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shawnxstyles · 1 year

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please, call me peter

DATE: JANUARY 6, 2023

summary: you haven’t been able to come with anyone besides yourself, making you think something’s wrong with you. once you go to the gynecologist, dr. parker shows you that you’re just fine.

request: yes yes

words: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering], dub-con, small praise kink, dirty talking), and a cute ending.

note: shooting out requests like webs. sorry that was lame. if this makes you uncomfortable, do not read.

gynecologist!peter x female!reader

—

Your eyes scan the white room while you sit impatiently. Your heart lightly thuds in your chest and your fingers drum rapidly along your clothed thigh. The nurse had asked if you wanted to change into a hospital gown, which you politely denied. She gave you an indifferent expression before walking out, leaving you here.

You were at the gynecologist for one concerning reason; every time you had sex, you couldn’t come. Your previous relationship ended because you were unable to reach that euphoric high, which you believed was a ridiculous reason to leave someone. You weren’t as sad as you thought you’d be because you were too concerned with your own well-being to dwell on some bloke.

Before heading to the doctor, you had a quick hook-up, assuming that you and your ex just weren’t sexually compatible. But then you were proved wrong when you didn’t come. Again. You weren’t really the hook-up type, in fear of catching some unwanted disease or infection. Finally, you took matters into your own hands, literally, and masturbated with your fingers until you orgasmed all over your bed sheets.

See? It wasn’t impossible.

Then why couldn’t you come with other people? It had to be your fault. It had to be.

So, again, you were left here in the small hospital room sitting between empty stirrups with your ankles tightly crossed. The widening of the wooden door alerted you, your eyes shooting towards the man entering the room.

A guy? Your gynecologist was a guy?

You knew you were a decently healthy person because you were always on track with your appointments, even small check-ups. Because of your good wellness, you had never needed to go to the gyno. Until now, which seemed a bit nerve-racking all of a sudden.

The second the doctor turned around, you knew exactly why.

Warm, brown eyes peer at you with tenderness. Chestnut curls rest upon his head a little messily, but in the cutest way. He wore a professional lab coat over his casual clothing. His ribbed shirt and blue jeans seemed to match him perfectly. His cheeks appear a tinge pink when he smiles, welcoming and greeting you.

Oh shit.

“I’m Dr. Parker, and you are?” Dr. Parker asks as he plops onto his spinny chair. His eyes stare deeply into yours, causing your heart to race more than you’d like to admit. His voice was as attractive as his face, and you tried to convince yourself that he had to have at least one bad quality that you just haven’t seen yet, so you didn’t soak your panties.

“Y/N,” You blink to wash away the feeling of your nerves as your palms get clammy. “but you probably knew that already.”

“That is true, but I like for my patients to introduce themselves to me directly,” He states simply and you nod in response. Your sweaty hands interlocked over your thighs to ease yourself.

“So, what brings you in here today, Y/N?” Dr. Parker questions with a lick of his lips. He can’t help himself when his eyes drift nonchalantly, but quickly down your body. You were beautiful, which made it hard to concentrate on anything else, especially when you started talking. Your voice was silky, and he wanted to ask you more questions just so he could hear it more.

“I…” You were a bit embarrassed to share your reasoning. Was it common? Will he laugh at you? No, of course not, he’s a doctor! You battled with yourself in your head before spitting it out. “I can’t come during sex.”

Your jaw clenched as your hand practically hit your forehead in embarrassment. You couldn’t look at him because he was probably holding back a laugh. But you also couldn’t look at him because he was so handsome you might melt.

True be told, Peter already knew why you were here. He read the small report the nurse got before he entered. It was part of protocol and he wanted to hear you describe it yourself.

“That’s okay, darling. Nothing to be ashamed of,” He reassures gently as you remove your hand from your face. He smiles sincerely and you smile bashfully back. The nickname erupts butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t disregard the small wetness you feel trickle in your underwear.

When he asks, you go on to explain your situation in detail, even including the part about your ex-boyfriend dumping you. When Peter hears this, his jaw subtly clenches as irritation spreads through him.

Who breaks up with someone for that? He wanted to ask, but knew that was probably inappropriate. He does need to question you professionally though to ensure there’s nothing wrong. However, he thinks he already knows the answer.

“I’m going to ask you some questions that get pretty personal,” Parker faces his notes with you in the corner of his eye. You nod as your nervousness never fades and your heart beat remains quite fast.

Most of his questions were simple and straightforward, so you weren’t too ashamed to answer.

“Do you have any pain?”

“No.”

“Are you on birth control?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Two years,” You eyes strayed away from him, thumbs twiddling in your lap like an anxious child. He wonders how you got birth control without going to the gynecologist in the past, seeming as though you’ve had no history.

However, some questions made the heat rise to your cheeks. Your arousal worsened the more Dr. Parker spoke, his voice warm and soothing like honey.

“To clarify, you have orgasmed before, correct?” Peter was able to focus when his eyes were glued to his papers, but one glance at your adorable shyness and his cock was semi-hard in his boxers.

“Yes, I-I did it myself,” You hissed at yourself for stuttering. He made you so starstruck it was hard to form words. You didn’t meet many people like that in your life— now that you think of it, none at all. He surveys you for a moment you think was a little too long, and you tighten your ankles together at his burning gaze.

“Um,” He grunts, covering it up with a cough as his cheeks turn pink a tad more. Your lip subtly curls into a smile at his cuteness. Peter was nervous for the first time in a while, fingers shaking as he scribbled notes about you. He felt as silly as a child who had a crush on a classmate. “you seem very well.”

“So nothing’s wrong?” Your eyebrows crinkle in confusion, a lost expression cascading over your face when you feel like you’ve hit a dead end. You gaze at the floor, trying to understand.

“Not directly,” He says to reassure you. Your eyes meet his with a head tilt. Now, you were really confused.

“What do I do then?”

“Don’t have sex with idiots,” He grumbles, honestly hoping you didn’t hear it. But of course you did. Your heart rate quickens wildly in your chest at his blunt statement. “but to make sure, I’m going to check you, okay?”

Your eyes widen for a moment, not thinking you would have to be checked. Your thoughts immediately shoot to your soaked panties and how he’ll see your very visual arousal. Hopefully, he assumes it’s from nerves.

“Would you like to change into something more comfortable and accessible?” He asks, looking at your shirt with jean shorts. He checks most of his patients, so usually they would have been in a gown already. But at this hospital, the patient didn’t have to change, even though it was highly recommended. However, when they rarely denied the new wardrobe, the doctor had to undress the patient themselves. So far in Peter’s career, he’s only had to do that with incidents that were an emergency.

“No, thank you,” You answered with no explanation. Secretly, you hated the material of the gown and you swore it gave you rashes. Maybe you were allergic?

Dr. Parker nods once and turns to his little side table beside you. He slips on his blue gloves and tells you exactly what he’s going to do, so you’re not unprepared.

“And since you’re not in a gown, the protocol is that I must undress you myself,” Peter feels the burning red flame up his cheeks at his statement. Your eyes widen again at the image of the sensual action, but nod in understanding.

Who made that rule? You wanted to ask, but it seemed disrespectful. You honestly couldn’t tell if you loved or hated the person that invented that idea. Picturing Dr. Parker strip you only made a pool in your panties.

Peter’s gloved fingers unbutton and zip down your jean shorts with your permission. It was slow and steady, unlike your heart that was bouncing off the walls of your ribs. You know he could see your heavy breathing as your stomach rose up and down too quickly under the thin material of your shirt.

Your shorts were removed and then he was on to your underwear.

Peter’s cock pulsed in his jeans at the wet patch on your panties, his red blush never fading. He wanted to press the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit. He would rub you over the flimsy fabric and then make you moan for him as he fucked you roughly with his fingers. He could assume that you were tight and tense because of your struggle to orgasm with another person, but the thought only made his cock twitch needily as he imagined you squeezing around him.

“Are you okay so far? And can I remove these?” He asks for consent and patiently waits. You nod, but he’s not having that. “Words, Y/N. I need you to say it.”

His demand caused you to clench around nothing as you stutter out a trembling yes, so he can proceed. Peter delicately removes your panties, sliding them down your supple legs and placing them with your shorts. You didn’t open your legs, but you knew he’d already seen the wetness leaking out of you.

“Okay, um,” His professionalism was fading from him. He wanted to devour you because you probably tasted amazing. The smell of your arousal filled his nostrils, making it hard to focus on anything. “Put your legs on these stirrups. I’ll help you.”

He guides your legs into the holders, strongly resisting the urge to gawk at your vulnerable area. Once you were settled, he looked down and nearly came right there. Arousal drowned your folds as your puffy clit poked out behind it all. He noticed the fluttering of your folds as the cold air hit your wetness. He wouldn’t need to use any lube on you for sure. Peter was losing his cool and was about to lose everything if he did not pull himself together.

“I’m about to start. Are you okay?” He could sense your nervousness from a mile away. He wanted to make sure you were okay, even if you’ve had sex multiple times before.

“Yes, doctor,” You reassure and his jaw subtly locks at his label leaving from your mouth. He avoids picturing his falling from your pretty lips, so he could focus on the task at hand. You didn’t notice, too caught up in your own thoughts of his fingers entering you. You wanted him to pound them into you mercilessly because you know he’d know all the right spots and special places to hit. You can imagine he’s soft and caring, and always gives immense pleasure to the woman.

You almost gasp aloud when you come to a realization; he probably has a girlfriend. Or a wife. A wife and kids. You don’t remember seeing a ring, but that doesn’t mean anything. Oh, God, you were daydreaming sexual thoughts about your gynecologist who would probably freak out if he could hear them.

“If it makes you more comfortable, my name is Peter. Sometimes that small detail helps the patients relax more,” He noticed your sudden panicked state and high tension in your legs, wanting to calm you down, so it doesn’t hurt. It was perfectly fine to be nervous, but it wasn’t fine for him to be this nervous. He’s a professional doctor, yet he’s thinking about ruining it all just to please you at this moment.

You feel the latex gloves graze your folds, making your heart jump up into your throat. Peter’s middle finger practically teases your entrance, and you hold back pathetic whimpers. Once he slips his middle finger inside, you release a shuddery moan. His finger stills, deep inside of you while he gives you a second to adjust.

“Relax for me,” You try not to clench around him, but you’re a lost cause when he begins to wiggle it around the tight space. Peter is struggling. His cock is about to burst at the seams while his middle finger sinks far inside you. Your clenching walls and hushed noises nearly make him moan. He sees you resisting the urge to moan and it’s killing him because he wants to hear you.

“You can moan,” Peter says, voice low and sultry. “It’s welcomed.” He curls his finger and slowly pushes in and out. You don’t hold back your moan this time as lust begins to fill your vision. It feels too good, even though you know it’s wrong. You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter at his skilled finger and his concentrated expression.

Peter is positive you’re enjoying this. He can’t resist you anymore when he has you spread open for him. Plus, he found nothing peculiar inside, you seemed healthy. He could stop now if he’d like, but the contraction of your pussy walls around his finger and the sweet whimpers you’re eliciting spur him to continue.

“How does this feel, Y/N?” Peter’s voice was gravelly and lustful; you were sure to catch on by now. His question was borderline professional, yet inappropriate. At this point, Peter couldn’t care less because your face said it all.

“Good, really good,” You admitted with fluttering eyes as your hands gripped the sides of your shirt. Your name out of his mouth made you melt into his touch as you instinctively grinded your hips into his hand.

“What about this?” His ring finger slides in effortlessly, and they both curl inside you. You gasp, eliciting another shaky moan. His digits were thick and just the right length to satisfy you without even needing his cock, even though you wanted it. “God, you’re so tight. Imagine what you’d feel like around my cock.” He grumbles.

You gasp at his sudden profound language, but the dirtiness only made you more aroused. Your brain imagined how his cock would look buried so deep inside of you that you’d feel him in your stomach. You imagine this pre-cum leaking from his tip as he pulls out of you just to slam back in. Your core tensed at the thought.

“I didn’t hear you, Y/N,” He grunts gravelly, slowing his movements. He slips his fingers out, removing the glove swiftly. You whine at the emptiness, answering him. He was so sweet, yet dirty, and you loved it.

“So good! It feels so good, please don’t stop,” You plead and he smirks in satisfaction as he continues. His thumb rolls over your puffy clit, making your hips press into his hand as he slips back in. Your thighs contracted as they begged to close, but the locked stirrups blocked you from doing so.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” His tone was smooth and clear, almost contradicting his sinful actions. His pace becomes brutal, ramming in and out of you with no mercy. The rough texture of his bare hand sends a shiver up your spine as your orgasm nears.

“You! You, Peter,” Your chest heaves as choked moans leave your lips. His digits rub your throbbing nerves as his fingers glide against your walls addictingly good. Your fingernails dig into the soft flesh of your trembling thighs. His lips raise in another smirk as his cheeks flush that familiar pink. “I’m close, Peter,” You whimper, causing him to hiss at the harsh pulsing of his shaft when his name falls delicately from your lips just how he imagined.

“I know, honey. Can feel you clenching around me,” He groans when you release another noise of pleasure. His eyes wander down to your aching cunt as his fingers become drenched in your juices. You’re squeezing him torturously, on the edge of your break.

“Are you gonna come? Gonna come for me?”

Without another moment, your orgasm ripples through your body with a blissful wail. Clenched muscles and screwed eyes don’t even express the full ecstasy you feel. White liquid saturates Peter’s bare fingers before he licks them clean. It wasn’t the most sanitary, but he didn’t give one fuck.

Your face screams fucked out; perspired skin, droopy eyes, and a weary smile. In his ideal situation, he would have devoured you until you couldn’t take it anymore. But that was for another time. If there ever was another time, which he hoped there would be.

Just maybe not in a hospital.

“Well, Y/N, it seems like you are very healthy,” Peter grins, taking the tissues to clean you thoroughly. You can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks at his joking comment.

“Thanks, doctor,” Your voice came out a bit squeaky while your heart continued to stammer in your chest.

“After that, I think you should call me Peter,” He chuckles, sliding away in his stool to discard the tissues. Heat burns your skin from his adorable laugh.

“Peter it is then,” He helps you down the stirrups and you begin to get dressed with a goofy smile curling on your face. Peter doesn’t fail to notice this as his thoughts begin to wander. He knows he just met you, but he wants to see where this goes. He is confident that you’re interested in him (at least enough for him to finger you), so maybe asking you out isn’t the crazy idea he’s ever had.

“Y/N?” Suddenly, he didn’t feel so confident.

“Yeah?” Your response was breathless.

“Would you, um,” Peter hesitated to find the words. He really was like a little kid talking to his crush for the first time. “like to go out sometime? Maybe?”

You admire his bashfulness. He anxiously rolls up his coat sleeves while his face displaces a rosy blush. His brown eyes twinkled with hope as he waited for a reply.

“I would like that, doctor,” You smile genuinely and sweetly, your joyful energy calming his pent-up nerves. “I mean Peter.” You giggle when he blushes.

“Okay, okay, this is great. Here’s my number,” Peter scribbles messily on a small sheet of note paper, handing it to you. It was adorable how nervous he was for being a well-respected doctor who waltzed in with a sweet kind of confidence. You were giddy as well, but you were way better at hiding it clearly. You snatch the sheet with your fingers, tucking it away in your palm.

“Do you do this with all your patients, Dr. Parker?” You tease with a quirked eyebrow and a pointed finger at his chest. Peter huffs out a chuckle while clicking his tongue.

“Only the most beautiful ones,” He gently lifts your finger, kissing it gently before striding out of the room. Peter doesn’t forget to leave an arrogant wink as the heavy, wooden door closes abruptly.

Maybe being a doctor does make him arrogant. Sometimes.

You stand frozen, starstruck. Your breathing was back to heaving again because he left you breathless. And speechless. You jokingly wondered for a minute if you would die from a heart attack, due to the rapid thumping of a stupid organ against your ribs. Curious, you open your palm and unfold the slip of paper he wrote hastingly. Glancing past the number, you notice the small words underneath.

Please, call me Peter.

—

yesss tell me what you think :)

#shawnxstyles #peter parker #tom holland #mcu peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfics #tom holland fanfic #tom holland smut #mcu peter parker smut #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader

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alexawynters · 2 months

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Mommy Knows Best - w.m x r blurb

Summary: Wanda convincing R to let her to all the thinking for her

Warnings: Ehhh... allusions to manipulation, kidnapping, stalking.

A/N: So ahhh... I wrote this in 15 minutes while at work in a part of the office I very much didn't want to be in. This isn't connected to anything. I don't intend on expanding this bc I have no spoons and the plot bunnies won't settle on anything definitively. But if anybody wants to take a crack at it, pleeeeaaase do! Just like.. link me so I can read it because I am thirsty. Also all of this was typed up on my phone so sorry for any typos, or formatting issues. I left my laptop at home today like a dumbass..

Wanda's hand cradled your face with a gentle yet possessive grip. "I knew that you needed me the moment I laid eyes on you in that coffee shop."

Your eyes widened at the older woman's confession. Out of all the times you had met up with Wanda, it had never been at a coffee shop. Her implication that she had been watching you sent a bolt of fear down your spine.

"Such a sweet little thing, so easily flustered." She appraised you with a keen eye, searching for any hint that you might try to run. "You were just trying to substitute the milk in your coffee order, yet you couldn't even do that without nearly breaking out into tears. Poor thing. You just needed your Mommy to do all your difficult thinking for you, huh?"

The older woman's voice had taken on an almost saccharine quality, while simultaneously dripping with condescension. You couldn't have explained it if you tried, but something about her tone, her words, turned your head all fuzzy.

Alarm bells that should have been clanging loudly were but a distant detail in your peripheral, not worthy of your attention when the alternative was listening to Wanda's honeyed voice. You should be concerned. A normal person would be leaving this crazy woman as fast as their legs could carry them. Yet instead, you practically meted into Wanda's touch, almost craving it.

The witch gave a subtle smirk at the way your eyes glossed over when she talked down to you. This was going to be even easier than Wanda had thought. She might not even need to use her magic if you were already this responsive to her. Frankly, Wanda was delighted.

"Use your words, kotenok. I know you're just a dumb baby, and words are hard, but when Mommy asks you a question, I expect an answer."

Her grip turned firm, border lining on painful. Glassy eyes snapped open.

"Y-yes, Mommy. I just needed you to do all the thinking for me."

Your face flushed bright red as you spoke the words, but you couldn't bring yourself to take them back. Now that they had been released into the universe, the words rang true for you. They simply felt... right. Your trusting gaze met Wanda's domineering one, seeking any sign of her approval.

The older woman gave a salacious grin, very much reminiscent of a cat who caught the canary. "There's my good girl," she cooed, caressing the apple of your cheek with her thumb.

Lulled into a false sense of safety and security, you tilted your head. Leaning into her touch, you were practically simpering from her praise and touch. Why had you ever been concerned, you wondered? This was Wanda. She would always take care of you. She would never even dream of harming you. If only you knew the extent of the very real danger you were in, you might have tried to run. Not that you would have gotten far, but Wanda might have enjoyed the thrill of the chase.

Nevertheless, she had you right where she wanted you and why make it unpleasant when you were so... willing? The witch reveled in how pliant you were. Like putty in her hands, ready to be shaped and molded into the perfect plaything for her.

"Now kotenok," she said softly. "Why don't you go get changed into something comfortable and we can watch movies? I took the liberty of bringing over some of your clothes from your apartment as you won't be staying there anymore."

The former Avenger patted your cheek gently, sending you off on your way. It was only a few feet you had made before hesitating, turning to look at the older woman.

"Mommy...." You tried the title, and it rolled off your tongue surprisingly easily. "Why. won't I be staying at my apartment anymore? I'm still paying rent on it for another seven months." Uncertainty rolled off of you in waves.

Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, reigning her temper in. She needed to be understanding, but firm with you if she planned to get you completely under her thumb without scaring you off.

"You let Mommy worry about all of that. Those are big girl thoughts, and you wanted Mommy to do all the thinking for you, isn't that right?" Her voice was filled with exaggerated patience and condescension.

Part of you wanted to push the question. If you weren't going to be staying at your flat anymore then Wanda must mean for you to stay with her. Unfortunately, you couldn't afford rent in both places, so if you needed to sublet your flat, the sooner you knew for sure, the better. Not once did you question how, when, or why the redhead had picked up your clothes, being so focused about this rent situation.

Still, as you caught Wanda's steadily hardening gaze due to your lack of immediate cooperation, you could have sworn you almost saw a subtle flash of scarlet in her eyes. Opting not to upset the woman you were quickly falling for, you promptly turned on your heel, intent on doing as she had asked.

Unbeknownst to you, Wanda Maximoff was observing your trailing form with a razor-sharp gaze. She felt triumphant, everything was going according to plan, and you were honestly making it too easy on her. Soon you would belong to her, and by the time you realized, it would be too late.

A/N 2: What are we thinking? Bin it? Try to write it from the beginning? Or maybe keep going and only have the beginning appear in flashback format? I know I need to update Scarlet Whispers and I'm gonna, I swear! Just... effort. lol

#Wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #dark wanda x reader #yandere!Wanda #yandere wanda maximoff #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader

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sarawritestories · 3 months

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Unwavering Presence Chapter 3

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Y/N looks forward to the next time her and Feyre go to the Night Court. Choosing to stay out of the way in the Spring she is visited by the High Lord and threats are made. Few months of learning how to read and Feyre finally warming up to the Night Court, the next time they return to the Spring Y/N is caught of guard and chaos ensues.

Content Warning: 18+ brief depictions of abuse, Tamlin being a dick, Ianthe appearance, unwanted groping (Not from any of our beloved night court folks or Spring court), blood, separation.

Word Count: 5.6k

chapter 2 Masterlist

A/N: I'm sorry if it seems to be a bit sped up but I simply could not bring myself to write more filler chapters! I hope you enjoy!

After my argument with Feyre, I locked myself in my room for the three weeks. Feyre had tried to come apologize and she tried to come in, but I had made sure my door was locked. I didn’t really move from my chair other than to change and sneaking into the kitchen late at night to eat. To avoid running the High Lord, Lucien or my sister.

There had been a continuous warmth on my tattooed wrist, Rhys’ reminder that I wasn’t alone. On the bad days where sleep evaded me, I tried to send back a wave of appreciation, unsure if he could feel it. Chances were he we were sleeping when I sent so he probably didn’t even know, but I did appreciate him.

Feyre and I have never had many fights and it was even rarer that the fight had resulted in us not talking and working it out. The last time was right before Tamlin took us away.

Feyre slammed her bow on the table. “You should have been here. What were you thinking going out there?” I scoffed as I dropped the wolf carcass on the table, facing my twin whose eyes flared with anger and a hint of fear. “You could have died!”

The door creaked open, and I glanced to see Nesta and Elain emerge from the bedroom. Their eyes went wide taking a look at the beast on the table. Our dad remained near the fireplace not acknowledging that Feyre and I had returned. Not like he noticed when we left. “Feyre, you could have died to. I have just as much skill at hunting like you, we work better together, and it worked out look at what we caught.” I held out my arm to show the wolf. “I love you, and I didn’t want you going out alone tonight. I’m glad I was there to help you take this beast down.”

Feyre blew up, “I could have killed you! I didn’t know you were there!”

I gave her a doubtful look and cross my arms, “I have been able to sense your presence since we have been children, you definitely knew I was there.”

Feyre ran her fingers through her brown hair not caring if she got blood in it. “Maybe I wanted to be alone, figured Nesta would give you some good quality time. At least she doesn’t despise your presence.”

My mouth dropped and quickly recovered, “Are you fucking serious, Fey? What the fuck does that mean?”

“Girls,” Our father croaked from his spot in the fireplace, only then that I noticed he was carving something in his hands. “That’s quite enough. Y/N your mother and I have taught you better than to use that type of language.”

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever you say.” I grit out and was about to push past my sisters when the door flung off its hinges and a beast with emerald eyes locked his gaze with mine.

A knock caused me to jolt from my seat and the book I was attempting to read on the table next to the chair, “Go away,” I yelled trying to conceal the fact the knock on the door frightened me.

The sound of the lock turning, and the door opens causing me to jump out of my chair, to see Tamlin strolling in. He shut the door and made a spectacle of locking the door. His eyes met mine and his eyes held nothing but cold and controlled anger. “Long time no see, Y/N.” He drawled and I tried not to shiver as fear locked up my joints. He slowly approaches me with his hands clasped behind his back, “You’re breaking Feyre’s heart you know. Locking yourself in here.” The sun from the window hit him and in any other situation I would have found his beauty mesmerizing, but his beauty looked sinister.

I crossed my arms and Tamlin takes notice of my tattoo decorating my skin before its tucked away. Feigning indifference, tucking the fear deep down and lifting my chin. “What do you want, Tamlin?” Shifting my weight back and forth.

Tamlin closed the distance, and I took a step back, “You’re coming down and having dinner with us tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, and I could hear the growl in his chest, “No thanks, as you can see, I’m quite busy here.”

Tamlin bared his teeth, “That wasn’t a request,” he took another step toward me.

“I don’t care,” I muttered and made the error of trying to step around him and in a flash, he gripped me and pinned me against the wall his muscled his hand moved from my arm and moved to my hip his free hand clamping down over my mouth. His gaze turned feral and crazed, letting his anger unleash and I could only produce a whimper through his hand.

He brought his face closer to mine and I could see the pure ire in his eyes. “Listen to me carefully. You are going to clean up, put on a pretty dress, come downstairs and apologize to Feyre for causing her stress and pain. Then you are going to eat in silence you will be seen and not heard.” I tried to yank my head, but he has my face in an iron grip, and he gripped my hip in bruising force keeping me pinned to the wall, “Like the good little human girl you are.” He released my face.

I quickly spat in his face, “Fuck-“he clamped his hand back over my mouth and I lashed against him.

Tamlin tsked, “No, no, the only thing I wanted to hear from you at all is ‘Yes Tamlin.’ And an apology to my soon to be wife.” He gripped my hip so tightly I gasped, and a tear slipped down my cheek. Tamlin kissed it away, the gesture going against his words. He met my eyes again his grin anything but comforting, “Blink if you understand, Y/N,” my name almost a snarl against his lips. I slowly blink and more tears fall. He lowers his face to kiss my forehead and I thrash my hands trying to push him away, but I couldn’t move him. He pulled away and released my body giving my cheek a not so tender pat, “Good Girl. Now go clean up there will be a dress on your bed,” he turned and made his way to the exit.

I wrapped my arms around myself, and I noticed Tamlin paused, “Oh and Y/N,” He turned his hand still on the handle, “Make no mistake if you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair. Feyre’s happiness is important to me I will do anything to keep a smile on her face.” With that he left, and I let the emotions of the interaction fully take over and slide down the wall and bury my face in my knees to stifle the uncontrollable sobs. I barely notice how warm and tingling my tattoo is through the tears.

Cassian’s POV

I sat in the lounge of the townhouse with Rhys, there was a throbbing in my chest that caused discomfort. I rubbed my chest, but the pain wouldn’t subside, it felt like my heart was aching. I creased my eyebrows sadness consumed me and I rubbed that spot tighter as I closed my eyes.

“Cass, you alright?” Rhys’ voice pulled me from the wave of emotion overtaking me.

“I just have this weird feeling; my chest feels tight.”

Rhys gave me his full attention, his glass of whiskey forgotten. “Do you need me to get Madja?”

I shook my head, “No, just feels like something is wrong.” Another wave overwhelmed me, I closed my eyes, and I took a deep breath to neutralize myself. When I opened my eyes, my brother had a painful expression on his face. He was gripping his glass tightly his knuckles were white. “What is it?” I asked.

Rhy formed his lips into a tight line, and he clenched his hands into a fist, “Something is wrong over there,” he gritted through his teeth as he rubbed his left arm, causing me straightened I didn’t need him to fill me in. “She is sending utter turmoil down the bond.”

I grimace, “What kind of male torments their partner like that. To cause that much dread.”

Rhys shook his head, his eyes meeting mine the stars winking out, “It’s not Feyre, Cass.” My grip on my own glass tightened, “It’s Y/N’s.” Rhys stood and downed the rest of his drink.

Rhys began to walk out, and I called out, “Where are you going?”

“It’s the beginning of the new month, brother.” Rhys turned and winked at me, and darkness consumed him as he winnowed out of town house.

Reader’s POV

After a bath and getting the tears to finally stop I walked into the bedroom, taking a look at my hip fortunately there was no bruising from Tamlin’s grip. A lilac dress was laid out for me. The gossamer fabric chaffed my skin. The skirts were heavy against my hips, the spot where Tamlin squeezed still tender, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths and my wrist tingled. I looked down and grazed my tattoo calm washing over me, “Thanks Rhys.” I whispered.

I walked over to the door and opened it to find Feyre on the other side biting her nail, a nervous habit she started when we were kids. Her eyes widened as she saw what I assumed is my puffy eyes from crying, and in turn I saw how her eyes looked bruised and I know she has still not been sleeping, “Hi.” She whispered.

I drifted my gaze to my feet, “Hi.” I looked back at her and look at her thin frame and her sunken cheeks and Tamlin’s words flooded my brain.

You’re breaking Feyre’s heart.

Guilt racks through me as I lightly pull her hand from her mouth, “Feyre, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out at you.”

Feyre squeezed my hand, “No, I am sorry. I know that this transition has been hard on you. I should have been more considerate to your feelings.”

I gave her a small smile tears pooling in my eyes again, “Let’s just put it behind us,” I patted her hand with my trembling one.

If you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair.

“Y/N, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, and you’re trembling like a leaf. Do you want to lie down I can tell Tamlin you’re not-“

“No!” I blurted, causing Feyre to step back stunned. I composed myself, smoothing my skirts willing my hands to stop shaking, “Let’s just go have dinner with our…friends.” Feyre beamed at me referring to Tamlin and Lucien as friends as I tried to keep the bile from creeping up. We made our way to the dining hall. The closer we got the more nervous I became even the comfort of the tattoo felt vacant. I was trying to keep my hands from shaking by keeping them clasped.

The doors opened as we approached and Lucien and Tamlin were standing in their seats, snarling at something and as we got deeper into the dining hall to find Rhysand his hand tucked into his pockets. Feyre stilled and I fought every instinct to run and hug him. “Fuck you, Rhysand, we are to have a nice dinner. You can’t just take them.”

“Per our agreement it doesn’t matter when I come pick them up in the month.” Rhys spoke with cool indifference. “But I am a reasonable male,” He turned to us, “Ladies, I’ll give you the choice you can enjoy the meal with the High Lord and his loyal pet,” Lucien scowled, “Or we can go right now.”

Feyre moved to her seat by Tamlin Rhys tracking her entire movement, “I would like to have a meal before being whisked away.”

Rhys pulled his gaze away from Feyre and met mine. For a moment, I looked at Tamlin and could see his lips move the message clear Sit down. I met his gaze to his and hoped he understood what I was trying to convey with my eyes as I began to move to the seat next to my sister.

Don’t leave, please don’t leave. Don’t go.

Rhysand meandered to a seat on the opposite end of the table as Tamlin growled the claws peeking from his knuckles, “They want to have dinner, you can come back when their done.”

Rhys pulled the chair and plopped in it kicking his feet up as if he owned the place. “Where’s your hospitality, High Lord? I think it’s best I stay and join you. I’m sure Feyre and Y/N wouldn’t mind.”

Feyre scowled and I just lowered my gaze, finding the skirts of my dress very interesting as I took a seat. “Fine.” Tamlin grumbled and food appeared on each plate filled with lavish meats and cheeses.

I looked at the table and Tamlin’s fierce gaze met mine, “Y/N, so wonderful for you to finally join us tonight, care to say anything to Feyre.”

“Tamlin, leave her be she already apologized to me.” Feyre scolded her hand gripping my thigh with a gentle squeeze.

Tamlin bristled and I shifted in my seat under his scrutinizing gaze, “Well I’m glad she apologized. Let’s try to have a meal together with everyone present moving forward.” I looked to Lucien who avoided eye contact with me...Coward.

Feyre gave a small smile, “Sounds great.”

I moved my food around with my fork, not having an appetite. I felt a prickle in the back of my mind. You need to eat. I tried to reign in the shock of Rhys’ voice in my head. You BOTH do.

I looked at him, to see he was eating the food, but his eyes were locked on me and Feyre, I looked to my sister, and noticed she was doing the same thing. Looking at the High Lord of the Spring and his emissary, the two were engaged in their own conversation eating paying us no mind. I took a few bites of my food and out of the corner of my eye I saw Feyre following suit.

One the meal was finished Rhys stood and Feyre rising from hers, Tamlin reached to grab her hand and she casually moved her hand. I made a note to ask her about it when we’re alone. Feyre gave him a small weak smile, “We’ll see you in a week.”

A hand lightly gripped my shoulder, I looked up and met Rhys’ gaze, “Ready to go?” I nodded and rose from my seat. His hand slid down my arm and gripped my hand. “Feyre Darling,” Her gaze met his as he held out hiss free hand for her to take. She approached him with less fury than the first time we went to the Night Court. When she places her hand in his we are consumed by the darkness, and we are back in Rhys’ home. Feyre looked at me, “I’m going to go to bed. You are coming?”

Rhys gave Feyre a comforting grin, “She will be there in a moment. I need to talk to her real quick.” Feyre to my surprise give him a silent nod and her lips curve slightly upward and I swore that Rhys stopped breathing for a moment. “Good night, High Lord.” She said and turned and headed back to our shared room.

Rhys turned to me, and I averted my gaze to my hands that were interlaced. “Y/N, look at me,” I refused and kept my gaze on my hands, look at me, please his voice echoed in your mind. I sighed and met his gaze, “What happened? I felt an unnerving turmoil earlier today through,” he grabbed my arm with the tattoo. “It was like you were screaming down the bond.”

I slipped my arm from his grasp, and he let me, “I don’t want to talk about it.” I murmured wrapping my arms around myself, “I doubt you would believe me anyway.”

Rhys scowled, “You don’t have to tell me what happened. You don’t have to talk to me. But don’t ever say that I wouldn’t believe you. The pain I felt today was real your pain was real.” Rhys’ face softened, “Just don’t bury this down and forget about it, it will eat you alive, okay?”

I gave him a nod and he turned to leave probably to head to his own room, “He pinned me against a wall,” I blurted, and it caused him to still, he turned, and I could feel the tears building up as I placed my trembling fingers over my mouth, “He clamped my mouth so tight I thought he would break my jaw and he gripped my hip to keep me pinned to the wall.” I sobbed and Rhys in three strides made his way back and without saying anything else wrapped me in his arms and I let the sobs take over and buried my face in his shirt. A comforting hand placed on back of my head and he rubs my back in almost a brotherly way. “I tried to push him away and I couldn’t,” whether he could understand the words and tears just wouldn’t stop. “He told me I needed to remain silent except to apologize to Feyre for locking myself in my room. He said that he going to tie me to a chair and force me there.”

Rhys arms were the only thing keeping me upright, “It’s okay.” He whispered pressed his cheek atop of my head, as my sobs racked out of my body. “What can I do? Tell me what I can do to help you.”

There was a calm emotion that slowed down my sobs slowed, I take a deep breath, “Can you help me not feel as weak and powerless as I felt today? I never want to feel that way again.”

“Yes, you will never have to feel that way again.” He pushed away and looked at me, wiping tears from my cheeks. “I can train you.” I nodded in agreement as exhaustion began to take over my body. “It’s been a long day,” I gave him another nod, “Want to go to your room?” He gripped one of my hands, “I can take you there.”

I shook my head and his brows furrowed, “Can I go to the library?” He smiled and gave the top of my hand he held a kiss.

“Of course, you can, let me take you.” I gave him a small smile and sniffled as he led me to the library. The small journey was quiet, but the door opened, and the books came into view. “Tomorrow, we can start your reading lessons I’m hoping your sister will want to partake as well.” I turned to him, and he held hope in his eyes that Feyre would be willing. “We can start training whenever you want, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

He released my hand and began to walk away. I grabbed his hand again and he looked back at me, “I don’t know what I can say. What I can do to repay for your kindness.” And I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Thank you, Rhysand.”

He returned the embrace, “You don’t need to thank me.” He pulled away and cupped my cheek, “Have a good night, Y/N.” He places a chaste kiss to my forehead and heads deeper into the hall. I walked into the library and the fireplace lit and I welcomed the warmth as I sat on the large chair. Sinking into the cushion I laid my head back and in the comfort of the library my eyes shut, and sleep overtook me.

Cassian’s POV

She looked beautiful and peaceful on the library chair fast asleep. Rhys had casually let me know she would be there and before I went to bed after a long day in Windhaven, I stopped by to see if she might have needed anything and found her sound asleep. Rhys didn’t tell me what happened in Tamlin’s court, but he had mentioned that she was interested in training. The red around her nose and the smell of dried tears told me she had been crying and my mind only went to the worst-case scenario of what happened.

Leaning off the door I tucked my wings to not have them drag across the floor I approached, Y/N’s sleeping form, the way her neck was angled she would wake up in immense pain. I lightly scooped her in my arms trying my best not to wake her, she only stirred to move her head and leaned it against my chest and the sweet smell of Jasmine and lilacs flooded my nose. She smelled as beautiful as she was. I walked over to the couch that was placed right in between two bookshelves against the wall and lay her down making sure her head pressed against the pillow. The house placed a blanket in my arms and in no hesitation, I placed the blanket on her. She snuggled against the softness of the blanket and let out a content sigh.

I smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Sleep well, Sweetheart.” And with that I left the library and went to my room.

Reader’s POV

The next morning, I woke up and found myself on the couch in the library, and there was a blanket over me. I remember falling asleep on the chair, but don’t remember moving. The scent of leather and Sandalwood lingered in the room and was a comforting embrace. Feyre opened the door her eyes frantic, “There you are! I was so worried!” She donned a peach dress that fitted her figure with sheer sleeves that had rhinestones on it. Her hair was pinned back to the side, and she looked beautiful even though the dress looked like it was wearing her.

I stretched and smiled at her, “Sorry, Fey, I fell asleep in here. I like it in here.” I sat up and put the blanket to the side, “I’m hungry.”

Feyre nodded, “Well go change and we will go get breakfast.” I nodded and went to the bedroom to change into a purple top with sheer puffy sleeves that showed a little more cleavage with matching pants and put my hair in a simple braid and made my way to breakfast.

At breakfast Rhys broke the news to my sister that we would be learning to read, write and shield against Daemati fae, which he explained to me is how he was able to speak to me in my mind. That went as well as I anticipated but with some coercing, she joined me in the office to get our first lesson. “I don’t understand why you care about our education.” Feyre grumbled.

“Oh, are you saying having this ability wouldn’t have been useful under the mountain?” I stilled at his question and Feyre went pale and silent. “We don’t know what the future holds, its in my best interest to have you two, well versed and ready for anything.”

He explained to us how to put up mental shields that we worked on, and we spent an hour writing the ridiculous phrases that made Feyre roll her eyes and mutter, “Insufferable,” causing me to chuckle. After an hour of Rhys scolding us for keeping our shields up and checking our work, he released us for the day. Feyre and I went back to the room and fell into a comfortable silence and that evening I went back to the library and grabbed a book to practice my reading.

The rest of the week was spent that way shielding, reading and writing and towards the end, Feyre was eating more and smiling more to Rhysand which I swore the High Lord soaked in her smiles like sun rays. When we returned to the Spring Court, we both spent some time together reading and despite my utter disgust I would join for meals to appease Tamlin and keep his temper at bay.

Months went by and fell into the same rhythm. Rhys threw in a few fighting lessons, but we started with balance and stretching. He said he would only show me the basics but when his General came home that I would start training with him for more intricate training. I wanted to ask Rhys what Cassian’s role was in his court or just even to learn more about him, but I refrained, I didn’t want to pry, and he never wanted to divulge in the members of his court.

I could tell after Rhysand dropped us off that both Feyre and I were feeling better and stronger as Feyre was begging Tamlin to go out and hunt and help the people in town and met with stonewall refusal. So, she would dive into reading with me, but her face was fuller, and light shone back into her eyes, the color in her hair was vibrant again. Turns out that verbal sparring with Rhys was doing something for her.

Dinner that night after Tamlin told Feyre he didn’t want her hunting, Tamlin was utterly sweet, to her and to me. I welcomed the change even if Ianthe had graced us with her presence and her saccharine grin making my skin crawl. It felt as though things were finally falling into place. I drank the wine that Ianthe had poured for me and when I went to my room, sleep overpowered me and I moved to my bed my head landing on the pillow as I slipped into unconsciousness not even realizing that I had left my door wide open.

I awoke with a start as the warm breeze caressed my bare skin, I sat upright my surroundings spinning but trees surrounded me, I was in the forest. Someone had put a sheer nightgown on me my hands were bound behind my back and female laughter caused my blood to chill. I turned my head to find Ianthe there. “Ianthe, help me please.”

She approached me and gone was any warmth in her features and cold viper took her place as she crouched to meet my eyes, “I’m under Tamlin’s orders. To take you far away from the manor”

I gritted my teeth, “Bullshit, he wouldn’t hurt my sister that way!” I sent panic down the bond in hopes that Rhys would be able to answer my call.

Ianthe stroked a finger down my cheeks moving to my neck and down to my clavicle, “Unless we tell her you ran away.”

Fear ran down my spine I masked it with indifference, “You think she would believe that I would abandon her like that.”

Ianthe traced her finger right above the swell of my breast and I jerked away from her, “Well we could also say that you were influenced by the Naga lured out by a lesser fae and with your fragile human body you couldn’t resist.” I bit my lip, and she smirked knowing she would believe that as she held a dagger and sliced quickly above my clavicle, and I hissed, refusing to scream. Though she sliced off one of the straps to my night gown. She placed a kiss to my cheek before she murmured, “I’d run if I were you. Won’t be long before the monsters that live in these woods smell your blood and come looking for you.” And with that she vanished.

I gritted through my teeth as I rose to my knees, ignoring the pain of twigs and rocks pressing into my knees as I rose to my bare feet and began to run. I wasn’t sure which way I was running and there was minimal moon light to help but I just kept running and sending my fear down the bond. Even opening my mind:

Rhys, help. Please help me!

There was no response, but I kept pushing, kept sending waves of fear down our tattoo and shouting my thoughts in hopes he would hear. It felt like hours I was in there before I tripped over a stump I didn’t see and fell hard on my back. My vision blurred as my head collided with something hard, but the silence was palpable in the forest. My breathing was labored, and I could feel the warmth trickle of blood running down my face. I knew my feet were cut up, but I still rose to my knees and willed myself to try and stand. Dizziness dropped me back to my knees and a sob raked out of me. “Rhysand, please.” I whispered.

A low chuckle echoed behind me, and I began to tremble. “What a delicious treat we have brother, a human girl” The sound of slithering made me want to vomit but I forced the bile down and kept my head down. The slithering halted and the images of the Naga Feyre had painted flooded my memory the serpent-like creatures with talons and vile creatures.

Another low sinister voice followed, “What a pretty little thing and tied up just like a present.” A sharp finger moved my hair away to look at my bleeding wound. I looked up and met yellow eyes and a pink serpent tongue sticking out. The hand that moved my hair gripped the back of my neck and I whimpered as the Naga licked the trail of blood from my forehead. The free hand groping my exposed breast, the beast hummed in approval, “She is delicious.” The Naga gripped my hair and I yelped in pain as he approached, bringing his mouth closer to mine but keeping my head in place so I couldn’t move.

Rhys, I think I’m going to die. If I do, it was an honor being your friend.

I could have sobbed when Rhys’ voice came into my head.

No one will be dying tonight.

There was a slash of metal and the howl of the Naga who was gripping me as he was yanked away a flash of blue propelling it back. The sound of wings booming above and a thud on the ground. I couldn’t see my savior’s face only that blue gems blazed in the night as he approached the creature that put its hands on me with a blade in his hand.

The creature’s brother tried to slither its tail around my waist only to be met with steel cutting in clean off. A blast of red power forced the beast back against the tree. The Naga was about to approach again ready for a fight when a dagger flew and landed right in between its eyes, and it slumped back against the trees. The clouds parted and moonlight was able to help me see but a hand grabbed my shoulder and a jerked out of the grip turning slightly to meet familiar hazel eyes. His eyes held fear and he held his hands out palms open, “Y/N, do you remember me?” He whispered.

I nodded, “Cassian,” I whispered my voice hoarse and dry.

Cassian gave me a warm smile, “Good, Can I untie you?” I nodded again and he took another dagger and made his way behind me to cut my ties as the other winged male approached. My hands were free, and Cass took my hands in his and began to massage my wrists to bring the circulation back into my hands. “Is this, okay?” he asked, ignoring his friend who had just approached. I nodded again words not forming.

The other male knelt and gave me a small smile, his eyes a similar hazel to Cassian’s but just like Rhys and Cassian he was utterly beautiful, “I have heard a lot about you, Archeron.” His voice was pure honey, “I’m Azriel.”

I give him a small wave. Cassian released my hand and slid off his jacket sliding it over my shoulders to cover me. I slide my arms into the sleeves. “We have to get going before more come.” Cassian whispered to me, “Will you let me carry you?”

I nod but force myself to say, “Don’t bring me back to the Spring Court.” I whisper as my eyes met his and pain flashes in those eyes. “Please.”

“You are not going back there, Sweetheart. We’re taking you home.” Cassian scoops me up and holds me close to his chest, where the scent of sandalwood and leather fills my nose and my eyes widened, was he there that day in the library? Did he move me over to the couch? My thoughts whirled but the dizziness caused me to lay my head on his chest. “You alright?” He murmured the words thrumming from his chest causing warmth to spread through my body.

“I hit my head, and a little dizzy but I’ll be alright.” Azriel rose nodding to his friend and gripped Cassian’s arm as darkness consumed us until we emerged into a house I had never seen before.

Rhys was in the hall his eyes frantic, “Mother above, Is she alright? Where's Feyre?”

Tears welled up at my conversation with Ianthe bubbled to the surface of never seeing Feyre again, “I'm alright” I croaked, “They’re going to make her think I’m dead.” I whisper and tear slips from my face. Cassian’s grip tightens on me his thumb rubbing circles on my back, and I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face letting his scent soothe me.

"Who is?" Cassian asked.

"Tamlin and Ianthe." I whimper as pain erupts from my head. I pressed on, "They are going to tell her I abandoned her."

Rhys sounded as though he was clenching his teeth, “Cassian go take her to one of the rooms upstairs and have Madja come take a look at her.” I could hear his footsteps and a hand was on my arm giving it a comforting squeeze, “I’ll check on her in the morning.”

You didn't abandon her and when she sees you again she will know that Rhys' words in my mind brought me comfort as I heard his steps walk away with what I assume was Azriel's not far behind.

With that Cassian took me up the stairs and into the room I took a look around there were two twin sized beds and he laid me down on the one farthest from the window, He looked at the wound on my head, "I'm going to go get our healer, I'll be right back." He got up and I on instinct grabbed for his hand, hissing at my fast movement.

"Stay. Please don't leave me." I whispered.

He bit his lip and he nodded he looked off into the distance for a long moment and then he grabbed the chair from the small desk and brought it by my bedside. "Rhys, is calling for our healer." He sat letting his wings dip slightly as he grips my hand again and rubs the top of my hand. The soothing motion lulling me into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 4

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @Tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieoo

#cassian x reader #cassian fanfic #cassian acotar #cassian x you #acotar #acotar fanfiction #rhysand acotar #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader #archeron sister #unwaveringpresence

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absfavedyke · 3 months

Text

True Blue

A week of non stop patrols has left little to no time to spend with your girlfriend. When a break is finally granted, she can’t wait to just spend quality time with you… if she wasn’t so tired from working out every morning.

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, not proof read !!!

After a week of back-to-back patrols, you’d finally been cut some slack, and granted with a day off, as had your girlfriend, Abby. Obviously it was a total no brainer that you’d both just spend the day huddled in bed together, but you didn’t realise Abby had something planned.

She had seen how hard you were working yourself, going that extra mile on patrols, working yourself to the bone. While she hated seeing you push yourself so hard, she couldn’t help but admire how strong and determined her girl was, a sense of pride filling her as she thought about it.

Abby, being the woman she was, always woke up earlier to go to the gym. Regardless of the day, she made sure she was up and back by the time you woke up. So when your eyes fluttered open, and you were greeted with the room being empty, her side of the bed cold, you groaned. She probably got sidetracked, got into a egotistical competition with someone over who could bench more.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and grabbing your phone, you saw a message from her, 5 minutes ago. She said something about being back soon, just gotta run some errands. Rolling your eyes you replied with a heart and a thumbs up, you were never in a good mood in the mornings.

After a while of aimlessly scrolling through your phone, the door creaked open, as Abby stepped into the room. She had a bag of chocolates in her arm, a CD of my favourite movie, and a brand new blanket, and that stupid goofy grin of hers.

“I thought today we can just stay in and watch movies all day baby, I didn’t think you’d have any complaints about that.” You grinned as she walked over, leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips as she took her shoes off, sitting down on the bed with me. “No complaints here Abs!” She smiled at me as she put the movie on, before getting under the blanket next to me. After a while, it was clear she was getting bored.

Both of you had seen this movie a lot, it was your favourite, and Abby tolerated it only for that reason. You eyed her as she moved around, eventually finding comfort in laying her head on your lap, waiting for your hands to start playing with her hair, like always. A small giggle escaped your lips at this, seeing your big, buff scary girlfriend lying in your lap like this.

Still intently watching the movie, you began to run your hands through her hair, playing with her braid continuously, occasionally stopping to grab a chocolate. Abby was very much at peace now, no longer bored, feeling your fingers running through her hair.

The end credits rolled, as you removed your hand, trying to shuffle up on the bed to grab the remote, until you realised you couldn’t move. She’d fallen asleep, despite the fact it was only around 1pm, she was a dead weight on your lap.

There was no way you could wiggle out, and you simply didn’t have the heart to wake her up. She looked so peaceful, with the blanket over her and her head cuddled into your lap.

With a sigh you gave up the fight, knowing you were stuck like this until she woke up. But honestly? You were completely fine with it. This is what you imagined heaven felt like. Continuing to stroke her hair, you felt yourself get sleepy, I mean there wasn’t really anything else to do anyway.

Moving your body slightly to be more comfortable but not as to disturbing your sleeping girlfriend, you lay your head on the pillow, sighing happily as you nodded off, hand still playing with her hair, as you felt sleep take ahold of your body, falling into a peaceful slumber, hand resting on her head.

#abby anderson #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #tlou #tlou fic #tlou2 #abby anderson comfort #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fanfics #abby anderson imagine #abby the last of us #the last of us fanfic #the last of us x reader

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totheblood · 1 year

Text

true blue. (two)

pairing: modern!ellie williams x reader

summary: both ellie and reader are u-haul lesbians and there is a jump scare

warnings: SMUT! suggestive themes, drug/alcohol usage, cursing, descriptions of abusive behavior (neither ellie or reader engages in these behaviors)

a/n: this chapter... idk it has me giggling and blushing.

read part one here!

Ellie felt like throwing up.

After finding out about your history with Cat, she decided that it would be best to only talk about the project with you. She knew she came off cold, but for some reason she didn’t care. When it came to Cat, Ellie almost always shut down, and when it came to the idea that Cat may have also stuck her tongue down your throat, Ellie felt physically sick. A part of her felt bad about having feelings for you, but another part of her was deeply disturbed by the fact that you were into Cat. She also didn’t like that you still had the photo up on your Instagram.

A part of her also knew that she was being dramatic, but the less rational side of her was winning over at the moment. She found herself ranting to Dina about it almost 5 times a week, or everytime they smoked together. At about three hits in, Ellie was already ranting about you and your pretty hair and your pretty lips and how they were tainted by Cat. Like clockwork Dina would roll her eyes, rip the joint from Ellie’s hand, and diffuse it in the ashtray they made at Color Me Mine.

“You need to get over this, man.”

“I’m trying.”

So here Ellie sat, writing the second part of the project in your dorm and refusing to make eye contact with you. You almost instantly noticed an immediate shift in Ellie’s demeanor when it changed weeks ago, but you were at your breaking point. At this point it almost seemed that anything you did would annoy her, or whenever you spoke she would act shocked as if she forgot you were there. Not only was it extremely aggravating, but it was also getting in the way of the quality of your project.

“Did I do something?” You questioned, breaking the silence Ellie was enjoying causing her eyes to shoot up to yours. Yeah, you fucked my-

“No.” She grumbled as she continued writing.

“Are you sure? Because the first day I thought we got along really well, and sometimes I just say everything that’s on my mind and I don’t realize I’m doing anything wrong until well-” You gestured to her with an almost panicked look on your face. “This.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just tired is all.” Ellie mumbled as she went back to her work, pretending to not pay you any mind. All you could do at this moment was roll your eyes and try to get back to work without anxiety overcoming you.

“You’re just like my fucking ex.” You mumbled under your breath as well.

“What?” Ellie snapped her head up at you, unsure if she heard you correctly. Because if she had heard you correctly, you were comparing her to Cat.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, this time it was your turn to avoid eye contact with her.

“No, you had something to say so say it.” She continued, her voice rough. This time you looked directly in her eyes, something behind them she just couldn’t place.

“I said, ‘you’re just like my ex’. Happy?” You gave her your best fake smile and went back to your work. It had never occurred to Ellie that maybe you hated Cat as much as she did. The difference between you and her, however, was that she would never keep up a photo of her making out with Cat for over a year.

“What does that mean?” She snapped with an almost immediate need to defend herself.

“It means that things were nice at first until you started being an asshole with no real explanation of what I have done.” You answered simply, shrugging your shoulders.

“I didn’t do that.” Ellie lied.

“You totally did!” You protested. “We were vibing, you were like telling me about your life and I was telling you about mine and you were fucking laughing. Now, you don’t even crack a smile.”

“I smi-”

“You do not, Ellie!” You took a deep breath before starting again. “I thought we were going to be friends. I wanted to be friends. You’re funny and hot, but you’re being a real bitch right now and I don’t like that. I’ve done it before and I really don’t have the heart in me to do it again.”

Ellie blinked at you a few times, the guilt from giving you the cold shoulder finally setting in. A part of her really wanted to blush at the compliments thrown her way, but she was overwhelmed by the idea that her behavior was mirroring Cat’s. You really were an innocent party in all of this and she took her frustrations out on you, the cute pen dealer.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just been going through a tough time.” She lied, not wanting to reveal that the person you’re comparing her too right now is the reason she’s been acting this way. “ I know what that’s like, my ex was like that too and I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

She saw your hard exterior falter at her sentiment and the guilt inside Ellie began to build again.

“I had no idea, Ellie, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to push but if you ever want to talk about what’s going on, I am here.” You seemed completely genuine and that tore Ellie’s heart to bits. In an attempt to be kind you reached out and placed your hand on Ellie’s forearm again, right over the tattoo. “Plus, he didn’t deserve you.”

Ellie couldn’t help but snort at the comment, earning a confused look from you.

“She.” Ellie laughed. “She didn’t deserve me.”

You covered your hands with your face laughing at your own heteronormativity.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” You apologized, moving your hands from your face to stare at her freckled own trying not to burst out laughing again.

“You really couldn’t tell?” Ellie teased, gesturing to her forearm tattoo, earning a giggle from you and a red face from her.

“I mean, I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.” You teased back. “She’s smart, she’s funny, and she likes girls? Nuh-uh, too good to be true.”

As funny as the situation was, Ellie felt a deep warmth at your words. She wanted to believe you were flirting with her, but as of two minutes ago you had thought she was straight.

“Good with her fingers too. The whole package.” She added, a dimly lit fire behind her eyes.

“Oh yeah?” You feigned surprise. “I wouldn’t know. She should show me.” You leaned forward, pushing your laptop to the side table and getting dangerously close to Ellie.

Ellie almost choked on her own spit as you leaned closer. She eyed you up and down, her eyes lingering a little bit longer on the space between shirt and skin where she could see your cleavage poking through.

Without hesitation, Ellie threw her notebook to the side, leaned in and captured your lips with hers. You reciprocated immediately, your tongue trying to fight it’s way into her mouth. She parted her lips for you causing a moan to slip out of your mouth into hers. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, Ellie’s mind was racing. What the fuck was she doing, she thought. Not even an hour ago she was barely talking to you and now the sounds that were coming out of your mouth were about to make her come undone. Her hands wandered down your body, tracing the curves of your hips before slipping under your shirt. The feeling of her warm hands on your skin sent shivers down your spine.

Again, you moaned softly into her mouth as she teased your nipples, rolling them between her fingers. Breaking the kiss, Ellie moved her lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. Your hand moved to caress her hair, grabbing it lightly. She gently moved you backwards on your bed, never stopping her assault on your neck, not wanting your whines to stop. She was going to lose her fucking mind. As she worked her way down, her hand slipped into your pants, finding its way to your wet center. She began circling her fingers in what felt like slow motion as she peppered kisses along your collarbone.

“Ellie..” you moaned, causing her to look up at you. The minute she did, you pulled her head upwards, attaching your lips to hers once again. Ellie felt like she was fucking floating, but her movement never stopped. As she picked up her pace she reveled in how you were squirming beneath her. She made a mental note to remember this moment for later.

With practiced ease, Ellie slipped a finger inside you, eliciting a gasp from your lips and causing you to separate from her. She pumped in and out, curling her finger just right to hit the gummy spot inside and making you scream out her name one more time. “You’re doing so fucking good.” Ellie soothed, pressing a kiss to your neck. You writhed against her hand, your hips bucking in rhythm with her movements.

As your pleasure built to a crescendo, Ellie added a second finger, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Finally, you couldn't take it anymore and you came hard, your body shaking with pleasure.

Ellie pulled her hand out of your pants, licking her fingers clean with a satisfied smirk on her face. Your body relaxed into the bed as you tried to catch your breath. She sat back up, nearly panting, but still soaking wet.

“Well, that was quite the show,” you managed to say between gasps. Ellie grinned and leaned in for another kiss before sitting back on her knees. “Looks like you'll have to show me what you've got too, baby."

E: I FUCKED HER.

D: WHAT????

D:.. who?

D: if it’s cat i’m going to go to wherever you are and break your rib.

E: Not Cat.

D: YOU DIDN’T.

D: cute project partner?

E: Yes.

D: it’s giving u-haul lesbian

E: It’s giving best sex of my life.

D: really??

E: REALLY. And I did all the work.

D: you are a freak

E: She’s so fucking hot… I don’t know what to do with myself.

E: I can’t do this project with her, I’m just gonna think about finger fucking her the whole time.

E: I miss her.

D: oh my god

D: get a grip

E: I’m TRYING.*(@HFh3uq9)(U

D:...

D: anyways.

D: are you coming to the party tonight?

E: I will be there.

Later that night Ellie found herself tucked into a sweaty frat party. Dina and Jesse really wanted to go and Ellie was still somewhat disoriented from her morning with you so she thought there was no better place to sober up. She was nursing a red cup with a brown colored liquid inside when she almost keeled over at the sight in front of her. There you stood in an impossibly tight dress, throwing back the very same gross drink Ellie had in her cup. Ellie looked around for any sight of Dina or Jesse but assumed they had found a quiet spot to make out and grind on each other for the rest of the night

She watched from the wall as you threw your hands in the air and started dancing to the very loud music with your friends. You were obviously drunk, but it was still nice to see the carefree side of you that she wasn’t able to see in the classroom. In your dorm room, however-

“Ellie!” You screamed across the dimly lit room, stumbling towards her and bringing her in for a tight hug. Ellie tried to say your name as enthusiastically as you had hers, but her voice got lost as you pressed your body up against hers.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, the giddiness in your voice shining through. You were standing ridiculously close to her with your hand on the wall behind her, right above her head. You were smiling as wide as you possibly could and Ellie couldn’t help the smile on her face that grew each moment she was in your presence.

“Looking for you, obviously.” She teased, eyeing you up and down causing you to giggle into the crook of your neck. Her hand moved up to pinch at your waist, her eyes now steady on yours.

“Aw, look who’s all confident after fucking me.” Your smirk, coupled with the already free flowing alcohol in her system, caused her to laugh. “We’ll see how confident you are after my turn.”

Ellie swore you were going to kiss her, and you almost had if it wasn’t for your name being called behind you by your friends who gestured at you to come. You turned to look at them and nodded before you turned back to Ellie.

“We’re going to another party? Want to come with?” You asked, hoping you didn’t sound as desperate as you felt.

Ellie sighed, looking around the room for Dina but seeing no sight of her. What Ellie did know was that Dina wouldn’t leave the house without her, and it was an unspoken rule that she would never leave the party without Dina. She wanted to leave with you, but girlcode takes priority.

“I can’t.” She responded. “I’m with friends and I can’t leave them.” Ellie hates to admit this, but she took great pride at the sight of your face falling.

“Oh well, see you Monday.” You somberly replied, waving goodbye and running to join your friends.

“See you Monday.” Ellie said under her breath, practically to herself as you were already out of sight.

Ellie found herself upstairs after that, searching for Dina and Jesse so she could go home. However, she found someone she wasn’t looking for, or rather, they found her.

A cold hand tapped Ellie’s shoulder, causing her to turn around in relief that Dina had found her.

“Dina, thank go-” Her words got caught in her throat as she saw her ex standing in front of her with a sickly sweet smile on her face.

“Ellie! So good to see you, I see the tattoo is healing?” She began, ignoring the dirty look Ellie was throwing her way.

“What do you want, Cat?” Ellie spat. It was evident that Cat wasn’t being nice, and Ellie wanted her to get to the point.

“Well, I just wanted to say how cute it was that you would flirt with my ex to make me jealous.” She disclosed, the smile on her face strong.

“I wasn’t trying to ma-”

“It worked, I’m jealous.” She simply stated, moving closer to Ellie. Ellie was frozen, never in a million years would she ever think that Cat would be saying any of this. She leaned in close to whisper in Ellie’s ear.

“Swing by my dorm room tomorrow, my roommates are gone for the weekend.” She pulled away from Ellie, smiled again, and patted her on the chest before walking away back into the party.

And to be completely honest, Ellie wasn’t sure what she was going to do.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

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dungeonpuppykai · 19 days

Text

|| Triumph Of The Beast ||

Description: Captain Syverson learnt that the only way to have her was to ask her hand in marriage. So he did just that. And she was all his now, both to hold and to possess.

Pairing: Soft-Dark!Captain Syverson | Sheikha!Reader.

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Captain Syverson. This is a mature story with dark undertones so kindly browse at your own discretion. Please note that this piece is only a work of fiction that in no way aims to reinforce or propose any stereotypes to any ethnicity or race. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Soft-Dark!Syverson, he is lowkey messed up, smut with plot (I am sorry), possessive behavior, his obsession with her chastity, naive!reader, size kink, biting (it's Henry and his canines ffs), boob play, manhandling, power imbalance, arranged marriage, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, m!dom, f!sub, he's a man, misogyny, age gap (reader is 20's, Sy is early 40's fight me), he's lowkey intimidating, slight spanking, allusion to bondage, manipulation, slow burn-ish, maybe more dialogue than necessary, p-in-v penetration, corruption kink, no use of 'Y/n'.

Note: Her father is not the mean Sheikh from the movie lmfao. Reader doesn't even have to be Iraqi, just Eastern that you can TOTALLY imagine yourself as because it's a frickin' story for God's sake! Ps, This blocked me so hard mid-write I nearly abandoned it lmfao, I need a break!

Captain Syverson had always thought the notion of the first touch buzz to be foolish. To quote him in his own words, the electric touch that people claimed their beloved aroused within them was nothing more than a steaming pile of horseshit.

Until now.

As his thick and coarse battle hardened hands cupped the side of the tender face of his dear wife, the Captain's thumb darted out to quickly glide across the perfect arch of her cheekbone before it moved down to the bow of her lips, his body combusting into a thousand flames of raw desire.

Her skin was so tender he feared it may come off if he pressed on it too hard. The structure of her body that adorned her traditional wedding attire seemed so fragile in this moment next to him and in his big old bed that the thought of ever manhandling a thing as delicate as her terrified him. The contrast of her usually confident and intelligent countenance was striking in quality to the humility with which she now offered her submission to him.

His suspicions against his body and strength increased by the passing minute; he felt petrified to even breathe too easily near her. The fear that it may damage her in some way haunted him and filled his lungs with dread. It was not that she was the most petite thing that he had ever seen or she held resemblance to an adolescent in terms of size or any of that weird shit, no.

It was instead the way in which her head bowed in just the perfect way so it indicated respect and submission; not so high that it would seem that she was trying to deny him his station but not so low that it became off-putting. It was an acknowledgement to his power in their dynamic; an agreement of a lifetime.

The man could swear he was going crazy.

There was simply no way he was going to make it through the night with his sanity intact.

It was just the effect she had on him.

If there was anyone to blame it was her.

Because even though he wanted to hide this girl so safely in his arms for the rest of his days that not even a harsh breeze would be allowed to touch her, the erratic way in which his boiling blood sizzled its way through his veins, The Captain wanted nothing more than to just turn her around, press her breathtaking face into the mattress and take her over and over until she was swell with his litter.

Or press his bigger body against hers and take her deep and raw until her mind gave up on consciousness

Perhaps place her between his own legs and feel her mouth around him until his seed spilled from her nose.

Maybe make her mount him and slap her ass that he just knew would be perfect over and over to keep her going even when she didn't want to.

The possibilities were endless from where Syverson was standing.

And he was determined to try his hand at all of them, and more.

His eyebrows furrowed just a little when she awkwardly pecked his lips for the fifth time in a straight row and refused to give him more, cringing away when he attempted to deepen the kiss. The girl that giggled and covered her mouth on which her red lipstick had already smudged was a dead leaf echo of the confident and liberal sheikha -prized daughter of the sheikh supreme- that critically watched the foreign Captain everytime he was around with her bright and vigilant brown eyes so full of scrutiny that it made him, a grown man, blush. It wasn't his fault, really. Her eyes had the most attractive gleam of intelligence to them and the black khol that lined them only accentuated their beauty more.

She had always been so elegant Syverson knew he was a goner the first time his eyes had been granted the pleasure of looking at her. Sat aside her father basking in her confidence, silk scarf draped around her head and body in the most perfect way, a form he could only describe as agreeable always clad in decent clothes, fingers adorning rings with colorful stones and modesty dripping off of every single mannerism of hers.

How could a man not look twice?

And then not consider looking away utterly blasphemous on account of being unappreciative of such godly beauty?

"I- I do not know how to…" Her accent turned his gears just right. "K- Kiss, Captain" oh.

Of course.

Blood rushed to his cock that hadn't throbbed like this in a long time. That was, if it ever had.

And then his sweet, chaste wife just had to call him Captain.

Fuck.

He was going to tear her apart.

And she had no idea.

The obedient daughter, who was never afraid to voice her thoughts and outsmart every man who dared stand against her with inadequate knowledge of the debate at hand, had happily bowed down to her father's wish that she marry the charming and noble Captain -to them a warrior who was not afraid to fight for his country; a man truly admirable- after said Captain had asked for her hand in marriage when he had realized that that was the only way to have her.

Mind, body, soul… heart.

Sure, it had taken Syverson and his rather daft attempts at impressing her some quick-witted answers and astute responses by a rather critical her to realize it.

But she was his bride now.

And that was all that mattered.

"Well, ain't that just dandy?" Syverson realizes just how heavy his breathing really is when his words come out gravelly and almost forced. She is unable to hold his eyes for very long so she stares at his chest instead, a most remarkable coy smile across her lips. The fact that she looks every other man with a taught unaffected sternness but has blushed everytime their eyes have met after the wedding just drives him all the more insane.

Her dark eyebrows furrow as she lightly tilts her head to the side. He has noticed that she has some trouble understanding his dialect. So he caresses her cheek again, this time in a reassuring manner;

"I know you'll figure it out soon. You're a clever lil' thing, ain'tcha?" She looks up just long enough to nod with a meeting of their eyes.

"Yes, Captain" god, even her way of speaking has softened.

The knowledge that he was the only man in this whole wide world whom she treated like this made him want to worship her with his love and devotion in every way possible.

Because The Captain was naturally a very possessive man who did not appreciate ran through goods.

"Alright now, just trust your husband and sit back like a good lil' bride, alright?" It was taking him all of his focus to not just push her back and have his depraved ways with her all night long.

"Y- Yes, Captain."

"Atta girl," before he leaned back in and brushed his lips against hers just long enough to whisper, "now hush and don'tcha try to keep them pretty lips shut on me" he felt her going breathless against him when his mouth fit against the slot of her parted one perfectly; as though it had been created just for him.

She did her best to keep up with as much obedience as her modesty would allow her to muster but the sensation of his mouth against hers, the scratch of his coarse beard across her delicate skin, the wetness of his tongue that took its time swiping against her bottom lip and the way that he didn't have to break the kiss to know that she had extended her had in his direction to take a hold of him to deal with the intensity of it all, the sheer desperation with which he reached out his fingers and clutched hers in an affectionate way that also had a territorial tinge to it was all too much for her to handle.

An unfamiliar thrill that she had been a stranger to until this moment began to patter through her bloodstream. Her heart pounded, her sweat glands soaked, her face burnt and her stomach fluttered.

"Captain" was all she was allowed to whisper in the two second interval the man allowed them to recover their breathing.

"Well, I'll be damned, darlin'" Syverson husked through rushed kisses as he hurriedly helped her lay down with her attire still intact, both too desperate to strip her and wanting to take her as she was, for tonight she looked the most stunning he had ever seen her. "You're so dang pretty I can't even fathom stayin' off ya now that you're mine" a hush of cold breath rushed past her flush lips as her thick eyebrows drooped upwards in reaction to him dipping his face in the curve of her neck.

"I am all yours to do with whatever you please, my C- Captain" her soft hands flew to grab at his shirt as the foreign sensation of a man's body against her skin sent an electric bolt down her spine.

His body was heavy above hers as he groaned at her response and grinded his bulge against her covered sex, peppering kisses all over her skin. "God damn, baby. Your mama sure raised you up right, didn't she?" A loud squeak resonated in the air when the new husband simply could not hold back his passion anymore and bit down on the inviting flesh of her shoulder, letting out a stomach churning moan at her taste and squeezing her sides as the smell of her fragrance oils hit his nose.

"Fuck, baby" it took him all of his willpower and the promise that he could go back for more only easier to part from her. "I can't–" sitting up to kneel over her, Syverson pulled his shirt over his head before tossing it somewhere in the room. "I can't hold back no more" as he leaned back down and placed one hand beside her head to keep himself from suffocating her, the way she looked up at him with wonder, timidity, need, sent a pang of pain to his cock. "Talk to me, darlin'" he gathered her wrists in one hand before placing them above her head, now reaching for the clothed bump on her chest. "You feelin' anything?" A soundless breath left her and she shuddered in such a way that her boobs trembled feverishly.

"S- Strange… a- and… oh my God!" She had to shut her eyes and turn her head to the side when he suddenly manhandled one of her breasts out of the deep neckline of her wedding night dress. Her hands rushed to cover her chest by instinct but her husband's authoritative swat was much quicker and stronger.

Syverson chuckled at the defensive gasp she let out, a crazed darkness floating in his eyes as he pinnned her feverish hands out of his way, coarse palm now feeling up her other breast that was freed as he spoke. "Ain't no God 'round these parts tonight, baby. Just me…" His lips enveloped hers in a right and hungry kiss. "'N you" the way she nervously gulped when he pulled back to stare into her eyes only added to the fire in his body. "Say, baby" he trailed gentle kisses down her chin, along her throat and then down to the fluffy cushions of soft flesh dotted with flush, erect nipples in the middle. A surprised cry jutted out of her mouth and her fingernails tried to claw at his hand that confined them above her when he pressed one wet kiss on each nub. "Ain't this just somethin' else?"

The girl had no idea what possessed her to say what she did, but her hips moved faster than her brain could catch on and her lips worked before reticence could hinder her communication. "I- It is, Captain. T- Thank you" of course she had felt arousal before. Of course she had been wet before. Some of those times she had a certain handsome American Captain to thank for, not that she would ever willingly admit it. But she had never known how to relieve herself of it other than a cold shower.

Her mother had warned her that not every feeling that transpires in one in times of idleness should be chased and she had listened.

But this was not solitary boredom, this was not a devilish lure, her mother wasn't here and it was her wedding night with a man she was slowly becoming sure she would be able to call her dear husband one day.

If her husband was kind enough to be considerate about what made her feel what she could only identify as exciting, she deemed it a stupidity to refuse the treatment.

"Aw, baby" Syverson's hands only part from her breasts so his mouth can greedily latch onto them, his bearded lips pressing all over them before his hand nearly snatches her skirts out of his way since the layers seem to be never ending. "To think that I ain't even begun with ya and you're already thankin' me like a sweet little lady" now his mouth traveled to her stomach and the only word he had for its appearance was perfect. A shudder set in her shoulders when his beard scratched her navel before his teeth softly nibbled away on her skin.

"W- Would you like me to get up and t- take my clothes off, dear?" God damn.

He really had hit the fucking jackpot.

"Hold on now, darlin'" he husked as his fingers caressed her nubs, his hot mouth littering its kisses over her skin further down south. "I wanna take you like this first" the readied rise in the middle of her shoulder blades smoothed out and she settled back into the mattress again wordlessly. "Well now, are you gonna be good and keep them arms up high like a good lil' thing or am I gonna have to tie 'em up?" A drawn out moan sounded from deep within her throat when his chin deliberately brushed against her clothed sex, coarse fingers twirling her nipple between them.

Syverson felt an unconscious clench in the muscles of her thighs upon his words finally registering in her clouded mind. "N- No, I- I'll be good, husband. I promise."

"Atta girl" he praised in a satisfied tone before letting go of her wrists.

It was after that that his hands roamed free and wild all over her form. The Captain kissed, sucked, nibbled, pinched, groped, licked and bit all to his desire, the growing moans of his bride only encouraging him further.

"God damn, if these ain't the sweetest damn legs I've ever seen" Syverson licked away the thread of spit that previously connected his mouth to her now bruised hiphone that he had successfully marked as his territory. The fact that no man had ever seen them and the plan that he made to never let anyone do so either was making his ears hot. His sides were becoming sore with need like he was the virgin.

"And this– fuck, c'mere" he couldn't hold it back anymore. The Captain had always been an ass man and the fact that he was yet to see his wife's backside was making him mad now. Her yelp morphed into a confused giggle when he bundled her ankles in one of his rough hands, having already rid her of her panties, and easily raised both her legs up until her lower half dangling by his hold on her. "Hmmm, I just knew you had a perfect lil' rump stashed in there" his free hand felt her soft cheeks up before he traced his index finger down her crack, cursing at the way they clenched in defense. Then his depravity got the best of him and he wound his hand back and gave a handful of strong blows to her poor behind that started blushing in an instant.

"Oh– ouch!" Her next nervous giggle made him raise an eyebrow as he divided an ankle between each hand and parted her legs to look down at her.

"Think this is funny, do you?" The girl quickly stopped herself nervously. "You know who that's for?" He didn't even mind the giggles, if anything they were rather endearing to him. But the timidity in her eyes was way too sweet for him to pass up. She shook her head no. "Bad little girls who make fun of their fellas, that's who." It was the cock hardening way in which her bottom lip wobbled sensitively that dried his throat.

A young woman once so strong, all commanding and authorative now exposed in such a submissive manner and completely at his mercy.

"S- Sorry, dear" he hummed, reaching for the mound between her legs to roughly feel her pussy up in blunt gropes.

"You can consider those as payback for all them times you thought you could get slick with me in front of my boys just 'cause you were the Sheikh's daughter" her eyes widened and she blushed harder than before.

"I- I–"

"Yes, you" though Syverson's words were crisp, his kiss on her nether lips was tender and perhaps that was the sole reason why she didn't tear up from being reprimanded when she was so vulnerable and hypersensitive like this. "Thought I'd just forget all that brattin' of yours?"

She had to hurriedly sit up for that one and reach for his hands affectionately. "Oh, no" the pure care in her eyes made his melting heart feel as though it had risen into the sky. "It was only that you were not my husband back then, dear," she tried to make him understand, aware that there were cultural differences that needed overcoming, "mother said good girls owe it to their husbands to treat every other man with a serious attitude and indifference!"

She was breaking his fucking heart.

It was officially official.

Abel Ford Syverson was in love.

Soul crushing, earth shattering, sky tearing love.

With a woman who was not only intelligent and gorgeous way past his league but one that respected herself with an unwavering devotion towards her spouse.

"Well, I'll be damned!" He exclaimed with faux surprise that she did not catch up on, much to his expectation. "So that's what it was all about?" Of course he knew.

He just liked her to say it.

It boosted his depraved ego just right.

She apologetically nodded with sincerity. "I swear, my heart." The translation of the endearment caused for his blood to pump through his ears only harder.

Syverson gave her a small smile before sighing a little. "Well, you see, darlin', it did still hurt my feelings a tad" her eyebrows furrowed in regret so he added just to rub it in that much more; "got me a bit of pride to keep up, y'know?"

Now she pouted. "I am sorry, love…" Before a bulb went off in her head and she jumped a little to express her excitement, the action causing her naked boobs to jiggle. "Is there a way I can make it up to you?" There.

"Why, of course!" Fuck, he sounded more eager than a middle schooler. "You gonna have to show that you can make a good little wife" her cheeks flushed as she bit her bottom lip in embarrassment. He continued, aware she was as clueless as a virgin.

Because she was one.

Syverson loved the thought.

He wished there was a way to preserve it -her- all as it was.

"Anything you want, my dear" she replied sincerely as she earnestly pressed his hand that she held to her chest.

The man swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat as his eyes flickered down to where their fingers were intertwined; the valley of her perfect breasts.

"Good girl" his voice came out much deeper than usual. "Go on 'n' take it out, then" the bride's eyebrows raised to express her confusion as she tilted her head to the side.

His dick whimpered and spilled a thick drop.

"U- Um…"

Syverson was getting impatient. "That means my pants, darlin'." He chuckled to lighten the effect of the edge that his tone had held. "I mean, can't exactly make love to ya with 'em on, now can I?" Something pulled taught in her chest and she went to avoid his eyes out of embarrassment.

"Oh… yes" she was breathless as she reached for his fly, face angled downwards.

"Yeah…?" He drew it out on purpose teasingly, dipping his own head earthwards to try and meet her gaze cockily. "Yeah, yeah?" The man kept going unrelentlessly until she had no choice but to respond.

"Y- Yes…" Her nervous fingers slipped over the button of his pants many times but she managed to free him at last.

"Go on ahead now, sugar" he coaxed sweetly, tone in stark contrast to his intentions. "Take it out and let them pretty lil' hands get a feel" her legs instinctively tried to close due to the shame she felt but her husband's huge body hindered her attempt to somehow cover herself. "Well?"

Her eyes darted up to him from where her fingers gingerly rested against the waistband of his boxers and Syverson suspected that she was about to decline because of the way her mouth moved to let out some phantom words. But when he raised a questioning eyebrow in response, she seemed as though it had reminded her of her place against him and she quickly dipped her digits inside the undergarment to reach for his thumping cock.

The first feel of her fingertips connecting with his hard skin was… indescribable. It was as though time ceased, stilling everything else with it and he was enveloped into a cocoon of pure sensation. She was everywhere and inside. Her heat filled him to the brim. Each brush of her delicate skin against his rougher one felt like the stroke of the flesh of an outworldly nymph. Shivers of ecstacy cascaded down his lower back and he was floating already.

The girl nearly jumped out of her skin at the unfamiliar feeling, the moan that he let out along a whispered praise pulling her back in the moment and away from her recoil. The bride's mind reminded her of her duty to her husband and she used her other hand to hold his clothes away so she could uncover his impaler.

"Just like that, darlin'. Just like that" one of his hands went to tangle in her hair. "Go on and rub it for me, baby. You're doin' real good" his free hand reached for her own sex that had secreted its natural moisture in reaction to the sensations she was being subjected to. He groaned at the feeling of her warm pussy and squished his finger through her plump nether lips. "Tell me what you see" her own body was getting feverish by the second, hips and cunt trying to shrink in on themselves due to how violating his sense tingling touch was.

"I- It's…" She raked her mind for an appropriate answer. But it was all too much for her to handle; the pressure to impress her new husband, touching him the way he wanted properly, obeying him, submitting to his handling and then dealing with his intense gaze. "V- Very pretty, husband. Thank you" so she played it the safest she knew.

And the girl could swear she felt him twitch in her palm at that, a pang of pain rising in her wrist as she awkwardly pumped him in a vertical manner.

"Pretty, huh?" A cunning grin spread across his handsome features as he slipped one finger deep within her folds and being the retired playboy that he was, the Captain easily found her pure entrance. "'N' what about the size?" He could not help but moan at the feeling of her balmy walls clinging to his finger. "Ever seen anythin' like it?" Her thighs quivered as his thumb glided over her folds.

"N- No, husband" she answered timidly, afraid to bruise his pride with an inappropriate or unsatisfactory answer that may pose a threat to her chasteness.

"That's right" now he began to speed up his intrusion of her insides. "'Cause you're all mine, ain'tcha?" She quickly nodded, letting out a whine as her eyebrows furrowed at the ache his twisting of one of her nipples caused. "Now tell me," he leaned forward to reach for one of her nubs with his teeth, "did ya ever think you'd land yourself a fella with a cock this big?" He spoke through a mouthful before sinking down on her tender boobs, the tips of his sharp canines digging into the soft cushions of her flesh.

"N- No…" The girl was gasping as she struggled to keep up with his leaking and twitching cock. "T- Thank you, dear!" She added for good measure despite how overwhelmed she was becoming.

"Tell me, baby" the man loved how his naive wife's features scrunched in discomfort but she still sped up her fist that was wrapped around his cock because he prompted her to, hoisting himself further up next to capture her lips against his. "Do you think yourself lucky that you get to have this here cock all to yourself for the rest of your days?" He could not help but fuck into her hand at the sight of the spit string dangling by a corner of her bottom lip as it connected to the wad of spit that she had just released on his cock after being ordered to do so. He felt her cringe at the feeling of her fingers touching her own saliva as she spread it over his cock. But her resolve to obey him did not falter even once regardless of how shy or uneasy she felt.

And that was how Syverson knew he had found himself his perfect little homemaker.

"I- I do, husband" her voice nearly broke. "Thank you so much" the fact that all of this was visibly strange and even uncomfortable to her because she was not familiar with any of this…

The Captain could swear that alone was enough to finish him off.

She was his sacred lamb; a temple undefiled.

Nobody's leftovers; whole in every sense for the beast to take.

What could he say? Colonel Syverson's prized son always won, no matter what.

There was a brighter way of looking at his promiscuous dating history that was in stark contrast to his wife's nonexistent one; it could easily be considered as his physical sacrifice in order to realize and reach his full potential as a man for his future lady's well being as well as pleasure.

A lady that he had found at last.

"Say it" his command was heavy and the rough skin of his finger was like gravel against the buttery tissue of her slick walls. "Say that you're the luckiest lil' bride for landin' yourself the best damn dick you could have ever hoped for" she began to subconsciously move her thumb out of sync with the rest of her digits to swipe it over his tip each time her hand rose to his apex and he couldn't believe just how close he was already.

The Captain was usually a man of stamina and endurance.

But then again it was impossible for the beast to resist his tempting lamb for very long, wasn't it?

"I- I am the luckiest…" She licked her parched lips needily. "L- Little bride for l- landing myself the best d- dick…" Embarrassment burnt her cheeks but pleasing him was more important a priority to her. "T- That I could've ever hoped for…"

He deeply moaned in satisfaction. "My good girl" a quick peck was given to the tip of her nose. "Now tell me, baby. How ya feelin'?" As if on cue, she clenched around his finger with a moan.

Fuck, Syverson had never really preferred a clueless woman until now.

He could literally demand whatever he wanted from her and she would believe him out of her naivety.

His perfect pretzel Princess that he could twist into whatever shape that he pleased.

Or make her do as he desired, for that matter.

With no one, not even his wife herself, to question him or his ways.

He loved the thought.

"... S- Strange… P- Pain… but– hnnn!" Her back arched as she suddenly writhed, nearly going white at the feeling of getting her special spot getting tickled for the first time. It was an ability her husband took a lot of pride in; the renown that he had held in college for being able to find gspots with his fingers alone.

"Feels real good too, don't it?" The Captain snickered heavily as he began to rock his hips into her hand, feeling himself nearing the brink.

"Mmh!" She did her best to respond despite the sensory overload, groaning softly when he forces her band of muscles to expand further by adding another finger to her pussy and repeatedly jabbing her sensitive nerves with their blunt tips, the sound of his skin fucking in and out of her liquids getting louder by the minute. "W- Weird… but…" A drop of sweat trickled down the side of her face as she gasped, eyes widening when her spine jolted at a particular wave of pleasure. "M- More, please."

In the blink of an eye, Syverson had pushed her on her back before crawling up her body like a predator. Before her body could process his fingers leaving her into an orgasm denial, his eager cock was pushing into her. The pained moan that escaped her as her body twisted under his was muffled by his mouth clamping over hers. The Captain grunted as his cock struggled to push its way inside her virgin entrance despite the preparation that he had done. The girl's bottom lip pulled away from the rest of her mouth due to the way he bit down on it to withstand the overwhelming pleasure that sparked everywhere within him.

"Your wish is my command, my darlin' sheikha."

Syverson found himself praying for the first time to any god, deity or entity that may be listening; to freeze time right here in this very moment and never set it free again.

For he could stay like this for eternities and beyond; buried inside his dear wife and protectively enveloped in her loving arms that had never held another like she did him and never would whilst she moaned below him in a pained ecstasy, clenching and nearly knocking out as she experienced her first ever orgasm.

Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated <3

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moonswolfie · 8 months

Text

Very interesting

Oikawa x gn!reader

I thought about an oikawa x reader with this dynamic:

so here we are, also you (the reader) hates him at first and have no knowledge of volleyball outside the basics

Today, you were dragged by your friends to a game of volleyball. They wanted to see some guy in your school they're currently obsessing over called Oikawa Tooru. They constantly rave on about how perfect and hot he is. You did become kind of curious as to what he's like, even if you didn't want to spend your afternoon at a volleyball game watching him.

As the players entered the court, you thought about excusing yourself to the bathroom and then just leaving. Sure, your friends are going to hound you for it later but you really didn't feel like sitting here right now.

Suddenly, all the girls sat around you started squealing and screaming Oikawa's name and you quickly looked down on the court to find a guy with fluffy brown hair and an attractive face smiling and waving back at the crowd.

Huh. So this is Oikawa. I mean, he is physically attractive, and you can see why your friends are crushing on him, but he just seems so vanilla. Just like every other "popular hot guy".

And needless to say, you dislike that kind of guy. They're always arrogant and let it get to their head when their only good quality is that they have a pretty face.

Now you really wanted to leave.

You got up, fully intending on leaving when you felt your arm being pulled on. "No, you're freaking not. Sit down." your friend pulled you back, and you sat down in your seat, crossing your arms and huffing.

Well, you can always distract yourself by daydreaming, you suppose. You tried your best to ignore the annoying screeches of all the fangirls around you but it was simply impossible. So you sighed, attempting to cure your boredom by watching the volleyball fly around.

Your eyes wandered from player to player, eventually landing on Oikawa. His face at that moment looked unlike anything you expected. It looked serious, intense, focused. A complete contrast to the flirty smile earlier.

His face suddenly felt real, now that he wasn't wearing a plastic smile.

Even though you don't know much about volleyball, you can feel the practiced precision in his movements. It's quite scary how he does so with such a calm, relaxed face.

It draws you in, and you hate that it does.

You don't know what kind of player he is, but he always moves to the middle after someone gets the ball up and he tosses it to someone. Somehow, you can tell he does the job well. Terrifyingly so.

It makes his carefree smile look oddly horrifying.

"Huh, maybe he is more than a pretty-" You shut that thought down before you could even finish it. You're getting too worked up over him. And yet you can't stop looking.

All of a sudden, his eyes meet yours.

You quickly averted your gaze. That must have just been your imagination, right? He has a game of volleyball to play, after all. He wouldn't look into the crowd of mostly fangirls during a time like this.

The whistle blows, indicating a time out, one of the things you can assume happens in a match of volleyball. Your eyes slowly travel back down to the court, only to find Oikawa still staring at you.

You jump a little, immediately looking away again. Just what is up with this enigma of a guy?! You heard a couple of fangirls and your friends scream beside you, wondering if Oikawa is looking at them.

You rolled your eyes, cringing at the behaviour of his fangirls. And yet, your eyes reluctantly moved back to him, and as soon as he noticed, he gave you a playful smirk, winking at you.

His fangirls freaked out, swearing up and down that he winked at them as you just kind of sat there, regretting looking at him again. You were about to shoot him an annoyed glare when one of his teammates hit the back of his head, yelling something you couldn't hear.

You huffed a laugh. That's what he gets for not paying attention.

You had quite a bit of trouble surviving the rest of the game, having to balance in between looking at the match and looking away to avoid making eye contact with him again.

After everyone around you suddenly began cheering the school name happily and the fangirls became obnoxiously loud, you knew your school won. You thanked the gods it was finally over and quickly got up, sliding through the crowd of fangirls to get the hell outta there.

You ignored your friends who were yelling your name, quickly getting off the stadium stands and making your way to the exit.

"Finally..." you thought as the exit of the stadium entered your vision.

You calmly walked to it without a care in the world, when you felt yourself being pushed lightly against the wall and hand making a *bang* noise as it hit the wall beside you.

The one pushing you to a wall is none other than Oikawa Tooru. You looked at him, eyebrows furrowing a bit.

He looked out of breath, panting heavily with slightly flushed cheeks. Did this guy seriously just run away from his coach and teammates to catch you before you could leave? His eyes had a wild gleam in them, one that made you feel like you were his pray. It was similar to the look he had in his eyes during the match. You shivered.

His face switched almost instantly into a flirty smile, and he breathlessly greeted you. The way he did that made you oddly unnerved. Is this how his opponents feel during a match, too?

He looked at you expectantly, confidently waiting for your reaction.

"What do you want?" you said, raising a brow. His eyes visibly widened for a second at your unbothered tone, and you smirked on the inside. "Oh, were you expecting me to freak out and ask to date you, perhaps?" you teased him in your head.

He quickly covered his surprise with another flirty smile. "Can I have your number, hmmm?" he said, leaning closer.

"And why should I give it to you?" you asked, turning your face away casually.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his cheeks flush red with embarrasment. "Oh come on, you know you want to." his tone sounded significantly less confident, even if he tried covering it up.

"Do I?" you said, smirking a little. You watched as his face flushed completely red. Seems he was completely embarrased by the fact his flirting attempts failed. He must not be used to his flirting failing.

God, you want to tease him right now.

"Well, um- I..." the rest of the sentence died off, and you were left just staring at each other awkwardly.

"If that's it, I'll be going now." you turned calmly and walked away, leaving a malfunctioning Oikawa all by himself. "Wait! Where are you going?!" you heard him yell behind you, clearly distressed.

In front of the door, you stopped walking, crossing your arms.

"Oh, and by the way, fake smiles don't suit you."

You pushed open the door, not looking behind you at all. As soon as you knew you were out of sight, you laughed to yourself.

How interesting. Very very interesting.

This turned out way more mean than I expected lol

Somehow I don't feel too proud of this one... I kinda hate writing mean readers like this but come on the DRAMAAAA 😫

#˗ˏˋ ★ ☁︎ 「Wolfie’s works」 ☾ ★ ˎˊ˗#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyū!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu!!#hq oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa tōru #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa imagine #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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calummss · 9 months

Text

20 Reasons To Love You | Klaus Mikaelson

part one: 1920s Love : masterlist

summary: after your encounter with the original vampire, he asks you to the school dance. your salvatore cousins try to get in the way but you’re tired of being protected. you are starting to like the so called original vampire, but is it an illusion or the real deal

pairing: fem! reader x klaus mikaelson

words: 3.1k

a/n: part 2 is finally out. i love this piece so much because just like the first the reader is confident but unsure at the same time and i think that accurate describes me and many others. here’s to my fellow klaus mikaelson lover that love him as much as i do (not possible). enjoy!!

‘I’m here to take you to the 1920s, love.’

You stood at the door, too many words racing through your mind.

‘I don’t have a dress, I— well I never expected to go so I never bought a dress.” You sighed, each word becoming more airy as you managed to take him in. ‘I don’t have a dress…’

Dark blonde hair, pink plush lips, a white suit that fit him like a second skin. He was handsome. More handsome than you’d ever say out loud, the rumours of his behaviour and actions not scaring you, but making you tone down any infatuation that could be drawn out.

‘I thought it best you’d wear an actual dress from your decade,’ He nodded one of his witches over, his arms engulfed around a light pink box, a white ribbon decorating it. ‘I saved this for a special occasion.’ He smiled at you. ‘I think today is it.’

‘Original?’

‘Original.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ your eyes never left the box, ‘I would ruin it. It’s too precious.’

He gave his witch another silent order who pushed past you to walk into the house.

‘Hello?’ You shouted at her but she was long gone.

Klaus took a closer step, so close the smell of his perfume hit you softly, ‘Do me a favour and wear it, darling. You could only do it justice. We don’t have much time now. Change.’

‘But—‘

‘No buts.’

‘Fine,’ you sighed as you took hold of the dress box, your cheeks starting you shake the apples of your cheeks, smiling ear to ear as you finally held it in your hands. ‘Wait for me.’

‘Do you even have to ask, love?’

Returning a smile you hurried away, the dress screaming to be worn as you couldn’t believe that your frame would wear something so beautiful and of such good quality from decades ago. A decade that had long been your favourite. Wearing a piece of history, brought to you by a vampire everyone seemed terrified out of their minds.

When you finally got the dress on and fixed your hair as well as jewellery, you headed back downstairs. Your heels carrying you differently; at least you thought. Klaus still stood by the entrance outside, eyeing something in the front yard.

‘How do I look?’ You called out, his head turning in an instant.

‘Like the sparkles of an ocean on an early summer morning.’

Your heart fluttered. Never had you heard anything so romantic. Whenever you asked someone they simply said pretty. Barely paying attention to the way you looked but Klaus, Klaus looked at you like a canvas. Paying attention to every detail like he was an artist, captivated by his creation. Ready to hang it up to admire it all year around.

Arriving at Mystic Falls High School you already saw that the grounds had empty liquor bottles laying on the ground, waiting for someone to trip over. You almost were a victim. As for the people in this crowded area, they reminded you of the beer bottles: empty and pretty useless. But they were carefree; unaware of the reality that was Mystic Falls.

Every girl looked similar. All wore short flapper dresses and headbands only the colours differentiating them from one another. They looked beautiful but repeativness got boring fast. You however shined. A white satin gown, thin straps, insinuating your chest, the fabric gently hugging your curves as it pooled at your feet. Paired with a beautiful pearl necklace and a white fur scarf that completed the look. Simple but classy.

Walking up towards the entrance, you locked eyes with a certain someone you tried to ignore the entirety of the evening, but he saw you. The glare in his eyes causing you to stop in your tracks, his raven hair that blended into the night coming closer.

‘Didn’t expect to see you here, Damon.’ You mused, your right arm hooked with Klaus’, your other hand on his shoulder as you smiled at Damon.

‘Go home.’ Damon stated, his eyes drilling holes into your soul.

‘You don’t get to tell me what to do.’

‘Actually I can,’ he smirked, his stupid grin spreading heat through your limbs. ‘I am your legal guardian.’

‘Only ‘cause you killed Uncle Zach,’ you snapped, taking your arms from Klaus’ body, stepping closer to Damon, asserting yourself against him. ‘Not very guardian like?’

Damon’s head scanned the surrounding area, making sure no one could listen in. ‘Don’t cause a scene, Y/n.’

‘Don’t patronise me.’

‘Again,’ he tried suppressing his voice, ‘don’t cause a scene and go home.’

‘No.’ You snapped. ’I am going to my school dance which by the way I have more of a right to be at than you, and enjoy dancing with my date.’

‘Date from hell…’

‘Well then he isn’t much different from you after all,’ you placed your arms back in Niklaus’ arm, giving Damon a sarcastic smile. ‘Move.’

Damon didn’t move, instead he stepped closer, his eyes continuing to stay on you, his lips pressed together.

‘You heard the lady,’ Klaus said. You didn’t look at his face but you could tell he was smirking at Damon. ‘Move, Damon.’

Klaus and you stepped past Damon, walking towards the entrance, the music increasing in volume as you stepped through the door.

Down in the gym, people were already dancing. Music blasting through the room, balloons, tinsel and much more of the decorations the walls and floor carried that you dragged yourself to every Tuesday and Thursday, dreading to move. Rather wanting to participate in every girl’s favourite subjects: English and history. Walking towards the dance floor you saw Damon walking up to Alaric, their eyes on you as soon as Damon whispered something and you knew that their eyes would follow your every move.

‘What are they saying?’ You asked Klaus, your eyes still on the pair as you started swaying in rhythm. Bodies close as you felt the warmth of his body.

‘Talking about various ways to ruin our night and all the ways they can kill me.’

You pushed your tongue against your teeth, staring straight ahead into Klaus’ shoulder. ‘Damon, I know you can hear me,’ you started to whisper. ‘Leave me and my dating life alone. I’m 19 years old, not six. And don’t you dare try to ignore me or roll your stupid blue eyes at me because I will rip that little smug of your face.’ You turned around to see Alaric and Damon go towards the punch table, visibly irritated on your behalf yet still they took the hint and backed off for now.

‘I knew there was a reason I liked you.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Don’t hold back on my account.’ He chimed. ‘Feisty women are my weakness.’

‘I’m feisty?’ Not a word generally used to describe you.

‘Hmm, also confident; unsure; great company; an amazing dancer and best of all, not intimidated by me since the second you met me and found out who I was.’

You hesitated before speaking. Was it rude to ask such an invasive question? Would he answer it? Would it spark his mood to change?

‘Why is everyone so afraid of you?’ You asked in a careful tone, not sure if the vampire would switch up on you.

‘I do terrible things.’

‘People do terrible things all the time.’

‘I created new sins.’ His deep eyes gazed at you, his soft plumpish lips leaving every word ingrained into your mind, begging to know what his lips would feel like lingered onto yours.

‘Such as…?’

‘Let’s not get into it, love.’

‘I can handle it.’ You separated your body from his, staring up at him. ‘I have heard what you have done but I’ve also seen your actions: listening to me, talking to me and making me feel interesting, getting me a dress to a school dance I wasn’t planning on going to.’ You smiled slightly. ‘That takes a heart to do.’ You placed your hands above his chest, tapping lightly with an almost jestful tone. ‘And you have a pretty strong one.’

Klaus gazed at you ever so gently, his eyes flickered to your lips as his mind turned hungry at the thought of your kiss. Not craving the taste of warm blood, freshly pumped out of a human vein. No. He craved you in a way that was unfamiliar to him. Klaus wanted you to be close to him, to feel your heartbeat so close it would beat in union with his. To feel your lips on his skin, the taste of your skin without the blood. The thought of tasting your blood left an uncertain feeling in his stomach; quease mixed with disdain. He didn’t want to hurt you or leave a scratch on your skin. All he wanted was the moisture of his lips to sit upon your skin. Light, gently, accepted.

The sound of music faded when you realised you were leaning in. His eyes felt like paralysing poison as you inched closer. Your heart beat in your throat when his face came closer too. He too wanted this. You could feel his breath ricocheting off your face, and when your lips met the music stopped. His lips kissed you gently, coming back for more as one his hands slid towards your face, holding you delicately as the other went down to your back to support you. Your hands moved to his head, grabbing a handful of hair as you parted your lips to let him get a better taste of you. Your mind was blank, your stomach filled to the brim with butterflies that duplicated every second he was touching you; flattering their tiny wings as the space to move began to decrease. Every kiss grew more passionate. Air was flowing out, barely catching breath as he felt like the air you were supposed to breathe all along.

Separating from his touch you let yourself breathe, your chest falling and rising as you held his eyes, too beautiful to be true. Eyes that belonged to a killer that just held you like you were the most delicate flower.

‘Can we go somewhere more quiet?’ You leaned in, your social battery slowly decreasing as you craved a quiet and still place to be with him.

Klaus brought you to his mansion he bought a few weeks ago, saying he was to stay in Mystic Falls for a while. His house was filled with artworks of the most incredible artists. Each piece crafted to perfection.

Guiding you to a back room you took notice of different materials and colours. Canvases and easels to hold them up. One painting was finished by the look of your eyes. It stood on an easel in the middle of the room, close to a candle light that shined just enough to admire the painting.

‘May I speak out loud my interpretation of this painting?’ Your eyes scanned the framed piece, the candle gently casting a light above the painting. ‘I know that artists want to be understood as they pour their thoughts and feelings onto the canvas, yet someone else saying out loud what the artist was too cautious to say themselves, can evoke an uncomfortableness. That someone truly understands them is more often an artist's greatest fear.’

Klaus stood by your right shoulder, silently gazing at his painting from behind your frame. His silence, his breath, made you turn your head to the side. Just enough to catch his breath on your cheek, just enough to let the corner of your mouth tip curl, allowing you to feel his intimacy.

‘I suppose the painter felt lonely whilst crafting their piece. The way dark colours engulf the lighter ones. The way the colours meet but never mix,’

His hand gently brushed along the curve of your shoulder, giving you the insight of Klaus’ guard let down when he was immersed in his art.

‘Careful and precise strokes show me the delicacy behind the fragile thoughts that are meant to be the painter’s release. The small firefly, so tiny its illuminating glow is barely caught with the first impression of the painting, is fascinating to me. Despite the painter’s sadness and pain, there must have been something in the moment that compelled them to leave behind something so coruscating. Something tells me that the painter is trying to find their way. Whether it be to themselves or to someone.’

‘The way you analyse art, Y/n, is beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?‘

‘I suppose I find beauty in darkness quite fascinating…painting or painter,’ you placed your gloved hand on top of his. The warmth of his skin pervasively fighting through the silk fabric.

‘The firefly I must admit is you. You are the firefly in my thoughts. You glow amongst the darkest part of my mind. Just the mere thought of you makes me feel like I am a different man even if I don’t want to change…’

You turned around and gave Klaus a sweet but quick kiss. ‘You don’t have to change. I like you for who you are and I must admit, this night has made me realise just how much I actually like you. It feels fast but safe at the same time.’

Klaus returned it with another kiss. ‘Normally I like a chase but I simply need to be yours.’

‘Would you ever draw me?’ An innocent question, soft- eyed waiting for a response. A small smile sweeping across his face.

‘I actually already have,’ he said, his cheeks a fair rosé, barely noticeable to anyone who didn’t pay attention but you, how you took notice of every detail that made him him.

‘You have?’ You grinned. ‘Why?’

‘I mostly paint things that mean a lot to me,’ he took a look at his paintings. ‘Mostly landscapes…and you…’

It warmed your heart but you didn’t show, only the palm of your hand pressing into your other, love overflowing your body.

‘I suppose one day I should return the favour, though I cannot promise you’ll look anything like the real you.’

Klaus let out a laugh, his eyes smiling like the crescent moon of night that shone over his garden outside. Eyes sparkling like the stars.

‘Would you like another dance outside?’ He asked, noticing your longing look at the porch, illuminated by fairy lights that left a magical feeling within you.

‘I certainly would.’

Holding out your hand you followed him outside, the slight cold breeze nothing but relaxing as you swayed with Klaus again. This time it felt nicer. Alone, just the two, surrounded by nothing but darkness and crickets of the summer night giving your silence a nice touch of tone.

‘I want to give you something,’ Klaus searched for something in his pocket. When he finally pulled it out he continued to say, ‘This vial contains vampire blood.’

You stared at the vile, red liquid calming floating behind the glass.

‘It’s my brother Elijah’s blood.’

Doe eyed and furrowed eyebrows stared back at him, ‘Why not yours?’

‘If I could, trust me I would. For a vampire there’s nothing worse than blood sharing with someone’s partner,’ he held your gaze. ‘But if I gave you my blood, little one, you would die.’

‘I don’t understand? Why would I die?’

‘Well here’s some information only my family and one witch know…I’m a vampire and a werewolf. A hybrid. If I were to feed you my blood you would die the next day. Bad blood.’

‘Oh,’ disappointment covered your words, weirdly enough bummed that it wasn’t Klaus’ blood you would be carrying around to protect you in case you needed it.

‘This blood is here for whenever you decide you want that change in your life you talked about.’ Klaus’ finger grazed against the skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. ‘I like you, Y/n and I won’t compel you to take it. I like you and if I could I would spend eternity with you. I know it hasn’t been long but you feel good for me.’

Your lips caught his. ‘Of course I will wear it.’

‘Make sure to keep it safe.’

‘I will.’ You hand found his face, giving in once more into temptation, his sensation too good for you.

You played with the vial between your fingers, a wave of warmth rushing over you as you realised just how much you liked Klaus. But as much as you liked him it was getting late…

‘I think it’s best that I go home. It is late and Damon and Stefan are probably going crazy…’

‘I’ll take you home.’

Klaus dropped you off just before the door, watching as you safely entered the Salvatore house. And before the door even closed you could hear Damon’s taunting voice echoing through the halls of the boarding house.

‘Where have you been?’

‘With my date.’ You carelessly threw the keys to the side, walking past Damon to try and get into the kitchen to get something to drink.

‘You can’t date him, Y/n.’ Damon growled, his eyebrows pulled to his eyes as his voice grew louder. ‘He’s a bad person.’

‘Who cares?’ You uttered, pouring yourself a drink as you watched Damon pace towards you.

‘I care!’

‘Since when?!’

‘Since always!’

‘Damon,’ You breathed. ‘I love you, I truly do but are you so blind to not realise that you too are a bad person? You used Caroline; killed Lexi, Stefan’s only friend; Uncle Zach? Why can those actions be excused by literally everyone yet apparently Klaus is where we all draw the line huh?’ Words spilled from your lips as the pit in your stomach started to burn a ball of annoyance. ‘Because he shows no remorse at all? Newsflash neither did you and just because you feel it now doesn't make your actions any more excused. I like the way he is. I like the fact that he is a bad person but a good person to me. Someone that finally pays attention to me!’

Damon stayed quiet, his face obvious to the hypocrisy that everyone was participating in yet he was still angry at you and the fact that you were capable of making your own decisions no matter how bad or good they were.

‘If he hurts you don’t come crying to me,’ Damon turned around to walk away.

‘Oh please as soon as I cry because of anyone that person ends up hurt. If you’re trying to pretend not to care about me, good luck.’

‘You wish.’

‘Ah fuck,’ you whinced, a wave of pain shooting through your finger.

Damon’s vampire speed brought his feet back to you, your hand in his as he took a look at what pained you.

‘Told you so,’ you mocked.

‘Ass hat.’

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theplumsoldier · 9 months

Text

money shot

summary: when recruiting you, pedro didn't realize he would get jealous from seeing other men fuck you, so he decides to pull your jobs, now only offering you solo scenes. you (dumb and dubious) ask why.

pairing: porn director!pedro pascal x reader

warnings: 18+: p in v sex, oral sex (female receiving), vulgar language, pet names, dirty talk, lil self-doubt

word count: 2,9k

˗ˏˋ inspo ´ˎ˗ & @cannolighost for the idea (hope i did it justice babe!!;3)

When the man who approached you, talking about "star quality", handed you his business card, you glowered up at him. "Porn?"

He frowned and surprised you as his hands waved around in such animated gestures, which merely added to his charismatic demeanor. It also made the muscles in his tan arms protrude from his Versace silk shirt. "I prefer the term 'adult film director'."

Glaring at him with squinted eyes, you looked back at the card. Bubble productions. You snorted.

You had done this kind of work before. Amateur style, of course. With your old boyfriend, actually. At one point, he had convinced you to make a little home video, just for the two of you. You enjoyed the way you looked on the camera, which made it a whole lot easier for him to persuade you into letting him upload it. The two of you ended up filming yourselves regularly and sharing it online—and it gained a lot of attraction, too.

Now it had been a couple of months since your break-up, and frankly, you missed it. Not exactly the relationship itself, but feeling sexy, feeling admired, and worshipped by random people online. You had thought about it before, doing porn at a whole other level, but had dismissed the thought as quickly as it merely reminded you of him. The cheating bastard.

This time, with this man asking you to be "his new star", it was no different.

As you gave him your best smile, he thought he had reeled you in, but you then you kindly told him to "fuck off" and spun on your heel.

It wasn't until a few of days later, when you were scrolling through your feed and found a picture of your ex with a girl, that the thought occurred to you again.

You convinced yourself that it wasn't to make him jealous, simply for your own good, to give this thing a shot and do something fun for yourself. That same day you rummaged through your purse, certain you had shoved the business card away as opposed to throwing it into the trash, and sure enough—your eyes gleamed with a certain thrill as you dialed the number.

Of course, you couldn't just accept the offer right away. You needed to know what kind of thing you were getting yourself into, set some boundaries if you were to do this, and so you asked Pedro to meet you for a couple of drinks.

Pedro smooth-talks you all night and reveals what he's been thinking. Truth be told, you didn't have a lot of expectations, but he made his business sound just glamorous and the money was not too bad either.

He ensures you that you would be able to add input, requests, and such, and insisted that "it was all up to you". You told him that if you were to do this, you wanted to be able to turn down anything, anyone, no questions asked and he did not hesitate to agree.

At some point, you excused yourself and disappeared into the bathroom. While feeling the soft alcoholic buzz enveloping your body, you felt his eyes on you and naturally became aware of the sway in your hips.

Pedro was certainly not bad-looking. With his brown hair, caramel eyes, and honey-dipped skin just begging to be licked, you began wondering if he himself had starred in any productions. You certainly would not object to a bite of him. While his charm had its wanted effect on you, you convinced yourself it was simply his eccentric persona, and not something directed specifically at you.

This charm he wields just so appears to comfort you, and welcome you to join his alluring lifestyle that it made you feel warm and fuzzy. It might be the alcohol, but he spoke with such passion, an intensity that it compelled you to take his hand and dive headfirst into his world.

Then came the dour reminder of your ex-boyfriend. He had been the one to put all these thoughts into your head in the first place, so you wondered what he would think. Would he reach out to you again? Would he be jealous? Or would he perhaps just think you for a slut?

A part of you wanted to provoke something inside of him—might be jealousy or even anger, a little possessiveness, just the right amount of toxic.

No.

This was not about him. It's about you.

With that inaudible dialogue with the bathroom mirror, you finally returned to Pedro. His skin was dewy from the heat and alcohol, and his enormous hand (which made the glass seem miniatures comparison) put his drink back down. He cocked an eyebrow as if quizzing you.

"I'm in."

The first day on the job was fantastic. There was time for the crew to mingle, the actors got to know each other a bit and you wrapped up with a nice cumshot on your tits. It was fun. You immediately felt that Bubble Productions were a safe space. The crew was focused on making the actors feel hyped up and confident, as you did your thing.

You figured it was quite normal to see a few boners here and there amongst the set crew, but you couldn't help but notice the tent in Pedro's pants as he directed from his chair. There was a point where he became unusually quiet, which made you think something was not to his liking. But as the cameramen flocked and closed in on you, you figured he was just concentrating on the money shot.

From then on, you found yourself with just three days of work in a week, trying different things with both guys and girls.

A couple of films later you began realizing Pedro had decided to take things down another road. Lately, he had handpicked you for several solo shoots, and you began pondering whether you did something wrong while performing with other people. While you enjoyed having to focus on just yourself, as well as being the center of attention (more specifically the center of Pedro's attention) you couldn't help but wonder.

Had someone complained about you? Did the audience not like you as much as they did in the beginning?

It prompted you to stay behind one time after the remains of the crew had left for the day, wanting nothing but to please the man with the vision.

It was the first time you had been alone with Pedro since that night at the bar and as you approached him with nothing to cover your figure except a dainty pink silk robe, he was ready to renounce every bit of professionalism left in him to take you right there, on the setup of fluffy pillows, wanting to see you teary-eyed as he fucked you into the Love-a-Lot Care Bear.

When you asked him if the audience did not like you, he immediately assured you: "they adore you!"

It should have lifted a weight off of your shoulders, but it did not—you were convinced something was wrong.

So you asked him if anyone had expressed aversion to working with you and Pedro realized he was the reason for your sudden self-consciousness.

It made him feel bad, for cutting your gigs down to a minimum and only offering you solo performances had been a very conscious choice. The jealousy brewing inside of him as he watched you do the job he had given you—he knew it was unprofessional of him but when the sin turned to downright anger, he just had to do something—what kind of director would he be to fire men for doing their job?

"Baby, everybody loves you! It's just—the audience doesn't wanna see a pretty girl like yourself bein' ruined, they want you all to themselves! Your solo's been a hit—"

You could see his lips move around the words, but you zoned out for a second. Of course, the audience wants to see you being ruined by filthy men, you thought, and once again, the thought that Pedro wanted you became dominant.

Did he want you all to himself?

"The audience..."

"Yeah!"

You frowned at him. "So this has nothing to do with what you want?"

Shit.

You saw right through him. He had hoped you were just pretty and dumb—that would have made his case a lot easier.

He gave lying a shot. "What? No!"

Pedro hoped you didn't notice that his voice pitched an octave. It was too obvious.

Really, you thought it was cute how flustered he got. For a man directing adult films, you would never have guessed he would find trouble flirting.

You put on a pout and sighed heavily, drawing your hand up his chest to toy with the gold chain framing his thick neck.

"S'a shame. Had kinda hoped you made me do all those, 'cause you were jealous," mused you, feeling confident as you leaned closer and twirled the hair at the nape of his neck.

His tongue danced along the line of his bottom lip as his eyes trailed down to where your chest revealed itself beneath the robe.

"Jealous, huh?"

You nodded, pulling back to tilt his chin up so that you caught his eyes. It seemed as if though that had darkened, his pupils had dilated and you felt his cock had grown too.

"Wanted to know 'f it was 'cause you wanted me all to yourself."

The coy smirk grew. "That somethin' ya want?"

"Dont know yet," you shrugged.

Pedro closed the space between you.

"Lemme help you find out."

His lips were crashing against yours the next second, rough and passionate, hungry and needy.

You moaned into his mouth as you felt him slip down the robe and as it pooled at your feet, you were about to trip backwards. He didn't let you and in a swift movement, he had your legs wrapped around him.

The feeling of his restrained member made you all the more excited, and as he maneuvered you over to the set you had been coming on a little earlier, you keenly pulled him with you, eager to finally have him.

You couldn't shake the thought of him limiting your scenes. Had it been anyone else, who had done it out of personal interest, you would have been furious.

Pedro had noticed the way your moans had changed recently. When you played with yourself, made yourself come, your cries had become much more authentic, less of a performer, more of an aroused insatiable woman. He couldn't help but strive to make you sing for him, make you writhe, and make you beg for him to stop while simultaneously keeping his hand in place because you would fucking kill him if he dared cease.

He didn't want those pornographic sounds you offered the mic, he wanted those greedy moans to tear through your throat as orgasm after orgasm ripped from your body.

The kisses are wet with tongues and teeth clashing, but it doesn't matter because as the pad of his index runs through your slit, every thought disintegrates in your mind and your brain becomes mush.

"So sensitive for me, baby. Pussy sore from working so hard for me?"

"Hmpff..." you mewled, acrylics clawing at his back as you stuffed your head into the crook of his neck.

"Ya done so good for me, baby—you gonna lemme take care of ya, hm?"

You whined as Pedro's finger delved into you, the curious tip exploring and prodding at your walls. The combination of being touched by someone you wanted so badly as well as his significantly girthier finger made you gasp in a lower pitch, unlike that factitious moan his so-called "stars" had elicited from you.

It made him rock hard, hearing that genuine sound sputtering from your lips like you couldn't contain it.

He drew your slick through your folds, steadying your hips with his enormous hands as you began to squirm.

"Lie still, pretty baby," Pedro tsked, a devious smirk complimenting his face, and before you could protest he lapped his tongue through the wetness that had pooled between your legs.

Another moan, this untamed and frustrated, a whimper turning into a growl while your hips bucked upward, aiming to catch his mouth completely.

But he insisted—he was going to show you just how devoted he was to making you feel good, better than you did yourself. Pedro wanted you to know he had been schooling himself with those films of you, taking notes to make sure he knew exactly what you liked, and even what you did not know you liked yet.

You cursed when he inserted two fingers. Pedro's tongue occupied your swollen clit in such a way that it left you wanting more of him.

"Pedro," you moaned but as he hooked you with a third finger, curling them against your spongy walls, carving you perfectly for his cock, your pleads were punched out into cries.

"'S fuckin' tight, baby—who'd a thought such a little slut whorin' her body out would 'ave such a tight little hole?"

Under different circumstances, you would have punched the man calling you a slut in his teeth, but this, as Pedro claimed you, you found yourself desperate for the degrading behavior.

He pulled an orgasm from you before he allowed himself the pleasure of filling you with his cock, and as his member sprung free, you had to stop yourself from drooling.

A weeping head plastered on top of his thick, veiny girth, forged to perfectly destroy any woman.

It was almost sad to hide such a wonder from the cameras.

Pedro chuckled, cooking his brow, "impressed yet?"

Just to fuck with him, you put on an indifferent demeanor and turned on your stomach, pushing a pillow down under your stomach. He certainly didn't require an ego boost.

"I'll have to get back to you on that."

His hands felt so perfectly hot on your hips when he dragged your ass closer to him, propping you on your knees and slotting himself by your entrance.

You expected him to ram straight up into you and wanted to fucking cry when he merely dragged his mushroom head along your folds, collecting your slick in a fine mixture with his precum.

"Pedro," you whined in a bated breath. "Fuck me already—"

And there it was the merciless fucking. He bottomed out only to smash back into you, heavy balls slapping against your cunt with every thrust.

The sudden movement made your knees buckle beneath you and you were back on your stomach.

The new position did not seem to face Pedro as he continued to plunge into you from behind. If anything it allowed you to feel him even deeper, a bulge hitting the deepest spot possible making you sob into the pink Care Bear.

"Mmpff—fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Pedro caught your wrists in a harsh grasp, holding them steady on the small of your back to stop you from clawing desperately at him.

"'S the matter, baby? Didn't my guys fill ya up this good, huh?" It came out like a growl and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he fucked you at a relentless pace.

You couldn't help but love the way he called his pornstars his "guys" like he was some creep who had taken you prisoner, the sole purpose of your kidnapping being that you should be fucked day-in-day-out by him and all his ravenous men.

Pedro grasping at the roots of your hair, forcing you to bend back just enough for him to see your fucked-out expression, pulled you from your fantasy.

"Asked you a question, baby."

For the first time, the pet name sounded less affectionate; way too menacing to be loving as the cruel grip on your hair loosened, only to force your face down into the mattress.

"No, no, no!" you cried, barely able to form a proper sentence between his ruthless thrusts. "Ff-uck! Never felt this good!"

Pedro chuckled and abandoned his hold on you, his arm snaking under your body to skillfully locate your clit, deft fingers beginning a dance. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten, heating up as you neared your release.

Pedro emitted a sound, something between a growl and a moan, as he felt your pussy clench so nicely around his cock. Feeling your cunt choking his cock, he gave you one command in that cocksure tone.

Fucking you through yours, he slipped into his orgasm as you practically squeezed it out of him. His brutal pace faltered only when he pulled out and as you mourned the loss in your throbbing cunt, you hastily rolled to greet him with your tongue rolled out for him to paint.

His jaw hang ajar, eyes dazed as he watched you hungrily await his seed. With a few more pumps Pedro coated your face in hot velvety strings.

He leans back on his haunches, admiring his masterpiece for a minute or so. He wanted to take a picture of you so badly. If Pedro asked, you would probably say "yes", but there was something about this moment—this was your moment, something just for the two of you.

Pedro muttered something to himself, something you didn't quite catch between your frenzied phase and the buzzing in your ears.

"Huh?" you hummed, looking so not innocent batting your come-coated lashes at him.

His large hand catches your jaw in such an affectionate manner it made your heart flutter for the umpteenth time. Just then, for a second or two, Pedro looked as if he was about to say three very specific words. He didn't.

Instead, he shook his head and cupped your sticky cheek as he planted an uncharacteristically soft kiss on your forehead, before moving away — to get towels for the mess he had made (you were equally responsible) — murmuring with a small chuckle, "ya gonna fuckin' ruin me, baby."

#pedro pascal #theplumsoldier #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal au #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #money shot

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the-xolotl · 3 months

Text

Thundering Rain

Qí Yù | Rafayel x Reader

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You and Rafayel cozy up during a cold storm to enjoy each other’s company when you realize he got up for something but didn’t come back to cuddle you.

—• TAGS: Domestic fluff, kinda ooc Rafayel (? if you squint), no use of Y/N, use of the pet name my love, beta read (imagine that)

A thunderstorm had been raging outside for hours now and you are thankful, for once, about the harsh seasonal changes because not just did you enjoy the rain and the majestic flashing of light that occasionally lit up the otherwise dark gray sky, you didn’t have to go to work. You could enjoy a leisure day indoors, listening to the calming sound of the rain hitting the window and the deep thunder clapping after each rapid flash of light with a warm blanket and hot beverages.

It’s true you loved your job, loved the adrenaline of being a hunter, the thrill of battle, but it was nice to sit back and relax for a bit. And some reprieve was definitely due after these past few weeks, Linkon City had been seeing more and more Wanderers roaming inside the more civilian populated areas, your team along with some back ups had been dispatched as first responders almost every time; it’s been busy to say the least.

And Rafayel had definitely not appreciated your constant absence. You don’t blame him, you missed him too. Because your job wasn’t just turning monsters to dust and protecting innocent people; each attack meant a lot of paperwork, desk work, meetings. It meant time away from home and away from your already clingy, needy lover.

Who, speaking of, had suspiciously gotten up from cuddling you in the sofa and hadn’t come back.

The now cool spot behind you made you realize his absence. But as you were about to get up to look for the purple-head you heard his voice, “Stay where you are, how you are, for another 30 minutes…” Rafa trailed off.

He didn’t even ask politely yet you remained on your spot no questions asked and turned your head back to look outside the large, tall window that gave the perfect view to the backyard. “So that’s where you’ve been the whole time,” you chuckled softly, of course he was.

“Inspiration should never be wasted or ignored. The best master pieces ever created were in spontaneous bursts of creativity,” He stated as if it was the most honest to god truth. Yeah, alright.

Amused you simply retorted, “Is that a fact?”

“Most likely,” he shot back before taking a small pause, “Besides, you barely noticed after almost an entire hour I didn’t come back beside you.”

The last part sounded more begrudging, you didn’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting. You couldn’t help but giggle, “Yeah, my back was getting cold. That’s how I noticed you were still gone.” Rafa let out the most offended scoff, he didn’t even dignify with an answer.

The room falls silent again save for the rhythmic pattering of rain, it’s then you realize he’s actually concentrating and you can’t help the little leap your heart makes. “Are you painting me?”

“As I was coming back from the kitchen the scene and atmosphere looked perfect so I just had to capture it,” he explains, “I haven’t had the opportunity to play around with darker tones or paints in a while and I recently acquired some very high quality materials to produce stunning shades. Very rare finds, honestly.” The Lemurian continued on to explain how and where he’d manage to obtain them, of course pointedly mentioning that he needed something to do in your absence because it was just so so boring.

More than half an hour had past, that’s for sure, as you filled the time with more banter and teasing remarks.

“Rafa can I move now? I’m going to have neck pain and be stuck in this position forever if I don’t get up soon,” you whine loudly, “The painting won’t be needed to immortalize this moment then.” He only tsk’s at you, calling you over to see the painting.

“Holy shit you weren’t kidding, the pigments are so rich!” You know little to nothing about art, any scattered knowledge or artsy lingo has definitely come from listening to your boyfriend talk about art. You study the painting detail by detail, from top to bottom. He really does deserve the fame, not that you’re biased.

Rafayel smiles big like a satisfied cat (ironically) at your praise and expression of awe.

Though the more you steady the painting the more you realize the gloomy tempest going out outside was definitely not the focus of this piece like you had originally thought, despite the fact that the oversized window gave the perfect opportunity to capture it so.

Instead you realize most of the spotlight was you. Rafayel had clearly taken his time; each curve of your features was perfectly drawn and shaded, the way the light made light and dark contrasts against the little skin that was not covered by the quilt, the shine in your eyes that reflected the lighting that occasionally flashed and the hair that framed your face. The content of your expression clearly denoting how engrossed you’ve been on the weather outside, he even included the faintest curl of the corner of your lip. And you looked cozy as hell with the blanket all the way tucked up to your chest and your hands wrapped around the (then) steaming mug of coffee.

A heat crept up your cheeks and chest. Is this how he saw you? Is this what his eyes see when he looks at you? Truly? You must’ve had your thoughts written in your face because he breaks the long silence with in a soft voice, “You are the inspiration of the painting, my love,” circling back to one of his earlier comments. You turn to face him fully, meeting eyes as he was already looking at you, as soft smile that matched the softness of his voice spread across his lips.

“It’s going to be part of the next exhibit, on a very special spot.”

“I’m sorry what?” You lamely ask, astonished but still in a monotone.

Rafayel had the audacity to laugh in your face as he gave the cavas a few strokes with the brush to accentuate some shadows. “It’s not finished yet, of course. I will accept no less than perfection,” he says slowly, words as methodical as his painting technique, “Specially when it comes to you.”

If you weren’t blushing before you sure are now. You shove him gently when he takes the brush off the painting, attempting and failing to hide how much he managed to fluster you.

Another long pause passed, but this felt more intimate, watching him closely add some details, switch between different size brushes for finer details. Rafayel sure went into his own bubble when he worked, yet he is always somehow very aware of his surroundings. At least at the moment he was.

“Not a lot of people get the privilege to watch me like this, so up close, let alone live. Are you feeling how privileged you are?” The tone of playful arrogance brings you back and pops the bubble of comfortable silence. But it does make you giggle.

These little moments make you fall deeper in love with him.

⟢ A/N: feels kinda funny posting my writing for the first time in the internet tbh. i usually only write for my friends/myself so i hope you enjoy my lil rot. it’s been raining so much in my area it gives me a very cozy vibe.

—

⤷ dividers : cafekitsune ✰

#love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #qi yu x reader #qi yu #fanfic #writters on tumblr #fandom #domestic fluff #painting #oneshot #lnds #character x reader #romantic #romance #rain

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robin-the-enby · 10 months

Note

Hello ! Could you do an gomez x fem reader x morticia where you meet them when you pick up your sister to school and they get really taken by you and start invinting you to things and you get overwelmed by the affection and tell them they are very nice but a relationship its not what you are after

I never see a reader who doesnt want a romantic relationship, it would be nice to see one who just wants a physical one

Thank you !

It has no appeal

Pairing: Gomez Addams x f!reader x Morticia Addams

Summary: After meeting the infamous Addams family, you can't help but feel drawn to them. But when you notice that the attraction is mutual, you start to worry if you can give them what they are asking for.

Warnings: female reader, queerplatonic (?) relationship, a teensy bit of angst (happy ending tho), use of (Y/N)

A/N: I have successfuly graduated high school and got into university, so I finally have time to write! However, I am still sorry it took me this long to get to this request. I was thinking while writing this and I absolutely love this dynamic, especially maybe the dynamic between the reader's sister and the Addams children, so maybe I'll do something else with this dynamic in the future :) And as an (possibly) aromantic person, I am so delighted to be able to write this piece! I took a spin on the relationship dynamic that might not be exactly in tune with your experience, so be aware of that 😅

Waiting in front of the tall building, you looked at it with melancholy. You used to go to the same building for years and now, much later, you're picking up your younger sister here. It was a strange feeling that reminded you just how fast time flies and you quickly stomped it down before it got out of hand.

You recently found a small flat in your hometown after your last...relationship...ended. You had a thing going on with a really nice person in the city you studied at, but recently they admitted that they were looking for something you simply couldn't give them and so you parted ways. And life went on.

You thought that a change of scenery would do you good and so you moved back in with your parents, just until you could find something for yourself. In exchange, you helped them around the house and ran some errands for them. But one of your favourite "chores" was picking up your younger sister from school. It felt nice, walking the same streets you grew up in and seeing the teachers that used to teach you. And, of course, the quality time spent with your sister was a great bonus.

She was a lively young girl, who in a few years would go to middle school and you remember how big of a deal that was at your age, so there was lots to talk about. You loved gossiping about her classmates and teachers and hearing about the adventures she had with her friends.

One of them stood out to you. His name was Pugsley and he was a year or two younger than your sister. Every recess they spent time together, playing and discussing very important things, which she always told you about and you gave your insight on. You also learned that Pugsley's sister was your sister's classmate. Her name was Wednesday and although your sister didn't have any problem with her, she told you that she was quite strange, and could be quite mean to Pugsley. You thought it was mighty cute, imagining your sister standing up for her friend during recess against his sister, who had the strangest game ideas from what you've heard.

You talked about it with your parents, asking if you should talk to someone, just to ensure everyone's safety, but they only looked at each other and than at you with strange uncertainty. Apparently, the children were the daughter and son of Gomez and Morticia Addams, who moved into town just when you left for uni. You vaguely remember hearing about someone moving in and you'd certainly be more curious about the newcomers if you weren't preparing for a new big chapter of your life that was colledge.

Your parents explained that the Addams family was a strange bunch, with a strange lifestyle and beliefs. But, as odd as they were, they were actually lovely people and completely harmless, although most of the other citizens avoided them, due to their interest in all the dark, gloomy and macabre things. However, they never seemed to mind the ostracism they faced. So you let it go. Your sister continued to be friends with Pugsley and talked Wednesday out of harming him on the school grounds. Most of the time, that is.

Even after you found a place of your own, you continued picking your sister up from school, because it helped your parents, who were very busy even with your help, but you also just really enjoyed it. And that's where you were now, listening quietly to the excited chatter of children around you, walking hand in hand with their parents and telling them about the day they had. You would've pondered more on the strangeness of a child's mind, but somebody crashed into you, trapping you in a tight hug.

You turned your head and ruffled your sister's hair "Hey you. Long time, no see. How was school today?" You greeted her. She looked up at you with a grin "Hi sis! You won't believe what Micah did in art class today!" You smirked "Oh really? Well, what's the tea then?" Your sister mimicked your expression and was about to speak, when her eyes focused on something behind you. Suddenly, her whole face lit up and she raised her hand to wave it enthusiastically. Turning your head to see who your sister was waving at, you saw a young boy who was just reciprocating your sister's gesture. You didn't know most of your sister's friends personally, but seeing the slightly taller girl standing next to him with her arms folded and a slight frown on her face, you had a hunch of who it could be.

You didn't quite hear your sister's confirming exclamation that the boy was, indeed, Pugsley Addams, because your eyes locked with the two people standing proudly behind the two children. The women, presumably Morticia Addams, was tall and slender, with a visage similar to that of a ghoul, pale skin, raven black hair that shone in the sun and black clothes that, in contrast, seemed to swallow all the light that fell upon it. Her lips were painted a deep red colour and her eyes were just as dark as the rest of her, making it impossible to tell their colour. And yet, she had an almost...angelic aura around her. Like the forbidden fruit, looking perfect on the outside, all beautiful and evoking the feeling of security and peace. But, and you couldn't quite explain why, even if you tried, you felt that underneath it all, was a great power, that you almost feared to uncover. Maybe it was the way she was looking at you. There wasn't anything...malicious or hostile in her gaze. Just something...magical. Wise. As if she knew a lot more than you. And you found yourself believing it.

Blinking a few times, you managed to break the intense eye contact with Morticia and looked at her husband, Gomez. He was shorter and quite the contrast to his wife. Where she was calm and collected, he seemed to vibrate with energy, even while standing still. He, too, was looking at you, but in his eyes, was just a spark, as if he was inviting you to come over and talk. He seemed to be enjoying himself so much and yet, he was just picking up his children from school. His appearance and mannerisms were energizing and uplifting.

And suddenly you saw your sister skipping over to the strange family, running straight towards Pugsley. Your eyes widened and you rushed after her. As she threw her arms around Pugsley, blabbering about something excitedly, you placed your hands on her shoulders. Throwing a short, apologetic look towards Mr. and Mrs. Addams, you gently reprimanded your sister "You can't just run off like that, without permission or letting me know at least..."

Your sister looks up at you, a sad, guilty look in her eyes. With a face like that, you can't really stay mad at her. "I know you were excited to see your friend, but you can't just run off like that. If something happened to you, I wouldn't know where you are." you explain to her as you pet her hair softly. She smiles with appreciation before nodding and apologising. You reciprocate her smile before turning your attention to the family that was watching your interaction silently, but with interest.

"I'm sorry for my little sister, she can be excitable around her friends, she doesn't mean to be rude." you excuse your sister, but Mr. Addams just waves his hand "Oh nonsense! We know from Pugsley here that your sister is a good friend of his, and any friend of his is welcom with us anytime." he smiles energetically and you can't deny that his smile is rather attractive. Right after that thought you remember his wife is standing right next to him, but before you can start to feel bad, you notice the warm look on her face as she looks at you, still with that...knowing look on her face.

You smile at Mr. Addams "Well, I'm glad we haven't caused any trouble. I'm (Y/N) by the way. It's nice to meet you...mister Addams, right?" you introduce yourself. Mr. Addams takes your hand, giving it a firm handshake, although you can't help but feel he is holding your hand just a tad longer than is appropriate. "Oh please, drop the formalities. Since our children seem to be good friends, we might as well be too, if you'd like. The name's Gomez."

You wonder briefly if Gomez's wife is as enthusiastic about the proposition as he is, but when you turn your gaze to her, she is already reaching for your hand, holding it gently, but confidently in her own. She gives you a charming smile and when she speaks, it's as if a siren is calling out to you, a helpless sailor on the wide, wide sea "I think my husband is right. My name is Moricia. This is our daughter Wednesday," she gestures to the infamous girl, who is still sporting a very neutral expression, although she seems to be staring straight into your soul, as if assessing you, before giving a slight nod "and this is Pugsley, as you may know." The boy smiles warmly at you, giving you a polite greeting.

"Well, it was very nice to meet you all, but I'm afraid we have to go, otherwise our mother will be worried about what happened to us." you chuckle and smile at the couple. They seem like wonderful people, you can't understand why anyone would have anything against them. "As a mother myself, I can completely understand that." Morticia smiles "And we would not want to keep you any longer. But I was thinking, would you like to come over for a visit? The children will surely have fun together and we would be delighted to get to know you better. We've heard you recently moved back here?" as she says this, she grabs ahold of Gomez's hand as they both smile. You feel the intensity in their gaze, and et there is no pressure that would force you to agree. You look down at your sister, who looks at you with pleading, hopeful eyes and mouths the word "please", before you turn your gaze back to the couple and grin "Yes, that's right. And that sounds amazing!"

You exchange numbers and go your seperate ways. You register, out of the corner of your eye, them getting into a fancy looking, oldfashioned car, apparently with a personal driver. You don't think much of it and continue to walk home with your sister, who was excitedly skipping along the sidewalk, asking about when you were going to call them the entire way.

It didn't take long for the date of the visit to be set. Morticia called the next afternoon and you agreed to come over with your little sister at the end of the week, so that your sister wouldn't have to rush home and prepare for school.

Once the day came, you were actually pretty nervous, although you didn't really understand why. You blamed it on the fact that you're going to a stranger's home and you wanted to make a good impression. Because it definitely wasn't the fact that you were attracted to a married couple. Yeah, as if.

When you the big house the Addams' lived in, you had to say you were impressed. Sure, it was...unorthodox, but it had a strange charm. And when you were invited inside by a rather tall man, who, although his skin was almost gray and his expression somewhat...dead, seemed pretty nice, you almost felt...homey. The atmosphere of the home, paired with the type of people that lived there, was actually cozy. Gomez gave your sister directions to where she can find Pugsley and Wednesday and she promptly ran off, leaving you alone with the couple.

When she was out of sight, the man took your hand delicately and placed a simple kiss on your knuckles. A simple gesture, that was made much more sensual by the way he looked at you from below, his eyes glinting with...admiration, you would say, if it didn't seem so wrong. Still, you smiled politely and tried to think nothing of it. But you made a mental note to stop these kinds of actions if they would appear, thinking of his unfortunate wife.

Morticia was in the living room, sitting by a grand fireplace, reading a book. You didn't recognize it, but when you asked, it was revealed that the book was in French. You felt...uplifited, being in the presence of such stylish and intelligent people, that weren't snobbish, like you've encountered in the past.

They sat you down across from them on a small sofa and asked if you'd like anything to drink, or perhaps to eat. You declined the food, but you couldn't resist a nice drink to complement the lovely afternoon. The pair sat on another sofa across the small, seemingly old conference table, slightly turned towards each other, hands intertwined. But their sight was only on you. Both of them watching you intently, but their faces were gentle and their smiles welcoming. A thought crossed your mind. Maybe Morticia wasn't an unfortunate wife with a philanderer husband. And when Gomez started passionately retelling a story from his quite adventorous past, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. You wanted to listen, you really did, but his passionate movements, his grin, the lively glint in his eyes...And the way Morticia was listening to him, posed and collected as always, but oh so devoted to her husband, body, mind and soul, her gaze so tender...They looked so beautiful. A forbidden fruit that you could never experience the taste of.

"(Y/N), are you alright?"

You snapped out of your thoughts and you saw the pair look at you, their faces showing concern, a little bit of curiosity and perhaps a hint of slight disappointment. You shook your head, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. "Oh, yes, I'm fine." you reassured them quickly "I am so sorry, my mind just...slipped. I promise I wanted to pay attention, you have a lovely way of telling stories, Gomez." you said, still not really used to being on first name basis on them in such a short while.

Lucky for you, they seemed to not take it personally. Morticia assured you that sometimes, the mind does what it wants and drifts where the body can't. In no time, you all finished your drinks and as Morticia went to put them in the kitchen, you stood up and offered to wash the dishes in return. She seemed hesitant, but you told her firmly you weren't going to take no for an answer and a smug smile bloomed on her face. When you looked back on it, she must've seen something in that action that drew her to you just as much as you were drawn to her.

You stood in the kitchen, side by side, you with your hands in the sink, scrubbing glasses and the woman of the house next to you, with a dish towel in her hand, drying and putting away different utensils you cleaned. You agreed to do all the dishes, since you were already at it. Once you were done, Morticia did something you didn't expect. Instead of vocalising her gratitude, she leaned towards you, placing one hand on your arm, and pressed a delicate kiss on your cheek. You were left wide eyed at the kitchen sink, the sponge still in your hand. She handed you another towel, and you dried your hands, noticin Gomez, who was stood leaning on the entry to the kitchen, smiling as smugly as his wife. So that's how it is...you thought.

You went to check up on your sister, who was playing a pretty suspicious game with the siblings, but she seemed unhurt and happy, so you let it go, gently reminding her to stay safe and not do anything she doesn't want to. Then yu spent the rest of the afternoon chatting nd getting to know the unsusual pair. You also met the other inhabitants of the house - Gomez's brother, Fester, Lurch, the man who opened the door for you, the grandmother (you didn't know her name, or if she even was related to the family, but she was very sweet) and lastly...Thing. You couldn't deny you were a little put off by a sentient severed hand, but you calmed down when he offered you one of his fingers to shake. Despite the strangeness, they were all so polite and lovely and fun to be around. But, you had to go home in the evening.

After that, your sister started to come over the Addams' household more and more often. And every time, you accompanied her, of course. While her days were spent having all kinds of adventures with Pugsley and Wednesday, yours were spent calmly with the parents. Gardening with Morticia, listening to Gomez and running little rerrands with him or simply reading in the living room, all the while flirting, first subtly, but the more time you spent together the more...serious it was.

You were now sure that there is a mutual attraction going on and that there wasn't anyone who was unaware or not consenting. It felt...nice, for a while. Slowly starting over, getting close to someone again. But you were beginning to feel afraid of what was to come. You tried to enjoy everything while it lasted, before they inevitably approached you with the proposition of becoming more than just friends. You were afraid of hurting them, and yourself, just like last time. But at the same time, you couldn't make yourself pull away from the affection.

It was on a fateful Tuesday night. The Addams' planned a sleepover for your sister, which obviously meant you would come as well. Somehow, you knew this was going to be the fateful night, the moment you were dreading for a long time now. And it seemed that time wasn't on your side either. Time spent with Morticia and Gomez always seemed to fly right past you.

They had prepared a big dinner, that, although it looked questionable, tasted amazing. Paired with a nice drink, you put the children to bed and soon you were relaxing on an elegant sofa, you in the middle, the pair surrounding you from both sides. Your shoulders were touching and even though you knew what was going to happen, that you would maybe never se them again, the places where your skin touched theirs felt electric, sending shivers down your spine.

Of course they took notice. They were both so intune with your emotions and body language, it was amazing and dreadful at the same time. Gomez placed an arm behind your shoulders, Morticia placing her hand softly on your thigh, both rubbing soothing circles.

"(Y/N)..." Morticia started. "Our dear (Y/N)..." murmured Gomez, his head leaning closer to your shoulder. "You know you are an amazing person, dear?" Morticia asked, and you looked at her, not finding words to respond. She must've seen the turmoil in your eyes, because she smiled reassuringly. "I believe you are very smart, our darling." she continued "And that you can see that...we like you." "Oh, I think like is not even close to how we feel about you, corazón." Gomez said, placing a kiss on your shoulder, making you gasp. Morticia sent him a look "Gomez, behave yourself. We need to talk this out first and foremost. And I believe our trésor has something important to say." She looked at you just a intently as always and yet so tenderly, like only Morticia can. Your heart was beating out of your chest, your hands clammy as they clutched at your clothes. You took a deep breath. Now or never.

"Yes, I've noticed you have feelings for me. And everything you've done for me, and my sister, and everything you continue doing, I appreciate it. You don't even know how." you start, wanting them to know you care about them, just..differently. "But, I'm afraid, I cannot give you what you deserve. I'm sorry to tell you that...I'm not interested in a romantical relationship." And the truth was out. There was no return. Yet, you had to continue. "I...I care for you, and your family. You are amazing people and together, you both are so beautiful, it's almost ethereal sometimes..." you chuckle "Whenever you touch me, I feel as if my very soul was on fire. But...romance is not something I can give you." you finish and study their faces intently.

For once, the pair isn't smiling. You almost start to take it as a bad sign, an omen of a near end. But, Morticia looks up from your face to her husband and after some silent conversation between them, they nod at each other, once. Only once and they know exactly what the other wants, what they're thinking. Oh how you admire them, you think, as a small ember of hope still prevails inside your chest.

"Cariño..." Gomez takes your hands in his, stealing your attention. His eyes are soft and his face adorned by a sympathetic smile. "Don't apologise. There is nothing to apologise for. Some things we cannot help. And while you will belong to us, body and soul, we won't ask of you to return anything you don't feel you have. If you'll agree to that, that is." he smiles at you and nods and you actually feel like you might shed a few tears, happiness and relief washing over you and blooming in your chest with such force you think you might burst.

You feel hands on your shoulders and Morticia lays her head on your shoulder "What do you say, notre cœur?" And you laugh. You laugh happily, your eyes glinting. Instead of saying anything, you take your hands from Gomez and turn to Morticia. And cradling her face softly, you seal your answer with her lips. And then Gomez's. And then you seal it again, and again, and again.

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januaryembrs · 1 year

Text

THE MAKING OF A MAN | Jon Snow x reader

Request: @thingy-mar said — hii!! can i request a jon snow x reader, centered around the reader being a woman and hiding at the nights watch for some reason and shenanigans ensues?

Length: Posing as a man on the night’s watch doesn’t quite go as smoothly as planned when you meet Jon Snow and sweet Sam Tarly.

Trigger Warnings: brief and very subtle hint of the possibility of sexual assault but none happens, I dropped the c bomb twice for the first time in a fic!!, foul language, violence, nudity, fem!body reader.

Author’s note : the way I had make a man out of you from Mulan viciously on REPEAT while I was writing this that was the energy I was going for. I hope you like this! Also! I finally got 1k followers, kisses for every single one of you I love hearing from everyone of you, and I appreciate you all always 🥺❤️

You cursed every god there was for making the North so fucking cold. Mother used to tell you stories of southerners like yourself turning to stone the moment they got too close to the wall, when the air dropped to freezing and the blood in your veins pumped out frost. Usually, you had a thick head of hair to at least keep your neck warm, but that was gone too. Chopped below your ears to give the impression of masculinity.

It was never supposed to be like this. Your family had been starving for the past year, your farm barely getting on without the help of your father since his condition weakened with the rotting fever he caught last Winter. Your brother did the best he could, and you gave up reading to give him the extra set of hands. But you were just a girl, not nearly as strong and efficient as your guilt ridden father who could barely stand let alone plough a field as he could once.

You knew how to hunt, proficiently. But with the cold setting in even further down the continent, animals had become scarce, and you were all withering by the day.

So your meat head of a brother had turned to more drastic measures. He had stolen. Stolen from the wrong wandering lord that so happened to have flashed some silvers. And within a day, the letter had been posted to your door with the midnight black seal, summoning your idiot brother to the Watch as punishment.

Without him, your crops would perish. Your poor mother would starve. The animals would become fragile and die too. Your father would be seen as a disgrace. You simply couldn’t allow it. So you left in the dead of night, cut your hair and muddied your face, hid every aspect of your body that could give the impression of a womanly figure, and headed to the North stowed upon the Night’s Watch carriage.

You dragged your hood further down your face as you watched over the edge of the wall. Duty had been difficult to settle into since you were careful to not talk too much or get too close to anyone in case they were able to decipher the feminine qualities of your face. But it had been three weeks now, and you and two other ‘men’ were stationed on the top of the wall. The nights only made the air that bit more cold to your displeasure, your torch you stood by did little to nothing to keep you warm.

“Not used to the cold?” It broke you out of your self-pitying daze at the sound of a deep voice to your left. Two boys around your age had been chatting amongst one another, not that you’d paid them much attention, but it seemed in their silence they had taken an interest in you.

You froze up, lowering your voice as you had been the few times you’d spoken. “I’m from the south. Everything was much warmer there,” You replied simply.

“Where are you from?” The voice pressed, though you hadn’t glanced their way just yet, hoping they’d just leave you be.

“Ashford,” You replied shortly, biting your lip nervously. The more you spoke, the more chance there was of them realising you were not quite who you said you were.

It was silent for a moment, and you heard the two men shuffling around, as if debating whether to press you further.

“I’m Sam by the way,” You finally turned your head to meet the faces of the two men, not wanting to draw attention to yourself by being completely rude.

Sam had some of the kindest eyes you think you’d ever seen. They stared at you with a hint of skittishness that you assumed was from being sent to the Watch, but as if to encourage you to talk more. His face was soft with youth, and he flashed you a small friendly smile. “This is Jon,” He pointed to his companion. You were much more intimidated by the shadowy eyes you met. His serious brow and expression looked down on you, a complete contradiction to Sam’s gentle face. Sam caught you gawking at Jon with something close to fear at his dark expression and knocked him on the arm lightly as if to prompt him to say something to you.

Jon caught himself in his moody presence, giving you the smallest of nods and almost a smile. “Alright?”

“Jack,” You replied, figuring your brother wouldn’t mind you stealing his name since you already posed as him.

Sam opened his mouth to say something else, when three more men stalked down the length of the wall, your commander leading ahead.

“Shift’s over boys. Go get some supper,” Your superior orders, the men taking over your place at the wall. You walk away before Sam can make any more small talk with you, wishing for nothing but your bed and some quiet.

—

It hadn’t been even two days later when you next saw Jon Snow and sweet Sam Tarly. You were out in the yard sparring under the commander’s watch, and it was safe to say you were not inspiring anyone. Being a girl, though you had been raised doing manual labour, you were not nearly as genetically strong as the grown men around you. Even the boys just turned fourteen were giving you a challenge.

“Pull yourself together, man! That boy hasn’t even dropped his balls yet, and he’s fucking you over!” The commander screamed at you as a measly teenager had again beaten you to the floor. Your face was feverish with embarrassment. You could feel yourself getting stronger by the day, but it was still null in comparison to the surrounding men. You felt pathetic. “The worms they send us these days,” He tutted, ushering forward another boy for you to fight.

You huffed out of anger, the lad not giving you any respite before he lunged at you with his steel sword near missing your plated stomach. After beating his blow away, you went in for your own attack. You caught his face by chance, a small slice across his cheek being all to show for two hours of being knocked on your arse in front of them all. The victory was short-lived however when the younger boy shoved forward and with brute strength you landed on your back yet again.

Your sword went skidding across the cobbles, under the awaiting foot of a large black boot and you felt two sets of eyes on your figure. Laughter resounded throughout your group of weaker men, and you fought back the urge to tear up at the sound. You were purely pathetic.

“Show’s over, lads,” The commander yelled, silencing the laughs to mere giggles as the boy strode away proudly to his newfound friends. You scurried to your feet in fear of looking even smaller than you felt. The commander’s eyes narrowed on your jumpy frame and he walked over to where you stood, your head held low. “Go wash the shit out your trousers and come back to my yard a bigger man tomorrow,”

You nodded meekly as he dismissed you for the day. Turning on your heel and heading back to your room to bathe, the tears brimmed your lash line as you willed yourself not to cry.

Jon and Sam watched you go, the former man reaching down to pick up your weapon from his feet. It was clear you would not last much longer on the watch with your shockingly weak frame, even Sam who was harmless and slow had bested you though he had winced in regret every second. “Poor lad doesn’t have it in him, I know what that’s like,” Sam murmured, your smaller form retreating into the showers. “I’ll take it back to him. Probably doesn’t need the boy top of the class to rub it in,”

“I’m not top of the class,” Jon protested, though he handed the sword over to his friend’s awaiting hand, “I don’t understand how a boy so weak could have made it to the Night’s Watch,”

“Seems like a quiet type to me. It’s them ones you’ve got to watch out for, my mother always told me.” The Tarly boy replied, heading after you with your sword in hand.

—

Even the bastard showers were cold at the night's watch. At least at home you could warm water in front of an open flame for a bath, you thought. Here there was not nearly enough water for each man to have a bath, instead they collected snow from the roof of the keep and drained it into a storage tank on the roof to fall naturally as a shower when the hatch was opened. It was painful, as if needles were falling onto your skin and burrowing their way in with every drop, but it was the only place people would leave you alone.

And alone and crying in the freezing showers you were.

That was until you heard the latch unlock on the door, and heavy footsteps enter the small damp room. Oh god, please no.

“Y/n? You left your sword,” You breathed a sigh of heavy relief when you realised it was Sweet faced Sam, not someone more nefarious with heinous intent for the weak boy crying in the shower, that would get a hell of a shock when they realised he in fact had no cock and a pair of tits. Though that relief soon melted into horror when you realised he was coming closer to where you stood. Is this what men did? Invade each other’s privacy so easily? You would have never had another woman come so close had she known you were nude, but here was Sweet Sam Tarly coming closer as if he was simply asking how your mother was or if the crops had been good this year.

Sweet Sam Tarly that was now behind you, talking to you as if he wasn’t about to find out your best kept secret.

“-and I said to Jon he shouldn’t be the one to bring it to you, I didn’t think it would be nice for the best fighter they have to return your weapon to you. It would rub salt into the wound, wouldn’t it? It would be like-” Sam chattered on happily and you cursed his sweet sweet nature as you looked down at where you stood facing the wall, tits bare and cunt free for the world to see.

“Sam,” You cut him off sternly, one hand trying to hide your top half, “Just put the sword down there please,” You pointed to where your clothes lay.

“Oh! Yeah, of course.” He did as you asked, and noticed how stiff you stood, as if afraid of him. “Are you okay?” You heard him shuffle closer, “I didn’t frighten you did I-”

“Sam! Stay there!” You ordered, mind racing what to tell the boy who didn’t listen since you could still hear him coming closer to comfort you. You must have turned your head enough for him to see where you had been crying, and it only made the gentle boy even more worried for his new friend’s wellbeing as he stepped closer yet again.

“Oh, don’t cry lad. We all cry sometimes. I cried just last night, thought my toes had dropped off after our night shift and I feared of what I’d find when I took my shoes off.” Another step closer, this time a hand on your shoulder, “But it’s okay, we’re brothers now. And brothers talk to each other about everything,” You could feel him leaning forward as to give you a hug, fully aware that you were still nude. Is this what men do? Men were weird, you concluded.

Either way, your secret was completely fucked if he reached around and saw the two lumps of fat that stood you out from the rest, that you still very much did not want him to feel.

“Sam, no!” You turned around to push him away, and the poor boy looked as though you had slapped him. That is until his gaze dropped almost immediately, as men’s eyes do, and he saw the two enlarged breasts staring back at him in a way no man would normally grow.

His mouth dropped open into an ‘O’ shape as he trailed down to your wide hips, thick thighs and your very obvious lack of dick that you covered with your hand before he could look for too long. His innocent blue eyes rushed back up to your face and suddenly everything about your face was feminine. He had always thought you had a weirdly pretty face for a man, and even the rounded shape of your arse had startled him when he had entered the bathing room, though he had simply thought it was being surrounded by men for weeks on end fogging his lust. He saw the fright in your eyes, and it all clicked for him your predicament.

You were a woman, posing on the Night’s Watch as a man. And you were most certainly not supposed to be here.

“Sam please,” You begged, stepping forward to hold his arm in desperation, “Please do not tell anyone of this,”

“You’re a- You have tits and a - SEVEN HELLS,” He stepped back in shock when he took another look at your cunt as if he didn’t believe his eyes the first time, “YOU HAVE-”

“Sam, please calm down,” He ripped his fur off his shoulder to cover you up despite the fact you had your own clothes.

“I’m ever so sorry, My Lady. I would have never burst in here had I know,” He fussed over you, making sure you were shielded from his view.

“I’m not a lady, I’m just a farmer’s girl,” You ordered as he went to undo his jacket so that he could cover your bare arms. Even when you had thrust a very dangerous secret upon him, he was incredibly kind. Your heart warmed as his rosy red cheeks trailed up to your face, taking in your face as if he hadn’t spent the past three weeks with you. “You can’t tell anyone of this,”

“You need to leave, it’s not safe for you here,” He urged, “Some of these boys will do a lot worse than just come into the showers while you’re here. And even the rational ones haven’t seen a woman in months, you don’t know what they might do,” Sweet Sam Tarly tucked your wet hair over your shoulder so it wouldn’t stick to your face.

You sighed, knowing he was telling the truth, “If I confess now they’ll behead me for lying and treachery. And then they’ll kill my brother for allowing a woman to serve in his place. I’m only here because my parent’s farm would not survive without him.”

Sam looked over your pretty face in despair. “Very well. I’ll do my best to keep you safe,” The boy promised, wrapping his furs tighter around you. You looked at his kind expression, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug. For the first time in three entire weeks, you felt safe. Secure. Like you didn’t have to watch your back twenty-four seven because you finally had a friend on the Watch who knew your secret.

“Thank you, Sam. You’re a good man,”

“You’re a good man too,” The broad boy joked and the two of you laughed between one another, his enormous arms wrapping around your waist.

That is until you realised something was pressing in between the two of you that was clearly unintentional on the sweet boy’s part. You gasped and pulled back, and the movement seemed to knock sense into the Tarly boy.

“Sam!”

“I’m so sorry, I’ve never seen a woman bare before- I’ve very mixed feelings right now-”

—

For the first time in a month, you felt settled at the wall. You had gained little strength yet, but your fighting skill seemed to almost be improving. You still hated the cold with every ounce of your being, but at least you had a friend. Sweet Sam and his forever grumpy accomplice Jon.

Unlike Sam, Jon relished in the silence as you did, something you appreciated from time to time. Though it meant on nights like this, when Sam was not on night duty as you two were, there was a prolonged silence between the two of you that you neither liked nor hated. You could tell he scrambled for something to say to you, to be the one to be a friend when Sam was not there to do so, and you appreciated his efforts.

Finally, after an hour of watching into the inky black darkness over the edge of the wall for any movement, he opened his mouth to speak.

“You have a dainty life back home then?” Jon asked, making your head shoot up at the break in the silence. You must have seemed puzzled as he explained himself. “You don’t seem the heavy lifting type, is all,”

You nodded, noting his dark eyes and how they seemed to latch onto yours in interest, “Oh. No, I suppose not. My older brother did all the farm work since my father got sick,” You said, each breath misting in front of your very eyes in the freezing weather. Fearing it made you sound lazy as his head turned away in indifference, you continued, “I’m much better with a bow, truthfully. I’ve never had to wield a blade when catching rabbits and deers,”

Jon smirked, and you found yourself somewhat proud you had drawn that from him. He was a handsome man. So very handsome in a way that was obvious to a woman surrounded by men every single day. You hoped he did not have a woman at home, though you supposed they would never meet again, nor could you ever do anything about it seeing as it deemed you to behave like a man for the foreseeable future.

“No, I don’t suppose deers and rabbits would put up a good duel,” He replied, and the two of you fell back into silence. “I could teach you, if you’d like? I taught my younger brothers before I left,”

You looked at him in disarray. The men of the knights watch were not known for their kindness, more so their heathen behaviour and ferocity to the wildlings. Jon Snow was not like them, he was kind and understanding. He did not look at you with scorn at your difficulties. He was offering to help.

“You would?” Wide eyed, you asked. “You would help me?”

He nodded, shrugging and readying his blade, “I don’t see why not. Come on, arms up.”

And so for two hours Jon taught you. The dark-haired man held the blade as if it was part of his arm, as if he had known nothing but him and that sword, moved swift like the river that cut through your hometown. He was tough on you for your posture, exclaiming he had seen his septa with a stronger back than you to which you told him it was probably the silver spoon he had rammed up his arse that made him stand so stiffly. You had thought briefly you had gone too far when he straightened and gazed at you, before his face broke out into a laugh. Jon Snow had a wonderful smile, you realised.

You continued on for another hour, Jon showing you how your feeble nature could help you become nimble and fast. “As long as you make them bleed, it doesn’t matter where you hit them,” He said, using one of his huge, firm hands to adjust your stance and grip on your sword. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart race to smell the intoxicating scent of his sweat and old soap rolling off him into the cold air you inhaled. It was just because you had never been so close to a man, lest seen one so close in the past month with your efforts to stay hidden from view. Your heart felt like it was racing as you stepped away from the broad-shouldered man that encompassed your frame with his own, not watching where you were treading so long as it got you away from that terrible siren call of a scent he gave off.

“In no time at all you’ll be the best in the yard,” He teased, as you moved back even further. You noticed the patch of black ice too late however in your haste to ironically come to your senses. Your footing was swept from underneath you by the frozen cobble, and your body thrown backwards with the weight of your armour sent you tumbling over the edge of the wall’s crenel with a loud yelp, “Perhaps not as- JACK!”

Jon lunged his body forward, arms outstretched to grab your hands in his own. You felt your body slam into the side of the bricks, legs dangling precariously over the frosty edge and you swore everything seemed impossibly colder on this side of the wall. Your heart raced even more than when you had been near Jon, racing as if this was your last moment on earth which it very well could be. How you were not dead you will never know, but every single prayer you could ever say to the gods ran through your head as you breathed out finally.

“JON!” You yelled, gripping onto his large hands with a tightness you didn’t know you had. If he was to let go even the slightest amount, it would all be over.

“I’ve got you!” He called back, two hands grabbing your forearm securely. “I won’t drop you, but you need to pull yourself up,”

Your free hand grabbed onto an empty alcove in the wall’s brickwork, the ice nestling there biting into your fingertips as though it were a feral dog. You winced as you felt your skin stick to the ice instead of melt it, but you used the wall to kick yourself up further although your legs felt near numb with fear. “That’s it, now grab this part,” Jon encouraged, and you did so, moving to hold the top of the wall as a more secure plane.

One of Jon’s arms wrapped around your waist to give him a better grip of your slack body, and it took all his strength to hoist you, your sodden clothes and your armour back over the wall. The two of you stumbled back with a grunt of effort, and you think you finally exhaled for the first time in five minutes by the time he got you to the right side of the barrier, his arm still wrapped around you as yours never withdrew from grabbing onto his shoulders in terror.

The two of you stayed quiet for a moment, as if you didn’t quite believe what had just happened. “Are you alright?” Jon whispered, letting you go though you were still quite shaken up.

“I think so,” You reply, though neither of you miss the tremor in your tone, “Thankyou, Jon,”

“Always. We’re brothers now. Brother’s look after each other.” He replied, clapping you on your shoulder heartily, not missing the way you looked away from him when he named you his family, “Now come on. That’s enough excitement for one night.”

—

Everything came to a screaming halt not even a month later. You had grown in muscle, not nearly as much as a normal man, but your sparring had improved immensely and life was becoming less difficult as you acclimatised to the cold. Sam and Jon were good friends, particularly Sam who always watched your back to help you keep your secret safe from the outside world.

But you had shaken Jon. He had never felt this way about a man before, never seen a man with such beautiful eyes or such a softness in their gaze. Sam held a kindness to him but not in the same delicate manner you did. Save when you were sparring, something you had put every piece of yourself into since the night you nearly fell from the wall. The way you gazed at him as if he was the greatest warrior you had ever seen, though he doubted a farm boy would have ever seen the bloodshed of war.

He saw how the other men treated you. He and Sam tried to steer them clear of picking on you for your weaker frame, but on the days they couldn’t be with you they hoped you were tough. He knew you weren’t.

It was a night as such that they had both been stationed on watch duty where they found you. They had been relieved of duty not ten minutes earlier; the elevator creeping its way down to Castle Black at a frustratingly slow pace. All Jon wanted was his bed, as it seemed Sam did too from the way he ran a hand over his eyes as if the weight of the world held heavy on his shoulders.

“Is it just me or do the nights seem longer up here?” Sam asked, rubbing his hands together hoping to warm the poor digits up by even a few degrees. It was in vain though, even he knew that. There was no such thing as warmth this far north.

Jon opened his mouth to answer his good friend, but was interrupted by the sound of a high-pitched scream that was quickly cut off and some loud scuffling around the centre of the training yard.

The two men looked at one another as the elevator met the cold stone cobbles, somehow both of them having a good idea who was responsible for such a cry. Jon kicked the iron door open, the pair of them rushing out of the metal hold at a surprising pace for two men freezing their arses off. They were confronted with three of the taller men the night’s watch offered surrounding a figure on the floor, mouth and limbs bound with cloth.

“Get his clothes off boys. Let’s see if a night in the cold air will toughen him up. Commander says even the youngest boy brought here is more of a man than this runt.” The larger one, who Sam knew to be named Derick ordered, and his heart skipped when he saw who it was they had on the floor, squealing and writhing like a shot animal.

Of course, as they’d both suspected, it was you the pig bastards had dragged out of bed in the middle of the night for a practical joke. But he watched as they undid your top buttons and was thankful as Jon made it just in time to shove the man off you.

“That’s enough!” The Stark’s half son yelled, loud enough to wake the superiors of the watch so they could deal with the rats.

The boys huffed, shuffling away from your limp body as Jon drew his sword and stared at them all coldly. “Snow bastard here to save the day, once again. Does your arse ever tire of you wearing it like a hat?” Derick snapped, eyeing Jon up wearily as if deliberating his chances against the man. But it seemed he didn’t fancy his luck, as he shouldn’t have, and stepped away from your bodyguards in annoyance.

“Just go back to bed and you’ll be lucky we don’t tell the commanders what you were going to do.” Jon murmured darkly, as Sam also reached for his weapon at his side if they wished for a fight. He knew Jon could take them all on his own but anything to steer them away from you.

The boys looked to one another in a sneer, before huffing and sauntering off back to the dormitory, muttering curses about the three of you. The moment they turned, Jon was at your side, ripping the gag away from your mouth so you could breathe. It wasn’t until then that he noticed you had been crying and his heart plummeted. You hiccuped as the cloth was removed from your face, Sam cutting free the binds on your ankles as Jon worked on your wrists.

It wasn’t for another minute that you had shaken yourself out of the fright the awful bastards had given you, and you actually thought to thank the two of them.

“Don’t mention it,” Jon said, pulling your wrists forward to free the knotted cloth there too. His large fingers brushed along your hands warmly, and you felt a shiver run down your spine at just how easily his body had adapted to the cold. Though you supposed it had always been like that being a boy of Winterfell.

You were still silent however, not knowing quite what to say as your hands fell free with his quick work and you lifted your arm up to rub away the dried tears in vain. The dark-haired man must have seen your crestfallen expression, and did what Jon did best to all the men he saw struggling. He comforted you.

“Hey, don’t let them get to you. You’re getting stronger by the day.” He murmured, pulling your arm away from your face to see your bottom lip still quivering in shame. “We made no warrior overnight. Do you think the Mountain woke up one day with the strength of a god?”

“I heard he split his mothers ribs in two the day he was born,” Sam chimed in, though he quickly regretted his chatty nature when the two of you looked at him, Jon with an exasperated glare and you with pure fright. He gathered his words the way Sam did best, and added; “Probably just an old wives’ tale though.”

Jon turned back to you, his eyes falling to where they had unbuttoned your shirt and leaned forward to help, “What I mean is there’s always going to be someone bigger than you. My father once told me how he beat the Sword of the Morning and even he-” Jon froze halfway through his sentence as his fingers brushed against your flesh under your shirt. Something was wrong. Something was different to his own body, to any man he had ever seen before. It wasn’t until you realised why he had gone quiet that you shoved his hands away, your soft feminine hands holding him off as if he’d burned you.

You had been so enraptured in his words, the comfort it brought you, you didn’t realise just how much of you he could feel until you followed his eyes to where he was staring at your chest wide eyed. His gaze flicked to your face and just like Sam, he took in your guilty eyes, your womanly features that he had always known were pretty. Though he’d always placed his thought as of jealous rather than of lust.

But his mind raced as if confirmed by feeling those mounds on your chest, reimagining your face in a whole new light.

Your eyes met, and the second they did, you knew he knew.

Jon stood up fast enough to give him head spin, or was that just the revelation that either you were indeed a man with a startlingly pretty face and tits to match or were you very much a woman?

“Jon!” You shimmied your legs out the rest of the rope that Sam had been struggling with, standing to meet his shocked expression, “Jon, wait,” You reached out for him, though he stepped away as if you were suddenly cursed.

“No- You can’t-” He breathed out, forcing himself to finish his sentence though the thought pained him, “You can’t be a woman. Do you have any idea how dangerous this place is for a woman?”

“Of course I do, Jon! I’ve feared for my life every day these past months, feared for my virtue. I don’t wish to be here, I have no choice,” You hissed back as Sam stood beside you, hilting his knife.

The lack of shock on the Tarly boy’s face clicked in Snow’s mind, “You knew about this?”

“I walked in on her in the shower unfortunately,” He replied, spinning to look at you with a red tinge to his cheeks, “Not that- I mean I didn’t want to invade your privacy- You have a lovely pair-”

“Sam,” You spat, nudging the boy to stop his mouth that would usually endear, as the two of you looked back at Jon’s aghast expression. Rushing forward to hold on to his arm, a tenderness you could express now, “Please don’t tell the Commanders. They’ll kill me if they know,” Jon’s dark eyes searched your face for any reason as to not take on this potentially fatal secret, but all he found was a scared woman begging for his help. All he found was the person he had been keeping his eye on for months since that first day you met. All he found was a friend.

“Alright,” Jon conceded, noticing now just how soft your hands were as they clung to his arm in need, “So what do they call you?”

“Actually, what do they call you?” Sam piped up, a puzzled look on his face as you spun to meet his eyes with a relaxed smile. “I’ve been calling you Jack for the past month and you’ve not once said anything.”

You chuckled and told them both your real name, your gaze meeting Jon’s once more as he stuck out his hand to shake, his eyes softening when he saw you looking up at him in hope.

“Welcome to the night’s watch, Y/N,”

#jon snow x reader #jon snow #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #job snow imagine #jon snow fanfiction #Samwell Tarly #samwell tarly x reader #fem!reader

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namorslutfanfiction · 1 year

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Sugar daddy Namor spoiling reader with everything that is possible and making she move into his palace?

Namor x Reader

Summary: You had simply done a good deed not expecting anything in return. But now you had a mysterious king showering you with gifts and affection.

Genre: Fluff angst and fluff.

AN: probably not what you had in mind but my brain just kept going

You met him days after moving back to your ancestral home. A bittersweet return to the large and solitary beach house you had inherited. You were determined to make the best of it despite how far you were from any town and the rumors that still lingered about your grandfather and other family. You had all been unique. The whispers that you could breathe underwater weren't necessarily wrong.

You had startled him that first day. You had swam far out wanting to cool down during the excruciating heat of the summer. If anyone saw you they would wonder about the bubble that covered your mouth and nose, like a clear scuba mask. Manipulating water was a skill that ran in your family and you had been taught how to preserve air for yourself early in childhood.

You were swimming deep when you saw the man drifting, his ankle tangled in long tendrils of seaweed. You'd never seen such a man with golden tanned skin, draped in jewelry, with small wings on his ankles. You swam up to him, already thinking of how you were going to drag a body back to the shore and how you would explain it to authorities.

You realized as you got closer that he didn't have the normal pale pallor that you would find with a drowned body. You cupped his cheek gently, feeling warmth. Your eyes widened just as he opened his own. He looked surprised but grabbed your hand before you could move away from him.

"Help me," You jolted when you heard his voice. It was not every day you met someone who could communicate underwater. The look in his eyes held no threat but only a silent plea. He tugged his leg and you could see just how tangled up he was.

You swam down and pulled at the seaweed. Yanking and clawing at the tendrils wrapped around his ankles. You nicked one of his wings with your nail and he jerked.

"Gently please, I'd rather not lose an appendage," He said, flicking his ankle.

You nodded and shrugged apologetically. He gave you a small smile in acknowledgement. You continued to tug at the plant but it only grew tighter. Giving up, you swam toward the ocean floor, looking for anything sharp.

"There's nothing, I already looked," the man said, swaying lazily in the water.

You glanced up at him, made a gesture to give you a moment, before you headed for the surface.

"Wait, don't just leave me here," You heard the man call to you.

In record time you swam back to shore and headed into your house. The machete you kept near the door was finally going to be put to some use for once. It was heavier than you remembered and even heavier once you were back underwater.

The man saw you approaching, "Woman, you could have told me you were coming back!"

You just laughed then started hacking away at the seaweed. Within the hour you found yourself sitting on the beach with the mysterious man. You both were exhausted and silent.

"Thank you, I'd been down there for awhile," the man said, running his fingers through his wet hair in embarrassment.

"How did you get stuck down there?" You asked as you wrung out your hair.

"That's the first question you ask? Not 'who are you?' or 'why do you have wings?' or 'how can you breathe underwater?'" The man asked incredulously.

"In case you didn't notice, I can also breathe underwater in my own way, and we got here much quicker because I manipulated the water to take us to shore. Whatever 'unique' qualities you have are not my business," You replied, "I'm y/n."

"Those on land call me Namor," he replied, taking in your features, "You are very beautiful."

The compliment caught you off guard making your face flush. "So, um, Namor, do you need anymore help?"

"With some rest I should be fine and to answer your previous question, I was hunting a fish," Namor leaned back looking out into the horizon. The sun was close to setting now, painting everything in a golden hue. He was stunning.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts, "You were hunting a fish?"

"There is a very specific fish, native to these islands, one of my people asked if I could find one. They want to study some aspect of it. I did not ask too many questions, I simply wanted a reason to venture farther than our borders. I did not expect the fish to be so hard to catch or smart enough to lure me into that forest of seaweed," Namor huffed and turned at the sound of your laughter, "Do I amuse you?"

"Yes," You replied unapologetically, "You look like a king, Namor, and you got caught in seaweed chasing a fish because you wanted to go out for a swim."

"I am a King, and yes that is true. In my defense, it was a rather small and fast fish," Namor couldn't help but chuckle at himself.

"Well, King Namor, it was nice to meet you, and save you. I won't pry anymore and I will keep your secret if you keep mine," You said as you got up and dusted off the sand. The sun had set and the cold was already settling in.

"Do you live in that place?" Namor asked, gesturing toward your home on the hill.

"Yes. It is my family home, although I am the only one left," You replied, a wistful look in your eyes as you took in the scene.

"It used to be full of life," Namor was standing next to you now, looking at your home, "I am sorry for your losses."

"You knew my family," You asked, surprised.

"I knew some of them. Your people have helped me before. Maybe those of us who can dwell in the ocean are all connected," Namor smiled down at you, "Be well, y/n. This will not be our last meeting."

He took your hand and kissed the back of it chastely before he walked back into the ocean. The blush had returned to your face, and only intensified as you watched the half naked man step back into the ocean with a rogue-ish smile playing across his face.

...

It started with flowers. Flowers of every kind, color, variety would appear in flourishing bouquets at your door step. Tied together with twine and always appearing in the morning. You never caught him but you knew they were his doing. It went on for two weeks before you made sure to wake up early enough that you could intercept him.

"You think I do not know when you are awake, pretty one," Namor said right next to your ear, making you jump. You had been waiting on your porch for hours in silence.

"Namor! Don't sneak up on me!" You exclaim, smacking his shoulder. He caught your hand and lay a kiss on your knuckles.

"You were waiting for me? Why have you not come to the beach? I have been waiting for you," Namor asked standing very close to you.

"I've been busy, and the storm has kept me inside," You weren't lying. You had been busy looking up anything you could find on the mysterious man before you. Although you hadn't found much. "You were waiting for me?"

"Yes, I have more gifts for you," Namor said with a grin, he pulled you to the bench near your door and sat you down. You noticed he actually wore a type of cloak or cape this time. Although he still wore those sinful shorts. From somewhere in the cape he pulled a small canvas bag. "I had this made for you."

You watched as he pulled a gold necklace on a hammered chain from the small pouch. A rough green gem hung from it and glinted in the light of the sunrise. You lifted your palm up to catch the hanging gem and admired it closely.

"Let me put it on for you," Namor insisted. You turned and allowed him to move your hair to the side and place the necklace around your neck. His soft touches and the light breeze of his breath sent shivers down your spine. You didn't know why you accepted it without any hesitation.

You turned to him, "Namor, why are you doing this?"

He let out an amused chuckle, "Is it not obvious? I am courting you."

You stared at him and felt your heart flutter as your face turned red. He brushed your hair out of your face then touched the jewel that now lay on your breastbone.

"This is a promise of my affections. I felt I needed to come on a bit stronger since the flowers weren't working. But, in yakunaj, nothing is too valuable for you," Namor winked at you as he combed his fingers through your hair.

"Affection? Courting?" You were still sitting in disbelief.

"Yes. I want you to be my queen, y/n," Namor said with a surety that came so naturally you just nodded.

You shook yourself out of your stupor, "But you don't know me, and I don't know you."

"This is true, but that is why I have come here and will continue to come here. I will make sure you know how much I admire and wish for you to be mine, and we can learn more about each other. It's simple, no?" Namor was being cheeky and you couldn't help but crack a smile.

"But I cannot stay today. I had only meant to give you your gift but I have some duties to attend to. I will return tomorrow at a much more convenient time for you," Namor stood with a flourish. The sun was now fully risen and the storm clouds that had been hanging on for the past week had dissipated. "Do not miss me too much in the mean time."

Namor kissed your hand again and started heading back to the beach, leaving you in a stupor. Your mind was racing and your heart was beating out of control. You fingered the necklace and a smile spread across your face. You'd never experienced anything like this before and you already knew that you were going to miss him.

...

The weeks that followed found you and Namor seeing each other daily. He brought gifts every time, from jewels to flowers. Food and artifacts he handmade. You tried to refuse some of the larger ones but he insisted. The amount of jewelry you now owned had more monetary value than you had in your whole life combined.

You spent days together talking and learning everything about each other. You learned that a couple centuries ago one of your ancestors had helped Namor and his people when a strong storm had washed his explorative mission team on to their beach. You learned about Talokan and its history. Namor asked about your family and your abilities. Swimming together and enjoying the water was one of your favorite pass times. Being able to spend time together on sea and land was a novelty for the both of you.

Months passed as you courted. He was ever the gentleman even when he had stolen a kiss from you and apologized for it. You had simply pulled him in for a deeper and longer kiss. You tried to give him gifts in return but he merely asked for affection instead.

Namor was touch starved to say the least. Once you were both comfortable with each other he could always be found holding your hand, playing with your hair, tracing his fingers across your skin, and practically being melded to your side.

When he had told you the name his people called him and insisted that you call him the same, you refused. No manner of convincing could make you change your mind, for now. You felt you were not worthy to call him that because you were still not sure if you would accept a proposal from him when the day came.

"In yakunaj, I want to show you Talokan," Namor said to you one day while you were huddled up on the couch in your living room. A nasty storm had been raging outside for three days and Namor had stayed with you.

You turned to him slightly, "Are you sure?"

"I want you to see the kingdom you will rule by my side," Namor kissed your temple, "I know you will love it."

Once the storm subsided Namor took you to see Talokan. His flourishing descriptions of it did not do it justice. It was more beautiful and magnificent than you could have anticipated. But his people were weary of you. He brushed it off but you saw how Namora and Attuma analyzed you, approached you with caution despite the enthusiastic welcome from their King.

When Namor returned you to your home the next day you did not let him know of your apprehension. As much as it pained you, you did not visit the beach for a few days. Even leaving your home to take a trip to town so that when he came looking you were no where to be found.

You intentionally returned back to your home during a storm. Hoping the torrential downpour would keep Namor at bay. But he was there waiting for you, soaked through with the cold rain, looking dejected as he sat on the steps of your porch. He stayed seated as you approached, looking up at you with searching eyes.

You stopped in front of him, not minding the rain that was soaking through your clothes. You had missed him so much. You had missed his soft touches, lingering kisses, and the way he made you truly feel like you deserved to be queen.

"In yakunaj, I don't know what I've done but let me fix it," Namor stood now, pulling you into his arms desperately. His hug was fierce and consuming as he spoke in your ear, "Whatever it is you want or need I will give it to you. If I upset you I will beg for forgiveness on my knees. If you are angry with me I will let you strike me. Just do not disappear from me again. In yakunaj, in reina. Please I can not bare it."

Tears welled up in your eyes and you hugged him back just as desperately, "I'm sorry."

...

"They do not matter, y/n. I just need to tell them how you saved me and they will welcome you," Namor had just listened to all your worries, "Regardless they will have to accept you since I chose you to be my queen."

"Namor, I don't want them to resent you," You were laying in his arms on the sofa, the fire blazing in the fireplace to warm you after your soak in the rain.

"They will see just how amazing you are, I promise," Namor reassured you.

"Ask them to tell you their thoughts, and don't punish them for it. I know how much Namora and Attuma mean to you. They are your family and know your people better than I ever could," You pleaded with him.

"And if they can accept you will you finally accept me? Will you be my queen and call me by my name?" Namor looked deeply into your eyes, tilting your chin up slightly. He glanced at your lips briefly.

"Yes, Namor. I will accept you if they accept me," You breathe out. His pupils darkened with desire just before he claimed your lips. His kisses soon softened as he whispered promises of your happiness and your future with him.

...

The next time you found yourself on the beach the sun was blazing as you waited. Then they rose from the surf, Namor flanked by Namora and Attuma. Your heart raced at the sight of the three of them. Namor gave nothing away as he approached you.

When he stopped short and Namora and Attuma stepped forward, you resisted the urge to back up. But they did not look at you with disdain as they did before. Instead they bowed on one knee and together said, "K reina!"

A smile exploded onto Namor's face as he quickly closed the distance between the two of you and lifted you in his arms. Before you could protest he wrapped his arm around your waist, cradled the back of your head and took your lips in a passionate kiss.

A soft but distinct cough interrupted you, and you felt yourself go hot with embarrassment. Namora had an eyebrow raised and looked slightly judgmental, but there was a softness to it. Attuma was smiling at the sight of you in the arms of the happy King.

"In yakunaj, I kept my promise," His cheeky smile was back.

You looked at the two Talokanil in front of you. Then the man at your side. He was as stunning as ever in the morning sun. Your doubts had been abated and the happiness in his voice made your heart skip a beat, "K'uk'ulkan, in ajawo', my love. Make me your queen."

Namor tilted his forehead against yours, trying to cover up the tears of joy that welled up in his eyes. That's when a small fleet of Talokanil broke the surface bearing more gifts of flowers, jewelry, and handmade goods. You gaped at the lavish display and the smiling faces of the people.

"What is that?" You turned to your king.

He ran his hand through his hair with a bashful look, "It was incase you said no and I needed to convince you a little more. It was Namora's idea. She said I hadn't given you enough if I was still convincing you!"

Namora looked flabbergasted and Attuma was openly laughing. It was a surprise to see the playful side of the Talokanil as Namora made an obscene gesture behind Namor's back. Even the people in the water were smiling.

"Let's go home," You finally said as you took Namor's hand, a smile gracing your face as you looked out to the sea.

...

AN: There we go. I know it could have been fluffier but I can't help where my brain goes sometimes.

Hope you enjoyed

#namor x reader #namor #namorslutfanfiction #namor x oc #namorfanfic #fluff #tenoch huerta

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crisiscutie · 2 days

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Since we have Father Sephiroth do you think we can have Biological Mother darling with son Sephiroth? Especially a possesive son Sephiroth?

This is a super interesting idea! I have so many ways of how this dynamic could work out... Consider the following to be experimental musings since nothing is set in stone yet. In general though, I imagine this Sephiroth would start out as Fluffy but turn into a yandere as his insecurities surface and he reverts to his true self; a lost, broken boy.

Content Warning: Emotional abuse. Yandere Sephiroth. Unhealthy and unsettling family dynamics.

Counterpart to Yandere Father Sephiroth Musings.

༻❁༺ You should've seen this coming. From the constant visits to the persistence of staying with you longer than necessary...

༻❁༺ You thought it was just his way of making amends for the lost time since he was stolen from you as a baby.

༻❁༺You reunited with your dear son here in Mideel a year ago, when he left Shinra for good. He recognized you from a distance when he saw you gardening.

༻❁༺ After he finished crying into your neck for what felt like an eternity, he told you about how he always wanted to find you, to be with you at every single he spent in that hell.

༻❁༺ And the poor thing thought your name was JENOVA. When you corrected him, he raised his palm to his face, an eerie, broken chuckle escaping his lips. A single last tear cascaded down his cheek.

༻❁༺ It concerned you, but you overlooked it, realizing that it likely came from his painful and traumatizing childhood. At least you both can now confront it and handle it together.

༻❁༺ His gorgeous slit eyes lit up as you rubbed his shoulder and caressed his cheek.

༻❁༺ "You're as radiant as I imagined you to be, mother..."

༻❁༺ From that point onwards, he was practically attached to your hip, observing how you handled domestic chores and attempting to do them himself. He was worried sick that he would mess up, as he had never done things like this before.

༻❁༺ Yet his ability to pick up things quickly always impressed you. He learned so fast... In fact, he seemed a little too eager to please you and relate to you. This worried you, so you reassured him he didn't need to change himself. You wanted him to express his true self.

༻❁༺ And so he did. He especially never hid the amount of love he had for you, his precious Mother. Each time he hugged you, his grip was so tight that you could sense his hesitation to release you, even if he didn't verbally express it.

༻❁༺ It doesn't matter if he was busy with an important task like hunting beasts. If you needed him for anything, he'd drop whatever he was doing, just for you. Even if it was something small, like getting fruits from the town's market.

༻❁༺ But he was poor at interacting with others, especially whenever other men came around you.

༻❁༺ He would lurk behind you, his seething eyes darkened toward anyone who dared to disturb his bonding time with you. He treasures each moment spent with you as if it were a precious currency. Even when your eyes are not on him, he became restless and antsy.

༻❁༺ Most were scared off whenever he gave them that intense stare. However, there was one time where he had gone too far and nearly beheaded a lone traveler. His crime? The traveler had simply asked you for directions while you were gardening with Sephiroth.

༻❁༺ Even Sephiroth himself didn't know what had driven to do that. Perhaps it was the seething jealousy that consumed him as he watched you playing with and caring for the children at the local orphanage, even though it was merely your job. Or maybe it was the way you stared at that man in the market earlier. Or maybe he was antsy from the lack of quality sleep.

༻❁༺ Usually, your sweet son tried to disguise his possessiveness around you, but this time, he couldn't hide it.

༻❁༺ Thankfully, you screaming at him and grabbing his arm, just as he was about to deliver the killing blow to the poor traveler, seemed to snap him out of his dark trance.

༻❁༺ With his eyes like a guilty kitten, he stared at the ground. He wasn't sorry for the man he almost killed, but for the minor crime of upsetting you.

༻❁༺ His powerful, deep voice had the pace of a child caught in the act.

༻❁༺ "Mother," he choked out, unable to meet your gaze, his shame clear. "I-I didn't mean it..." The thought of you leaving him, like others before, crossed his mind, nearly pushing him to another breakdown.

༻❁༺ You stared at him solemnly, before wrapping your arms around him in a loving, soothing hug.

༻❁༺ Later that night, his murderous rage surfaced again, not directed toward you, but towards the world. It wasn't fair that he had to spend a lonely, painful childhood and early adulthood as a glorified hunting dog. It wasn't fair that he had lost the few friends he had. And it certainly wasn't fair that, after finally reuniting with his precious mother, she had already built a life for herself, taking care of OTHER children.

༻❁༺The only thing he felt ashamed of was his jealousy of your interaction with the orphans. But it was too triggering for him to fully accept it.

༻❁༺ While you were busy making dinner for yourself and a small group of friends, he easily slipped into your house without being seen. You felt your heart leap at the sound of his deep, velvety voice, his muscular body pressing against yours as he stood uncomfortably close, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

༻❁༺ "...You're having a feast tonight, aren't you, mother?" your son whispered ominously in your ear. As you turned around to face him, you suddenly realized how imposing he truly was. Your first meeting with him was a stark contrast to now. Gone was the tall, shy boy; in his place stood a terrifying killing machine. It felt as if you were talking to an entirely different being altogether.

༻❁༺ "Yes. I will have company over later... What's wrong, Sephiroth?" You asked. You don't know how you kept a tough act. The doubt consumed him as his eyes narrowed at you and a frown replaced his smirk.

༻❁༺ "So this is what you were doing over years... While I spent my life as Shinra's monster!" His hands hovered around your hips, almost wanting to grab them, but he grabbed the marble counter behind you instead, causing it to crack with ease.

༻❁༺ You gasped. You were sure that he didn't even mean to do that, but it was hard for him to control his strength at the moment.

༻❁༺ And you've already told him what you've been doing these past years, but now it's time to prove it. You took his hand and led him to your bedroom. You revealed your involvement with AVALANCHE by showing him files of classified documents from underneath your bed.

༻❁༺ Each document revealed a different side of Shinra's operations - the meticulously gathered area survey information about Mideel and Shinra's dealings here, the closely guarded company secrets you knew, and even other corrupt dealings that had plagued them for years. This was the best way you could strike back at Shinra, but you had to keep your identity a secret.

༻❁༺ You've seen the Turks around this town a handful of times. You knew it was their job to find you and silence you, so you had to lie low. But you still wanted to reunite with Sephiroth, which is why you started to work with AVALANCHE under a persona, relaying to them what you can aside from your identity as Sephiroth's mother and going out on missions to get closer to him.

༻❁༺ He was dead silent as you went through the documents. Then he apologized to you, his kitten eyes resurfacing. They always made you so weak at the knees. He wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled his face into your chest.

༻❁༺ Although you didn't see it, a small sneer formed on his lips while you were calling off dinner with your friends, all to spend the night comforting your sweet son.

༻❁༺ You eventually fell asleep on your bed, but Sephiroth was still wide awake, still too high from your motherly touch and the thoughts of vengeance. He'd take away everything Shinra cherished. They will feel his despair.

So making something clear, Mother Darling is NOT Lucrecia. But I guess she could be an AU version of her if you want to see her that way. It's your imagination 🤷. Her past and the reason behind Sephiroth being stolen from her are different. Much of yet to be discovered.

And these musings are experimental, so nothing is set in stone yet. I had other ways how a Mother Darling/Son Sephiroth dynamic could be explored, but I decided to write this one to see how it flows.

A NSFW follow-up here.

#sephiroth #ff7 sephiroth #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #yandere sephiroth #final fantasy x reader #sephiroth x reader #crisis cutie #yandere x reader #yandere son #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #x reader #x female reader #tw: emotional abuse #tw: yandere

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eeveebitches · 7 months

Text

movie. || Roman Roy || smut

Pairing: Sub!Roman Roy x F!Reader

Summary: Roman wants you to stop watching a movie and pay attention to him, so he goes about it the best way he can think of.

Word count: 1.812

18+ only! More under the cut

Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Sub Roman, oral sex (f receiving) praise kink, coming untouched/in pants

A/n: based on a request i got!! tysm for the inspo :)) my requests are also still open!

_______________________

You're watching a movie when he comes in.

Grin wide, eyes tired and hair messed up beyond relief. He jingles the spare keys you gave him in the air, spotting you on the couch. "Got in with our key," he says matter-of-factly as he throws his shoes off, walking over to you.

Ever since you gave Roman a spare key to your home, he's been visiting you with no warning. It's not the fact that he was growing co-dependent on your time that piqued your interest, though. It's always been how he refers to the key.

He used to just say 'the spare key', clearly tense as he struggled to find comfort in his intrusion. Then it became 'your key', which he said with the tiniest smile. When he started calling it 'my key' you would fight back a grin. He was clearly indulging himself with this.

What the implication of this new 'our key' situation is, you have no idea. Better to keep it unspoken, like you two usually do.

"What're you doing?" You only look away from the screen for a second to watch him walk over to you, before returning your attention to the screen. "Watching a movie," you tell him rather dryly. He lets out a huff, plopping himself next to you on the couch. "Well, I'm here now, so screw your movie."

His hand shoots to snatch the TV remote away from you, but before he can do so, you yank it away. "The movie is almost done, just watch it with me or something," you mumble out, transfixed on the riveting plot in front of you.

"So what, your shitty B-roll movie trumps quality time with the number one bachelor of America?" You don't even respond this time, you simply keep your eyes on the movie. Roman groans, head dramatically falling back as he stares up into the ceiling. "What am I even supposed to do while you melt your brain with numbing media consumption?"

Again, no reply. Just a meager shrug.

Roman, at first, wants to glare at you. Maybe smack your arm, then go to your kitchen and purposefully make a shit ton of noise, so you're forced to stand up and pay attention to him. But as he stares at you, he can't help but notice a small amount of red lace peaking from under your sweatpants.

Then a much better idea to get your attention pops up.

Wordlessly, he removes himself from the couch and instead kneels down in front of you, hands awkwardly resting on your thighs as he stares up at you. "Uhh, what're you doing, Romes?"

"G'na eat you out," he plainly tells you, lips twitching up into a smirk. "Roman, have you ever given anyone head?"

He shrugs, hands slowly pulling your sweatpants down. You do wanna finish this movie, but you're also curious to see where this goes, so you help him by slightly lifting yourself up, so he can properly remove them. "No, but I'm like Leonardo Davinci, naturally talented and amazingly hot. I can do this easily," he states with confidence that is clearly a facade.

Roman's pupils are dilated as he stares at your lacy red panties. His hands shake as he pushes your legs apart, giving him better access. You hum with intrigue, giving his hair a quick pet before yet again focusing yourself on the movie. "Whatever you say, Davinci."

You weren't expecting him to start out with a kiss atop of your underwear. It's awkward, yet sweet, which you reward with another stroke of his hair. The air is tense as he slowly moves your panties to the side, and ever-so-slowly, he dips in.

With a sharpened tongue he experimentally licks the inside of your folds. You shiver at the sensation, keeping your hand casually rested on his head. For a moment there's nothing, before Roman's head turns up to look at you.

You flush at the sight of him looking up from you like that, eyes wide and unknowing as he's kneeling in between your thighs. His obedience is like second nature to him, and in moments like these you revel in it.

"Can you, like, give me a tiny hint on what to do? Or else I'm just gonna bite your clit off," he huffs, face already reddened.

"Try flattening your tongue a bit, for one. Just take your time, Romes."

And that he does.

Carefully, he laps at your folds. Places his hands back on your thighs, keeping them open as his eyes flutter shut. Just as suddenly as he got on his knees for you, he places his entire mouth on you, roughly sucking on your cunt. You gasp at the sensation, hand clutching at his hair as he suctions onto you.

The groan he lets out as he tastes you is guttural, like he was a man starved and you were his last supper. As he removes himself from you with a sinful 'pop', he lets out an airy laugh. "Jesus, this is, uh... fuck," he whispers out before delving right back in, madly licking and sucking wherever he can reach.

He can't stop himself from letting one of his hands drop from your thighs, using it to palm at his growing hardness. "Shit Romes, you're doing good," you groan, struggling to pay attention to the movie when Roman's tongue is a single movement away from circling your clit.

"Only f'r you," he desperately gasps out, only taking a second to get air back before focusing his full attention on the small bundle of nerves he's finally located. He isn't as hesitant as you would've thought he'd be-- he wastes no time roughly sucking on your clit, shamelessly moaning as he feels you twitch and writhe from his touch.

"Fuck, you're doing so good baby, keep doing that." You grab a handful of his hair and forcefully pull him closer. He moans pathetically at the movement, at the way he's suffocating in your juices.

The wet noises he's making are absolutely sinful, and if it wasn't for his relentless mouth you would've joked about his eating manners. His mouth and nose are shiny with your wetness, and he pays it no mind, drilling his tongue inside of you without a care in the world. "W'na please you," he moans against you, his own hips stuttering as he stops palming himself, cock painfully restrained in his dress pants.

"You're such a good boy for me, Roman, you're doing so fucking good." His eyes screw shut as he groans against your clit, the vibrations leaving you to gasp for air. It's all just too much, the pleasure combined with the desperate noises he's letting out sending you into cloud nine.

He whines at your every noise and your every word. It's like his heart is going to burst out of his chest, and when you yank at his hair he can't hold himself back. With a muffled groan he releases his load, only slightly faltering in his pace before continuing to practically torture your pussy.

"My sweet pup, eating me out so well, so proud of you," you moan with a fistful of his hair in your hand, only half-aware of Roman's own predicament. Your words of praise alone are overstimulating, but he can't stop himself from lapping up your juices.

He pulls away for a moment, gasping for air as he looks at you, face glistening. "You're so fucking wet, I just w'na live here," he groans out, before roughly sucking on your clit.

You don't know if it's the hungry moans he keeps letting out or the blinding pleasure he's giving you that pushes you over the edge. Thousands of blinding white stars cover your vision as your entire body stiffens, a gargled moan escaping your throat as you push Roman's entire face into you one last time.

He moans against your slick cunt, weakly lapping at you as you slowly come down. Even when you whine at the overstimulation of it all, he keeps at it, tongue busying itself with cleaning you up. For a moment you think you can even hear him gulp, whining as you try to pry him off of you.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, carrying a serene expression. With lidded eyes he looks up at you, and the question he asks almost makes you cum again on the spot.

"Did I do good for you?"

You let out an airy chuckle. "Yeah, you did."

Roman groans as he stands up, and only now you see the dark stain at the front of his pants. "Oh my god, did you?--"

"Shut up, yes." You giggle as he awkwardly stands up to place a small kiss on your lips. Your hand shoots to grab the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and you hum as you taste yourself on his tongue. He moans into your mouth, a sound you happily swallow before pulling away. "You did very good, Roman. Didn't realize you're a total perv for giving oral," you hum out as he waddles yo your bathroom.

"And I didn't realize you were a total slut for it," he retorts, keeping the bathroom door open as you hear him shuffling out of his pants. "Where's my shit?"

You pull your panties up, but simply remove your sweatpants, before walking over to your bedroom and quickly fishing out a fresh pair of pants, a shirt and some boxers for him. The amount of times he's made someone drop off fresh clothes for him to your apartment has caused an influx of items for him to wear when he's with you.

With a light grin you walk towards the bathroom, handing Roman his things as you sit on the closed toilet seat. "I'm happy you were able to enjoy yourself, too."

Roman shrugs. "Yeah, I mean, I ruined my fucking pants, but it was also fucking hot."

"You win some, you lose some," you hum as you watch him remove his blouse and replace it with the shirt. "You should definitely let me do that again, by the way. Just-- ask whenever you want a real man to make you cum," he mumbles out, avoiding the eye contact you're trying to make with the mirror he's in front of.

"You're just saying that because you're a total pussy-loving freak, aren't you?" He groans at your words as he finishes dressing himself, walking out of the bathroom with you in tow. You chuckle at the TV-- the credits are rolling. "Can you please not say kinky shit to me, my dick is in recovery mode right now, thanks."

The two of you plop onto the couch, legs tangling as you grab the remote and put on a show the two of you usually watch together. "Seriously though," Roman suddenly pipes up,

"you taste really good."

#female reader #roman #roman roy #roman roy x reader #romulus roy #roman roy x you #succession #succession hbo #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader smut #succession smut #succession x reader #succession fanfic

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