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vagabond-umlaut · 8 months

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affaire de cœur

Plucking one's heart from their chest and devouring it is all 'affairs of the heart' meant to the King of Curses— until his Queen walked onto the stage of his life, that is.

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; comprises of elements inspired by the tale of 'hades and persephone'; gallons of domestic fluff between sukuna and reader; hints of spicy times; no warnings except sukuna is very much sukuna here but you too are there, so he's sort of a better sukuna... [not loads better, though]

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"Repeat those words after me, my lord."

"No."

The pouty face you vault his way from the other end of the bathhouse makes Sukuna huff an annoyed sigh. Few monsoons back, you would never even see him in the eye, gaze trained on his feet – until he lifted your chin up; even then you would shyly avert your gaze — yet, now?

Now, you show the boldness to wear such a pathetic expression while making such an imbecilic request– nay, demand of him– locking your gaze with his the entirety of the time, no less.

Another sigh finds its route past his lips. Watching the way those sin-filled lips of yours twitch in a tiny smile before dipping into a pout, he groans.

"Alright. Fine," Sukuna grumbles, resting his two arms on the edge of the tub while the other two move to card through his damp hair, "Will you ever leave me for another, woman?"

Your eyebrows rise for a beat, the second the question you chomped his ears off earlier for, leaves his mouth. Your lover rolls his eyes, loud scoffs erupting from him at the utter inanity of the whole situation at hand — you, not beside by him, but beside those damned towels and bath soaps; him, not soaking in the warmth of your flesh but of these bath waters; the humid bathhouse not resonating with the sounds of your whines but with the remnants of a query, whose answer he does not care the least for, for no matter what you say or do, he will not—

"Yes, I will."

Your clear voice scatters his thoughts away, akin a strong wind and a handful of chaff. Sukuna freezes, every crimson eye of his fixed upon your approaching figure– your soft footfalls, your yellow yukata, your simple hairdo, your angelic smile...

Your husband takes a while too long before discovering his lost voice, eyes narrowed, throat tight and chest heavy as he asks you, "You will leave me, pet?"

"Uh-huh, I sure will," you hum in response, sitting on the stool next to the tub and moistening a towel. Sukuna moves to grasp your wrist in his palm but pauses when he catches you switch your attention from the towel to him, a terrifying emotion brimming in your tender gaze.

You draw in a tiny breath before speaking, voice now a mere whisper.

"Show me someone who is the most feared creature to ever exist, yet is a sulking mess if he isn't being cuddled in bed till noon every single day; someone who detests humans like I detest carrots, yet visits the monthly market in secret, to get gifts for his close one; someone who everyone's told me is the worst, yet goes on to prove, again and again and again, how he's the absolute best in this world—"

You stop suddenly.

Chest growing heavy from an entirely different reason now, your lover drinks in the manner your smile widens, your fragile fingers letting go of the cloth to trace those markings on his skin instead – you resume.

"Show me someone whose embraces feel the safest place in all the three realms, and I swear, my king, I'll leave you and run to his arms without thinking twice."

For the first time in his millennium of existence, the two-faced curse feels the same distress of being paralysed, as his mere mien induces in the muscles of his miserable victims— except, it isn't the fear of an end to his life which is causing this abhorrent weakness to him unlike those worthless mortals— no.

It is the fear of the unknown, of the uncharted, which is rendering his powerful self so, so powerless before your blinding brilliance. Sukuna thinks death might be an easier journey to undertake than these odd realisations your voice and touch elicit in him always.

These days, more so.

This moment, very much so.

The addicting timbre of your voice rouses him from his musings, the second time that night.

"Is every–"

"Is that supposed to be a love confession?" Your husband cuts you off before you can finish your question. You slowly blink at him once then twice, before leaning backwards and picking up the forgotten cloth, a visibly coy giggle bubbling out you as you return to washing his skin.

"Yes," you agree after a beat, gaze darting to his face before skittering away again, "That is supposed to be a love confession for my beloved king; though I wonder what my lord thinks of it. Was it heart-touching as I intended to make it? Or did it sound too tedious to him?"

The addressed being deliberately makes a big show of rolling each of his four eyes at your query. "Neither," he says, curling his lip in a show of vexation before they lift a little at the lower lip you jut out, "And you should count yourself to be lucky that you're my wife, not a worthless mortal, pet. For if you were not my wife–"

"– you would've sliced me into halves without a moment's hesitation," you finish the rest of the sentences for him with a fond shake of your head. "Trust me, my king, I know you. I do, I rea– Sukuna!!!"

The startled shriek of his name— not my lord or my king but Sukuna —parts the curse's lips in a smirk, which widens on noticing the warm water slowly seeping into your clothes, making them translucent; and you staring up at him with a disbelieving look etched onto your pretty face.

Sukuna allows his smirk to melt away into a genuine smile, for once.

Nestling your drenched form closer to himself, he closes his eyes to rest his forehead on your shoulder, palms holding you as if you were not a member of the race he lives for the sake of tormenting, but an invaluable blessing, beings he has never believed in, sent earthward for his damned self.

Which is true, the curse reckons. You indeed are a blessing he knows he doesn't deserve – yet will keep for and with himself for an eternity and some more.

Pressing you closer to himself, your husband lifts his head to plant a kiss to your forehead, followed by your warm cheeks — hoping you'll understand the meaning behind every reverent contact he's marking your form with now.

After all, you know him really well, don't you?

[You do— which is only why you reciprocate every brush of his sharp canine over your skin, with a brush of your soft palm over the wicked, handsome, wickedly handsome visage of the love of your life.]

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little-diable · 5 months

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I'd rather be with you – Spencer Reid (smut)

I won't lie, I love a good enemies to lovers Spencer fic. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader and Spencer hate one another, at least in the moments where they're not tangled beneath the sheets.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, shower sex, oral (m), face fucking, bickering, love confession, enemies to lovers

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (2.3k words)

Her necklace bounced off her naked chest with every thrust, with every moan leaving her as if it was her last. Her necklace bounced off her naked chest with every jerk of his hips, forcing his cock even deeper into her. Her necklace bounced off her naked chest with every call off her name, with every tug on the small pendant dangling between her breasts.

The necklace was a reminder, a reminder whenever Spencer’s eyes snapped down to it, momentarily distracted from the case they were working on – just for a second or two, though seconds too long for a man with a brain like Spencer‘s. She was his nemesis, the one that has taught him what it means to hate somebody, but yet, in the moments where he fucked her on the nearest surface, he couldn’t remember the hate she elicited inside of him.

“Spencer? Shit, I truly fucked your brains out last night, huh?” A dark chuckle left (y/n) as she leaned back against the table, arms crossed in front of her chest. A growl left the smart man, murmuring something under his breath she couldn’t pick up on. And yet her smirk didn’t waver, glued to her lips.

Before Spencer could reply with snarky words rolling off his tongue, Derek had stepped into the room that had been assigned to them. His eyes were focused on his phone, speaking to Penelope with a bright smile – a sight that left (y/n) fawning over the two. Whenever she watched Penelope and Derek interact, she felt some kind of hope burning inside of her, a kind of hope that left her praying that somebody will eventually treat her with this much love and respect.

“I’ll talk to you later, babygirl.” Derek hung up the call before his eyes first found (y/n)’s and then Spencer’s, smirking at the two profilers. “Good to see that you didn’t kill one another while I was gone. Hotch wants you two to visit the unsub’s childhood home again.”

“But we’ve been there this morning?” Spencer cut into the conversation before (y/n) could ask the same question. An annoyed huff left her, very well knowing what he was trying to do, taking away the focus from the woman he couldn’t stand, the woman he had always detested, hated since the first case they had worked together.

“Hotch wants us to go through the photo albums again, maybe we’ve missed something, and why not send our two superbrains to go through the pictures. It’d take the rest of us way too long to do it.” (Y/n) had already reached for her jacket before Derek had finished his sentence, watching with amusement glistening in his eyes how Spencer followed her out of the room, probably already plotting over a new chance to finally murder her.

……

“Oh fuck, fuck, Spencer.” Her moans echoed through the foggy bathroom, back pressed against his front as he fucked her closer and closer to the edge. The warm water kept streaming down their bodies, washing away the reminders of the past day, of their arguments, and their bottled emotions.

His teeth left marks on the spot where her neck met her shoulders, drawing pained whines from (y/n). She couldn’t speak up, couldn’t remember how to speak, fully distracted by the feeling of his cock nudging her swollen spot with every thrust. She was putty in his hands, allowing him to do as he pleased. No matter the spiteful words she wanted to speak, riling him up even further, she kept quiet, not daring to push Spencer away when she was so very close to her release.

“Look at that, did I finally manage to shut you up?” His words were rough, dripping with a mean undertone that momentarily managed to rip her out of her state.

“Fuck you, Spencer, don’t act as if–” her rambling was cut short by the feeling of Spencer pulling away, leaving her empty. (Y/n) clumsily turned around in his grasp, staring up at the man with wide eyes, wondering what was about to happen.

“Onto your knees, it seems like you still haven’t learned your lesson.” She struggled to drop to her knees, holding onto him as the water kept cascading down his back. Spencer forced his cock into her mouth, making her choke on the air lingering inside her lungs. He fucked her mouth with moans clawing through him, sounds that left her swollen bundle of nerves pulsing.

Spencer had always been rough with her, taking the upper hand she claimed around their team, stealing his title of being smarter than them all. He had detested her from the start, jealous of the way she managed to interact with the team, how she seemed to know how to handle every situation, no matter her high IQ. Perhaps it truly was jealousy that had pushed him away, not understanding how someone with an IQ almost as high as his didn’t struggle to with simple interactions like he did, how she made it seem so effortlessly easy.

“You act as if you’re so much better, as if you don’t give a shit about me. But let me tell you something, doll,” a groan left Spencer as one of her hands found his cock, holding onto the part he hadn’t pushed down her throat just yet. “You are nothing special.”

Spencer was too far gone to pick up on the hurt expression tugging on her features, no longer focusing on the sounds he made, on the way his cock rested on her tongue, all she could focus on were his words, the spiteful insults. Her heart skipped a few beats, unsure how to react, not understanding what he was trying to tell her.

“They don’t see through your pathetic games, you’re nothing but an imposter, but trust me, I always win, every single game.” His cock twitched in her mouth, about to cum down her throat, about to force her to swallow his every drop. Perhaps she deserved being treated like this after the things she had said today, the way she had made fun of him - whatever it had been, (y/n) was now paying the price.

He came with a moan, head rolling back, hand gripping her hair. (Y/n) didn’t dare move, unable to stop thinking of the words he had spoken, of the insults he had thrown his way. She barely noticed how he pulled away, how he reached a hand out of her to take, pulling her back to her feet.

No further words were spoken between the two, she didn’t give him a chance to fuck her again, to push her over the edge. She left the shower before he could touch her again, quickly redressing herself to find her way to her hotel room.

……

The sound of somebody softly knocking on her door forced her eyes away from her book. She needed a few seconds to snap into motion, wondering who wanted to speak to her that late in the evening, wondering if it was Hotch to tell her that they had a breakthrough with their case. But the sight of Spencer waiting in front of her door left her frozen in her movements, looking at him with raised eyebrows and confusion swimming in her pupils.

“Can I?” (Y/n) stepped aside, allowing him to find his way into the room, walking towards the bed she had been laying on moments ago. They were engulfed by an uncomfortable silence, looking at one another to try and figure out what he was doing, why he had found his way to her.

“It’s late Spencer, what are you doing here?” Her voice had an unfamiliar undertone to it, urged on by the uncertainty she felt, still focusing on the angry words he had spoken earlier. He cleared his throat, gaze flickering down to his slender fingers, fumbling with them as his mind kept racing, trying to speak up, trying to say the words he struggled to speak out loud.

“I haven’t met many people who have an IQ that’s way above the ordinary, well, at least not normal people who aren’t killers. I am not used to feeling intimidated, but I am used to being the one people make fun of, I am used to feeling alone and to being the outsider. But it had never been like that with the team, they’ve accepted me and the way I am, I didn’t have to prove myself like I had been forced to do before meeting them. But then you joined the team, and suddenly I was once again back to being caught in a fight of proving myself. For the first time in years I no longer feel like I fit in.” His words made tears well up in her eyes, slowly sitting down next to the rambling man with her hand finding his warm one. (Y/n) squeezed his hand, encouraging Spencer to keep on speaking, to let go of the bottled up words he had tried to swallow down for the past months.

“Hating you is so much easier than accepting that you’re everything I’ve always wanted. Hating you is so much easier than forcing myself to accept that I don’t have any reason to be jealous of you, than accepting that you’re perfect for me. You’re everything I’ll never be.” A shaky breath left Spencer, once again allowing the thick silence to wrap itself around the two. She needed quite a few moments to speak up, to see through the information he had just dumped on her.

“I knew that there was some kind of jealousy that left you to treat me like that, and I guess I gave in, I played the game instead of trying to figure out why you acted like that. I am sorry that I make you feel like that, Spence. But fuck, you truly have nothing to be jealous of. You’re so much more than just a smart brain, and whoever won’t see that must be blind.” Their eyes met, making a small smile tug on Spencer’s lips before he titled his head down to softly kiss her. The gasp leaving (y/n) allowed him to deepen the kiss, hand letting go of hers to pull her into his lap.

“I am sorry for being such an asshole who is heavily crushing on you.” A laugh broke through (y/n) at his words, forehead falling against his.

“I am sorry for being such a bitch who is heavily crushing on you.” (Y/n) found herself being pushed down on the mattress, with Spencer laying half on her and half on the mattress, lips locked in a loving kiss. One of his hands started to wander, finding its way under her shirt, down to her panties.

“I owe you at least two orgasms, don’t I?” She couldn’t reply, interrupted by a moan as his fingers pushed her panties aside, finding her pulsing clit. Spencer moved his fingers just the way she needed him to, touching her like he had done numerous times before. Her heart was pounding, mind hazy and filled with lust, purely focusing on Spencer.

“I want to cum on your cock, fuck me again, please Spence.” He shuffled around, pulling her panties down before he freed his hard cock. Neither of them wanted to waste any time, set on properly fucking, needing to feel one another close. (Y/n) watched him spit into his hand, lubing himself up before he pushed into her.

(Y/n)’s moans spurred him on, arms finding their way around his neck, tugging him down for a greedy kiss. He fucked her ruthlessly, though without any anger guiding him, allowing his heart to finally give into the love he felt for her. No longer were they speaking hateful words, no longer were they set on making one another pay for their teasing, fucking like lovers for the first time.

“I love you, so fucking much.” His words left (y/n) gasping in surprise, eyes rolling back into her head the second his skilled fingers found her bundle of nerves. Her sounds made him feel as if he had ascended to heaven, engulfed by the sounds no human had ever been fortunate enough to hear. And even as she spoke the loving three words he had just spoken, Spencer couldn’t stop himself from staring down on her.

Spencer picked up his pace, fucking her into the mattress like a mad man, set on leaving marks that would stay for eternity, never fading, always renewed by his wandering fingers and lips. He marveled at (y/n), hoping that he’d never part from her again, he wouldn’t survive being away from her, needing her like a shot of insulin to save his heart.

“Fuck, feels so good.” His cock stretched her perfectly, forcing her walls to adjust as he kept pounding into her, not holding back with his lips pulled into a smirk and his eyes staring down on her. She clawed her fingernails into his skin, drawing blood from the marks she left, leaving Spencer torn between a hiss and a moan.

The second he added more strength to his touch, rubbing her clit faster than before, she gave in, tumbling over the edge without another warning. His name left her over and over again, guiding him through his own high. She felt him paint her walls white, heard him choke on his moans, saw him collapse on top of her.

And for the first time since they’ve started sleeping with one another, neither of them felt the need to escape, to hide away from the other.

#Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid x reader #criminal minds smut #Spencer Reid imagine

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jonathansthickthighs · 13 days

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Yandere Fushiguro Toji x Reader: Part Four

Description: You have a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

Trigger Warnings: nsfw, yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, AFAB reader, toxic behavior, threats, jealousy, possessive behavior, desperate toji, smut, unprotected sex, daddy kink, alternative universe (no curses), age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s), soft toji, toji has feelings, slight sub toji?

A/N: part five will the last one of this mini series. enjoy! :)

Not edited!

You sat by the window, as a deluge of thoughts flooded your mind. Absently, your fingers traced the delicate contours of the pearl necklace gifted to you by your boyfriend the evening before.

You had been dating for two months now and you couldn’t deny this was the pinnacle of emotional fulfillment you had ever experienced with a man. He treated you like no other, he was so soft and gentle with you, you never imagined a man being this good to you. His gestures of affection unfailingly making you swoon, gifting you flowers weekly, getting you whichever snacks you were craving, taking you new places, even buying expensive gifts like the one you had around your neck. You weren’t aware he could even afford such artifacts, ignorant to the fact that bounty hunters were so well off.

It had been a great couple of months, but you had to admit to yourself that you were terrified. You were scared of how things might turn out in the future. The subject of marriage and children has arisen in discussion with Toji several times, leaving you unsure of where you stood on your own desires. You hadn’t known each other long enough and up until now, your relationship may be all flowers and rainbows, but that didn’t guarantee your expectations would still be met in the future. After all, only two months have passed since you met Toji.

You weren’t against marriage at your age, but children, on the other hand, were a touchy subject to you. You wanted to enjoy your 20s to their fullest and you were aware that a child, while being a blessing, would also intake an enormous sense of responsibility that you weren’t ready for at this age. Toji had quite a few years on you and his desire for a family was evident. He had expressed his desire to having children before turning forty, leaving you around four more years to enjoy your stress free, youthful life.

You were broken out of your mental battle when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“You’ve been lost in thought an awful lot today, sweetheart. You’re not thinking about leaving me are you?” Toji joked as he nuzzled his face into your sensitive neck, eliciting a cascade of giggles from your lips.

“Of course not, Toji. I’d be a fool to throw away a cock like yours.” You quipped back, pivoting to encircle your arm around his shoulders in a tender embrace.

“Oh, so you’re just using me for my body? I’m hurt, baby.” Toji chuckled, closing the space between you as he pressed his lips to yours. He moved his lips against yours vigorously, squeezing your waist against his, rutting his hardening, clothed cock against your stomach. You immediately responded, kissing him with the same enthusiasm. You ran your hands through his narrow waist down to his bottom, giving him a playful squeeze, forcing a giggle out of him.

You cracked your eyes open, peaking at the clock on the wall behind Toji. As realization dawned, your eyes widened as you noticed the time, prompting you to swiftly detangle yourself from Toji’s embrace. “Shit, babe. I promised the girls I would meet them half an hour ago. I gotta go!” You exclaimed, making Toji tense up. As you began to depart, you were stopped by his firm grip on your arm, drawing you back against his chest.

“Come on, doll. Just a quicky, you’re already late anyways.” He insisted, trying to seem nonchalant about the situation. In reality, Toji fucking detested when you went out with your friends. The thought of men approaching you, trying to flirt with you, offering to pay for your drinks made him lose his mind. Hell, the mere thought of other men looking at you was enough to drive him over the edge. His darkest thoughts were screaming to lock you up in a place were he could be the only one to look at you; the only way those thoughts dissipated was with the image of you recoiling in horror at him. The thought made his chest tighten, your hatred was something he would never be able to live with.

Despite the infrequency of your meetups with your friends, his desire to wanting you all to himself was insatiable. Never had he imagined himself yearning so fervently for a woman’s attention; it had always been the other way around, but for you, he was willing to beg on his knees for an ounce of your attention.

“As much as I want to, I’ve already ditched my friends too many times to be with you. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” You answered apologetically pressing a kiss on his cheek. Toji tried to mask his disappointment, but this time he wasn’t as good at hiding his expression.

“Please, sweetheart. I want you so bad, can’t you feel it?” Toji begged with frustration evident in his voice, grabbing your hand to place it on top of his raging bulge. He began using your hand to rub himself, grunting at the pleasurable sensations you were bringing him with just your hand. “Please…” He pleaded weakly, desperation lacing his voice.

You groaned, feeling defeated as your panties started to dampened at the sight. You were quick to attach your lips into his parted ones, tongues fighting each other as you continued teasing his cock over his sweatpants. You separated your lips from his causing him to whine at the loss of your soft lips.

Once you decided you had teased his cock enough, you tugged his waistband down, freeing his aching cock. You bit your lip as you tentatively stroked his cock in slow motions, gaining a hiss from him. Running you thumb over the reddened tip, you gathered the oozing precum, spreading it over the rest of his shaft. You wanted him, badly.

“Tell me what you want, Toji.” You whispered, peppering open mouthed kissed all over his neck. He couldn’t bring himself to respond as he started thrusting his hips into your hand. Having you jerk him off with your hands was something else, he couldn’t have done it better himself. Your hands were so much softer than his, the velvety skin of your hand wrapping around him could almost make him finish then and there. “Answer me, Toji.” You demanded, squeezing his cock enough to catch his attention.

“I n-need to f-fuck you, sweetheart.” Toji managed to utter out.

Smirking, you responded. “Then beg for it.”

Toji groaned, throwing his head back as your painfully slow stroking continued. He would never admit it, but having you be this demanding was a huge turn on to him. Believing submission was characteristic of women only, he never let himself experience anything remotely close. All his life he had been the one in control, never letting his guard down for any woman. You unveiled facets of him he never imagined existed.

“Please. I n-need to feel your pussy!” Toji beseeched impatiently and you rewarded him with a radiant smile. You released his cock from your grip, guiding him towards the bed. Pushing him on the bed, you began to undress slowly, pulling the straps from you dress down to reveal your tits to him.

You grabbed your breasts, massaging them and playing with your nipples, putting on a show for Toji. He gawked at you lustfully as he reached for his cock to stroke himself as he watched you. Playfully, you slapped his hand away. “I didn’t give you permission to do that, you pervert.” You retorted, giving him a sly smile.

Toji’s mouth was agape in disbelief, bewildered at this side of you. “I am not a pervert, sweetheart!” He exclaimed, failing to suppress his laugh.

You giggled before responding. “Oh yeah? You’re stroking your cock to this defenseless girl standing in front of you. Does that not make you a pervert?”

“Well that defenseless girl is touching herself like a slut in front of me. I’m pretty sure she wants me to jerk off to her.” He replied, starting to tug on his cock once again.

You bit your lip, enjoying the way his gaze felt on you. “I think you might be right this time.” You admitted as you decided to finish undressing for him. It was impossible for Toji to get tired of looking at your delectable body. He could easily make himself come by merely admiring your nudity.

Once all your clothes were discarded, you climbed on top of him. Settling yourself on top of his shaft, you moaned at the contact your sensitive clit made with his cock. You began grinding your heat on his cock, making him groan. You were so wet for him, you couldn’t wait any longer to have him inside you.

“You want me to ride your cock, daddy?” You suggested seductively as you continued teasing the both of you.

“Fuck. Yes, baby, please.” He nodded, eager to feel your tight, warm snatch engulf him in its delightful glory.

You wasted no time grabbing his cock, pressing him against your wet entrance before lowering yourself carefully onto him, making the two of you moan. You still weren’t accustomed to his size, so you needed some time before you could move comfortably. Continuing to lower yourself until he was fully sheathed inside your heat, you placed your hands on his chest for support. Toji grabbed the fat your ass as he threw his head back onto the bed. He was certain he would never tire of this feeling, your pussy was simply made for him.

“Pussy’s s’good, baby.” Toji slurred, relishing how tightly your cunt wrapped around him. The sight of you riding his hard cock was breathtaking. He noticed you it had gotten comfortable once you started slowly moving. You rose your hips until only his tip was remaining before lowering yourself onto him to a halt, making him grunt at the sudden piquancy he felt. After that you proceeded to ride his cock in swift, steady motions, stroking his cock with your dripping pussy. He couldn’t help himself from feeling hypnotized by your stunning form as you rode him. Your eyes squeezed shut, mouth agape as your tits bounced with each stroke. The sight was was orgasmic.

“Your cock is so deep inside me, Toji!” The sweet moans and screams leaving your lips were like music to his ears. The way you said his name turned him on to the extent he would do absolutely anything to hear it come out of your mouth.

He groaned as you worked his cock, sliding his hands up from your bum, making his way through your waist until he finally reached your breasts. He kneaded them thoroughly, making you let out a moan. You sped up your pace, the squelching noise of your thrusts meeting, filling the room. Toji leaned forward taking one of your perky nipple into his warm mouth, suckling like he was starved.

You whimpered at the stimulation you were feeling, as Toji gave your other nipple the same treatment. Continuing to jump on his cock like a madwoman, you could feel your orgasm approaching. When Toji felt your walls starting to tighten around him he grabbed a hold of your waist, holding you still before he started thrusting his generous cock into your sopping heat.

“Oh my— fuck! I’m gonna come all over your cock, Toji!” You cried out, feeling your pussy clench around his pulsing cock.

“T-that’s it, sweetheart. Use me. M-make yourself come with my cock. Let me hear you.” Toji uttered out shakily as he continued to stimulate your sensitive nipples, grunting into them. The prominent noise in the room being the sound of the slapping of your skins and your moans and pants of satisfaction.

You moaned loudly when you felt your orgasm arrive. “Yes. Yes. Yes! Toji!” With that, you let it all out, throwing your head back, your dripping pussy clenching deliciously around his cock. His thrusts didn’t seize, continuing to drill your pussy with the need to reach his own release.

He called out your name as he felt his orgasm approaching. “I’m gonna fuckin’ come, sweetheart. Are you gonna take it, baby?” Toji announced as he watched your beautiful face, you were in a daze, your eyes half lidded looking at the man that was causing you such pleasure.

“I want all of it, gimme your cum, T-Toji.” You managed to slur out, using the last of your strength to hold yourself up on his chest. That was all it took for Toji to start thrusting up into your pussy erratically, your clenching pussy making him quiver out his orgasm.

“You’re fucking mine!” Toji growled, throwing his head back as your wet cunt milked his semen out of him, sending it deep into your womb. Get fucking pregnant! His intrusive thoughts made themselves present as his thrust began getting sloppy, his legs trembling in ecstasy.

“A-ah, I love you so much, sweetheart.” Toji stuttered out as he finished releasing inside of you.

Shocked, you looked at a drowsy looking Toji. “Did you just—?”

Toji parted his lips to speak, only to close them once more. Those words escaped him unwittingly, unleashing them from the depths of his pent up emotions, before he could muster the restraint to withhold them. Internally, he was having a battle with himself, trying to make it seem like an accident. He harbored uncertainty about how you would feel about him after only knowing him for two months. He had loved you since before you even knew of his existence and these feelings kept accumulating over time inside him; he couldn’t stand it any longer, so his body reacted for him.

“I love you.” He repeated without breaking eye contact with you. The shock on your face was evident, sending a tremor of apprehension through him. He was terrified of you never loving him back, he dreaded the prospect of your affection remaining beyond his grasp forever.

“I-I love you too, Toji.” Toji’s gaze widened in surprise, his eyes dilated at the unexpected revelation from you. His heart felt like it was going to burst and his cheeks were tinted pink. The happiness he felt surpassed anything he had ever deemed attainable. His mind was on a frenzy, he finally achieved what he wanted most in life. Incredulity washed over him, this must surely be a dream. She loves me back. She loves me back. She loves me back. She loves me.

Toji couldn’t suppress the smile creeping to his face. He didn’t thinking his heart could beat any faster until he watched you smile right back at him before breaking eye contact with him. You could even look at him straight in the eye and your face had gotten an angry shade of red from the mixture of the sex and the confession. Such a shy little thing. Even after two months of knowing each other you were still shy around him. He thought it was lovely.

“You have no idea how happy you make me, sweetheart. I was scared you wouldn’t love me back.” Toji admitted, reaching out to caress your soft cheek. His cock had been inside you through all of this, so he decided to slowly pull it out, making the two of you hiss from the overstimulation.

“I do, Toji. I’m deeply in love with you.” You revealed, leaving Toji astonished and with his heart dancing chaotically in his chest. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes, enjoying the intimate moment. You never anticipated falling in love agains so soon, yet it unfolded before you as if ordained by faith. You thought meeting Toji was destiny. Climbing off of him, you snuggled to his side.

“Alright, alright, Toji. You’ve once again, managed convinced me to stay home with you.” Home. Toji loved the sound of that. He couldn’t wait to have his own little house with you, he had been taking up extra bounties to be able to afford one. As soon as you accepted his marriage proposal, he would buy a home for just the two of you. Although he was ready to have children with you right now, he knew you weren’t keen on the idea having children at your age. Toji’s not sure if he can honor your wishes, but he would try. Unless the situation called for other means.

Toji looked smug at your comment, fully aware that if you had decided to still go out, he would try to convince you to stay any other way. “You know you love staying in with me.” Toji replied, pulling you tighter into his chest causing you to let out a giggle.

You tried to detangle yourself from him, but his grip on you impeded it.

“I need to use the restroom, stop being clingy.” You quipped with a laugh, making him loosen his grip on you. Toji felt a little hurt. Were you really joking or did you truly think he was clingy? Insecurity flooded his mind as he watched you head to the restroom.

His thoughts were interrupted by some distant vibrations. Toji sat up from the bed to see your phone vibrating in the nightstand. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the caller ID. It was one of your friends, these were the people trying to steal you from him.

“Hey.” He answered coldly, the other line was silent for a second.

“Um, Toji?” The girl asked confused at not being greeted by her best friend as per usual.

“What do you want?” Toji questioned discourteously, not caring about feigning kindness with her this time. He was going to take any means necessary to drive you away from your friends. Your friends were but vermin, unworthy of the mere touch if your presence. Not an ounce of trust did he have for them. The thought of them trying to cloud your mind with doubts about your relationship ignited an indescribable fury within him. These women were going to taint your perception of him and he would not stand for that. Not to mention, most of them were single and he hated the image of them manipulating you into acting like you are as well.

He could tell your friend was taken a back by his bluntness, bewildered by his change in charisma. Every time they had met he always appeared so courteous and seemingly genuine, she did not expect this attitude from your boyfriend. “I-It’s just— we’ve been waiting for over an hour and a half and we got worried. Is she going to make it?”

Toji chuckled darkly before lowering his voice, assuring you didn’t hear him. “Listen here, you stupid bitch. Haven’t you gotten the clue she doesn’t want to see you anymore? She’s always cancelling your little outings and making up excuses to not see you. It’s been two months since you last saw her, get a fucking grip and accept it. She’s not your friend anymore.” He spat out harshly, earning a audible gasp from your friend.

“D-did she really tell you that?” Your friend stuttered in disbelief. It was unbeknownst to her you felt this way. Were you really truly willing to cast aside all these years of friendship? She had known you for so many years, it was hard to believe you felt this way.

Toji hummed in response. “Are you fucking dumb? I’m her boyfriend, she’s obviously going to confide everything in me. I’m just doing her a favor by letting you know, so stop waisting our time and stay out of our lives.” Toji replied, a threatening tone in his voice. Should this endeavor fail, he would be forced to resort to drastic measures, but hopefully the message was unequivocally conveyed. He could hear your friend sniffle on the other line, making him smirk maliciously.

“You asshole! Tell that bitch to never talk to me again!” Your friend sobbed hysterically before hanging up, making Toji chuckle in amusement. He didn’t appreciate the name-calling, but he opted to overlook it, comforted by the knowledge that he would never have to endure her presence ever again.

Toji returned your phone to its originally resting place before reclining back into the bed, allowing the comfort of the mattress to envelop him. He pondered to himself as he heard you starting to run a shower. He bore the weight of knowing that this would impact you deeply and he despised himself for causing you pain in this manner. Yet, he remained resolute, convincing himself it was necessary for the wellbeing of your relationship. How else were you supposed to tend for him and your children if your friends were always stealing your attention?

He observed you emerge from the bathroom, reaching to grab your phone. “I should call them to tell them I’m not going to make it again.” You spoke as you started to unlock you phone. Toji placed his hand on top of your screen and you stood there taken aback.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your friend called while you were in the bathroom and I let them know.” Toji responded with a smile, his gaze tender and affectionate as you reciprocated his smile.

“Thanks, Toji. You’re the sweetest.” You showed your gratitude by pressing a kiss to his cheek. He couldn’t help the guilt that took over him, he knew how much your friends meant to you.

“Shall we shower together?” Toji suggested playfully —attempting to keep his mind off what he had just done— grabbing your phone from your hand and placing it back on the nightstand. His eyes ranked through your still nude form, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue, his cock rising back to life. Yeah, your pretty little body would make him forget in no time. You bit your lip, agreeing as he closed the gap between you, bestowing upon you a fervent kiss filled with longing.

Now that you had Toji you wouldn’t need anybody else.

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boxofbonesfic · 9 months

Photo

Title: Tonality [4]

Pairing: Prince!Geralt x Princess!Reader

previous chapter

Summary: “The white wolf wants you. He’ll have no other.” As you grieve the loss of your father, your mother marries the king. Whilst you struggle to acclimate to your new life, you begin to suspect the interest your new brother has in you is less than familial.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Darkfic, Step-cest, Medieval/GoT inspired AU, (Future)Smut, Dubcon/Noncon, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, MINORS DNI!!

A/N: a little more story, a little more tension, a little mor everything! what do you guys always, please mind the warnings, and enjoy!😊🥰 divider by @firefly-graphics

The Nilfgaardian banner snaps in the sharp, salt-laden breeze, the dark fabric bearing the crest of its namesake. The bright yellow sun mirrors the one in the cloudless sky above the keep. From your room, you can see their approach long before they reach the gates, a thin vein of black weaving through the countryside like a snake. The garrison pauses only briefly in the city, winding through the crowded streets in their pitch colored armor like a long satin ribbon. You grimace at the sight of them, swallowing against the sourness you feel growing at the back of your throat.

You do not know why the sight of them fills you with a dark foreboding, a shadow that looms in the space behind your thoughts. Perhaps it is the knowledge that you are expected to greet the Nilfgaardian envoy alongside your mother, the king, and the prince that makes your stomach curdle.

“My Lady, should we not join their Majesties?” Kassandra’s voice draws you from your churning thoughts. “Her Highness would not be pleased if we were late.” You swallow the dry retort that your mother would not be pleased no matter what you did, and automatically feel guilt over the bitter thought. You grimace before nodding at Kassandra over your shoulder.

Nothing good will come of this. The feeling—no, the knowledge—is as familiar to you as your own name, appearing among your thoughts as if it had always been there. Only sorrow will come of this day.

“Are you alright, Your Grace?”

Your throat tight, you smile. “Y-yes.” I am grim without cause. You shake yourself, smoothing your hands down the stiff, unfamiliar dress. It’s new, gifted to you only this morning as your mother had informed you of her expectations.

“You’ll look lovely in this,” she had bade the servants to lay out the massive thing, a veritable ocean of fabric, with so many skirts and stays you find yourself amazed you can even move at all. You detest the restriction and corsetry of it all, fidgeting with a frustrated grimace as Kassandra opens the door. Your thoughts must be plain on your face, for she is quick to reassure you as you pass.

“You are a vision, Your Grace,” she says, hurrying to your side as she closes the heavy door behind you. Despite your displeasure, her words do comfort you, and you offer Kassandra a watery smile in thanks. “I daresay you shall be the envy of every Lady in attendance.”

You laugh dryly. “Even you?” Kassandra’s response is unexpected—she shakes her head, pressing her lips together into a thin, apologetic smile.

“No, my Lady.” She says softly. There is true pity in her eyes, which stings all the more. “Though there are many in His Majesty’s keep who would treat with the Gods themselves to take your place—and, exalted though it may be, I am not among them.” The words pass unspoken between you, true honesty masked only slightly by propriety. “I would not wish that for all the world.”

The throne room is as packed with bodies as it was at your mother’s coronation only a few scant weeks prior, servants weaving deftly in and out of the crowd. It parts easily for you, people scrambling out of your path as you make your way toward the throne. Geralt stands to the king’s left, and you feel the weight of his gaze upon you so heavily it is as though he has touched you with his hand.

“My King. I trust you are well this morning?” He heaves a heavy sigh at your question, massaging the graying hair at his temple.

“As well as can be expected, given the circumstances.” King Vesemir graces you with a tired smile. “But I am glad these worries are mine. Would that they fall on mine own shoulders and save yours.” Of these troubles, you know only what little you have managed to glean from casual conversation and your own observations—the Lord of Nilfgaard has sent his envoy, along with a garrison of troops, to treat with the king.

Your mother scoffs. “You are a King, my love,” she says, tilting her regal head at him. “You can do nothing without rousing at least a little of the rabble.”

You take your place next to her, skirting around the prince with a wide berth. Your mother reaches for your hand, patting it as she nods approvingly at you.

“You look as lovely as I thought you would.�� Somehow, her complement makes you like your clothing even less. The dress is heavy and cumbersome, the corset laced so tight a deep breath makes the seams groan.

“It is the color.” Geralt’s interjection makes your mother’s smile thin and tighten, until the edges seem brittle like paper. “It suits you, sister.” Is there no line he will not cross? From behind his wide shield of plausible deniability he mocks you, his mouth quirking innocently as if he is unaware of the boundary he dances upon. Gracious acceptance is the only play you have, and he knows it as well.

“You are too kind, my Prince.” You clasp your hands together and face forward. It is surreal, almost, to see the calm with which he regards you now, when only a week ago he had raged at your door like a madman. Had you not seen it yourself, you would not think it possible. Though you would blame him for it, the nervous twisting of your stomach is not Geralt’s fault alone. The ill feeling that had taken root in your belly at the sight of the Nilfgaardian envoy still left you with a sour taste on your tongue, one that did not seem to wash away.

And the dreams…

You shudder to think of them, the dark, creeping things that keep you awake long after the halls of the king’s keep have fallen silent. You have not wandered from your rooms again to your knowledge, but you’ve slept so little in the past week that you suspect it is less a matter of your self control and more the lack of opportunity. The nails on your fingers, hidden by the cumbersomely long sleeves of your dress, are bitten down to the quick. It is a new habit you’ve developed sitting in the crushing dark as you wait for the dreams to come.

Your father’s rotting face swims before you again.

Sugar sweet—

You twist the heavy fabric of your sleeves in your nervous hands as you stare hard at the stone floor between your feet.

“What troubles you, Little Doe?” Geralt’s voice is as much of a surprise as his proximity, his side lightly pressing against your own as he leans down. You drop your hands to your sides like deadweight, suddenly aware of his eye.

“And why would you think me troubled?” You ask curtly. The prince’s wolfish grin sends a strange, hot pulse straight to your core, one you vehemently try to ignore. You are under no pretense, you know what the prince is, who he is. He has gone out of his way to show you, and yet—

“I am apt to know trouble when I see it.”

The throne room doors slam open, leaving you no time to respond as every eye is drawn to the entrance. The instant hush that falls over the room is so deep that the herald’s voice is like a crack of thunder. At the same time, your stomach tightens. The dark warning in your heart rings again like a bell, clear and true. Though you still do not quite grasp its meaning, the message is clear—whatever you’d been meant to avoid had now come to pass, leaving no room for escape or denial.

“Presenting His Lordship, Duke Emhyr of Nilfgaard!” The duke sweeps into the throne room, his ink-black cloak billowing behind him. There are two of his own guards flanking him in their telltale black armor, like pools of animated shadow. Their faces are hidden by their helms, the sides carved like griffin wings.

The duke stops before the throne, dropping down to one knee.

“My King.” His accented common turns the words up at the edges, almost like a question. “Hail.” His face is handsome but severe, high cheekbones, fierce, beady eyes, and a thin mouth that curls up at the corners, just like his words. There is a scar on his face, long and thin and jagged, stretching from his left temple to the right side of his chin. His already wan smile thins further as he turns to your mother.

“My Queen.”

“Lord Emhyr.” The duke’s smile is wan as he dips his head again. “I bid thee welcome. I trust you found the journey pleasant enough.” The words are empty pleasantries, merely frivolous formalities exchanged before the truth is allowed to be addressed.

“Aye, Majesty, as enjoyable as one can find a carriage journey.” He straightens back up. “I would extend my many congratulations on your union. The Gods themselves could not have delivered a more beautiful Queen.”

To your surprise, it is Geralt who speaks next.

“We did miss you at the celebration, my Lord.” The remark is meant to sound like a casual observation—you know it is not. “Quite a pity.”

Emhyr’s jaw tics. “Indeed.” He looks over his left shoulder, and motions the guards forward. “My deepest regrets. As I previously expressed to His Majesty, my presence was required elsewhere. As I am sure you recall, we do share a border with the Elves.” He spits the word like a curse. “Occasionally those savages do need a good reminding of where their lands end, and ours begin, Your Grace.”

You shudder. There are few elves left south of the heavily policed Nilfgaardian border, but you have met some. Savages. The word makes your lip curl. They are rather fond of that word, aren’t they?

“I did bring a—belated—wedding present.” Between the two of them, the guards haul forward a small black chest, the polished wood glinting in the light. He pulls back the lid, and a murmur travels through the gathered courtiers at the sight of the jewels. A small fortune in dark blue sapphires sits within. King Vesemir stands, bidding two of the ivory cloaked kings-guard forward to take the chest.

“A most precious gift.”

“The mines remain prosperous. Perhaps Her Highness might have them made into something befitting her loveliness.” A smile creases your mother’s ruby lips, but it is sharp enough to cut. Neither does it reach her narrowed eyes.

“We cannot thank you enough for your gracious gift, my Lord.” Her voice is delicate, like breaking glass. “But I do not believe you rode for six days to bear witness to my beauty.” You are left to wonder in the brief moments before Duke Emhyr answers. If he will allow the truth to be broached, or if he will flee from it like a rat from a burning ship.

“Indeed my Queen, I have not.” He casts a look around, as if the words he is about to speak are for everyone there, not just the king. “Your Grace, I come before you today with only the deepest respect for your will, authority, and wisdom.” Duke Emhyr chooses his words carefully. He chooses them as carefully as a mason did his stones, stacking each one meticulously on top of the other. “But I do admit my heart longs for clarity on this matter.

Not a season past, when His Majesty announced an end to his long mourning period, and indeed his intent to marry once more, I did put forth my own daughter as prospect.” His accusation takes shape, and you watch your mother’s face tighten, her fingers curling around the polished bone arm of her throne. “And before this very court, His Majesty agreed. I had imagined a shared future of prosperity and happiness between both our great houses. I mean no offense, and so I beg pardon—”

“And yet you have given it.” Your mother’s expression remains placid—her voice less so. You can almost hear the icy words forming on her tongue as her lips part to speak again, but the king silences her, holding up one steady hand.

“I appreciate your candor, my Lord,” he leans forward. “But it is Vesemir who rules here, not Emhyr.” All chatter ceases, and the chamber is as quiet as the crypt beneath it. “The decision as to who it is I marry is mine—and mine alone.” King Vesemir stands, descending the short set of steps until he is level with the duke. “It is I who bears the burden of ensuring the prosperity and stability of this realm. And while I am ever thankful for the service you have provided it… you would do well to remember that fact, my Lord.”

“Of course, my King. I—I mean only for the betterment of the empire.” It is then that his eye falls to you. “I see no reason a match might not still be made—”

“Then we shall speak no more about it.” You watch the duke’s jaw tighten, his lips thinning as he fights not to show his displeasure.

“As you will, Your Grace.” You have not heard the last of this matter, of that you are certain. A sinking feeling rises in your stomach, like you’ve tumbled freely over the edge of a cliff. There is no going back, the feeling seems to whisper, goosebumps erupting across your flesh. A path has been chosen now and you will walk it—

“I thank you again for your generous gift, Lord Emhyr,” the dismissal is obvious in the king’s tone.

“The pleasure is mine, my liege.” The words sound broken in his mouth, like he’s chewed them up. A cold finger traces down your spine as his eyes meet yours again. “I thank you for your counsel.”

—

The sky is dark, angry black clouds roiling above the keep. You’ve not seen much rainfall in Rivia since your arrival, but today the clouds above you seem full to bursting, the smell of the imminent downpour filling your nostrils. Still, you take your time as you stroll through the gardens, stopping every so often to enjoy the sight of flowers in bloom.

“You are enjoying the gardens today, my Lady,” Kassandra’s observance is gently made, though she looks worriedly up at the sky.

“I feel I must,” you reply, leaning down to inspect a half-closed bud. “Summer here is drawing to a close, and I must admit I fear the cold.” You offer her a small smile over your shoulder.

“Have you no winter in Redania?” She asks, wonder coloring her words. “The land of eternal summer indeed.”

“No snow,” you agree, shaking your head. “Tis more like… autumn.” There is a wistfulness to your words you cannot suppress, a longing that brings moisture to your eyes. In truth, you doubt it will matter how many years you spend here at court—Rivia will never feel like home. Kassandra smiles thoughtfully.

“I should like to see it, my Lady,” she says. “Twould not be a chore to accompany you—if you wished it so. The winter here is harsh, even within the city walls.”

“Aye, winter on the continent is no easy task to weather.” The two of you turn at the sound of a new voice to face the speaker. Duke Emhyr bows respectfully, removing his cap as he does so. “I did not mean to intrude—I find the gardens less familiar than I imagined,” he adds, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Might I trouble you for an escort?”

You had not seen the duke since his spectacle at court the day prior, the matter of which had the courtiers aflutter with gossip. You suppose you, like Duke Emhyr, had been equally blindsided in the matter of your mother’s courtship and her subsequent marriage. Nervously, you wonder if his feelings of dissatisfaction—and possible animosity—extend to you by proxy. Kassandra curtsies, and you nod, forcing a small, charitable smile onto your lips.

“O-of course, my Lord.” You reply. “I myself find the task of navigating the keep daunting, despite calling this place home.” Kassandra falls into step just behind you, and you must physically stop yourself from commanding her to walk beside you. Though you’ve little personal regard for the importance of blood and titles, you know here in Rivia those things matter above all else. The duke is more than happy to ignore her, his hawkish eyes weighing heavily on you.

“How long has it been since your arrival at the White Keep, if you will indulge my curiosity?”

“Nearly three months.” Though you have kept count of every passing day since your arrival, to say it aloud makes homesickness rear up in your chest. The duke clucks his tongue pityingly.

“Tis a shame. Redania is quite beautiful this time of year. I have had the pleasure of many a visit.” He clasps his hands behind his back and casts a look at the dreary sky. “Nilfgaard is my home, but I would be a liar if I said I did not envy the beauty of the southern jewel.” The wistfulness in his voice inspires thoughts of warm autumn nights scented with pine and faded sunlight. But a warning echoes in your heart at the false note in it, the one that reminds you of the coy, prying questions of your mother’s ladies in waiting, only cloaked in a cleverer disguise.

“Indeed.” You round the corner of a hedge. “I have never seen snow, now that I think of it. I should much like to, now that I am older.”

“Never seen snow?” The duke echoes your words, replacing your simple desire with shock. “Though I would not speak ill of your late father—Redania has never seen a finer Regent—I do believe he kept you far too sheltered.” It takes effort to keep your smile from going thin at the mention of your father. As if in response, a dull ache throbs in your chest.

“How lucky for us, then, that his death should bring me here.” You flick the words from your tongue like the lashing of a whip. There is a brief moment of dark satisfaction as the duke’s eyes widen, and his confident words falter.

“My sincerest apologies, Princess, I did not mean—”

“No, of course not.” You reply, swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat. “Forgive me, Duke Emhyr. My father I are—were, quite close.” You offer him an apologetic smile. “Might we speak of something else?”

“Of course, of course. My deepest sympathies.” He casts a furtive glance in your direction. “I hope you have been enjoying your time here, despite the… unfortunate circumstances.” You nod primly—for what words do you have to describe the aching emptiness that fills you at the thought that home is a distant thing now, the memory of a place you no longer belong.

“I have found ways to occupy myself.” You feel as thin as your smile. “The White Keep is large, there are many ways to spend ones time.”

“And Her Majesty has certainly taken to her role,” he continues. “She has taken to court as though she were born here.” There is a note of bitterness in his voice. “Has she spent much time in Rivia? Surely during His Majesty’s rather short courtship—”

“I know little of my mother’s courtship,” you say flatly, your eyes narrowed. “If you wish to know about it, perhaps you should ask her.” This time, it is difficult to leash your ire. You grow tired of the duke’s probing, his thinly veiled attempts to pick information from conversation behind the shield of feigned ignorance.

“Highness—”

“I trust you will can your way from here.” There is an unfamiliar coldness that underscores your words, one that uncomfortably reminds you of your mother. It is like hearing her own voice from your mouth, leaving a sour taste on your tongue. “Lady Kassandra, l believe we should take our leave.”

“At once, My Lady.”

You leave him at the entrance to the gardens in the courtyard, sweeping past as his eyes bore into your back.

—

“How does it end?” You are sat before the fire, a book held tenuously in your hands. Your loose, traditional dress is folded beneath you primly as the flames dance in the hearth. “How does it end?” Your father repeats warmly, chuckling as he leans forward to rest a hand on your shoulder. “You stopped reading.”

You can’t quite recall where you were now, the words seeming to shift on the page as you squint at them.

“I… I don’t remember now,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at your father. Though the flames are bright, his face is shadowed, but you get the feeling that he is smiling.

“The princess has just met the wolf,” he replies. “She doesn’t know it yet, but he plans to devour her whole—body, and spirit.” You look down at the page. “She is careful, the princess, and clever, but the wolf is sly, and he is not the only thing she has to fear.” You do not know why, but his words fill you with an incomparable sorrow.

“What else does she have to fear? Is the wolf not enemy enough?” You are crying. You don’t know why, but you are, tears pouring down your face and dripping messily off of your chin to stain the pages with salt.

“Weep not, daughter. She may yet avoid his jaws—and if not that, then perhaps she might at least turn him to her will. But the peacock—she is her true enemy.”

“A bird?”

“Yes, dear girl,” your father’s voice goes strangely quiet as the fire burns low in the hearth, and the sitting room is shrouded in gloom. “For while her pretty feathers distract you, her beak plucks out your eyes.”

You wake blearily, blinking in the darkness as you struggle back to wakefulness. Instead of your bed, you are knelt on the cold, stone floor in front of the half-dead hearth. The embers that still smolder within are not enough to give off true heat, and pins shoot through your legs when you struggle to your feet. It is frigid in here, and you shiver, clutching your thin nightgown tightly around yourself.

You’ve no memory of leaving your bed, nor of kneeling in front of the hearth, and you sniffle as you make your way back beneath the canopy above your bed. There is a familiar ache in your tight throat that feels like you’ve been crying, and when you lift a shaking hand to your cheek.

Your face is wet with tears.

—

Your mother strokes your head as you sob, your tears soaking into her gown.

“I—I fear sleep, I fear waking,” you rasp, wiping at your sore eyes with the back of one trembling hand. “T-there is no respite from them. I close my eyes in one place and open them in another—” A hiccoughing sob cuts the words in half. “Mother I fear I… I fear I shall go mad if I see father again. His face—!” You bury your head in her lap as another round of shuddering sobs wracks your limp body.

It has been years since you have sought your mother’s comfort like this, and in truth you cannot remember the last time it was even offered. She had been surprised to see you at her chamber door at this hour, disheveled and still clad in your nightgown, but she had let you in after you’d tearfully recounted the contents of your dreams.

She strokes your head. “Nightmares, my love. Nothing but terrors spun up by your mind—brought on from stress, no doubt.” Her hand is cool and comforting against your forehead. “I shall have the healer assemble something for you.”

“T-thank you, mother.” You offer her a watery smile.

“Anything for you, my love.” She strokes your cheek affectionately, the bandage wrapped around her index finger rough against your skin. “I do so hate to hear of your suffering, I will do what I can to appease it.” You smile wider, even as you swallow back the inappropriately bitter feeling that says you have been suffering all this time regardless. This was the response you had desired from her all those weeks ago when you’d begged her to send you home—and now, for some reason, it feels… hollow.

“What happened to your finger?” You ask, and she sighs, waving her hand dismissively.

“A hairpin, nothing to worry yourself over.” You dry your eyes, dabbing at them with a handkerchief. Your mother barely acknowledges the timid knock at the door before the chambermaid pokes her head inside.

“Highness? H-His Majesty is here.”

Your mother does not look surprised to hear this. If anything, the corners of her mouth curl up into a sly smile for half an instant before she nods.

“I see. I shall see to him in a moment—” The maid squeals as the King himself pushes past her, his eyes wild.

“Thayet!” He calls your mother’s name with a hoarse, desperate voice. “I have waited over an hour for you—oh.” He seems to note your presence with all of the recognition one would give a fly. His bright, golden eyes are cloudy with confusion—as though he hasn’t the faintest idea who you are, or why you are there. Recognition finally lights in his eyes, and he nods at you.

“Princess. It is… quite late,” he says slowly, as if he is only now realizing that fact himself. “Should you not be abed?” Your face heats with embarrassment.

“Ah, y-yes, my King. I was… troubled.” Your eyes dart between him and your mother. “But mother has allayed my fears.” You gather your shawl about your shoulders, bowing your head respectfully. Of course he would visit her as a husband—that is a fact you suppose you have known since you came to this place, but to catch the King in your mother’s bedchamber was another thing entirely.

The eagerness in his eyes as he looks at her, the way he licks his lips—it reminds you uncomfortably of Geralt, and of the need you see mirrored in his amber eyes. You retreat from the sitting room, though the sound of your mother’s voice makes you glance over your shoulder one last time as the door begins to close.

“I shall send Callista with a sleeping draught,” your mother calls at your retreating back. “For the dreams.”

Your stomach turns uncomfortably as you watch the king latches onto your mother, pulling her close as he trails desperate kisses down her arm. You are too far away to hear the words he growls through his gritted teeth before ripping at the bandage on her thumb and sucking the injured digit into his mouth.

The door closes with a loud bang, leaving you alone in the dark, empty hall.

The peacock, your father whispers in your memory as you shuffle back toward your room in the early hours.

She’ll pluck out your eyes.

to be continued…

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x you #geralt of rivia smut #geralt smut #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt x y/n #dark fantasy #dark!fic #darkfic #boxofbonesfic #tonality fic

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thepaperpanda · 6 months

Text

Welcome back home || Lucifer x f!reader

Summary: You find yourself eagerly awaiting Lucifer's arrival back home

Warnings: praise kink, rough sex

Word count: 750

Authors: Bear

A/N: I'm so happy to partake in this exhilarating Kinktober '23 Collaboration. My prompts were: praise kink & rough sex

Masterlist

"Welcome back home," you say, your voice breathless with excitement as you catch sight of Lucifer. He's beaming, swiftly kicking the door shut before pulling you close and claiming your lips in a passionate kiss. Your anticipation for Lucifer's return is palpable, as you detest the solitude that accompanied his business absences. You crave his presence and the excitement it brings, making the moments apart feel like an eternity of isolation.

"You look absolutely stunning, Y/N," he whispers, his lips trailing down the side of your neck. "Exquisite. It fits you perfectly, doesn't it?"

You're adorned in the lingerie he thoughtfully sent you, and nothing else. It's a delicate ensemble of strappy lace that barely qualifies as panties, a matching bra, and a short silk robe. Even when he's away from Devildom, he still loves to spoil you. You pull back just enough to give him a little twirl, and his dark eyes devour every inch of your body with hungry desire.

He licks his lips sensually, wrapping his arms around you once more, his hands eagerly squeezing your enticing curves. Your entire being feels ablaze with desire. "Did you do as I asked?"

"Yes," you reply, your voice a sultry whisper.

"Really? For three whole weeks?" He teases, sliding a leg between yours, allowing you to rock your hips against his thigh. The heat between your bodies intensifies, and you can't help but fear you might leave a telltale wet spot on his impeccably fitted uniform pants. "You didn't make yourself cum?"

"I promise," you swear, trying to contain your excitement.

"That's my obedient girl," he grumbles. "Just give me a few minutes."

Lucifer's shower seems to be over in a flash, yet the minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity for you. The anticipation hang heavy in the air, making your heart race.

As soon as you hear the water cease, a surge of desire compells you to action. Your hand find its way between your thighs, fingers delicately tracing the path along your slick, heated pussy. You gasp. "Lucifer..."

The panties he had sent are far from ordinary; they are crotchless, leaving your pussy exposed and framed by their sensual lace. Every movement seems calculated to draw attention to the treasure concealed within, and you can't help but feel the excitement building inside you. The knowledge that he will soon walk through that door, catching you in this passionate act, send a shiver of excitement coursing through your body. With bated breath, you continue to explore your own desires, slowly succumbing to the intoxicating sensations that radiated from your wet, warm core.

And then, like a perfectly orchestrated moment, he appears, his intense black eyes immediately locking onto the very place where you were pleasuring yourself with a deliberate and sensual rhythm. He didn't bother with a towel, standing there completely naked, his dick rock hard, already leaking precum from the slit on his tip.

It's clear that he had missed you just as intensely as you had yearned for him. The electric chemistry in the room crackles, a magnetic pull drawing you both together.

“That’s my girl,“ he says, in a sinful low rasp. "Good, little girl."

He gently caresses himself, his own touches sending shivers down his spine. Slowly, he ascends the bed, his desire evident in every calculated move. Hooking his strong arms under your knees, he skillfully spreads your legs, granting him an unobstructed view of your eager pussy, clenching aroung nothing. The head of his throbbing cock brushes against your longing entrance, and an involuntary, passionate groan escapes your lips. “Is this what you want?” he asks, eyes dark as he looks down at you.

“Please,” you gasp. “Please, I was so good!”

“I know you were, princess,” he soothes, and fucks into you with one smooth thrust.

In the throes of passion, you can't help but moan, your body arching upward in anticipation. Your desire brings you to the brink, and you tremble with the intensity of it all. "Please," you gasp.

Lucifer engages in an unrelenting, rhythmic motion, his hips swaying back and forth with precision as he fully penetrates you. A series of subdued grunts escape his lips as he revels in the incredible sensation of your wetness enveloping around his throbbing cock.

"Oh, Lucifer!" You moan, yor head rolling back to the mattress.

“You can come, sweetheart,” he says, and you’re clenching around his dick, seeing white sparks of unbearable pleasure even before he says, “You earned it, my good, little pet.”

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itsvaleriesucka · 3 months

Text

forbidden love

pairing: demon!joel miller x angel!fem reader

rating: explicit 18+ (minors dni)

word count: 3.1k

summary: you and joel lovingly spend the rest of the afternoon together in your room. things began to get steamy.

warnings: sex, kissing, smoking, unprotected p in v, cock riding, oral sex (m!receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, creampie, light choking, age gap (50s/20s), no use of y/n, no outbreak

a/n: my love for demons and angels will always have a special place in my heart. i seriously need demon joel in my life. this is the only way to fulfill this fantasy of mine. i hope you like it! i have other stories in mind that i would like to write soon so stay tuned. please do not read if you’re sensitive to any of these topics. you have been warned.

The dark ambience of sounds coming from your Crosley record player touches a comfortable feeling deep inside your aching heart. The sound escaping lingered throughout the atmosphere of your own room. The aroma of expensive perfume and cigarettes fills the air and into your nostrils on this peaceful afternoon.

Your cherry red almond nails did their little dance across Joel’s tousled salt and pepper hair, feeling every soft strand there is. You both layed in bed beside each other heavenly. Your right leg wrapped and pressed against his lower body, skin bear and visible from your mini white lace slip gown you decided to wear. Your eyes lingered all across his handsome facial features. He’s perfect and he is everything to you.

His strong arm wraps around you, his hand and fingers soothing your soft skin on that bare thigh of yours. He draws you in closer, a feeling he did not want to let you go. With such a feeling, you pulled yourself away and positioned yourself above him, both legs locked and pressed against the sides of his hips. You sat gently upon his lap. You felt Joel’s large hands grip your hips to keep you in place. His thumb softly rubs against your hip bones in a circular motion.

Both of your hands press themselves against his bare broad chest. Your eyes wandered each of his scars he’s had over the past years. Joel reached beside your nightstand to grab his cigarette that’s placed on a red heart shaped ashtray that was handmade by you. Staring at the piece of work, you already remembered you took him to a ceramics studio on one of your dates with him when you both were starting out.

You and Joel are the total opposites. You take him to cute and fun places while he takes you to places that are, well, questionable and odd. He’s mature and you’re young. He wears black and you wear white. He’s a demon and you’re an angel.

Just the thought of a holy and unholy being together made the corner of your lips to curl downward into a frown. You felt your own stomach turn. You were so calm and content seconds ago and now you’re suddenly feeling sad. You tried not to reveal your emotions by forcing yourself to smile and looking away to distract yourself. You felt a tear drop escape from the outer corner of your eyes. You felt the liquid stream down against your cheek. You quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand but it was no use, Joel can already sense there was something wrong, even before you managed a frown.

“What’s the matter, angel?” Aside from being an actual angel, it’s indeed a lovely nickname for you. You always adored the way it draws out from him with that southern accent that sounded as pure as honey can taste.

“Nothing.” You watched the excess smoke from his Lucky Strike cigarette he inhaled, exhale through his nostrils, filling the air in your room. Joel quirked a brow. He kept his expression as stoic as usual. He wasn’t buying that pity answer from you.

“Bullshit.” His eyes analyzed every single expression you gave off.

Fine. He wins.

“For a moment I thought about the opposites of you and I. Our kind being together…It’s forbidden…” you softly remarked. Already reminding yourself of the bigger books and the higher Gods. You completely detest yourself for ruining a precious moment between you two. You wanted to vanish in thin air right now. All you could try to concentrate on was the music that played in the background to numb your thoughts.

Joel rubbed the tip of his cigarette against the ashtray to put it out. He sat himself up while still holding you in place against his lap. You felt his fingers gently pinch the sides of your jawline. He wanted you to look at him and you did.

“I don’t care about that,” Joel pulls you in closer, his gaze never leaving your precious face, “I care about you.” You felt his other hand rubbing small circles against your lower vertebrae to calm you down.

You knew he did. Despite who he truly is, you knew he wasn’t lying. Your mind was anxious and filled with fear of what can happen but your heart says otherwise. You cupped both his cheeks and felt his lips press against the palm of your delicate hand. You lean forward to press your lips against his, never pulling away. His mustache tickled your upper lip which made you smile from the sensation.

Your rushed thoughts were silenced when you felt his tongue slide across your bottom lip. You part your lips, allowing his tongue to explore inside your mouth. You brushed your tongue against his tongue and it felt delicious. It felt delicious to be kissed by the devil. To Joel, it felt amazing to caress and taste an innocent angel such as yourself.

You managed to pull away from his kiss and released a low sigh trying to catch your breath. Both foreheads pressed together. The smell of coffee and cigarette lingers from him. You felt his hot breath against your cheeks when he decided to plant kisses along your jawline down to your neck. You whined at the feeling of his teeth nibbling your sensitive spot against the soft flesh of your neck and your collarbone. You pushed your hips forward against his lap as your reaction to ease a certain tension that began to stir in between your inner thighs. The sudden friction caused his cock to twitch underneath his black boxers.

As much as you needed him, he needed you. You did not hesitate to remove yourself from Joel’s lap and positioned yourself on your knees. Joel knew exactly the kind of move you were about to make so he sat himself up. He watched the hesitancy of your movements. How those soft hands gently rubbed the fabric that covered his growing erection. He lightly hummed at the gentle movement.

Joel did not hesitate to assist you by guiding your hand into the fly of his boxers, allowing you to touch him as you please. You gripped his thick cock and slowly worked your wrist to start a burning sensation in his core as you stroked his cock willingly. His throat vibrated from a satisfactory groan he released. You removed his large cock from his fly and watched as his precum dripped down, from his pink tip that swelled, against his length landing upon your hand.

You brought your hand and licked the precum off your thumb and index finger. Joel grins at your insatiable desire. That naughty glint within his eyes began to shine. You lowered yourself close to his erection.

“Open that pretty mouth of yours.” He commands and you obliged instantly. You part your mouth and shivered at the feeling of his cock brushing precum all over your plump lips. You kissed his tip, allowing a string of his precum stretch in between. You languidly licked your bottom lip to obtain the salty taste. You lean yourself further more to shove his cock inside your mouth. You felt your mouth slowly becoming full. Cheeks hollow. Your taste buds swell to form excess saliva from the taste of his skin.

It was a natural instinct to breathe through your nostrils from the absurd gesture. You tried not to choke but yet you always do for how large and thick he is. You should know better. You felt your cunt lightly clench at the sensation. Your core was starting a fire on its own.

“You look so beautiful like this f’me.” Words that almost sounded like whispers slipped past his mouth as he brushed your hair with his fingers, petting you. You hummed in return to his compliment that his cock, again, twitched at the sudden vibration. With his hand still pressed upon your head, Joel wasted no time and lowered his boxers down, along with your head further down. He wanted the tip to touch the back of your throat. He wanted your mouth full of his entire length.

“Good girl…” he praised and you released a broken groan, almost choking. Your tongue danced along his shaft. He tastes just so damn good that your saliva mixed with his precum is already dripping down past your chin. You managed to follow his rhythm by bobbing your head at a steady pace. You’ve done this so many times and every single time it just keeps getting better and better. Your eyes fluttered shut in order to concentrate. Your hums mixed with soft melodies from your record player tune perfectly together.

Your right hand squeezed his shaft, stroking him firmly while your other hand worked their magic by massaging his balls. If Joel always makes you feel good, he deserves the attention of feeling good as well.

“Fuck,” the demon cursed and thrust his hips forward. He pushes your head further down to the point your nose rubbed against his happy trail and saliva that splattered across. You gagged at the sudden reflex of his cock shoved deep down into your throat. Your eyes watered and trailed down each side of your cheeks. Your cunt kept clenching, begging for more. “You filthy slut…”

The way he called you a filthy slut made you giggle. You felt butterflies form inside the pit of your stomach. Don’t get yourself wrong, you are indeed a good holy being. You always do the nicest things for mankind and try to help out in the darkest of times. But when you’re alone with Joel, it seems like you’re nothing but his devil woman.

You brought yourself to pull away from his cock, trying to catch your own breath. You opened your mouth to release all that excess saliva that mixed with his own juices right upon his cock, lubricating him like the good angel you are. Your small hand now glides easily against him. Wet and sloppy. “I love being your filthy slut.”

The way Joel’s pupils are nothing but wide and filled with lust with such an obscene gesture and words leaving past your lips was a sight to witness. He knows you don’t curse, but in bed, you miraculously do. And he fucking loves it too.

“C’mere,” Joel shoves you towards himself, he wanted you to sit on his lap and so you did. Your breasts pressed against his chest. You felt fingertips tickling on each side of your thighs as he lifts the end of your white mini slip gown to remove the garment completely off of you. You were left in nothing but your white lace undergarment. How cute, it even has a tiny cross pendant that adorned underneath a tiny silk bow. He chuckled darkly at the sight. “You’re gonna fuckin’ ride me.”

You nodded your head so fast that you probably should be ashamed of yourself. You bite your bottom lip to refrain your contentment. You can feel your blood circulating towards your cheeks becoming warm and hot, flustered even.

Using his index and middle finger, he hooked your damp panties that covered your sensitive cunt and pulled them aside. You can feel your own cunt coming in contact with the skin of his fingers. A shiver ran up and down your spine at his touch. His low humming was a pleasant melody to your ears. You lightly gasped at the sudden touch of his thumb pressing your swollen clit. Joel began to rub circular motions and watched how your body reacts. He knows you all too well, he just loves how your body twitches by the devil’s touch.

“There we go…” he murmurs while focusing on that sweet spot of yours that is beginning to cause his mouth to water. Joel can feel his own erection twitch again with anticipation. His eyes fixated upon yours the entire time. He was prepping you for his cock that ached to be sucked inside of you.

“That feels so g-good.” You softly moaned and placed your index knuckle in between your teeth to refrain from moaning out loud. The walls surrounding your room were rather dense that you can sometimes hear certain conversations from other neighbors. Eyes fluttered shut in order to concentrate on the way his calloused thumb skillfully flicks and rubs your clit.

“Yeah?” He purrs and pressed your clit harder. His thumb wandered towards your folds to then wet your sweet clit with your own juices to make rubbing easier. Joel smacks your hand away from your mouth which caught you by surprise. “I want to hear you, angel. Don’t be shy and let it all out f’me. Besides…” He brushes his thumb upon your wet swollen lips and you amorously suck your own taste off, releasing his thumb with a pop. A low hum vibrating from your throat, “…I want the neighbors to hear how good you’re ridin’ me.”

You felt his angry tip poke your entrance that glistened with your own natural lubricant. You are forced to lift yourself up to allow more room for his cock to comfortably slip inside of you. His fingers still hooking the fabric aside. You gasped as your jaw became slack at the way his thick length slowly stretched your inner walls. You watch as his cock slowly sinks and disappears into your aching entrance. As mentioned, you have done this plenty of times but his cock never fails to make you gasp every time at the sudden stinging sensation of the stretch. It’s bizarre.

Joel chuckled darkly and began to thrust himself into you. He needed you to adjust to his length comfortably before anything else. The moment you feel comfortable, you sway your hips forward and backwards, soon bouncing freely against him. You felt every inch of his cock rubbing your warm stretched walls. The way the tip of his cock hits your cervix has your head spinning. Sweet moans and squeals escape past your lips. The lewd sounds of both your precum secreting together echoes.

Your arms wrap around his neck for support while his arms wrap around your waist, holding, guiding, and encouraging you to milk his cock deep. The sight of your own breasts bouncing to the rhythm and movement intoxicates Joel’s arousal. He did not hesitate to pinch and tease your hardened nipples. The pain enticing your mood.

“Oh fuck right there, yes!” You cried as you continued to ride his cock. The way you grind against his lap got you both drowning in arousal. Skin tacky from the sudden heat mixed with sweat forming within you both. With each harsh thrust, oxygen hitches away from your lungs. It honestly felt like he was punching a hole inside of you. But the way his cock feels doing so was absolutely divine.

“You’re doin’ so well baby girl.” You earned yourself a tight squeeze from both his hands that managed to slide down toward your ass. You smiled at his encouragement. He took the opportunity to plant another kiss upon your lips. His teeth nipping against your bottom lip, pulling the flesh teasingly.

“It feels so good, mmm, I need you…” You moaned into Joel’s mouth. You were too carried away pecking his lips a dozen times to finish your sentence. He slows his pace, wanting to hear the right words come out.

“You need…?” He breathes and groans all against your pretty mouth. The way you paused from bouncing and focused on grinding against his lap ferociously while his cock stuck deep inside was driving him mad. In a matter of seconds he was going to spill his sticky seed.

“Cum inside me…p-please.” You begged and bat your eyes towards him, your doe eyes that were filled with nothing but inevitable lust told him everything he needed to know. The perfect green light but yet he still managed to tease the shit out of you, as per usual.

“Mmm, don’t know about that.” He murmured as he paints a wicked grin across his face. The way your brows furrowed with a frustrated expression actually amused him. “C’mon…please…”

A cry that seriously turned him on even more. To your sudden surprise, Joel switched positions where your back instantly touches your mattress. He grips your ankles and brings your legs up to hold you good. He removed your precious panty and tossed it somewhere behind him. You were too flooded with mixtures of sin and lust that all you were able to do was toggle a lazy wiggle from your hips, encouraging him to stick his cock back inside of you as quickly as possible. And so he did.

Joel buries his cock deep inside of you and begins to roughly pound his hips against the back of your thighs, obtaining that tantalizing pace. You huff with each rhythm of his smack trying to fight back a moan but to no avail. It is certain that your neighbors can already hear your glorious cries. You’re too horny to even be embarrassed at this point. They were so sweet, so angelic which always drives Joel insane. He enjoyed stripping away your innocence. Always.

“Look at you angel, takin’ this cock so well. Such a fuckin’ good girl. ” You felt nothing but a tight hand wrapped around your neck. His hand. All you could see were only stars, you began to feel dizzy. “My good fuckin’ girl.”

You began to feel your climax almost pooling in. “Yes! Oh fuck…Joel! Baby, I’m gonna cum!” To help with that, you arched your back so that his cock can rub against that aching g-spot of yours.

Just by his cock hitting your favorite spot had caused you to overstimulate. You frantically released your final loud moan that ringed against his ears. You felt like the earth had stopped spinning once that orgasm came crashing over your entire body that exploded into a blissful sensation. Your cunt clenching around his thick cock caused Joel to collapse right above you, spilling his load right inside of you coaxing a heavy groan against your ear. The warming sensation of his cum seeping inside eased your body. You thrust your hips forward to obtain that final aftershock.

You felt Joel’s cock pulling right out of you along with some of his cum spilling out from your sore entrance. He laid right beside you to try and catch his breath. Rolling yourself, you stopped right on top, embracing him with a hug, never wanting to let him go.

“Like I said, I don’t care what anyone thinks.” Joel kisses the side of your head, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m yours and you’re mine.” You lovingly whispered.

You earned yourself a warm smile from the devil. A smile only you’re able to witness alone. “Let’s get you cleaned up, angel.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

Three for One 11

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: yall doubted me.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

A deep growl rolls around you. This one is beastly. Not lurid or lusty. Your head dangles over Andy’s arm as he carries you into the bedroom, stalling as Ernie snarls at his entrance. You whimper as your body thrums from head to toe.

“Shhh,” Andy hushes, both you and the dog. He lowers you onto the mattress as Ernie’s rumble deepens. “Honey,” he pets your forehead, “you did so good.”

You turn your head, staring at the wall. Disgusted with him but just as repulsed by yourself. The tenderness tingling between your legs stains you with shame. As much as you detested every violation, every intrusion, you enjoyed it all the same. Your body delighted in it and even then, you feel that empty longing clenching inside of you.

“You just need to get cleaned up,” he looms over you as Ernie growls.

“Puppy…” you murmur and wave your hands senselessly.

Ernie lets out a soft boof and the bed jolts as he jumps onto it. He sniffs you as he jostles you and lays against you, licking your arm with his warm, rough tongue. It’s soothing. You turn and embrace him, shuddering as the afterglow fades to humiliation.

“Let me take care of you,” Andy intones.

His shadow hovers around the room and his footsteps fade into the distortion of your new reality. That fog of disbelief returns, thicker than before. That first night when you couldn’t fathom the absurdity of it all can’t compare to the haze that consumes you then. After all they’ve done, your only shield is denial.

It didn’t happen. You didn't just let them do all that. You didn’t crawl around and obey them like an animal. No. No. You’ve been in here this whole time, it’s only a bad nightmare.

You squeeze your eyes shut and whine. Ernie lays his head down next to yours. It’s just you and your puppy. You’re safe. He’s safe. That’s what matters. When you took him in, you took on the duty of protecting him.

That’s how it should be when you take someone in. When you promise to take care of them. That’s not how it always goes, though. You know that better than anyone.

You quiver as you remember the nights in the group home. Scared and alone. Even with the other kids, you were never really wanted, never accepted. You had no one to talk to, no one to help you.

Those days are far behind you… but the feelings creep back in. You thought you were stronger now. You’re just as weak as you were then.

The noise of water pouring down splices through your daze. You shift onto your back as Ernie’s hot breaths puff over your shoulder. You move, just a little, and give up as the effort tinges in your muscles.

Andy returns, a fuzzy silhouette over you, as he takes you by the arm and sits you up. Ernie bristles and you flutter your hand behind you. That’s the one thing you couldn’t handle; him getting hurt. He licks your palm as you feel the tension of his body through the mattress. He knows it’s all wrong but he’s a good boy and he’ll listen to you.

Andy lifts you from the bed again, this time with his arm across your back as he makes you stand. He walks you around into the bathroom. He sits you on the open toilet and you hang your head.

“Honey, you should… go, it will help,” he girds, “you don’t want an infection, huh?”

“Leave me alone,” you babble and cover your face with your hand.

“I have the bath running for you, sweetie,” he coos and steps away, “I’ll add some bubbles.”

You shakily lift your head and watch his back as he goes to the tub. He uncaps a bottle with a click and you fold over your lap. The pressure in your core begins to burn. A ripple flows through you as your bladder releases. The trick of your urine on the porcelains adds to your shame.

You grab toilet paper to wipe yourself, hissing at the touch of the tissue. You drop it into the bowl and sit up. You shake as Andy returns to you and takes off the stockings. You’re completely naked. He scoops you up entirely and lowers you into the tub, the water lapping up higher and higher around you.

“Did you like your presents?” Andy asks as he turns. He takes a stool from beside the counter and unfolds it, sitting on the other side of the tub wall.

You stare at the tiled wall as the hot water sears your oversensitive skin. You can feel the pearls dangling from your ears, a reminder of their game. You reach to the jewelry and he catches your hand.

“Those are really pretty on you,” Andy hums, “not that you need help.”

You slip your hand free of his and drop it back into the water. Your eyes singe. His betrayal is worse than anything else. He said he would keep you safe. That he wouldn’t let them hurt you but all you can think of is how much he hurt you.

Andy stirs the water with his fingers as the bubbles foam over the top. The smell of fake vanilla wafts in the air. You lean your head back and look at the ceiling. You hate him more than the others. He’s a liar. For all their faults, the others don’t hide what they are.

“You can just relax until dinner,” he coaxes as he touches your chest, “recover…”

You hear claws tapping and look over as Ernie fills the open doorway. He sits, staring intently at you. Maybe you should have them take him to a shelter… you can’t take care of him here. Not like you should. Your eyes sting and you look away. No, he doesn’t deserve that either. You’ve failed him.

With no response, Andy doesn’t say another word. For a while, he touches you, soft, almost curious touches, then he stands. You peek up as he undresses and the world shifts as he moves you from against the porcelain. He steps in behind you and eases down into the tub, pulling you over him as he reclines.

The intimacy of that moment churns in your stomach. It’s how he acts like this is all normal, like there’s anything more than there is. This isn’t a relationship, this isn’t a utopia he’s built for you, he’s using you. Just like those other two.

“You’re so precious, sweetie,” he frames your face and kisses the crown of your head, “so… beautiful.”

His hands trail down your neck and chest. He fondles your tits as your body locks up. Ernie snorts and treads closer. Your head drifts to the side and you stare at him. His jowls curl up with unease. You hush him. He huffs and circles around, once, twice, then lays on the bathmat.

“He loves you,” Andy comments as his hands continue to explore, “that’s sweet. You must be really good to him.”

You sniff and swallow down your horror. You don’t want to hear him. You want him to go away, to leave you to wallow in his desecration. You reach up and catch his hand, trying to pull it off your stomach. He resists, far too easily for your comfort.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

You shift, the water sifting around your bodies. You feel the twitch beneath your back. Despite everything, he’s getting hard again. You are sickened by his insatiable appetite.

“Just relax,” he coaxed as he tickles your sides, “soak up the heat and then we’ll lay down, huh? Get some snuggles in. I got a turkey in the oven–”

“Shut up,” you snip, surprising even yourself.

“Honey,” he rebukes, “don’t talk like that. It’s Christmas.”

Your lips trembles and you take a deep breath. You notice how his hand braces your hip firmly. You gulp and try to ease the knots in your muscles.

“Sorry,” you eke out and let his hand go.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he releases your hip and instead tickles the bottom of your stomach, “I know you’re a good girl.”

You close your eyes and grit your teeth. You’re not good, you’re scared.

❄️

Andy puts you in a pair of fuzzy pajamas. A crop top and short shorts. Everything is designed to keep you a display. He lays you down in the bed and you lay there, paralysed. You’re trapped in this room, in your own body, with no way out.

Ernie lays at the foot of the bed as Andy leaves. You stare at the door and wonder. Is that it? For how long?

When the door opens again, you tear your eyes away. Andy carries in a basket and sets it on the side of the bed. He starts to unpack the contents; the gifts. You recoil in disgust and cross your arms.

He hangs the new sweaters and puts the new pieces of jewelry in the box on the vanity. He sorts out the perfumes and lotions and other toiletries and takes them into the bathroom. You curl your lip and fall onto your back.

You can’t just roll over and give up. You’ve been through stuff before. You can do more. This is only the first day and you saw the cracks. Right now, it’s three against one, but the three is very close to dissembling.

The plan. Whatever it is they keep going on about, it’s going to fall apart. It has to. All they do is bicker. You see their hate, you just need to needle away at it.

You sit up and take a deep breath. When Andy comes back in, he seems surprised. You look at him and smile. You worked in retail for years, you can play the role he wants.

“Honey,” you get to your knees, ignoring the sensitivity between your legs, “do I have to stay in here?”

He looks at the door then back to you, “well, I…”

“You said you had a turkey cooking. I could help with dinner,” you offer with a flutter of your lashes.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say, “I… Ernie’s too big to be locked in here.”

He glances at the dog and frowns, “yeah, I guess.”

“And he’ll need to go pee soon,” you insist, “Andy, I know you have a son. Ernie’s like that to me. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Andy flinches, “...I know.”

“You’re a dad, you must be a really good one,” you come to the edge of the bed and sit on your knees, “you said you’d take care of me.”

“I will,” he crosses his arms.

“So, you need to help me take care of my puppy,” you pout, “right?”

He lowers his chin and drops his hands to his hips. He exhales as he pokes his cheek with his tongue, “I guess.” He looks up slowly, “it’s sweet that you care so much about him,” he treads closer, “you’d be a good mom.”

You blink. You hope he isn’t implying anything, “I already am. Ernie’s just like a kid.”

“Well, yeah, I know that but…” he sits on the bed beside you, his eyes roving up and down, “once you’re all settled… we could… talk.”

Oh. Okay. He really is nuts.

“Maybe then,” you reach to his hand. “I could really use a hot chocolate, I could make some for all of you. Or coffee?”

He smiles and the rigidness leaves his shoulders, “how did I find someone so sweet, huh?”

You squeeze his hand and cautiously stand, “how did I get so lucky?”

He rises with you and Ernie drags himself off the floor. You outstretch your other arm to the dog in an effort to keep him calm. He’s probably just as scared as you.

You walk with Andy to the door and he lets you go to unlock the door with the key. You wait patiently as you latch onto Ernie’s collar. You know he’ll try to bolt, he’s restless.

Andy steps back and lets you out first. You walk with the dog calmly down the hallway. You stop at the impasse of the two doorways.

“Can I put him in the front room? He’ll only mooch in the kitchen?” You ask.

“Should we grab his leash?” Andy asks.

“He’ll be good,” you promise.

“Alright, go then.”

You tug Ernie with you into the front room. You let go of his collar and scratch his head. As you enter, Ransom sprawls over the sectional, lazily thumbing at a tablet. He peers over and sits up as he sees the dog.

“Shit! How did you–”

“He won’t bug you,” you insist as you turn to Ernie, “Ern, be nice. Lay down.”

You point to the floor and the Saint Bernard dips his head. He circles and obeys. You give him a ‘good boy’ and turn to Ransom as he narrows his eyes at the dog.

“Mmm, damn, why don’t you call me a good boy, baby?” Lloyd startles you as he struts in from the other doorway.

“I… did you want hot chocolate? Or coffee?” You ask.

“Whatsa matter with you? Cock hungry again?” Lloyd snorts.

You wince, “it’s Christmas.”

“Oh, damn, she’s got stamina,” Lloyd snickers, “I didn’t think you’d be back on your feet again so fast. Maybe on your back…”

“I’ll have coffee,” Ransom slides up to lean against the armrest and rolls his shoulders with a groan, “I’m stiff as fuck.”

“Me too, but coffee won’t do much for it,” Lloyd sneers as he rubs the front of his pants.

“I’ll put a pot on,” you say and try to side step Lloyd.

“I’d love something warm,” he catches you by the throat, “I could just drink you up, sweet cheeks.”

He flicks his tongue at you and you struggle to hold your smile. You can do it. You’ve made it through how many Black Fridays?

“That will wake you up, Hugh–”

“Don’t call me fucking Hugh,” Ransom snaps back.

The tension is cut with a sharp ahem. You glance past Lloyd as Andy lurks in the doorway. Lloyd retracts his hand and wiggles his fingers. You let your breath out.

“Do you want coffee or not?” Andy grits out.

“Dark roast,” Lloyd gestures derisively as he spins on his heel, “maybe you numbnuts needa drop a blue pill into yours but I’ll take mine black.”

“Fuck off, Hansen,” Ransom mutters.

“What? I’m just saying, if you can’t keep up, I got enough to give her a merry christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk,” Ransom rolls his eyes.

“Come on, sweetie,” Andy offers his hand,“let’s go get that hot chocolate.”

“Fucking cuck,” Lloyd sneers under his breath.

Andy sighs and you take his hand.

“Sounds yummy,” you chime as you lead him out.

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catscraftsandcommentary · 5 months

Text

So I had some time to think tonight at work (in between operating heavy machinery, swearing at the materials, and trying to keep the line running, fun times!) And I asked myself, "self, hypothetically, what might @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU look like in another generation or two - once people really get used to witchers being The Good Guys (TM) and helping out?"

And I was like "well, they'd probably get invited to social events - ooh! Who'd like which events best?!? What would that look like?"

Geralt, as we all know, detests anything too formal or Warlord-focused. He enjoys weddings and receptions, but his TRUE favorite is baby christenings. Seriously. Put him in a room with a tiny baby and he's happy as a clam. He'll happily growl away (or weaponize his puppy-dog eyes against) grannies, aunties, and other family members to hold the baby for as long as possible. He's also 90% of the reason that witchers are now rumored to be able to bless babies.

When Mouse and Treyse bring this new rumor to the council, everyone has to just sit. And process for a minute. Because what the ever-loving fuck?!? (Jaskier immediately writes the sweetest lullaby ever, "A Witcher's Blessing", and it is the ONLY song that Geralt ever sings in public, and only ever to babies and small children. Multiple women blame this for their immediate conceptions.)

Jaskier adores weddings and festivals of all types, and if a happy couple includes details of how they met and/or fell in love with their wedding invitation, there's at least a 50% chance that he'll show up to the wedding with a personalized love song, holy shit.

Ciri loves tourneys. Loves watching them, loves displaying in them, loves sneaking into competing in them (omg, heir, NO), loves WINNING them. She's a menace. She has various stealth coats of arms that she rotates between when she's not supposed to be competing, but her favorite is the battle goose. Obviously.

Eskel doesn't like crowds or being the center of attention, which are almost inevitable with public invitations, but he does enjoy being the +1 for his family. Several of his and their interests overlap, and even where they don't, he likes to see them enjoying themselves.

Yennifer becomes well-known as an extremely efficient - albeit terrifying - treaty negotiator. She'll talk to both sides, get a list of their must haves, deal-breakers, would-likes, and don't-wants (as well as - perhaps more importantly - the reason why each of those are on that particular list). Then she draws up a draft and viciously negotiates a compromise. She is genuinely surprised the first time that both sides thank her for her help.

Vesemir, with all his long years of teaching, loves visiting schools and seeing any sort of student performance or sporting event. Kindergarten to university, drama to music to dance recitals to track and field meets to football games to student symposiums to science contests to... He buys out bake sales and funds club field trips and donates several fortunes worth of antique knick knacks to various schools. He's invited as a guest lecturer, a commencement speaker, a competition judge, a referee.

Lambert and Aiden, at some point, discover bachelor's parties, call dibs, and never look back. People learn very quickly not to invite witchers to their stag nights unless they want the entire party to get horrifyingly drunk - but at least Lam and Aiden will make sure that everyone makes it home (or to the wedding) safely. Perhaps not soberly, or sans hangover, but definitely without major injury. (And if the bride asks nicely and the groom and friends weren't total jerks, Lambert can usually be counted on to make a hangover cure. He really is a softie at heart.)

Dragonfly and Serrit get tapped for the odd bachelorette party or ladies' birthday parties. Anything that falls under "I want to be able to drink and party with my friends without worrying about some strange guy hurting one of us." They are extremely protective and have both been drunkenly proposed to several times. (Livi finds this terribly amusing. Gweld just wants to know if he can watch.) Milena and Zofia sometimes go with them.

Milena loves going to wedding showers and baby showers, but outside Kaer Morhen, she has to stay in sight of Lambert or one of his brothers. Lambert's rule. (She got KIDNAPPED, okay? He's allowed to worry!) Usually she'll take Geralt (there might be babies! He's excellent protection!) or Eskel (he's very quiet and has excellent manners, and his signs are impossible to fight) for the more, ah, female-heavy events. If anyone asks, they're her brother-in-law and genuinely like spending time around kids. And very, very married.

#the witcher #accidental warlord au #inexplicifics

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lilyrachelcassidy · 2 months

Text

'Amity' (Felix Catton x Reader)

A/N: Hiya, y'all. Welcome back after this what-seems-like-forever hiatus. Coming back with a fully-fluffy fluff, so if you are feeling mushy today, go for it.

Warnings: As much as I love exploiting TGs, today is not the day.

Summary: Some fluffy encounter with Felix.

Word Count: 0.6k

"Y/N, yeah?" asked a voice behind you.

You turned around, clearly startled to see no other than Felix Catton right in front of you. It was unforeseen, seeing as he had never engaged in nothing beyond a quick gaze exchange with you. You always wondered who would be the one to give in and finally initiate a conversation, should that ever happen in the first place.

"What's up?" you asked, innocently, bestowing him with a friendly grin on your part. Instinctively, he reciprocated the gesture.

"Uhm.. yeah. So I have seen you around the campus. Plenty of time, actually. We never really had a chance to talk... And I... you know..." He began toying with his fingers, momentarily losing your gaze.

Was he stressed? It seemed so... A bizarre sight it was, seeing a flustered man of two meters stumbling upon his words and blushing like a girl. Upon his downcast smile, your grin ever so widened at the cuteness of this scene.

But gosh, was he bewitching. These doe brown eyes and slightly too-long-hair played the tricks on your mind as he stood there, dwarfing over your figure with his lofty posture.

"You know, if you want to ask me out..." A taunting smirk pained on your lips. "I would be more than pleased to say 'yes.'"

He instantaneously, somehow with too much animation, looked at you from the ground. His eyes held a state of avidity and relief in them. After ogling you for a few seconds, frozen, he probably realized that he was gaping and so he smiled at you keenly with his gaze momentarily dropping to your lips. It was a hasty action, almost imperceptible if you weren't scrutinizing his face. But you noticed.

"Really?" he more sighed than asked. Even so, your eyes lit up and you nodded, trying to pull off the most composed version of yourself, yet failing miserably. "So that's cool."

You both laughed at that. You studied each other's expressions for longer than necessary, the two of you somehow locked in the moment and not able to draw away. Somewhere in the background, someone called out your name and it finally clicked that you should probably get going at this point.

"Listen, as much as I love talking to you... I have to go," you said with a pout which was actually genuine. You detested the fact that you couldn't stay out any longer, delve into the chat with Felix; but your teacher probably had already begun the lecture and it didn't deem ideal for you to lose another one of disquisitions after a day of a hangover break. Or a series of such breaks.

Felix pursed his lips, disappointment imparting on his features. With a mere nod of acknowledgment, he forced on a smile, making some nugatory movement with his arms as if suddenly not knowing what to do with them. "So see you after classes, yeah?"

"Mhm..." you hummed, casually smiling at him in response. Once he started to walk away, his long legs taking the strides that quickly carried him away from you, you determined to ask him one last question before departing: "Don't you want my phone number or something?"

He only twisted his head over his shoulder to get a better view of you. Then he beamed at you. "Already got it."

And he winked. A cocky, playful wink that made your insides flip.

A minute or two later, your phone screen lit up with the unknown number sending over a text: "So a picnic, next weekend?"

xoxoxooxooxoxoox

A/N: I feel like everyone at some point of their lives has to have a crush on Jacob Elordi. Imo the best version of him is the one in Saltburn, like *a girly scream of thirst.* As always, constructive criticism and whatever feedback highly appreciated.

#felix catton x reader #felix catton #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #felix catton imagine #felix x reader #saltburn 2023 #saltburn #Jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi imagine

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k-hotchoisan · 4 months

Note

Hiii, umm I am still kinda new here so, I don't actually know if you can see this or not... but I just want you to know YOUR FICS ARE SO GOOD!!!! I always come back to read them :O Can I request a fic or something for Jongho please? If not a fic, can I request #15 for Jongho please? He is my bias but I can't find many fics about him......

15. Roleplay with Hongjoong or Unprotected sex with Jongho?

I saw his recent selfies on twt and bOY I’ve prefaced it before (though not here) that he’s so fucking handsome??

As always, thank you for waiting & enjoy! 🩷

Just because he doesn’t like just anyone touching him, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get touch starved.

Warnings: smut, pwp, cream pie, unprotected sex, riding, touch starved!Jongho

Taglist:

@bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies

K’s 500: this or that masterlist here!

When you were first introduced to Jongho, it was established that he didn’t like physical contact, and so you helped him draw that boundary, giving him that physical space.

But as you spent more time with him, what you didn’t realise was the way his hand resting on your shoulders when he was behind you when he was trying to whisper something into your ear if it was too crowded, the way he’d let his knees and shoulders bump into yours when you’re running your mouth about something, the way he’d lean in closer as an excuse to hear you better when he just wanted to close the distance between the both of you, and the way his hands would intentionally cover yours when he wanted to take something off your hands.

He wonders if you’ll ever notice. He wonders how much more he can take before he breaks.

A lazy Thursday evening, when you’re over at his place as usual, playing video games with Jongho. The both of you were playing a coop game, and losing composure at each other, laughing whenever the physics of the game made zero sense. When Jongho accidentally tosses a whole cooked steak down the hot air balloon, you shriek and slap his thigh on instinct, before you playfully yell at him for fucking up. The brunette’s eyes brighten while trying to hold in his laughter, staring at you with the most dumbfounded smile. His hand grasps yours, playfully apologising for messing up as he waves your hands in his to gain your forgiveness.

By instinct, you let your fingers naturally link in between his as he continues to shake your hand while coming up with 101 excuses. Your eyes land on your hands and you realise your fingers are intertwined with his, and you internally panic—shit, you didn’t mean to do that. As you smile and nod, feigning forgiveness, you gently release your grip, hoping Jongho didn’t notice.

But of course he does.

“We’re taking 5 and then we’re switching over to Wario Ware”, you giggle as you settle the controller down, getting up to raid his fridge. Jongho’s gaze follows your movements, and he, himself also settles his controller down to tail you.

You pull open the fridge door, the cold air immediately prickling your cheeks. He mostly has sprite cans lined up neatly. You turn to ask him, but your voice is stuck in your throat when you’re staring right into Jongho’s eyes, while he was evidently lost in yours. The silence hangs between the both of you, and you realise the proximity between you and Jongho, only the whirling sound of the fridge running accompanying the silence.

Jongho glances down at your lips. He detests kisses, and the both of you know that clear as day.

But he feels himself snap—from the way you’re just staring into his eyes, then to his lips before flickering back to his eyes once more. His hands cup your cheek and you shut your eyes, fireworks going off the moment you feel his lips on yours. He pushes the fridge door shut behind you and has you pinned against the fridge as he tastes every part of your mouth.

He pulls back, and the both of you are breathless, your heart skipping a beat when he strokes your cheek.

Your gaze finds his, and he doesn’t hesitate to lean in for another kiss before he separates from you again.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” You ask, glancing up his flushed face.

“I should be asking you that. I’ve been holding back since forever”, he replies, before he leads you back to the couch.

His touches feel so desperate—he feels you up and down several times as he collides his lips with yours above you, making sure his palms brush every inch of your skin while he undresses you article by article. He peels his pants off him, letting his cock slap against his lower abdomen, before his lips send you shocks down your spine as sucks on sensitive spots on your neck. You sigh, letting your hands wrap around his neck, your fingers tangling against his soft, brown hair.

He pushes two fingers in after wetting them with his spit, his gaze glued to yours to watch for any discomfort. You contract your abdomen, your legs spreading wider pulling his fingers deeper into your cunt, feeling him search for a particular spot. The moment you gasp and whimper, he knows he’s found it, and Jongho’s determined to make you come undone just from his fingers.

He watches the way your eyes roll back, the way it looks like you’re running out of air, looking fucked out, the way you’re jolting every time his finger tips press against the spongy surface of your spot, and especially the noises you make, all just for him to hear.

Your sobs are shaky as your orgasm completely wipes any ounce of coherent thought in your head, other than the desperation to be fucked by Jongho, and it fills Jongho’s ears like a melody.

“There we go. Let it go babe”, he hums, his gaze lowers down to his fingers stained with your wet release, before he lets you suck his fingers clean.

He joins you on the couch, and it’s an automatic response to climb onto his lap, the heat radiating off his thick cock luring your cunt in almost way too quickly. You decide, fuck it, especially when you see his eyes slowly looking more glazed and mesmerised while you’re on top of him.

You lift your hips and slowly sink down on his thick length—the overstimulation of his cock dragging across your walls making your legs shake, while Jongho has his eyes shut, forcing himself not to bust when he’s just barely entered you. His eyes flutter open as he struggles to regulate his breathing.

His hands which are on your thighs, trailing upwards so agonisingly slow until he his hands are cupping your cheeks once more, before he pulls you in for another hungry kiss. Your body feels like it’s on fire from the way he’s teasing you with his touches.

Jongho’s hands slides down to your ass, grabbing a fistful of it as he carries your ass up, and begins making you bounce on his dick. His fat cock stretches you out, and it’s driving you insane.

“That’s it. You feel so fucking good”, he groans, burying his head into your shoulders, keeping up with your bouncing with his hip thrusts. White begins to form around the base of his cock as he continues to fuck into you from below.

Your cunt flutters around his cock, as you let go again, leaving scratches on his upper bag as your second orgasm completely engulfs your senses, the only thing leaving your lips are broken moans as your thighs continue to shake from the overstimulation.

“You came and you didn’t tell me? Bad girl”, Jongho whispers as he fits in one more heavy thrust into your cunt before he calls out your name weakly, spilling his load deep into you.

“It’s so much, Jongho”, you twitch in under his grip. You don’t see it, but you feel load after the load threatening to leak out of your sopping cunt. His thighs are stained with the mixture of your releases, and Jongho carries you to his bathroom. His touches never leave yours throughout the whole ordeal.

Sharing a spite after a hot shower together where he made sure to breed you for another round, the both of you are back on the couch, snuggled up and comfortable, still deciding if you should start up Wario Ware.

You pull back to stare at him, and that gets his attention.

“I thought you didn’t like physical affection?”

“Well, there are exceptions, obviously. One of them just happens to be you.”

Jongho doesn’t want to let you know much he’s been craving to touch you, how much he wanted you to reciprocate, but as the relationship blossoms, he makes sure you do.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #choi jongho #ateez jongho #jongho x y/n #jongho smut #jongho ateez #jongho

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py-dreamer · 2 months

Text

So... I know I'm late...

But yea! I said I was coming back with some stickers and I kept my word! I would've hoped that I could've completed the sheet in like a day but as you can see...that didn't work out

I know I've been a bit MIA lately but burnout sucks. I do have a lot of WIPS I really want to work on but again, it seems that the ProcrastiNation hath struck my feeble mortal brain again.

But anyways:

I headcanon Aroace Mei, just a personal headcanon (disagree if you like) I also like lesbian Mei but thought I'd give some aroace appreciation

Silktea was only given 1 episode but OH BOY did it fuel our wild shipping habits. And I jumped on the bandwagon. It's a reference to that scene in She-Ra where Scorpia tells Catra she 'didn't want to do this' then wraps kitty up in the blankey and cradles her like a wee baby. And Sandy would do that for any friend, I will die on this hill

Saw a fanart where Mk had a pig nose themed pacifier and I just yoinked that idea. The pig hoodie and the pacifier seems like something Tang would do for Pigsy (also to get away with free noodles cause who can say no to that face?~)

Mac showing Wukong the lantern. What can I say, mans' fascinated by them pretty lights. Though our little performer's eyes seem to be straying from the show (^u ')

I know many people have issues with shipping with Nezha and such and I know the two had a rough history but y'know what fans do; they love to make the people who kill each other soulmates (platonic, romantic or otherwise) Even if it wasn't romantic, I still love the idea of them being buddies and just chilling, the danger noodle prince and the angy prince snuggle and watch a movie (mainly from Nezha 2019 but I also saw New Gods and can I just say, I want those two twinks to bicker then kiss awkwardly and I want Yun Xiang to BEAT. HIS. ASS) but in case anyone asks, I do perceive Nezha to be a consenting adult in general outside shipping drama and if the two are adults, it does make my heart squeal when I see these two hold hands and whatnot

HOW COULD I EVER FORGET MY SPICYBOIS, inspired by that one Ponyo kiss scene. I was actually gonna make a bigger piece but then I saw someone do it already in a much better fashion than I ever could and I just gave up on the idea but Ig here, its just like the two cakes mentality and I gave it a go. Hope I could do the concept justice

Have spider queen or scorpion queen ever interacted before? No. But they are both queens and I believe Spider Queen's confidence could rub off on Scorpion Queen and she'd appreciate the company of Spider Queen's children henchmen. Also she give yummy food so lesbian venomqueens for the win

Redraw of that moment with Peng and Azure. I normally detest that bird but these two do get some gears grinding and whatever anyone says. Neither of those two are straight. I'll tell ya that.

Toxicinsanity is another rarepair that had like 1 sec screen time. I don't think they'd ever work out in canon and had virtually no chemistry. I still love all the fluffy ship content I can find of them though and if it ever were to happen. I think the mayor would scare the sh!t out of Syntax

Let's get at least one hetero couple here, Chang'e and Hou'Yi are a couple of favorites ngl, I took most of their outfits from Over the moon cause both of them looked stunning, Chang'e especially. I've seen people ship mah girl with other people and while I do agree it's healthy to move on, in my heart she will always long for Hou'Yi

Also irl, on valentines, my mum took us out for lunch, she treated us to bubble tea and donuts. We walked home so I waited to drink mah drink in my room while I drew and I accidentally finished it all... I'm so sorry mum

f*ck I forgot ironbull. Uhh....I'll draw something later, rn I need to go to bed before I get yelled at...

click pic for less sh!ty quality!

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cherryslyce · 1 year

Text

Second Son (XVI) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: The soul-tracking ritual ensues, and Anders has a precarious idea.

Part XV / Part XVII / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter :). Sincerely hoping this chapter doesn't glitch again.

The excitement of performing the soul-tracking ritual wore off rather quickly when you realized that you had to draw out all of the runes since Anders was unable to crouch down. It was an extensive process and each character had to be extremely precise, causing your fingers to cramp up rather quickly.

Your feet were feeling fuzzy as the circulation in your legs started to suffer from your position, your knees cracking noisily with every shuffle you took to continue mapping out the ritual circle.

“I can’t feel my legs anymore.” You whined, upper body flopping down as you braced yourself with your palms.

Anders grunts from in front of you, “You’re not even halfway there yet, and careful you almost smudged the Dagaz.” His drawl has you huffing, head instinctually snapping to the side to make sure you didn’t actually smear anything.

“Easy for you to say, you’re sitting on a bloody stool while I’m hunched over, practically shining your boots!” Your exasperation was painted across your face, words spewing out in a mixture of annoyance and jest.

The man rolls his eyes and rubs a hand over his knee, the joint no doubt aching, “Careful loyal vassal of mine, I am graciously offering you my help after all,” his tone of amusement melts away and he suddenly grows serious, “but it is imperative that we do this quickly.”

You huff and adjust your position, swinging your head up to look at the man in curiosity, “Why’s that?”

Anders’ face is darkened with a grim frown, and he peers down at the papers on his laps, “You said that those buddies of yours were going to kill Tom, right?”

“Yes…” Your uncertain tone has you fidgeting with your wand habitually, eyes flickering between the window of the room and the man in front of you.

“Well he’s puppeting the inferis with his magic, so they’ll undoubtedly be reduced to husks once he’s gone. So we need to hurry,” Anders elucidates, mouth set into a firm line as he delved deeper into his thoughts.

Putting a hand up, you blink owlishly at the man, “This is too much information. So, not only are inferis still housing their original souls – but you’re saying that it's Voldemort’s magic that’s tying these souls down to the land of the living?”

You didn’t know whether you wanted to curse the detestable man into oblivion or begrudgingly allow yourself to be grateful that his existence meant Regulus’ soul was still with you.

Well, he was chaining down hundreds of souls for his own selfish desires – so you were leaning towards wanting to stick your hand through his head.

“Only the inferis of his own creation, but yes, in theory.” The man looks mildly impressed at your quick thinking.

“Would it be a bad idea to owl Harry and ask him to raincheck on his plans to eviscerate the Dark Lord?” You draw a hand to rub at your forehead, a newfound migraine blooming from the back of your neck and straining across your occiput.

Anders gives you an unimpressed eyebrow raise before waving his hand towards the abandoned quarter-circle behind you, “A terrible idea. Now, let’s continue.”

You finish drawing the ritual circle an hour after sunset.

Your hand was shaking uncontrollably, jerking with every cramp that tugged at your muscles. You had begun sweating at one point, causing Anders to limp over and slide both of the windows open. The cool air bristled through the room and circled around all the loose papers, the sounds of rustling and quiet cruising from the older man flowing around the atmosphere.

As you step back to survey your hard work, you can’t help the smile that plays at your lips: the intricacies of the circle was alluring, practically glowing under the yellow light fixtures above you. The wind began to whistle, and Anders took that as a cue to interrupt your little reprieve, “Looks decent enough.”

“Decent? Have you gone senile since the last time we chatted? This bloody thing is the embodiment of perfection!” You cry out in incredulity, pondering all the ways you could attach the nifty piece of work to your academic portfolio.

Anders rolls his eyes and organizes his papers, “Yes, yes, you’re practically a Runes Master. Take a picture of it, why don’t ya?”

Playfully narrowing your eyes at his back, you go to retort, but a knock at the door has you pausing just as you open your mouth. Sharing a look with Anders, you carefully move to investigate, only cracking the door open marginally in order to hide your work.

It wouldn’t do you much good to have the neighbors thinking you were summoning something.

“Luna?” Your squawk of surprise only causes the girl to smile, eyes darting over your head as her gaze seems to fade in and out of fixation.

Bouncing on her heels, she reaches into her pocket, “So, you’re done?”

“Yeah, I finished drawing up the circle. I think the old man wants to perform the actual ritual tonight though, so I won’t see you until tomorrow.” You exhale tiredly and murmur to yourself, “If I wake up, that is.”

Luna nods quickly and pulls out a few items from her coat, “I see. Well, I’ve brought some things. I was told that you were in need of this as well by the Humdingers” In her outstretched hands, you see a couple of wrapped sandwiches and a small camera.

“What?” You gape and slowly reach forwards, “Where did you get a camera from, little moon?”

The girl smiles brightly and fiddles with her coat buttons, “I asked Asger.” You nod in appreciation and smile at the girl, waving with your full hands as she gracefully skips away towards the house.

You retreat back into the room and brandish the camera at the expectant man with a victorious smirk, “I have great friends.”

Anders grunts and reaches for one of the sandwiches, “That’s my camera, kid.”

You examine the device with your oh so supple fingers, and ignore the urge to stick your tongue out at him, your sensibility winning out for once. As you both eat in silence, your eyes run over the respectable pile of papers in front of Anders, realizing that the man was absolutely serious about publishing your findings.

“What have you got so far?” You nod towards his papers.

His eyes quickly flicker beside him, “Magical essences and the imbuing work your boy did, and now I’m drafting up some pages about inferis and their souls.”

You hum quietly and dust off your hands as you finish the last scraps of your food, feeling more vigilant as your aching stomach settles. The camera was smaller than the jarring flash bulb that Rita Skeeter always had around, and if anything, seemed way more practical.

It was a bit blocky and had a round lens in the center with a small depression that you could only assume was for the flash. The bottom of the camera had a small rectangular slit — an output.

“Polaroid 600. Film is as expensive as it gets, so don’t you go and waste it.” Anders’ quietly mumbles as he gets up from his spot, hands reaching for the camera. As he fiddles around with it for a few moments, the top suddenly seems to prop up and he hands it back to you with a satisfied nod, “Think you know how to operate a camera?”

“I’m not a dunce, thank you very much.” Your riposte causes him to roll his eyes as he gestures for you to move towards the circle. Despite your initial indignance, it took you a few moments of consideration and blind thumbing until you were confident enough to snap the photo. As you (luckily) manage to get a good shot, you conceal your surprise as the photo immediately begins to peek out of the bottom slit, slowly being spat out.

How convenient.

You nimbly pull the photo out once it seems to stop sputtering, and hand the camera over to Anders before peering at the developing square film. Slowly, you watch as the outlines of the ritual circle bloom into visibility.

You take a couple more moments to run your eyes over the photo before placing it in Anders’ awaiting palm. The man hobbles over to his table and clips the photo to one of the pages, placing the camera on the stack of papers afterwards.

“Okay, now put your boy’s photo in the center—next to the Uruz symbol.”

You wordlessly comply with Anders’ words, and slowly tiptoe out of the circle, eyes never straying from Regulus’ face. The man moves to the opposite side of the circle, and pats at the air, gesturing for you to sit down.

Watching from your position on the floor, Anders begins to chant evenly, eyes closed as you feel him begin to gather his magic to pool across the symbols. The faint steely nature of his magical signature washes over you, and you clasp your hands together in your lap as you feel an immense pressure begin to weigh on the room. Regulus’ photo gives a faint jolt, then another, and then another, until the whole paper begins to vibrate.

You watch in awe as the photo slowly rises into the air, the Uruz symbol glowing brightly with a faint red hue. In the blink of an eye, the photo jerks sideways and falls onto the Hic symbol to your left just as Anders’ chanting ceases.

“Hic? Here? What does it mean, here?” Your questions seem to spill out uncontrollably, and you see the older man give the photo a look of consideration.

“I’m not quite sure. Usually, souls still in the realm of the living are classified as Vivus,” Anders mutters, hand coming up to rub at his chin, “Kid, is that ring of yours imbued with his magic?”

You nod and reach for your ring, fingers running over the two snakes that you’ve grown accustomed to. Anders sighs before slapping his hand over his entire face, dragging it down as he seems to wage an internal war with himself.

“You said your boy was in a cave?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, and nod slowly, “Yes…and so are hundreds of other inferis, why?”

The man meets you gaze with a determined look as you slowly stand up, hands fiddling with your ring.

“Well, let’s go fetch your boy.”

The journey back to the cave was bittersweet, and you almost lost your footing as you apparated to the very spot you had before, except this time with a rather grumpy presence by your side. Water batted against the rock you were rooted to, droplets of water flying into your face periodically. You could barely make out the view in front of you as the moon faintly illuminated the waves.

As you apparate with Anders to the shore, you feel a lump grow in your throat. Your heart was beating violently against your chest, and a cold sweat started to break through the surface of your skin.

The muted crunching of sand and rocks under your shoes grounded you to reality as the void of the cave engulfed you, washing away the sea of stars that had been beaming at you from above.

“Lumos.”

As you extended your wand in front of you, you had half the mind to be cautious of potential bloodthirsty death eaters or one psychotic dark lord, realizing that perhaps the certifiable man would be on the upkeep for his horcruxes.

Soon, you both reached the rounded end of the cave, and Anders shoots you an unimpressed look. Holding a hand up at him, you extinguish your lumos and bring your wand to your palm, “Secare.”

Dragging the tip of your wand against your palm, the spell slowly cuts your skin enough to draw blood. Satisfied with your work, you swipe your bloodied cut against the damp rocks behind you.

“Lumos.”

The wall of charcoal stone crumbles away like you remembered, and you’re immediately met with a wave of faint heat.

Remnants of your fire storm from last time?

“Bloody hell,” Anders croaks from behind you, eyes glimmering at the sight of the sumptuous crystal clusters. The milky geodes sent a shiver down your spine as you started to draw a resemblance between their geometric planes and the cloudy skin of the inferis.

Making your way through the dark ventricle of minerals, you slowly emerge into the belly of the cave, the familiar void of water just meters away from you.

“We’re here. They’re in there,” your voice falls into a whisper, “he’s in there.”

Anders steps out from behind you and pulls out his own wand, the worn ashen wood barely visible in the light of your lumos. Tilting his head towards you, he looks at you with a solemn gaze before asking, “His full name?”

“Regulus Arcturus Black.”

Nodding, the man turns towards the lake and moves his wand counterclockwise, “Prodire Regulus Arcturus Black.”

Nothing happens for a few seconds, until abruptly — something breaks through the surface of the water and flies towards your awaiting figures, stilling to a stop in front of Anders as if colliding with an invisible wall. Your hand swings to cover your mouth as your eyes trail along the spindly creature: its body was slack in the air, arms stiff like milky needles, chest unnaturally thin with a protruding rib cage that threatened to burst through bruised skin, and a rawboned face veiled by the darkness.

This thing was Regulus?

You felt your world begin to tip and spin, eyes burning then blurring rapidly. Shivers wracked through your chest as sobs seemed to well in your throat. Closing your eyes, you try to steady your breathing, but the flashing image of Regulus’ face and then the sight of the horrid creature infiltrate your head.

It feels as though a millennia of your discombobulation passes by before you feel a firm grip on your shoulder, the gesture helping to keep you upright on your feet.

“Come on, kid,” Anders’ face comes into view and you see his eyes soften uncharacteristically, his mouth set into a hard frown. Your eyes stray to the side and you see that the man had summoned a cloth to cover the inferi during your small episode, the lumpy bundle now floating in the air nearby.

Nodding quickly, you swallow harshly before spinning around, “Right. Sorry.” Your whisper is met with a comforting silence, and you appreciated more than ever, Anders’ ability to know when words weren’t needed.

As you both stiffly trek back through the cave, you begin to feel a weight of foreboding blanket your body. Picking up the pace, you step out of the mouth of the cave with sweaty hands, eyes darting around wildly.

“Hurry,” your choked whisper confuses the older man, but he abides nonetheless. As you grab his forearm and hesitantly grab a part of the covered inferi, you hear a faint warping echo from off to the side.

Gasping quietly into the chilly air, you barely catch a glimpse of the familiar figure before you’re tugged away by the distortion of apparition. You can barely breathe as your heart seems to stutter uncontrollably.

You land back inside the research room with Anders and Regulus’ inferi, not even noticing how cramped the space now was as you tried to quell your panic.

“Kid? What’s wrong?” Anders floats the clothed figure down into the center of the circle as you buckle to the ground, blood flushing cold.

“Voldemort. He was there.” You gasp out.

The man jolts to a paralyzed freeze as his eyes widen comically, his heart no doubt beginning to race as fast as yours. You shake your head jerkily and wave your hand aimlessly, “He didn’t see you. Or well, you were covered by the cloth, but he definitely noticed me.”

The dryness of your mouth was beginning to prickle and itch, your skin suddenly feeling too tight on your body. You were sure he recognized you, after all, he was always in Harry’s head.

“Then we just have to hurry a bit.” Anders' steady words have you snapping your attention over to him, confused as to why he was so calm now. Seeing your distraught gaze, he sighs, “He won’t come for you for now, I’m sure he is focused on your other friends. Besides, even if he were, he has no idea where to even look.”

Nodding with an unconvinced frown, you feel your fear melt away into a stony resolve, eyes flickering over to look at the figure laying in the circle.

“Thank you, Anders.” Your dry whisper has him cracking a small smile.

“Thank me when your boy is back up and running.”

You were robotically drawing more rune characters, eyes unfocused as you were too entranced by your thoughts. You weren’t sure what the older man was planning as he hadn’t explained to you what this additional ritual entailed, but you were determined to make it work.

As you complete the last etching, head rising up to look at the concentrated man, he finally breaks the tense atmosphere, “I don’t know if it’ll work, but the combination of his soul and your ring might just do the trick.”

Tilting your head to the side, you try not to sound too hopeful, “So, he’ll be completely recovered if it works?”

“Not completely, he’ll need time to rejuvenate his magical core. This would be unprecedented, kid. I don’t have all the answers, and I can’t promise that it will work, but I am going to do my best.” His eyes are unwavering, back straightened with coiled tension.

You nod hastily, knowing that you were both pretty much running on wishes. As Anders double checks your rune work, you slowly slip your ring off your finger, cringing as the cold air brushes against your naked finger.

You hadn’t ever taken it off before.

Placing the cool band next to the covered figure, you step out of the circle and clench your hands. Anders nods in confirmation before stepping out as well, slowly hobbling over to stand on the opposite side of the circle.

“Let your magic funnel out into the circle as well. You won’t need to chant.” Anders' brief words have you nodding, and you slowly shuffle from leg to leg, fatigue starting to seep into your veins.

The chanting begins soon after, and you allow the metaphorical valves of your magical core to open, feeling the coolness of your magic sweeping to tangle with Anders’ metallic magic. Both of your magical signatures dance around the circle and collect in the center, flexing together above the figure. The entire rune circle seems to radiate in shades of reds and stormy greys before blazing into an endless black.

Suddenly, you feel magic seep from the clothed figure — a deep, harrowing magic that roused with a small rumble before erupting into a suffocating cloud that could only be described as numbing.

It was nothing like Regulus’ magic, which meant that this corrupted energy belonged to Voldemort. You grit your teeth as you flush out more of your magic to try and drive away Voldemort’s lingering signature, the psychopath’s magic seeming to screech violently at your attempt.

The prolonged battle with the stifling magic finally ends as the dark cloud is ripped away from you, pulled in all directions towards the additional runes you drew, the characters radiating in almost a blinding way before ripping apart the corrupted magic.

The once dark circle stews into a cool grey before disintegrating into a pale green, the light beating melodically. You watch in wonderment as the magic in the ring bubbles into your magic, intertwining with yours before slowly clutching at Anders’ as well. Your potent whirl of combined magic slowly descends towards the clothed figure, causing it to jerk wildly.

The cloth shuffles with the movements and you see it begin to pull upwards as if the inferi was arching towards your magic. Suddenly, the strings of magic slam into the clothed figure, sending shockwaves throughout the room.

As you hear a few books tumble to the ground at the energy, the figure twitches once more before falling still again. Anders continues to chant for a few more moments as the circle flares into a blinding white light before it, too, simmered into nothingness.

You nearly topple over in exhaustion as the energy draws back into your body, the synergies of magic in the room evaporating almost instantaneously. Anders wipes his forehead with his sleeve, and shakily stumbles over to his table for stability.

“Did it work?” Your voice is crackly as a sharp, sticky pain climbs up your neck.

The man huffs and glances at you before slowly making his way towards the figure, grunting as he tries to crouch down. He tugs the cloth upward and peers inside, expression unreadable.

“Well?”

Anders looks up at you, eyebrows drawn, “I have a lot more to write about.”

Leaping forward at his words, you rip away the cloth slightly to expose the figure’s head, and you nearly pass out on the spot.

“It worked. It worked. It worked.” Your quiet chants spurs on a wave of tears as you slowly run your fingers over Regulus’ face. The boy looked picturesque in his sleeping state, face no longer emaciated and bruised, but now mirroring his appearance from when he was just a portrait in your pocket.

You brush his curls aside and resist the urge to just keel over and fall asleep on him, your magical exhaustion echoing through your bones.

“Do you have something else on you that’s imbued with his magic?” Anders’ quiet words have you snapping out of your euphoric state, eyes drawn up in confusion. Seeing your perplexity, he clarifies, “He might not remember you, this ritual simply revitalized him and unchained his soul. He might only remember the events before his death.”

You pause at the revelation and sit up straighter, hands dropping to your sides. Gaping for a few moments, your mind whirs as you try and grasp for the right words, “Uh, wait, yes. I have these.” Your hands fish into your pockets and you pull out the tattered pieces of the golden portrait frame, outstretching them for the man to see.

“His portrait frame?” Anders’ eyebrows shoot up in stupefaction.

Nodding, you slowly drop the pieces into his rough palm, “It doesn’t matter.” The man frowns, puzzled, so you continue, “As long as he’s okay, it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t remember me.”

Straightening up from his position, he stares at the pieces of wood in his hand, “He just might remember… if these are truly imbued with his magic.” Looking up, you see skepticism flicker in his eyes, “Are you too beat for another ritual?”

“You should be asking yourself that, old man.”

You don’t remember much that happens afterwards.

As you crack your eyes open, lingering fatigue weighing on your eyelids, you are keenly aware of a hand running across your shoulders.

“Reg?” Your voice comes out as a strained whisper.

A familiar face pops into your line of sight, “He’s okay, just resting upstairs.” Luna’s smile warms your chest, and you resist the urge to turn over and bury yourself into the warmth of her arms.

Your body was incredibly sore from the activities of the previous day, and you were sure that your magical core was rolling about, emptily inside of you. The longer you laid, the more groggy you grew as the air started to warm against your skin.

Gently pushing up from the mattress underneath you, you run a hand down your place as Luna shifts to stand up. The girl helps you shuffle upstairs and towards the bathroom, quietly insisting that you wash up as she prepares tea for you.

Sluggishly washing up, you take a moment to peer into the cloudy mirror, raising an eyebrow at the sight of heavy bags under your eyes. Your shoulders sagged from exhaustion, and the sound of your grumbling stomach prompted you to make your way towards the kitchen.

As you slowly trudged into the room, eyes squinting from the beams of sunlight that flitted through the window, you see Asger approach you with a plate in hand.

“Good afternoon. Dad’s in his research shed right now.” The man extends the plate to you, and your mouth waters at the sight of the hearty lunch. You nod in thanks and drop down onto an awaiting chair, gaze straying towards one of the closed doors down the hall.

Asger, seeing your restless ministrations, chuckles before answering your unvoiced question, “He’s in there. Hasn’t awakened yet, but Dad said it’s only a matter of time. He's recovering quite fast.”

Right, your rituals worked. Both of them. It was starting to come back now, and you could feel the weight of the frame pieces and your ring in your pocket, both now depleted of Regulus’ magic.

Scarfing down your meal, and ignoring Asger’s cringe, you start to mentally debate on whether you should visit Anders first, or Regulus. Luna places a mug in front of you, and plops down into the seat next to yours, fingers fiddling with a few strings of yarn.

Regulus won out, of course.

As you dismiss yourself with endless words of gratitude to your two friends, you slowly make your way into the room Regulus was resting in. You cross through the threshold, mug in hand, and immediately surrender yourself to the comforting wave of magic that envelops you.

The warm magic — Regulus’ magic, brings tears to your eyes, and you have to take a few moments to compose yourself. The aching hollowness in your heart, the one you had grown accustomed to in the following months after the destruction of his portrait, seems to sing with inklings of joy.

You were still in a state of disbelief, mind reeling from the fact that you not only discovered uncharted branches of magic, but also that you got Regulus back. No, not only you — Sirius was going to get Regulus back, too.

The boy in question was laid on a makeshift bed, covered by a fleece blanket. Anders took up the great responsibility of clothing him after your flustered realization that he was nude, the man murmuring tidbits about how he did the same for Asger when the younger man fractured his hip years ago.

You walk over and sit down by his side, brushing your hand over his hair.

Things would change now. They would be better.

You spend a long while just sitting by the boy’s side, mind still unconvinced that he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination.

After a long thread of thoughts that devolved into heart wrenching what if’s, you decide to pay a visit to Anders, immensely grateful for his help and wisdom. The sunny skies slowly dimmed as clouds drifted by, the air chilling to sooth the faint migraine that still sunk its claws into your head.

As you make your way into the research room, you can’t mask the smile that stretches across your lips. Anders was hunched over his table, hand moving furiously across a sea of pages as he tried to document every droplet of theory and fact on the papers. Not wanting to interrupt the man’s train of thought, you linger by the doorway before slowly teetering towards a fallen stack of books.

You organize the endless towers of tomes for a few minutes before Anders takes note of your presence as he goes to stretch his back.

“Finally awake?” His voice is light, and you could see the remnants of engrossment creeping in his eyes. He truly did have a passion for this branch of research.

You nod and grin brightly at the man, “Sure am. Now, are you going to accept my thank you?”

Anders grunts and waves you off with an amused eye roll — the closest thing to a “you’re welcome” in his language, and turns back to his papers, “Anyway, another owl came for you this morning. The letter should be on your stool.”

As the man resumes his writing, you peer around to try and find the envelope, clicking your tongue when you find the paper beaming at you from across the room.

Dear Padfoot’s pup,

We hope you are well. At first, we weren’t going to accept the offer, but some unexpected events happened that forced us away. We are safe now with the frightening widow. We’ve gotten two more, but now the Goblins hate us.

Stay safe. We are going to remain here until we are forced to confront the darkness. Unfortunately, we fear that it will be soon.

We miss you. Padfoot keeps whining, we think he misses you most.

-Prongslet and co.

You laugh lightly at the contents of the letter, and you fold the paper back up. Good to know that Harry and the others were safe with the Contessa at the very least. As you stuff the paper back in the envelope, you see another folded paper sidled against the wall of the envelope.

Hello lost friend of mine,

A certain dragon of ours is growing restless, we fear that his blood father is in trouble with a certain man. The Carrows are a nightmare, and it appears that many students are disappearing with every passing day. Theodore keeps shooting down my (entirely plausible) theory that those twin professors of ours are hiding their bodies in a dark closet somewhere.

I’ve received a letter from my mother informing me of the rearrangements at home, and I must say, it was quite a surprise. I haven’t heard back from you since you’ve departed, and I almost thought you were dead for a while. Glad to hear that you aren’t.

Theodore says hi, and he wants to know all the research you’ve done. Our dragon also says hi and that he hopes you received his last letter.

I hope to hear from you soon.

(Reply to me.)

-B

“Was it a tawny owl?” Your question rings out into the quiet atmosphere, drawing Anders out of his work.

The man gives you a grunt of confirmation and you nod in satisfaction. It would appear that Harry is corresponding to you via Contessa Zabini, the woman no doubt telling Blaise to forward the letter to you along with his.

Merlin, what a strange web of dynamics.

As you tuck away the papers into your pockets, a knock has you spinning on your heel in curiosity. Anders barely even looks up from his work as you make your way to the door, a wave of deja vu slamming into you.

Opening the door, you see Luna smiling brightly at you, similar to her airy demeanor from the night before.

Before you can get a word out, the girl quickly supplies you with news that has air fleeing from your lungs, “He’s awake.”

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icycoldninja · 4 days

Text

Lab Visit (Sephiroth x Scientist!Reader)

(Set in Crisis Core)

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

Sephiroth was due for a physical today. He was supposed to receive new Mako injections and stamina boosters, as per Hojo's orders. You, one of Shinra's top scientists, had been ordered to complete this procedure. While the very mention of such a task frightened your fellow scientists, you were not to be deterred. Sephiroth was a bristly, rather cold person, but he wasn't as cold to you, which could probably be credited to the little friendship the two of you had built. Over the years, Sephiroth's visits to the lab had brought you company, real company, not the ramblings of some deranged lunatic who lurked about in the shadows. Sephiroth was different, both physically and mentally, though you could never tell why. There was something about him that enabled his very presence to be both calming and terrifying all at the same time. Yes, the man could be nice at times, but there were several disastrous instances where he lashed out in anger at anyone who dared approach him with a needle or syringe, though when you did it, you were a different story. One could even say...he trusted you. This trust allowed you to do things to him no one else could, such as take samples of his blood without him going ballistic and destroying everything in the lab in a fit of rage--or possibly, fear.

"Y/N," A low, sinister voice intoned, as an old man with greasy black hair tied back in a low ponytail emerged from the shadows.

"Dr. Hojo," You greeted, feeling yourself tense under his menacing gaze. Of all the scientists--no--all the people in Shinra, Hojo was who you detested the most. The acts he'd committed were unforgivable. Turning your own assistants and fellow scientists into mutant creatures for "research"?! Unbelievable! Not to mention the things he'd done to Sephiroth before you'd even arrived. You hadn't even uncovered the details of what happened, but you knew it had to be bad.

Still, Hojo was your employer; he was paying your wages and providing you with opportunities to learn and grow your experience--as well as chances to talk to Sephiroth more often, so you had to grit your teeth and bead it.

"The subject will be here soon," He finally said, sounding rather giddy. "Prepare the equipment. I want samples of everything." You gulped, knowing full well that when Hojo said he wanted "everything", he meant everything. Skin samples, hair samples, sweat samples, and more. You barely finished gathering up your gear when a familiar figure trooped through the door.

"Dr. Y/N, how do you do?" You spun around, trying--and failing--to hide the grin on your face.

"General Sephiroth, a pleasure to see you again. Do have a seat." Sephiroth nodded before tugging off his leather trench coat, revealing his lack of underclothes. He hung the coat on a rack on the wall and took a seat on the hospital-style bed you'd prepared for him. From the corner, Hojo watched, a devious glint in his eye. You busied yourself with gathering up vials and beakers, and such, while the two men glared at each other silently. After several minutes, Hojo departed, presumably to slither back into whatever hole he crawled out of, leaving the two of you alone in the room. Almost instantly, the tense mood was lifted.

"I can't believe you can put up with him," Sephiroth sighed, crossing his bare arms. You shrugged, sterilizing a needle with alcohol.

"Believe me, I'm trying very hard not to throw something acidic at his head." Your eyes met, smirks both plastered on your faces.

"I would like to see you do that," Sephiroth chuckled, extending his arm for you to prick.

"And to do so would be my dream come true," You responded, gently pricking his arm with the needle and drawing a few small drops of blood.

Sephiroth nodded, a smile on his face as he relaxed into the hospital bed. Over the course of the next hour, you collected all the samples Hojo would need for his sick creations, and once the Mako infusion drip was in, you were both free to chat, about work, about your own personal lives, about everything. Throughout the entirety of this short visit, Sephiroth looked happier than you'd ever seen him, even though he was in a place he hated. He was happy with you, and you were happy with him.

Once the infusion was complete and Sephiroth was free to leave, he did so reluctantly, for the only reason he braved the nightmares of this lab, the only reason he subjected himself to experimentation, was so he could see you.

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bowieandqueen11 · 8 months

Text

Not Just A Trinket / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: hi! ur writing is EVERYTHING btw. ur an amazing writer. you mentioned you wanted to write for izzy hands again and i have a request– feel free to ignore if it's not what ur looking for :) maybe izzy hands x reader where the reader has a small gift for him (a little trinket, a beaded crystal bracelet– something they made for him) but they're WAY too anxious to give it to him because they're scared he won't like it so they end up just carrying it around, trying to build up the courage to give it to him pfft

AHHH thank you so much my lovely, that's so sweet of you, and so is this idea!!! :3 Also I know I'm a little early in the timeline mentioning Davy Jones but I like to think of Izzy as a trendsetter ;)

Warning: mentions of fighting/ injury and strong language, some sexual innuendo!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @nadsdraws.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Izzy Hands was beginning to detest feeling like this.

He would rather charge sword first at a horde of raging Englishmen: would prefer to scrabble and scrape and scratch through the eye sockets of thousands of the Spanish with naught but his bloodied fingernails. Hell, even grovelling under the sole of the snivelling wreck that now possessed his former boss like a twisted nightmare, a horrid regret, would be preferable. If his hand wasn't too firmly attached to tangled rope of one of the shrouds in a death grip, if his glove wasn't close to bursting at the seams with how tightly he was gripping, he had half a mind to draw his dagger out of its scabbard and gouge his heart out right there and then.

He looked furious. So much so, that Roach was quick to side step him as he hopped down the steps with fresh sewing materials in his hand, giving a final look back at the intent man who only bared his teeth at the cook in response. Valuing his life, or at least the ability to keep all his fingers, if the sight of the keen blade being twisted between Izzy's free fingers told him anything, Roach is quick to recoil back and raise a concerned eyebrow in Wee John's direction. He in turn just rolls his eyes and lowers his head back to his sewing, but the rest of Stede's crew are astute enough, from where they're lingering around the deck, to notice the thick tension brewing like cold shivers of electricity in the air. Even Jim and Oluwande were giving each other side eyes, pausing their hammering at the helm to dart their eyes to their side and trace the path of Izzy's line of sight.

It never wavered. Every time they looked, it never changed. He had spent the last two hours gaping sourly towards the edge of the quarter deck. Gawking solely at you, without a single movement, without a single flicker outside the bubble where you hunched.

You thought he was angry at you for arranging a special outing for Ed and Stede at Datura Grotto, finally indulging in finding a way for them to spend some time alone after your Captain had begged and hounded you for days; he had become so accustomed to bursting through doors trying to find you and ask for your help, that the poor daunted man nearly burst into tears when he smashed your bedroom door into your nose and nearly broke it. The rest of the crew believed he was plotting something: trying to pick out the quieter members of their friends first, as payback for being stuck on this so called 'straight out of Davy Jones' arsehole' of a ship for so long.

Izzy, though. Izzy knew he was smitten. And he fucking hated it. He hated feeling so vulnerable.

Out of all the crew members still pretending to mill about, only Lucius was daring enough to purse his lips and look brazenly back at Blackbeard's first mate. Only Lucius, in fact, was feeling equally brave, and equally vexatious that fine afternoon to muster up the courage to slide up beside him. 'Someone in a bad mood today, are we?'. He taps the ships railing with the point of his nail, the broom he had been pretending to sweep splintered pieces off the floor a moment ago soon forgotten about as he leans it against the side of the ship. He replaces the loss by dropping his hand to his hip, cocking his head and smiling at an increasingly agitated looking Izzy. 'Would it have anything to do with that fine young sea farer over there by any chance? How romantic, Dizzy Izzy. Oh, I do love a good fix-me-up-'

Oh, he was enjoying this.

Izzy's quick to snap, not even bothering to look in Lucius' direction. 'Fuck off, before I do you a favour and cut that little seducing tongue out of your mouth for you.' Lucius watches Izzy's fingers tighten into leather clad black balls on the rope ladder, and doesn't need a second warning to trot off back towards his friends again. With a final wide eyed look of shock, he turns back to Black Pete and shrugs, holding his hands up as if to say that he tried his best.

All the while, you just keep your gaze steady out and onto the brewing horizon of the sea, watching as foam shook out like reaching hands around your ankles as they across cut through the wave crests, only the salty sting of thrumming silence keeping you company underneath his watchful gaze. The beaded necklace you had spent the last week or so threading together, carefully crafted by trembling fingers and a bit tongue during long evenings spent in your hammock, was beginning to feel like an anchor weight in your pocket. You tried to distract yourself with mundane, idle chit chat with a very thankful Lucius, who had swung over to your side after Pete convinced him to go scouting out for some more gossip. Swinging his legs between the latches of the port quarter, he merrily took the hammer you were idly holding from your hand and began to 'fix up the ship', his wrist barely moving as he turned to you with a scheming smile.

'So, do you know what's going on then? Why Izzy's acting like this? I swear, that man. If he doesn't bend over right now and try to get that stick out of his arse, he's going to be a miserable sad sack of repressed irritation forever. He's like a jack in the box. I swear to god, I'm just waiting for him to burst.' The tone of his voice sounds almost worried, but Lucius is smiling and waggling his eyebrows the whole while. 'That would be kind of funny, actually. I've always imagined him as a stamper. Or maybe a screamer-'

You have no idea what to say, not understanding Lucius' oh so unsubtle hints, so you just run your fingers over the bulge in your pocket once more and chime in to his rant from time to time with a disinterested 'hmm' or distracted 'oh, yeah. Definitely.' It really didn't help that you were beginning to blush the same champagne hue as the bubbles between your toes with how gravely Izzy was staring at the side of your face. It was growing increasingly harder not to give into the temptation: to not just swing your head around and meet his hard-set eyes head on.

Once he realises you're dead set on staying right there, away from him, hiding in the corner all day, he sighs and let's go of the sails, marching off to do another impromptu inspection of the boarded vessel. It's an easy distraction: yelling orders at Wee John, spitting insults at Roach as he scurries out of Izzy's way, stealing the Swede's cup out of his hand and spraying beads of coffee around Buttons' feet. All of it was a Grade A fantastic distraction, and Izzy was hell bent on forgetting just how quickly time had gone by that day: Ed and the moronic, sappy, massive twat of an arse Stede would be back from their foliage constitutional any minute now, and Izzy was acutely aware that he was running out of both minutes, and chances to ask you to take a walk with him on the island himself. He had spent far too much of the morning wasting away, leaning his back on Stede's antique armoire and watching you with crossed arms: like a weathered statue, the growing umbra he cast somehow seeming to reach its tendrils out and blanch the fringes of the doorway. Even Fang and Ivan had been too terrified to come near him, and so he had been left alone. A silent sentinel, trying to figure out why the fuck his heart was cracking against the cage of his ribs and tearing their ligaments to shreds.

You hadn't exactly made things any easier for the man: feeling so intimated, you had spent the whole morning begging your friends to whisk you away from him at the first sign of danger. Whether that meant ducking behind Frenchie's lute like a crab, or hiding like a bulky turtle under the large bit of crimson cloth Oluwande was fiddling with the tassels of, you had used any form of escape to save you from the embarrassment of having to be near him. To let him see how flustered you became just at the overwhelmingly intense pressure you felt in the air any time he swaggered over to your side: to hide the fact that your eyes would widen in abject horror, your breath hitching any time the back of his gloved hand would 'accidentally' brush against your wrist as he went on his merry way, pretending it was all by accident. That it was all just a little game to him.

Little did you know, that he was feeling exactly the same way. The one time he had dared to come over to you that day had been an unmitigated disaster. He thought he was being... well, as kind as he possibly could be by slapping you on the shoulder and saying 'how good of a job you're doing.' He was nodding his head between every word, that jilted, simpering smile on his face as he supplemented his sentiment with an incredibly heartfelt 'at least Y/n knows how to do a fucking thing on this ship, not like you lot of useless fucking fuckers they have to work with. The rest of you are embarrassing, really.' He went to walk away, the side of his wrist glancing against the back of your hand as he finished with a breathless 'you lot could learn a thing or two from Y/n.'

He had staggered away from you as if mortally wounded, tongue bitten between his teeth as he tried as nonchalantly as possible to make his way back to the stern of the ship. While you were busy trying to bury your head down into your chest and avoid the smirking faces of Lucius and Pete, you happened to notice from the side of your eye that with each step Izzy was ringing out his hand. To your surprise, he used his teeth to rip his glove off, tucking it under his armpit as he wrangled with his fingers; he couldn't stop every cell burning as if it had just been reeled under the bottom of the ship. Couldn't understand why his fingertips wouldn't stop shaking as he flexed them.

Lucius was right. He was about to erupt, and he wondered if he'd ever be alright again.

It took until the sun nearly bowing over the jaded unicorn surmounting the anterior of the Revenge for you to find the courage to finally slink away from your convenient hiding spot to go over to Izzy. Well, that and the feel of Lucius literally dragging you up by the wrist and giving you a well meaning shove in the back towards the helm.

'Oh, fuck me', Izzy hisses as he watches you approach, turning his back to you to hide how flustered he was becoming with each tugging step at his heart you take towards him. He nearly jumps high enough to fall face first off the side of the boat when he feels your hand tentatively tap his shoulder, but he manages to inhale sharply and compose himself as best as he can before he flicks his eyes to look at you.

'I-uh-', you swallow thickly, shakily drawing your hand away from him and tucking it behind your back. 'I-, uh. I, I mean, I-'. The two of you, a far change of pace from usual, can barely keep your eyes on each other.

You feel like throwing your shoe at Lucius when you register the all too familiar sing song-y chime of his voice murmuring 'say something!' from behind your back. 'Or I swear to god, I'll kiss the man for you!'

'Well, I-', you start again, shooting the most vicious glare you could strangle out of you back at your friend. With a final sigh, you continue: 'I saw your necklace, and I don't mean to pry- but since you're always wearing black, which of course is incredibly cool, I just- well, I thought it needed a burst of colour.' Without a second thought, you scramble to pull your makeshift necklace out of your trousers, and shove the glistening glass emeralds and burnished pearls into his fist.

'It's just a silly thing, really. I saw Stede fixing Ed's red fabric and I just thought... well, you don't have to wear it. It's just a trinket, it's stupid. Really, you don't have to wear it. I'm sorry-'. After a pause, the burning sensation is enough to make you turn on your heel and bashfully start to make a break for the Rec Centre, just to get as far away from him as possible.

'It's not just a trinket.' The softness of his tone, despite how harshly he sounds out the letters makes you swivel back in surprise. He takes the opportunity to take a step forward and grab onto your wrist. He tugs you closer, until you're standing dangerously close to him: if he were to inhale deeply now, to puff his chest out just a tenth of an inch, your belly buttons would be tightly pressed upon each other. You can already feel his buttons strain against your shirt as he whistles out through bunched teeth, the breath sharp and warm against the side of your jaw. 'Don't say that. Never say that. It came from you, so it's not-... just, don't say that.'

He blinks, slowly releasing his viper grip.

'I like it. I really do. Thank you.' He motions awkwardly with a flick of his fingers to the side of his neck. 'Would you mind? With the gloves, I'm... not very good with clasps. Haven't, haven't used one in a long time.'

You can't stop your head from nodding, feeling like a wound up spring toy as you unfurled his fingers again and took the gift back. With a final swallow, you try not to turn cerise as you gently roll down the collar of his shirt. It folds easily down over his vest, until your bare fingers are dragging over the naked line of skin on his neck, just teasingly hiding the tense muscles of his upper back.

'You really didn't have to do this for me, you know.'

'Yeah... but I wanted to. You're not as much of an arsehole as Stede tries to make out.' You manage out a giggle, before you're back to biting your bottom lip in concentration, brushing a few strands away from the back of his head.

He wants to say more, but his voice chokes in the back of his throat like rifting water, his mouth trembling as your fingers brush over the coiled grey hairs bristling at the nape of his neck. It feels like a red hot poker is being dragged across his skin; he shivers at the feeling, a tight coil rolling across his limbs before settling uncomfortably heavy in the pit of his stomach.

He looks like he's about to weep when you take a step back, reaching up with a final pat to make sure the little metal swallow that adorns the centre of your necklace is lying perfectly against his breast. You may have lingered there a little longer than necessary... long enough for your palm to begin burning against the firm muscle of his pec, and for Lucius to draw out an enunciated wolf whistle, but it was definitely worth it. Even the sound of Frenchie snickering from the barrel he was perched on down on the deck was drowned out by the thrumming toll in your ears: by the sound of Izzy's sharp breath piercing your ear as he wavered uneasily on the spot. He didn't want to move away from you, not yet. He could barely even hear them. For the first time in his life, he didn't even fucking care. All he could focus on, over the bridge of his nose - through the gentle curls of his tired eyelashes, was you.

He was intoxicated - but even worse, he was finally beginning to understand. By god, he wondered. What the fuck had you done to him? Could this really be what Edward feels? Could anyone, really, feel this much?

'I hear swallows are meant to bring good luck', you state with bated breath, fingering the charm you had picked up from a market stall at the Republic of Pirates for a final time. It had reminded you almost immediately of Izzy: a hidden treasure, glistening white-gold, like fresh sunlight flitting across the glitter combs littered across the sea beds. It had been well buried within piles of muck: old straw, rotten bits of moulding fruit, bloodied bones twisted into odd shapes that you could barely recognise, but it had been lying there. Waiting just for you. A needle in the haystack. The final piece of the puzzle.

Izzy's breath draws in sharply as you absentmindedly begin to brush your pointer finger up and up: tracing the edge of his jaw line before rolling over the same bird tattoo lacing his neck, your eyes still drawn to the gap between his shirt where his Adam's apple lay tautly.

'Yes. Very good luck', he states, amazed he even found his voice. Surprisingly, he doesn't even try to pull away. He lets you trace your finger over the beak, gliding across the round belly until they're dancing teasingly over its tail. In fact, without his wonderous, dipped eyes looking away from you, he seems to be tilting his head in time, allowing you easier access to brush against his skin and steal his soul with every movement.

Before he has time to think of the repercussions of what he was about to do, the leather of his gloves flex around your cheeks and Izzy Hands has bowed his back down over you, lips knocking against yours. It's terse, and rather urgent in its forcefulness; it was both a slip of outrageous passion, and a terse reminder of his years out of practice feeling any sort of physical affection, and yet you couldn't help but brush up even closer to the man. He welcomes you eagerly, even though this eternity lasted only a moment: with his thumb, he tilts the jut of your chin up so he can lick his tongue against your bottom lip all the more easily. His knee slides forward until it knocks against your own, lurching you forward and saving him the embarrassment of having to voluntarily admit to his weakness and slide his other hand around the pulse point of your neck, until he was cradling the bone of your shoulder.

He finally draws back, his tongue darting out to lick along the edge of his top lip. 'Yeah, very lucky indeed.' He seems sorrowful to be letting go of you, but the loud whistling and snorting that begins to bounce back and forth between Stede's crew snaps Izzy back to himself. With a final glance back down to your lips, he struts off to pick up Lucius' long abandoned broom and starts chasing him across the ship with it.

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