the desire to observe them under a microscope is overwhelming
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another spotify wrapped, another year with twice 🫂🫂
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4,9,14,41 + your Faith ship when it’s ready? 🙈
ok ok it's officially happening... thank you Amanda 🙈!
4. How do their families feel?
Aiden's family is not in Hope County and has no idea what he's up to. But they wouldn't be very happy about him joining a cult and being in a relationship with one of the 'higher-ups'.
Joseph disapproves of Aiden. He sees him as a potential threat to the project, to Faith's loyalty even if she won't manage to bring him under her full control. Though he didn't oppose Aiden's request to join the Project and he would never cast him out either. As for John, he doesn't like him at all, but it's more for petty reasons. Not because he thinks Aiden is a bad partner for Faith or bad for the Project, but because John can't stand him personally. Yet another partner of a family member that talks back at and annoys him. Lastly, Jacob doesn't care too much about him. As long as Aiden obeys Faith.
9. What is their sexual dynamic?
Faith tops and Aiden is definitely a bottom. They're usually very soft and tender with each other.
14. Who gets their way most often?
Faith, always. She knows what buttons to press. She'll make the biggest atrocity sound like the sweetest, most innocent little act. He could never deny her something. Also Aiden is a simp.
41. How do their flaws clash?
Aiden is very undetermined when it comes to making decisions, for anything really. Faith is willing to guide him, show him the right path. But he has issues with fully devoting himself to the Project (rather than to Faith herself). That clashes with Faith's flaw of always wanting to please Joseph, no matter the cost. She disregards her own needs and wants and tells herself she can only be happy if her work for the Project succeeds and Joseph is satisfied with it.
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Twisted wonderland boys when you turn into a baby!
Sooo, let’s say that in alchemy class something went wrong and you got transformed into a toddler, how would they take care of you?
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Leona:
-At first Leona refused to take care of you because he already had enough with Cheka without having to take care of you now.
-However, seeing how calm you were, he let you approach him little by little.
-Little to say, Leona used you more as a stuffed animal than anything else, but look the positive side, he fed you perfectly (a lot of meat, Sorry if you happen to be vegetarian or vegan 😭) and he didn't leave you alone.
Trey:
-Trey has younger brothers, so he knows exactly how to deal with you.
-You make him very tender since you remind him of his little sister/brother, and at the same time Trey can't help but think about what it would be like to have a child with you in the future.
-He cooked you a lots of sweets, from macaroons (sorry if I wrote it wrong 😭🖐🏻) to strawberry cakes, chocolate…
-So Your tummy ended up hurting and he felt very guilty.
-But he made sure you brushed your teeth after eating!
Idia:
-Panic.
-Literally the only kid he knows how to deal with is Ortho, so when he sees you he gets very nervous.
-Don't get him wrong, he finds you the most adorable and tender, but he just doesn't know what to do or say.
-In the end the one who ends up taking care of you is Ortho while Idia plays her video games 5m away in his room.
-Together with Ortho you played hide and seek for a couple of hours until finally the teachers found a potion to return you to your normal state.
Rook:
-LOVES so much the idea of being able to see you this small and adorable look.
-It's simple
-He didn't leave you for a moment, a little more and you guys would even to shit together LMAO
-He laughed when he saw you chasing the squirrels in Pomefiore's garden, he thought you were deadly adorable
-He couldn't help but think about what it would feel like to raise your future children together, he definitely already has a whole life planned with you, it's inevitable, our favorite hunter unexpectedly became a prey for love <3
Malleus:
-It makes Malleus laugh how your little being looks at his horns with eyes full of curiosity.
-He put you on his shoulders and carried you all the time, letting you touch his horns as much as you want, you can be proud, that is a privilege that he only grants to you because you are his beloved human <333
-He took you to see the gargoyles with him, honestly he is another one who took you everywhere with him.
-Everything must be said and it is that he had to ask Lilia for a little advice because he controls more of the subject, although it was not too much since as we already know Malleus also participated in raising Silver and because of this he has a little experience
Jade:
-Jade is a very busy person without a doubt, after all he is the one who is in charge more than anything of managing the monstro lounge and of following Azul’s "orders" together with Floyd, however, he is capable of get organized enough to be able to take care of your infant self
-He finds it very funny and tender to see your innocence from when you were little.
-He certainly doesn't let you be with other students, especially Floyd, since it's not difficult for anyone to guess how that would end… Although he also does it because deep down he would be very jealous if someone stole your attention
-He put a mushroom on your head 🕴
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I hope you all liked it, stay safe and healthy! <333
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Afraid - Dean Winchester (smut)
Y'all asked for some jealous!posessive!Dean, so who am I to deny that wish? I came across a Dean edit paired with the song "Afraid" by The Neighbourhood, I guess that set the mood. Honestly, it's just pwp, but I ain't sorry. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: Dean is tired of watching men trying to chat (y/n) up wherever the brothers take her. Dean is tired of faking his disinterest in the reader. Dean is tired of holding back.
Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking, oral (m), car sex, but some fluff and a love confession
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.2k words)
The sound of her boots meeting the ground was drowned out by the music echoing through the bar and the chatter filling the air. She was working on the adrenaline still thumping through her veins, riled up by the hunt Dean and her had just finished, wiping their weapons clean before they found their way to this very bar, ready for some distraction before they left this town in the morning.
With a bright – yet awfully fake – smile glued to her lips, (y/n) made her way to the bartender, studying the man who was focused on the drinks he kept preparing. She was too concentrated on the game she was about to play with the guy, all too used to these moments, to notice the eyes of some other men on her frame, intently studying the woman’s body.
“Hi.” Her soft voice forced the bartender’s grey eyes to find hers, grinning at the smiling woman. He was handsome, with his bright, stormy eyes and the black hair he had gelled back, yet he was nowhere near as handsome as the green-eyed hunter she had been friends with for years by now. Dean fucking Winchester, the man who had an awfully confusing grasp on her body and soul, holding her heart in his hands, crushing it whenever he turned from her to find shelter in another woman’s bed.
“Hi, darlin’. What can I get for you?” Before (y/n) could speak her and Dean’s order, an unfamiliar voice spoke up from behind her.
“Give the lovely woman a few shots it’s on me.” Slowly (y/n) turned towards the man, eyes finding his greedy ones, trying to keep her disgust from finding its way to her features. A soft chuckle left her, hoping to distract the man for a few seconds, while she figured out a way out of this situation.
“Mhm, thank you, that’s very sweet.” (Y/n) tried to turn away from him, though without any luck, stopped by the hand finding its way to her waist.
“Not so fast, pretty. At least tell me your name.” A groan threatened to claw through (y/n), eyes fluttering in annoyance the man clearly mistook for shy flattery, making the smirk he wore on his thin lips grow.
“It’s Mandy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my friend is waiting for me.” The man’s hand didn’t move, tightening its grip on her waist. With her lips forming a snarl, (y/n) was hellbent on fighting her way out of this, it wasn’t the first time a man tried to chat her up against her will, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, all too used to these uncomfortable situations. Though while her mind raced to find a snarky reply, she was gently though determinedly pulled away from the man.
“Hey, I was talking to her!” Her mind didn’t get the chance to concentrate on the man’s loud voice, distracted by the all-too-familiar scent forcing its way up her nose. For a second (y/n) allowed her eyes to flutter close, relaxing in Dean’s possessive grasp, concentrating on his scent, of the feeling of his muscles pressing against her frame, wordlessly telling her that he wouldn’t let her go.
“Well, now she’s done talking to you. Let’s go, baby, I want to get out of here.” The man got no chance to protest, forced to watch Dean guide (y/n) through the crowd and out into the cold evening. She inhaled a few breaths, wrapping her arms around herself the second Dean let go of her, searching the distance between them.
“Not that I don’t appreciate your help, but I would have managed just fine on my own, Dean.” He was walking a few steps ahead of her, coming to an abrupt stop the second she spoke the words. Dean turned towards her with dark eyes, features pulled into a hard frown, looking at (y/n) as if she was a supernatural being he was about to kill.
“I’m so fucking sick and tired of watching these men get their hands on you. Do you even know what seeing that does to me?” Dean’s voice carried an unfamiliar kind of anger, dripping with possessiveness, with jealousy. Her heart started racing in her chest, forcing heat to rise to her face, wondering where this was coming from. (Y/n) kept her gaze focused on Dean, eyebrows furrowed together as the seconds kept ticking by, trying to figure out what was going on inside his mind. “You know what, forget it.”
“Absolutely not. Talk to me, Dean, where is this coming from?” She reached for his hand before he could try to start walking once again, eyes drawn to hers like a moth drawn to any source of light. (Y/n) could tell that he was fighting an inner battle, tongue kissing his teeth, fingers forcing themselves closer to hers, interlacing them with his.
“I,” a deep, almost defeated exhale left Dean, wondering how to put his thoughts into words. But the second the sound of somebody stepping out of the bar found its way to the two, it was as if he was lured out of his trance, letting go of (y/n). “I can’t do this, not here.”
Dean started walking towards Baby without looking back, growling something under his breath (y/n) couldn’t pick up. With determination guiding her, she jogged towards him, forcing him to a halt in front of Baby once again, murmuring his name. The last thing she heard before Dean turned towards her, reaching for (y/n) to press her against Baby, was an angry “Fuck it” leaving the tall man.
Her gasp was swallowed by his lips finding hers, kissing her hungrily as if they had been parted from one another for years, dreaming of their shared kisses, clinging to bits and pieces of their memories. Both moaned in unison, allowing their tongues to meet, turning the kiss even more heated.
Slowly he parted from her, allowing the both of them to catch their breaths. His cold hands found their way to her warm cheeks, thumb stroking along her swollen lips as he pondered over his words. (Y/n) struggled to concentrate on anything but his touch, taken up by the feeling she had been desperate to feel for years, wondering if and how Dean would touch her.
“You’re mine, you always have been, and you always will be. I won’t share you, just the thought of it makes me sick.” Dean’s growled words shot heat to her core, walls clenching around nothing. Wordlessly she pulled him down for another kiss, needing to feel him close once again, not fully trusting that this wasn’t just a trick of her imagination. Dean pressed her even further against Baby, keeping her trapped to make her feel every inch of his body, groaning the second his growing bulge came in contact with her desperate heat. “Do you feel what you do to me? I should fuck you right here, for them to see that you’re mine, mine only.”
A whimper left (y/n) at his words, drawing a dangerous chuckle from Dean as he let go of her, giving her just enough space to find her way to the passenger seat. Her eyes didn’t dare part from his features, trying to soak up every second. She couldn’t stop her grin from widening as her hands began to move, finding his thigh before Dean could catch up on what she was trying to do. He shot her a warning look, teeth nibbling on his lower lip, but her hands kept moving, finding their way to his crotch, feeling his hardening cock strain against the fabric of his washed-out jeans.
“Sweetheart,” Dean choked on the word, struggling to keep his eyes focused on the road. (Y/n) didn’t speak up, she began to shift in her seat, leaning towards him to free his growing cock from the confines of his clothes. The groan that left Dean filled her with giddiness, spitting into her palms before she touched him for the first time, slowly stroking him. “Fuck, feels so good, been dreaming of this.”
Her soft chuckles forced a grin to widen on Dean’s lips, freezing the second he felt her warm breath clashing against his soft skin. Without another warning, she parted her lips, spitting onto his tip before she took him in her mouth. The groan that left Dean echoed through Baby, a sound that forced (y/n) to hum around him, making the sound vibrate on his skin.
Even though Dean tried to concentrate on the dark road ahead, he felt his concentration slipping, parking Baby on the side of the road before (y/n) realised what he was doing. With one hand getting tangled in her hair, Dean roughly pulled her off his cock and back in for a teeth-clashing kiss.
“Get in the backseat, I need to fuck you now.” The rough tone of Dean’s voice left (y/n) moaning, struggling to make her way to the backseat with her thoughts focused on the things Dean would do to her. He didn’t waste any time the second she found him hovering over her, hands pulling on her trousers and panties to expose her dripping cunt, groaning at the sight.
His calloused fingers touched her expertly, circling her pulsing bundle with just enough pressure to push her into another dimension. Within seconds Dean had turned her into a blabbering mess, choking on her words as he pushed two fingers into her tightness. He didn’t hold back, kept her pinned to the leather seat with his free hand finding her throat.
“You’re mine, your body belongs to me from now on.” For years she had imagined moments like this, wondering if she’d ever be fortunate enough to feel him this close, wondering how it must feel to have his hands on her. She could stay buried beneath him till the end of their time, allowing Dean to touch her as he pleased.
“Dean,” she whispered his name, unable to use any more strength with his hand choking her just the way she liked. “Fuck me, please.”
Dean stared down at her for a few seconds, nodding his head as he pulled away, reaching for his wallet to pull out a condom. Within moments he placed himself on top of (y/n), aligning his tip with her cunt. With their eyes holding contact, he pushed into her, groaning at the feeling of her walls fluttering around him.
Her lips parted at the feeling of Dean slowly pushing into her, allowing (y/n) to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. Dean stared down at her, eyes growing a few shades darker at the sight of her pleasure drunken features, finding excitement in her moans. Only as she nodded her head, teeth buried in her lower lip, did he start a faster rhythm, set on pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck, Dean, feels so good.” One of his hands found its way back to her throat, holding onto her as he fucked her faster, deeper, set on making her remember this very night till their last moment together. The Impala moved with his every thrust, keeping them protected from any dangers waiting out in the dark, allowing the two lovers to give in to their every emotion.
“Been imagining this for years, but you feel even better than I thought, fuck, it’s like you were made for me, sweetheart.” (Y/n) couldn’t reply, could only clench around him with her eyes squeezed shut and her fingernails leaving crescent shapes on his neck. She held onto him as if he was about to disappear, about to leave her behind – even though she very well knew that Dean would never let go of her, forever holding her close.
The second Dean tightened his grip on her throat, she found herself looking up at him, allowing heat to rise in her system as she picked up on the love swimming in his pupils. Dean tilted his head down to press a kiss to her lips, momentarily distracting her from the feeling of his cock nudging her swollen spot, leaving her body tingling.
“Touch yourself for me, baby.” The simple command rolled off Dean’s tongue, filling the Impala with another wave of heat to crawl up her body. With one arm slung around his neck, the other found its way down her frame, fingers rubbing her clit. Dean could swear that he was finally in heaven, that he had finally found his peace with her buried beneath him, finally his to love.
(Y/n) could only whisper Dean’s name, eyes once again falling shut as she came. He fucked her through her high, staring down at her with his lips pulled into a smirk. It took Dean a few more moments before he gave in, letting a string of curses roll off his tongue.
“I love you, sweetheart.” His words made tears well up in (y/n)’s eyes, pulling him down for one last kiss before she repeated the three loving words.
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questions | c.b.
pairing: colby brock x fem!reader
summary: you decide to participate in tik tok trend.
warnings: just colby being perfect boyfriend, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry, english isn’t my first language)
pictures are from pinterest :)
“Hi baby!” you smiled widely at Colby when he sat next to you on a couch.
“Hi love.” you kissed him “How was recording?”
“Great, we captured so much.” he looked proud of himself.
“That’s great.” you kissed his cheek and then you remembered something “Are you tired? ‘Cause I wanted to record tik tok trend with you.”
“We can do it, I slept on the plane so I’m good.” he assured “But let me take a shower first.” he laughed and you nodded happily.
Some time later, Colby finally ended his shower and skincare so you positioned your phone in front of the couch so you could sit comfortably.
“Alright, what are we doing?” Colby asked with small smile when he saw you had a notebook prepared.
“You’ll see.” you smirked and started recording.
“Alright.” Colby whispered confused.
“Hi guys!” you smiled at the phone “So today I feel like starting an argument with Colby.” your smile widened and Colby looked confused at you.
“Woah?” he actually kind of looked like a kicked puppy “Great start.” you could see a small pout on his lips.
“Alright, I will ask you some questions and you have to answer them correctly, otherwise we will have an argument.” you explained to Colby.
“I don’t think I follow but alright.” he nodded slowly.
“If I would die, would you find someone else?” you looked at him expectantly.
“No, I’m a ghost hunter so I would just continue to date your ghost version?” he was careful with his words.
“That’s not what I expected to hear but you actually passed.” you smiled at him and he looked relieved “Alright, next question. I told you I’m sad, what do you do?”
“Buy you snacks and watch something with you.”
“Good.” you nodded “What’s your most prized possession?”
“You.” he looked confidently.
“Wrong.” you kept a straight face.
“How?”
“I’m not a thing that someone can just have.” you shrugged.
“Well, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re mine.” you scoffed at that but couldn’t hide the small smile forming on your face.
“What are you afraid of?”
“That someday you’ll stop loving me.” he didn’t hesitate with this answer and you could feel your cheeks starting to heat.
“Aww love, I would never. But I guess it’s good answer.” you kissed his cheek and he smiled widely “I’m saying I don’t want to go to party with you, what are you doing?”
“I would make our own party at home with just us.”
“You’re too good at this.” you scoffed playfully and he laughed “Alright, last question.”
“Uff, I was starting to sweat.” he actually looked kinda relieved and you laughed.
“Who is always right in our relationship?”
“Easy, you.” he kissed your cheek.
“Well guys, what can I say. He passed and he deserves good amount of kisses.” you tossed your notebook to the side while looking at the camera with huge smile “I’m so proud of you, baby.”
“Yay!” Colby cheered silently “I want my kisses now.” he stopped recording and almost threw himself at you, attacking you with his lips.
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༉‧₊˚. 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫
― pairing: sam winchester x plus size!reader
― summary: sam winchester was never comfortable with pda, but while on a hunt, sam is shaken with the harsh reality that he's needy, and the only person that can fix it was you.
― warnings: kissing, making out, dry humping, marking, teasing, needy sam winchester.
― wc: 1288
⋆ a/n: more old writing sigh, but i guess i can say i kind of like this one but i kinda didn't know a lot about sam's character when i wrote this because i was only in the earlier seasons then, but now since i've watched the show three times, i feel like i can say that i know his character like the back of my hand!
masterlist | AO3
You had no idea what was up with Sam that day, but he couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself. He wasn't usually a PDA type of person, opting to keep the kisses pg, meaning only cheek, temple, or forehead kisses. You had no problem with it, because if he wasn't comfortable with doing it out in the open or if he was afraid it would make him look unprofessional, you had no reason to try and push him to do anything he didn't want to.
When the affection happened in private, it just made it all the more special, both of your senses heightened and a lot more pleasurable when you two made love.
You never usually joined the brothers on hunts per Sam's request, only staying behind in the hotel room to offer some emotional support afterwards; but this time, you felt like going on an adventure. Dean was more than happy to humor you, but Sam was a bit more skeptical. He knew that you were your own person, that he truly had no say over what you did, so all the hunter asked was for you to stay close to him; easy enough, right?
At first it was a little difficult seeing how there were many places you three had to go, and it was giving Sam some anxiety, not only that, but he was feeling a type of way that he couldn't put his finger on. He thought it may have been is psychic abilities, but one touch from you and his skin lit on fire, he instantly knew that he was horny. When he got into your shared hotel bed together, his crotch pressed into you full rump, it took every bone in his body to not jump you right then and there, to keep his wondering hands placed tightly in yours.
You could sense something was off with your lovely boyfriend when you had gotten into the Impala, and instead of Sam sitting up front with his brother, he chose to sit in the back with you, one hand on your thigh. You found it a bit strange, but nonetheless welcomed the out of the blue affection. But you didn't welcome it when all of you split to go investigate different parts of an abandoned house, Sam hot on your heels.
As you were turned around, you felt Sam wrap his arms around your waist, his head buried in between your shoulder and your neck.
"Sam?" You questioned, the energy detecting device in your hand slowly lowering. He dragged his large hand down your fluffy stomach, resting it over the zipper of your pants. "Sammy?" You asked again, but this time your voice was higher pitched. He always acted this way when he was needy, but it was never out in the open like this, not when somebody could easily walk in and see your compromising decision.
"I just— I just want you so bad. . . I don't—" Sam rambled, pulling down the zipper of your fly. "You couldn't wait to do this?" You breathed, your head slightly tipping back. "Why did you think I picked the farthest room in the house?" Of course he lead you hear with an ulterior motive, why wouldn't he? He was smart, strategical, and you'd be lying if you said that you were tempted to give in.
"Sam, we can't, I'm sorry." Your hands fell over his sneaky one's, pulling your zipper back up and placing his hands back on your waist. He audibly groaned when you turned around threw your arms around his neck. His pupils were blown out, his expression was that of a kicked puppy. "Baby, you know that I want this as much as you do, I always will, but not in public." You sighed, pushing some of his hair out of his face. "I know. . . Can I— can I just kiss you?" He asked, his hands sliding lower before resting on the swell of your ass.
"Dean's gonna be real mad that we haven't got anything," You teased running your fingers through his hair, but you showed no hostility as his lips ghosted over yours. "It'll only be for a couple of minutes. . ." He mumbled, pressing his lips onto yours. It felt so great to kiss you, like your touch was slowly extinguishing the fire that had been burning in his stomach for the past two days. He couldn't help that his palms gripped your ass aggressively, rubbing you crotches together. You moaned quietly into his mouth, Sam hiking up your thigh so that he could get a better angle. His growing erection was pressed against your heated cunt, the friction driving both of you nuts.
"You said only kissing. . ." You breathed against his lips, arousal becoming more prominent in your panties. He only groaned in reply, his head tipping back so that his neck was exposed to you. You attached your lips onto is most sensitive spot located just under his ear, Sam bucking his hips against you. You were muting yourself by making marks that wouldn't easily be seen, but Sam was forced to bite his lower lip to silence himself. The worst part about doing this in not only a potentially haunted house, was that it was extremely empty, sound basically bouncing off the walls. You knew Dean would never allow Sam to live this down if he were to catch the two of you.
The tingling sensation of an orgasm was barely in your grasp, but it was enough to detach yourself from his neck and collarbones, only placing a kiss there which your lipstick left a mark.
"Sam, ____?" Dean called out. "You guys got anything?" Your eyes widened as you pushed Sam off of you, giving him a look of apology. "Uhh— no, there's nothing here!" You shouted back, licking your sleeve and wiping the makeup off his lips. "Alright well I explored all of downstairs and most of the upstairs and I got nothin', so I think we're done here." His voice was a bit closer, but now by a lot. "Okay! So are we gonna go?" You asked, straightening up Sam as he stood there with a stupid smile on his face. "Yeah! I'm goin' to be in the Impala, so you guys better hurry up!" He concluded, his voice growing fainter as he walked back down the stairs."Sam," You growled, "I'm going to kill you." You glared, now wiping off your lips for any smeared product.
"I'm sorry honey, I got a bit carried away." He apologized, but he didn't even sound remotely sorry. You just scoffed, grabbing your things with the intention of leaving. "Sure." He only laughed, following close next to you. "Don't act like you didn't like it," He teased. You only rolled your eyes, but it provoked a small grin on your lips. "Well I hope this'll sedate you until we get back home." You poked, both of you now walking down the old stairs. "Maybe, but seeing how your butt is looking in those jeans, I may be tempted to do it again." You groaned, "I'm going with Dean next time."
As you guys were about to get into the car, your eyes landed on your lipstick mark that you had placed on the side of Sam's neck. You felt your stomach fall into your ass but it was already too late, Sam had gotten into the front seat of the car while you got into the back anxiously. You watched Dean look at Sam's neck before smirking wolfishly, making eye contact with you in the rearview window.
"Looks like you guys got a lot of things done." He said, his voice full of amusement.
ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy
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☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. in good hands.
about. katsuki experiences phantom pain in his hands from quirk usage and you try to massage the pain away.
warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, hurt comfort, fluff, angst, phantom pain/limb, war arc references, ptsd, mentions of therapy, descriptions of pain, bakugou being loved so tender, afab!reader + pro hero!bakugou.
the idea of giving bakugou hand massages is so intimate.
his quirk is so raw and powerful, i feel like becoming a pro-hero would only make his palms more calloused, cause aches between his fingers and scars that burn like with a phantom pain at random points during the day. and even though katsuki is smart enough to know that his scars have healed, his wounds have scabbed over and new skin has grown — he can’t shake the stabbing, tingling feeling that crawls up his arms as if a thousand tiny needles are pricking him.
the massages start when you catch bakugou on his knees in the middle of your shared bedroom, his hands clenched in fists so tight his nails have made his palms bleed. you set the fright in his eyes, the ache intertwined with the mauve brown that forms a rim around the ruby centre.
“what…what happened kats?” you’re quick to fall to your knees by his side, hesitant to touch him, worried for his safety — because katsuki hasn’t been like this in years. he’s been doing so well, seeing his therapist and taking his meds — ever since the day he came back to life.
but you know just by looking at him and listening to the ragged breaths just barely escaping his lungs, that bakugou is not okay. “i don’t fucking know,” his voice is strangled and panicked, like a deer caught in a hunter’s trap it can’t escape. “it just…it just fucking hurts a-and i can’t get it to stop.”
that day, you hesitantly reach out to touch katsuki— trying not to spook him as if he’s a frazzled wild animal. “let me see,” you whisper evenly, avoiding a croak in your voice because seeing him hurt, hurts you. slowly but surely, the blonde uncurls his fists, letting you take his hands into your own — smaller ones. at first, his strong and muscular stature flinches back, crumbles down to the ground in chunks of the brash man he used to be. “it’s okay, baby, i got you.”
your words wrap around katsuki like a tender hug, safe and secure between each and every one. your finger tips trace softly over the marred flesh of his hands, guiding katsuki through each of his painfully relived memories. trembles wrack the blonde’s body like a high magnitude earthquake — he can barely hold it back now, the tears that gather in his sun kissed lashes and burn tracks down his cheeks. but you don’t want him to hold back. you want him to feel.
thumbing the parts of his hands where the pain is centred, you lean forward to kiss bakugou on the forehead, providing an epicentre of relief. he wouldn’t call you a cure, no, it’d be too selfish to put the burden of his ease on the person he loves most. instead, he says that you help him heal, soothing the fuzziness locked between his cramping digits and extends up the muscles of his arms.
when you touch him as if he’s made of glass, katsuki knows that he can be vulnerable with you and that dull ebb of phantom agony seems to dissipate under the gentle drag of your fingertips over his skin. the two of you stay on the floor for a little longer, working through the aches pulsing in katsuki’s palms and arms until they eventually stop — just like his tears do.
“thank you,” he says, voice as quiet as you’ve ever heard it. “‘m sorry—“
“never be sorry for being in pain or asking for help.” you cut him off before his words take residence in the quiet hum of the air. shifting to your knees so that you tower over him (sitting legs crossed on the floor), you drag katsuki’s head to rest in your chest — cradling him and shielding him from the cruel world. “i don’t ever want you to be sorry for this. i’ll by your side no matter what. you hear me, baby?”
katsuki only nods, knowing doesn’t need to respond with words while his hands hesitantly come up to wrap around your waist. he pulls you into him so that you don’t disappear. and while you stroke back his hair and squeeze him so tight — katsuki realises that as long as he has you, he’ll never be weak or have to hide how much life hurts sometimes.
as long as he’s with you, he’ll be in good hands.
꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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You and Kiri Overhear Lo’ak Giving Neteyam Advice On How To Ask You Out (SFW / Comfort)
Reader is Fem! Omaticaya
CW: fluffy fluff, Neteyam is adorable, Lo’ak and Kiri duo strike again, all this is based on this one tik tok sound that I heard that was SO adorable, and it screamed Neteyam
“I’m telling you, that boy is obsessed! I’ve never seen someone pine over another so much,” Kiri laughed, giving you a playful shove.
“You’re just trying to make me feel better. If he liked me as much as you said, he would’ve said something already,” you playfully rolled your eyes, waving your friend off.
You two had just finished healing lessons with Mo’at, and were now on your way back to the Sully tent to hang out with the boys.
Kiri was swearing up and down that the feelings you had for Neteyam were very valid and very mutual, but you weren’t buying it.
Neteyam was a warrior, a Sully, a future Olo’eyktan.
You were just a simple girl who wanted to become a simple healer.
In your eyes, there was nothing special about you. You weren’t the best hunter, singer, or dancer.
So why would he ever like you?
A romantic relationship with Neteyam was a pipe dream. And to keep from getting hurt, you reminded yourself of this fact over and over again.
“Well, my brother may not look it, but he’s an idiot. And a shy one at that. But that shyness and idiocy is alllll for you,” Kiri teased, giving you a few pokes in the stomach.
“Quit it!” you laughed, frantically shoving her hands away.
That was your tickle spot.
“You’re crazy! I could never say that!” a familiar voice exclaimed from inside a nearby tent.
You and Kiri quieted your giggles, turning to each other in confusion before moving closer to the home, peeking through a small tear.
“Shut it! Do you want the whole clan to hear?!” Lo’ak harshly whispered, shushing his older brother.
Neteyam.
“I’m sorry, but that’s far too bold. I’ll scare her away,” Neteyam dismissed, resting his hands on his knees, which were sat criss-cross.
Her?
You felt a piece of your heart break, and tears well in your eyes.
They were talking about a girl. One who Neteyam seemed fond of.
“We should go. It’s rude to listen in,” you whispered, your voice small and slightly broken.
Why were you feeling this way?
A lump in your throat seemed to grow larger and larger every time his words replayed in your head.
You had tried to push away your feelings, but at the first mention of another girl, it was made perfectly clear that you could not hide emotions so intense.
And Kiri was quick to pick up on this.
“Now hold on a minute. Let’s hear the rest,” she held your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.
Little did the two of you know, Lo’ak had heard every word you said, and was now going to make it his mission to put on a show for Neteyam’s girl outside.
He knew his brother was a painful over-thinker, and would never make the first move on you.
So why not give him a little push?
“Okay, so what do you want to tell her then?” Lo’ak started again with a sigh, giving his brother tired eyes.
Neteyam groaned, raking a nervous hand through his braids. “That’s the problem. I don’t even know what to say.”
“Girls love compliments. So you gotta compliment her. Tell me a feature of (y/n)’s you like,” Lo’ak smiled, hopefully talking loud enough so you could hear
“Her eyes. They’re so big and beautiful, and have such a pretty, yellow color to them. I want to tell her this, but how should I?” Neteyam asked again.
“Just say it, bro. Walk up to her, flash her a nice smile, then say, Hey, (y/n). Did anyone ever tell you your eyes are beautiful?” Lo’ak demonstrated, making a Neteyam face at the last part.
You blushed so hard you thought you might burst.
Neteyam felt this way...about you?
“See, there you go again. You may be able to say that, but I cannot. I do not......I do not have your confidence,” Neteyam looked down at himself, hanging his head.
This was pathetic.
He needed to get help from his baby brother in order to talk to you.
He had faced his Iknimaya, Sky People, even his angry dad. But talking to you was scarier than all of those three things combined.
Lo’ak gasped, abruptly standing up from his seat. “You have loads to be confident about, bro! Just look at you.”
He smirked, walking over to his brother and giving him a firm pat on the back.
“You’re a strong warrior, a skilled hunter, and a killer with a bow and arrow. Not to mention you have the devilishly good looks of us Sully men. You’re the whole package, dude.”
Neteyam slightly smiled, thankful for his brother’s praise, but still on the fence about all this.
Lo’ak sighed, sitting down in front of the nervous boy.
“Let’s try something else. Why don’t you tell me what you like about her face? Her lips? Her hair? The way she braids her hair? What about-?” “I love all of it, okay!” Neteyam interrupted, unable to take this anymore.
“I can’t pick one thing to like because they all are perfect to me. She is perfect to me. But I cannot just walk up to her and tell her this because what if she does not feel the same. I’d have poured my heart out, only for it to spill on the floor.”
Damn.
Lo’ak had no idea his brother could be so poetic.
Sure, it would make him want to barf if anyone else had said it. But this was his brother, and he was happy for him.
Lo’ak smirked, realizing the trap he just led Neteyam in and giving his mental self a high-five.
Mission Accomplished.
Meanwhile, you were practically about to faint.
Your long time crush had just professed his love for you loud and proud.
And while you were over the moon with this news, Kiri’s I told you so face was starting to get on your nerves.
“C’mon. Let’s go before we get caught,” you whispered, getting ready to tip-toe away.
“You ladies can come in now!” Lo’ak cockily announced, you and Neteyam turning as pale as ghosts.
Shit.
...
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Hello, me again
Could you make also, a Dean having erotic/dirty dream with his female best friend or rival (or a best friend that is also a rival).
And all that she does remember him of his smut dreams
Not So Sweet Dreams
Author note: Sorry for the delay, I've been super busy with unrelated things, but I had a lot of fun writing this and trying to get into Dean's mind set. I hope it's what you wanted and that you enjoy it!
Pairing: Dean Winchester/F!Reader
Rating: M/18+
Words: 3349
Content: Dean being jealous and over-protective. Male gaze/male fantasies, drinking, swearing, violence, blood, vampires, arguing, hatesex, (kinda) subby Dean, teasing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, p in v sex, woman on top.
Please remember: That you deserve love.
Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Request Info
You were being surprisingly level-headed about the whole thing.
The two of you had inadvertently wound up at the same nightclub, hunting the same nest of vampires. You’d begrudgingly agreed to work together, two hunters are better than one, after all. But you’d been reckless. You, strutting around in your skimpy black dress to get their attention, acting drunk and helpless, had been part of the plan. Watching you had undoubtedly been his favourite part. You letting one of the vamps take you into the back office without warning and without backup was not. You were supposed to lure them outside, not deeper into the building, behind far more security. By the time Dean had found a way to stealthily follow, he’d found you in a precarious position.
Time seemed to stand still as he took a moment to process the sight. Your dress, or what was left of it, was all but hanging off as you fought back against not one but THREE bloodsuckers. The image of your ass in that tiny little thong, would be etched into his mind until the day he died. When he found his bearings again, he stepped up. If there is one thing he’s good at, it's decapitating vampires. Even you couldn’t deny how quickly and skilfully he’d taken out your opponents before swooping you into his arms and taking you back to the car.
He’d expected your normally ungrateful ass to be, well… ungrateful. After years of reluctantly crossing paths, he’d come to expect your brash, defiant attitude but you were taking the whole thing pretty well. In fact, he was considering how he might slip you some holy water when your voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Thank you so much again, Dean.” You purred, and he looked over at you, sitting in the remnants of your disguise and his jacket, comfortable and safe in the passenger seat of his baby. The words sounded all wrong coming out of your mouth, but he wasn’t complaining. You reached over and patted his inner thigh, making his breath hitch as you continued. "Really, I’m so grateful.”
At that moment, he pulled up outside the motel the two of you were checked into, separately. Taking advantage of your newly found pliable nature, Dean asked, while cocking his thumb towards his room; “You wanna come in? Have a drink?”
You nodded and allowed him to slip his arm around your waist as he led the way. You didn’t object when he guided you to sit on his lap or brush him off as he examined the scrapes and bruises on your arms.
“I didn’t know you could be so well-behaved.” He teased as he finished tending to the worst of your wounds. You giggled in response, actually fucking giggled; it was magical and confusing as hell. “What is up with you today?”
“I want you, Dean,” you replied, looking down at him through your lashes. You placed your hand on his cheek, gently pulling him closer until your lips locked. Your lips were so soft against his, and in that moment, he decided to stop questioning your personality transplant and just go with it—at least for the night.
Every tiny detail of his illicit dream flashed through Dean's mind now as he watched you across the dancefloor. Your little black dress wasn’t quite the same as in his dream, but it and everything else was damn close enough. Where your weapons were hidden was totally beyond him.
You’d been less than thrilled when you’d bumped into him at the motel, but had reluctantly agreed to team up with him for the hunt. The similarities should make him nervous, but he just couldn’t seem to make himself care in the moment. Not at the sight of you, seemingly lost to the music, dancing beneath the flashing lights. Your body was so much hotter than he’d dreamed it. He was so engrossed in the sway of your hips that he barely noticed the glare you shot him before shimmying further into the crowd.
Dean takes a swig of the beer he’d bought as a prop, attempting to clear his head from the fantastical image of your hips, naked and riding him, from the way your body curved with each move. This is gonna be a long night. With another sip of his beer, he starts walking, patrolling the club, taking stock of the exits, the staff, all the things he should be keeping tabs on.
When he sees you again, you’re seated at the bar, smiling, chatting with a bloodsucker whose hand is so far up your thigh he’s surprised you aren’t squirming. In his dreams, your skin burned hot, and your breathing hitched when he ran his hand between your legs.
He slows, trying to eavesdrop, but he can’t make out a word over the booming music and the hustle of the crowd. He wants to head up to the bar to get closer in case you need help. But he can’t afford the risk of making a scene, so he keeps walking, intent on circling the building once more before finding a vantage point he can monitor you from. But when he returns, you’ve left the bar.
Cursing under his breath, he scans his environment; he finds you on the other side of the floor. Stumbling around in the arms of the same handy bloodsucker you’d been pawing at the bar. He should have fucking known this would happen. Exasperated, he watches as you’re guided through a door with a keypad, not an exit door. You were being herded into some kind of off-limits staff area. This was not the plan.
He pulled out his phone, watching intently as he waited for the time display to change. As much as it killed him, he couldn’t hurry in, guns blazing. That would put you at even more risk. As soon as 3 minutes had passed, he checked his surroundings for fangbangers before marching to the door. Luckily, the keypad was old, and the numbers 1278 were worn. He started punching in codes until the door gave way on 1827. The hallway was clear, and he could hear commotion coming from a room at the end of the hall.
When he entered, you were anything but the helpless damsel he’d saved in his dream. You looked powerful and radiant. You were stood tall, fully dressed, and swinging your knife at one of the four vamps as they attempted to advance on you, until you locked eyes with Dean. The swing of you knife had stuck the landing, but the distraction had opened you for an attack from behind. The biggest of your opponents had grabbed you, forcing you into a full-nelson, rendering your arms almost entirely useless. Regardless, you bucked your hips up and kicked at the vamp still in front of you.
That’s when fight mode kicked in for Dean. He pulled his machete from its risky position tucked in the inside of his jeans and started swinging at the other two vampires, taking one out almost instantly. The other was smarter and faster, dodging his strikes and mouthing off every chance he got. Dean didn’t bother quipping back. This was the same vamp who’d been cosying up with you earlier, and he didn’t want to waste any more energy on him.
By the time he’d taken the vamp out, you’d gotten free and were evading the big guy. It seemed your knife was laced with some potent dead man’s blood, because the one you’d stabbed earlier was whimpering on the floor. Dean put the thing out of its misery as he crossed the room to help you.
You had to tag team the last one, taking turns distracting and swinging for it until Dean landed the decapitating blow.
He turned to you, grinning and ready to brag about taking out most of them alone, but he stopped in his tracks when he noticed the nasty gash you were cupping, leading from your shoulder and over your chest. There were more, up and down your arms. Instead, he barked, harsher than intended. “We should get out of here. Fast.”
“But there’s still more.” You argued.
“I don’t care.” His anger didn’t let up. He grabbed you by the wrist, ensuring there were no injuries there first, and began pulling you into the hall. “We’ll deal with that later, let's go.”
He’d offered you his jacket, but you’d declined. This was not how he’d dreamed it. You sat in the passenger seat of his baby, your dress torn and bloodied, your face sour, refusing to look at him. He heard you take a deep breath and braced himself for your snide comment.
“What were you thinking? You could have gotten us killed.” You didn’t even sound mad, you stated it like a fact.
He couldn’t help but do a double take as he processed your words. “Me? We had a plan, and that wasn’t it. What were you thinking, going off alone with them?”
“I had to think on my feet, and it was going perfectly until you barged in and fucked it all up. God I am so sick of you.”
“Perfect my ass! Putting yourself in dange-”
“I was fine, YOU put me in danger.” He opened his mouth to interject but you continued, going full rant. “They saw you sniffing around the club, and when you broke in, they saw you on the CCTV. It wasn’t exactly hard to put 2+2 together. You always do this, you underestimate me. I am not some damsel in distress, I can handle myself.”
The air was thick with bitter tension as he drove the rest of the way to the motel in silence. He didn’t like you going off alone like that, but maybe you had a point. Hunting wasn’t exactly the safest of jobs, and you’d made it this far without him. He should have apologised or tried to smooth things over, but instead, he asked, “Well, princess, will you at least let me patch you up?”
You watched with furrowed brows as he cocked his thumb to point at his room. He’d expected you to ignore him and head for your own room, but you agreed with a nod and crossed your arms as you followed him inside.
He didn’t try getting you to sit in his lap. You sat yourself on the end of the bed as he located his makeshift first-aid pack.
“Should I put the TV on?” He asks, knowing it’ll likely be a long, quiet process if not.
You glare, and he knows he shouldn’t be, but he’s reminded of the look you’d given him across the dancefloor earlier and everything else he’s associated with it. Eventually, you answer. “Whatever.”
He sighs, switches on the TV, and begins patching you up in silence. He tries to be gentle, but the alcohol makes you hiss and groan as he cleans you up. Every moan evokes an indecent image that makes his skin burn with inappropriate arousal. He wonders if you sound the same in bed.
When the worst of the damage is patched up, he starts cleaning up the excess blood, checking for any he might have missed. Blood from the cut across your chest has gathered and congealed in your cleavage. He hooks a finger on the low neckline of your dress and looks to your face for approval. You’re unbothered, eyes fixated on the TV screen with such distaste he wonders if inanimate objects can take offence.
He tugs at the dress, not enough to expose anything but enough to get your attention. You glance down at his hand, then to his face, and shrug before diverting your attention back to the TV. Taking that as permission, he pulls your dress down, almost certainly too far. He takes an involuntary moment to soak in the image, blood and bandages included, you were a vision in your lacy black bra.
Your deliberate coughing brought him back to the present, and he made quick work of cleaning your chest, avoiding your gaze as he worked. When he was done, you pulled your dress back up without delay. You made no move to get up, and he made no effort to move you. Instead, you continued to sit in awkward silence. Both of you too stubborn to speak first.
When you finally broke the silence, you didn’t sound angry anymore, just tired, worried. “The rest of the nest is gonna be on our trail.”
“I know.” He conferred, trying to match your energy. “But it’s almost sunrise, we have time to rest and regroup before tomorrow night.”
“And will I be allowed to fight them, or would you like to cover me in bubble wrap?” Your voice still lacked malice, just sarcasm.
Without taking the time to think through his words, Dean replied. “You can do whatever you want. Just don’t blame me when you get yourself killed, or worse turned.”
“There you go again.” You leaned away from him, rolling your eyes, exasperated. “All your mouth does is talk dumb shit.”
“My mouth does plenty, thank you very much.”
“Like what?” You ask, tone defiant as you watch him through your lashes. The words were wrong, but the intense gaze matched his fantasy. He half expected you to reach out and pull him in for a kiss. When you don’t, he does it for you. You taste like salt and booze, but your lips are so soft, they melt right into his.
When you pull away, he braces himself for you to yell, or punch, or leave, but instead, your eyes rake over his face. He notices the heat in his cheeks when you comment, “Are you blushing, Winchester? Because of me?”
“No, it’s hot in here.” He replies curtly, still not wanting to give you the upper hand.
“Funny.” You aren’t laughing as you look around the room. “I’m pretty cold.”
“You lost a lot of blood. That’s one of the symptoms.”
“Isn’t delirium also a symptom. If it’s that bad, are you taking advantage of me?” You raise brows at him, challenging him.
In return, he shoots you with the most puppy-dog concerned face he can muster. “Are you? Delirious? Should we stop?”
“No, get back over here and kiss me.” Now you reach for him, placing both hands on his cheeks and pulling him closer until your lips lock again. Mid kiss, you straddle him, holding him still with your arm around his neck as you begin to grind against his clothed erection.
He paws at the skirt of your dress until you get the hint and pull it over your head. He only gets a second to enjoy the view before you return the gesture, lifting his shirt up until he finishes the job for you. By the time he’s done, you’ve removed your bra as well. He greets the unobstructed sight of your breasts by planting himself between them, lavishing them with his mouth, sucking and nibbling at your nipples as you roll your hips against him.
Offering you reprieve, he pulls back to watch you as he dips his hand into your panties, happy to be greeted by the slick between your folds. Not bothering to tease, he plunges a finger straight in, enjoying the way your heat immediately clenches around him. He pumps the solo digit a few times before adding a second and a third, and you take each one perfectly. The sounds you make are just how he’d dreamed it, but also somehow better.
The best sound is the squeal you make as he quickly retracts his fingers and switches your position, laying you flat on your back as he straddles your thighs. You take it in your stride, however, and plant your hands on his shoulder before slipping them down his chest to hook into the waistband of his jeans. You work together to undo his belt and jeans. Dean shimmies them down just low enough to expose his dick. You must like what you see because he notices the way you lick your lips at the sight. He makes a mental note to see about putting your mouth to good use at a later time.
Your whole body seems to shiver when he runs the tip of his hardened cock between your slit, deliberately circling your clit.
“You like that?” He coos.
You respond by pushing him off you. He concedes, rolling onto his back and letting you mount him once again. “Shut up.”
He laughs but otherwise does as he’s told, barely able to keep his composure as he takes in the sight of you. You grip his cock, pumping a few times before you start lining him up with your entrance, and he prays you don’t mock his blushing again.
You don’t say anything, but you lock eyes with him as you slide his cock between your lips and sink down onto him. Fuck, you feel so fucking good, better than he could have imagined. Your walls are tight and wet around him, and he can’t help but grip onto your hips, not to force you down, but to make sure you don’t retreat.
When you reach the base, you seize all movement, presumably allowing yourself to adjust, but he can’t help rocking his hip beneath you. You both groan in sync at the feeling.
“Impatient.” You scold, but your voice is soft and dreamy.
“Can’t help it.” He returns, thrusting up again and enjoying the way your eyes roll back in response. “You feel too good, you take it so well.”
You glare at him, challenging him as you reposition your feet, readying to start, and he bites his lip in anticipation.
With no further warning, you start riding him, setting a fast, reckless pace, and releases your hips to fists at the sheets, trying to distract himself from the fact he’s already about to blow his load.
“I think I’m gonna-”
He’s cut off by the immediate narrowing of your eyes. “Don’t you dare, not until I’ve cum first. You owe me.”
“Fuck. Yes ma’am.” He groans through gritted teeth as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock.
It’s agonising, watching you sway above him, taking what you want from his body. He watches with bated breath as you start to play with your clit, pleasuring yourself. His whole-body jerks, trying to hold back when he feels your walls squeeze around him. You lol your head back, moaning to the ceiling when you finally hit your climax.
Your body slows as you try to catch your breath, but it’s Dean's turn. He sits up, lifting you by your ass just enough to ease the process of him rutting up into your leaking cunt.
“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum deep inside you.” He chants.
You nod, blasé and tell him; “Do it.”
As if on demand, he shoots his load, spilling inside you with a loud, animalistic groan.
Your weight falls on him, your head resting against his shoulder. He feels his own energy slowly draining as well, but that doesn’t stop him from placing absentminded kisses on the back of your neck as he carefully falls back against the bed, taking you with him. Of everything that had happened that night, cuddling was the most surprising to him.
After a few minutes he speaks up, shifting to guide you back up. His soft cock slips out, and he feels his own cum drip back onto him. “We should get cleaned up.”
“Yeah.” You nod, taking his queue, standing from bed, and heading for the bathroom to get cleaned up. “And we should really start working on a plan nightfall.”
“Maybe we should get some rest first. Regroup when we're not both exhausted.”
“Are you kidding.” Your head pokes out of the bathroom door. “They could be on our trail right now… What?”
“Nothin’.” He shrugs. All the tension you’d just released together was already building back up. “You just don’t ever fucking change.”
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Sugar Fix
Summary: Your poor attempt at a joke lands you in hot water with your man. Takes place directly after the events in Sweet Tooth and Sweet Tooth Deluxe.
Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Discussions of Poor Body Image, Arguing, Manhandling, Mentions of Punishment, Spanking, Pussy Spanking, Spanking, Oral Sex (fem rec), Cursing, Minors DNI
A/N: Written for @writer84. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!
“God, that was good.” You lean back in your seat, lazily stretching your arms over your head. Your man smiles as he dutifully picks up your plate before briefly giving into temptation long enough to press a tender kiss against your lips.
“Mm.” Ari hums low in his throat as he repeats the action once more. “Glad you enjoyed it, baby. Still find it hard to believe that you’d never had chocolate chip pancakes before today.”
“Hey! You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me.” You pout, reaching out to swat his perfectly sculpted ass, which was now unfortunately hiding beneath a pair of black sweatpants. At least he’d forgotten to put on a shirt.
Mostly because you were wearing it.
“And I’m not.” Your man chuckles while adding your dishes to the growing pile in your sink. “I’d never do something so foolish. Especially since we only just made up.” He tosses a wink at you over his shoulder.
Yeah, and that was mostly your fault.
“I am really sorry about that.” You murmur, feeling a twinge of regret over having subjected your man to several days of the silent treatment. “I should’ve talked to you about that whole business with Charline.”
“Water under the bridge, baby.”
Resting your chin on your hand, you watch as your bounty hunter busies himself with filling the sink with hot water and dish soap. Some days it still floored you that you were seeing a man who didn’t put up a fuss about cooking. Or cleaning for that matter.
“I just meant that I’m in no hurry to have you toss me out on my ass again just yet.” He continues while sudsing up one of the new sponges you’d left laying on the counter. “That’s all I was saying, little Bird.”
“Well that wouldn’t be very hospitable of me, now would it?” You’re quick to counter, allowing your gaze to drop to your bare knees. “Seeing as you were kind enough to break into my home and cook me breakfast.”
“I had a key.” He snorts dismissively.
“Yeah, one that you stole!” You fire back, doing your best to hide your grin. “From me!”
“What the hell does any of that matter if you were already gonna–” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head before deciding to change tactics. “Look sweetheart, if you wanna argue about semantics can you at least wait until we’re both naked?”
“I guess so.” Comes your breezy reply as you fiddle with the hem of Ari’s t-shirt. Granted the fit was much too big for you, but it didn’t change the fact that you loved how wearing it made you feel. There really was something to be said for being surrounded by the heady scent of your man.
“Thank you.” Ari grunts before returning his attention to the stack of dishes in need of a good scrub. “Did you have enough to eat? Can’t have you wastin’ away on me.”
“Sure did.” You beam at him, content to sit back and enjoy the view. No man should be allowed to look that flippin’ sexy while doing simple household chores.
“Good.”
“To be honest, I didn’t even realize I was that hungry until I took that first bite. I suppose that’s what I get for not really eating…” You trail off when Ari turns toward you, his piercing blue eyes locking with yours. “...much over the last couple days.”
Your pulse speeds up as you watch your Bounty Hunter brace his still-wet hands on the edge of the counter. Which is when you belatedly realize that you probably should’ve kept that tidbit of information to yourself.
“Little Bird?”
“Yes, sugar?” You can’t help but wince at the way he says your name. Even still, you decide to stand up, hoping to distract him from the direction his thoughts were taking. “Want some help drying those plates? Because I don’t mind–”
“When was the last time you ate something?” He cocks his head to the side, almost like he’s studying you while he waits for your answer. “And before you get cute on me, baby, I’m talkin’ about before today.”
You can feel yourself physically wilt as you weigh your options. While you tended to believe that honesty was the best policy, sometimes being too honest had the tendency to get you in trouble with your man.
“I had some toast the other–”
“A full meal.” Ari swiftly interrupts, clearly not in the mood to mince words.
“Well, if you really must know…” Crossing your arms over your chest, you prepare to stand your ground. “I haven’t found myself with much of an appetite lately.” You sniff, ignoring the way his nostrils flare. “Probably on account of our tiff.”
Okay, now that was absolutely true. Because whether this man realized it or not, he had a knack for always making sure you ate at least one proper meal before the day’s end. With him out of the picture, you hadn’t really had any desire to eat.
Instead of responding, Ari turns to stare out the window, quietly sucking on his teeth as he does. You knew without asking that he was working to rein in his temper before he spoke again, lest he say the wrong thing and start another fight.
“C’mon Beast, it’s really not a big deal.” You shrug, biting your thumb as will him to cast a glance your way. “Besides, I’m pretty sure these hips could stand to miss a meal or two.”
While it was certainly a poor attempt at levity, you felt that one of you had to do something to lighten the mood. You startle when Ari suddenly throws down the sponge into the sink, sending water splashing everywhere.
You watch him slowly dry his hands with a nearby towel before tossing it aside in favor of bridging the distance between you. Good sense and the need for self-preservation has you backing up; however, you scarcely make it two steps before you feel your butt collide with your kitchen table. But your bounty hunter doesn’t stop moving until he’s standing directly in front of you.
“What was that?” He asks without an ounce of friendliness in his tone. In fact, his question comes out sounding more like a dare than anything else. “I reckon I’m a little hard of hearing these days.”
Later, you would kick yourself for taking the bait.
“Ahem.” Clearing your throat, you can’t help but notice the clench of his jaw. “I said that these hips – my hips – could probably stand to miss a meal.” You repeat, giving him your best prim and proper tone.
Sometimes the facts weren’t up for discussion.
Moving with a speed that belies his size, Ari manages to wrap one brawny arm around your waist before using his considerable strength to pin you face down against the kitchen table. Shocked by this sudden mistreatment, you open your mouth fully prepared to protest, only to snap it shut the moment you feel a cool breeze ghost across your bare backside.
“Try again, sweetheart.” The lawman grunts before delivering a hearty smack to your ass, eliciting a rather undignified screech from you. “Oh? I’m afraid I still didn’t quite catch that.”
“There’s no need to act like a brute!” You cry as you struggle against his impossible hold. “It’s not right for you to–ahh fuck!” You damn near lose it when his heavy palm connects with your traitorous cunt, the sound of the wet slap echoing throughout the room.
In that very moment, that sweet bite of pain had never felt so good.
“Ah, sweetness.” Ari coos, a hint of mocking laughter curling around his tone. “Could’ve sworn I’d fucked some sense into you earlier this morning. Are you tellin’ me my work still isn’t done?”
You think back to something he’d said when he was busy fucking you senseless. He’d said, or snarled as it were, that you needed a Sir or a Daddy to help keep you in line. At the time you’d assumed that he’d simply got caught up in the heat of the moment. But now…
Apparently it takes you too long to answer because his next smack has you rising on your toes. You clench your thighs together, desperate to ignore your body’s response. Although it does little to stop your man from wedging a proprietary hand between them anyway.
“Now is not the time to go quiet on me, little Bird.”
He gently cups your most intimate flesh before expertly parting your messy folds with his thick fingers. A soft cry escapes when he lightly pinches your swollen clit, making your hips buck.
Sweet Christ! You honestly had no idea just how much you actually enjoyed being manhandled until you crossed paths with this guy.
“All I was trying to do was answer your question!” You grit out, doing your best to ignore the filthy wet squelch of his palm colliding against your core once more, causing a fresh wave of arousal to dampen your thighs.
“And I didn’t much care for your answer.” Ari hums, taking a moment to lazily pet your now glistening cunt.
And who’s fault was that? Just because the man thought he owned the rights to your body didn’t give him the authority to…to…punish you like this. But when you inform him of that, the only response you get comes in the form of an annoying chuckle.
“I was joking, damn you – ooh!” You whine, stomping your foot for good measure – both of which manages to earn you another spank.
“But that’s just it, baby.” He rumbles, taking a break from further abusing your poor, overworked flesh. “Last I checked, jokes were supposed to be funny.” You press your face against the cool surface of the table as two sinful fingers playfully tease your entrance. “And talking shit about these curves ain’t funny, right?”
“Y-yes! I mean right.” In need of a little relief, you attempt to entice your man by wiggling your ass. But instead of doing as you bid, those same fingers soon find their way back to your swollen bundle of nerves, pinching just hard enough to get and hold your attention.
“Glad you think so.” He murmurs, leaning down to brush his lips along the sensitive shell of your ear as his free hand moves to rub soothing circles along your lower back. “And since I’ve finally got you in the mood to listen, how about we talk about something else?”
Instead of responding, you merely nod – giving him leave to get whatever the hell he wanted off of his perfectly sculpted chest.
“The next time you get the bright idea to shut me out without givin’ me a chance to plead my case, you had better do a damned good job respecting this gorgeous body while I’m on ice.” The air of danger in Ari’s husky purr has goosebumps rippling along your heated flesh. “Because if you don’t, I swear to God the moment you let me back in, I’m gonna do a lot more than spank this pretty pussy. You get me?”
Still unable to form words, you decide to let your body do the talking. Groaning low in your throat, you arch your hips and wiggle your ass, purposely grinding your cunt against his now drenched palm.
“Ah, sweetheart.” He rasps in approval, gently nipping your earlobe with his sharp teeth. “You get me. Yeah, you do.”
As a reward for your submission, Ari takes pity on you by slowly spearing his fingers inside your sopping wet core. Now it’s his turn to groan when he feels your velvety walls flutter around him, eagerly sucking him back in when he tries to pull out.
“Fuck if my girl ain’t got a greedy fucking pussy.” Your bounty hunter muses, more to himself than to you. “Are you sore? Need me to let you rest some more?”
In all reality, what he really wanted to do was splay you out on the table and kiss your puffy pussy lips until you were a sobbing, trembling mess. But he’d also settle for burying himself balls deep inside of you too.
Regardless of which one he chose, they both all but guaranteed that you’d remember this particular lesson for days to come. Because no one was allowed to talk shit about his beautiful Bird – not even you.
“Want you to fill me up again.” You tell him, meaning every word even as his expert touch threatens to rob you of breath. “Help me work up an appetite. Please, Sir.” You tack on the last bit, hoping that might be enough to tip your man over the edge.
Your now frantic pulse sings to new heights when you’re treated to the sound of Ari’s sweatpants hitting the floor behind you. Apparently he felt that you’d been punished long enough – something for which you were grateful.
You can’t help but whine when he finally removes his fingers, leaving your empty walls clenching around nothing but air. Anticipation fills you while you wait, expecting to feel the bulbous head of his cock glide its way through your slippery folds.
However, you’re surprised when he drops to his knees instead. His large, slightly calloused hands grip the backs of your thighs, forcing your legs apart just enough to make his intentions clear.
“How ‘bout you feed me first, greedy girl?” He growls, possessively nuzzling his nose along the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need all my strength to help your stubborn ass work up a proper appetite.”
“Oo-okaay!” Your legs threaten to give out when Ari’s wide, flat tongue begins lapping at your damp flesh, making a show of savoring your sweet honey. He holds you in place while he feasts, his subtle use of strength letting you know that your only job was to keep still and submit to his sensual assault.
“Mm...” Ari rumbles, enjoying every desperate little whine and whimper that makes its way past your lips. "Best meal I've had in days." Forgoing his need to breathe, he fully buries his head between your thighs, content to eat you from the back as if he had all the time in the world.
Which he did, especially now that make-up sex was once again back on the menu.
END
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heyy can i request a LnD and how the boys will react if them and the reader are in a heated argument, and they accidentally said something extremely hurtful to the reader, which made the reader cry? thank youu
OH, SHIT…
notes: of course. sorry for the long wait, love. ❤️ at first i tried to make is like a story, but i changed my mind and so because you did specify what exactly you want (headcanons, oneshots, etc) i decided to make it this way.
contains: love and deepspace boys x reader, crying, mean words, reaction, angst, strong language.
ZAYNE
at first he didn’t realise what he had done, but realisation hit him when he saw your tears.
“sweetheart, you know i didn’t mean tha-“
he didn’t really get to continue his conversation because of a slap he received from you. he was shocked, eyes wide and mouth open.
“just shit the fuck up, zayne. i do not need your ‘medical advice’ again” you said, making your way outside his office.
and so you refused to answer his calls, texts, facetimes all day, staying in your apartment crying.
after his shift, he regretted all his actions and how he made you cry. the stress and anxiety got the best of him, and so he decided to surprise you with some flowers and chocolate, making his way home ready for another slap and to give some explanation.
“i really, really hate you” you too him, looking at the chocolate he got for you, too angry to eat them.
“i know. i’m sorry. it’s not going to happen again, i promise.”
RAFAYEL
when the first tears appeared on your face, he knew he was fucked. he didn’t really mean what he said, the deadline of his painting stressing him out.
he said your name, putting the paintbrush down and looking at you, with fear in your eyes. ‘i fucked up. they are angry’ he thought, trying to make the distance between you two a little bit shorter.
“just… i’m going to leave. if i’m so annoying to listen, then i’m shutting up and leaving. have a great day, rafayel.”
and so he was left alone, with an unfinished painting and tears in his eyes, thinking that the fucked up his relationship with you.
later in the day, when he made a plan to win you over he called you, asking where you are and what are you doing. he surprised you with something, apologising and saying he was an idiot for snapping at you.
“i love you, darling. you know i need you like a fish needs water.”
XAVIER
two stubborn people. he was wrong, he didn’t really want to say it out loud. seeing you tears after, he realised he fucked up and all his thoughts vanished in a moment.
“baby. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean-“
“no. xavier… just. go back.” you told him, leaving him behind in the forest, looking for wanderers.
“no” he shouted back, running after and you taking your hand. “i didn’t mean that.”
“you did. you just said it. that i’m not good enough? that i’m not a good hunter? i should quit?”
“no. fuck.” he said, taking your face in his hand. “i’m just worried.”
“you don’t have trust in me. i hate it, xavier.” was your response, not wanting to look at his eyes.
and so you had a serious conversation in the woods, xavier apologizing and explaining why he is worried. in a way, you understood him, but you didn't want to think that you were a weak hunter.
"i love you. i'm just worried about you."
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Hi could you possibly write Neteyam x reader?
- Reader is best friends with Kiri and has feelings for Neteyam
- Reader sees herself as ugly, undesirable and believes Neteyam sees her as a little sister
- Yet Neteyam loves her and respects her
- Sexual tension between Neteyam and reader. linger hands and sneaking glances
- Kiri notices and secretly sets them up one night
Best Friend's Brother
Oh Jesus Christ I loved writing every moment of this, but I kinda strayed away from your last point in the request, I'm sorry! I still hope it satisfies <3
Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar)
Requested: Yes | No
Warnings: Just fluff, some lowkey spice. No minors, get outta here! Reader is insecure and self-conscious, Neteyam puts a stop to that rather quickly.
Words: 3.7k
Author’s Notes:
Neteyam is 19, reader is 18 but only a few months older than Kiri. Lo’ak and Kiri are roughly 17, moving on to 18. Lil Tuk girl queen is the same age as the movie because I will protect her childhood. How old even is she? 8? Maybe im a fake fan.
Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!
Read below the cut:
High Camp provided so much warmth, love and safety for its people. You were not old enough to remember Hometree or the destruction of it. But you could not imagine living anywhere else but in the densely protected cave systems of the Hallelujah Mountains.
Everyone knows everyone, all the kids play together, live together, laugh together. The community that Olo'eyktan Jake Sully, and his mate, Neytiri had fostered here was against all odds.
Your mother was one of the most talented hunters in the clan, this love of hunting easily transferred to warmongering, alongside the leadership (or maybe the leashing of your mother’s bloodlust) from Neytiri and Toruk Macto. Neytiri and your mother grew up together, so closely. Neytiri never forgets her friends and knows every name and face of the clan. You couldn’t help but admire her for this. Your father, on the other hand, was an irreplaceable healer and herbalist. He worked alongside T’sahik Mo’at, training younger Na’vi who showed promise in interpreting the ways of Eywa’s medicinal signs. With your family’s connection to the Sully’s, it was impossible to avoid them, even if you wanted to.
You grew up with the Sully kids, being a year younger than Neteyam, their eldest, and only a few months older than Kiri and Lo’ak, the four of you would always be playing. Running through the majestic forests of Pandora, swimming through creeks, lakes and rivers, kissing the dirt as you rolled down hills into meadows of wildflowers. The older you got the closer you got to Kiri. The sister you’ll never have.
You loved your parents, you did, but they made it clear that one child was enough for them. Your father loved the Sully’s as you did, he thought with his entire heart that Jake was the best for the clan. He was Toruk Macto, after all. Your mother, however, made things harder. She loved Neytiri like a sister, and always wished for her happiness.
“I remember when Jake was like a baby, you know.” She would say at mealtimes, your father would have a small smile. You could do nothing but roll her eyes. “He was trouble maker, still is.” She was grumpy. You knew that she trusted Jake and saw him as a good Olo’eyktan, but the disdain grew from your friendship with his kids.
“His boys are the same, no different.” She would always say the same thing, with the same pointed look.
You and Kiri had just finished your rituals of womanhood the week prior. For the both of you finding a mate was expected. For Kiri, nothing was ever expected in terms of mateship. In fact it was almost the opposite.
“You never have to do something you don’t wanna do, Babygirl” Jake said, smoothing down Kiri’s wild hair. The two of you sat in the middle of the floor in the Sully’s tented home. Braiding beads into your songchords to commemorate the recent transition from child to adult.
“What about you, (y/n)?” Neytiri asked, watching the two young girls weave their cords, reminiscing on her own bead.
You sighed, knowing your parents had been pushing the topic for a while:
“What about Tsu-wey? Or, Marek or Teyk’ah?” Your mother said, rattling off the names of warrior boys, flinging her arms around, exasperated. You shook your head, you weren’t really interested in anyone.
Your father, always taking the approachable, personal angle, sat next to you, tucking your shoulders under his arm.
“What about Aäna? She’s a lovely girl-”
“Dad!” You shot up, crossing your arms over your chest, the blood rushing to your cheeks. “It’s not that Dad, I just don’t like anyone like that yet really.”
“You’ve got to work it out, (y/n),” Your mother said harshly, “Soon.”
“Uh no, no I haven’t really got anyone in mind.” You replied quietly.
“Ugh come on, lets scram.” Kiri said grabbing your wrist and practically marching you out of her family home.
“Ughh Kiri, I only just finished my chord-oof” Your complaints were quickly cut off as Kiri stobbed abruptly, your whole body coming in contact with her back. “You skxwang! What are you doing-”
“Brother.” Kiri chirps, cutting you off. Neteyam stood in the doorway, leaning against the timber frame, smirking. His braids fell around his face, his high cheekbones and delicate features seemed to play with the soft golden lighting of High Camp, his tail flicked subtly from side to side, amused.
“Sister, (y/n),” Neteyam replied, sounding almost bored. “Where are you two running off to?” his fingers fiddled with his waistband, running down to his songchord. You knew you were staring, tracking the motion of his large hands, rubbing each bead, shell, and stone in between his thumb and pointer finger. It was embarrassing, you couldn’t look away, and why should you? There was nothing inappropriate about the action. Just his large, capable hands and skilled fingers…
Oh Eywa, that is enough.
“None of your business, big brother,” Kiri said, teasing as she often did. You swore she only knew how to convey her thoughts through sarcasm and hints.
Neteyam chuckled, his fingers resting on his crossed arms once, more. Your plain eyes found his warm, deep ones, as he said:
“I think it’s my business where my girls run off to, no?” You knew he did not mean it the way your stupid little brain heard it, you know he meant it as a brother. Nothing more, nothing less. But god, you wished you were his girl. You always had, since you were twelve. All of a sudden, you woke up one day and Neteyam was cute. Cute turned into cool, cool gave way into hot, and hot turned into so incredibly sexy as you got older. And you stayed, well awkward and plain and not much to behold.
But, you could pretend, that was something you were good at. Rolling your eyes, you broke the contact with Neteyam, shoving Kiri with your shoulder and righting the way of the world, again.
“The meadow.” You said flatly.
Kiri wasn’t as much of an airhead as you seemed to think she was. She knew her best friend, and she knew her big brother. Neteyam was a loser, a goody-goody with a desperate need to be the perfect son, the perfect soldier. Around you, he became this swaggering popular guy that Kiri knew him not to be, really. Maybe around his stupid Ikran Rider friends. But never around Kiri, or Lo’ak or Tuk. He never bought that facade into their home, save for when you were in it.
You, on the other hand, Kiri knew you like the back of her hand. You were shy, sweet and just so obviously and painfully in love with Neteyam. She watched you watch him, and him in turn trying to memorise every freckle, scar and nick on your body.
Neteyam cleared his throat, embarrassed that Kiri had caught him, once again, stealing glances at her best friend.
“Just be home for dinner, before eclipse, yeah?” He questioned, the muscle upon his brow bone tilting slightly upward.
“Of course!” Kiri yelled out as the two of you ran off, hand-in-hand, giggling as you did so. Neteyam watched your retreating figures flee High Camp. Pulling his attention towards his own songchord, his most recent bead was longer than the others, a hollowed-out green gemstone, mottled with white and silver patterning. The one he chose for himself the year prior at his own ceremony, welcoming him into manhood. Neteyam smiled to himself, remembering the bead you had obviously chosen for your own ceremony, made from the same little green stone.
Neteyam didn’t know how much longer he could go on going like this. He felt like he was walking in circles, orbiting you, waiting for his gamut to eventually crash him into you. Sighing he opened the flap to his tented family home. Maybe it was time to ask Toruk Macto for advice.
The long grass of the meadow was a deep shade of green, almost the colour of seagrass. Its long strands waved in the breeze, tickling your face as you lay on your back, watching the clouds, birds and everything that called the clearing it’s home. You felt connected to the place, like you were in the lungs of the world, simply floating in the breath of Eywa.
Kiri sat at your feet in the long grass, facing you, but with her knees drawn close to her chest, playing with the end of her face-framing braids. She was thinking hard, hyperfocused on a thought that was so deep-rooted it took you multiple attempts to get her attention.
“What’s wrong my Kiri?” You asked, finally catching her eye-line, sitting up to mirror her position.
“Nothing is wrong, why would anything be wrong?” Kiri responded, trying to act nonchalant.
“Do not bullshit me, you penis face.” You say, pulling a smile out of her distracted figure while nudging her leg with your foot.
“You would be my sister if you mated Neteyam, you know that right?” She asked, like she didn’t say the craziest fucking sentence you’ve ever heard in the world.
All the air left your lungs at once, she may as well have punched you in the stomach. You were going to retch.
“What are you talking about!” You felt the blood rush to your face, fanning itself over your nose, cheeks, ears and shoulders. Your whole chest felt like Kiri had taken a flare to it. You couldn’t bear it, you felt hot all over. You covered your face with your shaking hands.
Oh, mother Eywa I will die here, I will die here of embarrassment and pass through to you.
“Don’t be stupid, I know you loooooove him,” She said stretching out her o’s as she so often did when teasing, she poked you a few times too, for good measure. “He obviously is pining for you too, you skxwang.”
Kiri was a tease, she was sarcastic and blunt and hilarious. But she was not mean. Which, is why you couldn’t work out why she was being mean to you now. About something so personal, too. You felt the hot tears start to form.
“Why are you being mean?” You asked softly, pulling your hands away from your eyes, to try and read her face.
Kiri was taken aback by how upset you were. She did not mean it to be mean, she was serious. She quickly took you in her arms, all jokes aside.
“Ma (y/n) why are you crying?” Kiri asked softly. You sniffled, letting the tears fall freely now.
“You know I love Neteyam, why would you tease me like that knowing it is like stones in my heart.” You began to ramble, as you so often did when you were emotional. “Neteyam sees me as his little sister, nothing more, nothing less.” You said seriously, vehemently. Lip quivering, you felt stupid and pathetic crying about it. But now that ball of thoughts had started to be unwound in your mind you could not stop, all the words you could not say since you were twelve just fell out of your little mouth. “And besides, if Neteyam didn’t see me as just a little annoying sister, I am ugly Kiri.” Kiri started to shush you, but you did not listen.
“I am not unique in features like you, I am not as elegant as your mother, I’m not as alluring as Aäna, or as talented as Lor’ät. I’m so fucking boring.” Your tears fell so freely down your face and neck, you felt them fall behind the straps of your breast cover. You hated it. You hated everything about you and you would never be enough for Neteyam.
You would never be enough for anyone, really. When you thought critically about it.
Kiri held you close as you sobbed like her mother would, smoothing down your hair like her father would. She was beyond confused about how you could ever think this about yourself. Knowing fair well what a lot of the hunter boys Lo’ak was friends with say about you, what Neteyam’s Riders say in confidence, what the healer girls under Mo’at whisper about during Kiri’s training. Usually it makes her want to gag. But in this moment she wished she told you earlier. Maybe it would’ve given you more self-confidence in a perverse roundabout way. You were so wanted. If it wasn’t for Neteyam’s possessive nature of you, you could have anyone you wanted. Kiri reasoned, that if Neteyam wasn’t going to let anyone else have you, but not move on you himself, Kiri would have to set it up.
You and Kiri came back to High Camp, just before dinner and just after you finally stopped crying. You asked Kiri to never talk about the whole thing, preferring to just shove the whole thing into a little lockbox, throwing it away into the undercurrent of your consciousness.
You stopped dead in your tracks infront of Kiri’s home, hearing Jake’s laugh and Tuk’s squeals. Neteyam was in there. No, you couldnt it was way to fresh. To have dinner with them would be the last petal in your funerary basket.
“Come, lets eat.” Kiri whined, pulling on your arm. You stood firm like an island of stone against the tide.
“I think I will eat with my parents tonight, I’m sorry.” You said in a low voice. “I’ll be back to normal tomorrow I promise.” You quickly added, to appease your headstrong sister.
“Okay.” Kiri said softly, taking both of your hands into her five-fingered ones. “It’s all going to sort itself out, (y/n). I promise.”
The usually short walk across High Camp to your family home felt unusually long, cold and dark.
Kiri flopped down on the woven mats around the firepit with a huff. Next to Jake and Neteyam, Kiri was hungry and angry and sad for her friend.
“Hey , Babygirl.” Jake said, kissing Kiri on her forehead. Jake looked toward the door, confused. “Where’s my other beautiful girl?” Jake asked, confused. (y/n) always joined them for dinner, he couldn’t remember a night her presence had been missed since she was born.
Kiri sighed, big and deep. “She’s having dinner with her parents.”
“What has happened?” Neytiri asked, serving dinner on a leaf for little Tuk.
Kiri felt internally conflicted. It was not her business to share, not her secrets to lay bare. But her best friend was hurting, and the skxwang next to her was the only one who could fix it. But (y/n) never begs for anything, and she begged Kiri the whole walk home to say nothing.
She could not say nothing, but she did not have to say anything, either.
“(y/n) was sad, about finding a mate. Her parents are really hard on her about it.” Kiri was not one to lie, and this was not a lie she convinced herself. But not the whole truth either.
“Bro, that’s so stupid. Literally everyone is asking her mom for courting meetings.” Lo’ak piped up. His sentence muffled due to his full fucking face of food. Kiri screwed her face up.
“Courting meetings? What do you mean?” Neteyam looked panicked. The face he usually reserved for Lo’ak’s antics on the field.
“I don’t know man, some of the guys were talking about it today during lessons. But her Dad keeps turning them away for now.” Lo’ak answered, shrugging nonchalantly, stuffing his face still, despite the family’s disgust.
Kiri stared at Neteyam, reading every inch of his face as he calmed down. He was running out of time, she knew it. But, Neteyam looked at Jake. Jake raised his eyebrows at his eldest son, turning his head slightly and shrugging. It was a shared look, Neteyam knew exactly what Jake meant, though Kiri felt left in the lurch.
The Sully’s did not talk about it for the rest of dinner, thankfully.
Neytiri was putting Tuk to bed. Jake, in a rare moment was teaching Lo’ak how to properly clean a gun. Kiri sat, next to Neteyam, running her hands up and down her own songchord, anxiously. Neteyam was evidently anxious too, his legs pulled up close to his chest, he stared at the fire pit as if the answers were going to lash out and brand him.
“She is in love with you, Neteyam.” Kiri said softly. Neteyam felt like he was going to pass out and bleed from his nose.
“I don’t think so baby sister,” Neteyam ruffled her hair, trying to present himself in a lighthearted way, despite his creeping blush. Kiri smacked his hand away.
“Listen to me, you idiot.” Kiri’s serious voice felt like a hot knife running through Neteyam’s soul. She never sounded this way, this upset. “She loves you. And, and she thinks that you only think of her as a little sister.” Neteyam chuckled at that, he never treated her the way he treated Kiri and Tuk. Surely, that was obvious, no? “I know. I laughed too.” Kiri said with a small smile. She took Neteyam’s hands into her own, like she did with you only a few hours prior.
“Neteyam, she thinks that she’s ugly, that she will never be enough for you. She thinks she’s not talented.” Kiri’s round eyes filled with empathetic tears for her best friend, thinking back on your small frame sobbing in the long grass.
Neteyam’s blush soon turned to anger. His heart finding the possessive pit that he reserves only for his feelings for you.
“I do not understand, does she not know that everyone wants her?” Neteyam hissed in a low voice, Eywa forbid, Neytiri heard him talk about how the other boys of the clan view (y/n). Neteyam hated how they spoke of her body, her face, her mind. Her beautiful voice and nimble hands. Only he was allowed to think of you like that. And the Great Mother only knows how they think of you at night, how they think of you when they-
Neteyam stopped himself before he went any further. He knew how he thought about you at night when he has a hand between his thighs.
“She does not know.” Kiri said, bringing Neteyam back to the forefront of his mind. “I have never told her.”
Neteyam’s heart swelled in a terrible way. You were so sweet, so innocent, you did not know that boys rutted into their own hands at the thought of the way your waist dips, or the mound of your breast. He needed to protect you, and Jesus, he thought he had by laying an unofficial possessive claim. But, it seems that the future Olo’eyktan has been ignored.
A growl fell out of Neteyam’s mouth. To Kiri it looked like a dark light fell over her brother’s features. A man possessed. He stood, cracking his neck and shoulders, like he always did, but this time Kiri flinched. She had never seen Neteyam so…scary.
“I will fix this tomorrow, sister.” Was all Neteyam said, as he retreated to the sleeping quarters of their home.
(y/n) did not sleep a wink. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Neteyam. Neteyam laughing with other girls, Neteyam riding with other girls. How they wave to him when he walks past.
Neteyam. Neteyam. Neteyam.
You felt so guilty, so, so guilty. As the night went on your thoughts went south, went dirty and wrong. You dreamt about kissing Neteyam; How soft his lips would feel against your own. His rough, calloused hands would hold your face in place and he would kiss you like he loved you, kissed you like he meant it.
Simply, you did not deserve to hold romantic thoughts about Neteyam in your heart like that. He was not yours. He would never be.
You quick hands made light work of the repair you were currently undertaking. You enjoyed your work as clan seamstress. Fixing, making loin cloths, beading breast covers and threading jewellery. You enjoyed the freedom to create things, but to also be useful to your clan. You could never offer them safety, food, medicine or freedom. But you could make sure they were warm in the cool rains, and protected from the glistening sun in the heat of the day.
You folded the repaired loincloth, placing it to the side. Ready for its owner to pick it up when they had a moment to spare.
The flap to the tent flew open, causing you to jump out of your skin. The last person you wanted to see stood in the entry way, ripped loincloth in hand.
“Good morning, Neteyam.” You said softly, casting your gaze downwards. He quickly sat across from you, legs crossed like a child.
“Well, it’s good now.” He smiled brightly. You felt all the blood run to your cheeks. “Do you uh, do you mind fixing this for me?” He said, stumbling over his own words, handing over the dark green textile.
“Of course, easy fix.” Your fingers brushed his and you felt like your hands had been set on fire. Shaking, you began stitching the fabric back together. You knitted your brows together as you worked, not wanting to see his face any longer, the more you stared at your hands, the worse they shook. This tear made no sense, it was cleanly cut with a knife. Neteyam had purposely ripped his own loincloth. “How did this even happen?” You asked.
“I needed an excuse to come and see you, my (y/n).” Neteyam spoke softly, reaching out to take one of your hands, distracting them from their job. His eyes caught yours, and you knew you were done. So warm, so full of life and love.
“Neteyam-” You started, but he cut you off. Something of which Neteyam had never done before.
“I know you do not see yourself how I see you.” He started, his stare holding you to the spot, you sent a brief prayer to Eywa, that this was not some cruel trick. “You are the most beautiful creature that has ever walked these lands. You care so deeply for the people, the forest.” His hand ran the length of your arm, goosebumps rising in his wake. “I see you. I love you. I want you.” Neteyam said vehemently.
You felt everything, everywhere, all at once. Everything you have ever wanted to hear had fallen out of his mouth like it was always meant to be. It sounded so right. It sounded natural and real. It was so out of character for Neteyam, to be so open, so raw and honest with his feelings.
So, under the guise of love, you acted out of character too. Like for like.
Taking his beautiful, soft face between your small, shaking hands, you kissed him. Pulling away for breath, you remembered what needed to be said.
“I have always seen you, Neteyam.”
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Hi 👋 I see you write for Lord Dimitrescu (miss a spot, hit the spot was brilliant and I would devour more) and I saw that you are taking requests, what do you think about monster hunter!reader x Lord Dimitrescu? You can take this in whichever direction you like best, but I do have a prompt idea!
Lord Dimitrescu and his sons find a trespasser on their land and Dimitrescu takes her in as his guest/prisoner thinking that she is a clueless lost traveler, not knowing that she's a hunter willing to get close to him by any means necessary, even if it means seducing a monster. Gaining access to his infamous library full of books on how to kill every monster known to man is just the first step, what she really wants is to find out the family's weaknesses and get lord Dimitrescu to let his guard down enough for her to kill him and every last member of his twisted family. Or at least that was the plan...
I just love villain gets the girl/ corruption stories and the idea of someone rolling up into that castle with every intention of wiping out the evil that lives there, but getting seduced instead... 😍😍😍
Love your work!!!
façade of seduction [lord dimitrescu]
PAIRING — LORD DIMITRESCU x MONSTER HUNTER!READER
WORD COUNT — 12.6k+ (i’m so sorry, it’s for the plot!)
WARNINGS — SMUT. eighteen+. AFAB!reader, dark arts, necromancy, the supernatural, mentions of murders, beheadings, cannibalism, vampirism, extremely dubious consent, cursing, extreme gore (blood, cuts, stabbing, mass murder, executions, etc.), reader uses seduction as a tactic, death of family, size kink, age-gap, degradation, pet-names, mentions as well as performed oral sex (talk of male!receiving, performed cunnilingus), fingering, female masturbation, mentions of male masturbation, unprotected penetrative sex, weird & unspecific AU, creampie, cum-eating, breast/nipple play, clit stimulation, extreme descriptions (?), kinda sorta brat-taming.
A/N — whoa, baby! she’s done! firstly, let me just shower this anon with kisses for trusting me such an amazing prompt! thank you, you beautiful soul. i had a blast writing this, and i’m sorry i couldn’t finish it sooner :’( you’re a literal genius, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this, and thank you for the kind words! secondly,
i tried incorporating as much lore from the game as i could, majority of the plot is my own fictional work, and the rest [credited to the game] may have been tampered with to suit the plot of this fiction.
Lady Elvira Natalia Stoica is an original character — INCLUSIVE OF ETHNICITY, RACE, COLOUR, BODY TYPE, etc. the only definite characteristic she has is that she is reader’s doppelgänger with an identical appearance, and that her family is of the same origin as The Dimitrescus (Romanian).
Alcina Dimitrescu’s gender-bent version is named Alcides Dimitrescu in my fiction. the credit of his sons’ names goes to @angel-hawthorne ’s comment under this post.
there’s some deliberate references to my other Lord Dimitrescu fiction. read it HERE!
NOTES [excuse inaccurate translations]
"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" : You idiots! Is this how you treat our guest?
"Oaspete? Dar ea—" : Guest? But she—
"Scuzați-vă." : Excuse yourselves.
căprița mea mică : my little doe
cameristă : maid
Pentru dumnezeu! : good god/for god’s sake!
𝓗unters.
Your father before you, and his before him. Monsters, demons, deities; anything of supernatural order, possessing paranormal traits needed to be laid down, and your family was bestowed with the responsibility to do so. They told you, you were god-gifted; possessing an astounding memory. It was as if you soaked in every word you read in journals rich in paranormal history, and carved every word into your brain with your own hand.
Those ungodly creatures fumed at the audacity of a mortal family killing the abysmal aristocracies in the name of slaughtering abominations.
How proudly you awarded yourselves the title of Vânători de urâciuni — Hunters of Abominations. Soon enough, though, the leaders of the Four Houses knew a lesson needed be taught, example be set; actions have consequences, and after all, you were mere mortals. Audacious, dangerous mortals.
The last of the Four Houses needed to be hunted down. Your father, your uncle, your brother managed to wipe out the other key members, before it was about time the reaper caught up to them. Weeks, months went by in weeping for them, never letting their caskets dry, but it was about time you stopped mourning. This isn't what you were raised to do — whom you were raised to be. There was no way in hell you'd let the last Family standing think that the danger was over, not when you found out that it was on their cue, their command, that the guillotine that slashed through your family's head held high, became the inevitable demise of the men of Vânători de urâciuni.
'Fuckers even had the audacity to send the heads back, all nice and packaged, and signed. It was then, you realised, the weight of your name's responsibility lies on your shoulders, now. Mother was too deep in the waters of depression, perhaps, vengeance would serve as her lifeguard, and you sought to get it. For her sake, and yours.
Packing the the remnant of your belongings, primarily, lore on whatever mutation resembled that of what you've heard the family to be; barbaric, and vampiric, you set voyage to Castle Dimitrescu, the Lord's stronghold within the vicinity of a titular Eastern European village; Romania, in other geographical terms.
After weeks on foot, travelling from place to place and squeezing in some good o'l slash-and-dash of monsters into your quest, you reached the abysmal castle. The oppressive aura surrounding The Dimitrescus' colossal abode could be felt miles away from its actual foundations, the monotonous venus blue atmosphere, the trees that have been decayed for decades, peering into your periphery, mortifying the sight of Castle Dimitrescu, even more. You shake off a shiver, determined strides leading you forward. An ominous forest welcomed you, seemingly, the flora responded to every step you took on the onyx soil; you were not too far from the gigantic gates of the castle, deciding to take a breather and assess just what you were dragging yourself into, the massive mountainous foliage providing a safe haven, temporarily.
Rummaging through the contents, page after page, you landed on Wendigo. You knew your ancestors categorised mutations in the same category as a Wendigo, it being the severest form of inhumanity; the mutated man would resort to cannibalism, still humanoid — tall and pale with elongated limbs and pale yellow eyes. If the Dimitrescus were anything like a typical mutated Wendigo, you hadn't thought this through. Then, you remembered your brother's journal.
He was vague with words, often scribbling up a précise at the end of a hunt. Too consumed by your tears, you initially forgot about it, until you realised halfway through your voyage that your mother packed his journal for you, and some documentations recorded by your father and your uncle in their youth, though, you highly doubted you'd be coming across an extinct creature.
There it was — the last page of his journal — the twenty-seventh page to be precise, with triple the pages still empty; clean slates like a reminder of his unlived life, the life that was taken away from him.
You smiled fondly at his handwriting, letting your fingertips trace the scribbles, how deeply the quill was engraved into the paper. You remember laughing at his handwriting, growing up, how your mother would ask him to get a doctorate to match his stereotypical physician's handwriting, but this is all he knew — all you knew. Hunting was your profession, your life and lifestyle, and now, inevitably, your demise, too. You began reading, as I said, your older brother, a master at scribbling précise.
You were unsure, however, when he'd got the time to write down about The Dimitrescus, having never come face-to-face with the tyrants. It seemed your brother's first guess, too, was 'Wendigo', which he scratched down, only to pen it down again, bigger and emphasised, once he enlisted 'Cannibalisme'.
Your heart sank at the etchings.
Even for someone like him, these were too cynical, like he were losing his mind at the mere thought of them: 'one LORD — THREE SONS', it read. 'Blood disease??', 'PARASITE??', 'VAMPIRISM'? That would mean— "Oh." You stood corrected when just below the analysis was a remark, "NO WEAKNESS TO SUN OR WEATHER". Sometimes you swore you and him had the same braincells, always jumping to the same conclusions, which only made the desire to avenge him overpowering.
Your eyes traveled to the end of the page, the last of ink spilled on the worn out pages of your brother's journal, 'NEOPAGAN CULT', 'BLACK GOD'. With widened eyes, and a sinister feeling you couldn't yet shake away, your eyes dart to the next, last page.
There was a symbol maniacally delineated, labelled as the same reports on the previous page. 'NEOPAGAN CULT SYMBOL', and at the bottom of the page, the last thing your brother ever did write was, 'THE CULT OF THE BLACK GOD'. You subconsciously traced the diagram, only to see the graphite taint your fingertips. Your mind was racing two hundred miles per hour, trying to put the pieces of a fatally intricate puzzle together. Your brother's journal, the last of the contents were mere observations, unlike the rest of the pages that are filled with methods of executing generations of monsters.
But for The Dimitrescus, the fact that 'most powerful family' was written with emphasis only made you scowl. You searched frantically in your bag for the journals of your father, your uncle; anything that spoke more about this parasite and the said Black God.
Glancing back at the foot of the palace, you had to do a double take when you saw the guards leave the premises, bread and wine in hand. Their chuckles could be sound from the heart of the forest, even though they repeatedly 'shushed' one another, saying "the Lord" would put their "heads on a stick".
You take their departure as your cue and pace quietly towards the castle. You stood face to face with the colossal gates, doing your level best to push them open, just enough to sneak in, but the big dumb fuckers wouldn't budge. Scoffing, as fate would have it in your luck, you began scanning the perimeter for any safe way in, otherwise, you sure as hell knew how to make an entry.
"Ain't no fucking way," you'd pretty much lost all hope, not realising when your brother wrote down, "tall", it included the infrastructure, too. It was then your eyes noticed one particular stone brick placed slightly outward, and the one above it, and then the one above it, outward enough for you to step on, up, and grip the grotesque grill, securing the premises from people exactly like you.
The first step up was easy, the stone steady enough to carry you, or so you thought for when the second you stepped onto the next one, the one below fell to the ground, shattering to bits. You eyed the stone your foot was on currently, leaping when realisation hit you. By the time you rock-climbed your ass up to the top, the whole way up had crumbled down. You gripped the gothic grill, not taking the maker of it to be a sadist, for it sliced the flesh of your palm even through the slightest contact. You winced, looking back at the broken rocks, perhaps, a good omen; no one would suspect you climbed up the wall, now.
Crossing the grill, you jumped down as silently as a human could, looking back at your newfound enemy, the grill, only for it to be leaking with crimson. You groaned at the sight of your blood, thinking you were better than this, letting some metal get the best of you, but the immense pain from the cut made your head a little dizzy. Shaking the odd feel off, you proceeded leftward, walking further in to be greeted by what seemed to be a courtyard.
No servants, chamberlain nor staff was seen out and about, quite contrary to what one would expect from the functioning of a castle this mighty. Though the odds were in your favour, it didn't seem so; it's quiet, too quiet. Nothing other than a raven's screech and the flap of the wings of a murder of crows was heard for miles. Your steps had quickened at the sight of a door, finally leading you inside. As you inspected it, you sensed a magical aura around it; you could use a spell to crack it open, but that would cause bring attention you did not need at the moment. So, you pull a pin from your hair and apply the cheapskate thief method, and lo and behold, you were in.
Fuck yeah.
Closing the bulky door as silently behind you as you could, you were slammed right back into it, while what felt to be a talon instead of a hand wrapped around the back of your throat. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Said an anonymous voice, cuing laughter from two more.
Fuck, no.
The last thing you remember was a pair of hands squeezing your waist, one choking you, while one hand ghosted over your face, causing a wave of unconsciousness to pass over you.
Chained; you groaned, a pounding ache ringing in your head like an alarm, your eyes blinked, close to a hundred times to get accustomed to your dark, unfamiliar surroundings, while your nose burned with the stench of— burning bodies?
You lifted your head to see three tall figures illuminated by the feeble attempts of a torch. "Alas, sleeping beauty wakes." You heard one taunt, a raspy baritone to his voice, "No fun — I prefer them unconscious," said another with a similar tone. "Well, you're no fun if you don't like to watch the fear in their eyes when they beg you for their life," said the third. The conversation flowed more amongst themselves, quite rude to not have included the meat of the matter — you, but what more could you expect from The Dimitrescu Boys? Oh, you were sure it was them. 'One lord — three sons', you remembered, and no odds suggested they were servants or guards. Not with the way expensive jewels embellished their stallion necks not-so-subtly, like an all-time reminder of their aristocratic status. 'Pathetic,' you thought, it seems no matter the day or age, the breed of "daddy's money" remains as obnoxious as ever.
While they bickered amongst themselves, you took the time to take in their appearances: Handsome, irrelevant. Tall, but no more than an average case of gigantism in most villages. Yellow eyes, but not humanoid — no, fully, thoroughly (so it seems) human. Could this be another variety? Hybrids, perhaps, since Vampirism was in the books of possibility. That could explain their immunity to weather conditions. Their facial features became vivid all of a sudden, and you noticed the blood smeared all over their faces. Paying heed to your iniquity, perhaps even irked expression, the boys smirked devilishly; not charming, dangerously, Lucifer-ishly, but satanically. You weren't into the lighter side of magic like your mother, only using it grotesquely, but you knew aura-reading, even envisioning, like the back of your hand, and theirs was sinister: an abysmal shade of black surrounding them, with occultism dancing between their physical forms in the fiery colour of hellish hues.
"Tell us, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" One questioned, "Hm, never seen one so beautiful." "Is she even real — ethereal." "Makes me almost not want to eat her." Your eyes widened at the last remark, "Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely." Their shark-like smiles grew wider, subconsciously causing you to back away from them while they inched closer, ready to pounce on you and relish your beauty. "What do you have there, boys?" Asked the deepest voice you'd ever heard, from the other side of what you now realised was the dungeon. You were taken aback at the intrusion, silently thanking your saviour, even if it were the man himself — Lord Alcides Dimitrescu, head of Familia Dimitrescu.
His sons scattered immediately, letting their father rest his eyes upon you. "Food, father," one spoke eagerly, as if trying to impress his old man. "We saw her trespassing in the courtyard, and then she came inside." Spoke the other. "You could have her," said another, "If you save us a taste." Your face lost its colour when a ice-cold hand wrapped itself around your throat, yanking you up with one lift, and throwing you towards the bars between you and the mammoth Lord. His devilish expression— softened? "Elvira!" He exclaimed softly, reaching for your face, but the second his hand tried to snake past the bar, he winced in contact, the metal bar hissing with effervescence. Weakness?
"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" The man was fuming: a flabbergasted expression on the said idiots' faces. "Oaspete? Dar ea—" "She can do as she pleases in my home." The man spat venom like thunder, his hateful expression turned to apologetic and caring in the blink of an eye when he turned to you. "Let her out this very instant." He glared at his sons one last time before turning away and saying, "The longer you wait, the more severe will be the outcomes."
So you were rushed out the dungeon and sent to the guesthouse.
The chamberlain had been waiting for you there at the direct orders of her master. "Lady Stoica, We're truly very sorry for the inconveniences caused to you. The Lord gifts you these gowns as his sincerest apology. He'd love for you to join him for supper once you have freshened up. Step out of your chambers, when you're done, and I'll be happy to take you there." You didn't acknowledge her, only awaited her leave so you could examine the gowns she had motioned towards while babbling courtesies you didn't give a fuck about. It'll definitely take more than four gowns to earn forgiveness for the treatment meted out to you down in the dungeons, but you wanted to give the tyrant lord a little bit of credit, for the gowns were stunning.
As you took in the details of each cloth, you came upon a note, which read: Sweetest Elvira,
Forgive my imbecile progeny, if you think they are worth it, but let us celebrate your presence, still, in my abode. Would you be so kind to accept my invitation for dinner? I have long yearned your company since the last time Lord and Lady Stoica visited.
Hoping to have you with me,
Alcides Dimitrescu.
Your blood boiled at his handwriting. It was the same intricate, royally cursive writing that signed the parcel of your family's heads.
You headed into the bath with murder on your mind; no matter how many times you'd sink into the warm waters, the heat only aggravated your fuming self. It was rosewater, the scent made your mind trail back to days of yore: when your mother would set up baths like this for you, the sweet scent of herbs and nature's warmth filled your hateful mind with nostalgia, then worry. Your mother had the most fight in her, no doubt about that, but that didn't mean she resorted to it easily; always seeing the best in people, giving them countless chances to repent. A generous, godly trait, but fatal in a world dominated by people like the man you were to meet with for dinner— supper, or whatever. You were just glad you weren't being served as the main course.
For now.
As you dried yourself up, your mind replayed the conversations, the characteristics and behaviours of the family. How he called you, 'Elvira'. Yes, Lady Elvira Natalia of Familia Stoica, another noble household your family put an end to. The irony lay in her appearance: the two of you looked alike — no, identical. Perhaps minor attributes set the difference between you two, or the fact that you put a bullet between her eyes — eyes just like yours; it was the reason why the Vânători de urâciuni men hesitated to kill her — sister, daughter, and niece. Not you, never had you hesitated. It's what set you apart in a man's world. If a woman's emotions got the best of her, than lucky for you and unfortunate for the whole world, the only feelings coursing through your mind like the blood in your veins were bloodlust. Blood and Lust, as your mind trailed back to Lord Dimitrescu—
Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu.
He was tall, so tall, he had to crouch to an uncomfortable extent just to get a proper look at your frame through the dungeon bars. His raven locs and beard: neat as a lord, rugged like a pirate; his sharp nose, his thick, furrowed brows, his luscious lips and those eyes. Those fucking amber eyes, captivating, devouring you like a fox after literal meat. Their hue was as fluorescent as a Wendigo's, then how was he not like one? How is he so devilishly handsome?
Stuck in a limbo, half- hypnotised with hazy memories of the Lord, memories you were yet to make with him, you were left enchanted; like he had cast a spell on yo— "Holy fuck." That's it. It's the only logical reason behind such profound emotions. He had cast a spell on you. It could've easily been the waters, you had bathed in them, let the rose waters soak every inch of your skin. Or worse, his eyes? You had definitely not been that out of it to imagine them glowing in the dark, but if he truly practised necromancy at such a profound level that a mere look in your direction left you enamoured, then you had to come up with a plan, and come up with a plan fucking fast.
Despite your certainty that the only way you'd feel something so unlikely for a man who was responsible for the death of family, was via nécromancies, you still had to be sure. So, you performed an indication ritual. In a vessel, you stored the possible method of enchantment — the bath water — along with the blood of the enchanted. You prick your finger deep enough to get ample beads of crimson out, letting them drop into the vessel. Now, if by dawn, the contents of the vessel turn potently black, your suspicions are true, and the tyrant Alcides, indeed, cast a spell on you, but if it were to remain colourless, than the worst of your concerns has arisen, for you'd have willingly let lust overpower the balance of bloodlust in the weigh of your emotions.
Placing the vessel underneath your bed, you begin dressing. The odds were too ironic not to choose the rose coloured gown for the evening, so you wore it, feeling condemned to. Fixing whatever you deemed necessary, you stepped out of your room to find the chamberlain stationed exactly where she said she'd be.
Her breath hitched a little, eyes widening as she saw you turn towards her, "You look beautiful, Miss Stoica," was her way of seeing 'you clean up pretty nice for a dirty mess in the dungeons', but you paid no heed, letting the woman escort you.
The walk to the Lord's dining area was awkward, and fearful for the servant. There was no denying you resembled the heiress of one of the Seven Royal Families, but you hadn't thought your own victim's identity would play as your decoy in your most fatal mission.
You didn't blame them, you were dumbfounded at the striking resemblance, yourself.
The hair, the skin, the features; it was without a doubt you killed your doppelgänger that day, and though you were never one to follow rituals of lore, it says, 'the slaughtering of one's self' — a doppelgänger — 'is the greatest sign of one's power and control', so it was no wonder since then you had long been feared in every corner of Eastern Europe, but you never earned notoriety, nor make a fuss over the death of The Stoicas, which is why everyone in Castle Dimitrescu believes you to be her, for they think she is what you are; alive.
"We've arrived, madam. If you need me, please don't hesitate to call." She gave you a knowing look, one of empathy? Weird. Interestingly weird. You only nodded, before pushing the glass doors open, and letting yourself in.
Alcides sat with the three of his sons, you'd heard him call them Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, not knowing which one is which, but you doubt names matter when their death's are destined by your hands. As if sensing you, something you'd mentally categorise among his vampiric characteristics, his head shot up from his sons and immediately those amber eyes were on you, ripping through your dress, eating you alive. His lifeless skin flushed at the sight of you, wet hair clinging to your frame so perfectly, he could smell the shampoo from here. How tightly the dress hugged your curves, how accentuated the rose colour of the gown made your ethereal body. Your plump, pouty lips were rosy like the gown, an even prettier colour, the sudden blush that dared to creep on your face, your determined brows raised a little at the shameless attention you were receiving, your big, radiant doe eyes widening, pupils dilating, and your long lashes batting at his direction.
"Elvira." He rose from his seats, as did his sons, heads snapping right at you to shamelessly ogle at you. On seeing that the look of disgust on your face was directed towards his sons, he shot them a fuming glare, causing them to nod an apology and immediately be seated again.
"Thank you for joining me." He said, softly, awaiting you. You moved closer, deciding to be seated beside the lord, across from his sons. "How have you been, my dear?" His hand found yours, yours minuscule in his clasp. "I had been fine, until certain miscreants accused me of trespassing."
You shot the three culprits a glare, and rightly so. Alcides eyed his sons, clearing his throat obviously when his sons remained oblivious to his cryptic signs.
"We're, uh," began one, "We're sorry, Madam Stoica," continued the other, "We didn't mean for any of that to happen, we just wanted to scare what appeared to be an uninvited guest at the time." "Had we known it was you... well, let's just say your welcome would've been different. Mostly." Finished the last, and your mind immediately caught on to the insinuation:
"Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely."
You could see the man's blood boil beside you, "Scuzați-vă." He growled, and you caught a glimpse of just how much fear he's instilled into his children, for they immediately excused themselves from the table and left with hurried steps.
"Pardon them, I don't know where I went wrong in raising them." He sighed once they were out of sight, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You've never been one to sympathise with an enemy, but maybe sympathy isn't what'll lead to his slaughter; seduction is.
You wordlessly place a hand atop his, earning a soft gasp from him. His eyes searched your face, and when you couldn't help but give him a small smile, he grinned; from ear to ear, letting his pearly fangs rise from their pillowy coverings, his lips, which he soon had to bite to control his giddiness. "Oh, Elvira," his voice was soft, a mere yearn lingering in the warmth of the room. Had it been this hot since you stepped in, or had the flush of your cheeks been indicating otherwise? "You're so beautiful." His other hand tucked the stray strand of hair falling onto your face, behind your ear. You felt a tinge of bitterness brewing in you, whatever relationship was established between Alcides and Elvira, it sure was on the better side of the spectrum.
Were you really feeling jealous of your dead doppelgänger? Well, from the way he looked at you— her — right now, you'd say he wouldn't take to her murder too kindly.
"I swear, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you." You blushed, so he enjoyed the new-and-improved Elvira more. "Yet you stay ever handsome." NO. You didn't mean for it to slip, you didn't mean it, you didn't think it — yet, you said it, and he fucking relished in it.
To save you from your embarrassment, your newfound guardian angels, the chef and other servants, brought in food of all sorts. Albeit the sheer hatred you felt towards them, you couldn't help but ask Alcides about his sons. "Aren't you sweet?" He looked at you with fondness, before answering, "The servants will bring them food to their quarters."
Fair enough.
You proceeded eating without another word or glance in his direction. Upon finishing the scrumptious meal, you waited for Alcides to take the lead.
Men like him relished in power, authority, and since he was born into it with a silver spoon hanging from his mouth, it was the only thing he knew.
He looked at you for several moments, an unreadable expression on his face making you more conscious than repelled, as if you craved the validation of his eyes.
He rose from his seat, one hand lingering in the air, an invitation for you to clasp it, while the other grabbed a hefty cluster of grapes by the stem. "Walk with me, darling."
He had to look painfully low to even see your head, once you rose to your height, it helped, but little aid was provided to the giant standing at 9'6.
You held his hand, the sheer size difference had you squirming in your steps.
Just imagine how beautiful sex would be with him, you wouldn't even be able to fit him— "Fuck," you whined under your breath, making damn sure your voice wasn't audible to Mount Everest beside you.
This was the spell talking — thinking; it's got to be. You withdrew your hand, pretending to fix the blouse of the dress, earning a glance from the Lord in your direction, which only stayed for a moment before the calming silence between the two of you was the only thing you could see, until he halted, pulling your attention back to him. "Fruit, my dear?" He waved the cluster, so you knew which ones he was talking about. Come to think of it, you did feel thirsty, and those grapes looked lusciously juicy.
"I don't see why not," you shrugged, not anticipated him to raise the cluster to his mouth and bite a grape off. You watched, mouth slightly agape as a perfectly fine grape rested between his fangs. Even the slightest subconscious movement could rip through the fruit, yet it stayed perfectly safe in his mouth.
He then crouched, now eye-to-eye with you. His eyebrows raised in your direction, challenging you. Challenging you to pull the fruit out of his mouth, and there was only one way to do it.
You bit your lip, you could have your fun, just until you find a reversal cure to his spell.
So, you grab onto both his wide, muscular shoulders, letting your arms cross around his neck. You smirk at him, bringing one hand forward to trace his features. He was so, so strong, to the point you were more aroused than intimated. Your hand reached his torso, you could see how your teasing placed him in agony. Slowly, you let your hand ghost over his pants, and lo and behold, he was aroused; painfully so, and you felt it immoral to torment a man so much (the fucking irony), so you palmed him through his pants, causing his mouth to hang open and out fell grape— right into your palm.
You bring the fruit up to your mouth, Alcides left mesmerised with the way your plump, perfect lips wrapped around it before ripping through it. A moan escaped your lips as the juice dripped down your tongue. "So good," you left out a sigh, and something in him snapped. Alcides flipped you around, you were now pressed against some wall that practically emerged in support of his... expeditions. He plucked two grapes, placing them in his large palm, before bringing it closer to your face. When your eyes widened in confusion, his other hand wrapped itself around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to open your mouth, before you realised what he demanded and gave it to him; you licked about the fruit, before accepting them into your mouth. Your tongue still teased his flesh, when he pulled away. Amber eyes mere slits with obvious lust, "Now," he began, "You can say you've eaten out of the Lord's palm." He winked at you before walking away.
You steadied your haggard breathing, before deciding to follow him when a certain room caught your eye. It were as if your name was being chanted like a careful whisper, that only sounded when you were left alone. Following your gut, as a hunter as skilled as you would, you push open the heavy doors and let yourself in.
The first thing catching your eye was an obnoxious leather chair that you couldn't help but run a hand over, "Gator skin," you scowled. Though a hunter, you were against hunting — animals, that is, although you'd be hypocritical to say so when the creatures you send to hell are no less barbaric than a creature tormenting in wilderness. Still, you believed in fighting an equivalent, or even better, an apparent immortal.
On the left of it was an fireplace, charcoaled in exhaustion like it recently gave up it's flame and purpose, and in front, was a library, the source of your calling; not colossal, yet extreme in number. The whispering chant grew to a shout, a yearn for each leather-clad covering of ink spilled on paper to be touched by your feather-light fingertips, and only a fool would turn down a beseech like such.
Books of alchemy, instructional journals of God summonings, documentations on every supernatural creature that roamed the planet and how to kill them; even the Satanic Bible was on display, and you explored every single one of them. Fighting the temptation to steal every book with valour, despite how useful each would've proved to be to you in the future, you declined every book until you reached what you sought, rather, what sought you tonight. "The Book of The Four Houses", the spine read. You pulled the book out, not anticipating it to be so heavy. "The Book of The Four Houses", you read again, searching for an author, but not met by any name.
You flip through the pages frantically, in hopes to find any continuance of relevance to your brother's observations, and there it was: Familia Dimitrescu, the excerpt was titled.
"Alcides Dimitrescu was born into the noble Dimitrescu family sometime before the Great War, and through this ancestry inherited a hereditary blood disease, possibly porphyria cutanea tarda. Although his family traced their origins to Cesare, one of the four founders of an isolated mountain village in Europe, Alcides himself lived elsewhere, perhaps through a cadet branch. In the aftermath of the Second World War and the abolition of the nobility, Dimitrescu returned to his family's former lands, which had fallen under the control of a neopagan cult worshipping the Black God.
Prior to 1958, at the age of 44, Dimitrescu was lured by the cult leader, Mother Miranda, to a crypt beneath the village cemetery, where he was surgically implanted with a Cadou parasite. The purpose of this experiment was to determine his viability as a candidate who could become host to a parasitic intelligence at a later date. This experiment mutated Alcides' body considerably, granting him regenerative capabilities, retractable claw-like nails, and the ability to transform into a dragon-like monster and back again. Moreover, the parasite halted his aging process, maintaining his appearance perpetually. In spite of these impressive biological changes, the resulting mutation did not nullify his blood disease. As a result, Dimitrescu needed a ready supply of fresh human blood to maintain his health, and was therefore judged by Miranda to be a failure."
"Although Dimitrescu was of no use as a host, his claim to Castle Dimitrescu was recognized by Miranda and he was allowed to take residence in the village as one of the Four Lords, who would maintain order over the native peasantry while aiding Miranda in Cadou research. Upon inhabiting the estate, Dimitrescu took over his family's vineyard and wine-distribution business as a means of supporting himself."
"Relishing in his reclaimed noble status, Dimitrescu developed extreme caste-based views of society, seeing himself as second only to Miranda herself. He openly loathed the other three house Lords, particularly Karl Heisenberg, whom he frequently argued with. He privately bemoaned that he was not Miranda's favorite, instead being treated the same as all the others. Despite this, Dimitrescu's alliance with the other houses allowed him to rule his castle with barbarous cruelty, regularly taking in new staff to replace those who had been taken to his dungeon to be killed and drained of blood for sustenance."
"Dimitrescu's own experiments with Cadou appear to have been limited, as the only confirmed instance was an experiment begun by Miranda and monitored by Dimitrescu. In this experiment, the corpses of three men were implanted with Cadou parasites. Over the course of about a week, the Cadou produced fly-like organisms which then consumed the flesh of all three bodies. Having assimilated the DNA of these men, the flies merged to mimic their human shapes and slowly adapted their likenesses. Dimitrescu immediately formed a bond with these three men, whom he named Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, and came to regard himself as their father. They obeyed Dimitrescu without question, and were similar to him in that they were ageless and reliant on vampirism for sustenance. However, they were incapable of withstanding cold temperatures, thus remaining trapped within the confines of Castle Dimitrescu."
That explains the overwhelming warmth of the Castle that had began to annoy you.
"Over the next seventy years, Dimitrescu and his sons systematically consumed the flesh and blood of local peasants and servants alike. The blood of maids was extracted and combined with grapes to create Sanguis Virginis (Latin for "Maiden's Blood"), a traditional Dimitrescu family wine. The female victims, now infected with Mold, lived on as Moroaicǎ and Samcă, while male victims were consumed and then hollowed out to be turned into scarecrows for the castle vineyard."
"Dimitrescu's reign of terror was not without resistance, however, as one villager is known to have stolen a family heirloom — the Dagger of Death's Flowers — in an attempt to assassinate him with its poisoned blade. The attempt failed and he was buried with the dagger in the Tower of Worship to keep it hidden from any others who might seek to harm him."
You snapped the book shut, mind whirling in an epileptic shock, replaying every single word over and over in your head, then images of Alcides, his "sons", Cadou Parasites, Mother Miranda? By the time you realised it, you were hyperventilating, eyes scattering from corner-to-corner, in search of anything less cryptic, anything less 'Once-upon-a-time-there-was-a-beautiful-boy-named-Alcides', and more 'Weakness-to-duhduhduh-kill-by-gunshot-to-the-duhduhduh'.
You threw your head back in unfamiliar pain that originated from your chest, you can't believe plain ink on paper knocked the air out of you, but then again, so did the signed caskets of your family; by the same man you now found out to be ancient and seemingly indestructible, but talk of this "Dagger of Death's Flowers" gave you hope.
Your thoughts of retrieving it were cut short when the doors burst open. "What are you doing?" roared the thunderous voice of the man of the hour, "Elvira." His voice was laced with an emotion you were too out of your head to begin deciphering. His eyes dropped to the book in your hands while awaiting your answer. "Oh, why didn't you say so?" His expression softened, causing you to raise a brow in perplexity. He walked over, the fondness in his eyes returned, causing your tense posture to relax a bit. He took the book from you, and seemingly landed on a page mentioning Alcides' life before lordship. "You really love this book, don't you? I guess it is fun to read a fan's work." He chuckled, flipping through the pages as if he hadn't seen the book in a long, long time.
Huh.
If 'Elvira', too, had been scavenging through the book of Dimitrescus, possibly for the same reason as you, maybe you're more similar than you thought.
When you looked up to his height, his eyes were already on you. "You look tired, my dear. I would be happy to take you to your quarters." He smiled, and your heartbeat was quick to quicken at that. "I'd like that, my Lord."
My Lord.
The walk to your chambers was a haze, all you could feel was the growing wetness in your panties from the way his eyes bore into you; penetrating every inch of you, consuming your conscience with the darkest desires.
Taking out your brother's journal from your bag, you flipped to a fresh page and began filling in your own conclusions. As you wrote, you began to think— not just as a hunter, but as a long deprived woman who had just encountered the most handsome man ever, who just also happened to have murdered her family.
The way he walks, the way he holds your innocent gaze challengingly, the way he looks at you like you're the most exquisite meal, and he's a man starving. You had long abandoned the trepidation and abhorrence you felt towards his cannibalistic lifestyle, instead, feeling a shameful surge of lust shoot into you. You rubbed your thighs together, laying on the bed, but dutifully still, writing every bit of knowledge you gained today; from the parasite, to relations with the leaders of the other Houses and Seven Royal Families that Vânători de urâciuni had already slaughtered, to Mother Miranda, and even what little you read about the Black God.
By the time you covered every intricate detail of a disaster waiting to happen, the heat between your legs was nuclear; the throb, unbearable, leaving you no choice but to act on your animalistic urges. You straighten up, slowly discarding the beautiful cloth that once accentuated your body, now felt like constricted bondages on it.
Once bare, you sink into the pillowy cushions of your given quarters. Something about the whole room smelled like him, but the strongest scent came from your dress, when you were pressed against him. Even both your arousals could be scented from the innocent rose dress, so you tugged it closer to you, breathing in his smoky musk scent, along with your innocent floral one. "Fuck," you groaned, fingers finally ghosting over the mess dying to be made between your legs.
You decided now was not the time to tease, so you coat your fingers in your wetness and smear circles on your swollen clit. "Fuck."
Your bud throbbed in your grasp, desperate to have a little somebody's fanged mouth on it, your nipples hardened the same, aching to have that mouth graze over them, suckle on them, taint the soft, ample flesh with sinister marks. Hell, if it meant one night of succumbing to carnal pleasures, you'd even let the fucker carve that neo-pagan cult symbol on you.
"Fuck!" You weren't thinking straight — no, you weren't thinking at all. How could you? You were under a spell, 'Yes, that was it,' you thought, more so struggling in convincing yourself than anything. Just the sheer thought of a man possessing vile notoriety, relishing in every crime you've fought against; his size, the abnormality of it all. You fantasised about how inhumanely long his tongue might be, teasing around your clit before plunging into your slit.
Oh, that's it.
You shoved your fingers inside of you, whining at how unfulfilling they were, when compared to the hands of him. You were pretty sure his middle finger was bigger than your face.
The only sound to be heard was the squelching of your pussy and your whimpering. You could only pray you weren't audible, not that you minded, because it was Elvira Stoica who'd get mocked, not Y/N Y/L.
Your pace quickened at the thought of him fucking you as Y/N. Would the thought of fucking the enemy be as tantalisingly erotic to him, too? Or would he just hate fuck you, and then feast on your flesh?
"Fuck me..—" You lost your voice when your breath hitched in your throat. "Ju-just like that, mhhm." You were so close, just a bit more... "Fuck me."
That's it, honey, just let go—
"Oh," you moaned too loud to be safe, "Alcides!"
Your legs were shaking, cunt spasming around your fingers while your chest heaved up and down, in a breathless state.
As you rubbed your high out, realisation dawned in on you.
What have you done?
You woke up disgruntled.
Still unimaginably wet, yet thankful for the release, but you hadn't forgiven yourself. Last night was unacceptable, even for someone enchanted. To make matters worse, this isn't even the first time someone put an infatuation spell on you; at least three men before this, but not to pacify an enemy, but to woo a stoic woman with only murder on her mind.
The victim of such a spell for the fourth time, yet Alcides is different. This was incredible necromancy, not like any you've encountered before. It was then you remembered the vessel underneath your bed. Almost too eagerly you jumped off the bed, still somewhat entangled in the sheets, which you threw off swiftly.
You ducked under the bed, the vessel promisingly in the same spot as you had left it. Reaching for it with closed eyes and crossed fingers, you pull it from underneath and lift it to your height.
As you peeped one eye open, then the other in disbelief, you threw the vessel with one swing of your arm. It banged against the wall, before falling to the ground with a typical, screeching metal noise.
This can't be happening. There was no way you felt what you did for Alcides, willingly. The clear contents of the vessel indicated otherwise, though. There was no mistake in your ritual, either; you added what was needed and waited long enough.
"No, no, no, no, NO!"
This can't be fucking happening. You were ready to bawl your eyes out, when one sophisticated knock erupted you. "Elvira." It was him, you knew, your body and heart knew.
When no response followed, Alcides began, "My sons and I are travelling out of estate," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for telling you on such short notice, but we won't be back until tomorrow." His voiced trailed off, as if waiting for you to reveal yourself, your reaction, anything, but you're too shaken up to give him any satisfaction. "That's quite alright, my lord." You swallow the lump in your throat, not being able to control yourself and adding, "I'll be right here, waiting." You swore you heard a groan, but were stuck in a limbo by the time Alcides left your door.
You decided all things could be said and done after bathing, so you run a bath and let the scented waters soak into you, replacing the stench of your sins with the perfumed power of blaming Alcides; but you couldn't do that anymore, could you? Not when he was never provocative.
Once you finished freshening up, you grabbed another one of the gowns Dimitrescu gave you. It was black, and beautiful; you were left speechless when you put it on. God, did he really have to make you feel beautiful when you were sent to kill his entire bloodline? "Ah, such unfortunate circumstances." You 'tsked' before doing your hair.
By the time you were done with your makeup, you were certain of today's plan: You were going for breakfast, accessing the courtyard, navigating the Tower Of Worship, exhuming the villager with whom the "Dagger of Death's Flowers" is buried; dig it out, lace the blade with gunpowder, stab all fuckers, one by one, get the fuck out, walk miles back home, and hibernate.
Sweet.
You step out of your quarters to find the chamberlain posted there, just like the day before. "If I say so, my lady?" She looked up at you, the tiny thing was adorable for the fear she felt, yet still wanted you to know that, "You look ravishing." She briefly looked you in the eye before the rouge on her cheeks became embarrassingly obvious, to her. You, on the other hand found her just as she was, adorable.
Upon entering the dining area, she silently took her leave, when you grabbed her wrist. "First Alcides, now you, too?" You asked, flirtatiously referring to both of them excusing themselves from you. "The least you could do is give me company." And how could anyone resist the sultry tone of a stunning woman?
So the chamberlain finds herself dining with you.
You insisted she sat besides you, and despite putting the maximum distance between your chairs, she complied. "So...?" You inquired after finishing your meal, referring to her name. "Oh— uh— Pasha, mi lady." You smiled, "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." You saw her rub her thighs together from the corner of your eye. "Well, Pasha," you decided to break the awkward silence that hadn't formed yet, "You think you can take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You sipped on your tea, eyeing her while you swallowed, only to see her with widened eyes and haphazard breathing. "Me-my l-lady—..." she stammered, hesitation painted all over her soft features as if you asked her to murder The Dimitrescus herself, or eat you out, you couldn't decide which was more mortifying for the poor girl. "What is it, Pasha?" You sighed.
"Th-the area is strictly off limits— only the... family can go there." She gulped at your growingly irritable expression. "I am part of the family — the Stoica household, in case you've forgotten, cameristă."
"I- yes, mi lady. I'm so sor—" "I don't want to hear it." You interrupted, raising a hand in the air. "Will you, or will you not take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You stared at her, the impatience visible on your face, before you decided to put on the façade you knew best; the façade of seduction. "Please, Pasha," you placed a hand on her bare thigh, her little skirt leaving little to imagination.
"For me?" Were the magical words that got the job done.
So you walk with the head of the staff of Castle Dimitrescu, into the family's place of worship, to exhume the corpse of the only man with the balls to try and assassinate him.
Pasha dropped you off at the foot of the Tower, more than happy to bolt away once you told her it was okay to leave you alone.
You walk up the stairs, and into the end of Castle Dimitrescu.
For a place of "worship", the place had the most oppressive aura, reeking of the occult and unimaginable. You fought your way inside, barely getting in while the air was knocked out of you; perhaps, a barrier of necromancy, despite it, you were able to get through.
You ran from corner to corner, searched every square centimetre of the place, but no place near-resembled the tomb of an assailant. "Fuck, where is it?" Your hands dipped inside your bag to look for something, before pulling it out and beginning your rummaging.
Indeed, you had stopped by Alcides' study before breakfast, telling the maid you 'forgot something' in there during your "time" last night, before winking at her shamelessly and forcing your entry. Sneaking out 'The Book of The Four Houses' was something you could do with your eyes closed.
Your eyes read past every word until you landed where you were made to stop, when the wave of overwhelm hit you last night. "Hall of the Four", the title read.
"The Hall of the Four, known in Japanese as Between the Four Angels (四天使の間, shi tenshi no aida?), is an area of Castle Dimitrescu." The Hall of the Four leads to the Tower of Worship, but this door cannot be opened until the four masks are placed on the Angel statues."
You groaned a string of profanities.
It's like you were set up for failure, and the worst part is, you could hear him laughing in the back of your mind— Alcides. His new abode has become the back of your mind, for he never leaves there.
Tired, disappointed and on the verge of giving up, you leave the Tower. You were a goner without the masks, and despite being in a rush to at least try and acquire them, you walked in a defeated slumber.
The chamberlain met you somewhere near the courtyard, surprised to see you walking out alive. "Lady Stoica—" "Just take me to my quarters, Pasha." You sighed, earning a swift nod from the confused chamberlain.
You walked lost, still, until you reached your room and opened that damned book again. While you scrolled through the contents, a mere note fell off, barely in your grasp.
The handwriting.
It was your brother's, but— it couldn't be. They never got close enough, which is why you're here now, right? They never got close enough. Three of the most feared, skilled men in the world of hunting never got close to one man and his three experiments for sons.
How in the hell did— Wait.
'Mask of Pleasure: Second Floor of Castle Dimitrescu',
that's where you are right now.
Everything could wait, hell, God could wait on the other line of heaven. You needed answers, yes, but something in your gut tells you it's better unknown. All that matters right now is killing him and every last member of his twisted family.
Or at least that was the plan...
You find yourself walking towards any room, with any possibility of possessing a mask. Hell, you had no idea what it looked like, but if it looks anything like the pleasure you'd be rewarding yourself with once you get the fuck out of this place, the mask won't be too difficult to find.
Soon enough you had pulled the place apart — the whole floor — except one room you hadn't set foot in. Alcides Dimitrescu's chambers.
A colossal door; you couldn't look away from the necromantic symbols etched into the woodwork. Had you not possessed the ability to see through such dark arts, you would've stepped right in and be left to deal with a fatality. You pull two vessels from your bag; the Blood of Christ and Vurxelheim, two of the purest substances on the planet, known to melt away all magic, no matter how ancient or dark, and as your expected, it did just that.
Alright, now all that was needed was to open the door, and even an amateur could do that with a pin.
Upon entering, you took in the details of his abode, almost forgetting to close the door behind you. Everything was brown; that's something you've noticed about the whole castle. Monotonously warm shades of brown, dimly lit with heat radiating over every surface. You only quirked a brow at the abnormalities. It soon came to your knowledge that the foundation of this floor is regarded as the "Hall of Pleasures". Kinky.
You looked around every corner, in every possible direction and space, but to no avail. Sighing, your head fell back, eyes closed it absolute demotivation, but when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was porcelain intricately carved, and hanging from the ceiling; a place where no mortal, but only a 9'6 indestructible titan of a tyrant could reach. It was obnoxious, if anything; placing it in a place so obvious, yet so out of reach — a direct message to show he's better than the rest, quite literally above them.
With no possible way of reaching it, you were still accessing your options when one strong arm wrapped itself around your waist and raised you up, right to where the mask hanged. "If you wanted to swing by my chambers,"
"You could've just asked, mic vânător."
Little Hunter— "Let go of me!" You writhed in his grasp, hand slowly reaching for the mask, still. "If you say so," he shrugged before letting go of you completely, letting you hang from the ceiling like a dreamcatcher. "Son of a bitch! You put me down this instant or I swear to God I'll rip through you and your experiments with my bare hands." "Ah, there's no need to get feisty, Elvira." He said, grabbing you by the waist, and putting you down, despite your kicking and struggling. "I'm only trying to help." He grunted, one hand disappearing behind his trench coat; you were ready to pounce at him, when he pulled, seemingly, the other three masks from behind.
"There you go, sweetheart. Masks of Joy, Sorrow, and Rage." He waved the remaining three keys to The Hall of the Four. You eyed him, and he swore the frowning pout was the cutest sight he's ever seen. "C'mon, they're yours for the taking, darling." He smiled at you.
"What's the catch, Alcides?" You sighed.
It's never that fucking easy, is it?
"One night with me." He simply spoke, taking your deepening scowl as a notion to carry on, "One night to decide what is it that you want, Elvira," "Or should I call you, Y/N Y/L of the Vânători de urâciuni?" Your eyes widened with horror; you hadn't processed him calling you 'little hunter', yet, and now this? This could only mean— "How did you—" "Please. 'You think I wouldn't find out about the mass murder of my fiancé? And imagine the gossip about town that it was a doppelgänger who did it." No, you were careful, he's lying — he's got to be. "Lucky for me, I get the sexier one, now." He chuckled, impressed with his wit.
When you didn't give him the satisfaction of freaking out on him, moreover agreeing to his terms, he rolled his eyes, "Pentru dumnezeu! The first mistake was the rocks you climbed on. They've deliberately been arranged like so, for trespassers like you to easily enter, walk through the courtyard, and into the quarters of my sons for them to feast upon. Then, leaving your blood on the grill? The scent agonised me. It was so difficult to put those three dogs on a leash, having never smelled something so sweet." He 'tsked', "The second mistake was trusting Pasha. It was her hand that twirled in your bath water, mixing the infatuation spell, and it was her, too, that switched the vessel underneath your bed. Very clever, by the way, very thoroughly performed indication ritual."
"But your third— baby, this mistake might as well be a blessing because it's the only fucking thing keeping me away from ripping into you slowly, and feast on your flesh for two whole days; pleasuring yourself, in my fucking castle, fantasising about fucking me."
"Oh, and the guillotine was Heisenberg, I only added the dramatic touch of sending the heads back."
You couldn't bear it.
Bottles full of emotions you've locked away for ages finally hit the concrete of reality; shattering to a million pieces while the man you still find irresistible, had an unimpressed look on his face. "Y/N. I know you want to kill me—" "Oh, honey, you have no idea." You laughed dryly, choking on sobs, but something tells you the impact of your threat didn't go in the direction you wanted because he visibly tensed when you called him, "honey".
"But," he raised both hands in defence, "I wouldn't have gotten you these," he said, waving the masks again, "If I didn't think this deserved a chance— we — deserved a chance." "You think I'll let you anywhere near me after you toyed with me like a plaything? Sent me my father, my uncle, my brother's heads to add a 'dramatic touch'?" "I should've put a more potent spell on you," he cursed under his breath, earning a scoff from you.
You pulled out a dagger from your thigh holster, and lunged at him. Caught off guard, Dimitrescu's eyes widen while you slashed through his alabaster shirt, eager to bleed some crimson into his lifelessly pale skin. "I've had it with you, brat!" He growled, the whack of his palm on your cheek took you back, and you didn't mean to moan.
The cry, it was wanton, and it had Alcides latching on to every ounce of self control he still preserved. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do," he grabbed the dagger from your grasp within a second. "You're gonna take off your clothes, lay down, looking pretty for me like you always do," he walked closer, raising his large hands again in defence. "You following me— okay," he inched closer to you, while you backed away, further into the wall. "I'm gonna feast on this pussy, then I'm gonna finger your tight hole open, and because I'm feeling generous," he grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, "I'm not gonna force my cock into your pretty little throat, you're gonna beg for it." He caressed your face, the way your doe eyes watered while staring at him, like glass he could see his reflection in, your agape lips and soft expression made his pants constrict his cock agonisingly. "And the last thing I'll be doing, even if it's my last ever," his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you to his king-sized bed. Laying you down, and climbing on top like a wolf on a lamb, he says, "Is fucking this pussy till you finally accept that you're made for me."
His mouth latched onto your neck, easily manhandling you at the same time while you writhed in his grasp. "I would rather be dead." You spat out venomously, which only made Alcides smile. "Well, alright. I'd still pound you till you're a mere cum-dump, but I'd surely miss those pretty sounds you made when you fingered yourself thinking about me." He panted against your pulse point, baritone voice hoarse with lust.
He spread your legs, lifting both your hands up by the wrists to his face. "Tiny little things," he kissed the knuckles of each finger, "Unsatisfying, aren't they?" He showered your hands with kisses, "Don't worry, darling, I'm here now." He raised both hands so their size was visible in your periphery, before grabbing your dress and pulling it over your head. "No!" You resisted, causing him to huff, annoyed. "Don't make me tear it off, honey, you look breathtaking in it." He cooed, and your movements haltered enough for him to successfully get it off you. "Good girl— such a good girl f'me."
Immediately his eyes were on your curves, your hips — perfect for bearing the child he was about to fuck into you, your breasts, so ample, all available for his groping and fondling, your pussy almost peering out of the silk panties. "Fuck, Y/N." He groaned, about to rip your underwear off when your pleads interrupted him. "Alci-Alcides please don't." "Hm," his sharp eyes seemed to be calculating his next move. "You say no, but your body," he groaned, pressing the knuckles of two of his fingers against your clothed cunt, "Your body sings otherwise, my love."
Every second passing by was petrifying.
The mortal battle between blood and lust, two things you were the epitome of, qualities comprising your very backbone, now, asked you to break it; bend over backwards and break your back for this man.
The string of pleads you cried fell on deaf ears, which, a part of you was glad for. Maybe if you continued to put the blame on Alcides and his necromancy, you'll actually let yourself live with the fact that your desires to have him ravage in your guts is overpowering, and the carnality lay in the fact that you didn't even care about what happened after. You were serving him your body in a platter, which you had not an ounce of doubt would eventually serve that purpose, quite literally.
"Tell me you want me." He hovered over your breasts. If he wanted to play games, then games you'll play. "I want you..." you whispered, "to go fuck yourself." He would've smacked you again, but again, you would've enjoyed it. What did stop him, however, was the shit-eating grin plastered on your face that showed him you were still on planet Earth, among the living and the abominable.
"Now, why would I do that, when I've got such a pretty girl with her pussy all wet for me?" He mimicked your expression, staring into your soul until you were forced to look away, and your eyes landed right on his clothed erection. "This?" He followed your gaze, "You're going to take care of this in just a minute, but for now," he paused, his large hands turning into talons and ultimately perilous claws. Cutting through the hems of both your garments, he retracted his claws immediately. You flinched when his hands came closer to your hips, "Don't be afraid, mic vânător." His baritone voice gave you absurd comfort, the tone, reassuring. "They can't hurt you, unless I want them to." His pearly whites were like the fangs of a serpent, peering out, bloodthirsty for you.
With that, he lowered himself and dove right in.
You slithered about while his anomaly of a tongue kitten-licked your inner thighs. "I'll tie you to the fucking bed, if you don't quit squirming." He spat.
At your pussy.
You moaned in response, hips momentarily halting from the continuous resisting. "Yeah? You like that don't you, slut?" His fingers spread your slit, before spitting right into your tight hole that fluttered about nothing. "There you go, my love." He cooed in response to your whining, smoothly inserting his index finger into the same hole. A tremor ran down your spine at the sudden intrusion; the stone-cold, thick and long thing digit was a cruel thing, reaching that sweet spot the minute it bottomed out till, knuckle-deep in your velvety walls, and even calling the others to join in on the assault on your cunt.
Accommodating, now, three of his fingers, pummelling your cunt, scissoring you open, was more overwhelming than any dick you've ever taken. Maybe the fact that no one else could amount to the size of an ancient 9'6 vampiric cannibal Lord who's put his and the life of his sons in your palm.
Either you take them away, or let him take you to carnality never fathomed before, and the way he sucked on your swollen clit while fucking you with his fingers was a clear indication of your preference.
"Alcides," you moaned, nearing your high. "Yes, my love?" He replied almost instantaneously, as if finally you complied with a poor man's request. "What is it that you need, darling? I'll give it all to you." He lifted up from your pussy, leaving your clit with a wet 'pop' sound, making his way over to your breasts, while his movements inside you never faltered once. His sharp eyes searched yours, fixated on them while his hot tongue snaked out of his mouth to twirl around your hardened bud. Flesh on fire, you leaned into the feel of his mouth on you. "Fuck me, Alcides." You cried in defeat. How the mighty have fallen prey to the vultures of lust, mere carcasses of seduction.
Alas, the façade of seduction had backfired, and you had fucked up royally.
Upon hearing the trumpets of his victory through your pretty mouth, Alcides would've been a fool to refuse you. Eagerly he undoes his pants, letting his throbbing cock spring free. Your eyes damn-near saw your brain at the sight of the thing. "Alci— I can't." Seeing you panic, he began getting off on it. "You can, and you will." He hissed when his calloused thumb rubbed against the slit of his cock.
"Oh, I wanna feel that throat squeezing around me." He pumped faster, fucking his fist to the thought of you like many a night before. "But this pussy will do," "For now." He said, rubbing his length fervently against your slit, lathering your wetness on his leaking tip, enthusing a sweet mix of your cum, much more of which was to come.
"Won't be... able... to..." You spoke in between moans gaps the tip was in. The stretch was abnormal, ungodly, unnatural — exactly what you're deemed to kill. "You'll take it, mic vânător." He began to push more in, knocking the air out of your body. "Stop clenching," he groaned deeply, the sound resonating in your core. Nothing could've prepared you for this intrusion, so agonisingly painful, yet deliciously filling.
"You've... got to s.—stop... clenching." He pushed in the whole length, deadening your movements. You'd think he'd fear breaking you, but no. Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu was thrilled to see you finally submitting, even if your body paralysed in the fear of being ripped open, your back arched, breasts stopped wavering in the air, and your breath caught in your throat.
Only when the loudest, most pornographic moan left your lips did Alcides begin to thrust into you, already drunk off of your pussy, ecstatic in ecstasy.
Despite the slow speed, his thrusts were deep enough for legs to start shaking. To your shock, he lifted your legs and since they couldn't reach his shoulder's that stood almost as stall as the fucking ceiling, they were swinging across his forearms, and at this angle he slammed his hips into you.
You screamed, damage was made to your vocal chords as well as your walls when the penetration quickly turned into pummelling, giving you zero time to adjust to the mammoth size of it. On seeing your closed eyes, Alcides smacked your face, gentler than before, yet enough for your eyes to shoot open, face contorting in pleasure at his gesture that was now among your favourites. "Don't let those pretty eyes waver away." His grip on your hips was threateningly tight. "Look into my eyes, or there," his eyes motioned downwards, and it was then you saw the immense bump in your belly. Your eyes widened in profound horror. He had most certainly torn your insides apart, you were sure.
"See how big it is— how well you still take it?" He babbled while vigourously pushing into your poor cunt. "Pl-lease, go... easy on—me." You managed to plead out, but nothing counts stop the possessed Lord. Finally, he got the chance to feel your insides, and there was no way in hell, he thought, he'd let you off easy. Not when you're the biggest threat to his existence, let you wrap so tightly around his monster cock.
Dumbfounded, cock-drunk, utterly paralysed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless attack your pussy had to endure.
Just when you thought your demise would be the sole pleasure you were forced to undergo, two of his fingers rubbed fervent figure-eights on your bundle of nerves that ached with bloodrush.
You babbled incoherences, whimpering, shaking your head repeatedly when he lifted your lifeless body, just the tip of his cock inside, and switched positions with you. Now, he laid, somewhat upright, hands crossed behind his head. Leisurely eyeing you, while you struggled to breath with his entire length upright inside your walls, his tip pressing against your cervix like an enemy threatening to break down your barriers; your walls.
"M-move... please..." you mewled, causing him to 'tsk' with disdain. "Help yourself, căprița mea mică." He raised a brow, mouth curling viciously into a smirk, "Use me as you please." Your shaky hands reached for his broad shoulders, raising then steadying your hovering self over his cock. His eyebrows wiggled in amusement, awaiting your move comically, until the feel of your walls struggling to take in his tip pulled him back into a trance of pleasure.
He let out an animalistic groan that lingered to be what you swore was a whimper, so you did your best to lift your tiring legs and plop down on his cock, upright and pulsating inside you. "I could fuck this pussy every moment for the remnant of my days." He smiled at you, large palms resting on your hot ass, slowly caressing your curves. The gesture, so contradicting to the impaling you were enduring, nearly knocked the air out of you, for when your perplexed eyes met his expectedly ravenous ones, you were shocked to see them replaced by fondness.
"If I'm lucky enough to live," he paused, hands squeezing your ass before sitting upright, pulling you with him. You moaned wantonly when you felt his cock deeper. "Let this be how we wake, how we sleep — in each other's embrace." His eyes widened, as did yours, like deer caught in front of headlights. The feigning look of innocence on his face sent your core spiralling with erotic ache, when his face, not once breaking eye contact, inched forward to stop just in front of your nipple.
You shrieked when he took complete control, earning a whine from you as you just got the hang of dominance, but when you noticed the hellbent gleam of carnality in his eyes, you knew you were in for a ride.
He suckled on your bud while fucking through you. "You're close, aren't you?" He pulled away from your nipple with a pop sound, resting his bearded face on your breast, "I know you are. 'Can feel her tightening around my cock." He chuckled, mouth back on the hardened bud in his presence. You sneaked a hand down and rubbed your bundle of nerves, fervently.
His large fingers, jealous of your own, were quick to replace them in driving you to your high. You were practically spoon-fed the orgasm, that took a toll on your fragile body.
No emotion overwhelmed every hemisphere, every neurone of your brain like ever before. Your mind went spiralling away, like an eternal shore hugging the lunar tide for the first time a night, your shore's dry spell was over, and your body did it's best to fight the feeling and drive a stake through his lustful heart, but your body was worn out; used as any lucky ragdoll would be.
The overstimulation sent you back to Earth at godspeed. His movements were sloppy, but not faltering, and soon enough, he let his seed bathe your walls a pearly shade. "Take it all— carry my seed." He moaned, absentmindedly.
When you plopped onto his shoulders, he lifted you up single-handedly and laid between your legs. You instinctively closed them; despite being too fucked out of it, you still cringed at how both your cum leaked out of you, ruining the sheets and everything between.
"Alcides, no—"
You were a second too late in pleading, for he grabbed you by the legs, placed them on his shoulders, and stood up.
You hung upside down, your pussy a stone's throw away from the man's smirked lips. By now, you knew what was about to unfold, yet the first lick to your cum-coated lips sent shockwaves down your spine (rather up?).
He moaned against your clit, the vibrations causing you to writhe in his grasp. His tongue licked your pussy clean, the circular motions on your clit, to the long licks from your clit to slit.
It's crazy how an anomaly like him became your exception — the hunter's favourite prey. With a tongue so skilled, you weren't to be blamed for succumbing to your current situation; not like you could do much in the grasp of a monster like him.
You're lucky his cock didn't fuck a new hole into you.
When his large palms let go of your hips, you wrapped your legs around his neck instinctively. You could've used his vulnerability to your advantage, had your mind not clouded in the ecstasy of overstimulation. It seemed like Alcides thought the same, for he smirked devilishly to himself, letting his talons ghost about your flesh, before slightly retracting to pinch and squeeze your nipples. He placed open mouthed kisses on your clit that not once stopped throbbing.
You shook in agony, his mouth worked tantalisingly slow on your burning hot cunt. Deciding to show mercy, an unlikely thing for the tyrant Lord, he smiled at your frame hanging tightly from his; your breasts heaving under his touch, obstructing his view of your pleasure-stricken face.
Lord Dimitrescu plunged his tongue inside you, placing one hand on your hip to push and grind you against his tongue, and you swore every atom in your body was swollen with pleasure.
"No... n-no more..." Your beseech was deemed adorable by the man tongue-fucking you. He pulled out, slithery wet tongue, coated in your juices, leaving you breathless. He lapped at your wetness, growing per minute as he so desperately coaxed more out of you.
Dumbfounded, pussy-drunk, utterly engrossed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless devouring of your pussy at the hands of your sworn enemy.
One of his hands snaked to your clit, the ever fervent pace of his movements drove you to madness. Your body stilled, eyes rolled back, breath hitched, and it was when his tongue flicked inside of you that you realised that you were doomed.
After drinking your juices clean, Alcides placed you gently on his bed, and by the time he laid next to you, you had already wandered off in dreams.
Your mother awaited your letters.
Perhaps, she'll be rejoiced to hear you alive and well, or maybe she'll be mortified that you're alive and well, and The Dimitrescus live and breath, still. Either way, she and the rest of the world better get used to you signing every final letter as 'Lady Dimitrescu'.
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Hello..I hope you have a wonderful day..I'm glad to see you..Can I ask Sung Jinwoo x cheerful female reader..Reader met Jinwoo for the first time when he was still E rank..Reader fell in love with him first ..She is always by Jinwoo's side when Jinwoo is always looked down upon by others.She also helps Jinwoo financially because she want to help him as much as possible.And the Reader meets Jinwoo's younger sister, Jinah and straight up says 'please let me marry your brother'..(Surely the situation will be lively with the behavior of both of them .(≧▽≦)..)..Jinah like aa okay??...Reader must be surprised when they see Jinwoo's new look.Reader be like: 'Where is my baby boy!!!.. As far as I know about he, he doesn't have a twin!!” dramatically…
Okay... Thank you... Take care of yourself(◕ᴗ◕✿).. Hope you are not stressed by my request.. Bye-bye(θ‿θ)..
Solo Leveling:
Little King, Big King
Summary: In which Jinwoo will always be your little king, even if puberty hits him hard.
Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x cheerful F! Reader
Note: Such a cute request! As well, thanks for your patience, sorry that I took so long!
Warning: None!
★・・・・・・★
“What is a kid doing here?”
Jinwoo perks up when he hears someone approach him. He turns around, seeing a taller girl staring at him with a cheeky smile.
“Heya! Are you okay? Are you lost? How old are you?” She bombarded him with questions, and Jinwoo felt overwhelmed by her curiosity. Were she from another team? Probably, he had never met her before.
“Hold on. You’re hurt.” She pulls out a potion, and without giving Jinwoo time to react, she immediately gave it to him.
“Drink little guy. Next time, don’t wander into a dungeon by yourself alright? It’s dangerous.”
“I’m 16.” Jinwoo deadpanned, and she gasped dramatically.
“No way, me too!” She cheered, and Jinwoo sweatdropped at her cheerful personality.
“Hold on, drink first. Then I’ll take you with me! You’re from the other team right? They abandoned you here? What a crazy bunch of adults!” Her words spew out of her easily, making Jinwoo a bit flustered in keeping up with her speed. Instead, he only nodded absentmindly, staring at the potion in his hand.
“Drink up little guy. What are you waiting for? Big sister will help you.” She grinned, and waited for him.
Big sister? We're literally the same age.
Seeing her insistence, he drank the potion anyway, feeling his injuries and fatigue wash away.
“Now you look better! Come on, I’ll help you get back to your family.” She extended her hand that was also full of calluses. Was she also working like him?
“My name is (L/N) (Y/N)! What’s your name?”
“...Sung Jinwoo.” He accepted her hand, and she shakes his hand firmly.
“I finally met someone my age in the dungeons!” She then started leading the way, leading him away from his team who had already abandoned him, and toward another group of people.
“I’m a gunslinger by the way, so I use guns. I’m only a C-rank though, but I have good eyes like a scout! What about you?” He flinches when she asked, and he felt ashamed of his own weakness.
“I’m an E-rank hunter.” Jinwoo pull apart, feeling the embarrassment settle in, and he didn’t dare to look up at (Y/N), after all, she probably is disappointed-
“Okay, do you want to come with me?” Despite it all, your cheerful expression did not falter.
Well, it’s better than here.
Jinwoo took your hand without looking back.
Jinwoo was used to the judging eyes and disapproving looks.
So he was bewildered to see you blissfully walk past them without a single care in the world.
Were you just simply ignorant?
“Ignore them. They’re always gonna judge others and put us down.” Jinwoo felt a squeeze.
“I know how you feel.” Jinwoo wondered what expression you have now, and when you turned around, you had a gentle smile on your face.
“Come on, I’ll treat you to some convenient store food. I’m starving and I earned enough.”
Jinwoo followed her into the store, and watched her skip and twirl until she stopped in front of instant ramen. Then, she shoved it towards him.
Before Jinwoo could say anything, she patted his shoulder.
“At times like this, we have to stick together! Just because we poor, doesn’t mean we’re a doormat!”
Jinwoo blinked, but he couldn’t hold back his laugh.
“Aww, you’re so cute when you laugh! Like a teddy bear!” Her compliment made him blush and hide away, but she didn’t stop pestering him about it until they finally got their ramen ready to eat.
“Hey, add my number, you’re in a tough spot right?” Jinwoo flinches, feeling shame, but seeing your concerned face, he felt relieved.
“I’ll help you, and when you grow up, you can pay me back! Promise?” Sticking out your pinky like a child, you grinned brightly.
Jinwoo could only smile gratefully, before locking pinkies.
There and then, a promise was made.
“Mom! Jinwoo-oppa got fried chicken for us! And he brought a friend over!”
It’s been a couple of months since that promise, and to his surprise, you didn't break the promise. In fact, you supported him...a lot.
“Oh dear, you didn’t have to.”
“Nice to meet you Auntie, my name is (L/N) (Y/N), and this one's on me. Don’t worry!”
“You’re too sweet, but we can’t-”
“It’s okay! Jinwoo helped me a lot, so this is me paying him back!”
JInwoo watched as you debated with his mom, going back and forth until his mom gave in with a smile.
Before he knew it, everyone gathered around the table and began digging in. Soon, Jinah began bombarding you with questions, such as how you met, and-
“Do you like my oppa?”
“Of course I do! I’ll marry him when I grow up!”
Jinwoo froze in embarrassment, while his mom was simply a little bit surprised, before a cheeky and playful look replaced it quickly, just like his little sister.
“Really?”
“Yep! He’s the cutest boy I’ve ever met! He’s so sweet and cuddly like a teddy bear-” Jinwoo slaps a hand over your mouth while his face remains bright red.
He felt your lips move still, as if joking or teasing him.
He felt questioning and teasing stares from his family, and he knew that they would never let this go.
One meal turned into multiple, until your presence became a norm at his little home.
“Auntie! I got you and Jinah some skincare! You have to try this!” And your relationship with his mom and sister has grown a lot.
A little too much.
“Aigoo, you didn’t have to buy something so expensive for us.”
“It’s okay Auntie! You always make me delicious food!”
“Oppa.” Dazed, it took Jinwoo a moment to direct his attention to his sister, who had her arms crossed.
“When are you going to marry (Y/N)-unnie?”
“W-What?!” She rolled her eyes at him.
“You better marry her soon or else someone is gonna steal her away!” His sister gives him a little pat of encourage before she runs off towards you and his mom and joining in on the skincare talk.
He watches as you turn towards him and gave a cheeky little grin before you were tackled into a hug by Jinah.
Can you really ask you for marriage? Does he have the right to ask you when he’s still this weak? He still needs to rely on you to survive.
He can’t, at least not now.
When he grows up, Jinwoo promises to pay you back and protect you.
He just hopes that day will come soon.
“Jinwoo!”
He can’t die now.
Even if his vision is blurred by blood or if hope is nothing but a bitter dream.
He won’t die here.
“Jinwoo?”
Just as surprised as you were, Jinwoo noticed that he was much taller than you now. He chuckled, noticing how you seemed very confused as you peaked around him, as if analyzing and trying to figure out what is going on.
“Jinwoo doesn’t have a twin right…?”
“(Y/N), it’s me.”
It took a moment for you to process before you held his arms as your eyes turned glossy. Jinwoo panicked as he saw you were going to cry, until you suddenly squeeze his cheeks.
“Where did my cute teddy bear go! I mean you’re still handsome but...my little king!” He felt a harsh tug and he stumbled forward into your arms.
“How did puberty hit you this hard!? Was it because you were cursed and then after you woke up from a coma, you finally were able to grow?”
What is this? Some cliche manhwa plot?
Jinwoo pull you apart easily, shocking you again, but instead he pulls you into a hug.
“Don’t worry, I’m still your teddy bear.”
“But you’re too big for me to spoon you now!” Jinwoo bursts out laughing at your pouting face which is full of disappointment.
“(Y/N), I’ll spoon you.” Before you could say another word, he holds your hand tightly.
“(Y/N), remember our promise long ago?” You nod slowly, clearly missing his old self.
“I’ll protect you, and pay you back for everything you did for me and my family.”
“You don’t have to-”
“It’s a promise, and we pinky promised it.”
“Not fair! How come your puppy eyes are still the same even when you’re big!” You playfully cross your arms, before a cheeky grin appeared on your lips.
“Fine, treat me to fried chicken okay?”
“Anything you want.”
“Let me spoon you?” Jinwoo laughs.
“If you can.” He ruffles your hair, making you jump and punch him playfully.
“Jinwoo! This is why I like your little version better! At least he was cute and he listens to me-” Jinwoo pulls you closer by the waist, making you yelp by instinct.
“Am I still not cute?” You push him away.
“You’re handsome, not cute. There’s a difference.” Jinwoo smirks when he sees you turn away with a blush on your cheeks.
“Unnie, you can just marry him and then when you have children, there will be mini-versions of him again!”
“Jinah!”
JInwoo laughs, that actually doesn’t sound too bad.
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Light (Sung Jinwoo)
TAGS: Jinwoo/Wife!reader, a/b/o dynamics, yandere, possessive behavior, death threats, breeding, impregnation, oneshot
Ao3 ver.
‘E-Rank Hunter’ Sung Jinwoo, a title that followed him wherever he went.
Despite being a Hunter, his power was barely above an ordinary human aside from his slightly more durable constitution and slightly increased healing factor.
So it’s only natural that he’d always get hurt. Hell, he’d even nearly gotten killed several times already too!
It’s not that Jinwoo wanted to be a Hunter in the first place, because aside from the danger, others also made fun of him for his weakness. Even the pay was surprisingly not that great.
Unfortunately, someone in his mid-20s who lacked any viable skills that could land him a normal, stable job could only work for the Hunter’s Association as one of their Hunters thanks to their medical aid. Had it not been for that, he wouldn’t have been able to afford the millions of won in medical bills he owed to the hospital that took care of his mother.
It’s not even just his mother that he had to provide for, but there was also his little sister and…
“Look Yeonjin, it’s Papa!”
Worn out from another hard days’ work, E-Rank Hunter Sung Jinwoo felt all the fatigue in his body seemingly melt away into nothingness as the sight and scent of his wife and child soothed his weary soul.
“Baba!” Yeonjin babbled excitedly as his father made a beeline straight towards you both.
“Welcome home, honey.” You press a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling up at him with those beautiful eyes he always finds himself lost in.
This is why even if he didn’t want to, he would still participate in these Association supervised raids.
No sacrifice is too great when it comes to his loved ones and regardless of how incompetent he was as a Hunter, Jinwoo will do everything in his power to ensure that they are cared and provided for.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You’ve been with Sung Jinwoo ever since you were both just awkward teenagers in high school. When his mother succumbed to Eternal Slumber and left the two siblings to fend for themselves, instead of leaving you surprised Jinwoo and moved into their cozy little home and took it upon yourself to keep the house running.
While Jinwoo did his best to provide for the family’s needs, you would ensure that Jinah and the house was taken care of, this of course also included the man himself whenever he came home from a raid. You even managed to get a remote job that helped with the bills in spite of juggling that with your online college classes as well.
You and Jinwoo had gone through so much together over the past decade so was it any surprise you’d end up married and with a child?
Former friends and schoolmates might have tried to dissuade you time and time again to leave him, pitying you for spending your youth making ends meet and watching over your comatose mother-in-law, Jinah, and now your own baby.
But you don’t need their ‘advice’ when it all basically boiled down to having you leave your family because you ‘deserved better.’
They are already what’s best for you.
Why can’t they see that?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“ How are you and Sung Jinwoo? Sorry I couldn’t check up on you guys sooner. Life’s been pretty hectic on my end.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t attend your baby shower before! I had an important appointment that I couldn’t bail out on back then. Why don’t we go out for coffee to catch up?”
“...way too long since we last got together! Our whole class is gonna have a reunion this weekend. Everyone will be stoked to see you and Sung Jinwoo there— ”
Beep.
You don’t have the chance to reply to the latest call you received from another ‘old friend’ when your husband pressed the ‘end’ button in one swift movement. Though his face looked impassive, his scent clearly revealed his agitation…not to mention the shadows that seemed to curl spread from the soles of his feet.
“First they tell you that I’m not good enough for you and that you should leave me, but now they’re all tripping over themselves just to get to me through you…” His lips stretched into a snarl, power rolling off of him in waves at their blatant shamelessness.
Jinwoo’s inner alpha snorted and growled, the mere thought of these impertinent swine daring to involve themselves with his mate even if to gain some sort of favor from him made him see red.
How dare they?! He will rip and tear into their bodies and reap their souls to become his puppets if they so much as even approach you. Did they think he was bound by the rules of ordinary mortals? Foolish!
The hunter’s alpha grinned diabolically, cackling from within the confines of his soul at thought of giving them their just desserts.
“My big, strong alpha…Always willing to jump into the fray to provide for and protect us…How can I even think about choosing anyone else?” You crooned and purred at him, the soft sounds and your calming scent enveloping him and taming the shadows that once agitatedly tried to claw their way out of him to carry out his will.
Burrowing into his arms, you embrace his waist and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as best as you could considering his height had also shot up recently. A few soothing kisses and kitten licks against the skin of his neck later, Jinwoo’s darkness ceased pouring out of him.
Because now he focused on wholeheartedly pouring every last drop of cum into your quivering pussy, thrusting weakly even as his fat knot plugged you up. Your lower belly bulged with the amount of cum he’d already fucked into you, but he still didn’t think it was enough.
At the rate he was going, he’s definitely gonna knock you up again.
Not that you were complaining. It was about time for Yeonjin to finally have a sibling to love.
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