daddy i didn't get to cum yet. can i?” you asked.

“go ahead baby. make yourself cum.” chan said with a wave of his hand and an evil grin etched on his face. you grinned right back before scrambling up hyunjin's body and straddling him.

“wh-what are you doing? oh...oh no. no no no. please it's so sensitive it's so so sensitive y/n i can't!” hyunjin hiccuped, tears still flowing. you leaned forward and ran your tongue up his cheek, lapping up the briny liquid seeping from his eyes. then you whispered “oh jinnie, don't you want me to feel good too? i worked so hard after all.” you reached behind you and positioned his tip at your entrance before effortlessly sliding down onto him. you moaned as he filled you and he once again thrashed against the ropes wrapped around him. you started to ride him in earnest, aching for your own release at this point. the man beneath you was mumbling incoherently about how good your pussy feels and how badly he wants to come again. chan sauntered over and perched next to hyunjin again, reaching out to pet his head and pepper his face with kisses.

“i’m gonna cum, fuck i'm gonna cum!” you cried as you worked yourself over hyunjin’s dick and used one hand to furiously rub your clit.

“daddy shes squeezing me so hard i don't think i ca- can get out. can i cum inside?” hyunjin pleaded with chan. “of course you can baby, right sweetheart? you want jinnie’s cum inside you don't you?” you just nodded in response. “my girl loves to be creampied you never have to ask. just go ahead baby boy.” chan explained. you drove yourself down onto hyunjin twice more and then you were cumming, mouth dropping open as your inner walls milked him for all he was worth. hyunjin spasmed beneath you as he came and came and came inside you. he wasn't speaking anymore, just making these stunted little sounds as his body shook with the aftershocks of his second orgasm.

chan had begun to untie the ropes as you slowly lifted yourself off of hyunjin. you whispered praise to him as he has hummed, completely fucked out and boneless beneath you.

“shhh it's okay sweetheart. you did so good for us baby. we’re gonna put you to bed now okay?” chan murmured to the man shaking in the bed. hyunjin managed to croak out an “uh-huh” in response. you grabbed a bottle of lotion from nearby and began to work it into the reddened skin all over him where the ropes had been, while chan wiped down hyunjin's groin with a warm cloth. you hummed a tune you knew hyunjin loved and his eyes fluttered shut, a tiny smile making its way to his face.

after everything was put away and the room was right again, chan crawled into the bed to spoon hyunjin’s half asleep form while you crawled in the other side to press yourself to hyunjin's still somewhat heaving chest. you pulled the blanket up high and tucked yourself into his warm skin and he wound an arm around your waist. chan's hand rested on hyunjin's hip, squeezing the flesh there every so often.

being here felt so right, so natural, so easy. loving these two was as easy as breathing. you couldn't believe it had taken this long to get here but now that you had, you weren't letting them go. before your eyes fell closed you heard the sound of chan's lips kissing along hyunjin's shoulder before he whispered “rest now my loves. because i have big plans for you tomorrow.”

THE END

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kneelingshadowsalome · 7 months

Text

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 4/4

König x F!Reader

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Word count: 10 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Another long chapter, but it's the last one, so... Enjoy! ^^

The next night, you dream awake.

You didn’t want to sleep with your back turned against him, and König didn’t even need to scoop you into his arms. You went there by yourself, completely willingly. You were disappointed when he didn’t even try anything; he just fell asleep like a baby after the hangover that left him weak.

Your hand is on his chest, right over his heart, as you listen to his soft snore. It’s like the whole world has shrunk into this bed, like your entire life suddenly consists of him. You can’t even hear the birds, the occasional gust of wind, or the pair of sandals outside the tent going to a nightly pee. The only thing you can hear or see or feel is him.

His heart under your palm. His chest against your cheek. The slow, steady rise and fall of it, the push and pull of it like a tide. His leg, draped across your hip, enclosing you under a heavy body that clings to you like he never wants to let you go.

And…

No.

It’s too stupid.

“Love” is something bards sing about. There’s no time for it in the real world; lust brings people together, and they multiply like birds and beasts. They simply flock together for warmth, food and survival. Love is the property of dreams and songs, something that happened at the dawn of time but now only occurs in tales and plays. Surely, a mountain giant knows nothing about love… He just wants to stuff his cock inside you and alleviate the burn of his loins.

But his words still linger.

”I have fallen in love with you.”

You repeat them over and over again in your head, snuggling even closer to him, your heart flaring into a small bonfire when he squeezes you in return through sleep. The warmth spreads across your chest, it makes your toes tingle, and the tingles rise up to your head like ale, bringing tears to your eyes.

Why does he have to be like this…?

There’s a sudden crack of thunder outside, and it makes you startle and clutch him tighter. It’s soon followed by a downpour of rain, the weight of it like a blanket spreading across the land. The drops beat the tent with so much noise you fear the whole abode will collapse from the force of them.

Another crackle sends you to grip him with fear; a violent rip of lightning makes you bury your head in his neck. König mostly wakes up to your distress rather than the sounds of thunder and hail, rumbling softly to the crown of your head and drawing you closer to him. You’ve always been afraid of thunder because nothing can compete with the fury of the Sky Father. You whimper as another roar shakes the bed, the very earth beneath you, and the rain begins to beat the tent in full.

“Don’t be afraid, little one,” König mutters, unafraid and clearly about to fall back to sleep again. “Only sky father making love to his woman...”

His explanation of the horrible display of the sky god’s power wipes your mind blank for a moment. He uses the same name of the god as you, but the viewpoint is thoroughly foreign. Is this the sound of lovemaking to him?

“Safe here,” he squishes you against him until it’s difficult to breathe. Your heart is still beating in your chest as König falls asleep, the arms around you relaxing just enough to allow you to breathe again.

In the morning, you try to correct him on his strange thoughts about Sky Father. You tell him your people believe he’s fighting his enemies when it thunders, not… making love to anyone.

“Fighting or fucking,” he only shrugs. “Same noise.”

You open your mouth to explain the difference between fucking and lovemaking next, then decide it’s no use.

The weather is warm and the land is lush after the abundant rain. König takes you to a small stream and you risk to take a dip, delighted and relieved to have the opportunity for a quick wash. When you threaten to gut him when he sleeps if he takes a peek, König only laughs. Probably thinks it’s an exciting threat. Then he sits on the bank to work on a small piece of wood while you have your cold bath. He’s been carving it for a few days and has refused to show it to you, no matter how “nosy” you’ve been. It’s an unfinished piece, yes, but it still feels silly that a grown man is so secretive about a chunk of wood. You only now begin to understand that perhaps the statue of the Great Mother is not stolen. It’s not bought, and he hasn’t had it made. He carved it himself.

Shocked, you forget to keep an eye on him while you scrub and rub yourself in the stream. You never thought of him as a sculptor or even a carpenter, but apparently, some soldiers spend their leisure time in other activities than fucking and drinking and gambling.

Your hands meet the leather string of the necklace as you wash your hair, and you remember your vow. It makes your heart sink: it’s a beautiful day, the first of summer, and you have to let go of the loveliest thing König has ever given to you. You peek a glance at him: he’s looking so peaceful while carving the small figurine, with that signature smile his that always reveals itself through his eyes, warm and jovial, like he’s just a hunter or a fisherman having a break from a day of toil.

You strip yourself from the necklace and release it with a sullen breath. The spirits accept it hungrily, pulling it underwater the instant you let it go. The current carries it far away downstream, and you find your chin trembling, and not from cold. You have given your moonblood to Mother many, many times, but this gift is infinitely more valuable. Still, the most important thing is that the man you prayed for is alive and whistling happily on that bank.

And you’re not an oathbreaker… But König is.

When you rise from the water, he steals a glance. Actually, he stares at you like you’ve particularly asked him to never rip his eyes from you.

You pay the adoring beast no mind and rise from the stream with the pride of a queen, only to have it all robbed from you as you notice there are flowers placed there where you left your clothes. The crazy giant has actually plucked flowers for you.

It’s an odd thing to do because in your land, only children pick flowers. Usually, people give flowers to the gods. Or, mainly just to the Great Mother... It’s because She appreciates them.

And you also notice your old dress is not where you left it.

“Where is it?”

He extends his hands to the sides and shrugs, faking innocence so poorly that you don’t know if you want to shove or kiss him. You’re desperately trying to cover your womanhood from his searing stare – an attempt that, of course, makes your tits press together even more cutely than before. König doesn’t even know where to look when there’s so much of your sweetness on display.

This man is so stupid and childish and simply unbelievable; hiding your dress the instant you are vulnerable and in your thoughts. You look around you, then up, and notice that he’s thrown the dress over a pine branch far above your reach. Of course.

“You’re a bully,” you turn your accusing gaze to him, hands now slowly curling into fists by your side. You’re not even angry: you’re just feeling... hot, and frustrated, and embarrassed, having to stand here in bright daylight, dripping wet and about to have another tantrum while naked. You’re starting to suspect that he probably enjoys it when you get in a pet. Maybe it makes his cock hard: to watch you stomp your foot at him, especially if you do it without clothes.

“Bully?” His eyes smile at you like he’s the son of Sky Father himself.

“It’s someone who… who tortures people,” you blurt, a bit more dramatically than you initially meant to. He bursts into laughter and laughs for a long time, either because you just called him precisely what he is or because you called him a torturer for doing a silly prank.

“Ach… Well, you are pretty,” he says after surviving something that was veritably not meant as a joke. As if you being pretty is some kind of an excuse for doing this stupid, childish stunt...

His stare sweeps over you like you’re merely property, his eyes darting between your pouty face and the glistening sex between your legs now that you’ve blessedly moved your hands out of the way. Then he notices that something’s missing, that there is no necklace resting above your breasts anymore. He takes a step and raises a hand, and for the first time ever, you wouldn’t even dream of shying away from his touch. He brushes your bare neck with a silent question and brief hurt in his eyes.

Gods, he can’t think you got rid of it because you despised it, can he...?

“The river took it,” you explain quickly and with genuine regret. It’s a lie, but you can’t tell him the real reason it’s gone. You can’t confess that you had to sacrifice it for his safe return.

“I really liked it,” you whisper while looking him straight in the eyes, stomach heavy with both lies and the horrible, sweet truth. König recuperates surprisingly fast and nods slowly, the caress rising to your cheek to console you.

“Don’t worry. I can make you a new one,” he promises stoutly, and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from bursting into tears right there in front of him. “With wolf claws, if you like?”

“I don’t know… Sounds dangerous.”

“Hah. I kill my first wolf when I was fifteen.”

Your heart is bursting inside your chest – the songs of the bards never tell about someone being so goofy that you want to hug them until they stop speaking silly things.

“I’m sure you did,” your lips quiver with a whisper of a smile. König takes in every crumb of your affection like it’s a blessing from the Mother below: his shoulders draw back everytime he senses you are appreciative of him or admire his strength. He’s even more proud when he presents the small carving he’s been working on.

You’re now absolutely, vehemently sure that he has made the statue of the Great Mother himself. Because what you’re looking at is very similar to that statue, only far more detailed. The breasts and hips on this figurine are more proportional, and you could almost swear that the statue he just gave you is trying to depict you. It has your hair and your face, or then he has tried to capture the slightly pouting face of some other ungrateful woman. But you can’t shake the thought that you may very well be looking into your own eyes.

“For you,” he says above you, and you swallow tears for gods know how many times today. He even winks at you, incredibly playful, like this statue is now a cute little secret only you two know about.

“It’s–I didn’t know you… Uh. Thank you,” you stutter like a fool. You can’t ask if it’s you – you can’t ask a simple question because to hear his unabashed, proud answer would mean that you won’t be able to hold yourself back from kissing him.

You are starting to feel like… an idol of worship, almost.

He lavishes you with gifts and flowers, he feeds you grapes and wine, he brings you his bloodied loot and asks you to bless his sword. He honours your purity and respects your wishes not to be touched and pilfered.

What else are you if not a goddess?

Even the Mother in his satchel doesn’t get such fevered attention. He even carved a new statue for you. Of you.

Your senses become eagle-sharp as you realize just how much your suspicions are proving true. You think about the way he is always at your tits, as if calling forth good luck and abundance when he squeezes them every day and night. It’s almost like a ritual. Or how he tries to dress you in fine clothes, not just to show you around, but to make you feel appreciated. The way he protects and shelters you and lets you – no, demands you to – ride his horse while he exhausts himself on the road. How the selecting of the necklace now seems like a test, to prove whether you are a true goddess who favors a gift of bone and blood and amber over the pathetic shiny trinkets of men.

And the way he hasn’t touched other women all this time; no, because he doesn’t keep other goddesses...

Just you.

Only you.

…

He knows your tongue so well that you don’t practically need the translator anymore. König sends him away after you whisper in his ear that you don’t like him.

It’s another lie because what you really don’t like is how bothered he looks when forced into the company of you two. You don’t like the deep sighs and the weary looks he gives both you and your supposed lover who always insists that you sit on his lap even if there are other people in the tent. You don’t want to make the poor man uncomfortable, so you come up with a reason for König to send him away. It's quite apparent that you could ask for the moon and stars, and he’d figure out a way to give them to you.

When you ask him why, for the love of all the gods, does he even want to keep a Roman slave, he says it amuses him. You always thought it was an odd thing to do because you’ve never seen König spend time with his soldiers. He never gambles with them, never eats with them, never hunts with them. By separating himself from them he keeps up an illusion of himself as a walking, fighting myth who has forced half the world to its knees, and whose quirks are to keep a Roman slave and, now, a foreign fairy in his tent.

You start to understand that it's because he doesn’t feel like he belongs.

He doesn’t even want to belong. He doesn't make an effort to be a Roman even if, legally, you suppose he’s a citizen or at least a free man. You wonder if it’s his only weakness: being so different from everybody else.

You walk in and out of camp like a free woman with him. To the forest, to the stream, and one day, to the ocean, not too far from where you used to gather clams. If you walked the shoreline long enough, you would end up near your old village.

You spend your entire day there, collecting pink and white shells, giggling as König takes a dip in the shivering sea. He even throws the hood away before walking into the foaming waves. You have to hold your breath as he comes out because his face is the complete opposite of what you thought you would see. He has stern features and some prominent scars above his lip and crossing the bridge of his nose; there’s one above the left eye, and his nose has been broken at least two times. He looks mean and dangerous and suffering, it’s true, but you’re not scared at all. In fact, your embarrassingly wet while he furrows his brows and looks down at his feet, otherwise proud and happy in his skin but now suddenly concerned that you might not like what you see.

“Ugly?” He asks bluntly, with such distanced but sharp pain that your breath leaves you entirely. The vision of him might have frightened you on the first night, it’s true, but now, you only think he’s handsome. In a crude way, perhaps... But still handsome.

“No,” you shake your head slowly, never taking your eyes off him. König takes in air as if he has been granted a pardon from a horrible crime, and your heart hurts – is this the reason he has clung to that hood? To conceal some old scars and to appear more menacing to friends and enemies?

He’s stronger than ever as he walks to you, unclothed and smelling of seabreeze and salt, like he was just born from there, sired by the ocean and the wind. You ought to pray to Mother but you know it will do you no good. It’s a rotten joke to want a man who has massacred your people, the ones you used to call friend and neighbour and kin. You feel like you’re betraying the memory of your whole village by wanting to sleep with the enemy. The enemy who worships you; who looks at you like you’re a goddess when you lean back to watch the night sky come alive with indigo and stars. The enemy who teaches you their names in his own tongue...

He points you to the Head of the Serpent and the Smith’s Street, then to the Nail that holds the sky in place. You have your own names for the stars but you like it when he introduces them to you, clumsy and excited. When he shows you the long cock of the hero your people call Hunter, your cheeks heat up. You try to repeat the name in his tongue (whatever lewd, brash northern hero it may be), and it makes him happier than ever to hear you speak his words.

“König,” you ask him when he's shown you all the stars he knows. “Why do you fight…?”

He turns to look at you, perplexed, and you word the question differently.

“What do you want?”

“...What do I want?”

“Yes. In this life.”

His brows furrow as he starts to think, and your love for him only grows. Has no one ever asked him that before? Has he ever even given it a thought...?

He grabs a handful of grass and rips it from the ground, absentmindedly and deep in thought. He fiddles with it for a while, then throws it away, looking somewhere to the distant, generous sea.

“I want…children,” he says. “I want a home.”

König turns to look at you, so stern that it forces you take support from the earth beneath you.

“Home. Richtig?”

“Yes,” you whisper, “A–a home.”

But it can’t be...

It can’t.

It’s simply too crazy that the brutal, callous giant has been searching for a home all along. That the man who cuts off heads and spits out the flesh of his enemies is simply someone who has lost his home and has yearned back ever since. It’s too wild a thought that the Titan wants to raise a family and have many children.

“Don’t you have a home somewhere in Rome…?”

“It’s only a house.”

He fidgets with more grass, then turns back to you again with honest curiosity.

“Do you want children?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Fee. You would be a good mother,” he determines right then and there, saying it so casually that you have no choice but to believe it. You want to change the topic, and quickly, now tugging at the grass yourself because you're feeling shy.

“König… What is Fee?”

“Fee is… They are small women? Live in trees. Or flowers. Or everywhere,” he gestures vaguely all around you.

“You mean fairies,” you whisper, and he shrugs. If you say so. But you know you're talking about the same thing: curious little earth spirits, lively and wild.

Your heart is burning; it’s scorching until there’s nothing left but sweet molten gold. Usually, this kind of burning has stirred in your chest when some old crone has told a good story at the fire during the turn of the year. Usually, you’ve felt this kind of thrill when you’ve heard the piper play for the forest during springtime, lulling the devious spirits back to the trees so that they wouldn’t enter lambs and goats and make them sick. You’ve only felt so alive when you’ve walked at the beach during midsummer with a desperate aching between your legs because you’ve felt so alone and yet so, so alive.

“They said you were a Titan,” you whisper, another hushed question on this night of nights. You feel like you’re having a conversation of the ages, even if it’s clumsy and plain. The night sky is blooming with stars, the sea is whispering its secrets, and there are so many unsaid things between you two, finally washing up on the shore. König is ripping out more tall grass, but only because he’s searching for the right words.

“No. No titan. Just king,” he shakes his head as if sorry that he has to disappoint you. “I was the king’s son. Before Rome came…”

He’s suffered the same fate as you then, a long, long time ago. You wonder where his people are now or if they are even alive anymore, if he is the last giant standing, the last remaining man of his folk from the mountains. If the ruins of his proud house have already turned to dirt and dust and soil, if his father’s head was left to rot on a Roman spear, his riches and wealth taken back to Rome as spoils and exchanged for wine and whores and slaves.

You can only imagine the fury and despair when a tall boy’s future and dreams crumbled into dust, to blood and tears and screams, to a tale that no one ever told.

“You’d make a great king,” you say, meaning it with all your heart. His whole face lights up with a smile; the sorrow is still present in his eyes, and you know the depth of its roots now. But the Romans never managed to kill his will to live.

“If I was king… I would choose you for my queen,” he says softly, and you thank the wind for drying an escapee tear that rolls out. Fate is shaking your ribcage like a rattle; the wind steals your tears like they’re a long-withheld gift.

He tells you his tale under the safety of the vast starry sky. It's only bits and pieces, but you understand enough from his clumsy words.

He tells you how he was brought to Rome as a slave, sold to the pits and how he rose to manhood and fame there. He fought in the great arenas you’ve heard so many gruesome tales about; he fought until he could buy his freedom. He forgot his people, his revenge, that he was a king. Not knowing what else to do, he took up arms again and became the thing he hated the most: a Roman soldier.

He tells you about a woman who can see things that have not yet happened. He asked this seer if there was anything else for him in this life but death; he would give any offering that was needed if only he could find more life instead. He had already given money and offerings to all the fertility goddesses of Rome, to no avail. He had carved a statue of Venus to attract love, but it didn’t work. So many times he had wanted to throw it in the sea. Until the woman who sees told him he would find what he was looking for in his next campaign. When he promised he’d come back to kill her if she lied, the old crone had only laughed at him.

The next day, he was discharged from his old unit and separated from those who spoke the same language as him. Everyone was afraid of an uprising that would have a giant at its head, so he was offered money and whores, even a position in politics, and lastly, a place in an elite unit with a better wage. They told him the troops were about to leave for the harsh frontier: a new campaign to bring glory to Rome. He chose the latter option immediately.

He turns to look at you. Bloodless, thin-lipped, shivering you.

“She said you would be pretty. Like a fairy.”

You hear the distant rumbling of the sea, endlessly soft. You feel the wind suddenly passing through the field, filling the cloak of a northern king who came all this way just for you. Even the stars are waiting for your next move.

“I…” you start, already breathless. “The necklace… König, I’m so sorry. I had to give it to Mother.”

“Mother?”

“To the gods. So that you wouldn’t die in battle.”

Realization dawns on his face, driving away all doubt and confusion. He’s just as pleased as the day he gave you all those gifts, if not even more so.

“You make sacrifice for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper. You can’t help it: a sob wrenches out of your chest as the first tears fall. “I’m sorry. I really liked it... I’m so sorry–”

König rises immediately, only to come to you and fall to a crouch. He draws you against his chest, your weeping face soon held right against his heart.

“Never say sorry,” he kisses your head, over and over again. “Never say sorry…”

The wind surrounds you both, soft and warm, as he rocks you back and forth. You hug him with all the strength a little fairy can muster, then raise your chin to look at him. You’re probably the most pathetic creature he has ever seen – you could swear there is no woman alive feeling as weak as you feel now. König cups your face gently, the look in his eyes that of a hunter who has finally caught up with his prey. Warm, merciful, loving.

“Fee… I can still taste you,” he says.

“I can still feel you,” you whisper back. A deer, felled. “But I don’t… I don’t like biting.”

“Biting…?”

“Teeth.”

“Ja. I noticed.”

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You would let him bite you anywhere and everywhere now. You would actually kill for it if he only laid his mouth on you...

You laugh with leftover tears in your eyes, and your giant smiles back at you, so endearing that you feel like it’s the first day of the rest of your life.

“Do you like bath?”

…

You ease into the warm, almost too warm water with a sigh.

The slaves have had to toil the better half of the evening to heat such a large body of water, and you can’t even begin to imagine where König has gotten the pretty little clay bathtub. It’s the largest pottery you have ever seen; far too small for a giant like him but just enough for a fairy woman like you.

You wash yourself languidly, feeling like the queen of the whole wide earth. Someone has even poured some of the scented oils into the bath, and you could cry from happiness as the sweet scents envelop you. You wonder if the wife of any chieftain has ever experienced such luxury and warmth.

König has the most pleased smile on his face when he sees how much you appreciate yet another gift of his. He pampers and spoils you so much that you threaten to turn into an overripe grape, too soft and sweet and juicy, unable to keep intact anymore. But there’s a price to be paid, apparently, as he watches you from across the tent, sitting in his chair and pulling back the tunic to reveal the the erection between his legs. It’s the biggest cock you've ever seen, and already standing tall and proud, like a soldier about to go to war.

Your lips part on their own; heat shoots between your legs so fast it knocks the breath out of you. He seems to love your attention and awe, because his cock gives a few pulls just from you staring at it. Pearl-white seed leaks out of the tip as he grabs it inside a strong fist and gives himself a few unhurried strokes.

“König…?”

You’re breathless, but he’s not: he’s breathing heavily in that chair, powerful thighs spread wide, stroking the thick weapon between his legs while you feel like fainting in your bath.

“When will torture end?”

He's dark, dark and done with patience, and you don't know how to answer such a question. You don't even know where to look.

“Hm? You like to torture men?”

“No,” you whisper, cheeks hot and cunt ridiculously wet.

“Yes you do. A little bully, hmm?”

“König–”

“I’ll show what happens to bullies.”

He lets himself go and rises from the chair. Your mind is of no use to you now: all you can do is stare at that thing between his legs, pointing towards you like a road sign.

He walks to you, cock and gaze equally heavy, and gets rid of his tunic. Then he gestures for you to rise from the tub. You’ve spent enough time there in his opinion, and the water is indeed turning unpleasantly cool – but if you go to him now, you won’t be able to fight him. Not when you’re in such a pleased, lax, purring state. Perhaps that was the whole idea...

You rise slowly, then step out carefully, taking support from the edge of the tub and from his shoulder – and still almost collapse all over him as you try to remain on your feet. He holds you upwards while you try to avoid the murder weapon between his legs, but your giant is not as shameful as you: he grabs your butt and guides you flush against him. You meet his chest with a gasp, the length of him now trapped between you two.

“Wait, I’m—I’m still wet,” you try to peep, but it’s no use. He sweeps you off your feet, no doubt with the intention of carrying you to the bed.

“I will lick you clean,” he looks at you like you’re already trapped, caught, and bled: such a weak little creature in his arms, trying to beg for mercy with its last dying breath. You cling to him as such, that’s for sure.

“Just... No biting. Please?” You whisper as he lays you on the bed.

“No biting,” he gives his valiant promise, accompanied with a confident flash of a smile.

Gods…

If he’d gotten rid of that stupid hood earlier, your legs would’ve been pudding. They would’ve been as far apart as the two villages east and west of here. That smile would have allowed him to infiltrate everything in between. Perhaps it’s a good thing he is not that clever…

“Oh gods–” you gasp as he shifts down and lowers himself for worship. His breath hits you first, and the next thing you feel are his lips – still smiling – then the gods-forsaken beast gives you a kiss.

“Oh–”

There is a sudden silence following your moans, then you hear soldiers bursting into laughter outside your tent. They’re warming themselves by the campfire, no doubt, sharing stories about war and women, and now they’ve heard the first mewls of surrender from their hero’s tent, after weeks of quarrelling.

Your cheeks heat up as one of the soldiers utters a hurried sentence and mentions König’s name, after which the merry crew booms to laughter again.

Gods take the Romans and their stupid, lewd jokes...

You try to concentrate on the warmly lit burgundy ceiling as König carries on without paying any attention to what’s happening outside. They could march into the tent and try their best to rip him off your cunt, but you doubt if they would get him to move an inch. He's simply that drunk on your taste.

You wonder if his chin is already covered in your juices because his kisses are open-mouthed and hungry – he even tries to push his tongue inside you. The man has absolutely no shame when he's buried down there, groaning with approval as you roll your hips. You're rutting his face as shyly as you possibly can, and it makes him purr and rumble with bliss. The noise he makes is enough to make you sing too, so filthy that it earns you a whistle from outside.

Shit... They probably think he's fucking and hurting you with his cock – a scary prospect, yes, but you'll have to cross that bridge when you get there – and they couldn't be more wrong. If they only knew what their champion is doing to his slave, lapping and sucking his disobedient woman like a starved dog...

“You like mouth?”

It’s hungry, so dark, the way he asks if you like what he’s doing to you. It’s not the mad lust of a drunken man from a few nights ago; it’s sober, fierce greed with a clear purpose behind it. Your fingers find his hair and tug at it weakly, not to cheer him on, but to take support from something relatively stable.

“Yes… Yes, just–"

“Gut,” he grins into your folds, coarse stubble scraping you deliciously raw. “I like this too. After I lick you enough, I will fuck you.”

Your fingers curl around his hair, giving him another involuntary tug.

Gods, make him stop talking... Just tie his tongue or something, make him shut up.

Please…

“I will bully you all night with cock. I know you will like. Hm?”

He prattles more nonsense in your cunt, and you can’t hear the men outside anymore. You can’t even see the lamps. You’re in a womb of pleasure, which is funny because there’s a grown man between your legs, dragging his tongue over your slit until you're shaking and crying on the bed. Yes, if this is a womb, you never want to leave...

And he’s not eloquent; you don’t even know what he is trying to do to you. He probably doesn’t know it himself. He’s not trying to fish for cues on what you like: he just does what he feels like doing, which is everything. He tries every single thing. He’s just happy to be down there, flicking and circling his tongue over your nub until you can’t take it anymore.

You're dangerously close, and rise halfway to push his head away because it’s just too much; it’s too much pleasure in one go. He gives you a husky laugh and fights your weak attempts to make him stop, the damned bastard. You’re too frail to resist him, and he knows too much already, repeating the torture until your hips buck up.

“Gut... Like that...?” He asks again, so eager to please that you have to stifle a sob.

“Yes... Yes, just like that,” you sigh while trying to stay in one piece.

“Guide me, little fairy,” he demands, excited like a young, hot recruit. Apparently it's no big deal for him to have his head tugged and shoved and dragged just for a woman's pleasure. It doesn't take away an ounce of his power to be your toy for a moment. Your sharp tongue has left you completely; it is you who is humbled as you guide him back to the right spot, jerking when he licks you just the way you wished.

It’s bad enough that you make a mess on his bed and moan like a paid woman, giving everyone in this camp a taste of what it sounds like when a giant bullies his fairy to the full. But can’t he keep his stupid, lovable mouth shut...

He’s making so much noise that you can both feel and hear him. His moans are hoarse, needy and deprived; they echo somewhere in your core, somewhere inside your most sensitive, aching place, just before he finds it, the right spot, and pushes his tongue inside you.

“Wait…” you gasp, convulsing on the bed now. What the hell does he think he’s—

“Wait—I’m…”

And then you cum, right into his mouth, with an arched back and quivering thighs, with such lewd sounds shooting out of your mouth that complete silence follows outside.

Whatever those soldiers had thought to happen here tonight, they clearly didn't expect to hear that… Nor the cries that follow, so nasty and wanton that König doesn't withdraw, not before you have clenched and cried your fill. He enjoys your peak to the last tremble, but you barely get to catch your breath before he leaves you. He doesn’t even give you a chance to caress his head as thanks for what he just did to you.

His mouth leaves you empty and cold as he rises, watching you like you're his best conquest. His cock is so hard it juts out, immovable like a rock and so intimidating that you stop breathing for a moment.

And he doesn't allow your breathless, shocked state go to waste: he grabs that horse cock and sets it on your flush, soaked lips, and pushes the head inside. More than just the head inside.

“Oh gods, oh fuck–”

Your legs are completely useless, falling to the side as he eases himself into you. He looks at you curiously, tilting his head when he hears you curse for the first time in his presence. More than just amused, he goes deeper still, delighted that he made you say a naughty word with his cock.

You can feel the stretch; you can feel every ridge, every vein, all his thickness filling you with purpose. You can do nothing but flutter your eyes as he takes you, finally, as his own.

And it must be some cruel joke of both Mother Earth and Father Sky that it prolongs whatever bliss he just gave you with his mouth. Your body won't stop having its pleasure; it welcomes him with a string of helpless whimpers. Even your cunt starts to squeeze him like it's the best thing in this world.

And he sees it. He feels it.

“Ja, little one. Time to fuck.”

He continues his journey inside, one massive palm landing on each side of your head as he leans over you.

“Einfach so… Trust me. Hmm?”

You only nod, completely silent and tame, waiting for him to give you more gifts. Mother knows this man is your downfall: your heart and soul are about to burst into flame when you look at him. You want him with your whole being; you want his love and praise so much you could cry.

“You want cock?”

“Yes,” you look up at him, eyes surely shining like stars. “Yes, yes, yes–”

“I will give you. Don’t worry.”

You sob as he withdraws, pulling the long, delicious cock almost completely out. He returns immediately when you whine from the loss. He feels so good, and so, so big… Fulfilling you entirely, every bit of you that was hollow and empty, every little space that needed loving is now his and filled with love.

“Verdammte… Götter, du bist zu eng,” he huffs and looks down as if to check if it’s true that he’s finally inside you. It could never fit in fully; you both probably knew that. But he’s trying his best.

“What does that mean?” You pant, impatient that he stopped moving.

“Too small... For me...” he laments. Or brags.

“Any woman is too small for you,” you mope underneath him, thinking about whether he has had women who have been able to take him fully in. Women who haven’t been “too small”.

König raises his eyes to you and smiles, revealing a row of white teeth, the scarred lip making his grin look pure and sweet even if he is a menacing man.

Stupid mountain giant… He's just proud of not being able to fit inside you. Your lower lip juts out with a pout, and the cock inside you responds immediately with a pulse. You can feel it — he's fucking excited about you getting angry at him again.

There is a flash of mischief in his eyes – darned bastard – just before he swoops down to attack your neck. Your tits get crushed under a solid chest as he nuzzles close to your ear and gives you lots of love and little bites. He starts to fuck you slowly, and there's nowhere you can escape now, nowhere you can flee his mouth or teeth or cock.

“König, you promised–”

“Aber… You are more tight this way?”

The breathless laugh that follows leaves you blinking. Of course he can feel the way you tighten around him every time he gives you a little bite.

“Gods, I hate you…” you whisper on his shoulder, thinking about biting him there in return. König laughs in your neck again – your threats of hate have long past lost their intimidating nature and are more like love confessions to him now. And perhaps that’s what they are.

He makes love to you hard and good, and it’s embarrassing, how you're about to cum again around his cock. You were supposed to have your revenge by showing him you have teeth too, but find yourself biting your lip instead, trying to tone down at least some of the filthy sounds that try to escape you.

He's not too rough, at least not yet, happy with listening to the poorly stifled whimpers that follow his every thrust. You thought he'd rail you like an animal, but he seems to settle for making love to you while biting and groping you all over. He savours every thrust like he savoured those grapes you fed him: slowly and intently, with passion instead of greed.

You're squeezing him with everything you have as he rocks you back to the edge. His grunting only make it all worse: he doesn't even try to be quiet and decent, and it's driving you to madness. Why does he have to be so noisy? Why does he have to fuck you so that everyone can hear just how good you feel?

Every soldier in this camp can hear both your moans, his hoarse ones and your weak ones, merging together until you do sound like animals in heat... You’re so wet that some of the men must hear the music of that, too. You never knew your cunt would be so hungry and needy, least of all for a man like him. You grip him as the waves approach, rich moans turning into pathetic little cries as his cock works you open.

“Again…?” He smiles a surprised laugh on your neck. The waves hit you before you can tell him to shut up.

The noise you make is even more obscene this time, and you barely catch a glimpse of his drowsy, victorious stare before your head falls back. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to take in the most powerful orgasm and the most powerful cock of your life without having to see that stupid, happy face of your lovesick giant.

“Nein,” he grabs your jaw inside a huge but gentle hand. “Eyes open.”

He won't even let you cum in peace, but you do as you’re told, finding him watching you like a stormcloud or a god. He watches your every tremble, every whimper, every sigh. He sees the full-blown love in your eyes, and you wonder… Is this what the bards sing about in their stupid songs?

…Weakness?

Because your heart hurts and your eyes sting, your thighs tremble and your cunt is far too wet and open for him to plough. If this is love, it hurts; it burns far too sweet. It leaves you utterly weak.

“Little one is needy,” he comments softly on your second downfall.

“You’re the one who’s needy–”

Your already weak argument ends in a gasp as he reminds you who you belong to with another good, deep thrust.

“I will put a child in you,” he rumbles, a threat or a promise. “If we do this every night… You will have my child.”

“Then let’s do this every night,” you whisper beneath him, your own purr of a threat. As if you didn’t know how babies were made… To your silent joy, König stops to catch his breath or your words; you’re not entirely sure which. You decide to up the stakes, just to make him fall with you.

“And every morning too?”

“Ach, du kleine–” he crumbles, voice turning to dust from your innocent suggestion.

If you thought he was a little too in love with you before, the look on his face now is worth all the gold in the world. You could swear that your kind question is the sole reason for this man cumming on the spot. Perhaps your body is to blame for it too; he couldn't keep his paws off when you were being sulky and difficult, so how could he take it when you're pleased and loving and all puffed up?

You see the brief flash of vulnerability, the mortal fragility in his eyes just before he shoots his load with a painful-sounding groan. The sound that leaves him is a mixture of desperation and release – even giants can cry, you think as you watch how beautifully he comes undone. He makes sure his seed is sent deep inside you by burying his cock into you, as far as it can go; the intention behind it is so clear that you wouldn't be surprised if you got heavy with a child after this first time.

He falls on top of you after, drained and spent and body heaving from exertion. There’s no other sound in the night but the satisfied panting of you two: the soldiers outside are rendered silent by the sounds of true lovemaking, even the wind spirits are hushed tonight.

You’re completely filled, and with his cock still inside you, he’s preventing any precious seed from escaping. You’re only glad he’s too weak to move because you’d happily keep him here forever, inside and on top of you like this.

“You are pleased…?” He turns his head a little, sounding worried enough to make you hug him tight.

“Yes. Very much,” you whisper, and he moves to rise and look you in the eyes.

“Gut.”

It’s cute to be nose to nose like this with him, eyes locked together, lips only a hair’s breadth apart. He looks so intoxicated and happy without even being drunk that you break into a small laugh, eyes brimming with happy tears, the washing away of relief. He smiles too, then laughs with you.

The soldiers outside might think it an odd business: to make a woman moan and laugh with a cock. You were brought to this tent screaming, and he made you scream again, just not the way they thought.

The sound of your mutual laughter rises in the tent, up towards the heavens, surely making even the Sky Father smile above.

…

You do it every night, and every morning, too.

Sometimes, you do it during the day after bathing in the stream. After washing and playing in the water, you rush to the shore together, but König is always faster than you. He throws your dress away or holds it up above his head, far from your reach, smiling like the most innocent man in the world. He's far from innocent, though: his cock hangs heavy between his legs, swelling just from seeing you angry and flustered and wet.

“Bully,” you accuse, utterly in love and out of breath, earning you another attack of a love-hungry giant. You forget the dress when he kneels on the grass, kisses your stomach and your thighs, keeps you in place for his mouth with two strong arms and a love that turns your whole body weak.

“Pretty,” is the only thing he breathes as an answer before he scoops up your leg and spreads you open for his mouth.

Your head rolls back with a choked sigh, the drops on your skin dry on their own. Somehow, you end up on the grass with his mouth glued on you. The sun plays in your hair; it dances on your face as he gives you more and more until you know, you just know that if you do this every night and morning and day, you will definitely have his child.

He tells you his real name, his true name, the one his mother gave him. You moan it in his ear just before you cum around his length. Sometimes, it makes him purr; other times, it makes him grunt. Once, you hear a soft, pitched whine.

He’s more rough when you’re on your knees. You’re shy and wet when he commands you to prop yourself on your elbows and show him your cunt. He licks you from front to back, feasts on you until your breaths turn to shivers. You squeeze your eyes shut from how obscene the scene must look; you hope to all the gods the Roman slave won’t come to ask his travel guides back when König finally rises and takes a wide stance behind you. He sets himself on your opening and pushes in, fat and greedy.

You can only whimper as he starts the thrusts, starved and slow, picking up the pace and holding you in place by the hips when you approach the brink of another collapse. You fear you will lose your mind if he keeps doing this to you every day. The only thing you hear are the breathless, warm grunts of encouragement behind you.

“You can take it. You can take it. Already took it, little one…”

He won’t stop, not even as you cry out loud, the cock hitting you in places that make your legs nearly give in. He won’t stop even as tears brim, not even as you start to sound like a tortured animal; no, he just tightens his grip on your waist and pounds you harder. You cum with a moan that would make Roman whores blush, but your lover doesn’t mind at all. He cums right after you, with a roar that could raise the reverend dead from their mounds.

Afterwards, he’s gentle again. He gathers you in his arms like his most valuable possession, caressing and breathing you in, giving you a soft kiss behind your ear.

“You’re... mean,” you try to remember how to breathe as he gives you more of those hungry kisses. You already know he likes it when you’re so spent you don’t have the strength to squirm or fight him.

“Ja. And you become more nice when I bully you,” he whispers in your ear. “More calm… Less difficult.”

“Well, you don’t,” you turn inside his hold, eyes shining brighter than the stars or even the sun. “Crazy man…”

“You have robbed me of my sword and shield, it’s true. Robbed my heart too. Little thief.”

“Thief? You’re the one who stole me…!”

“And I’ll never let you go.”

You wriggle a hand to cup his face, meeting his eyes with such helplessness that it’s not even funny anymore. If he’s joking or playing with you now, you’ll kill him with his own swords.

“You promise?”

“I make a vow,” he declares ceremoniously, with a hand on his heart. But you doubt that he’s playing any games; you wonder if this man is even capable of lying or deception. You hug him so tight that he has to let out a grunt – surprised and pleased – after which you have to bury your face in his neck so that he won't see your tears.

“I am in love with you, Fee,” he whispers in your ear while caressing your hair, ever poetic for such a simple man. “Tell me. Do you like me too…?”

“Yes,” you breathe a half-cry, half-laugh in his neck. “Yes, you crazy giant. I like you too.”

You rise just enough to kiss him. It’s hungry and delivers everything you can’t say. You can’t tell him you love him; you simply can’t. You’re not ready for the painful happiness it would bring forth. He stabs you full of it anyway.

“I will never let you go. Never. Not when I finally found you, little one...”

…

Summer comes.

The camp moves lazily to its next destination, but when the next battle comes, König refuses to fight.

His soldiers blame you, of course. You have bewitched him with your softness, making him soft and spineless as well. It is unheard of that a warrior like him would fall like this: out of some woman’s underhanded spell rather than dying gloriously in the field by a barbarian blade or two. Even poison is considered better than this.

No one understands that there is no hex. The war is still being fought, this time inside his soul. It’s not just you preventing him from taking up arms; it’s something else, something old and deep-rooted you've managed to stir in him. Something ferocious, something that has been asleep for a long time, something that is far from all things soft.

You two sneak out from the camp after the bulk of the army has marched away. He takes you to the seaside again, to a wild, roaring shore. You laugh and bask in the sun, swim in the sea and eat the first berries of the season. You lie on the tall grass, naked as the day you were born: it's simply too hot to wear anything except your glowing skin. König starts to ask you peculiar questions while tracing the soft line of your spine.

He asks what kind of house you would like to live in, and tries to find out in a roundabout way if you would like to live in a forest or in the hills. You treasure the sound of waves, and König likes the sound of the wind in trees, but you both love steep hills and the open view of plains. You get the idea that he may want to retire somewhere in the near future.

He tells you he is not a good fisherman but can hunt everything that moves. He is good with a spear, with traps and the bow, and he’s tired of hunting humans who only wish to live in peace. The arena he could understand, but the war on foreign lands, not. And if you begin to swell with his offspring, the Roman encampment at war is the last place for a sweet little fairy like you. He asks what kind of village you used to live in and is somewhat sad to hear all the things you tell him. He says it sounds like home, the one he was taken from many years ago.

When you return to the camp, it’s like you two are a different species altogether, two wild animals who sneak from the gates back to the flock, back to being human, back to being caged and tamed and stunted. The grumpy, tired soldiers witness your wildness and happiness with sullen distaste. To them, your appetite for freedom is the filthiest, most treacherous thing in the world.

The commander of the troops summons König at his feet and threatens to flog him if he ever skips a battle again. He’s told that only barbarians ignore orders like this: at the turn of a whim or a woman or wind. If he doesn’t remember who he is, not the reckless murderer of his youth but a man reborn, a noble Roman citizen, he will risk descending into apathy and greed again. Was this the case, Rome will guide him back to fold again by the crack of a whip if it has to.

That night, you tell him that you love him. Wherever he goes, you will go. That night, when you’re lying in his arms, sweaty and spent and thoroughly happy, he speaks words so wild it shakes the whole tent with a wind.

“If I kill the soldiers, will you come with me?”

It’s only a mutter, a murmured, careful whisper, but it makes you rise to sit and place a hand on his chest for extra support.

“Kill the soldiers? You mean… Kill the Romans?”

“Ja. All of them.”

The shock quickly makes way to disbelief. Can such a thing even be done? He’s a giant, but he’s still just one man. But König doesn’t look restless at all; he looks like a man who has finally made a decision he should have made years ago. He looks like someone who is at peace with their soul.

"Where would we go?" You whisper weakly, unsure if he has given this enough thought or thought at all. It’s now the wanderer in him who speaks, the adventurer who fears nothing because he has already lost everything – and found the most precious, essential thing.

You. Himself…

Free will.

“Wherever you want.”

“What if you get killed…?”

“You take treasure and horse and go.”

…

Your mother always said that it's useless to sway a man if he has chosen to stand up and fight. She told you that the best you could do is go grab a sword and join him.

That is why you give him your blessing – your full, ardent blessing.

It makes him stronger than ever: were he to go out there with nothing but his skin, he would be victorious. The oak that hears your magnificent spell shivers from fear above you as you call down earth, fire and wind.

You call the spirits from below to guide his feet and make them swift and silent as a feather in the wind. You call down the lightning from the sky to accompany his sword as he deals his blows. You cloak him with the fury of the dead; they will smite down his enemies when they catch even a glimpse of him. You shroud him with the Mother's blessing so that he will be untouchable, unstoppable, invincible as he deals death among the Romans.

It’s a terrible spell; even the moon withdraws into a cloud when She hears it. Not even the lady of silver twilight dares to reveal this giant to the Romans as he’s about to descend upon them.

He rises with the power of fifteen men and gives you a kiss that nearly topples you. He smiles before he leaves you, and never looks back as he goes to do the deed of a legend.

You watch the massacre up from a hill. A safe distance from the camp, but close enough to see how König destroys a whole cohort by himself. The plant you mixed into the “reconciliation wine” he gave his soldiers and the commander before nightfall makes it laughably easy because most of the men are still half asleep when they burn inside their tents. The oil spilt on the dry dirt and linen roars aflame now with the help of the wind and earth spirits as König torches the camp. The occasional few soldiers that rise to meet him with fear in their stare are already broken by your spell before his swords impale them.

The old translator is the only Roman who wasn’t given a cup of foxglove wine because he was König’s slave, and now he can see that he is blessed among men. The God of War faces him with swords pointing to the ground, fury planting his feet wide, and it takes the old Roman a while to understand that he’s the only man who gets to walk out of this camp unharmed. As grumpy and unsociable as he is, you wish him good fortune on his future journeys, even utter a quick protection spell to shroud him as he leaves towards his destiny on enemy land.

The slave women, sober, confused, and free, run amock to gather weapons, cloaks, food, and valuables before escaping the camp. König doesn’t even notice them, and they pay little mind to the enraged god ramming through puny mortals because they’re too busy getting out of the burning castra.

How fitting it is that the only people escaping the hellfire are a few beaten women and an old, weak-calved Roman – every able-bodied soldier burns inside his tent or meets their end at your lover’s blade.

The wind spirits help spread the fire so eagerly that you begin to fear that König won’t make it out in time. You whisper prayers into your fist, curled around the Mother who has already given you so much. She has also taken away everything; like seasons, she has reaped and sown, but if she reaps your lover now, you will walk into the sea.

Mother is merciful and returns him to you, unharmed and glorious. He's the same ferocious beast you saw half a moon ago, and also the same ferocious man who was inside you this very morning. You see a god of war, and he sees the mother of life and death, perhaps, because his first words to you are a ripe offering.

“I avenged them all,” he says when he reaches you, thrumming with victory and smelling of smoke and ruin and blood.

He has been born again; he has walked to a new dawn through fire and death and returns to your arms like you two have known each other since the beginning of time. You’re not sure if he talks about his fallen ones or your fallen ones, or everyone who has fallen to these particular Roman spears. You’re not sure if this is his downfall because what you’re looking at is only the downfall of the Roman campaign on your lands. You and König are very much wild and spirited and free. If this is a downfall, it feels like being lifted towards the sky. You see in his eyes that he feels the same as you.

The whole world is new as you leave towards a new life. Sun rises, and takes years off your backs. You wash him in the sea and kiss the salt away from his lips, and it feels only right that he takes you on the grass after slaughtering your enemies.

You bury the statues and the bronze sword in your old village, long abandoned and thoroughly looted. The old woman is in her hut, dead as a stone, and she finally looks happy, with a calm little smile on her face and flowers in her hand. She looks like a young girl, almost, ready to meet the spring of her life.

"Ready for adventure, little one?" König smiles as he raises you to his horse. He takes direction from the sun while you look down at his happy, golden form – your god, your life, your love.

Your new beginning.

...

Translations:

Richtig? - Right?/Correct?

Einfach so - Just like that

Verdammte… Götter, du bist zu eng - Damn… Gods, you are tight

Aber… - But…

Ach du kleine… - Oh you little…

Scheisse - Shit/Fuck

#könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x you #könig x female reader #könig x fem reader #konig x reader #konig x you #historical au #Roman soldier!König #könig smut #könig fluff #könig imagine

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