#autumn sky hall | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

retrobutterflies · 4 days

Text

Little Dragon | t.n.

Theodore Nott x Female!Reader

Summary: You are not a fan of one of his admirers and he thinks you are a pretty idiot.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Jealousy, Fluff, mentions of snow lol, a hint suggestive at the end if you squint

A/N: I haven't written in a while. This is just a fun little thing, an hors d'œuvre if you will.

Abigail was nothing if not brazen. It had taken you years to be comfortable in the presence of Slytherin's most exclusive group. For a while you didn't even realize Pansy Parkinson had considered you anything more than a suitemate let alone a friend until she hexed Lacy Cressilda for calling you bitch. And Draco Malfoy barely dignified you with anything more than a smirk until one night he was trashed out of his mind and proclaimed that he would help you hide a body should you ever need. You assured him you wouldn't.

It was only by 6th year did you feel fully welcomed into the friend group. Now instead of getting wary glances when you sat with them at dinner, you were getting indignant glances when you joined other friends of yours for a change of pace.

But seeing Abigail seat herself comfortably between Draco and Theo, smiling easily and joining into the conversation seamlessly made you falter. Abigail Thorn had never really interacted with your friends. Though she was a sixth year Slytherin, her group of friends never really crossed paths with yours. At least, not until last term when Abigail started sitting closer by in the great hall, tugging along unwilling friends, or switching seats with annoyed Hufflepuffs to sit next to one of you in Potions. And now, relaxing in the common room when mostly everyone else had slinked up to bed, she had found her way into the conversation, her friends long since retired.

You watched her from your seat on the opposing couch. The fireplace was dousing the room in a dancing orange glow, illuminating smiling faces and slouched forms. Someone had tossed a cinnamon stick directly onto the firewood so the room smelled of autumn spices and smoke. Mattheo made a crude joke from his spot laying on the green-woven rug on the floor in front of the hearth and Abigail let out a laugh, leaned forward, and rested her hand on Theo's knee.

A swirling green monster crawled up your throat and wrapped its tendrils around your neck. Your eyes zeroed in on her hand, fingers flexing on the dark material of his pants, and imagined shooting out a nasty stinging hex. You glanced up to see Theo's dark eyes swoop down to the hand on his leg. He eye'ed it, eye'ed her, then slowly, delicately in the soft-quiet way he does most things, moved her hand back to her lap. You wanted to feel pleased at that action, pleased that he didn't want her touching him but she moved again, her lips moving around words you weren't paying attention to as your eyes stared at her hand creeping through his arm to lock it with hers. And then with a smile, she rested her cheek on the curve of his shoulder.

You felt like you were on fire. Heat flared up your spine, flushing your cheeks and the back of your neck. The forest-green turtle neck you were wearing was suddenly choking you and you felt like if you didn't get up in that very moment then you would self-destruct.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you muttered softly to Pansy who gave you a nod while keeping her attention on one of Mattheo's long-winded stories.

You headed straight for the common room door. It was after curfew but you didn't care if one of the prefects saw you walking around. You just needed fresh air. You needed to freeze out all the raging fire in your lungs, squash it into a piteous puff of smoke. You shot out of the nearest door and found yourself in one of the stone courtyards. The ground was blanketed in a sweep of fresh snow clear and untouched. A few stray snowflakes fluttered in the air, glittering in the firelight of scattered torches, replacing the lack of stars in the dark milky sky. You took a deep breath and welcomed the icy air that cut through your chest. It sizzled your anger until only a pile of ashy shame was left.

Theodore Nott was no one to you but a friend. You had no possessive claim to him like your body seemed to think. He could touch whoever he wanted, be touched by whoever he wanted. And you had no right to get so upset at the thought. But you were. You hated even the briefest moment seeing him with another girl. If the thought of him linking arms with a girl was enough to make you want to hex her you could only imagine the nightmare you'd be when he actually got a girlfriend.

You felt like you could be sick. You took another deep breath and then another. Closing your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest as if to shut out all of your buzzing thoughts. A swirl of wind sent a dusting of snow across your stocking-clad legs, your skirt giving you little protection but you welcomed it, hoped it would help distract you so that when you found the courage to go back inside you were less of a raging psychopath.

"Are you alright?"

His voice cut through the still of the night and sent a shock down your back. Your eyes shot open and you turned to see Theo slowly walking up to you, hands in his pockets, shiny leather shoes crunching on compact snow.

"Yeah. Fine. Just–" you breathed out slightly, hot air puffing into the cold night, arms tightening across your sternum, "hot."

His eyes were dark and gleaming under the night sky. You couldn't help but squirm whenever they stayed on you for too long as if your body physically couldn't handle their intensity. They trailed down your crossed arms, over your fluttering green-plaid skirt, and down your legs, goosebumps barely concealed through the sheer tights. Then his eyes, dark and deep and heavy, found yours again.

"You look cold," he concluded.

"I'm– Well, now . . . yes," you stumbled on your words and hoped that he thought the pink creeping across your cheeks was because of the frigid air and not your scrambled nerves, "but it's . . . good."

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"It's good?" He echoed, eyebrows raising and smirk pulling up the corners of his lips. "You're shaking."

You didn't notice until he said it but you did feel a tremble in your body.

"I like it," you replied. Half true, half lie. You liked it enough to distract you but your legs were starting to feel numb and your teeth were starting to thrum together in a quiet symphony.

"You like it," he echoed again and you knew he could smell your fibs like food. Theo was a bloodhound for lies.

"I just–," your eyes flickered to his and then back to the courtyard when you couldn't hold his stare any longer, "–needed some air."

You heard him step closer, snow crunching underneath his footsteps. He was quiet for a few moments, looking out at the empty courtyard with you, watching the snow flurries and taking in the icy air.

"You're angry," he stated, breaking up the quiet. His voice was soft and low but it sent a shockwave down your spine.

"I'm not," you deflected before you could think. You could feel his gaze fall to the side of your face but knew if you met those keen eyes your facade would crack and splinter.

"You are," he assured. You wanted to argue, spit back a retort and stroke the burning anger that apparently you weren't hiding well enough.

"And how would you know that?" You replied, words as tight as the arms crossed over your chest.

"Because you're brooding," he said and you felt yourself bristle. This time your eyes met his and you frowned, narrowing them at his crinkling in the corners as his smile tugged up.

"I'm not," you tried to think of something to defend yourself, or something clever so his attention would be diverted, but all you could settle on was, "I do not brood."

"No?" He let out a hum, hand reaching into the depths of his pocket to pull out a beat-up pack of cigarettes. He slid one out, tapping it seemingly unconsciously against the side of the cardboard as he picked through the thoughts in his head. You watched as his thumb and pointer finger pinched the rim and ignited a small flame enough for it to start smoking. You'd seen him do it before but felt just as breathless seeing it again, Theo and his wand-less tricks.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours again and your heart felt like it was getting vacuumed into your stomach at their heaviness, at their weight. His eyes, dark and shining, enticing enough that they seemed to weave their own spells. You felt rooted to the spot, powerless to tear your gaze away. He brought the cigarette up to his lips, inhaling, holding the breath, then exhaling a swirling cloud of smoke into the night, his eyes keeping yours captive.

"If I look hard enough I might be able to see smoke coming out of your ears," he commented. His smirk grew at your flushed cheeks.

Finally, finally you were able to rip your eyes away, glaring at one of the weeping angel statues of the fountain nestled in the middle of the courtyard. You were silent, pushing through scrambled thoughts, trying to find a placating excuse. Enough so that he wouldn't make you admit how pathetic you were being.

"Come on, my little dragon. Tell me what's wrong and I'll make it better," he drawled, taking another inhale of his cigarette.

Your insides burned at the nick-name.

"Is–" You bit the inside of your cheek, debating, deciding, before relenting, eyes shutting tight as you forced the next few words out of your mouth, "Are you and Abigail close?"

He was quiet for a moment. You counted to ten, then ten again before daring to open your eyes and cast a wary look at him. All teasing amusement was gone.

"Abigail?" He finally said. He looked surprised, brows tugging in at the center of his face like he was trying to decipher a riddle. "I hardly know her."

The words stroked your blazing core, calming it slightly. You mulled them over in your mind but stabbing images of her arm in his, her hand on his knee had the inner flame in your chest roaring. Theo was watching you carefully, as if only now seeing your real ire.

"Right," you muttered, feeling guilt and jealously and anger and shame weave together in your gut.

"Did she," he took a careful step closer so you could smell the aroma of his cigarette intertwining with his cologne that hung on him like shadows. Dark and woodsy and spiced. "Did she say something to you?"

His tone was soft but you could hear the twinge of sharpness. The silent assurance that if she had he would be stalking off to her in retaliation. And though the thought of lying and releasing Theo's acid anger on her pleased you, you knew it wouldn't be fair. Realistically, she had been nothing but kind to you. If only she had been unpleasant. Then you'd at least feel less guilty turning Theo against her.

But you weren't that evil. At least not tonight.

"No," you admitted, keeping your hard glare facing the dark sky. He waited for you to continue, to give voice to the cacophony of thoughts he could see buzzing behind your stormy eyes. You debated waiting him out, testing his patience until he sighed and relented and decided he was going back inside. But if you were a master of the long game, Theo was the creator.

"She was just . . . being very friendly towards you. And I wasn't sure–I didn't know if you knew her like that–" you let out a frustrated huff, welcoming the icy sting of the winter air as you sucked in another breath, "I just think that if, maybe, you got a girlfriend or something you'd tell us or something or–" you huffed again, "Or you'd warn me–Us. I mean–" you cut yourself off.

"Girlfriend?" He seemed well and truly shocked now. He let out a chocked laugh, staring at you with wide eyes. "You think she's my girlfriend?"

You felt like a fool. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment and you wanted to launch yourself off the edge of the courtyard and swan dive into the depths of the Black Lake, never to be heard from again.

"She was all over you. She was laying on you–" you bristled again, invisible wings flaring. You met his gaze and glared at him but he only laughed again, a rich smooth laugh that had your nerves zapping your insides.

"You're jealous," he finally said, eyes bright and blazing as he regarded you.

"I'm–" you couldn't even bring yourself to deny it. You had said far too much. You should've stalked off to the bathroom like you had said. Then maybe you could've drowned yourself in the toilet instead of being here, facing up to this.

"You're an idiot." His words felt like a slap. You opened your mouth to respond with an equally cutting remark but he spoke first.

"Her? Really? You're daft. And blind," he took a step closer until the tip of his leather shoe nudged your own and you had to crane your neck up to glare at him, "And–"

"If you keep insulting me I'm going to hex you," you threatened.

He reached out a hand and cupped the back of your neck. His fingers pressed into the skin, circling and massaging the muscle until you felt yourself deflate.

"Aren't you supposed to be smart? How could you possibly think it would be her?" He was so close now that every breath smelled of him and his cologne.

"Theo," your voice turned pleading.

His hand moved slowly from your neck up to the back of your head, fingers weaving into the silky strands.

"This has to be a cruel game that you're playing," he murmured, face inching ever closer. His eyes were piercing yours and you felt helpless to move, helpless to even speak. "You have to know what I feel for you."

Your lungs felt like they had been filled with ice. Your mouth opened but no words came out. He was so close to you and his eyes were suffocating you and you felt like you might well and truly burn up from the inside out.

His free hand, cigarette lost to the frozen ground, curved around the plush of your cheek. His thumb swiped the velvet skin under your eye and you didn't think you were breathing anymore.

"I only want your skin to touch mine," he finally said. His voice was so low, so soft, it caressed your burning cheeks. Your hands, numb from the cold, found their way to his chest, clutching at the wool of his dark sweater. He hummed in satisfaction.

"Only you are allowed to touch me," he breathed, eyes skimming your face, darting between your eyes. "Understand?"

You nodded mutely and he hummed again. Then his lips were touching yours. Warm and velvet lips caressing your own frost kissed ones. He exhaled into the kiss, his breath tickling your face. Your hands clutched at him, tugging him ever closer as you sunk into the kiss. Your body melted, relaxing into him, a rush of relief soaking down your spine and extinguishing the flames that had been coiling up your back. His kisses turned deeper, more desperate. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip then his lips soothed the sting. The hand at your cheek pulled away and you were close to whining before he was wrapping it around your waist, hoisting you higher, closer, chests pressing together so he could deepen his kisses and steal the air from your burning lungs.

It was a while before he pulled away. He admired your flushed cheeks and starry eyes that blinked up at him. His fingers woven in your hair tightened, gripping. You couldn't ignore the flash of pleasure that erupted in your stomach.

"Next time you decide to have a tantrum, at least come get me first," he murmured, words rumbling through kiss-bitten lips. You would've glared if you could think straight. But your mind was hazy and your lips were tingling and all you could think about was kissing him again.

#theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theo nott one shot #theodore nott oneshot #theo nott imagine #theo nott fluff #theodore nott fluff

626 notes · View notes

surielstea · 23 days

Text

Taunts and Tension

Based on this request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader and Azriel go on a spy mission and come back a little more touchy than usual?

Warnings: Sexual tension | Briefest mention of a threesome | innuendo of oral (m receiving)

2.8k words

“You have got to be kidding me,” The Shadow Singer grumbled as the High Lord told him we’ve been partnered for his next mission.

“Unfortunately, he’s not,” I huff to the tall male, just as annoyed as him. “Rhys with all due respect, I work alone,” Azriel contended and I scoff. “Does that apply to your love life too?” I quip but they both ignore me. “I know Az, but Eris likes her, he’s more likely to play by our rules if we use her as bait,” Rhys says. “It’s just a meeting, the both of you only have to get along for a few hours,” He hums and I roll my eyes, I couldn’t refuse the offer, he was paying me double for this. “Fine,” Azriel uttered, the fool agreed for free.

“Good, you leave at sunset,” The half-fae instructs then quickly dismisses the both of us when his mate comes into his office, a babbling Nyx in her arms. “Hi sweetie,” I coo at the two-year-old as I pass Feyre on the way out. “Auntie!” He exclaims with a bright smile. The High Lady waved at me and I returned it. “Be careful on your mission tonight,” She advises and I brush her off. “It’s just a meeting, nothing to be worried about.” I smile. “Oh, I wasn’t referring to your assignment,” Her eyes flick to Azriel and my lips form an ‘o’ shape in realization. She chuckled then gave me a wink as the Shadow Singer passed by me, muttering a curse under his breath. I return her smile then nod in a farewell and go the opposite direction down the hall.

The Spring Court was a lot duller than I had expected. Sure the flowers were in bloom and the sun still seeped through the trees but, there was no vibrancy to the colors. “Feyre really did a number on this place,” I hum, looking out at the deserted Court. It still held some beauty, the crystal clear lakes with lily pads floating heedlessly, the rolling hills, and flower fields.

“I kind of feel bad for him,” I mutter, bending down and plucking a daisy from a patch sprouting out the trunk of a maple tree. “Don’t,” Azriel huffed. We were on the border between Spring and Autumn so there was a weird merging between wildlife, the magnolia trees slowly shifting into maples, bunnies sectioned from foxes, and lush forests morphing into rustic woods.

“Are we early or is he just trying to make an entrance?” I sigh, already bored. “Early,” He replies and my shoulders sag. “Can you only respond with one-word answers?” I narrow my eyes on the Shadow Singer. He smirks. “No,” He says and I grit my teeth, looking down at the daisy in my hands.

We go silent for a moment. I stare out at the dusky sky, the last of the sun slipping below the hills. He seems content to continue staring at me, much to my dismay. I didn’t know what for, it’s not like he had to keep an eye on me, and there was nothing I could do that his shadows wouldn’t report back to him, they were often all over me, seemingly out of his control when I was around.

“What?” I snap my head back to him after only a minute, his stare becoming too physical, like I could feel the way his eyes traced my features. “Why are you dressed like that?” He tilts his head. I look down at my gown with creased brows. It was a silk slip, a rich mocha color. I look at what he’s wearing, his usual leathers. “It’s a meeting Azriel, we’re not battling warriors,” I remark. “Is it because we’re meeting with Eris?” He tilts his head. I cross my arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I bite back. “That you’re trying to impress him,” He surmises.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Nuh uh?” He mocks. “That’s your defense?” The brunette scoffs and my frown deepens, leaning against the tree at my back. “I wore the dress ‘cause I didn’t wanna change, okay?” I explain with narrowed brows. “And it’s not my fault he admires me,” I add. “Not that you know the feeling,” I murmur under my breath but of course, he heard it.

He takes a menacing step forward, shadows turning sporadic around him and I roll my eyes on the dramatics of it— anyone else would’ve been begging for forgiveness just by looking into the darkness of his eyes. “What was that?” His hand comes to my chin, forcing my head toward him. I jerk out of his hold with a grimace.

“I said you don’t know what it’s like to be admired, or do you need a reminder that you’ve been chasing the same girl for five hundred years?” This time I was the one to take a step forward, my chest nearly pressed to his. “Because newsflash Az, she doesn’t want you—” I start but his hands come to my wrists and pull them up above my head, pinning me to the tree, his other hand on my hip so I can’t thrash.

His nostrils flared, eyes ablaze and I nearly laughed. “You’re constantly teetering on that edge huh? Can’t ever keep your temper in check?” I arch a brow up at him, my smirk only widens as I watch him grit his teeth. He knew what I meant. Knew that he pounced on anyone who damaged his fragile ego, and talked down on his precious family, gods forbid I mention Morrigan. His hold moves from my waist to my neck, wrapping his large hand entirely around my throat, softly squeezing.

“You’re choking me,” I whisper out and the sadistic fuck has a smile on his face. “You seem like the type to be into that,” He presumes and he wouldn’t be far off if this was a different situation. I flush pink at the idea, it’d be a lie if I said I hadn’t imagined the Spymaster on top of me more than once. My cheeks were burning hot, I was beyond embarrassed, and slightly turned on.

“Not so talkative now, are we?” He was so close, so close his body was pressed to my own, our breath shared as his face hovered above mine, cauldron damn his height.

“Let me go,” I pull at my wrists but his grip is iron, and maybe my attempts were halfhearted because, in all honesty, I didn’t want to leave this position one bit. “You learn your lesson yet? Or are you gonna keep being a brat?” He hums and arousal pools in my panties. I quickly glamour the scent, praying he didn’t recognize it before I got the chance. “Fuck you,” I seethe, continuing my futile attempts to escape. “Such a filthy mouth, you wanna put it to better use?” He asks and if I wasn’t red before I definitely was now. “In your dreams,” I hiss. “Oh love, it is,” He smirks, and my brain stutters. What’d he just say?

My pointed ears perk before I can reply, noticing an unfamiliar pair of footsteps. Not Eris.

“Someone’s coming, kiss me,” I say with a rushed tone. “What?” His hand loosened around my neck. “Just—” I don’t finish and interrupt myself by lifting onto my toes and crashing my lips against his.

He seems taken aback for a moment then to my surprise, leans into it. I melt at the feeling. He was tentative at first but once I showed him this was what I asked for he seemed almost, hungry. His hand slips from my throat and cups my jaw instead, calloused thumb pulling at my bottom lip and forcing them open. I can’t help but obey his silent command, parting my lips wider so he can capture me fully. His mouth seals over mine yet again and my stomach ties into knots, the thrumming sensation in my ribcage making me realize this was a point of no return.

His tongue explored my mouth like it was his and his alone, he was devouring me and I savored every moment. An energy buzzed between us, my wrists still pinned up by his hold, but I wasn’t any less greedy with my lips. I wanted him to taste me, to memorize me, and never forget the feel of his lips on mine, I wanted it to hurt when he had to pull away. Languid movements with his tongue turn into messy, impatient strokes, needing all of me right then and there— and I would’ve given it to him if not for that pair of footsteps returning, so much closer this time.

“What’s going on here?” A gruff voice demands answers and Azriel hesitantly detaches, like he was unwilling.

It takes me a moment to even open my eyes, gods if he’s got me this paralyzed over just a kiss who knows how much more I could take? Azriel lets go of my wrists and I regain consciousness.

“I’m sorry Officer,” I put on my most innocent smile. The male in front of me was Autumn Court patrol, lower in rank based on the patches on his arms. “What’s an Illyrian doing so far from home?” He snarled the word like it was a curse. “We’re traveling sir,” I say, intertwining my hand with Azriel’s. He stiffens at the action as if I didn’t just have his lips on mine. “Travelin’?” The officer scoffs. “Out here?” He hums. “Yes sir, it’s our honeymoon,” I grin wildly, trying to capture the excitement of newlyweds as I hold our linked hands up.

The officer raises his brows a fraction, he was buying it. He was visibly older, you had to be ancient as a fae to start having wrinkles and this guy had plenty. “You know, I feel like I recognize you,” He hums and I swallow thickly. It was more likely for Azriel to get recognized out of the two of us, so the Shadow Singer didn’t take his chances and stuffed his face into my neck, lining kisses from my shoulder to my jaw. My hand goes into his hair, weaving my fingers into his soft, dark locks as I continue carrying on the conversation.

“Really? What from?” I tilt my head, resting my luck. “Not quite sure…” He thinks for a moment. “Ah, forget it probably just confusing you with my granddaughter, she’s lovely like you,” He says and I giggle light-heartedly. “That’s sweet to hear,” I smile. “Alright you kids be safe, perhaps find an inn somewhere,” He starts his trek once more. “Thank you, officer!” I call to him and he gives me a wave.

I nearly cackle as Azriel pulls away from my neck, my lipgloss smeared along his lips. I reach up and wipe it away with a teasing smile. “Not much of a spymaster if I’m the one saving you, hm?” I say, hands cupping his cheeks. “You were the one distracting me in the first place,” He defended, crossing his arms and I snicker. “Awh, poor Illyrian baby is pouting 'cause I’m better at his job,” I taunt, his gaze on my lips as I talk.

“Well, that was quite the show,” A familiar, smooth voice intones from a short distance away and I whip my head towards the figure, leaning against a tree with an unmistakable foxlike smirk on his face. “How long have you been standing there?” Azriel questions and it seems like the Heir might laugh. “It’s truly a wonder how your shadows didn’t find me, though I suppose they’re preoccupied at the moment,” He gestures to the ground beneath me where they were pooling at my feet, flicking up and twining at my ankle every now and again, completely forgetting what their job was in my presence.

The meeting went smoothly, Azriel was a bit on edge with the lack of his Shadows but other than that Eris complied easily, he seemed to have something up his sleeve but we’d worry about that at a later date, we were only ensuring his loyalty was still with us.

He updated us on some information including his father, the two males briefing over a plan to take down Beron, and as I stood there I realized I was just for show, a shiny jewel for Eris to look at, keep his attention before he got the idea that he could survive on his own. Not that I minded being looked at by the Heir, he was quite pretty— hel, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t dreamed about both the males in front of me, at once, more than once.

Azriel shadow-walked us back to the House of Wind when we were finished, or rather when he was finished. I probably could’ve stayed a few more minutes just to admire Eris in the pale moonlight, but my plans just had to be foiled by the Shadow Singer.

Az flew me the rest of the way into the house bridal style— since you couldn’t winnow straight in due to the wards. His hold on me felt more familiar than usual, and when he put me down he didn’t step away so neither did I.

“Hey,” Cassian said from the dining table, a mouthful of food muffling his voice. We both swivel towards the male, sat next to Nesta who couldn’t be bothered to look up from her book to greet us. “How’d the mission go?” The brunette at the table said once he swallowed his food. We both stiffen, the memory of that kiss has been replaying in my head over and over since it ended and yet it felt odd for anyone else to bring it up.

“Uh, went nice…” I shrug. Nesta looks up from her page, eyes piercing as they read me like the chapters in her book. “Really?” She intervenes and I nod. “Yup, just, so normal,” Azriel blurts out, and for a Spymaster, he was awfully bad at lying. Cassian creased his brows, clearly concerned for his brother. “Why are you acting so weird, then?” Nesta interrogates and the male and I share a look. “I don’t think he’s acting weird,” I scoff. “Do you think you’re acting weird?” My words are fast like I only have one breath to finish my sentence. “Pshh, never,” He shakes his head, looking down at his feet then back up to Lady Death.

“Right, well, man am I exhausted,” I stretch, feigning a yawn. “Yeah, the mission really wore me out,” He sighs, rolling his shoulders like there’s a weight off of them, following me up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

Nesta looks to her mate, a small smirk on her lips. “What?” The lord of bloodshed says cluelessly. “They’re totally going to fuck,” She hums, sinking into her chair a little and picking her book back up.

Azriel and I split off into our respective bedrooms, just across the hall from each other.

I paced beside my closed door, wondering what the fuck was I thinking when I let him kiss me. Sure I’ve always thought he was pretty but that was always a stupid fantasy, not something I would ever pursue… until now. Fuck, I am so finished. I repeatedly hit my palm against my forehead as I racked my head for any thought that didn’t immediately trace back to him. I couldn’t even look at my own hands without thinking about his hands, how they held my jaw— no. I wasn’t going to let myself romanticize this, it was just a mission. Nothing more. Just a kiss. A yearning, passion-filled kiss that fed all my cravings and somehow created new ones.

I groaned, deciding that this was the finest form of torture. I now stand still in front of my door, hoping that if I stare hard enough at it, he’ll come knocking and kiss me again because, fuck, I do want him.

I can’t sit here and wait for him to come rescue me from my own torment so I do it myself, hand coming to the doorknob and before I can psych myself out, I fling the door open.

To my shock, I’m immediately met with Azriel’s figure, his hand up like he was just about to knock.

“You couldn’t even let me make an entrance?” He tilts his head and I roll my eyes. “Shut up and kiss me already,” I grab him by the collar of his leathers and pull him in, the door closing behind him as his lips crash onto mine yet again.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @cauldronboilme27 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @ireallywannasleep127 @cumuluscranium

Azriel Taglist: @coolepowersthings @lovely-giggles @quiettuba @ilovewarner45 @judig92 @tothestarsandwhateverend @je-suis-prest-rachel @call-me-a-fool @brieflyclassymortal @cherryjain17 @stqrgirlies-blog @chelsiemp @nyxbranwenn @dnfhascorruptedme @summerandsalt @annamariereads16 @thisiskaylin @itsbonniebabe

Comment a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

Comment a “🖤” to be added to the Azriel taglist!

369 notes · View notes

danikamariewrites · 4 months

Text

Pain

Eris x reader

A/n: I’m all moved in and still getting settled so plz enjoy this lil fluffy piece with Eris 🤗

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff

The pain in your back was reaching debilitating heights. Ever since Masha threw you off her back, yours had been strained. You knew you should go see a healer, but you didn’t want Eris to fuss. Or be seen as weak.

You winced adjusting yourself in your seat. Praying to the Mother you hoped went unnoticed. If your mother saw she would tell you to smile through it or that you were being dramatic.

It seemed Lady Autumn noticed. She gave you a quick sympathetic look that no one else saw. “Y/n,” she said softly, “Would you do me a favor dear? Can you run this to Eris for me?” You nod at her. She was giving you an excuse to leave. Cauldron bless this caring, kind female.

Slowly you get up, being careful not to bother your back. You take the paper she held out for you. She nods at you in dismissal. As fast as you could you left her receiving room before your mother could object.

Once out in the hall you unfold the note. All it read was, “Go rest dear.” You smile at her elegant handwriting. Thankful that someone in this house cared for you. Besides Eris of course.

Wanting a quiet place to lay down you head to Eris’s rooms. It would be empty this time of day since he prefers his rooms serviced in the morning. Slowly pushing the door to his rooms open, you poke your head in. Empty and quiet. Just as you hoped.

Weaving through the sitting room furniture you head for the bedroom. You kick off your shoes and pull on the laces of your dress, letting it fall at your feet. Helping yourself to Eris’s clothes you pick out a loose fitting shirt and a pair of his boxer shorts from the closet.

You carefully pull yourself onto Eris’s large bed. It’s always warm under his covers. Maybe some of his warmth was still lingering from this morning. When a healer had initially checked your back after the fall she had told you heat would help. Of course you hadn’t listened, thinking you would be fine just taking an everyday tonic for the pain. You are regretting that decision now.

Laying flat on your back your eyes fluttered shut. It felt nice to be back in bed. Maybe Eris will be back soon. His father kept him busy all day meaning you didn’t get any alone time. As you drifted off you thought about his hands and how he could use them to warm your back. How the pain would melt away with a single touch.

When you woke up the sky was a brilliant orange-yellow from the sun setting. The room was no longer dark, a small fire burning in the hearth, and the fae lights set to dim. Turning your head you find Eris sitting against the headboard. A book in his hands. He looked peaceful. “Hey,” you say tiredly.

Eris smiles down at you, closing his book and placing it on his bedside table. “Hi wildfire,” he coos, brushing loose strands of hair away from your face. “My mother told me I’d find you here. She said your back was hurting, do you need anything?” Something about Eris’s mother knowing you’d go to his room warmed your heart.

You could lie and say no. But you weren’t interested in denying yourself the comfort of Eris’s warm hands. “I was wondering if you could do something for me?” Eris nods, “Anything you need.” “The healer said heat would help the pain. Can you use your powers to help?” He gave you a sympathetic look. The fact that you were silently suffering for so long killed him.

Silver lined your eyes as you pouted up at him. “Please.” Eris leans down to give you a soft kiss. “Let’s get you comfy, yeah,” he murmurs against your lips. Snaking an arm under your back Eris pulls you against his chest. He gently moves you to lay on top of him, legs tangled together, and your head on his chest.

Leaving the blankets at your waist Eris starts to slowly run his hands up and down your spine. On the last pass he pulls the hem of your shirt up, his fingers causing goosebumps to spread across your skin.

“Where does it hurt most?” You let out a small hum, snuggling closer into his chest. “Between my shoulder blades and lower back.” Eris places a large hand on each spot, warming his hands to comfortable temperature. You sigh at the relief. The heat felt wonderful. You could feel your muscles loosening as the minutes passed. Eris checks in with you, making sure the heat was enough or if he needed to move around. If the two of you could stay like this forever life would be perfect.

As your breathing evens out, signaling you’ve drifted off, Eris kisses the top of your head. “Sleep well, wildfire.” He whispered. You leave a quick peck to his chest right above his heart.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra x reader #acotar eris #Eris x reader #Eris x you #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris vanserra acotar x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fluff

661 notes · View notes

natsaffection · 5 months

Text

Kingdom of Secrets | Prologue | N. Romanoff

Knight!Natasha x younger!princess!Reader

MINOR DNI!! (18+!)

warnings: age gap (Natasha is 16 when she comes to the palace and the reader is 4 years old. At the end of this chapter Natasha is 33 and reader 21) fingering, begging, crying

word count: 4,5k

A/n: welcome to the prologue of Kingdom of Secrets! (Yes the title has a meaning) This is just the opening chapter. So it's not the first real part. It cost me already tears because I wanted it to come across the way people spoke back in the Middle Ages..so please give feedback!🫂

In the heart of the great kingdom of Celestria, where emerald fields stretch as far as the eye can see and spires kiss the sky, there was great anticipation in the royal court. King Alistair and Queen Seraphina Dawn, the beloved rulers of the realm, had long yearned for an heir to carry on the legacy of their noble lineage. The palace echoed with the whispers of courtiers as news spread of a momentous event.

Queen Seraphina was expecting a child.

Months passed, each one accompanied by prayers and whispered hopes echoing through the halls of the palace. The kingdom collectively held its breath, waiting for the joyous news that would bring new life to the royal family. The gardens adorned with blooming flowers bore witness to the ebb and flow of the seasons, reflecting the anticipation within the palace walls.

And then, as the golden colors of autumn tinged the landscape, the long-awaited moment arrived. Like a melody of hope, the announcement resounded through the kingdom and spread from town to town. Queen Seraphina had given birth to a daughter, a shining beacon of joy in the embrace of her parents' love.

The kingdom erupted in jubilation. Banners swayed in the fresh breeze, their colors dancing to the rhythm of the joy that flowed through the streets. The citizens rushed to the gates of the palace in their finest clothes to join in the royal rejoicing. The sweet scent of flowers was in the air and the distant sounds of musicians tuning their instruments heralded the great celebrations to come.

Inside the palace, the little princess lay in her mother's arms, wrapped in a tapestry of delicate silk. Queen Seraphina's eyes, glistening with tears of happiness, met King Alistair's gaze, a silent exchange that spoke volumes about the unspoken journey they had traveled to reach this blessed moment.

As the sun sank below the horizon, the palace gates opened to welcome the many well-wishers. The Great Hall, decorated with golden tapestries and crystal chandeliers, shone in the light of a thousand candles. Laughter and chatter filled the air as nobles, commoners and dignitaries alike joined in the celebration.

In the midst of this splendor, the little princess lay in her crib, surrounded by a symphony of admiration. Her tiny fingers, like rose petals, grasped at the air as if reaching for the love that surrounded her. The flickering candlelight painted her delicate features and cast a warm, ethereal glow on her.

Y/n, as she would later be called, became the beacon of hope that united the kingdom. Her laughter echoed through the palace like silver bells, eliciting smiles from all who basked in her innocent radiance. The court musicians, attuned to the heartbeat of the celebration, played melodies that blended with the collective heartbeat of the kingdom, a harmonious testament to the unity created by the birth of the princess.

Over the years, the princess's birthdays became a cherished tradition. The kingdom celebrated with greater fervor each year, turning the anniversary of her birth into a grand spectacle. The gardens, where once the whispers of anticipation could be heard, now bloomed in vibrant colors that reflected the princess's exuberant spirit.On her birthdays, the people of Celestria gathered to honor their beloved princess. The streets were lined with stalls selling sweet treats and enchanting trinkets. Musicians played lilting melodies and performers brought fairy tales to life through dance and theater. But amidst the splendor, it was Y/n herself who was in the spotlight.

Her laughter, the elixir that had breathed life into the kingdom years ago, echoed through the air. The joy that emanated from her was infectious and transformed the celebration into a mosaic of smiles and shared happiness. Y/n had become the living embodiment of the kingdom's dreams with her sparkling eyes and a heart full of kindness.

As Y/n grew, so did the kingdom around her. The once silent halls of the palace echoed with the footsteps of a vibrant princess whose spirit danced like the sunlight that fell through the leaves. She became a symbol of hope, bridging the realms of royalty and commonality - a beacon of unity for a kingdom that had waited with bated breath for her arrival.

And so, under the golden skies of Celestria, the royal court and citizens celebrated the birth of their princess, whose laughter echoed throughout the kingdom, mingling with the melodies of joy that had marked her grand entrance into the world.

But a shadowy group lurked in the hidden corridors beneath the splendor of the kingdom. Unseen and unheard, this gang shrouded in mystery plotted insidiously to infiltrate the royal house.

In the dimly lit chamber adorned with ancient symbols, the agents of the group - Shadows of Darkness - received a chilling instruction. The leaders, shrouded in the cloak of shadows, readjusted their strategy. Princess Y/n, an unforeseen variable, demanded an adjustment to their malevolent plans.

As Y/n's laughter rang through the palace, the group's secret game unfolded on an invisible chessboard. The birth of the princess upset their carefully laid plans and brought an element of unpredictability into play. Beneath the surface of the festivities, a calculated dance played out, where joyful echoes collided with the malice lurking in the shadows. Citizens and royalty revelled in blissful ignorance, unaware of the ominous threat lurking in the hidden corners of the palace. A dangerous dance began. One in which the laughter of a princess served as an eerie soundtrack to a covert operation that would reshape Celestria's destiny.

As daylight bathed the kingdom in golden hues, the shadowy group moved in secrecy. Their ominous influence extended to unsuspecting future queens. The dark puppet, manipulated by unseen hands, infiltrated the royal court and left a menacing presence.

The king, who had followers in every country, became aware of the terrifying power. Fearing for his family and the future of his country, he had his troops strengthened and also looked for a guardian for his daughter. So he spread the word throughout the country that a tournament was to be held in the late evening and that the bravest and strongest fighters were to take part.The anticipation of the great tournament was in the air that day. The king, seeking the perfect protector for his most precious treasure, gathered warriors from faraway lands. Men vying for the honor of protecting the jewel of the realm presented themselves in the arena.

The tournament, a spectacle of skill and courage, began with the clash of swords and the thundering hooves of warhorses. Knights from all corners of the realm showcased their skills, a dance of blades played out under the watchful eyes of the royal court.

As the dust settled and countless fighters succumbed to the skill of their opponents, there was a quiet tension among the spectators. The king, seated on his magnificent throne, surveyed the remaining warriors, his keen eyes searching for the one who would serve as a shield against the impending danger to the princess. Then, amidst the remaining fighters, a lone, young figure emerged, clad in armor that seemed to absorb the essence of the shadows. The air fell silent as this knight stepped forward, exuding an aura of fear and admiration. A murmur went through the audience, a collective acknowledgement that a formidable force had entered the arena.

The king, mesmerized and wary, leaned forward in his throne, a silent question etched on his regal countenance. "Tell me, what is a child doing on the field?" he asked his 1st in command. He bowed to his king, "Forgive me, my majesty, but you emphasized that the gates were open to anyone carrying a sword." The king forced the moment back into his mind and now looked further down, at the person.

At that very moment, the mysterious knight removed the helmet, revealing a cascade of fiery red hair framing a face marked by the scars of countless battles. Her piercing gaze, a mixture of steel and determination, met the king's eyes with an unwavering intensity. A murmur went through the hall as the realization set in. "Lady, Natalia Alianovna Romanoff," someone breathed, the name inspiring both awe and fear. As the first young woman to be knighted, Natasha was widely known, and her accomplishments on the battlefield were whispered about in saintly tones. The king, who also learned of her presence, widened his eyes.

As she approached the king, Natasha dropped to one knee, a sign of respect and submission. Her armor bore the marks of countless victories, and the sword at her side was a testament to her skill as a warrior.

"Your Majesty," Natasha's voice, a symphony of authority and humility, echoed through the arena. "I am Natalia Alianovna Romanoff, sworn to protect those deemed worthy of the Empire's protection. I offer my skills and loyalty to defend your princess, the jewel of Celestria." The king, observing the steely determination in Natasha's eyes, pondered her words. Isn't she too young to be a knight? Presently good..She could form a bond with Y/n. He thought.

The court remained in a collective breathless pause, awaiting the monarch's decision. After a moment's thought, the king nodded, a gesture that echoed through the arena like a decree.

"Lady Natasha Romanoff, rise. You have proven that you are an excellent Fighter. May the realm be witness to your service as my daughter's protector."

The crowd erupted in a mixture of cheers and whispers in appreciation of the gravity of the moment. Natasha rose from her knees and hid her features behind her helmet again. With measured steps, she returned to the ranks of the assembled knights, her presence leaving an indelible impression on the tournament and setting the stage for a new chapter in the kingdom's saga. Since then, the unique bond between the young princess and the fearless knight began to grow. Y/n, a little bundle of joyful energy, zoomed through the flowerbeds. "Tasha, look, I can fly!" she cried, spreading her tiny arms. Natasha, with a smile on her lips, leaned down. "Really? Show me, little whirlwind." And chase her through the field.

"Tasha, why are you so strong?" asked Y/n three years later, while they were playing in the halls. Natasha, with a mischievous smile, replied, "Strength comes not only from muscles, but also from courage and determination, my Princess."

The royal parents, from their thrones, watched the scene with warm smiles. "Look how Natasha is teaching our daughter," said the queen. The king nodded proudly. "A bond strengthened not only by duty, but also by the heart..I could not have chosen anyone better."

In the shelter of the pavilion, Y/n and Natasha talked about the years of shared experiences. "Promise me, Natasha, that you will always be by my side," Natasha, serious yet tender, replied, "As long as I breathe, I will watch over you, Princess."

Over the years, not only did Y/n grow up, but so did the love between her and Natasha. Adventures together, laughter and tears formed a bond that blurred the boundaries between princess and protector.

At the age of 20, Y/n found herself in the midst of an inner turmoil. The years had passed since Natasha had taken up residence as her protector, and a subtle change was creeping into the princess's mind.

In the quiet moments when the sun slowly disappeared behind the palace walls, Y/n discovered a growing urge to seek Natasha's closeness. Every look from the knightess, every gentle touch, seemed to break through an invisible barrier within Y/n.

The glances Natasha cast across the ballroom as they shared in royal festivities carried a deeper meaning. Y/n recognized the warmth in Natasha's eyes, which came not only from her proximity to the king, but betrayed something more intimate. Uncertainty gnawed at Y/n as she thought about these growing feelings. Society, royal expectations, all created a veil that kept her growing affection for Natasha hidden.

The Royal Mother observed the subtle changes in Y/n's behavior, but the secret remained hidden between the lines. Y/n felt her heart beat faster when she faced Natasha, and the soft sighs that escaped her were carried on the winds of fate.

One day, Natasha, bathed in sweat from the rigorous training session, gracefully moved through the courtyard, effortlessly wrestling each knight that dared to cross her path to the ground. As Y/n strolled through the palace, she unexpectedly caught sight of Natasha in action, sans her usual formidable armor.

Mesmerized by the raw power and agility on display, Yn found it challenging to look away. Natasha's every move seemed like a choreographed dance of strength and finesse. It was the first time Y/n had seen her like this, vulnerable yet invincible

Natasha, engrossed in her sparring session, sensed Y/n's eyes on her. Mid-wrestle with one of the knights, she subtly shifted her gaze to meet Y/n's, exhaling almost imperceptibly. In that brief connection, Natasha's intense focus softened, and a ghost of a smile played on her lips, as if she had caught Y/n in the act.

Y/n, startled by Natasha's awareness, quickly averted her gaze, pretending to be absorbed in the palace architecture. The blush on her cheeks, however, betrayed her attempt to conceal the intrigue Natasha's athleticism had sparked.

She continued her training, each movement deliberate and powerful. Y/n, despite her efforts to remain discreet, stole occasional glances, hoping Natasha wouldn't notice..

When a maid approached, unaware of the silent exchange, Y/n stammered, "I-I was just, you know, walking around," as she tried to divert attention from the fact that Natasha had momentarily captured her focus. Natasha, still engaged in her training, shot Y/n a knowing look, her eyes betraying a hint of amusement, silently acknowledging the unspoken connection while respecting Y/n's attempt to keep her feelings concealed.

Several hours passed, and Y/n immersed herself in the demands of royal duties. As she diligently attended to matters within the palace, she couldn't shake the memory of Natasha's training session. Much to her surprise, as she returned to the main hall, there was Natasha, seamlessly transitioning from warrior to protector, resuming her role by Y/n's side.

Their eyes met once again, and this time Natasha's expression spoke volumes. A playful glint in her eyes suggested a shared secret, referencing the earlier stolen glances. Y/n couldn't help but smile in response, a subtle acknowledgment of the connection they had formed.

Weeks later when the moon towered over Celestria, Y/n dared a tentative look into Natasha's eyes. It was as if the universe melded their souls together, and in that moment, Y/n knew it was more than mere reverence for the brave knight. The realization that her heart was following a path of love was like the blossoming of a delicate flower within her. But the world she lived in demanded secrecy - a love that blossomed in the shadow of royal duties.

Another year passed and Y/n's duties to the throne drew ever closer. Her parents now saw her as an adult woman who would later rule the people. However, this could not be done alone and the time had come to find a suitable mate. So they embarked on various journeys to neighboring countries to consider their princes and princesses. A point Y/n is proud to show. With all the fuss she secretly has about Natasha, her eyes opened to another part.

It was a sunny day when the royal family were visiting another kingdom. The family was welcomed with joy. But the festive atmosphere was pervaded by an underlying tension. As Y/n strode through the hall in royal garb, she was swarmed by the polite remarks and advances of the foreign prince. The looks he gave her were full of obvious interest, and the smile on his lips betrayed intentions that went beyond polite courtesies.

Natasha, standing in her imposing armor alongside the royal family, felt a flame of jealousy flare up inside her. Every passionate look, every touched hand, felt like a stab in her chest. In a quiet moment, when the prince engaged Y/n in a private conversation, Natasha could hardly bear the sight. Her hands clenched into fists as she inwardly fought back the burning sting of jealousy.

Finally, the festive gathering broke up and the royal family returned to their chambers. The opulent chambers of Y/n awoke to the pale glow of candles as the evening shrouded the royal estate in an atmosphere of twilight. The prince, wearing a polite facade, had made his intentions clear. But Natasha sensed the unease in the air. When the prince attempted to cross the boundaries of politeness and seek out Y/n in her chambers, Natasha turned cold as ice. Her eyes, normally as impenetrable as the darkness, bore into the young nobleman. Without a word, her gaze spoke volumes, and the prince retreated as if he had entered an invisible barrier.

When Natasha entered Y/n's chamber, the discomfort was reflected on Y/n's face. "Thank you.. I was so uncomfortable, but I didn't mean to be rude," Y/n murmured, her voice low in the intimate atmosphere. Natasha stepped closer, her touch cooler than the night breeze blowing through the open window. "My princess, you never have to compromise for politeness."

In a calculated move that blurred the line between protector and seductress, Natasha lifted Y/n's hand and stroked her fingertips over the delicate skin. "Don't let anyone enter your world if you don't want them to. You deserve respect and so much more."

The darkness of the room seemed to tighten around the two of them as Natasha continued, intensifying her own touch. "And maybe, there is someone..who is willing to go deeper than politeness allows."

The words echoed between the walls as the coolness of the night turned into a dance of desire. Y/n sensed the play of shadows as Natasha, took on the role of seductress. A passionate revelation that in the twilight of her chambers revealed a connection that transcended the duties of the royal hall.

The room lost its dimensions in darkness as Natasha and Y/n were caught in a mesmerizing dance of tension. Y/n's heartbeat quickened as Natasha's words sounded like a breath in the night, a promise that implied more than it stated. "Natasha, I don't know what you mean..." whispered Y/n, her voice caught between curiosity and an underlying desire that lingered in the air. Natasha stepped closer, her gaze like the dark veil of night that hid everything and yet revealed everything. "I speak of desire that goes deeper than any protocol that exists within the walls of a palace."

The atmosphere thickened as Natasha began to loosen Y/n's royal robes with deft fingers. "You can feel it, can't you? This suppressed energy between us. It's time to explore the shadows that lurk in the corners of our connection."

Y/n's breathing quickened as the warmth of Natasha's hands touched her skin. A mixture of fear and desire flickered in her eyes as she embraced the unknown.

"N-Natasha, I... Is this right?" asked Y/n, but her reticence was swallowed up by the darkness.

Natasha replied with a cool smile that betrayed a deep, hidden passion. "Right or wrong, Y/n, does not exist in this world of shadows. There is only what you desire and what you are willing to experience." The air between them was charged as Natasha gently placed her lips on Y/n's. A passionate kiss that burned down the blurred lines between duty and desire. Still, Natasha paused for a moment and looked her princess in the eye, “I notice your looks, your breath when I sneak up on you..you’re begging when I retreat to my chambers..” Natasha pushed the princess onto the bed. The redhead had Y/n's legs wide open. Open for her to devour.

Natasha licked her lips, staring at Y/n's underwear, a hungry look in her mouth. Y/n still felt the slight urge to protest. What is she doing here? What happens if her parents find out about this? Are they allowed-

But all words of resistance melted into a moan in her mouth as Natasha opened her entrance with her tongue. She lay down in front of Y/n, lifting the princess's legs by her thighs onto her shoulders. Natasha's tongue turned her princess's moans into groans and then shouts of ecstasy. After tasting Y/n for long enough, Natasha lifted her head. Her mouth was covered in Y/n's fluid, giving her face a glow that Y/n found simply intoxicating.

"How are you feeling? Can I continue?" Natasha's eyes widened as she saw the sight of her ruler. Spread wide and with her hands clenched in the pillows, "K-Keep going please..” Natasha smiled and climbed up to Y/n to take off her dress and while she undressed Y/n, Natasha kissed Y/n and she tasted herself on her lips. Without breaking the kiss, Natasha inserted two of her fingers into Y/n. In response, the young princess let out a deep moan into Natasha's mouth as she slowly penetrated her. As Natasha alternated between driving her index and middle fingers in and out of Y/n's cavity, Y/n was disturbed by the amount of armor Natasha still had on and set about removing it.

Natasha smirked again as she realized what Y/n's plans were and sat back up, "You could have asked, my highness..." Y/n's eyes were wide as she watched Natasha remove every single piece of metal from her body. Eventually it just tinkled on the floor and Natasha stood before her in a white shirt. She wasted no more time and pounced on the young girl again.

"What do you want me to do, princess?" Natasha now asked, breathing in unison with her aroused ruler. She had already slipped a hand between Y/n's thighs and was leaning on her shorts. Y/n knew what Natasha wanted to hear. "Please.." she begged, "fuck me." Natasha watched Y/n's flushed face. It was so, so lewd. This time, however, Natasha stroked a finger over the edge of her labia and felt how far the wetness had spread.

"You really want it, don't you?" said Natasha with a hint of smugness in her voice. Y/n knew it wasn't to humiliate her, but rather to increase her sense of exposure.

Yes, I really fucking want it, Y/n wanted to say, but managed to hold back. Natasha, however, didn't miss the look on her face before she leaned in and slowly kissed Y/n again. She began to run her fingers up and down the wetness between Y/n's legs, stroking slowly and rhythmically.

Y/n held back any sound that wanted to come out of her mouth, knowing there was more to come. A touch slipped past a certain spot so briefly and lightly that Y/n's body flinched in response. Natasha had to keep her senses together, just a little longer. The stroking and kissing gradually became faster, without either of them noticing against the backdrop of their growing arousal. Natasha's fingers were touching Y/n's clit more and more frequently now, and Y/n couldn't keep up, the tension between her legs growing and her mouth remaining slightly open.

"A-A-hh..." she gasped, and her body arched back more and more. She was crying out now, twisting and turning, her clit at the center of the movement, her hands wrapped around Y/ns, her face pressed into her shoulders, her upper body arched so that her breasts and erect nipples moved against Natasha's body in the same rhythm as the caresses between her thighs. "Nat-..Natasha...!" She cried out. "I'm... ah, I'm..."

Natasha kissed her neck in response and concentrated fully on bringing Y/n to climax. She wanted to hear her princess scream, to feel her thrusting against her body in a frenzy of pleasure. She wanted Y/n to lose all inhibitions and move against her hand like a horny slut. Y/n couldn't take it anymore. Her hips and buttocks began to move against Natasha, thrusting towards her with desire, begging her not to stop. It felt so dirty to cooperate and beg so earnestly, but Y/n didn't care about any of it. Natasha moaned along with Y/n and couldn't hold back either after listening to Y/n feel this way about her.

“Cum for me.”

When Y/n heard Natasha's soft and loving voice moaning like that, she shook with pleasure. Her mind went blank. The room disappeared, the bed vanished. The world consisted only of her body, which contracted and pulsated to release all its pent-up arousal in one go. Y/n didn't know how much time had passed while she trembled and shook and moaned, even though she didn't want to. All she knew was that Natasha had been holding her the whole time and watched every single facial feature of her beloved princess.

TAGLIST: @taliiiaasteria @natty-taffy @natashaswife4125 @lifebyinez @aemilia19 @natwifesblog @clearcoloredlenses @ragoshmog @eringranola

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha smut #natasha romanov x reader #dom!natasha x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

560 notes · View notes

artethyst · 2 months

Text

~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister! OC/Reader

Little Silas Vanserra had Eris vowing to never have anymore children.

He thanked the Mother that his daughter was a little angel- still at the age where she wanted to be carried everywhere, snuggled peacefully in an adult’s arms.

Her pale hair and violet ringed autumnal eyes reminding him so much of the woman he loved.

Her older brother was the complete opposite.

He wondered if this was his punishment, a cruel joke played upon him by the Gods for having such a carefree life since his father died and reminding him that he needed to keep his faltered guard up.

And that’s how he felt in the early hours of the morning, with little hands patting at his face and excited little feet hopping on the oak floors of his bedroom.

Tired.

He cracked one amber eye open- unceremoniously meeting a matching golden flecked iris, one full of wonder and guiltlessness, as he supposed his own once were.

He closed it as quickly as it had opened, letting a wry smirk take over his ostensibly lazed features.

“Daddyyyy I know you’re awake-“ the little boy began incredulously before shrieking in glee as Eris swooped him onto his chest with ease, tickling his son mercilessly as his Mate softly slept beside him.

After the boy had relented, his rounded cheek flushed with the childish mirth of giggles, Eris couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the boy’s wild red locks.

As expected the boy’s mother was still soundly asleep, Eris had always been a light sleeper, in fact having his Mate beside him and children down the hall only worsened the fact, even though his father was no longer a threat- to him or his loved ones, simply having them in such a place always had him on high alert.

Even though he had done his very best to rid the Autumn Court of longtime Advisors, the types of men that would love nothing more than to see the Night Court Princess with a Fae bane arrow through her much too large heart, he knew there was no good in him-undeserved of him in ever feeling content.

It had the opposite effect on his wife, who admittedly had never slept better than when she was in the comforting arms of her husband- the natural warmth emanating from him lulling her into such ecstasy she wished she never had to be cruelly ripped away from by the chill of the Autumn morning.

She had never really slept well in the Night Court, the pain of living there without her mother sister always too much to bear.

Eris was her new home.

Since having children- her body still not quite having recovered from their second and Eris insisting she get as much rest at she could, even the joyous squeals of her firstborn still wouldn’t- couldn’t make her budge.

“Daddy Uncle Lulu said you p-pwomised-“

“Promised,”

“Promised to show me m-my fire againnn!”

The boy was practically trembling with excitement, his father’s hands coming to steady him as his little body wriggled with joy, perched on his father’s raised knees who raised a slim digit to his smaller lips, reminding him to remain quiet as possible.

Not that it would have made a difference to the blissfully knocked out woman beside them.

“Did he now?” Eris withered, the thought of his brother- knowing just how much he treasured the few late mornings a High Lord might have, had told his son- who’s adorable little face noone could deny, that those small, valuable hours were reserved for “magic time”.

It took only a brief moment, a fleeting fall of Silas’ dimpled grin- his mother’s grin, to have the High Lord swinging his legs from the refuge of his silken sheets, his boy held firmly in his strong hands.

“Then I think it is best we get dressed appropriately, what do you say Little Flame?”

The boy simply cheered in response and Eris couldn’t help the grin on his own face at the feel of chubby hands around his neck in a makeshift embrace, carrying him down the hall as his son rattled on in half nonsensical toddler speak about how he was going to ‘beat his Uncle Lulu in a duel’.

The Maids cooed as the little Prince raced down the hall in his teeny tiny Autumnal uniform- gifted to him by his Aunty Elain who thought they were the cutest thing ever.

The boy stopped when he reached the top of the grand staircase, skidding to a halt with a nervous expression on his little face.

The same staircase his Mummy always carried him down, the same staircase he had been told to scoot down on his bottom in case he tripped, the same staircase she had been slowly helping him descend himself (holding his hand tightly and giving up halfway as he took nearly a whole minute per ten steps)

Eris watched him amusedly- a miserable jutted lip and a coy flush on his baby cheeks.

“Umm Daddy, M-Mummy said I am not s’pose to go down m-myself in case of ouchies…”

That was not what she had said.

“I thought you were a big boy now, hmm?” Eris teased as his son pouted, just as his mother would have.

“I-I am…” Silas’ point was refuted with the small grabby motions his little arms made to his father who looked down at him with a smirk.

“Do big boys get carried down the stairs?”

“Ummm…Yes?” The boy widened his glimmering autumnal eyes, “pleasies?”

And so with a roll of his eyes, all in good humour, Eris fastened his excitable son against his chest as they began to exit the grand estate, heading into the vast, luscious gardens where they would begin their training.

Lucien could only laugh when found his brother- sincere and unbridled joy dancing in his otherwise piercing gaze, watching his son chase after the little flames he made for him.

“Uncle Lulu!” The boy squealed, barrelling into the male who swung him atop his shoulders with ease.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Eris warned, “he has quickly figured out how to control his magic, you might end up with that treasured hair of your singed at the root.”

Silas nodded furiously, his little feet hitting the floor as he flexed his small palm as proof, and to his pure wonder, delicate embers- faint as they were, twinkled at his will.

“Look Daddy! I did it! I did it!” Eris couldn’t help but chuckle softly as his son danced with not only with the little flicker he had mustered with his father’s help, but larger wistful wisps that flowed around him with delicate care.

Eris couldn’t help but feel his heart constrict, wishing nothing more than to give his children the childhood he had wanted- deserved.

He took one look at his son and wondered how anyone could ever hurt him, let alone do it himself.

He wondered what he had done to make his own father hate him so, vowing to never once make his own offspring feel even a fraction of the way he had.

For what seemed like hours Lucien and Eris entertained the little boy, sometimes engaging in a silent battle between one another who could impress the young heir the most.

Lucien eventually was called away and Eris wondered if his years were finally catching up to him, small burn marks littering his clothes from his son’s inexperienced hands and an ache in his legs from chasing after him.

After Silas’ giggles had dissipated along with his energy, Eris suggested they head back, the boy agreed sleepily, the thrum of magic still alive in his little body as Eris made a mental note to keep an eye on his budding powers.

“T-Thank you for giving me my fire,” Silas mumbled, stumbling over to his father “love you Daddy…”And as a pair of all too familiar amber eyes met the High Lord’s blurring own, he bent down and received his greatest gift in his trembling arms.

A reminder he would never be the man who had damned him, a reminder that he was a good man- a good man that was loved.

#fanfic #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra x oc #eris acotar #eris vanserra x reader #eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris x reader #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar

287 notes · View notes

iheartlegolas · 1 year

Text

𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ pairing: legolas x fem!reader

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ warnings: alcohol consumption, smut (MDNI pls), very light breathplay/choking

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ word count: 2.9k

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ synopsis: there's no better place to be than in the bedchambers of the elven prince, as he eagerly yearns to give you a night you'll ask him to relive

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫note: it's time ! my first smut to ever be written & shared, thank u all for ur patience, please accept my apologies for posting the preview and then dipping without a trace…lol i largely underestimated my ability to write smut so i truly hope that you enjoy (and that it’s readable) ok ily bye enjoy!

The chill of the autumnal night establishes itself upon your skin, its reluctant air depriving you of warmth as you stifle a shiver that forces its way to your spine. You stand, leaning onto a tree carved into a grand pillar, concealed from the crowd's gaze with a clear view of the crisp sky in front of you. Your head turns to the elves glittering about in the grand hall, their hands holding glasses filled with wine. Elven wine. A sheepish smile finds you, the gilded rim of the glasses delivering memories of your first time of having made the soon to be realised mistake; the consumption of the potent liquid.

Your head snaps back to the stars as recollection inches closer, taste buds reminded of its lightness and sweet taste of berries which proved to be a mere facade. Ignoring the gentle warnings Legolas whispered to you as you were handed a drink, playfully brushing them off as you welcomed the wine into your mouth. The faces of bewilderment and suppressed laughs as you drunkenly clung to the Prince all evening, plastering his neck and face with kisses, speaking incoherent nonsense into his ear, his arms catching you every time with an all too familiar ease as you tripped on air over and over again.

Your eyes are struck by the face of the moon, feeling a shudder come over you. The moon being the only other witness to the night that followed as the Prince ended your attendance to the party prematurely—the moment you began tugging at his tunic, your whispers becoming coherent and too indiscreet for any ear not belonging to him to hear. His hands claimed you once your eager pleas were out of the average Elf's range of sight and sound, his mouth beckoning you to be quiet with his kiss. The warmth of the summer air and its moonlight draping your nude form as you laid atop his discarded tunic, a makeshift bed on the forest floor.

You tighten the grip on your chalice filled with non alcoholic drink, the aching heat in your core daring to consume you as you recall the way his head dipped in between your thighs, his tongue softer than the moss you clutched. You sigh at his absence, pulling away from the moon's trance as an unavoidable wave of longing claims you, staring into the liquid of your drink. You bring it to your mouth, the brim of the chalice is cool on your lips as you force a swallow and your insides cringe at its lack of something stronger. Then, drinking more as your attempts to not think of him fail, your mind on the tips of his fingers grazing across your back, his eyes resting as his arms held you against his chest, his calmed heartbeat lulling you to sleep. You swallow the final sip, setting the chalice down. Thirst crawls its way back to your mouth.

The overwhelming sensation of sobriety prods at you with the sharpness of a blade.

Your memory becomes clouded with interruption as a gentle pair of arms envelop you from behind. A smile eases onto your lips as his chin rests on your shoulder, smelling traces of wine in his breath. Your shoulders relax as they lean into his embrace, "At last, the Prince has graced me with his presence." You speak with words drenched in playful sarcasm, drawing out a deep chuckle.

"I have been searching for you."

You turn to face him, your eyes failing to resist the temptation to become distracted by the moonlight that comfortably rests upon his porcelain skin. Seconds pass and you finally allow yourself to blink, your lips pursing with accusation, "And it appears you got lost in a wine cellar."

His forehead inches to rest against yours, dwindling your yearning into a distant memory as he hums in response. "I've missed you." He breathes, sliding his hand from your waist to the side of your neck. You lean into his touch, his hand feeling irresistibly soft despite lifetimes of yielding his bow.

"I must insist that you disobey the King's orders the next time he dares to pull you away from me for longer than a fortnight." You brush your lips against his, exchanging breaths. Silence fills the air, freeing you of the sounds of the King's autumnal celebration, harps echoing away from your ears. Your lips meet his—the kiss you’ve been waiting for, warm, soft. An urge strikes you and you depart from him before he grasps the opportunity to light the kiss ablaze, "Unless you'd like me to beg."

A hand slips into the back of your neck, bringing you back to his mouth. You taste berries on his tongue as it enters your mouth. You moan into him, hands flying to grip his shoulders for strength against your weakening knees.

The noise of the guests pull him away, his vision scanning for a pair of eyes lurking, a wandering ear to hear your desires meant only for him. A stream of cheers and refills invades the invisible shield you created for the both of you, proving to be ineffective. You tug at the thick, velvet-like material of his tunic, feeling spoiled as his face turns to yours with concern, albeit realising as he catches your parting lips, sensing your want.

His hand reaches for yours, leading you into the dimly lit forest on a path most familiar. You trail behind him, his quickening pace and strong grip failing to pay any notice to the fallen leaves that stick to the silken material of your dress, the thorns from the bushes tearing almost too easily into the delicate cloth. The path brightens as you near a reentrance to the Elven King's halls, the forest pathway discreetly allowing the quickest way to your destination. Footfalls become more hurried as you smile with glee, a fistful of your dress clenches in your hand to prevent a fall into the moistened ground. You yelp above a tree vein with a mission to bring you to the earth's floor, "Legolas!" You laugh, eyes dashing to him as he falters. His frame towers over you, blending in with the surrounded oaks.

His hand softens into yours as he halts, placing his other onto the side of your neck, a thumb strokes your warmed cheek, "Forgive my eagerness, my starlight."

Your mouth opens in response, only allowing for a gasp to escape as his arms lift you from the ground, carrying on with haste until you are brought to his bedchambers at last. A sharp inhale penetrates you as his lips collide with yours, the shutting of the door reverberating through the room as you allow his hands to untie the cords of your dress, pulling you closer to him as it loosens against your skin. He releases himself from your lips, his kiss drifting to your ear.

His hands move to the sides of your face, "My little star," He whispers, his lips brushing against yours as you shiver, "Will you grant me my desire to please you tonight?"

His hardened length dares to distract you from his words, "Yes," you say, before your breath bids your lungs farewell as the simple act of breathing becomes a foreign concept. Your dress inches off of your shoulders under the command of his careful fingers, an eager gaze following his every move. Goosebumps rise as more of your skin is revealed to him, impatience stirring within your dampening core as he stops to plant kisses along your collarbone. "You cannot rush me into your chambers and undress me so slowly. It is torture." You whine. A deep chuckle vibrates against your neck before his hands grip your dress, pulling. The fine fabric you once adored turns to an unshapely mess as it hits the floor, and a sigh of relief waiting to be freed withdraws from your mouth. Strong arms hoist you up with the haste you crave, his mouth back on yours as he plants you onto the soft covers of the bed. Your hips raise to meet his cock, resulting in a groan and his tongue enters your mouth. His palm grips your thigh, and you watch with half lidded eyes as his mouth leaves yours to venture to your chest. His tongue caresses your breast, a gentle massage that sends your hand flying to his tresses and disturbs the neatness, moaning as his tongue swirls around your hardened nipple. His head rises, a lustful gaze searching for your eyes as they open, fondling your breast with his hand. He flashes you a smile and leaves a hot kiss on your neck, rising from his position above you to sit against the head of the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbow and look at him, unsure of why he stopped, mouth opening in question.

"Come."

You lift to your hands and knees, your gaze falling to the outline of his cock as you crawl. His hand grabs your wrist before it reaches and he turns you away from him, your back sinking into his chest. His hand is on your neck as you settle onto him. Your breath becomes uneven, watching his free hand slide down to your core and reach the hem of your undergarment. You help him remove the final piece, entirely exposed as your bare body warms against his attire.

"Tell me, my little star," He whispers into your ear as his fingers find your clit, sliding his tongue across the tip of your ear while you melt deeper into him, "Did you touch yourself while I was away?"

You shudder, feeling his fingers glide across the wetness that gathered in your core, whimpers escaping from your lips as his slickened fingers begin to circle your clit, hips lightly jolting to swallow his touches. You moan, throwing your head back into his chest. His grip tightens around your neck, fingers pressing gently to the sides to coax an answer.

You whimper, the sounds of your wetness brought to your ears, "Yes." You moan, gasping as his pace quickens.

You feel a smile against your skin, writhing against his strong hold, arching as the incomings of an orgasm begins to burn within you—then he stops. Your hand falls to the sheets, a whine forming in your throat.

“Show me.” Legolas says, his voice low, fingers rising from your cunt to rest upon your breast, “Touch yourself.”

You hum softly, turning to face him with a look of question, your cheeks burning with heat at his command. He’s serious—lips curled into a subtle smirk, his eyes exploring the expanse of your shivering body—all while his hand remains wrapped around your neck. Your hand rises, fingers grazing your abdomen, lowering slowly to your aching cunt. A deep inhale enters you as your eyes close, leaning your head back into him as you start to pleasure yourself. Heat overtakes your entire body as it burns against his, soft moans slipping out of your mouth as his words of encouragement—“good girl” “just like that, little dove” “show me how good it feels”—spill into your ear, prompting you to hasten your touches. His hand travels down to your clit in favour of replacing yours, which you gladly retract as it flies to grip the sheets, surrendering under his fingers. A wave of pleasure washes over you, gasping as an orgasm arrives. The Prince is intent on driving you mad with pleasure as he continues circling your delicate pearl, but your trembling hand seizes his wrist, whimpering with a weak effort to bring a pause to his pace, "Legolas."

His fingers settle down into a leisure pace while your heartbeat struggles to calm itself in its enclosure. "Were you not eager for me to pleasure you?" He toys in a deep tone.

"I want you inside of me." You breathe, your grip loosens on his wrist as your muscles remember how to function, the tenseness possessing your body finding relief as his fingers stop. You shift, turning to face him, cheeks heating at the sight of his face. You resist the urge to grind against his lap as you work on removing his attire, straddling him with a timidness that he finds irresistibly adorable. You avoid the wolfish smile tugging at his lips, your mouth watering as his tunic comes undone, unsteady hands reaching to explore his toned chest.

"After all the moments we shared," He inches closer, fingers raising your chin. Your eyes meet his, weakening under his gaze, "You still remain coy as though it was the first time."

Vision blurs from his face to the ceiling as he flips your body to lay against the soft covers of the bed. He rises and stands at the foot of the bed, gaze towering above your splayed form with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. You engage in the act of watching him as he takes the role of undressing himself, staring in awe while your insides flutter as your hand awaits restlessly to feel his cock. His return to you is quick, gratefulness erupting within when his mouth devours you with a fervent kiss. A tongue caresses yours before interruption strikes him with a moan, a sensual stroke of your hand treading dangerously along the length of him. Your fingers curl around him, raising your hips to tease his cock with the wetness of your dripping pussy—but he stops you, restraint apparent on his clenched jaw as he resists the desire to sink his cock into you, dragging his lips to the expanse of your chest, then lowering as his hands stroke your thighs, parting them. You watch as he presses kisses to your inner thighs, reaching to grab hold of his hair. His mouth moves to your core, his warm breath fanning over your cunt. You throw your head back and moan as his tongue licks along your heat, tasting the remnants of your orgasm then trailing up to suckle on your clit. His hand slides up to your breast as he slips two fingers inside of you, curling in upward motions and sending you into bliss. His name releases from your mouth through soft whines, his tongue bringing trembles trickling into your thighs. Your hips roll into his mouth with delicate force, clutching the covers as you moan through the orgasm he brings you. You loosen, laying slack as you take deep breaths, the wondrous exhaustion of being sent to heaven a second time has caught hold of you. He kisses your thigh with tender touches of his hands, then rises to meet you. Your arms wrap around him in embrace, pulling him into a kiss while his cock prods at your thigh. He reaches down to align himself with your core, saturating his length with your wetness. You rock your hips against him as it slides along your slit, whimpering in desperation for him to fill you whole. The head of his cock pushes into your cunt, and a moan leaves his mouth as he buries himself into you, reaching for your hand and enclosing his fingers with yours as he pins it above you. You moan with him as his thrusts grow deeper, pulling him close. A cry escapes your lips and your walls clench around him, raking your nails across his back with quivering lips. You love the familiarity of it all—how he knows every delicate spot to drive into over and over again, the control over your body that he masterfully possesses. His thumb trails across your lower lip as his eyes drink in the sight of you beneath him, your writhing body and nipples brushing against his chest, clinging onto him with your arms while you fill the room with sounds of your pleasure as he pumps in and out of you.

Moments like this are dragged to a wish for eternity as his palm cradles your cheek, his thrusts slowing in an attempt to prolong your bliss—and all you can do is stare into those captivating hues as your vision blurs before your eyes shut. Your mouth parts, soundless save for the shaking of your breaths, a trembling hand reaches for the back of his neck as you shudder into your climax, the walls of your heat convulsing around his girth. "Fill me." A beg cries from your tongue, “Please.” You whimper, cheeks burning.

Your words bring a groan to his lips as his composure crumbles. His cock twitches inside of you, spilling his seed into you, dipping his head down to meet your lips for a kiss—messy, with broken breaths in between, pressing his forehead against yours.

The subtle tremble of your thighs remains as he finally pulls out after a tender moment with his head rested in the crook of your neck. He pulls the covers to your bodies, reaching to bring you closer. You nestle into him and sigh with contentment, cheeks stamped with heat that has finally begun to cool. His fingers graze the expanse of your back under the covers, lips pressing light kisses into your neck. Your eyes close, heavy with sleep, releasing calming breaths that mingle with his as he gazes upon the sight of your face, “Gi melin.” He says and kisses your forehead, resting his chin above your head as sleep claims you.

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ translations

elvish - english

gi melin - i love you

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ taglist: @actualnymph @celestialuna13 @silversword7000 @starbirdfinch @summerannabelle @quackquackmfs @legolaswhore @iaur @straysugzhpe @idk-whatamidoinglmao @desert-fern @suddenlyperson @zealousfartsandwich

(some usernames aren’t able to be tagged so if you joined the taglist and didn’t get tagged pls lmk)

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ did u enjoy?

♡ pls leave a like, comment, or reblog ! ↷　

#legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas smut #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #legolas #legolas fanfiction #lord of the rings #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #legolas thranduilion #legolas oneshot #legolas imagine

2K notes · View notes

honeykaes · 9 months

Text

heart's loyalty

pairing: kazuha x femme!reader II 2.7k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, heavy angst, use of she/her pronouns and descriptions of afab!reader, based on feudal japan, arranged-marriage with scaramouche, reader is a foreigner, exhibitionism, public sex, praising, body-worship, fingering, creampie, character death, cheater!reader, can be read as yandere!scaramouche, unedited

synopsis: kazuha never thought that when he was assigned to protect daimyo kunikuzuishi’s wife his loyalty would shift from the shogun to you and when you asked to run away with him, he couldn’t deny you.

Early fall was one of Kazuha’s favorite times of the year. The heat from the summer was beginning to drift away as leaves would slowly float down from his favorite maple trees. He loved the garden in the small manor of the daimyo’s wife as it captured his favorite scene perfectly.

As he turned the corner of the manor, he saw your form. You were sitting on a large rock next to the tall maple tree, giving you shade. A solemn gaze had taken up your face as maple leafs slowly drifted down around you. You revealed your hands from the sleeves of your ornate yukata, picking at a small loaf of bread you threw a yard away towards the koi pond.

His autumn-tinted eyes softened, heart warming at the side of seeing you, yet a small sadness clawed at his heart seeing you so depressed. He couldn’t fault your emotions as if he was trapped in a loveless marriage, he couldn’t smile all the time either.

You were a foreigner picked to be the wife of Daimyo Kunikuzushi by the Shogunate, Raiden Ei. She wanted access to your country's military and weaponry that came from the West as a deterrent from anyone who sought to challenge her power. Therefore, you became a sacrificial pawn to a game of chess you had no means of playing, let alone winning.

He remembered the night you first came to the estate as he walked the quiet halls before hearing your sobs coming from the other side of the sliding door. He was merely randomly assigned to be your personal guard by the daimyo for his skills in sword fighting but his lack of heart to actually fight in conflicts unless necessary.

When he slid the door open, seeing your shocked and tearful face turn in shock that night, he struggled to come up with the words to even greet your depressed form, not knowing what he could say to stop you from crying. He merely walked up and bowed, getting to his knees and lifted his head down, vowing both to you and to his heart to try to give you a better experience of the many years you had awaiting in the country of Inazuma.

As Kazuha walked closer to your form in the garden, your eyes flickered to him—light returning in your dull gaze. He sat besides you on the rock, looking up at the rings of light that managed to escape the maple leaves before placing his pale, calloused hand on yours and weaving his fingers.

A bond between the wife of the daimyo and the samurai guarded to protect her happened gradually but remained strong, leaving both of them longing to be with one another openly. But, when daimyo Kunikuzushi left to return to his larger mansion or to visit the Shogun, it was him that got to warm your bed every night, joined together in a secret but passionate union.

Kazuha was thankful that hardly any workers were at this estate before a small number. Here, they were free to pretend they were together.

But it was only pretend; a reminder Kazuha so sadly acknowledged whenever the Daimyo would return to break that fantasy.

Kazuha felt you squeeze his hand tighter as he turned his head to your form. You stared out to the koi pond, watching the fish swim in circles in the small patch.

“My bird…you know the one I have in my room right?” you asked in a low voice. Kazuha nodded as you sighed, throwing another small chunk of bread to the pond.

“..I let it fly free from its cage. When I went to feed it today, it was looking out to the sky. How could I not? A bird isn’t meant for a golden cage” you mumbled. You loved that bird with every fiber of your being, Kazuha knew letting go was harder for you than you let on. Kazuha lifted his intertwined hands with yours to his mouth, offering a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“...I’d go with you in case you decide to follow that bird and leave your cage,” Kazuha replied. You briefly smile before lips curling downwards into a frown, throwing the remainder of the bread in the pond.

“No, you couldn’t Kazuha. Your loyalty was pledged to Shogunate Ei and Daimyo Kunikuzushi. You’d end up getting killed for treason if you decided to escape with you,” you whispered. Kazuha let his hand go from yours, bringing it up to caress your cheek. His thumb brushed against the skin, feeling the warmth from your cheeks.

“I am only loyal to those in my heart,” he murmured, closing the gap between you as his lips graciously captured your own. Your bodies eventually got closer as the samurai's hand refused to part from your cheek. You whispered out his name, wrapped your hands around his neck to kiss him deeper.

You gasped feeling his hips buck and grind at your thigh, parting his lips with heavy breaths.

“We can’t do this here…in the garden. Someone could see—” Kazuha briefly silenced you with his lips before leaning out, trailing his lips along your neck.

“I dismissed everyone to go to their courtier. Only you and me remain in this garden,” he whispered, nipping at your earlobe. You softly chuckled before leaning in to kiss the samurai once more as his hands began to paw at your clothed thighs. His hands snuck past the fabric of your yukata and their hadajuban, cupping their cunt eliciting a breathless sigh from you. His lips continued pecking along your neck, so delicate and quick as if a butterfly was landing on them.

Kazuha finger brushed against your clit as jolts of pleasure wavered throughout your body. You ground your core against his hand, desperate to get more friction from the pad of his thumb. He pressed against the bundle of nerves, offering quick circles to it. You whined once more, shifting from his touch.

“Always so lovely and soft for me, my lady,” he murmured, voice muffled as he pressed his mouth against your nape. Your arousal was beginning to drool out of your hole, coating his finger that was toying with your clit with the essence. As his ministrations went faster, two fingers prodded at your entrances—teetering back and forth—before finally allowing them to sink into your cunt.

As you moaned out his name, you quickly covered your mouth, muffling the soft moans Kazuha so desperately wanted to hear from you. Your walls fluttered against his fingers slowly plunging themselves deeper inside of you. He soon curled them up as he pumped them, your body jolting as he finally found what he was looking for.

Your walls clamped down pulsating against his fingers curling and moving themselves inside of you to massage that spot. Your hips gyrated and grinded, nub from your clit beginning to slightly burn in pleasure.

“That’s right, my dove. Just let yourself fall into the pleasure,” he whispered deep in your ear as his free hand made way to your clothed breast. He gave it a squeeze, moaning lowly himself as if he could perfectly visualize the pair out as he did before. He shifted in his seat, rubbing his thighs together as his cock pressed firmly against the thin fabric of his fundoshi.

His tongue darted from his lips, planting a long stride against your neck, tasting the salty sweet mixture of your sweat and lotions on the skin. His mouth settled against your ear, his hot breath causing goosebumps to sprout throughout your body.

“Please don’t deprive me of your beautiful voice, dove. I need to hear how I am making you feel,” he moaned, lifting his hand away from your breast to the hand covering your mouth. As he gently moved it away, the corners of his lips curled in delight hearing the soft groans elicited from his fingering continuously pumping themselves inside of you.

“Kazuha..ha! I’m gonna…please! I’m gonna…!” you moaned out, voice beginning to rise in tone from Kazuha’s pace increasing. He quickly leaned forward, capturing your lips once more as you finally reached your high shivering in his touch, hips grinded against his hand.

As he leaned away, Kazuha’s gaze was half-lidded and darkened in lust. Both of your lips are glossy with a translucent string of saliva connected to the pair. His gaze softened once more, admiring your afterglow of your climax.

“You make me feel so drunk as if I was a fool. How easy you tempt me, my dove…” he whispered, sliding his fingers out of your cunt as you whined. His hands snaked through the fabrics once more, revealing the coated digits.

“Perhaps, I should have waited to have you in your chambers. You always taste so divine,” he hummed to himself, pressing his fingers against his mouth. His tongue curled around his fingers coated in your slick, cleaning them before rubbing the excess saliva against his yukata.

“As sweet as always but alas, I don’t think I can wait anymore,�� Kazuha groaned. You soon found yourself up on your feet, pinned against the base of the tree as Kazuha’s eyes drank in your disheveled form.

Kazuha quickly disrobed, pulling his trousers and fundoshi off and exposing his cock against the cool early fall breeze. His haori decorated in maple leaves fell along the gravel of the garden as well, leaving him completely bare as his cock lulled against his toned, pale lower stomach.

He tenderly wrapped his hand around his length before letting out a breath sigh, slowly jerking it as his cock pulsated in his grasp. His base soon shined in precum, now coated on his head that budded from his flushed tip. Kazuha’s gaze rises to yours curling his lips into an amused, and slightly mischievous smile, witnessing your eyes avoiding to look down at his length.

“This isn’t the first time I've had you like this. There’s no need to be embarrassed, although you are rarely cute like this, my dove,” he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss against your cheek. You gnaw on your bottom lip, feeling his heavy cock rest against your thigh.

“I-I know that! But we’re outside…,” you whined. Kazuha chuckled, kissing the other side of your cheek.

“Just as our ancestors before us and the animals that roam along these vary lands. There’s no need to be embarrassed, I promise it is just us here and no watchful eyes except my own,” he reassured. You shyly nod as Kazuha’s hand made its way to loosen the obi and grabbed onto the fabric of your kimono, revealing your breasts to him.

He leaned in once more, pressing a kiss against the valley of your breasts before lifting your leg to his hip, exposing your drooling cunt to his gaze. The tip of his cock nudged against your sensitive clit as you whined once more, gliding along your slit as he struggled to find your entrance. With a soft grunt, he finally finds it allowing him to finally sink into your warmth. His pace was slow and deliberate, grinding his pelvis against your entrance.

You moaning out his name was his favorite melody as you wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing him to plunge deeper inside of you. The soft noises of nature around you were eventually drowned out by the snapping noises of skin coming to contact with one another and your breathless sighs of pleasure.

It was overwhelming, feeling your walls desperate to pull him in deeper and fluttered against his sensitive cock. His other hand found it way to your covered ass, squeezing it tightly to push your bodies closer to one another.

“I always find myself spellbound and so captivated by your ethereal form…forgive me for losing myself, my dove,” he moaned, pressing his face against your nape. His pace soon grew faster.

“I will always be yours, no matter what,” Kazuha grunted, strokes becoming faster. Your body bounced at his relentless pace as weaker branches begin to shake and tremble from his pace. Kazuha’s blunt nails dug into the plush skin of your thighs futility trying to sink deeper inside of you, muffled whimpers of your name escaping from his lips. Snapping his eyes shut, Kazuha reached his peak as thick ropes of cum shot inside of you. His hips bucked—weakly thrusting—as he slowly came down, leaving a kiss on the nape of your neck.

“Ah…how could I let myself become undone before you…” he softly chuckled, lifting his hand away from the globe of your ass to toy with your throbbing clit to cease your whines. You squirmed in his grip, grinded against his cock still nestled deep inside of you plugging the cum that was threatening to leak out. He grinded his hips, feeling your walls slowly caved down, pressing tighter circles against your clit

“That’s it…you’re almost there…just a little more dove,” Kazuha hummed, flicking your overstimulated clit rapidly. Your back arched, leg shivering in pleasure as you finally reached your high. Kazuha peppered kisses against your nape.

“There you go…such a good, little dove,” he cooed.

“Kadehara.”

Your eyes softened as you placed your hands against his flushed cheeks.

“Kaedehara Kazuha.”

Kazuha snapped his eyes open, looking down at the gravel—the pain of the rocks pressed against his legs kneeling down. His eyes felt heavy, skin much sweeter than usual as a pure white kimono clung onto him uncomfortably. When he went to move his arms, the tight rope burned against his wrist as they stayed in place bound behind him.

He finally leaned his head up, observing his surroundings. Familiar faces of his comrades were sat around a courtyard, varying faces of disgust, disappointment and anger on their faces.

“...You will be executed for treason against the Shogun,” a woman called out, with a decree in her hands. There his name was, written in kanji, penned by the all-powerful Raiden Ei,

“Ah.. that was right,” Kazuha slowly whispered to himself. He buried himself in a dream to forget the nightmare that was his reality.

He remembered that day, as your bodies were still joined together, you gently clasped his face and pleaded that you needed to run away, to be with him and happy. Just as he pledged before, Kazuha happily complied, cleaning the two of you before packing a small rations and cash to get on the next boat leaving Liyue.

He thought, together, they could make it. He was skilled enough to fight off against ronin or his old comrades.

What he didn’t expect was the skilled power Daimyo Kunikuzushi had. Kazuha knew him to always have others do his dirty work. It only took a half a day for him to find you two with ten men at his side. The servants must have reported the pair or he arrived at your manor earlier than you thought—you weren’t sure how and why he was able to know where you two were headed.

Pinned down against six samurai, all Kazuha could do was reach out to your crying and screaming form, desperately reaching out for his hand. It was as if the world had slowed watching your form slowly disappear from his sight as he was rushed to be arrested.

He knew you would be physically alright, but you’d be put into a smaller cage and under a more watchful eye by the Daimyo.

Him, however…

Kazuha’s eyes drifted up, feeling the weight of a hateful gaze glare down at him. Kunikuzushi stood behind him, a katana by his side.

One man he knew to be Heizou, solemnly got up from his seated position, walking over and behind him, covering Kazuha’s eyes with a white cloth. Kazuha sensed Heizou left to return back to his position—the samurai’s eyes waiting in hesitant anticipation for his death.

Hearing a katana unsheathe from its hilt, the corners of Kazuha’s mouth lifted into a smile before closing his eyes. His mind conjured your image once more; how he wished he could see your smiling face one more time. He’d sadly have to leave you lonely for now.

“Do you have any last words,” Daimyo Kunikuzushi seethed out. Kazuha could feel the twisted smile on the daimyo’s face, relishing that he was about to die by his hand.

”I followed her to this life and I will follow her to the next.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #kazuha imagines #kazuha scenarios #tw yandere

647 notes · View notes

hellcat8908 · 3 months

Text

Love Lost Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Miscarriage, Emotional Hurt, Angst

All it took was the loss of your unborn child to create a rift in your relationship with Azriel. The moment Madja broke the news, he shut down and, by doing so, shut you out. You were left to process the grief and guilt by yourself as Azriel found every excuse to be gone. He always came home late and left early. He hadn't touched you in weeks and could barely look at you.

You tried to get him to come back to you in the beginning, but it always ended in a fight with him walking out. You eventually gave up and hoped he would work through it on his own. The bond you shared had grown dark and cold on both ends. You knew you were standing at a fork in the road but refused to make a choice, leaving you stuck. Azriel made the decision for you without even realizing it.

You were visiting Feyre and Nesta at the river house. Azriel was with Rhys and Cassian in the study. You were drinking tea and talking about books when you heard shouting from the study. Feyre and Nesta started walking towards the commotion with you behind. "She needs you!" Rhys shouts. "Stay out of my relationship! Just give me the assignment and let me be on my way!" Azriel shouts back. "No, you're not working until you deal with your grief!" Rhys states, noticing Feyre and Nesta enter.

You linger in the hall not wanting to make matters worse. "What's going on?" Feyre asks. "Rhys needs someone to check on the camps but won't send me!" Azriel says lowering his tone towards Feyre. She studies him for a minute, "Az, I don't think..." she starts to say but stops when you step into the room. "Let him go, if he wants." You say as everyone looks at you, well everyone but him. "Are you sure?" Rhys asks. "You can't be serious?!" Cassian and Nesta say in unison. "Let him." You say before turning away and leaving, not caring to hear anymore.

You make your way home and settle in on the couch. A while later, the door opens, and Azriel walks in. You ignore him as he moves about grabbing what he needs. "What were you doing at the river house?" He asks. "I was visiting Feyre and Nesta." You answer. "Don't you have other friends? Friends who aren't a part of my family." He says. "Your family?!" You shout as anger builds up inside of you. "They're my family too. They've been more of a family to me than you have lately." You say. "You so selfish! You can't just let me have one thing, can you?!" He shouts.

"You're seriously calling me selfish? Maybe you should look in the mirror." You say. "You're the most selfish person I know y/n!" He says. "Oh yes, I'm so selfish to sit back and watch you pine over Elain when it was killing me, or when I'm not sure you'll make it home alive but don't beg you to stay because of how much you love this court and your family, or how selfish of me to lose your unborn child!!!" You scream as tears flood your eyes. "I'm so selfish to stay here and give you space to grief while I barely hold myself together. Go on your mission, Azriel, bury yourself in work, and keep ignoring me. When you walk out that door, though, just remember you made the decision."

His anger building at your words, too upset to fully understand the subtle ultimatum you gave him. He crosses to the door and walks out before soaring towards the sky. You feel the last of your heart break. After the tears have dried up, you quickly pack a bag of clothes before writing a note.

Azriel,

I can not do this anymore. You made your choice, and by doing so, you've made mine. I hope someday you'll be able to deal with your grief in a healthy way. I know you love me once, and I love you, but now love isn't enough anymore, not for us.

- y/n.

You leave the note on the counter with the dagger you planned to give him after the baby had been born. You take one last look at the house before you winnowed to autumn. Eris had agreed to let you stay after you had reached out to him, knowing it might come to this, no matter how badly you had hoped it wouldn't.

Next Part: 2

#acotar #batboys #acotar fanfic #sarah j maas #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar angst #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger

371 notes · View notes

valyriantarg · 2 months

Text

Dance Of Dragons

1.Harsh truth

Winterfell

Once in Winterfell, Prince Jacaerys had taken his chance and won the trust of Lord Cregan. He was a young lord used to ruling his vassals and even more used to the harsh weather and the wild things that roamed the north.

Cregan and Jace became close friends, hunting together, drinking together and discussing political issues. At night the two exchanged stories of their families. Lord Stark was happy to meet another man like him and found his equal in the prince. Jace spent many days in winterfell enjoying the company of the Stark Lord.

It was a calm afternoon, Cregan and Jace were sitting by the fireplace in the main hall of Winterfell as the autumn wind howled outside the great keep. They were discussing the events that were about to unfold in the continent, but both were surprised by the sound of a dragon's screech coming from the horizon.

"Did you hear that?" Cregan asked his friend, raising his head to listen.

Both Cregan and Jace listened carefully in silence as the sound of the dragon's screeching echoed through the castle. There was no doubt that a dragon was near and judging by the sound of its screeching it was flying towards Winterfell.

They exited the main hall and walked out into the great courtyard of Winterfell. The massive black dragon was hovering right above the castle keep, its wings outstretched as it kept up its wailing scream. They stopped outside the main doors and looked up, Cregan observing the dragon with a mixture of awe and fear.

The mighty black dragon made its descent from the sky and landed outside the great doors of Winterfell. It filled the entire place with its enormous size, its wings outstretched and its tail lashing dangerously from side to side. Cregan watched with awe and cautious as the dragon landed, its massive claws gripping the ground.

Jace saw none other than his step sister Jaehaera. The princess dismounted the cannibal and walked towards Jace and Cregan; she was a vision to behold, Cregan thought, her silver hair flying in the wind, and her amethyst eyes staring at the pair.

“Sister, what brings you to winterfell?” Jace asked her as he approached her. Her dragon remained still behind her thrashing its tail back and forth.

“I’m afraid I carry bad news”. She said and looked at her brother with a solemn face, her amethyst eyes filled with sorrow. The growl of the cannibal making the situation worse.

"What is it?" Jace asked, his voice also soft and worried.

“Luke has been killed. I’m sorry Jace.” she revealed .

Jace's heart froze and his breath caught in his throat as his sister delivered the devastating news to him. He had expected that she came to Winterfell with a message, but not that it would be this harsh.

"Luke is dead?" He spoke in disbelief his eyes already watering.

Jaehaera placed her hand on his.

“When he arrived to Storms End Aemond was already there. He taunted him, threatened to take out his eye as a debt was left unpaid. Luke tried to run away. Aemond chased him on vhagar and…” she paused

Jace listened to his sister, his eyes widening in disbelief as she told him the story of his little brother's death.

"And?" Jace asked her, his voice tense. "What happened afterwards? Jaehaera speak!"

“Vhagar ate Luke and Arrax….” She spoke the final words her eyes already filled with tears.

Jace felt like someone had punched him in the stomach at those final words. His breath catching in his throat as he collapsed on the ground.

“Rhaenyra wants you back for his funeral” she kneeled down and spoke more calmly to him.

“Mother must be devastated. The two of them had a special bond” Jace spoke as he shed tears.

“I promise you brother, Luke will be avenged. They will pay for what they have done.” She said firmly to her brother.

“I’ll stay in winterfell to continue the plans with Lord Stark. But you, you must head back to Dragonstone.” She said and helped him back to his feet.

With these last words Jace was off to Dragonstone leaving Jaehaera back in Winterfell with Lord Cregan Stark.

Taglist

@littleshadow17

@lightdragonrayne

#hotd fanfic #rhaenyra targaryen #cregan stark x reader #daemon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #cregan stark #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

140 notes · View notes

clemissleepy · 26 days

Text

Autumn Sadness

seungmin's rival for the title of 'jeongin's best friend' collapses in his doorway.

wc : 1.7k

tw // implied sh , implied ed , fluff , angst , seungmin and reader are both very sensory-sensitive , seungmin is kinda rude at first , enemies to lovers but it doesn't actually go anywhere, this is just a lil drabble

seungmin hated that stupid face that was always glowing on jeongin's phone when he thought he wasn't looking. it enraged him to hear her obnoxious laugh through the walls and the way jeongin nearly completely ignored seungmin's existence.

when she came around to their shared apartment, it was like seungmin was a blanket. just used to everyone's benefit while he laid there and gained nothing. he didn't get to pick the show they watched, or the food they ordered, or what games they played. he just had to sit there and watch his best friend treat her like a princess.

the leaves were warm oranges and yellows. the sky was nearly gray and dead, wind chilly enough to dust pink on ones cheeks and nose, but not enough to numb their joints. seungmin had his headphones in, reading on his balcony bundled up in blankets and sweaters. he hummed to himself as he flipped through the familiar pages of his favorite book.

out of the corner of his eye, he could see something rushing. he could faintly hear the leaves crushing beneath someone's panicked steps and the creaking of the apartment's lobby door being opened. he caught a glimpse of the striped scarf the person worse and was now annoyingly aware of her presence.

just minutes later, he could hear keys shuffling around in the halls and the locks of his door clicking. the metal door slowly slammed shut and he rolled his eyes while closing his book to investigate. he unwrapped himself, throwing his blanket and story onto his plush comforter, and trotted out to the living space.

there she was, panting, in complete disarray. her scarf was tangled in her unusually disheveled hair. her eyes were uncomfortably pink and the way she darted around looking for something was getting on seungmin's nerves.

"jeongin's not here," he glares, hoping she'll take his hint to leave. but she just stares at him, eyes glossy as fat tears roll down her cheeks. a sob racks her body and she collapses onto her knees in the foyer.

"oh... um... okay," seungmin mutters while she wraps her arms around her and shivers. "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

she does not reply. rather, she curls over herself and chokes on her spit, groaning out and watching her tears puddle on the chill tile beneath her. her hands shake and run through her hair, tugging at it by the roots.

"okay, enough of that," seungmin comments, standing just in front of her and pulling her hands away from herself. 'they're soft,' he thinks. he notices how the white nail polish she always had on was chipped away, her usually clean and well kept nails were bitten far too short and the skin was picked at and fresh.

"what's wrong with you?" he continues to pry, looking down at her judgmentally. her head stays low as she pants and mumbles, rocking back and forth just enough for seungmin to notice. he supposes he needs to try a new approach.

he slowly kneels down, groaning at the ache in his back as he does. he reaches eye level with her and is very slow and gentle as he lifts her chin up to look at him. his eyes soften at the way her eyes just slightly turn inwards, making her look like a lost puppy. however, there is an obvious lack of color in her appearance, more like a homeless abandoned dog than one simply away from its home.

"i know i'm no jeongin and i know we're not friends by any means, but..." seungmin rests his hand onto her shoulder and slowly starts to untangle her from her scarf and jackets. "i'm here for you, if you need someone to talk to."

she chokes out her sickening laugh. "you just asked what the fuck is wrong with me!" she giggles while the tears drench her chin and neck. seungmin rests her scarf and jacket on the floor, now taking a close look at the way she's cradled into herself.

there was gauze wrapped tightly around her arms, suffocating her hands and turning them purple.

"you're cutting off blood," he states while starting to unwrap the bandages. he does not fail to notice the blood seeping through them, but he does not care. he is gentle and reassuring as he rewraps the gauze. "did you make a tourniquet anywhere else?"

she stares blankly for a moment, dissociating in front of the man she claimed did not have a soul. she catches his eyes and is lost in the way they are not as dead as she always perceived. they are small, half closed, but they are alive.

she points at her leg. beneath her jeans there is a lump where the gauze is and she hisses at the tension in her muscles.

"take your pants off."

"what?!" she yells, immediately regretting it from the scratch of her throat.

"well, unless you're gonna fix it yourself," seungmin rolls his eyes and stands up, offering one of his hands to her. she scrutinizes every inch of his face in an attempt to read his expressions just as she does jeongin. but she cannot see what lies behind his eyes or his foul mouth. she can only see the faint light of hope in the pit of darkness she's found herself in.

she adjusts the gauze on her thigh in the bathroom and seungmin insists she changes into some of jeongin's comfy clothes. specifically, his dinosaur pajamas. she is buried in the soft material, but comfortable nonetheless as seungmin leads her to the familiar couch and rests his own weighted blanket on top of her.

"beef or chicken?" he asks while tucking the edges of the blankets into her sides and ensuring she is mostly confined into a small roll of blankets and sadness.

"beef... for what?"

"ramen. you lost weight," he pads away into the kitchen and starts to boil water up in a pot. "i'm guessing you've been bottling everything up because jeongin has been having the time of his life with his girlfriend, yes?"

seungmin noticed the lack of his rival's voice through the walls the past few weeks. he was now hearing a much more trained voice coming from his speakers. it almost irked seungmin how jeongin seemed to shuffle away into a new world without his two best friends.

"how-,"

"i know everything. i know your coworkers have been talking shit about you behind your back and blaming you for things you didn't do. you're on your last warning before you get fired. i know your sister just started her tour in america so you're alone at home. i know your cat was diagnosed with cancer and you had to put her down last week. on top of that, you have exams next week, you can't get a hang of your calculus, and you're worried you'll never succeed, find love, or even make it out of college alive."

seungmin does not notice that he rambles. he knows there's an obvious annoyance in his tone, but he choosss not to acknowledge how odd it is that he knows so much about her.

the water is boiling, but the room is quiet. seungmin knows she can hear the buzzing of the lights, and the fridge, and the stove. so, out of the kindness of his heart, he turns the lights off and grabs an old pair of fluffy earmuffs from the foyer that he stuffs onto her head. 'her hair is so soft,' he thinks.

"well, you know my whole life story... you'd already know everything even if i wanted to tell you what's wrong," she grumbles.

"you talk pretty loud," seungmin shrugs and pours the noodles into the boiling water. "but i don't know why today was your breaking point. jeongin's at a photoshoot, not like it's a date that he abandoned you for."

"someone leaked my face and information. they got pictures of jeongin and i at a cafe and now... he's under fire for dating rumors and my sister is getting hate because of me and i'm so- they know where i live! i had to come here, i have to apologize to jeongin and ask if i can hide here."

"of course you can hide here, dumbass," seungmin chuckles. "and you should be more worried about your safety than jeongin or your sister's public appearance. they leaked your address?"

she nods silently and more tears stream down her cheeks. he finishes the ramen, letting it simmer in the pot with the seasoning. he then finds himself tensely beside her, hands anxious and trained to his sides while she starts to bresthe heavily again.

"you like pressure, right? lay down," seungmin commands, pushing her and watching her fall clumsily onto her side from being rolled inside blankets. she gasps and her eyes bug out, but she watches how seungmin crawls on top of her like a dog that doesn't know his own size and rests his dead weight onto her. she feels like she's floating on a cloud while simultaneously being grounded by the most wonderful weight imaginable.

it does not take either of them long to fall into an autumn nap, snores and drool falling from both their lips. seungmin shuffles in his sleep while she mumbles and hiccups quietly. the rain outside patters against the window rhythmically and their legs intertwine slowly as they adjust for comfort.

jeongin enters the apartment with grocery bags and his keys twirling on his finger. "seung-," he nearly yells, but he sees his roommates feet dangling off the arm of their couch. he notices the discarded jackets and scarf and feminine boots in the entryway, and deduces that his other best friend is here.

he does not, however, expect to see the both of them in a little cuddle pile. the ramen is still full on the stove at a simmer, the lights dim and the tv stuck on the netflix 'who's watching?' screen.

jeongin kneels down and whispers into seungmin's ear, "i knew you liked her."

"shut up, sushi roll needs peace and quiet," the older whines with a lisp and drag to his words. his hand lifts to the her cheeks and cups them oh so gently.

"she's sad... 'm gonna make her happy again."

thank you for reading! <3 ~clem

#skz #fanfic #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #writing #stray kids #seungmin #kim seungmin #skz seungmin #skz fluff #skz angst #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #skz fanfic #clem writes

131 notes · View notes

themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 5 months

Text

Under a Star-Flecked Sky

Author's Note: This was supposed to be some Rhysand x Reader fluff, but the depression brain-rot got the better of me and I wrote some angsty, post-UtM Rhys moments instead (don't worry there is some fluff at the end). My baby just needs a hug, and honestly I think SJM did him dirty by brushing his trauma Under the Mountain under the rug.

Warnings: Mentions of Amarantha, Rhys' Post-UtM Trauma

Summary: You're Rhys' mate, having already been with him before the Mountain, and are navigating Rhys' healing journey as best you can.

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

The bed was cold; the realization jarring you from the deep clutches of sleep. Your bed was never cold, not when your mate was in it. Rhysand ran warm, your own personal heater, usually spending the night curled around you, cocooned inside the safety of his wings, but those great wings and the male attached to them were nowhere to be seen. His side of the bed empty, the sheets rumpled, blanket haphazardly clinging to the side of the mattress like he'd flung it off in a hurry, even though you hadn't heard him get up.

You sat up, shivering in the chill coming through the open windows, the satin curtains billowing in the autumn breeze. It would be too cold to leave them open soon, a fact you knew often put your mate on edge, especially after...

You called for him down the bond you shared with your mate, worried. It had been a couple months since Rhys had returned home to Velaris after Amarantha; the nightmares had been constant the first couple of weeks, at one point they had gotten so bad he'd started spending the night at the Moonstone Palace, claiming he had work to do to avoid you and the rest of the Inner Circle from seeing him like that, but with some help from Madja and some other healers in the city he'd been able to get a handle on it. Usually. Some nights were worse than others. You'd tried to be as supportive as possible, even going down to the Library to read up on ways to help. There were calming teas you'd started making for him before bed, the recipe tucked in one of those old books, but you suspected Rhys drank it just to make you feel like you were helping, the cup still half full on the bedside table. You'd drifted off shortly after handing it to him last night.

When there was no answer down the bond, you crawled out of the bed, dragging the blanket with you. The black silk slip you wore did nothing to stave off the cold, you'd worn the birthday gift from Rhys down to its threads over the years he was gone. He'd offered to buy you a new one--multiple in more colors--but you'd refused. It was your favorite, you'd find some magic to keep it held together if you had to. Still, it was the wrong time of the year for it, and you opted to stay warm under the blanket instead of pausing to change into something else as you left the room in search of your mate, still calling for him down the bond.

He gave no answer, his end silent. As silent as it had been for the last 50 years, that great, formidable wall of adamant shielding him from you.

You bit your lip as you checked each room in the house, all empty, save for the one Cassian was snoring in at the end of the Hall. They'd started taking turns sleeping over, keeping an eye on their brother. Azriel had stayed the night before, Mor the night before that. They stole your wine and played old board games until the early hours of the morning, trying to get Rhys' to laugh, or smile at the least. He didn't do a lot of that these days.

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. He'd been through so much and half the time he'd just shut down and shut you out, unable to explain what had happened. What she had done to him. Most nights you wondered if there was a way to let you into Hell, just so you could kill her a second time. You'd had a long time to think about what you'd do if you ever had the chance to get your hands on her. Not that it mattered in the end, you'd never been able to get into the Mountain. You'd failed him then and it was starting to feel like you were failing him again now as you all but sprinted through the house.

It took longer than you would like to admit to notice that the balcony doors in the living room were open. Rhys left the windows open, never the doors, even if Velaris was the safest place in Prythian, he'd never leave you vulnerable like that, not unless he was nearby.

Tears pricked your eyes, your lower lip bleeding from how hard you'd been biting down on it as you stepped out into the frigid night air. The lounge chairs and tables along the edge were all empty, no glass of Rhys' favorite whiskey in sight.

Your heart thundered in your ears, thoughts racing. Where the hell was he? Had something happened? Was he in danger?

You were about to start calling his name in desperation before a shifting tile on the roof caught your attention. One of the pieces had been knocked loose--a new occurrence because you'd had to replace them after a drunk Cassian had tried to do a back flip off it last week.

Clutching the blanket around your shoulders with one hand, you used the other to pull a chair over to where the corner of the roof hung over the balcony, and carefully climbed up. The townhouse roof was not as steep as the Palace roof, or even the cabin in Illyria, where you and your mate used to sit and talk about all his plans for his city and his people.

That ache in your chest returned tenfold as you spotted your mate, sitting at the highest point of the roof, knees to his chest, wings wrapped around himself to fight against the cold. His head was tucked against his knees, ebony hair covering his eyes. This was not his spot to stargaze. This was not like all those times you'd sat together, whispering your dreams to the stars, so hopeful and eager for the future. This was not the ambitious and hopeful High Lord who had swept you into the glittering world of the Night Court and mapped out a future among the stars with you all those years ago. You had gone to the cabin in Illyria only once while he was away, and the loss of him, the bond so quite and empty and cold in the place you had formed it had been so devastating you'd almost ripped the place apart one wood plank at a time. At the time you had been so sure you had lost him forever that you'd nearly ripped everything you had built together apart in your grief. You had left all those dreams you shared in those woods and vowed that you would never whisper any prayers to the stars ever again. Not if their heir was gone and their reflection in his violet eyes would never look your way again. You had stopped dreaming in his absence. Nights like this you wondered if he had too. Perhaps the Mountain had taken more from both of you then you dared to admit, even to each other. What good were dreams if the stars no longer listened, if they would no longer answer you?

It was an easy climb to him compared to all the other roofs you had climbed to sit with him in the past, even with the blanket still clutched around your shoulders.

Rhys didn't look up. You weren't even sure he'd heard you. Still, you lowered yourself to sit next to him, the worry swirling in the pit of your stomach only beginning to settle as you took in the jasmine and citrus scent of him. This was the part where you said something witty, threw the blanket around him and chastised him for leaving you alone, but maybe those were games for the people you were before. The last time he hadn't heard you coming, too caught up in his own head to hear you, he'd flinched so hard his powers had knocked a bookshelf over, panic flooding the bond. He accidentally showed you a flash of red hair and pointed nails, scratching at his back before he'd ripped the memory away and locked himself in the bathroom. You'd been trying to find ways to avoid doing it ever again.

It was a long, tense few minutes before Rhys lifted his head off his knees just enough to look at you. "Did I wake you?" His voice was raw, like he'd been screaming.

You wanted to touch him, to hold him in your arms and stroke his hair and make it all better, as his touch had always done for you, but everything was so different. Sometimes you were sure he let you hold his hands because he knew you wanted to, not because he wanted to.

It had been a long couple months, you'd been weighing and measuring every word, trying not to startle him, trying not to make him feel any guilt or shame. He had saved you, and your family, had given everything he'd had to ensure that she didn't taint any bit of your home, you owed him a solid front, a shoulder to lean on. You had not spoken of how scared you had been, how cold and empty and wretched you had felt for every moment of the last fifty years. You'd crafted a nice mask for the court to see, holding steady in his absence, not taking it off, even after his return in hopes that it would ease his burden. But the words came tumbling out of you, the tidal wave of emotions bubbling up and bursting out in a rush, "You scared me."

He sat up a little straighter, pain flashing across his star flecked eyes.

"The bond was quite," tears pricked your eyes. "Cold. You wouldn't answer me. You'd shut me out." It was that last bit more than anything. You could handle the nightmares. You could handle this new version of your mate, because truth be told there had been times you weren't sure he was ever coming back, whatever shape he was in was irrelevant in the long run as long as he was alive. All the newness, the unease and uncertainty, the new quite version of him was easy to handle. But the quiet, knowing he'd shut you out again...

"I know that you need time, and space, and I'm trying to give that to you, Rhys, but..."

He unfurled his wings enough to wrap one around you, an arm sliding around your waist to pull you against his side. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered against your temple, planting gentle, feather light kisses against your skin as you buried your face in he crook of his neck.

He was here. He was safe. This was real. All things you often had to remind yourself of.

"Please don't shut me out like that," you whispered, the tears falling freely down your cheeks. "Not again. I can bear a lot, Rhys, but not any more of that."

His wings came back around to cover both of you as he stroked a hand through your hair. Still, aside from a few more whispered apologies, he didn't speak, didn't attempt to explain himself. You tried to tell yourself it was fine, he didn't have to explain, he'd earned the right to keep whatever he needed to to himself, if he wanted to tell you he would. But he still had not lowered his shields, did not project anything down the bond. A part of you wanted to scream, grab onto that tether that linked your souls together and shake it like you could somehow force life back into it. Maybe things would be better if you could. Maybe they'd be worse. You tried to tell yourself this was enough.

"There are things," he said finally, his voice pained like he was having trouble putting it together, no sign of that silver tongue of his. "Things I can't... can't talk about."

You laid your hand over his heart, feeling the uneven beat. It was rare for Rhys to be so obviously anxious.

"Things I won't talk about."

"It's not healthy-"

"No," he growled, tightening his grip on your waist to keep you from pulling back to look him in the eyes. By the uneasiness of his breathing you thought he might be crying himself. "You do not need to know. You will hear enough of my sins from everyone else."

Sins, as if he had done any of it willingly, as if he'd had any choice in it.

"You didn't have a choice," you began.

"It doesn't matter," Rhys countered. "That is not the story they will tell."

He would be the villain, the little lackey that did her dirty work, the monster that ripped people's minds apart for his evil queen. You'd heard the story in the High Lord's meetings over and over again--and worse, especially from Beron and Tamlin. "I don't believe anyone else's stories. I don't care what they think you've done, or why you'd done it. I don't care, Rhys, because it's not true."

He buried his head in the top of you hair, a shuttering breath ripping out his chest.

You shot as much understanding and love down the bond as you could, hoping some of it would eventually break through that wall between you. "I love you, I'll always love you, Rhys, nothing will change that."

His wings tightened around you, soft moonlight shining through the soft membrane, highlighting centuries worth of nicks and battle scars. You longed to run your fingers over them, familiarize yourself once again with the patterns and feelings you had forgotten in the last fifty years.

"But how are we supposed to move forward if we don't talk to each other?" You whispered. "I miss you. I miss talking to you. You're my best friend, my mate, we promised to always be honest and open with each other."

You twisted to be able to look at him, pulling away just enough to catch the glimmer of tears in his eyes. You reached out gently to wipe one off his cheek and he shuttered at the contact.

"It doesn't have to be tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week. I know that you need time, and I am not asking you to give me details you don't want to, but there's gotta be some way for us to talk to each other again, isn't there?"

He tilted his head to kiss your fingertips. "I'm sorry, I know I've hurt you," he murmured against your fingertips, his lips soft and warm against your chilled skin. "I'm trying." He moved his lips to your palm, placing featherlight kisses on the way down, his offering of another apology, as if to tell you he was sorry you had to be there to wipe away any tears. He'd been like that before, but not this bad.

"I know," you said, "but in the mean time, can I at least have a thought for a thought?"

He hummed against your palm. "You first."

"I'm thinking we really should have put in more comfortable roof tiles," you said, twisting against the tile that was biting into the underside of your thighs.

He shifted and pulled you to sit in his lap with a huff of what was almost a laugh. The shift in conversation was good, kept you both from spiraling further into all the uncertainty the future still held. If you couldn't talk about the past, at least there were things in the present to talk about.

"And I'm thinking," you added as you settled against his strong chest, his heartbeat a bit more steady against you now. "That you make a very comfortable seat."

"That's two."

"First one was free," you say, resting your head against his shoulder.

He was quiet for a long moment, just the two of you wrapped in each other under the stars.

"I'm thinking..." his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands finding yours so you could intertwine them. "That I clearly need to get you some new socks, your feet are freezing!"

He was clad in nothing but his underwear, you only now realized, and you had instinctively wrapped your legs around his, seeking any kind of warmth you could find. There wasn't a full sleep set between the two of you.

You couldn't help but laugh, even if this wasn't how you'd hoped the conversation would go, at least it was a conversation. "You know I hate sleeping with socks on, that's not fair."

"Slippers than," he conceded.

You intentionally brushed your cold feet up the side of his leg. "Fuzzy ones. And only if they're bright pink."

"Ridiculous," he huffed, "but if you insist."

"I want them to look like cats too."

"Pink cats?"

"Pink cats."

"Pink cats it is then."

You grinned at that. "We can go to the Rainbow tomorrow for them?"

"First thing in the morning," he promised as he settled his chin on your shoulder.

"We should go for breakfast. There's a new bakery on the Sidra. Well, new as in neither of us have been there, it's technically been open for awhile."

"You didn't go?"

You two had met in a bakery in Illyria, had fought over the last chocolate croissant until the shop owner had kicked both you out for scarring the other customers, it had become something of a weekly tradition to find which shop in Velaris had the best ones since. "I was waiting for you."

The arms around your middle squeezed a little tighter.

"I have a list of things for us to do, actually. A lot changed and I thought if, maybe I kept making a list it gave the Mother a reason to bring you back to me." It felt stupid, now that you'd said it aloud that you had hoped depriving yourself of a chocolate croissant would somehow force the Mother to bring your mate home, but you had been desperate, you weren't always thinking clearly.

Rhys nuzzled into the side of your neck. "Thank you, for waiting." You knew him well enough to know he wasn't talking about the bakery or the croissants.

"I would have waited a thousand years for you," you whispered.

"That's a long time without chocolate croissants," he teased.

"They're worth the wait," you replied, hoping he knew you well enough to know you weren't talking about croissants either.

He merely hummed understandingly as he settled against your shoulder, his breathing evening out against your back. You relished in the rise and fall of his chest, of his warm breath against your throat. He was alive, he was here, he'd made it home.

"What else is on this list of yours?"

"There's a new dinner cruise around the Sidra, an art exhibit in the Rainbow, three new plays," you counted them off on your fingers, trying to remember all of them now. Sleep was beginning to beckon again, your eyes heavy, speech slowing. "The Night Orchestra is coming back into town, you missed them twice. There's a new ice cream shop to try..." there was something else, but your mind was growing hazy. A yawn escaped you.

Rhys tried to stand, but you grabbed frantically at his wrists. "I'm ok. Wanna stay here with you."

He settled back against the roof, laying back now with you tucked into his side. The blanket had gotten twisted between the two of you, doing little to keep out the bite of the roof tiles. You didn't care.

"Oh! There's a new place that sells some lacy things I think you'd like," you mumbled as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck and breathed in deep.

"For you or me?" He teased.

"For you to rip off of me," you said.

He kissed your temple, "We'll definitely have to stop there then."

You were trying your hardest to keep your eyes open, really you were, but they were growing heavier and heavier, the stars over head blurring in your vision. Maybe you had been wrong to stop wishing on them, despite all your pain, your mate had still returned to you, that dream had still been answered.

"We're gonna be ok, you know," You murmured into his neck.

"You think so?" He whispered.

"I'll wish it onto every star I see until it's answered," you vowed.

Rhys gripped you a little tighter, you gripped him back, eyes drifting shut fully now.

"Maybe I'll start making wishes again too," he said in your ear. You hoped, as you drifted off, that the stars heard him and would answer this wish too.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader fluff #rhysand acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhysand fic #fanfiction #writing #a little hurt/comfort for my other depressed bitches

212 notes · View notes

chvnnie · 1 year

Note

Hannie thoughts 🩷

He pursued you so sweetly and now you're expecting a sweet slow courtship. But now that he realizes just how into him you are, he takes full advantage. Rough in the bedroom confident Jisung. 😍 Y/n overwhelmed but secretly loves it.

“courtship” gave me royal vibes. soooOoOOOo

also idk why this is so long!!! im sorry!!! this concept got the best of me!!!

tell me you love royal aus without telling me 🫠

SMUT — MINORS DNI

The kingdom is lucky to have Jisung on their throne. Crowned as a mere teenager, nobody expected the Young King to thrive. What could he possibly know about ruling a kingdom? In three years time, they’ll lose all credibility, and he his head. Just watch; a boy cannot be King.

Within a year, all ill words spoken about the King were silenced. Charismatic, yet shy, he found his footing in royal life with ease. Leading council meetings, carefully listening and fairly judging every case brought to the court. Age is deceiving; the people haven’t had a leader of this quality in many, many years.

It wouldn’t be fair to say Jisung is just a good King. Even though ten years have passed since his coronation, he can still be found dressed in plain clothes without jewels or his crown, riding into town on his precious golden mare. She is cared for by his Hand, and best friend, as he walks the market.

Not a single stall is passed by him, even if the products are the same as the day before. Carefully, he will look over each and every item while making small talk.

“Alright this morning, Sir?”

“Is this a new recipe? The bread is sweeter than usual — it’s wonderful!”

“Oh my, your craft has improved greatly! I am impressed, keep at it!”

And then the King hands them exactly three gold coins even if he has no intention of buying anything. They’ll offer him something; a small item, or a piece of food, but he always denies it. A gift for them. Encouragement. Proof that he sees their skills and what they bring to the kingdom and is appreciative of it. It also reminds them that he truly cares about them as people. Without them, this city wouldn’t flourish the way it does.

Occasionally, he’ll buy something from the baker. He’s particularly fond of the blueberry poppy bread she makes. She’s a good woman; her husband fought hard and loyally for his father, and for that Jisung is eternally grateful for. Some weekends, he’ll visit her in her cottage. Have tea with her, listen to stories of her late beloved and all the great things he did in life.

She always gets five coins. But shush, don’t tell anybody.

At the end of the market is the only stall he’ll buy from everyday. Brown paper, pink twine, white daisies. The same thing, everyday. The florist always gives him a warm smile.

“How is she?”

And it brings a smile to The King’s face. The genuine care in their tones — because he genuinely cares.

“Well.” He digs in his coin purse, always pulling out too many coins. Just speaking about his love tinges his cheeks a dark pink. “As always.”

An exchange — coins, flowers. “When will you wed?”

“Shortly after my celebration day.” He denies the return of extra coins, as usual. “The autumn weather is her favorite.”

“Wish her well for me.”

“Of course.”

Jisung is a man of routine. Personal goodbyes to each and every merchant before he’s back on his horse. The sky is still pink when he’s back at the castle. The Hand takes his horse so the King can walk through the cool halls. Take the winding stairs up to the top level, where the royal family sleeps.

It used to just be him in this hall. Echoey, empty, reminding him of what price has to be paid for him to take the throne.

Not now, though. The room at the opposite end of the hall is now filled, well loved and used.

Taking a right from the staircase brings him to the door. Kindly dismissing the guard, the King knocks three times. A code; announcing himself without having to.

“Come in!”

The curtains are pushed open, fresh sunlight spilling in from the many windows. Yesterday’s daisies are in a crystal vase, sat on the table in the sitting area. Beautifully bloomed, the floral scent filling the golden room.

You’re by the biggest window, sat on the ledge. The glass is pushed open just slightly, letting the spring breeze cool your body. The dress you’re wearing is one of Jisung’s favorites; off the shoulder, a lavender color with little flowers stitched into the neckline with white thread.

The most beautiful soon-to-be Queen the land has ever seen.

“Good morning, petal.” The nickname rolls off his tongue. “Rest well?”

Closing the book, you nod. “And you, my dear?”

“All right.” Only a few steps away, he takes the bouquet out from behind his back and presents it to you. “For you. As always.”

Oh, the bright smile you give him. It’s like he’s falling in love with you all over again. Gracefully, you rise from your seat and take the fresh flowers, bringing to your nose to sniff.

“They’re lovely, Jisung. Thank you.”

Everyday, a peck to his cheek. Quick — you’re far too shy to linger. The King has a routine. So he turns his head just slightly, left side of his face presented to you. Ready to receive your gratitude.

The routine breaks. Swiftly, you walk past your fiancé, taking the flowers to the vase. Leaving him stunned.

Strange.

“I was wondering if today we might ride to the sea?” You don’t look to him as you speak — actually, it looks like you’re trying to hide behind the white flowers. “I’ve been a tad homesick.”

The steps he takes are cautious. “Of course.” Hesitance is laced in his tone. This isn’t your ordinary behavior. “What’s on your mind, darling?”

It’s like you’ve seen a ghost, blood running from your face and eyes widen. But in a snap, the expression is gone. “Oh, nothing. I want to write about the sea, you know how my brother loves it.”

Carefully, Jisung takes a seat on your velvet sofa. “Ah, yes. How is Seungmin?”

“His letters say he is well. The ocean is treating him nicely, though I wish he wouldn’t have chosen that path.”

Son and daughter of a prestigious family. One to be Queen, the other a runaway pirate.

“There’s always room for him in our kingdom. He would do well with us.”

You swallow dryly. What is happening? “The gracious and merciful Young King, what would this world be without you?”

Jisung can’t take this anymore. What has gotten into his beloved? Where is your head at? Grabbing your wrist, he pulls you away from the vase. Making you stand in front of him.

“Speak your worries.”

“I have none, Your Grace—“

“Though merciful, you know I hate to be made a fool.” His eyes narrow, but expression stays soft. “Love, let me help.”

You can’t meet his gaze, staring at the slit in your dress as you speak. “I’m afraid my thoughts are…doubtful.”

“Of?”

Finally, your eyes meet.

“Oh.”

What good is a crown? What good is a throne? What good is this kingdom if you are not by his side? Emotions tear at him, making his lip tremble despite his best efforts.

“Not of that kind.” You quickly reassure, catching the hurt on his face. “You are my love, Jisung. I would never want a life without you.”

“Good, good.” He won’t deny his worry. That isn’t fair to you. “Then what is it?”

Jisung thinks you’re precious. You still get so shy around him, even after years together. Especially when you want to express your feelings or ask for something.

Reassuringly, he rubs his thumb over the top of your hand, still caught in his. “You don’t have to—“

“I don’t want to wait any longer.”

The way you said it, so firm and confident. As if you’ve been pondering this, an opinion you’ve held for a while and are now sure of. The King is taken aback briefly, trying to figure out what your words mean.

“For the wedding?” It’s all he can come up with, but even he doesn’t sound too sure in it. “I’m sure we could plan it for the upcoming solstice, my love, if that’s what you desire.”

You shake your head quickly, and he can tell you’re starting to second guess saying it. “No, no. I want to wed in autumn. I don’t want to wait for you.”

What ever could you mean? Wait for him? Why, he’s right here. Touching you, speaking to you. Are you feeling ill? Those words make no—

Oh.

Oh, how he made himself the fool.

Suddenly, he’s in dire need of wine. Mouth dry, tongue heavy. Though he’s had many, many dreams of you in such a way, never would he push it on you. You felt as if your body was sacred, and he respected that. The King wants nothing but for you to feel comfortable and safe around him. If you were waiting for him, he would be waiting for you as well.

Sometimes the dresses you wear do drive him mad. Form fitting and hugging your curves, or with a lower neckline that he can see down at the right angle. Those have made it hard, and only starved him more. Like dangling bread in front of the hungry.

“Are you certain?” Jisung finally speaks, tone dropping several octaves.

You nod, softly wrapping your other hand around the one he has grasped. It’s so delicate, how you drop to your knees in front of him. Starry eyes blinking at him.

“More than, my King.” You bring the hands to your lips, soft kisses across his knuckles. “My patience is dry. I no longer want to wait for your love.”

“Rise.”

“What?”

“Your King gave you a command.” His demeanor changes like a switch, the feral need he’s drowned for so long rising to the surface. “Rise. No Queen of mine will ever kneel, even for me.”

Your eyes never leave his, standing up fully in front of him. He follows, using your hand as a guide up and into your body. A hand on the left side of your neck, fingers creeping into your perfectly combed hair. It’s used to bring your lips to his, properly kissing you.

Many kisses have been shared between you, but none like this. It’s intense, every pent up and buried feeling finding new life with the movement of your lips. It’s more addictive than the blueberry poppy bread from the baker, tongues desperate for the taste to linger. For the feelings to stay.

Loving you is a greater honor than the crown, the King is sure of it.

He curses your corset, making you giggle when he spins you gracefully to get a better look at it. The tugs on it are rough, eager to get the fabric off your body. Heavens, Jisung knows he loves this dress but does it have to be so dreadful to remove?

It’s too much. Your desires tangle with his own, sparking brighter than the jewels on the crown. Than the gold of coins. The energy it deepens the King’s decent — the hole you’re tumbling into doesn’t have a bottom.

Your nails rip his shirt, accidentally tangling the strings of his pants in your rush. There’s no grace in the first moments. Ready to see each other’s bodies, to touch, to taste. To be one.

The King tries his best to be gentle with you. To give you the sweetest kisses, careful touches. He’s heard stories, knows that it can be too much. The last thing he wants is for you to not find pleasure in this.

But, it can only last for so long. The breaking comes with he accidentally takes your breath away — truly, he didn’t mean to place his hand there. Apologies are ready to fumble out when he sees it.

The look you give him. Shocked, a little frightened. But excited.

Jisung never considered his ego very large, but he’s open to self reflection.

“Oh, petal, is this what you like?” He squeezes your throat, tips of his fingers digging into your soft skin. Though you nod, there’s no real need for an answer. He can feel it in the clench around his cock, the legs hooked around his waist pulling him closer. With a dry laugh, he picks up the pace of his hips. Fucking you hard enough the bed is becoming unstable. “I have to admit my surprise. The shy, gentle Queen likes to be fucked like a common whore.”

As soon as the words leave, he feels a tinge of regret. What harsh words to say to someone he loves—

Do his eyes deceive him? You’re whimpering, nodding your head. Unable to speak from the lack of air, but in full agreement.

Heavens. The King is done for.

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have you at the brothel.” Control is lost, the wooden frame starting to crack under the King’s intense movements. “Let the people have a taste of the King’s favorite cunt.”

“N-no.” You seem to speak. “Only y-you—“

“Aw, don’t be selfish, petal.” He pinches your cheek, finding joy in the tears painting your face. “You know I am a generous ruler.”

Jisung enjoys riling you up like this. Enjoys the tears, the cries, the way you’re twitching and squirming underneath him. Not to escape. No, from the force of something world shattering.

“Are you going to cum?” He teases you. “From those awful threats?”

You cannot help yourself, nodding quickly. Little, soft begs falling from your lips.

Maybe Jisung is power hungry. Maybe the crown has gone to his head. Maybe that’s why he laughs, stopping to leave you right on the edge. You’re so distraught, wide eyed and frantically begging for him to finish.

“Oh, but petal. I never said I would be generous to you.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung smut #han smut #jisung smut #chvnnie thots

514 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Treat You 2

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, mentions of abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Right before you leave, you notice the young barista in his jacket with a canvas knapsack slung over his shoulder. You keep your head down as you leave the porcelain mug on the counter and head out. It’s been about two hours, spent sipping cold tea and dreading your return home.

As you come out onto the street, the wind billows around you violently. The autumn whips at your clothing as you cling to the collar of your jacket to keep it out You shiver as leaves crunch under your soles and those of other pedestrians hurrying by.

You turn onto the street with the night club. A few employees disappear behind the heavy doors as they prepare to start the evening shift. The sky dims with each step, shadows pooling beneath parked cars and behind light poles.

You turn your head, sensing something looming behind you. Your heart picks up and you turn straight again. Once more you look across the street, searching for one of the burly bouncers. There’s a man in his black jacket but he’s thoroughly distracted by a girl with a stuffed animal in her arms, waving at him as she noisily chatters.

You veer towards the curb, acting as if you’re going to cross, taking the excuse to look up and down the street. There’s no one there, just you and your paranoia. Why are you so afraid of the dark when your father’s waiting for you at home?

You shudder and carry on. Another day wasted hiding away. You’ll have to catch up on your projects tonight. Your job isn’t much but it’s the only one you could find without college. Even Dairy Queen didn’t call you back. Online work captioning videos; simple enough but pays about the same.

As you reach your street, you peek over your shoulder again. It’s as if your steps are in a perpetual echo yet no one’s there. You’re tired. It’s been a long, endless day. The rude awakening of your father breaking dishes had your adrenaline spike too early.

You dig out your keys and find the grated front door on the old brick walkup. You shoulder inside, your heel hitting the door and kicking it wider. You drag your feet and wait for the heavy door to slam. It doesn’t. Not when you think it will.

It sounds almost like someone caught the door. You stop at the base of the stairwell and look back. Again, no one.

You shake your head and continue on. You brace yourself for what comes next. Down the hall, you stop at the door. You listen and hear the television blaring. Gently, you slide the key into the slot and twist.

Quiet, quiet. You enter and take off your shoes on the matter. You unzip your coat as your father’s lounge chair creaks. You tiptoe by the doorway of the front room, head bowed.

“That you?” He growls.

You stop short, “dad.”

“Where ya been? Staying out late.”

“It’s six.”

“I didn’t ask the time,” he retorts.

“Sorry–”

“Place stinks. You didn’t take the trash out.”

You look at him as he sits in the glare of the television. The old 60s serial plays loudly as his eyes don’t leave the screen. It’s like he’s hypnotised by the screen. He’s docile like this, distracted.

“I’ll take it out.”

“Damn right you will. I’m fucking starving too. Been waiting on my dinner since five.”

“Okay, dad, I’ll make some Kraft Dinner,” you offer.

“Put some hot dogs in it,” he demands.

“Well, dad, we gotta save those so we have dinner tomorrow–”

“Shut up!” He whips his beer can at you, its contents splashing over the carpet, “I bought the damn things so do what I fucking tell you.”

His voice thunders louder with each word. You push your shoulders up and shrink down, “I will, I will. I’ll get the trash first.”

“You come in her, back talking me, after you made me fucking WAIT!”

“Dad, please–”

“One more word and I’m going to get out of my fucking chair,” he warns.

You back away. It’s better to just do what he says. You won’t ever tell him you paid for the groceries that week since he didn’t have enough for the electric. No, he can sit in his beer-stained throne as you play his jester.

You tie up the garbage bag and pull it out of the bin. You carry it to the door and angle it out into the hall. It smells like cigarette butts and something rancid. As you come out, you nearly walk straight into someone else.

You wince and press yourself to the door as you shut it behind you. You blink as you recognise the man. How could that be possible?

“Uh, sorry, do you know where 2F is? I’m just dropping something off for my buddy’s nan,” the barista asks.

Does he not know you? Maybe you overestimated his kindness. Why would he remember you? He just sees a customer to coax a tip out of. You are so dumb.

“I…” you point down the hall. It’s right around the corner but you didn’t know an old woman lived there. You suppose you don’t pay much attention to your neighbours.

“Thanks, I… you know me, right? Peter, from the cafe?”

Oh, he does remember.

You shrug and look down at the garbage in your hand. “Hey, you want me to take that? I’m just slipping what I got in the slot before I head back out so–”

You shake your head and sidle away from him. It feels like too much of a coincidence but you’re well assured that you could never be that special to anyone. He wouldn’t follow you there. Just like your father says, you’re stupid and ugly and worthless.

“Alright, well, I hope you have a good night,” he chimes, “maybe I’ll see you on my way out.”

You don’t say anything as you turn and quickly carry the garbage down the hall. It’s not just the stench wanting you to get it out of there. You go down the stairs without looking back and burst out into the brisk evening.

You go around the side of the building and swing the bag into the dumpster. You’ll have to go right back up or your dad will lose it. At least you can use that as an excuse if you see that guy again. ‘Sorry, gotta make dinner.’

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #drabble #treat you #series #au #the club au #spider-man #marvel #mcu

162 notes · View notes

mncxbe · 6 months

Note

Hiii !! Can you write an akutagawa x PM!fem reader smut where reader is his and gin's friend from the slums that survived and never left their side?

Omg I love this idea♡ ok so basically they all live together in a nice little apartment that's it. enjoy♡♡

°☆●

Angelina? Is that you?

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡/ subby Aku manspreading

It's been years since you've moved in with the Akutagawa siblings in that pretty apartment complex in the heart of Yokohama. The condo you shared wasn't big, but there was enough space for everyone to do their thing. Or so you thought-

Akutagawa would beg to differ. One would say that living with two girls is bound to be bothersome, but truth was that only you were the problem. Every time he passed by your room the faint smell of cheap cigarettes and perfume trickled deep into his lungs, making his head spin.

What was worse was your habit of always scattering your belongings all over the place; a lipbalm and a hairtie on the kitchen counter, half-read books annotated with purple note tabs under pillows on the couch, unpaired socks and lacey gloves on the ground somewhere near the entrance hall and empty cups of saccharine coffee- smeared with your signature dark red rouge at the brim.

Still, no matter how many times he asked you not to smoke inside, to stop leaving your clothes strewn all over the place or to wash the dishes you just wouldn't listen to him.

For a while, Akutagawa resolved to be the better man. He pretended not to notice your untidiness, turned a blind eye for a while; but when he found one of your bras hanged prettily on the bathroom knob he just couldn't help but snap.

Stomping off to your bedroom he flung the door open and stepped inside, holding your lacey lingerie in his hand.

"Care the explain this?" he spat, brows furrowing in annoyance.

From your place on the windowsill you turned your head to face him, lips curling into a sly smile when you noticed his expression.

"Oops. Sorry, I forgot about that" you shrugged, rolling the filter of your cigarette between two slender fingers.

The light autumn breeze that entered the room through the open window sent a chill down Akutagawa's spine. How could you sit in that cold wearing only a tank top and some shorts?

"Don't apologize again, idiot" he huffed, discarding the bra on your ruffled bedsheets. "You always do that"

"Look, I had a shitty day so give me a break." you replied nonchalantly as you held his cold gaze. Your attitude made Akutagawa's blood boil and it took all the willpower he had not to shove you out of the window right then and there.

Instead, he gritted his teeth, clenching his fists until his nails left crescent marks on the calloused palms of his hands; the familiar tingle of pain soothing his nerves.

"And do I look like I care about that? If you wanna complain about your day go talk to Gin"

"She's not home though" you noted, beckoning him to come closer. "Would it hurt if you spent some time with me?"

"I uh... Have some plans" he replied plainly, gaining a soft giggle from you.

"Yea, yea sure. I bet you do. Now come here"

Although he didn't appreciate your mocking tone, Akutagawa closed the distance between you and took a seat on the wide windowsill. For a few moments you stood in silence, unfocused gaze following the flow of glowing vehicles outside. It was only 8 p.m but the sun was long gone, seemingly swallowed by the dark night sky.

"So..." you eventually spoke "How was your day? It's been a while since we spent some time like this, just us"

Akutagawa rolled his eyes and coughed dryly when a coil of smoke from your cigarette reached his nostrils.

"Fucking hell... I wonder why" he cursed, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

You flicked the fag out of the window with a sigh before leaning your head against the frame; seemingly unaware of Akutagawa's gaze on you. His sharp eyes traced the line of your neck down to your collarbones, pale skin standing out against the black fabric of your tank top and... a chuckled rolled past your lips.

"You're staring"

"No, I'm not." he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes you are" you pressed, smile widening.

"You're so annoying I swear. I wonder how you haven't gotten yourself killed in the Mafia with that attitude of yours"

You simply shrugged in response, shifting closer to him to run a finger down his bare forearm.

"I may be annoying but you still like me and you can't deny that. I mean, you wouldn't let me live with you if you really hated me that much"

Akutagawa flinched under your touch, a soft blush tinting his face when he became aware of the closeness between the two of you. The room seemed smaller, heavy air pressing down on his chest- causing him to inhale sharply.

"I let you live with us because you pay your bills"

"Sure, sure. Keep telling that to yourself."

Somewhere in the distance a siren echoed through the night; a short pause that allowed the man to collect his thoughts. He stepped away from the window and flopped onto the bed, eyes fluttering shut.

"Look, I've had a shitty day too and I'm in no mood for your jokes. So do us both a favour and shut up"

You ignored the last part of his comment and walked in front of him, a smile plastered on your face. He looked so precious like that, limbs spread on your bed like a starfish; but still you could sense the exhaustion and frustration oozing out of him.

Akutagawa only opened his eyes when he felt your hands resting atop his thighs, nails softly grazing the fabric of his pants.

"The hell are you-" he whined, propping himself up on an arm but was quickly cut off by your shushing.

"You said you're stressed, I can make it better" you smiled from between his legs and Akutagawa swore he could feel his erection throbbing.

"I told you not to play around" he hissed again but you only chuckled in response. You tilted your head to the side, slightly rubbing your cheek on his inner thigh; doe eyes searching for some sort of confirmation in his.

Akutagawa's mouth felt dry, words stuck in the back of his throat. And what could he say? How could he even say anything when you were this close, when he could breathe in that sweet, sickening perfume of yours and see his reflection in your eyes? No, there was nothing he could say, so he simply turned his head to the side, focusing his eyes on one of the books on your nightstand.

"Just do your thing"

You hummed a low thank you before slowly sliding your hands up his legs to his belt. He let out a content sigh and lifted his hips off the mattress to allow you to take off his pants; fingers squeezing the sheets into a crumpled mess when you palmed his erection.

"Oh wow you really are in need of a helping hand" you teased, earning a half smile from him.

Akutagawa's hand came to rest on the back of your head, fingers combing through your hair with a gentleness he didn't know he was capable of. He was doing his best to hold it together, not to show how flustered your touch made him when you pulled down his slacks and rubbed your thumb over his sensitive tip.

And truth was that each touch or little sound you made as you took him in your mouth made his composure crumble. If it were anyone other than you he'd push them away- but you? you were too familiar and inviting, a luxury he secretely craved yet never afforded.

Gazing down at your pretty lips wrapped around his length as you bobbed your head up and down, hands neatly squeezing the pale skin of his thighs; he could feel a familiar warmth pooling in his core.

The hand that rested on your head pressed down lightly, forcing his dick down your throat and you choked, earning a chuckle from him.

"Sorry pretty you just feel too good" he groaned, lust clouding his eyes as he kept working your head up and down his length.

Akutagawa felt his high slowly building up, lashes fluttering shut from the pleasure; mindless praise and groans rolling past his lips as you coaxed the orgasm out of him. And when he came he came hard, hips bucking upwards, spilling his cum down your throat. He opened his eyes just in time to see you swallow, tears starting to dry on your flushed cheeks and he felt his heart sink. You looked so pretty like this.

Before he got the chance to say anything you swiftly climbed on top of him on the mattress, caging him between your arms.

"So, feeling better sweetie?" you smiled with sparkles of mischief in your eyes and he couldn't help but smile.

One of his hands traced the outline of your body up to your jaw, thumb gently tapping your bottom lip.

"You know, I do like it better you when you shut up" he added and you parted your lips, allowing him to slip his finger into your mouth. Akutagawa felt himself getting hard again just at the sensation of your tongue rolling around his thumb.

Hooking a finger under the waistband of your shorts he pulled them down, sliding them off your legs before dipping two fingers into your sopping cunt.

"Jesus Christ you're so wet f'me aren't ya? What would Gin say if she knew how desperate you are to fuck me?" he chuckled, mimicking your playful tone but you only hummed in reponse.

His thumb finally left your mouth and moved between your bodies to draw lazy circles on your puffy clit, making you shudder lightly.

As he alligned himself to your entrance you leaned in and pulled him into a passionate kiss, sliding your fingers through his hair; and you sinked low until he bottomed out.

Akutagawa gasped from the tight squeeze of your velvety walls, nails sinking into the plush of your thighs to help ground himself. By the time you actually started rolling your hips against his he was already on cloud nine, all thoughts blurring into a honeyed mess that spilled from his lips in moans and sultry groans. You felt like a sweet heaven, clenching on him more and more with each of his sloppy thrusts.

And that, that was a feeling he could get used to. And if it meant he had to put up with your messy self for it, he would gladly do so.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd smut #akutagawa smut #akutagawa x reader #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x you #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke

245 notes · View notes