#watering down of the sentence. they never reach out when i need them and everything they say is so detached and distant and cold | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelicyoongie · 10 months

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The Obsidian Pearl (I)

— pairing: mermaid seokjin x (f) reader — word count: 7.2k — warnings: yandere, descriptions of death/blood/violence — summary: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

Part 01 - 02

"Captain, this is a bad idea."

A hush falls over the deck, a few whispers being passed back and forth between the crew as they watch you challenge the captain's decision. There's an audible gulp somewhere behind you as the captain pins you with a hard gaze, his jaw clenched tight with annoyance.

He taps the map that's spread out in front of him, voice leaving no room for argument as he says, "This is the fastest route."

"That may be, Captain, but it's not worth the risk. Haven't you heard the stories? The numerous crews that have gone missing after sailing in this area? There's a reason it's called The Dead Man's passage!”

A ripple of murmurs flow through the crowd at the reminder, the passage's deadly reputation making it somewhat of a ghost story – a tale every seafarer hears at one point or another. You don't know much; the few crews that have managed the journey safely have been tight-lipped about their experience, their eyes left haunted. The part that has always baffled you the most about the stories is that the ships themselves always make it through the passage, fully intact and filled with loot, but their crews never do. It's like they all vanish without a trace, like they've just been whisked away by the wind – never to be seen again.

The captain clears his throat, a sharp sound that cuts through the growing voices on deck, silencing them immediately.

"We have no choice. If we continue on the intended route we'll run out of food and fresh water a week before we reach the nearest port. Cutting through the passage will save us valuable time. I would never take this risk and endanger the crew if someone had done their job properly."

You glance to the side, catching the eye of the cowering boatswain.

He's young, far too young to handle such responsibility on his own. He's only just grown into his ears, the top of his head barely reaching the captain's shoulders. He was thrust into the position much too soon, but it couldn't be helped. The previous boatswain suddenly succumbed to an infected wound just a few days before you were scheduled to leave the last port. It left all of you scrambling to pick up the slack around the ship and the poor lad must've been forgotten in the mess.

You had tried to delegate someone to help him, but the captain had been firm that he needed to do it on his own, to build character. It's no wonder he wasn't able to calculate the needed supplies correctly, not when he was still grieving the loss of his mentor at the same time.

You notice the bead of sweat that rolls down the side of the young boatswain's face, his skin flushed with nerves. You can't let the poor lad be punished for his sorrow, not when this whole predicament could've been avoided.

Letting out a small sigh, you lower your head in apology, "I'm sorry, Captain. I should've made sure everything was in order, this is no one's fault but mine."

"I expected better from you, Quartermaster," The Captain's comment cuts deep, even though you know this wasn't your fault. "Very well. Seeing as you have placed our crew in peril, I doubt you will oppose the solution to the problem you have created?"

You grit your teeth, dipping your head lower as you say, "Of course not, Captain. I apologize for speaking out of turn."

Clenching your hands by your side, you try to focus on the hot sun beating down your neck as you tune out the captain's voice. Getting angry won't do you any good here, not when you've already admitted defeat. The heavy thumps of feet moving all around you tells you that the crew is already beginning to change the ship's course, listening to the captain's orders as he yells them out. You shake your head, stomach churning as you realize that no one dares to challenge him, even if they all know deep down that they're being lead straight to the deaths.

You steel yourself as polished boots pause in front of yours, eye twitching as you look up and meet the captain's gaze. His solemn expression doesn't quite match the light tone of his voice as he leans in to say, "A hungry crew is a dangerous crew, Y/n. I don't think I need to remind you why that is."

Suppressing a shudder, you don't give him the satisfaction of knowing that his little comment has had the intended effect, bad memories already swirling in the back of your mind. Instead, you stare him down, defiant as ever until he shakes his head and walks off in the direction of his cabin.

It's only when he's out of sight that you reach up to trace the raised skin on your throat, the jagged scar that greets you whenever you glance in a mirror. No, there's no reminder nor threat needed. You know first-hand just how desperate a person can become when they're feeling depraved of what makes them human.

You swallow thickly, ripping your hand away from the old wound. There's no use dwelling on the past, there's nothing from that day that can help you now.

The sound of the sails billowing out as they catch more wind jerks your attention forward, gentle waves crashing against the hull of the ship as it picks up speed. You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the salty air and pray to whatever god that might be listening that you'll be able to make it out of the passage alive.

The night has already fallen, the moon high in the sky, by the time you catch sight of the two large rock formations in the distance. Everything about the passage screams unnatural and strange, the two small mountains practically appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the sea. While they look to be on the smaller side, you know there's no way to sail around them. The waters are littered with reefs and strong currents, all traps that are bound to sink unsuspecting ships. You can make out the faint outline of a few of them on the horizon, their broken masts and half-sunken hulls serving as a haunting reminder that the only way past the passage is through it.

You squint as you notice a faint glow in the distance, the light too obscure to make out properly on deck. You quickly make your way up to the helm, hoping the raised platform will provide a better view.

"What's that?" You murmur, shooting the coxswain a worried glance.

"Ain't anything good, that's for sure," The man grumbles in reply. He tightens his grip on the wheel, eyebrows drawn tight as the ship steadily draws closer and closer.

The faint glow grows brighter with each passing minute, more and more sources of light appearing all over the two mountains. You suck in a breath as the ship enters the passage, the area so tight it barely allows for two vessels to pass each other. The close proximity allows you to see the lights more clearly, and you're shocked to discover that it seems to be coming from huge white flowers sprouting from the mountain sides. There's something algae-like clinging to the base of the mountains as well, illuminating the edges of the passage like guiding lights, beckoning you in.

The ship glides smoothly through the channel, the soft current carrying you all through the quiet water. Based on the stories you've heard you were expecting treacherous waves and jagged rocks that appear out of nowhere to throw the crew off-board, but there's none of that. In fact, there's nothing that points to this passage being dangerous at all, no signs of broken planks or fabric clinging to the mountain, no sunken ships visible below the surface. You can almost fool yourself into thinking that no other humans have ever sailed through these mountains before.

As beautiful and untouched as the passage may seem, there is something terribly unnerving about the silence that has settled over the ship. The crew has gone completely still, like they're scared of breaking the quiet. Likewise, you can't really find it in yourself to make any noise either, your lips pressed firmly together as you anxiously scan the mountain for hidden threats.

You've almost made it halfway through the passage when you first hear it.

There's a low hum, barely louder than the noise of the water breaking against the ship, that echoes between the tall rocks. You have to strain your ears to hear it at first, but the sound seems to grow with each gust of wind in the ship's sails, gradually increasing the further into the mountains you go.

You can't make out any words, the language either too old or foreign for you to understand, but the angelic voice behind them makes your heart yearn. You can feel the melody wrapping itself around your heart, squeezing, as it roots itself in your ribcage, sorrowful tendrils clinging to each bone.

"Come to the water."

The wind carries the whisper straight to your ear, caressing your skin like a warm breath, before it travels on. You jerk forward at the sensation, whipping your head around to locate where the voice could be coming from.

There's no one around you aside from the coxswain who looks to be lost in thought, mouth slack as he stares ahead.

You glance down at the deck, frowning as you notice that more and more of the crew are beginning to abandon their posts. They're all migrating to the right side of the ship, walking on unsteady feet like they've been guzzling down barrels of mead.

"Come to me."

You wince as the singing grows more intense, your breath stuttering in your chest in response to the voice that's so desperately calling for you.

You blink, eyes struggling to adjust, as the flowers and the algae on the mountains begin to thin out, taking their light away with them. As if that wasn't bad enough, a great shadow is suddenly cast upon the passage, the last of the illumination you had rapidly disappearing behind thick clouds as the moon is hidden away.

You curse under your breath, mentally taking note of the lit oil lanterns hanging around the ship. There's ten, no– nine, but if you gather them all up and place them near the bow, maybe it'll be enough light to get the ship safely out of the passage?

"I need to– hey!" You stumble back as the coxswain bumps into you, his eyes unseeing as he stumbles towards the stairs to the lower deck. A sudden drift to the side propels him forward, allowing him to slip out of your reach before you can grab his shirt and haul him back.

"Shit," You hiss, only giving yourself a split second to hesitate before whirling around to grab the wheel. The wood has already begun to turn left without the coxswain's steady hands to lead the way and the ship groans as you hurry to correct it back on the right path.

You keep a tight vise on the wheel, leaning forward to yell out for another crewmate to take over, when you hear the first splash.

Hurriedly glancing down at the deck, the swaying lanterns provide just enough light to show one of the cooks climbing over the railing, his movements stilted and jerky as he suddenly flings himself off the ship. Your scream is caught in your throat, your eyes wide with horror as you hear the subsequent splash of his body hitting the water.

What in the gods is going on?

Feet rooted to the floor and fear squeezing the back of your neck with a iron grip, you can only watch as the crew all clamber over the railing, throwing themselves off the ship one by one. The steady melody echoing between the mountains is only interrupted by the terrible sound of bodies sinking into the ocean.

Dread settles deep into the pit of your stomach as you realize there are no screams, no gasps for air, only silence – and him, the voice that's begging you to come rest along your brethren in the deep, peaceful ocean.

"No," You wheeze, shaking your head to rid the fog that's has begun creeping in. You cling to the wheel, fingers slick with sweat as you try to keep the ship steady, ignoring the blur that has settled at the edge of your vision.

"Captain!"

Hope shoots through your veins as you find your captain in the dwindling crowd, his bulky figure illuminated by the dancing lights as he stumbles over to the nearest crewmate, pulling them back from the railing. He pushes a few men back, his strength sending them sliding back to the middle of the deck.

You almost loosen your grip, ready to run down and help him, when he abruptly turns his back on them and jumps over the railing in one swift motion. He lands on the small ledge just outside of it, heels shuffling not to slip as he grips the banister with one arm.

"Captain!" The scream rips out of your throat, carrying across the silent deck like a bullet.

The captain shudders as it reaches him, his body jerking back and forth like he can't make up his mind on whether he should jump or not. Horrified, you watch as he twists his upper body around to face you, his expression stricken as he meets your gaze across the ship. He almost looks like he just came out of a trance, his face drenched in sweat and skin grey with fear as he tries to figure out how he ended up at the edge of the vessel.

You can see mouth opening, his lips forming around the first syllables of your name when the angelic voice suddenly grows louder, the haunting melody reverberating between the mountains. The captain's mouth goes slack, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he once again succumbs to spell that was controlling him. The last thing you see as the captain lets go of the railing, is the serene smile that takes over his face, his eyes closing as he falls backwards into the ocean.

Heart pounding inside your chest, you stare blankly at the now empty spot where your captain stood. You flinch, sick to your stomach, at the heavy splash that follows only seconds later.

"Lay your tired body to rest."

Your fingers twitch at the command, a little whisper in the back of your mind begging you to obey – to give in. You legs have started to shake, sweat sliding down your back in a steady stream at the effort it takes to resist the pull.

Even as you struggle to gulp down enough air, your body in overdrive from the unfathomable things you've just seen, you still find your pulse quickening, panic flooding every fibre of your being as it finally dawns on you what's going on.

You've sailed right into the territory of a siren.

Perhaps you should have seen it coming – the tales of the passage all emphasize how it's only the crew that go missing, not the ships. You've heard whispers about creatures lurking in the deep ocean, of monsters that eat humans, but you never expected that you would ever encounter them. They were folktales, something you chose not to believe in to protect your own sanity as a seafarer. Now, you can only curse yourself for not trusting your instincts the moment you felt the unearthly atmosphere of the mountains; that you didn't have enough forethought to at least stuff your ears and tie each crewmate to their post as a precaution.

Maybe it would've been enough to save the them – to save you.

You cower against the wheel as the song grows so loud it causes your ears to ring, the voice promising peace and eternal slumber. It urges, demands, your body to move and you whimper fearfully as your feet take a step back against your will.

You can't tell how much time has passed since the ship entered the mountains, it could be mere minutes or it could be hours – but as you peer into the looming darkness, you can finally make out where the passage ends and opens back up to the vast sea. The joy fizzles out before it can even take root, the sight in front of you filling you with a sense of glum acceptance. Even if you can see the end, there's no way you'll make it there. The ship is moving too slow, almost no wind making it past the tall mountains.

Your head throbs painfully as the siren's whispers turns more insistent. You can feel the creature's wrath, how angry he is that you're still resisting him. The increased pressure behind your skull makes you groan, your vision going dark as you're hit with a sudden dizzy spell.

Gripping the wheel, you're confused to find that the woods feels thicker, less polished, than it was only seconds before. You force your eyelashes to part despite the sharp pain it gives you, blinking furiously to clear your swimming vision. Your knees nearly buckle as the silent waters below come into focus, your body no longer on the upper deck. Dazed, you stare at the white knuckled grip you have on the railing, your feet tucked into the openings between the posts.

"Oh gods," You whisper shakily.

You have no idea how you got here.

The sound of a soft splash makes you turn your head to the side. Your throat runs dry as you watch the big circle of ripples that fan out from the spot where something dived underwater, the waves much too big to come from a normal fish. As you keep looking at the one spot in disbelief, one of the lanterns on the ship sway outwards, following the rocking of the ship.

It takes you a moment to realize what you're seeing, the stale bread you had earlier that day shooting up your throat as the waters on the side of the vessel is lit up. The ocean is no longer the clear blue it was when you entered the passage but rather a murky red, saturated with what must be the blood of your crewmates.

The sight makes you heave, tears springing to your eyes as the reality truly settles in.

You're going to die.

The siren – the predator – luring you all to your deaths, is clearly waiting right below, ripping everyone apart the moment they're submerged below the water. Even if the shock of the cold sea woke them up from their trance, they would have no chance to fight off such a vicious creature. You have no chance. The moment you step off the ship, you're dead.

You sob as the shock tapers off, the singing once again hitting you with full force. You can't stop your own body as you clumsily clamber over the railing, your feet moving without your permission. It's only when you hit the ledge that you find yourself able to jerk back, a moment of temporary control allowing you to plaster yourself against the banister.

Staring down at the crimson sea, you find your mind going blank. You always expected to see flashes of your life pass by your eyes when faced with certain death but there's nothing. No happy memories to numb the inevitable pain of being torn apart, muscles shredded to bits as water fills your lungs. No echoes of the voices you adore saying that they love you and that everything will be okay.

Instead, there's only the deadly quiet sea and the siren's taunting whispers urging you to jump.

You eye the dark water, noticing a large shape moving closer just under the surface of the ocean. You mindlessly reach for the dagger on your hip, clutching it tightly in your hand even if it means you're only clinging on with one arm. If your death is unavoidable, then you're sure as hell not going down without inflicting a deep cut or two.

As something begins to emerge from the water, the song that has been constantly ringing between your ears suddenly quiets down. Your skin puckers with goosebumps, all the hair on your body rising in fear as a head slowly rises above the surface. The siren's dark locks are one with the water, the long strands flowing into the ocean like spindly fingers. In the dark, there's no telling where it ends, as if the ocean is merely an extension of the creature itself.

Two pitch black eyes, as dark and deep as the starless skies above, lock onto yours the moment they rise above the surface. The flickering lantern doesn't offer much assistance but the poor light tells you that it has no discernible pupils, nothing to indicate that there's any life in them. It's like staring into an endless void.

Despite the chill those eyes send down your spine, your feet willingly takes another step forward, like the mere presence of the creature alone is enough to entrance your body. You let out a pained scream as you slip, your shoulder popping loudly as you manage to grab onto a post, one arm working desperately to keep you from failing into the water below.

"No, no, no," You whimper, gravity making it impossible to reach up with your other arm. You won't be able to pull yourself up even if you drop your knife, the small ledge above making it impossible to locate another post.

You glance down as you dangle from the ship, your grip almost slipping out of fright as the siren's maw comes into view above water. His jaw is unhinged, hellish, mouth stretched way past that of a normal human. It's filled with rows of fang-like teeth, all stained with crusted blood. Terrified, you watch as the siren seems to simply pop his jaw back into place, like the fact that it was just opened so wide it was touching his sternum poses no issues at all.

The creature tilts his head, thinking, as he watches you struggle to drag yourself up. He swims closer, the movement so fluent it looks like he's just gliding through the water. Your arm is shaking terribly by the time he's only a few feet away from where you'll hit the ocean, your shoulder screaming with hurt from holding on for so long.

Through the blinding pain, you see the siren reach out a webbed hand, his long black claws nearly the size of his fingers. He gives you a smile you can only describe as sinister, blood stained teeth on display and his voice melodious as he says, "Come, pet."

You can feel the thrall taking hold this time, your body willingly going slack one limb after the other. You have no time to think, no time to act, before your hand simply just lets go of the railing on its own volition.

In the second it takes for your body to fall, before your eyes squeeze shut and your body is surrendered to the water – all you can think as you spare the skies one last glance, is that the gods must be cruel if they can't even give you a starry night to look upon before you're torn apart by their horrific creation.

Groaning, you slowly open your eyes. There's a dull ache at the base of your skull and every blink up at the pink-tinted sky only seems to make it throb more. The surface you're lying on is hard, terribly uncomfortable, and there's no steady rocking motion to soothe you back to sleep for a few extra minutes of rest.

Something feels wrong.

It's only when your eyes have fully adjusted to the soft light that you're snapped back to reality, the distant sound of waves breaking bringing back the memories of the night before. You jerk upright, heart racing, as they come flooding in all at once. The crew, the siren, the blood. You jumped. You should be dead.

You force yourself to take slow, steady breaths, shakily inhaling air through your nose as you glance around. You can't afford to panic right now, not when you don't know where the creature is or when it might come back.

The morning sun is just barely peeking over the top of the mountain that's blocking most of your sight, casting a large shadow over what appears to be a lake just in front of you. It's still dark, still dawn, on your side of the mountain and it makes the faint glow on the rocks all the more noticeable. You're too far away to tell for sure but you have a terrible feeling that it's likely the same flowers that you sailed past in the passage. And if you can still see them, that means you must be on the other side of the mountains you attempted to travel through.

You're sitting near the mouth of what appears to be a small cave, connected by a large piece of flat stone that's jutting out into the lake. It's lined with clusters of big and small rocks, creating an odd border along the sides of it. The mountain around the cave is unnaturally smooth, the incline too sharp for you to even think about climbing it. No matter how much you stare at the rock formation that's surrounding you, you can't find a way out. There's no open space that would allow you to escape.

You eye the other side of the lake with a shudder, noting that it looks to be more rough there with a few ledges and ridges you can probably use to haul yourself up. The only problem is; you'll have to actually swim across the deep body of water first. It sounds like a sure-fire way to get yourself eaten, though you doubt staying here is much better. The creature must've kept you alive and brought you here for a reason, and you're really don't want to find out why that is.

A pained gasp escapes you as you pull your right shoulder back. The initial adrenaline and panic when you woke up must've blocked out most of the hurt of your dislocated shoulder but now that it's starting to fade, it's coming back fast. The bone is still very much popped out of its socket, the area inflamed and swollen as you lightly touch it with trembling fingers. You swallow thickly as your arm begins to twitch, a burning spasm racing from your shoulder to the tips of your hands.

You bite down on your lip to stop your groan, tasting blood as the involuntary cramp continues.

"Fuck," You wheeze, eyes glazing over as you stare at the rising sun. If you're going to have any chance of escaping, you have no choice but to fix your shoulder.

You stuff the damp material of your shirt into your mouth, hoping it'll be enough to muffle your voice as you carefully lie back down on the stone. Years on the sea has taught you a thing or two and dislocated shoulders are a common injury when you're part of a crew that loves to brawl whenever they visit a tavern. You've seen the way they pale and yell when it gets adjusted and while you have no idea if the siren will be able to hear you scream – you'd rather not risk it.

White hot pain pulses out of your shoulder as you extend the arm to raise it above your head, your vision blurring as you slowly reach for your opposite shoulder behind your head. It hurts, gods, it hurts, but you have to do this. You release a muffled scream as the dislocated bone finally pops back into place, cold sweat dripping down your temple as you tremor with pain. You lay there, harshly panting through the cloth in your mouth, until the hurt subsides to only an ache.

You wince as you push yourself off the hard stone, spitting out your shirt to release a labored breath. Your body feels battered and bruised, completely worn down from all the horrors you've been through in the past six or so hours. You have no idea if you even have enough energy to make it across the lake, the distance probably greater than it looks, but what other alternative do you have?

Just as you're about to get off the ground, the sound of a soft splash echoes between the mountain walls. You jerk, heart skipping a painful beat in your chest as you frantically scan the water. You freeze when you notice how the surface is rippling much closer than expected, only a third of the lake between you and the waves that are parting around a dark shadow.

Out of instinct, your hand falls to your hip, searching for your knife. Your fingers only grip around air, the smooth handle nowhere to be found. In your panic, it takes you a second too long to remember that you held it as you fell from the ship, the knife probably lost somewhere at the bottom of the passage.

You scramble back on the rock as the creature's outline becomes visible, hands reaching out blindly behind your back for anything that can be used as a weapon.

You falter, blood running cold, as pale arms suddenly reach out of the water, planting themselves square on the edge of the rock. The siren heaves himself up without any issues, resting his back against one of the larger stones that's lining the flat extension of the cave. Water drips off his body like sparkling crystals in the morning light, giving a healthy glow to his otherwise almost sickly white skin. His long black hair hangs like a curtain in front of his face, the strands reaching far past his back, dipping into the water.

Patches of scales litter his arms and abdomen; a long fin running down the length of his spine. You find it hard to believe your own eyes as you stare at his stomach, at the area where the creature's human-like qualities disappear completely and transitions into that of a fish. His tail is long and thick, dreadfully similar to a serpent in the way it undulates on the rock as the water slowly evaporates from its scales. The slight movement allows the sun to dance across the siren's tail, showing off the iridescent glow that was hidden by the dark night. The sight leaves you transfixed, hues of colors you've only seen in the sky shimmering across his body.

Your attention is only stolen away when the creature raises one of his hands, his webbed fingers and pointed, long nails looking like they've been dipped in black ink. He runs his claws through his hair, parting the long locks that've been hiding his face.

You jerk back, swallowing thickly, when you find that the siren is already staring in your direction. His eyes are just as dark and emotionless as you can recall from the night before, two endless pools of black. The lack of a discernible pupil is unnerving, it makes it all that much harder to tell just where the creature is really looking. Long lashes frame his haunting eyes and the perfect slope of his nose leads down to the plushest, red lips you've ever seen.

You feel yourself pale as he opens his mouth, those horrible sharp teeth becoming visible as he calmly says, "Your knife is long gone, human." The siren dips his head slightly, looking at the way your hand is still resting near your hip, desperate for the familiar comfort of your knife.

What?

Your mouth parts in disbelief, brain slow to compute the fact that the creature just spoke, out loud, with a voice that sounded eerily human and ordinary.

"Can you not talk, pet? I swear I heard your sweet voice refusing me when the moon was high."

"I-I can," You stumble over your words, tongue twisting in your mouth under the siren's watchful gaze.

"Wonderful!" Something pleased passes over his face, his fin hitting the water with an excited splash. The loud sound makes you flinch, droplets spraying up on the rock just shy of your legs. The corner of the siren's lips quirks at your reaction, as if he finds it funny.

It reminds you of the way your crew used to look at street dogs, their expressions taunting and terrible as they made them do tricks for scraps of food.

It's cheap entertainment, they always used to tell you.

You can't help but wonder if that's what you are – mere entertainment for the siren until he decides to stop playing with his food.

The thought makes you furious. The mocking twist of his lips gives you a sudden rush of defiance, your rebellious nature rearing its head despite the dangerous predator right in front of you. Perhaps there might have been some truth to what your captain always liked to say – you never quite learned when to back down and keep quiet.

You breathe in slowly through your nose, attempting to calm your racing heart as you say, "How are you speaking a language I understand?"

"Easy. Humans are simple creatures and so are their languages," He answers, cocking his head.

"What are you, then?" You blurt, "Parts of you look human and the rest does not. Were you cursed?"

Like the flip of a coin, the siren's expression turns hard, offended, at the insinuation that he might be human. He jerks forward, lips pulling back to reveal his sharp teeth as he lets out a terrible hiss. The sight sends all the alarm bells inside of you blaring, your shoulder screaming in protest as you collapse backward, using your elbows to drag yourself further inside the cave.

"I am not a fragile human," He scoffs, turning his head to glance out on the lake. He flexes his tail to deliver another harsh smack to the water surface, the sound bouncing between the walls of crater. "Have you not heard stories, little human? Of creatures blessed with qualities of the sea and land?"

It takes you a moment to regain your voice, fear making it tremble as you carefully say, "Do you mean mermaids?"

"Correct, pet," He hums, "I see you're not completely hopeless."

You dig your nails into flat rock, voice tight as you ask, "What about the singing? You.. you made everyone jump. I didn't know mermaids could do that."

The siren looks wistful as tips his head back to face the sun. He closes his eyes with a small sigh, "Life becomes tedious when you stay in the same place for too long. I needed something new, so I left my brothers for colder water after hearing about these great big things that moved through the oceans there. Hm... I wonder if the ships have managed to reach them yet, it must be close to fifty humans years since I left."

You blink, shocked that the siren is well over twice your age. He looks young, definitely not a day older than you, but you suppose creatures like him must age at a different rate. Clearly the world is much different from what you first thought – slow aging is likely the least fantastical thing out there to discover.

"The ships lost their charm quickly," He adds, "But the humans on-board were fascinating. They called out to each other in melodies, both happy and sad as they sailed through my home. I was alone here at first, few of my kind dared to venture into colder climates, so the humans were all I had for company. It took me many human years to reshape my throat but I eventually learned to mimic their sounds. After that it was easy to learn the most common tongues that passed through my water."

"One day a ship of humans heard me singing and came looking for the source instead of passing me by – that was when I realized it was a wonderful way to lure you in. Your species have always been much too curious for your own good," The sun catches on the siren's teeth as he grins, highlighting the rows of fangs lining his mouth.

You shudder, stomach turning at how easily he speaks of the hundreds, if not thousands, of people he must have murdered over the years.

"Many moons passed and I grew tired of playing with my food. I found a sea witch – awfully slippery creatures – that gave me part of her magic, making it possible for me to enthrall humans from a greater distance. She was of great help, quite tasty too."

You can only stare at him in silence, lips pressed together tightly to hold back the acid burning at the back of your throat.

"I believe you humans created a name for me – to ward off others from crossing my path," He cocks his head, expectant, as he sends you a side-ways look.

"You're a siren," You whisper, pulling yourself back another inch.

"The one and only, pet," He purrs. "Though, I would prefer that you would utter my real name over something made up. Try saying Seokjin for me, little human."

You'd rather force your shoulder back into its socket a hundred times before complying to a monster's wishes, but it isn't exactly a request you can refuse.

So you grit your teeth, forcing out a stilted, "S-Seokjin."

Disgust curls deep in your stomach as the siren's tail once again quivers back and forth, seemingly pleased with your acquiescence.

You look across the lake at the unmoving mountain, mustering up the courage to ask the question that's been at the forefront of your mind ever since you woke up. "What happened to my crew?" You ask weakly, "Are any of them still alive?"

"No."

The answer comes easily, no hint of remorse or guilt in the siren's voice.

You can feel your nails ache and splinter against the rock as you scrape them across the surface, desperate for something to hold on to as you say, "Did you ... Did you eat them?"

"Of course. Do you expect me to starve?" Seokjin replies impassively, "You humans hunt your food too, I've seen how you use those rope contraptions to gather up fish."

You knew there was little chance of other survivors, but the confirmation still feels like a shock. Your vision swims, hot tears burning your eyes as unwelcome images of your crew – your captain – eaten by the very creature in front of you, flashes across your mind.

"We don't hunt other humans! Nothing this close to our own species!" You cry, voice rising with anger as grief twists itself around your heart. Your crew might not have been much, but they were still the closest thing you had to a family – a home.

Seokjin looks unmoved by your outburst, bored almost, as he says, "Pet, this is how the ocean works. Do you lecture fish when they eat their smaller brethren? Species do not matter. It's either kill or die here."

"Then why am I alive?" You ask, swallowing thickly around the lump in your throat.

The siren seems to perk up your question, scales glistening as he straightens up against the rock. He finally turns his head to face to you fully, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement. "See, little human, now you're finally asking the right thing. I find you fascinating – I haven't had a human pique my interest in many moons. I want to know how you managed to resist me for that long, why my thrall isn't as effective on you. What makes you so different from all the other humans that have jumped so willingly into my water?"

A foreboding sense of unease washes over you as Seokjin speaks, every muscle in your body tensing with fear. The siren wants to study you? The only way he can do that is to continue to use his thrall - his voice - and make you do things you do not want to do. He can force you to present your limbs for nibbling and you'll be none the wiser until it's too late.

"I don't know," You shake your head, "I-I didn't even know you existed until last night!"

"How disappointing," Seokjin clicks, the flicker of emotion on his face once again melting away to nothing. "Well then, pet, as expected, it seems you will be staying here until my curiosity is sated."

"What?" You clamber to your knees, gripping them tightly to keep yourself from doing something as humiliating as bowing – begging – the awful creature in front of you for an ounce of humanity that he clearly does not have.

"You can't do that, I can't stay here!"

"Then jump in the water and see how long you last," Seokjin once again flicks his strong tail, the harsh smack sending a tremble down your spine.

The siren's lips part into a something akin to a twisted smile, his blood speckled teeth making you sick as he hums, "Your thighs look delectable, little human, and I am quite prone to an early morning snack. So unless you want to watch as I eat you alive, you better stay put."

There's a minuscule quirk to his brows, a challenge, as he watches you absorb his words. Seokjin doesn't wait for you to give him an answer, your stunned silence more than enough for him. He doesn't spare you another glance as he pushes himself off the rock, effortlessly jumping back into the lake. It only takes a few seconds, a couple of strong flaps of his fin, before he disappears from view and his dark tail is nowhere to be seen.

You find yourself frozen to the spot, unable to move as you stare mindlessly at the spot Seokjin entered the water. The harsh ripples dancing over the surface is the only proof you have that you haven't lost your mind, that all of this is actually real.

Pressing your hands to your face, you finally allow your body to break, to mourn, as you release pained sobs into your palms. Everything hurts. Your body, your mind, your heart. You have no idea how you're going to escape to the mountain on the other side, and even if you do, then what? The siren can just use his song to lure you back down.

Seokjin has made the situation very clear. You can try to cross the lake and dive straight into your own grave, or you let him do what he wants. Either way – you fear it won't take long before the siren makes good on his promise.

You don't doubt it'll amuse him to make you watch as he tears you apart, piece by piece.

a/n: hello folks!! we are once again diving back into the TCS universe, only this time with seokjin as our lead mermaid! what do you think about him and his siren powers so far? this will likely only be a two part series, with more yandere behaviour and some smut in the final chapter, so if you enjoy the story so far please let me know! it’s really motivating to hear your thoughts and read your comments (and reblogs help a lot)!!

the final chapter will likely be posted in july if there’s enough interest for it 🧜‍♀️

in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

#yandere au #yandere bts #mermaid au #mermaid seokjin #yandere mermaid #mermaid bts #seokjin x reader #yandere seokjin #yandere x reader #bts au #seokjin au #bts fanfic

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 9 months

Text

Always have but never hold

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n part seven folks. Still blows my mind that people are enjoying this. Will take a little break after this chapter so bear (hehe) with me please! But these two will come back to you as soon as possible.✨🤍

warnings: the usual, past trauma, forceful behavior, mental health struggles, anxiety, fire.

Parts in cursive are glimpses to the past.

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Carmen knew he was sinking. The images of his previous chef shouting at him didn't ease up. It was always there. Nagging at him. Eating at him. Putting him down and making him feel small. You're terrible at this. You're not good at it. Move faster. Why are you so slow? You are nothing. You're bullshit. You'll never be good enough. Do you like letting people down? You're great at that shitface. Give up. Give up. You'll never get it. Never have what you want because you are a fuckup. A mistake.

Carmy shot up. Cold sweat dripped down his face. Mouth dry. He blinked his eyes a couple of times. Right as the doorbell rang again. His body stilled. It was already late. He had fallen asleep after he returned from the restaurant. That wasn't the plan. But he had laid down on the sofa for a moment, watching a mind-numbing show on TV. And he must have slipped into that uneasy state of slumber. The doorbell went off again. Carmy dragged a hand over his face. He thought about ignoring it. Whoever that was could fuck themselves. Until he remembered that you didn't have your keys on you, and if...

Carmy tripped over the fallen pillow as he staggered through the apartment. Towards the door. His hands were shaky as he turned the key. Yanking the door open. Chest barely managed to welcome all the oxygen he's been inhaling. Hopeful. Lightheaded. And then nothing. And suddenly, there's not enough oxygen. And his shoulders slumped. And he felt tired from that sprint he just had. He felt heavy. The light tingle in his eyes was dying.

"What do you want, sugar?", he sighed. Standing in the doorway, feeling fatigued from that one, single sentence alone. "That's one way to greet your sister", Sugar grumbled, eyes on Carmy. Carmy looked like he was dragged from hell itself. Leaning against the door for support. Carmy, who looked so tired, even sleep would help. "You won't invite me in?", she asked after a while of standing in the outside hallway. Carmy was barely a human. The last thing he needed was someone barging in.

Yet he still stepped to the side because this is sugar, and he loves her. Mikey loved her too. The three were together against the world. Should have been. Youngest or not, Carmen always felt the need to protect her. Somehow shield her from the insanity that was their family, but it rarely worked because even with all the pleading, all the just drop it, don't ask mom that, just let her be, Nat always went head first, igniting the flames even more.

"Shit, Carm... what... where...", he catches her shocked expression as she looked around the apartment. Boxes were still everywhere. But he doubted that was what had she looking stunned. There were dirty plates all over the counter and empty boxes of freezer meals. Cans of drinks. A tea towel was on the floor. The living room looked like it usually looked when art exams were coming. Carmy had dug up everything. Every single thing that, in a way, removed him from you. Was it a mess? Yes. But it was his mess. Your mess. The mess you two made. The mess of you. It was beautiful to Carmy.

He snapped out of the trance just as Natalie reached to take one of your books that was placed right by the stove. "Don't touch it", Carmy barked almost immediately. "Carmen, this is a safety hazard", Nat groaned, and even with her brother shooting daggers at her, she still lifted the book that held a whole bunch of Monet paintings. Water lilies were glancing at the two of them innocently.

"I said leave it be", Carmen wanted nothing more than to snatch the book from Nat's hands. It felt too personal for her to hold. "Clean out the trash at least", she said, moving to turn the pages. The pages. Carmen cringed. "Put the book down, Natalie. Don't fucking mess with me right now". His voice was bitter. Cold. Demanding. He rarely used it with her. It just didn't sit well with him. But this felt as if Nat was pushing her fingers deep into the wounds that Carmy bore. Turning them as she damaged the skin tissue even more.

Natalie had stopped just watching Carmy now. The eyes were nearly watery. "I thought hanging out with Claire was good for you", she muttered, and she truly couldn't have picked the worse words to say. That name alone now made Carmy sick. "Don't", was all he managed to say. Because it was true, he got excited about seeing her in the grocery store back then. And yeah, it felt almost made up when she popped up. She was a big part of his life back then, yes. And Carmy had thought about her when he just moved out. Even then, they hadn't been talking much. But then you walked in, and he saw no one else. There had always been these voices in his head. These nagging thoughts and Claire was one of them, but you killed them all. Wiped Carmy's head clean.

"Claire's a good...", Natalie stated, but Carmy moved forward straight away, ripping the book out of her hands before pointing his finger at her. "Stop pushing her on me! All of you this time! Stop it!", Carmen barked, brushing his head over his face. "Did you ever stop and considered that I was fucking happy?". Those words made Nat bleed as well. Carmen could see the way something in her chest tightened. Her face changed. He still hoped that she had always wanted what was best for him.

"I found someone who loves... loved me, and...", to change the tense felt wrong. But Carmen wasn't sure now. Wasn't sure if you were still out there. Holding onto that little flame that was the love the two of you shared. "I always wanted what's best for you ...", Natalie muttered, eyes full of tears now, glistening in the dim light of the apartment, "Does this look like the best thing for me?"

Carmy gestured around him. Around all the mess. Around himself, "When I blow my brains out just like Miney did?" Natalie's face paled, and her hand came over her chest. She held her breath for a moment before mumbling, "Don't talk shit like that! That was just some girl....", "Some girl? She's been my whole life. She made me better. She made this world better, Natalie", the sound of Carmy's voice was nothing but a silent sob. Because no matter what he did, life constantly chose to remind him that you weren't there beside him.

"Try this," the kitchen was submerged in different smells. Some old French tunes were playing. You were sitting on a little bar stool as Carmen carefully lifted a spoon toward your mouth. You instantly leaned forward, letting the flavors hit your tongue. Eyes big when the most delightful taste filled your senses, "I would sell my kidney for this", you muttered, motioning for Carmy to give you another spoonful, mouth already open. He let out a chuckle, dipping the spoon back in, "It's not that good". You let out a gasp. "Chef, I beg to differ. That's sublime! You need to add this to your menu".

It was delicate. The act of sharing food. To some, it might seem silly and stupid, but to Carmen, it was a whole lot more important. You knew that much even back then. It was his way of saying I trust you. This is me. Now you are looking at one of the rawest forms of me. Stabbing me now and making me feel like no one would be so easy. So what will you pick? It's his way of saying I love you so much that I'm sharing a part of me that's so venerable.

Your eyes shined as you wait for another spoonful, but Carmen halted his movements. "The chef is still unsure", he says, and you narrow your eyes at him, "He would like some more convincing. How about a kiss?". You watched him for a bit, slightly taken aback by his words because Carmen was so rarely in a playful mood. A smirk spreads over your face. "And does this chef kiss all of his taste testers?" That same half-smirk curves his lips as Carmen settles the spoon in the pot. "No, only the one he really fucking likes". You lick your lip nervously, biting the side of it. "Really, really, huh?", you ask in an almost teasingly innocent manner. Carmen only nodded his head as he leans forward. "Well, then... maybe your taste tester is just as desperate for the taste of the chef's lips", and that's all it took for Carme to lean toward you. For you to catch his lips between your palms as you pulled him closer.

"And then I said... Hey? You're listening?", Sydney's voice drags you out of your head, and you nod your head quickly. Eyes fell on Luca, who was a couple of steps away, making you two dinner. His back and arm muscles moved with every delicate cut that he made. "No, I hear you, and it's... well, shit,", you breathed out. Ever since the call earlier today, you've barely let go of your phone. Marcus and Sydney were both pissed. The beef was more than likely to close. The shit was falling apart. Carmy was falling apart. If he hadn't crumbled completely already...

"It messed with Marcus a lot", Sydney's voice was barely a whisper when she said that, cautiously looking at Marcus, who had slipped out to the balcony for some fresh air. "He was... well excited, you know, and I tasted it. It was fucking great. Who even gets a doughnut almost perfect on like a fourth try?", she continued to rant. Luca lifted his head to the sound of doughnuts, and you narrowed your eyes at him. Of course, that's the first thing he subconsciously reaches for. Oh, these fucking chefs trained more insanely than Pacvlov's dogs.

Silence falls, from the little screen in front of you, you can see a lost Sydney, and oddly enough, you feel guilty. As if this was your fault all along. As if you should have thought more about your flee. "Where are you anyway? Carmy goes mental at the mention of your name", Sydney killed the silence, and suddenly you don't know what to say. The obvious thing would be to say the truth, but...

"Oh am... Just you know", you muttered, but you can tell that she didn't know. "You two broke up or something?", and it's an innocent question. She's like a kid who made an absurd comment and jabbed the grownup right where it hurt the most. You can sense that even Luca stilled.

"We didn't... well, we did..." you let out a sigh, "Complicated. I'm in Copenhagen". Sydney's eyes grow big as she brings her phone closer to her face, and you cannot help but chuckle slightly. You watched little pieces put themselves together in her brain.

"I'm at a friend's house. He answered the call. Luca. He's a baker", You weren't sure why you were explaining yourself, but then something completely different shifted through Sydney's face. "Wait, Luca? THE chef Luca from Copenhagen?", and just like that, the whole relationship drama was swept away. Your eyes met Luca's, and he was already chuckling slightly. "Of course that... it definitely doesn't mean that it's THAT Luca because, like, there must be a lot of Luca's...", and here she was, muttering and falling over her words and it's making your heart clench. That's how she talked about Carmen not long ago. How she looked at him in the kitchen—that admiration. An astonishing thrill to be able to swirl around chefs like that. "Oh yeah, scratch it. It's definitely that, Luca", your eyes fall to the screen, and you see Luca leaning over your shoulder with a gentle smile on his face as he waves at Sydney.

"Hi, it's me again. Haven't called in a couple of days, and", Carmy takes a hesitant breath, "You probably were happy with not hearing from me". Another sigh leaves his lips, "I thought about Ossobuco today. So random, right? But I... I thought about our trip to Italy". The silence this time held this anticipated moment of peace almost. "You liked that dish so much I could make it for you constantly for the rest of the month, remember?", something like an almost happy cackle leaves Carmy's lips. "I'd like to cook ossobuco for you one day again", he says, and the line goes silent.

You were puffing out the last clouds from the cigarette when Luca stepped out onto the balcony. Your phone was tossed to the side. Stains of angry tears were kissed by a light evening breeze. Luca said nothing as he sat down, his hand coming to run your thigh softly. "Penny, for your thoughts?", he said quietly, his eyes now fully on you.

"Do you remember when you came to Libby's that night?", Luca's hand stopped moving; his hand was completely still on your leg now. You could tell that he was clenching his jaw tightly. He didn't want to remember, nor did you, but he still nodded. "I was so confused and scared", you muttered. "You were pumped with shit that ass gave you and dumped for later use", Luca huffed, and you cringed at his pick for words slightly. "Libby "found me", you say air quoting the last two words. "And then he fucked her as a thank you and kept doing so for the next six months till I found out", you let out a bitter laugh. Closing your eyes to fight the stinging in your eyes "Why are you bringing this up?", Luca asked. "Because it's been playing on my mind ever since I came here," you admitted, pushing your cigarette at the ashtray before lighting a new one. "I...", you shake your head slightly, "Carmy made my head less busy ", almost in disbelief. "I was almost set, like, that's it. I found my happy ever after after all that... We will get married, he'll have his restaurant, I'll open an art gallery, and we have a kid or two or twenty, I don't know", you muttered, suddenly getting so angry almost. Not sure at who exactly, but the frustration was bubbling.

"Do you remember what Pop used to say?", Luca asked, almost as if he wasn't listening to the whole random rant you just had. "He said many things, Luca", you grunted. "Love is the best thing we as humans have the privilege to give", your frown at Luca's words. Out of everything, "You love him, bunny; he loves you considering the number of times your phone pings throughout the day", Now it's Luca's turn to shake his head as he considers his next words, "I'm not justifying his actions, but as I've been saying, you didn't listen to his side of the story, and you've always wanted and wished that someone had listened to your side back then".

The restaurant felt more and more unfamiliar to Carmy as the days went by. He was late with paying bills. His brain was buzzing with Richie and his not-so-legal ways of getting the money. The place was shit. He was surprised they hadn't been closed yet. He was short on staff. Especially after Sydeny and Marcus left. Carmy had wanted to call both of them individually. He had picked up that doughnut that Marcus was eager to show him. He picked it right off the floor and put it straight into his mouth. It was amazing. Sure, it needed a couple of tweaks to perfection, but Carmy would have served it like it was.

He hadn't told anyone about... well, whatever the situation between the two of you was. But from the way Tina was looking at him, he was convinced that at least she knew. I mean, she did say, "Ask yourself why, Jeff," and "Boy, I thought you were smarter". And telling himself that he hadn't done anything that bad seemed like such a duchy thing too. Sure, he didn't flirt, they haven't kissed, and there was nothing sexual between him and Claire. They met up a couple of times. She dragged him to one party. He chased this childhood dream with her. Oh, if I just caught onto it, maybe just maybe my family will open their eyes finally too. But Carmy made awful choices along the way.

Carmen longed for you through the days. He found himself going to the office when shit hit the fan, and he would lose track of reality. Hoping to find you there. In hope to be held in your arms. Let the chaos die down. Just the more he stepped into the office, and it was emptier and emptier.

Carmen had let everyone go home earlier. He said it was because they've done an awesome job. The truth was that he just wanted to be alone. Carmen thought about cooking something. Maybe something new, but his imagination had been so dull. Nothing felt right, no matter how hard he tried.

So Carmen opted to scrub the floors, scrub the countertops, and check through the walk-in. Until he was left there. Staring numbly at the clock. Until he reached for the pack of cigarettes before realizing, after tapping his pockets multiple times, that he didn't have a lighter at hand. So Carmy leaned in carelessly, flipping the gas stove on and trying to direct the cigarette to the flame.

Then everything happens so fast, and his mind is so tired. The fire catches the rest of the countertop. Spreading. Hot tongues licking towards Carmy. But all he hears are the same words that hunt him now. You're terrible at this. You're not good at it. Move faster. Why are you so slow? You are nothing. You're bullshit. You'll never be good enough. Do you like letting people down? You're great at that shitface. Give up. Give up. You'll never get it. But it's not his old chef. Oh no, this time it's you. You scream at him through the flames, and his irrational mind panics because you're in the flames and you're... Are you burning? So he nearly leaps forward, reaching for you. And then it's no longer the nagging voices; it's his name that Carmy was hearing over and over. Louder and louder.

And then there are hands pulling him away; Carmen being pulled behind the counter; someone is extinguishing the fire; someone is holding onto him; and someone is still calling his name. But Carme stares at the fire. "Carmen", the voice called out. Pulling at his mind. Trying to ground him. Trying to make him come to his senses. "Carm", and then gentle hands caressed his jaw, pulling his face away from the stove, and there and then Carmen was convinced that he had burned. Went straight to the flames and just burned. "Are you fucking insane? Show me your hands", but he's stunned. He's... "You're not real", he muttered, shaking his head. Doubting his eyes fully "You can't...", He doesn't believe it. Reaching out, he touches the person in front of him. Worried eyes look up at him. "Y/N...", Carmen muttered, and then it's a mantra on his lips, and he's muttering it without a single breath in. And you know you shouldn't. It's bad; it's wrong, but Carmen launched himself into your hands. Arms wrapped around your middle, and you're shaking, and he's shaking, and it feels like an illusion, like a dream you two had walked into. It's probably not real Carmen thinks. And he's waiting for you to disappear to slip past his fingers, but you don't; you're here, and he's holding onto you. And finally, Carmen takes a deep breath in, and his heart kick-starts again.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: Carmy: @nishinoyahhh @thewulf @shewasthelimit @chatitajens @azxulaa @hidingfromtex @randomhoex @hopplessdreamer @lostinheavensworld @jackierose902109 @gallaghrh @gabbycoady13 @harrysmatcha @lady-bellyn @lovejoyenjoyer @infinitelycharmed23 @royalestrellas @hanula18 @thoughtfulmoonchild911 @buckys-winter-child @arieltwvdtohamflash @simsiddy @yezzyyae @hidingfromtex @toptierbunny @rooster-bradshaws @simonsaysyasss @hannahmmarie2016 @ladygrey03 @kyushii

#carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x you #carmy the bear #the bear imagine #the bear tv show #the bear x you #the bear x reader

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viviennevermillion · 1 year

Text

Joining them in the hot springs

notes: this event is feeding my creative brain so much.

contains: character x gn!reader

characters included: leona kingscholar, kalim al-asim, vil schoenheit, lilia vanrouge

warnings: none

dark content creators and consumers do not interact

Leona is happy to get out of the car and into the relaxing hot spring; praying to the stars above that Lilia and Kalim would not make that an experience too. He had turned the radio off immediately and considered punching it for a second after his two guests and classmates had decided to sing along to the music and clap to the rhythm of the song.

“If you’re not quiet on the way back, I’m leavin’ ya here and you can walk back to the hotel”, he shot the two of them an angry glare, “annoy someone else with your singing.” You poked his side and linked your arms. “If you keep looking all grumpy like this, you’re gonna get wrinkles all over your forehead”, you teased him and he gave you a smirk back. “And you’d still love me”, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and led you to the secluded area only the royal family had access to. “Okay, the changing rooms for guests are over there, please don’t break anything or slip on the floor and die, we need you for the tournament tomorrow”, he sent the others off, “see ya in a couple of minutes.” The last sentence was directed specifically at you and he pressed a kiss to your forehead before parting from you.

When everyone else came out of the changing rooms, Leona was already relaxing in the hot spring. His eyes were closed and he had his hair tied up into a bun. Once you were submerged in the warm water, you marveled at your boyfriend for a while. He looked so peaceful like this. You could see ripples on the surface of the water where his tail was moving.

You smirked and decided to flick your finger on the surface of the water, sending a couple of droplets flying straight into Leona’s face. His eyes opened instantly as he reached for his magical pen at the side of the hot spring. Oh god. The last thing you saw was Leona’s mischievous grin before he sent a whole wave of water at you. “Which one of us is looking like a wet cat now, huh?”, he laughed but you weren’t giving up yet. You took both of your hands, pushing the water into his face. Leona grabbed your waist, pulling you onto his lap before he flicked his wet tail into your face gently. You shoved his tail aside.

“Argh- stop it, herbivore”, Leona growled at the sensation of you blowing cold air into his ear.

With both of you deciding that this was fun while it lasted but also that your time was better spent using the hot spring for its intended purpose, Leona pulled you very close to his chest and held you tightly against him, nuzzling your cheek affectionately. Both of you closed your eyes and Leona wrapped his tail around you. You took a deep breath, melting into Leona’s embrace as he gently ran his fingers up and down the skin of your back.

“Never thought I’d see you so affectionate and gentle with anyone”, Vil commented with a teasing smirk and Leona opened one eye to glare at him. “I can drown you in the pool and the guards will make it look like an accident”, Leona replied dryly but it was evident he wasn’t serious.

Leona indulged you as you pulled him into a loving kiss; his lips still tasting like the baobab candy he had eaten before.

He eventually fell asleep resting his chin on your shoulder or your head, mumbling a quiet “love ya, herbivore” in his sleep.

Kalim is the polar opposite of Leona when it comes to spending time in the hot springs.

He brought a floatie and pool noodles and a small radio that cost more than what you had in your bank account. “If ya play happy music here, I’m kickin' ya out”, Leona warned and Kalim put away the radio with a sad expression.

Kalim was so used to Jamil taking care of everything for him that he had a lot of trouble filling the floatie and the beach ball he had with air. “Here, let me help you with that”, you sighed and grabbed the pump, showing him how to do it. “Thank you so much, you’re the best!”, Kalim hugged you and looked at you with a bright smile before climbing back into the hot spring.

The two of you eventually ended up in a pool noodle fight together, hitting each other on the head with the foam sticks, much to everyone else’s annoyance. Kalim was laughing and eventually decided to surrender. “You’re so precious to me, I just have to let you win!”, he explained and pressed a kiss to your cheek, “I love you so much!” Kalim pulled you into another hug. “I love you more”, you insisted and gave his lips a sweet kiss. “No, I definitely love you the most-” “Would you two shut the fuck up?”, Leona groaned and held his head.

Things got even worse when Kalim decided to bring the beach ball. You had a blast for a while as you were throwing it back and forth in between you but the fun was over when Kalim aimed wrong and hit Vil in the head, knocking the cucumber slices off his eyes and smudging the beauty mask he had put on in the process.

Vil scolded Kalim and you for 2 minutes straight.

“We’re so sorry, Vil”, Kalim looked sad and you hugged him from behind, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

His mood seemed to lighten up as you pulled him close to cuddle; deciding that relaxing was also nice if you two could snuggle in the meantime.

Kalim sat down on your lap in the hot springs and just snuggled you for the rest of the stay. He talked about how this was very different from the bathhouse they had at home and everyone stared at him in bewilderment as he described the place; unaware of how he once again shocked everyone with the Asim family's amount of wealth.

"If peasantry is an emotion, I'm feeling it right now", Grim sat outside of the hot springs, "and to spend that amount of madol on a bathhouse of all things. Just imagine how many cans of tuna I could buy from this."

"I'm pretty sure for most people the intergenerational supply of tuna would be the weirder purchase...", you mused and gently massaged the back of Kalim's head with your fingertips.

"Wow, you guys were right, I'm feeling totally refreshed right now!", Kalim commented with a smile as you exited the hot springs and he picked up his stuff. He attempted to play the radio in Leona's car on the way back. This did not work out.

For Vil, this was obviously the highlight of the entire trip. The whole reason Leona had even been able to bribe him to join the 'Catch the Tail' team. He was even more delighted to spend this day with you.

Your presence made him look past even the most bothersome inconveniences, namely Kalim and Lilia improvising a punk rock version of "Absolutely Beautiful" in the car. "Let's just hope they'll be more quiet in the hot springs", the Pomefiore dorm leader sighed and you passed the water bottle you had in your backpack to him, which made Vil smile, "how is it you always seem to know exactly what I need? It even is my favorite brand of water."

"You have a favorite brand of water?", Leona raised an eyebrow and then shook his head, "...talk about unnecessary things to think about..."

Vil ignored the grumpy lion beastman.

He was by far the one who took the longest in the changing rooms. He brought a bunch of products he had bought before at Elephant Legacy and was looking forward to trying them out.

He would let you use them as well if you wanted to.

He put on a beauty mask. Vil let you massage his shoulders with some new massage oil he bought and took care of the tension in your muscles as well. "Are you enjoying yourself, my love?", he asked and you could hear the affection in his voice as his fingers massaged the skin between your shoulder blades. "Hmm", you hummed and he gave you a sweet kiss to your cheek, leaving a slight lipstick mark on your face. He'd make sure to notify you of that before leaving the hot spring.

Vil would eventually end up resting against your chest. You had your arms wrapped around him from behind and he leaned the back of his head on your shoulder. Relaxing with you was worth compromising his posture for an hour.

Lilia is thrilled and also quite curious about going to Elephant Legacy and spending time at the hot springs just to relax.

He comes out of the changing rooms wearing the vacation shirt Malleus got him from Scalding Sands, a beach hat and a pair of star-shaped sunglasses. Vil has to really bite his tongue to not comment on how Lilia's choice of outfit has hurt him in his soul. His swimming trunks are in a shade of pink that does not work at all with the orange shirt and there's a bat pattern on it.

You don't know how he did it but he enters the secluded hot spring that only members of the royal family have access to with a tray of mocktails on it. He insists that he prepared them himself and that he's "quite good at making them". Knowing his cooking skills, you're not taking any chances. The others how ever? You'll never forget the face Kalim made when he took a sip from Lilia's homemade fruity drink. "Lilia...haha...what exactly did you put in this?", Kalim asks with a forced smile. "I made them to match your personalities", Lilia claps his hands with a joyful expression, "yours, Kalim, has orange, mango, chocolate and mashed chicken nuggets in it." Kalim sighs. "Hmm, I think the chicken nuggets were a bit much..."

"The fuck's in mine?", Leona asks, not having drank even a sip from his, "it looks awfully see-through." Lilia smirked. "Water, chili powder, a lot of salt and four shots of whiskey", he explains. Leona pushes the "drink" far far away from him.

Lilia joins you in the hot springs not soon after and wraps an arm around your shoulder, letting you rest against his chest.

He starts recalling times of war when he went to the hot springs to try and rest his bones as well as clean his wounds. He gives a very detailed description of the incident and Kalim starts crying.

Lilia would give you a massage and also let you massage his shoulders. He'd spend his time with you talking about everything you've seen on your trip so far now that you have some quiet time without a new experience waiting just around the corner. It's the perfect time for him to aquire how you liked your trip so far, what were the best parts for you and tell you some stories about his travels in the past. Lilia enjoys the peaceful atmosphere the hot springs create. "It's one of the best places to talk about one's worries or simply relax", he says with a smile on his face.

Lets you wash his hair while he leans back against you with a satisfied expression. Loves the feeling of your fingers against his scalp.

"This was a truly relaxing experience", he rejoices after exiting the hot spring, holding your hand in his, "I'll remember this for a long time, my love." He gives you a kiss to the cheek.

#twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #vil schoenheit x you #vil schoenheit x reader #kalim al asim x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #leona x reader #kalim x reader #vil x reader #lilia x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar headcanons #leona kingscholar x you #kalim al asim #leona kingscholar #vil schoenheit #lilia vanrouge

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tetsupeach · 2 years

Text

reaper deku x f!reader

summary - after you die and deku comes to collect your soul he takes personal responsibility for you.

cws - monsterfucking light, he's got horns and a long tongue and is 7 feet tall, sleeps in a nest, collects souls ready to pass on. reader is dead, she's been murdered by her abusive boyfriend, but the story picks up after she's passed. breeding, deku's a gentle dom, huge cock,, uhhh yeah honestly this is pretty soft,

MINORS DNI - please have an age in your bio to interact with this fic.

It’s not that he liked his job, Deku reminds himself as he feels the tugging towards another soul ready for departure, it’s that he feels a sense of duty. He was a shepherd, to most of the people he visited, death was a kindness, a release, and he was sure, already leaping over rooftops, his tattered black cloak dragging behind him, that you would be no different. Like most people, you barely notice his figure darkening the doorway, but oh you poor thing, you can barely move.

“Ohh,” he can’t help it, the sympathetic sound pouring from his lips, what a helpless little human, “So many broken bones,” he muses in a soft coo, squatting beside you. You’re leaned up against the wall of an empty apartment, blood trickling down the side of your face. You let out a little breath, and when he rests his hand on your shoulder the pain dissipates. “I haven’t seen one this bad in a while,” he says, and you gasp in shock, looking up at the dark figure that suddenly appeared next to you.

He was tall, and broad, with a tangle of dark green curls that matched his glittering verdant irises, a smattering of freckles across his nose. He reaches a scarred hand out to you, and you take it, bursting into tears as he pulls you to your feet.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, “I’m sorry you probably deal with this all the time.” Your voice is softer than he expects, little more than the whistle of a teakettle. He wraps his arms around you, folding your body into his warm chest.

“Actually,” He says, “Most people are angry.” The lump in your throat only grows as the hot tears spill down your face. “They want more time, another chance, and I can’t give it to them.”

“I-I-I’m ready to go,” you blubber, “I’m so t-tired, and everything hurts.” He rubs comforting patterns into your back.

“Let’s take a second,” he says, looking down at the top of your head. “It’s alright, no more pain where we’re headed, okay?” You only cry harder.

“I never,” you sniff and look up at him, “I never had a chance.” He moves one of his hands higher, tangling it in your hair, a question he never asks on his lips.

“Who did this to you?” He says, and you turn around to glance at your body but he catches your chin with a kind smile. “Better not look, hm?” You nod

“W-we could go to my kitchen?” You hiccup and he lets you lead him forward.

“I can make you tea.” He says, opening the cabinet with your mugs in it on the first try.

“Death can make tea?” You ask, and he nods without turning around.

“I’m not death.” He clarifies. “I work for death.” He turns the stove on, filling a teapot with water and looking over his shoulder at you. “I asked who did this to you?”

“M-my boyfriend.” You mumble. “No matter how hard I t-tried, he was never happy with me, and when I tried to leave,” You tremble, unable to finish the sentence.

“No,” Deku coos at you with surprise, as if he hadn’t heard this story a million times before, as if this was new information, “Sweetheart, that’s not love, you deserved to be loved.” You nod slowly, your eyes burning with fresh tears, and the need to comfort you nearly overtakes him.

“No one else wanted me.” You press your lips together. “I never had a chance at all.” Deku takes a box of tea down from the cabinet and inspects you carefully, your skin in the moonlight, your red-rimmed eyes.

“You don’t have questions for me?” He looks over his shoulder at you and you shake your head. “You know it’s not true that no one else wanted you.” He says, sitting down next to you at your kitchen table. “You’re very beautiful, so I’m sure that’s not true.” You sniff.

“Thank you.” You say, and he reaches over and brushes some hair out of your face, his hands ghosting your skin and then returning to his side.

“Tell me what happened?” He murmurs, “I have time.” You swallow, and nod.

“He, he came home, and he was drunk.” Dekus eyes never leave yours while you’re speaking, “And he was upset, about, about something, maybe sports, maybe me. He wanted me to have sex with him, and I didn’t want to, I just, I didn’t feel like it.” Deku gets up, takes the kettle off the stove, and pours the boiling water, setting the steeping tea in front of you with a soft thump. You touch it, half expecting your hands to go through the ceramic, but they don’t.

“This isn’t your fault.” He says, joining you.

“You didn’t make yourself tea?” You ask, eyes widening a little.

“I don’t really, eat.” He explains. “You won’t either, when we leave.”

“Where are we going?” You ask, cupping the mug in your hands, it’s warm on your cool skin. He thinks about it before responding.

“The next phase of existence, it’s different for everyone.” He stops himself, closing his eyes, “I’m, I’m sorry, you’re not,” he swallows, “You shouldn’t be, you shouldn’t be okay with this,” the pain is evident in his voice, “You should be fighting me, you should be kicking and screaming, you should be begging for a chance at revenge!” You take a long slow breath in, lower lip trembling.

“I know this isn’t what you meant,” You mumble, throat tight, “But what I heard was that I can’t even die correctly.” You bury your face in your hands. “Can we just, can we go, to whatever’s next?”

“No!” He says, scandalized. “No, we can’t.” He takes your hand and pulls you out of your chair, “There had to be things that you always wanted to do?” You wipe one of your eyes. You’d had dreams once, maybe as a child, in those limited golden-tinged memories, you’d had things you’d sworn to do before this, the most human of inevitabilities.

“I can’t think of anything.” You whisper, and he shakes his head.

“Sure you can, is there a place you thought of going?” You think about it hard, at one of the jobs you’d had, at one point, your life was already blurring together, one of your co-workers had a

“Um, I guess I wanted to see Venice?” He yanks you down the hallway, and out into the summer drizzle. “What the hell are you doing?” He doesn’t answer, pulling you up into the clouds, you’re not flying exactly, there’s hardly any movement, except the turn of the planet beneath him. “Hey,” you try to get his attention hanging from his forearm as you move higher into the sky. He holds his posture, but you dangle like a christmas ornament, “Hey,” you say again, louder, and with a soft grunt he lifts you, holding you to his chest while he flies, wrapping his cloak around your body. After a few seconds, you’re flying over an ocean, moonlight sparkling on the dark waters, clinging to him, shivering in the cold.

“We’re obviously going to Venice,” He says, a touch of frustration in his voice. “I want you to see, something, something you can mourn, you need to. It’s human, it’s healthy.” You look up at him.

“Why are you so concerned?”

“It’s part of my job.” He says, “To guide humans. To take them to the places they need to go. And I decided you and I go to Venice, now.” You wrap your arms around his neck and feel his hands on your waist. As you touch down on the cobblestones, the moon is high, glittering on the canal. He leads you down the street, people don’t stop to look at you, you gather after he walks straight through a lampost, because they can’t see you. You’ve been walking for a few minutes, he doesn’t let go of your hand. You look down at it, his nails are varnished black, the fingers long and thick. Everything about him is big, you realize, even more so on the tiny Eurpean streets.

“Am I dreaming?” You wonder out loud, and he looks down at you.

“No.” He confirms. “Does this help, though, being here?” You sigh, shivering, the air is cool and wet. You swallow.

“I don’t know.”

“I could get you ice cream.” He says, a touch of desperation to his tone.

“I had a dream, once.” You say, so softly, he has to lean in to hear you at all. “I wanted him to love me.” You breathe the last word, “I want him to touch me softly, because,” you gesture around the piazza, remembering that it was the honeymoon in your co-workers photo and not the sinking city you’d longed for, “I wanted a real love.” Your lip trembles. “And I’m never going to get it.” The tears fall again. “No one ever touched me softly,” you look up and meet his eyes, his face is completely unreadable, “And I’ll never know what that’s like.” You gesture weakly. “This is pretty but, when the people go, it’s just stone, and water, and spores.” You look at the lichen climbing up the side of the fountain. “And now I’m dead.” He swallows and looks down at you.

“I’m not sure how to fix that.” he admits. “I don’t usually do this.”

“Take someone’s soul to Italy before you take them on?” You sniff, wiping your face. “I’m sorry I think, I just want it all to be over.” Deku presses his lips together and frowns before speaking again, a touch of childish desperation creeping into his voice.

“It’s just that, the little parts of being alive are so fascinating to me,” he giggles at the thought, “Did you know some humans, when they date, take pictures of each other, and make it their little um, their phone screen?” You nod. “And I’ve seen,” he keeps chattering excitedly, I’ve seen them ah,” he stops himself, searching for the word, “Do this thing, where they’re lying down together, and they kinda fit their bodies into each other?”

“Spooning?” You offer, and he beams.

“IS that what it’s called?” He fidgets, and you can see his long dark nails, more like talons in the darkness. He was so excited, so sweet.

“Um, I could, if you want I could show you, more of the things humans do when they’re in love?” He brightens, and when he smiles, the hood of his cloak falls off his head. In the dark moonlight, you can seek the skeleton underneath his skin, underneath the human glamour part of him.

“Oh, sorry.” he says, jerking the cloak over his head again, his ‘humanity’ restored. “I would, I would like that though.” He takes your hand. “Like, this, did I do this right, when I was comforting you, I’ve seen movies I-”

“This is fine.” You say, giving him a tiny encouraging smile that just cuts all the way through his chest. “But isn’t it better like this?” You carefully interlace your fingers with his. His hand is cold to the touch, but his face warms, a long breath escaping from his chest.

“Oh,” he says, “Yes it feels, so much closer?” You squeeze his hand, and he gets redder.

“You were good, ah, especially when you um,” You step into his personal space again and bury your face in his chest, he nods, understanding, cupping the back of your head in his free hand.

“Like this?” He asks, and you can feel the rumble of his voice from his chest.

“Yes,” you sigh, a little more warmth to the sound. “It helped.”

“What else,” he says, the desperation back in his voice, “Please I want, I want to understand better, for the people I guide.” You nod into him.

“You could lean down, and kiss the top of my head.” He follows your orders, his mouth lingering on your scalp, inhaling your scent. You smell like cigarette smoke, and vanilla perfume. “And I would do this,” You breathe, wrapping your free arm around his waist, and going to wrest your other hand from his but when you pull at it, his grip tightens, and an animalistic snarl rips from his chest. You jump and gasp with fear but apologies are spilling from his lips immediately.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he says, “I just, I guess, I’m feeling protective, I want to keep holding your hand, please, ah,” you look up at him, his face is so genuinely contrite it breaks your heart, “May I please keep holding it?”

“Ah, yes.” You say, and he smiles at you, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Can we keep walking?” You ask, and he nods. The two of you stroll through the streets of Venice at night, and the temperature drops considerably as the moon gets higher. You’re standing at the dock, looking out at the ocean, when you start genuinely trembling, and he speaks again, handsome face contorted with concern.

“Ah, are you cold?”

“Y-yes.” You choke out, still in only the tank top and pajama shorts you’d died in.

“I can um, I can give you my cloak if you don’t mind that i’ll look less human.” He offers, and you shrug.

“I can’t imagine that after all that,” you remember your crumpled form, the black spots appearing on your vision as your boyfriend stumbled out of the room, so drunk he was blind to what he’d done, “That I looked human.”

“No, I suppose not so much.” he says, remembering a scene from a movie he’d watched on a day off, taking your chin in his hand roughly, then jumping back and releasing it, “Sorry, I wanted to touch you, but I, I did that wrong?” You nod quickly, and he looks sheepish, reaching back and touching his own neck. “Sorry.” He repeats.

“No it’s alright,” You say, taking his hands and arranging them on your face so that he’s cupping it, his thumbs resting on the top of your cheeks. “Like this.” He strokes your skin for a moment, lost in the high planes of your face reflecting in the moonlight, the only sound the water lapping the dock you're standing on, the boats nudging each other. But then another shiver runs up your spine, and he practically rips off his cloak, draping it around your shoulders, bending down so that he can properly arrange it on your shoulders. In the bright silver moonlight, he stretches into a truer form. He’s a little hunched, and much closer to seven feet than six. There are two white bony horns peeking out of his green hair, and his canines are long and sharp in a distinctly inhuman way. In the direct moonlight, you can see right through his skin. But other than that, he’s built like a man, the largest man you’ve ever seen, but a man nonetheless.

“Wow,” you stammer, drawing his cloak around you. He laughs.

“You’re not afraid?” He asks, and your mind flashes to the fear you knew in your life, the way you’d come to jump at loud noises, the way just the scent of whiskey could send you into a tailspin, and you shake your head.

“I’ve seen worse.” You say softly, and he nods, understanding.

“Ah.” He offers you his hand, now with long talons at the end. You take it, and he carefully, painstakingly interlaces your fingers. “Can I,” he starts, and then you watch him stop himself, second guess, and then barrel forward, “Can I, what I mean, is that,” he pauses, struggling for the right words. “I would like to, to kiss you, if I can.” Your eyes widen.

“Oh!”

“I mean, not if, not if you don’t-”

“No it’s just-”

“It’s totally okay,” he flashes his palms at you, “I get it if you-”

“I want to.” You cut him off again, and he looks at you, shock coloring his handsome features. “I just um,” you look around, “I know no one can see us, but I’d prefer if we could go somewhere um, private?” He nods, squeezing your hand.

“My place?”

“You have a place?” You ask, as he lifts you back up into the air, and you watch the moonlight glitter on the dark ocean.

“My shift’s been over for a bit.” He explains, a little guilt creeping into his expression. “We work for three weeks about, your time. You were my last job.”

“Oh.” Something twinges in your gut. “Can I ask you something?” You look down, Venice is tiny below you, nearly disappearing into the sea. “What ah, what are you?”

“I serve death.” He explains, lifting you easily so that you’re cradled against his chest, swaddled like a baby. “In all of their forms, as the raven queen, as the devil, as the moon, whatever form you’ve given them.” He shifts you a little so that your head is resting on his pectoral. “You might call me ah, a demon, I suppose, but that comes with such a negative connotation.”

“What should I call you, then?” He glances down at you, it’s incredible to him, how easy you’re taking this, how quickly you accepted death, how you don’t seem to be afraid of him, it feels, dreamlike.

“Call me Izuku.” He says as you break through a huge white cloud. The world around you blurs and suddenly you’re not flowing up, but down, down towards a ground that looks like a rocky mountainside. “It’s a reflection,” he explains, seeing the look on your face, “Sometimes when you’re looking in the mirror and you see something behind you, you are seeing us.”

“Izuku,” you say, and oh god his given name on your lips is heavenly, so sweet and short, a cooing, breathy sound. His mouth goes dry as he lands on the dirt path, leading to the mouth of a cave. “Is this allowed, I don’t want you to get in trouble.” He stretches a little, setting you on the ground, you’d have to go back, eventually, he thinks, but there was a way, a way to ensure you’d be his forever.

“They might notice, in a century, that you didn’t report to where you’re going.” He yawns. “But it’s so kind of you to care.” He leads you to the mouth of the cave, which has a huge nest of blankets and twigs, the occasional moss accent softening a corner. Flickering torches hang on the walls, creating long dancing shadows on the floor. He helps you into the nest, lifting your body up and over the lip of it so that you slide to the soft bottom, then leaping into it after you. It’s cozy and much less fragile than it looks,

“I like this,” you breathe, startling even yourself at how, right it feels to be here. He blushes a deep crimson.

“You like my nest?”

“It seems,” you shift your weight a little, “It seems sturdy.” Warmth spreads across his chest.

“Thank you.” You’re sitting cross-legged on the blankets, with him kneeling in front of you. “Where do I um, how do I start?” he asks, and you take his huge hands guiding them so that one of them rests on your waist, and the other is cupping your cheek.

“Now press your lips to mine,” you say, eyes wide and kind, full of the most beautiful innocence - god he was going to - “Softly, at first.” You instruct, speaking the words almost into his mouth. “And you can use your hands to move me where you want me.” His hand on your waist tightens, digging into the softness of your skin there as he leans farther forward, experiencing the gentle ecstasy of closeness. Your body is warm, so warm compared to him, he can’t help it, he wants more, using his leverage to push his tongue between your lips, guiding you down on your back so that he can feel every curve, every contour of you against him. It’s been so long, he works so hard, and there are so many intricacies to your anatomy, so many places he can press his lips to make more music spill from your mouth. Where he’s hard and cold, you’re plush and warm, and the little gasp you make when he accidentally grazes his teeth against your lower lip practically sets him on fire, a low growl ripping from his chest. You tug on his hair, guiding him from your mouth to the crook of your neck, pulling another hiccupping gasp from your lips.

“I-izuku,” you choke out, it feels good, his tongue long and rough on your skin, but, “It’s o-okay, you can touch me,” another sound rumbles from him, somehow even more feral, as both of his hands move up to palm your chest, rutting his hips desperately against yours.

“Want you, gotta get your ready for me,” he growls, “Please, fuck, I need-”

“It’s okay,” you breathe, more sure of this than anything in your life, “I want you, I want you, I can handle it.” He pulls off of you, face flushed, heart racing, as he rips your pajama shorts off of you and dives between your legs. It’s like he’s sucked the air from your lungs, bright lights exploding behind your eyes as he presses his nose against your clit and slides his long tongue into your core. “Mmmmm,” He groans, rolling his hips against the ground, roughly taking your thighs in a bruising grip as you writhe with pleasure, the vibrations of his voice only sending you higher.

“‘Zuku,” you choke out, as he laps at you greedily, “Feels, feels so good.” He growls into your warmth again, pressing himself deeper into you. You tangle your fingers in his hair, guiding his movements against you, he lets you set the rhythm but any time you try and squirm away from him, any time the pleasure becomes too much, he locks his arms around you tighter, holding you in place. You meet his gaze, eye narrowed and intense.

“Mine,” he says, before slipping a finger inside of you. You keen at that alone, the possessive undercurrent to his voice making your face hot and mouth dry. “Mine,” he says again, knuckle deep inside you, pressing against your velvet walls as you gasp and mewl. “Say it.” He demands, his demeanor completely different. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m,” you swallow, he curls his one finger inside of you and your back is practically forced into an arch, pleasure building, the hot coil in your stomach growing tighter. “I’m yours, I’m yours, Izuku,” you cry out over the lewd squelch of his finger inside you. He adds a second one, scissoring them inside you, and he marvels at the way it sends a shudder throughout your entire body, you just can’t stay still for him, even yelping when he sinks his teeth into the soft skin at your hips, delighting in the way you’ve completely come undone at his touch. He can feel his cock straining against his pants, with every wanton moan that escapes your lips, it gets harder, desperate for some kind of friction, to replace his fingers in your warm, wet, cunt.

“Fuck,” you choke out, looking at him again, soft eyes glistening with tears, and somewhere inside of him, a damn breaks. With a feral grunt, he takes you roughly by the waist and lifts you in the air, flopping on his back as he positions you above his crotch, watching your eyes widen with fear as he pulls his length out from his pants. He’s huge underneath you, shoulders wide and flat, his shirt sticking to his sweaty abdomen. You reach for it, tugging it over his head and leaning back, bracing your hands against his hips, raking your eyes down his scarred muscle to the trail of green hair leading to the largest cock you’ve ever seen, purpled with need and curving slightly.

“C’mon,” he growls, “C’mon baby, take it, you can do it.” You swallow, heart thrumming as you sink down, your walls stretching taking even the head of him. “That’s it,” he says, dark eyes glittering, as you let out a soft whine.

“S-so big, ‘Zuku,” you mumble, closing your eyes as you feel a light slap on your thigh,

“Look at me,” He says, “Focus on me,” You lower your hips a little more, your mouth dropping open as the stretch starts with a sharp pain that melts into pleasure. He sits up a little, taking your thighs in his hands, kneading at them before pressing another kiss to your lips. “Take it baby, you can take it,” he says, as you keep sinking lower, your eyes completely losing focus as your soft walls flutter around him.

“Ah,” you moan, biting down on your lower lip, you’re still only about halfway. It’s not just that it’s the longest cock you’ve ever seen, it’s wide, and there’s so much space between your hips and that tuft of green hair at his hilt.

“Look at me,” He says again, authority seeping into his tone, and you obey, shivering with pleasure, “Look at me,” you nod, “You’re gonna take my cock, angel, alright, like a good girl, and then I’m gonna make you feel so good no one else is ever gonna matter,” you nod, and keep going, ignoring the stretch, tuning everything out but his loud groans.

“‘Z-zuku,” you mumble, trying not to break eye contact with him.

“No one else,” he says, his voice dark, his eyes narrow and possessive, “‘M gonna ruin you for anyone else.” You roll your hips a little as you finally, finally take all of him, settling down on top of him as you feel every inch, every vein, pulsing, so hot inside you.

“So f-full,” you breathe, reaching for him and instinctively, he holds your hand, just like you taught him.

“What a good girl,” he coos, and watches you preen at the praise, squeezing your hand, “Ready for me to move, baby, ‘m gonna fuck you so good baby,” You whimper, and he sits up eyes wide with concern. “Is it too much I-”

“I want you to kiss me,” you mumble, embarrassed at your desire for intimacy, but he beams at you before crashing his lips against yours at the same time as he thrusts his length inside you, letting you moan into his open mouth, not letting go of your hand as he slowly begins moving inside you. You collapse into his chest and he takes it in stride, burying his face in your neck, biting down on your soft flesh, as the pleasure overtakes him.

“So good,” he chokes out, moving you up and down his cock, feeling your walls flutter and squish around him, “Such a good girl, baby,” he breathes, “F-fuck, takin’ all of me, so good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he snarls the last word, slamming into you hard, eliciting a sharp keen from your lips. He can’t tear his eyes away from the way you’re stretching to accommodate him, watching his cock disappear between your soaking folds, groaning loudly at the way you squeeze around him.

“More,” you beg, holding his hand more tightly, “More please, ‘Zuku, I can take it.”

“Fuck yes you can,” He breathes, picking up the pace, fucking you harder, letting you completely relax against his chest as he thrusts upward into you, watching your chest bounce with every roll of his hips, lifting your head up so that he can kiss you sloppily again as he feels himself scrape against your walls. “Fuck yes,” he repeats, speaking into your mouth, refusing to let go of your hand,

“Can I,” you stop speaking as a particularly hard snap of his hips against your sucks the wind from your lungs, “Can I cum?” He blinks up at you, the idea of it registering, and then whatever self-control he’d been holding on to dissipates. He flips you on your back without pulling out and pins both of your hands next to your head as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Cum for me,” He snarls, “Cum for me, I want it, I wanna feel you cum on my cock, baby come on,” you writhe underneath him, completely lost in the sensation the coil in your stomach hot and tight, you’re teetering on the edge of your high as he leans down and speaks in your ear, his breath on your neck, “I said,” he growls, voice completely different, dark and threatening, “Cum for me.” It’s like you’ve been shoved off a cliff, you clench down on him hard, losing complete control of your limbs and your mind, babbling praise as he carries you through your orgasm. He chases his own high, thrusts sporadic, in time with short low grunts, as he explodes inside of you, staying hard with the single-minded thought of getting his cum as deep within your cunt as possible, of marking your womb and your body as his.

“Mine,” he says, over and over as he watches you unravel, your tongue lolling as your orgasm rips through your body, noticing the marks he’d littered on your neck and chest, the bite marks and bruises making him somehow even harder. It’s a few minutes, before he finally stops cumming, collapsing on top of you, still not releasing your hand. He crushes you against his chest, wrapping himself in blankets as you come down, finally pulling out of your pussy with a soft groan.

“Izuku,” you breathe, still barely present. “Izuku, am I,” you swallow, “Is this, ah,” you pause, catching your breath but he presses a single finger to your lips.

“Shhh,” he breathes, “You’re mine, baby, all mine, nothing bad, is ever going to happen to you, ever again.” You lift your head sleepily.

“Yours?”

“Mine.” He confirms and feels you relax against him. He watches you drift off to sleep, stroking your hair, peppering your face with kisses, whispering praise. After all, his hands brush your stomach, if you weren’t pregnant yet he’d just have to try harder next time.

“I’m not asking your permission,” he says quietly, nestling you in his lap, “But just so you know, I’m going to kill your boyfriend.” You blink up at him, brain still operating at 1%.

“Really?” You breathe, eventually, and he nods.

“Yeah.” He presses his lips to your forehead. “I’m gonna take such good care of you.” You snuggle against him, sleepy, fucked out, in a demon's nest, about to fall asleep against his chest when he speaks again. “And you’re gonna give me the sweetest babies,” he coos, and your blood turns to ice, nerves overtaking you.

“What?” You ask, suddenly wide awake, staring up at him. He just nods.

“I don’t know much about romance,” he says, with a sheepish shrug, “But I do know you’re gonna be so beautiful,” you feel his lips on your neck, “Carrying my babies.” You swallow, remembering your mother, doing everything on her own, barely present.

“Y-you’ll help me, right?” You beg, and he pulls away from you, scandalized.

“Of course!” His eyes widen. “Of course, I will.” You close your eyes, putting the cold darkness of your human lift behind you, wrapping your arms around your demon's neck.

“Alright, then,” you wrap your legs around his body. “I’ll be yours, Izuku.” He pets your head, “Can we sleep?” He pulls you down into his pile of blankets, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, nestling you against his chest, and the only sound in the cave is his soft, even breath, and the crackling of the flames of the torches affixed to the wall. “Oh wait,” you sit up, and his heart breaks into a sprint, he could stop you from leaving, from running but he’s not sure he can handle the idea of being rejected - “We could spoon, um, if you want?” There’s a moment, where he processes what you’re offering, letting him lie down on his side and lying down behind him. You hook your arms under his, pressing your chest against his back. “Do you feel safe?” You ask in the tiniest, sweetest voice, his heart shatters, his hands ache for you, but he answers simply, voice trembling as tears spring to his eyes.

“I think,” he says, “No one’s ever touched me softly either.” You bury your face in his neck. “Hmm,” you sigh sleepily. “I’ll teach you.” He swallows, nodding, and his next thought hits him like a train. God, was he going to make your boyfriend fucking suffer.

if you enjoyed this please consider reblogging/commenting. it really helps my reach - much more than liking will.

#mha smut #bnha smut #deku smut #midoriya smut #izuku midorya smut #midoriya izuku smut #midoriya x reader #midoriya x reader smut #deku x reader #deku x reader smut #deku x you #midoriya x you #midoriya izuku x you #izuku x y/n #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x you #midoriya izuku x reader

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ash5monster01 · 4 months

Note

Hiii. Could I request a Neil smut? Maybe it is her first time and he's all soft and sweet? Thanks!

First Time

Pairing: Neil Perry x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, established relationship, smut, readers first time, fluff, dirty talk, p in v, oral, nudity

Summary: it’s your first time and Neil seems like the perfect choice to take your virginity considering how gentle and caring he is.

word count: 2.2k

Masterlist

You had always considered sleeping with someone before marriage. Yet that consideration wasn’t taken lightly. You had swore to yourself that if that was what you decided to do it had to be with someone who was worth it. Which never seemed likely considering Harvard was a big place with a lot of people. Yet somehow amongst all of them you had stumbled upon Neil Perry. Found him studying in library, a sadness to the air around him, but the most genuine eyes you had ever seen. It explained the reason why you had half a mind to even sit next to him in the first place. The rest was history.

You had dated almost the full four years of college and it was no doubt in your mind that he was the one for you. You were going to marry Neil Perry even if it’s the last thing you do. All of this is why you had officially decided you were ready to sleep with him. That and the fact it was getting harder and harder to pull away from him. So when he reaches your dorm room, wearing a ivy green sweater pushed up to his forearms, wire glasses hung low on his nose, and grey sweats, your excuse is you’re only just a girl. A girl with an entire meal for a boyfriend. You’re supposed to be studying but none of your books are open before you’re straddling him on the bed.

“Someone missed me today huh?” he teased with a light squeeze to your waist and you fight everything in you to not roll your hips on top of him.

“I always miss you” you tell him, hands holding yourself up on his firm chest. He had filled out since Freshman year, more meat on his bones, yet just as lean.

“Even when you’re with me?” he asks, hands reaching to remove the readers that were meant for studying he never got too.

“Sometimes, but only if we haven’t talked in a while or were busy doing other things” this sentence has him pulling you down to meet his lips which you happily accept. You can tell he’s surprised when you deepen it but it lasts only a moment until he matches the pace and dares his tongue past your lips.

“I gotta say baby, I’m loving this mood you’re in” he says trying not to sound to breathless when he pulls away and you grin, hands dancing along his chest and to his abdomen.

“What do you say we remove this pesky sweater?” you grin deviously and he raises his eyebrows as your fingers start bunching the fabric up, revealing an expanse of skin. Your mouth practically waters at the happy trail now revealed to you, hair he had also just grown in the last few years of college.

“You sure baby?” he asks but you don’t need to answer because you’re practically lifting him by the sweater to get it over his head, taking the white T-shirt underneath with it too.

“What, want me to remove mine too?” you ask and his mind actually malfunctions for a moment, unsure of how to respond because he truly had only seen you in a bra a few times. He never comes up with a response because now you’re lifting the red Harvard t-shirt above your head and revealing the white lace bra from underneath. He visibly gulps, eyes darting between your chest and face as he tries to comprehend what’s happening.

“Listen, baby. If we start this I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop. I also have play practice in two hours and it’ll be so much harder leaving knowing I have you in bed like this” Neil tells you and you chuckle.

“Two hours is plenty of time, and you can always come back after” you tell him and his whole face reddens all the way down to his neck.

“You’re being serious, you want to do this?” he says and you nod almost instantly.

“I’ve already made up my mind, the only way I’ll stop now is if you’re not serious about me. I don’t want to do this and then have you leave me behind” you tell him and his face instantly softens towards you, hands pulling your face to his own.

“I’ve been serious about you ever since that day you sat with me in the library” and his confession is enough to make you kiss him again and Neil doesn’t miss the slight roll of your hips. You know you have his attention now based on the way he’s started to harden beneath you, no longer fighting the urge. Just as your tongue darts past his lips you grind against him again which makes him put his hands on your ass, holding you in place because one more movement and he’d be harder than a rock. That’s what you wanted anyway.

After a beat you break apart from his lips, something he protests to but stops when he realizes you’re reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. His throat has gone dry and as much as he feels panic rushing through him it is also paired with excitement. He knows not to stop you again, that you’re on a mission. So he does the only thing he can think of and just watches as the fabric loosens and slides down your shoulders. You don’t have to ask if he likes how you look considering he is now fully hard against your backside.

“It’s okay baby, you can touch me” you whisper to him like it’s your secret. He hesitates only slightly which has you guiding his hands and placing them over each breast. Your nipples harden under his palm which urges him to finally grope. The feeling of his hands and look of awe in his eyes has you grinding against him again. Now lost completely in your touch he leans up and places a nipple in his mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck as a moan bellows from you. Once he has given both breasts his attention you push him back down onto the bed, needing more skin to skin contact. His stomach jumps when you slide off him, shimmying down his body and curling your fingers into his waistband. His pants were tented and he couldn’t believe you were about to pull them off right now. Your lips meet his pelvic bone which makes him gasp.

“Shit, baby. Please” and you know exactly what he means. So you pull the sweatpants along with his boxers down, allowing him to spring free. Your brain short circuits as you look at the sheer size of him. You need to taste him immediately which is why you give no warning when you suck the head of his cock into your mouth. The precum is sweet on your tongue as Neil moans out, hips lifting to find some relief.

Seeing how well he responds you suck as much of him as you can into your mouth. He’s whining needily which urges you in to suck him for all he’s worth. Seeing how hard he has gotten for you has made you so wet you can feel it soaking through your underwear. When it all becomes too much for him he pulls you off, not wanting to finish before pleasuring you. “My turn baby, been dying to taste you for so long now”

Your eyes can barely leave his cock, now covered in your spit and hard against his stomach. It clearly needs attention but he wants to take care of you. So Neil lays you back in his spot, his own hands dipping underneath the fabric of your pants and pulling them down your legs. Neil’s eyes never leave your body as it is fully revealed to him. As much as you want to be shy you know you shouldn’t be based on the way he is looking at you, so you open your legs for him to see. “You’re so wet baby”

“All for you” you tell him and he grins, finger reaching out and sliding through your folds. Your head falls back when it bumps against your clit and Neil smiles before repeating the same action with his tongue. He had imagined how you would taste hundreds of times but this was better. You tasted so much better than anything he could’ve conjured up. Neil is no longer worried about going too far and has started to devour you like a man starved. He’s so good and you are so glad you finally decided to do this. Imagining going back to a life without Neil eating you was a life not worth living.

“Fuck, I need to be inside of you baby” and you nod eagerly, grinning at the slick that covers his chin. He watches as you reach to the bedside table, opening the drawer, and grabbing a condom you had stashed in there. Neil knows now you had been planning this all along. He wastes no time putting it on before lining up at your entrance. Your hands hold his biceps, eagerly waiting the moment he’d break that barrier for you. Officially make you no longer a virgin.

You’re whimpering as he runs his tip through your folds, on the verge of begging him to do something when finally he pushes in only slightly. You wince which makes him freeze. “It’s okay, keep going”

“You sure?” and you nod, holding him close as he slowly moves inside. It doesn’t take long for the pain to turn to pleasure and Neil closes his eyes, trying to think of anything else other than the fact that you were practically sucking him in. Usually the image of Nolan in his underwear did it for him.

“Please move” you whisper and Neil nods feverishly, slowly pulling his hips back before thrusting back into you. You don’t expect the low moan to rattle out of you due to the movement and once it reaches Neil’s ears he finds a quick pace, pumping into you like a man who no longer has anything holding back.

“Shit, you feel so good” Neil doesn’t think he has ever experienced this type of bliss before. There will never again be no better feeling in the world especially because the girl he loves so much is now marked entirely as his. You have no idea about the ring he has stashed away for graduation, and you have no idea he had planned on marrying you since the first day you both met. He would’ve been fine waiting until marriage but for once he finally understands why it was so good to wait for the right person. Yes, sex could be about the feeling but when you love the person you’re experiencing it with it adds an entire layer of pleasure. Charlie never understood that, Neil couldn’t wait to tell him. Charlie deserved this feeling too.

“Baby, I’m so close” you pant out, and Neil smiles as he leans down to kiss you. He can feel the way you clench around him and he knows he won’t last long. So he moves to speed up the process. You gasp the moment his hand meets your clit, and his mouth meets your nipple. Neil may have been a virgin but he also knew Charlie all his life. He was an expert because of his friend by senior year of high school.

The action alone has you coming undone in seconds, clenching around him so tightly Neil’s movements falter for a moment. When you relax into the mattress, a blissed out look on your face, Neil finds himself letting go and finishing right behind you. When his body weight lands on top of you, you can’t help but smile. Your hand meets the back of his head, fingers running through his hair as he kisses your neck.

“I can’t believe you expect me to still go to play practice after this and remember my lines” Neil says which has you giggling in an instant and Neil hisses when you flutter around his dick still buried deep inside of you. Slowly he pulls out, both of you breathing heavily from the action.

“I’m sorry baby, I just couldn’t wait” you tell him and he smiles as he kisses you sweetly.

“I can’t wait to tell Charlie” he says once he pulls away and you roll your eyes at the mention of his friend. One you had only met once or twice on a Winter or Summer break but knew was Neil’s best friend.

“Of course you would say that” you tell him because whenever Neil accomplished anything his first instinct was to always call Charlie. Charlie heard he got the lead in the play before you did. Yet after everything they had been through together, sometimes you just had to deal with it.

“What, he’s my best friend” Neil defends as you just giggle and pull his lips back to your own.

“Yeah well tell him he has to share”

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thecuriousquest · 10 months

Text

The Only Choice Left

Yandere Katsuki x Reader

Tag List: @issamomma

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence, implied kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome

Summary: You escape from Katsuki’s clutches, but getting a taste of the real world has you wondering if you made the right decision.

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

You slip out the door and away from this dreadful nightmare. It’s raining, had been for days. With no time to put on your shoes or even a coat, you made a decision to jump at the opportunity of the unlocked door.

Walking until night turns into day, you sit down on a bench, feeling secure enough to have a break. You’re far away from the luxury apartment.

Thinking things over while you sit on the park bench, you remember Katsuki telling you to “get your shit together” and “fucking act right before I really get pissed”. You’re just glad you escaped before he had a chance to show you the full strength of his wrath.

It’s funny, though. He’s usually so good with locking everything. You shrug, only caring about where you’ll go from here on out. You could try a shelter until you can get a job. A job is what you really need alongside food and a roof.

———

For right now, the bridge will have to be your shelter. You close your eyes and lean your back against the hard wall. It’s terrible. All of the rain has gathered in the grass underneath the bridge, forming a mud puddle that you’re now soaked in. Shivering from the cold water clinging to your jeans, you try to rub your arms for warmth.

“Lookie what we got here, guys. A little fish trying to get warm.”

Frightened by the vicious tone, you look up at three fully grown men approaching you. One of them has a beer bottle in his hand, and all of them look drunk.

“Please, leave me alone.” Your stomach curls in knots as they draw near. You wish you could just get some fucking sleep.

One of them picks you up by your hair. Scalp screaming for release, your hands shoot to his wrist, trying to get him to let go.

“Ah! That hurts! Please, let go?!”

“You’re not being very nice to us. Here we are, just trying to be friendly.”

“I think this bitch needs to be taught a lesson,” the one with the bottle in his hand says.

“Please, I’m exhausted! I was kidnapped, and I-” you never did manage to finish your sentence.

A hefty blow is delivered straight to your stomach. It takes the breath out of you. Feeling as though your soul has just been knocked out of your body, you cough in pain. The man still has a solid grip on your hair, and you’re left dangling there like fish on a hook.

You’re thrown down on the ground, shock waves vibrating through your system. All you can register is kicking, punching, slapping, and stomping. It’s hell. You think about how you would rather be under the strict hand of Katsuki Bakugou because even his punishments are more generous than this.

It’s excruciating, and you feel a boot connect with your hand, rubbing it into the ground. It breaks your skin and crushes bone. You cry, oh Lord, how you cry. The tears seem endless to you, and just like they approached out of nowhere, they leave. You barely even notice they stopped because of how much pain you’re in.

———

Nobody believes you. You go to the police about being kidnapped by Dynamight and beaten by three strange men. They tell you to fuck off basically. You go to three different shelters, they have no vacant beds. You can’t get a job because of how you look and you have no legal documentation such as an ID. Even the fucking hospital won’t fix your hand because they’re at “maximum capacity”.

You’re left on the park bench, looking at the gauze on your hand that you stole from a store. You feel bad, but what choice did you have? Your hand was crushed, and nobody was willing to help you!

Infuriated, tears roll down your cheeks. Things seem to just be getting worse for you now. You’re getting beaten up more often in the week that you’ve been away, and when you reach out for help, nobody gives it to you. You’re in the fight of your life here, and you’re losing.

You’re hungry, thirsty, tired, but so afraid to sleep. Every time you try to sleep, violence pursues you. It’s like a sick joke.

Life was so much better with Katsuki. He fed me, bathed me, kept me safe. Sure, he punished me sometimes, but I deserved it. I was bad, and he was just doing his job. I just want to go to sleep so badly. His hugs…I miss his hugs. God, I just want to fall asleep in his arms again.

Walking by a store window, you catch your reflection. You don’t even recognize yourself. Your hair is greasy, you’re sporting a black eye, you have a blue and purple bruise on your temple and cheek, and your clothes are stained with mud. You’re completely filthy.

It’s no wonder they turn me away…

Breaking down on the spot, you clutch your aching stomach. It’s terrible. You thought life would be better on the outside, but now you want nothing more than to go back to the man who took you from this rancid world. Beginning to realize how right he was from all of his lectures about the world being cruel and unsafe, you find yourself back in front of the apartment complex.

You gulp out of nervousness. Will he even take me back? What if I’m no longer good enough for him if he were to see me like this? What if I pushed him too far by running away?

Shaking your head, you at least have to try! You walk over to the elevator, holding your breath without realizing it the entire way up. You barely notice the woman next to you pinching her nose out of disgust while eyeing you. Your thoughts are too preoccupied with what is about to come next once you get to the penthouse.

Every step towards the door with gold plated numbers 1400, the only apartment on the floor, has your courage dwindling. For a moment, a single moment, you think about the absolute hell you lived outside of the apartment for just a week. If that’s what the rest of your life is going to look like…

You don’t even want to think about that, so you begin rapping on the door rather harshly. Impatience taking over, you want the door open right now.

Then, the barrier swings open, and he’s standing in front of you. Spiky hair damp from a recent shower, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, he’s looking at you with love and fierce protectiveness.

“Katsuki…” Your voice breaks. “I’m so sorry. Please, take me back! Please? I want to be your girl again. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. Please, take me back! I love you. I miss everything about you. I just…”

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence. You’re pulled into the apartment and enveloped by his arms. He lifts you off the floor, holding you so close, not wanting to let you slip away again.

“It’s alright. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

———

He bathes, dresses, feeds, and hydrates you. He even does his best to fix up your hand, promising that he’ll have a doctor come look at it in the morning. As you crawl into bed with him, you willingly go into his arms. He holds you closely.

Katsuki didn’t want to do it, but you forced his hand. You were just so unhappy, always moping around and crying. He had no other choice but to turn off his security system and leave the door unlocked. He had no other choice but to pay off the people he had beat you up. There was no other choice but to make sure every hospital, police department, women’s shelter, and customer service industry kept you at arm’s length. It was the only choice left, and it was a damn good one.

Here he is now with you happily snuggled up to him. He had to do it, had to make you see how awful life outside of these walls is. He needed you to understand that he’s your protector from such cruelty. He needed to brand that reminder deep in your psyche, and it fucking worked.

He pulls you closer to him and lets his head sink against the pillow. “I love you, Y/N. Don’t worry. Nobody will hurt you anymore now that you’re back with me.”

#my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #triggering content #triggering themes #yandere #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha katsuki #mha katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugou x reader #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n

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katyswrites · 10 months

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 8 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, unprotected p in v, daddy kink, oral sex (f & m receiving), cum play, ddlg dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 10.2k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

Notes: I know, the Italian/descriptions of this area of Italy are not 100% accurate. Sue me! But seriously, I wasn't too focused on accuracy, so just take it as it is!

PART 8 | drinkin' on the beach (with you all over me)

“So, will you tell me where we’re going yet?” you asked slyly.

“You’ll see when we get there,” he replied, fighting a smile. He extended the hand not carrying your suitcase, which you took as you descended the rest of the steps.

“I just don’t get why you’re not -”

You stopped mid-sentence, realizing what Steve was leading you towards.

“Is that -?”

Your question was answered as he popped the trunk of the red Ferrari, placing your suitcase inside.

“It’s mine. Well, ours, I guess. For the week.”

“You’re - you can’t just rent a car like this -”

“I can,” Steve said, slamming the trunk close. He smiled smugly, then shrugged. “I know a guy.”

You managed to pick your jaw up from where it was hanging and rolled your eyes.

“Of course you do,” you said, making your way to the passenger side. “So -”

“Hop in,” he said, opening the door for you. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

You took his hand and let him help you in, Steve closing the door behind you and coming around until he was in the driver’s seat, right next to you.

“Wow,” you said under your breath.

“What is it?”

“I just - I realized I’ve never actually seen you drive before. Or, been in the front of a car with you, really.”

He chuckled, sitting back in his seat.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything. Ready?”

You nodded, clicking on your seatbelt as he pulled away from the curb.

“So - what did you say to Robin to get her to agree to taking me away all week? She usually loves to go all-out for my birthday, as much as I tell her she doesn’t have to.”

He shrugged. “I’m pretty good at sweet talking.”

You thought about your roommate for a moment, and the idea of her being sweet-talked into anything, and snorted. “Cute, what did you actually do?”

A pause. Then, “I promised I’d pay for your belated birthday party. Whatever she has planned, I said I’d help make it happen.”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You don’t understand! Robin loves birthdays! And like, I don’t hate them, but I’ve just never been much of a big celebrator or anything, and she always goes nuts. And now you’re giving her a budget? You’ve created a monster, Harrington.”

He laughed, reaching down to take your hand. He gave it a tight squeeze.

“Well, I’m sorry. But, I’ll do my best to rein her in, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure, good luck with that.”

It’s only several minutes later, after you’ve both laughed it off, that you realized he was still holding your hand as he drove. Had he ever done something like that before? Before you could dwell on it, you pulled your hand away, hoping that reaching for the water bottle in the cupholder made it seem nonchalant.

You cleared your throat.

“So - can I know where we’re going yet?”

“You certainly can guess, if you want.”

You sighed, throwing your head back against the headrest.

“Okay - well, you said I didn’t need a passport, so we’re not flying anywhere. And, you said to pack bathing suits, so I’m guessing the beach, or pool, maybe. So, staycation? In Italy, somewhere?”

His face remained neutral. “Maybe.”

“You’re impossible.”

He chuckled, taking a moment to glance over at you.

“Just, trust me, yeah?”

After a moment, you sighed, giving up.

“Yeah, okay.”

As you drove out of the city, you turned the conversation towards his business trip. You asked him about work, how it went, and leaned back and listened. He mostly vented about it, but you paid it no mind - in reality, it was just nice to be with him again. You tried not to think about that part of it too much, though.

The highrises and busy city streets began quieting, giving way to residential townhouses and open roads. The traffic had lessened, the scenery becoming greener, the road narrower.

“So, how long until we get there?” you asked.

“About 4 hours, give or take,” he said. “It’ll be worth the road trip, I promise.”

“I don’t mind a road trip.”

Not with him, you didn’t.

You found yourself glancing over at Steve every now and then - he had only been gone a week, and you had forgotten just how unabashedly handsome he was in-person. As he stared straight ahead at the road, you took in his side profile, and the way his hazel eyes shone in the sunlight, his hands gripped firmly on the wheel.

Feeling your eyes on him, he spared a glance in your direction. Instead of looking away, you just felt yourself smiling, keeping eye contact.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing - it’s just… you really didn’t have to do… whatever this is. You spoil me, you know.”

His hand found itself on your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

“It’s my favorite thing to do, baby.”

Baby. He had started calling you that more often now outside of the bedroom. You didn’t protest when he kept that hand there, for most of the drive.

Eventually, you found yourself dozing off, the steady motion of the car and low hum of the radio lulling you to sleep. You only found yourself waking when the car came to a halt, blinking groggily.

In front of you was a pier, boats bobbing in the water as cars lined up. The sea stretched out before you, bright blue in the late morning light.

“What are we -”

“We’re catching a ferry,” Steve said.

“So, an island vacation?”

He just shrugged, pulling the car up to the dock to load on. You sighed.

“You know, I barely had any idea what to pack. I just threw stuff into a bag.”

“Don’t worry about that - I brought another suitcase for you, bought you some stuff.”

“Of course you did.”

You still had the inner instinct to lecture him, to berate him for spending so much money on you. But, you couldn’t ignore the way he grinned, proud of being able to spoil you. If you asked him to bring you the stars, he’d probably find a way.

The ferry trip was about an hour long, Steve following you to the upper deck to stretch your legs. You leaned on the edge, looking down at the water below you, the wake of the boat making the bright blue water churn into white seafoam. The salt air blew through your hair, Steve’s arm finding its way around your waist.

Before too long, you found yourselves back in the car and driving off the ferry. You took a moment to assess your surroundings, blinking in the afternoon sun. The port was busy, green hills and rocky mountains stretching out before you in the distance, dotted with colorful buildings. The sea was sparkling, clear as day with an aquamarine hue. The harbor was bustling, boats of all sized docking at the port. People rode their bikes along the pier, the sounds of the water breaking along the coast a consistent din in the background.

“Okay, now can you tell me where we are?”

Steve laughed.

“Yes - It’s called Ischia Island. It’s kind of become a tourist trap recently, but don’t worry, we’re going to the other side of the island - it’s much quieter.”

“I don’t care about that -”

“I know, but - I guess it’d be nice to have some privacy, you know?”

So you let Steve continue to drive, bypassing the main port and heading up the small dirt road, slowly climbing the mountains. It was beautiful - from up here, the views of the coast were breathtaking. For the first time, you truly realized how much Steve wanted to make this special, pulling out all of the stops for you. In all of your time in Italy, you had never had the time or money to do anything touristy, let alone take an actual vacation. Suddenly, it was nearly overwhelming. You glanced over with Steve, taking him in for a moment. Then, the idea hit you.

“How far are we?”

“Close - probably like 15 minutes. I think you’re going to like where we’re staying.”

“Is this road busy?” you asked quietly.

“Here? No, not really. It’s pretty quiet, I kind of wanted it to be -”

“Okay, good,” you said, cutting him off. “Because you’re going to find a place to pull over.”

He glanced over at you, perplexed.

“Why? Are you feeling alright?”

You nodded, leaning across the console to press your lips to his ear.

“I want to thank you, Harrington. Preferably by sucking your cock.”

You were surprised he didn’t drive the car over the edge of the road and into the ocean.

*******

You and Steve didn’t reach your destination until about 45 minutes later, after you had your way with him. In the end, he was a mess, begging you to put him out of his misery after prolonged teasing from the passenger seat. Afterwards, you were shocked he was even capable of driving again.

Finally, though, you saw it - the place you were presumably staying. Steve pulled the car up a small dirt driveway, to where a beautiful villa was tucked at the top of a hill. Its white stucco exterior was striking against the rolling green mountains, stone steps leading up to it. Steve helped you out of the car, gesturing to the house behind him.

“Is this -”

“It’s all ours, baby,” he said, beaming.

“I - I just assumed we were staying at a hotel or something -”

He nearly scoffed. “A hotel? No way, not for this. It’s just us here, the whole place to ourselves.”

He popped the trunk, pulling out the bags, insisting to take yours, too.

You practically bounded up the steps, not even containing your excitement as Steve unlocked the door and waved you in.

Inside, it was bright and airy, the white walls stretching up to high, arched ceilings. There was an open kitchen and eating area, the floor a beautiful blue and white mosaic pattern. With the windows open and curtains pulled aside, the villa was bathed in sunlight. You found yourself going towards the back of the house, gasping at what you saw. Before you was a balcony, with a breakfast nook and, most notably, a pool. But, the most stunning part was the view. The Tyrrhenian Sea stretched before you, sparkling and bluer than the sky, the city barely visible behind the trees. It smelled like salt and citrus, presumably from the trees abundant with fresh fruit. For the first time, you understood what people meant when they said paradise.

You felt Steve coming up behind you, his presence strong and warm.

“Well - what do you think?”

You paused for a moment, turning around slowly to face him. He looked down at you expectantly, and you reckoned he’d probably be crossing his fingers right now if you couldn’t see them. For some reason, he still thought you were hard to impress.

“You did all this… just for me?”

He nodded.

Before he could even say anything else, you had his face in your hands, kissing him so fiercely that you could barely breathe. He pulled you closer, fingers digging into the small of your back. It was only when you pulled away to catch your breath that you spoke again.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

******

You hadn’t even taken time to explore the rest of the house, tumbling into bed with Steve without a moment’s hesitation. Neither of you took your time, too hasty to touch one another after being separated all week. Steve made quick work of your clothes, pulling you into his lap before sliding into you. You nearly cried at the feeling of him inside you again. Sex with Steve was like a drug, and you were finally able to admit to yourself that you were addicted. It wasn’t long before you were both messes, coming undone in a matter of minutes.

“Fuck,” he whispered, lips pressed to your neck. “So fuckin’ perfect, baby - just like that, oh fuck -”

He was thrusting faster now, practically pounding up into you. You dug your nails into his back, dragging them down as you writhed in his arms, hips meeting his thrusts. Your finger picked up the pace on your clit, and you felt yourself losing control. You bounced in his lap, legs caging him as he pulled you closer.

“Oh, I - ah! Steve - oh, shit, just like that - you feel so good -”

“Yeah? You like when daddy stuffs you with his cock?” he grunted.

“Mm, yeah - I’m so full, I feel you everywhere -”

“Keep squeezin’ me, baby - shit, you’re really going for it, so wet - are you close?”

You bit your lip and nodded, moaning as you felt the tension building in your core.

“Yeah, so close - I’m gonna cum -”

“Damn right you are - such a good girl, always cumming on daddy’s cock.”

“Only for you,” you whispered in his ear, pulling him closer, arms wrapping around the nape of his neck. That was the final straw for Steve - he cried out your name, hips stilling as he painted your walls with his cum. You felt the warmth of him fill you, and you sighed. He stayed there, heavily for a moment.

“Fuck,” he said after a moment. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you ran your fingers along his scalp soothingly.

“Wait,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “Did you finish?”

You considered lying - it was nearly instinctual, having done it with other partners in the past. But, there was something about Steve that made it impossible to lie to him.

“No,” you admitted. “But, I came close, really close - you always make me cum, it still was good -”

“Nope, not happening,” he said, brow setting with determination.

“What are you -”

But he was reaching down, thumb finding your clit where your bodies met, his softening cock still inside you.

“Steve, what are you - oh! Shit, I -”

You threw your head back, feeling yourself re-approaching your peak as he rubbed deep circles around the bundle of nerves, slowly picking up the pace.

“Steve - you’re still inside -”

“I know,” he whispered. “I want you to cum around me, can you do that, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, gasping as his free hand found your breast. “I’m going to cum on your cock, because I’m your good girl -”

“And tomorrow,” he said, coating his fingers in the slick mix of both of you to stimulate your clit, “you’re going to cum over and over, until you can’t walk. I need to make up for it, gonna make you forget your own name, baby.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, feeling yourself squeezing around him. “I’m gonna -”

“Let go,” he encouraged. “Do it, for me, baby.”

And you did. You screamed his name, pulsing and convulsing around his cock as he continued to work you through it. He was still working on your clit, gradually slowing down as you let the wave of pleasure wash through you.

After, you both just stayed there, tangled in each other as you struggled to regain your breath. You felt his heart thudding against yours, bathing in the afterglow as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you,” you finally admitted. “I missed this.”

His hand stilled. For a moment, you wondered if you had said the wrong thing, if you had crossed a line. But, then:

“I missed you too,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into your skin.

You felt your face heat, and just pulled him closer to you, deciding not to say anything else, at risk of doing something you couldn’t come back from.

After a while, you found yourselves laying in bed in a comfortable silence. You could hear the crashing waves and cries of seagulls in the distance. You propped yourself up on your elbow, properly looking at the man beside you.

“So - now that we’re here - what’s the plan? For today?”

Steve stared up at the ceiling, thinking.

“Well, we really only have the afternoon now, so - I’ve got stuff for us to do over the next few days, so it’s really up to you. We can go into town, or hit the beach. Or, just hang out here - what do you think, birthday girl?”

You rolled your eyes.

“It’s not my birthday yet -”

“As far as I’m concerned, this entire week is your birthday, baby.”

You felt your heart flutter, and bit your lip.

“Well, if I get to decide - beach?”

He grinned, reaching across to brush some hair out of your face.

“Sounds perfect, baby.”

******

Steve had presented you with a new bathing suit and beach cover-up, practically demanding to see you in it immediately. And, you rarely found it in yourself to say no to him. When he first saw you wearing it, you were genuinely concerned he was going to immediately ruin it by tearing it off of your body. But, he managed to control himself enough to make it out the door, his hand snaking around your waist as you headed down to the beach.

The closest beach to you, as it turned out, was only a short walk down the road. And, it was a pretty quiet one. Steve explained on the way how it was a lesser-known alcove, only really used by locals and not well-known amongst the tourists. Sure enough, the white sandy beach was relatively sheltered on all sides by the rocky cliffs, making you feel both so in-the-open and hidden.

You sighed as you settled onto the beach towel, soaking in the sun as Steve set up an umbrella, eventually finding his place beside you. The afternoon was relaxed and quiet, Steve allowing you space to read your book and sunbathe. You tried to think about the last time you let yourself relax like this - it was possible that you never had.

Eventually, the water just looked too inviting, the sun becoming just a bit too oppressively hot, and you found yourself wandering down to the shoreline. You let the water lap over your feet, the waves warmer than you expected. It was only after you had waded out up to your waist that you heard the water breaking behind you, a telltale sign that Steve was joining. Before you could turn to him, his arms were wrapped around your waist, making you jump and squeal.

“Steve!”

He spun you around in the water, making a big splash in your wake.

“Hey, beautiful,” he whispered. It was almost too affectionate, the way he said it, but you decided not to question it.

You just smiled, leaning in until his nose was brushing yours.

“Thank you, for this,” you murmured. “I know I’ve been saying it, but - I don’t think I’ve ever taken time to do anything like this, well… ever.”

His face softened a bit, and he brought his hand up to cup the side of your face.

“You’re welcome. Also, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

A devilish grin, then, “For this.”

Then, he was pulling you into his arms and under the water with him, causing you to yelp with surprise as you became submerged. When you broke the surface, he was laughing like a little kid, earning a playful smack in the arm from you, followed by an indignant splash. And, for even just a few moments, it was easy to forget about everything, other than how much fun you were having.

Yes - this trip was exactly what you needed.

********

The next morning, you woke up slowly, blinking in the bright sunlight filtering into the bedroom. It took you a moment to remember where you were - then, the sandy-colored walls, the soft linen, and the lingering smell of salt water and sunscreen reminded you.

You rolled over in bed, reaching across to find it disappointingly empty. You groaned, sitting up and rubbing the bleariness from your eyes. After scrounging around under the sheets, you eventually unearthed a t-shirt, the one you had pulled off of Steve last night. Shrugging it on, you padded through the house towards the back balcony, where the sounds of the outdoors filtered through the open door. Surely enough, there he was, his back to you as he set plates on the table. You wish you had a camera to capture it - the vision of Steve, shirtless with his disheveled morning hair, the sea sparkling behind him in the early sunlight. But, before you could appreciate it anymore, he seemingly sensed your presence and turned.

“Look who's finally risen!” he declared. “I was worried I’d have to wake you up before the food got cold!”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Got cold?”

“Yeah - I made a veggie frittata, I hope that’s alright. I got some pastries too, and fruit. The coffee’s almost done.”

“I - you cook?”

He stopped, crossing his arms.

“What, did you think I couldn’t?”

You shrugged, throwing up your hands in defense.

“No! I just - I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you cook before.”

You walked towards the table, accepting the chair he pulled out for you as you sank down and settled.

“When did you get all this stuff?” you asked, taking in the spread before you somewhat in awe.

“Oh, um, this morning - I went for a run, and stopped at the market on my way back. Town’s not far.”

You couldn’t even fight how impressed you were, shaking your head in disbelief.

“How long have you been up?”

“A few hours,” he said, shrugging. He cut into the frittata and started loading it onto one of the porcelain plates, passing it to you before sitting down. “I’m usually up pretty early, you know that. I wanted you to sleep in though, glad to know I didn’t wake you.”

“Right. Well, thanks.”

It almost felt like too much, him going to all these lengths for you. Yes, buying you a meal was one thing - he did it all the time. But cooking for you, and with such care… it felt like a different thing entirely. But, you accepted it gratefully, not even realizing just how hungry you were until you started digging in.

You could get used to mornings like this - breakfast on the beach view balcony, fresh coffee and breakfast, Steve’s knee brushing yours under the table. After a while, Steve leaned back and smiled, taking a sip out of his cup of coffee.

“So - are you feeling up for an adventure?” he asked, sounding slightly mischievous.

You raised an eyebrow, taking a bite out of a strawberry.

“What kind of adventure?”

“The kind you need a bathing suit for,” he said. “Preferably a bikini, but that’s really just for my benefit.”

You laughed. “Is that so?”

That was how you found yourself pulling on a bathing suit, pulled out of your bag along with a cover up and sun hat. Steve was already waiting for you when you emerged, a cooler bag slung over his shoulder, holding your beach bag out to you. You were finally starting to learn to relax, not even asking what he was planning - if it kept going the way this trip already had been, you knew he had a good surprise in store.

He took your arm in his, leading you out of the villa and to the car, tearing down the small dirt road until it became a larger, cobblestone one, descending down the hills into the main little town. The day was warm and bright, prompting Steve to lower the roof of the convertible. You let your eyes close, leaning back against the seat to feel the sun and breeze. You barely even noticed when Steve’s hand came to rest on your thigh.

You didn’t really open your eyes until the car slowed to a stop, realizing where you were. It was the pier, with boats of all different sizes and grandeur bobbing in the water. There was a bit of a hustle and bustle, with people loading and unloading, motors starting, dockhands untying boats and sending people off. You looked over at Steve quizzically, only to be met with a smile.

“You ready?”

“Are we -”

“Taking a boat out? Yes, yes we are,” he said, killing the ignition and hopping out of the car. He came around the other side to open the door and let you out before you had a chance to do it yourself. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes as he took your hand, deciding to indulge him.

He led you to the dock, and you couldn’t help but start eyeing the prospective boats waiting for you. Eventually, you stopped at a small motorboat, docked and ready to go.

“We - you’re driving?”

Steve nodded, throwing the bags onto the boat and hopping on.

“Yes - I’ve got a boating license.”

“Since when?”

“Since my dad made me get one when I was 16.”

Somehow, Steve Harrington remained an enigma - what else didn’t you know about him?

He turned, offering his hand up to you to help you on board.

“Do you trust me?”

You nodded, not even hesitating.

“Yes.”

“Good - then come on, I promise it’ll be fun.”

It was so easy to believe Steve, to trust him - when did that happen?

After passing some cash to the dockhand, the boat was untied and sent out, Steve manning the wheel as he headed out into the harbor. You leaned back in the leather seat behind him, holding onto your hat as the boat picked up speed. The waters gradually became less busy, the expanse of blue before you growing greater as you headed out to the sea.

“Where are we going?” you finally asked, practically yelling over the sound of the engine.

“A surprise,” he said.

“Of course.”

This earned a chuckle from him, followed by a gesture towards the cooler pack.

“By the way - I packed some drinks, if you want them. And food, too, but that’s for later.”

You grinned, unzipping it and pulling out a bottle of rose, still cold and wet with condensation. You poured it into a plastic cup that you found in the bag, smiling endearingly at the thought of Steve doing all of this - shopping, planning, packing, doing everything with you in mind. You sighed, sipping your wine as the boat cut through the waves, the breeze blowing through your hair. Finally, you reached what you presumed was your destination: a smaller island came into view, surrounded by big rocky outcroppings sticking out of the water. You couldn’t even see any other boats docked around it.

“Where are we?” you asked, standing as the boat slowed to a stop. Steve threw the anchor down, with more ease than you expected.

“It’s called Sand City,” he said, propping a leg up on the boat’s edge as he tied the knot. “Well, that’s what locals call it - I’m not sure what it’s actually called. But, barely anyone knows about it - if I had to guess, we’re probably the only ones here.”

You glanced over at the rocky beach - from what you could see, there wasn’t another soul.

“Knowing you, you probably rented out the place,” you joked.

Steve chuckled. “I mean, if I could, I definitely would’ve.”

You laughed, but when he didn’t, you stopped.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Completely.”

You came up next to him, glancing over the side of the boat - the water was crystal clear, the current gentle and calm.

“So, how do we get out there?” you asked.

Steve grinned, pulling his shirt up over his head in one movement.

“We swim.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you dove in after him, the water a relaxing relief from the sun. The pair of you made your way to the shore rather quickly, pulling yourselves out of the water and onto the beach. Here, there wasn;t much of the soft white sand that you had seen on the main island. Instead, the coast was rocky, Steve taking your hand as he helped you weave through to spare your bare feet from the brunt of it.

“You know, for a place called ‘Sand City’ - there’s not a lot of sand,” you observed, following Steve up the beach.

“There’s a reason for that,” Steve said, leading you further up the beach. “See, like a hundred years ago, this place was used for sand mining - and it was a major port. But, they drained the resources, and couldn’t develop anything. See?”

He gestured further down the shoreline. Sure enough, in the distance there were larger wooden posts sticking out of the water, worn and dull with time.

“Those used to be the dock, before it collapsed. But, since there’s a steep dropoff after the sandbar, people like to dock their boats and make day trips out here. Like us, for example,” Steve explained.

“How do you know all this?” you asked, tone laced with surprise.

“I did some research,” he said, shrugging.

“Why?”

“Honestly? I wanted to impress you,” he admitted somewhat sheepishly.

You laughed, louder than you meant to.

“What?” he asked indignantly, stopping in his tracks.

“Nothing! It’s just kind of cute that you’re trying to impress me, I guess.”

“Shut up,” he muttered.

You stayed a few steps behind him, smiling to yourself. This was maybe the most relaxed you had ever seen Steve - he seemed younger, almost boyish. You wondered if this is what he was like, years before you met him. When he was your age, was he less hardened? Did he have less walls around him? You had to assume he did.

At one point, he leaned down to pick up a pebble, skipping it across the water.

“Nice, that skipped like, five times,” you remarked.

“You try,” he said, extending a flat pebble to you.

“I’m not any good at this,” you confessed.

“I’ll help you, here -”

He placed the stone gently in your palm, his hand engulfing yours.

“Just follow through like this, and kind of flick your wrist.”

You did your best to ignore how your skin tingled at his touch, following through on his guidance a few times before finally letting go. The stone skimmed the water’s surface, skipping once, before plopping in.

You threw your hands up in the air in celebration.

“Okay, I know that wasn’t much, but - better than anything I’ve done before!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around Steve’s neck.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, and you pulled away quickly. Before he could say anything, you gestured for him to keep leading the way.

******

The rest of the afternoon was a bit of a blur. Steve led you up the island to a thatch of trees, where you came across the old ruins of a submarine. You spent a while investigating it, grabbing a fresh peach hanging off of the trees. You and Steve shared it, eventually returning to the water and swimming out to one of the rocks past the sandbar. You let yourself lay out and sunbathe, Steve by your side. Eventually, though, the one peach you had split didn’t seem to tide you over, your stomach grumbling. You groaned.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got a picnic on the boat,” Steve assured. “Want to head back?”

You agreed, welcoming the cool water as you dove back in, clambering back up onto the motorboat. Steve produced a true spread from the cooler, of crackers, cheeses, and grapes, topped off with a bottle of white wine to split. It was so idyllic, floating in the middle of the ocean, with the fresh charcuterie that Steve had so carefully packed for you. After you were full and satiated, you couldn’t help it - you had to start touching Steve. You found it hard to keep your hands off of him, tracing his constellation of moles on his back beneath the sun, both of you laying across a towel. You began to trace letters and words, asking him to guess - Steve’s name, your own, smiley faces and stars, anything you could think of. Steve, as it turned out, was shit when it came to guessing.

You found yourself feeling just a bit mischievous, deciding to press your lips between his shoulder blades instead.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, voice a bit rougher than it had been.

“What’s the chance of another boat passing us here?” you asked.

“Uh - minimal. Really slim, we’re pretty isolated,” he answered quickly.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I wanna ride you, if you’ll let me.”

And he did, scrambling onto his back, gripping onto your hips as you straddled him. Your bathing suits were shed in a matter of moments, and you wasted no time in sinking onto him. The boat rocked precariously, but it was part of the thrill - Steve came undone in a matter of minutes, cumming deep inside of you. You followed shortly after, convulsing around him with your head thrown back, underneath the bright afternoon sun.

*******

The next few days passed in a blissful blur - Steve took you all around the island. One day, he rented a Vespa, having you wrap your arms around his waist and hold on tightly as he drove you around to the other side, where a music and art festival was happening. He followed you around, dancing with you and buying you whatever you wanted from the vendors, insisting that you picked out whatever you wanted. Used books, fresh pastries, a sunhat, handmade mosaics, seashell earrings - whatever caught your interest.

One of the items you picked up was a pack of disposable waterproof cameras, which you immediately made quick use of. You began snapping photos of the town, the ocean views, and most of all, Steve. You caught candids of Steve walking down the street, running his hands through his hair, or his side profile, when he wasn’t paying attention. You got him to pose on occasion too, insisting on taking pictures at each new site you visited. Soon, Steve took one of the cameras, playing your own game and sneaking photos of you throughout the trip.

“Pose for me, baby, for the memories,” he insisted, pulling back to capture you every chance he got.

You and Steve made use of the villa, too. On the third day, you woke up to the sound of rain pattering on the roof. Steve bemoaned the inclement weather, but you just snuggled further under the covers.

“What are we going to do, then?” Steve grumbled.

“We can just stay here… in bed… all day,” you replied, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm hm - actually, today’s a perfect day to practice your Italian,” you added, smirking.

“What do you -”

“Here’s the deal,” you said, sinking a bit further below the covers. “I’m going to quiz you on what I’ve taught you so far - if you get it right, I keep sucking you off. You get it wrong, though… I stop, until the next one you get right. What do you say?”

You spent that morning edging Steve, who quickly became a whimpering mess at your mercy. His language retention, it turned out, wasn’t great. Every time he screwed up an Italian word or phrase, you pulled your lips off his cock, looking up at him with disappointment.

When he finally did cum, he begged to do it all over your tits, which you obliged. That, of course, led to a bath in the clawfoot tub, where Steve happily joined you, insisting on reciprocating. The rainy day, as it turned out, wasn’t a waste at all.

Another day, he took you out on a small ferry cruise to go snorkeling. You both dove through the shallows, exploring coral reefs and swimming through schools of fish. You were fairly certain that you’d never get over the color of the sea here - the bright, aquamarine water was stunning, and you were certain that if it was flatter underneath, you’d be able to see through the ocean for miles. You snapped a few photos underwater, hoping that they’d reflect what it looked like in-person. You doubted it, though. At one point, when you both broke the surface and climbed back onto the rowboat you had taken out, Steve was holding a lump of sand in his hand.

“What is that?”

He smiled, shaking it off under the water to reveal what looked like a gray rock. You furrowed your brow, confusion only growing and Steve produced a pocket knife. He cut into it along the edge - it was an oyster.

“In the mood for shellfish, Harrington?”

He just shook his head, prying the shell open. He squinted, then smiled.

“Well, looks like I’ve got some pretty good luck today!”

Before you could ask what he meant, he reached into the shell and pulled out -

“Is that a pearl?” you asked, eyes widening.

He nodded enthusiastically, holding it out to you.

“For you.”

You shook your head.

“No, Steve - do you know how rare that is? Just to find a natural pearl? I shouldn’t -”

“I was hoping to find one, just for you,” he assured. “Seriously - I want you to have it.”

You took it hesitantly, turning the small white stone in your hand. It was so small, perfectly round, with a few grains of sand still clinging to it. You shook your head incredulously.

“I - thank you,” you whispered. You fished your wallet out of your beach bag, tucking the pearl safely inside.

******

The evenings were filled with sunsets and wine, Steve insisting on bringing you to the best restaurants that the island had to offer. When you returned to the villa, you would take a dip in the pool - bathing suits optional. That’s why, by the time your actual birthday came around, it wasn’t a surprise that you were physically exhausted.

The morning of your birthday came on a Saturday, the last full day of your trip. You had attempted to stay up until midnight on Friday to properly ring it in, but you were so exhausted from the sun and copious amounts of wine consumed during the day that you were asleep before 11.

That night, you dreamed. Often, your dreams weren’t very vivid. If you remembered them at all when you woke up, there wasn’t really anything concrete. And, you supposed, this wasn’t really any different. You felt warm, only really seeing flashes of golden light, dancing behind your eyelids like stars. Your skin tingled, and you were just relaxed. You sighed in contentment, suddenly feeling your brow furrow at the realization that you could feel the mattress you were lying on, the soft sheets fisted in your fingers.

You weren’t sleeping anymore, not completely. You weren’t exactly sure when you had stopped, crossing the line between dreaming and consciousness. But suddenly, you were acutely aware of the air on your skin, the quickening of your breath, and, most notably, the feeling of warm lips pressed to your skin.

“Mm - Steve?” you grumbled, voice still groggy from sleep.

“G’morning, birthday girl,” he murmured from below the sheets, pressing a kiss to your navel.

“What’re you -”

“I wanted to make today extra special,” he whispered. “Starting right now.”

He continued to pepper kisses across your abdomen, traveling further down, down, down -

“Fuck,” you gasped as his breath ghosted over your bare cunt. “Steve -”

“Shhh, baby,” he whispered. “Today’s all about you - just relax, okay?”

Anything else that you wanted to say died on your tongue, your breath hitching as soon as his mouth made contact with your core. He licked a stripe up your slit, his tongue settling to swirl around your clit.

“Steve! Oh, shit - just like that. Oh my god -”

You felt your back arch as your hips bucked up to meet his mouth. His fingers were digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, spread wide for him as he devoured you.

Soon, one of his hands wandered from your thigh, gathering your slick as he circled your entrance.

You moaned, eyes squeezed shut as you threw your head back.

“Please, Steve,” you whined. He paused for a moment.

“Please what?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. He started sucking, and you already shivered at the thought of him leaving a mark there, a reminder for later.

“Please - your fingers,” you begged.

“What about them?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Inside me - please - fuck me with your fingers,” you exclaimed.

“If you insist, darling.”

That was your only warning. He plunged two fingers into your sopping entrance, returning his tongue to your clit. You practically screamed, writhing in the sheets as he loved on you in the best way he knew how.

He kissed and licked at your cunt like he was worshiping it. He grinned against your skin at the sound of your whines when he added a third finger, pumping in and out of you at an unrelenting pace.

You found your own hands wandering, looking to grab onto something, anything. Between his ministrations, you heard Steve murmur, “Your tits, baby.”

“What?”

“Touch your tits, sweetheart, you know you want to.”

You didn’t even question it, obeying as your hands found their way to your breasts. You cupped and palmed them, moaning at the added stimulation as Steve continued to eat you out.

“I’m close,” you breathed, feeling your face flush, your heart thudding in your chest. There was pressure building in your core, ready to snap at any moment. You continued feeling your tits, toying with your nipples and squeezing at the soft flesh.

Your orgasm felt like a dam breaking. You screamed Steve’s name as the pleasure washed over you, intense and white-hot like a tsunami. He worked you through your high, continuing to lap and lick at you, gradually slowing down as your whole body shook. By the time he removed his fingers from you, you were a mess. You felt boneless, certain you’d sink all the way through the mattress if you weren’t careful.

Your breathing was deep and labored, not even capable of forming a coherent thought as Steve pressed soft kisses to your inner thigh. Just as he had started, he kissed his way back up your body - your stomach, your breasts, sternum, collarbone, neck - and, finally, your lips. You still faintly tasted yourself on him, and sighed into his mouth.

After several moments, you finally spoke.

“Jesus Christ, Steve.”

“So, that was good?” he asked.

You turned your cheek down to your pillow, bringing you face-to-face with the man lying next to you.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I - I think that was the hardest I’ve ever cum in my life,” you admitted.

Steve practically puffed up with pride, fighting a smile.

“Is that so?”

You reached across the bed, running your fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, really. Best birthday ever.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s barely started yet!”

“Still - that would’ve made it just perfect, no need to do anything else.”

He laughed, throwing his head back against the pillow.

“Well, that’s definitely not all I have planned. We’ve got a whole day ahead of us.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

“Of course we do. Well, if that’s the case, I’m going to take a shower.”

You rolled out of bed and padded towards the bathroom, not even bothering with the fact that you were stark nude. You felt Steve’s eyes practically burning a hole through you, prompting you to cast a glance over your shoulder.

“I might need help, you know,” you said suggestively.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

********

Most of the day passed without a hitch. In fact, you would call it perfect. Almost, at least. You had breakfast on the balcony, the morning relatively slow and relaxed. Then, Steve took you to the sea, renting another boat until you reached what you learned to be Aragonese Castle. The ruins sat on a volcanic rock formation, accessible via a footbridge going across the water. On the island, you explored the castle, marveling at the sight from the top. You stood atop the structure, something older than you could even comprehend, staring out across the sparkling sea. Steve took your camera, snapping a few photos of you before you noticed.

“Come on, birthday girl, pose for me,” he begged with his go-to line, smiling as you grinned and threw your hands up in the air for the camera.

After, you took the boat around the coast to another smaller island, making your way up to the little village there. Steve made good on his word, and as you wandered through the market, did his best to name all the items in Italian. Every time he got something right, you kissed him. For everything he got wrong, he had to buy you something from that vendor. In the end, it was working out much better for you, your bag filling more and more as you walked through.

You both walked along the beach, finding yourselves carrying your shoes as you let the water wash over your feet on the shoreline. The afternoon waned to the early evening, the sun moving from beating on your backs to golden, slowly sinking towards the horizon. You had returned to the main island, Steve insisting on returning home briefly to change out of beach clothes. You followed his lead, trusting whatever he had planned. As you were throwing on some makeup, you barely noticed him come into the bathroom behind you, too focused on yourself in the mirror.

“So,” he started, leaning against the doorframe. “I know we haven’t exactly had an occasion for something like this yet, but I had this made for you - I was kind of hoping you’d wear it tonight.”

He held up a clothing hanger, shrouded in a garment bag. You smiled at him through the mirror, bounding over excitedly to unzip and look at what was inside.

“I - wow.”

“Put it on for me?” he asked. “It’s part of your birthday present.”

You obliged, kicking him out of the room, insisting that you wanted him to be surprised. You slipped on the dress easily, your breath catching in your throat as soon as you saw yourself in the mirror.

It was a vibrant, deep red, made of some kind of shimmering silk. Somehow, it both flowed over you and hugged you in all the right places - more than anything else Steve had gotten made for you, this had to have been done with you in mind. Somehow, you were certain it was the best you had ever looked. Valentina had outdone herself.

You opened the door slowly, mainly for dramatic effect. Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a suit jacket over his button-down, the first few buttons notably undone. At the sight of you, he sat up quickly. His eyes widened, looking you up and down as he scrambled to his feet.

“Well, what do you think?” you asked.

It took Steve a moment to say anything, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he searched for words. Then, softly:

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You felt your face heat, the blood rushing to your head creating a dull roar in your ears.

“You’re a liar,” you insisted.

“With you? Never.”

“Well, just one thing,” you said, coming closer to him before turning around. “I need help zipping it up.”

You felt Steve’s hands at the small of your back, pulling the zipper up slowly. His fingers brushed your exposed skin on the way up. And, when he finally reached the top, he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“I have something else for you,” he whispered in your ear. Before you could ask, you felt something cold around your neck, a weight resting against your sternum. Your hand came up to touch it - a necklace. A ruby pendant to match the dress, the chain lined delicately with diamonds.

“Steve-” you said, turning to face him.

“Don’t say anything,” he said, beating you to what you were about to say.

“But - you’ve already put together this whole trip… I can’t -”

“You only turn 21 once,” he said. “It’s a big deal, you know.”

“Maybe in the States - not really so much here -”

“I guess that’s why I wanted to make it special, just for you,” he whispered. “Will you let me?”

His eyes were so soft, begging you to just say yes, and your chest suddenly felt warm.

“Thank you,” you finally said. “Really.”

Then, he was kissing you. It wasn’t hungry, or heated, or demanding. It was soft and slow. When he pulled away, hand cupping your jaw, it felt like you should say something else - but what? Before you could decide what it should be, he was holding out an arm to you. You hooked yours through it, letting him lead the way.

Sunset hadn’t happened yet, but it was probably soon - the sky was bathed in the deep golden of the sun, the day aging and giving way to the evening soon enough. You took the Ferrari, the top down as Steve drove down the hill and into town.

The place Steve had reserved for dinner was tucked into the mountain, made of old stone and terraced into the Earth. You were on the rooftop, your table set out so that you had a view of the city below, and the sea beyond. The sky was turning shades of orange and pink, promising a stunning sunset.

“Steve,” you started once you were settled into your chair, “this place - it’s stunning.”

You couldn’t even hide your awe, realizing for maybe the hundredth time that week just how lucky you were.

“Just wait until sunset,” he said. “This is the most in-demand restaurant on the island.”

“And you got a reservation?” you asked, perusing the wine menu.

“I pulled some strings.”

“Naturally.”

You brought your feet to rest on top of his under the table.

After ordering a bottle of wine, Steve reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his tobacco and rolling papers.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he said.

“As long as you share,” you replied, grinning as he started rolling a second cigarette.

As you lit yours up and took a deep inhale, you allowed a moment to fully take in the sight of Steve.

The last week had changed him. You thought about him, and how he had said that this was the first time he had taken a vacation from work. His skin was tanned, his hair a bit lighter from the time in the sun. It had grown a bit longer, too, since you’d first met him.

As he breathed out smoke, donning sunglasses and bathed in the golden light of dusk, you felt your chest ache. For better or for worse, Steve Harrington has changed your life.

After enjoying a decadent meal of seafood, flatbreads, and pasta, all shared with Steve, it was properly dark out. The only light came from the strong lights hanging around the patio, and the candlelight on the table. You were a bit tipsy from the shared bottle of wine, feeling warm and hazy. It was during dessert, as you were sipping a cappuccino and tasting your tiramisu, that Steve cleared his throat.

“So, I have one more present for you,” he announced, straightening up in his chair.

“Steve - no.”

“But -”

“You’ve already gotten me the dress, the necklace, this entire trip. And, well… everything else.”

The arrangement, which you two barely spoke of anymore. At least, not directly. He just sighed, pulling an envelope out of his pocket and sliding it across the table to you.

“It’s the last thing, I promise - please?”

You stared at him for a moment before finally conceding. Grabbing the envelope, you tore it open, pulling out the piece of paper inside. You stared at it for a moment, squinting in the dim candlelight. It was a map - a map of the night sky. You vaguely recognized it, thanks to the astronomy class you had to take during your first year of school.

“It’s - the sky?”

“Well, it’s a certificate, for proof.”

“Proof of what?”

He pointed to the text at the top. You read it once. Twice. Five times. You felt your eyes widen, your mouth hanging open.

“Did you - did you name a star after me?”

Steve nodded slowly, assessing your reaction.

“Yes. Well, specifically - it’s kind of stupid, but… it’s a star that’s over Rome in late May, right around when we met. I don’t know, I just thought - it was just an idea.”

When your eyes met his again, he was asking a silent question - expectant, nervous, his gaze asking, do you like it?

It was then that it hit you. It was like a train, knocking the breath out of you. And, without thinking, you said it:

“I’m in love with you.”

As soon as it tumbled out, you swore your heart stopped. Everything was spinning, and you were certain you were going to be sick. But, after an agonizing moment, Steve just raised an eyebrow.

“So, am I supposed to know what that one means?”

“I - what?”

“Are you quizzing me again?”

A wave of relief washed over you - you had said it in Italian. What Steve had heard was sono innamorato di te. You let out a deep breath, laughing nervously.

“Oh - yes. Yeah!”

“Okay - what does it mean?”

“Just, um - it means I love it. The gift, I mean. It… it was really thoughtful.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing in his chair.

“Oh, good. I’m glad. I wasn’t sure what you’d think, to be honest.”

You stared down at the paper, avoiding his eyes. You did your best to just focus on the page, hoping he couldn’t tell that your hands were shaking.

“No - it’s great. Thank you, really.”

You forced a smile, meeting his eyes again. Then, you stood up suddenly, your chair sliding out behind you. Concern flickered across his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Me? Yeah, I just - I need to use the ladies’ room,” you mumbled. You took a step towards him, placing a quick kiss on his cheek before heading downstairs to the lower part of the restaurant.

As soon as you were locked in the bathroom, you braced yourself on the sink. You did your best to steady your breathing, gripping to porcelain for dear life. That was a close call - too close. You immediately started chastising yourself - you were an idiot, a fool. Your one job was to not fall for him. It was the most important part of the agreement. Wasn’t the whole point of this to avoid complications, and heartbreak?

You took a deep breath, assessing the facts:

You loved Steve Harrington.

You weren’t supposed to love Steve Harrington.

Now, every time you were with him, you’d be lying to his face

In a month, he’d be out of your life.

You felt nauseous, the room starting to spin. This couldn’t be happening. But, it was. You stared at yourself in the mirror - your eyes were glassy, threatening to break into full-on tears at any moment. No, you couldn’t do that - you weren’t going to ruin this perfect day, perfect week. This was so you, to ruin everything for yourself at the last minute. You gathered yourself, fighting the urge to cry. You were going to make this work - you had to. Steve never had to know how you were feeling, how much you had fucked this whole thing up. So, you straightened yourself up, doing your best to regain composure, and headed back upstairs to the table.

Steve visibly relaxed when he saw you approaching.

“Everything okay?” he asked as you slid into your chair.

“Oh - yeah. All good, it’s just - I’m stuffed!” you declared, laughing half-heartedly. “Seriously, this was delicious, but - I can’t eat or drink anything else.”

Steve nodded. “Oh, no problem - I can get the check.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You had to seem normal - to make yourself feel normal. Nothing had to change between you two, as far as you were concerned.

So, you let Steve take you home, your hand on his leg making him drive the car borderline recklessly. You both stumbled through the door of the villa, shedding one another of your clothes like your lives depended on it.

Maybe you were reading too much into it, or maybe something truly had shifted. More likely, the reality was somewhere in the middle. But, the sex wasn’t desperate, or urgent. You took your time with one another, exploring each other’s bodies like it was the last time you’d ever do so. Steve held you close, kissing every inch of you, his lips whispering prayers and sweet nothings into your skin.

You gave it all back to him, thanking him for everything he’s done for you with filthy words whispered in his ear, telling him how good he was making you feel.

He sucked bruises into your skin, and you left scratches down his back. When you came, it was together, the pleasure peaking and flowing through both of you in unison. After, he laid on top of you, your fingers running gently through his hair as you stared at the ceiling. You just let yourself bathe in the afterglow, hanging on to Steve like he’d disappear if you didn’t.

It was later, after your head had settled onto his chest with his arms wrapped around you, that he finally spoke.

“So - did you have a good birthday?”

“Mm,” you hummed blissfully. His heartbeat thudded steadily against your ear, grounding you.

“Best birthday I ever had,” you added.

“Really?”

“Yes,” you affirmed. “You - you made me feel special. I don’t think anyone’s bothered to do that before, not like this.”

A pause.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Steve said solemnly. “You deserve better.”

You shook your head, burying your face further into his chest.

“You’ve made up for that,” you assured him. “Trust me.”

His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“Good,” he said. “I mean, we’re doing round two next weekend, with Robin’s not-surprise party.”

You groaned.

“I forgot about that.”

“It’s only because she loves you, you know.”

You swore your heart skipped a beat at the word. You immediately felt stupid for even letting that happen, as if it was voluntary.

“Yeah, she does,” you conceded.

“I don’t want this trip to end,” Steve admitted. His voice was lower, words slurring a bit. You realized that his breathing had slowed down considerably - he was drifting.

“Me neither,” you admitted. “Let’s just stay forever.”

It sounded like a joke, earning a low chuckle from him. It didn’t feel like one, though.

“Whatever you want,” he murmured.

After a few moments, Steve went completely silent. His heartbeat was slower, and you sighed, rolling over to stare at the ceiling.

Without him to distract you, your mind started racing. The anxiety was gone - no, the feeling now was pure and utter dread. But, the most horrible part was when you glanced over at the man beside you - all you felt was butterflies, churning in your stomach like some sweet sickness.

You stared at Steve for a while - the rise and fall of his chest, his disheveled hair, the way the moonlight cast over his form, highlighting his silhouette.

“Hey, Steve? You awake?” you whispered through the darkness. No response.

You brought yourself up onto your elbow, leaning in just a bit closer. You’d never be able to tell him to his face, but this was the closest you’d get - maybe you just needed to get it out of your system. At least, that was what you told yourself.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered. No response.

You promptly turned over under the covers, burying your face in the pillow. And, finally, the tears came. Fast and hot, they leaked onto the pillow, marking it like acid as you did your best to sob silently.

You were fucked. Completely and utterly ruined. For the first time in ages, you cried yourself to sleep. Before you finally drifted off, one question was on your mind:

What were you going to do when Steve left for good?

author's note: hi everyone! Thanks for your patience for this update! Work has been kicking my ass, and it's been harder to make time to write. Before anyone says anything, no, I don't speak Italian, nor have I been to Italy. I did my best, but some details were fabricated for the story, so if it's not accurate - oh well! Thanks to everyone for all the kind messages, and to my bestie Em for the endless inspiration. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated!

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crowsoundsonly · 6 months

Text

can i join you?

pair: soft!loki x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

summary: loki takes really good care of you on your period :')

warnings: nudity but nothing graphic! mentions of periods and period blood, ooc!loki honestly because i wanted him to be mega soft and sweet

a/n: hey guys! i wrote this a minute ago and am impulsively posting it because i am too tired to proofread it lol. it is just super self indulgent and everything i needed today so i hope it is what you need today :)

Your day had been plagued with one unfortunate event after the other, the crowning jewel of the ugly tiara you wore being the surprise arrival of your period. You didn’t expect it for another week, and it struck with a vengeance, worse than you have experienced in years. Wanting to simply crawl in bed with your favorite book, you manage to make it through the day and to the rest you ached for.

Curled up in a ball with the lights low and book in hand, you hear footsteps and a knock on the door. You call out, “Come in!” not wanting to remove yourself from the comfortable position you finally found. The door clicks open and you throw a glance over your shoulder when the footsteps near the bed.

“Hey, love,” Loki says softly, swiftly moving to lay on his side in the empty space beside you.

You hum and smile, happy that he decided to stop by your apartment. “Hey,” you whisper back, sighing as he reaches over to stroke your cheek, obviously sensing that you are not feeling well.

“How was your day?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“Not the best, but that’s okay. There’s always tomorrow, right?”

You find yourself often trying to hide yourself from Loki, not wanting to burden him with your mortal trivialities. He has never given you a reason to think that he does not want to hear about them, but you can’t help but feel that he would not be interested.

At your words, he eyes you suspiciously, sensing rather acutely that you are downplaying your struggles, and asks “What happened?”

“Things were just not going my way today, that’s all. And I don’t feel very good. I,” you paused, considering telling him why. You figure that he is thousands of years old, so he is not unaware of the condition, so you finish your sentence. “I started my period.”

He sighs in sympathy, reaching out again to stroke your side.

“Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?” he asks, continuing to run soothing fingers over your hip, slipping his fingers under your shirt to skim over your stomach. “Have you showered yet? That might help.”

You shake your head as your eyes fall closed at the feeling of his cool knuckles brushing below your navel. He leans in to kiss you softly as he continues to massage your stomach gently before pulling away and grabbing the book from your hands. “Come on,” he says, linking his fingers in yours, tugging you off of the bed and into the bathroom.

“Can I join you?” his voice comes out more tender than you have ever heard it. All the bite in his voice seeps away when he talks to you, a low and gentle tone replacing it.

You consider his words. It won’t be the first time he has seen you naked, but you feel gross and bloated. But, you think about his fingers in your hair, massaging your body as the warm water patters over your shoulders which outweighs your thoughts of apprehension.

“Please,” you nod.

Loki smiles at your response and begins helping you get undressed. Grabbing the hem of your shirt, he pulls it over your head, dropping it to the floor beside you. Nothing about this feels sexual, but everything about this feels intimate. He is not rushed at all, seemingly enjoying comforting you in the best way he knows how at the moment. He helps you unhook your bra as you start shimmying out of the pajama pants you had thrown on as soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment.

You move to turn on the water in the shower, leaving your panties on until you are ready to hop in, not keen on having blood drip down your legs and over the floor in front of your boyfriend. You can hear him removing his own clothing behind you. When he finishes, he hugs you from behind, tucking his nose into the crook of your neck as you wait for the water to heat up. With every touch, he can feel you relax into him.

When you deem the water ready, you slip out of your panties and into the spray of the water, Loki trailing in behind you. You moan at the feeling of the warm water hitting your skin, and you can hear Loki chuckle at the sound. Cheeks heating, you turn to have your back to him, facing the shower of water.

“Sorry, love. I’m not laughing at you,” Loki says as he reaches for the shampoo, “I love seeing you happy and feeling better.”

With shampoo lathered between his palms, he reaches into your hair, massaging his way over your scalp, fingernails scratching ever so slightly. Another moan falls from your lips at the sensation. You whisper his name, almost reverently, your mind thinking of nothing but the feeling of his hands on you. He guides you to turn around and rinse out your hair under the water, his hands helping the suds rinse out. Your hands find his torso, your grasp on him rooting you to reality.

Loki continues to gently and carefully wash your hair before grabbing the bar of soap, lathering it between his hands. His hands glide over your back, tracing your spine to the small of your back, massaging there for a moment. You brace yourself against the wall of the shower, your head falling against the tile. His hands push their way over your shoulders and down your arms before tugging you to turn around. He lathers more soap in his palms and smooths his hands over your chest, thumbs flicking over your sensitive breasts, causing you to arch into him ever so slightly.

At this, he leans in for a chaste kiss, pouring his tenderness into it, expressing how much he loves you in such a simple action. Loki breaks away to kneel in front of you, placing a soft kiss to your hip, skimming his palms over your stomach. He lathers more soap then sweeps his hands down your legs, rinsing away the pink trails on the inside of your thighs.

You marvel at his willingness to take care of you so keenly, not bothered by the blood, by the way your body has changed because of your period, or your lack of desire for intimacy in the way you normally express it. He seems completely content in attending to you without any hint of want of anything in return.

When he is finished, he stands again, finding your lips, enjoying the sigh you let out when he does. You weave your hands into his hair, intending to do the same thing to him what he just did to you. Loki, suspecting this, stills your hands with his own, whispering, “It’s okay. This was just for you. Let’s get out and get you back in bed.”

His words cause tears to well in your eyes, his tenderness and your hormones getting the better of your emotions. He kisses your cheek then steps out of the shower, reaching for the towels in the cupboard.

“Loki, I forgot to get a new set of underwear,” you say as he wraps you up in the towel. “I don’t want to drip on the carpet.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he says before padding away to fetch you clean panties. He returns with your most comfortable pair and fresh pajamas, practically reading your mind.

“How did you know this is my period pair?” you ask with a laugh in your voice, holding up the underwear, too comfortable at this point to care about sounding ridiculous. He did just spend the last twenty minutes tenderly attending to you in the shower, so you think that you have unlocked a new level in your relationship.

“I pay attention, you know,” he replies slyly, “I’ll let you finish up.” With that he leaves the bathroom, closing the door. You sigh, already feeling leagues better than you did an hour ago. You wonder how you are so lucky as to be allowed to see this side of Loki which is so gentle, kind, and attentive.

When you are ready, you go to lay back down in bed, finding Loki already dressed and waiting for you beneath the covers. You tuck yourself into his side and wrap around his torso, hooking a leg over his.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his neck.

“You’re welcome, love. Anything for you” Loki hums, pulling you closer while reaching to grab your favorite book from your nightstand. He flips it open to the bookmarked page, and begins reading aloud. You close your eyes, enjoying the sound of his voice, and before long, you are fast asleep in his arms.

a/n: thanks so much for reading! let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!! check out MY SLEEPOVER going on right now !!

taglist: @buttercupcookies-blog, @kats72, @mischief-dream, @iamlokisgloriouspurpose

#loki #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki odinson #mcu #mcu loki #mcu fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fanfction #loki series #loki laufeyson #loki x you

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woso-fan13 · 6 months

Text

Whumptober 2023: 29 (Arsenal)

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

Your teammates were used to your regressions, and they loved babysitting. There had been countless team bonding nights that ended up with you snuggled in the middle of the group with a cartoon playing. Some of the girls would even invite themselves over when they knew you would be little, claiming that they needed their baby fix. You weren’t going to complain, you loved the attention.

The only time that they knew you would never regress was at the stadium. You felt very strongly about keeping your work and personal life separate and everyone respected that. You had only been little on the pitch once, and that was a unique situation. You had been sick and regressed, and Beth and Viv weren’t able to justify skipping practice for that, so they settled you in a stroller with a blanket and let you sleep by the bench. You slept like a baby- ironically.

You were extremely good about sticking to your rule and keeping your regressions away from work. Until you weren’t.

—-

Practice had been going well. Your team had won during the scrimmage, the weather was lovely, everything was working out. During a water break, you’re talking to some of your friends while digging through your kit bag that you had previously tossed to the side. You had felt your watch buzzing during practice- an indication of multiple texts waiting for you- but you hadn’t had time to look. Finally, your fingers grasp on to the rectangle and pull it out triumphantly.

Continuing your conversation, you tap the screen and unlock your phone without looking. You keep talking, pulling the messaging app up and looking down. A slew of texts from an unknown number. Puzzled, you begin reading through them.

Oh.

You freeze mid-sentence, your brain frozen as you try to process the messages you’ve received. As you try to process that they not only managed to find your number, but that they reached out this much.

Your teammates must have been concerned by your sudden silence, as they call for Beth and Viv. The two women make their way over, their concern growing as they see you.

Beth steps up first, a hand reaching out to rest on your arm.

“Hey, sweetheart, are you alright?”

You look up at her with wide eyes, full of terror. Your mouth moves, desperately trying to find words that would help. No sound comes out.

Viv walks up at this point, standing beside Beth. Seeing the two of them, tears start filling your eyes. Viv pulls you into a tight hug, Beth wrapping her arms around you. They can feel your heart hammer as your breath shudders. It's silent until they hear a tiny fearful voice.

“Mama?” it questions.

Looking down, it’s clear to the two women that you’ve regressed hard and fast. Tears are flowing down your cheeks as you snuffle. Your head is pressed firmly against Viv, the rest of your body shifting to increase contact.

Viv and Beth know that practice is far from over. They both know that, coming back so recently from injuries, that they can’t really afford to miss sessions. But their maternal instincts are in overdrive as they watch their baby sob.

Sharing a look, Viv pulls you fully into her grasp, your arms and legs clinging around her. She walks to the far end of the bench, away from the rest of the team, as Beth frantically digs through her bag. She knows that some of your stuff must be in there.

Digging out a pacifier and your comfort rag, she hurries to join you and Viv. Viv has sat now, but you’re still clinging tightly to her, your chests pressed together. She’s rocking slowly back and forth while cooing to you softly in Dutch. Even though you had no idea what she was saying, it usually calmed you quickly. Not today.

Beth presses a kiss to the top of your hair before sitting beside Viv. She wants more than anything to pop your dummy in and watch as you suckle. Your breathing would slow as your eyes drifted shut. But she doesn’t want to, not yet. If they can figure out what’s causing your distress and fix it quickly, it’s not impossible that all three of you could soon return to practice.

Unfortunately, their usual tactics don’t work. Giving in slightly, Beth passes you your comfort rag. You slam it sloppily to your face. While this is usually a cure-all, it doesn’t stop your tears.

Sharing a look, they decide to break out the big guns. Beth pulls the rag away from your face just enough to slip your dummy between your lips. Now they can just wait.

The repetitive motion does soothe you, quieting your sobs slightly. You’re still nowhere near where you usually are.

All hopes of returning to practice have vanished long ago. Now, your mums are simply desperately trying to calm you enough to get you home without you making yourself sick. It was sure to be a long day.

#woso imagine #womens soccer #reader insert #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso #woso soccer #woso fanfics #woso community #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #awfc #arsenal women #arsenalwfc

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sweetandscarlet · 2 years

Text

i want you to be rough with me

notes: i wanted to test out how well i’d do at Y/N smut so here you go, any feedback is appreciated :)

warnings: 18+ mommy kink, spanking, slapping, choking, basically shameless smut with no plot that i wrote at work 🥲 minors DNI!

you were the luckiest woman alive.

as much as the redhead denied it and insisted it was her, you stood your ground.

the older woman was your favourite person in the whole universe, she was everything you could ever dream of. wanda was kind, caring, always tending to your every need and most importantly the best you had ever had.

in the beginning of the relationship, she was soft, gentle and overtly tentative in making you feel good.

but after a few months had passed, wanda was still the same and you yearned for something more.

you ached for her to thrust a little harder, for her to use her teeth and mark you everywhere until you turned purple and blue, to be left with physical reminders of your nights together. hunger brewed in the pit of your stomach at the thought.

the thought of telling her made you so anxious, until one night she had thrown you down on the bed just a little too quick and a little too hard. your clit throbbed at the action and a moan escaped your lips on impact. wanda, who stood at the foot of the bed quirked an eyebrow.

"what was that, malyshka?" a smirk playing on her lips, her left hand reaching down to stroke your knee in circles.

your eyes drifted down to the touch and the only thing you could muster was a croaked "i was just surprised"

wanda tutted, a chuckle escaping her lips as she shook her head. "don't lie to me, use your big girl words"

you shifted upwards, resting your weight on your elbows and huffed. "i.. i like it- i want you to be rough with me"

again, she quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "y/n why didn't you say anything? all this time i've been treating you like glass, too scared i might break you when all along that's what you wanted"

your bottom lip jutted out in a pout before kneeling up and shuffling over to her, your hands landing on her shoulders. "i-i do, i love when you're gentle with me but i would also like you to be.. not so gentle"

the redhead hummed in response, a hand coming up to rest on your cheek, her thumb stroking the soft skin underneath. "so tell me, little one. what goes on in that pretty little head of yours, what do you like?"

you gulped audibly, swallowing down the anxiety of opening up with somebody about something so personal, even if it was to wanda.

you licked your lips before taking a deep breath. "i like the thought of you just using me as you please, fucking me hard and showing no mercy"

wandas' eyes fluttered closed at your words. she had never heard you speak in such a filthy manner before and the images it caused her to have made her mouth water with want.

"..i like being thrown around, tied up, choked, slapped" you continued, your head tilting upwards to look at the older woman towering above you, her hand still gently placed on your cheek. "i'm also open to any ideas you might have"

wandas' eyes shot open at the last sentence and her once gentle touch had now grown harder as her hand moved to grip your chin, humming in thought. "do you want to be mommy's little fuck toy?"

you whimpered at the name, hearing it for the first time and you couldn't help but rub your thighs together when you felt that all too familiar uncomfortable tingle between them. it sounded so good coming from her lips.

"yes, god yes, i do" you uttered as you inched closer towards her, your lips ghosting over hers. "please"

her hand released your chin roughly and immediately a slap echoed in the empty room as it connected with your right cheek.

you bit your bottom lip to stop a pathetic moan from slipping out. "harder, mommy"

wanda just laughed before raising her hand again, the contact sending you flying backwards and you swear your vision went black for a second as your back hit the mattress below you.

your cheek stung painfully in the best way possible and you turned your head to see the older woman lifting her knee on the foot of the bed before crawling toward you.

"was that good enough, slut?" she mocked, a grin playing on her lips as she inched closer to you.

the only reply you could muster was a nod as you lay there in shock at how easily wanda switched roles.

"good, i'm going to have a lot of fun playing with you” she cooed, reaching a hand up to stroke your cheek that was now bright red.

wanda could feel it throb under her hand and she couldn’t help the groan that slipped out. she’s always wanted to treat you like this but had always been too scared to hurt you or worried she’d scare you with this other side of her. luckily you were the perfect girl for wanda. the most perfect little girl she could ever ask for.

“now malyshka, be honest..” she paused, the hand on your cheek trailing down to wrap around your throat. “do you like to have your ass spanked red raw too?”

a whimper escaped your plump lips as her hand started to squeeze and all you could do was nod you head, that’s all it took before wanda surged forward and crashed her lips against yours.

you sat up, arched your back into the kiss and as if on auto-pilot your hand flew to her hip and squeezed in frustration.

you were so unbelievably turned on already it was criminal. she had barely touched you.

wanda pulled away from the bruising kiss and used her free hand to slap the opposite cheek. you ground yourself into the mattress needing some sort of relief from the painful throbbing and whined a “mommy please, i need you”

the subtle friction did little to help and wanda almost caved at your begging, but she quickly reminded herself she had only just started her fun.

“be patient, detka. now, be a good slut and get over my lap before i throw you over”

you let out a huff and stayed where you were, sat with your knees bent underneath you as you pouted. “wanda please, i can’t wait. i need your mouth”

the older woman’s hand on your throat tightened and you choked out a strangled moan at the sudden loss of oxygen.

“if you don’t shut your mouth and do as i say you won’t get anything at all” wanda spat, her tolerance wearing thin.

before you could sputter out any sort of apology after hearing the threat, the hand that was on your throat gripped the back of your head, soft hair threaded into her hand as she pulled you upwards and over onto her lap.

it all happened so quickly that it gave you whiplash as your hands landed in front of you and they instantly grabbed the soft material of the sheet below you.

“now, little one.. let’s see if your dumb horned up little brain can remember how to count”

a hand instantly reached down, pulling your pajama shorts down to your ankles in one foul swoop, cold air immediately hit your exposed cunt and wanda gasped softly.

“no panties, malyshka? you dirty girl, look at the state of your pussy. you’ve made a mess”

you knew what she was talking about. you could feel the wetness dripping down and coating your inner thighs and as embarrassing as it was, you also didn't care.

"you really do love this huh?" wanda sighed, collecting the mess on her slender fingers as she stroked the inside of your legs. they moved closer and closer to where you needed her and you whined at the touch.

before you could get your hopes up, the same hand came down hard on your ass and your body jolted at the contact, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

"now tell me y/n, how many was that?"

your eyes clamped shut as your breathing laboured. “o-one. it was one”

wanda hummed in appreciation. “good girl, now let’s keep counting until you can’t sit down for a week”

•

| pt 2 |

#wanda maximoff x reader #smut #wanda maximoff smut #marvel mcu #the scarlet witch #wandavision #multiverse of madness

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benedictscanvas · 1 year

Note

Hi!! I saw your post about taking some request, Can you please make a fluff story where the reader is settling her head on Aaron's lap after the case and he leans down to kiss her and pets her head until she falls asleep on him also the whole team knows about their relationship so they just ignore it because they are also tired. Thank youuuu!! You're Amazing!!

no you're amazing! thank you lovely <3 i couldn't resist turning this into some hurt/comfort, i hope you don't mind! || words, tw flu-like sickness, headache medication mention, mildly suggestive

There was no such thing as a simple case, or an easy one, or a quick one. They were all difficult and tiresome and long, but so entirely necessary that you were usually able to board the jet with some warm feeling in your stomach at having done a good job. Even saving one life was enough, and you'd done that.

But instead of that feeling, everything just hurt. You'd clearly come down with something halfway through the case, but you'd been in too deep by that point and you'd worked yourself to the point of exhaustion. Your head was pounding, your limbs felt like jelly, you were shivering in the Texan sunshine. Clearly the only thing that had been keeping you going was the adrenaline.

Back at home, you were often the voice of reason around the house - dinners needed cooking and dishes done and bathrooms cleaned, after all. When Aaron grew foggy in remembering that amongst all his work responsibility, you'd pick up the slack. It was never long before he bounced back, apologising for his lapse, making up for it in all the little ways he knew best.

Still, it felt unfair to be relying on his strong hand on your back to help you up the stairs to the jet. You'd all had a tough time, and now he was having to take care of you too? It was a weight of guilt on your already tight chest.

"That's it, baby," he murmured lowly as you reached the top of the steps, the rest of the team already on the jet and out of earshot, "Doing so good f'me."

"Just need to get something for my head," you said softly in return, trying to turn from him to head to the little kitchenette area to hunt for medication, but the hand you'd tried to escape wrapped itself around your waist and kept you close, tucked you into his side.

"I've got paracetamol in my bag, sweetheart, and I'll get you water. Come sit down," his last sentence was almost a plea, so you obliged, letting him steer you towards the long sofa which was surprisingly empty of Reid or Morgan who usually occupied the space. It wasn't difficult, even with such a headache, to realise Aaron had told them to sit elsewhere.

"I could've sat where we usually sat," you protest weakly, also noticing that everyone was eerily quiet, "Have you told everyone off except me or something, Hotchner?"

You could see the wince at using his last name, but also the flash of guilt that told you he had definitely given everyone a talking to about being quiet on the jet to not aggravate your headache. Your frown grew.

"Just wanted my wife to be comfy. We all know how hard you've worked the last few days." "We've all worked hard," you argue, but it comes out all wrong when you're letting Aaron sit you on the couch and wrap his hand around your ankles, pulling them upwards in an attempt to get you to lie down. He produces a blanket from underneath the couch and begins to tuck it into place around you and any argument you had dies in the warming comfort of his large hands putting just enough pressure on your shoulders when he's finished.

"There," he declared to himself, squatting down so your faces were level, "Everyone's tired, baby, they don't mind being quiet. We all saw you put more energy than you had into this one. Just stay awake until I bring you some water and then you can sleep the way home, okay?"

You just nod. Utterly and blissfully taken care of. He leans forward to press a lingering kiss to your forehead and then places a worried hand on your forehead, tuts to himself and walks off in search of water. When you glance at the others, you see Derek smirking at you in a way that tells you they've definitely been talking about the strange, affection version of their boss that they don't often get to see. You stick your tongue out at him without thinking and watch him laugh loudly before being shushed by a concerned Spencer.

Aaron blocks your view as he squats in front of you again, placing a hand under your head this time and lifting you until you're almost sitting up. He lifts the water to your lips and you scowl, taking the cup from him.

"I'm a capable woman," you hiss, taking the tablets from his other hand and gulping down the entire glass of water with them to make sure they go down. He looked amused, which wasn't what you were going for.

"Trust me, I'm well aware," he says quietly, but with a hint of awe you always loved to hear from him, though it was usually behind closed doors and with a lot less clothes on, "Wouldn't have married you if I wasn't."

He gently laid your head back down, although there was a pillow under it now. You were getting more sleepy by the second, especially when his hand stayed in your hair, stroking gentle circles.

"Y'sound like you might be sweet on me, Aaron Hotchner."

You were aiming for playful, but even you could hear the slight tired slur in your words.

"Only for you, Y/N, and only if you don't tell anyone."

You reached up to place a finger on your lips, then dropped your hand back down when your headache spiked at the movement. He hummed sadly at the pain on your face, doubling down with his soothing hair stroking, but it occurred to you that he was still squatting. He definitely didn't have the quads to keep doing that much longer, however much you adored his quads.

"Come 'ere," you said, patting the space under your head, putting the pillow down on the floor of the jet instead. He looked confused and you sighed, "Sit, please. Need you."

He visibly softens at that, and lifts you enough to slide underneath your head until you're resting comfortably on his lap. You reach up to pull his hand back into your hair and he chuckles.

"I'm sorry about your head, baby," he whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead, your cheek, your lips, just briefly. You snuggle further into him contently, "I got you. I'll be right here when you wake up."

You weren't sure you'd be able to go to sleep, not with your head still pounding, but with one hand in your hair and the other brushing mindless circles into your hipbone, you didn't think you minded too much.

You pressed a grateful kiss to his clothed knee and received a squeeze to your hip right back. It was enough to allow you to close your eyes and finally get some rest.

if you'd like to request something, please do so here. i'd love to hear from you, sunflower <3

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds oneshot #hotch #hotch x reader

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ceruleancattail · 1 year

Note

RAAAASHSJSJD I CANT BELIEVE BUTLER AU WONNN I voted for Nightfall AU but I DONT MIND- AS LONG AS I GET BUTLER!LEONA UEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHE—

*clears throat* uh butler leona please- not sure which scenario tbh, maybe when reader gets injured? A minor injury though🕺

YOU VOTED FOR NIGHTFALL??? Superior taste fr fr/j

I really wanna develop that au ahah, maybe when I have some time~

Ballrooms

Butler Leona x reader

People normally seek refuge within buildings. Fingers curled into fists, knocking doors desperately. Hoping for someone, anyone to take notice of their pleas.

You, however, were more interested of getting out.

A ballroom, lined with gold. Elaborate designs of flowers, each petal carved carefully into the walls. If you look at them closely enough, you could almost swear they could move, swaying with the breeze.

The clink of wine glasses tapping against each other. Polite laughter ringing through the air, the clack of heels against the ground. The chatter of a thousand voices, conversations held behind fans, politics hidden behind a smile.

Holding yourself upright, you squeeze through the wave after wave of people. Ankles throbbing, pain gnawing on your feet. You shouldn’t have worn these shoes. They were too small, heels much too high for your comfort.

Curse your vanity.

Your eyes flicker from left to right, a cornered animal. Trying to find somewhere, anywhere for you to sit down and rest your weary legs. Colours from all parts of the rainbow, fabric brushing against you, trailing on the ground. They swarmed your vision, blocking out everything but the people.

Heaving a sigh, you gather up your belongings. Guess you’ll have to take an early night. Hobbling across the dance floor as carefully as you could, you start to make your way to the door.

Treading gently in an attempt to put less pressure on your poor, aching feet, you move slowly. Muttering soft exclamations of “excuse me.”, “pardon me.” Gritting your teeth whenever hushed whispers followed your wake.

“Leaving the party this early? Who did they think they are?”

“How rude.”

Mere gossip, you told yourself. Pay no heed.

Keep walking, hold your head up. Don’t listen to the words, even though they sting. A thousand wasps, pressing deep into your skin. Every sentence burning their way into your back, branding you.

Your image will certainly take a hit after this event.

Elbowing your way through, your hands finally reach the doors. You’ve never felt more happy to touch a doorknob. A single twist, and you slide out of the ballroom. A few more steps, and you’ve hobbled out of the mansion.

The cool air of the night greeted you. Wafting over your cheeks, a soft caress. Taking in a deep breath, you almost collapse with relief. Feeling the air slip down your lungs, refreshing the depths of your soul.

Leaning against a pillar, you catch your breath. Fingers slipping into the back of your shoes, you pry your feet loose. The soles of your feet press against the cold, hard floor, smoothing that throbbing ache in your ankles.

A much need respite. The pain mellowed out a tinge. Now, it was reduced to a dull throbbing, raw and red.

Lifting your head up, your gaze wandered. Looking for that familiar mane of brown, tumbling down his back. How you longed to run your hands through that lovable mane, tugging at those soft strands of chocolate brown.

Unfortunately, he was nowhere in sight. Not surprising, especially from Leona. As soon as you two arrived, he trudged off into the gardens, mumbling something about not being fond of crowds.

A great big grumpy kitty cat. You stifle a laugh, before setting foot on the grass. Blades of leaves crinkle before your touch, drops of dew slipping into your toes. The smell of freshly mowed grass wafting from below, you start walking towards the gardens.

You come across a water fountain, shrouded in the shadows. Half of it was engulfed in vines of ivy, its green tendrils creeping across the edges. A trickle of water, spilling out from its basin. In the faint moonlight, you could make out the golden shimmer of coins.

A wishing well. How romantic.

You opt to take a seat here, massaging your tired legs. Rather ironic, how you’re the one running after Leona.

Come to think of it, this was the way you two have always been. The Master chasing after their butler, not the other way around. He’s always been an independent butler, for better or for worse. That haughty manner wasn’t exactly ideal for a servant.

Yet you kept him around. Old feelings die hard. Leona’s been nothing but loyal. Despite the way he seemed to bat you around like a cat’s toy, you trust him.

Odd, isn’t it?

A rustle of leaves has you whipping behind, shoe in hand. Raised up, ready to hurl those accursed shoes at whoever dared to approach.

A pair of gloves hands, held up in surrender. Black leather gloves that only covered half of his palm. Half lidded emerald eyes regarded you lazily, a lion’s tail swishing behind him.

You drop the shoes, shoulders relaxing.

“Leona.”

Your butler grunts in response, before he takes a seat next to you. His tail dips into the fountain, before flicking up with a sharp motion. Water droplets pelt your face, sparkling like diamonds.

A chuckle, deep as dark velvet wine.

“Thought you’ll play royalty in that stuffy room a little more. You robbed me of a good nap, Master.”

He gives you a once over, before his gaze stopped at your feet. You didn’t realise how bad it was, until then. Your ankles rubbed until it was a raw, startling red.

Clicking his tongue, Leona slides off the fountain, dropping to his knees. His hands reach for your feet, fingers wrapping around your ankle. Gently, he pushes and prods, rubbing comforting circles into your feet.

“You shouldn’t have worn those shoes. Bet you limped all the way here, like some injured deer.”

Averting his eyes, you mumble something about wanting to impress. That earns you another click of the tongue, Leona switching over to your other foot.

“What’s the point of sucking up to them? You’re worth more then all of those prissy upstarts in that room.”

That gets a laugh out of you. Leona shoots you a smug grin, before he brushes his lap, before pushing himself back onto his feet.

You attempt to do the same, hands flat against the marble of the fountain. Gathering all your strength within your arms, propping yourself upright. However, your legs had other plans. Your knees buckle, giving out from underneath you.

Landing onto the grass with a thump, your cheeks grow boiling hot. A chuckle, before Leona squats down next to you. Stretching out his arms, his hands find the small of your back, and the back of your knees. Lifting you up, he cradles you close to his chest. Close enough to feel his heartbeat, thumping through his chest.

One beat, two beat. You listen to that steady rhythm, until your heartbeat melts into his.

Your two hearts beating as one.

Leona leans in, his lips pressing against your forehead.

“Come on.

Let’s go home, Master.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Leona x reader #Leona kingscholar #Leona kingscholar x reader #Leona #twst leona #butler au #lucky potion 🔷

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its-actually-minicika · 1 year

Text

The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 2;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader (rip king 🤍), Dark!Aemond x Reader (though it's very much one sided on his behalf);

Warnings: angst galore, mentions of SA, blood and gore, allusions and descriptions of death AND sex, book canon Aemond- need I go on?

Author's Note: The support received on the last part was insane :")) so here I am, writing another one! If this gets enough attention, I might just turn it into a series; Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy!

Also, this isn't proof-read; We die like men tonight :") Part 3 is out now! <33

(Y/N) and Ser Cain ride through burnt-down forests, scattered with ash and blood - twisted loyalties reveal their sick ambitions, and the girl is faced with a very tough decision.

"How'd you even manage to get into Harrenhal? Aemond may be blind in one eye, but he keeps an iron fist over who enters and leaves the Keep." Her hushed voice echoed through the empty forest.

Ser Cain looked at his lady with a glimpse of reverence, that could almost be confused with one of slight amusement.

"I must admit, I got plenty of help." He barked dryly, running a calloused hand through his blonde hair. "You may have had no friends among the Greens, but there was a certain wood witch that wanted you gone as soon as possible."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in momentary shock. Her mouth opened and closed back up again, before she finally managed to form a proper sentence.

"Alys? Alys Rivers?" She asked tentatively, amusement licking at her fair features.

"Us bastards always find a way to help one another," Cain let out a roaring laugh, that brought a level of warmth to the Lady's weary heart. "I wanted you safe, and she wanted you gone. We reached a deal very quickly after that."

"No way you struck a deal with Aemond's bedmate." The girl huffed out in disbelief, "She'll be in a lot of trouble if ever he finds out... There is hardly anything for her to gain from freeing a war captive."

"Aye, he will be mad..." Her sworn protector made a short pause, "Yet there's nothing that stirs someone on more than jealousy." The knight sighed, lost in deep thought. "She has everything to gain from this - the walls talk in Harrenhal, my Lady. And they... well, forgive me for being so blunt - speak stories on how the Kinslayer loses sleep by visiting you in your chambers at night."

The girl's cheek are caught ablaze; the innuendo was more than clear on Ser Cain's face alone. She stills her horse and throws him a jaded look.

"As you saw when you guarded my door, ser - he does intrude often. But there was never a moment where we..." As her words came to a halt, the girl huffed out in a discontented breath, "I would rather die than spread my legs open for the usurper's kin."

"I know." Cain reassured her, a wide smile plastered on his face. "With the way you were gripping that candle holder, ready to swing it at me, I can only imagine the hell you gave Prince Aemond."

"It wasn't nearly as much as he deserved. I'm afraid I failed to do Jace justice."

Wordlessly, Ser Cain reached for her saddle, and gave her shoulder a tight squeeze. His other hand came to grip the horse's bridle, forcing both mares into another sprint.

"We can't stay in one place for long." He wanted to apologise, but (Y/N)'s reassuring smile made him calm back down again.

"Trust me. If there is anyone who wants to put as much distance between them and that disgusting psychopath, it's me."

For a while, the only noise made in the smoked out forest was the gallop of the horses and their shallow panting. After a while, even that proved to be too little.

"I have to ask," The woman started, quirking her brow up at the knight, "Where are we going? Riverrun is hardly a safe space - Aemond will go there first, once he gets notified of my absence."

Following her own logic, (Y/N)'s eyes widen.

"My brothers. Father and grandfather...!"

"You needn't worry, my Lady!" Cain Waters assured the girl with a delicate brush on her arm, "We like to think that we thought of everything - and Riverrun has been emptied since the very beginning of the Kinslayer's wild attacks."

A sigh of relief etches it's way from the girl's throat.

"Your father raised your grandfather's army - he's marching to Dragonstone, with Kermit, to aid our true Queen. As for your youngest brother and grandfather, they're both in the Eyrie - where Lady Jane Arryn is expecting you, too."

"So that's were we're heading." (Y/N) concluded with a deep sigh. "We won't reach it tonight."

"No." Cain agreed, but soon added determinedly, "We'll probably reach the Saltpans on the morrow. We'll hide a while near the Trident and, when the time is right, march North towards the Bloody Gate."

"Gods be good, it will take us weeks." She exclaimed through a shallow breath. "We can't afford spare that much time. Aemond will be hot on our tracks, that much is for certain."

Cain's eyes softened at her outburst, and the robust man bit his inner cheek.

"We have to take this chance - for your safety, my Lady." He tried to encourage her with a crooked smile, "Do not worry about the Kinslayer. I'll kill him if he touches you."

The way in which he spoke oozed with honesty and determination. His eyes were like two silver daggers, scanning, searching for any danger that could put his Lady's life at stake.

Cain was a loyal knight, Lady Tully concluded, a trusted friend and fantastic travel partner. He was her sworn shield - and men, willing to devote themselves to a cause in the way he did, waiting for nothing in return, were very few and far between.

The tiniest shadows of a smile dance across her tired features. She takes in a deep breath, and allows her shoulders to relax.

"I know you will, Ser Cain." She confirms with a small nod, focusing her attention to the road ahead.

Still... when a dragon stands between a man and his duty, what brainless knight would ever rush to a lady's aid?

Aemond's footsteps echoed through the wailing keep. His armour fell heavy on his shoulders, and the sword in his grip was fully drenched in blood.

Of all the men slain by his hand that day, Simon Strong, the old fool, had screamed the loudest. He begged until his last breath for mercy of the Warrior and the Mother, for a chance to prove himself and his loyalty to the Crown, but to no avail.

Of all the guards assigned to Harrenhal by his darling mother, all but one died, as fallen victims to his endless frenzy.

"If the words you speak are truthful," Aemond mocked him with an airy laugh, "Then pick up this sword and clash it with mine. Should you be innocent, the Warrior will grant you strength enough to defeat me."

But no Warrior, and no other God, beckoned his call that day.

Instead, Simon Strong died with his head severed, and body still twitching with a sword in hand.

Now, it was Aemond's turn to wail and sigh at the sight before him - the last knight he kept alive, a boy as green as grass, petrified beyond belief.

When he spotted the One Eyed Prince, the boy all but fell to his knees, begging for forgiveness through tear stained cheeks and apish breaths.

"Your Grace, please, you must believe me!" He deplored helplessly, "I had no part in this - I didn't know!"

Aemond felt his lips quirk up in a cruel smile. The view below him was beyond pitiful; a most amusing glimpse into what the Conqueror himself must have experienced when he put Westeros through the judgement of steel and flames.

Still, even the most amusing jesters become ridiculous when faced with the passage of time.

"Exactly. You didn't know." His honeyed voice rang out into the cluttered room. The Crown Prince took a step forward, reveling in how the knight pressed himself deeper into the ground. The stench of piss flared up his nostrils.

The boy had shat himself.

His whimpers broke through the otherwise silent room. A mixture of "Please"s and "Your Grace, don't"s - it left Aemond dissatisfied and forlong, irked to no end.

"You say you have seen this knight around." He hummed in admission, "Pray tell, what was his name again?"

"C-Cain! Cain Waters! He was a broad man, with a straight stubble and long, blonde hair!" He shook his head after each and every word, desperate to prove himself. "He had a scar - right here, on his left arm! And a broken nose - it curved to the left side, and he said he'd gotten it from a brawl!" The boy blabbered incoherently, spewing as many things as he remembered from the immediate memory.

Aemond chuckled at his words, raising his hand out to stop the disordered boy. Wordlessly, he held his arm out, enouraging him with a curt nod to raise to his feet again.

"You have an excellent memory, do you not? It seems like you remember a lot of things."

The knight nodded fevereshly, trying his hardest to stop his limbs from giving out.

"Yes, yes, Your Grace! I talked to him countless of times, I can recognise his voice with my eyes closed!"

Aemond quirked his head to the side, and let out another curt laugh.

"Good, very good, indeed! And, tell me..." As he spoke the last of his words, Aemond Targaryen got closer to the shaking boy, "You call this level of interest... not getting involved?"

Without waiting for an answer, Prince Aemond let go of the soldier's hand, running his sword through his stomach in a simple, yet effective movement.

"Y-Your G-Gh..." He strained himself to hiss though his bloodied mouth, before falling on his knees, his hand placed atop his wound.

"You've proven yourself very useful." Aemond asserted dryly, "Just as you said."

The Prince turned back on his heel again, and began marching towards the open door. With a bored expression on his face, he threw the child one more dejected look, and added, "But I've simply no more need for you."

The knight's endless gagging filled the room with a paculiar sense of dread. Somewhere along his way, Aemond got a hold of a kitchen wench; he grabbed her with his bloody hand, and clicked his tongue in pure disdain.

"Clean that up." Was all she was instructed to do.

Daylight had long broken the sky in two, as Cain and (Y/N) finally reached the Saltpans of the Trident.

Tired, and famished far beyond belief, the two stopped at the gate of an ale house, dismounting their horses and knocking on the door politely.

A couple of seconds went by, until a small click of a key was heard on the other side. An old woman stepped outside, holding out a crossbow, that was still too big for her wide frame.

"I said, no more scoundrels, and ruffians, and thieves, and men! Away, away with you!"

Her wrinkled hands swished and flicked about, right under Cain's nose, who swallowed a small laugh, and gently raised his hands out in taciturn surrender.

"No ruffians, scoundrels or thieves sit in front of you, ma'am. ... Though, of being a man, I must admit I'm very guilty."

Upon hearing his words, the old lady shook her head, with a strength so great, (Y/N) was sure her eyes would pop out.

"Oh, no, no! I said, no more of those around here!" She repeated again, though she lowered her crossbow from Cain's face, upon hearing the sound of his mellow voice.

"Madam, I... We beg you to reconsider." The Lady's voice rang through the open clearing. As she glanced up at the old, plump woman, her features turned soft and pleading, begging for help, like a child would to her wise mother.

She gripped Cain's biscep with her left hand, ensuring that their host would see her amethist ring, that now rested upon her ring finger. "My husband and I are so tired from our long journey and... as you said, Madam, the streets aren't safe."

The house's owner squinted at them with a hardened look, but then, almost too suddenly, she stepped aside for the two to come in.

"You'll have to forgive an old spinster," The woman smiled tightly over her shoulder, "It's just that in these parts of the Reach, you don't know in who to trust."

"Aye, we hear that." Cain replied with a warm smile, leading his lady inside with a hand respectfully placed above her waist. "Great thinking!" He leaned in to whisper in her ear, congratulating her on the ability to adapt to their situation so fast. "If I didn't know any better, my Lady, I'd say you didn't need me to make the trip."

She gave her a polite smile, and sheepishly bowed her head.

"Perhaps you don't know any better, then." She laughed at him teasingly, before moving her attention back to the old maid.

"My husband and I travelled no small distance - we live near Bitterbridge, but we decided to join with our relatives near Crossroad's Inn." She gave Cain's hand a tight squeeze, and looked at him affectionately, before pressing on. "With with the war looming over us, nothing is more important than family."

The old lady smiled at them, showing off her three gold teeth. Her eyes held no malice now, and she shifted her weight from her left foot to speak. "Mine mother was from Goldengrove - a proper Lady. She was almost a lady in waiting for Brianna Tyrell."

Looking almost wistfully to the side, the inn wench let out a melancholic sigh.

"Oh, but what am I sharing these stories for?" She questioned jokingly, while clasping her hands together. "I'll prepare breakfast for you two. And a bed - to sleep in for the night."

Cain offered the woman a small nod, and smiled tightly in reply.

As she made herself busy with boiling some eggs, the man leaned in, muttering lowly to his lady.

"She didn't ask us for how long we'd stay. She assumed right away we'd be gone tomorrow."

Taking in his cautious words, (Y/N) hummed, as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

"And if her words are true about her mother, then she served as vassal for the Hightowers, as well."

"Do you think she's a Loyalist, my Lady?" The knight choked on his own breath.

"It might be too soon to tell."

The man's eyes fell back on the dirty window, that offered but a shallow peek into the outside world. His face contorted to one of great concentration - Much like it did years ago, (Y/N) mused to herself, before an important Tourney.

"We'll tread lightly. ... It might be a good idea to show our support to Aegon when we talk amongst ourselves at dinner."

"An easy conversation to over-hear, of course. Especially after a glass or two of wine."

Their little dialogue ceased a moment, and both travellers shot each other a warm smile.

"W-W-Wait, just because I brought the letter here, that don't mean I'm gon' speak to the young master, too-" The strained voice of a serving maid bounced off the stone walls of the black Crypt.

She looked around frantically, shaking her head with so much dedication, that her braid came undone onto her shoulders. The servants around her made no attempt to soothe the girl, or take her under their protection - for they, too, were scared of the wrath that resided deep inside of Aemond.

Still, a raven, who's beak carried a letter that spoke naught on the outside, besides it coming from an inn in the Saltpans, had come to Harrenhal that afternoon.

A more educated one from the flock of young maids tried to decypher its contents in the light of day, but to no avail. The letter had to be opened. And it had to be opened by their reckless Prince, first.

"H-How do we even know it's something important?" One elder girl chirped shyly. "What if it isn't, and Prince Aemond punishes us for wasting his Grace's time?"

A shuddering thought went through each and every resting body, that rang clear through their bodies, like a blade would on young flesh.

"And what if it is important?" Another spoke up, "We'll all be executed for not bringing it to him, sooner!" She sobbed into her hands.

"Bring what to Prince Aemond?"

The rise of the unknown voice elicited a scared gasp from each member of the pitiful assembly. Comically, they all turned on their heel at once, gripping their throats in horrified wonder.

None but Alys Rivers stood before them, her own hands resting on her hips and her cascade of black hair, fraiming her expecting face in a gruellingly gorgeous way.

"Seven hells! You had us scared to death, Rivers!" One maid or another chastised her deeply.

Upon hearing the lack of reverence in her voice, the Strong witch clasped her hands tightly together, and glared upon the crowd with a look full of disdain.

"You ought be careful with how you address me. You forget yourself, wench."

Her words were cutting and scornful, and yet, they had no effect on the defying servant.

"I should be careful with how I speak to you?" The tiny woman let out a small scoff, "'Tis you who should sooner not forget her standing. You aren't mistress of this Keep. You are naught above us in station."

Caught in the red, Alys scorned down at the meek, servant girl. Her back turned awfully straight, and she demured in a demanding tone.

"You will either tell me at once what it is you're hiding, or I will have my Aemond take all of your heads." She let out a small chuckle, and carried on, "You'll see how much power I have over this keep and you - for I carry the Dragon's son, and his fires already lick at my womb."

The possibility of Alys Rivers carrying the Kinslayer's bastard sent a shiver down their hollow spines. Soon, the girls threw each other a despondent look, and settled their eyes upon the floor.

"It's... a letter from the Saltpans... m'lady." The same maid who provoked her now spoke. "We don't know of it's contents, but..."

Silence fell over the windy crypt. Alys quirked up a brow in amusement, and extended her arm out in palpable anticipation.

"I'll carry it to him, then. Make haste, give it to me, and begone."

For once, her command was almost immediately executed. The plump girl that had brought the raven inside hurried to give the parchments to her, and scurried along the dark hall, making herself scarce and unseen.

Alys' green skirts kissed the grounds which the woman walked, leaving a rustling echo along the large halls with every calculated step.

She reached for Aemond's Quarters, and slyly made her way inside.

"My Prince," Her voice rang out, "A letter addressed to you has just arrived."

The eager polishing of Aemond's sword was the only noise in the room for a while. He hummed expectantly, putting an end to his endeavours, and getting a hold of the enclasped letter with two of his long fingers.

Silently, much like a predator would it's prey, he analysed its contents, feeling a smug smirk tugging at his upturned lips. He lowered it after a while, and looked out the window, lost in the depthness of his thoughts.

"My Prince, what does it say?" Alys inquired officiously, dropping her head over his thighs. "Is it of an important matter?"

Aemond let out a joyous laugh - and, whether it was due to his amusement over Alys' stupid question, or due to the contents of the flimsy letter, was up to anybody's guess.

"Tell those kitchen wenches to prepare for a grand feast for tonight. We have reason to expect very pleasant company."

The man rose from his chair and smirked to himself once more, before making his way towards the grand oak doors of his private chambers.

He stopped on his tracks, however, to assert the woman on his bed once more.

"Alys... should you come to my room unannounced again, I will have your head for it." He uttered neutrally, with a bemused rise of his brows.

"Do you think it wise to leave tonight?" Cain's pleasant voice rang through the girl's ears, as the two made good haste scarping down on the dinner they paid for.

"Tonight?" The girl hushed back at him, before taking a sip of her wine. "You don't trust the old lady, do you?"

"Aye, I must admit, I don't." Cain confirmed her laid out question, as he followed the woman's form into the small kitchen again. "I can't shake off the feeling that something bad is about to happen."

Placing her hand atop his in a pacifying manner, (Y/N) squeezed tightly, putting an end to his restless thoughts.

"Then we should leave tonight. Wait until she's fallen asleep, sneak out and mount our horses. We can sleep when we reach the Bloody Gate, or hidden away in the forest." She concluded with a stone faced look.

Cain bit his lower lip and clicked his tongue in distaste for the plan. "I'm sorry for making you go through this, my Lady. A young woman shouldn't be forced to sleep outside, under such pitiful conditions."

"But it's better to be safe than sorry," She assured him once again, "And I've slept in worse than grass and branches - you should know."

The knight's face twisted into pure rage.

"I swear to you, my Lady, I will have his head for all he made you go through. I will."

"There would be no one else I trust more with the task." She smiled at him happily, and a pang of sisterly affection surged through her bones. "Let's finish eating. Then we'll retire in our room and start packing up."

Cain nodded in agreement, and offered the girl one of his many placid smiles.

The evening went on with little to no commotion - the night displayed the hour of the wolf, when the two finally made their way outside their room, and onto the small corridor that led to the stables.

Still, their footsteps, however careful, alerted their horses, who'd grown so accounstomed to Cain's presence.

With a small huff of their muzzles, they rested their head upon the separating barrier, and shook their manes expectantly.

"That's it, those are my good girls." Cain hushed to them, untying their bridles from the putrid wall. "Let's go for a ride, shall we?"

In the same manner he did the night before, (Y/N)'s sworn shield helped her up the saddle, and secured her belts in place. Soon came his turn, and, before they both knew it, the pair was exiting the stables with tentative steps, stopping at the entrance.

"We'll take to the North road, but we'll travel slightly East. We'll be on Arryn grounds... and hopefully more safe."

"That sounds like a plan." Lady Tully agreed with a tight expression on her face. She let out a shaky sigh, opening the inn's gates with a strong jerk of her hand.

Cain clicked his tongue once, twice, three and four times, until both horses broke into a hasty sprint. With his hand over both bridles, he guided the horses over to the stony road.

The night was clear. The shadows scarce. And yet...

A looming figure washed up before them both, swallowing the light of the moon and shaking their foundations to the very core.

"Ha..." (Y/N) let out a laugh in disbelief, feeling her heart rising to her throat.

Cain's face tightened, and his knuckles turned white over the saddle's head. His body contorted in fear and disgust for the man above them, as he took in a deep breath.

"Run." He instructed dryly.

When a horse races with a dragon, which one of them wins? - It was a rather stupid question, for this was a race that the poor horse would lose everytime, no matter it's good breeding or strong muscle mass.

"TO THE FOREST, BACK INTO THE FOREST!" Ser Cain yelled out, turning both animals around, hoping for a chance of escape.

"Have you lost your mind?! He'll burn the trees down!" His lady's reply came and went, swallowed by the wind, and the ring of Aemond's cruel laugh.

"What other choice do we have?!"

That much was true, the lady admitted inside her head. Aemond was ruthless, and, chances were, they would both die either way. If there was even a slither of hope that they'll survive by confusing the man, they had to take it.

As the horses ran, Cain tried his best to untangle their bridles, but (Y/N) shouted after him.

"Don't!! Aemond won't burn me with his dragon, he needs me alive for my grandfather's banners! But he won't hesitate to hurt you, should we be separated!"

With one hardened breath after the other, the two made their way back into the forest, where Cain reached out to unbuckle his lady's saddle. His stiff fingers made slow work - the exhaustion, fear and speed with which they galloped made it extremely hard for the knight to see even three inches ahead of him.

"We get off the horses!" He alerted the woman, as beads of sweat rolled off his forehead. "From that distance, he can't see us - he'll think we're still on them! We'll have to run from that point on, but we must take the chance!"

(Y/N) replied in kind with his instructions, and both lady and loyal knight jumped off their horses' saddles, hitting the ground with a ferocious impact.

Pain surged through her limbs and bones, but Cain quickly grabbed her hand, and dragged her further into the forest, and farther away from Aemond's roars.

Their strained breaths and silent whimpers echoed through the quiet woods - they ran and ran, until their feet gave out on them, and the two reached a small cave.

"Come -" The man encouraged with a raspy voice, as his knees buckled below him.

For a while, there was silence. (Y/N) swallowed thickly, and whispered to her tired knight.

"We should stay here for a while. Maybe an hour, or... Shit, he won't leave either way, will he?"

"Aye, my Lady, not without you." His grey eyes came to clash with her (y/e/c) hues. A look of strange determination took a hold of his harsh features, contorting his brows in such a way, that they almost mended through themselves.

"From here we could go to Maidenpool. The forest covers enough a distance for such a feat."

"Maidenpool?" The girl's voice shook with fear, "It's nose to nose with King's Landing - going there is a death sentence!"

She closed her eyes tightly and kicked her leg into a nearby stone. "Shit, shit, shit - we were so close!"

"I shall challenge him to a fair fight." Cain mustered up to say. "The Kinslayer has no honor. But he still values the tradition."

The lady's eyes shot wide open, and her head shook to the side. "No, absolutely not. Aemond is well rested - you haven't slept in two days!"

"I must. What other choice do we have?" He repeated with a shaky voice, as he wobbled back on his feet again. His eyes trailed over the girl's small silhouette, and patted her back keenly.

"You stay here, my Lady. Should I arise victorious, I'll come back and find you."

With each word of their heated dispute, both companions raised their voices.

"No - not a chance. As your Lady, I'm commanding you; and as your friend, I'm begging you - let me come with."

"There should be no need for that." Aemond's deep voice rumbled out.

Cain wasted no time to place the girl behind his back, and unsheathe his sword with one swift movement.

"... How?" (Y/N) asked him in pure disdain and disbelief.

"Lady Alys sees many things. Before I left, she saw you in the fires of the kitchen, wasting away in this cave to rot."

The Crown Prince gave the girl a mellow smile, as he took a step ahead.

"At first, it made little sense to me. Especially since that withered whore sent me a raven, assuring me of your whereabouts in her inn." Hearing the calmness in his voice, the girl spat out a low curse.

But Aemond laughed at her display, and gently shook his head.

"The view you get atop a dragon, My Lady, is a very valuable thing. You can already guess my frustration when all I saw were pesky trees, but then... then I saw this cave."

Cain let out a low growl, and measured the One-Eyed Prince with his wild stare.

"None of that matters now." He spoke calmly, cutting him off, "We've to reach an agreement, Kinslayer. Pull your sword out now, and face trail before the Gods."

As his eyes trailed across Aemond's clean armour, the knight let out a strained snarl.

"Lest you be scared to, of course."

That seems to be the final drop for Aemond, who suddenly unsheathes his own Valyrian steel sword, and places it atop Cain's breastplate. "You'll regret ever taunting a dragon."

"We'll see."

Having said the last of their words, the men swayed on their feet, clashing steel with steel. When Aemond charged him, Cain moved barely fast enough to avoid the blade's sharp edge.

No sooner was Aemond's first slash blocked, that the knight made another - this time, the Kinslayer's armour proved to be pivital, as the sword rang though his breastplate, without making any damage to the warm body inside.

Hard and fast the cuts came, from low and high, from left and right, and each one Cain managed to block. The frustration in Aemond's eye etched itself into Vhagar's mighty roar, so barbaric and wild, that it sent a shiver of dread down (Y/N)'s spine.

Her knight caught one blow high on his armour, and a painted trout had lost its head. He countercut, and the Prince imposed his own shield, lunching in a fiery backslash.

Cain moved to his right, but the Kinslayer blocked him with a quick side-step, and drove him back the other way... towards the darkness of the cage, hoping to blind him and take his head.

The knight gave ground until he felt the shadows dancing on his back. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him what was way behind, and that recklessness almost cost him his head, when Aemond began his attacks anew.

One hit over his legs by (Y/N)'s dagger sent the Prince tumbling on his back, but he surged his way on his feet again with a rash counter-attack. He let out a wild roar, and his cold steel plowed into Ser Cain's flesh, where his shoulder joined his neck, stopping at the knight's breastbone.

The blood came rushing out in a hot, black gush - Ser Cain's knees folded slowly, as if for prayer, and when he opened up his mouth, only blood came out.

"NO!" The girl yelled out in a blood curling shriek, and she tumbled forward, trying to get a hold of the knight's bloodied cape.

With his last ounce of strenght, Ser Cain pushed the girl aside and slashed his sword up in the air - but Aemond spun like a turret, and blocked his mindless hack with a teasing smile on his face, discarding his sword to the side.

"I hope your God's a sweet one, Waters bastard." Aemond hummed through his hooded eyes, "For you're going to meet him shortly."

Wincing from the pain that was now licking at his opened flesh, Ser Cain spat over Aemond's boots, while gripping his shoulder to stop the endless rivers of blood, that were being eaten by the dirt.

Unamused, though still smirking, the One Eyed Prince raised his sword in the air, to deliver that one, final cut.

"STOP!" The Lady's voice rang through the tiny cave, grasping Aemond's attention.

Standing tall, she gripped Cain's sword in her own stilled hands, and brought it back to her own stomach.

"If you kill Cain now, I'll run this blade right through my insides!"

As if fallen under a spell, Aemond spat a low curse out, and rested his sword back on his hip. Wordless still, he pushed the knight down with the end of his Achile's heel, but raised his hands up in quiet surrender.

"I mean it!" She sobbed into the open space, her eyes never leaving Aemond's. "We'll see then what kind of support you'll receive from the Riverlords for your usurper kin!"

As if to accentuate her words, she pressed the sword deeper into her scorching heat, applying enough pressure to draw out a little cove of blood.

"Let him go. Let him live, and you can bring me back to Harrenhal, yeah?" The girl asked the Targaryen Prince tentatively.

"Hmm."

So very slowly, Aemond's feet carried him to (Y/N)'s direction. With one hand still raised in the air, he lowered the hilt of Cain's sword, pushing the tip away from her convulsing body.

His lonesome eye trailed low, enough to meet the poke of her clothes, and Viserys' second son let out a disappointed sigh.

His hand reached to cup the girl's jaw, and he gingerly turned it from side to side - inspecting it, just as he'd done when they first clashed wits in her prison cell.

"You've lost weight." He remarked through a furrowed brow.

Suddenly, his hand trailed lower still, all the way down to her neck, which he gripped gently, possessively.

"You are in no position to make demands. Do you think he won't come after you again if I let him live?"

"You all but severed his right hand - he will never fight again." The girl begged him with logic and fact, whilst swallowing thickly, as her heart hammered out of her chest.

"Let him live." Her hand ghosted above his tightening grip, her eyes frantically searching for his. "If you do so, I won't put up a fight ever again."

The final words of her vow caused a pleasant shiver run down Aemond's back. He falthered his grip on her throat, and moved both hands to cage her in between his body and the cold stones.

"Keep your... fucking hands... away from her." Cain hissed from his laying place, trying his hardest to get back up on his feet again.

Aemond's body tensed again, but, before he could move away from (Y/N) and do anything, the girl gripped his cheeks with both hands and brought his eye on her again.

"Stop it, Cain." She preleened through a shaky breath. "It's done."

Aemond's throat rumbled out in a purr of satisfaction, and he harshly grabbed the woman to bring her outside with him.

The monstrous Vhagar awaited them with open wings - and an open jaw -, which made the girl stop on her tracks and plant her feet into the grimy ground.

"I can't get on top of that-!" She uttered pleadingly, shooting Aemond down with a jaded look.

"You will watch your tongue, churl. That is Vhagar. And you will be riding her tonight." He pulled the woman near him and approached his dragon with four swift steps.

'The bond between a dragon and their rider it's a sacred thing.' Jacaerys' voice rang out in her ears.'The dragon always knows what the rider is feeling... Sometimes even better than the man himself.'

"You should be honoured." Aemond disrupted her trail of thought with an assertive remark, "Very few have been introduced to the Queen of the Dragons before."

His touch made her nauseous. Her head was swirling with a hundred unanswered questions, and the way Vhagar looked at them both only stirred her along more.

As Aemond reached for (Y/N)'s hand, the she-dragon let out a disapproving roar.

"Sagon gīda, Vhagar." He hushed gently, as if sharing a sensual secret with an old lover. "Rības issa udra. Umbagon nykeēdrosa."

His rough palm clutched the girl's one tightly, and he jerked her hand forward to touch the dragon's scales.

Restless, Vhagar tried to move away, rejecting the touch of the woman she didn't deem safe for Aemond.

'Dragons have a way of knowing how we all feel. If you wanted me dead now, Vermax wouldn't be so keen to please you.' Jacaerys laughed inside her ear.

But (Y/N) wanted Aemond dead. And of course, Vhagar knew that.

It came to no surprise that she was declining her touch. Still, Aemond persisted.

He moved behind the girl's small frame, and pressed his body against hers so harshly, that she tumbled forward, coming into full contact with Vhagar's scarred belly.

"Gīda, Vhagar." He whispered again, "Dohaeragon issa. Rȳbagon se rības."

Slowly, yet surely, the weary groans of the she-dragon ceased, as Aemond kept reassuring her.

When the Prince felt the bond satisfactory enough, he threw the woman over his shoulder, and began climbing to his dragon's saddle.

(Y/N) let out a disparaging heave, and she had to repeatedly remind herself just how close she was to a dragon's jaws, as to not hit Aemond over the head with all her strenght.

Once they reached the top, Aemond gently lowered her onto the saddle, making fast work on the belts around them.

His hand ghosted between her legs, in a feigned attempt to check the bindings, and the lady shot him a disapproving frown.

Whilst letting out a dangerous chuckle, Aemond shook his head and mounted himself behind her. "Are you ready?" He murmured into her left year.

Not even waiting for an answer, he rose his head and commanded clearly;

"Sōvegon!"

Thoughout the whole ride, the girl kept her eyes closed, despite Aemond's numerous attempts to make her open them.

They reached Harrenhall not even twenty minutes later, and the lady had to stiffle a bitter laugh as she dismounted the glorious beast.

If only her and Cain could have travelled faster; then nothing bad would have ever happened.

Cain...

She turned to glance at the ground, and closed her eyes for a quick prayer.

Though she believed not in the Old Gods or the New, her heart beckoned her to hope for his safety.

She let Aemond carry her back inside, not even paying attention to her surroundings.

He lost a lot of blood, her psyche echoed back to her, But there is a chance he made it out there.

The light click of doors closing grounded her back to her harsh reality. Peeling them from the ground, Lady Tully turned her eyes to the decour of the room, and took a step back once she realised this wasn't her old tower.

"You'll be sleeping with me from now on, My Lady." Aemond's velvety voice fell upon her deafened ears. "We won't have any other shameful accidents - not as long as you're under my protection."

The woman felt as if she could gag at any given moment. If Aemond thought, just for a second, that she'd bed him or become his whore, he'd be unpleasantly surprised.

She'd rather sleep on the floor. Or see herself rot back in the Dungeons.

Almost as if he could read her mind, Aemond let out a low hum.

He came before her, and scooted closer. His hand reached up, resting above her collarbones, and his breath hitched in his throat.

Timidly, his fingers came down to gently carress them, and the One Eyed Prince had to bite back a deep moan.

The contrast between his rough fingertips and her soft skin felt exquisite, and so, so right.

For a second, he thought about the kinds of sounds that might come from her haughty mouth as he slowly entered her. How her face would twist in pleasure, as he gradually, gently, taught her the art of the bedroom.

His lustful thoughts came to an end when he noticed how her face contorted in disgust and displeasure.

Familiar anger flared within him.

She was a whore. A lowly girl who, no doubt, spent every day spreading her legs to his bastard nephiew before, taking him into her sacred depths whenever he so wished to.

So why was she resisting him?

Did she not feel his touch as electrifying as hers was for him?

"Don't be scared. I will not bed you." He uttered near her swollen lips. "I take no pleasure in claiming what's not freely given."

An arrogant smirk tugged at the ends of his upturned lips.

He brought his thumb to brush over her lower lip, toying with it until he forced himself to let it go.

"But it's in a whore's nature to be begging for cock. And you will be pleading for mine before the Spring's end, I can promise you that."

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@ohitsthemaster @bellameshipper

Translations:

"Sagon gīda, Vhagar." = Be calm, Vhagar;

"Rības issa udra. Umbagon nykeēdrosa." = Obey my words. Stay still;

"Gīda, Vhagar." = Calm, Vhagar;

"Dohaeragon issa. Rȳbagon se rības." = Serve me. Listen and obey;

"Sōvegon!" = Fly;

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys strong #house of the dragon #jacaerys valaryon #the harshest winters #dark aemond #Spotify

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