#can we bring back men dressed as women in like a low effort way cause it always looks good. idk why it just serves so much cunt...

[deakwithit]

at the end of the day its the weird obsession shows used to have with men dressing as women (and looking really good doing it too)

#i wish i was born a man so i could like #dress fem one day #and everyones just cool with it #or see it as a joke #but when IIII do it im “a fake trans” #smh #anyway micky dolenz as a woman is crazy #princess gwen goes hard too #i used to have a friend who was delusional about davy jones dressed as a woman #i think abt it a lot #im the same way with princess gwen i love her so much its not even funny #why are beautiful men dressed as women in television so rare now #can we bring back men dressed as women in like a low effort way cause it always looks good. idk why it just serves so much cunt... #anyway #mike posting #sung tongs 🐯

[zaikaglow]

Umbrageous Part 5

Pairing: Levi x Reader, Erwin x Reader, mention of Hange x Reader and Eren x Reader

Summary: Hange makes good on their promise to introduce you to Mr.Ackerman but you worry that your trail of conquests are going to start catching up with you

Content Warnings: Step dad! Erwin, cheating, pseudoincest, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving) 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 

It was around 4pm when you were again sitting at your vanity, wearing a form fitting little black dress putting on the finishing touches. A pair of diamond earrings that Erwin had given you for your birthday, you finish adorning your ear and remember the trouble these little rocks had caused. You had sworn your mom had caught onto your little affair with daddy when she wouldn’t stop commenting on “how nice those earrings were, maybe a little too nice for a girl that young, how much did they cost? Have you ever gotten me Jewelry that nice”. You chuckle to yourself at the memory when there's a knock at the door. Then it opens, of course it was Erwin he never waited for responses he just let himself right in “Y/n I'm going to be out tonight… where are you going?” he seems taken back a little trying to figure out just where you’d be going dressed as nicely as you were. Certainly not a nightclub, maybe on a date with the Jaeger boy? No you wouldn’t put in that much effort for him, it was obvious you saw him as a toy that you were slowly getting bored of. You meet his eyes in the mirror “Oh same place as you are daddy, that little work soiree, your partner's client Hange is taking me” you finish with a delicate smile. Erwin leans onto the door frame his voice is low, almost like a growl “and what did you do to get them to bring you as their date?”. You can’t help but to laugh “come on daddy, do you think i'm a little whore? Maybe they just think I’m a promising young women and are interested in my potential” you can see Erwin start to relax right as there's a knock on the door grabbing your jacket you get up to go downstairs and meet your date for the night but not before making one last comment as you slide past Erwin’s frame “oh and by the way Hange’s cum tastes a hell of a lot better than yours maybe you should ask them for their secret”. You sway, practically dancing down the hall to the stairs all while Erwin is staring slack jawed, having trouble comprehending what a little whore his sweet princess was.

“So are you ready my dear?” Hange smiles at you, their arm around your shoulders “don’t be nervous I already told you he looks scary but actually he’s a softy underneath”. You bite down on your bottom lip as you start to play with your thumbs “you sure he’d even be interested in someone like me?” you say nervously glancing at Hange looking for reassurance. Normally you were so confident when it came to pulling men but something about Levi was different, he was so aloof, so pretty, it made you nervous about trying to even approach him. “That tiny asshole won’t say it but he’s lonely, trust me just come on a little softer than you did to me and a girl as pretty as you will have him eating out of your hands. Okay here we go, just remember the plan” Hange finishes as they continue to walk you away from the party and over to a secluded area where you see Levi sitting by himself at one of the tables that were set up sitting with his legs crossed and balancing a book on his knee. “Leevvii!” he glances up at the two of you cocking a brow when his eyes meet yours. “Levi, you remember y/n? Of course you do! Well, she told me she doesn’t normally drink but I convinced them to try a gin and tonic and now they're not feeling too hot, you mind watching over them for a bit? Erwin’s busy mingling with more clients and I should join and I think they’d feel the safest with you” Hange ushers you into the chair next to Levi giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze in an attempt to say good luck while they start to run off back into the crowd. “Don’t tell me you're sick after only one drink” Levi says, eyes now glued back to the page. God why the fuck does he make you so nervous “no not like to much to drink sick it just made me feel kinda off”. Levi’s gaze drifts away from the book and back to you “and Hange thought I would make you feel safe?” he says his eyes look like questioning like he can’t believe that it was true. “Oh well it’s just there's so many strangers here and you were really nice when we met last week, and you don’t give me the creeps like some of the men here” your head is down but out of the corner of your eye you can start to see a red spread across his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. Hange was right, all you had to do was flatter him and he’d be eating out of the palm of your hand they said. So many women would dismiss him based on height alone, something like a comment about “making you feel safe” would definitely go straight to his head. “Um Levi, could you help me find some water?” he looks towards the crowd seeing how packed the bar was with all those “strange men” that you claimed to not be comfortable around. “I-if you're okay w-with it I have some water bottles in my office u-upstairs” he stutters out. Dam Hange was right, maybe this Mr.Ackerman wasn’t going to be as difficult as you thought. Still sitting down you offer him your hand and he grabs it in a feather light grip, like he was afraid you’d break, and you're thankful because when you turn your head back you can see Eren walking through the crowd looking like a lost puppy. Dammit he’s definitely looking for you, Erwin probably called him to come to keep your head out from between his clients legs.

Levi’s office was similar to Erwins, except it was much cleaner. Not that Erwin was a slob but Levi’s office had a smell of disinfectant and it looks like it was almost brand new. Levi goes and opens the bottom drawer of his desk and instead of being littered with random papers and trinkets it was well organized containing a case of bottled waters, tea boxes, and a couple mugs. You take a seat on the corner of his desk. It's so shiny you can only imagine the effort he puts in to keeping it clean. Levi hands you the bottle of water and sits down in his desk chair. “You know there’s actual chairs in this office y/n” he says perhaps a little concerned with how much taller than him you were sitting up on the desk rather in a chair. Worrying that the water would clear your head and then you realized a girl as pretty as you didn't have to be hanging out with a manlet like him. “Hmm but that's so far away from you, Levi” you almost coo, looking down at him that pretty little blush starting to spread back across his face. His eyes look away from yours “you're still pretty far away, how’s the weather up there giraffe”. Ah here it is, your opening. If you're a lioness stalking your prey then Mr.Ackerman is a antelope that's just made the fatal mistake of turning his back to you. 

With those words you slide off the desk and plant your knees between his legs, hands resting on his knees and starting to move up his thighs “Is this better for you Levi?” you say now having to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes “Y/n w-what are you doing” he whispers, face turning red and eyes going wide. You sit up a little, bringing one palm to his cheek, the other supporting yourself on the chair's armrest. Your nose starts to drag along his other cheek and down his jaw “Do you not like me Levi? I always thought you were so pretty” you finish your sentence with a kiss to his neck. The poor touch starved man nearly moans at the contact “No i-its not that I don't like you its just that uh” you grip his sharp jaw in your hands ``If you're worried about my dad I’m an adult. I can do what I want. Now I’m going to keep going and you can just say if and when you want me to stop okay, love”? All Levi can do is shake his head yes, before you unbutton the top of his shirt exposing his collar bone. This is where you plant your first kiss before dragging your sharp tongue up his neck, brushing your nose over his jaw before finally planting a warm but firm kiss to his lips. His part into a sign at the contact, he seems unsure of what to do with his hands keeping them planted on the arm rests. “I want to do something for you if you’ll let me” you say hands starting to undo his belt, again all Levi can do is nod. As soon as his belt is undone you undo the pants and pull his cock free from the confines of his boxers, it slapping against his stomach. “Oh I don’t want to make a mess of my dress I hope you understand” you pull the straps off the dress down your arms and then pull it down to your waist exposing both your breasts. You notice how Levi’s eyes widen even more “do you want to touch them?” before he can even give you a chance to answer you move his hands over to your breast and squeeze your hands over his. At the contact you notice the head of his cock start to leak pre-cum. Removing his hands you go and grab his cock in one hand using your thumb to smear the leaking precum over his head before bringing it up to your mouth. You start by giving his slit some quick kitten licks before sinking your lips around it. You keep your tongue flat as you move your head up and down against his length, his hands moving shakily to your shoulders, head thrown back in his chair, strands of black hair clinging to the sweat on his brow. Your right hand wraps around the bottom of his length touching the stiff black hairs against his pelvis and it moves up and down meeting your mouth. You feel his grip on your shoulders tighten and he sounds like he’s trying to say something but no words come out and you realize he’s about to release. You bring the head of his cock to just behind your lips as you feel him start to spill out into your mouth and run down your neck and leaving pretty pearls of cum on your tits. You swallow what's left in your mouth and give his twitching head another kiss right before you hear the banging on the door.

Of course because it's Erwin there’s no wait for a reply and he barges in and you quickly try and pull your dress back up as Levi pulls the hem of his shirt down to try and cover his softening cock. Eyes now widened in fear instead of arousal. Erwin storms over to the desk and harshly grabs you by the waist picking you up off the floor. “Disgusting” he says, taking out his pocket square and roughly wiping your mouth before throwing it down on Levi’s desk. “Hey Levi I would really appreciate it if you could keep your cock out of my daughter's mouth. Erwin's nostrils are flared and you swear you’ve never seen him this mad and it's starting to hurt how tightly he’s gripping you to his waist. Levi looks pathetic trying to cover himself with his shirt, looks like he’s about to speak but Erwin cuts him off saying “you and me will talk later, as for you young lady. Were about to have a talk right fucking now”. Erwin drags you into his office slamming the door pushing you onto his desk “What the hell was that little stunt y/n? I told you I was fine with you fucking around with Jaeger, but my clients? And now my best friend? What the hell has gotten into you?”. You can feel the tears start to well in your eyes. You want to yell about how he never asked if you were okay with him fucking your mom, but you just can’t say anything besides choke out “I’m sorry”. “Turn around” he says, you look at him teary eyes widening “I said turn around and plant your hands on the desk y/n”. As soon as you do what he says you feel him start to pull up your dress and you hear a zipper come undone. Suddenly thick fingers jerk your panties to the side and you feel him slide his fat cock into you with no prep stretching you apart “daddy that hurts” you say tears starting to run down your face. “Oh it hurts princess? Well maybe you should have thought about that before you went putting other men's cocks in your mouth” he continues his thrusting as his hands sneak under your armpits and reach back up to meet behind your neck putting you into a full nelson. The control he has over you and the rough pace would normally be enough for you to cum but he hasn’t given you enough time to warm up and all you can focus on is the sting of him stretching you apart until you feel him release inside you and the dribble of his release down your thighs. He releases your neck but grabs your jaw in his large hands and brings your head up till his lips meet your ear “now what on earth am I going to do with you princess”?

Tag List: @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag​

#levi x reader #aot levi #levi x you #erwin x reader #erwin x y/n #erwin smith #levi smut #aot erwin #eren x reader #hange x reader #aot eren #aot hange #aot fic #aot x reader #aot x y/n

[babbushka]

Invitation Only

Bond Villain!Kylo Ren x 007!Reader 

3.5k ; NSFW (69, oral sex (m & f receiving) fingering, come eating, come swallowing, mirror sex, PIV)

Inspired by some prompts requesting masquerade/costume party with BV!K

Available on AO3

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

Sometimes, you can’t help but think as you make your way down the grand staircase, being an agent really does pay off.

It’s shockingly easy to sneak into the party, the ball. Because that’s what it is really, a grand costume ball hosted on Halloween. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to slip through the doors, everyone is wearing masks and therefore could be anyone in the world. By that same token, you could be anyone, and for tonight, you relish in the opportunity to be no one; the opportunity to simply enjoy the party, and try to gain some intel for Mi6. There were no attacks planned tonight, no fights – you didn’t even have any guns on you this evening.

No, you were here simply to mingle with the best of the worst; the most powerful criminals, evil villains and masterminds that the world had to offer.

So it should make sense, that you would run into Kylo.

You knew he would be here, of course. In fact, you had almost been counting on it, you had dressed for it. You knew he’d be here, and you knew that he knew you’d be here too, so you made sure to put on your most elaborate ball gown, hair done up to the nines, and of course a beautifully crafted mask tied around your face. You knew he’d appreciate the effort, and that he’d come find you to tell you just how much.

However, you hadn’t expected him to take his time finding you. You’d been at the costume ball for nearly two hours, a martini glass in one hand and a winning smile the only thing keeping you company as you rejected offers for dances from men and women alike. Kylo wouldn’t have been too pleased with that, you smirk to yourself behind your glass, and you weren’t here to cause a scene.

It’s elegant, the party. Set in one of these rich old men’s rich old homes, a castle atop a hill in the south of Germany proudly hosts nearly three hundred guests. Ornate candelabras and chandeliers are lit with the orange glow of candles, there are servants walking around with silver trays of food and drink, the baroque music is played by a lively orchestra, and henchmen and masters alike enjoy the merriment on the dance floor.

You have relocated to the upper level of the ballroom, one hand skimming along the banister railing that prevents guests from toppling down off the balcony which overlooks the dance floor. Eyes cast downward, you search through the group of beautifully organized dancers, trying to find the handsome villain you have come to adore.

When he comes up silently beside you, you grin.

“Are you aware that this party is invitation only?” Kylo muses, his voice deep.

You do not turn to face him, instead captivated by the way the dancers spin and move around one another, choreographed steps that have you itching to join them. Taking a sip of your martini, you smile.

“Who’s to say that I wasn’t invited?” You counter. The both of you know you weren’t invited, but what did it matter? You were here, you weren’t causing any trouble, there was no cause for alarm.

Kylo grins and puts his hand on the railing close to yours. He’s wearing gloves, the same as you are; but where yours are long satin opera gloves that go up to your elbow, his are short made of cotton, white and pristine.

“Finally decided to see the light and join the better side, have you?” He murmurs, voice low in your ear as he steps a little closer to you. He too casts his gaze down to the view below, approvingly.

“Maybe I have, or maybe I wanted an excuse to dress up, we’ll never know.” You shrug, finally turning to look at him.

“It’s a beautiful costume, but I’d much rather see what you’re hiding underneath it all.” He’s all teeth when he grins at you, sinister and handsome beyond belief.

Getting a good look at him, you rake your eyes over his body. He’s usually formal, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him in casual dress, but tonight he has truly taken it up a notch. He’s wearing a white bowtie along with his top hat and tails, his starched shirt handsomely pressed and near blindingly clean. His mask is nothing more than a thin strip of gauzy black fabric over his eyes, and you raise a brow. It does nothing to conceal his identity, unlike the more traditional masquerade mask that you sport.

“Incorrigible.” You swat his shoulder as you link your arm around his, allowing him to lead you away from the banister and down the stairs. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“I’m the tall dark stranger your parents warned you about.” Kylo replies easily, and you bite back a groan at his lines. Kylo is nothing if not dramatic, after all.

“Sorry, is that supposed to impress me?” You reply sarcastically instead, and Kylo chuckles, a low rumble in his chest that blooms into your side from where you’re holding onto him.

“Did it?” He teases.

“No.” You lie, and he only grins again. You’ve missed that smile, even though you’d never let him know that.

“Then no.” He lies right back, and before you can say anything else, he frowns suddenly. “You haven’t danced with anyone all evening.”

That observation doesn’t surprise you, but you feel the need to give him some grief about it anyway. Kylo leads you through the dance floor, the two of you wandering and meandering through joyous couples on the marble tile, careful not to bump into anyone as they spin and bow and step in time to the music.

“Oh so you’ve been watching this whole time, have you.” A waiter passes you by, and you place your empty martini glass onto the tray as he goes, both your hands free for what you hope will be a fun dance. “I wonder why you didn’t come see me sooner.”

Kylo falters for a moment, and that’s a rare sight to see, the sight of him biting the inside of his cheek with nerves.

“I wasn’t sure that you’d want to see me…our last meeting did not end as well as I always hope.” He replies quietly, and you sigh.

The last time you had seen one another was nearly two months ago, an agency helicopter swooping down to pick you up from a rooftop shootout in Spain. Kylo had been the one shooting at you that time, and you back at him.

“I know you missed on purpose.” You shake your head, “You have better aim than that.”

Seemingly appeased, Kylo stops right in the middle of the dance floor and turns to face you fully. The music ends and everyone turns to applaud the orchestra. That had been a short dance, so they do not take a break, the conductor murmuring to her musicians and telling them of the next piece.

“Dance with me, just one dance.” Kylo bows deeply before you, and offers a hand.

You do not hesitate to take it.

This piece is slower, much slower. It is heavily piano based, as opposed to the lively strings of the previous music, and you can’t help but wonder if Kylo planned it this way. The crowd thins a little as well, those who had tired themselves out while dancing their hearts away retiring to the sidelines for a new crop of villains to take the floor.

Kylo’s hand is on yours, his other tucked behind his back as you both follow along with the dance. Kylo has always been elegant in his own way, in everything he does, and the dancing is no different. In fact, as the strings begin to swell along with the piano, you feel as though you’re the only two people in the entire castle. You look into his eyes through his thin mask, and he stares into yours, and that is it, it is just the two of you.

Candles glow all around you as you and Kylo walk around one another, as he holds your hand and bows to you, as he never keeps his eyes off of you. In the back of your mind, you know that everyone is watching you. You, the mysterious woman who has shown up to this party, dancing with one of the most notorious and dangerous criminals among them. Who were you to have won his attention? Oh, if only they knew.

“You’re very good at this.” You say softly, so that only he can hear.

“I’ve been practicing.” He admits readily, and you let out a little laugh at that, at the image of him roping one of the Knights of Ren into dancing with him again and again. They’re good sports, supportive of their master, you wonder if they’re here tonight on the dance floor elsewhere, showing off the moves they have had to learn.

“Now that does impress me.” You smile, and he beams.

The piece comes to an end a few minutes later, minutes spent gazing lovingly into one another’s eyes, quirked shy smiles and affectionate squeezes of hands. Once again, like with every other time you’re with Kylo, he doesn’t feel like an enemy. You don’t feel like you’re surrounded by people who want to kill you, you feel…accepted, welcomed, warm.

Those are dangerous feelings for an agent to have about her target, but you have them nonetheless.

“Shall we get out of here?” Kylo asks you discreetly as you applaud the orchestra once the music ends.

You nod, having hoped that the evening would take this turn.

 The room he brings you to is lavish, luxurious, gorgeous. It looks as though it’s never been modernized from the time the castle was built, whenever that must have been. A great big canopy bed takes up the majority of the room, red velvet drapes with golden ropes holding them open framing the mattress. You hardly have any time to look at anything else, before Kylo is taking you by the hand and bringing you to it.

You step out of your shoes and follow him, his hands frantically searching for the zipper, the button, the clasps anything that will get you out of these clothes and into his arms, and you laugh fondly at his enthusiasm. He’s so enthusiastic in fact, that he drops down to his knees and crawls underneath your giant skirt, his hands working to unclip your garters, to pull your stockings down, to mouth at your pussy through your underwear.

“Kylo!” You gasp and laugh at how bold he is, “Get up here.”

“Naked, I want you naked. There’s too many layers.” He growls, doing as he’s told. You reach behind yourself for the hidden zipper, and when Kylo finds it too, he gives it a hard yank.

“Don’t you dare rip this dress or I’ll gouge your fucking eyes out.” You snap when the dress protests with a creak, and Kylo only moans.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me baby.” Releasing your dress, his hands instead cup your throat, your cheek, as he kisses you sloppy hot and wet.

You kiss him back, unzipping the gown and letting it fall down your body. You remove your undergarments quickly as he kisses you still, his mouth insistent upon yours, his tongue firm and slick as it slides against your teeth. He’s still fully clothed, and he scowls about it, breaking away to begin shedding clothing of his own.

While he does that, you take the opportunity to climb up onto the bed. It’s massive, it feels like there could be five people fitting easily here, and it is so plush that you sink into it with a pleased hum. A fireplace crackles and snaps across the room, and though you’re naked in this big castle, you’re warm. Even warmer still, when Kylo’s naked body joins you on the mattress and pulls you tight against him.

He’s achingly hard, you can feel his cock brush against your thigh as he kisses you some more, touches you. His hand drifts down between your legs and he dips his fingers into the folds of you pussy, massaging and encouraging your cunt to drip all over him. You reach to do the same for him, but he shakes his head, kisses your jaw.

“Let me eat your pussy, I’ve been thinking about it for months baby, please.” He whispers, and you find that you would rather die than deny him.

“How do you want me?” You reply straight away, and he sucks in a breath, excited, eager, rife with anticipation.

“Sit on my face, right here.” He manhandles you a little until you get the hint, straddling his head, your knees on either side of his ears. He’s got you facing away from him, and hanging up on the wall is a grand ornate mirror in a gilded gold frame. Maybe he doesn’t notice, but you do, as he sighs and licks into you with an, “Attagirl.”

Your pussy throbs around his tongue, his fingers. He keeps two in you, rubbing at the front of your walls, thrusting in and out slowly while he licks and sucks at your cunt. Your nipples stiffen at once, and your hands come up to cup your breasts and give them a squeeze, the sensation going straight to your clit.

“Fuck,” You moan, “Fuck that’s good, Kylo,”

It’d been so long since you’d been pleasured like this, since you’ve had his nose prodding up into you, his fingers curling and crooking inside your body, stretching you, opening you up for what you’re sure will be the fucking of a lifetime when this is done.

You ride his face, hips moving of their own accord, wanting more, seeking more. You stare at your reflection, watch as you rise and lower yourself onto his tongue, how your pussy drools and soaks his chin, how he swallows it down with groans and hums and sighs of his own. You look up, there is a mirror there too, you wonder if Kylo’s able to see himself eating your cunt like this, or if his eyes are shut with pleasure.

“Your dick’s drooling for me.” You manage to sigh, “Let me take care of you Kylo.”

His thighs twitch and his knees bend, hips pushing up at the insinuation. He doesn’t stop licking sucking biting kissing fingering your pussy as you shift yourself forward so you can grasp the shaft of his cock with one hand and wrap your lips around the head that’s oozing pre-come just for you.

“Mmm!” Kylo chokes on your pussy with the first hard suck you give his cock, and you both laugh through it, laughter that turns to moans as he fingers you harder, eats you out faster, a challenge.

You’ve never been one to back down from anything, and you don’t plan on backing down from this. You hollow out your cheeks and work him down down down your throat, until your nose nestles in the thick black patch of hair, your neck bulging out from where you’ve managed to fit nearly all of him.

Bobbing your head, your hands wind around his thighs and stroke at his calves, teasing touches that have him gasping as he buries his face in your pussy.

“Fuck – baby – I’m gonna -- !” Kylo moans and grunts into your pussy as he thrusts his hips up and fucks your throat, wishing he had a hand in your hair to keep your head down, keep you steady.

You pull off him quickly so you don’t choke, just as his come spurts from the head of his cock, landing all over his stomach, the hard firm muscle twitching as you jerk him off, stroking every last drop you can squeeze out.

“God you’re good to me.” Kylo grunts, nearly blacking out when you lean down to lick away some of his come, the flat of your tongue scooping it up off his skin and swallowing it. He smacks your thigh playfully for the effort, makes you whine.

“Fuck it into me,” Your voice is raw, used, but you reach for one of his hands and guide it to the pool of come on his abs. “Make me come on yours, mix it together.”

Kylo does as he’s told, moans into your cunt as he smears his fingers through his own come and pushes them into you, coating your insides with it. He thrusts his fingers hard and fast, until you’re riding his face in earnest to meet his pace, watching through lidded eyes in the mirror as your tits bounce and your body sweats on top of his.

When you come, you drench Kylo’s face, and the slurping sounds that come from his mouth as he swallows you down have you coming even harder, until you’re shaking, thighs trembling, and you have to be moved by him to lay on your side.

“Holy shit I missed this.” You laugh, delirious with bliss, and Kylo only hums in agreement, his cock still hard.

He doesn’t reply, instead shuffling down a little to worry one of your nipples between his lips, his arms wrapping around your middle tight. You sling a leg over his hip and card your fingers through his hair as he kisses and licks at your breasts, the both of you trying to catch you breath, shocks of pleasure rippling through your nerves.

After a while, Kylo’s breathing evens out so much, that you’re not entirely sure he hasn’t fallen asleep with your tits in his mouth. You gently tug on one of his ears and he groans, the kind of groan deep in his chest that only confirms you were right.

“We can’t stay here Kylo, someone will surely find us.” You say regrettably, still very aware of the masquerade ball which continues on downstairs. Music is playing, people are talking and laughing, all of those sounds come seeping back into your consciousness as the post-orgasm glow fades from your mind.  

“If they do I will simply tell them to fuck off.” Kylo only holds you tight, nuzzles his face further into your cleavage.

“I know you think you can do whatever you’d like but really don’t you think that’s in poor taste?” You chuckle, amused, twirling pieces of his long dark hair around your finger and giving them a little playful yank.

“Why should it be? This is my castle.” Kylo suddenly is invigorated, and your eyebrows shoot up as he rolls you over so that you’re lying on your back.

Your legs fall open for him, and he easily works his cock into your stretched and relaxed cunt, pussy giving way to him happily, easily. He doesn’t thrust, just holds himself there, holds himself above you as realization dawns across your face.

“…This is yours?” You blink, wondering how you had never known before, wondering just how many other lairs he had.

“Of course.” Kylo leans down to kiss your throat, your jaw, nibbling at your ear. “I threw this party. I wanted to see you.”

Of all the dramatic, theatrical, over the top schemes! You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head and covering your face with embarrassment that you had fallen for such a thing. Surely he knew by now that he could just call you, he didn’t have to go planning something so elaborate.

But – then again, this was Kylo.

Yes he did.

“I hate you.” You grin, and Kylo only takes the opportunity to start moving his hips in earnest, to start fucking you with that never ending stamina he seems to have whenever you’re around, and you laugh, filled with bliss and pleasure as he corrals your legs around his waist, one pushing up his shoulder to get a deeper angle, making you gasp out, “I hate you so much!”

Kylo only grins right back at you, those crooked teeth wanting nothing more than to dig into your flesh, to leave their marks, their bruises in your skin as your mouth falls open and your back arches into his touch. You’re watching yourself through the mirror on the ceiling, and you think that this is a good look, you spread out on the bed under him.

Kylo can tell you’re thinking too hard, and that won’t do, not for this evening. In the morning you can both deal with the fact that you’ve gathered absolutely no intel, that you’re an agent, that you’re the agent – but for now, for now Kylo kisses you, and smiles against your lips as you moan around his cock, and whispers against your tongue,

“Why don’t you close your eyes and hate me some more?”

And you do, except that you don’t.

In fact, you’re sure that after tonight, you’ll never be able to hate him again.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren reader insert #modern kylo ren #james bond au #bond villain!kylo #007!reader #my writing #kylo ren smut

[welkynars]

Morrowind was not a pleasant place. Seyrena had known that even before the prison ship had docked in the waters of Seyda Neen. Even the other Dunmer in Cyrodiil spoke of the ashy air, unpleasant patrons, and the lingering scent of tar that followed wherever one went. The province was disagreeable even at its best, and on nights like tonight she longed for rolling hills and sweet-smelling lavender fields of Cyrodiil.

Because… well, Cyrodiil was her home, was it not? It was the only place she ever remembered being. Cyrodiil was where she grew up, where she learned her trade and fell in love for the first time and where she’d made her mistakes. Mistakes that had landed her here. In Morrowind. A hot, unfamiliar, wretched land.

It should be unfamiliar, at least. Recently it had felt more and more like home. She did not want Morrowind to feel like home. She never asked for any of this. She never asked to be the savior of an ancestral land she’d never even been to. She never asked to be the incarnate of a man who’d died so long ago his existence was unfathomable. Never asked to be forced to bring the downfall of three fervently worshipped gods, one of whom had given her a welcome she did not deserve. Never asked to have to stand over the corpses of two mer who she apparently once called friends in a life she didn’t remember. Never asked to feel like she’d killed her own friends. 

Seyrena sighed deeply and took another swig of the unknown drink. It tasted like guar piss but it got her intoxicated and that was all she cared about. That, and the fact that the patrons of the small tavern in Pelagiad hadn’t a clue who she was. If she had to hear the title ‘Nerevarine’ one more time she would certainly slice the fingers off of whatever poor soul it was who’d said it. 

No, to the Dunmer of the Halfway Tavern she was just any old Empire-assimilated Dunmer. An outlander; a term she’d hated when she first arrived in Morrowind but longed to be called again. She was an outlander. Her own personal feelings of the Empire aside, she was of the Empire. Raised in Cyrodiil. There was nothing else she knew and nothing else she wanted to know.

A year ago that was how it had been. The alcohol in her hand let her pretend that’s how it still was.

“If you’re not careful there, elf, you’ll drink yourself to death with that,” A voice mumbled from a few feet beside her. She looked up from the corner she was sitting in. A grizzly-looking Nord man sat on the bench to the right of her, watching the bard sing and swing with harsh eyes. His clothes were splattered with dirt and grime and his hand gripped a large wooden mug. The stench of alcohol filled her nose even with his distance from her and she wondered how he was one to talk.

“I can handle my drinks just fine, Nord,” She replied coolly, also averting her eyes to the bard. A pretty young Breton woman playing the lute and singing tales of dragons. Seyrena was glad there were no songs written about her feats just yet.

The man laughed a hearty but mocking laugh and she scowled at him. She hadn’t said anything funny.

“You Dark Elves wouldn’t know drink if it slapped you in the arse,” He was looking at her now with a dangerously mocking smile. 

“Well, I grew up in Cyrodiil so I’d wager I know more than you think I do,” She took another sip of her drink as if to prove a point. “And whatever this is, it's certainly better than that poor excuse for alcohol you call mead.”

He laughed again, and again she did not know what she said that was so funny.

“Imperials are even worse!” He managed to breathe out between howling laughs. He was obviously very drunk if he found a conversation about beverages so hilarious. Seyrena turned away from him and went back to festering in her own misery and regret and longing for a life that no longer existed. She’d rather that than any sort of conversation with a drunken man.

Apparently the gods were again, not on her side and Nords were unable to take obvious hints, because he continued speaking to her. Spoke to her about his homeland(“If this were Skyrim I’d teach you a thing or two about mead, lass”), about how he was grateful the Empire was reigning in the uncivilized Dunmer(“Imperials are good for something, at least”), and finally, about the pretty little Breton girl dancing along to her tunes. 

“They don’t make them like that in Skyrim,” He grunted, watching the bard with a look that made Seyrena’s stomach twist. “We Nords are beasts of men, good for fighting and drinking. But it makes for unflattering women at the very least.” 

Her anger was only growing at this point, fingertips clenching into her own fists. The young woman was simply trying to make coin, perform, and have fun. She didn’t need some malodorous man twice her age commenting on her appearance. If Skyrim was so much better then maybe he should return. 

“Is that why you’re here instead of Skyrim? Because of the unflattering women?” Her tone was cold but the man was too drunk to notice.

“Ha! No, despite her flaws I’d return in a heartbeat, if I could. I’ve been exiled for one reason or another.”

Well, wasn’t that poetic. 

The Nord stood, steadying himself on a wooden post and slamming his mug on the table. Seyrena narrowed her eyes. 

“Well, I’d best be off. Better if I talk to the bard before some other skeever can get his hands on- hey! W-What’re ‘ya doin’?”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or her desire to protect the Breton girl, or maybe it was just because she’d had the worst year of her life. But Seyrena found herself with her longsword drawn and pointed to the Nord’s throat, his eyes wide with fear and hands up in surrender. So much for the mighty warrior. 

She was also, suddenly, very aware of the people in the room with her; as they’d all turned to stare at the quiet Dunmer in the corner with her sword to a man. Pelagiad was a quiet and no-nonsense settlement. They weren’t quite sure what to make of the scene. And then, her voice rang out from the crowd. 

“Rena? What on Nirn-“

Mehra pushed her way to the front of the forming crowd. She looked as beautiful as ever, dressed in a quaint traveler's garb with her hickory-colored hair let loose to fall over her shoulders. She looked quite different from the Temple-apprentice Seyrena had met what felt like so long ago; older, only by a year, but her eyes held the same burden Seyrena’s did. Seyrena swallowed. Mehra didn’t deserve to be weighed down by her troubles.

Mehra pulled her ash-cover down from over her face, looking incredulously at the scene Seyrena had created. Seyrena couldn’t fully tell if the look on her face was one of disappointment or defeat. 

Before her lover could even get a word out, Drelasa came marching over, huffing something about outlanders. Seyrena rolled her eyes. 

“Mehra, I am fond of you but if your friend is going to cause scenes in my tavern you’ll never see the inside of it again!” Drelasa wagged her finger in Mehra’s face and Seyrena had the impulse to swing her sword and cut it off. 

“I know, Publican, I-“ Mehra turned to Seyrena, her eyes pleading. “Rena, please. It’s a day long trip back to Seyda Neen.”

Seyrena scoffed and looked back to the Nord who was now backed up against the wall. “You leave that girl alone or I’ll cut off your hands and stitch your lips shut.”

The Nord nodded, and she lowered her sword. He scurried off like a mouse out of the Inn to the border of the Ascadian Isles and the Bitter Coast. 

She defeatedly let Mehra take her sword from her and place it back in its sheath on her back. The Publican was still watching them, arms crossed and tapping her foot. 

“It won’t happen again, Drelasa. I apologize on behalf of both of us.” Mehra sounded sincerely sorry and Seyrena felt a pang of guilt. 

“You’re damn right it won’t happen again. B’vehk, it’s every other night with you two.”

Mehra took Seyrena’s hand and led her to their room. The latter Dunmer’s head was held low, not out of shame but in an effort to keep any patron from doing a double-take on her. “Hey, aren’t you that…”

When the two reached privacy, Mehra’s fist promptly collided with Seyrena’s shoulder. Much harder than she’d expected the mage would’ve been capable of. 

“Ow,” She muttered, rubbing the raw skin. Mehra’s gaze was as fiery as her palms in battle, and Seyrena found herself unable to meet it. 

“Why do you do these things to us? Do you want to have to walk miles in ash to find a new place to stay again?”

“He was being a s’wit,” She silently cursed herself for using the Dunmeris term. This was not her home.

“So was the Imperial Guardsman in Suran, and the Telvanni Noble in Sadrith Mora, oh! And, of course, the poor fellow who simply wanted your autograph in-“

“Alright! Alright, I get it. I ruin everything I touch. I’m sorry.”

Seyrena took a seat on the bed and pulled Mehra to stand in front of her. Apologies weren’t her strong suit. It was hard to apologize to someone else for your actions when you couldn’t forgive yourself for them. So, she intertwined their hands and looked up at her with the most apologetic eyes she could muster, her actions speaking the words that got lost in her throat. 

Mehra sighed. “You don’t ruin everything.”

“I do.”

“You don’t. In fact, you make many things quite grand,” She smiled and Seyrena, who smiled back despite herself. “You saved me, for instance. You saved Morrowind. Twice.”

Seyrena’s smile dropped and she moved away from the other woman, laying down on the bed and turning the other way. She wished Morrowind just did not exist at this moment. 

“I doomed it, more like,” She said. “Doomed to it to a future of political discourse and perhaps even religious wars.”

“That is inevitable for this country.”

Seyrena made a sound of exasperation and sat up again. “You don’t understand, Mehra. I know what is good for Morrowind. I don’t know how and I truly wish I didn’t, but I do. And this was not. Yes, Dagoth Ur had to die. The Blight had to end. But how can you diminish everything a country believes in, how can you kill-“ Her voice caught and tears threatened to spill from her eyes, which she absolutely would not allow. “How can you kill a goddess who has spent thousands of years keeping a country and it’s people afloat and expect everything to be the same, or better?”

“Almalexia went mad. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But she wouldn’t have!” Seyrena cried, frustrated that Mehra couldn’t understand what she was saying. “She wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for my existence! Everyone keeps telling me I am a blessing, that this prophecy Azura created is a blessing; it’s a curse, Mehra. It’s a curse of vengeance and I don’t want to be a part of it. I never did. I don’t want this,” The Moon-And-Star ring slipped off her finger and was thrown across the room. The tears were now falling freely from Seyrena’s face. “I’d rather have been executed for my crimes in Cyrodiil. It would’ve been merciful.”

Mehra was quiet, and now she was the one who couldn’t look at Seyrena. It was silent for what could’ve been hours. 

“There’s so much blood on my hands and no matter how often I wash them it won’t go away. Please, just make it go away.”

Still not speaking, Mehra pulled the Nerevarine into her arms and held her as she sobbed. There were no words that could be spoken to comfort her at that moment, she knew that. But it broke her heart to watch the woman who she viewed as a hero come undone before her. 

Eventually Seyrena pulled away from her, dried tears stuck to her face. Her eyes were wide and bright and Mehra wanted to latch onto her before she realized the vulnerability she’d showed and promptly went to bed. 

“I want to go east,” She said, surprising Mehra. 

“East? Like, back to Azura’s Coast? I suppose-“

The Nerevarine shook her head. “No. Farther. I want to leave Tamriel. I want to see something else, anything else.”

Mehra’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “But-“ She’d heard stories of other continents on Nirn, and none of them were good.

For a moment she believed her beloved had lost her mind right there and then. That the stress was too much to handle. But Seyrena’s eyes were dead serious and her composure was eerily calm. 

“Will you join me?”

#for a friend #seyrena almost beats up a gross old nord #tw alcohol #ok goodnight #oc seyrena #nerevarine #morrowind #tes 3 #morrowind fanfiction #elder scrolls fanfiction #nerevar #dunmer #almsivi #the tribunal #fanfiction #the elder scrolls morrowind #dark elves

[sabraeal]

Get Up Eight, Chapter 6

River of Silk | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Obiyukiweek 2020, Day 3: Valor Exhibit courage in word and deed. Avenge the wronged. Defend the weak and innocent. Fight with honor. Never abandon a friend, ally, or noble cause.

Ojou-san’s wrist is so narrow between the circle of his fingers, so delicate, like the bones of a bird. He can’t bear to hold her tighter than a whisper. Even still, Obi’s too rough, calluses snagging on the silk of her skin as she trails behind.

He’s far too careless of a man to be handling a woman like her; it’s only a matter of time until she cracks.

“A-ah, Obi?” ojou-san hums behind him, stumbling to keep up on the hatago’s steep stairs. “Are you sure that--? Should we really--?”

He stops short at the landing, her small body careening into his. It’s only his hands that keep her from tipping back, wrapped tight around the slender slope of her shoulders. Beneath his thumbs, her pulse races.

She turns those eyes up at him, so wide and pale as jade. His mind should be on the danger downstairs, but all he can think of is how the moon had shone on her skin, how the lamplight had painted her golden, how a single drop of water had trailed down her back, caressing her spine the way a lover would--

And she had looked at him, dismayed and flushed, wrapping her yukata tight around flesh he should have never seen. A samurai would have averted his eyes, would have allowed his mistress the illusion of privacy, but Obi--

He’s not tame like those dogs. It’s only a matter of time before he proves how wild he can be.

“O-obi?” She shuffles back, brow mirroring the bow of her mouth. Her kimono shifts, baring a single flash of her feet, the bandages soaked through and red.

He grins. Ah, he had forgotten-- this delicacy is all an illusion. Her face might be soft and round, the perfect porcelain doll, but he knows all too well that steel lies beneath. A pretty fan with blades for ribs.

“I’m sure.” His voice is too low, too thick with gravel. “Please, ojou-san. This way.”

“Haah,” she breathes, hand limp in his grasp. “It’s only...I’m sure you could find more, ah...amenable accommodations.”

He stops before the entrance to their room, brow knitted. “This is the best your money could buy, ojou-san.”

Her breath catches, cheeks staining pink even in the dim light. “Ah, but I mean, the arrangement--?”

He pulls the screen aside. Ojou-san’s head whips around to take in the humble room behind it, the best the hatago can offer.

“Oh.” She blinks, those strange eyes of hers bright in the lamplight. “The futons...?”

There’s two, arranged so that if the room were split in half, there would be one on either side. Close enough together that if they both stretched out their arms-- and ojou-san put in a little effort-- their fingers might touch. Nothing special, nothing so fine as the bedding in Kino-san’s house, but it will serve. It will have to; there’s nothing better outside of a honjin, and, well-- ojou-san’s money might open more doors than he’s used to, but not those.

Still, her brow is furrowed, her small body stiff beside his. A girl like her has probably never seen a room so humble, let alone slept it in.

“This is not the least comfortable place I have slept, ojou-san,” he assures her, “and it won’t be the worst we see.”

“Oh, no! I only meant...” Her teeth sink into the bud of her lip, pearl laid into a cherry blossom. “This is, um, suitable for me as well.”

He smothers a laugh. How delicate his ojou-san is, trying to save his feelings. “I apologize for the close quarters, I’ve been given to understand that the hatago is busy tonight.”

“No, no, that’s-- it’s all right,” she stutters, breathless, hands fluttering in the air between them. “Really, this is more than all right, thank you.”

“Glad to hear it.” He steps back, letting her walk past, taking in the lay of the room, inspecting the large screen that unfurls across it. “I’ll tell the women to bring up your bath.”

She spins on her heel, those too-large eyes blinking wide. “Bath?”

Here? echoes in the room, though ojou-san has not spoken the word. Obi is as masterful interpreter of what is not said as much as he is of what is.

“We were on the road a long while today,” he reminds her, gently. “I’m sure you’d like to clean up.”

Not to mention there will be few hatago with soaking tubs. Ojou-san might be used to such luxuries, but in a few more miles, it will only be the public baths that are available to them.

She hums, staring down at the dusty hem of her kimono. “Perhaps...”

“Besides--” he nods his chin at her, gaze dropping pointedly to the floor-- “those feet of yours could use another soak.”

“Oh!” She grimaces, taking in the rusty red stains on her tabi. “Yes, that-- that would be, ah...good, I think.”

“Good.” He lets one corner of his mouth lift, earning him another flushed look as he closes the doors. “I’ll see to it.”

The innkeeper’s mouth is a wary wrinkle on his already aged face, eyes watching him like a loose coin as he rolls into the bar. Ah, ojou-san’s money and sweet looks might have bought him dinner and a room, but without her, his looks paid a different price. His mistress might overlook the scar on his brow or the too-short bristle of his hair, but this man-- this man would not.

“My mistress is ready for her bath,” he murmurs, rolling the words around in his mouth until they rumbled. The man’s hands twist anxiously, and Obi can tell he is trying to count the seconds between thunder and lightning to see if this storm will pass him by. “See to it that it is brought up.”

The innkeep hesitates, his neck so proud and defiant before it bends beneath his glare. “Yes, okyakusama.” Each syllable is spat toward the tatami, a curse upon him. “It will be done at once.”

Obi lingers, staring down at the back of this man’s neck, watching how he trembles. The innkeep may play at scruples, but a man who sells his pride once has sold it a thousand times over.

Let the man have his suspicions. He was clearly shrewd enough not to risk exposing them; after all, the price of insulting a samurai was too high, even these days.

Ah well. He turns away, disinterested. One problem solved. On to the next.

The bar is as he left it: tables overflowing with patrons and cups overflowing with drink. The one he shared with ojou-san is empty still, their platters only recently carried away. Good. One thing going his way tonight.

Obi may not be used to the attention ojou-san brings them, but if there’s one thing he does know how to handle, it is making an entrance. He swaggers in, hand hovering over the hilt of his blade as he thunders toward the empty table. That’s how these samurai were, weren’t they? A man-sized storm, ready to strike the easiest target.

He drops to the floor, graceless, legs crossed. Ojou-san had frowned at him when he’d done the same this evening, favoring him with the same weary glare she’d given her...Kino-san, when he’d done the same. It left a bitter taste in his mouth sharing anything with that man, but-- needs must. His job was to look imposing, to put an obstacle between his mistress and all who would do her harm, and only a true asshole would sit like a shogun as he drank sake.

His eyes drift over the room, slipping his blade from his belt as if he had no distinct purpose, as if he did not have a precise idea of which men needed to be discouraged. They watch him now, he knows, voices lowered, shoulders hunched and hesitant. All except for the monkey.

He stares at Obi, mouth hooked into a smirk, a long rat-tail of hair hanging down his back. There’s something about him that sets his teeth on edge, that says trouble without a single brush stroke.

That man is a bold one, reckless. He’s nothing special at first glance, dressed as ragged as his sniveling companions, but with another--

He raises a cup, salutes, drinks.

Obi sets his sword to his left.

His companions have stopped talking now, darting nervous glances at him under the cover of contemplating their drinks. Ah yes, it’s all much less funny now that the sweet ojou-san’s bodyguard has declared his notice. Good. The last thing he needs tonight is any more foolishness.

Unbidden, he thinks damp crimson, of a water drop slipping down pale skin--

Haah, well, aside from his own.

His hand slaps the table, harsh as a gunshot. The men at the table wince, turning their faces away. Ojou-san would scold if she saw him now-- too rough, too loud to be proper company-- but he’s a man that gets results, no matter what means.

“Okyakusama,” one of the serving girls simpers, all pleasant eyes and submissive bow. “You have returned.”

“Sake,” he snaps. No, that’s too much, even for him. “...If you would.”

Her eyes widen, daring a troubled glance up at him. Of course; the man he was earlier tonight was not so rough, did not growl his words like a common thug. But now-- well, he is performing for the benefit of a different audience.

“O-of course, okyakusama,” she stammers, “at once.”

She pours him a cup, hand trembling, and he--

He can’t help himself. Her skin is stretched tight over her knuckles where he touches her. “That’s enough.”

“Oh!” she breathes, so still beneath him. “shall I--?”

“Stay,” he commands, and with his other hand, downs the drink in a single gulp. It burns the whole way down. “Another.”

“Y-yes, okyakusama.”

This time he lifts his hand as she pours, nodding when she’s finished. “Good. Go.”

She does not hesitate; the moment he says the word, she is gone. And the monkey is still staring at him.

He’s different from his friends; all their haori and hakama are worn, threadbare and dusty from the road, but this one holds himself differently, holds himself above them. Not always a traveler then, a man more used to cushion and rice paper walls than this transient life. Maybe even a man born with a blade in his hand, even if he never learned to use it.

Obi hates him already.

The monkey knows it. He lifts his cup, meeting his gaze with a smirk. Obi does the same. They both drink; steady, eyes never losing each other. Cups return to the table with precise care, fingers steady.

Obi’s legs tense. He just needs an excuse, the smallest thing, some reason to give the dōshin when they are called, because--

Because this man knows he’s seen red, and isn’t about to let it go.

“Okyakusama.” The serving girl bows, far too deeply for a man like him. “Your mistress is finished with her bath. Would you...?”

A question asked so often, and yet she flusters, cheeks flush pink as petals as she grasps for the words.

“I’ll have a bath as well,” he drawls, spiking a pointed look toward where the monkey sits, so pleased with himself. “I’m feeling quite unclean these days.”

The weariness does not hit him until he mounts the last step, every ache of the day cursing him ten-fold now that its end is in sight. The hall may be dim, but the lamps illuminate their room like a paper lantern in the night. Its soft glow draws him, pushes him on when each foot fall feels like the last.

He stops outside the door, fingers brushing the edge of the screen. Her shadow stretches over the paper, a half dozen strokes all moving in concert like the most complex calligraphy. She shifts, just so, and her head rests just under his hand, and he thinks of it, of pale skin glimmering in the moonlight, of a bead of water tracing down it, disappearing as it rounded an intriguing curve--

His fingers jolt back from the frame. A smart man would forget such things, but he--

He’s a fool. His laugh is a scrape of breath, rough and bitter. To think, tonight there will be no geisha tonight to help him try.

“I’m coming in,” he tells her, voice pitched high, friendly and unassuming. Just her trustworthy guard, and nothing else.

She’s on her mat as he enters, asleep. Or at least, that’s what she’d have him think; even if there had been no shadowplay to confirm it, he’d know by the way her chest rises far too fast, and then falls far too slow.

He lets out a weary sigh and pads across the floor. If that’s the game she’d like to play, she won’t get any objection from him. Today has been long enough as it is without him worrying about--

“What are you doing?” she shrills, breathless.

His hand stills, obi hanging loose beneath it. The neck of his kimono parts, slipping down over his shoulder as he turns to meet her gaze. Her voice might be nervous, uncertain, but her eyes--

Those are all fierce curiosity, never once wavering, not even when he smirks, not even when he says, “The women brought up water for me. I plan to use it.”

“O-oh.” The room is brighter than the hall, but it’s not enough to confirm that she is flushing. He hardly needs to see it when it’s so apparent in every line of her body. “I...I had wondered about that.”

He hums, stepping past the screen. “Even a raggedy yojimbo like yours likes to feel clean at the end of the day.” The water is steaming, his flesh turning shrimp-pink when he waves a hand through it. Perfect. “Unless you have a problem with that, ojou-san?”

“N-no!” He can’t see through the screen, not with the lamp behind him, but he can hear her shuffling, hear the wrinkle of her sheets around her. “D-do what you like.”

“I always have,” he mutters, hanging his kimono on the edge of the screen. He hears a stifled gasp and grins. “Why stop now?”

The water burns so pleasantly, but Obi knows better to linger. He only scrapes the worst of the road off of him before he levers himself out, wrapping himself in the clean yukata the women were so kind to provide. He’s not used to being in something other than his own clothes, but as he’d learned at Kino-san’s house-- a man took luxury where he could find it. This yukata would be gone tomorrow and so would he, but tonight’s comfort would be a fond memory once dawn breaks.

The fabric is fine, sticking to the dewy heat of his skin even after he’s toweled off. Still, he feels clean. He will have to put on his kimono tomorrow and all its troubles with it, but tonight--

Tonight he is not that man. Not yet, anyway.

Obi steps to the edge of the screen, and ojou-san’s gasp is nearly lost in the thump she makes, turning her back to him. He grins. Ojou-san plays at innocence, but she’s been watching a shadow play of her own.

It puts a swagger in his step and a grin on his lips. Her breath hitches as he approaches, the inn’s floor creaking softly beneath him, and it stills when he kneels beside her. The barest hint of green shines up at him, wary.

“Obi...?”

He tears the blanket off her.

“Obi!” There it is, firmer, somewhere between a gasp and a scold. Much better.

Her small hands dart out, snatching the cover from his, clutching it to her chest. “W-what are you doing?”

“Taking care of my mistress,” he tells her, so even, enjoying the way her skin pinks even in the dim lamp light. “Her feet, I mean. Unless you taught the girls how to bind them.”

“Oh!” She shifts the blanket, uncovering the puffy, reddened wreck of her feet. Ah, ojou-san would not be walking easy tomorrow, no matter what he did tonight. “I...yes. That...is probably best. Maybe I should--?”

By now he knows how the start of one of her bad ideas sounds. “Where is your bag?”

Her eyes widen, and she pushes to her knees, trying to stand. “Really, I can--”

His hands curl around her shoulders, and firmly, gently, he guides her back down to her futon. “It is my duty to look after you, ojou-san. Please let me.”

He has no innocence to feign, no girlish eyelashes to flutter, but his honesty goes much further with her than any of his attempts at charm. She meets his gaze, lip caught between her teeth, and nods.

“Over there.” Her chin ducks down, pointing toward the door. Heat radiates from her cheeks. “You’ll find everything you need.”

Ojou-san may have her books, but for Obi, his body has always been the master of him, the one that learned far better, far faster than his head. And leagues better than his heart.

He settles down on his heels, cradling ojou-san’s feet in his lap. Before she even begins to speak, he knows what to do. Ointment on the raw places, carefully replacing the blistered skin where it has not yet rubbed away, fresh bandages when he is done--

“Oh.”

He glances up at her, the last of the ointment still thick on his fingertips, hovering over her bare sole. “Is something wrong, ojou-san?”

Her jaw hangs slack, eyes intent on his chest. “Ojou-san?”

“Oh! N-no.” She coughs, gaze skittering away. “I just...you remembered. The, um, treatment, I mean.”

He laughs, stretching the fresh bandages in his hands. “Of course. I only just did it this afternoon. My memory isn’t that bad.”

She blinks, and now that intent gaze is on him again only sharper, her brow drawn. “No, it’s quite good. No, very good.”

“Come now, ojou-san, there’s no need for flattery.” He ducks his chin, hiding his pleased grin as he works. “You’ll give me the wrong idea.”

“I-- I’m not trying to flatter you,” she stammers, flush blooming at her throat. “There are few people who could learn this a single time, and do it with no direction the next.”

He shrugs, cinching the bandage tight before tucking in its end. “I’m sure you did, ojou-san.”

“No.” Her mouth tilts in a private smile, watching him wrap her other foot. “I most certainly did not. But you--” her gaze flits to his chest again, cheeks reddening before she finds his eyes-- “you must be able to do a great many things with a gift like that.”

He lets his mouth curve into a lurid leer, rumbling, “Would you like to find out, ojou-san?”

Her hands clap to her cheeks, hiding her face. “I didn’t-- that’s not--”

He settles back with a grin, tapping her ankles. “That’s done.” He sets her feet back to her futon before he gets to his own. “I’ll have the ladies come take the bath.”

“Oh...” Again, her gaze wanders to the neck of his yukata before she throws herself down onto her mattress. “You...you’ll be back, won’t you?”

“Of course, ojou-san.” He smiles, though she can’t see it. “I’ll be back soon enough.”

She hums, sleep already thick in her voice. “Don’t take too long. You need your sleep too, Obi.”

His breath burns, caught in his throat.

“I...” When he turns, her breath is already heavy, lost in dreams. He smiles softly, shaking his head. Too trusting, this woman.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, sliding the screen shut behind him. “Ojou-san.”

#obiyukiweek20 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #samurai au #Get Up Eight #ans #a little shorter than a lot of the previous chapters #but not only did I not want to split the idea of the next chapter yet #but those scenes would go better in Shirayuki POV #so enjoy this interlude of Obi dying a little #and also some plot set up >:3c

[hopesbarnes]

Gold Dust Woman

Summary: Set Pre-Ragnarok. Inspired by the song Gold Dust Woman. The goddess of temptation and sorcery is ruled by no man and doesn’t do love. You prefer to sleep around and mess with men’s heads for fun. Loki is just the newest in the line of people who have taken to you. He wishes for you to rule beside him as queen, but that type of life isn’t made for you.

Pairing: Darker!Reader x Loki

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Cursing

A/N: This is so different from my usual writings, and I really like it. This isn’t a happy, reader falls in love type story. Reader in this is so unlike me, it was a lot of fun to write. Also the drug mentioned is 100% made up.  Bold Italics are song lyrics

In theory, being Asgardian is excellent. Thousands of years to experience the realms, powers that mortals dream of, and being worshipped sound wonderful. The little ones desire to be a goddess like you. Royalty is everything one wants. However, it’s monotonous. No good being loves the goddess of temptation and sorcery. They don’t leave you offerings or pray to you. You’re remarked on the same level as Loki. The people crave a white-veiled princess, and you’ve never been that.

Your lips are on his the moment he opens the door. There’s not a minute for him to digest your presence. The kiss is harsh, your teeth clash together and Loki moans into the kiss. You bite his lower lip to allow the kiss to deepen. His hands dig into your hips and yours lightly tug his hair. The two of you move until your back hits the wall. You pull him down, leaving him kneeling before you.

“What would people say, seeing you kneeling before someone?” you tease.

“What they don’t know is for the best, my love.”

He identifies his place and lifts your dress up and you move your leg over his shoulder to give him better access. Loki starts to move his tongue against your folds and you moan out from the feeling. He continues to tease you until you pull his head back to look at you.

“Continue teasing me and you won’t cum,” you threaten the mischievous god. He nods and moves back to your core. This time he doubles his efforts and fucks you on his tongue. Your hips move and you’re thrusting down on his face. The pleasure accumulates and you orgasm. The good boy that he is, Loki licks up every drop.

You pull him up to reach your lips and kiss. During the kiss, you wave away both of your clothes and activate a birth control spell. The goddess of seduction can’t get pregnant, it would ruin your image. The kiss continues until you reach the edge of the bed. You push him down and straddled his hips.

“I do love seeing you on top of me, it’s a beautiful sight,” he gushes to you.

“Keep being this sappy and I’ll find a new God to fuck,” you warn.

You hold his cock and guide yourself down on it. Once you’re seated fully, you move his hands to the headboard and lock them with a wave of your hands.

“Are these really necessary?” he complains.

“No, but I like the way they look. Plus, it reminds you where you truly belong.”

You start a quick pace, not looking for a sweet lovemaking session. You rock back and forth roughly and scratch his chest as you do. His torso looks as if a cat has clawed it up, and the sight sends you over. This, in turn, causes him to fill you with his cum.

You pull the sheet up on Loki before getting up and magically cleaning yourself up and reappearing your dress on the ground.

“You’re a shitty person, but a fantastic fuck,” you remark while redressing.

“It’s not like you’re quite sunshine, dear,” Loki quips back. He’s lying in his bed with his wrists still fixed to the bed frame. The sheet rests low on his hips and you can’t help but appreciate his physique once again.

“Is that what you want? A little blushing maid to control?” you ask as you straddle him once again. Leaning to his ear, you whisper, “We both know you could never be satisfied without me dominating you.”

His laugh is dark, and he doesn’t refute the statement. He would crawl the grounds naked for you if you asked. You will never truly be his, but he will always be yours.

You flick your wrist to remove the binds and free him. While keeping him tied up and hidden away seems ideal, he has duties as king to see to. You’d rather him as Odin than Odin himself running this wretched kingdom.

“Why won’t you accept my proposal as Queen?” he inquires while dressing himself.

“You and I both realize I’m not made for that.”

“We should rule the realms together, would that really be so terrible?” Yes, It would. You think to yourself.

“I’m no Queen,” you reply.

“I’m no King, and yet…”

“You were born for this life. The regal manner you have to conduct yourself, the diplomacy, the fights. It all fits you. I was born for revenge. I spend my nights high or drunk, fucking whoever falls into my sight. I tear apart relationships and fool people for fun! And I like it. I’m no Queen Loki, get that through your head!” you snap at him.

“If the people truly saw who ruled them, they would quiver in fear. I’m a fucking monster, or don’t you remember? I’m what parents warn their children of.” he spats shifting into his frost giant form.

“They warn of your race, not you. You really want to compare who's the bigger monster?”

“You’re not a monster.”

“Yes, I am. The sooner you realize this the better,” you sigh and walk out of the room.

—————

When you live thousands of years, the people in lesser worlds start to write stories of you. They call you gods and try to make sense of the senselessness way you impact their world. Thor is named Zeus to the Greeks and Jupiter to the Romans. You, on the other hand, are known as Peitho to the Greeks. The goddess of persuasion and seduction. They also created you into the story of the sirens, beautiful women who lured men to their death.

Most of the stories were true. There was a time when you seduced men and killed them. It wasn’t a high point of your legacy. But you never claimed you were innocent.

A few days after the fight with Loki, he came to apologize. Claimed the pressure of the throne was too much.

“Nobody told you to steal your father’s identity and be the ruler,” you quip back. Sympathy wasn’t a virtue you had.

“Father wasn’t fit to rule anymore. Thor isn’t around, too busy gallivanting around to care for his home,” he replied.

“Still didn’t mean you had to be king.”

“Want to destress, Allfather?” you tease just to get him to shut his whining up.

“What have you in mind, lover? He asks. The word lover leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but you ignore it.

“Snagged some Ferðalags last time I ventured the forest. Turned them into a potion to drink. Wouldn’t mind sharing,” you offer the vial. You consume the drug with him and spend the next four hours high forgetting the world.

It was only a matter of time before Loki begged for marriage again. He was planning to reveal himself as Loki soon and wished to have a wife for that. You never would love him though, and marriage went against every part of your being. A better person would cut off the relationship, leave him now before it ruined him. But you couldn’t, you enjoyed messing with his head and body too much.

 Tensions were running high amongst the realms. Loki’s approach to diplomacy and ruling wasn’t being taken to quite as he hoped. Rumors of Thor fighting and trying to bring peace about spread, and while he didn’t speak you can tell the mischievous God is worrying. You weren’t one for comfort, but you were fairly good at one of the best ways people relax.

Loki was sitting in the throne room, atop his chair. It was late, so he was in his true form instead of hiding behind the face of his father.

“Why are you here so late?” you ask.

“It takes a lot to rule a kingdom, dear,” he replies.

“You know what they say.”

“Hmm?” he questions.

“Rulers make bad lovers,” you remark.

“Is that so?” he asks, beckoning you closer with his stare.

“You better put your kingdom up for sale,” you declare walking to straddle his hips.

“I feel like I should fuck you in this throne for that statement.”

“Honey, the day you are the dominant one in this relationship, is the day I become the Goddess of Marriage.”

“Then you fuck me in this chair,” he suggests sharply.

You tug down his pants, not bothering to completely undress. You hike the long dress you have on up and he whines upon the realization that you had nothing underneath. You readjust your position and take him in one swift drop of your hips.

“This is how I would like to go, encompassed by you,” he remarks as you move your hips against his.

You lean forward to meet his lips as his hand snakes between your bodies. Instead of connecting your lips, a moan falls from them against his. It’s erotic the motion, and he groans against you. You quicken your pace and your head falls against his shoulder, unable to hold yourself up as you fuck yourself on his cock.

It doesn’t take long for you to come apart as he releases into you. You sit for a moment to catch your breath and then wave a hand to clean the mess.

“You could stay awhile, just sit with me,” he breathes.

“Loki,” you sigh.

“Loki what? Why can’t you let me love you!”

“You knew I didn’t do that! That isn’t me,” you snap, aggravated. He kept trying to make you into someone you weren’t. You warned him before the first hookup. Why didn’t he listen?

“It could be. I wasn’t supposed to be regal. I was supposed to die.”

“You wanted to change. You hated who you were. I love being this!” you shout waving your hands to emphasize the point. “I love fucking anything with a pulse! I love killing those who cross me. I love seducing people and watching their lives crumble as a result! I love being a witch in every sense of the word. I don’t get why you can’t understand that. I don’t want to be your fucking queen!” The entire declaration causes his face to fall.

“I love you,” is all he manages to mutter.

“Then I’m sorry to shatter your illusions of love, and what it should be. But this isn’t love.”

“Then I guess this is done.”

“I think I should visit Midgard for some time,” you suggest.

“I figure that’s for the best.”

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #marvel smut #loki odinson #rumors #song fic

[etlunainmorte]

✒ P.S. I Love You ✒

***

IX

***

A few moments later, V found himself back to the door of (Y/N)'s room. He half expected that something would happen once more but, the way things were going, with all the spy cameras scattered about the place and Nico's close watch with them, he knew he wouldn't see anything this time. He opened door, stepped inside, and closed it once more,...

"Lady (Y/N)!"

"Wait a second!" That sweet and familiar female voice called as V found himself plunged once more into (Y/N)'s past. But, this time, he noticed a change in the atmosphere: it was much livelier, and he could feel the excitement going about the place.

Then, to V's utter surprise, the girl, herself, came out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel draped around her body. She ran hysterically towards the rose wood cabinet and practically threw the doors open in search of something decent to wear.

And as he fully expected, (Y/N) removed her little towel and let it fall on the ground next to her feet, revealing her naked form in all its breathtaking glory.

With a wildly racing heart, wide dilated eyes, and an uncomfortable feeling of warmth that was rapidly building on his crotch, he quickly turned away from the lovely sight. But, the sound of soft fabric grazing against her skin and the overwhelming scent of her favorite floral liquid soap tempted him and lured him to look once more.

And when he couldn't resist it anymore, he gave in to his desires and human needs and laid his eyes onto her beautiful form.

For a few moments of pure torture and ecstasy ( mostly caused by the sudden hardness in the middle of his pants ), he watched her as she put on some clothes: a (F/C) dress that was most probably all the rage in the late 1800s and a pair of matching shoes. She, then, went over to her vanity table with the ornate mirror and sat down on the chair. And as she took her brush and began going through the tangles in her (H/C) hair, V could not help but stare at her and be closer to her.

With gentle eyes full of adoration, he watched her as she carefully brushed her hair and put on some very light makeup. He even felt his body relax as she sprayed some perfume on her neck, its floral scent filling both the pastel - colored room and his nostrils. She looked truly mesmerizing.

And when she got up, he followed her, and it led both of them outside the room.

"Mister Sandman! Mister Sandman,..."

V heard a familiar song in the distance but, unfortunately, he unintentionally ignored it as he saw the huge change in the second floor. The once dark and dusty hallway was now very much alive with the red carpet that adorned the floor and the colorful paintings that hung on the wall, not to mention the lights that illuminated the place and made everything bright.

(Y/N) turned to her left and started walking.

"W - wait! P - please,..." V stuttered as he held out a hand towards her. Almost forgetting that she couldn't hear him, he just followed her downstairs where a group of people has already gathered for some nice talks. He tried his best to follow her but, this place seemed to make his body feel heavy, and it terribly slowed him down. He saw her navigate her way through the crowd of formally - dressed ladies and gentlemen, and V did his best to catch up to her. "(Y/N),..." He called once more. "Please,..."

"Mister Sandman! Mister Sandman,... "

She made her way towards the library and music room where more people were gathered. However, V noticed that most of the guests here were female. As she stood on her toes to try and see through the crowd of excited females, V craned his neck to see what's the fuss all about.

Standing next to the grand piano was a single male who was surrounded by blushing females of high fashion who kept asking him questions but, he couldn't hear his voice, at all, due to the sea of excited chatter by these females, and some disgruntled noises coming from a few group of men who seemed jealous of the man in the middle of it all.

"(Y/N), why are you late?!" A dark - haired female, who was as short as (Y/N), shoved a few blushing teenage girls who wore too much rouge that made their cheeks look like overripe apples and made her way towards her at the back.

"Daniella! How long have you been in here?" (Y/N) screamed in response so she could be heard.

The girl named Daniella just rolled her eyes. "I'm a simple girl. I get wind of a celebrity visiting my best friend's house and I immediately run to get there to meet him. Anyway, let's get you there! He must definitely see you! These simpletons are killing me!" She grabbed (Y/N)'s left arm and they both made their way through the crowd as she shoved more ladies aside to make way for the both of them.

"Mister Sandman! Mister Sandman,..."

V made a huge effort to go after the two girls, and as he got closer and closer to the mystery guest, he felt his body getting more and more heavy. And then, he heard it,...

"Mr. Blake, are you related to that English poet, William Blake?" A curious gentleman, who got weird looks from the ladies around him, asked the guest.

"I' am pretty sure I'm not." Mr. Blake answered.

"Mr. Blake, can you, please, quote something from William Blake?" An excited lady beside the curious gentleman requested.

V heard him chuckle as he was getting closer. He, then, heard the man as he cleared his throat and began reciting through memory alone.

"I curse,… my stars in bitter grief,... and woe,... that,... made my love,... so high,...and me,... so low,..."

"Oh, my God, that seductive voice! He's such a charmer!" Daniella breathed her admiration. She turned to her friend and dragged her once more as other ladies started requesting Mr. Blake to recite more poems. "Come on, let's get going!"

"Mister Sandman! Mister Sandman,..."

"Can you quote another one, please?"

"Of course, my fair lady. As the air to a bird,... or the sea to a fish,... so is contempt,... to the contemptible,..."

"How about a poem of love?"

There was a moment of silence from the man, and as he was about to speak, Daniella bravely called his name.

"Victor!" She called. "Victor Blake!"

And then, V finally saw him as he turned.

Wavy shoulder length hair as dark as the night. Gentle, and yet deep and intimidating, eyes that gleamed like a pair of emeralds. Hollow cheeks that formed dimples when he opened his mouth in awe of what he just saw.

It was him.

The supple lips of the poet named Victor Blake formed a mischievous, and yet endearing, smirk as he left the group of women who was barraging him with a lot of requests and questions to make his way closer to where V, Daniella, and (Y/N) were.

And as he playfully twirled a familiar - looking metal cane with his long and slender fingers and made his way to them, he began quoting.

"The modest rose,... puts forth a thorn,... the humble sheep,... a threat'ning horn." He recited, his voice pure honey to everyone's ears. "While the lily white,... shall in love delight,... " He, then, stopped right where (Y/N) was as he looked down at her. " ...nor a thorn nor a threat,..." The women squealed in delight while some snickered in envy as Victor Blake kneeled before (Y/N) and gently took her dainty hand in his huge and calloused ones. " ...stain her beauty bright." And as he ended the poem, he placed a chaste peck on the back of her hand, making her cheeks red and her eyes widen.

"Mister Sandman! Mister Sandman!"

"WAKE THE FUCK UP, V!"

V's eyes flicked open as he felt a jolt of electricity run through his body. He realized he was lying on the floor while Griffon was flapping his wings hysterically above him.

"F - FINALLY!" The demonic bird practically screamed at him, his voice seemingly cracking. "Now, ah, I know it won't be too much of a bother but, CAN YA DO SOMETHIN' 'BOUT THAT DAMN WOMAN 'CAUSE SHE CAN'T BE FUCKIN' KILLED?!"

V looked ahead just in time as he saw the horrifying face of the blonde bride he saw last night who was now crawling towards him like a huge demonic spider in pursuit of its prey. He drew back in terror as his eyes widened in terror at the look on her face: murderous, distorted, and outright unspeakable. He held out his cane in an effort to summon Shadow but, she just won't come out!

"THE HOUSECAT WON'T COME OUT NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES I CALL HER! THAT WON'T FUCKIN' WORK!" Griffon shrieked as the woman came closer and closer.

And then, V remembered,...

"And don't forget! In case of emergency, don't hesitate to push the button."

He felt the radio in his right hand and held it up. And with the last ounce of strength and bravery he had, he pushed the red emergency button and waited for something to -

"I'm lying alone with my head on the phone, thinking of you ‘till it hurts. I know you hurt too but what else can we do, tormented and torn apart?"

V cringed with the obnoxious sound that came out of the radio, and it startled both Griffon and the woman.

"I wish I could carry your smile in my heart for times when my life seems so low. It would make me believe what tomorrow could bring when today doesn't really know, doesn't really know! Ooh!"

V stood up and held the radio before the horrific woman like a Priest wielding a cross in front of a possessed maiden, making her stumble and cover her ears in fright of the horrible voice coming from Nico's gadget.

"I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you. I know you were right believing for so long. I'm all out of love, what am I without you? I can't be too late to say that I was so wrong!"

The woman opened her mouth and shrieked at V and the abominable thing in his hand and finally scrambled away from them in fear. Like the spider - like thing that she was, she crawled back to the room she came from and the moment the horrible singing was over, the hallway went back to normal and they saw the first glimpses of the early rays of sunrise peeking through the windows.

And as everything went back to normal, V collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. Griffon swooped down close to him to assist him.

"You okay, V?" His now calm familiar asked him.

"I' am." He simply answered. And just when Griffon was about to help V on his feet, they turned to their left and saw Nico making her way towards them as she ascended on the stairs. Her hair looked frizzier than ever and her clothes were torn in many places like she just escaped some maniac who was trying to kill her.

"What happened to ya?" Griffon asked her as he finally helped V up to his feet. "Ya looked like ya just went to hell and back!"

Nico sighed and pushed the rim of her now broken glasses to the bridge of her nose. "Don't ask." She said, then took a bent and worn - out looking cigarette from her pocket and tried to light it. And when she finally had a smoke, her body relaxed and her shoulders slumped. "What time is it?"

"How should I know?" The bird replied. “And who was that singin’ that horrible song on the radio?!”

“That’s Nero.” Nico confessed nonchalantly. “I recorded him while he was singin’ in the shower. Thought his singin’ might scare off the rats in the orphanage. Guess I was wrong. It scared off somethin’ much bigger.”

Nico looked around her, her bloodshot eyes roaming around the now bright area. She sighed once more and gestured for them to come down with her.

A few moments later, she placed an old wooden box on the table in the kitchen.

"And that is?" V mildly asked her.

Nico opened the box and what's inside it surprised all of them. There were a lot of old photographs,...

... of (Y/N), and,...

"V?! Is that,... you?!" Griffon questioned as Nico took the photos out of the box, scattering them on the table one by one.

"I stumbled upon these when I was hiding in a cupboard somewhere in this floor." She picked up the picture that the bird was referring to and showed it to them. "What can you say about this, V?"

The poet took the photograph from her hand and took a good long look at it, albeit hard.

And there's no use denying it. From his hair, to his face, from his posture, to the way he held his metal cane.

It truly was him.

Victor and him,...

... were the same person.

And that cane he was holding onto? That one he stole from an antique shop a month ago and used to kill off Demons?

It was the same cane on Victor’s grasp.

The cane in V's hand,..

... once belonged to Victor Blake.

And (Y/N)? She seemed to have fallen for him in that very recent vision he had.

Just like how he was beginning to really feel something truly unexplainable about her,...

***

✒ @la-vita and @micaelagua . ✒

***

✒✒✒

***

#devil may cry 5 #vitale sparda #p.s. i love you #v x reader #v x you #chapter 9 #victor blake

[haechanmochi]

You Were Beautiful

Alright OGs, last one before my small ass hiatus.

Requested by @leefelex

Pairing: Seo Changbin X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff-ish? In which (y/n) is a major tomboy with a mad crush on Binnie

-

Crop-hoodies and tight leggings were never your first choice of clothing. Heck, they were never even your last choice.

So called 'tomboys' always wore them. You preferred actual tomboy clothing over the ones you were wearing right now. Like big sweatpants and a baggy shirt with the name of a rock band on it.

So why were you going out of your comfort zone today?

For the longest time, as long as you could remember, you've had a major crush on your friend's brother, Changbin. He'd always hang around when you were over at her place and you've gamed together a couple of times as well - online of course.

Seeming as how he liked to talk to you about such things, you had a small glimpse of hope that maybe he returned the feelings you had for him in the slightest.

You had kept your secret in check, hidden deep under your baggy shirts - just like your boobs were, but had an unfortunate slip-up to your friend during your last sleepover.

Jinnie was Changbin's little sister and practically your best friend since what? Middle-school maybe?

The polar difference between the two of you often had mislead people into thinking you were a lesbian couple, with you being the more male-biased partner, but thankfully, she never let that bother her the way you thought it would.

While being a big fan of bikinis and short skirts, Jinnie was never one to cower under pressure or embarrassment. So when her exes, who were mostly senior boys at high school, would tease her - not bullying exactly - about your assumed relationship, she would stand tall, proud and bite back,

"At least she can make me finish in bed".

You almost lost it that day, breaking into a fit of laughter when the two of you left the building hand in hand.

Despite your mutual interest in men and not women, Jinnie and you had fooled around a few times after drunk parties - but that was in college when she wanted to see for herself what the 'lesbian life' - as she put it, had in store.

So back to your crop hoodie and tight black leggings with three white stripes running down each side - why?

A couple of days after your slip-up to Jinnie, she had started investigating into her brother more to find out if he had anything mutual going on for you. She was extremely supportive of it - like you expected her to be.

Then she broke down the 411 of what she had overheard during a conversation between Changbin and one of his friends that was almost equally as attractive (in you eyes nobody could overpower Changbin), called Jisung.

The two had been bickering and teasing each other while playing an intense game of mortal combat when Changbin had mentioned you - really loud too.

Then Jisung had teased him about it - all, "falling for her and her gaming skills", to which Changbin had responded,

"I see her more as a gaming bestie, you feel me? Cause I dunno, her being my sister's best friend might make it awkward".

You replayed the apparent words that left Jinnie's mouth.

So he sees you as a dude? That's just great.

Not even a week had gone by since the eavesdropping and Changbin had sent you an e-mail.

What are we? In the 60s?

You opened it up to reveal an attachment - an invitation to a gaming tournament where you could meet all the YouTubers who game. So like comic-con with gaming.

At first you typed in an entire paragraph, apologizing for not being able to make it due to 'other plans' but you reconsidered before hitting send.

If a gamer is what he saw you as, then you could impress him with something he likes about you.

However, the cargo pants and big t-shirts weren't gonna cut it - you considered this invitation as more of a date and decided, for once in your damn life, to dress up for the boy. He deserved it after having to see you only hidden under layers of clothing for so many years.

So here you were, seated quietly on Jin's bed while she swiped on your mascara for you after you accidently pricked your eye with the bristles the first time.

Nothing too major had been changed, other than mascara, and after careful consideration, some highlight. No foundation and no eyeshadow or even lipstick. You settled for your green-apple chapstick instead.

You wouldn't say it was a life-changing moment for you because it's not like you were looking at someone new, but when you glimpsed at the mirror a few seconds later, you felt pretty.

That's something you haven't felt in a while.

All the insecurities that you had hidden under your big clothing were stripped away to reveal, what you felt were, your flaws.

"I'd smash", Jin nodded in approval with a duck face while walking in circles around you, "also who knew you had such a nice butt".

You groaned in embarrassment when she poked at your buttcheek.

"Okay okay, now go get your man sis", she cheered on quietly while I descended the stairs to the living room where Changbin was on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through his phone.

"We're all ready", you almost whisper, shyly and he looks up from the screen.

To say in the least, Changbin was surprised - when he had asked you to accompany him to GAME-CON, he hadn't expected a full on snack to give him a slight arousal.

He has assumed you would wear your usual baggy stuff, which he low-key found adorable - but unlike you, would never let it slip up to anybody.

"Hey, you" he chuckled nervously attempting to establish a more comfortable aura, "Have you seen (y/n) anywhere?" He joked and you socked his shoulder lightly.

"Alright then, let's get it"

~•

GAME-CON had been an absolute pleasure, especially with fucking Seo Changbin next to you, brushing his arm against yours occasionally or pulling you by the hand to go see something exciting.

The thrill of having the boy right there enhanced the experience so much more than it originally was.

While Changbin was in the restroom, you watched a cute couple playing together. The girl kept squealing whenever there was blood on the small computer screen and she'd cling onto the boy's arm.

Is this what men want?

When Changbin came back, only one gaming booth was available so you agreed to take turns trying out the newest unreleased updates.

The first game he played was the new and improved Tomb Raider.

To be honest, it was quite more violent than you expected so you started to try out the things that the other girl had been doing.

You scooched closer to Changbin and his determined face showed no sign of him noticing, even though the boy was burning with desire underneath his demeanour.

During the storyline in which Lara Croft cuts the neck of an enemy and blood spurts out, you throw away your pride and let out an awkward mid-high pitch squeal and tug of Changbin's arm ever so lightly.

He gives you an odd look but continues to watch.

After this repeats a few times, Changbin exits the game and takes your hand, leading you towards the closest Cafeteria.

"Okay what's up?" He asks you suspiciously and you feel yourself heat up.

"Nothing is up, I just felt a little frightened is all".

Changbin scoffed, not in a mean way, and stated proudly,

"(Y/n), you play Mortal Combat and Splinter Cell every weekend with me and you don't even flinch, what's going on?"

You let out a defeated sigh and confess,

"I just- wanted you to stop seeing me as just a dude-girl and more of a girl who is -"

"Girly?" He cut you off.

You looked down at the marble table-top, tracing your fingers silently a long the cracked pattern.

Changbin stops your ever-wandering hands when he cups them in his relatively larger ones.

"Tell me, (y/n), despite me appreciating how boyish you are - and maybe teasing you about how tough you look when you play, have I ever, asked you to stop doing it? Have I ever asked you to stop being macho and just so chill?"

You shook your head no and he sighed, bringing one hand up to lift your chin.

"And you know why I haven't? Because I like how interesting you are. I like how intense you are with gaming. I like that you don't really put an effort into your clothes but still end up looking so cute".

You blushed at his comment, expecting it to stop there but he kept going.

"You were always beautiful and you still are - and frankly, if you were a boy, you'd be the cutest one out there".

You were currently dumbfounded as you tried to find the right sentence fragments to piece together in a situation as such.

"I like who you are, completely as you are - and even though this outfit, out of the blue, made me feel things, I like everything about you, whether it's with clothes or without", he said smirking at the last part and you did the only thing that came to mind, swatting his hand away playfully.

"Let's get something to eat, I'm starving", you broke the obligatory silence and Changbin appreciated you reverting back to your original self.

"Whatever you want, boyfriend", he chuckled as you gasped in playful offence, almost tackling him to the ground then and there.

Maybe nothing was official as of yet and maybe that was okay.

#skz #stray kids #straykids #stray kids seo changbin #stray kids changbin #seo changbin #changbin #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #spear b #spearb #3racha #3 racha #why is this boy so pretty

[thegreatgrahamellingham]

Old Wounds

The return walk had not been as troublesome as he had imagined.

Yes, he was forced to move with a cane. His left knee held nothing but contempt for him at all hours of the day and night. Indeed, pain had become a quite constant companion since that woman had taken it upon herself to maim him. Although, he did consider himself quite lucky all things considered. Were it not for that woman’s *sister* he would have lost the leg entirely.

Such relics of the near-past idled in his mind as he strode through Ironforge. The Entourage’s performance had been a resounding success, by all accounts. A strongly stocked audience, ample participation, and more than a few after-show curtsies, greetings, pictures and otherwise. It brought something of a smile to the director’s face. While he was not one to relish the laurels of accomplishment at the time -- in private? He allowed himself the indulgence.

On the way back to their luxurious -- albeit shared -- room in the great dwarven city, Graham passed a great many peddlers. One woman was particularly vocal regarding her fresh breads, even at the late hour, although what did the count of bells really mean in an underground city? He would have to inform Merrick of the affair, a good point to stop for their shopping before they were back on the road. Fresh bread could ease the irritation of transit.

Amongst the many stalls, marketwares, and other craftsdwarves of the festival and city, he actually came to a halt at a tiny tent. There was nothing remarkable about the vestibule, indeed all that indicated it amongst the various sales-slinging dwarves, humans, and more dwarves, was a little mechanical squirrel which sat on the front ‘counter’.

As he approached, the gear-operated pet chirped at him. It scurried quickly, briefly running in place as it ran into the tent to -- presumably -- acquire the proprietor. A smile fought itself to Graham’s face, curling back his moustache from the effort.

Within a few moments, a gnome came out, sloppily throwing back the flap of the tent. There was a haze to his eyes, and he coughed a few times before fixing his enormous quiff of pink hair. With one tiny finger he tapped the ‘counter’ and looked up -- way up -- at Graham, “Mmm .. ? Hmmph -- hmm. Hmmm. What are you interested in, tallsie?”

That particular noun produced a quirk of the eyebrow from the director, and he bowed a bit at the waist to get closer to the gnomish man. “Wine, women, song -- but I imagine you do sell some sort of wares in particular? I doubt it is wine, I hope it is not women, and you don’t look like a songbird to me. What is your stock in trade?”

The gnome replied with a little shuffle of his hips, and a proud stick of his thumb, “Your condescending tallsie tone is not necessary, sir! -- I am Wogbin Wigglethimble, and I sell the best engineered neckties and kerchiefs this side of -- of … of anywhere! Anywhere at all! Name it! Name a place, I’ll trounce their tailored accessories.”

The boldness of the gnome intrigued him, and Graham tapped his cane to the busy, evening market stone. The nearby hawkers seemed to finally give up at hollering at him -- his taste in tailoring always did bring salesman running. With a deep bow, accentuated by his free hand tucking to his stomach, he spoke clearly, “By your measure, I don’t think I need to name a competitor. Please, Mr. Wigglethimble, I should like to see your wares, if you would allow it.”

The humility of his tone seemed to confuse the gnomish tailor, who peered at him for a long moment to ensure the honesty of the sentiment. Satisfied eventually, the pink-haired artisan left, returning soon enough with case after case of tailoring accessories. They were all wooden, velvet lined, pinned inside with cravats -- neckties -- handkerchiefs -- braces -- buttons -- cuffs -- woven cufflinks -- intricately beaded brooches and badges -- men’s undergarments -- women’s undergarments -- undershirts … the list went on.

Then came the deliberation. The evening passed on deeper as Graham talked shop, as it were, with the gnomish tailor. Indeed, after an hour or more of conversation they became rather friendly with one another. As it turned out, sharing an interest -- particularly one so near and dear to Graham, and in this case Wogbin, as fine tailoring -- made for easy camaraderie.

By the end of thing, Graham had exchanged his contact information with the pink-haired Mr. Wigglethimble for future commissions -- he had hopes of a full set of undergarments fitted for use beneath Miss Hadley’s leotards -- and purchased a handkerchief, a necktie, and a new cravat for himself. As many as he had, he still found the thirsting urge for more. Pretentious? Perhaps, but he found a greater sprightliness in his step after.

Of course, in his travels back to the Entourage’s shared room, he paused at one -- well, perhaps two or three -- public houses to indulge in the local liquor. While he had positively no care for ale, stout, or other fermented low-alcohol malts, he did quite enjoy the spice of dwarven whisky. Never so fine a flavor as rum, especially from Kul’Tiras herself, but it would warm a belly in winter faster than a steady hearth. Once -- twice -- thrice, he slaked his thirst. By the end of it he was walking with a jolly sense, and a numb knee. Happy.

“Merrick -- Merrick!”

Graham burst into the troupe’s room, waltzing past the now-empty tavern below. The hour was quite late, and there were few to no patrons left eating dinner nor sipping their final drinks at the bar.

The man in question, Merrick, was still up. Poor foreman of the troupe that he was, he had remained awake in his busy-body nature. Cataloging equipment, labeling trunks, and otherwise attending to all the back-state duties that allowed for their performances to ever happen in the first place.

“Merrick, Merrick please -- come here, come here,” Graham offered in resplendence. He seemed wholly alight with joy -- quite a far cry from his usual dichotomy between reserved stoicism, and over-exaggerated showmanship.

“Wh’you all chipper on, Graham? Show wen’ well, did it? It did?” There was an easy, pleasant hope in the foreman’s voice.

“Of course, of course!” The director exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his cane. The other hand was busy cradling a wooden box about the length of a sword case.

“-- What y’got there? Gift from’n fan, or such? Bobbin does get a few a’ those, neh. Had t’start storin’ some of them with all th’mail flowin’ up into y’estate. Help me remind her t’actually open all those, I keep remindin’ her and she -- “

“-- Merrick! Please, please we can discuss that later! Here .. here -- Take this.”

Merrick peered at the director, confused as he was passed the wooden case, “What? What’n I do with this then -- you want it labelled fer’ the tram too?”

“NO! Nooo -- Merrick, open it. Open. Op-en.” The words began to slur out of Graham’s mouth, and he leaned against his cane quite heavily, a smile staining his features.

Obliging the request, Merrick unlatched the box. Within were pinned the items of which had been purchased from the tailor, all carefully folded and laid out in presentation.

“Wha -- what is … “

“Oh -- oh! Sorry, there’e -- there’re all in there, aren’t they? No no, here .. “ Graham spoke as he reached out, stumbling somewhat to put a hand into the case. He gently unpinned a necktie -- a well woven, masterfully colored affair which would run handsome with any shirt so willing to bear it, “This -- this is for you, for you, my friend.”

A little lick of emotion tucked up against Merrick’s eyes, and he smiled, nodding. “Oo -- ohh, well .. thank you, Graham. I duv’ not have cause to wear such a nice’un, but -- thank you.”

“I want you with us on stage more .. more -- Merrick. You do so much, you .. you work -so- hard for this all to -- “ Graham paused in his slurring to wave at the mess of equipment around them. Hoops, kerosene, goblin hydro-tanks for fire suppression, carefully cased aerial silks, costumes.

“-- all this to happen. You’re the rock! Our rock -- my .. “ All of the sudden, tears began to fight past the blinking of the director’s eyes. He pressed a fist to Merrick’s chest, thumping it there a few times before he could find the will to look up at him.

“I’m -- I’m sorry, Merrick. I’m sorry -- I’m sorry, I haven’t been -- I’m -not- … I’ve never been as good as you are, not … really -- and you deserve -- I just … “

Immediately, Merrick brought him in, holding him in a hug which let the case clatter to the floor. Little shushing sounds like the foreman’s fat lips, cradling the other man as he continued to cry.

The two men stood there for some minutes, before the sobbing grew too intense. Merrick knew this state well. It was far from the first time he had seen Graham fall into melancholy, into guilt, into shame. He simply picked up the elegantly dressed, well manicured malady of a man and carried him into his bed. All the while, his shirt grew more and more stained with salt water.

“I didn’t know -- I didn’t know, Murr -- Merrick, I was still .. “

“I know, I know, Graham. Y’didn’t know. It was my own problem -- is my own.”

“No! NO! It shouldn’t -- you were there for me when Huh -- Huh -- Harry … “

“That’s what we do, Graham -- Graham, please -- I promise. I promise it’s okay, neh? Y’always help me when th’nightmares run up, y’know that.”

“.. I  … “

“Y’do -- Y’do. Promise.”

“.. I’m so sorry, Merrick … “

“I know, Graham, I know.”

#Tirasian Entourage #RP

[im-not-a-writer]

Jacob Frye x Reader ~ CHAPTER 5

~~Here we are my dears! Thank you for all the constant support it really means a lot! Now I don’t want to give too much away but the next few chapters aren’t going to be as fluffy and sweet just saying lol... sorry not sorry! Anyways as always if you want to be added to the taglist then please shoot me a dm! Thank you and enjoy~~

Your breath billowed out in front of you like a puff of smoke and a bitter breeze nipped at your exposed shoulders making you shiver and bring your shawl closer to you. The carriage that dropped you off rolled away to leave you standing alone on a street filled with eager party goers, dandy lads and ladies dressed in their finest all holding each others arms and smiling at each others presence. You started walking, joining the crowd, the soft sound of your heels clicking melting into the conglomerate of monotonous murmuring and soft giggling from party goers. You stepped and stared forward to admire the the estate; the gas lamps were alive with bright flames casting a soft orange glow across the courtyard and the flower beds had a thin sheet of snow draping across them reminding you of the chill in the air. An arm slid through yours and pulled you closer causing a bit of warmth to spread through your right side. The man at your side stepped in time with you, smiling and leaning closer mimicking the happy go lucky attitude of the people around you.

“You look lovely tonight darling,” Jacob whispered down at you, his smirk almost audible.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you smiled softly back, trying not to seem like you were enjoying yourself too much as it wasn’t becoming of a lady.

His suit fitted him perfectly, turning the mischievous assassin into a dashing nobleman, it almost fooled you. You looked down at yourself and smirked at Evie’s handiwork. She chose a dark royal blue gown with champagne accents, white ruffles, and a shawl to match. The corset hugged close to your waist limiting your movements and yet the skirt provided ample room to hide the blade you had strapped to your upper thigh. Confidence surged through you unexpectedly as you strolled your way towards the entrance, wearing such a gown was a completely new experience and if you were being entirely honest you sort of enjoyed the glaces and the stares, and more importantly the attention you were getting from Jacob.

“You know the plan?” He whispered into your ear and you giggled as if he was saying some flirty bit of small talk.

“Of course. The target is Lord Clarke, best course of action is to lure him to his drawing room, kill him, take the documents, and hide his body in the maids closet.” You giggled softly and leaned closer to him, covering your words with your actions.

He slipped your invitation into your right hand and smirked when he felt the sharp edge of your hidden blade from under your shawl. He pulled you closer and whispered into your ear, warm breath tickling your cheek making you blush deep red. “You really do look ravishing tonight love and quite dangerous as well,” his voice dropped to a husky whisper only to be cut off by an inpatient doorman.

“Your invitations sir? Madam?” The doorman stared down at the both of you and you handed him your invitation with a smile and waited for Jacob to hand over his as well. “Enjoy the ball,”

You entered the estate and warmth overtook you immediately, well dressed lords and dames gossiped and chatted while waiters danced around the room holding out trays of food and drink only to be heavily ignored by the nobility in the room. The man holding your arm grabbed a glass of champagne and took a sip before tilting his head towards the center of the room.

“Do you see him?” He mumbled and you stared into the crowd.

Your eyes scanned the crowd before they caught the Lord Clarke, standing in the middle of a crowd of easily impressed men and women wearing a snow white suit with a matching top hat, he looked to be preaching about something concerning his massive wealth or his social standing and the onlookers ate it up greedily.

“Bloke in the white suit on a soapbox? How could I miss him,” You smiled and pulled a blue paper fan out from your cleavage.

“What the.. You can fit that in there!?” Jacob turned to you, shocked, breaking his character out of pure curiosity.

You giggled and hit him playfully on the shoulder before releasing his arm and unfolding the fan with a flick of your wrist, “Does it look like I have pockets in this thing? And besides, I’m full of surprises darling,” You winked and sauntered off towards your target.

Every step you took was carefully calculated to create the perfect lady persona, more importantly, the perfect single lady persona. You fanned yourself slowly, careful to keep your blade arm as concealed as possible behind your shawl, from behind the fan you could see the lord had already taken interest in you; his blue eyes caught yours and he was quick to throw a smirk your way and break from the crowd. The ladies waiting on his every breath in his little audience all shot you quick glares of annoyance and huffed, prancing away to find something else to gawk at. As he started approaching you felt your pulse quicken, your entire mission was dependent on your ability to gain the lords interest and convince him to take you upstairs.... In short you had to seduce the man… while your lover watched.

“Good evening my dear, are you enjoying yourself?” He smiled brightly at you and you brought the fan low near your lips.

“Why, yes of course my lord, the ball is absolutely lovely,” You smiled back sweetly, fluttering your eyelashes.

The lord was no doubt handsome and he knew it, dark ash blonde hair peeking from his top hat and bright oceanic blue eyes lighting up the ball room. He was taller than Jacob, slim but healthy build, and he had a smile so bright it could melt a thousand candle sticks. In all honesty you were quite pleased that this was the man you had to seduce and not some pot-bellied politician with a preference for younger women and dark liquors.

“My lady I notice, you are all alone, now how might the most beautiful woman here manage that?” He sauntered closer and spoke with the utmost confidence, “Why I do say it’s a crime for you to be alone while all these other ladies have arms to hold,”

You giggled lightly and fanned yourself a bit faster, tilting your head you leaned in a bit closer, “My lord if you’re able to keep a secret..,” He leaned down to your level and you were able to get close to his ear, “I do hate crowds, and I must say…” Your right arm rested on his, a dangerous move considering your hidden blade was just an inch or so from his skin, any wrong move and the entire mission would be a complete failure, “You are something the other men here simply are not… you are completely irresistible my lord,”

Jacob sat and watched the entire thing, he told himself it was so he could see how you were completing the mission but God knows he was watching to make sure that pompous little beanstalk didn’t lay a hand on you. He watched carefully, eyeing the way you fanned yourself, the way you tilted your head back ever so slightly as to show off your slender neck, your hand resting on his arm. He knew that he could be off gathering intel or finding some interesting item to pocket but he couldn’t take his eyes off the scene in front of him. That should be him, your hand on his arm, whispering oh so close to his ear, temptation practically dripping from the entire conversation. Jacob sipped his champagne and dusted on a fake smile but he was fighting back the urge to throw the Lord Clarke aside and claim your lips right there in front of the entire party, to let everyone know that you were his and he was yours.

“Come my dear, let’s get you away from this crowd, you look practically overwhelmed,” Lord Clarke smiled down at you and allowed one of his hands to rest on your waist while the other one took your hand lightly.

You smiled up at him and nodded slightly, “Lead the way my lord.”

The second his hand touched your waist Jacob knew he couldn’t bear to watch any further, the lord was approaching a line he dared not cross or there would be hell to pay. ‘Well, at least he’s dying soon,’ Jacob thought to himself before strolling out of the main ballroom and finding a more quiet room for him to snoop around in while you did the real work upstairs.

Lord Clarke walked slowly with you, giving you ample time to assess your surroundings and finalize your plan in your mind all while maintaining your mindless and desperate lady persona. The halls were surprisingly dark minus a few lamps here or there and the lord started to pull you closer, his hand reaching around farther and starting to drop lower than just your waist. There were large paintings on the walls, tapestries and statues lined the corridor, all paid for by the efforts of child labor.

“Right this way my lady,” He lead you to the right, allowing you to enter his drawing room before you so you could admire the decor, and so he could lock the door behind him.

The room was dark, the only light was from a gas lamp outside on the street and the moon, big and bright shining through the thin curtains and casting a silver glow across the floor. You knew he had locked the door and yet you stayed perfectly calm, this was all going according to plan. He started to walk closer and you continued to pretend that you were still admiring the paintings and the hand-carved desk. His wandering hands held onto your hips and brought you back to his chest.

“Now darling, completely alone, do you feel better?” The lust dripped from his voice and you fought back the urge to gag.

“Much,” you leaned back into his chest and allowed his hands to travel. “Why don’t we get more comfortable my lord,”

You pulled away from him and sauntered over to his desk, running your hand over the dark wood, a smirk etched onto your face. He seemed to catch your drift because in a mere second he was back with you, his hands on your waist, lifting you up to sit on his desk. You brought your hand down and started lifting up your skirts and he eagerly began running his hands over your legs, one started to travel dangerously high and you fought against every urge telling you to stab him now and get it over with, you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his face towards your neck.

“Do not tease me my lord,” You said in a husky whisper.

Lord Clarke eagerly took the hint and practically attacked your neck with his mouth, eager, sloppy kisses plagued your exposed flesh while his hand worked up dangerously high on your right thigh before it stopped. It all stopped. He pulled away from you and his hand rested on the cool blade of the dagger you had strapped to your thigh.

“What the hell?” He looked up at you and you smiled sweetly before flicking your wrist and sending your blade straight into his chest.

Swiftly you caught his body and laid him down on the ground, ready for the first real exchange of words for the night.

“You… you bloody assassins… can’t a man have a little fun,” He coughed and clutched at his chest.

“You had your fair share of fun, taking money from innocent children, throwing massive balls to distract from your thievery, putting your grubby hands on every woman who is stupid enough to talk to you, oh I do say, you have had loads of fun.” You smiled and watched as life slowly started to drain from his eyes. A rose of blood started to blossom through his white suit.

“Those children would starve if I didn’t give them a place to work, they would be on the streets playing in the filth until they die in it,” He spat, holding his wound tightly.

“Beating them, keeping them working until their limbs almost fall off, not allowing them to go home until they’ve finished work, and then taking away over half their piss poor wages… aren’t you just a good samaritan.” You shook your head and watched as the final bit of light drained from his eyes. He let out a final breath and that was all, the lord was finished. “Rest in peace…bastard” You sighed and took out a white cloth from your breasts and dragged it swiftly over the pool of blood on his chest before standing and wiping your blade clean as to not get any blood on your shawl.

You dragged the lord to the maids closet and shut the door before returning to his desk. You eyed the furniture and sighed when you realized it was ultimately drawerless, you almost forgot it entirely till you noticed two small hinges hidden under the lip of the desk. Smiling to yourself you flicked out your blade and shoved it under the lip, prying open the locked secret compartment. Nestled inside were a stack of papers, all signed by lord Clarke and ready for delivery. Swiftly you folded up the papers, shoved them down your cleavage and made your way downstairs to find Jacob.

You descended the stairs and melted into the crowd of people that were waiting for lord Clarke’s return, eagerly watching the staircase for any sign of the white clad man and his dazzling smile. You scanned the crowd but couldn’t find Jacob anywhere. You broke away from the crowd and entered a smaller room, a few party goers sat and sipped drinks and gossiped in front of a wooden folding screen that divided the room in half. You sighed and stepped swiftly behind the screen trying to think of where Jacob might be before nearly stepping on him.

The dark haired assassin was looting through a chest and perked up when you walked behind him. “There you are! You had me worried,” He stood up and smiled at you, taking your hands in his.

You smiled back and shivered as you could still feel lord Clarkes wandering hands on your body. “It’s done and I have the papers,” You patted your breasts and Jacob gawked back at you.

“You’re telling me they’re in there?!” He stammered with his mouth agape and eyes wide; he looked like a fish gasping for water.

It wasn’t long before he noticed how red the side of your neck was. It was obvious what had happened and he wasn’t thrilled.

“Is everything alright? He didn’t touch you did he?” His tone turned deathly serious and you shrugged it off.

“It was nothing, he did a number here though,” You sighed and rubbed your sore neck and Jacob growled and placed his hand over the red skin.

“He is so lucky that he’s dead or I would rip him apart.” He snarled.

You chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, relishing in the feeling for a brief second. “Come on let’s get out of here,” You took his arm and you left briskly, walking in time with each other and bidding the doorman a good night.

The chill of the night met your skin again and you pulled yourself closer to Jacob trying to steal all of his warmth for yourself, to this he chuckled and put his arm around your shoulder and continued escorting you to an empty carriage down the street. He didn’t bother with the driver instead he simply pulled the man from his seat and took his place as driver, waiting for you to enter the carriage and sit down. The older man exclaimed loudly, stumbling as he was thrown from his seat but the sound of hooves and the rolling of the carriage wheels drowned out his shouts.

In the solidarity of the carriage you could finally breathe, your mind was swimming with the events of the night; the mission, the party, the dress, and that dirty fool of a lord. You could feel his breath on your neck and his hand slithering up your gown, of course the mission had gone perfectly but you didn’t feel quite as happy as you should have. A part of you felt like you should have killed the bastard before you let him touch you but there was no telling how that could have gone, no…. You did the right thing.

The second you entered your flat you started ripping your dress off, your fingers flying to untie the corset only to be pulled away and replaced with Jacobs.

“Calm down darling, let me help you,” He chuckled and you sighed, allowing him to make quick work of the corset strings.

Once you were finally released from your fabric prison you grabbed a baggy white shirt that may or not be Jacob’s, you couldn’t care less, and you made your way upstairs to your bed where he was already laying down reading the documents you took. He looked at you and grinned happily.

“Is that my shirt?” He questioned.

“Probably,” You smiled and climbed over him to lay down on the other side of the bed. You rested your head on his chest and sighed.

Jacob put the documents on the floor and wrapped his arms around you, “Tell me what happened,”

And so you did. You told him everything and although he was astonished with how you completed the mission so well and he was just as upset as you were. “You did what you had to do… you did a good job,”

“You know, you’re the only man that’s ever touched me..” You sighed and listened to his heart beat.

      “Is that so?” Jacob smirked and pressed a kiss to your lips and you lifted yourself up to hover over him. “I can’t blame the bastard though, you looked absolutely amazing in that gown,” He smirked and you scoffed in return.

You sat up entirely and captured his lips, your hands moved up to hold his and you started positioning yourself to straddle his hips. You leaned down and continued to kiss him, lips moving in harmony before you pushed farther, getting more and more eager with every second. He tried to move his hands but you were holding him down sternly, holding his wrists near his head, not allowing him what he wanted so desperately. Slowly you left his lips leaving him gasping and you started to move your kisses further south, stopping to nip and suck at his exposed neck, smiling against his skin as he let out a deep moan.

“My aren’t you an eager one?” He exclaimed after catching himself moan.

You smirked in reply and you shifted your weight a bit, receiving another deep moan as a reward, “You’re the only man that’s ever touched me love, being so close to another man… I missed you” You giggled and continued off where you were on his neck.

“Oh darling…” he let out a pleasured sigh as you found a sweet spot on his neck. “I missed you too.”

He finally broke free from your grip and his hands flew to your body, one resting on your hip the other tangling itself in your hair, he brought your face back up to his and your lips collided in a passionate dance. Jacob started to sit up, your legs wrapped around his waist and his arms wrapped around your middle bringing you flush to his chest. One of his hands started to snake up your shirt, resting on your bear back and you rested your hands on his chest, your fingers running over his exposed crow tattoo.

“So is this how our evening is going to go?” He pulled away and tilted his head, a cheeky grin on his face.

“I think so,” You smiled and giggled softy.

“Sounds good to me dear,” A wild fire was lit behind his hazel eyes but you stopped him in his tracks.

You smirked devilishly and tugged on his trousers. “You’re not going to need these,”

~~Taglist: 

@littlewhitefairy7777 @temerey @talesfromassassiansguardian @eliffromthebrotherhood @i-am-totes-sherlocked @icarrotcake @seapandaftw @pwedatorpanda @comic-freak @nunalula

#jacob frye x reader #assassin's creed #assassins creed fanfic #assassins creed x reader #x reader #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed syndicate #frye twins #evie frye #jacob frye #jacob frye imagine