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fatuismooches · 4 months

Note

Could you please write about the Harbingers spending time with the reader on their birthdays? But maybe they send what they did with you as a letter to the Traveler like the in-game feature? :D

♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬' 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

synopsis: The Traveler naturally expects mail in their inbox whenever the Harbingers' birthdays roll around. However, they didn't expect it to be so... lovey-dovey, and all about you.

includes: all harbingers w/ gn! reader

notes: I've finally finished it! I've been wanting to write something similar to my voice line post for a while, so here it is - the Harbingers sending birthday mail, except they're very down bad for you :3 Includes a letter, a photograph, and attached items with the letter! (Sorry to the Pulcinella fans, I was too lazy to write him in.)

“Home…”

Sender: Pierro

It is my birthday today. Normally, I would have continued on my day as usual, but [Name] had another idea in mind, going so far as to get the Tsaritsa herself to block the door to my office and then dragging me away. It seems they were planning this for a while… The last birthday I celebrated was the year Khaenri’ah fell. What purpose did today serve when my homeland and people were gone? As the years went on, it began to slip my mind and I nearly would have forgotten the date, were it not for [Name]’s question a while ago. I thought nothing of it, but I did not think [Name] would have taken this so seriously.

They knew I would enjoy anything so long as it was with them, yet they had the entire day planned out. Claiming that I needed some fresh air, we walked through the Snezhnayan streets, the normally biting frost a bit warmer than usual. Casual browsing at some new stores that opened up. [Name]’s attempt at starting a snowball fight. And lastly… grocery shopping.

When we got back, they wouldn’t let me help or look. But I could tell from the smell exactly what they were making. It turns out that they managed to make a dish from my home country. I am not sure how they managed to get a hold of this recipe… I must have mentioned it offhandedly and they improvised from there. Of course, it’s not an exact replica, but nonetheless, it tasted delicious. Just for a few minutes, I was taken back to my previous home. That home will never come back, but I have a new one now.

And now the day is almost over. Despite their best efforts to stay awake until the end of the day, they succumbed to their sleepiness, now lying on my lap. They were supposed to read me something they made, but perhaps I’ll find out what that was tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be back to normal again. But that is alright. I still do not believe I deserve a day like today but, if this is what [Name] desires, then I shall not refuse them again. I’ll look forward to the next birthday just as they do.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Pierro and you in it. The Harbinger is seated at a table with a homemade dish in front of him. His giant coat and mask are placed off to the side, revealing scars from long ago. You’re glued to his side, trying to feed him by holding the spoon close to his mouth. Pierro is a grown man, the Traveler thinks, he does not need you to feed him… However, he looks quite content with this arrangement so the blonde won’t question it any further. In fact, he looks as if he’s right at home.

Attached Items:

Ancient Khaenri’ahn Dish [A meal unique to Khaneri’ah that has long been forgotten by the world. Although you clearly struggled to make it due to a lack of experience, even the Traveler can taste how much of your love was put into it.]

Khaenri’ahn Story Book [A book that contains numerous fairy tales and various stories originating from the lost nation, written by none other than Pierro himself, and illustrated by you. Apparently, it was born from you begging him to tell you stories from his home, and eventually, the Harbinger began to write them down so you could read them instead of bothering him so often. However, it made the problem worse as now you bother him to read them to you. How sweet.]

—

“A Day Off.”

Sender: Dottore

[Name] has convinced me to go back to Sumeru with them for a couple of days. I couldn’t care less about this day, but they were adamant about spending the whole day with me, and that they “will not be spending my birthday in a dark gloomy lab again.”

My research has regrettably halted for a bit, but I suppose this was not a bad idea. This was the first time in many years that either of us had stepped foot back into Sumeru - we had not been back since I was expelled from the Akademiya, besides my segments of course.

[Name] and I trekked the same path we used to walk during our studies at the Akademiya. It was a good spot for studying and conducting experiments without any disturbances - that was until they started following me around. They were a nuisance at first… but eventually, [Name] began to help me deconstruct a variety of machines, which was helpful. And then would laugh at me whenever I ended up breaking them.

Ever since I met them, [Name] has always said a lot of strange things, but their most recent comment was that they wanted to drink the blue liquid in the vial I carry around. They think it looks… tropical and vibrant. Of course, I refused them. But I had a feeling that if I didn’t provide them with it, they’d try and get it themselves. I was not interested in having to inject an antidote into them, so I came up with a solution.

I know that I am no chef, but this goes outside the realm of cooking. It wasn’t hard to create a sweet drink that would be to [Name]’s liking with the same color. They were more pleased than I thought and demanded that I make it for them more often. I do not care much for nourishment, but perhaps I’ll try my hand at it more often. They have insisted that I send you some, too. So, Traveler, is it to your liking as well? Even if it’s not, I do not care, so don’t bother telling me.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Dottore and you in it. Despite how much the Traveler has explored Sumeru, they can’t seem to pinpoint the location where it was taken. It must really be a secret place, just for the two of you. Dottore’s mask is on his lap, revealing crimson eyes and scarred skin. You seem to have fallen asleep on his shoulder, as your eyes are closed, though your mouth seems to be agape, perhaps mumbling some nonsense in your sleep. Dottore’s expression is exasperated, but there is a certain fondness in his eyes, one that the Traveler can’t distinguish, or rather, they refuse to believe it. Did the Kamera have an editing function now? Because surely, the photograph must have been forged or something, because there was no way The Doctor could ever have such a tender look in his eyes…

Attached Items:

Strange Blue Concoction [Some kind of legitimate drink that’s the same color as the vial Dottore carries around. According to [Name], it is quite delicious, but would any sane person dare to try anything from The Doctor of all people…? Who knows, these two might be trying to poison the blonde.]

Assortment of Ruin Guard Parts [Parts from Ruin Guards Dottore created and assembled himself. A wide variety of parts are here, including Chaos Cores, Circuits, and Devices. Wait… they seem to all be damaged and broken. Hey, did Dottore just send the Traveler his useless parts?!]

—

“Care For A Show?”

Sender: Columbina

Hello dear Traveler! How are you?~ Today has been such a wonderful day. Why, you ask? Because it’s my birthday of course! ♪ The one day when I have the ability to drag my beloved [Name] wherever I want, with no resistance. Normally they protest for quite a bit, telling me I have a mountain of work to do but, they don’t need to worry their pretty little head about that. ♫ Is it that much of a crime to slack off to spend time with one’s beloved? But oh, that little routine of ours is something that I do cherish.

My dearest [Name] took me to a play. We were among the first to see it, as it was the opening day. You know, they always tell me that as a Harbinger, I should be more conscious of how I present myself. But is it really a problem to sit in their lap instead of my chair? It’s not like anyone can see us all the way up on the balcony seats, hmm? ♬ Moving on though~ The play was quite an interesting story.

It was of an angel who fell in love with a mere human, despite how taboo it was. When the two were caught, the angel had to decide - would she rather retain their purity and remain in the heavens or fall down, stripped of her divinity to be with her human? Well, if you want to see the ending, you’ll just have to come to Snezhnaya and watch it yourself. ♪ But do tell me Traveler, if you were in a situation like that, what would you choose? … I already know what my choice would be.

Ah, but that show was not even the best part! After that, [Name] put on their own performance for me, just the two of us. It was beautiful of course, the way they convey their choice of art is always worthy of praise. But, they always seem to seek my feedback and criticism… they told me they want to keep improving to make me even more pleased but, how many times do I need to explain to them that I already believe their craft is beautiful? Nevertheless, I do indulge them, if only to satisfy my love. Why don’t you take a look at one of our collaborations, Traveler? It is quite good if I do say so myself. ♫

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Columbina and you in it. The lighting in the theater is a bit dim, so your figures are a bit faded but, the Traveler can still make out the two of you. The two of you have separate chairs but, Columbina is practically spilling onto yours, her head comfortably resting against your chest. You seem as though this is normal for you, which it probably is. Wait, is Columbina sleeping? It seems she probably got bored during the intermission… That’s why you specifically chose your clothes to double as a blanket for your wife.

Attached Items:

Music Score [A music score composed by both you and Columbina. The two of you performed it perfectly together as a present to your wife. Of course, it’s bound to be mesmerizing considering Columbina’s participation. So hauntingly beautiful, that in fact, it might end your life before you get to the end… is that an exaggeration? Well, it seems like the Traveler will have to take that risk.]

Pair of Tickets [Tickets gifted to the Traveler and Paimon. There’s no name on it or any expiration date, so it can be used to watch a single play in Snezhnaya for free, with the best seats in-house, so pick carefully. These things are quite expensive, so don’t go losing them now! Otherwise, Columbina and [Name] might ban the traveling duo from the theater…]

—

“An Excellent Day.”

Sender: Capitano

Today is my birthday. However, I have never been very adept at celebrating this day. I realize that it is the norm to celebrate one’s birthday, but I have never felt the need to. Though, ever since I became a Harbinger, my recruits have always wished me well today. Unfortunately, when the bolder ones ask me what I have planned, I have nothing interesting to respond with, always prompting them to urge me to do something… In the hallways, I always hear conversations along the lines of even though being a Harbinger is busy, I deserve to do something nice on my birthday. But in reality, it does not bother me at all. Is it really that strange not to do anything on one’s birthday?

When [Name] found out how I normally spend my birthdays, they shared a similar sentiment and promised to make this one “the most eventful and fun and best one I’ve ever had.” They said that since this is our first year together, they need to make my birthday an excellent one. Although I tried to reassure them they needn’t try so hard for me, they were insistent. However, true to their word, I would say my birthday did end up being an excellent one.

One thing about [Name] is they never fail to teach me something new. In this case, they taught me what it means to celebrate a birthday, and I’d say I learned a lot. As stated by them, there is no exact or definite way to celebrate. It is what you make of it. And they, knowing the kind of man I was, chose the activities accordingly. (There were a few mishaps but everything went well for the most part. It is not customary to break a few knives while cutting cake, so I feared that I may have ruined things, but [Name] reassured me it was normal.)

So all in all, today was an excellent day. However, I am faced with a problem now. What should I do when [Name]’s birthday comes? Should I do the same thing they did for me? But would they think that is low effort and unoriginal? I do not wish to disappoint them. Traveler, do you have any ideas? Also, please ask Tartaglia for me as well. The last time I spoke to him, he tried to ask me for a duel.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Capitano and you in it. The snowy forest terrain looks as picturesque as ever, but what really draws attention is the man and his lover in the middle. Mostly, the Harbinger who has a squirrel or two perched on him, not to mention the few birds that made their nest in the fluff of his coat. And even some cats? Where did they come from?! Well, it’s best not to question it. It’s rather endearing. Rather, one should question how silent and unmoving the Captain is in an effort to not disturb all the animals. Just ignore the deer in the background waiting for some attention too.

Attached Items:

How To Celebrate Your Birthday Pamphlet [A collaboration between Capitano’s Fan Club and [Name]. The fan club loves you immensely because you help to put their long-awaited plans into action. The numerous activities in this guide (blowing out the candles, feeding each other cake, gift giving, lots of affection, etc) were written out by the club and dutifully carried out by you. There were also birthday punches, but Capitano was confused as to why you were tickling him.]

Capitano and [Name]’s Picture Book [Don’t tell anyone this, but Capitano has a tendency to name all the creatures of the forest near his mansion. At first, he went there to train, but decided against it after seeing all the animals around there, because he doesn’t want to scare them away. What he did not expect was to befriend all of them… you came across him one day talking to them after searching for him. How can he tell them apart? Even you don’t know. But this book is dedicated to all of his animal friends, with pictures taken by you of course. So if the Traveler happens to visit Snezhnaya someday, make sure to be nice to these little guys!]

—

“They’re Annoying…”

Sender: Wanderer

It is that time of year again when my birthday rolls around. You know very well I do not care much for this day, but once again, there are always annoyances at my every turn… Both Lesser Lord Kusanali and [Name] always prove to be a thorn in my side on this day. In the past, I usually spent my birthdays under the sakura trees in Inazuma, visiting [Name]. But, things have changed now. I no longer am who I once was, and my relationship with [Name] is no longer the same. They have forgotten me, and our past together… but Lesser Lord Kusanali has forced us to interact again numerous times, leading to our current relationship. Lesser Lord Kusanali always pats my back, saying that time will lead us back to each other… how irritating.

Speaking of her being irritating, she decided to tell [Name] that today was my birthday, a horrible decision. Now, they’ve run all over Sumeru looking for me, until they finally found me in the House of Daena. Panting and gasping for air, all I could hear was them sincerely apologizing over and over for not knowing my birthday. They promised they’d get me a late birthday gift, even though I kept repeating that it was unnecessary. Unfortunately, it has always been hard to get things through their thick skull. All I know for sure is that Lesser Lord Kusanali definitely planned this and that she will tease me to no end the next time I see her…

Still, they dragged me through Sumeru City. According to them, they knew I wouldn’t like anything too fancy, so they brought me to an alleyway. Your typical textbook dark and narrow one. And at the end were… cats. Many of them. [Name] turned to me with a smile and said they bet I didn’t know about this secret kitty haven, and that it was a perfect gift for someone like me. I do wonder if Sumeru’s sun has made them crazy sometimes.

But, this birthday wasn’t as boring as I thought it’d be. So… that’s nice, I guess. Actually, Lesser Lord Kusanali had assigned me a paper to write. A paper on [Name], on my own birthday. She said that she wasn’t going to read or check it, but it was for my sake. How preposterous, right? How would anything like that help me?

But tonight… I feel as though I’ll make some progress on it.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Wanderer and you in it. The puppet is at the top of the ladder in the House of Daena, searching for books (most likely forced to by the Dendro Archon), but your figure can be made out at the bottom. You seem to be waving and beckoning him to come down, so he can have a good time with you for his birthday. Wanderer doesn’t seem very excited about it, but… he will always indulge you, the person he can’t deny he loves. Hmm? Why is he using a ladder instead of his Anemo powers? Well, perhaps the puppet doesn’t like drawing attention to himself.

Attached Items:

Essay Concerning Inazuman Society and Politics [An essay Wanderer has written during his time spent in Vahumana. What, did the Traveler really think he’d send the essay he wrote about [Name]? However, Paimon couldn’t make it through the title page, and even the Traveler struggled through it. But, it seems to be your favorite essay of his, considering all the notes you made in it, not to mention the noodles you drew when you got bored… Wanderer probably scolded you for that but, it’s never in bad faith.]

Tricolor Dango [A plate of dango that [Name] brought for Wanderer as a treat. It seems that they are unaware of his dislike of sweet food… But the puppet did not want to hurt their feelings considering the thought and effort they put into his birthday, so he did not decline it.]

—

“A Lavish Tea Party.”

Sender: Sandrone

Unbeknownst to me, [Name] recently had a variety of sweets from Fontaine imported. It seemed like they tinkered with my bots once again, to get them on their side so I would remain in the dark… they can be such a hassle to deal with sometimes. However, this means that their skills are ever improving, as I’ve been improving my Automatons to be much more complex. As expected of my assistant. Speaking of, they’ve also imported some other things that I’ve been wanting for a while. Hopefully, they’re up to standard this time, or they’ll have to be returned. Ugh, I hate dealing with the Ninth whenever that happens…

Though back to the subject, it seems that [Name] has once again needlessly gone out of their way, since today is my date of birth. Although I don’t like being distracted from my research, and I see no need to waste time just because I happened to be born today, this break that [Name] has prepared for me isn’t too bad. I have not attended a proper tea party in far too long. The fools I have for agents can never set it up correctly.

[Name] is not someone who dresses up very often, but they always make the effort to match their attire with mine. Something that other people should learn from, but alas. Though, I wish they did it more often. Not even the most well-crafted doll could match their beauty. Have I told them that? No, they should be smart enough to figure that out by themselves.

Regardless, I must cut this letter short. After this, I want to work on an Automaton with [Name]. I have held off on it because they have expressed interest in it, and since we are together now, it is the perfect time to work on it. I was expecting them to get huffy at me working today, but it seems that they are pleased to work with me. I wonder why.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Sandrone and you in it. A wide array of treats and sweets are plated on numerous platters, along with ceramic tea cups waiting to be filled with piping hot tea. The surrounding robots are also fashioned in a similar style as her, perfect attire for the tea party, holding additional trays of desserts. (Can these robots eat too?) You’re pouring your wife her favorite kind of tea as you’ve already set her plate, while she sits patiently with her hands folded. Despite Sandrone’s doll-like features, one can see a small smile on her face.

Attached Items:

Instructions For A Perfect Tea Party [Sandrone’s set of instructions as to how a perfect tea party is conducted. Some of the rules seem nonsensical and impossible to many, which is why no Fatui agent can ever live up to the Harbinger’s expectations, as she will not accept anything less than what she desires. However, you are the only person who has managed to fulfill all the rules to a tee, which is one of the reasons she greatly favors you. Sending this list to the Traveler and Paimon is also her way of saying they are never invited as they will never be able to fulfill the rules in a way that satisfies her… how rude!]

Clockwork Toy of Sandrone [A Harbinger toy from Leschots Clockwork Workshop in Fontaine. They seem to have dabbled in making toys of the Harbingers as they said they would, and who better to start with than the machinery genius herself? Of course, Sandrone can point out numerous flaws with the design and components, and probably criticized it heavily to you, but you still seem to love it, because it’s of her! Unfortunately, your wife doesn’t like that very much… why settle for something inferior when you could have it in much higher quality? So the Harbinger decided to make a toy of herself that lives up to her standard. The Traveler can have the faulty one…]

—

“Another Year Passes…”

Sender: La Signora

In the past, I used to be quite fond of birthdays. In Mondstadt, I would always celebrate it with him every year. But after he died, birthdays left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I never dared think about doing anything on this day ever again. How could I, when he was no longer by my side? But today is my birthday again, and I find myself happy. Why? Because of [Name], the person who taught me how to love again. Admittedly, I pushed away the idea at first. But after some more reflection, I decided it wouldn’t be fair to [Name]. The past is the past, and the present is the present. If [Name] wants to make me feel special on my birthday, then who am I to stop them?

And indeed they did pamper me. They always pamper me but, today it was much more than normal. Breakfast in bed, massages, hair brushing, helping me put on my clothes, opening doors for me, fancy dinner and wine after work. I don’t think there was a single moment where they weren’t trying to do something for me. It gave me a good chuckle, which made them embarrassed. But truly, it made me happy. I had… forgotten what it feels like to be cared for on my birthday. It’s a foreign feeling but, I hope that the foreignness eventually goes away after some time.

However, I must tell them that there’s no need to overexert themselves just because it is my birthday. Although I do enjoy the extra treatment, it does neither of us any good for them to fall asleep before the night is even over. But, that’s okay. There is always next year, yes?

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Signora and you in it. You are fast asleep on the Fair Lady’s lap, a peaceful expression on your face. A similar one is on Signora’s, as there is no one else around, and she can let her guard down around you. There are a few of her flame moths scattered around the room as well, a few on the two of you. As her blonde hair spills onto your face and body, one can only guess what she is thinking.

Attached Items:

Tea Break Pancakes [Despite Signora’s history with her home nation, it’s said that she still enjoys the cuisine from there. So, you like to cook her food from there whenever you can. It might not be as good as a professional’s but it provides her a taste of home. A taste of your love, which is her favorite flavor.]

Rose [It’s no secret that roses are Signora’s favorite flower. Beautiful yet thorny, alluring yet dangerous. There are many kinds of roses with all sorts of meanings in this world, but you two have been seen exchanging only one kind - a red one. Whatever could it mean?]

—

“Birthdays…”

Sender: Pantalone

When I was a child, birthdays did not mean much to me. After all, how could one focus on their date of birth when it seemed like life was full of nothing but curses and suffering? It was only another day of working to survive. But when I met [Name], they changed that. With them, the day began to have… meaning. Purpose. It wasn’t anything grand, but they made it special, distracting me from another day of poverty. Even with their meager earnings, they never failed to gift me something, even if it was of little to no value, or not the best quality… I cherished it. No one else had ever thought of me so much. When I look back, every time my birthday came around again, my love for them only grew more.

Now that we are adults, my only wish is to repay their kindness and spoil them with as many gifts as they deserve. However, there are a few issues with this. There are times I find myself more disappointed with the world than usual because it has yet to create something that would be a suitable gift that would be on par with my love for my dear [Name]. However, whenever my spouse gifts me something, their thoughtfulness never ceases to amaze me. How is it that they always manage to gift me something wonderful and touching? When I questioned them about this, they raised an eyebrow and gave me a strange look. It seems that I will not learn their secret anytime soon. How unfortunate.

Not to mention, dearest [Name] gets upset when I spend “ludicrous amounts of money” (their words) on them, especially on my birthday, so they’ve “forbidden” me from doing so today. They are rather persistent on this, and their long lectures and expressions are rather amusing, so I’ll indulge them… for now. Do you think they realize I’ll just spend double the amount the next day? Regardless, birthdays are always well spent with [Name], and I plan to enjoy this one fully, just as I have in the past because they are the one who makes my birthday a day worth celebrating.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Pantalone and you in it. The two of you are taking a walk in Snezhnaya, browsing stores and the like. Even though it is Pantalone’s birthday, he seems insistent on trying to buy out a few stores for you once again… so in order to prevent him from doing that, you’ve hidden yourself in his coat, stopping him from walking properly. The Harbinger seems rather entertained by your antics and your head popping out of his coat… he should make you do this more often. It’s perfect for head pats.

Attached Items:

Pantalone’s Spare Change [As it is his birthday, Pantalone is feeling more generous than usual, so he is sending a bit of funds to the Traveler. There is no need for any repayment, take it as a symbol of the Fatui’s goodwill. (However, it would do good to proceed with caution… this is the Ninth, after all.) Opening it up, the duo expects to see an average amount of money, but instead are presented with a couple of million Mora… if this is what Pantalone is willing to send to the Traveler, how much does he spend on [Name]?! Paimon doesn’t want to imagine the number!]

[Name]’s Guide to Gift Giving [A piece written by you to detail how you always choose the best gift for Pantalone, unbeknownst to your husband. Opening it up, the Traveler is very curious as to how you manage to win over the Harbinger every time, a man who has everything he could possibly want at his fingertips. But instead, only one sentence is written on the paper - “I don’t know how I do it either.”]

—

“Appreciation.”

Sender: Arlecchino

Birthdays were not very much celebrated in the House of Hearth, especially when the former Knave was around. However, that changed when [Name] came along. Years ago, I still remember when they gifted Lynette her first tea cup set. Freminet, a collection of spare parts that he ended up using to make another clockwork toy. And probably the biggest hassle… gifting little Lyney a white rabbit. However, I do appreciate my lover’s efforts. The children always look forward to their birthdays much more now, some even going as far as to drop hints about their desired gift and give puppy eyes to [Name] when the time rolls around. I have to remind my children not to get greedy, and to be grateful for what they already have…

I also remember the first birthday they gifted me something as well. A part of me expected it, considering the way they behaved, but still, it was an… unfamiliar feeling, to be gifted something. And, it was also the day little Lyney and Lynette presented their first amateur magic show to me. Of course, they had much to improve on, but looking back it was a suitable birthday gift, considering how much I’ve seen the two grow now. Needless to say, I appreciate [Name] very much, for what they have given me and my children.

My birthday has come once more, and [Name] is celebrating it as they always feel the need to. Really, even if they did nothing, I would still appreciate it, considering all they’ve done. The sweets they gathered this time were exceptional, and we had a lovely chat, before taking a walk through Fontaine. They say that the flowers that grow in the wild are always the prettiest, especially the Rainbow Roses.

Ah, last of all, if you could do me a favor, that would be greatly appreciated. You have been in Fontaine for a while now, yes? It would be a great help to me if you could point me to some good operas. [Name] and I have watched many in Snezhnaya, however, we don’t often have the chance to watch any in Fontaine, with our work and all. Thank you. And please, do not bore me or waste my time.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Arlecchino and you in it. You two are sitting in a field in Fontaine somewhere, with Rainbow Roses to the side. One of them has been tucked into the Harbinger’s hair, while you seem to be focusing on creating… a flower crown? Despite the pinkness of the rose greatly contrasting with Arlecchino’s whole dark red, black, and white look, she seems to not mind your antics and waits patiently for you to complete your work of art. Of course, as a Fontainian, she knows very well what Rainbow Roses symbolize, and won’t turn down the physical manifestation of your feelings.

Attached Items:

List of Yummy Hidden Gems [A list of great places to buy sweets from in Fontaine, courtesy of [Name], passed on by Arlecchino. Sure, Hotel Debord and Café Lutece do have some excellent sweets, but there are many hidden restaurants and bakeries that provide delicious treats as well! Do stop by and give them a try. Arlecchino favors many of their products. If one needs a similar list for the other nations, do tell.]

Slice of Birthday Cake [An exquisite slice of cake cut from Arlecchino’s birthday cake. She doesn’t care much for the tradition, but [Name] always buys one anyway as an excuse to treat the children from the House to something nice. You know you shouldn’t spoil them so much, but you can’t help it!]

—

“Splash!”

Sender: Tartaglia

Hey comrade! How have you been? Sorry if my handwriting isn’t the best. I sparred with [Name] for my birthday, and they really roughed me up. Not that I mind, I asked them to go all out. Normally they don’t like fighting with me, because they always insist they don’t like hurting me, but they couldn’t say no to me today. You know, I would like to see the two of you fight. It would be an exhilarating experience.

But anyway, after they patched me up, we took a dive in Fontaine’s waters! You know, whenever I visit Liyue, we often go to cool off in Yaoguang Shoal, but Fontaine’s oceans are so much different. The scenery, the terrain, the greenery, the wildlife… good thing I bought them a waterproof Kamera. Speaking of wildlife, [Name] and I befriended a blubberbeast. [Name] instantly fell in love with the creature, and I feel as though they gave a bit too much attention to it, but, seeing them smile is the best gift I could ever ask for. Maybe I should gift them a plushie of it? However, it is a bit amusing that something that looks as defenseless as that could pack such a punch!

Did you know this, Traveler? Apparently, Romaritime Flowers represent loyalty. [Name] gifted me a bouquet which I was initially confused about since I usually give them flowers instead. But after some quick research, these flowers mean unbreaking oaths. It was a bit ironic really, for I should have gifted them instead as I always swore to be loyal to them, my family, and the Tsaritsa, but it was a wonderful gift. Not to mention the delicious meal they prepared. They’ve been busy researching the best Fontaine recipes for me, so I could make them for Teucer and the others back home, but maybe I should just drag them to Snezhnaya so they could do it instead… I never leave anything but empty plates whenever [Name] cooks for me, but they’ve packaged some for you too, Traveler!

Next time we fight at the Golden House, I’ll bring [Name] along too. Do you think you can hold your own against both of us at the same time?

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Childe and you in it. You two are under the sea, with a Blubberbeast between the two of you. The creature is nudging you while Childe looks on amused. It seems that it’s been begging for some more attention, food, and head pats. Maybe some tummy rubs too. Apparently, you named it Big Cutie, because well… it’s a big cutie! Unfortunately, it seems to have a little bit of a grudge against the Harbinger because he accidentally attacked it.

Attached Items:

[Name]’s Special Macarons [Rainbow Macarons but with a special twist from [Name]. On the top and bottom of the sweet treat are… faces? Very detailed ones too, with colored hair and eyes! Ah, the faces are none other than [Name], Childe, Teucer, and all of his other siblings! Oh, and macarons of Traveler and Paimon were made as well, how kind! Childe says they’re quite delicious, and he is a great cook, so they must be.]

Freshly Caught Fish [Fish caught by Childe. It seems that the two lovers also went fishing after diving a bit, as one knows how much Childe loves to fish. Sadly, your fishing skills still pale in comparison compared to his and you barely caught anything… That’s alright though! No matter how long it takes, he’ll always happily help you hone your skills!]

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mutfruit-salad · 11 days

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Long post ahead. My full thoughts on the fallout series. TW for references to Sexual Assault, racism, antisemitism. It's not particularly in depth here- but I do reference specific acts of violence done in the show.

I've had people insinuate I'm only mad because I'm a New Vegas fan, because I think they retconned the lore. I'm not upset at the fallout show for its dubious lore additions and reworks. I think they're quite bad in places, but they're by far the least of the show's problems.

This isn't a case of a New Vegas fan mad they messed with my game in a way I didn't like.

Please refer to literally any of my posts pointing out the racism and antisemitism in the show. They brand a black man in episode 1. They named the enclave scientist after a real life holocaust survivor and then spent most of the show lobbing around his decapitated head like a volleyball.

But I'd like to consider other elements of the show. View it as a whole.

Consider the inherent misogyny of having a female main character whose entire character arc is just her getting abused for 8 episodes. How the trajectory of her character revolves around not giving up on the humanity of the man who waterboarded her and sold her to organ harvesters. A female main character who is raped in the first episode and watches her entire community get brutalized and who comes out of it completely unphased- still as plucky as ever- just worried about her dad.

Consider the horror of having a black woman be the one to drop the bombs. Consider the horror of her leading a council of elites who have infiltrated and taken over the US government. Consider the ways this group is presented and shown, the ways every fault of the US government in the series is offloaded onto a shadowy group of elites.

Consider how the capitalist critique of the show only goes so far as saying there's a secret organization of bad people who must be purged. The antisemitism and conspiratorial nonsense inherent to that premise.

Consider the rampant classism with the show's depiction of Wastelanders as either animalistic monsters or too stupid to live.

Consider the ways the show punishes nearly every act of kindness- the ways the world rewards might-makes-right authoritarians.

Consider the way the NCR collapsed offscreen because a disgruntled husband was mad his wife left him, and how after it collapsed the army immediately became raiders and the survivors became blood drinking cultists. Don't give me "it's just shady sands that collapsed" because the NCR was a developed nation. If one of their cities blew up, they would send aid. They would assist.

Consider the way the show constantly uses sex crimes as comedy and horror- the incest jokes and the "chicken fucker" bit, and the Vault 4 monster impregnation and the main character's rape in the first episode.

Consider the ableism of the treatment of ghouls, how every ghoul is now a ticking time bomb, how Lucy helps free a small dementia-riddled old ghoul woman from a medical torture facility and then is immediately punished with the woman trying to inexplicably murder her. Thaddeus openly talks about ghoul exterminationism and it's never a joke or a bit- he just says it and nobody reacts or says anything.

Consider the way the Vault 33 town councillors use real world progressive talking points about restorative justice and prison abolition and multiculturalism- meanwhile Norm advocates for the death penalty and a closed society. How Norm is shown as good and righteous and the vault dwellers range from deluded to damningly stupid- how the mere concept of restorative justice is made a farce because the NCR raiders are screaming about eating organs and murdering people 24/7.

Consider the way they removed the Boneyard, and the Followers of the Apocalypse by extension. In New Vegas we heard about the Followers operating a university in LA. It's gone now. Not destroyed by bombs- but written out of existence because the Boneyard never existed, and Shady Sands is in its place. Consider what that says about this world- that the group most dedicated to peace and rebuilding has been surgically excised from the narrative- destroyed more wholly than even the NCR- written out of existence entirely.

This is the single most reactionary fallout story that has been produced. By a fucking country mile.

Whatever lore critiques there are should be secondary. The storytelling is reactionary in ways I straight up have not seen from other Bethesda entries in the series. It is cruel to a fault, and depicts a world that is incapable of healing or growing- where the best you can do is hold onto that small spark of goodness while every bit of the society around you tries to murder it out of you. This isn't a story about rebuilding, or about postwar politics, or about society- it's about dueling warlords and might makes right attitudes and grimdark views of the nature of humanity. It's fallout in aesthetics alone- and it's perhaps the most hateful thing I've seen come out of this series outside of the actual neonazis in the fanbase.

Whatever hope there is in Moldaver's final moments looking out over the glittering ruins of LA is undercut by the knowledge of what came before. What was destroyed. And it's undercut by the Brotherhood's totalitarian control. It's not hopeful, it's the bare minimum of survival. It's all the progress of the postwar world, 200 years of humanity and history, reduced to just barely getting the lights back on.

In the intro to fallout 1, "War Never Changes" is used as thematic glue. It ties together two concepts- past wars- and present capitalism and militarism.

Ron Perlman describes the Roman Empire, the Spanish conquests of the Americas, and the Nazi regime- and then he says "war never changes" and uses it to connect those past atrocities to the modern world of the setting- to the war that ended everything. The phrase existed to link the resource wars and their ensuing fallout to all the crimes of empire prior. War never changes wasn't a hard and fast rule of human nature- it was a specific condemnation of America.

Lonesome Road even ends with the phrase refuted. War Never Changes. But men do, through the roads they walk. There is hope. That's what this series has always been about. The Master died at the end of fallout 1 and said "leave while you still have hope."

In this show, the black woman Vault Tec exec who ends the world says the phrase. It's stripped of all meaning. Just a generic throwback because it's a famous phrase in the series' history. It's not a condemnation of America, it's a celebratory thing. Vault Tec toasting to the end of the world.

What a thing to see this series become. What a thing to see celebrated.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout show #this has gotten more feedback then I was expecting #and i'm glad this is resonating with some folks #turned off reblogs cuz i cant actually deal with the response this has been getting at this point 👍

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oikasugayama · 4 months

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He F--KS You When You're Stuck pt. 1

pt. 1 *Atsushi, Fukuchi, Nikolai | pt. 2 Dazai, Ango, Oda | pt. 3 Kunikida, Sigma, Akutagawa

Disclaimer: These are works of fiction. The actions in these stories do not reflect real actions taken in the source material. I do not condone the actions some characters may take in these stories. If you are sensitive to potential non-consensual activity, do not read this series.

Contains: fem!reader being stuck/confined, non-con, fingering, spitting, doggy style, cunnilingus, masturbation, degradation, being used as a toy, etc.

*Atsushi

*This idea was originally for Atsushi, so his section is mostly a drabble! Enjoy!

You're getting ready for your first date with Atsushi when you drop an earring into your bathroom sink. It's your absolute favorite so you scramble to save it before it goes down the drain, but no-- it disappears into the darkness.

"Fuck," you swear, dropping to your knees to open the cabinet beneath the sink. The drain pipe has a bend in it before it disappears into the wall. If you're lucky the earring just dropped and is sitting in the elbow. If you're unlucky, it slid further back into the pipe.

You manage to unscrew the elbow connector by hand, only getting a bit of water on the ground. Your earring isn't in there, though. "Shit, shit, shit," you hiss, trying to look into the pipe on the wall. You have to get your phone flashlight to really see, but there it is!! Just a couple of inches back!!

You ranch one finger inside trying to grasp it, but it's too far back...so you add a second finger since your middle finger is longer, and you push as far as possible in and feel your earring just under your fingertip, and when you try to bend your fingers and pull out-- you can't. You're stuck. Thoroughly.

"You're lucky you had your phone with you," Atsushi says as he walks into your bathroom. "Otherwise, I--" his voice drops off, and you're certain it's because he just laid his eyes on you. You're on your hands and knees on the bathroom floor, your upper body inside the cabinet under the sink, and you're only in your underwear, not having put on your dress yet.

"Yeah, I know. Please, Atsushi, just get in here and help me."

"Right." He slightly stutters when he says it. A heat is stirring in his pants and he feels incredibly guilty, but as he kneels down beside you his eyes are glued to your ass. It's almost entirely exposed to him given your skimpy black thong.

"Um, I can't really-- get-- in there," he says, trying to reach in the narrow space around you without letting his body touch yours. If he feels your warmth and your sturdiness right now he's really going to lose himself.

"Just get closer, I don't care what you have to do, please! This is really uncomfortable, I just need like-- lotion or lube or something."

"Huh?!" You're looking over your shoulder at him and he can see in your eyes that you're serious, but all he can think is I'm hard I'm hard I'm hard I'm hard.

"Look around, I've got some somewhere."

Atsushi meekly agrees and crawls backwards away from you, but when he catches sight of your ass gently swaying as you shift your weight uncomfortably, he can't help but to palm his crotch, which makes him let out an involuntary whine.

"Are you good?" you ask him, and he shakes his head though you can't really see him given that he's behind you.

"It's-- [Y/N], I'm sorry, but you're so hot. I can't help it. I wanna touch you so bad." He scoots forward and presses his clothed dick to your ass, instantly throwing his head back and moaning.

"Atsushi, what the fuck?! This isn't cool-- h-hey! Ohh--" As he grinds against your ass, you feel how big his dick must be, and it sends you a jolt of arousal.

"I know a way to get something slick," he says, and you also hear the tinkling of metal as he unbuckles his belt.

"Atsushi," you say as a warning, but he ignores you.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good," he promises breathily, and then you feel his fingers caressing your cunt through your panties. "I'm gonna get you wet and then we'll get you out of there. Promise."

He pulls your panties to the side and spits, though you don't feel it hit you. You're torn between panic and frustration now, trying to pull your fingers out, but only succeeding in back up onto him, feeling how his hand must be moving over his dick, spreading his spit out as if it'll be slick enough to enter you.

Meanwhile, his fingers dip into you, and you squeal, lurching forward and banging your head against the wall. "Wha-- stop-- Atsushi!" You're ashamed at how wet you already are from him touching you, but you refuse to say so, and you don't want to let him know.

"Don't worry! I'm gonna get you out!" He says, completely brainwashed by how horny he is. His fingers disappear, only to be replaced by something bigger, thicker, and much hotter.

"Oh my god, is that your cock?!" you ask, dropping your head between your arms and guiltily leaning back into him. "Oh my god... Atsushi," you moan, giving in to how good it you just know it's gonna feel.

He whimpers behind you, and both of his hands grab your hips. He starts thrusting immediately, not giving you any time to adjust to him. His strokes are long and firm, making your ass clap against his hips.

"Oh, fuck! Atsushi-- oh, fuck, Atsushi, n-no--" You try to bite back moans and give a final plea for him to stop, but to his ears it only sounds like you moaning his name, which only spurs him on.

"Oh, yeah, baby. Oh, [Y/N]! Oh yeah!" he moans, babbling loudly over the sound of him clapping your cheeks hard. His head is thrown back, his eyes screwed tightly shut. "You're so wet. Oh, you're so hot," he whimpers. "You feel so good!"

"Atsushiiii," you whine, "You're such an asshole." You cut yourself off with a moan, and you find yourself rocking back and forth to meet his thrusts. "Oh, fuck-- It's a-- good thing we-- I was-- I wanted to do this anyway--" You try to say between your moaning and gasping.

"Yeah!" Atsushi agrees loudly. "Wanted to have sex with you so bad. Oh god, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum already, I can't-- I can't-- aaaaaa!!--" With a few rapid, hard thrusts and a loud moan, Atsushi comes, still fucking you, making his cum and your wet squish out around his dick.

When he finally pulls out and falls backwards to sit on his butt, panting to catch his breath, you groan.

"You're not done yet," you tell him sternly.

"I'm so sorry, I'll get you out, I swear!"

"Yeah and after that you've gotta make me cum or I'm never going on a date with you again."

Fukuchi

You had the misfortune of being trapped by a mafia scheme in the tunnels below Yokohama. You're relatively unscathed, thank goodness, but unfortunately the way the train derailed and crashed sent you flying forward and you ended up pinned beneath a seat that got partially crushed when the side of the train dented inward.

Don't worry, though! You've been reassured that the mighty hero Fukuchi and his team of Hunting Dogs are coming to rescue survivors! You're so relieved, as you know of Fukuchi and how incredibly his reputation is. You have no doubt he'll save you.

"What pretty panties," is not the first thing you expect to hear from him, but when he kneels down and pats your butt, you realize your dress must have come upwards and exposed you.

"Sir?" you stutter out when his gloved fingers stroke up and down your crack all the way down between your legs to your cunt.

"This is thanks enough for the mighty Hunting Dogs saving you, wouldn't you say?"

"P-please?" you ask, meaning "say that again" or "excuse me?" but he takes it as you begging.

"Good girl," Fukuchi says, slowly removing his gloves.

He doesn't put his dick in you, but he does get a face full of your ass and pussy as he eats you out like there's no tomorrow, getting sloppy and messy, even spitting on your cunt when two of his fingers come up to rub back and forth acoss your clit

He makes you cum and demands you scream his name while you do it. When he finally gets you out of the seat and stands you up, he hands you a handkerchief and makes you wipe your wet and cum off of his face and especially out of his mustache.

"I trust this will stay between us. Go get your injuries checked out." and then he sends you on your way, not even casting a look at you over his shoulder.

Nikolai

He forces the situation in which you're stuck. You've been his plaything for a while now and you didn't have a choice about it. He fell in lust at first sight when you started working with one of the cover-up companies for the decay of angels. he sent you flowers, treats, popped his head in now and again to talk to you, and you talked to him too because honestly he's handsome, though he makes you nervous because you know he's dangerous.

then one night his portal spawned and he appeared in your bedroom in the middle of your alone time

"What beauty!" he said, watching the panic overcome your face as you clamped your legs closed, hiding his view of the dildo buried in your sopping wet pussy. "Apologies for being late."

You freak out, telling him to leave, threatening to call the police. you reach for your phone but he gets it away from you. somehow you end up pinned down, and when you think you've fought your way free you realize you're not actually making any progress.

Nikolai summons a portal and sends the top half of your body onto the floor, while the bottom half of your body he stays on the bed. he uses his hands and knees to keep your thighs spread and your pussy exposed while he pushes his pants down just far enough for his cock to spring free.

you feel every bit of it while you see it. you watch from the floor as he fucks you on the bed. you feel his pants rubbing against your legs, you feel his fingers digging into your plush love-handles, and it's so. fucking. hot.

you had been thinking about him while masturbating anyway, and from the way he said "sorry i'm late" he must have known it, though you have no idea how. now he rails you hard, and his stamina is incredible. he's fucking you for twenty minutes straight, moving you around, flipping you over, getting different angles, before he realizes you're moaning and enjoying it. you're calling his name because you want to touch him, not because you're telling him to stop.

finally he pulls you back through the portal so he can play with your tits and cum on your face when he's finally done with his new favorite fuck toy

#bsd x reader #atsushi x reader #atsushi smut #atsushi #atsushi headcanons #fukuchi smut #fukuchi x reader #hunting dogs x reader #hunting dogs smut #hunting dogs headcanons #fukuchi headcanons #nikolai x reader #nikolai smut #nikolai headcanons #mdni #tw noncon

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irisintheafterglow · 7 months

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Parley? (opla!zoro x you)

summary: a stranger arrives to disturb your peace and you have no choice but to negotiate with him.

wc: 2.57k

cw/tags: first meeting, swearing, mentions of canon-typical violence including blood and swords, zoro doesn't know how to express his feelings

note: i'm so nervous posting this ngl because i really like zoro as a character but i'm scared that i'm not gonna do him justice since i don't know him as well as gojo or geto or bakugo etc etc etc. hopefully all yall zoro girlies like this because i've been itching to write for him since my explore page became nothing but mackenyu. enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

You hear the chimes first. The melody is soft, nearly imperceptible to the untrained ear, but you sense it. After all, you were the one who tied the string under the walkway floorboards in such a way that the bells above your window would clink if something pressed down on the wood. Over time, you learned to identify where outside was being pushed based on more strings and bells. It made it easier to find the Lady, on the rare occasion she stepped into open air and you weren’t with her. However, whoever was now setting off your makeshift alarm system had footsteps unlike the usual occupants of the house. The quietness of the notes was unsettling, in a way, because it meant they were creeping around the house. Someone didn’t want to be heard.

It was the flowers next, the roses with uniquely reflective petals that were especially good at bouncing moonlight precisely through your window. The Lady commented one day in the market that she’d taken a liking to that particular flower, and you bought the vendor’s entire stock to plant around the house once you realized how it could be used. Not before you built a crow’s nest-like window, first. The glass structure jut out of the house in just the right way that you received colors from the left, right, and front of the house. Had an intruder approached from the back, your only blindspot, you would hear the more insistent clicks of the typewriter keys attached to the outside deck panels. The nearly noiseless bells and the ominous shadow sneaking across your wall were enough to snap you wide awake.

The soles of your feet meet cool stone as you slide from under the covers, wrapping the sheath of your saber around your waist and slipping out of your bedroom. Despite the darkness of the hallway, your legs move by memory to the Lady’s chambers only to find the door already ajar.

Shit. Were you too late?

Slinking into the room in one graceful stride, words leave your mouth without thinking when you see him standing over your Lady, holding two deadly-looking swords.

“Taking a life halfway gone is immoral no matter the bounty, pirate hunter.” His head snaps in your direction and you have your blade on him before he can blink, resting the point lightly but threateningly against his throat. His eyes narrow on you challengingly and you put ever so slightly more pressure into your hilt, forcing him to surrender and sheath both swords. The third, you note, remains undrawn on his hip. “No better targets to pursue than a retiree? I expected better from the demon of the East Blue.” His gaze remains unchanging while you step forward, inching him backward until his head hits the wall with a soft thud. You were thankful, for once, that the Lady was starting to lose her hearing and was always a deep sleeper.

“She’s wanted,” he says in a low tone.

“She’s withered,” you retort. “Killing her advances justice no more than leaving her alive.” His face is still unreadable, void of any emotions just as the rumors conveyed. Many tales circulated of the infamous pirate hunter, but you chose to believe the Lady to be far too irrelevant to pose any real threat to the Marines. As one of the last known powerhouses of the Gold Roger era, it was more likely her wanted poster would be drowned out amongst younger hotshot pirates than for her to become an actual target. And yet, here was the most feared bounty hunter in the seas, hunting down a myth that many assumed was already six feet under. And for what, fun?

“It doesn’t matter. Honor is a courtesy denied to killers.” He speaks in a way like you wouldn’t understand his ideas, and it sends a white-hot flash of anger racing through your veins.

“Ooh, yes. You’re being so honorable by julienning a defenseless old woman while she sleeps.” To your surprise, he flinches, unwillingly bringing your eyes to corded muscle and flexed biceps. It’s a bit of a struggle to refocus on the task at hand. “Enlighten me on how this makes you feel vindicated.”

“I kill pirates for a living,” he states simply, nodding over to the slumbering mass under the thick comforter. The tip of your sword follows every movement he makes, careful not to give him an opening to strike. Unexpectedly, he seems almost relaxed, like the weapon at his throat was the least of his worries. “That woman is a pirate.”

“That woman was a pirate. She is no longer the ‘Captain Indigo’ you seek.”

“Who is she now, then?”

“Lady Lavender, adored by her constituents and far removed from a life of piracy. If I weren’t on the verge of spilling your organs on the carpet, I’d say visit the farmer’s market on Tuesdays. You’ll see just how different her life is now.” His chin tilts in disagreement.

“The Marines say otherwise.”

“What do you say?” A minute tilt of your wrist angles your saber so that the point now resides under his sharply defined jawline. “Hmm, hunter? Any opinions in that thick skull of yours or are you just another mindless government weapon?”

“You understand nothing,” he mutters like an indignant teenager, looking off to the side woefully. It makes your blood boil.

“Try me,” you snarl at the green-haired stranger. In another life, you’d have thought him pretty handsome, if you weren’t so infuriated by his indifferent sense of justice. He knew nothing about you, or the Lady, or what either of you had to endure to create a sense of safety. Safety, you would add, that you weren’t going to give up easily.

“This woman you serve, what are you to her? A caretaker? A child?”

“A friend,” you answer cautiously. “Something your line of work would know nothing about.”

“The Marines know that your friend murdered the former governor and seized the island in an act of desperation,” he informs you with a note of condescension. “They’ve wanted her gone for ten years, and I am here to collect her head. It’s not personal; it’s business.” The incorrectness of his information is laughable, but what concerns you more is the ease with which he talks of taking lives.

“You don’t feel any sort of remorse for the targets you kill?” The anger in your stomach starts to rub against a different, unwanted influx of sorrow. After witnessing the change in a ruthless pirate empress, you refused to believe a human could be this heartless.

“I don’t dwell on them long enough to care. Most of the time, they do something stupid that makes it a little easier to dispose of them.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong about her,” you recover, pressing the blade against his skin on the brink of drawing blood. He winces, squirming against the wallpaper for some sort of relief. You don’t budge. “The former mayor was a half-brother whom she reconnected with after Gold Roger’s execution. His death was caused by a misdosage of medicine used to treat hemorrhoids he’d suffered with since he was twenty. On his deathbed, he made her promise to take care of this city...” You inhale, focusing on the man in front of you. His expression is soft, nothing like you would have expected from a feared killer-for-hire. He was actually listening to you.

“Go on.”

“And to take care of me. I have the great pirate hunter at the end of my blade, so she must not have done that bad of a job at either request.” He’s silent for a moment and you watch the cogs turn in his brain, hoping he’d find some humanity and realize that killing the Lady isn’t just pointless, it’s fundamentally wrong.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I need money.” Nevermind, then. Backup plan it is.

“I understand that,” you concede, and you remove your weapon from his neck. His hands are on the hilts of his swords instantly, but he doesn’t draw them. He could kill both you and the Lady in a single swing, but he doesn’t. Maybe you did reach a different side of him. “That's why I’m willing to cut you a deal.”

“I don’t make deals with pirat–” he starts, but abruptly cuts himself off when you raise your eyebrows in expectation. Did you not learn anything from what I just told you? His face contorts in confusion, as if his mind was at odds with what his body was telling him to do. After carefully schooling his expression into blankness, he stands to his full height, rolling a broad shoulder. “What’s the deal?”

“You’re aware of the Blue Ringed crew, yes?”

“Famous for their poisons, I’ve heard,” he confirms and you nod. “They cover every inch of their ship in toxins and wear special clothing to prevent contact with their skin. Makes it hard to sneak up on them.”

“Exactly. See, you’re not as uneducated as you look,” you tease and you feel your face heat when he sticks his tongue out at you. It’s so boyish and immature, in stark contrast to the handsome, god-bodied man that faces you. “I happen to have a counteragent, enough for you to get on their ship and collect three times the amount if you killed us tonight.”

“And what would you get in return?”

“The sound of your boots walking off the property and never returning,” you whisper a little desperately, pleading with him to leave your perfect peace intact and forget this altercation ever happened. The quiet in the room as he ponders your offer is suffocating save for the gentle snores of Lady Lavender. Eventually, he takes your deal, inspecting the powder-filled vial when you bring it to him on the front porch.

“How do I use it if it’s powder?”

“Mix it with lotion to help soak it faster into your skin. When your skin is dry, you’ll have roughly an hour to navigate the boat completely immune to the poison. It’s sweat resistant but will wash off with seawater, so take care not to get thrown overboard,” you instruct him, crossing your arms across your chest against the chilly ocean air blowing in from the south. It was breezier than normal and you regret not grabbing a sweater. Unless you wanted to freeze your ass off, you needed to finish this debacle quickly. “Kill the pirates, get your bounty, and leave us the hell alone. Deal?”

“Fine by me.” He carefully places the vial in the pocket of his pants and begins his descent down the front walkway. Before you can turn back into the house, however, his voice reaches your ears so lightly you think you’d hallucinated it. “Stay warm.”

He doesn’t end up keeping his side of the deal. A few days after your initial altercation, he approaches the house again in broad daylight holding a box about the size of your hand. You stare at him in disbelief, reading in the nook of your window and he has the audacity to smirk at you when he spots you looking.

“I thought we had a deal, pirate hunter,” you remind him when you open the front door of the house. It was infuriating how good he looked for having just returned from a pursuit, dressed up in fine fabrics with his hair combed back nicely. The irony was palpable, the situation not unlike the stories the Lady told you about the numerous men who attempted to court her. They appeared at the same front door with flowers, rubies, and promises of devotion, but none of them actually wanted her heart. In contrast, you wanted to stab the heart of the idiot in front of you.

“Stop calling me that,” he frowns and you can’t help the laugh that leaves your mouth. “My name is Roronoa Zoro–”

“Oh, sorry,” you interject and his eyebrows furrow at your lack of manners. “Am I just supposed to act like you’re my friend now? After you tried to kill my boss?”

“I thought we were past that,” he states bluntly.

“That was four days ago.”

“It’s enough time to move on.”

“You’re impossible.” You shake your head in disbelief, slightly puzzled at the giddy feeling in your chest when the faintest smile appears on his face. “What’s that?” You gesture to the rosewood box in his fingers.

“Consider it an apology,” he says, holding out the box for you to take, “for bothering you the other night.”

“How chivalrous.” You eye the box warily, still unsure about the enigmatic bounty hunter before you. “But we don’t need nor want your money.”

“It’s not money. Just open the damn box,” he grunts impatiently and you begrudgingly oblige, sliding back the top panel to reveal a bracelet. It wasn’t like any other bracelet you’d seen before, a gold chain garnished with a single deep green emerald barely the size of your pinky fingernail. It was delicate and elegant, subtle enough not to draw attention but luxurious enough to make you feel spoiled. “Do you like it?”

“I do, actually. The color is pretty,” you reply slowly, still slightly in shock. “Why green?”

“Take a wild guess.” He smirks again and your gaze flicks up to his hair. It was just as vibrant as the gemstone and he watched you carefully as the pieces clicked into place. With the bracelet, you’d be forced to think of him every time you looked at it or anything the color green. What kind of guy buys a momento for almost killing you, you had no idea.

“You didn’t need to bring me this. I thought the deal was–”

“I remember what the deal was, but I felt bad making you stand outside shivering while you explained how the counteragent functioned.” Your eyes widen slightly at his admission. He noticed you reacting to the wind, so how intensely was he watching you that night? If he sees your surprise, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to explain why he brought you the gift in the first place. “The powder worked, by the way. I snagged this from the captain’s chambers on my way out.”

“You stole this because you saw me get cold?” He merely shrugs, clearly unbothered.

“I mean, yeah. You looked miserable.”

“I was miserable.” He smiles slightly again, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement. It makes your heart stutter against your wishes. “Does this mean we’re even now, pirate hunter?”

“Call me Zoro and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“You’ll consider it?”

“Holding a sword to someone’s throat is a major transgression that can’t be forgiven so easily,” he taunts and you roll your eyes. “Let me start over, meet you properly without the involvement of weapons.”

“You really want to see me again?” He scoffs at your question as if the answer wasn't crystal clear.

“What, bringing you a bracelet wasn’t obvious enough? I’ll have to bring the entire ship next time. Might take a little longer to get back to you.”

“Get off my porch, Roronoa Zoro,” you laugh, reaching out to push his shoulder away and feeling every inch of his skin against your fingers in the brief moment your bodies touch. “Don’t come back unless you have something important to say.”

“I think you’ll soon find out what I prioritize as important.”

#zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #opla x reader #opla x you #opla x y/n #opla!zoro x you #opla!zoro x reader

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llamagoddessofficial · 4 months

Text

Can you believe I've never done Farmtale Sans before? As a certified country girl? Shocking, I know. I'll rectify this issue with my latest brainrot scenario immediately

---

“whoever this is, it better be real fuckin’ important,” the voice at the other end said, gruff and tired, heavy with a mix of annoyance and sleepiness.

Immediately, shame washed over you. The very small amount of steam you’d managed to muster up completely dissipated from your body as you imagined Sans’ disappointed and disbelieving reaction to your pathetic request.

This was a mistake.

“... H-hey. Uhm... I’m fine, I didn’t mean to call. Butt dial, hahah.” Your voice nearly cracked. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“... wait.” His voice instantly changed. “hey, don’t hang up-”

You didn’t hear the rest of what he said. You hung up, and put the phone down. Now you were right back to square one, sitting at the kitchen table in a freezing empty house at 2 in the morning. It had taken you almost half an hour to muster up the courage to call him- thirty minutes of sitting by the phone, wrapped up in your coat, shaking and holding back tears. You started plotting places you were going to sleep. Maybe if you put more wood in the kitchen stove, you could just sleep at the table until morning.

... You inherited this place from your grandmother. It was a ‘rustic’ house that hadn’t seen human company for over a decade, in the middle of the deep countryside, cut off from almost everything. Spooky, draughty, on nights like tonight sitting in the kitchen was like sitting in a fridge. You had moved out of necessity- your landlord in the city had evicted you from your beloved apartment to jack up his prices, and you couldn’t find anywhere else to live except this middle-of-nowhere house left in your name.

You had lived in the city your whole life. You weren’t used to being in the country, not at all. The month you’d spent here had only reinforced that fact to you, over and over.

Something made a noise outside. An animal, maybe. You curled your coat tighter around you.

The only upside so far had been meeting the monsters that made up the tight-knit community you had been unceremoniously dropped into. Papyrus and Sans, especially, had been so wonderful and helpful. Sans had told you to call if you needed anything.

... Which was exactly why you didn’t have the heart to tell him why you were really calling. You didn’t want him to think any worse of you than he probably already did. A stuck-up city girl who doesn’t know what she’s doing.

You were scared.

...

The phone rang. The sound made you jump, it felt so loud in the silence. Despite your increasing shame, and the desire to just let it ring... you picked up.

“c’mon, don’t be like that.” He sounded much softer than when he had first answered. “what’s wrong? something happen?”

“N-no.” Hearing someone else’s voice was so comforting. You felt so alone, far away from everyone. “It’s nothing.”

You obviously weren’t very convincing. “doesn’t seem like nothing. you sound terrified.”

“I’m just cold.”

“didja kill someone? do i need to come over and help hide a body?”

You couldn’t help it, that made you giggle a little.

...

It just came. You didn’t entirely know why. Probably because it was two, and you hadn’t slept since six the previous morning. Unable to help yourself, you just... burst into tears.

“hey. s’ok, you’re gonna be ok. i’m on the way.”

“N-no, no, please,” You pressed your sleeve against your eyes The shame was absolutely overwhelming. “Please don’t come,”

“too late. already outta bed, it’s serious business. you gonna tell me what’s got you all shaken up?”

You pulled your knees up to your face. Well, no hiding it now, huh? He’d heard you sobbing over the phone. Your voice crumpled under a mixture of tears, fear, immense fatigue and shame. You felt like such a baby.

“Th-there’s a huge spider on my bed,” you finally admitted, feebly. “I-I’m... I don’t know what to do.”

“aw jeez. why didn’t you just say?”

You could suddenly barely talk through the crying. Hours of stress, all coming out in one mess. He probably thought you were pathetic.

“hey. knock knock.”

As he said that, you heard two soft knocks on your side door. You jumped up, what the hell? Was that Sans? You dropped the phone and rushed to the door to let him in, almost tripping over yourself.

You opened the door, the air was full of the sound of wind and crickets. Sans stood in the darkness outside of the house, dressed in a thick knitted sweater, blue and white striped pyjama bottoms, big heavy boots, and a coat over the top of it all. He had the phone in one hand, and his smile widened when he saw you.

Shocked, you scrubbed at your eyes and nose again, self consciously trying to wipe off the tears and snot. He lived half an hour's drive from you. “H-how... how did you get here so fast?”

“shortcut.” He winked, those lovely emerald green eyelights glimmering in the low light. “can i come in?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, stepping to the side. Maybe he knew roads your map apps didn't. Sans eagerly came into the light, kicking off his shoes and closing the door behind him.

“this way?” he asked.

... You showed him to the bedroom, but cowered in the doorway.

“I-it’s under the sheet.”

Sans didn’t even hesitate. He approached the bed and flipped back the sheet. The spider hadn’t moved since you last saw it scurry under your bedclothes, still sitting right there, with its fat hairy body and sharp legs. It was probably the biggest spider you had ever seen in your entire life. You felt a horrible chill pass over you.

“dang. he is big. look at the size of that gangly fucker.”

Having said that, Sans just... grabbed it. He picked the spider up before it could run and held it in his enclosed fist like he was scooping up a penny he had dropped on the floor. Just like that, he moved across the room and pulled back the curtain, cracked the window open, stuck his arm out, and threw the spider out into the darkness.

He closed the window again. The air felt less heavy. He even tugged the handle to make sure the window was all properly sealed up, pulling the curtains closed again.

It took him all of fifteen seconds.

“all good.” He turned to you, grinning and showing you his open palms. No spider. “successfully evicted.”

...

You started crying again.

Sans mumbled a soft ‘aw jeez’. He didn’t hesitate to cross the room, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a warm hug, ignoring your babbled apologies.

“he really spooked ya, huh?” A gentle hand smoothed over your hair. He smelled like sweet hay, hours of sunshine, and something slightly musky. “how long were you tryna drum up the courage?”

“T-two hours,” you sobbed, muffled in his sweater.

You’d expected him to laugh at you. But he didn’t. He just held you, letting you cry out all the stress that had been building up over the course of the night. You were pretty sure this was the first time you had been hugged since before you left the city.

Eventually, you calmed yourself down, reducing to just hiccups. Sans didn’t let go until you did, allowing you to pull away, but keeping a steadying hand on your arm.

“easy, pet.” His voice was so warm and soothing. “you’re all good.”

“Fucking... I’m just such a baby.” Your sleeves were damp from all of the tear wiping you were doing. You made an unattractive sniffling sound. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

“cus i’m used to ‘em. also, i’m a skeleton, so i don’t gotta worry about being bitten. no shame in bein’ scared of the big ones.”

Your voice was hoarse. “I’m sorry you came out all this way.”

“... did you think i’d be mad at you?” he asked, softly.

“M-mhm.”

“i really don’t mind bein’ yer bug removing hero." He patted his nonexistent bicep. "tell ya what, it makes me feel very big an’ tough.”

He had you giggling again. He always did. He seemed proud of himself- his presence was balm to your Soul right now.

“I just... I get so scared at night.” Your cheeks were hot. “It’s so quiet, and dark. I feel like I’m the only person around for miles. I don’t know why I thought I could do this.”

"this?"

"Living out here."

“hey, i beg to differ. yer already doin’ so much better than most who move to these parts.”

You looked up at him. Why did that tiny bit of praise make your heart swell so much? You didn’t feel like you were doing ‘better’. You’d just called your nearest neighbour at 2 in the morning to come save you from a spider. “But I’m always asking for help.”

“exactly. you’re askin’. that’s the important part.” His eyelights were so warm. “that’s how we make it work, out here. we help each other.”

Goddamnit. You were gonna cry again. You just about managed to choke it down.

“... the animal noises also probably freak you out too, huh?”

“Y-yeah, hah.”

“if you don’t know what yer hearin’, it can be pretty scary.”

... You sniffled.

...

“... you’re shaking. d’ya want me to stay?”

How did he know? He always just seemed to know. You nodded, meekly. You didn’t want to be alone right now, and you knew the house would feel even colder and emptier once you’d known how it felt while you had company.

“Will Papyrus be worried?”

“he knew i was headin’ out to help ya. he’ll be fine.”

... You didn’t need to say out loud where you wanted Sans to sleep. Both of you knew.

The two of you finally took off your coats, and Sans turned off the lights. His forest-coloured eyelights were the only illumination in the room. As soon as he shuffled into bed beside you, you gratefully curled up against him, he was so calming and so warm. He reciprocated, wrapping his big arms around you, his comforting smell soothing your shot nerves.

“... Thank you.” Your voice was almost a whisper.

“yer really warm.” he hummed. “just so you know, i’m a bit of a snorer.”

You probably should’ve been more concerned, sharing a bed in a very secluded location with a guy you barely knew. But you didn’t have the energy for it. For the first time in a long time, you were warm, didn’t feel lonely, and weren’t worried at all about bugs.

“I don’t mind.”

... It was the best night’s sleep you’d ever had.

#llama writes #first time writing farmtale sans !!#big soft man

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moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami · 23 days

Note

Reader as Persephone's only daughter? And she doesn't get into relationships bc of her mother's past as she was kidnapped by Hades?? Like History repeats itself with Luke being so obsessed with her and the reader doesn't know that she'll just end up like her mother

hello, hello! this one is definitely long overdue. i've been very busy with uni, but this ask was very intriguing!!! thank you for sending, anon ♡ (bonus scene at the end lol)

Luke Castellan wasn’t immediately taken by her the first time she set foot on Camp Half-Blood, that much was certain. She was only a topic of interest because she was Persephone’s daughter, promised yet unexpected all the same. He was far too caught up with claiming his own hoard of kleos to entertain ideas of attraction; however, she became a friend soon enough.

“What are you growing?” He asked her during a spring afternoon years ago, so insignificant that a normal person would forget it entirely.

“I don’t know yet actually.” She responded with pursed lips. Her open palms lingered just above the brown earth, colorful beads dangled from her wrists.

Luke raised an eyebrow.

At his silence, she looked up then waved a packet in front of him. She smiled. “Secret stash from Persephone.”

“Now, I’m not really the boss or anything but I think I’ve been here long enough to know the rules.” He perched his forearm against the bark of a tree, leaning his weight against it. “I don’t think that’s allowed.”

“But you wouldn’t tell on me, would you?” She batted her eyelashes sweetly, jokingly. She turned back to her lump of land. “‘Sides, they're harmless… I think.”

He remained silent and observed as a sprout quickly rose from the depths of her plot. A number of curved leaves on top leaning stems dotted the once empty ground. She rose from her knees, dusting off pellets of grass that hitched onto her clothing.

“That's it?” He asked her, sounding very unimpressed. Was this the extent of her god-gifted abilities?

She narrowed her eyes at him as she stretched. “I don’t give a show for free, Castellan.”

“What do you want in exchange, then?” He asked curiously. He wanted to see— witness what Persephone’s little seedling was capable of flowering.

She thought for a moment then shrugged her shoulders. She walked away from him with a wave. “Grow something of your own then we negotiate the terms.”

A few weeks later, he proudly paraded a plant pot all around camp in search of her. Most of the younger kids looked at him a bit judgmentally when he held it up like he was Rafiki and the little thing was his Simba.

She emerged from the greenhouse after several vexingly loud knocks. She looked down at Luke’s outstretched arms, her lips twitching in amusement at the container filled with inch-long two-leaved sprouts.

“Strawberries?” She pursed her lips. She motioned to the fields of berries sprawling to the left of them. “A bit unoriginal considering…”

“Well, you didn’t tell me I wasn’t allowed to grow strawberries.” He reasoned.

“Touché.” She ceded. She placed a hand over the pot, the sprouts growing exponentially before she took it from Luke's hands. She spent a handful of minutes transferring them into the dirt.

Luke watched silently, interested and intrigued by the alacrity with which she moved.

“Can you look away for a sec?” She spoke suddenly. She turned towards him, all seriousness. “The glaring is pressuring them. They’re a bit self-conscious.”

“Oh.” He looked away immediately, distracting himself instead with the silvers of light that shone through the canopy of branches of a tree not far from him. He listened to her hum as she worked. He couldn't help but return his gaze to her once in a while.

“Done!” She proclaimed excitedly, pulling off her gardening gloves with a satisfied look on her face.

Three strawberry bushes stood before him, taking up residence in what was an empty patch of land mere seconds ago. His lips parted slightly in surprise— it definitely wasn’t uncommon for demi-gods to inherit some of their parents’ powers, but he was startled by how quickly it manifested, especially for botanokinesis.

“Impressed enough?” She crossed her arms with a grin.

“Just the right amount.” He responded casually, returning her smile. He bent down to pick a big ripe berry from the branches.

He bit into it, the juices trickling down his chin. “Sweet.”

He offered the other half to her. She looked down at it skeptically before Luke urged her with a slight little shake from the bundle of leaves at the fruit’s head. She took it into her own hold then lifted it up to her mouth.

𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍

In her iteration of the story, Luke wasn’t merely a stand-in for Hades. He wasn’t simply her captor— he was also her pomegranate. His smiles, his looks, his words, his lies, his charm and his wit were all the seeds she foolishly consumed over the years. She yearned desperately for the tart sweetness he offered and unknowingly caused her own captivity.

Bound, bent and broken: this was the fate of Persephone’s only child.

In the darkness of the night, with the hum of Luke’s faint snoring keeping her senses alive despite the late hour, she wondered to herself briefly: was this how her mother felt?

She paused at the thought. Surely, it was a thousand times worse for her mother— a dread and pain so unfathomable that she couldn’t even begin to imagine it. Persephone was innocent; she was tricked and taken advantage of. She, however, was complicit: ignorant at first, but willing to succumb to Luke’s pleas and promises even if she knew the horrors of what he was attempting to do.

“Can’t sleep?” He whispered suddenly, jolting her out of her reverie. His hand moved to rest against her hip, his thumb stroking comforting circles onto her skin.

“Hm,” She hummed absent-mindedly. She turned around to face him, breathing in the scent of sea and sweat that lingered on him— a glaring reminder of what he was getting himself into.

Luke caged his arms around her then pressed a kiss against her temple. "Mine."

"Yours." She responded softly.

He returned to sleep in a matter of seconds, but he held her firmly against him. She couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. She didn’t even want to, anyway.

She closed her eyes. Luke’s presence was her prison, and she was insane enough to willingly stay shackled, albeit metaphorically, regardless of how horrific that sounded.

This was her underworld— her own dauntingly lovely elysium.

BONUS scene from my first draft that i didn't continue writing:

“Well, what’s her master plan then?” She asked. “Why kidnap me?”

“You’re Persephone’s daughter.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if that was enough explanation as to why the leader of a rebellion against the gods wanted to kidnap the spawn of the Goddess of Spring— really, what did he think she was gonna do for him? Grow daffodils and tulips to distract his enemies? It didn’t seem like horticulture proved useful on the battlefield.

“I am not going to grow potatoes and peas for her little revolt, Castellan.” She scoffed.

Of course she knew why she was being held captive. Pretending to be foolish and ignorant never hurt anybody, though. Let him think she was dumbed down enough to bend to his will.

“You’re basically Hades’ daughter.” He continued, essentially bypassing her reply. It was a bit rude, honestly, but the fact that he kidnapped her showed plenty about the state of Luke’s manners.

“Careful what you say, Lukey.” She would’ve wagged her fingers if her wrists weren’t so tightly bound together. “You might just insult another one of the gods.”

Her relationship with her stepfather was… civil yet glacial at best; definitely on brand for him, actually. On her annual winter-break visits to the Underworld, he’d just ignore her for the most part (very understandable, there wasn’t much in common between an eons-old powerful god and a nineteen year old, except the angst probably, but that was a very awkward topic to breach with a father figure). Most of the time, she assumed he just tolerated her because of her mother.

“With you on board, Hades is going to think twice before attacking,” He explained further. He began to pace in front of her. “Your presence might even dissuade him from attacking at all.”

Oh. Oh.

“Sweetheart,” She called him softly with a condescending coo in her tone. “Oh, sweetie. You’re delusional.”

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #pjo tv show #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo

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eoieopda · 6 months

Text

sweatshirt season | ksy

your fuck buddy is good at a lot of things. taking hints isn’t one of them.

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader type: one-shot / fluff + smut rating: 18+ (minors do not have my consent to interact) au: one-night-stand to fuck buddies to ? wc: 4.5k cw: gn! and afab!reader (no pronouns used); time skips; protected penetrative sex (p in v); hoshi is kinda a himbo, lmao; ft. cameo by minghao and roomate!gn!sibling OC; reference to the movie they're watching, which is hereditary (brief mention of decapitation + demonic possession); barely proofread, sorry! a/n: this is based on a headcanon i did a while ago! i've been in such a horrible rut re: writing for the past month and a half, so it was a major struggle to write this because i feel like i don't know how to do that anymore 😵‍💫 i'm hoping that himbo hoshi can save me from this hell. also, this is told in vignettes!

[APRIL]

“Babe?”

The voice from nowhere is barely loud enough to drag you from sleep, but the effect it has on you is far from soft. Those consonants dig in where your dehydrated brain shrinks away from your skull, pressing in so hard that they throb.

Bleary-eyed, you blink as rapidly as you can to adjust to the bright, white light beaming in through your open shades. The sound that escapes you is something akin to a hiss; it gets the point across, nonetheless. You sit up just enough to see the figure standing in front of your window, looming overhead with crossed arms, laughing.

Clearly, your roommate doesn’t give a shit or a fuck about your hangover.

“What’s the deal with the stray you brought home last night?” Mei asks, the corners of their mouth tilting wickedly.

You don’t have the brain power for this conversation, so you respond with a groan and bury your face back in the pillow from whence it came. Never one to give up, Mei drops down on top of you so that the full weight of their body rests against yours.

“C’mon,” they urge. “Spill your guts, chingu.”

Funnily enough, if they don’t get off your guts, you might do exactly that.

Your reply comes in the form of a croak, some pathetic little sound that reads as lifeless as you feel. “Why do you care?”

There isn’t a single reason you can think of for their sudden interest in your bad decisions. You’ve been making them left and right for the past few months without much more than a concerned glance, and until now, you didn’t realize that you’d taken the lack of follow-up questions for granted.

What a fucking travesty it is to be perceived.

“Your business is your business.” Mei shrugs. You quirk an eyebrow, ready to jump in and point out their lapse in logic, but then that smirk comes back. “But your business is currently burning eggs in our kitchen, which makes it my business, too.”

Sitting up quickly, the force of your sudden moves nearly knock Mei to the ground. Beyond horrified, you squeak, “He’s still here?”

Faster than you’ve ever moved before, you clamber out from underneath your roommate and crawl to the edge of your bed, kicking wildly at your blankets until your legs are free.

You’re already up and swaying on your feet, panting from the effort, when you finally think to look down and assess the state of yourself. Thankfully, you’d remembered to dress yourself before falling asleep. You glance upward and salute whatever deity was looking out for you, ignore the look on Mei’s face entirely, and dash out of your bedroom.

As soon as you reach the kitchen, you skid to a stop, socks sliding across the hardwood until your hip bone collides with the corner of the kitchen island. You hiss again, far louder than the last time. The shape standing at your stove turns around wide-eyed; his mouth is frozen in the shape of an “o”.

Just as quick, recognition flashes, and the shock wears off.

“Good morning,” he chirps, and he’s all fucking sunshine.

You blink back at him without a single idea of where to start — with the fact that he’s still here after you could’ve sworn he left, that he’s wearing your apron but has no clear grasp on the simple act of frying eggs, or that you cannot for the life of you remember his name.

Fuck.

You should really start keeping a guest book.

Whatever his name is, he’s witnessing you at your worst — certifiably crusty with your standard bad attitude — and that alone makes you want to wither and die, right on the spot. Unbothered by your ghoulish appearance, he gestures to the kitchen island you just collided with, pointing to a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

Items he would’ve had to open two (2) separate cabinets to find.

In the kitchen he shouldn’t even be in.

You open your mouth, primed to explode all over him, but the way he’s looking at you disarms you immediately. His expression is so chipper — so friendly and childlike in its innocence — that you swallow down the shit you’d readily hurl at anyone else. You gulp, and without saying a word in acknowledgement, you grab what he’s laid out for you.

He smiles when you choke down the aspirin, then turns back around to pull the scrambled, half-burnt mess off the burner.

“You must have a pretty low alcohol tolerance if you’re this hungover after three drinks,” he muses.

It’s an accurate observation — a harmless one, too — but you did not ask. Once again, he shoots you a smile that prevents you from snapping at him. Instead, you set the now-empty glass back down on the island and stare vacantly over at him.

Seonghwa?

“You’re still here,” you say flatly. You may be stating the obvious, but that fact speaks for itself. “You’re still here, and you’re also in my kitchen.”

Seokjin, maybe?

He smiles at this, either unaware that he’s violated the unwritten one-night-stand code of conduct or unfazed by his own rule breaking. Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughs awkwardly, “It was the least I could do, you know? After all you —”

What the fuck is your name?

“Sungwoo!” You cut him off with a gasp and a palm raised, all but begging him not to recount what he’s grateful for within earshot of your roommate. “Really, you don’t need to do this. Any of this.”

He corrects you gently, “It’s Soonyoung.”

Then, without even a hint of offense taken, he nods his head towards one of the stools tucked under the counter of the island. Your eyes flit between his hopeful face and the seat, frozen solid with indecision.

You see two options, and both feel like a trap:

Holding the line risks squashing this clueless boy’s marshmallow heart; and you don’t want to be the gash that ruins his day at the very outset. If you feed the stray — rather, if you let the stray feed you — then you’re an enabler, contracting a residency when the show was supposed to be one-night-only.

More perceptive than you’ve given him credit for so far, he senses the conflict inside your skull and attempts to tip the scale with a bread-cheeked smile and a shoulder wiggle. “Your breakfast is getting cold,” he nudges in a soft, sing-song tone.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Begrudgingly, you dump yourself onto a stool without a word. With your elbows now propped up on the countertop, you drop your chin down to rest on the heels of your hands. More than anything, you try like hell to ignore the way it all makes his face light up.

“I don’t understand how you went from demonically hot to…” Your voice trails off as you try to find a word for whatever this is. A beat passes before you give up, waving dismissively. “Domesticated, or whatever.”

And his cheeks go pink.

“You think I’m hot?” He all but gasps, like this is brand new information to him.

Like you would’ve brought him home from the club if he wasn’t — and goddamn, was he ever. Carrying himself with the kind of confidence that made your knees wobble; saying all the right things in a low, smoky tone with his lips at your ear; moving his body in ways that still fluster you to think about.

And yet, here he is.

Adorable, if not completely obtuse.

After grabbing plates from a nearby cabinet, he snags two pairs of chopsticks out of the drawer to the left of the sink. It takes all you’ve got not to roll your eyes. He shouldn’t know where either of those things are, but he does.

A satisfied sigh slips out of his mouth when he takes the seat next to yours and scoots a plate full of eggs and kimchi in front of you.

“Here you go,” he sings as he holds out a pair of your own chopsticks to you.

He’s beaming when you accept them into your hand, and it leaves you with no choice but to take a bite of the food in front of you. Intently and chronically hopeful, he watches you pluck a piece of scrambled egg from the plate, like the trajectory of his life hinges on your approval. There’s no turning back now. Reluctantly, you pop it into your mouth.

While you chew, he leans in a bit closer. From this distance, you can see your own reflection in his irises; there are tiny flecks of honey brown amidst the dark, you realize. Little details you didn’t notice last night when he was much, much closer — like the heart-shaped curve his upper lip takes when he smiles as big as he is now.

“How is it?” He asks, walking the borderline between eager and unbearably shy.

You swallow hard as you snap back to attention. If letting him stay for breakfast was a bad call, getting caught gawking at him is a flagrant foul. Somehow, you need to get the point across without being too cruel; to remind him that you signed up for the night and not the morning.

“Um. Well,” you start with a grimace, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Are eggs supposed to… crunch?”

[JUNE]

“Oh, fuck, just like that —”

Your back arches off the bed as you grip uselessly at sweat-drenched sheets. Between your spread thighs, Soonyoung and the punishing pace he’s set make quick work of pulling you apart, again. His right arm loops under your left leg to anchor you to him while his left palm presses down on your lower abdomen, making damn sure that every thrust drags over your g-spot.

This — this right here — is why you keep calling him back. He may overstay his welcome, but that’s an occupational hazard. His perpetual presence is a risk you’re willing to take, so long as he fucks you like this.

“Shit. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?”

He’s panting as he says it, which surprises the hell out of you. His stamina is unearthly, and when you manage to keep your eyes open long enough to look up at him, you don’t see any hint of effort. It's just the ragged sound of his breathing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“I think this might be a new personal record.”

Unfortunately, his little announcement is genuine. He’s merely stating a fact, not trying to tease you, because his only concern outside of making you cum is outdoing himself.

To Soonyoung, sex is a performance he’s trying to perfect. He approaches it like an Olympian — an athlete or a god? — and the bar he sets for himself raises every time you see him.

You find it the tiniest bit endearing how focused he is on self-improvement.

Kind of.

That doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes, though.

“Not if you keep —” A moan that you didn’t mean to let out cuts your sentence in half. “— talking.”

Your head crashes back against the pillows, which only spurs him on. Deeper, more deliberate strokes leave you writhing underneath him, babbling like a fool. He grins so wide that his eyes almost disappear.

“I’m just saying…” Another thrust, a thousand more stars dotting the periphery of your vision. “If you hit five, you owe me dinner.”

There it is, right on cue: another piece of evidence to prove that Soonyoung still doesn’t know what he signed up for.

It’s a conversation you’ve had more than once — never because you want to have it; and never because he seems to be consciously seeking something more than what you have.

At some point over the past few months of scattered nights with you, a seed seems to have taken root in the back of his brain. A zombie parasite, more likely; one that’s overridden the controls and completely undermined his understanding of the situation.

Whether he means it or not, these throw-away comments make you wonder if, deep down, he’s not wired to fuck without feelings.

Not like you, anyway.

Your self-preservation instincts don’t let you get that far. Risk-averse to your core, you don’t see the point of gambling when the stakes are that high. And even if you weren’t wary of getting yourself hurt, it wouldn’t change the fundamental truth that you enjoy your own company enough not to need anyone else’s.

The way you see it, Soonyoung can have a cameo in your weekends, but the plot of your life right now doesn’t need anything more than that. Changing the lineup now could fuck your whole season. So, why try?

To his credit, he seems to get that there are currently more pressing matters at hand than the same old conversation. He pats your hip and says, “Let’s switch it up.”

You’re as grateful for the subject change as you are for the hand he extends to help your boneless body sit up again. Thankfully, the one lesson he has learned is that no one can compete with his perpetually full battery. If he’s going to change positions as often as he wants to, he has to be the one to position you.

This time, you wind up with your back flush against his chest, skin slick against yours. To keep him close, you reach back until your hand finds the nape of his neck. After weaving your fingers through the damp hair at the base of his head, you tug slightly, pulling a low groan out of him.

“Fuck, yeah,” he grunts breathlessly. “Pull my hair.”

You do as he says, albeit a bit harder than you meant to; you can’t help it. That’s the exact moment he chooses to grab your hips and slam your ass back against his pelvis, perfectly in time with his forward snap. He’s in your guts now, there’s no doubt about it, and you’re falling to pieces.

Wailing, you have to squeeze your eyes shut to survive the surge of pleasure coursing through you. “Oh, my god,” you choke out.

The only way you manage to stay upright through your orgasm is with Soonyoung’s arms caging you in. Without him, you’d be a trembling fucking mess, collapsing face-down onto your bed in a useless heap. He keeps holding you even when he lets himself go soon after, spilling into the condom with a moan you feel as it leaves his chest.

“Goddamn,” he sighs, voice rough. The heat of his breath on your neck almost makes you want to cling to him, curl up and let your eyes flutter shut. “Every time I fuck you, I feel like I should thank you.”

That flicker of affection goes out in a flash as the memory of consequences comes back around. You snort. “Please don’t cook for me again.”

You leave it at that, and so does he. When he finally pulls out of you, you give into the safer urge; the one that can’t possible give him the wrong impression. Slumping forward, you hit the mattress so hard that you practically bounce, like the dead weight you are.

Soonyoung misses that spectacle, thankfully. He’s already on his feet, tying off the condom before dropping it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. You hear it drop against the plastic bag, then the soft pad of his footsteps as he makes his way back to you. You unbury your face from the pillows and crane your neck to look over at him.

In a rare display, he looks exhausted. Moments like this might be the only time he ever finds himself depleted, and you figure he’s earned that right. Part of you wants to let him lay here with you — maybe even let him sleep it off — but you can’t let him get tangled in the strings you refuse to attach.

He’s halfway to you when he finally looks up at you and catches you watching him. You’re not sure what he sees in your expression; you’d bet it’s as confusing on the outside as it feels on the inside. Whatever he finds there, it makes him pause. There's a quick nod, like he’s reacting to something neither one of you has said out loud, then he changes course.

“You have to be up early,” he says, like he’s finally learned the script. “I’m gonna head out.”

You nod but say nothing else. You just watch as Soonyoung grabs the clothes you’d tugged off of him earlier, piece by piece, and puts everything back to the way it was before.

The way you want it.

Once he’s fully clothed, he shoots you a smile that only uses half of his mouth. Neither of you offers a word as he walks over to the door, although you can tell he’s moving more slowly than usual. Hoping you’ll stop him, maybe.

You don’t.

It’s not until he pulls it open that he looks back over his shoulder at you; and this time, when he smiles, it looks like he means it.

“Sleep well, yeah?”

[OCTOBER]

“I’m just saying that if her shithead brother bothered to include her in his night, maybe she wouldn’t have been decapitated."

You tear your eyes off the television screen in time to see Minghao’s eyes roll all the way back into his head. Across the coffee table from where you sit, he and Mei occupy the couch; his head crashes against the back of it with a muffled thump while his younger sibling continues their rant.

“I’m being for real,” Mei urges, jabbing their finger emphatically through the air in his direction. “If you ever bail on me like that, and my head ends up falling off, you deserve whatever consequences come next.”

You snort. “Up to and including… what, demonic possession?”

“Absolutely,” Mei sniffs.

Minghao sits upright again slowly. He chews thoughtfully on his lower lip, leaving you and your roommate in suspense. Knowing him, he’ll lecture you both on karmic energy and how Mei shouldn’t fuck around with it. To both of your surprise, he frowns. “Is it bad that I kind of want cake now?”

You and Mei respond at the same time, although your responses are nothing alike:

“I think we have some left over.”

“Yes, you’re a monster.”

Despite what they just called him, Mei is nothing if not a good host. With a beleaguered huff, they push themselves off the couch, step carefully over the legs Minghao doesn’t move out of their path, and stalks off towards the kitchen to forage for food.

Left alone in the living room, you and Minghao fall into an easy silence, eyes glued once again to the screen. It’s always been easier to get through a movie without Mei’s commentary; this one would’ve been finished an hour ago if they hadn’t kept pausing it to ramble. You’re so immersed in it that you hardly hear the way they’re tearing through the kitchen like a cyclone. You almost miss the soft knock at the door, too.

Immediately, your optimistic eyes flick over to Minghao. He’s closer to the door, and if you stare at him long enough, he might let you stay in the armchair you’ve all but fused to.

“Nope,” he says coolly, without even looking.

Whining, you peel off the blanket you’ve wrapped yourself in and unfurl your knotted legs. You shiver when your bare feet touch the cold wood below, but bravely, you don’t retreat. You push forward on tiptoe and skip across the living room until you reach the front door.

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead when you open it to find Soonyoung standing there for the first time in several weeks. While overstaying his welcome is his signature, showing up uninvited never has been. That’s apparently one line in the sand he won’t stumble over.

“Hey,” you peep.

For reasons unknown, you have to pause to let your gaze sweep over him, like something might’ve drastically changed about him since you saw him last. There’s a tiny flutter in the center of your chest that begs you to greet him more emphatically than that, but you ignore it.

Soonyoung looks more apologetic than you’ve ever seen him, which makes your pulse quicken even more.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” he swears. “I think I left my headphones here last time. I’ve looked everywhere, I promise, but they’re just — gone.”

Your first instinct is to ask why he brought headphones to a dick appointment in the first place, but you talk yourself out of it. The next is to find out why he came all the way over here on a hunch, rather than simply texting you; he hasn’t in a while, not that you’ve taken it to heart. But you don’t do that, either, which strikes you as odd.

Instead, you step back and push the door open wider, once again letting the stray inside. “No worries,” you breeze.

Since when?

As it turns out, letting him in doesn’t bring the sky crashing down around you. Taking a single brick out of the wall you’ve fastidiously built doesn’t bring about the end of days. It just brings a shy bow and a quiet “thank you” while he toes off his shoes.

He turns to head toward your bedroom with you following behind him, but he stops short after a few steps. Crashing into his back — god, he’s broader than he looks — you grab his biceps to keep from bowling him over entirely.

“Shit — I’m so sorry.” He wheels around, failing to realize that you’re as close as you are. You can see panic light up his eyes, now mere centimeters from yours. “I didn’t realize you had somebody over.”

What is that scribbled all over his face?

It’s not anger, you know that much. Nothing about the way he’s looking at you reads like jealousy, either. If anything, he seems genuinely torn-up over what he assumes is date-crashing. Guilty, maybe.

So, why do you feel bad?

“Mei’s brother,” you explain quickly, as if he’s owed one. “Our annual horror movie marathon. We — all of us — do it every October.”

Why did you add that qualifier in there?

Soonyoung’s face brightens immediately, and you feel the tiniest bit warmer now that the corners of his mouth aren’t curved downward anymore. You wish that surprised you, but it doesn’t.

Why should it? You’ve given into him more often than not, haven’t you?

All he says is, “Oh,” in the tiniest voice you’ve ever heard, like he’s embarrassed himself for the first time in his life.

It grows quiet while the two of you continue to stand there in the half-light. If you discount the screaming, the flickering colors coming from the television screen make it feel almost — cozy?

But you’ve been gazing up at him for far too long, so you clear your throat. “Your — umm — your headphones. Do you remember where you left them?”

You nudge him slightly to get him moving, which he does without complaint.

“I think they jumped out of my pocket when you…” Soonyoung’s voice trails off. As you pass by, he glances over at Minghao, who either can’t hear your conversation or doesn’t give a shit about it.

With that indifference confirmed, Soonyoung looks back at you with a smirk. “You broke my zipper, you know. I had to take those jeans to a tailor to fix it.”

Immediately, your cheeks start burning.

Resident fuck monster, reporting for duty! Here to rip clothes to shreds and —

He touches your wrist, just for a second. “It’s cute,” he assures you, even though you haven’t said a word.

And it doesn’t do a damn thing to keep that heat from rising up your face.

You step into your bedroom before you can think of what to say in response, so you let the moment pass and flick on the light. Just as soon as he joins you inside, Soonyoung lays eyes on what he came for — which is a miracle. That thin, white cord is practically invisible under your dresser.

“Ah!” He chirps, bending down to grab it.

Looking triumphant as hell, he tucks it into the pocket of his joggers and shoots you a grin. Suddenly, you find it hard to mimic his smile, although you don’t know why.

He got what he came for, didn’t he? He’ll be out of your hair in a matter of moments, which is exactly what you’ve been demanding of him for months. You had to train him to get in and get out, and when he eventually learned, the relief was immediate.

So, why don’t you feel relieved now?

Soonyoung must hear your trains of thought derailing because he comes in hot with a distraction. As usual, it’s out of left field, just like the soft brush of his fingers on your bare arm.

“You’re cold.”

It’s not a question.

There aren’t even goosebumps on your arm; and there’s no reason why he should know by looking at you that you are, in fact, freezing. But he does, and before you can ask how the fuck that’s possible, he spins around to the dresser nearby and grabs the handle jutting out of the bottom-left drawer.

How does he —?

You open your mouth to speak. The words disappear when he stands upright again, now holding out a sweatshirt from the drawer you keep them in. He’s only seen you open it once before, and the fact that he remembers is making you dizzy.

Soonyoung’s expectant eyes lock on your face, looking at you the same way he did when he handed you those burnt fucking eggs. This time, though, you don’t hesitate to accept what he’s giving you. You tug that sweatshirt over your head without missing a beat, instantly learning that it’s much bigger on you than you remember.

Stunned, you blink back at him from underneath the hood, which obscures most of your forehead. “Is this —?”

You grab the fabric from the front of it in your hands as you look down. At first glance, it looks like the million other white sweatshirts tucked into your drawer, but —

“This isn’t mine.”

Your eyes flick back up to Soonyoung, who’s fighting for his life to bite back a smile.

Six months ago, you might’ve knocked him on his ass for this, but now, you can’t keep it together, either. You crack wide open, laughing so hard that your eyes almost disappear.

“When the hell did you sneak that in there?” You wheeze, wiping tears as they spill over your lash line. The smack you land against his arm is cloaked in a sweater paw, dealing no damage except to crack him open, too. “God, I was never going to get rid of you, was I?”

Beaming, he slips his hands into the kangaroo pocket on the front and tugs you closer; you let him. “It was just in case I get cold, I swear.”

“Is that it?” You narrow your eyes playfully. “Are you sure?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, although you don’t believe him for a second. “It does look good on you, though. Maybe you should hang on to it.”

“To the sweatshirt?”

Watching him blush like that may never get old. Still, he maintains his bluff and nods.

“Yeah. I mean, why not? Right? It’s comfortable.” He shrugs, not even the slightest bit casually. “A cotton blend, I think. Pre-shrunk, so… It’ll — uh, never be your size, I guess. That’s — um — that’s kind of a bummer, but…”

“Soonyoung!” You cut him off with a breathless laugh, prompting him to shut his rambling mouth.

The rare use of his name seems to startle him. His eyes go wide with that typical, hopeful anticipation that he never seems to leave home without. That look hasn’t disappeared after six months of getting shot down on a weekly basis, and neither has the way he hangs onto every word you say.

This time, it might actually be what he’s been waiting to hear.

“Do you….?”

It might be a new personal record, you caving like this after holding someone at arm’s length for so long. The relief is automatic, spreading through muscle that you didn’t even realize had been aching.

“If you’re not busy, do you want to stay?”

#svt #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi smut #soonyoung smut #hoshi fluff #soonyoung fluff #svt fic #svt smut #svt fluff #jade writes #re: sweatshirt season #ksy #kvanity

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steddieas-shegoes · 6 months

Note

"Stevie, I am begging you, please don't tell Wayne."

Eddie was bleeding.

He was on the floor and he was bleeding.

Steve was standing in the doorway, shocked into silence, watching Eddie try to put pressure on a wound that should have mostly scarred over by now.

His last checkup had been good, they'd even said the stitches could come out on his next visit, and he could officially start physical therapy.

So why was he fucking bleeding?

"Dammit. Can you grab a wrap from my room?" Eddie asked him, tone entirely too calm.

"Shouldn't I take you to the hospital?" Steve managed to ask.

Eddie's head turned to him, eyes widening as he seemed to realized what was happening.

"No, I- this is kinda normal? It's happened a couple times," he tried to smile, shrug it off.

"A couple of times?! Eds, this isn't normal. They gotta stitch you up better or something, c'mon I can take you," Steve leaned in and tugged on the arm he was using to hold himself up, ready to take his weight and help him out the door.

"No!" Eddie sighed. "We can't."

"I can call Wayne, then, and he can come get you-"

"Stevie, I am begging you, please don't tell Wayne."

Steve froze.

How long had Eddie been hiding how bad this was?

"You haven't even told Wayne? Eds, you should be mostly healed. You were mostly healed at your last visit! What's happening?" Steve was doing his best to stay calm, but calm went out the window when he thought about Eddie being taken from them long after the threat was gone.

"I ripped a stitch a few days ago, so I've just tried to be careful, but sometimes I move wrong. It'll stop bleeding in a minute. It looks worse than it is," his eyes were pleading for Steve to just drop it, let him handle it on his own.

But Steve was not about to let something go wrong, not when it came to Eddie.

"I'm taking you to the hospital. I'm calling Wayne. You can hate me if you want, but I'd rather that than have to tell Dustin that you bled out on your fuckin' bathroom floor." Steve put his hand over Eddie's on his side, applying more pressure. "Can't believe you ripped your stitches and didn't tell anyone."

"I was handling it!"

"Poorly. Handling it poorly."

Eddie huffed, but surprisingly didn't argue further.

He actually stayed quiet for most of the ride to the ER, even kept his gaze lowered when Wayne walked into the room he was being stitched back up in.

He remained silent on the ride home, preferring to ride with Steve while Wayne followed behind in his truck.

He didn't wait for either of them before making his way to his bedroom.

"Thanks for callin'," Wayne said to Steve as he watched Eddie close the front door behind him. "You can head out, I'll stay with him until the kids come by tomorrow."

"If it's alright, I think I'd like to stay," Steve hesitantly replied. "I'll take the couch. Just don't wanna be too far."

Wayne looked him up and down, much like he'd done the first night Steve refused to leave Eddie's side in the hospital.

Whatever he found, he seemed to accept, smiling at Steve.

"Might as well stay in his bed. Gotta keep a close eye on that one," Wayne winked and walked inside without an answer from Steve.

A close eye was really all Steve had intended, but of course, when they woke up tangled together the next morning, his intentions started to shift.

They shifted more when Eddie, half-asleep and on some minor pain meds, pressed a soft kiss to Steve's chest before falling back asleep.

——————————————————————

I could have done anything with this line and I chose dramatics. Happy Tuesday.

ATTENTION: I reached 5! This is 1/5 and the rest will probably be posted throughout today.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #wayne munson

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like-a-diamondinthesky · 6 months

Text

my love | h.h.j

-> the first i love you m.list

pairing... bf!hyunjin x gn!reader tags... fluff, established relationship, camping trip, hyunjin’s whipped your honor

hyunjin calls you a new pet name. a heartwarming confession ensues.

wc... 843 words a/n... this has been sitting in my wips for over a month 😨 chatgpt rated it "a solid 9 out of 10" after i finally revised it today so here you go!! i hope you guys enjoy it <3 also, icymi my taglist is open if you'd like to be added!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You and Hyunjin have been dating for only two months, but every date he's taken you on has been magical. He treated you as if you were his entire world like the true romantic he is. No matter how busy his schedule was, he would take the time to free it up to meet with you and make the sweetest, happiest memories.

This weekend, Hyunjin brought you to a campsite far away from Seoul. As beautiful as the city lights could be, he needed clear skies for what he had planned for you tonight. When you arrived, the scene that welcomed you was beyond beautiful. Several lanterns and fairy lights lit up a path on the ground, leading you towards a pink gingham blanket laid out on the grass, rose petals scattered around it.

"Hyun, this is beautiful." You ran towards the blanket, plopping yourself down and looking up at the sky. "Oh my god, you can see the stars so clearly out here!"

Hyunjin sat beside you, smiling at your excitement. "That's why I brought you here. I know how much you like constellations, so I wanted you to be able to see them in person," he said as he draped an arm around your shoulders, leaning his head on yours. "Plus, I know you get out of bed late at night and look outside the window when you think I’m asleep. You pull out your phone and use a constellation app to try and connect the stars—even if you can’t see them clearly because of the city lights."

A warm blush crept up to your cheeks when Hyunjin revealed that he had caught on to your little habit. You turned to give him a tight hug, sending swarms of butterflies directly to Hyunjin's stomach. Now, he didn't know much about constellations, except that you absolutely loved them. Automatically, that meant he loved them, too. Whatever you loved, he loved, because he loved you.

Looking up at the shining stars in the night sky, Hyunjin lay down on the blanket. You were lying beside him, propped up on your elbows. You pointed out your favorite constellations, tracing the lines in the air.

"That's Pegasus up there," your fingertip connected the stars, drawing the legs. "And next to it is Andromeda." You moved your hand to the right, Hyunjin's eyes following your every movement.

He didn't care if he didn't really understand what you were talking about. What mattered was the way your eyes lit up when you recognized another pattern in the sky or the way your smile grew wider when one particular star shined brighter than the others. Lord, he’s smitten.

There was music playing in the background, care of Hyunjin, and a slower song started playing. Standing up, he offered you his hand. "Let's dance, my love."

Taking his hand, you pulled yourself up. Hyunjin placed your hands on his neck and rested his own on your hips as you swayed to the music.

"My love?" You questioned the nickname as you raised your eyebrow, the corners of your lips quirking up into a smile. “That’s new, you haven’t called me that before.”

“Thought I’d try it out.”

“I like it,” you rested your head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, nuzzling your nose into his neck. Though it was faint, you swore you could feel his heartbeat quicken. “I like you, too.”

You continued to dance with each other, listening to the soft tunes in the background. After a few moments, Hyunjin subtly breaks the silence.

“I like you a lot. Like a lot, a lot.” He admitted as he placed his hand on your chin, gently angling your face up so he could look into your eyes. “I've never wanted to be with someone as much as I do with you."

Your gaze never left his. Tucked behind his irises was a whole galaxy, each star shining and burning bright with passion, just like his love for you. There was so much thought and feeling put into everything he said.

“I think...no. I know that I love you.” After his confession, Hyunjin patiently waited for your response, a nervous smile painted on his face.

Instead of replying, you reached up and pressed your lips to his, celebrating this tender moment with a kiss. Whenever Hyunjin kissed you, it had always been with purpose, with love, and this was no different. Except, this time it felt more intense, like there were more sparks than before.

Slowly, you pulled away and rested your forehead against his. “You have such a way with words, you know?”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, whispering back, “Yeah, I know. Don’t you have something else to say?”

“I don’t know, do I?” You asked teasingly. He playfully hit your arm, eliciting a laugh from you. Then, lowering your voice into a whisper, "I love you, too, Hyun.”

You spent the next few moments (seconds, minutes, hours—who knows?) dancing, wrapped in each other's arms. You were in your own little world with Hyunjin, and you would not have it any other way.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

taglist: @kflixnet @jinnixxn @elllisaaa @captainchrisstan @laylasbunbunny

comments, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated! © like-a-diamondinthesky 2023

#k-labels #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids hyunjin #skz #skz hyunjin #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin stray kids #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz fluff #・₊✧ written in the stars

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b1rds3ye · 7 months

Note

I really love your masked reader headcannons!! Especially the LED mask ones. I think it’s such a fun concept and the way all the boys react/ accommodate the reader and their preferences is so sweet!

So idk what your familiarity to Star Wars is but there’s a people (Mandalorians) who traditionally wear armor that covers their faces and bodies pretty much all the time. As such there’s something called a kelblade kiss and what that is is when two mandos press their helmeted foreheads together as a way to show affection when they’re all armored up. I was thinking about this and how the 141 would react if the masked reader leaned their forehead against them in lieu of kissing their cheek in a moment where they wanted to be affectionate but leave the mask on? If you have thoughts I would love to know! <3

OMG THIS IS SO CUTE!! I was raised on the og Star Wars trilogy, even the prequel 3 by George Lucas but I've completely fallen off since Disney's taken the reigns 😭😭 BUT YES I know Mandalorian I didn't know they had the little kiss thing though IT'S SO SWEET TO IMAGINE

Any physical contact with Price is generally rare when he's on duty, it comes with him just being busy and the natural commanding presence as captain. But when you first press your forehead against his, John's initial confusion gives him a respite from the stress of the military now that his entire focus is on you. It seems he needed the affection more than you did. Now your little forehead taps are his lifeline. Your mask always gets his bucket hat tilting off angle, the front rim a little crumpled when you pull away, but it always leaves him wearing a fond grin that is for you and you alone.

It's a little awkward trying to do it with Ghost, not only is Simon inconveniently tall but his own hard mask makes such a gesture of affection have the tact of a kid shoving the faces of two plastic dolls together. Simon is solid and immovable, and is far too entertained by you nearly self-concussing as you tap your forehead against his, stumbling back in a slight daze. Still, the intentions aren't lost on him and they're very much appreciated. He doesn't do them back, but in more serious moments, he lets you stay, forehead against his. He can't see your eyes but he makes sure you can see the emotions swimming in his.

Soap absolutely adores them! It's your own little form of affection and he loves the little quirks that come with your mask. But for whatever reason, he's taking your little forehead touch as a competition. "Did nae feel a thing!" Johnny would complain, taunting you to go harder next time. At this rate he's just asking to be clobbered across the head but he believes that if it's from you, that's a damn blessing and whatever bruise that comes from it he'll wear with pride. He always reciprocates in kind. It's more of a headbutt with his over-enthusiasm but he must have a forehead of steel or something because he always pulls away beaming.

Your little forehead taps always leave Gaz giggling and bashful. It's been a little harder as of late since he now wears a cap with a hard brim, for a while Kyle thought your lack of recent "mask kisses" was because the two of you had unfortunately drifted apart. He now foregoes the cap whenever you're around. When you enter the room he gives an exaggerated bow down to you, jerking his head up to signal to his forehead and he won't move an inch until you greet him with a forehead tap (this also happens if you ever have to leave the conversation). He tried to give a forehead tap back once but he was a little too enthusiastic and needed frozen peas to the head for the rest of the day.

Call of Duty Masterlist Masked Reader Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #/*avery actually writes*/#/*avery checks the mailbox*/#anon mail ❤️#/*cod x masked reader*/

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asumofwords · 8 months

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The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Talks of domestic violence, talks of trauma, talks of toxic relationships and infidelity, survivors guilt, victims guilt, manipulation, family issues, smut, creampie, fluff (lol).

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

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

Notes: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, I've had some intense writers block and didn't quite know how to finish this chapter haha, so hopefully I did it some justice finally. Enjoy <3

Chapter 9: Eye of the storm

You didn’t know what to expect after your argument turned ‘talk’, if you could call it that, with Aemond the night before. Nor did you know how to react when you woke that morning and saw, much to your dismay, that the kitchen was empty.

There was no steaming tea waiting for you like there had been usually, nor was there the presence of your brooding roommate. It didn’t help that when you ventured to the kitchen expecting to see your mug and your tea perfectly made for you, that it was not there, and your heart felt a twinge of pain.

You had to reason with yourself that he needed space. Time. And that perhaps he had taken you up on your encouragement to think about his actions before he went to sleep. And if you were really lucky, which you hoped you were with some bitter spite, he may have even stayed awake all evening, staring up at the ceiling the entire night and was now having to catch up on the sleep he hadn’t got.

But that wasn’t the case.

Because Aemond’s door was wide open, and when you opened the dishwasher to check, there you saw a singular mug inside, the tiniest of coffee drips sliding out of the mug and over the rack.

Aemond was awake.

Aemond wasn’t home.

And Aemond had made himself coffee, and not you.

But you questioned yourself if you would have made tea for someone after an argument. Then you remembered, that yes, you had. And yes, you would again.

But Aemond wasn't you.

Had you pushed him too far?

Was bringing up his childhood something you shouldn’t have done?

These thoughts tumbled through your mind as you made your tea and readied yourself for the work day.

The morning went by slowly. When you were ready, you left for work and spent the entire day biting at your lips and fingernails in anxiety at the thought of when you would come home to the nightmare that you had a hand in creating.

Thankfully for you, Larys was off sick, or off site, or whatever Jasper had told you; you had barely been listening. Barely even been present as you skimmed through your emails and went through the motions of your tasks mindlessly, mind on one thing and one thing only.

Him.

When you got home the apartment was empty which you had expected. It didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt though.

Perhaps he went to go stay with one of his friends?

Or maybe he was out on one of his many jogs? Or doing whatever else he did during the day that you were not privy to.

So you settled for your made up alibis, and slid into the kitchen, playing some soft music, though just soft enough in the hopes of being able to hear him come home, and began to cook your dinner.

But by the time you had cooked, and eaten, and bathed, and crawled into bed, it was nearing midnight and still Aemond had not come home.

You laid in your bed, and stared up at the roof for what felt like forever, looking at the ceiling medallion, trying to ease your mind and not have thoughts of the illusive man that was Aemond running amuck in your mind. But no matter what you did, no matter how many videos you watched on your phone, or memes you cracked a smile at, you still could not find rest.

Sighing loudly, you checked the time.

3am.

Fuck.

Thinking that a cup of tea might help you to settle, you threw back your sheets and climbed out of bed, leaving your phone on charge as you moved blindly through your room in the dark, and out to the kitchen.

The lights were off in the apartment, and only the softest of orange glows from an outdoor street lamp came through the bathroom window. The rest of the apartment was bathed in black, barest hints of moonlight streaming in through the kitchen.

Silver hair caught the light of the moon and thus your attention, and you watched as a small red ember grew in size with the inhale of Aemond’s cigarette.

Aemond, it seemed, could not find sleep either.

He stood in the kitchen, just as sleepless as you, black shirt thrown over grey sweats as he leant against the kitchen windowsill, blowing smoke outside with each drag.

His silver tresses of hair glimmered, reflecting the light, as though each strand had been made of moonlight itself.

You watched as his lips pursed to take another drag, tilting his head towards you as and indication that he had noticed your presence. But it wasn't for you. He did not greet you, nor did he turn his head to face you, staying still as he was, looking out into the night.

With soft steps, you made your way over, flicking on the kettle to boil some water, quietly pulling down a mug, then thinking about it for a moment, and reaching for a second, grabbing some chamomile tea bags for the both of you putting them in the cups.

The sound of the kettle was loud in your ears as you waited for it to boil, shifting on your feet awkwardly as you watched Aemond finish his cigarette, twisting the end on the outside of the brickwork, leaving the butt on the sill.

You watched in the corner of your eye, as he rolled another with deft fingers and a precision that you admired secretly.

When the kettle had boiled, you poured the water over the tea bags, picking one up, to hand to him. You averted your eyes, looking down to where his long fingers held the cigarette in his pointer and middle, wordlessly handing him the mug.

It hovered between you for a moment, arm outstretched as Aemond looked at it. Time moved slowly as he did not reach for the tea, and for a moment, your heart sank, disappointment settling in your gut as the weight of the mug became heavier and heavier.

As you were about to pull it back admitting defeat, Aemond reached a slender hand, grasping the boiling hot mug from its sides, which would have no doubt burnt at his palm hotly. He didn’t thank you or nod his head in appreciation, not that you were looking to see, but instead, he placed the mug on the sill, picking up the lighter with the other hand as he moved to light the cigarette between his lips.

You grabbed your mug and leant against the kitchen bench on the opposite side of the window with him, looking out into the darkness, barely registering the buildings more than 10 metres away.

Anything to not look at him.

To not ruin the perfectly calm moment that the two of you had reached in that moment.

Finally in the eye of the storm.

You brought your mug up to your lips, blowing the steam from the top, the smell of chamomile wafting around you. You sipped at the brew, feeling the heat travel down your throat and settle into your stomach warmly.

You refused to speak first.

Or to say anything at all really.

Not wanting to push him again, to ruin the calm that settled between you, to then end up with the both of you, red faced and shaking with anger. You didn’t trust yourself to not explode, nor did you trust his ability to speak to you in a way that wasn’t patronising.

If Aemond wanted to speak, he would speak, and if not, you were content to sit in this silence to at least show that you could listen, would listen, if he so dared to open his mouth.

To show that you were willing to be around him despite his shitty behaviour.

Smoke billowed from his lips, and the cigarette that was held delicately, yet almost even carelessly between two fingers, was shifted out towards you. You looked down at it, for one beat, then two, before placing your mug of tea down to grasp the cigarette from him.

Warmth spread through your arm as your fingertips brushed over his, butterflies erupting in your chest, but you shoved that feeling down quickly, bringing the cigarette up to your lips to inhale. You took a drag, feeling the smoke sink into your lungs before you blew it out quietly, feeling the rush of it go to your head.

“I thought about what you said.” Aemond finally breathed into the night, voice quiet and shy.

Your eyes lifted to look at him. His gaze was still outside as he leant forward on the window, hands clasped together, elbows on the edge of the wood. He fiddled with the signet ring on his pinky, turning it side to side.

Bringing the cigarette up to your lips again you took another drag, letting Aemond have the space to talk, and also using the smoke as a means to force yourself to stay quiet so that he could say what he needed to say, and then you would go to bed.

Yes, that’s what you would do. Hear him out, most likely another shithouse apology, and then go to bed angry but vindicated.

Wordlessly you held out his smoke, watching as he kept his eye lowered as he took it from your hands, mug of tea in the other, palm wrapped around the porcelain which you questioned if he enjoyed the sting, or the grounding of the pain.

Maybe he was punishing himself.

Aemond brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaled deeply and then exhaled a breath as he spoke, “And you were right.” Smoke curled under his nose as he inhaled it back inside, “But you were also wrong too.”

You let your eyes roam his side profile, his nose long and sharp, lips pursed as he sucked at his gums, tongue rolling over the front of his teeth, thinking of the words to say next, perhaps thinking of how to apologise to you properly this time.

“I am sorry. For what I said to you.” He apologised, true repentance on his tongue, “It wasn’t right, and you didn’t deserve that. I know you’re just trying to be a good friend to Helaena by doing me a favour, and I know that you’re trying to be a friend to me.” Aemond inhaled slowly, bringing up the cigarette to take another drag, “But like I tried to say, these things don’t come easy to me.”

Despite his apology, there was still his lingering attitude in the way he spoke, the words he had chosen. The way he conducted himself, as though he was angry that he had been called out, or that he had to be a better person to you.

You chewed at your cheek, not wanting to respond just yet, holding out your fingers towards him as he handed you the cigarette.

Another brush of hands.

You held the filter in your fingers, turning the cigarette softly as silence fell over the two of you.

Aemond brushed an uneasy hand through the front of his hair, large hand sliding down his neck as you watched his eyelashes flutter, up, down, but never once looking at you.

As though he couldn’t bare to face you.

He inhaled sharply, bare foot tapping on the tiled floor in irritation, “I know you think you know what happened between me and Alys, but Helaena doesn’t even know the whole of it. I-“ Aemond paused, swallowing thickly, “It’s not been easy these past few months without her, not that it was ever easy.” He sadly scoffed, adjusted his weight on his legs, “But she’s been trying to get back with me, texting, calling, and I don’t- I don’t know… I think it’s finally caught up to me what happened.”

You handed the smoke back, sipping your chamomile tea, enjoying the burn that it gave you, and also the way that it calmed your nerves, giving you something to focus on rather than the way that Aemond seemed to begin to curl in on himself, taking every fibre of your being to not reach out and comfort him.

He chanced a glance at you, and stooped over the window, bent from the hips, his eye line was below yours, and so he had to look up at you through his lashes, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, steeling himself for what he was about to say.

Aemond brought the smoke to his lips, holding it there for a moment, before he began to speak, fingertips resting over his mouth as he spoke, “It wasn’t always bad, but she was much older,” He shifted again uncomfortably and you mirrored his action, “And I was too young and naive to see the truth of it.”

You hadn’t expected this.

Hadn’t expected Aemond to open up to you about Alys, something that had been clearly affecting him as of late.

Aemond sighed in a breath and you watched as he began to turn his signet ring with his thumb again, eye watching to motion carefully, methodically twisting it in sets of three.

Twist, twist, twist. Pause.

“She was one of my tutors at KLU,” Aemond explained, and you felt your stomach drop, "It wasn’t- it started innocently enough. Lessons here and there, but then she- Well I… It felt good to be wanted. Felt good to have something that no-one could take from me. Not Viserys, not my brother, not- But then someone found out, and Alys said that we needed to leave KLU so that we could be together.”

Your lips parted in shock, watching as Aemond shook his head, taking a frustrated drag of the cigarette, ash falling from the end onto the sill which he swiped away with a finger agitatedly, “So I stopped my degree, left KLU, and went to Harrenhal with her. At first it was easy, perfect. I was so in love with her, but then she kept pushing the idea of having kids, of getting married.”

Married.

Kids.

“At first I was excited,” His eye flicked onto you, a sad smile pulling downwards on his lips, “Who doesn’t want to hear from the love of their life that they want to settle down? But then she kept asking about Viserys, and the law firm, and inheritance.” He spat, “And I knew, I knew that she was using me… But I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t. I loved her.”

A twinge of empathy rolled through you.

How could you have been so blind to this?

“So I stayed, and it just got worse.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to say that you were sorry, to comfort him, but Aemond shook his head at you, watching as the words stuck in the back of your throat, “She started seeing other people,” Your mouth went dry, your own understanding of how he must of felt settling in your chest painfully, “And at first she kept it a secret, but then she did it more openly.”

You had the sudden desire to wring his ex’s neck.

Aemond’s eye narrowed as he spoke bitterly, looking down to his hand again where he twisted the ring more agitatedly, twist, twist, twist, pause, “Would taunt me about it. Fuck them in our bed. Would tell me I needed to ‘man up’ if I wanted to stay with her, told me I needed to be better for her, do better.” Aemond sighed, taking the last drag of the smoke, clearing his throat, “We were together for years, and she was all I knew. I didn’t-“

How could she have done this to him?

How could anyone have done anything like this to a person?

It was cruel. Inhumane. Horrible. And suddenly, the way Aemond behaved, his insecurities about Cregan, his jealously and refusal to let you get close began to make more and more sense.

You watched as his adams apple bobbed in his neck, “I didn’t know how to leave. I didn’t want to leave. Because when she was good, she was amazing. She was everything I wanted, everything I thought I deserved. Everything she made me believe I wanted. But when it was bad, it was…” Aemond trailed off, words caught in his throat, emotion beginning to boil over, "We would fight all the time. She would break things, cuss me out, tell me I was pathetic.” He swallowed again, voice quieter, “Hit me… And I was just an idiot in love who stood there and took it.”

Your chest ached painfully and you felt tears pull in your eyes.

Aemond.

You frowned, “You weren’t an idiot,” You said quietly, “You were in an abusive relationship, Aemond.”

The Targaryen blew air sharply through his nose, “I knew it was toxic and yet I stayed. Hoped it would get better. Waited for her to see that I was the only one she needed. That I could be good for her. Be better. I just- I thought we could be happy, like she promised. She was my first- And I-“ The silver haired man cleared his throat to sip at his tea.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered to him, tears threatening to spill over, “I am so, so sorry, Aemond. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I don’t want your pity,” He said quietly back, ego wounded, lingering pieces of denial and pain preventing him from being more vulnerable than he was, preventing him from letting anyone to see him as a victim, "I don’t want you apologising to me either. I deserved it.”

Your heart raced in your chest, “You didn’t-“

“-Could you for one second in your life not make excuses for me? I don’t want you to- I don’t- I feel-“ Aemond paused, not sure how to find the words, not sure how to move forward, and so you gave him a different path.

“How did you leave?”

The signet ring tapped loudly against his mug of tea.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

“Mum called, told me Viserys was sick, it looked bad at the time,” You noted how he called his dad by his first name, “I didn’t know how to feel about it. I was… lost. And Alys didn’t even care. Didn’t care that my… father… was sick. Didn’t care that he was dying. I stopped my studies for her, I left everything behind for her. Friends. Family. Everything. And she didn’t even care. She just asked how much I would inherit, asked if I would get the law firm. She- she didn’t- she just-“

Your hand lifted before you could stop it, setting it against his shoulder gently. Aemond’s entire body bristled, as though your touch had sobered him up, and you watched in disappointment as the brick walls began to build behind his eye again.

“That’s horrible. Really, you didn’t deserve any of that. Your partner is supposed to love and support you. Listen to you. Be there for you. I’m sorry that you were so alone.” You empathised, “She sounds ho-“

“-Don’t.”

Even in his weakest of moments, even when in times of pain or reminiscing on the abuse, Aemond still would not let anyone say anything about Alys.

The good, the bad, or the ugly.

It was his to talk about.

And his alone.

“I know,” He continued, looking at your carefully, his silver lashes brushing against his cheeks as he momentarily looked down at your hand on his shoulder, and then back up at you.

The way he gazed at you made your chest constrict, “-I know that you probably don’t care about this,” You shook your head and Aemond sighed inwardly, “But I needed to tell you. To explain. I don’t want sympathy, or for you to make excuses for me. You said-... I listened to what you said. I'm trying, Y/n. In the only way I know how.”

You let your thumb rub his shoulder soothingly before you stepped towards him, your shoulder brushing his as you both looked out the kitchen window into the dark of the night, a blanket of quiet enveloping around the two of you, only this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

If he was sharing, then you would too.

“I caught Jason cheating on me with his now girlfriend, I think I told you that once. Caught them in our bed together, and he blamed me for it.” You breathed, lifting the tea to your lips, finding your mouth suddenly dry, “It wasn’t the first time though. But it was the last time. I knew he had a reputation but I ignored it. Fools in love, you know?”

Aemond nodded his head and huffed a quiet, bitter laugh.

“He was just so charming, and when I met him on campus, all the girls chased him, but he chose me. And it made me feel special, to have him choose me like that over them. Such a stupid pick me moment now that I look back at it." You scoffed quietly, "I think I was just so caught up on actually being desired… I know now that he didn’t. He was still sleeping with them, but still. I get what you mean about staying, hoping for better. I mean- I obviously- He never- He didn’t physically-“

“-It’s okay. I know what you mean.” Aemond reassured you, and you felt your heart quieten from its speeding pace.

You continued, “But I was never isolated. I was never alone. I had my friends. I had Hel. And if we are truly being as candid as I think we are being right now, I had a family who was there to support me, which I feel that you perhaps didn’t.” You looked down at your mug, watching the way the teabag shifted in the cooling water, Aemond’s gaze on you.

He lifted the cup to his lips and drained the last of the dregs of tea before settling it on the window sill, eye cast to the dark, then back to you, then out to the dark again in contemplation.

“I heard Cregan tell you about what happened to me.”

Anxiety and regret poured through you.

What else had he heard?

“Viserys had always been sick.” He explained, and you knew this already from what Helaena had told you, “Growing up, he was always at the doctors and the specialists, and was never really there. But in all honesty, I don’t think, even without the illness, that he would have been there. He-“ Aemond fiddled with the ring on his finger, family insignia pressed into its centre.

Twist, twist, twist, pause. “He never really got over his first marriage. Never got over the death of his first wife, Aemma. And I think,” You watched him lick his lips, “I think mum was a convenience to him. They married for convenience. She was more caregiver than wife… I mean, he loves her. I know he does. But he could have done more. And he never really paid attention to me and Aegon. Helaena he adores, but even then, their relationship is strained, not what it should be.”

Helaena often told you about her want for their father to spend more time with the boys, but he seemed to never have much interest in them. Not once giving Aegon, Aemond or Daeron the praise they needed, and only ever being cynical in their achievements, stating that they could be doing more, or that they were doing not enough.

This of course led to the way Aegon came to be the way he was.

Aemond chewed at his bottom lip, “A few years back I went to visit him. And mum. Went with Hel and Aegon. Daeron couldn’t come because of his studies. But we went together, a united front, and I just- I had this child’s hope that he would see me. But he was barely lucid on painkillers that he didn’t even know who I was. But he remembered Rhaenyra.” His voice got darker, resentment and anger and sorrow swirling on the tip of his tongue, “Said to her, in front of all of us, ‘My only child’.”

Your mouth gaped open.

Aemond spared a glance at you and shook his head, laughing bitterly, “Aegon laughed, but you could tell it stung, being the eldest boy and all. He just laughed and then drank himself into a stupor. Hel was quiet, and I-“ He rolled his shoulders back, “I just left. I don’t know what I was expecting.”

His voice shifted, brows furrowing as his lips twitched at the sides, pulling into a tight flat line. It was an attempt to not sneer as clear as day, “But Rhaenyra, she tried. She tried to say we were there, tried to explain to him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her defend us like that, but it was no use. It was too late. We didn’t grow up together, we didn’t have that kind of bond. I know mum had a play in it. And after the incident, I guess it was just better for all of us that we parted ways."

You nodded, knowing all too well about this.

“When I lost my eye, it was an accident.” Aemond’s voice got quieter as his fingers traced the scar on his cheek and brow in memory, “And Cregan told you the rest, but he doesn’t know about what happened after. I had no-one.” He breathed, and you felt yourself shifting closer to him, hoping your presence would give the man some sort of comfort for the words that seemed to continue to spill forth from his lips in an endless stream of cathartic release. Thoughts and feelings that he had told you had not even been uttered to his sister.

“Mum was so hellbent on taking Rhaenyra to court that she didn’t stop or spend time with me when I was recovering in hospital. The only person there was Criston, and that was because mum made him. Hel, Aegon and Daeron went back to school, and I stayed in the hospital alone. I can’t- I don’t-”

Aemond swallowed, eye shutting as he stood to his full height, “I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed.”

Anxiety wound a coil in your gut.

Had he said too much?

Does he regret speaking to you?

Would he go back to being cold again? Quieter?

Your hand shot out before you could stop it, grabbing his larger one in your own. You watched as Aemond flinched slightly, hand flexing before it relaxed in yours. You soothed his knuckles with your thumb, anchoring him to the spot with you.

You swallowed, “Come to bed.” You said quietly, watching as his face moved through a myriad of emotions.

Shock, confusion, anger, and then finally, disgust.

“You think I want to f-“

“-No!” You said loudly, realising the accidental implication, before you lowed your voice again, “No. No, I- Just lay with me. Nothing else. I-“ You swallowed, “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Aemond blinked at you softly, his face falling, “I’m always alone.” He whispered.

Your heart tugged in your chest.

You squeezed his hand gently, “You don’t need to be.”

The air around you shifted, Aemond staring down at you as you held his hand in the dark of the kitchen, unspoken words floating around the two of you. But in that moment, you didn’t need to say a thing.

Aemond nodded his head down at you, almost imperceptible, and your heart thumped in your chest as you led him towards your bedroom in the dark, not letting go of him until you pulled the sheets back and crawled in first, urging him to climb in after you.

If it was not for the sadness that permeated around the two of you, you would have laughed at how large Aemond was in your bed, taking up most of one side as he was on. He lay flat on his back, crossing his hand over his chest, unsure of what to do.

You took initiative and curled up against him, lifting one of his arms over your shoulder as you settled into the heat of his side. You let one hand rest against his chest, feeling it rise and fall as he breathed quietly.

Aemond was stiff, unsure, uncertain, as you laid against him, lifting your hand from your chest to brush through his hair, an attempt to soothe the man with gentle strokes and repetition. You wondered briefly if Alys ever comforted him like this after their fights. After her infidelity.

You then wondered with a stray thought, if Aemond had ever been comforted ever in his life.

His hair was silky against your palm and fingers as you brushed your hand through it, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. You heard him breathe deeply, a small groan falling from his lips, the tension in his body slowly leaking from him.

You repeated the motion over and over, and eventually Aemond softened, his head tilting towards you in the dark of the room. Although you could scarcely see his gaze, you knew that he was watching you, only small pieces of light from the moon coming through the cracks of your curtains.

Heat rolled over you as you felt him observing you.

Aemond shifted in your sheets, hand coming to reach for yours in his hair, long fingers wrapping themselves around yours warmly, calloused palm rubbing over the top of your hand delicately.

With your hand in his, he brought it away from his silver tendrils, dragging it down slowly as he looked at you in the dark, moonlight shrouded over his body, just barely illuminating him as his lips parted, pressing a kiss into the palm of your hand. Your breath stilled in your throat as he did it again, tenderly, softly, reverently, before his mouth slid upwards, bottom lip dragging against your skin, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

Aemond pressed another gentle kiss to the tips of your fingers, a bare breath of air puffing over the digits as he tilted his head, pressing another to your inner wrist, right above your pulse point. You wondered momentarily if he felt the way your pulse quickened, blood thumping in your veins against his plump lips.

It wasn’t long until he dragged your fingertips back to his mouth, but this time, instead of the cautious and soothing kiss he had placed there before, his teeth now nipped at the pad of your pointer slowly. Not sharply with unconfined lust, but rather as if he was testing the waters, and when no argument came from your lips, nor objection to his indication to his now aroused state, Aemond leant forward towards your face, still holding your hand in his.

His lips met the corner of your mouth, barely there, yet full of yearning. You tilted your head upwards, to give him access to you, to which he pressed a softer kiss squarely upon your lips. You felt him breathe out through his nose in a shudder, your eyes slipping closed, not that you could see much anyway, as you kissed him back, cautious, curious, letting him set the pace.

There was no rush in the way he held you, sliding your body towards him with a large palm, hand spread against your ribs and waist, fingers ever so often tensing as he began to slowly deepen the kiss. But this was different to your previous times kissing Aemond. There was no malice, no rush, no anger simmering beneath the surface with resentment and confusion of the dynamic between the two of you.

These kisses that he pressed against your lips were slow, sensual, as though time had stopped for the two of you, and it spoke multitudes that Aemond was content to just bask in the warmth that spread between the two of you, his hand still holding yours, thumb pressed into your palm like a pressure point.

It was a side of him you had never seen before.

And you were content to leave it at that, to just hold him and kiss him in a way that he clearly needed in that moment, not wanting to move it forward, nor push either of you to go to someplace that the previous conversation in the kitchen would deter you from. But Aemond was not as content as you had thought he was.

His hand slid down your side, moving to cup under your ass as he dragged a leg over his side, nestling his hips between yours. You whimpered softly into his mouth as you felt his hardened length brush against your inner thigh.

Aemond taking this as the permission he needed, began to grind up against you, lips chasing yours lazily, keeping the same slow rhythm as before, matching the pace of his hips as he ground up against you, small gasp falling into your mouth from his as his hips stuttered.

He skimmed his hand from your thigh up your body, never breaking away from your embrace as he explored your body slowly, making your body out with careful precision. Each drag of his finger over your curves stored into the back of his mind for later.

Over the top of your sleep shirt his hand found your breast, hot air puffed through his nose as he squeezed, a mewl dripped hotly from your lips as you arched your chest into his hand.

He twinged a nipple between fingers, sending sparks through your body straight to your core, your leg dragging his hips closer to your heat as you bucked up into him, wetness pooling into your sleep shorts.

A hand slid itself underneath your shirt, feeling the away your stomach clenched beneath it as it moved upwards, finally resting over your chest. He splayed his fingers across your skin, feeling your heart race beneath his palm.

Your cheeks were heated, and Aemond finally broke away from the tender kiss that you had been sharing. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking to adjust in the darkness as you breathed shallowly, looking at him.

The air around you was static, and you got the sudden urge to pull back, to retreat, that this was too intimate, that you were showing too much of your hand to him, too much of yourself to him and what you truly desired.

As if sensing your sudden caution, the hand that held yours dragged itself down his own chest, his lips pressing into the corner of your lips before he settled your hand under his own shirt and above where his heart was.

Beneath your palm, you felt the same erratic heartbeat that was racing through your own chest, but this time, in his. Your fingers tightened against his skin, feeling bone and muscle, and a light dusting of hair beneath, but under all of that was the undeniable truth that Aemond wanted this just as much as you did.

Bringing your lips back to his you kissed him, both of your hands staying above each others chests warmly as you rolled your hips into his, a soft grunt coming from deep within Aemond throat.

With slow hands, Aemond took off your pants, aiding by your own hands as you slid them down your legs, kicking them to the bottom of the bed sheets where they were lost and would be found later. He then shifted, breaking away from the embrace as he took off his own pants, followed by his shirt, awkward movements jolting the bed that you would have normally giggled at if it wasn’t for the sincerity of it all.

And then you were back together, skin pressed against skin and anticipation buzzing through you like electricity. He held your jaw in both of his hands as he dragged you back to him, one hands fingers curling into your hair at the nape of your neck.

You were lost to his touch, growing dizzy from desire as he dragged your leg over his hip once more, slotting his hips against you. You felt his hard length brush against your folds, your chest pressing into him as you breathlessly whined into his mouth. Your hands slipped around his shoulders as you pulled him impossibly closer.

Aemond tilted his head, resting his forehead against yours.

Hot air puffed against your lips as he whispered, “Is this okay?”

You nodded, capturing his lips with yours once again as he took a hand to drag between the two of you, parting your folds in test to see if you were wet enough, and also to help guide his length blindly to your sopping centre.

Aemond pushed into you with one long and slow thrust, a sharp inhale sucked into the both of your chests, mouths opened as you paused from your kiss, lips still brushing against each other as you felt his length fill you completely.

His cock stretched you out thickly, his chest brushing against yours with every restrained breath he took.

Blood rushed in your ears, your pulse quickening as he pulled back, dragging his cock through your folds before back up inside of you. Your leg over his hip dragged higher as you pulled him closer, giving him a better angle to reach deeper within you.

The tip of his length brushed over every inch within you, a dreamy sigh falling from your lips as you nipped at Aemond’s mouth. He repeated the motion, slowly pushing his hips up into yours before dragging them backwards, leaving just his tip inside of you before he would plunge back inside.

You both pulled away from your kiss, foreheads pressed against each other as you breathed and whined, emotion pouring from him, his shoulders still tensed beneath your arms.

You tried to soothe him, running your fingers along the nape of his neck experimentally pressing into the thick cords of muscle at the back, at times rewarded by a small mewl from him before you settled to just tug lightly at his hair.

His thrusts never sped up, keeping the same restrained pace as heat bloomed in your stomach.

All that could be heard was the wet of your folds as he dragged himself through them and the pleasure that sang from the both of your lips.

The coil within you began to wind, and following his actions from earlier, you pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Aemond’s hips stuttered, and as he fucked into you sensually, all emotion and passion. You could feel the sadness that permeated from him, that creeped under his skin and into yours with every thrust or breathy whine. Your heart ached as you felt it, but you knew that this was what he wanted. That this was how he wanted to be comforted, that this was what he had chosen, and so you praised him as he sought his pleasure, and aimed to bring you to yours.

“So good.” You gasped against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to his plump and bitten raw lips as you carded your hands through his hair softly, “Making me feel so good.”

A low whine escaped his chest, and you felt his length within you throb.

Your own coil was increasingly winding with every shift of his hips, every drag of his cock against the pleasurable spots within you, and the meeting of the soft dusting of curls at the base of his cock that brushed against your bud with every thrust.

“You feel so good, Aemond.” You praised huskily, cupping a cheek in your hand as you felt his thrusts finally begin to quicken, their steady pace crumbling from your praise and his nearing release.

His lips crashed into yours, desperate groan rumbling in his chest as a hand moved to wrap itself under your ass, pulling you closer, length pressing inside of you to its limit, spreading you wider apart on his length as he plunged inside.

The shift caused sparks to erupt in your gut, “‘M close.” You softly whimpered, “Want you to cum.” Your lips brushed against his as you spoke, his forehead pressed to your own as he quickened his pace.

“Please.” He trembled in your arms, hand splayed on the globe of your ass gripping the flesh tighter.

But no matter how close he got to his peak, he didn’t push himself over the edge and you could feel it.

He was waiting for you.

Waiting for your encouragement, waiting for your pleasure. But in that moment, you knew that Aemond needed it more than you. You would give him the permission he needed to hear.

“Let go.”

Aemond came with a shattered cry, hips stuttering into yours as he rode out his release, hot ropes of warmth flooding your core as you cooed him softly, brushing hair away from his forehead as you kissed his scarred cheek.

“So good.” You cooed quietly, “So beautiful.”

His body rippled as he pushed himself to his limit, hips pressed snugly against yours as he puffed breaths of hot air against your cheek. His head dipped down to where your neck meets your shoulder, stomach intermittently clenching at the aftershocks, your wet warmth still gripping him tightly.

Your heart raced in your chest as Aemond pressed lips to the junction of neck and shoulder, kissing softly, air puffing against your skin from his nose. You dragged your hands up and down his back soothingly, feeling goosebumps erupt from his skin, a soft whine pressed into your shoulder.

His cock twitched inside of you, causing a breathless sigh to fall from your lips, pleasure still settled within you. Aemond’s head lifted from the crux of your neck, eye finding yours in the darkness.

“You didn’t finish.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

You chuckled softly, careful to make it known that you weren’t laughing at him, “I don’t need to.”

His brows furrowed at you, and you smoothed at them with a thumb.

Aemond shifted, dragging his length from within you, mewling whimper escaping your lips as every vein and ridge dragged through your walls deliciously. But instead of Aemond pulling out, he pushed right back inside, fire erupting over your skin as your breath hitched.

He bit his lip, overstimulated but wanting to bring you to your peak as he slowly fucked into you again, dragging his tip over the soft spongey spot inside of you with precision. He pushed all the way in to the hilt, his tip pressing into your cervix as you moaned desperately, fingers digging into the skin of his back as you gripped him to you.

You could feel his spend dripping out of you, stickiness coating your thighs and his sack which were pressed against you tightly.

Aemond dragged a hand down your body disappearing between your thighs as he gathered some of his cum up to your clit, swirling his thumb around it softly in circles. You moaned softly, breasts pressing into his chest as he held you to him, not moving his cock, but using it to keep you full of him, feeling your walls twitch and spasm around him as he brought you to your peak with a sudden cry.

Your walls gripped him tightly as he hissed, slowing his thumbs movements to drag you through your release until you whined that it was too much.

Your body felt like jelly, unable to move, content to just lay in his arms, cock softening inside of you.

And so that’s what you did.

Neither of you uttering a word as to what had just happened, nor a whisper of what had been said, both laid in the dark, legs intertwined, the warm glow of your peaks settling over you as your hearts raced within your chests.

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

Taglist:

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Bold is who I cannot tag

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effervescentcvnt · 1 month

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the protector of the forest - part 1

cw: dubcon, dendrophilia

it was just supposed to be a relaxing walk in the forest. adventuring is hard work, and honestly, all you want right now is some peace and quiet. it's a wonderful midsummer's day, birds are chirping, the sun is shining softly through the leaves, the entire forest seems to be in bloom. eventually, you stumble upon a clearing in the woods; in the middle of it grows an odd-looking plant - or, really, more of a massive pile of tangled tendrils and roots with the most beautiful, huge yellow flowers you've ever seen. there seems to be some pollen floating about in the air; it almost seems to glimmer in the sun.

you step closer cautiously, the place feels serene, almost sacred. there are tendrils covering the ground, too, and you're trying your best not to step on any of them. accidentally, though, your foot catches on a tendril, and you fall forwards onto your hands and knees. as you try to get back up, you feel the tendril wrapping around your ankle. above you, the strange plant awakens like an ancient forest god from their slumber.

the plant unfurls itself and bristles as if it's trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. it extends its roots and tendrils towards you as you try to yank your leg free. however, the plant proves to be far stronger than you, quickly overpowering you and before you know it, you're dangling mid-air, being held in place by the plant. desperately, you attempt to break free, but to no avail. then, you hear it: a voice, genderless and seemingly sourceless, until you realise that the plant itself is speaking to you inside of your head.

cease your struggle, sweet mortal. i will not hurt you.

some of the tendrils that aren't holding you softly caress your legs and arms in an attempt to soothe you. hesitantly, you steady yourself.

"what are you? why are you doing this?" you whisper to the plant, your voice laced with fear. you've encountered all sorts of creatures on your travels, but never anything quite like this.

i am the protector of this forest. i have been sleeping for so long, but you have awakened me. i hunger, though; will you help me sate my hunger?

your mouth falls open in bewilderment as you take in the plant's words. "you aren't going to eat me, are you?" you squeak, your voice rising in panic.

of course not, you silly thing. as i said, you will come to no harm. there's just something i need from you.

"and what's that?" you ask, after being assured you won't be devoured, you feel slightly less terrified, yet you cannot believe that your leisurely afternoon stroll has taken such a turn.

i feed on the pleasure of the creatures that i lure in with my flowers - creatures just like you. no one has found me in such a long time, though, and i feel quite... starved. will you be a dear and help me?

every word that the plant utters makes you feel more and more perplexed but the tendrils stroking you feel comforting, and as one of them gently caresses your cheek, you lean into it without even thinking. as the plant awaits your answer and continues its ministrations, there is another sensation as well; you feel a familiar heat starting to pulse between your legs.

i should mention that the pollen you've been inhaling all this time has quite an effect on humans; i use it to heighten the pleasure of those i've lured in. can you feel it already?

you certainly can, you realise, and the notion is as jarring as it is thrilling. your cunt is starting to grow wet and your thoughts are becoming slower, as if your head was filled with something sweet and sticky. you try to close your legs or perhaps rub your thighs together but the plant is firmly holding them apart. the heat in your cunt is starting to spread and intensify, and you desperately want to touch yourself to relieve some of it, but your hands are trapped. all you can do is hang there like a fly caught in a spider's web.

"i will help you...," you whisper.

thank you. you won't regret this.

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// thank you for reading <3 part 2 is coming soon!! it'll be quite a bit smuttier hehe

#queer nsft #nonbinary nsft #ns/fw #trans nsft #monster fucker #terat0philliac #monster smut #cnc k!nk #teratophillia #terato #dendro #t4t ns/fw #t4t nsft #fr33use #cnc free use #dendrophilia

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liveontelevision · 1 month

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Redemption Pt.2 | Lucifer x Reader

I'm kind of having a hard time getting motivation to write if anyone has any Luci prompts they wanna drop in my asks 👀

But for now, here's some more angsty fluffy slow burn Luci for y'all

(Check out Redemption Pt.1!)

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It's been an.. awkward... few weeks. You kissed Lucifer. You kissed the king of Hell, who you've known for almost 2 decades, your boss and best friend. If that information didn't overwhelm your brain enough, he's managed to make you doubt Redemption. Still undecided, you began to fear the outcome of just disappearing without getting to make a decision. Without saying goodbye.

Even with your mental disaray, Business went on as usual. You did your routine paperwork and helped out with anything Charlie needed. Lucifer wasn't asking much of you these days. You assumed the best of him. Maybe he was just too busy. Or maybe he was avoiding you. You shook the frightful thought out of your head only to suddenly be hit with the memory of Lucifer looking so lovely with your lipgloss all over his face and neck. Damned man has taken over your entire brain.

Charlie would often ask you to help with touring, partnering in exercises, or helping new residents set up. You didn't really consider how much free time you'd have without seeing Lucifer as much as you usually do. Some days, you did at least walk by him in passing. You would smile at him, maybe say good morning or hello, and he would do the same. Like strangers. His smile was always sweet in the past, but these had a sense of disparity behind them. You couldn't confide in your dearest friend, and your paranoia got the better of when considering going to others. But you needed another opinion.

"Well, shit! Good for you toots! That all tracks, Luci's clearly a bottom." Angel laid on his stomach, kicking his long legs in the air like some gossiping teen. You just needed some advice on redemption, but you ended up spilling out the entire interaction. You sat at his vanity, your arms crossed over your chest. "Angel, please. What do you think about redemption? You've been here longer than anyone, don't you.. worry..? About never seeing anyone here again?" Angel looked down for a moment before swinging his legs around and sitting at the edge of his bed. He pat the spot next to him, and you quickly took a seat by his side. He gripped the edge of his bed and hunched over his torso, propping himself up by his elbows with his upper set of limbs. "Actually? I'm terrified. I've been here for 70s years, kid. This is basically all I know now. I had a family, a buncha siblings, and a whole backstory n shit, but.." He spoke softly, his voice cracking at the mention of his biological family." I barely think of 'em. Even with Val up my ass, I think of this as my home now. Charlie and Vaggie, even Alastor - and.. Husk." He swooned, without even realizing, at his own words." I think you gotta want redemption, babes. Maybe that's why i'm still here. I dunno." He placed a hand on your shoulder and sent a sympathetic smile. The tender care you hadn't received in so long was too much. You sniffled a bit and let your head fall onto his shoulder. "I don't know what to do, Angel... " He rubbed your arm that had traveled around your shoulders as you attempted to slow your shakey brrath.

Lucifer did what he always did when he was stressed. He created. Frustration seemed to be a common inspiration for his.. hobby. He filled his office to the brim with ducks, each with a fun little feature that he came up with spur of the moment. Without acknowledging it, he did leave your desk clear. Like he was waiting for you to suddenly appear there, all neat and tidy. A glimmer of relief in the pool of chaos his life had become. This went on for days.

He was rarely a participant at the bar, alcohol was just another reminder of the wrecklessness that could occur with free will. But fuck, he needed a drink. Making sure it was far too late, to avoid any unexpected interactions, he went down to the lobby. Still looking dishoveled and exhuasted, he prayed that no one would be down there, to see the king of hell looking to get sloshed at 3 in the morning.

To his luck, it was empty. The lights were almost all off, but the lobby was still filled with the red glow of Pentagram city just down the hill. Letting out a sigh of relief, Lucifer steps behind the bar, struggling to read any labels without a set light. That didn't stop him one bit,, randomly taking a bottle and drinking whatever was inside. It didn't taste good, but his head finally seemed to forget your face for a moment. He'll realize how horrifying that felt in the morning.

Looking for another drink that didnt burn his throat, he continued to sort through the drinks without any clear light source. Letting out a frustrated scoff, he flung a handful of golden flames behind him, attempting to light a display of candles that sat at the bar counter for decor.

"Fuck - !"

The sudden voice that came from behind made him drop whatever drink he had in his hand. It shattered, the sound echoing through the cleanliness of the new lobby. He turned his body around way too fast, only managing to focus on your face after a few dizzying moments. You hold onto the top of your arm, a clean burn swiped right across your skin. His eyes were darting across the room, seeing only half of the candles lit, your sudden appearance and newly burned flesh, and a small flame forming on the top of the couch across the room.

Despite his dizzying mind, he snapped his fingers, planning to at least stop the couch from burning the whole place down. In this attempt, he managed to sinch all three flames, the room suddenly being plunged into a darkness that you both had to adjust to. Lucifer's overwhelmed senses made him stumble, clutching onto the edge of the counter and holding his spinning head in his hand. Everything he's felt for the past few weeks and the guilt of causing you any harm finally hit him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck - I'm sorry, i'm sorry..!" He wailed out, almost at the brink of tears. He gasped for air, his chest heavong. He could barely feel your hand brush across his back and start to rub it soothingly. He hitched his breath, doing his best to calm himself from this little attack. You had rounded the bar, your back leaning against the counter. standing at his side, you ran your fingers lightly across his back, starting to trace along his tense muscles. It was the smallest affection, yet he shuttered before feeling his unbalanced body relax, then began to sway in your direction.

"I'm okay, Lucifer..! I-I barely felt it! You're freaking yourself out, just try and - " his body finally hit yours after a stumble, his shoulder falling into your chest and knocking the air from your lungs. You shifted your postion to brace him from behind, his back now flush against your chest as you leaned both of your weight onto the counter.

You did your best to keep a clear mind, but seeing your beloved friend in this state did nothing but make you panic. Your friend.. that's what he'll always be at the end of this. Your friend who you've known since you died, who took you in without ever considering you'd grow this close. Your friend, who's created an incredibly difficult decision for you to make.

"Sweetheart, I'm s-sorry! I never meant to scare you off! I-I'm so scared to lose you - I can't imagine my days without you, love, I need you -" you shushed him, needing to cool your absolutely heated face at his words, but also to keep anyone else from seeing this display. You ushered him to the front of the building and out the front doors.

Despite it being Hell, there was a light breeze that hit the both of you with a relief. Lucifer stumbled onto the nearest wall, finally releasing his face to adjust his eyes to the sudden change of setting.

Blinking slowly, he took in your appearance much longer than anticipated. You wore a comfortable baby blue slip that loosley hung over your figure. He surely wouldve taken the time appreciate your figure if you didnt have a a blanket bunched around your entirety. He did his best to not look disapointed, but failed miserably. You couldnt help but smile at his poor display of affection.

You took a hold onto Lucifer's clammy hands, making him turn redder than he was before from embarrassment. He took a moment to meet your eyes, something he hadnt done in days at this point.

"Come with me?" You spoke so neutrally, a clear tone that seemed to calm his thoughts. He simply nodded, allowing you to lead his staggering body around to the side of the building. It was a bit of a hike, but the brisk air and the movement seemed to settle Lucifer's high. That being said, he still kept his arm around your shoulders for balance.

Upon arrival, the sight was enough to startle him, a small walkthrough garden sprouting from the side of the building. It was lush with Hell's native fiolage, flowers and vines with dangerous looking thorns and teeth growing from them. The purples and reds growing from the fenced off border and the small iron table and bench that sat in the center just underneath an arch with flowers intermingled, it all looked so innocent.

"Wh-hhow.. what is this?" He managed to ask, looking over at you as you continued to lead him through the garden. "I'm actually not sure. I don't remember seeing it in any blueprints when we redid the hotel, but i went for a walk and saw it here. Someone else must've put it together." You weren't sure if he was able to process that information, but you led him to sit on the bench with a thud. His body fell limp, hitting his head on the back of the frame with a ting.

You simply sat beside him for a moment in a bliss silence. It was comforting, despite all the previously chaos the two of you just went through.

"I should be scoldering you, sir. You haven't been drunk in years and last time you did - "

"Lillith. It was after she left, I know.." you only meant to call out how poorly he handled his liquor in the past, but it made your heart ache hearing him make that connection.

You let out an awkward agreement and continued to sit in silence for another moment longer. Lucifer finally let his head fall onto your shoulder and a sigh of relief escaped his lips, as you felt the heat coming off of his body.

"How'd you find this place? It's nice." He said softly, his voice raspy and wavering." I've been using it to escape.. to think." You said in an equally soft tone, unsure of his mental state at this point. You discovered this little hidden gem while desperately looking for air, struggling through one of your own panic attacks. Once you saw it the first time, it almost became a nightly routine. The walk to it was always clear from other demons, and passing Lucifer's giant pentagram in front of the hotel gave you a sense of comfort and protection. You felt him shift slightly, he pulled the blanket away from your arm and held it up lightly to inspect the burn that you had nearly forgotten about. His hands flinched for a moment, letting out a quiet hiss. He could've simply snapped his fingers or waited for your demonic body to heal itself, but instead he lightly ran his thumb across the entirety of the wound. As he pressed into your arm, you noticed the burn mark simply disapear behind his hands. You let out a satisified hum. It was always so interesting to see him use his powers, you rarely got to see him in action.

"I think - to be redeemed, you have to accept it. To be absolutely sure it's what you want. That's what angel thinks, at least." You wanted to ask why he was out of his room at three in the morning, getting drunk and why he was avoiding you for days. But you knew why.

"I still don't really know, Lucifer. I don't know what I want.. but I need you right now. I can't lose you because of t-this.." You admitted, your voice cracking slightly at your own words.

You fretted this conversation. You worried about how he would react to any answer that wasn't I'm staying with you forever! Forget redemption!

As your breath began to pick up, you watched lucifer stand, his back facing you for a moment. It made your heart drop, rushing to the conclusion that he'd leave you there alone. To your surpise, he makes a smooth motion of turning to sit in front of you on the ground, holding gently onto your calf that he pulled from the blanket. You jumped at the small touch. Turning beat red, your mind inappropriately jumped to conclusions.

"U-Uhm - Lucifer.." you called out his name as if you had any idea what to say in this moment, with him at your knees holding you so tenderly.

"You've done so much for me, love." He planted a small kiss right below your knee. "I promise I'll do anything in my power to keep you happy and safe while you're in Hell." He paused in between words, to move his small kisses up your leg." No matter how long that will be."

He's much bolder with drinks, you thought. That aside, you couldn't help but feel small tears well up in your eyes, a combination of relief and embarrasment washing over you. "Really..?" You asked so quietly, it was as if you were still worried about the answer.

He nodded with a sleepy smile, resting his head on your knee. In need of any type of comfort, you carefuly reached for his head, brushing your fingers through his dishoveled locks. He shut his eyes, letting out a sweet purr at every touch. What a strange effect he had on you. Your heart was racing, yet its mever felt lighter. Your mind, still full of dreaded thoughts, only occupied his relaxed expression in this moment. Your face was red with embarrassment of this treatment, but you were ready to beg him to keep touching you this way.

You placed your finger under Lucifer's chin and guided him upwards, making him stretch to his knees and place both his hands on either side of you. You hesitated in front of his lips for a moment. His breath was so steady, and feeling the pulse through his throat, his heart seemed to beat much slower than yours in this moment. You gulped, more nervous than before, before meeting his lips with yours. Your kiss was tender, yet it hinted at a longing for something more. He decided to take the lead, compared to last time, his hands moving up to cup your cheeks and wipe any of the wet streaks that had stained your skin previously.

Tilting his head to invite himself into your mouth, your breath hitched at the energy he seemed to eminate. He stands for a moment, then places a knee beside you, moving his hands to either side of you and caging you in by holding onto the back of the bench. This upper hand that he suddenly had made you squirm a bit, letting out a nervous yelp into his lips. You felt his smile at the sound of your voice, making you turn impossibly red. After pulling away for air that you didnt realize you needed until then, he pressed his forehead against yours and let out a sweet hum.

As he went back in for more, the breath that hit your lips reaked of alcohol. That was enough to snap you back into reality. As he reached down, you planted your hands firmly on his chest, a serious intent, even with your eyes being glazed over as much as they were. "Come to bed with me, Luci. Just to sleep, alright? It's been a long night." You said softly, running your hands up and down his curves despite your intentions of not taking advantage of him any more than you've already done. You felt his skin crawl, his breath finally speeding a bit, a more nervous side of him that you were used to coming out. Maybe it was the idea of sleeping beside you, or him overthinking the invitation. Or maybe the newfound nickname was just too much for his drunken mind to handle. He quickly nods, making you pull the blanket back up around your shoulders and lead Lucifer back inside.

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You take him into his bedroom, which you've rarily seen since you moved to the hotel. It wasnt as large and regal as the one in his previous residency, but it still was much grander compared to yours. His colour scheme matched the rest if the hotel, rich reds and purples. Most of the room was filled with the bed that sat on a slightly elevated platform and hit the cieling with a canopy that adorned silky drapes. A bed truly fit for a king, was unmade and unkept. Blankets were thrown about and the pillows were scattered in various places. The room was slightly cluttered, a few stray ducks that you recognized from his office making their way into his room like muddy footprints.

Lucifer stumbled his way into his room, immediately pulling his shirt off over his head, letting out a groan and letting his body cool down as he started to remove his boots. You couldn't help but stare, no matter how hard you tried to avoid it. You turned your body to the side, covering your eyes with the side of your hand. You manuevered your way around him and plopped onto the edge of the bed. You nearly sunk in with how plush the blanketing and mattress was. Still keeping your head lowered to avoid peeking, you curled up into your own blanket.

Feeling the mattress barely shift, you quicklly looked up to see Lucifer crawling his way towards the head of the bed. He barely changed, just managing to throw on a more casual pair of pants that you recognized seeing on the floor when you first walked in. His still bare chest left you abolutely flustered. His porcelain skin had shifted to a pink hue where he had gotten too cold. He immediately pulled his large blankets over his body and relaxed to the point where you assumed he had fallen asleep immediately. You listened to his steady breath for a moment, a comfortable silence in your mind, then rose to your feet, ready to shuffle out of the room.

"Noo, come back - " he groaned. It wasnt intimate or distressed, he sounded like a damned child. You rolled your eyes, unconciously smiling and crawling a comfortable distance from him on the other side of the bed, an easy task considering the size of it. You thought it best to keep your hands to yourself, so you curled up into the blankets with a comfortable wiggle to situate yourself.

Lucifer slightly opened his half lidded eyes, seeing you coccooned in his blankets, nuzzling your head into his pillows. He would pray for this to be the last and first thing he saw everyday. He closed the distance, pulling you into his chest and intertwining your legs in an attempt to be closer. His skin was incredibly soft, smooth and still warm to the touch under your cold hands that snaked around his waist. You felt him nuzzling your head, taking in a deep breath and resting his chin atop it. How was he so calm right now? This is a completely different side of Lucifer that you've yet to see. And certainly werent expecting to see any time soon.

This is fine. You'll wait until he's in a deeper sleep and leave before anyone else wakes up! Easy peasy. You just wanted him to get to bed after all.

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #lucifer fluff #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin fluff

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toshidou · 1 year

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woe to the deer who is courted by the wolf . . .

pairing // könig x f!reader

word count // 7.2k

tags // 18+ ONLY, afab reader, vampire!könig, predator/prey kink, mentions of blood and injury, minor elements of horror (very minor), slightly misunderstood lonely vampire könig, unprotected sex, stomach bulge, rough sex, creampie, biting, blood sucking, blood play

an // after battling with writers block for over a month, who would have thought it'd take a blood sucking giant to free me from the shackles of having no inspiration? anyway this is the most i've ever written in one day, which is only slightly concerning. bone apple teeth!

thank you to @erosology for beta reading this, and forever being my number one hype man ;-;

Pale moonlight peaks through a frame of eerily still clouds, reflecting off the polished black steel planted in the ground at your feet. You can hear the whispers of your friends behind you, a little too old to be snickering and giggling behind the palms of their hands, although you’re entirely too old to have taken their bet in the first place.

It started off as a simple reunion between old friends, a short trek into once familiar woods to the spot you used to set up base for the night, roasting marshmallows over a concerningly large campfire, sharing cliche horror stories whilst swaddled in blankets. This very night had gone about the same, until someone brought up the old manor. An imposing house that watches over the village that surrounds it, well kept and suspiciously pristine, withstanding the tests of time despite the fact that not a single soul has ever been seen to enter or leave the premises.

It had been a longstanding dare, an easy way to get someone to down their drink, ‘I dare you to jump the fence and knock on the door’. No one has ever been stupid enough to go through with it, a couple tried, but got as far as the black iron that surrounds the perimeter before they gave up. And yet, here you stand, too many years later, an individual who should be both older and wiser than to commit several crimes for the sake of a stupid bet and childish curiosity, staring at that very same railing.

You can hardly hear the whispered words of your friends from where they cower behind you, your eyes transfixed on the looming building that seemingly stares back at you from where you remain fixed at the bottom of the hill. Mahogany brick unblemished, barely touched by weather, towers three stories high, trimmed ivy crawling up the walls as though attempting to reach out to the moon that watches over it. Each window is blocked by scarlet wooden shutters, an old-fashioned touch for a house surrounded by new builds; looking at it now feels like taking several steps back in time.

Not a single spec of light leaks through any crack in the shutters, each room bathed in darkness, the same way it always has. Surely, you think to yourself, surely no one can possibly be in there. Your theory has always been that the house is long since abandoned, its previous owner having died, looked after by a previously employed caretaker who hated to watch a building they loved go into disrepair. And although that doesn’t explain the suspicious lack of activity, it’s the only sane thought that you repeat to yourself as your fingers curl around sturdy black bars, and you begin to haul yourself over the iron fence.

A moment later, and the dull thud of your feet hitting neatly trimmed grass breaks tense silence, your eyes meeting with several widened pairs through steel bars. It’s the furthest anyone’s gotten, and even now, you feel like you’ve gone far enough. It’s certainly not too late to change your mind, to do the sensible thing and throw yourself back into safety, and just as you’re contemplating backing out of the bet, you feel the hairs on your nape stand on end, a chill down your spine so sharp it causes a physical flinch. When you turn around, you’re met with the very same house, not a shutter or brick out of place, yet something, somehow, feels different.

It’s like a siren call, luring you from the safety of your friends that remain frozen on the other side, hardly breathing as though they daren’t make a sound, apprehensive eyes focused on your shadowed form as you slowly make your way up the hill. It’s more daunting up close, no longer a silhouette against a twilight sky, now you can see details the distance has never gifted you, the way the wood shutters that plaster the windows are carved with swirls and intricate patterns, how the ivy hides bloomed flowers amongst pointed leaves, speckles of pink and purple that ease the tension that coils your muscles, only bolstering timid curiosity. And now you’re standing within feet of the house, you’re left in awe by the sheer size of it. It never seemed particularly small, not even from the gate, but the front door alone has you gulping down nothing but frigid air. You take a few tentative steps, eyes raking over the magnificent details carved into thick black oak, the centrepiece that catches your gaze being the solid gold knocker that sits just above your head, halfway up the door.

Two hollow eyes stare back at you, a skull with two rams horns that curl from golden bone, and between its bared teeth lies a ring that rests against ebony wood. It stands out from every other detail of the house, a spine-tingling reminder of where you stand, echoes of the myths that surround this house whispered by your trembling conscience, and yet shaking fingers reach for the ring, curling around cooled metal before lifting it, preparing to knock.

But you never get the chance, because in true horror movie fashion, you’re met with the slow creak of old hinges as the very door you stand before begins to open, and in the void of black it reveals, you swear you see two pinpricks of red that greet you in the darkness. Your entire body goes stiff, still clinging on to the gold loop of the knocker as though it’ll somehow ground you, yet it does nothing to chase away the overwhelming sense of impending doom that screams at you to turn, to run, to get as far away from this wretched place as your legs can take you.

You turn just in time to hear the worried calls of your friends before the door is yanked wide open, dragging you over the edge of the premises with it and sending you careening onto the floor, sliding against wood and scrambling up only to watch that very same door slam in your face.

Frozen. Every single part of you remains stock still as you try to adjust to the darkness. Not even the moonlight dares follow you inside, leaving you alone to dart your eyes in the pitch black, searching for some semblance of light you can latch onto. Yet the house offers you nothing, and you can’t help but see red dots every time you dare close your eyes. In the moment of still you’ve been given, your brain reels as it tries to think of a logical explanation for the door seemingly dragging you into the house with no human in sight to operate it, and in your panic, you can’t help but pray that you’ve fallen asleep by the campfire, and this is all an elaborate nightmare you’ll be able to laugh about when you awake.

A creak from behind you sends you hurtling back into reality, a sure reminder that this is no nightmare, not one you can wake up from, at least. Your head whips to the side, terror freezing your muscles solid as you lock onto crimson orbs once again, so bright they can be seen even with the absence of light to reflect off them, your blood curdling in your veins as they remain fixed on you, unblinking. You scurry backwards, the sound of your back slamming against the solid wall behind you echoing through the dark, fingers curling against peeling wallpaper in a last-ditch attempt to find the door handle.

Your pathetic scrabbling is interrupted by the harsh sound of a match striking against rough material, your eyes drawn to the responding flame it produces, but moreso, the large fingers that dwarf the stick they clutch.

“What a curious thing you are.”

Each syllable rumbles through very walls, practically shakes the structure of the house, a low timber steeped with an accent you can’t quite place, but certainly isn’t local. You daren’t breathe, let alone move, not even when the ground creaks and shakes with every purposeful, creeping step the stranger takes towards you. The flame grows as the match is brought to a wick, the flame whittling away the wood until all that remains is twisted charcoal, before transferring to the candle, the dying fire roaring back to life, casting a flickering golden glow onto the one holding it.

You’re met once again with red, but now you can see bleached tear tracks running from shoddy holes cut into black cloth, a mask fit for the monster that wears it, and as they stalk ever closer, you belatedly wonder how they’re going to navigate the stairs that must separate the two of you, certain that even someone familiar with a house must need more light in order to not fall. But they never begin their descent, and it’s only when the flame lies mere feet from you, yet so far out of your reach, you realise there are no steps. You’re face to face with a giant.

Adrenaline douses you like a torrent of water, your widened eyes alert and stricken with obvious fear, yet you didn’t expect the gentle touch that encircles your wrist, lungs sucking in a stuttered breath as you stare into the hollow red of its eyes. Large fingers draw your arm upwards, moving your frozen limb with ease, until it’s stretched far above your head, your fingers bumping against the smooth wax of the candle the giant passes off to you. Your brain scrambles for words, screams against the shackles of your fear-addled mind, waiting to release a slew of incoherent pleas for your freedom, yet your lips remain firmly sealed.

You feel a weight in your trouser pocket, eyes darting down to see his fingers pushing a box of matches into the gap of the material, only for your gaze to snap back to him as he hunches down, the material of his mask flowing down as his torso towers over you. You’re left caged against the wall, nowhere to run as his face levels next to your ear. It’s silent for a few horrific seconds, until that same spine-chilling voice purrs one single word.

“Run.”

It’s as though all your body needed was the instruction, responding immediately as you tear away from him, feet slapping against hardwood flooring as you careen towards what vaguely resembles an entrance way. The flame flickers dangerously, threatening to leave you in the dark once again, your fingers curling around the candle, whispering prayers that it doesn’t snuff out, that it doesn't leave you alone with whatever stalks you in the pitch black.

You don’t stop running until you reach a hallway, sprinting down the claustrophobic corridor until you finally reach an open door, rushing inside and pushing hefty wood until it clicks in place, sealing you within, safe for now. You hold up the candle to illuminate more of the room, watching as the soft glow bounces off a glinting gold frame and painstaking strokes of oil paint. An obscenely large portrait hangs on the wall in front of you, the image of a handsome man draped in fine purple robes, shoulder length brown hair pushed back with a crown of golden leaves. He sits in a chair, grand and crimson, lined with bronze, legs spread over the expensive velvet, one large hand curled over his thigh, the other propping his head up, his elbow resting against the arm of the chair in a way that can only be described as unbothered, and unamused. But the thing that has you utterly transfixed are the two red irises that stare right back at you, playful and taunting, and hauntingly familiar.

Surely this isn’t the man under the hood, the one who dragged you into his house and watched you scramble out of his grip the second he told you to flee. Because why would a man so handsome hide his face? Why would someone who looks so young own a house that has stood at the centre of your small village for far longer than you’ve been alive? Nothing seems to make sense, not a single aspect of the past 10 minutes feels real, and you can only hope your friends saw what happened and ran to get help, because you’re not sure there’s a way for you to conquer this man alone. It’s as you’re floundering for answers that you hear a noise from outside the room, instincts taking over as you quickly hide under a small dining table and blow out the candle, praying you haven’t given yourself away.

You’re not entirely stupid, you know the meaning of red eyes, and although you could attempt to soothe your psyche with whispered lies about contact lenses and make believe, you know better. The thing that chases you is no man, and certainly isn’t human, at least not anymore. And as terrified as you are, there isn’t a chance in hell you’re about to let yourself become this monster’s dinner.

You sit in the darkness, clutching the smouldering candle to your chest, and wait. Ears alert as you listen for the slightest sound that might give away your hunter, a breath, a sigh, a scratch, you do little more than hope that your hiding spot remains occupied by you, and you alone.

After a tense few minutes, picking up on no other sounds than the thrumming of your own heart, your fingers slowly make their way to your pocket, gingerly plucking the box out and pushing the case off. Despite the lack of light, and the trembling that consumes your body, you manage to fish out a match, and strike it, holding the newly lit flame to the wick of the candle.

Bleached tears. Red eyes. Large fingers. Looming body.

“Boo.”

The scream rips from your throat before your brain can catch up, the candle abandoned as it’s flung towards him in a last ditch attempt to throw him off, knees and hands protesting as they’re dragged along grooved wood, leaving grazes in their wake. The momentary pain isn’t enough to stop you, however, lungs heaving as you tear out of the room, clumsily bumping into walls and ornaments, impeded by the dark, motivated by sheer determination to live.

Your decision to toss away the candle comes to bite you firmly in the ass the second you find yourself tumbling down a set of stairs, and in a move of sheer instinct your hands attempt to slow your fall, only for the skin of your palm to get caught on a loose nail, slicing the flesh and leaving you wailing as your body finally slows to a stop against the cold stone floor you now find yourself lying on. Every bone in your body hurts, aches, but is overshadowed by the sharp sear of white hot pain as you cradle your torn skin to your chest, warm rivulets of blood oozing down your wrist, tracking rivers of red down your forearm until you hear the steady drip, drip, drip of your blood hitting stone.

A light appears above you, a halo of pastel yellow emanating around black cloth, and within a second, the fight leaves you, slumping further into the floor as you accept your death, hoping none of your friends were stupid enough to follow you only to meet the same pitiful fate.

“Please,” You mumble, voice finally found, entirely too late, “Just make it quick.” You hear little other than a hushed chuckle in response, a cat toying with its food.

“I imagine it looks worse than it is, kleine maus.”

You pause at that, curiosity ebbing through once more. You may not have paid enough attention to languages at school, but even in your state, you know enough to recognise those words.

“You’re German?” You mumble, fear forgotten in your shock-ridden state. The man shakes his head as he crouches next to you, extending his free hand towards the injured one you have secured to your torso, tittering again as you flinch. But you have little other choice than to let him pry your hand away, watching with wary eyes as he examines your sliced skin. He holds the candle closer to the wound, a soft tut passing his lips before he holds the candle towards you, urging you to take it with a gentle nod.

“Austrian. But close.”

It all feels strange, foreign, as though you’re being lulled into a false sense of security just so he can tell you to run once again, laughing maniacally as he watches you bleed over his floor. The fear returns once you have the candle securely in your grip, eyes locked on the way his fingers curl around the material that hides his face, and begin to remove it. Inches of once cloaked skin is revealed, a defined chin melts away to pursed lips, a smattering of dark facial hair that frames his mouth and curls up his jaw, the material pulled further only to reveal a hooked nose, and two narrowed eyes that reflect the candlelight in a way not dissimilar to precious gems, rich and vibrant. Maybe it’s the shock, or limited blood loss, but you can’t help but marvel at just how pretty he is.

Of course, it doesn’t last much longer, not when survival instincts kick in, the realisation that your bloodied hand is now near the mouth of a creature that lives entirely off the thing that keeps you alive. But the grip on your wrist is ironclad, strong yet not uncomfortably so, a strange juxtaposition between monster and man as he cocks his head at your wound. With a nod, seemingly more to himself than you, you can do little more than cry out as you’re hauled over his shoulder, his arm secured tightly around your waist, the hood forgotten in a small puddle of your blood on the stone flags.

It’s mere minutes later that he places you down on soft sheets, your body sinking into a plush mattress, left to watch him as he ambles around the egregiously large room, muttering foreign words under his breath as he roots through an ornate chest of draws. You must be in a fever dream, unsure how you went from running for your life, to being patched up by the very thing you were certain would kill you. And yet, here you are, watching as he almost awkwardly sidles to your seated figure, and kneels in front of you, once predatory eyes unable to hold your gaze as he sets out various medical items by your feet.

“Your hand, may I see it?”

You present your palm to him, watching as his eyebrows knit together, giant hands placing tentative touches against your skin as though he’s concerned about hurting you, the thought of which does nothing to aid your spiralling confusion. But you say nothing, you simply watch as he takes a damp cloth and begins cleaning your cut, fixated on the way his eyes snap to you with every pained hiss and suppressed whine, picking up on the way he ensures each subsequent touch is a tad gentler than the last. It’s not too much longer until he’s wrapping your hand with bandages, making sure the gauze is tight enough to keep your blood in, but not enough to cut off circulation, the type of gentle care you never would have suspected from the giant at your feet. Your curiosity has increased tenfold, not a trace of fear left to lick at your nerves and render you speechless, replaced only by the overwhelming need to know more, to learn everything.

“What’s your name?”

It’s his turn to freeze, ruby irises briefly flitting to yours, rounded with surprise, before they snap back down, making himself busy as he gathers up a scattered array of bloodied cloth.

“I… I have had many. The one most people knew me by was König.” It’s strange, the croon of his voice sounds almost nothing like the one whispered to you in the dark, from low and horrifying, to gentle, almost timid. You’re nothing short of fascinated, leaning forward as you scan over the contours of his face.

“Why’d you drag me into your house and tell me to run?”

“Why were you trying to knock on my door?”

Touché.

Heat licks at the skin of your cheeks at his brazen reminder of your attempted trespassing, your uninjured hand coming to rub at your neck in lieu of a response. After a moment of silence, he sighs, deflating into the plush carpet below.

“It has been a while since I last had any visitors. Your arrival was… Unexpected. You caught me off guard,” He pauses for a moment, pupils dilating as his fingers curl around the rags he holds in his hand, covered in your blood, “It has been even longer since I have been around fresh blood.” It feels surreal to have it confirmed, that the creature that sits before you is one you’ve seen only in movies and read in far-fetched romance novels. Yet, you feel no fear, that emotion all but vanished the second he halted everything just to care for an intruder's wound.

“My friends dared me to knock.” He cocks his head at that, a single eyebrow arching, bemused at your admission. “It’s been a dare for years, no one ever actually had the guts to do it.”

“Until you.”

A pause, your head dipping forward in an unsure nod.

“Until me.”

He’s staring at you unabashedly now, your eyes wandering over the rich details of the bedroom you reside in as an excuse to save yourself from his piercing gaze, an unreadable expression swimming in carmine eyes.

“I am glad it was you.”

You hate the embers of arousal that spark at his words, perturbed by your body’s reaction to seemingly innocent words spoken from a man you were sprinting away from less than an hour ago, and yet his eyes do nothing to put out the fire, intense and smouldering. You can’t bring yourself to look away, nor to quash the way your heart flutters as his torso leans closer to your thighs that subconsciously part to make room for him. The action doesn’t go unnoticed, nostrils flaring as sharp eyes zero in on the way your legs spread against silk sheets.

“And why is that, König?”

It’s as though you uttering his name opens the floodgates, black engulfing vermillion until only a sliver remains, thick fingers circling your shins as he leers further into the gap your parted thighs created, that same ravening stare that once sent fear trickling down your spine now leaves you gasping for breath for an entirely different reason.

“Because I haven’t seen something as pretty as you for a very long time, and I don’t know if I have the strength to stop myself again, maus.”

You couldn’t prevent the whispered whine of his name if you had tried, eyelashes fluttering as you move to curl your fingers in his shirt, giving pathetic little tugs to the soft material of his silk shirt, eyes dipping down to where loose material tucks into black pants. Your back arches, a shameless display of desire as you slide your body closer towards the edge of the bed, and further into his touch.

“Who said anything about stopping?”

Your words remain suspended in the air around you, two sets eyes locked onto each other, blown black with barely-suppressed lust, and yet you don’t dare to make the first move, waiting, wanting for him to shed his timid skin and swallow you whole, become the beast that stalked you through rooms just to feel the thrill of the chase. His hands leave your legs, instead balling up into tight fists against his own thighs, the skin around his knuckles taut as though restraining himself. For a mere moment, you fear he may have changed his mind, that is until he utters the word you craved to hear.

“Run.”

You ignore the lingering ache in your joints, your thighs burning as you dash from the bedroom with renewed purpose, fuelled by the all-consuming thoughts of what’s to come, excited to finally be caught, a far cry from the unbridled terror that sent you scrambling before. This time, he makes no effort to prowl in the shadows, your heart beat soaring as the loud thuds of footsteps echo from behind, the floorboards quaking under your feet from the force of his steps.

You know there isn’t a chance he’s running at full speed, but even then he catches you almost embarrassingly quickly, built arms encircling your waist and crushing you against his torso, bringing you to the floor in an instant, leaving you to writhe helplessly between his body and the floorboards. You don’t give in, however, limbs thrashing, nails clawing against whatever they can reach, whether it be the arms that pin you down, or the wood underneath you, feigning an attempt to escape.

That is until you feel two sharp points dig into your nape, not enough to break skin, but the threat of it leaves you frozen under him, a doe caught in the wolf’s jaws. But you don’t fear the bite like wild prey would, somehow, you crave it, to feel his teeth sink into you, to let him lap at your blood and drain you near dry, anything just to feel like you’re his.

The pressure of sharpened canines begins to lessen, his teeth slowly peeling back from your skin, although anticipating your body to begin thrashing once again. But you remain subdued, the embers now engulfed by crackling flames that lick at your nerves and set your skin alight. It’s only when his hips shift do you feel the tent in his pants pushing against the top of your thighs, your eyes fluttering shut as you push your ass down to grind shamelessly against his cock.

“Temptress,” The word is almost incomprehensible through the growl that reverberates through his throat, a sound that gives away entirely how affected he is, rough and wanting. “You should be trembling beneath me from fear and yet…”

His words trail off, a stuttered gasp replaces your heavy breathing when you feel sizeable fingers trailing down your sides before sliding under your body, cupping your inner thigh. Your heart hammers against your ribcage from the chase, now bolstered by the scandalous touch as his fingers skim past your clothed core, only catching onto the way his fingers curl into the material until it’s too late, hardly leaving you enough time to yelp before he’s tearing you bare below him. The tattered remains of your pants are haphazardly discarded, joined soon by the threadbare silk of your ripped panties, one of your favourite pairs torn in half with hardly an ounce of effort.

“Yet here you are, schätzchen, quivering with need, dripping for the cock of the one that hunts you.”

The rough pad of calloused fingers swipes against your exposed cunt, unable to suppress the heady whine that leaks past your agape lips, your forehead meeting the hardwood floor with a soft thump. That single touch renders you limp, muscles going lax as you melt into the glide of his fingers as they tease your folds, slowing on every up-stroke to rub slow circles against your clit. It’s maddening, the pace in which he picks you apart, leaving you to grind on his fingers like a wanton whore just to feel the surmounting pleasure that builds in response to his touch. A tut sounds from above, heavy breath cascading over your nape as his head dips down, lips dragging from neck to the shell of your ear.

“What a desperate little thing you are, maus, you know what we call things like you in my native tongue?” Your head shakes, a breathy ‘no’ muffled into the floor, “Schwanzschlampe, cock slut.” Embarrassment mixes in equal measure with arousal, curling one of your arms under your head to hide your face, the action short lived as strong arms flip you onto your back, one large hand gathering both your wrists together and pinning them above your head, exposed before him in every way. It’s undeniably more intimate in this position, your eyes given little other option than to lock onto his as his other hand continues to tease your dripping cunt, carmine swimming with unrestrained desire pinning you to the floor as effectively as his near crushing grip on your wrists.

“You can’t hide your pretty face from me, liebling, I want to see how much you crave my touch.” He presses his forehead to yours, low candlelight from lamps that line the corridor walls glint off the two long fangs that peak past reddened lips with every word spoken. And it’s seemingly your turn to catch him off guard, your head tilting upwards to push your lips to his, swallowing his surprised gasp down greedily, arching your chest to push against his. The kiss is desperate, messy, a combination of saliva drips down your chin, moans and rumbled grunts creating a symphony that drifts down the winding halls of his home. With a nudge, you ensure his eyes are locked to yours as you part your lips, your tongue curling over his teeth before brushing over the point of his elongated canine.

With a push, you feel the sting as his fang just barely dips into soft flesh, a drop of blood beading at the surface before you push the muscle to his, locked onto the way his eyes roll to the back of his skull, the growl momentarily starting up again before his lips lock around your tongue, sucking at every morsel of blood that springs from the pinprick cut like a man starved. A man that has most likely been starved of blood directly from the source for more years that you’ve been alive.

If you thought that you’d unlocked the beast within him before, the taste of your blood brings out an entirely new side. His lips part from yours, the crimson in his frenzied eyes transforming before you, as though enriched from just a taste of warm iron. You watch as his pupils dilate and constrict, each push and pull between black and red prove hypnotic as his eyes slowly begin to refocus, the colour to his irises seem dull in comparison to the bright vermillion flecked with gold that peers down at you, still wild with hunger, driven by need.

The moment is broken mere seconds later when his head drops to your neck, sharpened teeth dragging along the throbbing pulse at the base of your throat, and just when you expect the bite, you’re left gasping for an entirely unrelated reason as your shirt comes apart against sharp enamel, shredded where it surrounds your naked torso, leaving you entirely bare. Yet all it takes is a singular glance to realise he remains fully dressed, not a single article shed.

“König,” Your voice comes out strained, practically whining as though prepared to beg, “Let me undress you?”

He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking up to you from under his lashes before the grip on your arms lessens, his legs folding under him as he rights himself into a kneeling position over your body. He suddenly seems unsure, maybe a little self-conscious as you lean up brushing your fingers over flowing pristine white silk, taking your time as you unfasten each button, never once letting your eyes stray from his. And despite the hint of bashfulness, he keeps his gaze pinned to you, a wary lion caught off guard by brave prey.

After the last button falls undone, you let the tips of your fingers trace up revealed skin, before pushing the shirt from his shoulders, and watching as it billows onto the floor, exposing a defined chest highlighted by a smattering of scars that tell stories you could only dream of hearing. He’s nothing short of ethereal, otherworldly in every sense of the word, a behemoth of a beast, with the face of an angel.

“You cover up a lot for a man as handsome as you are.” Your disguised question prompts a flinch, solid fingers clutching into fists at his side, but before you can rush to amend your words, he slumps, resigned to your curiosity.

“I have garnered a reputation I do not wish to catch up to me. It is safer to keep myself hidden, maus.” You make a mental note if you somehow find yourself in his company after this night to ask him more, a carnal need to know everything that makes up the being knelt above you. But you tuck them away for now, refocusing your attention to the waistband of his trousers, deft fingers wasting little time undoing the silver clasp and dragging down the zip until the front peels open.

“Good thing you don’t have to keep hidden in front of me, huh?” Your lips tug upwards into a playful smirk, your hands planting on the solid muscle of his chest before you’re pushing him backwards, letting his legs splay out either side of your now free body before easing both his pants and underwear down the corded muscle of his thigh, marvelling at each inch of skin revealed to ravenous eyes. His trousers join the crumpled mess of clothes that lay scattered across the floor, giving him no time to adjust to his new found nudity before your head is ducking down, tongue flitting out to lick a long strip from the base of his cock to the tip.

Your enthusiasm is immediately rewarded with a faltered whine, watching from under your lashes as his head lolls backwards, trembling fingers coming to cup either side of your face. He’s big, his cock twitching against the defined muscle of his abdomen, thick and long, and nothing short of daunting. Yet you choose to focus on the way your pussy clenches around air at the mere sight of it, overwhelmed by the knowledge that you’ll understand what it is to be split open by him, to be fucked by him. Your tongue darts out once more to press against the tip, the small cut on the surface only just healed over, your spine shuddering at the dulled sting that follows as you begin to take the head of his cock between your lips, mouth stretched almost painfully around the girth.

It does nothing to dissuade you, however, tears clouding your vision of his blissed out expression as you swallow him down deeper, hardly taking more than two inches before your throat spasms around him in protest, coaxing a throaty whimper from spit-shined lips that has your hand darting down to your clit, fingers rubbing desperate circles into soaked flesh.

The following whine that reverberates around his cock swiftly gives you away, crimson eyes focusing in on the way your hand disappears between your thighs, before flitting back to the way your watering eyes remain locked to his, hissing out several curses in German at the sight of your lips wrapped around his straining cock.

“Your mouth… Gott, your fucking mouth,” strong fingers guide your head off his cock, your lips separating from the tip with a lewd pop, strings of saliva and pre-cum connecting your lolled out tongue to his cock. “Need to fuck you, schätzchen, I can’t wait any longer, verdammte hölle—”

You’re not given any warning before he’s pinning your back to the floor, bringing your knees up to your chest and bending you in half, a feat you didn’t know you were capable of before his strong fingers moulded you into the perfect position to take his cock. Folded like this, you can’t help but feel like a doll in his hands, your height and weight rendered meaningless under the sheer size of the monster above you. Trepidation begins to simmer under the surface of your skin, trying to imagine just how your body could ever make room for him.

But he doesn’t leave you much time to fret before his head falls to your thighs, thick fingers twitching from where they hold up your legs as his nose buries into your pubic bone. Long strands of brunette block your vision, startling as you register the feeling of something thick and wet pressing against your folds.

“K-König!” Your cry prompts a responding groan from the man below you as his tongue licks firm stripes up the length of your cunt, glassy eyes drifting up to you as though intoxicated, drunk of the heady taste of your arousal. With a jolt, you’re left helpless to watch as one of his hands slides down your thigh, stuttering through another gasped moan of his name as you feel a single thick digit slide into the wet heat of your pussy, eyes watering at the stretch that merely one of his fingers provides.

He doesn’t hold up, his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking the second he feels your walls clamp around him, slowly easing your muscles into accepting a second finger, distracting you from the momentary pain by lapping his tongue against your engorged clit. But even so, taking two of his fingers feels like more of a challenge than any cock you’ve taken in the past, eyes rolling backwards as he begins to crook them within you, calloused fingers rubbing against the gummy walls of your cunt in a way that has you convulsing around him, warbled sobs hiccuping past your lips as you feel your first climax rip through your body.

“One more, maus, I need you to take one more so I know I won’t hurt you.”

Tears track down your face, still processing the intensity that just wracked your body, but you nod down at him anyway, rewarded with a gentle smile and whispered praise as he cautiously eases a third finger into you, pausing the second he hears a pained hiss after the first knuckle. He hums, placing tender kitten licks against your still throbbing clit, letting you push past tender overstimulation to help pull your mind off the burning stretch, refocusing your attention to the pleasure his mouth provides.

“Doing so well, liebling, almost there…” His words are whispered against your glistening pussy, eyes firmly fixed on yours as he guides you through, until finally all three of his fingers are pushed to the hilt, cooed praise following immediately after.

“König, need you, I need you inside of me, please.” Your sniffled plea evokes nothing more than a playful smile from him as he cocks his head to the side.

“Am I not inside of you right now, maus?” His tone is teasing, words accompanied by a wiggle of the fingers that remain buried in your cunt, coaxing a depraved moan from your already raw throat.

“Your cock, wan’ your cock so bad,” It takes a second to search for the word that sits on the tip of your tongue, your eyes sparking when it finally comes to you, “Bitte, König.”

It’s immediate, the way his fingers pull from your cunt and secure themselves back around your thigh, darkened rubies glinting with that same predatory stare you’re all too familiar with now. He wastes no time as the tip of his cock bumps against soaked folds, your fingers wrapping around his veined shaft as you guide him inside, mouth parting in a silent cry as the tip pushes past the first ring of muscle and leaves you breathless.

There is no mistaking that three of his fingers gave you a mere taste of the stretch, belatedly wondering how on Earth he’ll fit amongst the tight walls of your cunt, and the other organs that surround it. But by some grace of God, he continues to move, inch after thick inch swallowed by your cunt as though it were made for him, a perfect match, the monster and his plaything, the predator and its ever willing prey.

A rush of air finally fills your lungs once the dull slap of his hips meets your ass, unfocused eyes widening as you take in the protrusion of his cock, the bulge obscenely large where it stretches out your skin.

“S’big, you’re so fuckin’ big, what the fuck—”

Slurred rambles are cut off with a searing kiss, passionate and fiery as his hips begin to draw back, swallowing down frenzied curses as he slams back into you, setting a cruel pace right from the start. You never had a chance, you should have known, and yet you regret nothing as he pounds into your abused cunt, your cervix meeting the tip of his weeping cock with each forceful thrust, thick veins rubbing against the walls of your pussy and leaving you glassy eyed and cock-drunk.

Mindless babbles flow from drooling lips, your neck drooping to the side as you hope your eyes convey your needs without resorting to incoherent words. But it takes little more than exposing your throat to him before his lips latch onto the flesh, sucking a line of bruises into your skin before finally settling over your jugular, the only pre-warning of the oncoming bite being the scrape of fangs before they’re puncturing skin, flooding your veins with a venom that has your toes curling, fingernails digging into the muscle of his back and dragging thick red lines against shuddering flesh.

His pace never falters, hips still careening against yours as his lips suck around the two minute incisions, drinking down your blood with a thirst you’ve never witnessed. Whether it’s the subduing poison that flows through your bloodstream, or the shift of hips as his cockhead nudges the walls of your cunt in a way that has stars blooming behind your eyelids, you find yourself hurtling into another climax, whimpered cries and bloodied nails evidence of your earth-shattering orgasm.

His lips finally part from your skin with a slick sigh, lips painted the most beautiful shade of crimson that drips down his chin, a line that marks your possession, evidence he’s consumed by you, drunk on you. And it’s as you lean down, your tongue dragging against the bloodied stubble of his chin, lapping up what remains of your scarlet ichor, that he finally succumbs to the pleasure, his cock jolting within you as he releases seemingly endless spurts of cum against your cervix, buried as deep within your body as biology will allow.

Panted breaths intermingle as his forehead presses flush to yours, lidded eyes, now nearly entirely consumed by gold peers at you, an interesting mix of fascination and something that looks almost fond discernible in his gaze. You still have so many questions, intrigued and just a little bit obsessed with the man above you, yet it’s apparent that your feelings are far from unrequited, and one day, every question that burns at your tongue and begs for answers will be satiated. For now, you’ll bask in his looming presence and tender care, grateful to have found him in the first place, however unfortunate the initial meeting was.

Just as his lips ghost against yours, the distant sound of creaking has you both freezing in place.

“H-Hello? You still in here?”

“... Scheiße.”

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