#i am not sure what this is based on. but i have this impression that you are a great planner of writing
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This is a prologue to 'Game Night' (about 80 years before) enjoy!
TW: murder, gore, mentions of war, mentions of SA
Minors DNI!
Getting called into you Boss's office was bad. But getting called into you boss's Boss office was even worse.
When Archie staggered over to you, almost tripping over his storck legs, he looked almost panicked. "I don't know what you did, but Zestial wants to talk to you. What the fuck did you do?!"
You didn't react. You kept on typing the end of the article you were currently writing, ignoring the worried stare from the other employees that were working on the same floor. Zestial was one of the overlords in hell and the owner of the newspaper agency you were working at, an extremely tall, thin and ancient demon that exuded a machiavellian charm, enticing yet dangerous.
You had no idea why he would want to talk to you. You didn't remember doing anything wrong, or at least, nothing worth that would him getting personally involved.
When you finished the last sentence, you stood up and walked past Archie, who was still waiting nervously for an answer, his gaze fixated on you, a mixture of curiosity and horror on his face.
"Hey, aren't you even a little bit worried?", he called after you. You shrugged, and smiled.
"And what good will that do? If I'm in trouble, I can't change it now, can I?"
You walked through the hallway and knocked at the big, dark mahogany door. A deep, sonoric voice called out to you, and you opened the door. Zestial was sitting at his desk, his slender fingers intertwined on the tabletop, next to a steaming cup of tea.
"Ah, my dear. I wast awaiting thee. Cometh in and sitteth down."
"You wanted to see me, Sir?"
Zestial nodded, and smiled, gesturing at the chair in front of him.
"Ah, yes. Thy work has been quite outstanding for a while, mine lief. Thou hast impressed me greatly. Therefore, I have an offer."
Your smile widened, a little out of nervousness, but more out of curiosity. A job offer was the last thing you had expected from this meeting, based on Archibald's behavior and the fearsome looks of your coworkers. Zestial pushed the delicate cup in your direction.
"Drink, it'st not poisoned. It'st my own recipe."
"Thank you, sir."
You took the cup, careful not to spill the hot liquid, and sipped at it. The tea tasted unusual but delightful, earthy and tart and a little bitter. You couldn't quite identify the ingredients, but they had to be rare and expensive.
"A lovely blend, thank you."
"Thou art most welcome. So, my offer: One of mine aquaintances, Miss Rosie in Cannibal Town, hosts a party this evening. Sadly i wilt not beest able to attend... So i'd like for thee to go in mine stead."
Your eyebrows shot up. Not a job offer. This was a surprise, indeed. You had heard of Rosie and her own peculiar district. She was an overlord too, but in contrast to her peers she didn't show any desire to expand her territory, focusing instead on improving Cannibal Town as a community.
"I would be honored, Sir. What's the occasion for the party, if I may ask?"
"Ah, no occasion, really. Miss Rosie is just the kind to host parties whenever the fancy takes her. She'st a very charming woman, I am certain thou wilt enjoy thyself."
Zestial stood up and walked over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder and smiling down at you, a genuine smile, that even reached his four green eyes. You smiled back, and set down the cup. It was apparent that your work somehow got you in good grace with Zestial, and you would've been a fool not to seize the day.
"Thank you very much for the opportunity, sir. I shall be sure to make the best of the occasion."
***
Stepping out of the taxi, you made sure not to step on the hem of your ankle-length red dress, clutching the small purse with your invitation and essentials in one hand and a gift for the hostess in the other, and stepped onto the pavement. All the windows of Rosie's emporium were lit, creating a warm atmosphere and luring guests into the center of the colony with a glowing, eery yellow vibrance. There was music in the air, and a sense of unusual merriness as guests talked and laughed, holding colorful drinks and glasses in their hands.
You made your way through the crowd towards the towering demoness, who was greeting oncoming guests left and right.
"Miss Rosie, it's a pleasure to meet you."
The woman turned, her lips pursed as her pitch-black eyes focused on the source of the sound, on you. Your smile didn't waver.
"Pleasure is all mine, sweetie. You're... Zestial's little newcomer, aren't you?"
You nodded with a grin that matched hers. "Indeed, Miss Rosie, that's me. It's an honor to be invited." You handed her your gift - an embellished, silver cookie tin with long, golden filled cookies inside. "I hope you don't mind homemade treats? I made them myself - they're called langue de chat."
"Cat's tongue. How fitting... ", she giggled, peeking inside. "Thank you my darling one, I'll be sure to hide them from all the hungry mouths here - wouldn't want to waste them, wouldn't we? Now please, hop right in, mingle a little and have some fun tonight. No work! And enjoy my little buffet, you'll surely find something to suit your diet."
Relieved from your official obligation, you snatched a glass of rose colored champagne as you decided to wander a bit without being seen and made yourself invisible. It was the newest of your powers you developed, and a most useful one for looking around and observing, very interested in the strange but not unfriendly atmosphere that lingered. An atmosphere that was so different from the district you had settled in - It seemed almost human. The cannibals were old-fashioned - you appreciated that- but they were friendly, courteous and downright delightful sinners to be around (if you were minful of their diet).
You watched the dancing couples, women twirling around in colorful dresses, the men accompanying them with fine suits, everyone adorned with flamboyant bow ties and flashy hats, wearing shiny leather shoes and polished heels. And that music, jazz at it's peak. Everyone was laughing, joking, the air was electric with happy chatter and jokes and it felt as if all your worries simply evaporated. It had to be, one of the most unique places you had been, in Hell.
You made yourself visible again, startling a group of young cannibals next to the buffet. With a giggle and a swish of your magenta-and-black striped tail, you set down your emptied glass on one of the silver trays. Turning back to look for another refreshment, your vision was blocked by a red pinstripe suit. A man had stepped in your path, a charming smile on his lips, and he seemed amused.
"Moving is a funny thing to do when no one's watching."
He offered you a glass of wine with the same burnt red color of his hair, his teeth glinting as his eyes scanned your body - not in a lewd way, but with bemused interest and impish curiosity. You chuckled, taking the glass with a head tilt.
"Why thank you, stranger, but you know, moving without being seen is just half the fun. Getting where you want without being noticed is the other."
You twirled the glass in between your fingers, sipping the expensive beverage, watching his expression with delight - how his grin widened, eyes locked to yours, amused and captivated by what you just said. Of course you knew who he was, your tail shivered and bushed up as you thought about it. Hell, you wrote more than one article about him.
One couldn't exist in hell without hearing the stories about the radio demon - the up and coming overlord, toppling long-established powerholders like dominoes and broadcasting their screams on every radio in the pride ring. Known for his gentlemanly manners, his brutal ruthlessness - and his never-fading, signature smile.
"Spoken like a true feline. The name's Alastor, darling, pleasure to be meeting you.", he mused, and tilted his glass towards yours, awaiting you to clink it. His crimson eyes were shining like rubies, glinting dangerously yet so strangely intriguing as they watched your every reaction, and his lips curled up into a challenging, cocky grin as your glasses chimed together and you told him your name.
"Say, would you care for a little dance, dear? Your tail seems quite desperate for some frivolity, why it looks like it will come to life in a moment."
You glanced towards your backside, the traitorous appendage whipping completely out of control in anticipated excitement, the damned thing. You laughed, downing the rest of the drink, and made the tail disappear. Alastor rose a brow at your innocent expression.
“Seems like my tail has a full dance card. I, on the other hand, am quite free..."
His other eyebrow raised along the first one, and he chuckled ass he gave you a little bow, which he coupled with an outstretched, clawed hand.
"I can only hope you are able to compensate the loss - it looked quite eager."
The next thing you knew he had you on the dance floor, pulling you close to his body and guiding your steps, spinning you around with ease. One hand was around your waist, the other had a hold of one of yours. You quickly lost the feeling of time and space - all you were able to focus on was him.
"Your smile never falters, darling. I can't help but wonder why?"
You giggled, a gloved hand covering your mouth as he turned you, crimson glowing eyes never leaving yours.
"I don't know, really. My papan used to tell me that it was the only thing I had going for me, and it's what made silly soldiers so easy to kill."
You could feel the air around him tense and shift, his grin widening at your words as he turned you in again.
"Ah, a lady after my own heart. I can appreciate a woman who knows how to have fun."
You didn't say anything to his comment, just smiled, and he pulled you closer.
"Why don't we have a little fun of our own? I have the right mind for a little game, if you're up to it, darling?"
The music ended, everyone around you applauding but you were captured. Entranced. Frozen. By those eyes, this most unique and alluring voice. Oh, yes it was alluring. He was charming and intense, the mystery of this person was attracting you so hard, you could almost taste his taste, feel his touch.
The way he offered a game... he had the same dangerously mischievous expression you had, back when you planned what to do with your next victim. Only that you were absolutely sure, you were invited as a player, not as a pawn. And that made you burst with excitement, you hadn't felt such thrill and lust for a challenge in so long, you could almost physically feel your hunger taking hold of you, your craving for that sensation, for an opportunity to rise to this occasion.
***
The night was chilly, for hell's standards. You both had bid your farewells to Rosie, who in response only cocked an amused brow at Alastor and wished you both a fun rest of the night. After Alastor gallantly offered his arm, you had started walking, seemingly aimless, but you didn't mind. He proved to be a very pleasant conversation partner, and you soon found yourself very relaxed and amused around him.
You enjoyed listening to him, laughing in amusement about his animated gesticulation and his storytelling skills. And there was more, a tension, a strange attraction in the air, an electromagnetic current that almost hummed between you two. When he asked about your heritage, you were pleased to notice how enthralled he seemed that you were french in origin and the fact that you killed german soldiers during the still raging world war stirred up his sadistic and malicious sense of humor. When you explained to him how you met your end, a grin that could only be described as purely diabolic curled up on his lips.
"Why, you're my favorite type of femme diabolique, aren't you a scintillating creature?"
His ears flicked and he stopped in his tracks, grin widening as gestured for you to walk next to him into the shadows of an alley. Intrigued, you made yourself invisible and followed him, hearing faint voices as if in a fight.
"As exciting as I found our conversation to be, darling, the night is young - and I do owe you a little fun, wouldn't you agree?"
His voice sounded lower and remarkably more sinister, shoulders tense and almost trembling as he stalked forwards, pressing you into his side. "It seems we have found the finest opportunity. What luck he have."
The voices became eligible, and you instantly knew what he was talking about. Two shark sinners were standing in front of the back-entrance of some dubious bar, sharing a smoke. The fight seemed to be about a girl they intended to drug and take advantage of - both of them insisting to 'break her in' the first. Abominable scum. You felt your teeth itching to sink into their necks to break them.
"So, madame - two wasteful beings, two players. How would you like to set the rules for our game, hm?"
You shivered with delight. "Sometimes I find the most simple approach is the best, d'accord? You show me what you can do, I show you what I can. After they're dead, we vote who won best kill. If it's a draw, no one wins et la partie est perdue."
Alastor grinned wider and hummed, apparently delighted by your idea.
"An uncompromising game - I like the style, I say, game on! Now, for the winner's reward..."
"Une carte blanche? - but no souls, I'm afraid.", you grinned at him, slowly fading into nothing from the bottom to the top, until there were only your eyes and your smile left.
"Sounds fair enough, let the games begin, darling! I'll take the left one."
And with that, he melted into his own shadows, creeping up behind the left sinner who had just extinguished the cigarette to a tiny piece of tobacco butt on the floor. You followed him entranced, fully invisible now, and rounded the right one - he wasn't as fat and greasy as Alastor's victim, with droopy eyes and lanky legs - perfect for breaking.
"Fuck you, Ollie, I saw her first, so I get the first fuck, too."
With a last glance to the moving shadow you leaned into your prey.
"How about we make it a threesome, baby?"
The man spun around in a panicked startle, and you could smell the alcohol seeping out of his pores. He was intoxicated, and sloppy on his feet. Just how you liked it. His friend tried to say something in warning, but was quickly muffled by dark tendrils that shot out of the dark shade below him, binding his limbs and wrapping around his face.
"What the fuck... who are you, bitch?"
"Aw, come on chèrie, you don't need to know my name to have a great time. You don't even have to drug me first."
You shifted to become visible, the man's eyes bulging out of his skull as you did and took a tentative step towards him. His friend was screaming behind him, his arms and legs wrapped up in shadowy tentacles, the sound muffled and the tendrils slowly squeezing him, wringing him out like a moist rag. It was a truly bizarre and yet absolutely hypnotizing sight.
"Oh shit, Ollie... H-hey, listen, we didn't... uh, fuck, we can all just forget this and, and... fuck, get the hell out of here!"
You laughed, it echoed in the cold night, a sound so eerie that even the man before you shuddered, his eyes fixated on you as you advanced and circled him, claws dragging over his neck and shoulder, and a shiver went down your spine when you saw Alastor, emerging from the shadows, as fixed on you as your victim was, but with fascination and satisfaction rather than fear and panic.
"Oh no, cherie... let's make this a night to remember, oui?"
With that, you pushed the man forward, your tail wrapping around his ankle to swipe his leg off the ground. With a sickening crack he fell onto his back, a pained scream escaping his lips and rendered helpless as you pinned him down by kneeling right onto his crotch before he could even move. This bastard would never be able to use his dick on poor, unsuspecting women again. You let your head fall back into an unnatural angle, watching behind you to a still unmoving, enthralled Alastor.
"Are you just going to watch, cher? It's quite rude to stare at a lady like that."
For a split second, his grin faltered, before widening once more, a low chuckle resounding in his chest, a sound that made you shudder.
"Why, my dear, how could I not, when you're making such a captivating sight."
His words spurred you on and stretched your smile so wide it started to hurt, your body hot and eager - you wanted to impress him, make him crave more of this. More of you. You shifted, turning your head back, and reached a clawed hand onto the man's throat. You concentrated on the feeling of your claws against his grayish, leathery skin as he choked.
"Let's make it a real party, then."
You willed magenta glowing mirror images of your claws into existence, envisioned them scratching and slicing the sinners body into long, thin ribbons - his screams told you it was working. He was cut up alive, his thrashing restrained by a few of the many hands you conjured. They lifted his mangled body up, it looked almost like a bastardized version of a crucifixion, and gave him a sickeningly sweet smile.
"Cela ne fera que très mal."
You've only ever let your full demon form come out once - right after you fell and were attacked by other newcomers. It still felt new, almost untamable, but you were desperate to show him. For Alastor to see you, not as a damsel in distress, or some silly girl playing checkers where others played chess.
So you let it take over, your form growing longer, your skin becoming black fur with glowing pink streaks, claws sharpening, and your maw growing. Your victim was still howling and fighting the hands holding him, his blood dripping onto the street and mixing with the puddles on the concrete. He screamed in terror as your jaws opened and you bit into his throat, ripping him to shreds with your sharp teeth, his intestines sloshing onto the pavement and the smell of blood filling the air and the sweet and bitter iron taste ran down your throat.
And just like that, the last remains of his body hit the floor with a mundane, squelching noise. The silence that followed was deafening. You couldn't hear anything, except for the rapid beating of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears. Then, you heard clapping, slow and rhythmical. You turned your head to see Alastor standing, the other sinner still bound, his face twisted in agony and his eyes bulging out of his eye holes.
"My my, a breathtakingly gruesome display, my dear. Truly enticing!"
He walked towards you, the shadows dissolving as he came closer, the tentacles retreating and the man falling onto the pavement. You watched him with a manic expression, your smile still on your face as your demonic form receded and you could feel the coolness of your victims blood on your fangs as a gust of wind blew through the alley, ruffling your hair.
"Now, for my own part... I have to admit, yours is a little hard to follow, but, oh well."
He snapped his fingers and his shadow stretched out behind him, towering above him with its head bowed, and you saw his eyes glow and transform into dials as a green glow and strange symbols surrounded the sinner's body, his limbs bending and his joints cracking, the sound of snapping bones and gurgling blood filling the alley, as the shadow slowly pulled the man's insides out through his mouth and ripped his head from his neck. It fell onto the concrete, and rolled right into your direction. You watched the eyes of the severed head turn gray, and smiled.
"Very impressive, cher. A true work of art, no?"
"Thank you, darling, I appreciate the compliment."
With another snap of his fingers the gore was gone, the streets cleaned and the corpses - or rather, what had been left of them - vanished, leaving no evidence behind. He turned to face you, the shadow retreating behind him as his dial eyes vanished and returned to their normal, intense red ones, an inquisitive grin plastered on his face as he came to a stop just before you.
"Now, there's only one thing left to do - the determination of the winner."
You laughed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You couldn't care less who won. Alastor's eyes darted downwards, to your lips, and you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, the urge to bite your lower lip growing.
"I'd say we're both winners, but rules are rules."
"I fear so, darling."
There was a pause, neither of you said a word. Then, slowly, he raised a hand and brushed his fingers over your bloodied cheek. You closed your eyes, your breath catching as his claws traced the outlines of your lips. The moment was charged and electrifying, you didn't want to say anything and maybe break the spell. He laughed, low and sweet, leaning into you.
"I think I'm inclined to give my vote to you, darling. Do I have a choice, really?"
Before you could respond, your words were stolen from your lips as they met his, crashing together in a passionate, heated, long overdue kiss. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you and pressing you into his body with ease and your tail curved behind you, happy to know your feelings were mutual as his long claws buried themselves in you blood-stained hair. You sighed against his lips, your own hands clutching to his neck and shoulders, a feeling you couldn't describe in your stomach.
For the first time in forever, you were kissed without it being because you were just pretty, or just a girl, perceived as a weak thing to be taken advantage of. This kiss was because you were powerful, you were impressive, because you were something of an equal in his own image - and if the world wouldn't stop here, if it went on forever and on and if time itself would cease to exist, this kind of passion would not.
A purr escaped your throat as his tongue danced with yours, tasting you - the sweet yet bittersweet, almost metallic taste of blood - yours, the sinners, you didn't care. You'd die all over again, a thousand times more painful than the original time, just for another second of this bloody kiss.
All too soon, it ended and his mouth left yours, making you feel the strange warmth radiating from his skin as he pressed a light peck on your parted lips, brushing his fingertips over your soft skin, red-stained and glowing. You panted, opening your eyes, and your own magenta irises met his, staring deep into them.
"It's a draw, then.", you said, the corners of your mouth tugging up to a smirk as you gave your vote to him unspoken.
"Which means the game is lost.", he answered, and you laughed, knowing you'd never been happier to lose at anything ever, and with a smile your lips chased after his once again.
"Hmmm... with a reward like this, I suppose a victory wouldn't be near as satisfying, anyway." He chuckled into the kiss.
"And there's always a next time, right, darling?"
Translations:
et la partie est perdue - And the game is lost
Cela ne fera que très mal - This will only hurt a lot
#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#fraugwinskawrites#rosie hazbin hotel#zestial morde#blood and gore#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader
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WIP Wednesday
Just a silly snippet borne out of the habit my buddies and I have of de-intensifying Serious Conversations with random innuendo. May or may not be based on real life events…
Apologies in advance 😅
👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀
“I really do think people make too big a deal out of this. It’s ok to want to make people happy! That’s what makes me happy!”
“Absolutely. Obviously it is. And that it’s a major motivation is a wonderful thing about you. And I’m the last person who should judge anyone for wanting to be useful… But…”
He sighed. “I knew there’d be a but. Go on then… hit me with your but.”
Later she would note that it was rather surprising how much coffee she was able to inhale without causing immediate death.
His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in horror.
Doing her best to retain her composure, she put on her best impression of an upper class English accent and teased
“A little forward, Mr Tracy.”
He facepalmed in dramatic fashion.
“Is there any way I can persuade you to forget those words left my mouth?”
“Tricky. I can only imagine how delighted a certain water-loving brother of yours would be to hear about it.”
“Cake! Any cake you like?” He waved the menu.
“Bribery? I am offended.”
“No you’re not. This chocolate one looks delicious… and large. Large is always good!”
“Oh, it is, is it?”
Honestly this was beneath her but that little flush of pink across his cheekbones was really too adorable. Who’d have thought a man with so many brothers could be so easy to embarrass?
“Shush, you.” He shoved the dessert list under her nose. “Cake!”
She pretended to consider
“You see… I don’t think this is a particularly good deal because I’m pretty sure you’d have bought me cake anyway, it is your turn after all.”
“Damn it, you’re right. I’m screwed.”
The merest quirk of eyebrow was all it took.
Scott Tracy really did have the best giggle of anyone she’d ever met.
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#scott tracy#idontknowreallywhy fanfic#wip wednesday#absolute purile silliness#sensible adults beware
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Writer asks: 5, 10, 17, 21, 27
5. Do you plan? Or do you “wing it”?
……… :(. wing it…….
or like okay. blah blah i’m disorganized i sort of write out from nodes rather than working linearly through anything, but what, for Me, works as planning is setting out a preimposed thematic structure. so for my ongoing bering & wells fic (which i have “not” planned), i have section titles based on james clerk maxwell’s a treatise on electricity and magnetism, which means that i’ve effectively got an outline in the form of the titles i’ve pulled from that.
10. How many unfinished works are in your drafts?
previously answered but i did just find my like, big document of fic ideas. so it’s like, there’s ~9 wips, most of which won’t see the light of day, plus an exorcism/demonology wip that i don’t think i’ll ever finish because writing horror hard :( and it would be super long, and then there’s a like. evil long document which i am afraid to open.
17. What piece of writing are you most proud of?
blah blah yuck annoying answer i’m not really proud of any of them— i’m distinctly UNproud of all the multichapter fics i’ve never finished, to the point that i’ve orphaned them from my old ao3 lol. HOWEVER i’m trying for self improvement SO, back in 2016 i wrote this star wars fic as a birthday gift for a friend (funny story. i’d started writing this as a gift for them, then been like YUCK this is taking so much research i don’t want to do, wrote a criminal minds fic for them, then finished this one over winter break. so they got two fics out of me and also started me on this terrible writing criminal minds fanfiction journey) and especially considering how much reading about star wars i very unhappily and half-assedly did, i think this is probably my best worldbuilding and probably my best, like, narrative idea. also the dream sequence from the opening section of this demily fic— i fondly remember multiple lines from it. too uneven to say the whole thing but i think the tone sometimes hits really where i wanted, and i was pleased when that happened.
21. Do you listen to music as you write?
answered previously but i did also remember— in addition to the coil unreleased hellraiser themes and my big fela kuti playlist, i have a playlist of almost every nick cave & warren ellis movie soundtrack, and that is BANGER writing music.
27. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)
answered previously but here, too, i wax on: my fondness for like, parody and experimentation means i’d probably try out many things once, at least for a bit, and many more that i’d be willing to consider if someone was committed enough to pay me. you’d never catch me posting 2nd person pov reader x character fic uncompensated, for example. also you’ll probably never see me post a finished multi-chapter fic but that’s more of a personal failing lol
#thanks for playing!! eternal in your generosity 💜#explosionshark#i am not sure what this is based on. but i have this impression that you are a great planner of writing#which makes 5 feel like a read lol
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LAUNDRY DAY
a/n: I AM ALLIVEEEEEEE 🔥🔥🔥🔥 sorry i had a crazy week! can be read as a standalone piece but based off gojo’s roommate au of here and here / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody ☆
wc: 4k
warnings: sub!gojo that turns into dom!gojo, fem!reader, fantasising? gojo is a pervert too, mentions of semi-public sex, implied somnophilia, panty sniffing, pillow / dry humping, m! masturbation, oral (m receiving), deep-throating, praise, pet names, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut
living with you was hard. brushing his teeth with you was hard. being around you — hard. both figuratively and—
there’s a loud sigh from you.
clearly tired from the day’s activities of ushering in freshman after freshman, you lugged your body into the bathroom. the same rehearsed words have been leaving your mouth as your cheeks hurt more and more by the hour, only to repeat it all over again the next day.
“you look like shit,” it’s muffled by the way the toothbrush is stuffed into his mouth, foam peeking out from the corners of his mouth and you’re trying not to tell your roommate (and boyfriend) to shut up — you didn’t have the energy to do, much less say anything and you certainly didn’t have time for your lover’s clever quips so late in the night.
it didn’t help that you recently had an argument too; well, trivial to him but much more major to you. it was a matter of getting gojo to keep his laundry properly and to clean up after himself once he’s gotten himself comfortable in the relationship. it’s not like he doesn’t want to — he was cleaning up in the first place to impress you — but now since he’s got you, it’s like he simply expects you to act as his little wife when it was a shared space. the exact argument you used against him.
“satoru— this is a shared apartment! you can’t just leave tteokbokki cups lying around with the gochujang sauce still inside! it’s going to attract cockroaches and ants!” you gesture wildly, the sheer amount of trash lying around making you even sicker than you thought possible. getting paid to usher in freshmen and then coming home to this? it felt like every cent of your hard work had gone to waste.
there’s only a grin on his face, “you’re so attractive when you’re mad, baby.”
that was another thing: the lack of seriousness that gojo possessed at times, simply talking to piss you off, simply living to be the bane of your existence. “and you’re fucking unbelievable, gojo satoru. clean up— or don’t,” you made sure to lace that last word with venom, “i don’t care.”
that seemed enough for gojo to snap out of his stupor, “no, no— princess, fuck, i’m s—” his brows furrow when he briefly spots the thickening glaze of your eyes, possibly filling with tears before you’re marching into your room to slam the door and he swears to himself. satoru had never felt embarrassment and shame and sadness like that day; having just taken a shower but his skin was sweaty and uncomfortable and his heart sat right at his feet.
gojo swears he never wants to hear you say his full name ever again.
since then, it’s been a little tense between the two of you. geto had noticed it on movie night, shoko realised you haven’t been looking at your phone as often. hell, even prof. yaga had to tell you that you were distracted way too much lately, and it’s only been two days.
satoru tried to possibly take back what he said with whatever powers he didn’t possess, but he only gets another sigh from you as you squeeze the toothpaste out and start brushing your teeth, not even sparing him one glance in the mirror.
and yet while he was the first one to start his nightly routine, he’s left to be the last again from the way he’s unable to stop staring at you, a recurring trait of his whenever you were in the same room with him. it’s a testament of how attracted he was to you — at how his shirt slips off your shoulder from how big it was because even when you were mad at him, you forgot about that little detail. gojo’s eyes trail from your exposed shoulder to your legs and back up again to your fatigued face. he skims over the shape of your eyes and down to your nose and he thinks he’s the luckiest man to be brushing his teeth beside you now, blessed with seeing such an intimate side of you even if it’s as simple as this.
until gojo’s eyes fall upon your mouth as your toothbrush is doing its job of perfect innocence, cleaning some teeth, scraping off the bacteria on your tongue, except when you’re switching it from side to side all your roommate can think about if it was his dick instead. and the thought leaves him as fast it comes.
all you do is shoot him a weird look through the mirror when gojo exclaims like he was a vampire whose skin burned under the bathroom lighting, and he regains composure with ease.
“i’m fine! fine. doing a-okay.” satoru speaks through the foam and it’s spraying everywhere and you’re too tired to care before you hear another gulp when you move your toothbrush again, “sorry! sorry— continue please.”
gojo is starstruck for an entirely different reason, now, watching the toothbrush making bulges at the side of your mouth as it moves in and out and he’s left to fantasise about the many, many times you’ve gotten him in you and the warmth of everything. he can feel himself get hard under his sweatpants when you start brushing your tongue and you gag and he wants to die standing in this 30 square foot bathroom because the last thing he wants to do is sexualise something perfectly mundane.
gojo isn’t like that (well, most of the time. can’t blame him for finding you smokin’ hot).
“what the fuck is your problem?” you’re speaking through your foamy mouth now, spitting it out and proceeding to clean up with no clue of what you do to him. satoru on the other hand — terribly excited that you’d even open your mouth to talk to him after two days of endless silent treatment.
“nothing, baby. it’s nothing, i promise.” you can’t lie at the way your heart jumps at the familiarity of it all, of being in such proximity to your lover, doing domestic things like these and the ‘baby’ and yet your pride is holding you back on everything.
you go straight to sleep, too, not wanting to entertain anything related to gojo satoru and you feel just a little bad when he looks at you with those baby blues and a sweet pout on his face. he looked especially pathetic in the bathroom, like a deer caught in headlights at just the presence of you and you want nothing more to apologise. it’s never that easy, though; you needed a promise, you needed the reassurance that he wouldn’t be leaving you to clean up after him again.
all these worries are willed away when you finally fall into slumber in your own room, body craving the warmth of satoru unknowingly. you had stolen a pillow the day before and it’s been the sole source of his scent, the only thing to keep your mind sane.
gojo’s heart drops again upon seeing you already deep in sleep, thinking he had a chance to catch you before you did, but the needines for you never goes down even now. he cannot take his mind off the way you’d run your hands through his hair or tangle your legs with his, satoru’s limbs recall the memory of you playing with his fingers and how you like to curl your arms around his neck. 48 hours is enough for him to go insane, and also maybe at how your leg was propped up on his missing pillow, hugging it so tight to your chest. you hadn’t bothered to wear pants either, so all he can see is the shape of your cunt under.
he stalks into the room and kneels in front of you, finger so tempted to run along your folds and make you wet, staring a whole minute and weighing his options until decides he doesn’t deserve it, turning away and closing your door softly.
“going now, satoru.” it’s soft when you mumble it, not even wanting him to hear before you’re stopped. you’re donning the uni orientation shirt and eyebags, a soggy sandwich from yesterday staining your bag with its smell. “what?”
“made you somethin’,” gojo’s cute like this with a frilly apron and hair band, still managing to tower over you despite the adorable get-up he’s got on, “it’s a bento.”
and you wish you could just melt the pride that runs through your bones and kiss him all over, and you break just a little. a small smile and you walk up to him, grabbing the lunchbox and pecking him softly on the cheek, turning away fast enough to not catch his fangirl moment — because you knew you wouldn’t be able to make it on time if you did.
“we still have to talk later when i come back, okay?” you call out as you put on your shoes and you steal one last glance at him, “and today’s laundry day. you know what t—”
“yes ma’am!” gojo salutes and you roll your eyes with a small smile, locking the door behind you with heat on your cheeks and the pounding of your heart. it was difficult not to break when it came to satoru, when he’s trying so hard to win back your words and love, and so tonight you’ve decided after the tiring week is when you’d finally stop running away over such a small matter.
although, gojo got caught up in something way beyond your expectations even if he had his initial intentions (which involved ordering your favourite takeout and kneeling at the front door in apology).
your roommate lays around for a bit before grabbing some lunch and heading to the back room, a little extension attached to the kitchen with a tune on his lips. it’s clear he’s a little driven by your little innocent peck, a sign that maybe you weren’t so mad any more. for the next hour, satoru is contently doing the laundry with a smile, until—
the panties you threw in before showering must have fallen to the bottom of the pile, the same one he saw you wear last night and he thinks maybe the low humming buzz he heard last night wasn’t his imagination because when he picks it up he can smell your arousal. there’s a stain from the previous night and another pool of juices from this morning and he now knows that it wasn’t the kettle.
“dirty girl,” he grins, “both yesterday and this morning?” he’s thought about this for the longest time, always holding himself back because you found him weird enough even before you were dating, always letting you do your own separate load for your undergarments. but since you’ve gotten together, you were more comfortable, throwing it into the same laundry basket — the compulsion has never been this strong before.
gojo puts it up to his nose and smells like the pervert he is, among other times: teasing you with a hand down your pants when the two were over at your dorm, fucking you in the kitchen as they focused on the movie, pounding into you with the windows open, and he almost ascends at the scent of your pussy juices. there’s a spark that goes down right to his core and he palms his bulge unconsciously, coming to his senses when the washing machine beeps.
he impatiently puts in the settings and leaves, heading straight for your room and is hit with all reminders of you. the perfume you used this morning and the body wash you share with him, walking almost under a trance to your bed where he moans at the softness of the sheets as he falls face first. it doesn’t take him much to scoot to your pillows, but the need for you is just too much.
gojo grinds his cock into the bed, whining softly as he whiffs up your natural body smell, hips moving on their own accord as he manoeuvres a pillow between his legs. he humps it like a dog, groaning and moaning and the strain on his dick is just too much, balling up the undies in his hand and his body tenses at the friction.
“baby . . f-fuck—” satoru’s voice is high-pitched and choked, all the thoughts of you culminating into one big ball of desperation for you and he cums in his pants, tainting the fabric a darker colour than before. but he’s not done — his hips still move against the pillow, thrusting into the fluff as he rides out his orgasm, moans muffled by the pillow. “miss you . .”
gojo misses you more than anything, feeling so much distance even within the house that he flips over — by now the sun shines its golden rays a little less. the afternoon is winding down into a cool evening — and pulls at the waistband of his pants. he’s still sensitive, wrapping a hand around his hard cock and pumping and the sound that leaves his mouth is borderline slutty. with another smell of your cunt, he strokes his dick, using his cum as lube.
“oh . . r-right there— mhnng . .” satoru’s hips buck into his hand, squeezing and thumbing at his cock before unbundling your panties and wrapping them around his shaft. the sight drives him insane. sure, it’s one of your more everyday underwear, neutral in both design and colour but he can feel the fabric get wetter and wetter from how much cum he’s pushed out earlier and that’s enough to keep his hand pumping. “s-sweetness, cummin—”
gojo’s head makes a dent in your other pillow from how hard he was pushing it, back arching at how the warmth in his hand will never compare to your mouth or pussy. he can already feel his second orgasm approaching, your room filled with the squelch of his cock and his sounds and he shoots his load with a drawn out moan all over your panties and his stomach. his cum is always so much, dripping down his pelvis and onto his hand and also . . yours?
your boyfriend lets out the girliest scream you’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing, scrambling up to the headboard when he sees you hovering over his body. he accidentally kicks your chest in the process and you have to clutch it with a small “ow”, although a small smile is still present on your face.
“having fun?”
“dude, what the fuck?”
your smile drops, “dude?”
gojo suddenly has his hands moving frantically, “nonono— no, sorry, i meant baby!”
you sigh, sitting back down on your heels as you take in the sight: his still hard cock and the sweat lining his body. his bangs are wet and your eyes flit down to your soiled underwear.
“uh . . i was just borrowing it,” gojo nervously chuckles, handing the cum-filled panty to you and your brows furrow.
“darling, you can’t just give someone back their clothes with your come on it.”
and your boyfriend pouts again, “i really am sorry. and for everything else, too. for not cleaning up and for being a general bum,” this is why you also (sometimes) favoured his unseriousness when you were talking about difficult things. the amount of times you had succumbed to his touches and kisses when you were mad at him was much better than your pride. gojo brings you onto his lap like his dick wasn’t just out, and you relish in the closeness you’ve missed.
“i need you to show me you mean it, ’toru,” he lights up at the nickname he loves just as you point a finger in his face, “aht! calm down. don’t think we’re all buddy-buddy again.”
“i will try,” gojo is smooth, taking your hand into his while the other brushes the hair away from your eyes. you lean into the touch, “and i will try until you see my efforts.”
you smile at his honesty, “and i’m sorry for ignoring you as well. it was childish of me.”
gojo hums, bringing your face in to plant a kiss to your lips, “i missed you like crazy, princess.”
you laugh, “yeah i can tell, i miss you too.” you gesture to all of him and he whines softly at the joke, squeezing your waist.
“you’re not weirded out?”
his breath hitches when you move down his body and situate yourself between them, finger tracing his tip and teasing him, “why would i be? i’ve literally fucked myself wearing your shirt.”
gojo gulps loudly, “you did w-what?”
“i’m just better at not getting caught.” all words are taken from his lips then, when your mouth engulfs him and the feeling of it is just pure insanity. gojo pants and his thighs tense, a hand gathering your hair into a ponytail to keep it from interfering. his eyes fixate on the way your suck him off, recalling the last time he’s watched you do that was in a damn bathroom.
“y-your mouth—” satoru swears under his breath when you swirl your tongue around his shaft, the tip of his cock making bulges on the side of your mouth and it only leaves him calling out your name time after time.
“y’know,” you gargle on him, slurping up his cum, “i know what you were thinking starin’ at me last night.”
gojo snaps his fingers and mumbles out a shaky damn, because he can always be read like an open book. he just didn’t know he was that obvious.
“looked cute staring,” you mutter around him, “like a little puppy.”
you slap his thick length on your tongue, moaning when you feel just how heavy it is, “you just wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”
gojo whines at your words, nodding, and you go back to the abuse on his dick, bobbing your head up and down as your hand plays with his balls. the other moves over his torso, at the porcelain skin there and you can feel his stomach heaving at your ministrations.
“are you close, baby?” you ask mindlessly, the lewd sounds of his fat cock in your mouth sending sensations right down to your sex as well. you never really listen to his answer, taking a deep breath and sucking in your cheeks and soon you’re deep throating your lover.
“mh— mmf . .” sounds deep from your throat as your nose buries itself in his pubes, and satoru struggles to hold your tantalising stare. he can feel his tip hit the back of your throat and his moans are quick and high-pitched.
“cumming— ’m cumming,” before you come off and you go back to your pace and gojo’s small moans descend into longer ones at the feeling. his eyes roll back right into his skull as he twitches in your mouth and soon he’s spilling right into your throat and tongue.
“baby—” satoru’s eyes are squeezed tightly shut, “s-shit . .” and the sheer amount of cum always takes you off guard, sputtering over it when you drag your lips off of him. your boyfriend’s eyes are hooded and darkened, looking at how the strings of his semen droop from your mouth and connect right to his weeping tip.
“eugh, eat more veggies, ’toru. you’re bitter as fuck.” you say with a giggle, swallowing nonetheless as you wipe a hand across your mouth, “thanks for the meal.”
his spirit has certainly ascended, chest heaving and legs jelly from that mind-blowing orgasm. even he takes solace on the headboard, looking down at you with tired eyes.
“but i’m not done,” you truly weren’t, driving satoru to the brink after you’ve milked him to his limit, and yet he wouldn’t have it any other way as he thrusts into you, having had a new burst of energy after seeing your confidence wane once you’ve gotten his dick in you.
it was cute — your words breaking up and staggering as you sink down for the first time after two days, reduced merely to whines as you ride him. gojo lets you have your fun for a bit before he properly flips you over, pressing down on your lower back.
“fuck yourself onto me, baby,” he can tell you’ve missed him too by how you squeeze around him, a sly grin on his face when your hips push back onto him. he sees the tight hold you have on the silk sheets and the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. “good girl . . juuust like that.”
you’re jerking forward when he slaps your ass, letting it ripple from the force of both of his hand and your hips. but he takes over soon enough, grabbing both your arms and pulling you gently off that you’re hanging limply. and even while he does that, he’s still focused on the way your lips spread to accommodate him together with a ring of white at the base of his cock.
“that feel good? huh?” gojo mumbles, loving the way you arch your back and your head lols forward, just letting him do whatever he wants to you. you’re too far gone to even quell the ache in your thighs, too distracted by the wetness of your pussy.
“feel s— s’good, satoru—!” you moan out and like always satoru is indecisive in everything, now tugging you up to rest chest to back. “g’na cum!”
your legs spread more and more as your lover keeps you tightly pressed against him, an arm around your neck and the other, waist. wordlessly, he guides your face to the side, meeting your mouth in a sloppy, drooling kiss and his hips stutter at the way you mewl into his mouth.
“that right, princess?” he asks into your lips, relishing in your face contorting in pleasure. eyes reaching heaven and your mouth parted cutely even more when he props a leg up and his cockhead presses against your cervix ever so lightly.
“y—yeah . .” it’s a mix between a whine and a moan before the only rub of your clit from satoru’s hand sends you reeling and you’re trembling in his hold. you can feel your juices coat his length just as he cums as well, too obsessed with the way your cunt feels aeons better than his pathetic hand. he litters your skin with groans of his own, continue to fuck his cum back into you as you milk him dry with ropes and ropes of semen painting your womb white.
“good little girl,” he hums, and you sigh at the feeling of him cumming again, sensing him removing himself with you with an obscene pop! and you want to continue. you’re already moving your hips yet again, begging with small please’s but the happy-go-lucky song of the dryer interrupts the both of you. you scowl.
gojo laughs into your neck, and you’re left grumbling as he sets you down gently, letting you catch your breath before he presses a kiss to your sweaty cheek.
“i’ll handle it, baby,” satoru made a promise to you and he’ll keep it. he hurriedly pulls his sweatpants over his bottom half, “you just rest up.”
it’s not even two minutes later that you already miss him, trotting over to the laundry room in nothing but his shirt and you just watch as he removes the clothes with a certain tranquillity and delicateness that you’d like to see this sight more often and all you can muster in the moment is your arms around his middle.
and the sweetness of the moment is immediately ruined by gojo, “let’s fuck here. whaddya say?”
your roommate and lover can only grin when you turn him around to smack him (“it’s!” slap “not!” slap “sanitary!” slap “here!” slap), finally happy everything’s back to normal. satoru simply presses a kiss to your temple.
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jjk gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#jjk thirsts#gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru x you
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not acceptable
Charles Leclerc x fem!driver! reader
Summary: Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do when your pretty boyfriend is a lil dumb
Warnings: Excessive cursing, Lando slander, grown men sharing a single brain cell, fluff?
Word Count: 1.3k
Based on my favourite scene in Schitt’s Creek
In all the two years you’ve been in Ferrari, the speculations and rumours of you dating Charles were non-stop. Neither of you paid much attention to it. You were both in happy relationships. However, that changed in the summer of ‘22 when you broke up with your partner. It wasn’t messy and you both agreed it was for the better. You focused on the rest of the season.
Fast forward to the summer of ‘23, you and Charles were both single. You decided to give in to the speculations and give the relationship a real shot. You went on a few dates, each one being more fun than the previous one. Yet neither of you took the leap to become exclusive. You both liked each other but it wasn’t said out loud as much as you would’ve wanted to. So when Charles invited you to a game night with his friends, you thought it would be the one where he introduced you as his girlfriend.
You knocked on his apartment door at 7 pm. You had brought a charcuterie board because you panicked and the first thing your mind thought was cheese.
“Y/N! Come in.” Charles opened the door and hugged you. You tried your best to return while managing the charcuterie board. He laughed at your struggle, took the board from your hand and led you in. You spotted some familiar faces in the room. “Hey, guys. This is Y/N. My teammate as you know.” To risk being dramatic, the only description for what you felt was “death by a thousand cuts”. You still forced a smile and greeted everyone. You took a seat on the sofa next to Charles. “You brought a charcuterie board?” Pierre asked puzzled. “Dibs on gouda.” Yelled a familiar Brit.
**************
For the next few hours, you forced yourself to forget about your “teammate” and focus on the game instead. To everyone’s surprise, you were very good at Monopoly. You had already collected over $7000 worth of assets. You were more than happy to win by default. Arthur suggested Uno and everyone complied. You had never played it before which made the group very happy.
When you got your cards you leaned over to Charles and whispered “What the fuck should I do now? ” Charles peeked at your cards and by instinct you shied them away from him. “You have to show me the cards so I can tell you what to do.” He laughed. You rolled your eyes and showed him the cards. “How the hell did you get 3 +4 cards?” “Why? Is that bad?” “No no. It is very good and I am very grateful my turn is before you.” “I am gonna crush these motherfuckers” You silently giggled.
“Y/N your turn,” Andrea called out. You placed the +4 card on the table. “Seriously?” Lando sighed and took 4 cards from the deck. “I thought you'd never played this before.” “I haven’t. I’m just that good, Norris.” “You know you could put all the +4 cards at once? ” Charles whispered in your ear. When your turn came again you placed both your +4 cards down. “Oh come on. You’re an absolute ass.” Lando exclaimed. “You just got destroyed by a UNO rookie, Lando” Pierre doubled over in laughter. “Also you have only one card left. You can call out UNO” Arthur nudged you. “UNO!” You yelled. “Well, I guess we have a winner. ” Lorenzo sighed and folded.
You started feeling a little guilty. Your winning spree kept cutting the game short. It didn’t look like anyone was having any fun. Even if Charles isn’t going to introduce you as his girlfriend, you still want his friends and brothers to like you as Charles’ girl. Charles brought in Scrabble as his last resort. He wasn’t expecting to go through 2 games so quickly. You were chosen as the judge. You promised yourself to go easy on everyone. You weren’t sure if you were making a good impression on everyone but boy did your ego love this.
**************
“What do you mean ‘rizz’ isn’t accepted?” Arthur yelled. “Mate it isn’t in the dictionary.” “Then why does everyone call Lando ‘NoRIZZ’?” “Hey!” “I consider it as an acceptable word. We know the meaning. It exists. It’s a word.” You chimed in. “Thank you!” Arthur smiled and added 13 points to himself. The game continued and you limited yourself to simple words. And you accepted every word regardless of how ridiculous it was.
“Yes Pierre ‘Fuck’ is a word.”
“I mean we all know what ‘OMG’ is”
“Sure, Charles. You can make Frenglish words.”
You could physically feel the pain from the insanity of some words but you were on a mission. You nodded and smiled and carried on. The words became chaotic by the minute. Your last straw was when Lando argued that “Skibidi” should be accepted.
“That’s it. I can’t take this shit anymore. I respect the game too much to put up with this. You are way too old to use the word ‘Skibidi’, Lando.” “Yeah so wrong, Lando” Pierre fakes disappointment. “You! Fuck is not acceptable.” “Not acceptable. Yes sorry, Y/N” He bites back a laugh. “OMG!? Are you kidding me?” “I wasn’t.” Lorenzo shakes his head. “And my boyfriend sits there looking pretty and wanting to make up Frenglish words. THAT’S NOT EVEN A LANGUAGE. NOT ACCEPTABLE!”
“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” Charles looked up at you. “I said Lando is old.” You tried to shift the conversation. “Why the fuck am I getting slandered?” “No. I think it was something about your boyfriend being pretty and making up words.” Charles redirects you. “Um... I don’t remember saying that.” You mumbled. “Yeah no. That’s what we heard. Right Arthur?” Pierre snickered.
“Hey if my girlfriend says Frenglish isn’t acceptable then it isn’t, guys” Charles smirked. “Or it is. I don’t remember saying it.” You shrugged. “So you can do whatever you like.” The ceiling looked much more interesting than the gorgeous green eyes looking at you. “I think our work is done here. Let’s go guys.” Lando stood up. “And what exactly was that work, Norizz?” You called out as everyone was walking out the door chattering. Lando just smiled at you and closed the door.
You and Charles remained quiet and just looked at each other for a long moment. “I don’t k-” “Do you r-” You both spoke at the same time. Gentle giggles echoed in the silence. “I was gonna ask if you regretted it?” Charles looked at you with a hopeful glint in his eyes. “No. God no. Charles, I don’t regret it at all. But to be honest, I kinda thought you hosted this game night to introduce me as your girlfriend. It sucked ass when you called me your teammate.” You looked down at your feet. You contemplated if sitting down would make this whole shebang less awkward. But Charles quietened your thoughts by standing up and taking your hands in his.
“Cherie, seconds before you knocked, I was having a full-blown panic attack. I really really like you and I wanted us to be official but I didn’t know what you felt. The guys were there for emotional support because I do not trust myself with any high-risk situation.”
“You drive a car at 300 km/hr almost every weekend.”
“Please. That is nothing compared to you. Every time I get in the cockpit, I’m more worried about your safety than mine. I was going to introduce you as my girlfriend. Trust me the word was on the tip of my tongue but I was being a pussy and chickened out. I’m so glad you did it tho.” His smile made those adorable dimples pop as he hugged you. “I’m so glad I did it too.” Your voice came out muffled with your cheek pressed against his chest.
“And I’m so glad you called me pretty.”
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fluff#schitt's creek#schittscreekedit#netflix#fanfics#pretty monegasque
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Yandere! Android x Reader (I)
It is the future and you have been tasked to solve a mysterious murder that could jeopardize political ties. Your assigned partner is the newest android model meant to assimilate human customs. You must keep his identity a secret and teach him the ways of earthlings, although his curiosity seems to be reaching inappropriate extents.
Yes, this is based on Asimov’s “Caves of Steel” because Daneel Olivaw was my first ever robot crush. I also wanted a protagonist that embraces technology. :)
Content: female reader, AI yandere, 50's futurism
You follow after the little assistant robot, a rudimentary machine invested with basic dialogue and spatial navigation. It had caused quite the ruckus when first introduced. One intern - well liked despite being somewhat clumsy at his job - was sadly let go as a result. Not even the Police is safe from the threat of AI, is what they chanted outside the premises.
"The Commissioner has summoned you, (Y/N)."
That's how it greeted you earlier, clacking its appendage against the open door in an attempt to simulate a knock.
"Do you know why my presence is needed?" You inquire and wait for the miniature AI to scan the audio message.
"I am not allowed to mention anything right now." It finally responds after agonizing seconds.
It's an alright performance. You might've been more impressed by it, had you not witnessed first hand the Spacer technology that could put any modern invention here on Earth to shame. Sadly the people down here are very much against artificial intelligence. There have been multiple protests recently, like the one in front of your building, condemning the latest government suggestion regarding automation. People fear for their jobs and safety and you don't necessarily blame them for having self preservation. On the other hand, you've always been a supporter of progress. As a child you devoured any science fiction book you could get your hands on, and now, as a high ranked police detective you still manage to sneak away and scan over articles and news involving the race for a most efficient computer.
You close the door behind you and the Commissioner puts his fat cigarette out, twisting the remains into the ashtray with monotonous movements as if searching for the right words.
"There's been a murder." Is all he settles on saying, throwing a heavy folder in your direction. A hologram or tablet might've been easier to catch, but the man, like many of his coworkers, shares a deep nostalgia for the old days.
You flip through the pages and eventually furrow your eyebrows.
"This would be a disaster if it made it to the news." You mumble and look up at the older man. "Shouldn't this go to someone more experienced?"
He twiddles with his grey mustache and glances out the fake window.
"It's a sensitive case. The Spacers are sending their own agent to collaborate with us. What stands out to you?"
You narrow your eyes and focus on the personnel sheet. What's there to cause such controversy? Right before giving up, departing from the page, you finally notice it: next to the Spacer officer's name, printed clearly in black ink, is a little "R." which is a commonly used abbreviation to indicate something is a robot. The chief must've noticed your startled reaction and continues, satisfied:
"You understand, yes? They're sending an android. Supposedly it replicates a human perfectly in terms of appearance, but it does not possess enough observational data. Their request is that whoever partners up with him will also house him and let him follow along for the entirety of the mission. You're the only one here openly supporting those tin boxes. I can't possibly ask one of your higher ups, men with wives and children, to...you know...bring that thing in their house."
You're still not sure whether to be offended by the fact that your comfort seems to be of less priority compared to other officers. Regardless of the semantics, you're presently standing at the border between Earth and the Spacer colony, awaiting your case partner. A man emerges from behind a security gate. He's tall, with handsome features and an elegant walk. He approaches you and you reach for a handshake.
"Is the android with you?" You ask, a little confused.
"Is this your first time seeing a Spacer model?" He responds, relaxed. "I am the agent in your care. There is no one else."
You take a moment to process the information, similar to the primitive machine back at your office. Could it be? You've always known that Spacer technology is years ahead, but this surpasses your wildest dreams. There is not a single detail hinting at his mechanical fundament. The movement is fluid, the speech is natural, the design is impenetrable. He lifts the warm hand he'd used for the handshake and gently presses a finger against your chin in an upwards motion. You find yourself involuntarily blushing.
"Your mouth was open. I assumed you'd want it discreetly corrected." He states, factually, with a faint smile on his lips. Is he amused? Is such a feeling even possible? You try your best to regain some composure, adjusting the collar of your shirt and clearing your throat.
"Thank you and please excuse my rudeness. I was not expecting such a flawless replica. Our assistants are...easily recognizable as AI."
"So I've been told." His smile widens and he checks his watch. You follow his gesture, still mesmerized, trying to find a single indicator that the man standing before you is indeed a machine, a synthetic product.
Nothing.
"Shall we?" He eyes the exit path and you quickly lead him outside and towards public transport.
He patiently waits for your fingerprint scan to be complete. You almost turn around and apologize for the old, lagging device. As a senior detective, you have the privilege of living in the more spacious, secured quarters of the city. And, since you don't have a family, the apartment intended for multiple people looks more like a luxury adobe. Still, compared to the advanced way of the Spacers, this must feel like poverty to the android.
At last, the scanner beeps and the door unlocks.
"Heh...It's a finicky model." You mumble and invite him in.
"Yes, I'm familiar with these systems." He agrees with you and steps inside, unbuttoning his coat.
"Oh, you've seen this before?"
"In history books."
You scratch your cheek and laugh awkwardly, wondering how much of his knowledge about the current life on Earth is presented as a museum exhibit when compared to Spacer society.
"I'm going to need a coffee. I guess you don't...?" Your words trail as you await confirmation.
"I would enjoy one as well, if it is not too much to ask. I've been told it's a social custom to 'get coffee' as a way to have small talk." The synthetic straightens his shirt and looks at you expectantly.
"Of course. I somehow assumed you can't drink, but if you're meant to blend in with humans...it does make sense you'd have all the obvious requirements built in."
He drags a chair out and sits at the small table, legs crossed.
"Indeed. I have been constructed to have all the functions of a human, down to every detail."
You chuckle lightly. Well, not like you can verify it firsthand. The engineers back at the Spacer colony most likely didn't prepare him for matters considered unnecessary.
"I do mean every detail." He adds, as if reading your mind. "You are free to see for yourself."
You nearly drop the cup in your flustered state. You hurry to wipe the coffee that spilled onto the counter and glance back at the android, noticing a smirk on his face. What the hell? Are they playing a prank on you and this is actually a regular guy? Some sort of social experiment?
"I can see they included a sense of humor." You manage to blurt out, glaring at him suspiciously.
"I apologize if I offended you in any way. I'm still adjusting to different contexts." The android concludes, a hint of mischief remaining on his face. "Aren't rowdy jokes common in your field of work?"
"Uh huh. Spot on." You hesitantly place the hot drink before him.
Robots on Earth have always been built for the purpose of efficiency. Whether or not a computer passes the Turing Test is irrelevant as long as it performs its task in the most optimal, rational way. There have been attempts, naturally, to create something indistinguishable from a human, but utility has always taken precedence. It seems that Spacers think differently. Or perhaps they have reached their desired level of performance a long time ago, and all that was left was fiddling with aesthetics. Whatever the case is, you're struggling not to gawk in amazement at the man sitting in your kitchen, stirring his coffee with a bored expression.
"I always thought - if you don't mind my honesty - that human emotions would be something to avoid when building AI. Hard to implement, even harder to control and it doesn't bring much use."
"I can understand your concerns. However, let me reassure you, I have a strict code of ethics installed in my neural networks and thus my emotions will never lead to any destructive behavior. All safety concerns have been taken into consideration.
As for why...How familiar are you with our colony?" The android takes a sip of his coffee and nods, expressing his satisfaction. "Perhaps you might be aware, Spacers have a declining population. Automated assistants have been part of our society for a long time now. What's lacking is humans. If the issue isn't fixed, artificial humans will have to do."
You scoff.
"What, us Earth men aren't good enough to fix the birth rates? They need robots?"
You suddenly remember the recipient of your complaint and mutter an apology.
"Well, I'm sure you'd make a fine contender. Sadly I can't speak for everyone else on Earth." The man smiles in amusement upon seeing the pale red that's now dusting your cheeks, then continues: "But the issue lies somewhere else. Spacers have left Earth a long time ago and lived in isolation until now. Once an organism has lost its immune responses to otherwise common pathogens, it cannot be reintegrated."
True. Very few Earth citizens are allowed to enter the colony, and only do so after thorough disinfection stages, proving they are disease free as to not endanger the fragile health of the Spacers living in a sterile environment. You can only imagine the disastrous outcome if the two species were to abruptly mingle. In that case, equally sterile machinery might be their only hope.
Your mind wanders to the idea. Dating a robot...How's that? You sheepishly gaze at the android and study his features. His neatly combed copper hair, the washed out blue eyes, the pale skin. Probably meant to resemble the Spacers. You shake your head.
"A-anyways, I'll go and gather all the case files I have. Then we can discuss our first steps. Do feel at home."
You rush out and head for your office. Focus, you tell yourself mildly annoyed.
While you search for the required paperwork - what a funny thing to say in this day and age - he will certainly take up on your generous offer to make himself comfortable. The redhaired man enters the living room, scanning everything with curious eyes. He stops in front of a digital frame and slides through the photos. Ah, this must be your Police Academy graduation. The year matches with the data he's received on you. Data files he might've read one too many times in his unexplained enthusiasm. This should be you and the Commissioner; Doesn't match the description of your father, and he seems too old to be a spouse or boyfriend. Additionally, the android distinctly recalls the empty 'Relationship' field.
"Old photos are always a tad embarrassing. I suppose you skipped that stage."
He jolts almost imperceptibly and faces you. You have returned with a thin stack of papers and a hologram projector.
"I've digitalized most files I received, so you don't have to shuffle a bunch of paper around." You explain.
"That is very useful, thank you." He gently retrieves the small device from your hand, but takes a moment before removing his fingers from yours. "I predict this will be a successful partnership."
You flash him a friendly smile and gesture towards the seating area.
"Let's get to work, then. Unless you want to go through more boring albums." You joke as you lower yourself onto the plush sofa.
The synthetic human joins you at an unexpectedly close proximity. You wonder if proper distance differs among Spacers or if he has received slightly erroneous information about what makes a comfortable rapport.
"Nothing boring about it. In fact, I'd say you and I are very similar from this point of view." He tells you, placing the projector on the table.
"Oh?"
"Your interest in technology and artificial intelligence is rather easy to infer." The man continues, pointing vaguely towards the opposing library. "Aside from the briefing I've already received about you, that is."
"And that is similar to...the interest in humans you've been programmed to have?" You interject, unsure where this conversation is meant to lead.
"Almost."
His head turns fully towards you and you stare back into his eyes. From this distance you can finally discern the first hints of his nature: the thin disks shading the iris - possibly CCD sensors - are moving in a jagged, mechanical manner. Actively analyzing and processing the environment.
"I wouldn't go as far as to generalize it to all humans.
Just you."
#yandere#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere male#male yandere#male yandere x reader#yandere robot#yandere android#robot x human#android x reader#robot x reader#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines#yandere oc#yandere original character#yandere imagine#yandere fic
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Mirre’s “How i render gemstones” tutorial!
(note: image above is not what is shown in the walkthrough. It is an example piece)
Ingredients:
Art program that has layers and selection tools
Patience (hubris or stubbornness is fine too)
(recommended) photo references of gemstones and/or prisms
(Optional but very helpful) Knowledge on how to use Reference layers and anti-overflow in Clip studio Paint
For this tutorial i am going to use clip studio’s “anti-overflow” feature. This post is not going to explain how to use that specific setting but you should be able to find guides on how to use it on clip studio’s official website or on youtube.
Please Note: The result of this technique will not 100% represent real life gemstones. These are more simplified but should still make an impression of the brilliance and appeal of gems, crystals and diamonds.
If you don’t work in CSP: the best workaround is to use the polygonal lasso selection tool for the same purpose.
This ended up being a long post so I am putting it under the readmore:
First off; Basic idea on how the light refracts inside a solid transparent object:
Wether it is acrylic, glass, water or crystal, the way light pass through more or less should behave the same as long as it is solid and not hollow inside. Pay attention to how the darkest parts of the stone goes along the inner edges, leaving a ”mid tone” sort of in the center. However, this might vary depending on the light setting. But it is a generally good rule-of-thumb to follow if you’re drawing something not based on a photo. Another thing to pay attention to here is how the placement of the highlight will lit up the inside of the gem in a parallel line. It also shows through on the cast shadow.
Light refraction on a cube:
I have already made two posts on this, so definitely go through them:
CUBE BREAKDOWN POST HERE
But a rough summary from those two links would be: Every side/facet of a gem or a cube etc refracts the light individually and not as one entity (that would make it look hollow and not solid). Think of it like how each piece in a broken mirror individually reflect your face back to you. Like a weird patchwork!
Putting this into practice:
For this tutorial I’m going to be nice to myself and not try to draw perfectly accurate gemstones. Instead I’m gonna draw them with a more ”natural” looking set of facets. Which actually isnt as common in real world as video games makes us think. Some crystals have geometric shapes naturally, but a lot of other stones are not as fancy. Anyway, im taking artistic liberty on these example stones because the technique I’m going to use will work for these just fine.
So, in clip studio paint, I first draw the stones on a vector layer. I give them facets for the front side. Then I duplicate the layer, remove the front facets and replace them with the facets on the back of the stone. The third image here shows both layers visible on top of each other. I now put these into a layer folder and mark the folder as ”reference”.
Now, on a layer below the lineart folder, fill with your base tone. Then make a layer on top (if you can clip it to the base tone, do that), this layer is where you decide where the highlight will be placed. In some cases the highlight is only lighting up one single facet - it really depends on the design of the stone. You can also blend and soften the highlight here if it looks good for you, just make sure not every facet is highlighted. The highlight layer should be on top of all the other layers clipped to the base tone layer.
Now it is time for the juicy juicy stuff! Turn on both lineart layers so they’re both visible. I hid the hilight layer here because it was in the way, but might not be needed in your case. Make a layer clipped to the base tone and paint in the darkest tone. This is where anti-overflow helps me out, because when i run my brush over all these crossed lines it will make the stroke pop in and out for each facet. If you dont use CSP, this is where you can use the lasso tool and select every second facet. It will take a bit more time but it should work similarly.
After the darkest tones I then make a layer for the inside light that the highlight has lit up. Here i keep it inside the darkest tone but this might vary depending on the light setting. If it looks good to me, then that’s what i stick to.
The way I approach rendering the facets here is like the grid in the example images above, every shade and tone appear more or less in each facet but the amount is relative to their position. So a gradient wouldnt have a smooth transition; it would be slightly scewed in each square on this example grid. Essentially like how some bathroom window glass panes look like.
Now it’s time to hide the lineart layer folder and check if the gemstones look decent to you. If not, then you can look up some reference photos and analyze where the values group together the most; be careful not to focus too much on the photos 500 million sparkles. Squint your eyes or blur the reference and try to see how the overall values behae.
I, personally, am satisfied with these rocks so I slap on a gradient map (you can manually color in them too if that’s your thing) and call it a day. The lit up inside of a gemstone tend to have a brighter and more saturated color than the mid tone.
Other Examples with this technique:
If you look up ”gemstone types” you can often find images displaying various facet types from more than just front view. These can serve as useful base templates for practicing this rendering technique. The backside of a gemstone is called the “pavillion” and is really useful to have at hand when it comes to painting the inner refractions. You can probably also use 3D models and convert the wireframe into lineart. But that is slightly out of my pool of knowledge.
Applying this knowledge without using a base lineart layer is of course possible. In this painting I followed a simplified summary of how the facets sparkle: Keep the highlight shape to match the front facet design, and all the inner refractions should be more scattered and split up but face a direction towards the center of the gem. Now don’t you think this sort of makes the gems look like eyes? That’s right! You can, and absolutely should, apply this on eyes to create the most sparkly anime eyes ever.
Now, refracted light that lands on the surface surrounding gemstones varies depending on the material - and if the gem is inside a metal frame it usually doesnt create this much refraction around it. But I want to have fun so i decided to break this rule in the name of pretty sparkles. :)
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None Of You Know What Haiku Are
I'm going to preface this by saying that i am not an expert in ANY form of poetry, just an enthusiast. Also, this post is... really long. Too long? Definitely too long. Whoops! I love poetry.
If you ask most English-speaking people (or haiku-bot) what a haiku is, they would probably say that it's a form of poetry that has 3 lines, with 5, and then 7, and then 5 syllables in them. That's certainly what I was taught in school when we did our scant poetry unit, but since... idk elementary school when I learned that, I've learned that that's actually a pretty inaccurate definition of haiku. And I think that inaccurate definition is a big part of why most people (myself included until relatively recently!) think that haiku are kind of... dumb? unimpressive? simple and boring? I mean, if you can just put any words with the right number of syllables into 3 lines, what makes it special?
Well, let me get into why the 5-7-5 understanding of haiku is wrong, and also what makes haiku so special (with examples)!
First of all, Japanese doesn't have syllables! There's a few different names for what phonetic units actually make up the language- In Japanese, they're called "On" (音), which translates to "sound", although English-language linguists often call it a "mora" (μ), which (quoting from Wikipedia here) "is a basic timing unit in the phonology of some spoken languages, equal to or shorter than a syllable." (x) "Oh" is one syllable, and also one mora, whereas "Oi" has one syllable, but two moras. "Ba" has one mora, "Baa" has two moras, etc. In English, we would say that a haiku is made up of three lines, with 5-7-5 syllables in them, 17 syllables total. In Japanese, that would be 17 sounds.
For an example of the difference, the word "haiku", in English, has 2 syllables (hai-ku), but in Japanese, はいく has 3 sounds (ha-i-ku). "Christmas" has 2 syllables, but in Japanese, "クリスマス" (ku-ri-su-ma-su) is 5 sounds! that's a while line on its own! Sometimes the syllables are the same as the sounds ("sushi" is two syllables, and すし is two sounds), but sometimes they're very different.
In addition, words in Japanese are frequently longer than their English equivalents. For example, the word "cuckoo" in Japanese is "ほととぎす" (hototogisu).
Now, I'm sure you're all very impressed at how I can use an English to Japanese dictionary (thank you, my mother is proud), but what does any of this matter? So two languages are different. How does that impact our understanding of haiku?
Well, if you think about the fact that Japanese words are frequently longer than English words, AND that Japanese counts sounds and not syllables, you can see how, "based purely on a 17-syllable counting method, a poet writing in English could easily slip in enough words for two haiku in Japanese” (quote from Grit, Grace, and Gold: Haiku Celebrating the Sports of Summer by Kit Pancoast Nagamura). If you're writing a poem using 17 English syllables, you are writing significantly more content than is in an authentic Japanese haiku.
(Also not all Japanese haiku are 17 sounds at all. It's really more of a guideline.)
Focusing on the 5-7-5 form leads to ignoring other strategies/common conventions of haiku, which personally, I think are more interesting! Two of the big ones are kigo, a season word, and kireji, a cutting word.
Kigo are words/phrases/images associated with a particular season, like snow for winter, or cherry blossoms for spring. In Japan, they actually publish reference books of kigo called saijiki, which is basically like a dictionary or almanac of kigo, describing the meaning, providing a list of related words, and some haiku that use that kigo. Using a a particular kigo both grounds the haiku in a particular time, but also alludes to other haiku that have used the same one.
Kireji is a thing that doesn't easily translate to English, but it's almost like a spoken piece of punctuation, separating the haiku into two parts/images that resonate with and add depth to each other. Some examples of kireji would be "ya", "keri", and "kana." Here's kireji in action in one of the most famous haiku:
古池や 蛙飛び込む 水の音
(Furu ike ya kawazu tobikomu mizu no oto)
(The old pond —
A frog jumps in
The sound of the water.)
You can see the kireji at the end of the first line- 古池や literally translates to "old pond ya". The "ya" doesn't have linguistic meaning, but it denotes the separation between the two focuses of the haiku. First, we are picturing a pond. It's old, mature. The water is still. And then there's a frog! It's spring and he's fresh and new to the world! He jumps into the pond and goes "splash"! Wowie! When I say "cutting word", instead of say, a knife cutting, I like to imagine a film cut. The camera shows the pond, and then it cuts to the frog who jumps in.
English doesn't really have a version of this, at least not one that's spoken, but in English language haiku, people will frequently use a dash or an ellipses to fill the same role.
Format aside, there are also some conventions of the actual content, too. They frequently focus on nature, and are generally use direct language without metaphor. They use concrete images without judgement or analysis, inviting the reader to step into their shoes and imagine how they'd feel in the situation. It's not about describing how you feel, so much as it's about describing what made you feel.
Now, let's put it all together, looking at a haiku written Yosa Buson around 1760 (translated by Harold G. Henderson)
The piercing chill I feel:
my dead wife's comb, in our bedroom,
under my heel
We've got our kigo with "the piercing chill." We read that, and we imagine it's probably winter. It's cold, and the kind of cold wind that cuts through you. There's our kireji- this translation uses a colon to differentiate our two images: the piercing chill, and the poet stepping on his dead wife's comb. There's no descriptions of what the poet is feeling, but you can imagine stepping into his shoes. You can imagine the pain he's experiencing in that moment on your own.
"But tumblr user corvidcall!" I hear you say, "All the examples you've used so far are Japanese haiku that have been translated! Are you implying that it's impossible for a good haiku to be written in English?" NO!!!!! I love English haiku! Here's a good example, which won first place in the 2000 Henderson haiku contest, sponsored by the Haiku Society of America:
meteor shower . . .
a gentle wave
wets our sandals
When you read this one, can you imagine being in the poet's place? Do you feel the surprise as the tide comes in? Do you feel the summer-ness of the moment? Haiku are about describing things with the senses, and how you take in the world around you. In a way, it's like the poet is only setting a scene, which you inhabit and fill with meaning based on your own experiences. You and I are imagining different beaches, different waves, different people that make up the "our" it mentioned.
"Do I HAVE to include all these things when I write haiku? If I include all these things, does that mean my haiku will be good?" I mean, I don't know. What colors make up a good painting? What scenes make up a good play? It's a creative medium, and nobody can really tell you you can't experiment with form. Certainly not me! But I think it's important to know what the conventions of the form are, so you can appreciate good examples of it, and so you can know what you're actually experimenting with. And I mean... I'm not the poetry cops. But if you're not interested in engaging with the actual conventions and limitations of the form, then why are you even using that form?
I'll leave you with one more English language haiku, which is probably my favorite haiku ever. It was written by Tom Bierovic, and won first place at the 2021 Haiku Society of America Haiku Awards
a year at most . . .
we pretend to watch
the hummingbirds
Sources: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)
Further reading:
Forms in English Haiku by Keiko Imaoka
Haiku: A Whole Lot More Than 5-7-5 by Jack
How to Write a Bad Haiku by KrisL
Haiku Are Not a Joke: A Plea from a Poet Who Has Had It Up to Here by Sandra Simpson
Haiku Checklist by Katherine Raine
#poetry#haiku#writing#literature#anime life#long post#i want to apologize but i had to get something off my chest#and the thing was. i love haiku#and when i see posts on here about haiku. i get so angy.#well ok i really get more disappointed bc nobody is really engaging with the form on its own terms#anyway i hope you enjoy some of my favorite haiku because theyre in there!!!!!#i didnt really get into the history of haiku. and i also did not get into why i got really into it#but i will say that i was really inspired by Jacob Geller's video A Thousand Ways of Seeing a Forest#which is a lot about translation#(which i mean. as an interpreter AND a poetry-enjoyer. really appealed to me lol)
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SLEEP WITH, MARRY, KILL
⤷ ⋮ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 ⋮
౨ৎ how to play:
1. there will be three characters (multifandom). simply choose one you'd want to sleep with, one you'd want to marry, and one you'd... well, kill.
2. each character will have a comment based on your decision, read it!
ೀ warning: characters may have some harsh or suggestive replies, so proceed with caution !
౨ৎ characters from the following fandoms:
BLUE LOCK, genshin impact, honkai star rail, JJK
1. 彡 who would you sleep with, marry, kill?
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to sleep with him
𝐃𝐑. 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎: "oh? you want to sleep with me? i'm afraid i'd rather watch paint dry."
𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀: "haha! not surprised. i'll make it worth your while, y/n."
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈: "y/n, i believe it is best to refrain from such... engagements. i must respectfully decline."
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to marry him
𝐃𝐑. 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎: "hm, i can hardly contain my enthusiasm. it seems you've also been infected by the disease named stupidity."
(translation: "i'll consider it,")
𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀: "what's the hurry? just kidding, this seems like the beginning of our grand adventure, my love."
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈: "...what? y/n, marriage is a serious commitment... it requires careful consideration— i apologize, i seem to have forgotten this was a game."
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to kill him
𝐃𝐑. 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎: "you know y/n, sometimes it's better to keep your lips sealed and give the impression that you're stupid, rather than to open your mouth and remove all the doubt they might have had?"
𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀: "damn it, y/nnn! so easy to love yet so hard to hate..."
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈: "...i won't hold it against you."
2. 彡 who would you sleep with, marry, kill?
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to sleep with him
𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄: "eww... but i suppose i could lower my standards for one night..."
𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄: "oho? fascinating. we can use each other for tonight, just make sure you don't disappoint me, friend."
𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑: "fine, but only because i pity you. it's the closest you'll ever get to perfection, anyway."
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to marry him
𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄: "w-what? me, marry you? pathetic..."
𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄: "love is a gamble, but with you it seems like it's a guaranteed win..."
𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑: "Marry me? That's laughable— and what makes you so special, hm?"
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to kill him
𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄: "i'd like to see you try, you insignificant... human."
𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄: "hmm, y/n, i didn't know you were one to pull risky moves. i'll let fate decide my outcome, let's see if luck is on my side."
𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑: "tch, likewise."
3. 彡 who would you sleep with, marry, kill?
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to sleep with him
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎: "hell yeah, i love sleepovers! i'll bring suguru and shoko— wait whaaat?"
𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄: "...my apologies. while i am honoured by your proposal, i must politely decline as it is not my intention to take advantage of your precious body."
𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋: "y'wanna fuck? no need t'ask twice, pretty thing."
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to marry him
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎: "haha, of course. after all, the question is: who wouldn't choose to marry me?"
𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄: "it would be a privilege to marry you, y/n... but perhaps we should start slow and take it one step at a time."
𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋: "say less, darlin'. i'll give ya the best life y'could ask for."
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to kill him
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎: "haha! not if i kill you first! :)"
𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄: "ah, i apologize. it's raining again in fontaine."
𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋: "mm' pretty, don't know what i did but, y'know what they say? hate sex is the best sex." (a/n: sorry)
4. 彡 who would you sleep with, marry, kill?
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to sleep with him
𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘: "oh? guess i've got a different purpose for using my handcuffs now."
𝐒𝐀𝐄: "yuck... whoever is willing to sleep with you is just too lazy to jerk off..." (ouch)
𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈: "hmm? how much are ya willing to pay?"
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to marry him
𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘: "...let us sit down and discuss this, perhaps over a cup of tea."
𝐒𝐀𝐄: "ugh... i have no interest in someone as lukewarm as you. i have better things to do than waste my time with you."
𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈: "pftt, nah."
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to kill him
𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘: "careful now, y/n. i won't be able to reduce your prison sentence if you were to commit murder."
𝐒𝐀𝐄: "i don't give a shit. this game is such a waste of my time."
𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈: "oh, are you flirting with me?"
5. 彡 who would you sleep with, marry, kill?
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to sleep with him
𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇: "well i certainly am looking forward to decorating you with love bites... you'll look like a gorgeous piece of art by the time i'm done with you."
𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎: "uhh... like innocently sleeping beside each other or— oh. fuck yes, come here."
𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌: "i'll consider it if it's a one-time thing, but later... this book is quite intriguing."
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to marry him
𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇: "seriously? there is no time to waste then. i'll build us the grandest mansion ever known in sumeru!"
𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎: "you... what? but i guess the idea of having a family with you does sound exciting..."
𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌: "i apologize, but getting married seems like a hassle. i'd rather live a comfortable life on my own."
⤑ what he'd say if you chose to kill him
𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇: "mhmm, such a pretty liar."
𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎: "don't say that. shut up and kiss me."
𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌: "well, what can i say? you're as smart as you look."
★ 𝑮𝑨𝑴𝑬 𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹 . . .
★彡 feel free to share the characters you chose in the comments !
⤷ the artists for the fanarts used are credited in image desc !
⤷ reblogs, comments, and likes appreciated !
© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !
#౨ৎ — vivi writes.#bllk#bllk x reader#blue lock x reader#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#hsr#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#itoshi sae x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#choso x reader#wriothesely x reader#aventurine x reader#toji x reader#scaramouche x reader
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(extremely talented, creative) stalker
alexia putellas x reader
based on this and a poem from when i was little. i chose alexia because she fit the character more and i rushed this immensely because i was being pestered for attention by multiple creatures. oh and i went for something decently light-hearted bc these hozier fics have been affecting my soul and ruining my spotify daylists.
happy monday people x
p.s. not proof-read because it's lunchtime and i'm hungry (edit: i just did my proof-read now and i've realised that it was in fact not lunchtime??? it was past lunchtime and i was just zoned out!)
Alexia doesn’t care much for art. Sure, she admires the effort, the time such talent sits behind a canvas and marks something that was once blank until others begin to value it. She agrees with the masses about the beauty of quaint watercolour paintings of the coast, and she lets Mapi rave about charcoal and graphite and oils as if she understands what is so special about the varying media.
She knows she is only here today because the art is about sports. The gallery seems almost reluctant to allow the athletes in, worried they have brought with them their football boots and cones to dribble around, but it would be bad practice to prohibit the muses from the collection. She isn’t an idiot, though, and she knows that no amount of forced reading about the artist and other sophisticated matters will slip her seamlessly into the crowd.
There are lots of people; people she has never heard of, but make it clear they are far superior to her by the way in which their eyes politely drop to the tattoos inked onto her calloused hands. Their skin is soft, accustomed to the stems of crystal champagne flutes, and the drawings that hold so much personal meaning to the footballer are scrutinised to the point of silent… offence.
So much for appreciators of art, she thinks to herself, counting down the minutes until it is acceptable for her to leave.
With a huff and a vow to never – no matter how much she earns – forget where she has come from, Alexia staggers, uncomfortable in these particular heels, towards the painting she deems easiest to understand.
It is the largest in the room: deep, crimson reds on top of familiar greens, streaks of gold falling out of a ponytail.
Call Alexia egotistical, but anyone would be drawn to a painting of themselves.
The artist has done a good job, she guesses, not entirely sure if there is a deeper meaning behind the grass stains on her socks or the crumpled shading of her Spain jersey. It is a little creepy that someone she does not know has captured her likeness so expertly, so practised.
“The nose isn’t quite right,” a voice says beside her.
Alexia turns in surprise, amused enough by the stranger’s observation to examine her painted face, eyes not drawn from how majestic her image is beginning to seem. She sees no obvious issue, and so she replies, “I think it’s fine.”
“Just fine?”
She is still staring at herself, now impressed by the grandeur of the painting; its size, its quality. “Well, I am unsure how someone painted me so accurately when I was never called in for a… I don’t know, a consultation? And it seems a little weird to me that my hair is loose, because I tend to slick it back so it doesn’t fall out of my ponytail, and, you know, I always have something written on my boots, but otherwise, it’s fine. I doubt anyone here has ever watched a football match, so none of this will matter to them.”
“It doesn’t bother you that someone might pay millions for a painting that you have deemed not-quite-right?”
The voice is somewhat too interested, and suddenly Alexia swivels around to face its owner properly, worried she has spoken her mind to a journalist.
“Those millions go to a charity that will improve women’s sports every–”
You are definitely not a journalist, although once, when art really wasn’t paying, you had off-handedly typed out a few articles for one of the bigger galleries.
Alexia knows you are not a journalist because you are dressed to be in front of the cameras, not behind them.
Your hands hang by your sides, but in a rather unnatural manner as though you are itching to do something else, and she is briefly overcome by the horror that you seem elegant enough to be a potential buyer. Has she put you off?
“Oh,” you interrupt, “don’t be so profound. Sometimes you footballers sound like change-making machines.”
“There is change to be made,” she responds indignantly.
“Hence the exhibition,” you allow with a little smirk, nodding towards the rest of the room. Although the biggest of the collection, you had asked for your painting to be displayed in the corner; a filter, in a sense, to ensure no one throws money at the largest thing in the room just because they can. “It creeps you out to be painted?”
The question is curious, but Alexia no longer feels like she has been caged in an interrogation room.
She thinks about her answer for a moment, torn between returning to gaze at the expanse of the scene in front of her or staring at you, wondering if you count as one of the works of art on display.
“I have never met the artist,” she explains neutrally. You laugh, and it sounds infused with champagne and nervousness. “What? It’s like having a stalker. An extremely talented, creative stalker, but someone who studies me in secret nonetheless.”
“No, I understand. She must have researched you until the ends of the Earth.”
“The artist is a woman?” She isn’t sure she is surprised, but she asks you anyway, wanting to anchor you to the spot.
“Alexia, this is an exhibition for women’s sports.” Your point is valid, but you have said her name and she is far more intrigued by the way that had sounded to praise you for your intelligence. You let out an airy breath and click your tongue. “I’d even say, given by the way she has painted you from the back, that the artist fancies you.”
“It’s the squats,” she easily replies with a giggle. “Who is the artist?”
You take a step towards her, the sharp points of your heels clacking against the concrete floor. She follows your index finger to the white plaque beside the canvas, reading the name written in small, black letters.
“I haven’t heard of her.”
Alexia sounds so thoughtful that you have to hide your smile behind your palm, coughing to provide an excuse for the action.
“Because you’ve heard of quite a few artists, haven’t you?”
“I know the main four.”
“The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?”
“No.”
Again, you laugh, and it is melodious and rich and Alexia wants to hear it for the rest of her life. Which is not normal, she tells herself, because you are some loaded stranger and she is only here for another hour before she can escape back to the pitch and her teammates who like her tattoos and admire her and respect her hard work without seeing her as some tacky social-climber who scrounged an invite to an area of society where she is institutionally unwanted.
“Picasso,” she then offers, rather petulantly, looking at you with a childish frown. In her head, she estimates the distance between your bodies, noticing how you have not returned to your original position.
“Ah, well done. He’s quite niche.” She doesn’t appreciate the teasing, and so she steps sideways to… put a stop to it somehow. Obviously, the plan had never truly been formulated, and it comes across as a half-lunge to push you away, but then you are swinging your arms as though the conversation is boring you and she desperately wishes you’d stay put.
“What do you think about the painting?” she fires into the shortened space between you, the question wrapping around you like a rope that ties you to the spot.
“It’s boring.” She scoffs, because after all, it is a painting of her. “The poor artist must have been tortured by the task, having to force her eyes to stay open while watching football matches.”
And if Alexia were not so distracted by the way your swinging hand has begun to brush against her own, she would probably catch you out there and then.
(But your touch is electric and she is otherwise engaged.)
“Like, come on, can’t the sports photographers just get their pictures blown up? No one needs such an outrageously huge portrait of Alexia Putellas in their home, or stadium, or whatever. I reckon the artist is now regretting the angle she painted from, anyway, in case some pervert with more money than sense bids for it and hangs it up in his bedroom.”
“Bedroom?”
The tips of Alexia’s ears go red, a stark contrast to the expensive silver hoops she sports, and you stop your fidgeting, hand resting on top of hers – perhaps unintentionally – as her misunderstanding wedges an awkward pause into the middle of your rant.
“Sorry,” you apologise, “that was probably not the best thing to say, considering it’s a painting of you.”
Alexia runs through what you have said, hoping her subconscious has caught it while her mind was preoccupied with what your sexual orientation might be. “Why have you come here if you are so against the principle of it?”
“I was required to,” you explain, through half-gritted teeth and a jaw that tenses with leftover annoyance from a conversation you had with the coordinator.
Seizing the opportunity to get a humorous punch back, Alexia quickly fumbles out a, “someone’s important.”
She’d celebrate her victory over you, the way you blush in embarrassment, if you hadn’t started anxiously playing with her fingers. Suddenly, the air that bridges the gap between you is set alight and Alexia stares at where you are connected.
You hastily pull away. “Sorry,” you say for a second time. “I have to sell this, and I’m nervous.”
“Sell wh– The painting?”
“No, Alexia, I’ve been sent by Real Madrid to hold you hostage so I have to sell this act.” Briefly, fear washes over the footballer’s face, tanned skin paling at the idea that you have a weapon concealed in the satin folds of your dress. Then, your hand makes a decisive movement and your fingers are intertwining with hers before she can run to safety. “I thought it was best to lure you in by flirting with you.”
“You’ve been… flirting with me?”
“God, imagine if I actually were here to kidnap you.” You hold up your joined hands so that she can see for herself. “Is your weakness women who bully you?”
She blushes again, unsure how to handle what you have insinuated.
Alexia grasps onto what little dignity remains and straightens herself, shoulders rolling back as she emulates the confidence she has been painted with. “Only pretty women,” she drawls.
She is about to use whichever line appears in her mind first, completely unashamed by it because she has guessed you would tease her no matter what leaves her mouth, but some evil, cruel person clinks a small fork against their glass, clearing their throat, and your hands quickly return to your body, your attention drawn away from the conversation.
“Thank you all for coming,” announces the event coordinator, clearly gearing up for a speech. “There will be time for more chatting later, but I cannot resist showing off our most talented artist any longer.”
You roll your eyes. The expression is directed at Alexia, who chuckles privately, sunshine blooming in her chest that you have spared a silent comment just for her.
“Y/n, darling, where are you?”
An authoritative gaze searches through the crowd and lands on you.
The dots connect, Alexia begins to feel like an idiot, and you are sashaying away before she can ask you to stay.
#woso#woso x reader#randombush3#barca femeni#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas
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hi! Could you please write something with like reader opening the door one day when Roy stars knocking for training but reader and Jamie aren’t open about their relationship yet? I think it would be cute xx
I also thought this was cute. Not sure if anyone notices/cares, but all my titles are song lyrics based ever so loosely on the vibe I am trying to convey. Thanks for another great request!
what it is
Someone’s aggressively knocking on the door and as you roll over to check the time. It’s 4am, and you poke Jamie who is fast asleep beside you.
“Babe,” you whisper, “someone’s at the door.”
Jamie groans and mumbles something incoherent. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can tell something’s off. You reach out your hand and feel his forehead. It’s burning up.
The knocking continues and Jamie lets out another groan and says something that sounds like raining? Oh. Training. You remember he trains every morning at 4, but you’ve never seen who he goes with. He just kisses you in your sleep and is back right as you wake up for the day.
You roll out of bed, grab one his sweatshirts from the floor, and pad downstairs to the door.
You swing open the door mid-knock. The man on the other side lowers his fist, looks at you all squinty for a moment, then says, “Who the fuck’re you?”
You return the look. “I live here. Who the fuck are you?”
The man scoffs. “No, you fucking don’t. This is Jamie Tartt’s house. Jesus fucking Christ, is he fucking blowing off training because of a fucking one-night stand?”
Oh. You know who this is. This is Roy Kent. You didn’t know he was the one training Jamie, but you guess it makes sense based on how much Jamie talks about him. It’s Roy Kent this, and Roy Kent that, and Roy says I need to eat more protein, and Roy said my hair looked funny today, does it look funny to you?
You sigh. You and Jamie have been together for three months, and you basically live at his house. You’re really only at your flat to change clothes. You have a toothbrush, pajamas, and half a wardrobe at Jamie’s. Your books have started to make their way onto his shelves too, as you read them and then leave them for him to start. That was a little bit of an accident at first, after you left This Side of Paradise one night and came back to a different bookmark on page 34.
Anyway, Roy Kent doesn’t know you’re dating Jamie, or that anyone is. You suppose in his mind, Jamie is happily single, fucking around like the twenty-something year old footballer he is.
Roy is still looking at you expectantly, so say, “I do live here. Why don’t you come in?” and hold open the door a bit wider.
Roy’s face says fuck it, and he follows you inside to the kitchen.
“Can I get you some tea?” you ask quietly, although Jamie can sleep through anything.
Roy seems surprised by the question, but says, “Yeah, sure,” as he stands by the kitchen island.
“Jamie’s sick,” you say. “He’s still asleep upstairs. I doubt he’ll be up for training today.”
“Right, yeah,” says Roy, “I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you? Jamie’s not fucking supposed to be doing the whole one-night stand thing, he told me it’s too fucking distracting from training.”
You chuckle. “That’s comedy gold right there. Yeah, no, I’m not a one-night stand. I’m his girlfriend.”
Roy’s impressive eyebrows lift in shock, and you laugh again and give him your name. “Didn’t know I existed, did you? I’m not one for crowds or a big fuss. I told Jamie if we made it four months than he could start telling people. He was a little upset, but,” you shrug, “no point in making it a big deal if we just break up, right?”
You can practically see the wheels turning in Roy’s brain as he does the math.
“So you’re telling me that you’ve been fucking dating this little prick for three fucking months, and he hasn’t fucking said anything?”
You nod.
“Fuckkk,” Roy whispers, “that makes so much fucking sense.”
You quirk an eyebrow at him.
“He’s been less of a prick recently,” Roy explains, “More considerate, been carrying around fucking books and shit. Not fucking flirting with everything that fucking moves. Thought maybe he was just taking beating Zava too fucking seriously.”
You nod and move to pour the tea. You and Roy both turn as you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. It’s Jamie, who is wearing a headlamp, pajama shirt, athletic vest, and a single sock. And, thank God, pants.
“Ready for training coach,” he says with a salute, but the action almost makes him fall over. He looks all pale and sweaty, with bags under his eyes.
“Told you he was sick,” you say.
“Fuckin’ hell,” is all Roy can come up with.
Jamie seems to notice you for the first time and breaks out into a smile. “Roy! Look! I have a girlfriend,” he says, words a little slurred while pointing to you.
It’s punctuated by a “Jesus Christ,” from Roy as Jamie wobbles, unsteady on his feet from his fever.
“Alright, mister,” you say. “Back to bed.”
Jamie frowns. “Always so mean,” he says. He does an imitation of your voice, “No Jamie, you can’t tell Roy about us. Yes Jamie, I know Roy’s your best friend. No Jamie, I don’t think you love Roy more than me.” He looks at Roy as you sling his arm around your shoulders, supporting him at his waist. He puts his fingertips on your lips as he says, “See what I have to put up with?”
You roll your eyes and suppress a smile as Roy says, “What you have to put up with?”
Jamie is so loopy right now. He lays his head on yours and smiles again. “Look at this. Me two favorite people, finally meeting. You should stay for dinner, coach.”
Roy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. You can tell he’s trying not to laugh as you both mutually decide not to point out that it is now 4:30am and dinner is a long, long way away.
“Let’s go get you out of those clothes and into bed,” you say as you start to lead him back to your room.
Jamie casts a look back at Roy and wiggles his eyebrows. “Babe, you can’t just say things like that in front of granddad. Might give him a heart attack. Old people are such prudes.”
“Go to sleep, Tartt,” Roy says. He looks at you and says softly, “I can see myself out.”
You smile and wave with your free hand. “It was nice to meet you,” you say. “Hopefully we can meet again under more normal circumstances.”
Roy nods once and does what you think is a smile? He turns and heads out the door as you maneuver Jamie upstairs. Jamie Tartt has a girlfriend. And a good one at that. What is the world coming to?
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt x y/n#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt#ted lasso
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choso's boyfriend meeting little brother yuji!
requested muahhh
modern au! pairing is obbbvvsss choso x male reader <333
-> i actually also don't care if you think choso is out of character ebcause this is how i perceive him and hwo i perceive him is the actual correct way because i am actually gege <333!! + very much fluffy a lot of fluff, i think this is a very cute thing ive written for the public to read
choso was sweating bullets. the collar of the shirt he was wearing suddenly felt as if it was suffocating him and choking him out. his palms were sweating profusely and the grip he had on the steering wheel was almost slipping beneath him. his usual pale complexion had turned red and it wasn’t clear if it was because he was flustered, nervous, or feeling sickly…maybe it was all three.
now, what would prompt such a reaction from a man like choso? usually calm, collected, and responsible choso. the answer was his boyfriend and little brother were finally going to meet. his baby brother yuji, who meant the absolute world to him, was going to meet the love of his life. okay, granted the two of you had only been dating for seven months, but choso was confident he was the only man for him. he lived and breathed for this man! to think someone as special as his lover is meeting his little brother, who is someone tremendously special to choso…it strikes such an anxiety in him he can’t even explain.
what if the two of you hated each other? what if yuji didn’t approve of him? the boy was still young so what if he didn’t understand why his big brother was dating another boy. god, did choso have to have a really awkward conversation with him?
choso almost pulled over to vomit his nerves out.
but thankfully, he arrived at his beloved’s house and was greeted with his handsome grinning face. the perfect nerve relief for choso. he rushed out of his driver’s side, going over to the passenger side and greeting him with a firm kiss.
instantly, the action was reciprocated and the two were standing there practically making out for a good minute. [name] finally pulled away, softly tapping choso’s cheek and grinning ear to ear, “are you excited? i can’t wait to meet lil yuji, aw, he’s just so cute in all the photos you’ve showed me,”
choso can only weakly chuckle, not wanting to kill [name]’s excitement with his nerves. instead, he just silently opens the passenger door and gently closes it once his boyfriend is secure inside. once they’re both sat down, choso’s hand instinctively reaches for his, squeezing tight as the two begin their drive back to choso’s household.
“he’s just so cute, i can’t wait to pinch his cheeks,” the man beside the brooding choso gushes, looking at photos of yuji on his phone.
“he’s not a baby,” choso weakly laughs, “he’s already five, i don’t think he’d like you pinching his cheeks like some kid,”
“he is a kid, though, an adorable one at that!” the giddy grin on his face eventually infects choso, who can only smile to himself. “what should i talk about with him…i can’t think of much a senior in high school would have in common with a kid that small,”
“just be yourself and he’ll find something to entertain himself and you with, he’s really hyper active like that,” choso advises, shrugging his shoulders to loosen up his nerves, “he really is into his comics nowadays, though,”
[name] hums in interest, scooting over in his seat to be closer to his boyfriend. without warning, he kisses choso’s cheek with a mischievous grin. the reaction is instant, choso’s face bursting red and the car jolting ever so slightly from the pleasant surprise.
“you’re so nervous, baby, everything is going to be fine,” [name] comments, playing with the raven hair at the base of choso’s neck (only making the blush on his face deepen further), “i’m sure me and yuji are going to get along splendidly! don’t think i’m not gonna try impressing him either, i want him to like me.”
“you don’t have to do that…” choso mumbles, feeling incredibly embarrassed and flustered.
“i am going to, though. i know how much he means to you, i won’t mess this up, promise!”
another peck to choso’s cheek has him somewhat relaxing as he holds tightly onto his hand.
“yuji, this is [name], say hello,” choso says, catching his brother that immediately ran to him. he carried him up so that he was resting on his hip, the small child able to see [name] at eye level.
“hi [name]!” yuji excitedly calls out, happy to see a possible friend, “i like your hair!” he confidently compliments, lips stretched in the most adorable grin. it took all of [name]’s self restraint to not pick the kid up and smother him in love and affection.
“thanks, lil man,” [name] grins, “i like yours too, it’s a cool color!”
yuji frowns, shaking his head, “i want my hair to be red, it’d be cooler!!”
“you like red, yuji?”
an adament nod was the only answer he needed. choso breathes a sigh of relief at the fluidity of the conversation, realizing that he probably had nothing to worry about. for the rest of the day, the three never separated. [name] made sure to entertain yuji, exaggerating his reactions to whatever lil yuji said, but it was still endearing and genuine.
“i’ll get us some snacks,” choso says, placing yuji from off his lap and onto the couch cushion near [name]. the older man made sure to watch carefully so yuji didn’t get too close to the edge.
yuji looked at the back of his older brother, waiting until he was out of sight before tugging on the collar of [name]’s shirt. the man was shocked at the sudden action, but before he could say anything a tiny hand covered his mouth.
“shhh!!” yuji loudly shushed, his spit ricocheted onto [name]’s cheek. the man grimaced and wiped it away and made sure to show he was silent when he did. “are you the one aniki has been talking about?” then yuji lowered his voice into a very low whisper, “his booyyfriienndd?”
[name] blinked in surprise, expecting anything but that. before he could deflect the question, knowing choso probably wanted to be the one to formally tell the news to yuji, the pink haired boy placed his hand on his mouth again.
“shhh!! not too loud!” [name] didn’t bother explaining that he didn’t even say anything, only nodded his head, “he’s always talking about a boy, is it you? or no?”
innocent yuji who knew much more than he let on, [name] almost laughed at the revelation.
“aniki thinks i don’t understnad, but since i’m a big boy i’m smart, so i do,” yuji says, a proud grin on his face as he not so subtly complimented himself.
“well, how about this-” yuji loudly shushed [name] again, making the man lower his tone, “sorry. why don’t we ask him when he gets back?”
“hmm, okay,” yuji whispers, looking side to side as if the two were conspiring a big secret plan, “i’ll do the talking,”
“yes, sir,” [name] grinned, saluting yuji, who nodded his head in satisfaction.
“aniki, is [name] your boyfriend?”
the way yuji asked the question made [name] cover his mouth to hold back his laughter, almost keeling over the couch when he saw the look on choso’s face.
“uhm…” choso’s deep voice sounded awkward and uncomfortable, not expecting his little brother to be so aware of something like that. he doubts that his boyfriend would mention it, only because he knows how much he respected his want to tell his own little brother. so to imagine yuji got the idea of what a boyfriend was on his own made choso flustered.
“it’s an easy question,” yuji sighs, looking tired of choso’s hesitance. the kid was not patient by any means and [name] could respect his bluntness.
choso goes to sit next to yuji, making the little kid sit in between the two.
“he is my boyfriend, yuji, and i like him a lot,” choso says slowly, reaching over and grabbing [name]’s hand and offering him a sweet smile. yuji seems unpleased, though, with the way he was now pouting. his chubby arms were crossed over the other.
and he looked like he was very seriously thinking about something.
“but aren’t you supposed to love him?”
now choso was resisting the urge to facepalm and hide his blushing red face. [name] blinked slowly, glancing between choso and yuji with a semi-nervous look on his face. yuji was curiously looking at his older brother, not at all reading the signs that the couple in front of him were very nervous.
“do you not love him, aniki?”
choso sputtered, immediately shouting, “i do love him! i do, yuji,” he tells his brother, then panickily looking at [name]. “i love him a lot…”
yuji clapped, squishing choso’s cheeks together with the pudgy hands and grinning ear to ear, “aniki is in love! he’s gonna get cooties!” he screeches, but there is nothing but excitement and happiness in his voice. choso’s face, that was still squished in between his younger brother’s hands, was burning deep, deep red.
finally deciding to save his boyfriend, [name] picked yuji up by his underarms and placed him on his lap. he scooted into the now empty seat next to choso and covered yuji’s eyes with his hand (almost covering the entire child’s face…).
“i love you, too,” choso flinched at the confession, turning stiff when he felt a pair of lips on top of his own.
yuji began screeching, apparently wanting to see what was behind [name]’s hand and kicking his feet in the air. [name] smiled into the kiss, making choso break out of his stupor and finally kiss back.
“i love you too, choso,” [name] whispered, pecking him on the cheek before pulling away and uncovering his hand from yuji’s face.
choso was unable to converse normally for a couple of minutes, just hiding his face in his hand while the other one was limply holding onto [name]’s under the covers of the blanket.
[name] got them all comfortable for a movie to watch, settling in the middle with yuji cuddling into his side and choso hugging his other.
as yuji began dozing off, feeling tired from doing oh-so much in the day, choso finally turned his body to [name] and sincerely spoke, “i love you so much, thank you for being the best boyfriend ever,”
[name] bit back a grin, pinching choso’s cheek, “oh shut up, i love you more, babe. can’t believe it took your little brother annoying it out of you to finally say it,” he teased, finding the new blush that spread on his face to be adorable.
“i wanted to say it ever since we started dating but didn’t want to scare you,” choso said under his breath, not loud enough for [name] to hear. the h/c haired man turned to him with a pout, tilting his head at what he didn’t hear. but choso just smiled and shook his head, caressing the base of his neck and softly squeezing, “nothing.”
shrugging it off, [name] just snuggled back onto choso’s chest as he continued rubbing up and down yuji’s back.
BONUS : TEEN YUJI INTERACTING WITH CHOSO AND [NAME]
“choso!”
“how dare you call me that?! i am your older brother!”
“cho-so!” yuji emphasized the syllable, putting his hands in the air and waving them around in an exaggerated manner.
“why are you acting like this?!” choso cried out, absolutely infuriated with his little brother’s antics.
“you said i could hang out with [name] after school — guess what, it’s after school! and now what, you suddenly have a date with him?!”
“he’s my boyfriend!?”
“okay, he’s my friend!”
”you didn’t even know him until i started dating him, don’t be a brat, yuji itadori!”
“and now i’m the brat?! what do you think [name] is gonna say when i tell him this?!”
“why are you snitching on me to him?! can’t you be a mature person for once?!”
“you’re the one that’s ignoring me and [name]’s plans! i told you like yesterday!”
“oh my god, i don’t want to hear this right now,” choso said, hans on his hips as he began walking to the front door, “hang out with him another time, yuji, seriously.”
“no way!—”
“why are you guys yelling so loud i can hear you from outside?!”
the door slammed open and choso and yuji stilled in their brawl. yuji was choking out choso from the back while the older brother was desperately trying to smack yuji’s face.
“he’s not letting me hang out with you!”
“he wants to cancel our date!”
[name] blinked, wondering what the hell he just walked into and wondering if he could just walk out and pretend as if he never saw this.
“okay, well…”
“take my side!” the two shouted in unison, making [name] flinch at the sudden yell and rub his forehead in stress.
he began wondering exactly what family did he get himself into.
#jujutsu kaisen x male reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#x male reader#male reader#choso x male reader#choso x reader#choso imagines#male reader imagines#jjk x male reader#jjk x reader#choso male reader#jujutsu kaisen male reader#jjk male reader
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wild flowers - percy jackson
Request: yes! "Can I request a platonic Percy Jackson x Child of Demeter!Reader based off the new Disney series? Where Child of Demeter!Reader is significantly older than Percy (17/18 maybe?) and is the one to welcome him to camp instead of Luke. Reader is more gentle and understanding to Percy's questions and is in general sort of a parent figure in the camp?"
Pairing: percy jackson x demeter!reader (platonic)
Summary: you welcome the newest kid at camp half-blood
Warnings: none (omg??)
Word count: 1.1K
A/N: was excited when I saw the new episode will be out on Tuesday but then I looked at the time zone and it's 3 am for me so I'll still watch it on wednesday :') thanks for your request, enjoy!
you try not to look away as percy, the newest addition to camp half-blood, nearly shoots another camper. he falls to the ground due to the force of the bow.
'alright.' you say, walking over to see if percy's okay. 'so not archery.'
'I didn't mean to!' says percy, looking at the kids who had flattened themselves to the ground to avoid being shot.
'of course you didn't, they know that. can I have the bow?' you say.
percy quickly shoves the bow in your hands as well as the quiver of arrows. you hand them back to the apollo kid who was teaching him with a thanks and an apologetic smile.
'see, I suck at this.' says percy. 'I'm not good at anything.'
'hey, that's not true.' you say. 'everyone is good at something. c'mon, I'll take you to my favorite spot at camp.'
that gets his attention. 'your favorite spot?'
'yep. right this way.'
you lead him away from the archery field. you can tell he's curious. you take him to the strawberry field, where some of the satyrs and your siblings are tending to the plants.
you walk past the strawberries to a field of grass where wild flowers grow.
'it's pointless.' says percy as the two of you sit down.
you frown. 'what is?'
he gestures around. 'all of this. I'm not one of you. it's clear there's something wrong with me. none of this matters because my dad won't reveal himself, he doesn't care. my mom is gone. I suck at archery. and I can't work in the forge. I can't do anything.'
you look at him. most kids are tough on themselves when they arrive. percy isn't any different.
'at least you didn't suck as much at archery than I did.' you say. 'contrary to you, I actually did hit someone when trying out archery '
percy's eyes widen. 'you did?'
you nod. 'apollo kids had to patch them up. luckily it wasn't that bad. but still I haven't touched a bow since. and I'm also not good at sword fighting. I only carry one because it's the weapon I suck the least with.'
'what if you suck at everything?' asks percy softly.
you smile at him. 'this is all normal. we all felt like this when we came here, regardless if we could already fight or not. and look at me, I still can't fight that well. I'm a joke compared to luke and clarisse if it comes to fighting. gods, even annabeth is better than me and she's your age.'
you point ahead to the strawberry fields. 'my cabin doesn't bring forth the best fighters. and that's okay. we're good at other things.' you say.
percy looks at your siblings, sure enough, not a lot of them carry weapons. maybe you do because you're head counsellor of your cabin.
'when did you find out who your mom was?' asks percy.
you sense he's not just curious about your godly heritage. he wants to know how long it would take before his father claims him. and he already knows there are unclaimed kids.
'for me it was pretty clear. I've always loved plants. I've got an impressive garden back at home.' you say. 'demeter claimed me my second day at camp.'
'so pretty fast...'
'for some kids it's fast. for some it's slow. some kids are very certain about who their godly parent is and sometimes they're right and sometimes they're not. you can't predict it with 100% accuracy.'
'did someone guess it correctly?'
'most of the times it's the athena kids who are right about their hunches. but they're athena kids of course, very smart. also a lot of ares kids are right. and for others it's a 50/50 chance. for instance, milo. everyone was convinced he was a hephaestus kid because he really liked to blow stuff up. turns out he's an athena kid. he's just really smart about blowing stuff up.'
'I bet I'm a kid of the god or failure or something. I'm just a regular kid, I'm not special. I don't have any impressive powers. not like you.'
'you think my powers are impressive?' you chuckle. 'I'm good with plants percy. over the years I've learned how to master those. but at first all I did was accidentally make flower patches.'
percy looks at you, frowning. 'you what?'
you laugh, then point to your shoes. they look like you've worn them every day for the past five years. which you have, somehow they won't wear down.
'these were a gift from my mom. if I don't wear them, flowers grow where I walk.'
'really?'
you nod and take them off. you get up and walk a circle around percy. and indeed, flowers grow where you put your feet down on the grass. you pick one and give it to percy, then put your shoes back on.
'it's the only thing I still can't master. maybe it's not something to be mastered. I'd ask my mom but the only time I saw her was when I was out fighting for my life. wasn't really the time to ask about flowers. she didn't even give me my shoes in person, just sent them here.'
you and percy are silent as you look out over the valley. you remember your first days at camp, how scared you were. you didn't know anyone, you were told your mom was a goddess, and you could never have a moment alone because there would always be someone who could find you based on the flowers you left behind.
'everyone here has been through what you're going through now.' you say. 'maybe they didn't experience it in the same way. I mean, you did kill the minotaur. but all of them have been confused, wondered about wether they belong, if there's something wrong with them. we all found our way in the end.'
'did you feel like you didn't belong?'
'sure. but then chiron explained to me it's all because of the gods. we've got dyslexia because our brain is wired in greek. the adhd is from our need to fight. it's all in our dna. just give it time, you'll belong. any other questions?'
'what do you do when you're not at camp?'
you smile. 'try not to run into any monsters and wait for the time to go to camp again. you'll find your family here, percy, trust me. now let's see if the aphrodite can teach you anything.'
you get up and offer your hand to percy. after pulling him to his feet, you start to walk toward the aphrodite cabin.
'you know, regardless of what cabin you belong to, you can always come to me if you have any questions.' you say.
percy smiles at you. 'thanks.'
A/N:
If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist.
Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading!
Much love,
Marit/Max
#pjo#percy jackson#Percy Jackson x reader#Percy Jackson x child of demeter#Percy Jackson x demeter!reader#Percy Jackson x reader platonic#Percy Jackson fanfiction#Percy Jackson fanfic#Percy Jackson fanfics#Percy Jackson fic#percy Jackson fics#Percy Jackson oneshot#Percy Jackson oneshots#pjo fanfiction#pjo fanfic#pjo fanfics#pjo fic#pjo fics#pjo oneshot#pjo oneshots
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Captain John MacTavish x His wife x Sergeant Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish
I dont know how it would happen but i'm imagining sweet little Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish meeting Captain MacTavish and his wife. I guess this is me rewriting what happened bc Im made we’ll probably never see Neil as his boy again.
Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!
Smut smut smut under the cut for my lovely mutual @shotmrmiller of my John and his wife meet sweet little Johnny au thing.
Also @glitterypirateduck this one is for you and #soapitup
“Bhean,” he whispers loudly, following it with squirrel noises, motioning for her to follow. She walks out of the recreational room. He nuzzled bis face into her neck, letting her know he was nervous about what he was going to say. “I'm getting serious deja vu.”
“Talk to me, Goose.” A shameless quote of their favorite date night movie from when they dated made his nervous face crack a smile.
“I have this crazy memory,” he mumbled into her neck, she always worried he’d hurt himself craning it down like that so often.
“What about, don’t leave me on cliff hangers, Mr. MacTavish.”
“Do you remember our first time together?”
“Skiing or fucking? Because I remember both very well.” He chuckled at her bringing up his failed skiing attempts from a vacation they went on.
“Making love, Bonnie.” He hummed, “would you believe me if I told ya it’s because I had done it before?”
“Considering baby you told me he’d call me mommy? Yes. Yes, I would.” She hummed. “You also found my clit really fast which makes that really reasonable in retrospect.”
“What if, like my future self taught me at that stage, we teach him how to make love to you so he can charm you with the monster.” It came out more as a question, making his nerves hammer against his chest. He was more than sure he beloved wife would say yes, but he didn’t want to risk making her uncomfortable or saying it wrong.
“He does really want to impress me,” she mumbled. “Fine. But there’s ground rules.”
“Of course, Mo chridhe, anything.”
“Just the tip, you know how I am about hygiene. I don’t fully try young you to keep everything clean. He swears to secrecy and if I ever think for a second he mentions this im ending his blood line. And you stay with us. You are my husband after all, not the boy.” The Captain nodded with every word. He’d make sure. He knew the Sergeant would want no harm to come to his future wife, and the Captain didn’t need a scorched relationship.
“Thank you, Mo leannan, it’s what helped me keep up hope I could lock you down when I met you when I was his age.”
“So it was a memory and more than deja vu?” She asked with a raised brow.
The Captain just simply nodded, planting a kiss on her temple, “you’d tell me if you wanted to back out right? If it made you uncomfortable?”
“John.” She was serious, she never called him just ‘John’. “I expect the same from you. And you’d know I’d never keep that from you.”
She reached up to his face and gently rubbed it. He melted just a little bit into her touch.
“I assume you don’t plan to do this on base?”
“No, but that’s the hard part.”
“I’ll handle it, go tell the mini you,” she said softly, planting a kiss before walking away.
The Captain sighed and let his shoulders relax, he knew he was so lucky to have her. The sergeant was about to be the lucky one though.
He made his way down the hall and stole his past self from a conversation with Gaz.
“My wife and I have decided to give you an opportunity to learn more about her.” He said in a low deep voice. “I will be teaching you about her body so you can please her but there are ground rules she set and a few of my own.”
Once he covered his wife’s, he got on to his own, “do not bite her, dig your nails into her, or ignore me if I tell you to do something. No coming inside either and don’t try anything.”
Sergeant Soap nodded along, “I’m not sure you’re actually listening, sergeant.” The Captain growled.
Soap’s eyes went wide, “Captain me, sir, I prayed last night for an opportunity to feel her skin, honestly I was just expecting to be allowed to shake her hand.” The younger Soap grumbled, “believe me, I’m all ears.”
“And none of that ‘I have a latex allergy so I can’t wear condoms’ crap. I know we don’t have that allergy. You will be wearing one.”
“You’re so no’ fun,” Soap mumbled. “Fine.”
The Captain didn’t entirely know how he felt about the kid creaming his wife. Sure, it was him, but it was a younger, rowdier, dumber him and not his same body. Getting married meant he was the only one allowed to cream pie his wife, and yes, it is a version of him, it wouldn’t be the same as him doing it. Even if his wife is on birth control and enjoys them, he knows he’d get jealous, way too jealous. Besides it’s his job anyway, he signed a paper to be able to do it, and this kid version gets to just randomly do it.
“So when do I get to show mo bhean how a younger body is better to make love with?” Sergeant asked, patting his older self on the back. This made the Captain flip until the voice of an angel spoke up.
“Ya mean when you meet yer own damn wife. Ya wee-” the Captain’s rage was cut off.
“Tomorrow night. I’ll be there ahead of schedule to prepare, my husband will drive you.” She said, walking past the two with effortless grace and a sway of her hips. She flicked a piece of hair back over her shoulder.
The next 24 hours were full of different forms of tension for younger Soap. He was eager, so eager, almost too eager in the Captain’s eye. The Captain’s raging jealousy made him almost want to shut down the whole thing.
When he loaded the sergeant and himself into the old truck he sighed. “Remember the rules?”
“Of course.”
“Can’t believe you still own this truck.”
“She’s carried me through a lot.”
“When you meet YOUR wife, she’ll appreciate it. Square bodies are her favorites.”
The rest of the drive was small talk. The sergeant saw a notification appear on the Captain’s phone and snatched it up, since the captain was driving.
He back read the short conversation from this morning between the Captain and his wife, who had been the notification.
‘Mo chridhe you better not warm yourself up on that clarty vibrator’
‘You expect him to be able to get me warmed up enough?’
‘Its a teaching experience, mo leannan’
‘I don’t want to make him wait too long, I remember how impatient you were <3’
“Does she think ima div?” Soap looked at the Captain and asked.
“Reading my personal texts? Real professional, ya eejit.”
“Does she think I can’t make her feel good? Or make her feel like she’s on Eccie?”
“No, she just doesn’t want you to wait too long. She does this. I bought it for her first time I left on a long mission, now she uses it to take away the fun part of getting her warmed up.”
“So she thinks I'm a fandan.”
“Dinnae fash yersel.” The Captain sighed, “we’re here and the least ya can do is make her feel good as a thank you.”
When he dragged his younger self into the hotel room, it finally set in that he was going to be cucked. By a younger him. Fucking his wife.
He knocked on the door twice and it kind of felt like his wedding night all over again. There she stood in a silk robe, eyes only on him with a gentle and soft smile. It's a smile she only gave when she was nervous, he gave a similar smile back to let her know he felt the same. It was subtle, but he reminded him this was indeed his beautiful wife.
“Go strip in the bathroom and sit down in the chair when you’re done, we need to talk.” The Captain said sharply.
“Aye aye Captain,” the sergeant mumbled, walking into the bathroom.
The Captain’s hands immediately found his way to his wife’s hips.
“Are you nervous?” He asked, holding her close with his mouth near her ear between kisses he placed in her hair.
“Of course,” she said softly into his chest.
“Do you need to back out? We can leave and forget all about this if you need.”
“Do you need me to want to back out?” She asked soft, turning her head to look up into his eyes.
“No, I don’t think so, mo bonnie lass.” He said, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Give me a safeword to give him and a safeword for emergencies.”
“Two levels of safe words?”
“Just in case I don’t hear the first one, he’s kinda loud.” She giggled and placed a kiss on his neck.
“Bubbles for him and Soap for emergencies.”
“My old callsign?”
“I never call you anyway,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Can I undress you and keep that privilege to myself?” All he needed was the little nod she gave before he moved to untie the robe.
The lace blue bra she had been taunting him with with the matching panties drove him crazy. She ran her hands up and around his chest as his opened the clasp with one motion and undid the hooks holding the straps over her shoulders so she didn't have to remove her hands from his torso.
He sunk down lower as he planted sloppy kisses down her body and removed her underwear. Lovely pacing a kiss at her lower lips before trailing bite marks backup as the Sergeant exited the bathroom.
“I thought you said I couldn’t bite!” He accused as he watched the Captain leave a hickey on his wife’s chest.
“YOU can’t, I can.” This made the younger Soap look offended. The Captain smirked at the Sergeant’s face. “My wife, remember. Not yours.”
His wife just ran her fingers through his slightly grown out mohawk, a means to sooth him.
Captain MacTavish moved to his wife’s ear and whispered softly, “may I told yer hand through this, mo ghraidh?”
“Gu sìorraidh is gu bràth,” she said back, pointing to the tattoo on her collarbone. When Soap heard it he almost fainted.
“She knows the language?” Sergeant Johnny asked.
The Captain hummed, pulling his mouth away from the dark hickey he was leaving on her neck, “learned a little bit for me.”
The Captain gave his younger self a once over before landing a sarcastic remark as his eyes landed on the bush, “glad to know you haven’t started shaving yet.”
“You trim?”
“Occasionally,” the Captain pulled his waistband down a bit, nuzzling into his wife, “I wax for special occasions. Yer lucky I found one who doesn’t care.”
The Captain locked his fingers with his wife’s, gently herding her to the bed. He laid her down gently and got her into a good position, shoving a few of the lousy pillows under her waist to offer a better angle.
“How are you?” He asked softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.
“Ready as I can be,” she said with a soft giggle, as he bent down to plant a kiss on her lips.
“Sergeant, come here.” The Captain commanded, pointing at the foot of the bed, his wife couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her as she dropped her hand over her face. The Captain moved his wife’s knees apart with his free hand, the other still lovingly holding her’s. Johnny got on his own knees as John commanded him as he spread his wife’s pussy lips apart with his fingers. “Ya see that?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, sir,” John corrected Johnny. He basically gave his younger self a tour of his wife’s softest pieces. Telling Johnny her favorite things that he does and what she reacts best to.
Johnny was so enthralled with her body he could move his eyes anywhere else. Especially when John put his fingers inside and curled them suddenly making her gasp so Johnny knew how far in her g spot was. The way her body jolted and softly raised as the gasp left her lips was his new favorite thing. He was so jealous he didn’t have her yet. That she wasn’t his wife yet, that he didn’t have the liberty to mark her body yet.
“Get to work,” the Captain said, patting Johnny. He didn’t need to say it twice because Johnny went right in.
The wife brought her free hand down to her mouth to hold in the gasps and moans as Johnny ate so eagerly. John was usually slow and sensual, to the messy and a vehement eating that was happening at her core was a much different sensation. John gently pulled her hand away.
“Checkin in with ya, are ya doing good?” he asked his lovely wife. Her eyes couldn’t focus, her mouth gaping and shutting.
She gave a nod and a hum as her body started to clench as Johnny inserted fingers between her legs and curled, making her body lurch towards the sky and gasp. The Captain gently placed kisses on her face, her velvety cries just make Johnny want to do it again.
“She’s even prettier from this view,” Johnny mumbled, spreading her apart with his fingers.
“She donnae like condoms but imma make ye wear one anyway,” Captain Mactavish told his younger self before placing a kiss to the forehead of his flushed wife, still coming down from her orgasm as her husband ran his fingers through her hair as her breathing slowed with her closed eyes. John threw the condom at Johnny, who quickly rolled it on before standing up. “Donnae force it in, go in slow.”
Johnny positioned himself, putting one of the lovely wife’s ankles to his shoulder before giving it a soft kiss. He didn’t dare pull her down the bed like he would have normally done, he walked on his knees to meet her. Hands sliding down her legs to lift her ass, one he saw as so perfect.
He slowly slid it in as John kissed his wife’s face, holding her hand. She was more than used to John’s dick by now, but she was far from used to Johnny’s pacing. So much energy and stamina, not to say John didn’t have it but John was definitely more about making love than he was about fucking or just having sex.
Once she started to grind her hips, Johnny’s face lit up and he immediately started a toe curly, back arching pace. His tip bullied her g spot, making her mouth fall open but no sound falling from her lips.
John cooed at her as Johnny bullied her soft parts, not caring about his own pleasure, solely the pleasure of this goddess in front of him. Once he was sure he had found the spot, Johnny folded her a bit more to hit it a bit deeper, making sure everything was dragging against her.
The only thing that left her were whines, she felt her melted brain might just spill out her ears as the white, staticy heat built up.
A nice ring built up around Johnny’s cock as he began to roll his hips. Her pulsating cunt milked him so much he felt an almost numbness in his fingers as all he could do was hold her and roll his hips as she let out a broken moan and came. Her husband’s voice echoing around her head with praises and loving words.
It was down right impossible for Soap to not come from her body's pulsations so he did. He wished it hadn’t been into a condom but he was grateful he just got the chance.
John gave him a look and Johnny took it knowingly, going to get a warm and damp towel. He handed it to John who began to clean his wife up, nodding to Johnny to let him know he could leave.
Johnny didn’t know it was so John could reclaim his wife with some slow sensual sex and lots of love bites.
John, unlike Johnny, was going to come inside.
Johnny looked at the photo he had taken of himself with the wife of Captain John from the night prior, "I'm going to marry you. Yer the one I've been looking for."
#cod x reader#call of duty#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap mactavish#captain mactavish#soapitup
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FNAF Movie / / Vanessa x F!Reader
[Ṱ̷͋Ō̵̻Ț̴̊Ả̵̯L̵̺̈́ ̸͉͊I̷̩͋N̸̘͘S̵̹̏E̴͓̍Č̶̡Ṳ̸̈́R̶̺͠I̸̢͑T̴̬́Y̵͇͆]
(gif by me)
[Total Insecurity]
Vanessa succumbs to William's influence and control, she tries her hardest not to hurt the person that matters most to her.
Contents: Slight Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss
Warnings: Implied Murder, Blood, Knife Usage, Split Personality
WC: 2,634
(Title is based on my fav FNAF:SB song: Total Insecurity by Rockit Music)
(The RUIN version is also insanely good, definitely recommend)
T̶̼̤̏͘o̶̹̯̅ť̴̼̭͝a̴̡̟̍̌ĺ̷͙̓ ̴͓̞͒̂I̸͇͛̿n̷̤̎̈s̶̹̈̽ȇ̴̩ͅc̵̦̈́u̴̦͎͂́r̸͙̥̓͘ȋ̶̠͚̈t̷̗̣̚ỳ̸̨ ̸̗͘W̴̛̞̥ḩ̵͗́ͅe̶̥͍͛̿n̶͇̆͜ ̶̼͂T̴̬͊̓h̶̩̍̔e̴̘͛͊ỳ̴̜ ̵͍̑C̸̭̈́ọ̴͝m̸̛͇ĕ̸̞͗ ̷̰̭̉̾Ä̴̭̼f̴̡̳͊͐t̶͉̃ẽ̴̯͝r̶̦͛ ̷͍͋Ḿ̸̺e̸̦͐̕
Her hand tightened around the handle of the knife, her chest heaved as she breathed heavily. She looked down at the victim lying motionlessly on the floor. Just some pathetic overnight security guard that couldn't do what her controller wanted , someone who couldn't provide to William Afton's needs.
Her senses had slowly come flooding back to her piece by piece as the minutes ticked on, the knife ever so slightly loosening in her hand. She felt like she couldn't breath, her head being encased within the rabbit mask. She never liked the thing, it was just some sick and sadistic element that her father loved... And who was she to deny him? She literally couldn't, after all.
The loud bang of the knife hitting the floor finally completely snapped her out of it. She looked down in horror, tears filling her eyes, as she saw the body mangled on the floor. Blood pooled out from multiple wounds and stained the office room's floor.
The sound of metal clanking caused her to turn, and there she saw the other culprits. The animatronics. Now she was certain that Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Foxy and herself had made sure the security guard's death was a slow and painful one. Blood covered the animatronics' hands and feet, as well as her own. The only part she liked about wearing the rabbit suit was that she never got blood on her skin, she didn't know how she would cope if that ever happened.
Slowly, the red eyes of the animatronics turned to normal... Vanessa knew that they hated being controlled like this, she knew they would feel guilty for what they had done.
The tears in her eyes didn't last long, this was normal for her... The monthly kills to please her father. It was only a matter of time until the next one.
You couldn't help but laugh at the joke Vanessa had just said, some corny dad joke in her attempt to impress you.
"Come on, it wasn't that bad," the blonde said, throwing her hands up in defence.
You had met Vanessa a couple months ago, she had greeted you at the door to the pizzeria on your first night shift and you immediately fell for her. She was sweet and understanding and you couldn't thank her enough for the help and advice she had given you regarding the job. She had started dropping by on your shifts quite often to spend time with you, and make sure you were doing okay.
Of course there had been flirtations between the two of you here and there, but nothing ever really came of it. You always felt as if Vanessa was being held back by something.
Eventually, Vanessa stood up from her chair, "Unfortunately, I can't stay all night. I have my own overnight shift to get to."
You whined, "Nooo, staaay," you clung onto her arm as she passed by you.
"Get off, Y/N!" she laughed, trying to pry away from your grip, "It's already one am, I'm gonna be late!"
"You're mean," you pouted.
"Yes. I'm so mean for leaving you to get back to my job that I am required to do."
You slumped down in your chair before releasing her, you threw your arm over your eyes, "Go on! Get out of here! Leave me!"
"You are so dramatic," Vanessa rolled her eyes. She patted your head, "There there, Y/N. You'll be fine."
Both you and Vanessa walked towards the exit, the blonde waved at the animatronics on her way out. She pulled her hood up over head, preparing to go out into the rain.
"Will you be back later?" you asked, hopefully.
She sighed, "I'm not sure, depends on how the night goes. I'll see you tomorrow night regardless."
You nodded, "Yeah, no worries. Good luck out there."
"Good luck in here," Vanessa smiled, "Have a good night, Y/N."
"You too, Ness."
And with that Vanessa left, heading towards her patrol car.
She sat in her car, flicking through her notepad and checking on her patrol areas for the night. She really hoped it would be a quick shift, definitely not because she wanted to see you as soon as possible again...
There had been countless times where she'd wanted to just open up to you and confess how she was feeling, but the underlying problem of her doing unspeakable things to people was stopping her. She didn't want you to know about that side of her. She didn't want you to hate her.
She shook her head, sticking the key in the ignition. She placed her hands on the wheel.
And that's when she froze.
Her eyes locked onto the rear view mirror, and there she could clearly see the backseat of her car.
The familiar white rabbit mask stared right back at her.
That was when a tear fell down her cheek, "No... Please..." her body shook as she realised what was about to happen.
Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her foot moved to the pedals trying to get away from the pizzeria. All she could hear was the echoing laughter from her father within her head.
Leave Vanessa. Leave. Now.
She couldn't.
Her frown slowly turned into a smile. She slowly turned around and grabbed the rabbit suit, her fingers slowly smoothing over the rough fabric. Her smile grew wider as she saw the stained blood still there from her last victim.
She threw the mask on and stepped out of the car, she didn't care about the rain as she put the rest of the suit on. She stepped around to the back of the car and opened the trunk, she reached inside to grab the small black bag and retrieved its contents. The sharp knife that she had used oh so many times.
Her focus returned on the pizzeria, the bright sign drawing her in.
William was simply helping Vanessa out by letting her see you again, much sooner than expected. He was a good father.
Vanessa knew he was a g̵̥̋ó̵͇o̵͙̊ď̸̪ ̵̧̑f̷̪̍â̶͖t̶̘̀h̵̡̏e̶̤͛r̷͙̍.
Yet another yawn left you as you stretched in your seat. You were currently sitting in the office, doing your job... Looking at the stupid monitors. And of course, night after night nothing ever happened. The animatronics were comfortably standing on the stage, none of them moving. Absolutely nothing was happening.
You almost decided to sleep, but...
The monitors started to flicker, static covering a number of the screens.
"Stupid thing..." you groaned before smacking the side of the monitors. With one final bang, the screens came back to life. A sigh of relief escaped you.
The relief in you was soon washed away by panic. You leaned in closer to get a better look. You couldn't help but freeze upon seeing the animatronics. Freddy, Bonnie and Chica had all turned their heads to look directly into the camera, their eyes were a glowing red. You could feel your heartbeat increase as the lights in the office started to flicker on and off.
Maybe the generators were on the fritz? Yeah... That's it. Just some faulty electricity.
That was when you heard a loud bang coming from the room nearby. You immediately checked the monitors again, the animatronics were still looking into the camera.
With a harsh gulp, you grabbed a flashlight and stood up - heading to leave the room to investigate. It was probably just some animal that got in and was tearing up the kitchen... You hoped it was just some animal at least.
You slowly walked down the hall towards the kitchen, taking careful steps. The pizzeria was definitely eerie with flickering lights and no noise apart from your echoing footsteps. Oh, and also that voice you keep on hearing.
Wait... Voice? You stopped in your tracks.
"Y̴̛̼̙̺͎̤͎̲̑̈́͜/̴̢͗̾̋͛̓̈́͠Ń̵̖͍̞̪͔̜̺͖̖̆~" a long, drawled out voice filled your ears - your name making your whole body shake.
"W-Who's there?" you asked, stepping into the kitchen.
The voice simply repeated your name once again.
"Come on, now! Stop messing around. Now get out of here before I call the cops."
They giggled in response. The voice was feminine, and it somehow had a glitchy overlay to it.
You frantically pointed your flashlight around in different areas of the kitchen, your breathing was laboured as fear settled in.
"Awwww. Is little Y/N s̷̞̠̗̊c̵͇̥̮̤̗͛̓a̴̼͒̑̌̓̋͗̚͠r̴̫̜̤͕͔͍̖̉́͂̀́͐͐̐͝e̶̡̛̟̤̳̞̤̮͓͈̅ḑ̵͙̓̆?"
Scared was an understatement.
The door to the kitchen slammed close, causing you to jump. The room was plunged into darkness.
"Don't be frightened. We're going to have a little fun."
You turned around and dropped the flashlight as a pair of arms grabbed you and threw you against a wall, your vision blurred upon impact as you slumped to the floor. You rubbed your aching head before cracking your eyes open. You were immediately met by bright red glowing eyes.
"Aren't you a pretty thing~ No wonder she likes you so much."
It was a white rabbit. Your voice caught in your throat as they moved in closer towards you.
"Speak up, little one. I haven't got a lot of patience."
"Wh-Who are you? What do you want?"
"Aww!" they exclaimed, "She never told you about me? She's no fun."
"Who-?"
You immediately stopped talking once the rabbit pointed a knife at your face, the sharp tip centimetres away from your nose, "You sure do ask a lot of questions..." she looked you up and down, examining you...
You felt tears pool in your eyes.
"Don't be sad, little one... I promise I'll make this quick... Well, I won't... But..." a glitchy laugh escaped the rabbit as she dragged the flat side of the knife against your cheek, "She likes you, you know? She will be so devastated when she realises you're gone."
You desperately wanted to know who this was, and who on Earth they were referring to. But you didn't dare speak.
Their ears perked as they cocked their head, "I can smell your fear, you know?" another laugh... "Come on, can't you recognise my voice?"
You shook your head. The voice was so glitchy, and so unrecognisable.
"I want you to know who kills you, Y/N..."
"P-Please..." you managed to squeak out. You wished Vanessa left now. You wished she were here.
You couldn't stop yourself from looking at the stained blood across the rabbit suit.
"Hmm..." they drawled, "I can see why she loves you, Y/N. So... p̷͇̈́ř̶̜e̷̛͈ṱ̴̿t̷͇͐y̵͍͛..." they leaned in closer, red eyes burning into yours.
"Who?" you decided to ask.
"That little police officer you have become so fond of."
"Vanessa?" a whisper escaped you, your heart started to beat out of your chest.
The rabbit seemed to falter upon hearing that name. Their hand which held the knife shook before they finally retracted away from you. You could tell they were angry behind the mask, but you also sensed something else. It was almost as if they were scared.
"Y̵̡̻̅́͊͐͝/̷̳̑̅́͜Ņ̶̡̖͇͊͘... Y/N..." their voice glitched in and out. They threw the knife away, hitting the ground. The metal bang caused you to flinch as you stayed on the floor with your back pressed against the wall.
They started to grasp at the rabbit mask on their head, "No no no..." they shook their head.
"Nessy?" you called out, not really believing what was going on right now.
"D̵̩͊o̴͐̀ͅn̵͇͍͠'̷̱̀̕t̴̬̣͘ ̴̯͂ḉ̸á̷͓l̴̙̈͝l̴̪̀̚ ̶̹̌͆͜m̸̯̓̈́ẹ̶͎̿ ̵̩̤̈̐ẗ̴̢̞́̋h̵͝ͅa̴̢̓̆t̸͚̄̕!̸̯͌" the rabbit stormed over to you, crouching down, their face right in front of yours, "I'm V̵̩̈́̚a̵͖͆̌͆̏̌n̶̡͎̲̩͑͜n̸͖͎̝͈͘y̵̻̺̰̰̟͛. There is no Vanessa."
"Vanessa, please..." you whispered. Vanny faltered once more, their head hung low. She snapped her vision back up towards you, her fabric-covered hands gripped each side of your face.
Vanny wasn't sure whether she wanted to squeeze your head or hold it gently, the conflicting feelings within her were becoming more prominent by the second.
"Vanessa."
Vanny scrambled back away from you, she leaned against a wall as she panted heavily.
"Y/N... Help me..."
You could clearly hear Vanessa's own voice.
Your hands shook as you crawled over to the rabbit, panic still washed over you... But you knew Vanessa would never hurt you. Something was definitely wrong here. You kneeled in front of her, scared yet worried.
"V-Vanessa? What's wrong? I-"
Vanny reached out and gripped your wrist harshly.
"I-I'm sorry, Y/N. I can't-I can't stop it. I don't want to hurt you."
You believed her. You 100% believed her.
She released your hand, you grabbed the rabbit mask and pulled it off her head - throwing it to the side. Inside the suit, there sat a dishevelled Vanessa with tears in her eyes. You carefully cupped the blonde's cheeks in your hands.
"It's okay," you whispered, trying to comfort her.
"Y-You need to get out of here, Y/N. And never come back. I can't control myself."
"I want to help you, Nessy," the tears in your eyes matched hers.
"They're coming, Y/N. The animatronics. They'll hurt you. Just as much as I will."
You shook your head, "Vanessa-"
One of her hands came up to rest on your cheek, the rough fabric of the suit scraped against your skin, "I don't want to hurt you. Please, Y/N..." she felt her body shake slightly, Vanny desperately wanting to come back out.
You put one of your hands on top of hers, "What will happen to you?"
"I don't know. But as long as you're safe, that's all that matters."
"I... I can't-"
"Y/N," her voice was stern, "Please. I can't keep them back for much longer."
You still ignored her, "They-Vanny... Vanny told me you loved me. Please, Vanessa, I can't leave you here like this-"
Vanessa surprised you, leaning forward to capture your lips with hers. You happily returned the kiss as so many different emotions flowed through you. You felt Vanessa comfortably rubbing your cheek with her thumb, you just wished it was her actual skin and not the fabric of the suit - but you certainly weren't going to complain.
You suddenly pulled away in confusion. The first thing that hit you was the metallic taste that had settled across your tongue. You searched Vanessa's eyes for answers, you certainly weren't expecting a smirk to be plastered across her face.
"I guess I did promise I would make it q̵͔̎ṷ̵́i̵̲͠c̵͍̈k̷̭͗ after all."
Your hand slowly ran down to your stomach, you flinched at the feeling. You lifted your hand to get a better look, shaking as you went. Your fingers were completely red. You looked down and saw Vanessa's free hand wrapped around the handle of the knife that was currently piercing your skin.
Vanessa-Vanny quickly pulled the knife out, causing a choked scream to escape you.
You fell to your hands and knees as Vanny stood up, "N-Nessy-" you managed to breathe out before you hit the floor.
You frantically looked up, searching Vanessa's tear-filled eyes as she firmly placed the rabbit mask back onto her head. Your own tears dripped against the floor, mixing with the sheer amount of blood that had already began to form.
"I'm n̵̗͌o̶̙͂t̷̩́ sorry."
The last thing you saw was Vanny opening the kitchen door to reveal the animatronics waiting on the other side. You couldn't stop yourself from closing your eyes.
(Taglist is available for future Vanessa fics)
A̷͕̳̦͓͉͍̦̾̆̓̍R̸̛̟̺̘̅̀́̓̉̕Ē̵͚̦̬͙̮̆̆̄͗̈́ ̵̟͉̍̓̽͒̎͝Y̴̟̮͍̻̜̜̋̊̈̽̚Ǒ̴̰̞̤̺̭̏̉Ư̵̡̩̤̔͐̍̚ ̷̡̩͈͈̰̰͇̋͂̋̏̔͑͋Ḧ̵̘̻͎͔̥͙̣́͑͆̽͑̿̚A̸̰͓̖͔͒̚V̵̰̪͇͚͙͊̓̏͆̈́̔̿I̴̺̞̼̲̾̀̆͌̌̂͜Ń̶͚͖̪̯͂͋̎̌͘G̷̠͖̞͚̚ ̸͇͖͔̊̒̅̄̚͜͝͝F̴͖͍͇̔́̑͑̇U̷͓̲̘͛͆̌͊N̵̳͕͆̆̋͝ ̵̡̓̌Y̸̳͛̃̎̓E̶̬̰̥̭̝̫̐͗́̔ͅŢ̴́͛̑̔͂?̸̠̝̻̺̣̹̆
#fnaf gif#fnaf x reader#fnaf movie#fnaf vanessa x reader#vanessa shelly x reader#vanessa monroe#fnaf#vanny x reader#william afton#fnaf movie vanessa x reader
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The Green Prince | Bluebeard!Aemond x Wife!Reader
-Based on the Fairytale 'Bluebeard'- Halloween Special!
Summary: Six wives before her mysteriously disappeared, and someone in Dragonstone calls for her once her new husband entrusts her with his master key | Word Count: 8k~ | Warnings below the cut~
Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist
Warnings: dub-con, arranged marriage, victorian england setting, era-typical sexism, murder, uxoricide, blood, toxic behaviour, apparitions/ghosts, manipulation, threats of violence
She's heard only tales of Aemond Targaryen.
The Green Prince of Dragonstone. A wealthy gentleman who often stayed within the confines of his estate.
When she abandoned the frills and wide smiles of girlhood, thrust into the pomp and practice of womanhood, that is when the stories began.
She had never seen him. And she began to believe, that the people around her who spoke of him never had either.
They were of a decent background, her and her family. Not overwhelmingly rich. But well-off is what her father always said.
Enough to employ a small army of servants.
Enough to never have to worry about the troubles of daily life that so often would hinder an everyday individual.
She doubted Aemond Targaryen ever had to worry about that either.
One fact that simply could not be frayed, was that he was royalty.
Only in the sense that he was utterly untouchable.
He had this elegance about him, they would say, a sort of curious exoticisim from the way his long, silver hair would drift down his back, to the way his inhuman purple eyes would glimmer, half lidded and looking straight ahead, as if he were piercing a knife through the individual with his gaze alone.
Though they were technically neighbours, she saw very little life pass through the iron gates of Dragonstone. His estate so vast, that by foot, she would have to commit a whole hour to simply brush by the border of what she deemed was a forbidden land.
There seemed an aura of darkness over it, that she could not quite comprehend. But one that intrigued her all the same.
Last year, at the same time as now, she had been considered a child. No better for company than being banished upstairs to dwindle about her books and writings, out of the way of adults and their serious business affairs.
What had really changed in 12 months, that they now considered her a woman?
She felt age had little to do with it.
She felt that she had been grown in her mind for some time, and had actually changed very little from the age of three and ten.
But now, at the tender age of nine and ten, there was still a girlish nature about her face. A brightness to her eyes, and a plumpness about her cheeks. One that her mother had once commented that men would find appealing in a wife.
And so here she was.
Dressed in her finery, a glass of wine in a crystal glass delicately placed in one hand, she stood beside her eldest brother, who had torn himself rather blatantly from a woman he himself was courting in favour of supporting his sweet, youngest sister.
"Do not, for the love of our mother, allow yourself to be approached by Mr Gardner. He has had five servants in as many months. I am sure you can understand why", her brother mused with a contented chuckle.
She did not know why. Nobody had told her plainly.
Sometimes she wished people would just be honest with her. And not assumed she knew the inner workings of people's minds, after years of being shut away upstairs by her parents and brother alike.
The foyer and adjoining rooms alike were filled with people, all pretending to make pleasantries with each other. And as the night dragged on, several well known bachelor's having tried their hand at impressing her, she found her glass of wine was not as endless as she thought.
When a servant had spotted her, appearing at her side to refill her glass, she had turned her body sideways and locked eyes, finally, with him.
The one people affectionately named, The Green Prince.
Like most of the men tonight, he was dressed in a suit with a long overcoat that covered his dark green waistcoat. So dark were the colours of his outfit, that they almost appeared black, like the rest of it.
His hair was loose, with a few strands falling to the front over his shoulders, and as her eyes trailed up to his pale collar, where a tie was loosely wrapped about his neck, she saw that when she met his gaze, he was already looking at her.
He held his glass in a manner most unbecoming. Hanging at his side, his long fingers grasping the edges so delicately, she was sure for a moment it was floating in his hold.
His finger, she noticed, tapped idly at the side of the room, as if deep in thought as he looked upon her.
She saw his gaze drop to her outfit, one that her mother had chosen for her. A red, almost burnt tea coloured dress, with very little flounce and fancy to it. The collar hung delicately at her shoulders, the bodice tight and the only detail of any colour was in the stitching of her skirt, which he noted was a shimmering gold.
When he lifted his eyes, he took a sip from his glass, still almost filled to the top, his burning lilac gaze hovering over the brim. She sucked in a breath, her own eyes flitting over his face. And to the patch that covered the left eye.
She didn't know why her chest felt tight, and why she hoped suddenly for the appearance of her brother. Or her father perhaps. He was staring at her so unabashedly, that for an unmarried woman such as herself, she would be looked upon with immense judgement if she were found to be staring back at him in the same manner.
Knowing his gaze was burning at the back of her head, perhaps tracing the intricate pattern of braids her hair had been styled in, she decided to ignore him, until he had the decency to approach and introduce himself to her properly.
As any good gentleman would.
She meandered through the menagerie of figures, careful to keep her wine close to her so that she wouldn't repeat the same embarrassment as last year when she spilled the entire glass down Mr Bray, whose wife near lost her voice with incessant shouting.
Her father, ever cheerful, as rich men so often are, materialised at her side, grasping her elbow and tugged his daughter close to him. His breath smelled like red wine as he whispered to her.
"It appears you have captured the special attention of Mr Targaryen, daughter"
Her father chuckled when her wide, terrified and yet curious eyes met his.
How could she have captured his attention, when she had done nothing at all? She thought.
She did not yet know, the charms that the appearance of a female body could offer. And how it could transform a respectable man from a pillar of society, to a hungry, lustful beast at a moment's notice.
"I shall introduce you to him" her father insisted, leading her along at his side, despite her quiet protests.
"But father-"
"Hush now. Remember your manners".
His tone of voice was enough.
She had not experienced it as a mere female. But she had seen first hand what her father did to her brother when he disobeyed. Finding a sort of punishment worthy at the end of his cane as it cracked against her brother's palm.
Her brother still wore gloves often. That was his shield.
She had yet to find her own.
Perhaps hers was in her mind, she thought. That she might be able to protect herself with her ideas and opinions, twisting the minds of men, as her elder sister had said once, to suit the needs of the women they owned.
She often had to remind herself, she was property. And could easily be bought and sold, and kicked to the roadside if she had done something to mar her family name.
She was thrust into a sort of social assassination once again once stood before the famed Mr Targaryen, who nodded his head in greeting but said nothing.
"My Targaryen. What an honour it is to have you here. Please might introduce my daughter"
He bent somewhat at the hip, his hand moving to grasp hers, the skin soft and feminine.
"The pleasure is all mine, Miss"
His voice was like the purr of a cat. And though terrifyingly intriguing, she couldn't find it in herself to look away.
"And to you, Sir. Many thanks for the invitation" Aemond turned towards her father, giving another barely existent nod of his head, his expression flat and almost bored.
"It is no problem at all, Mr Targaryen. Please accept my condolences on the passing of your wife"
Late wife?
She felt rude to ask, so said nothing.
Aemond seemed to understand her curiosity, and gave a light smirk in her direction, though she was on his blind side.
"Thank you, Sir. It was a great tragedy indeed"
"Indeed" her father repeated, leaning forward as if to emphasise the size of his empathy for him, "I understand she was quite distressed for some time, was she not?"
She almost passed her father a warning glance. Thinking it rather rude for him to say such things about his late wife. Whether she may have been mad or not.
But Aemond merely nodded.
"Indeed. I am afraid, however, it was an inevitable accident"
Accident.
She of course, remembered hearing the gossip, and hearing her father read the newspaper every morning. An update about the mad Alys Rivers at the top of the page every time.
Alys Rivers, the Lady of Dragonstone, found dead in God's Eye Lake. A wound to the neck spells suicide.
A wound to the neck was a kind description.
Her pale skin was said to be slashed open on one side, everything visible within. And once the water had got to her, she was swollen, pale and blue, completely drained of blood. Almost entirely unrecognisable.
It was just as well she had no family. They would not have wished to see how she met her end.
The article found it necessary to articulate, that her body had been returned to her husband.
Across the room, another gentleman called for her father, and she felt the hot whips of panic at the back of her neck at the thought of being left alone with Aemond.
"Do excuse me" her father said quickly, disappearing into the sea of black and grey.
She herself turned back to Aemond, not wanting to be rude, and tapped her fingernails on the crystal glass nervously.
"I am very sorry to hear about your wife"
Aemond hummed, one of his hands behind his back like he had a secret.
"Thank you, Miss"
There was a long period of silence between them. And for a while, she wondered if she should be the one to break it.
Aemond laughed lowly, leaning down to her face as he caught something interesting in his sights.
"See your brother?" He murmured. And her face turned as well, not realising at first how close their faces were, but she could not very well pull away without offending him.
All the same, he smelled of sandalwood.
Her eyes followed his, to her brother on the other side of the room, where he was thoroughly embarrassing himself by laughing too widely with the woman he had been courting for several months.
"He is awfully close to that woman, is he not?"
She swallowed, raising her chin to appear more confident as she spoke, "She is to be his intended. It is only natural they speak freely with one another" she reasoned.
Aemond did not move away, his shoulder brushing against her side. It made her shudder.
"He is certainly doing something freely" Aemond hummed deep in his chest, a tone which sent a dull ache through her body.
Her brother leaned in close to the woman. And she watched her blush and throw her head back with a demure laugh, her brother leaning close to run his nose along her neck, grinning against her skin.
It felt forbidden to watch them be so close.
And yet he was so brazen about it.
"She seems to be enjoying herself, at least"
She couldn't find it in herself to reply.
For the woman did appear as if she was enjoying herself. And briefly, stood beside Aemond, his breath softly batting against her neck, she wondered herself, how it would feel if he did the same to her.
She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as her. Sneaking into her mind like a whisper, as if he were being a locked door, and was peering through the keyhole to uncover her darkest thoughts and desires.
Her brother leaned towards his intended, planting a kiss to the column of her neck. And she felt herself parting her lips as the other woman had, not only at the shameless behaviour of her brother, so consumed in wine that he felt no need to appear reasonable in front of other people, but also because she felt Aemond’s slender fingers at her forearm.
It was not at all like the way her father had pulled her to him, in ownership.
Aemond tugged her towards him in a sort of longing, his nose pressing into the plaits of her hair.
“I am going to ask your father for your hand” he whispered, “and he will say yes. And you shall be mine”.
She listened with her fingers wrapped around the wooden pillars of the staircase as her brother shouted obscenity after obscenity at her father. Every now and then her mother would insert her little, sweet voice that was inevitably crushed by the low boom of the two males in the room.
With her gaze planted firmly in her lap, tracing the patterns of the lace of her nightgown as she listened, she thought with a sort of sadness that the offer of marriage should be a joyous and happy occasion. And now in her household, the prospect of her being tied to the Green Prince himself was so offensive to her brother, that he felt the need to fight on her behalf.
Perhaps knowing his sweet sister had no choice in the matter.
“He is barely half a decade older than her and has had six wives in as many years, father!” he boomed, and she could tell by the way his voice bounced off the furniture that he was pacing and throwing his arms around.
“To give her away to that brute. It is unthinkable!”
“Be quiet!” her father roared back, “the wedding will go ahead as planned. We will not get a better offer than this!”
While she was happy, that her brother was trying to stick up for her, it was no use. He nor her had a choice in the matter.
Her father had said it himself.
We will not get a better offer.
Not she.
She was property. Something to be sold and given in exchange for goods or reputation. What she wanted, was of no consequence.
And she couldn’t help but think of her mother, several decades younger than her father, and how she must have felt at her tender age when confronted with the prospect of marrying a man much older than she.
In a way, she felt connected to her mother in that way. But also in a way that she resented her, for dressing her up, plaiting her hair and pushing her out into the rich man’s world, ripe and ready for the taking.
Passing her the torch of a woman’s anguish.
The wedding felt clinical. More akin to a funeral than a union of two people.
Her brother stares dagger into the back of her intended for the entire ceremony. All while her mother cried softly into her handkerchief and her father sat, stoic and silent, his chubby fingers caressing the sculpted ornament on the top of his cane.
She remembered his hands as they were bought together and the officiator had placed a sort of sacred cloth over them as he muttered his prayers. Binding them lawfully and before the eyes of God, for their whole lives.
His hands were large, his palms completely dwarfing hers and his long fingers wrapping around hers like tight vines. And at that moment, she had never felt so small in her life.
And noticed that his side of the wedding chapel, where his family members were supposed to sit and witness their union, was completely empty.
Six wives in as many years.
That is what her brother had said.
She knew Aemond had been married multiple times prior to her, but was her brother merely exaggerating?
In contrast to his hands, where the blood swam warmly through his limbs, his lips where the officiant asked them to seal their union with a kiss, were cold, and not forthcoming. As if he had not asked her father for her hand in marriage, but that this entire affair was so useless and merely for looks, that he’d rather be somewhere else.
That said. She could not escape the intensity of his gaze.
He seemed to focus solely on her, much to her discomfort, to the point where it seemed like he was not listening to a single prayer or hymn that was uttered in the chapel all afternoon. And though her eyes were elsewhere, to try and place the feeling that bubbled in her chest somewhere else, she often found his lilac eye drifting to the details of her necklace, to face, and pausing where she wet her lips nervously.
If he hadn’t possessed such a domineering, strong presence, she thought he would be devilishly handsome.
Perhaps a fact he already knew.
It was unlike her family to have celebrations, so they didn’t.
She gave each of the servants, some who she knew for most of her life a final embrace, thanking them for their hospitality and care where she did not receive it from her parents. And as her luggage was packed meaningfully in the back of Mr Targaryen’s carriage, with two large horses at the front, she gave her brother a tight embrace as well. Inhaling and savouring the musty smell of tobacco on his coat.
He looked saddened, but for the sake of appearances, forced a smile onto his face.
“Good luck, dear sister. Remember you may write to me, even though you are a married woman” he smiled, teasing her softly with a nudge to her shoulder.
She gave a softer hug to her mother, who usually was not keen to shower her with affection. But she supposed, she was the youngest daughter, so it was only natural.
Her father, after having busied himself in an idle chattering session with Aemond, merely tipped his hat, and did not shed one bit of emotion as she climbed into the carriage before her husband. Aemond's hand helped her up the step, watching as she disappeared inside.
The smell of his sandalwood perfumes on his coat was stronger as he sat beside her on the cushion, instructing the handsome, olive-skinned driver to move forward and away from her home.
She only waved to her brother. And watched as he had wet eyes, stepping forward a few paces like he was about to break into a run after her.
The carriage was much nicer than anything she'd seen in her young life, and though they were for all intents and purposes, considered neighbours, it was still a half hour ride to his estate.
Dragonstone.
Her skin prickled at the mere thought of it.
She'd never seen it before. Nor had any of her family.
All she knew was that it was often clouded in fog, that when you stood at the front gates you could barely see the arching towards and dark brick in the distance anyway.
All she had heard was what people said.
That it was a frightful, maze of a place. With winding corridors and crooked doorways, and barely any servants.
He was a rich man, why not employ more?
He did not say a word the entire way home. He only sat, cross legged, and fiddle with his fingers like he was nervous. Turning them over in micro-movements.
Don't speak unless spoken to.
As Dragonstone came into view once they crossed the boundary of the iron gates, she felt her breath taken away.
And it was only when Aemond assisted her with a hand as she stepped down from the carriage that she could really appreciate the sheer size of his estate.
It was so big it was beyond comprehension.
She briefly wondered if she would get lost in such a place.
"Cole will bring your things to our room"
Her heart started to flutter, and pitter patter all at the same time.
Our room.
She had almost forgotten her one wifely duty she was to fulfil this evening.
To appease him.
The thought made a sort of tightness in her belly, though she was unsure why. Of course, her elder sister had divulged her own horror story of her wedding night. Though her sister was twenty and she herself only five and ten at the time, the nitty gritty was of great curiosity to her.
"For several hours the poor thing just cried and it rather spoiled the mood. Turned out that he had…pleased himself the morning of the wedding so as not to become too excited when the evening rolled around.
Oh well, no matter. Instead, when he had a rather excited visitor the next morning he crawled atop me and breathed heavily into my neck while he tried to get it inside me. 'Twas over in an instant dear sister and I did not feel a thing".
Though the anecdote was funny, although awkward seeing as she sat next to her brother-in-law the next morning and tried not to giggle, right now, it did little to quell the gnawing inside her.
Aemond did not seem as quiet and unsure of himself as her brother-in-law was. She doubted a man of his standing would have any issue fulfilling his role as a husband.
As he had done, six times before.
Which triggered yet another question.
Why no children? Surely all six of his previous wives could not have been barren?
Did they commit suicide? Ashamed of themselves for failing to fulfil this task? Were they all mere accidents? Or did someone break in at night to steal his plethora of fine jewels and artefacts and run into one of his unfortunate wives along the way?
It seemed entirely impossible.
She watched Aemond walk confidently to the front doors, where a couple of servants stood to greet the new Lady of Dragonstone. His coat fluttered around his thighs as he turned, the ends of his silver hair hung like they were floating.
"Wife. May I introduce you to the staff. Anything you so wish, please do not hesitate to ask them"
The two servants stood, hands clasped, looking entirely scared stiff. One was a middle aged man with an apron dirtied at the edges, and the other a maid, barely five and twenty, who offered her a polite curtsy.
She simply smiled at them, "a pleasure".
They said nothing.
There was something melancholic. Ancient. And crushing about Dragonstone.
She felt the weight on her shoulders the moment she passed those gates. Did they feel it too?
Did Aemond?
This was the only moment he seemed to smile, as miniscule as it was with a darkened gaze, was when he turned to look at his new wife and nodded.
"If you will forgive me, I have some business to attend to. I will see you tonight for supper"
His expression never wavered, even as he bent at the middle to press his lips to her hand, above the ring he had placed on her finger not a few hours before.
The servants quickly scuttled out of her sight and so she thought to amuse herself by exploring her new home. Out of habit, she started upstairs, going straight to her bedroom to inspect.
There was a large four poster bed made of what appeared to be walnut in the middle of the room, with various ornaments strewn about, but very little to suggest that he actually relaxed in here.
There were no mementos, keepsakes, and she thought briefly she couldn't get a grasp on his personality this way either.
She blushed and felt that tightness again at the thought of sharing a bed with him, of what they might have to do.
The rest of the house was indicative of the first room she ventured to. Lacking a certain personality she was sure existed in her new husband but one he refused to show.
The estate was cold and empty, with flagstone floors stretching along the long dark hallways.
There were so many doors it was difficult to know what on earth could be behind all of them. She'd so far discovered the Library, the Dining Room and even happened upon the scullery rather by accident.
And then, one room…
It had a oxblood red door, worn around the edges and the colour faded somewhat. She noted the scuff marks around the handle and the hinges, as well as the stone beneath the door where overtime, footsteps had worn it down.
So she was doubly surprised to find the door locked.
Curious.
Her skin prickled, and she was sure for a moment that she saw her own misty breath. Like that feeling that someone is watching you but you are too afraid to move an inch. The tips of her fingers suddenly felt numb.
She felt it on her neck, an iciness.
But when she turned, her breath stuck in her chest from panic, she could only see nothing but the empty corridor.
And all was silent.
There was a heaviness in her chest which seemed to pass through her like trying to walk through honey, trying to pull your feet up just an inch to step forward.
And as quickly as that feeling came, it was gone and she turned back in panic once she heard soft, careful footsteps behind the oxblood door.
She clenched and unclenched her fists in fear, trying to reason with herself.
Undeniable footsteps, ones that had started at the threshold and we're now walking slowly away from her.
The blood rushed warmly back into her fingertips, and she rubbed them painfully against her navy dress, trying to will a feeling back into them.
Footsteps…
She only heard her own as she hurried down the corridor again, her shoes clocking against the flagstone.
So desperate to get away from that heavy, morbid feeling that she nearly hurtled right into the young maid.
"My Lady!"
"I do apologise" she uttered immediately, her chest pushing against her bodice with her hurried breath, "I was not looking where I was going".
The maid curtsied, as if she'd forgotten to and straightened, "Supper is to be served, my Lady. May I-"
"What is that room? Down the hall?" She asked.
The maid raised her eyebrows, "Which one, my Lady?"
She turned her head down the hallway once again to point to the one she meant, and her words died on her lips.
The door moved.
It was unmistakable.
The shadow where the door was leant ajar quickly disappeared, and the frame was filled once more by the large wooden slat against it.
There was no click of a lock to be heard.
She was so afraid she lost herself for a moment. Going all pale. So much so the maid had to prompt her.
"My Lady?"
She shook her head, looking back to see if the door would move again, and drift open as it had before.
But it never did.
And the thought that as she was running away before, the door was slowly inching open, scared her beyond belief.
"It's nothing, I apologise" she said quickly, "Supper, thank you".
There was nothing of note for the rest of the evening.
Supper was quiet. And the table was so long with husband and wife sat at either end, that they may as well have been in separate rooms while they ate.
It was nice enough food she was grateful for that. A selection of soups and meats, and breads to fill her belly between courses.
He did not speak.
He barely moved any other muscle than his arm to fork the meat into his mouth. She watched him every now and then, over the barely dancing flame of the candelabra, otherwise the room would be completely dark.
So she drank her wine, and stayed silent. Waiting to be spoken to.
The only thing he said was right at the end.
"Shall we retire for bed, wife?"
And she could not very well say no.
She made brief eye contact with the maid as she followed her husband to the grand staircase, each step feeling heavier and more nerve-wracking than the last.
Her husband was tall, broad and she had no doubt be enjoyed the domineering aura he gave off. Judging by the dark colours of his waistcoat and trousers, as well as the leather eyepatch over one eye, he enjoyed inhabiting darkness.
She thought with some amusement that the only bright things about him were his hair and eyes.
Things he could not change.
He was certainly a marvel of a man. And truthfully, she should count herself lucky that he is at least somewhat close to her in age.
Aemond closed the door softly once they were both inside. The curtains were now drawn, and the room was filled with an amber glow from the candles the maid had lit for them.
She needn't ask him for help, for her new husband immediately stood behind her, and began to unlace her dress as if they had been married an age.
His movements were so sure. And she felt with jealousy of some kind that he had done this with six other women before her.
No wonder he was practiced.
There was no room for romance when to him, it was all just a matter of duty.
She stood only in her chemise, having pulled her hair free of her braids, feeling his gaze the entire time.
"Are you intent on remaining silent, wife?" He asked, and she heard him pull off his waistcoat with every pop of his buttons.
"Or might you become more vocal in the marriage bed?"
She felt her cheeks flush and thickness in her throat. Inadvertently pressing her legs together where a sort of excitement was blooming.
"I could not say…" she answered.
And chuckled lowly, pressing his front to her back, dragging his nose up the side of her neck, just as she had seen before.
She felt something hard press against her backside, his hips pushing it against her and moving softly, creating just a tiny bit of friction.
"Tell me" he muttered, his lips tickling her ear, "tell me what a good wife does"
She was suddenly nervous, thinking about what other people had told her.
And it was increasingly difficult to think, with his large hands pulling her chemise off her body.
"A good wife…is loyal to her husband" she recited, her breath coming in short pants, "she is…loving"
He blew air from his nose, like he was amused.
"..and she is obedient"
"That's it"
Aemond peeled the chemise off her, letting it drift to the floor.
"A good wife makes herself available to her husband"
She gasped and he revelled in it, as he pushed her newly naked body onto the bed, her body sinking into the mattress and watching as her husband bared himself one button at a time.
"Of course. There a many other wifely duties" he grinned.
His fingers moved to his trousers.
"But for now, I only care about this one".
Being touched all over was strange. There was a dull ache in her core when her husband touched certain areas, a feeling that she didn't recognise.
Her confused and somewhat distressed face at the whole ordeal was endearing to him.
Her young, plump face looked up at him with gleaming eyes and shame arched in her eyebrows.
It hurt. Not as greatly as she thought. But it still did.
"Close your eyes. It will be over soon"
She did as he said, turning her face away. But it was not over soon.
His member throbbed inside her, and she thought she'd never felt more full in her life. Since closing her eyes, she could not see the way his hair began to tangle around him, as his hips chased hers and came against hers with a soft smack.
The pain gave way to another feeling still.
That same ache she felt when he'd touched her.
Aemond smirked when he saw the confused, ashamed expression on her face. At the way she pressed her lips together.
"I think you are enjoying this" he murmured lowly, pushing harder into her like he was intent in piercing her stomach, "if I did not know any better, you would almost be moaning".
She didn't want it to feel good.
Or did she.
It felt wrong.
And yet she couldn't deny when he raised her thighs, his fingers wrapped into her flesh, it did feel good.
"Look at me" he whispered, never stopping, "Look at your husband, who is giving you pleasure"
Some excitement sparked inside him, when she didn't do as he asked, her warm embarrassed face pressed into the sheets as much as she could. Her eyes closed.
He laughed when she refused.
"Yes - you feel it, do you not? No need to act all coy. I can feel your body's response"
Shame crept into her body, her limbs going all tight just as he'd said. Feeling herself hit that irreplaceable point, she simply whimpered and felt his length throb once more before he spilled inside of her, releasing all he had to give.
She thought with lewdness, that his spend was warm inside her.
Aemond seemed to take great pleasure in making his wife shrink into herself with embarrassment and shame every time they coupled. He loved that doe eyed look she gave him, as if he did not have his cock buried between her legs every night he could since the wedding.
He would have her any way. Fully clothed if the moment presented itself.
There was something erotic about taking something that looked so innocent and filling her with his spend. How she would act all coy, with it dripping down her thighs.
He delighted in the fact that he had managed to kidnap this sweet young thing, and use her for himself and his pleasure any moment he was able. And the month that passed since the wedding, he could not think of a time that was sweeter.
So it was with great irritation that he was called to King's Landing. Some business with his brother that apparently couldn't wait.
He did not want to leave her.
He spoke firmly, stood before the oxblood door in his travel wear.
"While I am away, you must not enter this room. Do you understand?"
When she nodded without asking why, he smiled in pride and placed the master key in her small palm. Entrusting that she would do as she had promised in his absence.
He thought he'd reward her when he returned, by fucking her in the comfort of their bed sheets, until she was pink in the faxe and begging him to stop. Just as he liked her to be.
As soon as her husband left, she felt even more that she was being watched. All the little hairs on the back of her neck pointed upwards.
The maid kept clear of her, which was nothing unusual. But it was almost as if she was escaping rooms before she herself knew why. As if she knew what invaded the invisible space within them as soon as her back was turned.
Did she hear the voices too? See the dark figures and closing doors?
Anytime she passed the long dark hallway to the oxblood door, she felt her curiosity grow tenfold. But also a sense of dread, heavy in her gut, tugging her back to this wretched place.
What could be behind the door, that her husband wished not for her to see?
In the Library, the fire crackled comfortably as she turned the faded pages of her book. The maid busied herself collecting the dirtied saucers and teacups beside her, humming to herself gently.
The air suddenly went cold around her neck, and a breeze passed, evident by the dangling of her earrings. It was not only her imagination.
"A golden key. Oxblood door. Give the six souls rest, sweet child"
She looked up at the maid, "I am sorry, did you say something?"
The maid straightened and shook her head quickly, eyebrows arched in confusion, "No, my Lady"
Why did the maid always flee like that? Like someone was chasing her? With their claws at her back like an animal in the forest?
The key was ornate, with winding patterns and several notches at the top. And when she held it in her small palm, it felt hot to the touch like an iron rod.
Aemond would punish her.
How? She did not know.
She slotted the key into the door, without the energy to turn it. And her limbs felt heavy, and her knuckles cold, like someone was pushing on it. Forcing her will.
"That's right. Insert the key into the keyhole, and turn…"
A voice echoed off the stone.
A low, sweet, mature voice.
Click.
The oxblood door gave way to light, torches lit at every corner, illuminating the oxblood colour of the floor before her.
A step down.
The floor rippled like liquid.
"Our souls…"
Her shoe was slick with something oily that clung to the suede. Irreparably staining them.
Her skin prickled. Vomit bubbled at the back of her throat.
Six torch-lit figures reflected in the blood on the flagstone floor.
Hung, wrists bound over their head. White skulls in various stages of deterioration, with strings of what was once luscious hair drifting past their bony shoulders.
She saw with dread, they were still wearing dresses that hung off their ivory skeletons.
She was sure she collapsed with grief, a scream echoing around her that did not feel like her own. The only sound she registered was the clanging of the key as she dropped it in shock, blood of Aemond's ex-wives enveloping the brass.
Her throat felt sore.
She watched their empty eye sockets. The dust over their bound hands and their feet as they dangled inches off the floor.
Breath hot in her lungs like she was clinging to life as she knew it, she scrambled for the key and pulled the door shut behind her with a mighty boom.
Darkness crawled up her skin, now that she knew what was behind it.
Was this her fate?
If she displeased him, would she be their successor?
She was sat, with head in hand, in a state of complete distress with sweat on her brow and neck as Aemond returned.
She had paced the room for hours she felt, wringing her hands, as if to find what she might say to him on his arrival. He'd see it on her face.
He would know she had seen the corpses of his precious wives on her soft, innocent features. Scarred forever by death.
His tall, broad form filled the doorframe. And he dropped his coat onto the bed with a tired huff, but said nothing.
She almost wished he would say something. To spare her this horrible anticipation.
But she watched as he took two careful steps in. His one eye flitting over to the key he'd left her on the bureau.
The blood had not lifted from the brass. She could not wash it. No matter how much time she committed to it, it would not become clean.
Her husband looked back at her like she was something to eat, his eye half open with only half his iris visible.
She sobbed and cried when he advanced and held her to the wall by her neck with ease, slamming her small body against it.
"You thought you would get away without punishment, hm?"
She sobbed like a child, her tears wetting her cheeks and neck, to his fingers. Her own tried to pry his away, feeling that he was hurting her effortlessly with his grip around her throat.
"Please…husband…"
He could have laughed.
"Now is no time for begging. Tell me, how should I punish you, wife?, he grinned widely, his tone low and condescending as he spoke to the small woman before him.
"Please…you may do as you like with me - just first, let me pray-" she begged with a hoarse, tired voice. Never feeling that she could be scared of him in this way.
He pulled his head away, looking down at her past his nose, his lips tight.
She felt his grip loosen, but the places where his fingers had been were sore and red.
"I shall do as I please. But since you asked so nicely to pray. I shall let you"
She felt herself breathing like she was swallowing fire a she stepped out the door, allowing her privacy to pray before he inevitably drove a dagger through her, or something of the like.
She rushed to the master key and locked the door with a quick slam and click, locking her husband out and flinching when his palms pushed with urgency on the other side. Rapping on the wood like an animal who couldn't see their prey.
She had no intention of praying.
"Open this door! Now!"
Her eyes scanned the room anxiously and with urgency. She felt her fingers shaking as he pushed the window open, looking down at the great height she would have to jump to escape him.
A sure death.
She clambered over the bureau, her knees knocking painfully on the wood as she advanced in a panicked state towards the ledge.
Her brother.
If she could just escape to him.
He would save her.
A clang of metal rattled against the floor as her husband, as strong as she was, sent the door flinging off the hinges. His large arms wrapped around her waist as she writhed, fearing her life. Expecting a blade to her neck. Or perhaps to be dragged to the oxblood door, to never return.
"Husband - please - have mercy-"
"It is too late for 'please'. It is time for you to feel the consequence of your actions"
She struggled so much, he tackled her to the floor, holding both her forearms behind her back in one hand, pushing her front to the cold stone floor, her warm cheek moulding to the pattern of it.
"I beg you - have mercy and kill me quickly-"
Her tears wet her face entirely, feeling his body over her back, pressing his hips into her backside, letting her feel his wrath.
"Mercy?" He chuckled darkly, "why would I show the likes of you mercy?"
"You who I have treated with care and respect. You who has disobeyed me"
"My Lady shall learn this lesson now"
His voice was dark and low, and it scared her more than the whisperings of the paranormal and the sight of what was behind the oxblood door.
She panicked with a warm face as he rucked up her skirts to her waist, flinching when she felt two of his thick fingers swipe across her hot centre while he continued to hold her down.
"I do not often take pleasure in teaching my wife a lesson. But, for you, I shall make an exception"
She pressed her lips together, not wanting to anger him with her whimpers and whines as she felt him slide his trousers down and rub his hot, throbbing member, ready and waiting for her, against her cunt, collecting her wetness on his length for ease of entry.
He sighed longingly, his breath tickling her neck, his eyelashes fluttering against her jaw.
She choked on her breath as he slid into her, his fingers holding her hips desperately to widen her legs to accommodate him deeper inside her.
"None of them were worthy - fucking none of them -" he breathed, his breath hitching with each soft smack of his hips against her, stretching her walls to the shape and size of him and groaning at the way her hot insides parted.
"Do you wish me to give you a child, hm? None of them - fuck - none of them could give me what you do-"
She whimpered, feeling his length fill her repeatedly and bully the end of her, each blow against that rough spot inside increasingly making her shame and despair at his use of her body ebb away into a forbidden and unknown feeling.
"If you do not behave, you will not be allowed that pleasure" he muttered, his breath coming in short bursts, his thrusts as well becoming sloppy and unconfident.
Her gut warmed with his length piercing her insides. And she felt as though she was missing something he was telling her in his own way. Eyebrows arched in confusion.
Even now, while he fucked her on the floor, she felt afraid for her life.
"Oh, little one, I am almost disappointed that it took so long for you to realise that I do not intend to kill you.”
Her wet eyes cracked open to turn her head in discomfort to him. Her cheek rubbing against the stone floor as he pulled her hips up to fuck her deeper.
"No. You shall give me children. Many of them if you wish to please me"
She tightened around him completely out of instinct, and Aemond groaned loudly above her, pushing his chest so hard against her back she felt she might break.
And her hands clenched into fists, absentmindedly pushing her hips back to him to chase the remnants of that sweet rapture she was sometimes awarded when coupling with him.
A sweet escape from this prison.
He laughed, when he realised that she was quite resigned to her fate.
That she, compared to his other wives, was finally worthy of giving him children. Of satiating his desire to dominate a woman so easily. How he enjoyed watching the look of shame and pleasure on her face, as she battled with herself to submit to him or not.
He slammed with a wet squelch back into her again, filling her with his warmth with a long, shuddered groan. His grip so hard around her forearm, she was sure blood did not reach her hands.
He continued to move shallowly into her, pushing his spend as deep inside her as it would go. As if, whether she wanted to or not, he would fuck his child into her and watch her grow fat and round.
And then, once she had one, would fuck yet another into her.
Her breath came fast and hot from her swollen lips as she trembled around him, unknowingly prolonging his pleasure inside her.
His lips brushed against her ear.
"No other words before I begin?"
It was difficult with her head pushed against the floor, but she nodded softly in confirmation. Relief flooding her as she saw her husband's smirk rise to his lips, both his hands dropping to her hips to tug her back onto his length.
"Then let us begin"
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