#and then i contemplated about what to draw as response...for long

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms: Aemond POV

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Eight

“You do not know what you are asking for, but make no mistake, you are asking a great deal.”

Aemond found himself back at Harrenhal mere hours after the ball had ended, seeking solace away from the hustle and bustle of the Red Keep. As the first rays of light filtered through the window, they flickered off his sharp features, casting shadows across his furrowed brow as he leaned his head against his arm, his silver hair falling forward.

In the quiet of the room, Aemond felt the weight of desperation pressing down on him. Time was running out, and with Maera's reputation restored and the allure of the Master of Coin's dowry drawing every nobleman to her side, the Prince knew he needed to act swiftly. He couldn't afford to lose her to another suitor if he was to secure his great destiny.

Alys's penchant for speaking in riddles only served to exacerbate Aemond's frustration. Despite her purported great powers, he found her presence irksome. Her dull, long dark hair and cat-like green eyes got on his nerves, as did the enigmatic smile she always seemed to wear. The fact that he was entertaining these fantastical notions of magic and prophecy grated against his sense of logic and reason. Yet, the overwhelming desire to claim Maera for himself had clouded any semblance of judgment he had left.

"A daughter of a minor House will never be betrothed to a prince, especially during times of war when marriages are needed to secure allies," the Prince proclaimed with an edge of exasperation as he rose from his seat, his movements agitated as he inspected Alys's array of trinkets on the nearby table. “She needs to have something of use to the crown.”

Turning to face the witch, who lounged in her chair beside the hearth, Aemond's gaze bore into hers with intensity. "I don't care how you do it but find a way," he commanded, the tension in the room thickening with each passing moment.

Alys furrowed her brow, her green eyes meeting Aemond's with a piercing intensity. After a moment of contemplation, she broke the silence. "She has an aunt, does she not? In Morne?"

Aemond nodded curtly, acknowledging the mention of Maera's maternal aunt. "Her mother's twin, married to Lord Byron of the Fortress of Fog," he confirmed, his tone clipped with anticipation.

"Lord Byron controls quite a fleet," Alys continued, her voice taking on a thoughtful tone as she retrieved a scroll from her shelves and unfurled it to reveal a world map, laying it on the table beside the Prince. "And while the Lannister fleet is strong, the fleet of Morne possesses superior knowledge of the East Waters, akin to the Velaryon fleet."

The Prince shook his head in disbelief, a furrow deepening on his brow. “Lord and Lady Morne have children. The fortress and the fleet would pass to them,” he stated firmly, his voice edged with incredulity at the suggestion.

Alys merely shrugged in response, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Not if something were to happen to all of them,” she retorted, her tone tinged with an unsettling confidence.

Aemond recoiled slightly, taken aback by the brazenness of her proposal. “You’re talking about erasing an entire House,” he protested, his words heavy with disbelief and moral indignation.

The witch's smile only widened, her gaze unyielding. “I’m talking about securing the fleet to Lady Maera’s dowry in order for her to be your bride,” Alys persisted, her words cutting through the air like a blade. “Or do you not wish the prophecy to come true? For the King of Kings to be born?”

Aemond's eye flashed with frustration and anger, his jaw tensing as he struggled to contain his emotions. “I know, witch!” he snapped, his voice sharp with irritation. He turned away from her, his gaze darting around the room as he grappled with the weight of Alys's proposition. “She will never forgive me. Lady Viserra is the last connection to her mother. She writes to her.”

Alys remained unmoved, her demeanor devoid of any semblance of empathy or remorse. "Her heartache will pass," she declared coldly, her words ringing out with a callous certainty that left Aemond feeling unsettled and conflicted. “You will be King. And she will be your Queen,” the witch reminded him. “Through the binding of a son and daughter the King of Kings will be born, to unite and conquer the world.”

His jaw tensed as he contemplated the ramifications of Alys's plan. While Aemond didn't care about wiping out an entire House, he couldn't ignore the fact that the news would devastate Maera. He remembered her speaking fondly of her Aunt Viserra, the twin of her late mother. Losing her mother at such a young age had already inflicted enough pain on Maera, and the thought of causing her more suffering didn't sit well with him.

However, Aemond couldn't deny the strategic advantage their deaths could bring. Maera would inherit the fleet, a valuable asset for the war effort. This would give Aemond a reason to marry her, fulfilling the prophecy and potentially bringing forth the King of Kings. It was a tough decision. But Aemond also thought about all the years Maera had not been in his life, all the dark and twisted turns fate had led him down. He could not lose her again.

“Just see it done,” Aemond relented through gritted teeth, his frustration evident in the tense set of his jaw and the furrow of his brow.

The witch grinned wickedly, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I will need something from you. After all, the Gods need payment for granting you this path.”

“Fine,” Aemond said tersely, dismissing her request with a wave of his hand. “More hair, more blood, whatever, just take it.”

But Alys shook her head slowly, a coy smile playing on her lips. “No, my Prince,” she replied, her voice taking on a sultry tone that sent a shiver down Aemond’s spine. “I need something much, much more valuable.”

As she attempted to brush her finger across his jawline, Aemond reacted instinctively, seizing her wrist firmly to halt the contact. His grip was firm, his violet eye flashing with a mixture of anger and suspicion as he stared into her emerald gaze. “The bloodline will come from your seed, my Prince,” she continued, undeterred by his reaction. “Therefore, that is where we must start. We must join together physically, to enable old magic and the blood of old Valyria to bind together as one.”

Aemond’s grip tightened further, his nails digging into her flesh as he struggled to contain his fury. “You expect me to lie with you?” he spat, his voice laced with contempt. “A witch, a whore?” With a forceful push, he shoved her hand away from him, his gaze burning with indignation and disgust. He could not believe she had the sheer audacity to ask this of him.

Stooping so low to sleep with a whore was one thing, but the potential consequences of this was an entirely different matter- children. Illegitimate children. Bastards. Aemond thought back to all the times his mother received news that another silver-haired babe had been born in a brothel in Flea Bottom. The shame and disappointment that would cloud Queen Alicent’s face was a horrendous sight to behold. There was no way Aemond could let that happen.

And then there was Maera, the woman he would be doing this for. If a child was born from lying with the witch, there would be a high possibility she would never know. However the thought of that ate away at his soul. It would be the ultimate blow to her. To kill her family in order to secure him to his side, and bring a bastard into the world through doing so?

"I will have no bastards running around the Riverlands," Aemond spat, his words laced with venom as he glared at the witch.

Alys met his gaze with equal fervor, her expression hardening as she retorted, "I can have no more children. My last birth damaged my womb, nothing can grow there."

Aemond's resolve remained unshaken, his tone resolute as he declared, "I am not risking it. The answer is no."

Turning away, he moved toward the chair where he had been seated moments before, intent on gathering his belongings and leaving. But Alys's voice cut through the silence, her words dripping with malice. "Very well. I am sure Lady Maera will make a gracious wife to Lord Warren Tully. If he is named Lord Grover’s heir, she will be the Lady of Riverrun. And she will give him many children."

Aemond froze mid-step, his muscles tensing as he processed her words. Memories of the harvest moon ball flooded his mind—the way Maera and Lord Warren exchanged smiles, the subtle blush on her cheeks, the intensity in the Lord’s gaze when he spoke to her. Despite the pain it caused him to even consider Alys’s proposal, the thought of Maera in the arms of another man felt like a stab to Aemond’s stomach.

A cold fury boiled within him as Alys continued to taunt him, her voice like a dagger twisting in his gut. "Then you can return to being the second son, the loyal lapdog of your brother, carrying out his duties with no thanks or rewards to show for it."

Unable to contain his rage any longer, Aemond stormed back across the room, his movements swift and purposeful as he seized Alys by the throat, his grip firm and unyielding. Despite Aemond's firm grip around her throat, Alys remained composed, her defiance unyielding as she continued to provoke him. "You are angry because I speak the truth. It is a hard thing to swallow, isn't it? Reality?"

Aemond's silence only seemed to fuel Alys's audacity, her taunts cutting through the air even as his fingers tightened around her neck. But she met his gaze with a steady smile, undeterred by his fury. "Your time is running out. This is your last chance."

The Prince hesitated, biting his bottom lip in contemplation. Despite his disgust at the idea of sleeping with her, he couldn't deny the power of her foresight. It was thanks to her abilities that Maera's reputation had been restored. Yet the urgency made him feel that he was being backed into a corner, like a trapped animal. He despised the idea of succumbing to Alys's demands, but he couldn't shake the allure of what her plan could offer—a marriage that would lead to glory, perhaps even happiness.

With a dark glower, Aemond released his grip, his expression a storm of conflicting emotions as he grudgingly acquiesced. "Let's get it over with."

He made his way over to Alys's small bed in the corner of the room, feeling the contrast with his own grander accommodations in the Red Keep. As he lay back, Alys climbed atop his lap, straddling him as her hands moving to unbutton his doublet, a sly smile on her face. With a scoff, Aemond shoved her back, refusing to let her touch him more than necessary. He felt a surge of revulsion at the thought of being intimate with her. This was a means to an end and he would not bear himself before her.

Instead he slid his hand down to his dark trousers and unlaced them, releasing his cock and began pumping it quickly to make it hard. His gaze flicked up momentarily to Alys, who watched him with bated breath. The look on her face caused him to recoil, and he tore his gaze away from her, focusing on a distant point in the room. After a moment he looked down, to see that his body had reacted to the stimulation before his head hit the pillow in defeat.

The Prince could hear the rustling of Alys's skirts, and feel the warmth of her hovering about him had him desperately trying to find a way to occupy his mind, focusing on anything but the situation he found himself in. Yet as he felt her move his cock and her slowly slide down on it with a groan, he froze. It was all too similar to his first night in the brothel with Aegon. The seedy atmosphere, the unfamiliar room, the feeling of being trapped underneath someone. It was too much to bear.

He steadied his breathing, knowing if the task was to be completed, for the spell to be cast, he needed to focus. Alys’s gasps filled the air, yet the sound transported him somewhere more pleasant. Aemond vividly pictured Maera's ferocity with the sword, her determined expression, and the intensity of her breath as she faced him in the courtyard for the first time a few moons ago.

He recalled the moment he had pinned her beneath him, forcing her to yield. The flush on her face and the glistening beads of sweat on her forehead were captivating. He remembered how he had sliced her tunic, revealing more of the expanse of her chest, a sight that had stirred something within him.

And then, he remembered the cut he had inflicted upon her, just above her left breast. The image of the blood staining her turquoise tunic and running gracefully across her pale skin remained etched in his memory. Gods, if it had not been for the crowd of onlookers, he would have bent down and ran his tongue across her soft skin, tasting the coppery red liquid with glee. To see her completely submitted to him in that moment stirred something primal within him, and it was a sight he wanted to behold every day until the end of his days.

With a quiet groan, Aemond released his seed, Alys continuing to rock against him until he was completely spent. Once it was done, he shoved Alys aside and rose abruptly from the bed, his demeanor cold and distant as he stuffed his cock back into his trousers and began gathering his belongings.

"You are leaving?" Alys inquired, her tone tinged with curiosity, and slight hurt.

Aemond shot her a disdainful glance, his lip curling in a sneer. "Well, I certainly would not stay," he retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. "I need to bathe before I return to my duties."

As he made his way to the door, Aemond paused, casting one final glance back at Alys sitting on the bed. "This was disgusting and it will never happen again," he spat, his words laden with bitterness. "And you better pray that it will work. My patience has reached its limit." With that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

After a number of days of attending to duties on his idiot older brother’s behalf, Aemond soared through the sky on the back of Vhagar towards Kings Landing, the setting sun painted the horizon in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the landscape below. Despite the beauty of the scenery, Aemond's thoughts were consumed by the disturbing memory of his encounter with Alys.

The image of Alys climbing atop him, her touch repulsive and unwelcome, made his stomach churn with disgust. He felt a profound sense of regret and shame for allowing himself to be manipulated into such a degrading act. Even as the wind whipped through his hair and the rhythmic beating of Vhagar's wings filled the air, Aemond's thoughts remained troubled. He couldn't rid himself of the unease that lingered, casting a pall over what should have been a serene flight home.

When the dragon began her descent, Aemond's keen eye caught sight of a vivid splash of turquoise atop the sand dunes below. His heart quickened as he recognized the color, knowing it belonged to Maera's distinctive attire. However, his excitement turned to a bitter taste in his mouth as he saw her accompanied by a man, their figures silhouetted against the setting sun. Fuelled by a mixture of curiosity and a rising tide of jealousy, Aemond commanded Vhagar to land behind a cliffside, seeking a vantage point from which he could observe discreetly.

With a powerful beat of her wings, Vhagar gracefully descended, her massive form casting a shadow over the rugged terrain below. As her claws touched down on the sandy ground, Aemond dismounted, his mind racing with questions and uncertainty. As the Prince ducked down towards the ground on his approach, his determination to observe without being seen intensified. The sound of Maera's lively chatter reached his ears, carried by the gentle sea breeze, stirring up conflicting emotions within him.

Peering up, Aemond's gaze fell upon the man accompanying Maera, and a surge of anger coursed through him. It appeared the wretched Tully cunt had used Aemond’s absence to sink his claws even further into Maera, demonstrated by their apparent courting on the shoreline, chaperoned by her newly appointed supposed protector. The sight of them together fueled Aemond's frustration, and he could no longer stand idly by. With a determined stride, he made his way towards them, his anger barely concealed beneath his stoic facade. His tense jaw and piercing stare locked onto Maera's, betraying the tumult of emotions raging within him.

The Lord and Lady stood to acknowledge Aemond's presence, and the Prince couldn't help but notice the irked expressions on their faces. Ignoring the tension, Aemond enjoyed the momentary satisfaction of seeing Lord Warren bow respectfully and Lady Maera curtsy, and decided to play along with the ridiculous charade for a moment.

"It is a beautiful evening to be walking by the sea,” the Prince commented, gazing out to the shoreline momentarily before setting his gaze back onto the couple.

"Indeed,” the Tully Lord concurred eagerly. “Though the night is not half as beautiful as Lady Maera."

Each word the trout spoke grated on Aemond, fueling his frustration as he dug his nails into his palm to suppress his rising anger. Seeing Maera's receptiveness to the compliments only intensified his inner turmoil, causing him to grit his teeth in frustration.

As Aemond's frustration mounted, he found himself not only seething at Lord Warren but also at Lady Maera. Why was she so obstinate in resisting the potential fulfillment of their shared destiny? Though she remained unaware of it, Aemond couldn't help but feel that the Gods should be guiding her towards him, not away.

Eager to disrupt this mummers farce unfolding before him, Aemond began sarcastically divulging information about Lord Warren's courtship of other ladies at court. He could not be seen as the valiant attentive lover that he so obviously was not. Lord Warren was a vile little serpent, like every other ridiculous man who appeared at court and wanted to gain power.

Observing Maera's reaction, Aemond noted the fury in her eyes, yet it wasn't directed at Lord Warren as it should have been. Instead, it was aimed squarely at him. Despite her anger being misdirected, Aemond found himself strangely grateful for the intensity of her emotions. Being the recipient of her fury felt like a peculiar blessing, amplifying his resolve to assert his claim over her.

As Lord Warren stepped forward, matching Aemond toe-to-toe, the Prince stifled a laugh. They were of similar height, but Aemond exuded a quiet confidence in his own prowess. Oh, how he longed for Lord Warren to make the first move so he would have an excuse to gut him like the fish he was, right in front of Maera.

However, fate intervened in an unexpected manner. Suddenly, distant shouts pierced the air, drawing everyone's attention. Out of the sky descended the wild dragon, Ēbrion, its deep blue and black scales glinting in the sunlight as it landed on the beach with a resounding thud.

The beast skulked along the sand towards them, its scales gleaming in the fading light, each step seemed to shake the ground beneath their feet. Its massive form cast a daunting shadow over the four figures below, its wings folded against its back, and its orange eyes fixated on them with an unsettling intensity, glinting with a primal intelligence.

Aemond, feeling an innate urge to move, positioned himself in front of Maera, his stance protective and resolute. His muscles tensed, ready to react to any sudden movement from the dragon, his single violet eye narrowed in focus.

Glancing back at Maera, he observed her reaction closely. Her lips were slightly parted in silent awe, her chest rising and falling with each breath, her green eyes fixed on the gigantic beast hovering above them. Despite the looming danger, there was a curious glint in her eyes, a hint of fascination mixed with a steely resolve.

Aemond attempted to command the dragon, his voice firm but futile against the creature's primal instincts, the beast responded with a low, bone-chilling growl. Its massive form remained imposing, its orange eyes burning with a wild intensity, as if challenging any attempts to control it.

Uncertain of what would happen next, Aemond felt a sudden movement behind him, the sensation of someone reaching for his belt. Whipping around, he saw Maera standing there, a dagger in her hand, her gaze fixed on the dragon with an unexpected calmness. It was a sight that left Aemond, along with Lord Warren and Ser Arryk, utterly astounded.

Maera's demeanor was strikingly composed as she gently shushed the dragon, as one would soothe a restless child. Her actions defied logic and expectation, yet there was an undeniable air of authority in her presence, a quiet confidence that seemed to resonate with the beast. As Aemond watched in awe and admiration, Maera took the dagger to her palm, slicing through it with a swift motion. Blood began to drip onto the sand below, and despite her wince of pain, she remained resolute.

Stepping in front of the Prince, Maera presented her palm to the dragon, her expression determined yet strangely serene. Aemond held his breath, his gaze fixed on the unfolding scene, his heart pounding in his chest. Studying the dragon's response intently, Aemond noted the subtle changes in its demeanor. The beast's pupils dilated, and its tense muscles seemed to relax ever so slightly in response to Maera's soothing efforts.

Ēbrion slowly leaned forward, bridging the gap between them, Aemond watched in amazement as Maera reached out to touch its snout. The dragon seemed to inhale deeply, its nostrils flaring as it took in the scent of her blood. Despite the inherent danger, there was an undeniable sense of trust in the air.

Aemond couldn't help but release a shocked laugh, a mixture of disbelief and awe. His understanding of dragon body language, honed from years of experience with Vhagar and extensive research, confirmed what he was witnessing. The blue dragon was accepting Maera's presence, calmed by her command in a way that was truly extraordinary.

As the beast seemed content and began to depart, his massive form turning gradually, Aemond couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. The tension in the air began to dissipate as the dragon made his way back towards his cave lair, leaving them behind on the beach.

However, Aemond's attention quickly shifted when he heard Maera let out a shaky exhale. He turned to see her momentarily losing her balance, causing her to step backward. Acting on instinct, Aemond reached out and caught her, his hands gripping her upper arms firmly. In that moment, he offered her support after the harrowing encounter, silently reassuring her with his presence.

She had a faced a dragon head on, yet Ser Arryk and Lord Warren hovered around Maera, fussing over her like she was a fragile creature, causing Aemond to roll his eye in annoyance. The sight of them coddling her as if she couldn't handle herself grated on his nerves. It was ridiculous. Despite the commotion, Maera let out a shaky laugh, her emotions still raw from the encounter with the dragon. Aemond couldn't help but admire her resilience, even in the face of such danger.

Growing tired of Lord Warren’s familiarity with Maera as he cupped her face, Aemond forcefully shoved him aside and stepped closer to her. With a soft touch, he tilted Maera's chin up to inspect her face, concern evident in his one good eye.

After a moment more of shaky laughter, Maera synchronized her breathing with Aemond's, a gesture that helped to calm her nerves. As they settled into a shared rhythm, Aemond couldn't help but feel a sense of connection with her, as if they were in sync not just in their breathing, but in their understanding of each other.

Lost in the depths of her forest green eyes, Aemond felt a silent understanding pass between them. It was an unspoken bond that seemed to transcend words, a connection that he couldn't deny. In that moment, with his finger lingering beneath her chin, Aemond felt as though the Gods were with him, guiding them both towards a path they were meant to follow.

"She's just a bit shaken, but she'll be fine,” the Prince assured the knight and lord.

Lord Warren, however, was far from pleased. His anger flared, and he retorted sharply, emphasizing Maera's wounded hand. "She has a gaping wound on her hand; she needs the Maester to look at it." His words were laced with frustration.

Aemond, his patience wearing thin, responded with equal vehemence. "Maera is tougher than she looks, and she doesn't need a mere trout like you to protect her," he spat out, the tension between the two men palpable, their gazes locked in a silent battle. But Maera intervened, her voice steady as she insisted that Aemond was correct. It was merely shock, and she was fine. She expressed her desire to continue her walk with Lord Warren, her words serving as a diplomatic bridge between the two proud men.

Aemond, in response, repeated the phrase he had spoken to Maera at the ball, coveting it in High Valyrian so Lord Warren could not understand; "Se zaldrīzes se klios gaomagon daor rholagon.” The fish and the dragon do not mix

With a stoic face, Aemond accepted Maera's request for him to leave, acknowledging silently that he had achieved his goal of disrupting her time with Lord Warren, and that was enough satisfaction for him. With a curt nod, he bid them farewell and turned to walk away.

However, as he strolled away, an inexplicable feeling urged him to linger for a moment longer, to observe the couple from a distance. Aemond made his way towards the dragon keepers, using the opportunity to scold them for their lack of control over the massive blue dragon. Yet even as he chastised them, his lilac eye remained fixed on Maera and Lord Warren in the distance, unable to shake off the curiosity and concern that gnawed at him.

The Prince watched as Maera glanced in his direction while Lord Warren conversed with her, a smirk playing on his lips, knowing he had captured her attention. Yet his satisfaction was short-lived as his expression twisted from gleeful to enraged. Maera extended her hand to cup Lord Warren's face, muttering words before boldly pressing a kiss to his lips. Aemond seethed with fury, his fists clenched at his sides as he stormed away from the dragon keepers who were still talking to him.

With swift, purposeful strides, he marched along the beach towards the Red Keep, the sand crunching beneath his boots as his mind raced. He was done being tested by the Gods, by the witch, by Maera, by everybody. It was time for Aemond to once again seize control of his destiny. And the first step would be getting rid of the trout. He needed to go.

Night descended upon the Red Keep, the torches lining the corridors flickering to life, casting dancing shadows that seemed to stretch and sway with the gentle drafts of air. The once bustling halls now grew quiet, the echoes of footsteps fading into the background as the inhabitants of the castle retired to their chambers. In the depths of the Keep, where the shadows clung eagerly to the stone walls, the darkness seemed to deepen. The torchlight struggled to penetrate the gloom, casting eerie silhouettes that lurked in every corner and crevice.

Alone in an alcove, Aemond sat with his back against the cold stone, his fingers absently tracing the intricate patterns of his dagger's hilt. The soft glow of torchlight barely reached him, leaving him enveloped in a cocoon of darkness as he grappled with the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind.

The Prince’s one-eyed gaze flicked up as he heard the telltale sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor. His jaw clenched instinctively, anticipating the source of the intrusion. As Lord Warren's figure came into view, striding purposefully down the corridor, Aemond's lip curled with disdain. The ridiculous smile adorning Lord Warren's face only served to deepen Aemond's irritation, his grip tightening on the hilt of his dagger as he realised the Lord was making his way to the Master of Laws’ chambers.

In the dimly lit corridor, Aemond emerged from the shadows, his voice carrying a casual yet pointed tone. "A little late for political visits, do not think, my Lord?"

Lord Warren, with a hint of exasperation, turned to face him, plastering a forced smile on his face. "With a matter such as this, my Prince, I do not think it can wait."

Aemond took a deliberate step closer, his gaze unwavering as he pressed further. "And what matter would that be, hmm?"

Lord Warren chuckled softly, his expression shifting to one of sincerity. "Speaking with her at the ball piqued my interest," he began, his smile growing warmer. "Spending time with her this evening has only made me more sure."

As Lord Warren bid the Prince a respectful nod and made to depart, Aemond halted him with another question, his tone laced with skepticism. "You think yourself worthy of her hand?"

The Tully Lord pivoted back around, meeting Aemond's gaze with a confident demeanor. "Do you, my Prince?" he countered, closing the distance between them until they stood face to face. His smile took on a sly edge. "I only ask because you seem very interested in her."

The Prince’s lips curled into a knowing smile, a facade concealing his true intentions. He refused to give the satisfaction of confirming such a notion to someone so beneath him. The dragon need not concern himself with a the opinion of a mere trout.

“You wish to be Lord of Riverrun, do you not?”

The Tully Lord furrowed his brow, silent for a moment before stating, “I only wish-“

“Spare me,” Aemond waved his hand dismissively, cutting through the man’s excuses like a sword through parchment. He had no interest in hearing platitudes about family, duty or honour; in Aemond’s view, all men of the court were nothing but power-hungry leeches, and Lord Warren was no exception.

During his two weeks away from King's Landing, Aemond was diligent in attending to his duties. Despite the regrettable encounter with Alys, he remained focused on the matters at hand, which were a welcome distraction. At Harrenhal, Aemond had established a miniature council of nobles to assist him in overseeing the war effort. This council served to keep him informed on war plans and to delegate tasks effectively.

Among its members were the sharp Lord Peake, the elderly Lord Vance, and the skeptical Lord Butterwell. It was Lord Butterwell who had just provided Aemond with an important update in regards to House Tully, an update that the Prince could use in this moment.

"I have information to secure Riverrun for you. Information about your cousins and their whereabouts," Aemond declared confidently, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Lord Warren responded with a skeptical smile and a disbelieving laugh. "You do not," he countered, his tone tinged with doubt.

Aemond tilted his head, his gaze steady and unwavering. "You find that so hard to believe?" he questioned. When Lord Warren offered no immediate response, Aemond pressed on. "The crown is at war. We receive information about our enemies much quicker than you do."

There was a brief moment of hesitation in Lord Warren's expression, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. After a beat, he relented. "What do you know?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of curiosity.

Aemond's smile widened, sensing his advantage. With a mockingly playful gesture, he wagged his finger in the air. "Ah-ah. On one condition," he declared, his tone laced with cunning. Lord Warren furrowed his brow, awaiting the stipulation. Aemond's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he delivered his ultimatum. "Abandon these notions of proposal to Lady Maera. And swear by the Seven that you will leave at first light."

Lord Warren's gaze flickered between the corridor leading to the Master of Laws' room and the path back to his own quarters, as if weighing the potential outcomes of his decisions. A sense of conflict danced across his features, mirrored by the uncertainty in his eyes.

"You want her for yourself," Lord Warren accused, his tone edged with defiance, as he turned his attention back to Aemond.

Aemond responded with a dismissive roll of his eye. "Do we have an understanding, my Lord?" he pressed, his voice firm and resolute.

Lord Warren held Aemond's lilac gaze with his own blue eyes, a silent battle of wills passing between them. After a moment of tense deliberation, the Tully Lord relented, dropping his gaze and nodding in defeat.

"Good," Aemond sneered, a smirk playing at his lips as he cleared his throat. "Your cousins have set up their base near High Heart. There is a weakness of guards on the east side of the camp."

Lord Warren sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his decision, before offering Aemond a respectful nod. With a resigned air, he turned on his heel and began to make his way back to his chambers.

As Lord Warren departed, Aemond couldn't resist one final taunt. "Go now, little trout," he called after him mockingly. "Return home upstream."

With Lord Warren manipulated and Maera's suitors thwarted, Aemond's plan was falling into place. The prophecy was on the verge of realization, and all that remained was to seek the King's approval for a marriage proposal. Maera would soon be his.

Notes: whoooo this took a while to write. It was hard to write, I feel so sorry for our boy. I feel sorry for Maera. I feel sorry for everyone 🤣

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy @kckt88

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #chapters #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house targaryen #house wylde #hotd helaena #house of the dragon season 2 #house of the dragon #aemond fanfic #aemond fic #aemond targaryen fanfiction

[a-box-full-of-eneco]

I saw that Skitty with the black wings and instantly thought “One-Winged Skitty, Skittyroth” with is both hilarious and adorable.

been thinking abt how to respond for over a year i give up It took a while but at least have a one winged skitty hjsdf

#i havent played final fantasy but some internet search revealed to me this was referencing a character named Sephiroth #and then i contemplated about what to draw as response...for long #skitty #eneco #pkmn skitty #skitty art #pkmn eneco #my ask box is now empty again #no more asks nesting there for over a year my consciousness is free

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Hello! I love your writing. Can I request an actress y/n story of her doing the Vogue 73 questions interview and some of the questions being cute stuff about her relationship with Tom and the interviewer going viral on social media.

73 Questions with Vogue || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

A/n: this was so fun to write, thank u for the request anon :)

Warnings: none

Wc: 606

Tom Blyth x actress!reader au masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

You step into the grand foyer of your opulent home, adorned with exquisite art and gleaming chandeliers. Vogue’s cameras follow your every move as you prepare to answer their 73 questions. The air is charged with anticipation as fans worldwide await a glimpse into your glamorous life.

"Mind your step," you caution the interviewer, noting the subtle elevation that often catches people off guard. "Oh, thanks," he chuckles in response to your warning, and a reciprocal grin plays on your lips. The interviewer then dives in, initiating the conversation with, "What's your morning routine like?"

You flash a radiant smile, “I start my day with a strong cup of coffee and a walk with Tchai.” As you speak, you gently caress your spoodle, cozily curled up on the sofa.

"Tchai is so adorable! How long have you had him?" The interviewer questions, giving your dog an affectionate pat. "I've had Tchai since I started dating my partner Tom, it was actually his gift to me for our one year," you share with a smile, recalling the moment Tom surprised you with the dog of your dreams.

As you stroll through the expansive living room, the camera captures the elegance that surrounds you. A question about your career follows, and you share anecdotes from your latest film.

“I actually took this from the set of tbosas, it’s a photograph of my character and Coriolanus that was on Coryo’s bedside table during the first scenes,” You show the camera the photo, your grin reflecting the fond memories associated with it.

“Texting, calling, or FaceTiming?” The interviewer probes further. “FaceTiming for sure! I’m too slack most of the time to text, so I'd rather FaceTime people because then I can see their reactions,” you share, casting a glance over your shoulder as you navigate through your hallway, adorned with captivating artworks.

The interviewer then delves into a more personal inquiry, asking, “How do you handle the pressures of fame?” You take a contemplative pause, “I’ve learned to prioritize my well-being and maintain a grounded perspective. Surrounding myself with genuine people helps.”

Entering your plush home office, you take pride in showcasing the awards adorning the shelves. The conversation seamlessly transitions to your personal life, and a subtle smile graces your lips.

“Congratulations on reaching your three-year anniversary with Tom!” The interviewer beams, and you reciprocate, “Thank you!” “Could you share a bit more about your relationship with Tom?” the interviewer inquires.

Your eyes light up, “Tom is incredible. We support each other’s dreams and share a deep connection. He’s my biggest cheerleader. And I'm genuinely grateful to have someone like him in my life.”

The camera follows you into the stylish kitchen, where you casually pour a glass of water. “What’s the key to a successful relationship?” He asks. “Communication, trust, and a lot of laughter,” you reply, your tone sincere.

The resonant creak of the front door interrupts the air, and a familiar voice follows, causing an immediate and infectious smile to light up your face. “Oh, there’s Tom right now,” You chuckle setting the glass down before you make your way to the foyer, the camera effortlessly trailing your every move.

“Hi sweetheart,” Tom removes his sunglasses, drawing you close for a tender kiss before casting a warm smile at the camera. “Go, continue your interview,” He encourages, his eyes filled with affection, as you return the grin and redirect your attention to the ongoing interview.

Moving towards the sunlit terrace, you reveal breathtaking views. The interviewer probes further, "How do you maintain a work-life balance?" You chuckle, turning your gaze towards the camera, "It's a juggling act, but quality time with loved ones is non-negotiable," You point out.

As you ascend the staircase, your eyes meet Tom, engrossed in play with Tchai on the couch. A soft giggle escapes your lips, captured by the camera momentarily fixated on the fleeting connection.

"What's something people don't know about you?" You ponder on the question before replying, "I'm allergic to most flowers," You reveal as a soft chuckle leaves your lips. "Really? I wouldn't have known," The interviewer comments, surprised at you revelation.

"Oh, absolutely! During the filming of tbosas, I couldn't escape the constant sneezing, and my eyes were continuously watery, especially when shooting scenes outdoors in the district. We had to take a lot of takes with those scenes" you confess with a sheepish smile, casually walking backward while maintaining a steady gaze with the camera.

The tour continues through a luxurious walk-in closet, filled with designer attire. "Favorite fashion trend right now?" You gesture to your chic outfit, "Effortless elegance. Comfort meets style."

"What are your top artists that you listen to?" You walk over to your vinyl player, hands flickering through the vinyl records. "That's a tough once since I listen to a wide range of music. But I think I'd have to say my top three would be Olivia Rodrigo, The Neighbourhood, and the Smiths," You smile, picking out the 'Louder than bombs' vinyl and playing 'back to the old house'

"This is actually Tom and I's favourite song from the Smiths," You reveal with a grin. "You seem to have quite a collection of hats, care to share some light about the meaning behind your huge collection?" The interviewer points to a wall where about 20 cowboy hats were hung up.

"Funny story actually, these are hats that Tom and I have either taken, or were given from the set of Billy the Kid." You pick up Tom's cowboy hat, "Those who have watched the series, which you definitely should, would recognise this hat to be Billy's," You showcase the hat to the camera.

"This one I was gifted to by the director," You point to a white hat, "And these ones are from other cast members like Daniel, Alex, Ryan, and a few others," You gesture to the others.

A sudden knock at the door causes you to look at the door where Tom peaks his head around, the camera zooming onto him as he grins. "I made some iced chai's, your with oat milk" He walks in, handing you yours and one for the interviewer, "Awe, thanks babe," You gratefully smile at him.

"Yeah, thank you Tom!" The guy smiles at Tom who smiles warmly before leaving. You take a sip and let out a satisfied sigh from the cold beverage. "Mhm, this iced chai is delicious! Is this something you drink often?"

"Oh I love everything and anything chai. That's why I named my dog tchai cause I love it so much," You chuckle, "Do you usually have it with oat milk?" The interviewer asks as you hum, "I'm lactose intolerant so I drink oat milk,"

“Oh I see, I can tell Tom is very thoughtful, what’s your favourite trait that he has?” He asks a difficult question, “You can’t make me choose, I love everything about him!” You giggle.

“Okay, okay, sorry just say one that comes to mind then,” He chuckles, “hmm, I love the little things he does like putting medicine and a cup of water on my bedside table when I’m sick, buying chocolate for me when he knows I’m not having the best day, braiding my hair when I’m in my office doing work because it de-stresses me.”

“He’s the best boyfriend I could have ever asked for,” You smile like a schoolgirl thinking about him. As the interview concludes, you step into the sunlight, the epitome of success and poise.

The Vogue 73 questions interview becomes an internet sensation, captivating audiences worldwide. Your fans celebrate not just the actress but the genuine, relatable person behind the glamour.

In the days that follow, headlines laud your openness and authenticity. Your relationship with Tom Blyth becomes a the talk of the internet once again. The internet buzzes with admiration, turning the Vogue interview into a timeless moment in your career.

#fanfiction #tom blyth #tom blyth x you #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth fluff #tom blyth x actress!reader #olivia rodrigo #vogue #social media #actress!reader #actress au #boyfriend!tom blyth #tom #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #tbosas imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #tbosas x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #billy the kid #coriolanus snow angst #coryo snow #young president snow

[discount-shades]

Sleepy Baby Part 1

a/n: I got this in my head and couldn’t find another fic that mentioned it. This is the first fic I've ever written.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/reader

Warning: brief mentions of car crash and cheating

Word Count: 1100 ish

Summary: Jake must defend his call sign to a stranger, and he is on a timer. 

Previous          Masterlist          Next

You checked the timer on your phone for the third time, sighing at the 32 minutes remaining. One hour, every week, socializing with strangers. That was the deal you made with your therapist. 

Eighteen months after a horrific car crash killed your fiancé and childhood best friend your therapist suggested you ‘get back out there.’ It wasn’t just their deaths that you were working through in your twice monthly therapy sessions. It was the fact that she was blowing him when they crashed. You thought that was something that only happened in movies and tv shows.  Your grief was… complicated. 

So here you were at the bar of the week nursing a whiskey sour until the timer on your phone said you could go home. You surreptitiously glance around. Judging by the uniforms of the other patrons and the décor the Hard Deck was a military bar. You massage your temples and check your phone again, 29 minutes to go. 

“Need some company while you wait for your date?” You glance to your left at the southern drawl. An unfairly handsome man in a uniform with green eyes is looking down at you and you stare a little too long. “I’ve been watching you check your phone,” he explains, “he’s an idiot to keep you waiting.“ 

“I'm not expecting company,” you roll your eyes at him. “But thank you for assuming I’m being stood up. It was definitely the vibe I was going for.” You take another sip of your drink so you have something to do with your hands. 

A slow smile breaks out across his face. “In that case I’m Hangman.”

“I'm sorry your parents hated you.”

At your deadpan response he chuckles. “It’s my call sign,” he explains smugly. “I'm a fighter pilot.” He is easily the most attractive man in the bar and he knows it, and there is something about his inflated ego that makes you want to pop it. Just a little.

“Hangman like the spelling game?” you ask and he nods and brushes your arm, leaning into you.

You hum noncommittally, cocking your head as you look at him. “You know some schools discourage playing hangman.” You tell him. “They don’t want to encourage violence in children so they play Sleepy Baby instead.”

“Sleepy Baby?” He asks in confusion, leaning back.

“Yeah, you draw a baby in a crib instead of a man on the gallows,” you grin at his scandalized expression. “You could change your pilot name to Sleepy Baby, so you don’t scare the children and all.” 

“Darling, you are the only one I’d let call me ‘baby’.” You laugh at his smooth recovery. “What’s your name, beautiful?” He is charming despite his ego and his intense stare is giving you butterflies. 

“Tic-tac-toe.” 

“Imma call you Hugs and Kisses and you can call me Baby.” You can’t help but laugh at his confidence. 

“So if you are not waiting for anyone why are you always checking on your phone?” The pilot sits down beside you leaning forward again so his knees brush against yours. 

You contemplate your answer before deciding that fuck it, you will be at another bar next week and will never see the handsome pilot again so might as well be honest. “My therapist has suggested that I should ‘socialize with adults that are not coworkers or the children I work with.’” You explain. “So one hour a week I must socialize.” You wave your hand vaguely at the bar. 

“Are you one of those teachers banning hangman?” He asks in mock outrage, graciously glossing over most of your explanation. 

“Child Activity Coordinator at a local library actually, but yeah I’ve been know to play a few rounds of Sleepy Baby.” You say with a shrug.“ Some parents get upset at certain things and it’s easier just to avoid it than die on the hill of hangman. Plus there was one little boy who would cry when the man was hung so it was best to avoid the tears.”

“He would cry every time?” The green eyed pilot has a fond smile on his face. 

You nodded. “I mean the same kid also cried when someone stole his imaginary kitten so some things can’t be helped but sometimes it’s just easier to avoid it.” You said with a grin remembering the moment. 

“It’s hard to believe we live in a world where imaginary kittens aren’t even safe.” He shakes his head solemnly and you burst out laughing. The unexpected arrival of the cocky pilot has been a delightful addition to your evening. 

“So one hour a week?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “How much time do I have left?”

You check your phone, “you have 17 minutes, Flyboy.” You grin. “So what made you join the AirForce?”

He looks offended. “Darling, I'm a Naval Aviator.” 

You blink blankly at him. “I was genuinely not aware the Navy had pilots.” 

“The navy has aircraft carriers,” he grins “who do you think flies the planes?”

“Honestly, I never thought about it and I think I just assumed it was a Navy / Air Force cooperation situation.” You trail off still thinking before shrugging. “I guess you learn something new every day.”

“I could teach you something else,” he sends you a flirty wink.

“I think I’ve reached my knowledge quota for the day,” you laugh back. “But what did you learn today?”

“That my call sign breaks the heart of little boys and their stolen imaginary kittens, and I could use a therapist that suggests going to a bar.”

“Good news Sleepy Baby, I don't think you needed the help to make it here.”

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket notifying you that your hour is up and a not so small part of you is disappointed. You pull your phone out and hold up the timer to the pilot in front of you. “That’s time.”

“Can I get your number?” He asks hopefully as you gather your purse and finish your drink. “We could spend the full hour together next time, therapists advice on socializing and all.”

“I’ll pass this time, but next time, who knows?” You say as you stand, feeling a little sad that you will never see him again. 

“As long as you remember, Hugs and Kisses, I’m in the Navy.” 

You look up at him grinning. “Don’t worry, I’ll remember.” 

As you leave you walk by the jukebox glancing down and see the perfect song on the track lists. You hit the number grinning to yourself as you walk to the door. 

When you reach the exit you turn around and find the green eyed pilot has made his way back to some others in uniforms at the pool table. “Hey Baby,” you call out over the noise of the bar. You grin when he looks up eagerly as the Village People begins to play over the jukebox. “This song’s for you!”  You shoot him a mock salute as you walk out the door. 

#jake hangman seresin #hangman #hangman/reader #jake seresin #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #topgun maverick #top gun hangman #top gun maverick #hangman top gun

[musings-of-a-college-dork]

An Odd Request

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Word count: roughly 1K

Steve’s wife goes to the gym and makes an odd request when she arrives home. 

Warnings: sorta NSFW (mdni), use of Y/N, terms of endearment (baby).

Author’s note: This is just fluffy Steve and was written directly after I got home from the gym needing this man and a very specific kind of cuddling so…here it is! Short and sweet and very silly. Hope y’all enjoy! 

It was a quiet Saturday morning in the Harrington household. Steve was the only one home, having a few hours on his own as Y/N went to meet her personal trainer. She had been seeing a trainer for a while as she, quote on quote, wanted “to be able to carry all the groceries in a single trip all by myself.” A noble and worthy cause in Steve’s eyes and yet as long as he was around, she’d never have to lift a finger. He was more than content to show off his own strength for her enjoyment…and yet wished to support her in any and all of her goals so off to the gym she had gone. As such, he had the home to himself for a few hours, a chance to get some work done. 

He had spent most of the morning thus far drinking his coffee and sketching up new basketball drills and formations for the middle school team he coached. He finally understood exactly what Hopper had meant all those years ago about “coffee and contemplation” finding more and more that the man’s wisdom was never ending the older he got. We’ve gotta tighten up their current formations, he thought as the TV played some mindless sitcom in the background while he chewed on the end of his pencil. His mind looked over the squiggles on the paper in front of him trying to decide how to fix this. It had been weeks since they had won a game and morale was dropping fast. Jamie has to pass more but Donovan can’t really shoot…maybe if we move Paul to center and then swap Jordan and Cole we could-

The man wasn’t given another moment to think as he heard the front door open and close with a loud slam, the sound of feet padding their way down the entry hallway. 

“Hey, baby!” Steve called as he continued to focus on the squiggles, drawing a few more lines before erasing them with equally as much vigor, “How was the gym?” A loud groan was all he received in reply as his wife dropped her bag to the ground and kicked off her tennis shoes, not even bothering to put them in the basket where she knew they belonged. The same basket she insisted his shoes lived in but rules didn’t apply to her, at least not right now. I’ll tease her about it later. “That good huh?” He called with a low chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair, “Well your protein shake is in the fridge. Should be cold enough since I put it in when you left.” Oddly enough, the man received no response. He waited a moment before he called again, looking up from his work.

“Bab-” And just like that she was in front of him. He jumped and let out a quiet swear as he clutched a hand to his chest. He hadn’t seen her before she had left and found himself taking a sharp inhale as he looked her up and down. She looked so fucking gorgeous in those tight black leggings that fit her just right, a simple white workout top, hugging her every curve, and the expensive black workout jacket he had saved up to get her for Christmas that she never left for the gym without. Not to mention the way her hair looked post-workout and the glow of sweat that radiated off of her. He was about to open his mouth to make some lewd remark he hoped she’d find charming but-

“Hold my tits.” The man blinked once, then again, his mouth open and gaping like a fish. 

“W-what?” 

“I want your hands on my tits,” Y/N repeated, holding his gaze with complete and utter seriousness, “Please.” 

“Like…you want my…”

“Your hands. On my tits. Now.” When the man continued not to move his wife let out a deep sigh and took the pencil from his hand, laying it down next to his sketch as she replaced it with something much better. She led his large palm gently to her breast, letting out a sigh of relief as she encouraged him to give a little squeeze. Again, Steve didn’t even know what to do, never having seen her like this. Sure, she was usually a little more cuddly and blissed out after the gym as the endorphins ran through her body but this was…new. A good kind of new. 

“So I take it you had a good time at the gym?” The man teased breathlessly as he ushered her around the coffee table to sit beside him on the couch. The woman let out a hum in confirmation as she laid down so they were pressed together, her back to his front, and wrapped his arms around her so his hands could live right where she needed them to. Another chuckle came from Steve as he buried his face into her hair finding-

“Did you put on perfume?” 

“After working out,” she whispered as her eyes closed shut in complete and utter satisfaction, being held just the way she needed to be right now, “Didn’t want to come home smelling only like sweat.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve used his nose to brush the hair from the side of her neck, making her giggle as he pressed mindless kisses there, “I smell like sweat all the time and you still love me.” 

“I do,” Y/N titled her head so he could press a kiss to her lips, one she returned eagerly before laying her head back down on the couch, “Fuck, I’m never doing the Stairmaster ever again.” 

“Y/N, baby, if this,” Steve gave her tits a little squeeze to punctuate his thought, “is what happens after you’re on the Stairmaster, by all means, keep doing it. Any excuse to cuddle with my pretty little wife and hold her boobies is more than fine by me.” 

“Don’t call them that,” Y/N scrunched her nose with a chuckle as she pressed her ass more into him to fit them closer together. 

“What?” The man teased giving another squeeze, “Boobies?” 

“STEVE!” The couple dissolved into a communal fit of giggles as they lay there together, all stress and strain completely forgotten as calm domesticity filled their hearts and home. 

#stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things smut #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fluff

[mrsnegan]

Hi, my request: age gap negan smut

Pretty please, I’m taking anything 🙏

I’m obsessed with your work

[This praise makes me blush, thank you so much for reading my fics! 🥰 And I'm so sorry it took so long to write a little something for your request. It's just a drabble, but I hope you like it!]

Pairing: Negan x f!Reader

Warnings: smut, (unspecified) age gap, fingering, (semi) public, dirty talk, mentions of exhibitionism, a bit of softdom!Negan, some body fluids

He peppers your skin with hot kisses, right there, where your neck connects with your collarbone. A rich moan spills from your lips, your fingers mindlessly caressing the hair at the nape of his neck.

You don't even remember how it started, why the two of you are tangled right now, him pressing you against his body as well as against the cold wall of your house. Everyone in Alexandria seems to despise him because of what he has done years prior. Of course you have heard about it, people love to gossip, even in a lovely little town such as Alexandria.

You don't mind, though. His aura, that self-assured smile, the cocky attitude, his experience, it all makes him even more interesting in your eyes. He may have done some fucked up things you absolutely condone, but you live in a fucked up world and people do a lot of fucked up things to survive or keep each other safe.

Negan rips you out of your thoughts when his teeth playfully bite at your skin.

"Stay with me, I'm just starting," he whispers into your neck, his eyes flashing upwards to scan your face. "Wouldn't want you to miss a thing."

His words send a shiver through your body, heat pooling between your legs. You don't know why the age difference makes your little banter even more arousing, but it does. The mere prospect of a man like him between your thighs sets a fire to your core.

One of his hands travels south, groping your breasts through the fabric of your shirt, lovingly teasing your nipples hardening under all the material.

"So responsive," he teases. His hand wanders downwards, gripping the hem of the skirt you're wearing.

For just a heartbeat you contemplate to grip his hand and yank him away from where you want him the most and into the safeness of your home. Though the delicious feeling of his touches, the risk of potentially getting caught even if you're hidden away in the shadows, nobody to be heard or seen nearby, it all drives you insane. So much so you urge him on to touch you by opening your legs further.

"Shit baby, you're needy, aren't you?"

Nodding your head, you pull him in for another messy kiss. "Please Negan," you whimper.

He whistles lowly when his hand moves upwards on your thigh, noticing what special gift you have prepared for him when his fingers don't meet fabric. He breaks the kiss to look into your eyes, pure desire being reflected right back at him.

"No panties, baby? Fucking hell, someone's eager."

"Only for you," you confess, biting your lip playfully.

You watch Negan with shaking breaths when you feel his fingers connecting with your bare pussy.

"Fuck me, you're so damn wet," he marvels, two of his fingers stroking you with featherlight touches, spreading your wetness from your opening towards your clit and back down again.

Shivers run down your spine, cheeks flushed with how easy it is for Negan to turn you on, to get you this wet with only so much effort.

"Need you," you whisper, head dizzy, knees weak.

"Don't worry, I've got you." He smiles at you mischieviously while sinking first one, then two of his fingers into your welcoming heat.

There's no way for you to swallow the moan spilling from your lips, hands flying to Negan's shoulders to anchor yourself.

"Fucking shit, such a tight little pussy", he marvels while his thumb draws lazy circles on your clit, fingers moving slowly. "But you gotta keep quiet, baby, or do you want to give 'em a show?" With his last words, he fucks into you a bit faster, curling his fingers to find the sweet spot which makes you see stars.

"Fuck, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Me fucking you in front of all those uptight asshats, making you come over and over again? Can feel you squeeze my fingers, dirty little girl," he rambles, only inches away from your lips.

Heat licks at your skin, blood boiling hot from how good Negan makes you feel with only his fingers and this foul mouth of his.

"More, please," you choke out between whimpers.

Negan obliges with a sinister grin, withdrawing his fingers to add a third one, setting a fast pace with the first stroke.

"Oh my God," you moan high-pitched, feeling his fingers bump into your g-stop over and over again, the heel of his hand deliciously connecting with your clit.

"Shh, sweet girl," he whispers, "gotta keep quiet." His hand, not occupied with fucking you senseless, finds a home on your mouth, silencing your moans into little whimpers.

"That's better, isn't it?"

You're unable to answer him, hands flying to his forearm, clawing at his muscles because of the immense pleasure. You feel full, so full of him and those are just his fingers.

Legs beginning to shake from the upcoming orgasm he's going to fuck out of you, against the wall of your house, at a back alley hidden only by the shadows of the night, you feel yourself spiraling. You moan into Negan's palm, not even able to stop yourself from drooling all over his hand with how good and stupid he fingers you.

"Look at that. You gonna come like this, stuffed full of my fingers," he whispers into your ear, tenderly biting into your earlope while his hand pumps away between your legs.

"Go on, baby, come all over my hand, c'mon."

His words drive you over the edge with full force. The white-hot pleasure crashes over you, body shaking in his grasp, your screams of pleasure silenced by his hand which is still firmly pressed against your mouth.

"There you go, my sweet girl, fuck, look at you, making a mess," he praises, talking you through it.

When the last tremours of your orgasm travel through your body, he lowers his palm from your mouth and withdrawing his fingers from your core.

Drawing in harsh breaths, you register that both his hands are drenched from you, one from your salvia, the other from your orgasm.

"Shit, my girl's a wet one."

His girl. Your heart hammers in your chest, not only from your earth-shattering orgasm. You wipe your mouth, searching Negan's lips for a sensual kiss.

"Shut up, Negan." You slap his arm playfully, a breathless laugh escaping you. Taking his hand, you take some wobbly steps to the porch of your house. "Come inside."

"Oh baby, if you insist," he answers with a sinister smirk, following you into your house.

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #negan x reader #negan smut

[pennyellee]

CHAPTER II - sponsalia

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of God, mention of drugs, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of death, overwhelming, violence, sexual tension

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 6,7K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER III

sponsalia (n.) engagement

The heavy rain casts a hazy veil over the world around her and the sound of them reminds her of the storm that rages within. The last memory is coming through the light once she opens her eyes and sees, now, familiar surroundings. Lost and trapped. She wishes this to be only a mere nightmare she will wake up from. Her voice sore and barely audible, she whispers into the quiet room illuminated by the fire from the fireplace, “Why did you let this happen, my lord?” Knowing deep down that her question will remain unanswered, she longs for just one response—

“A twist of fate, perhaps, my little dove.”

She does not dare to turn herself to the voice, never before feeling such overwhelming fear. Her heart aches with sadness and is reigned by fear and perhaps a tinge of disappointment at her inability to escape and flee the spars of this world.

“No courage now? You displayed enough when you injured one of my men,” he chuckles with a sly grin, thoroughly intrigued by the woman lying in his bed.

“Is he alright?” She rises from the bed, unaware that every word she utters draws him even deeper.

“Are you concerned for his well-being or worried that this sin will lead you to hell?” He arches an eyebrow, curiously expecting her answer.

Lowering her gaze to her trembling hands, she stammers, “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just needed to get away.”

‘A pure soul,’ he contemplates silently. This very woman might just be his endgame. He is determined but wishes to interrogate more. Seizing the opportunity when her guard momentarily falters, he taunts.

“Get away from me? Or was there something else, darling?” He knows he knows it all and a lot more, yet he is so intrigued to hear it from her.

“Can I leave?”

“No, —” he said quickly “—I asked you a question.”

“Why can’t I leave?” Y/N asked again, more determined to get a real answer once she started to feel an epiphany about her situation.

“Why would you want to leave?” he counters.

And for once, she started to think strongly about what awaits her once she leaves. Apart from her oppressive home, where punishment or death looms, she has nowhere else to go. Y/N failed to get away.

“Are you from the Yakuza?” she mutters, finally realising he never disclosed his identity.

“Min Yoongi,” he simply uttered his name, knowing it will answer her question. Her pupils are dilated, and her breathing gets shallow.

“Will you answer my question…. Y/N?”

Her heart races, desperately trying to regain control of her breath, but her mind remains scattered. Min. His name echoes in her mind. He stands before her, the man her father would never make peace with. It always comes down to two choices — either they strike a deal or engage in a bloody war, murdering each other’s men. Here he is, right in front of her. She has fallen into the arms of the enemy. Not only will her father punish her for running away, but now she also faces another punishment for being caught by an enemy.

“It seems there is a lot on your mind now, darling. Let me alleviate some of your burdens,” he says standing up from the low armchair by the fireplace, walking towards the bed. Her instincts urge her to retreat, her eyes welling up with tears of sorrow and fear.

“Don’t be afraid of me. If you play your cards right and obey, I promise nothing will happen to you, my love,” he murmurs, using a term of endearment that catches her attention.

“That’s it, baby. Breathe and calm down,” he whispers soothingly.

She locks eyes with him, drawn into their depths, a place where few dare to venture. Nobody dares to look directly into the leader’s eyes. She, even in this state, does so.

“Your father can’t punish you no more. You can find the freedom you seek by my side,” he says, his gaze fixed on her, memorizing every detail.

“What do you mean?” She asks with a newfound venom in her voice.

“You think I would allow your old man to marry you off to Yamamoto’s retarded excuse of a son and assure Tokyo’s alliance with Hong Kong?” He laughs.

“Heaven sent you to me, my love.” he continues, a sickly chuckle escaping his lips.

“And if you’re wondering how it benefits me to have you here, darling, I believe you’re smart enough to figure it out.”

She realises that if she refuses to marry the yakuza boy, the alliance will crumble, and her father will lose leverage against Seoul and the Mins who reign here. Y/N didn’t plan to marry a Yakuza man nonetheless, but she for sure never planned to stay in the middle of the chess board.

“I must admit, I found it admirable that you’ve managed to run away from China, through Luen’s north side, to our territory in the south, very brave,” he points out, acknowledging her efforts. “—and get to Jeju, right to Chan-yeol—” he says.

“You made it so easy for me. Thank you for that.” There is a hint of pleasure in his voice when he continues to speak.

“I bet your Sire didn’t expect that at all,” he grins. “You have a fire in you, my dear, —” he focuses back on her, “—and I cannot wait to tame you,” his voice shifting from casual to intimidating.

“You will make a fine wife,” Yoongi states.

“I’ll be no one’s wife. You must think me a fool if you believe I’ll marry you or anyone else from your circus,” she spits out defiantly. He stares at her silently.

“Careful,” he finally warns, surprising her with his calm demeanour. To get or inherit the position of leader, one must possess the patience of steel and a wise, calculating mind. All this and more, is embodied in the young leader, Min.

“I have my ways to persuade you that I’m the best thing that ever happened to you. You’ll realise that along the way,” he says, seemingly playing with her mind. ’Lord, please, you must have mistaken me for someone else,’ she silently prays.

“Care to elaborate?” she dares to ask.

“Your little cousin and her husband, and their little adorable son —” he trails off.

“You wouldn’t,” she quickly interrupts him.

“Oh, I would, darling. And even more. What about your sister, hmm? Isn’t she turning eighteen soon? My right-hand man is ready to take a wife...” he taunts.

“You cannot play with lives! Not with mine or others —” she snaps.

“Yes, I can, my little butterfly—” he says, gripping her chin forcefully and bringing her closer to his face, locking eyes with her.

“People follow me and worship me as if I were a god. My wife won’t be excluded. Or do you wish for bloodshed and potential homicide?” he mocks.

“Be grateful I saved you from that imbecile you were supposed to marry,” he adds, releasing her chin as she immediately rubs the numb spot with teary eyes.

“After all, you’ve just become a peace offering, my dear. God has a plan, and we shall obey the lord,” he asserts. She raises her eyes back to him, the tension between them palpable, amplified by the continuing rain outside, playing its role in the orchestra of her sorrow.

“You don’t have a choice, darling,” he declares, his words stinging her soul as they hang in the air.

“Either you stay under my protection, be a good girl, marry me, and obey, or I’ll deal with your clan brutally,” he states, rising from the bed and walking toward the door.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to negotiate the terms with your old man.”

“Get more rest.” He looked at her for the last time and closed the door behind him. A click of the lock follows. Only now, she allowed herself to cry out loud.

’You said that if I’ll help myself, lord will help me too.’ She cried, desperately. Run away from the oppressed life of a future mafia wife, just to get even closer to marriage and marital duties, autonomy out of reach.

The overwhelming sense of loneliness and fear of an uncertain future weighs heavily on her. Would it be easier to go back home, and get beaten up and punished? Or would it be easier to stay and accept she will never get away from this life?

There is something she sees in his eyes, but she cannot figure out what it is. She’s exhausted from the run, from all the thinking and future battles she will have to participate in. Her eyes are slowly closing, and her consciousness is failing her again.

“Good morning, Buin,” a voice called out, causing her to squint her eyes from the sudden stream of light entering the room. Grumbling, she pulled the blanket up higher to shield herself.

“Doctor Kim will pay you a visit today, Buin.” the voice continued, and her eyes snapped open. Reality set in, and she realized this wasn’t just a bad dream — she wasn’t home.

“A doctor?” She said, successfully ignoring how she called her the lady of the house.

“Sajangnim requested that we draw you a bath so you can relax and clean yourself,” the little lady replied with a big smile, clearly infatuated with her “Sajangnim”. Rolling her eyes at the maid’s innocence, she welcomed the suggestion of a bath. This westernised hanok must have a bathing room hidden somewhere in its wooden maze. Accepting the white hanfu offered to her, she eagerly anticipated the chance to have her long hair washed. It had become a tangled mess after days of neglect. Maybe she would finally be able to wear her hair down, something she had never been allowed to do before. Her scalp was always sore from the numerous hairpins and clips used to hold her hair in the complicated styles she despised. And perhaps, she could even cut her hair.

“We’re here, Buin,” the maid interrupted her thoughts, leading her to a wooden door that swung open. The sight of a bathroom in a house, a luxury reserved for urban dwellers, reflected the wealth of the syndicate.

She entered the room, and the maid closed the door from inside. The water was already in the large wooden bathtub, steaming hot, beckoning her to submerge herself. It was spacious enough for her to float on the surface if she wanted to. The maid prepared her soaps and other hygiene products. She will clean herself as she graciously declined her help.

“Sajangnim said that if you were to resist his hospitality and commands he gave us, he shall come and help you himself.” The girl said with no emotion in her voice. She memorised it by heart.

“You can tell Sajangnim to stay put,” she muttered in response.

“Buin—” the girl attempted again but Y/N waved her off. She didn’t want to treat the poor girl in this mean manner, but she desired an alone time.

“Please…just wait outside.” Y/N pleaded. Reluctantly, the girl obliged, but she was certain she would report back to her master in a heartbeat. Besides, Y/N had nowhere to escape within the confines of this room.

She shed the lightweight hanfu and slowly lowered herself into the steaming water, feeling her muscles gradually relax. At least for a moment, her mind started to ease the running thoughts, calming the storm down.

Until she heard his voice. Her body immediately tensed up. She strained to listen to the conversation — or rather, the series of commands directed at the poor gal.

“Doctor Kim has arrived, make sure she is ready in the master bedroom in fifteen minutes. Tell the staff to prepare lunch for us in the garden after.” His voice was gone after this, and a soft knock followed. 

“Buin—” the maid’s voice called softly, and by that time, Y/N was already hurriedly putting the hanfu back on.

“I’m coming,” she sighed.

She stopped the servant girl once she wanted to put her hair up in a bun. Now back in the room, sitting in a closet the devil managed to obtain for her as if he knew she will come. It was full of beautiful qipao’s but also some Korean hanboks and even some traditional Chinese beizis if she wanted to get more comfortable presumably. Among them, she noticed some lingerie, which internally made her nauseous with anxiety. Her hair was longer than she remembered, as she rarely wore it down.

“I suggest you keep the hanfu while Doctor Kim is here and then we shall clothe you in a dress.” To say she was scared and nervous about what this Doctor Kim will want to see or do was understandable.

“Here she is!” A loud and cheery voice echoed in the bedroom. “You caused quite a commotion, sweetie. I’m thrilled to finally meet you,” said the handsome man who entered the room with a leather suitcase and white coat.

“Doctor Kim, I presume,” She assumed. He was undeniably attractive, much like his Kkangpae. But she wouldn’t admit that for some time.

“For you, sweetie, it’s Seokjin. We’re going to be family, after all,” he smiled, attempting to put her at ease. He couldn’t help but notice her guarded demeanour. She scoffed at his proclamation, as expected.

“So,” he clapped his hands together, “let’s talk about you and your health, darling,” he said while searching for an empty file with her name.

“I want you to know that I won’t tell him a damn thing unless it’s necessary, you can trust me,” he stated.

“Except whether or not I’m a virgin, right?” she retorted in a cocky voice, mocking the messed-up mafia system.

“If you want to start with that, you can lie down, and I’ll check,” he sassed back with a smirk. Something told her they would only be friends for a very brief moment as long as she remained in this place.

“So, are you?” he asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“What if I’m not?” she tilted her head to the side. He chuckled.

“I see your point, but that wouldn’t free you from the engagement. He would simply have the man who touched you slaughtered to show his power,” he explained. She straightened herself, taking a deep breath.

“And even though I have to check anyway, it’s not just about your chastity,” he said. She did know, but that didn’t mean she would be comfortable spreading her legs for a stranger.

“Let’s leave that until the very end, shall we?” he smiled at her.

“Have you consumed any contaminated water while you were on the run?” he surprised her with the question.

“No, I don’t think so...” she stammered.

“Besides hurting Hoseok-ssi, did you fight with anyone else and get injured?” So that was the man’s name.

“Is he okay?” she asked, deflecting his question.

“He’s fine, but you should apologise once you meet him. He meant no harm,” he replied. Well, she hadn’t meant any harm either; she just wanted to escape the scene quickly. She nodded in agreement.

“When was the last time you were sick, honey.”

“Sometime last year.” He hummed in response.

“Do you have a family history of any medical conditions or diseases?” he continued with the examination.

“None that I’m aware of,” she shrugged.

“Any reproductive problems in your family?” he asked more seriously.

And here it comes—reducing her to merely a vessel, even before marriage. Just in time, the devil appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his hands in his pockets. “Not on my side,” he interjected.

She didn’t want to give him a glance, but her body failed her. His black hair was tucked behind his ears, a scar shining in its glory on his face. He smiled. And for a moment, she got lost in his eyes again. He’s having an impact on her, and he knows.

“Y/N?” Seokjin called her name to get her attention back to him.

“No, not in my lineage,” her gaze fell again as she listened to what he was asking her.

“Do you smoke?” He asked with curiosity in his voice.

“Uhm, no.” She answered honestly. Y/N had been around cigarettes a lot, but she had never smoked one herself.

“Very good, do not start. It’s not worth it,” he gave his younger brother from another mother a side-eye, and the younger one just rolled his eyes in response. It made her chuckle a little, hoping they wouldn’t hear it. He did but didn’t say a word. Yoongi wanted her to be comfortable around him.

“Alcohol?” he asked while jotting down her previous answers.

“Occasionally?” she questioned herself, as she couldn’t remember the last time, she had a drink.

“Hmm,” he hummed again and wrote it down.

“Do you have any problems with your monthly bleeding?” Seokjin looked into her eyes and glanced at his brother.

“No…” she said awkwardly, gulping down.

“When was the last time you ate?” He looked into her eyes, and she realised she couldn’t recall, nor did she feel hungry until now. Was it the adrenaline?

“I think it was the morning I left Shenyang, five days ago,” she replied.

“You went from Shenyang to Incheon in 5 days?!” He raised his voice which caused him a mean look from his leader.

“How are you not exhausted to death?!” He continued.

“I had some intense drugged sleep. Thank you for your concern, though,” she answered honestly.

“She needs to eat, but she has to do so carefully to avoid upsetting her stomach. Don’t let her overstuff herself,” he instructed his companion. She was starting to feel ravenous; she hadn’t eavesdropped on their conversation, but rather, she was lost in her thoughts, preparing for what would come next.

“Beautiful, I need you to lie down for Seokjin now,” he snapped her out of it.

“What?” with him inside the room?

“It’s not necessary. I can tell him what he needs to know without that,” she protested.

“It’s a rule we follow, dove. We don’t want you to—” she cut him off.

“You just want to know if someone have fucked me before or not. Otherwise, you wouldn’t care,” she spat out. He seemed taken aback by her sudden change of attitude. This is the fire he wanted to desperately extinguish, at least towards him. Jin looked very much shocked but also amused when he glanced at his friend that was startled by this petite Chinese woman.

“I need to check for other reasons as well,” Seokjin said, clasping his hands together.

“Why can’t you just retrieve my medical file?”

“You have a medical file?” He asked, surprised. It was very rare for someone to have a medical file, especially at times after the war, apart from when a young one went to study. An entrance examination was always needed.

“Yes. Send a letter to my college.” She said, not realising she slipped a piece of valuable information out.

“College?” Yoongi asked, clearly shocked. Seokjin wasn’t looking much less surprised than him. She gave them questioning looks, knowing full well why they were so astonished.

“W-What did u study?” Jin stammered the question out. She wasn’t meant to inherit her father’s empire, but she was destined for an arranged marriage to another powerful family. Higher education wasn’t supposed to be part of her life. However, this would explain why she hadn’t been married off at eighteen. They had sent her away to study.

“Nursing.” She shrugged as if her words carried no weight.

“My, my,” said Jin, stroking his chin.

“I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no. As of now, a big no,” she looked at her abductor, confused.

“As of now is good with me!” he clapped his hands together.

“Now, please leave, brother. I don’t think she’ll ever comply if you’re here. I’ll bring her to the garden afterwards,” Yoongi wanted to object, but when he saw the pleading distress in her eyes, he nodded and left his bedroom.

The young leader was proud that she hadn’t tried to run away or throw a tantrum yet. He didn’t want to resort to violence or coercion.

Stone pathways meandered through the garden, inviting one to explore its every corner. She was absorbing her surroundings with a teacup in her small hands. The air was fragrant with the scent of autumn. The wind was a bit chilling as the end of October was nearing. Snow will fall soon. A small pavilion she found herself sitting in beside a koi fishpond that sparkled in the sunlight, felt too peaceful.

“You look absolutely stunning,” said he, his gaze fixed upon her petite figure draped in a flowery pink qipao, her hair elegantly tucked behind her ears. She radiated a natural beauty, untouched by face powders or lipsticks. He loved this vision, an embodiment of purity and innocence. Little did he know, beneath her facade of grace, lay a sharp tongue that defied even the will of God.

She sipped her tea; Y/N ate a little bit of rice and seaweed soup to drive off her hunger. As she admired the garden’s serenity, she found herself drawn not only to its peacefulness but also to the possibility of escape it presented. Perhaps she could run back to Incheon and board a ship that would carry her far away from this place.

“You should know that ‘pretty’ is just a word, and your compliments and pet names won’t win me over. Use my name,” she scoffed, challenging his attempts to woo her.

“That doesn’t mean I’ll stop,” he was determined to break through her defences.

Y/N shot him a piercing stare, a skill she had acquired swiftly. She pondered the enigma of the man before her, wondering how in God’s name she could resist his charm.

“I appreciate that you haven’t attempted to escape yet,” he murmured, sipping his tea. Y/N was no fool; she knew that throwing a fit every second she was held captive would only lead to further confinement. For now, she decided to falsely embrace the last moments of autumn in this beautiful garden, she already scanned in her mind.

“I won’t be very keen on you if you’ll try to,” he warned, his tone shifting unexpectedly. Did he seek to intimidate her, or was he afraid she would succeed in slipping away?

“You seem eager to ask me questions,” said she with cockiness in her voice. Acting tough would make it harder for him to break her will. Not like she counted on a prolonged stay.

“I do,” he hummed in agreement. “But are you willing to answer them, my sweet?” Her eyes rolled at the nickname, accompanied by a scoff. He sighed.

“I’ll answer anything you want, and you’ll answer mine. Deal?” he proposed, a smile playing on his lips.

“That’s quite the cliché, you know,” she declared, placing her cup down just as he eagerly reached to refill it.

“But if it gets you to talk to me, darling, I’ll graciously accept the cliché,” he replied smoothly.

“I know what you want to ask,” she interjected. He was curious about how she managed to study for years without being married off.

“My aunt was very dear to my father. She persuaded him,” she confessed, her words carrying a burden that still weighed on her mind.

“Naturally, my father had intended to marry me off instead of allowing me to pursue my studies. It was still on the table. However, the last war, as you surely recall, brought forth injured, disabled, and dead.”

“I had just turned eighteen. So, my aunt negotiated that I would study nursing in Shenyang instead and be useful to the clan this way. My father saw the merit in her argument and delayed my marriage to whatever his name is—” She explained, her nonchalant tone contrasting with the mention of the man she was meant to marry and the affection she held for her late aunt.

“But my aunt passed away recently and there was no reason for my father to let me stay in Shenyang after I ended my studies. I became more useful to him if I married that boy, as your clan sent a warning. He needed the allyship.” She sighed.

“So I ran the moment we buried my aunt and I was sent back to Shenyang to get my diploma and return.” He listened attentively, aware that her trust was not easily won, and that loyalty would be crucial in their future together. She was still cautious around him, and he wanted her to open up to him even more. It would be a lot easier for her to trust him. But he knew better than that. Trust is earned, and it goes both ways.

“You never met him?” he inquired, referring to her failed engagement.

“No. I don’t think I even remember his name. Father always called him Yamamoto, never by his first name,” she replied. He knew his name well, having encountered him during negotiations for a deal in the past. Officially, Korea remained under Japanese rule, but within the underworld, clans were locked in fierce conflict. Yoongi, longing for peace, knew that Wang’s treaty pact with the Yamamoto clan was a significant obstacle. However, with Y/N’s presence here, the plans could be easily altered. According to the plan.

The cold young leader is not only aiming for her father’s empire and making peace for his clan, he longed for a woman like her. It was about time the leader of the clan took a wife to secure the lineage. Although there was a male heir in her family, who could potentially pose an obstacle, he was still too young to step into the role. Y/N, as the eldest heir, a female, would become an integral part of Yoongi’s plans to secure the future of their clans.

“You crave the throne, don’t you?” she asked, cocking her head and chin defiantly, her narrowed eyes fixed on him.

“I want you too.” She chuckled at his response.

“I’m merely a convenient excuse, am I not?” Y/N smiled too sweetly.

“You’ll kill m—” he rose from his chair, not even letting her finish. Grabbing her by her shoulders in a steel grip with a penetrating gaze.

The fragile cup slipped from her trembling hands and shattered on the floor. A nearby maid prepared to clean up the shattered shards. “Leave us!” he barked at the startled girl; his voice filled with anger. Y/N’s eyes widened. He was even more aggressive and intimidating than before.

“I could—” his voice seething with fury, “— I could gather man and slaughter your entire clan, keeping you as a trophy, a symbol of my power.” The threat hung in the air, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Fear was coursing through her, yet she resisted letting it control her.

“Matter of fact—” he continued, his grip tightening on her shoulders, eliciting a whimper of pain from her, “—you will be a symbol of the magnitude my power has, no matter if your father and family remain alive. So, it’s on you. The fate of your kin rests in your hands. Their survival hinges on your decisions and how well you’ll cooperate.” He tightened his grip again, eliciting another whimper of pain from her.

“But I will never dispose of you,” he growled through gritted teeth, his tone a mixture of possessiveness and frustration. Gathering her courage, she managed to speak again, her voice trembling but filled with resolve.

“You cannot manipulate me like this. Do you think I’ll fall for this fucked up scheme? I have spent my entire life under the orders of others, forbidden from making choices for myself! And you have the audacity to use my innocence thinking I will willingly crawl into your bed and love you like a devoted lover.” Venom in her voice and the desperate tone made him fall for her even more.

“I’ve only recently met you, so spare me your attempts to deceive me that you’re being my saviour.” Y/N has enough fire to still conquer and fight him back. “I refuse to be a passive participant in this game.” She shall not take it lying down.

“I’m giving you a choice—” he asserted, his voice laced with a dangerous undertone “—either you’ll walk down the aisle to me or there will be bloodshed. I won’t send you back to your father nor will I relinquish you easily.” His eyes locked onto hers, and she could see the darkness consuming his pupils when anger consumed him.

“Call it love, obsession, or whatever you please, but no matter what imbecile attempts you make to fight or flee, we will inevitably end up together nonetheless,” he declared with conviction. Was this the fate God had laid out for her? Her faith wavered, and if he didn’t assist soon, she shall forbid him altogether.

“You just want to fuck m—” he cut her off abruptly, his voice low and seductive.

“I can either fuck you hard or I can make love to you,” said he, whilst setting her left arm free and sliding his to her thigh, caressing it sweetly.

Breathing started to become harder for Y/N. Unfamiliar sensations welled up in her lower belly whilst his touch was sending shivers through her body. Was this attraction? Excitement? Mother told her this is how love is supposed to feel. Butterflies in her stomach. But she certainly wasn’t in love with her captor.

He sensed her confusion and distress, leaving her to fall back to the chair. Finally letting her breathe freely. Yoongi sat back in his chair, collecting himself and the three-piece suit he wears today.

“Loss of words, innit?” He chuckled.

He was filled with pride, an overwhelming sense of it, knowing the impact he had on her. She dusted her thighs and straightened her dress.

“Remember, it’s your call. Either you’ll go willingly or with coercion,” her gaze piercing through him for change.

“I’m still waiting to hear back from your father, but before we proceed, I need to go over some rules I expect you to follow before and after we’re wed,” he said, picking up his cup of tea again.

“I know the rules. Just because I went to study doesn’t mean I wasn’t prepared to be the wife of any higher-profile mafia member,” she replied, and he chuckled.

“What’s so funny, care to share?” She asked her sass back.

“Not those kinds of rules. I know you’re prepared for that. But entertain me, baby. What do you think I’ll ask of you?” he said, grinning mischievously, his chin resting between his thumb and forefinger.

“You’ll hand me the household finances after, not like I already agreed, I see no ring yet —”

“—not interfere in business affairs, maintain a low profile to avoid unnecessary attention, and be nothing more than a pretty face, spread your legs and pop out heirs.” He listened to her, amused. She is vaccinated with these dynamics as her mother underwent the same and taught her to do so. However, to Yoongi’s unluckiness, she inherited her whim and flame too.

“You don’t need to manage the household; we have people for that. But if you wish to change anything in the budget, you of course can, sweetling,” he responded, surprising her with his contradictory words.

“I don’t want you to be just a pretty face because you have to. Your fire will be beneficial for me once in a while. If I ever tell you to sit still and look pretty, it would be a matter of life and death, a means to protect you, —”

“—See? I can be very good.” He said, sipping his cold tea, leaving it in his mouth to warm a little while he is thinking. He found great joy in evoking emotions from her.

“You can involve yourself in the business as much as you desire, but I doubt you’ll want to engage in those activities. For your safety, I would sleep better if you were always by my side once we’re engaged and married shortly after.” He stressed out the last word.

“Once we’ll be engaged and wed, your loyalty to your father will transfer to me, and me only” he emphasised his voice firm.

“I won’t force you to be intimate with me after the wedding night, although I’m sure you’ll come to desire it,” he said with a sickly grin, causing her stomach to churn. She needed a moment to process everything he told her by far.

“I saw how you reacted to me earlier. You will enjoy our time in the bedroom, surely.” He spoke as if it wasn’t taboo.

“I-” she stammered and hesitated. He stunned her. Broke down to her core, and he wanted to dig even further.

“I’m aware.” He replied to her unspoken utterance.

She leaned into her chair further, feeling so small suddenly, so inexperienced. Y/N remembers a boy with black hair and green eyes who she had a crush on. He kissed her one night under a cherry blossom tree in their garden. Her father got to know, and she never saw him since.

“All of this comes with one rule: obedience. You will obey as a good girl, and everyone will be happy,” he declared firmly.

“But disobedience won’t be tolerated,” he added, his tone unwavering.

“I want our marriage to be right, as it should be. I won’t force you to be intimate with me. I mean it,” he tried to assure her.

“—Apart from the wedding night, which speaking of, I still didn’t say, ’Yes, I will’.” He laughed and got up from his chair. Her choices and chances were limited. Even if she would manage to escape, he would go on a killing spree till he would get her back. Min Yoongi was very much interested and devoted to marrying this young female.

He knelt on one knee in front of her. A scenery one could perceive as a loving couple is ready to pursue a life journey together. She hadn’t expected him to propose before her father’s agreement, let alone in such a proper manner. Y/N knew better, she just wanted to tease him back.

This wasn’t how mafia members typically behaved, especially the Kkangpae, who never bowed or knelt to anyone. A sign of respect and reverence. Is she to be fooled again? Was he trying to earn her trust with this pretentious act or is he truly showing her respect? Countless questions stormed her mind, causing her inner turmoil. A thunder and lightning bolt within.

He pulled out a velvet little box from his inside pocket and slowly opened it before her shocked figure. The ring glistened in the light. She hates to admit it, but it was marvellous. The delicate band, crafted from shimmering gold, was embellished with intricate filigree that snaked its way around the band in a dance of beauty. Sapphire, shining atop the band surrounded by smaller diamonds, a starry night sky, each one a glimmering testament to the masterful skill of the jeweller. The ring must be older than she or him.

“Miss Wang—” said he, staring into her soul and making her look away from the ring. “—You would honour me if you shall decide to spend, thou life by my side. I promise to protect you and respect you if you have me.”

Confusion would be the correct term, as just moments ago, he held her in a punishing grip, issuing threats. She mustered the courage to ask him once more. “Why?”

He smiled at her so widely. This smile was different. “Please don’t give me any sweet bullshit or I swear—” he interrupted her.

“All you think is my reason — is my reason. I’m not going to lie to you. Just know…this is God’s will, and God presented you to me as a life companion. You can put your fear aside and stand up to me. You’re a challenge I’m determined to embrace, and God knows I’ll do my best to make you mine,” he explained, his tone serious and earnest.

Would God allow him to do anything to conquer her and this world? His words resonated deep within her soul, stirring something within her. Will Father punish her once he will arrive here if he is even coming here? He has to. She knows. If she will get engaged, he will have to come and give him his blessing.

Mother. She wanted to desperately hide in her mother’s arms. Is she ready to confine herself to someone else than her mother, sister, or aunt? Her poor aunt must be restless in her grave. She wanted only the best for her. A different life than the one of someone’s wife; at least that’s what she believed.

“So, what will it be? Shall I send my man to gear up or—” She didn’t let him finish. Y/N didn’t want anyone else to die or get hurt because she wanted her freedom so selfishly. She questioned her faith and wondered if this was truly the path that had been laid out for her.

Is this her path?

“I will.”

It must be.

He smiled brightly. He is one step closer to orchestrating in her heart. It’s her verdict whether it will be an easier or difficult and rocky path. He took the ring out of its box, reaching for her left hand. Sliding the ring on her finger.

Slowly, he raised her hand to his lips, gently placing a kiss on her skin. He didn’t break eye contact the whole time, which made her uneasy. Y/N didn’t expect the leader to close the distance between them and lean to her, still holding her hand. Her breath picked its pace, and her lips parted a little; she gasped when he was getting too close. Y/N felt so stiff and frozen. Almost brushing his lips with hers—

“Sajangnim—?” A voice echoed. Unwillingly and frustrated, he turned his head to the staff member of the household. Y/N turned her head in the opposite direction, her chest heaving rapidly as she struggled to catch her breath.

“What?!” he barked; his anger evident.

“Mr Wang is on the telephone.”

I N T E R L O G U E

“How long will she be out?” Asked the leader, pacing front and back in his office. It had only been a few minutes since the son of his late father’s captain of the front force had brought her back to their territory. She appeared serene as he carried her into his room and gently laid her on the bed. Although he had a maid ready to change her clothes, he couldn’t resist the urge to do it himself.

“Hopefully she’ll sleep most of the evening and night,” Chan-yeol replied.

“I see,” answered the leader, trying to mask his concern. He realised how much he yearned for her presence.

“Everything will work out right, Kkangpae?” Chan-yeol asked, seeking reassurance.

“Of course. How is your wife, Chan-yeol?” Yoongi replied confidently. He vividly recalls her disparagement of this plan, as if her opinion mattered to him. She had shown a protective instinct towards her, much like her mother had. It stirred conflicting emotions within him.

“She won’t be a problem, I promise.” His voice was laced with a hint of fear. It was only natural to be afraid of someone like Yoongi.

The plan was for her to reach Jeju Island, and stumbling upon the warehouse was a mere coincidence—a twist of fate that strengthened Yoongi’s belief in their union. The way she looked into his eyes made him breathless.

His heart burned for her even more than ever before.

to be continued

author’s note: yall I have to say I didn't expect that much of love for my baby. Thank you all beautiful creatures! Feels very surreal. Thank you for all the love, reblogs and comments. I love you, I see you. I hope you enjoyed the first and second chapter and will look forward to the next one ♥ Stay tuned for the preview of chapter III soonish ♥

Also I tried to add everyone who asked to the tag list, and if you want to be in too or you ain't tagged properly, comment or dm ♥

Shout out to Bex the queen @chaoticpuff17 for beta reading this chapter and shout out to all her bombastically good fics!! ♥ ily♥

Love you!!!!

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love,

𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

taglist: @chaoticpuff17 @honsoolgloss @jingerbreadoutofstock @moocow778 @janura26 @dinosolecito @yoongislatinagff @xyahrinx @ruhmoojeonjunkook-blog @hi12345567 @nochue @deltamoon666 @bbkissme99 @darkuni63 @nansasa @sazsazsaz @missmin @strxwbloody @royallyjjk @jaiuneamesolitaiire @shadowyjellyfishfest

©pennyellee. please do not repost

#bts #bts fic #yandere yoongi #yandere bts #yandere namjoon #soft yandere #mafia au #yandere seokjin #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #hard yandere #yandere #yandere kpop #yandere taehyung #mafia bts #lacrimosa #myg angst #dark!yoongi #min yoongi x y/n #bts x you #yoongi smut #haegeum #suga x you #suga x y/n #suga x reader #historical au #bts historical au #bts yandere au #fic:lacrimosa

[airaibunny]

dom!mina x sub!fem!reader - “do not touch” (warnings: smut, masturbation, degradation, thigh riding, crying, orgasm denial, bondage, finger sucking[idk if that’s the actual name, im sorry], voyeurism, use of sex toys)

a/n: sorry for making you guys wait for this. hope the wait is worth it😭

word count: 1.5k

mina drives you insane. you can’t look her way without wanting to feel her hands all over you. she of course knows this and uses it against you quite a lot. she only gives you what you want once she feels you’ve begged enough.

today is no different. you’re sitting beside her on the couch, pleading with her to pay attention to you. your tactics aren’t working however, she still refuses to comply with your desire.

“mina unnie,” you whisper to her, making sure the others don’t hear you. she turns to look at you, waiting for you to go on. “can we go upstairs?”

she puts her hand on your thigh and whispers back at you. “wait a little longer.” you stay silent for a few minutes, listening to everyone else’s conversation, but you quickly get bored and try again with mina.

“mina unnie, please.” she pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue, speaking to you while still looking at everyone else. “why are you being so needy? i told you to wait.” you huff and turn away from her, sulking in your spot. she doesn’t seem to care that you’re upset, so you storm off and head upstairs.

once in your room, you shut the door and lay on your bed, pouting in frustration. you contemplate just waiting for her to dignify your request at her convenience, but quickly decide against it. you need to get rid of the tension between your legs, you can’t be patient anymore.

you swiftly slide off your shorts and underwear, throwing them across the room. you bend your knees, lifting your legs to give yourself greater access to your core. you bring one of your hands under your shirt, using it to play with your breasts. all you can think about is how much you wish it was mina doing this to you.

you place your other hand on top of your soaking heat, immediately beginning to rub small circles on your clit. your eyes close, thinking of mina. you picture her leaning over you, praising you while her fingers move in slow, circular motions over your swollen clit. this isn’t enough, you can’t do it as well as her. why can’t she give in? why does she have to be such a megalomaniac?

“you just couldn’t hold on, could you?”

you look up to see mina standing at the foot of the bed. you somehow didn’t notice the door opening.

“you didn’t even lock the door, what if someone else walked in?” she coos while walking around the bed, inching closer to you. “if they were willing to do what you won’t, i wouldn’t have cared.” you reply, hoping to get any sort of reaction out of her. “is that so?” her calm response only angers you further.

you watch as she takes her clothes off and lays down beside you on the bed. ‘finally’ you think, reaching out to satisfy your hours-long desire to touch her. she grabs onto your wrist before your hand lands on her body, startling you a bit.

“no. from what you just said, it sounds like you don’t need me, slut. so you don’t get to touch me.”

she drops your wrist, bringing her hand to her own body. you watch her close her eyes and caress her breasts, drawing circles around her nipples. you feel yourself soaking onto the sheets, desperately wishing you could touch her as well. her hands travel lower, stroking her inner thighs. a moan escapes her lips and your breathing hitches.

“are you enjoying this?” she asks without opening her eyes or stopping her movements. “mhm.” you answer, sliding closer to her to get a better view. she smirks and brings her hand to her folds, spreading them apart with her middle and ring finger before pushing them both inside.

she moans again, bringing her other hand over her mouth to quiet herself. your cheeks redden as you watch her fingers slide in and out of her entrance. it’s sinful how delightful she looks while playing with herself.

you bring your hand down to your core again, wanting to at least get off by your own accord. she quickly notices what you’re doing, removing the hand on her mouth to stop you.

“you did enough of that earlier.”

she keeps her hand on your wrists, holding them in place. you groan in annoyance but don’t fight her, you want to keep watching. her pace becomes erratic and her moans grow louder. you worry about the girls outside hearing her, but quickly forget when she tightens her grip on your wrists. her legs twitch and she slows down her motions gradually, waiting to be completely done.

she pants for a few seconds and lets go of you. “my turn, please.” you whine at her, trying to touch her once again.

“i don’t think so, i’m not done.”

she turns away from you, reaching in the nightstand beside your bed. she turns back with a small, light pink vibrator in her hand. she sits up in bed, leaning back against the headboard. “sit in front of me.” she demands, turning the vibrator on. you comply and go sit by her legs, getting as close as she’ll let you.

she opens her legs wider, letting you get a perfect view of her heat. she’s still dripping from her last orgasm and you want to lean down to take all of it in. “aw, do you want me to let you clean me up?” you nod your head, maybe she’ll finally give you what you want.

“you should have thought about that when you were being so fucking bold earlier.”

she takes the vibrator to her breasts, softly brushing it against her nipples. you’re practically salivating at the sight in front of you. she keeps it pressed against her skin, moving it lower. she reaches in between her thighs and smirks at you before placing it over her clit.

she draws small circles over it, making sure you’re watching her every move. small whines and moans leave her lips as she speeds up. her free hand is on the sheets beside her, clutching them for support. you inner thighs are completely coated in your slick just from watching mina.

“fuck.” you hear her whimper to herself. her circular motions become clumsy and hurried as her back begins to arch. you watch in anticipation, waiting for her to finish again. her release comes with one long, continuous whine that leaves you a bit breathless yourself. you’re enjoying getting to just watch way more than you thought you would.

she suddenly springs up from bed, walking over to the closet and grabbing a long, black ribbon. “sit on your knees and put your hands behind your back.” you hesitate, furrowing your eyebrows at her “why?”

“i need to use you, but i still don’t want you to touch. do what i said.”

you do as you were told, scared that she might just leave you here if you snap back at her again. she crawls behind you on the bed, tying your hands together with the ribbon. she comes back around, putting a hand in between your thighs to force them apart. you gasp at her touch and she giggles. “don’t get to excited, i’m still not finished with myself.”

you sulk for a few seconds but freeze when she comes closer to you and sits on your thigh. your eyes widen at the unfamiliar situation, you’re normally the one on her thigh. you’re not displeased with this however, she looks fucking amazing on top of you. you can feel her wetness on your skin and can’t help but inch closer to her chest, trying to kiss her.

she pushes your head back, abruptly pushing two fingers inside your mouth. “what part of ‘don’t touch’ is so fucking hard to understand?” you gag at the feeling, but also feel yourself dripping even more.

mina begins dragging her hips along your thigh, keeping her fingers inside your mouth. she quickly becomes as loud as before, holding onto your shoulder with her free hand. tears form in your eyes from the sensation of her fingers. “you’re really crying? that’s fucking pathetic.” she taunts, chuckling through breathy moans.

“flex your thigh.” she commands, looking down at you. you immediately do what she said, hoping to make her finish quicker. she speeds up, growing louder with every movement. more tears fall from your eyes as she pushes her fingers deeper into your mouth without thinking. you’re sure you’re drenching the sheets under you.

mina’s grip on your shoulder tightens and she slightly digs her nails into your skin. she practically lets out a scream as her third orgasm hits her. you keep your thigh flexed until she fully stops, meaning that she was completely done. she takes her fingers out of your mouth, wiping your saliva from your chin. “you’re so messy.” she smiles, licking her fingers clean. you sigh, still crying.

“why are you crying now?” she asks, untying your hands. “it aches so bad, please let me have a turn.” you wipe away a tear and extend your hand to hold hers. you stop yourself before reaching her, remembering what she told you. she chuckles, holding out her hand for you.

“you can have your turn, but don’t speak to me like you did earlier, ever again.”

#kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #fanfic #kpop gg #fanfiction #kpop smut #smut #kpop x you #kpop girls #kpop x reader #smut fic #twice #twice mina #twice smut #twice fanfic #twice x y/n #twice x reader #twice x you #myoui mina #mina x y/n #mina smut #mina x you #mina x reader #mina #wlw #wlw smut #wlw nsft #twice imagines #kpop #kpop gg x reader

[cuffmeinblack]

From the prompt list

13,18 with Ominis?

A certain necklace of a certain aunt Noctua being gifted to a certain someone as a token of love and to remind others to back off?

Parting gift

Ominis Gaunt x gn!reader

Tags: fluff

850 words

"oh, shit. I'm in love with you??" prompt: 18. having them give something of importance to them for you, as a gift

A/n: Thank you for the prompt (and the gif)! I chose 18 for this one. He's a bloody romantic and you can't stop meeeeeeeeeeee.

Ominis had been acting strangely as you approached the end of your time at Hogwarts. The way he'd fiddle with his wand and become lost in thought couldn't be attributed to your examinations now that they were over. He'd secured a job, all was well, so why was he so distracted?

The nervous energy that radiated off of him was catching and set you on edge when you were alone with him. More often than not, you'd end up watching his movements, occasionally losing yourself in his turbulent eyes, wondering just what was bothering him.

You'd tried to ask him, of course, but he'd so far managed to brush off your enquiries. Even Sebastian had thus far been unable to draw an answer out of him. Perhaps a drop of veritaserum in his morning tea would loosen his tongue, you thought idly.

When finally he admitted what he'd been ruminating, it was the last day of term. Celebrations were being had all about the castle and tearful goodbyes exchanged. You had promised to write to Sebastian, as often as you could whilst you were travelling, earning you a heartfelt embrace, but the words didn't seem to elicit the same response from Ominis.

"I'm...not thrilled at the prospect of you being alone on your travels," he admitted.

"Are you worried? I'm more than capable of facing whatever is out there."

Ominis shook his head, whether in disbelief or to convey a misunderstanding, you weren't sure. His hand delved into the coat of his blazer, pulling out a familiar silver chain, draped over his delicate fingers. After a second of contemplation as he brushed the locket with his thumb, he held it out in the palm of his hand.

"Take this with you. For me?"

Reaching forward, you picked up the delicate chain, ignoring the flutter in your chest as you brushed his warm skin. It was beautiful, understated and too precious for you to keep.

"This was your aunt's? I can't take this, Ominis."

"Why ever not? Please, I wish you to have it."

The large opal in the centre of the locket glittered in the waning light, and you turned it over to run your fingers over the Gaunt family crest with a sigh. Returning your gaze to your dear friend, you noticed he finally seemed at peace; his hands clasped in front of him and face relaxed with no hint of a frown.

He been so eager to gift this to you, for reasons you couldn't fathom. His cloudy blue eyes held no answers, but you searched them anyway as your heart raced and a blush crept onto your cheeks. Ominis had always been generous in how he bestowed thoughtful gestures, though you now realised that you'd been their only recipient.

"This is...this is a family heirloom, Ominis. I know you don't care much for your family traditions but..."

"That is exactly the point, you see. I had hoped that one day you...," he trailed off, seemingly unable to finish his train of thought. "Take it with you, so that perhaps you might think of me. When you return I'll be waiting. You may return it then, unless of course you'd prefer not to."

You almost laughed at the thought of needing a trinket to think of him. You'd be thinking of him regardless, though you were no longer sure exactly how. Was he just a friend if the thought of being apart from him illicited such a deep sense of dread? That the jewellery now clasped tightly in your palm radiated comfort and quelled the longing which you already anticipated?

He cared enough to give you something so precious, which spoke volumes of his character and how he really felt for you. You'd been blind to his affections until this moment, and the sharp inhale of breath you took as the realisation hit you sent a ripple through the air between you.

"Do you understand?" Ominis asked quietly.

"Yes, I do."

You stepped towards him, gently brushing the back of his hand as he tilted his head towards the sound of your heavy breathing. Picking up his his hand, you turned it over and placed the locket in his palm, a pained expression crossing his face until you spoke.

"Could you help me put it on?"

Ominis smiled in relief, feeling the chain to find the delicate clasp as you turned to face away from him, exposing your neck. His featherlight touch glided over your exposed skin, tracing your spine before circling around to the side as he brought the necklace in front of you. Your fingertips glided over the opal as it lay perfectly just below your collarbone, turning back towards Ominis and gasping at how close he'd become.

"Ominis, I don't need this to think of you, but I'll take it with me," you whispered.

"Thank you. It's comforting to know you'll have something of me."

"May I ask for something else to take with me?" you asked, a sudden boldness overcoming you.

"Of course, what is it?" Ominis replied, tilting his head in question.

"A kiss."

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt drabble #ominis gaunt x reader

[elitadream]

Mario had been contemplating solutions in vain, sitting by himself forlornly after yet another grim and discouraging day of continuous failure when he registered the faint shuffling of timid steps nearby.

It was quite late and the man didn't exactly have the energy to feel surprised, but he curiously lifted his head nonetheless.

"Junior?" He wondered aloud, gazing worriedly at his provisory ally. "What's wrong?"

The young prince was rubbing his eyes, swaying idly on his feet and stubbornly staring at the ground. He didn't respond, but he didn't need to. His distress and need for company was plain to see.

Knowingly, Mario unfolded his legs and rested both hands on his knees, giving him a compassionate look.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Junior shrugged before joining him and leaning against his side, eyes downcast. There was no trace of mischief or deception to his demeanor. Only a defeated sort of acceptance.

Mario couldn't help but feel a genuine twinge of amazement at the vulnerable gesture.

"I'm... really sorry about your dad," he ventured, not quite daring to move.

Junior blinked wearily, but showed no other sign of acknowledgement. There was a brief moment of silence until Mario felt compelled to look at him once more.

"I don't know how long this might take, but I promise you we will find a way to turn him back to normal. I will not give up on you, or him. You have my word," he assured gently.

Junior merely curled in on himself more tightly as a response, appearing impossibly small compared to the gigantic beast his father had somehow become. His brows were furrowed in an expression the plumber had never seen before. A deep sadness mixed with a touch of remorsefulness, or perhaps resentment.

Mario was about to ask if he had somehow said something he shouldn't when Junior finally spoke.

"My Papa is wrong about you," he muttered, very quietly.

Before Mario could so much as blink, the small Koopa went on, shaking his head with a sniffle.

"You're not a coward and you're not stupid. You work hard and you never complain. You just want to help everyone, all the time. Even us."

His words, albeit said reluctantly, were spoken with uncharacteristic sincerity. Mario couldn't find it in himself to smile, so he carefully wrapped an arm around the prince's shell instead, giving his shoulder a comforting pat.

"I don't mind the insults. Not really," he amended softly, hoping that he somehow sounded more confident than he felt. "I guess that's just the way Bowser perceives me. It's okay."

"No, it's not," the young heir retorted. "He's very unfair towards you. He said some really mean and hurtful things, and-"

Junior stopped himself with a small whine, pawing at his face again. He was still averting his gaze, but the fragile tone of his voice betrayed his guilt.

"...I said mean things, too. I'm sorry."

For a few seconds, Mario could only stare mutely back at him, stunned by the unexpected apology. He then shifted closer, bringing his arm more securely around the Koopa in a side hug.

"Everybody makes mistakes," he murmured. "But everybody can change."

"I wish that was also true for my Papa," Junior mumbled, dejectedly.

At this, Mario hummed wistfully, his answer long believed and thoroughly considered.

"Maybe... all he needs is a bit of help."

-

When I first heard of Bowser's Fury a few months ago, all I knew about the plot was that Junior goes to seek Mario's help in the hopes of stopping his father's rampage. And words couldn't describe how much I LOVED the idea. Although this is an older drawing and my look for Junior has since changed a bit (the same way I eventually altered Bowser's design), this was the concept that later inspired the way I've decided to approach Mario and Junior's relationship in a broader sense - which means that there'll definitely be more with these two. :3

Mario being enduringly kind and winning foes over with nothing but his goodness of heart never fails to give me feels, and I want more of that. 💖

#Mario #Bowser Jr #Junior #drama #mild angst #bittersweet vibes #cautious friendship #just a little something I've been thinking about a lot lately #everybody hurts deep down #compassion is a gift

[reivrze]

wanted more – sim jaeyun

in which jake wanted to be respectful but neglected you in the process ( ? ) pairing. popular!jake x reader warning. none word count. 0.5k note. big thanks to sana @chacottone for the idea !! sorry it took so long to make, i’ve been a little busy with other stuff 😭

Jake was undeniably the most popular guy in school. With his infectious smile and warm personality, he radiated charm wherever he went. So when he asked you out on a date, it was no surprise that you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement. You had always admired Jake from afar, his golden retriever-like personality drawing you in like a magnet.

As you embarked on your date, you couldn't help but notice that Jake wasn't as physically affectionate as you had expected. While you strolled through the park, he kept a polite distance, his hands never brushing against yours or seeking the comfort of your touch. Your heart sank a little with each missed opportunity for a gentle connection.

You stopped at a small café, and you found yourself stealing glances at Jake, searching for some sign of affection. But he remained friendly and engaging, his laughter filling the air as you shared stories and jokes. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling of longing, a desire for a simple touch or gesture to solidify the evening.

As you walked home together, the evening sun casting a warm glow, you mustered up the courage to address your concerns. You hesitated for a moment before finally breaking the silence.

"Jake, can I ask you something?" You spoke softly, your voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

Jake turned to face you, his bright eyes filled with genuine curiosity. "Of course, y/n. Anything."

You took a deep breath, your words tumbling out in a rush. "Are you always this distant? I don’t know, maybe i’m stepping out of line but it just seems like you’ve been avoiding me all evening..?"

Jake's expression softened, and he paused for a moment, as if contemplating his response. "What?? No no, sorry! I didn’t want it to come off as distancing myself, I was just worried that i’d make you uncomfortable, I wanted this to be perfect… Haha I guess I messed up a little"

You felt a mixture of relief and admiration wash over you. You hadn't expected such thoughtfulness from someone as popular as Jake. The realization that he had been holding back out of concern for your comfort touched you deeply.

Without another word, Jake gently reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt the warmth of his touch, a connection you had yearned for throughout the entire evening. You continued walking hand in hand, your fingers entwined as you shared a comfortable silence.

Just as you reached your doorstep, Jake came to a sudden stop. He turned to face you, his gaze filled with a mixture of tenderness and anticipation. your heart raced as you instinctively knew what was about to happen.

In one fluid motion, Jake pulled you closer, his hand gently cradling your cheek. Your lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss, soft and full of promise. It was a gentle collision of emotions, a quiet acknowledgement of the connection that had been silently growing between you.

© miyu 2023 - do not copy, translate, repost or plagiarize my work anywhere !

#kflixnet #enhanet #hyfenet #enhypen #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen masterlist #enha fluff #enha x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen headcanons #enhypen oneshots #enha #engene #jake fluff #jake imagines #jake scenarios #jake fanfic #jake fan fiction #jake oneshot #jake drabbles #jake x reader #sim jaeyun #enhypen fanfic #sim jaeyun imagines #sim jaeyun scenarios #sim jaeyun fluff #sim jaeyun oneshot

[ssahotchnerr]

What do you think about Jack coming to you when he tells Aaron is off. Cause obviously he'll notice. No one knows Aaron as well as Jack (except maybe the reader). So when he notices he's off he'll come to you for help knowing you make Aaron happy 😭

-🌱

something off

cw; brief mention of haley, jack is sad :(

something was off. you had noticed it when you picked jack up from school that afternoon, as he picked at his dinner, as he very unenthusiastically got ready for bed and settled in for story time.

it was aaron and jack's nighttime tradition, established long before you had entered the picture. aaron had confided in you one night, that reading a story before bed was something he started after haley passed, in attempt to keep jack's mind far away from any horrors before falling asleep- he didn't want jack's mind being plagued with nightmares if he could help it.

by now, there were numerous shelves of books the two of them had gone through, and story time was the most anticipated part of the night. the only thing more exciting, was when the three of you ventured to the bookstore in search of a new read after finishing one.

so when aaron was away, you more than graciously stepped in.

hence your current situation- the two of you underneath jack's star wars comforter- littered with stormtroopers, droids, numerous ships- with jack's cheek resting against your sleeve as he followed along to the words.

you've gone through maybe half a chapter- the current read was harry potter and the chamber of secrets- when it was clear jack hadn't been paying attention. he was a more restless than usual, his tiny feet kicking into your leg every so often, jostling around as he attempted to get comfortable.

"hey buddy, what's on your mind?"

he let out a breath as he thought, as if he were contemplating sharing his thoughts. it took him a moment, but he spoke up.

"is daddy okay?" he ever so slightly mumbled, looking up at you with his big, sad eyes.

you sat up slightly, closing the book but keeping place with your thumb. "of course he's okay." you reassured, but his expression didn't falter. "what has you worried?"

"i don't know." jack let out a sigh again. "he just... wasn't happy this morning."

ah, yes. your mind recalled breakfast, with aaron hastily leaving the apartment. he had gotten an urgent call about a case you presumed, as he and the team had traveled to florida. it was something definitely not good either, if the way his expression had hardened had anything to say about it. he had left barely saying anything, much less a goodbye, to the two of you- simply giving you a kiss and giving jack one at the top of his head.

"oh sweetheart, were you worried all day?" at your words, jack's eyes immediately brimmed with tears, causing your heart to just break. you placed the book aside to pull jack half onto your lap, rubbing his back soothingly.

"he's just a little stressed about work." you reassured him, wiping a lone tear with the pad of your thumb. "but he's fine. i promise you."

he clearly wasn't convinced. "but is he going to be okay?"

"yeah." you nodded your head, holding him close. there was only so much you could tell him. "sometimes he's gets frustrated, his job is very hard and he gets tired. you know his job is saving good people from bad people, and your dad really wants to save the good people, so it gets to be a lot at times."

"i know." he agreed softly.

"but he's going to be just fine. and he's safe, if you're worried about that too. nothing bad will happen to him, i promise you." you held out your pinky.

it took him a few moments, but jack interlocked his pinky tightly around yours.

"do you feel a bit better, talking about it? i can't let my jackers go to sleep sad." you ruffled his hair gently, and you got a small nod in response. "how about tomorrow, we'll do something to make him smile when he gets home?"

"like what?"

"hmm," you thought for a moment. "well, i know he told me he would really like a new drawing to have with him at work. y'know, your pictures help him feel better when he's away."

"really?"

"really." you tickled his side gently, causing him to laugh. "and tomorrow before school, we'll give him a call so you can talk to him. i know that'll make him feel so much better too."

"okay." he nodded, scooting closer to your side.

"and if you're ever worried, you can always come to me, okay? or your dad. if anything was very wrong, we would let you know. we're a family, and families go through things together."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x you

[crusty-chronicles]

Hi hi!

Can I request a kurapika x reader (headcanons, or you can do a oneshot if it's too difficult.)?

Where the reader also had an immense hatred for the phantom troupe for something they did to reader?

Kurapika also finds them enjoyable to be around because reader is just such a chill person?

(Also this is random but can the personality for the reader be super shy to everyone they meet and they just draws whenever they can? Because that's just my personality.)

Kurapika with a Phantom Troupe Hating S/O

----------------------------

He first noticed you during the first phase of the hunter exam

You were just another contestant to him at the time

Just another stranger.

And it would have stayed like that had you not stopped during Leorio's crisis

Staying put as he contemplated quitting. Only to say something that Kurapika couldn't quite hear.

But whatever it was, it had Leorio jumping up with new vigor and running once again.

Words he would later learn were, "You're friends are waiting for you, ya know? So don't give up just yet."

The next time Kurapika notices you is during the third phase. Where a group of five was needed to advance.

And by chance, you just so happened to be the fifth member.

He immediately noticed your skittish behavior upon seeing them.

Back to the wall with eyes the size of dinner plates.

A quiet 'Hi' escaping you as the cogs turned in your head.

But you didn't have to think for long as the instructions for the third phase were explained.

With the assurance that you wouldn't have to fight anyone, you relaxed.

You didn't talk much, at least not to him

Usually giving one worded responses if you had to.

Despite this, your actions didn't come off as malicious. But rather nervous.

Like you were unsure of yourself.

However, with constant prodding from Gon and Killua, you opened up a bit.

Adding some insight whenever a choice had to be made

For some reason he couldn't place, Kurapika wanted to hear a little more of your voice.

To have you talk without you feeling strained

He would get his wish during the next challenge of this phase.

The prisoner with a spider tattoo.

Seeing him had caused enough rage within Kurapika to activate his scarlet eyes.

So much anger.

So much hatred that he couldn't focus on anything else.

Unaware of you fuming from the sidelines.

Your first clenched so tightly, there were imprints of your nails.

Leorio was the one to bring it up after you were forced to give up 50 hours.

"I thought Kurapika hated the Phantom Troupe, but you were absolutely pissed at that inmate! You wouldn't happen to be a Kurta would you?"

You looked up from the sketchbook you were doodling in with a frown.

"No. I just can't stand that gang of brutes."

Your voice came out harsh, your pencil strokes getting faster.

But that answer wasn't satisfactory for the blonde sitting next to you.

If you knew something about the Spiders, he wanted to know. He needed to know.

"What business do you have with the phantom troupe?" His tone dangerously dark.

But instead of answering him, you slid over the piece you were working on.

To his and Leorio's shock, bloodied scenes filled the pages.

"The leader stole my brother's nen ability and practiced it on him. Over and over again." Until there was nothing left.

But you didn't want to get into specifics right now. If you did, you most likely wouldn't be able to finish the exam.

"Drawing helps. A way for me to remember so that I never forget what they did to him. I need to become a hunter so I'll have a better shot of finding them."

It was the most you've ever spoken, and when you looked up, you were met with sympathetic and understanding gazes.

You were a lot less quiet after that.

A lot more friendlier too.

And while Kurapika had someone to relate to, he just couldn't stand the thought of you being the one to cause the spiders' demise.

He understood your rage, but his own would never be satisfied unless he took down the Phantom with his own hands.

So as a friendly warning, he told you so himself.

"As you're aware, the Troupe murdered my entire clan. And I can never forgive them for that, just as you can never forgive them for taking your brother from you. But it's me who's going to bring them to justice. I will not allow someone else to be their downfall. No matter if we're friends."

And instead of you arguing with him, instead of you fighting, instead of either of you lashing out....

You spoke in that soft tone of yours.

"I want to kill him. All of them, but I can be content just knowing they'll suffer. If you want to go after them, I won't interfere. But I'd like to help."

Relief immediately flowed through him.

You weren't upset.

You weren't going to push back.

You were still friends.

"Then let's stick together after the exam. Your presence is enjoyable."

The beginning of a partnership built on loss

Of relying on each other because no one else understood.

Trying to complete the ultimate goal of finishing the Spiders while justifying the closeness between each other

But neither of you pushing for more.

Destroying the Phantom Troupe came first after all.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter x y/n #hxh x reader #hxh x y/n #kurapika x reader #hxh kurapika #kurapika kurta

[cosmicdumpling]

monster » choi san

SYNOPSIS: You’re the devil-may-care daughter of a rich conglomerate, and that’s why you need Choi San, a top-notch bodyguard, for protection. The problem is, you want and need him in more ways than one, and while he remains professional albeit not naive to your advances, his patience is starting to wear unbearably thin.

PAIRING: san x fem!reader (no pronouns used)

GENRE/S: suggestive with a hint of angst 

THEME/S: bodyguard!san, reader is a brat (you get the dynamic haha)

⚠️ WARNING/S: profanities, so much sexual tension, anxiety, smoking, mentions of blood, violence, brawling

WORD COUNT: 2k

➺ MAIN MASTERLIST

Brat.

San clicks his tongue as he wipes his knuckles free from a mix of dirt and blood, the bathroom door slowly creaking shut behind him. He hears a few muffled clicks and clunks, groaning, and then a poor bottle hitting the door as a result of being thrown out of a sheer tantrum.

With a huff, he turns his head and looks at the door from over his shoulder, the gears in his brain slowly rotating as he contemplates whether to help you out or not. But after a few moments of hesitance, he chooses the latter.

He finishes wiping the remaining grime off of his hand, then chucks the wipes into a nearby bin. San’s footsteps echo inside the large yet empty bedroom, his hand fishing the pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his suit as he slides the balcony door open and steps out. He lights the cigarette, inhales an amount of smoke, and then exhales it back out.

He needs it to relax after tonight’s storm-tossed events.

San is the type of bodyguard who will settle things borderline politely as long as he can, maybe merely twisting one’s arm or grabbing somebody by the collar as a last-minute defense mechanism. But tonight, you definitely pushed him to his limits.

You’re allowed to go clubbing, yes, but under San’s supervision. 

You’re allowed to drink and get wasted, but still under San’s company and supervision. 

You’ve never tried to break free from it, ever, that’s why when you tried to do just that tonight, San went off the deep end. After a few moments of panicking, aggressive searching, and maybe a little bit of threatening, he finally found you getting thrown over the shoulder of a man, maybe to bring home or up the stairs into one of the rooms for him to enjoy.

Sadly enough for the stranger, he didn’t get to take his fourth step up the stairs, and San had him beaten into a pulp. 

And surprisingly enough, you were sober enough to actually stop him and tell him to just bring you home.

“Daddy!” Your muffled voice makes San snap out of his trance, and he whips his head to stare at the door past the windblown curtains.

So, you’re about to throw a drunk tantrum all over again, calling for your dad to whine and complain about what San had done once more. Your dad, who will obviously take his side because you’re reckless, and everything that San has done is what your dad had expected of him to do for your safety.

“Daddy!” 

San drops the cigarette butt on the ground, steps on it, and throws it into the bin on his way back in. He slides the glass shut, draws the curtains back, and knocks on the bathroom door.

Before he could speak, the door flings open, and he’s surprised to see you still fully clothed, leaning against the wall next to the crack of the door. San jerks his head to the door of your room.

“He’s not home. He went out.”

“I know, silly,” You sigh, removing your other earring before you slam it down onto the surface of the sink. “I was calling for you.”

San’s brow jerks discursively in response. 

So, you think it’s playtime.

“You reek of smoke. You know I don’t like the smell of smoke,” Chuckling, you open the door wider and take a step closer to him. Eyeing him up and down, you take notice of the broadness of his shoulders and the buff of his chest, your eager fingers coming up to toy with his tie. 

“You’re doing that on purpose to keep me away from you, aren’t you?”

San angles his head away as he swats your hand using the back of his wrist. His gaze is intense as he clenches his jaw while looking at you. 

Of all the tests life has given him, maybe this is still the hardest. Patience. You really like to mess with his patience, and that’s because you know his tolerance is a little low.

“What do you need?”

“You,” You say and raise a brow, narrowing your eyes at him as much as he remains stoic. And then silence; he seems unfazed and yet you’re not embarrassed, so you chuckle to yourself and turn your back against him.

“I need you to unzip my dress, I can’t reach it.” 

Click.

He takes a step closer, his large hands fiddling with the little zipper that’s barely half an inch of his finger. He unzips it just low enough for you to reach, and before you could say more, he makes eye contact with you through the huge bathroom mirror.

“Is that all?”

You smirk. “Unless you want to do more for me, then yes.”

San clicks his tongue, and he huffs before finally moving out of the door, making sure to slam it shut and make it known to you that he’s pissed after everything.

Perhaps, your homegrown personality and attraction to your bodyguard is a bad combination as well; it takes all of San’s strength to maintain professionalism when you act like a whole bratㅡ for instance, at times like this, when you’re tipsy and even more whimsical and flirty than you already are.

He’d been with you for three whole years, doing the same thing. Standing by your side, making sure nobody gets too close, and ensuring that nobody harms you in any way. And of course, in those three years, you’ve shown him kindness. You’ve shown him goodness even if you try to conceal it with another playful remark right after.

Heck, sometimes he even wonders that if you’re not so closed off and stuck up in your own arse, you would become friends. You always say that. You always tell him you want friends, that you want him to be your friend. And if he’s going to be honest, he wants to be your friend, too. But the problem is, he thinks you don’t mean what you say, only because you say it when you’re drunk and sad and a little playful.

San hopes you’re sober when you say you want to be with him while having this whole different look in your eyes– one he could possibly mistake as the desire to be loved by him.

But you’re always drunk when you do exactly that. 

Sure, a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts, but a part of him wishes to hear them from you without alcohol clouding your head. He wants to see you mean it.

But then the other part of him thinks that it’s better off this wayㅡ for you both to be distant and nothing near friends. For one, it’ll be harder for him in his job. And two, you both belong in two different worlds that don’t cross.

You’re meant to be in the center of the room in all your lavish glory. He’s meant to be somewhere in the room ensuring you don’t get robbed of it. That’s it.

San stops pondering for a moment, and the night goes completely still. It’s suddenly so quiet. No grumbling, no stomping, no throwing of things, and no running of the shower.

It’s quiet. 

Too quiet.

“y/n?” He turns around and calls. A few seconds pass, and then he hears it. Your troubled screams echo into the still night, and San pugnaciously pushes the bathroom door open.

The door goes wide ajar, with San frantically looking around for the possible intruder. And just then, the worried look on San’s face is wiped off; replaced with a rather restrained expression when he sets his eyes onto your. . . rather. . . relaxed figure on the tub.

“Woah there,” You chuckle, looking up at him with an amused expression as you toy with the water your body is submerged in. “Easy, big boy. It’s just me,”

An airy snort leaves your nostrils, and you purse your lips in an attempt to hide your smile.

You sit up slightly, pulling on the tub’s drain stopper as the water begins to clear out. San turns away, shoving his hands inside his pockets.

“I needed help because my towel was too far from me. Could you hand it, please?”

Mischief clouds your voice, and with the way you sounded, San could visualize the shit-eating grin on your lips.

Clenching his jaw for the umpteenth time tonight, San forcefully tugs the material off of the golden hook, eyes locking with yours as he hands it to you; persistent enough to not let his eyes wander anywhere else.

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Alarming me when there’s no emergency.”

With this, you chuckle in mischief, the long, dragging, hum enough to tell him it’s nowhere near your agenda nor in your vocabulary.

“I’m just playing around with you because I want to be friends. Father never allows me to socialize with other teens and I have nobody but you. Is that too much to ask?” You say, faking puppy eyes as you grab the towel from his hands, sparing him a fleeting flirty gaze and a quirk of your brow as you wrap the towel around your body.

He rolls his eyes, stepping away to walk back out into the bedroom. You snicker at his signature expression, finding fun in the way he reacts to your flirting, and so you step out of the tub to play even more.

“Why don’t weㅡ”

“Stop testing my patience.” He growls, cutting you off by pushing your hips against the nearby sink when you try to place your hand on his shoulder, taking you by a rather pleasant surprise with his sudden roughness; the tips of his fingers digging into your towel.

“I’ve been holding myself back for a very long time and your mighty daddy won’t like what ungodly things I could do to his little princess if she continues pushing my buttons,” San says through gritted teeth, his lingering gaze piercing through your own orbs.

“Nobody said you should hold yourself back,” You grab his sleeve before he could pull away. San tries to avoid your eyes, so you push yourself up from leaning against the sink to run your fingers, ghosting them against his clothed chest. 

“You’re not an imbecile and you know that I want you, San.” 

His fingers dig deeper into your towel as you speak, his lashes fluttering prettily against his cheek as he rethinks his actions. Then, he lifts his head, jaw clenching again whilst his gaze flutters from your lips and your eyes.

You cup his jaw and lean in, just as San pulls away.

The sudden action is enough to leave the both of you stunned, and you stare at him as he shuts his eyes close, shaking his head at himself before he moves out of the bathroom and slams the door shut.

The door closes, and so you scramble to compose yourself, shakily opening the door before looking at his retreating figure in desperation. It’s your first time miraculously sobering up completely, and you refuse to believe it’s because you’re passing fancy for your own bodyguard, and you’re about to get rejected.

“You can beat somebody into a pulp but you can’t give somebody a kiss? I didn’t know you were such a coward, San!” You taunt and tease from the doorway, and you try to hide the trembling of your voice by feigning a jesting tone, in an attempt to stop him from walking away and make him come back.

But he doesn’t; not even when you’re wrong.

There’s a reason he’s learned how to protect, to fight, to kill. He isn’t a coward nor a good man— he’s the farthest thing from one. 

You’ve already got him going crazy, and now you’re letting him in as he pleases, so he musters the strength to walk away. 

He walks away, because the moment he sets a single foot over the line between you two, he knows he’ll never let you go, even if the time comes when you beg him to. He’s going to keep you, love you, indulge you, break you— and it’s an obsession he knows he will never let go of until the day he dies.

Why there's always been a monster in him waiting to be roused, after all.

#san fluff #ateez san fluff #choi san fluff #ateez fluff #san suggestive #ateez san suggestive #choi san suggestive #ateez suggestive #san x reader #ateez san x reader #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #san imagines #ateez san imagines #choi san imagines #ateez imagines

[strawberrystepmom]

prev chap | YOU ARE A FEVER | gojo x f!reader | series masterlist | next chap

cw: reader has defined characteristics (complexion that visibly reddens), two sisters, mentions of farming and livestock. word count 3k.

SIX YEARS AGO IN THE VILLAGE OF UCRA

Your days begin before the sun begins her own.

Distant roosters crow letting you know that morning has arrived and you shift in your bed uncomfortably, linen sheets scratching against your bare legs. Reasoning with yourself for five more minutes would be useless knowing it would throw your entire day off schedule. For a fleeting selfish moment, you contemplate the harm in allowing those measly minutes to clear your own head. The more reasonable part of you wins out this time, five minutes here and there add up quickly if you tally them at the end of the day, and your feet dangle over the edge of the bed. Your grandmother’s voice is audible through the door separating your bedroom from the kitchen, the soft clatter of dishes accompanying the sound of her singing quietly to an audience of no one.  

Padding softly across the floor, you swing the door open and greet her with a sleepy half-smile. Your sisters are still asleep and your grandfather is out of the village to trade leaving you responsible for the animals until he returns. The chickens will be fed twice today and their eggs will be collected and delivered to your neighbors. The goats will be pet gently while they’re milked, something you hope you can convince one of the girls to help with. The cows will be allowed to mosey in the pasture all day, chomping on grass while clouds roll by over their heads. 

You, on the other hand, will be handling a transaction between your grandfather and someone from the bustling city of Amavel. Sheer mention of the city makes your stomach flutter excitedly, imagining what it must be like to be in a place so large you can remain anonymous. In Ucra, everyone knows you and has since the day you were born. The community is small and deeply protective of itself, something you have always found difficult to understand given how big this world is. 

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

Your grandmother greets you as she does every morning, a soft smile on her face that shows the ever deepening lines around her mouth. Age leaves no one untouched, a thought you often refuse to indulge in because it makes you sad to think about ever losing her. You grab her hand gently and she perks up when you squeeze it. 

“Take a rest today.” Your word isn’t absolute given you are not the woman of the house but she is fair enough to consider your opinion when you give it. “Have one of the girls tend to stuff around the house.”

She sighs and squeezes your hand back, dropping it to reach around your back and grab a few eggs out of the bowl on the counter. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

It’s the best answer she can give. The responsibilities double when it’s just you girls left at home. She cracks eggs into a skillet and the soft sizzle fills the kitchen while you take a seat at the table your family has been sharing for three generations. This house, this table, this life - it has all belonged to people who existed long before you did. You’ve never felt like you fit into it quite well enough, something beneath your skin itching to break free from the fate of the women before you. 

This line of thinking always draws you back to imagining Amavel. A place where you can truly be anyone or no one or even someone if that’s what you desire. It’s hard to imagine a single cow or a milking bucket in a place like that, paved and illuminated streets leading its citizens from place to place if the stories you have heard are true. Bustling libraries and places to get food and drink you have never even dreamed of having in your life.

You sigh as your grandmother did moments ago, settling back into the chair you sit on for a moment. It does no good to dream, being labeled as a dreamer is being seen as trouble and you have worked your whole life to be seen as anything but. You are reliable, where you’re supposed to be when you say you’ll be there.

With any luck, your good reputation will help you today.

“Do you know what time I should be meeting our visitor? Papa didn’t say anything before he left.”

Grandma smiles and flips your egg by lifting the pan and tossing it gently in the air. When you were a child you swore this was a magic trick and told her so, eyes sparkling with joy. You were quickly and sternly told to never mention something like that again after you said it. The request has been honored but you still think the same thing every time you watch it.

There have always been rumors that magic exists in all of Ormur’s countrymen although in Ucra, this is strongly frowned upon. The people of this village lean on the primitive side compared to the rest of the increasingly modern country and superstition runs rampant in every home. Doorways and windows are blessed to keep evil out, black cats are shooed away with brooms and terrified glances.

“I believe he said this evening although I think you should stick as close to home as you can today in case he arrives sooner.” She advises and you nod. “People from the city tend to run on a different schedule than the rest of us.”

From the few past experiences you’ve had handling transactions with people from the city, you know she’s right. Time moves differently when you have endless amounts of it. “I better get started then.” You move to stand up but she stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder, sliding your breakfast in front of you. The same breakfast you’ve enjoyed since you were a child, two eggs with their yellow eyes staring up at you. “Eat first. I’ll see if I can get your sisters up to milk today.” A gentle reassurance that she’s trying to lessen your load, just as you do hers. You smile up at her and she leans down to kiss your forehead while you split the two eggs into separate pieces and silently give thanks for the meal. The sun has risen, her light filling the kitchen, and you’ve well and truly managed to mess up your schedule for the day by taking those few minutes to enjoy your breakfast. 

-:¦:- -:¦:--:¦:- -:¦:-

As expected, nothing has gone according to plan today and it feels as though there is some force out of your control causing all of the chaos around you.

The chickens got out of their coop overnight, giving you no choice but to walk into the forests that surround the village to gather them all. You gently reprimanded each of them and placed them back in their homes with a disappointed sigh, plucking eggs from the nests to put in the pockets of your apron. Counting over each of the rows, you notice one is missing and shut the coop tightly, latching it closed before leaving.

How could you forget one? You could’ve sworn they’d all made their way back when you clucked at them and scattered feed on the ground at your feet to beckon them to you and you stomp back into the woods, frustration evident in the way you mutter to yourself quietly. 

“Of course this has to happen today of all days,” you spit through gritted teeth, the blooming hydrangeas of the forest brushing your arms as you walk through the thick bushes to a clearing where you stand and take a deep breath.

“FLORENCE!”

You scream the name one of your sisters gave the chicken so loudly it practically rips itself out of your throat, your body bending with the force of it. Fists balled at your sides, you stomp in place and furious tears roll down your cheeks. 

Your mind races with anxious, spiraling questions. Why is this happening? Is it because you wasted too much time with grandma this morning? Is it because your mind dwelled a little too long on this concept of magic that seems so foreign but so pervasive everywhere you look?

Bottom lip quivering, you unball one of your fists to wipe your fingers down your face. A few angry tears drip down your chin before you can catch them and you blow out a defeated puff of air. Going any deeper into the woods could spell disaster if you can’t find your way back home by the time you need to be there so you contemplate what to do next. 

Then you hear them - footsteps. The crunch of fallen leaves and dirt causes you to spin around and you come face to face with a man you’ve never seen before. A whole lot of man at that. 

He’s taller than any man you’ve ever seen, broad shouldered and easy smile wearing. Blue eyes lock their gaze on you and you note that if they’re the sky, the floppy white strands atop his head are the clouds and they’re both unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. Your breath catches in your throat and he smiles, raising his arms that are wrapped around your lost chicken.

“I’m guessing this,” he nods downward at the surprisingly calm bundle in his arms, “is Florence?”

Wordlessly, you nod and reach out for your lost chicken. He holds her a moment longer, thumb stroking the fingers around her neck, and you wonder if this isn’t an ambush given you are in the forest on your own. Long before your adulthood, there were a few packs of bandits that attacked villagers and forced the entire group to be assigned escorts.

Your posture stiffens and he notices, handing her over with an affable smile and a laugh.

“Believe it or not, she found me.”

You attempt to discreetly assess your chicken for any harm that may have come to her on her adventure but find yourself thwarted by how interested this man is in speaking to you, his glance still fixed on your face. Florence clucks and shifts in your arms but your touch immediately soothes her as you pet the feathers on the top of her head and her beak.

Deciding to play it cool, you clear your throat and raise your eyebrows, finally meeting his gaze fully. Your stomach flutters as it did this morning, the excitement of something you’ve never seen before nearly overcoming any farm girl stoicism you may have perfected in your life. 

“Where at?” You ask coolly, or at least you believe you do until he cracks a smile. He can tell you’re trying to appear tough and aloof to protect yourself from any potential threat so he slackens his posture to make himself at least a little smaller. 

“In the bushes not far from here.” He points in the opposite direction of where you stand and you nod, still clutching the chicken. “I was on my way to the village to pick up an order and honestly assumed that’s probably where she came from.”

This is the man coming to pick up a freshly processed cow, sold to him by your Papa? Your eyes widen and you smile, tension melting from your body. 

“You’re supposed to be meeting me, actually.” You laugh. The coincidence is funnier than you expected and you tilt your head to the side curiously. “Are you the cafe owner? Nanami, I believe?”

“No, no. I’m the cafe owner’s friend,” he raises his eyebrows and waggles them in a way that makes you giggle. “I don’t know if he’d call me his friend, maybe just his brave and extraordinarily handsome delivery man, but he’s my friend.”

The chicken meltdown seems like a distant memory as a giggle bubbles out of you, amazed by this man’s easy going nature. The people in your village are so serious it’s hard to believe a person like this actually exists. Every bit of him seems different, thrumming with a bright white light of joy and vitality. His steps are as light as air, his grin shines in the dappled afternoon light.

“What’s your name?”

The man smiles down at you and opens his arms.

“Satoru Gojo, the one and only. And you?”

Quickly you introduce yourself though your confusion about his introduction is apparent. You tilt your head to the side curiously. Florence once again rustles in your arms and you touch her, gently assuring her everything is fine despite whatever she is worked up about. The chaotic energy that has blanketed your day clearly hasn’t disappeared fully but you are best suited to keep her calm.

“You’ll have to forgive me for asking but are you famous or something?”

Now it’s his Satoru’s to laugh. It sounds like the music that is played during the seasonal festivals in the village to you; you hear the songs so rarely that they have become something you cherish. 

This laugh could become the same if you think too long about it. 

“I mean if you mention my name at any bar in Amavel you’ll probably get a collective sigh from the patrons,” he jokes. “I’m pretty talkative and drunk people hate that.”

You wouldn’t know. You’ve never stepped foot in a bar despite being old enough to drink, the village tends to steer clear of alcohol unless it’s festival season so even wine is hard to come by. Excitement rises in you again, warmth lightening your limbs. 

“Can I ask you a few questions about the city while we walk back to the village?”

Gojo grins, a bit taken aback by your friendliness though he plays it off well. He has only traveled to Ucra a few times in his life, most of them recent, and he has never met someone quite as excited to see a stranger. Your eyes gleam and he wonders for a moment how anyone in your life has denied you a thing.

“Of course but you have to answer my questions too, okay?”

Nodding excitedly, you giggle.

“You can go first if you’d like.”

He pretends to ponder for a moment, stroking his chin thoughtfully while you begin walking back toward your home, where the large wheelbarrow of meat purchased waits for him to take back to the city. You don’t want to take up too much of his time knowing that what he purchased is time sensitive but the day is already so off track - what does it matter if you take a few minutes to do this? You took a few minutes to nourish yourself with breakfast, this is simply a different kind of sustenance and one you get to enjoy so rarely.

“Why is your chicken named Florence?”

You squeeze her gently in your arms.

“My sister named her. I have two of them and they named all of the chickens. This is Florence, we have Mary, Hattie, and Lucy and a bunch more at home. I could introduce you if you want?”

Even your frustration about having to wrangle and return each of these chickens has long evaporated and Satoru nods at you, holding his hand out in the direction of your village.

“After you.”

-:¦:- -:¦:--:¦:- -:¦:-

Once he’s certain that he is far enough out of the village that his magic will not be detected, Satoru mumbles a spell that encapsulates the bundle of packages in the wagon in golden light and they whoosh away in an instant, magicked off to their rightful owner Kento Nanami hours away from the secluded village he remains outside of. There’s a basket of preserved fruit and eggs dangling from one of his arms, courtesy of you, and he decides to keep them with him instead of sending them back. He doesn’t have to share a gift, after all.

Taking his time getting home, he walks in the opposite direction of the dirt path you walked him down just hours ago. There is so much to contemplate from this one little trip but there are two things he knows for certain. 

One, you have magical ability. Your touch alone was enough to calm animal and human alike, the slight golden aura shimmering off of your hands alerting him that it is not simply your good personality providing comfort although he did believe it to be nothing but at first. He won’t deny your good nature or your kind heart but there is more, something you clearly are interested in judging by how many questions you asked him about Amavel.

Two, he likes you. Not in the way he sort of likes everyone, it’s in his nature to be personable, but in the “why is my heart beating a little too fast right now” way. The “why do I have to leave you when I want to stay here and listen to you talk about how you named your chickens all night” way. The way that will make him certain he has to come back no matter what. Clever man that he is, it doesn’t take long to concoct a plan to figure out how to do just that.

Gojo mutters an incantation and with a wave of his free hand a book materializes out of thin air. It’s heavy and leather bound with gold raised lettering on the cover. It plops onto the ground with a thud when he releases his magic and he bends down to situate it between the hydrangea bushes far enough away from the village that he knows only you will venture out here. 

There’s a binding spell on the book, something to always tether him to you while he is back in the city. The book won’t spy on you per se but he will know every time you pick it up to read it, a gentle tug on his magic telling him that the sweet village girl is interested in more. 

If you wanted it, he’d give you everything including the world but he must take it a step at a time. This is simply step one - a magical interest check if you will. 

Satisfied with his plan, Satoru rises to standing and plucks a satchel of dried peaches from the basket you sent him home with. Popping one into his mouth with a pleased hum, he grins as he chews and continues walking away from the place he hopes to return to very soon.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #kendall writes #you are a fever #yaaf au

[kyuuin9in]

Some Douma Relationship Headcanons

A/N: I needed to get this out of my system cause I’m positively bonkers for this man lsfjfkls- not proof read! Teeth-rotting fluffy SFW content cause I’m a hopeless simp.

Douma needs a darling who will understand his emotional disability and ‘play along’ with his efforts of mimicking emotions. He knows he cannot feel anything, but he’s trying his best! That should count for something, right?

Whoever his darling is, they know he’s a demon. Whilst he could try and cover it up for as long as possible, at some point he’d need to reveal the truth – he doesn’t want another Kotoha incident, after all. He is very observant and will try to probe his darling in various ways to ease them into it before telling them the truth.

Aggravating his demon colleagues is his way of acting playful and he’s not above annoying his own darling. He whines whenever he’s feeling bored and will crawl his way to his s/o to seek some entertainment. It’s up to them if they want to humor him or remind him of his daily schedule as a cult leader. Did I mention he has the cutest pout when told he has responsibilities to take care of?

Extremely clingy. Attached to his s/o’s hip at all times - good luck being even three meters apart from each other. Douma is incredibly touch-starved and will take any opportunity to hold or lean his head against his darling. Whether it’s him resting his head on their lap, against their chest, shoulder or back - he likes being comfy in his partner’s arms. Prefers being the little spoon, although he’s not opposed to being the big spoon, either! Huge on PDA, doesn’t care if he’s making people around him uncomfortable or annoyed. His partner is his priority.

Speaking of priorities: you know how cats bring dead animals like lizards and birds to their owners as presents? Douma is that cat. If he finds something he thinks his darling might like, he will definitely bring it back home with it. Look! He brought you something nice! Isn’t he such a thoughtful sweetheart? Can he get cuddles as a reward now?

Douma is not above asking for blood from his human partner. He finds the gesture of being offered his darling’s blood to be incredibly romantic, so bonus points if they bring it up on their own accord. His favorite spots to draw blood from are his s/o’s palm, neck, earlobe and inner thigh when he’s feeling frisky.

Will definitely turn his s/o into a demon. It’s non-negotiable; once he meets that special person who’s willing to spend the rest of their life with someone as broken as him, he won’t let go. They’re stuck with him for eternity. He’s going to acclimate them to their new lifestyle and no- they won’t need to look for food for themselves! No, no, that’s his job. His darling can just stay comfy, he will be the one bringing the ‘bread’ home (cat brain Douma doing his thing again).

The Upper Moons will find him even more insufferable cause he just won’t shut up about them! Even Kokushibo is contemplating whether he should bother reprimanding Akaza for punching his brains out at this point. What a headache.

Overall, Douma would be a happy camper. (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

#kny douma #demon slayer #douma #douma x reader #douma x y/n #kimetsu no yaiba #kny