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gyuswhore · 9 months

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Pure Math 171

choi seungcheol x reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: fluff, humour

warnings: math. (1) dirty joke. thats it i think (lmk if there's more)

synopsis: Walking into the first class of the semester shouldn't have been as eventful as it was (not that you can complain for long)

masterlist

(A/N): I haven't posted a fic in a while so i hope i redeem myself with this one hehe. a million thank yous to @toruro for beta-ing for me (even at the dentists lol) you can thank her for this too shes the reason i finished so quickly kjvkdfjg

It takes a lot to surprise you.

It’s not that you enjoy it, but your friends simply make it easy to read them. It took Soonyoung seven human years to learn the art of surprise birthday parties. You know, the ones where you aren’t supposed to know he’s throwing a party just for you. Or Minghao, before he learned the art of deceit, and held his disdain like a badge on his face.

You seem to have honed the skill of psychics better than most, confident in your ability as a higher-risk party trick.

Skipping into the new semester at uni, you enter your lecture hall at the reasonable hour of 8 in the morning, expecting nothing but the usual. No surprises were to come your way today, just another first day back, fueling for the coming months.

You push the doors of your lecture hall open, ready to greet your professor for Pure Mathematics 171, pushing your spirits high to commence your per semester buttering. What you find though, is the front desk crowded with students wanting to do the exact same, all for the professor that would be teaching the most dreaded unit of the course. Of course.

You spot Soonyoung among the crowd as he spots you at the door as well. You note how gleeful he looks at this hour. This can’t be good. Hao too presses his mouth together in an attempt to conceal his budding smile, hand to mouth when he miserably fails.

What on Earth was so funny?

Attempting to crane your neck, over and under, to catch a glimpse of the ever popular professor, you find yourself blocked by the sea of math nerds and ass-kissers just like yourself. Curiosity was becoming a little too much for you to bear, not that your friends sniggering and whispering while looking directly at you was helping at all. You were just about to march up to the two and demand to be put on their shoulders to see what the fuss was about. Until—

“Alright! It’s almost 8, let’s save the chatter for after class, how about?” you hear a voice boom in the centre of the anthill.

You knew that voice.

You watch in slow motion as the hoard of bodies disperse, not missing the pointed glances of both your friends directed at the teacher’s table.

And then you see it. Standing there, looking down at his folder sheets, dry-erase marker in hand.

Choi Seungcheol.

Choi Seungcheol was your professor.

Your boyfriend was your professor.

How did this happen? Did he know about this? Was he keeping it from you? Were you blind when you read the clear ‘Dr. Kim’ next to your unit code?

Seungcheol doesn’t notice you standing there slack mouthed and frozen in his classroom. Until he does.

Instead of mimicking your shocked expression, you watch as his mouth goes to pull what you recognise as a smirk.

Oh, he thinks this is hilarious.

His eyebrows are raised as he questions you, “Will you be taking a seat, miss?”

It’s then that you realise you're in the middle of a lecture hall with about a hundred eyes watching you as you gape at your collective professor. Could they be mistaking your imminent horror as you checking him out?

If this was another situation maybe you would have, but this was starting to sound like a sick joke.

But alas, you could not confront your professor like that, at least not in front of an audience. So you find it within yourself to slowly slug towards the staircase to plant yourself next to your friends. Both of whom were having the absolute time of their lives watching your dazed expression.

You might have committed murder that day.

You’re forced to snap out of it as you hear Seungcheol - professor Choi - begin to speak at the front of the class.

“Good morning everybody,” he starts, hands on his desk, a pleasant expression on his face as he awaits a response from his borderline comatose students. A chorus of good mornings greet him back, excluding your own.

“Hope you guys had a good break, welcome to Pure Math 171, my name is Professor Choi” he moves to scribble his name on the whiteboard, “And I would like to be referred as such.”

His gaze finds you in your seat as he utters those words. He is quick to shift.

“We’re gonna be starting light today, I’ll be going through our unit guide and grading system…”

Seungcheol talks. And talks. And talks. And you don’t listen. You watch instead.

You’re mad at him. Really mad at him. But you can’t help but wonder as he walks around looking like that. He’s in the simplest dress shirt and slacks of a neutral colour, but he wears it oh so well.

You’ve watched him every morning as he gets dressed for work, knowing his attire has always suited him. Your friends who have been in his classes have expressed their disappointment when told he wasn’t single, and promptly draw open in shock when they realize it's you that’s snagged him before the world could.

Seungcheol, for lack of a better word, hits different when he’s in his element. His hair is pushed back and out of his face, noting how his glasses look so much sexier when he’s pacing the room with hands dipped in his pockets. He’s speaking tongues of numbers and symbols, and it’s suddenly the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

But you're mad at him. It shouldn’t be that hard to remind yourself.

“You know, you’re being real ungrateful for a person who just got a free pass on the hardest class this fucking insitution can cook up,” Soonyoung whisper-shouts next to you.

Minghao quips beside him, “Look alive, sister, you’ve hit the jackpot.”

“Were you two in on it?” you finally snap, irritated at their apparent glee.

Soonyoung snorts, “Fuck, no, we saw him when we walked in this morning”

“So did he know?”

“Oh, I think Professor Choi would be glad to tell you himself after hours,” Minghao sleazes while Soonyoung throws you the greasiest wink known to man.

Disgusted and disturbed, you turn your attention back to the front of the room. You’re still disgusted and disturbed. Seungcheol is still there, looking like he does, scribbling some example equation on the board.

“Hmm. I think professor Choi ought to know his favourite student’s having trouble paying attention? We can’t have that, you should move up front.”

You do move. Away from your friends to the seats higher up.

It’s a mind-numbing two hours in which you think you experience every emotion possible.

You think of your friends who have sat in his classes all semester, that have ogled him and admitted his apparent attractiveness. There were people in this room that were thinking the very same thing in this very moment, and it was making your skin crawl. You wanted to get up and scream: This is your boyfriend.

But alas, you are but a tired, tired college student. He wouldn’t fail you, would he? Then again, he has a ruthless streak of keeping you from the lights of life when you’re slacking in dire times. You might be the love of his life, but he remains a man of discipline.

It’s an annoying trait, but only ever in the moment. He might be the sole reason you haven’t completely lost yourself in the sea of academics.

“I think we can wrap up with that, it’s basic stuff but it won’t hurt to revise on your own before next week when we really get into it,” Seungcheol’s voice booms.

There’s a churn in your stomach for some reason, and you have to neutralize your breathing as you watch the lecture hall slowly empty out. A few students remain lingering at the front desk for yet another round of buttering. Seungcheol entertains them, pleasant smile on his face, nodding along to something. You remain seated, arms and legs crossed as you stare daggers into the top of Seungcheol’s head as he speaks with his students.

The remaining students file out as well, and you notice how Soonyoung and Minghao are long gone, leaving just you and Seungcheol alone in this big, big room.

It’s only then that he looks up searching, to check if you had left yet.

He remembered quick.

His eyes finally land on your, disgruntled, tight form, refusing to make eye contact for more than three seconds before huffing audibly, moving to put away your things. Seungcheol moves around his front desk, hands in pockets, hiking his way up the lecture steps to where you were at the top row.

You’re shoving your laptop in your bag by the time he’s done with his trek, planting himself on the chair next to you loudly. You ignore him.

“Do you think we’d get in trouble if they caught us like this?” he muses after a few silent moments.

“Caught us like what?” You snap. There goes your pledge to remain silent.

“You can’t possibly think a teacher and his student caught in a classroom by themselves is necessarily a point in our favor”

“I’ll do the honors then” with that you’re swinging your bag over your shoulder to trudge behind him to the steps leading down, wanting to be out of his presence for the time being.

You’re barely past him when there’s a grip on your wrist, firm and purposeful, that tugs you backwards in a harsh manner. The bag on your shoulder is sent to the floor while you, in your entirety, are sent straight into Seungcheol’s lap.

Bastard.

The smirk on his face is enough to send you into a pot of livid fumes, right after you’re done balancing yourself on his shoulders. You try not to grip on too tight.

“What makes you think you can leave without being dismissed?”

“What the fuck.”

“Language, miss. I don’t tolerate obscenities in my classroom.” It might’ve been a menacing threat, but with what lay behind the glint in his eyes you knew he was being a little shit.

It takes you every fibre in your body to refrain from thinking too much about him. Him and his hands that rest on your thighs, him and his hands that are placed near your waist, stroking and pressing into your shirt.

No, you're mad at him.

“Did you know?” you ask finally, tired of the back and forth.

“Nope,” he replies, “Found out when you walked in.”

“Do you not read your attendance sheet? Isn’t that your job? You had the entirety of summer to give me a heads up, this is your fault!”

“Dr. Kim got into an accident last night, she’s out of service for the rest of the semester. I didn’t know until I came in for my other class I was being switched over—”

“How does that happen?!” you almost yell.

He’s silent for a moment before beginning again, “Do you want me to ask for another class?”

Wait, what.

“I didn’t say that—” You can’t finish because your being pushed off your seat on his lap to stand while he gets up as well.

“I’ll go talk to the co-ordinator then, class isn’t working out for me.” With that he’s trudging back down the steps, making a beeline for the door.

You’re left stunned at the top of the stairs, not knowing if he was being serious or not. Were you about to let his presence bother you that bad? To the point he had to switch classes? What were you even that upset about?

Twirling around in place trying to look for the bag that was strewn about earlier, you grab the straps and race down the steps. If Seungcheol can hear your bounding footsetps, he doesn’t show it. Instead you crash into his back just as he’s about to leave the room, to which he turns around.

The smirk seems glued to his face and you realize right then you may have been lured. With the 180° that had become of your perception, you couldn’t be mad at him anymore, cooling off the simmer that had been brewing for the past couple hours.

“Maybe…Maybe I can live with seeing your face for a couple hours a week,” you mumble, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact.

He lets out an incredulous laugh, “Couple hours a week?! Do you realise we sleep in the same bed at night, pretty sure that’s more than a couple hours.”

“You know what I meant!” you huff, arms crossed and turning your head away. You cringe slightly at how you voice echoes across the large lecture hall.

Feeling his hands enclose yours, pulling your body slowly towards him, you bring yourself to look back up at him. His hands come up behind you when you’re close enough, snaking up your back and waist. You try not to shudder, but it’s hard when you know he’s doing it on purpose. There’s warmth that radiates off of him, a stark contrast from the chill classroom, your fingers finding purchase around his own waist.

There’s more of that same warmth when he kisses you, short pecks, yet ones that have you smiling against his lips. The curve remaining as he rests his forehead on yours.

“Let’s go home, just need to grab my stuff,” he says, but makes no effort to move from his position.

“Are you already done for the day?” you frown.

“No,” he muses, “But it’s only the first day. Besides, I wanna sit in bed with my girl while I map her out for the first assignment of the semester.”

“Does your girl get premium access?”

“Hm, maybe.”

Before you can refute, the door of the room bursts open with a bang that reaches straight into your soul. With the way Seungcheol’s eyes widen, you don’t doubt the same was happening in his own chest.

There isn’t enough time for you to pull away before hearing gasps alluding from the threshold.

Soonyoung and Minghao stand at the door, scandalized looks complete with hands over their faces. Hao shakes his head in mock disappointment, eyes pointed. Soonyoung pulls out his hands, framing them like he was taking a picture of the both of you gripping each other.

“Now what would the bulletin look like with these two on the front cover? You’re friends with Seok, right? D’you think you could put a word in?” Soonyoung yaps, the most insufferable look on his face.

Seungcheol laughs, to your surprise, and looks over to you, “What d’you think the bulletin would look like with his F on the front cover?”

“D’you think you could put a word in?” you raise your eyebrows.

His smile widens but he’s being pulled away as both your friends move forward to surround him. You vaguely register Soonyoung cupping your boyfriend’s face delicately, singsonging about their years of friendship, or how Hao has his arms wrapped around him in a back hug, head on his shoulder.

You vaguely register any of it, because you’re smiling too hard at the scene. Smiling too hard when Seungcheol catches your eye, before bursting out laughing, attempting to wrestle the two off of him.

You bring your phone up to the chaos instead of your hands, wanting to frame the scene for real this time.

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pseudowho · 4 months

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Infiltration, Chapter Six: Exposed

Nanami Kento and the reader must pretend to be married to infiltrate a deadly Curse-user cult and take it down from the inside.

*SMUT/NSFW/18+*

A slow-burn fic with fluff/comfort, angst, smut and heroics from our favourite salaryman.

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In the dead of night, as you slept, warm and dreamless and naked in Kento's arms for the first time, the village centre flurried. Its residents (shopkeepers, tearoom staff, enthusiastic knitters) were as ants abandoning an anthill, a hive of activity. Their queen, powerful and renewed, was to lead them to a new hive; for the old colony was in danger, infiltrated by two who were not of their kind.

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"Wake up." A gravelly whisper against your neck brushed the surface of your wakefulness, and a soft nip to your nape penetrated deeper. You rose as if from a deep dive, blinking and warm as you met sunlight. Wrapped in strong, scarred forearms, you felt so profoundly safe as you pushed back tenderly into Kento's strong body. He hummed his approval as your soft legs slid between his.

Tipping your head back on the pillow to look at him, his nose met yours, rubbing gently before his lips planted to yours in a pliable morning kiss, warm and musty and sincere. As Kento moved to pull away, you wound one arm upwards around his head and neck to pull him back. He chuckled against your lips, evolving into a low, slow moan as your tongue slipped against his, his broad-palmed hand sliding up your waist to cup your breast, his thumb grazing appreciatively over your pebbled nipple.

"Part of me was worried," Kento mumbled against you, voice sandy with sleep, "that I'd wake up and you'd be gone." You nipped Kento's lower lip intently punishment, and he groaned into the sting.

"Never," you whispered, sinking your fingers into his hair, scratching lightly against his scalp as he shivered against you, his cock solid and smooth against your lower back.

The warm tumble in the sheets evolved naturally, uninterrupted by clothes or duties. Kento hooked your leg up and over his hip, reaching round you and pinning you back to him with one large hand pressed over your belly, as he pressed into you, thrusting gently against your soft sighs, neither of you yet willing to let go of the night.

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You were unable to wipe the smile off your face as you whisked eggs in the kitchen. The muffled pattering of Kento in the shower, and the feeling of his t-shirt alone on your deliciously aching body, had you breaking into blushing grins, with the memories of your first night together flickering over your vision as you tried to make breakfast.

You heard the dull little bleepbleep, bleepbleep of your pager behind you, and, laying the eggs aside, you rustled in the pocket of your coat to find it. A reply from Ijichi, you noticed, having sent him information regarding the six outlying cult members only the evening before. His response was in decipherable code.

1 X, 2 X, 3 X, 4 X, 5 X, 6 ???

You inhaled deeply through your nose, slipping the pager back into your pocket as you returned to making breakfast. All but one of the cult members eliminated with ruthless efficiency...it was only a matter of time before number six was taken out.

The bathroom door opened, steam tumbling out into the living room. Kento stepped out, a towel hung loosely around his waist, steam still rolling off his shoulders as he bent to rummage in his suitcase, thick downy-haired thighs flexing as he squatted. You ogled him openly, eyes rolling over the taut cords under his broad shoulders, the batwings of muscle between his armpits and ribs, the stretch of his abs trailing downwards. Your eagerness to feel it all beneath your tongue and fingers was fresh and adventurous, and you ached for him as if he hadn't already had you gasping his name in bliss for half the night before.

You looked away as he looked up. Kento's eyes burned up the back of you. The gentle curves of your legs to your round arse, all too visible in the light fabric of his t-shirt. His t-shirt. While you made him breakfast. The domesticity of it all was now no pretence, and it thrilled Kento in a way that he would never have understood in his teens. His eyes darkened to wonder how wet you were, if his cum was sticking your thighs together from his relentless overnight attention. He approached you slowly, light-footed and predatory. Breakfast can wait, he thought as you gasped, his fingers slipping into the slick of your pussy from behind.

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"Ken-- toooo-- aaaaah!" Squeaking every time Kento pounded into you, his thrusts felt like he was bypassing your pussy to hit your belly instead, and you gripped onto the counter he had you folded over, gasping as your hips rucked forwards and your toes scraped the floor.

"'Aaaah!'" He mocked lightly, pitch raised in imitation, "Never seen you-- so-- aah-- speechless," he gasped, revelling in the bounce of your arse every time his hips slapped against it. You squealed, reaching back for support, and Kento gripped your hands, lacing your fingers with his. His hips increased in pace, Kento smirking as he continued imitating your delightful little noises as you blushed, mortified.

With a particularly harsh snap of his hips, you mewled, begging for release and Kento huffed out a laugh, kissing your shoulder in apology for teasing you, reaching under you to stroke practiced light caresses on your tender, overstimulated clit.

"You brought this on yourself," Kento growled, landing a sharp smack to your thigh as you trembled and whined, your noises shooting jolts of arousal through him.

He surveyed you, eyes clouded with lust and panting with his approaching orgasm as you squeaked and whimpered beneath him. Kento gripped into the fat of your hips, chastising you as he watched his cock, soaked in your arousal and his own pussy-warmed cum, plunge into you again and again.

"I just-- in my shirt-- making eggs-- what the fuck did you-- haaaah-- expect me to do?"

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"Do you want some company in the shower? It can be...lonely."

"Shut up and eat your omelette, Kento."

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"What are you doing?" You giggled at Kento, watching him stretching gingerly over the cloudy onsen water to reach his discarded trousers from the night before.

Kento grumbled at you, "My pager. It's gone. I bet it's still in there...or at the bottom of the water." Kento snagged his trousers-- "Aha!" -- as you remembered the message from Ijichi.

"That reminds me," you explained, sitting at the table to eat your own breakfast as Kento slapped his wet trousers to the stone, beginning to rustle through the pockets, "I updated Ijichi yesterday with the information from the library. He messaged back-- they've already taken out five of the six we told him about."

"Amazing," Kento announced abruptly, sincere in the rare praise of his colleagues, "that's the kind of efficiency I can get behind." You hummed in agreement, blowing steam off the surface of your mug. Kento huffed, a frustrated low growl as he stood, shaking water off his arms as he frowned down at his trousers.

"Not there," he rumbled, rolling the sleeves of his knitted jumper down as he sat opposite you at the table. His brow furrowed in thought, he reached one hand absentmindedly across the table, plaiting your fingers in his, brushing his thumb over the inside of your palm. You lowered your mug, thoughtful.

"You really can't find it?" You enquired, worried about the loss of your only shared means of communication. Kento shook his head.

"Like I said, unless it's at the bottom of that onsen, it's gone." Your lips pursed as you got up, walking to the onsen yourself and retrieving the long net used for its maintenance. Silently, you scoured the onsen. After five minutes, you admitted defeat, shaking your head at Kento with a grimace.

Kento pressed his forehead to his fingertips, mentally scolding himself. He shot you a dark look-- "You go nowhere alone, unless it's to get you to safety. Promise me." Your grimace turned to a gently chastising frown, your mouth opening to argue; Kento, sensing your disagreement, crossed the room in a few long strides, clutching the sides of your arms and lowering himself to your eye level, as he stared into you.

Completely disarmed by Kento's fear for you, you grimaced again, nodding slowly as your hands came up to cup his cheeks. Kento sighed through his nose, rubbing it against your palm and placing a soft kiss to your inner wrist.

"I can't...I couldn't bear the thought of you in danger even before we came here, but now, I-- I don't think I'd--"

Kento broke off, cold fear gnawing away at him, the stakes suddenly so much higher now you had both fallen into this promised life together. You shushed him gently, pulling him close to you, pretending to be brave, but deeply terrified by how far Kento would go to ensure your safety.

"We've got this," you urged to Kento, "all we need to do is take out the Fathers, and deal with whatever it is they've got hidden in their dirty little shrine, and we're done. You know what these cults are like...once the figureheads are gone, they basically dismantle themselves."

Kento grumbled into your hair, disquiet in his soul as he remembered the Cursed-energy he had felt approaching the shrine, still infuriatingly unable to place where he had felt it before, grasping for the memory but unable to gain purchase. The Fathers, Kento was confident he and you could manage; the thing in the shrine was such an unknown entity, that approaching it with no back-up was obscenely foolish. Kento knew that fortune did not favour the unprepared.

"Listen," Kento toned, leading you back to the table and sitting opposite you again, each with one hand clasped across the table and one hand wrapped around a warm mug, "before we make our move on the Fathers, we invite the other Sorcerers in. We don't know how many of the cult will stick around for combat, and we don't know what level the Curse in the shrine is at. Or if it even is a Curse...everything we know about it so far is based on what we felt on our way to the shrine."

You nodded slowly, eyes distant as you partook in formulating a plan, "Alright. We can page Ijichi when the time comes. We can make our move against the Fathers tonight." Kento nodded in agreement, playing with your fingers as he took a swig of his coffee.

"With everyone else in the village asleep, as long as we're sly, the back-up will arrive by the time we're ready to deal with the Curse," Kento declared, sounding confident but still plagued by uncertainty. With a moment of clarity, he glanced at his watch.

"We're expected at the village meeting first, though. Do you think you could pretend to be in love with me for a little longer?" Kento teased, eyes glimmering at you with devious affection. You bit your lip, foot sliding against his leg under the table.

"I can manage it...if we practice a little bit more, first." Kento huffed a quiet laugh, raising his eyebrows at you as he cracked his knuckles.

"It will be my pleasure," he rumbled, leaning over to take your lips against his again.

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"I'm upset that we're putting clothes on, at a time like this," Kento grumbled, only half-serious, shrugging his coat over his broad shoulders. Eyeing him unashamedly, you were delighted to see him dressed casually, in a knitted grey jumper and jeans, hair styled loosely,with thick-soled boots. He approached you with a twinkle in his eye, and took your hand, raising it to his face to breathe deeply against your palm before placing a soft kiss to its centre.

His intimacy bold, but understated, he slipped your gloves onto you, pinching the ends of the fingers to position them perfectly. Pinching your chin affectionately, Kento pondered out loud.

"So, what do we know?" He mused, eyes distant, "What have we learned?"

"That you like it when I lick your--"

"No," Kento snipped, flicking you lightly on the nose as you laughed a dirty laugh, "bad. Stop it. Behave yourself. We are--"

"--professionals," you said together, parroting him. He nodded mulishly at you as you continued.

"The Fathers' quarters are on the top level of the Temple. There's...something in the Shrine, and they performed a...a ceremony yesterday?" You and Kento both grimaced, "Which is...alarmingly vague." Kento rumbled at you, pulling his gloves on at the wrists.

"It's the Village meeting today, so we can pick out the main threats...I suppose Emi and Keisuke will be there." You almost shuddered at the memory of your bloody fight with the venom-spitting Curse-user at the party on your first night. Kento felt your trepidation, slipping his arms around you to hold you close while you mused aloud.

"So...act normal. Call the cavalry. Kill the Fathers. Take out whatever's in the shrine...and straight on 'til morning."

You nodded, reassuring yourself that you and Kento were close to the end, your heart thrumming with excitement for your bright new future with him, once the mission was complete. From how he gazed down at you, his eyes glazed over with saccharine warmth, Kento was feeling the same. You leaned up, grabbing his face firmly and pressing a kiss to his lips, hard. Kento kissed you back, enthusiastic, before leaning away slightly, rubbing his nose against yours-- "ow," he whispered, his smile lopsided.

"Sorry," you insisted, still pressed tightly against him, "cute aggression."

Kento felt his heart thud against his ribcage in a burst of affection so strong, he had to resist crushing you in his arms. Teeth gritted as he gave you a restrained squeeze, Kento felt the icy trickle of fear down the back of his neck, memories of the dead never far from his thoughts. Gulping them back, he smiled tightly at you, and opened the door into the crisp winter afternoon.

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The lower hall of the temple opened directly into its courtyard, its peaceful gardens sullied by the bitter afterthoughts of violence. You tucked your arm deeper into Kento's elbow, reaching your hand up to squeeze his bicep, a self-soothing action; he responded in like, pressing your hand firmly between his upper arm and ribs.

The hall was full, with a dozen six-person tables arranged in a circle around a little stage, set up for congress. You were amiable as you moved to sit down opposite Kento, smiling warmly to other couples around you, catching a few familiar eyes, but not the ones you were searching for. Kento covered your corner of the table with his hand as you bumped against it, distracted by the absence of Keisuke and Emi.

Kento was mathematic in his assessment of the room; plenty of Cursed power, but none of it particularly strong. Probabilities ticked across his vision; with none of the strongest sorcerers you had encountered so far being present, Kento felt how acutely exposed he and you were, outliers in a room of Grade Threes and below. Opposite him, fingers tapping lightly against the table, he saw you reaching the same conclusions.

The room buzzed with low conversation for some time, the stage remaining curiously empty. Ten minutes, turned to thirty, grew to fifty. Kento was a patient man, not unnerved by the passive passing of time. The sun sat low in the sky, and was quickly blotted out by thickening clouds, threatening a deep wintery gloom as the first flurries of snow blew on a breeze into the Temple. As the whistle of the wind died, hollow footsteps approached the hall.

An older gentleman, pale and rheumy, accompanied by a now familiar figure in a kimono, skirted apologetically onto the stage, bowing in a crescent to all of the attendees before beginning to speak.

"You've all been so patient, and for that, the Fathers send their most gracious thanks. You do all, of course, know that you are here today to pay your respects to our benevolent Mother on the hill." The gentleman gestured wanly towards the Shrine, obscured by skeletal tree limbs up the winding hill. Kento's eyes narrowed, and you felt uncertainty bubble up in your gut.

The pale-eyed man continued; "Your companions, the first half of our blossoming community, have already enjoyed their visit. I am pleased to say, they have found themselves overwhelmed by the Mothers' power." He stepped from the stage, gesturing invitingly towards the crowd, "If you would all follow me to the Shrine, you too can share in our glory."

The crowd rustled to life, man and wife sharing excitable glances, and Kento moved smoothly to you, ducking his head to whisper to you, before being gracefully interrupted by the kindly old woman in the kimono.

"I hope you don't mind," she cooed, sleeve rising to cover her lower face, "but Father Tatsu has asked to see you personally, Mr.Tsuda." Kento blinked slowly, cool and questioning.

"Oh?" Kento inquired, feigning disappointment, "That is a shame," he lied coolly, "we were quite excited to meet the Mother." The kimono lady demurred, head inclined in gentle apology.

"I am sure the Fathers will be pleased to give you a personal introduction, in recognition of your sacrifice on this occasion. I understand you have not had the opportunity to display your abilities to the Fathers, yet?" Kento nodded sagely, appearing to be in enthusiastic agreement. He leaned down to kiss you on the forehead.

"You go home then, my love," he insisted smoothly, and you felt panic bubble up in your throat; separating had not been part of the plan, and you felt an urgent fury as Kento swept the rug from beneath your feet, "I'll see to Father Tatsu. You always know how to keep busy without me, anyway. Stay warm."

While you knew Kento meant to keep you out of harm's way for long enough for you to send the "Rescue" page to Ijichi, you felt the rope pull from your hands as he confiscated your choice to stay with him, to help him. Your nose stung with tears as you were forced to nod and smile, desperate to kiss him goodbye but corseted by company. He pressed one last, lingering kiss to your forehead before turning and walking away with his guide.

Kento fought the urge to turn back and pull you into his arms, but he could not ignore the visceral instinct that he was about to walk into a deadly fight. Every nerve in his body screamed out against the wrongness of leaving you behind.

Bile rose in your throat, fearful and bitter. You walked calmly through the gusty Temple, flurries of snow turning heavier, and your steps quickened as soon as you stepped over the threshold into the path leading down to the village. Single-minded, you headed home, fingering the cold plastic pager in your pocket, ready to send a message to Ijichi as soon as you closed the door. You could not make Kento's sacrifice count for nothing.

You walked through the village, which was still curiously quiet, windows shuttered. You felt a sickening realisation that your original assumption that the shopkeepers were all attending the village meeting, was certainly wrong-- not one of them had been present. The cold snap of snow on your cheeks only made you feel more naked, more exposed, and a dry sob heaved out of you; Kento's absence felt like losing a limb.

Your final thoughts before crossing into the lost sanctuary of your house, were only of Kento. A moment of silence passed as you felt for the light switch. A single agonising crack to your temple pushed the earth up towards your feet and your vision blackened from the edges, your hand reaching out hopelessly for your absent lover.

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"You really are quite deadly, aren't you, Mr.Tsuda?" Father Tatsu eyed Kento shrewdly from his seated position in the garden below his quarters, steam idly wisping up from his coffee, untouched.

Kento breathed heavily, overcoat flung off on the floor, a fine sheen of sweat across his forehead from the hoops he had been forced to jump through for the past hour. Weaponless, his raw strength had been assessed from every angle, and he was surrounded by stacks of extraordinarily heavy barrells and rocks, some intact, some roughly hewn and broken by his bare hands. Kento felt the sting of irritation as he swept one broad hand back through his hair, peeling strands off his sweating forehead.

"I wouldn't know, sir." Kento turned on thick booted heels towards Father Tatsu, his dark broad figure blotted, imposing against the drifts of snow. Father Tatsu laughed, lowering the coffee he was about to sip.

"You've never fought? I'm afraid I don't quite believe that." Kento remained impassive, unreadable, as he sat opposite Father Tatsu. Father Tatsu appraised Kento.

"My older brother and I...were considered freaks in our backwards little ditch of a hometown." Father Tatsu's fingers pattered in fleeting remembrance, dank memories clouding his vision. Kento remained still, silent.

"Common, in communities like that, unfortunately. But Shinzu is...we are special. And She proved it to us...when She chose us." Father Tatsu stood, his coffee abandoned, and he paced.

"Here, She-- the Goddess-- offered us all the bounties of her nature, to breed a community of sorcerers like none other before. While others out there do good deeds of ridding our land of the scourge of normal people," Father Tatsu spat, his pacing more frenetic now as he beseeched Kento, "we, the chosen ones, can multiply, ready for a new age of sorcery."

Father Tatsu stopped, one hand in the pocket of his dark suit. He paused for a moment, thoughtful, before bringing out a small black device. Kento's stomach swooped. His pager.

"Until your lot showed up, that is. Five of our members killed in just one night, last night, you know?" Father Tatsu said conversationally, "The sixth member, thankfully, remains in gainful occupation at your dirty little school. He let us know some time ago that we were to expect guests from your end. We had our eye on a few of you...but I was very pleased when our librarian found this in his store cupboard. It did rather give the game away."

Kento was on his feet now, floor creaking under the strain of his boots, Cursed energy rolling off him in waves, chin dipped downwards. Father Tatsu appeared completely unaffected.

"I've accepted that our dream for a perfect community will never flourish, while those in charge of our population fight for the wrong team," said Father Tatsu, bitter and resigned, "But it matters not. Our Goddess is revitalised, powerful, well-fed for the first time in generations. And I...I am well-fed, too." Father Tatsu slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket, and Kento felt a torrent of Cursed-energy slam into him, strong enough to slide him backwards a few inches as the Tatami floor shredded beneath his boots.

"The rest of the community can go hang, as far as I'm concerned. It was my brother's dream, more than mine. He has quite the ability, Mr.Tsuda, and it complements mine quite beautifully." Father Tatsu turned on Kento, whose fists were rolled in a white-knuckled grip.

"You don't want to fight me, Mr.Tsuda. You see, my brother can steal Cursed-energy from one living thing and transfer it into another. That is how we released the Goddess from her earthly confines in the first place. And I...I am the perfect vessel. I'm still not certain what my limit is," Father Tatsu mused aloud, gazing at his open hand and the very air around it distorting with brittle energy.

"You and your wife are the only ones left, Mr.Tsuda. The goddess, in her new body, is surely devouring the weaker members of our community as we speak. The others...well, after my brother had donated their Cursed-energy to me, they were only fit for a meal, too. We knew you would be after us...and we are ready."

The room hung in ringing silence. Father Tatsu's lip curled, observing Kento, expecting some response to his impassioned monologue...but receiving none. Kento simply watched the hands of his watch tick round.

"Well?" He boomed, furious at being denied, "Have you nothing to say?"

Kento sighed, all exasperation and delicate exhaustion, as he finished rolling up his sleeves.

"I'm off the clock, which is unlucky for you," Kento toned, low and smooth, "and I don't play with my food."

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Chapter Seven: The Captive Goddess, LINK HERE!

@angelofthorr @nn-hh192 @vxmethyst @moonmalice @daisynik7 @heyitsmirae @black-swan-blog27 @vocosys @mischiefmanaged71 @silkspunweb @deegausserr

Phew. Two more chapters to go ♥️ Sorry for the delay, for anyone who's been waiting...

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teastainedprose · 2 months

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Play With Fire, Ch. 2 ( Homelander x Reader)

Homelander ponders what to do with his little bug and gets a free show. (Homelander x f!reader, plus-sized reader) Warning:🔞 Language, sexual scenes, stalking, non-consensual voyeurism, public masturbation Chapter 1, Chapter 2, AO3 Link

He knows your name now. Homelander knows every scrap of information Vought has amassed on you over the years. Effortless on his part to get it, of course.

When Homelander demands something, people snap to attention, and that’s exactly what Ashley did. She pulled your employee file right up and handed it over, no questions asked.

Why would she? He’s the fucking Homelander. It is better to appease the beast than court his wrath. Besides, Homelander is the reason Ashley now gets to play CEO, and he’ll never let her forget it.

Idly, Homelander wonders if you think you’ve escaped him. He hasn’t made a move in a handful of days and has no plans to do so. The question as to what to do with you still rattles about in his brain.

He flips through your file, considering it again as he mulls over how to handle you. He could give your job back to you and have you indebted to him while effortlessly bringing you to heel. Having you close feels appealing enough to the supe while giving him an easy string to tug. It puts you in your proper place at his feet, as all mud-people should be.

Homelander doesn’t want you kneeling. Not yet. A little struggle from you would suit him just fine. To see that fight that sparked within you in the elevator before you sank to your knees willingly at his feet would taste all the sweeter.

Homelander wants to know if that flame he felt the other day still burns within you. He wonders if you still remember the way his lips taste and the way he can still taste yours. Something sweet, delicate, and addicting. His tongue flicks out over his lips as if he can still taste you.

Homelander blinks, his gaze refocusing on the city below as he takes in the view from the 99th floor of Vought Tower. He shouldn’t be thinking of a little bug like you in such a way yet…

Homelander still doesn’t know why you did it. What sort of creature are you that you have the audacity to touch a god such as him and walk away as if it's normal? As if you have any right.

Oh certainly, there have been handsy fans in the past. A few he’d dallied with for his own amusement, as he’s a benevolent god when he feels like it. They were brittle things he had to take care not to snap in two, overly eager and breathy with praise overflowing.

But you? You’d been eager and breathless when you’d kissed him, but there had been no devotion in your eyes. Anger and defiance had burned in your gaze at the start, followed by satisfaction like a cat who had gotten into the cream after your shared kiss. Smug little bug.

Homelander finds he liked that look on you, the more he recalls your face. He’d like to see it again. The supe wants to stroke the flame within you higher and see if it consumes or ignites you.

Still, he doesn’t know what he wants to do with you. Squash you? Pluck your legs off one by one to see you squirm and squeal? Pin you under glass and watch the life fade out of your eyes? These are all good enough options for a bug like you, but Homelander can’t seem to motivate himself to act.

Flicking through the papers, Homelander skims over your file again before settling on your home address. A slow smile curls his lips. Might as well pay you a visit.

It doesn’t take long to flash across the New York skyline and arrive at your apartment building. It’s an anthill of an establishment with countless drones living out their pathetic lives within. One scan of his x-ray vision pinpoints your exact location—a decent enough apartment with a balcony on the seventh floor. How convenient . Homelander bets you don’t even lock the door, as if that would stop him in the first place.

After settling himself on an adjacent building, Homelander watches. That’s all he does on the first visit and the second. He observes you as you go about your pathetic little ant life. Homelander wants to put you under a microscope to study you. What motivates a lesser animal, such as yourself?

He watches as you scurry about, picking up the pieces of your life after your job loss. You’re not wallowing in despair. Are you ever thinking about him? You’re not scrambling for your paycheck. You’re not lost in a panic. Instead, you surprise Homelander again.

Your shoulders are lighter. You never noticed how much that position at Vought was an albatross around your neck. You’re a planner. You’re a goddamn adult and managed to keep enough savings tucked away in this economy to stay afloat for a year if needed.

Vought fired you, so the unemployment checks you get are hefty. Your resume is bolstered by that time at Vought, and even if you were shit canned, Such a company's name on your resume still holds plenty of prestige. Interview requests roll in, and now you can afford to be selective.

You pick something cleaner. If not to scrub away the sins you’d amassed and witnessed at Vought, at least something to soften the memory. Something satisfactory and with enough income to keep you comfortable.

You pluck a new position from the pile. It’s not as cushy as the Vought job, but you’ve had your fill of that. You made yourself sick on it from choking down their bullshit all for a fat paycheck. This you can manage. This you can do. You even give yourself a break. A month of vacation before the new contract starts up. Time to rest. You fucking deserve it.

It’s the perfect time to catch up with friends and family. The perfect time to properly deep clean your apartment. To shake off the funk that working at Vought had given you. A fresh new start. Free of any volatile supes who could kill you by accident or in a rage because they didn’t like the numbers you reported.

You go out more. You catch up with relatives and indulge in bookstore and museum visits. You make sure to get a fresh haircut and newly painted nails. Anything to pamper yourself because this is your break, and you’re going to savor it.

Homelander watches all this unfold with detached interest, or so he tells himself. In truth, you’re his new favorite show.

He checks in often with you. Any time he’s in the area, or even when he’s not. It’s a quick flight over for him. No one will notice. You certainly don’t.

The supe doesn’t know if it galls him or pleases him that you’re a resilient little bug. Taking everything in stride and enjoying your small slice of freedom. It’s almost charming watching you scurry about blissfully unaware of his presence.

Homelander isn’t there when you pause in a shop’s aisle at the sight of a row of plushies. Plushies of The Seven and of him , of Homelander. The one with the lopsided grin. The packaging reads Junior Homelander Kuddle Buddy, and on a whim, you grab it and toss it into the cart with your groceries. Why not? Homelander is inadvertently the asshole who set you down a happier path. It’s an innocent amusement, even if you know you think about that spandex-suited idiot far too often. Best not to ponder the why. Homelander does notice the plush toy on your nightstand later that day. It strokes some deeper part of his ego, heightening his interest in you. You do still think of him. Is it at the same level that he thinks of you? Of course, worse, really. It has to be. Why wouldn’t you be thinking of the god who watches over this city? Who watches over you.

You smile often. Those smiles are freely given to strangers and friends alike in equal measure, the brightness of it flashing like the wings of a butterfly. Homelander is finding that he likes those smiles and wonders what he could do to coax one out towards him. Idly wonders if that’s even possible.

Your smiles and your anger, Homelander finds both captivating.

He pauses on flybys over your cozy flat out of habit now, too high to be noticed. He even steals away at night when there’s nothing to fill his nights with after Ryan is safe in bed. He knows your routine by now.

During the day, it’s a visit to the local bodega or that cafe that takes a walk through the park to get to but is worth it for the breakfast sandwiches made on site. Picking up lunch or dinner at one of three places that you rotate through as a treat once or twice a week. Quick grocery trips are only two blocks from your apartment.

The evenings bring cooking up simple meals to eat on your couch alone with some sort of TV show or movie. Never any of his movies, Homelander notes with a twinge of disappointment. Well, nobody's perfect. Certainly not an ant such as yourself.

It becomes a bad habit to watch his little bug scurry around her anthill. You’re not one to roam far, so it’s easy to keep tabs on you. It seems the only things that can lure you from under your rock are friends and bad dates.

-and they’re all bad dates. He knows this. Homelander watches each and every one play out.

Even you, plump as you are, have little trouble enticing men out to meet you. Regardless of how fetching you look on each date, there’s never a second. The men never meet your standards, which pleases him. Homelander won’t pause to wonder why.

By the end of the night, you’re always so crestfallen, but that suits Homelander just fine. He doesn’t want to get his gloves dirty by crushing some handsy idiot who would dare stumble home with you.

No, he prefers you alone. Especially on nights like tonight.

There’s a routine after the spectacularly bad dates. They frustrate you and leave you aching in the best way possible. These are the sort of nights Homelander enjoys best from you. The sort where you’re digging into your nightstand for a faithful, vibrating friend.

It’s bright pink, because, of course, it is.

As he watches you pull it out, Homelander huffs in amusement. That Homelander plush watches, too, because it hasn’t left your nightstand since you set it there. That amuses the supe. Two Homelanders are enjoying the show you’re about to give.

He shifts, stepping closer to the edge of the rooftop he’s perched on for a better angle on you. It’s his usual spot right next to your building, with x-ray vision allowing him an unobstructed view of your antics. It’s close enough to hear what you’re up to if he focuses just so.

Homelander can almost imagine the rustling fabric of your dress as you strip that red little number off. The one that flaunts those curves to your advantage with ample cleavage with the threat of spillage makes it all the more tantalizing. Your breasts certainly look on the verge of toppling out of that bra as you drop onto your bed.

He wishes they would. Homelander hasn’t had a chance to watch you shower or catch you in a state of undress, given how busy his days are in the morning. A part of him wants to be within touching distance of you the first time he gets to see you topless. As far as he’s concerned, it’s not a matter of if, but when.

Homelander licks his lips, wondering what your tits taste like and what sort of sound he’d get out of you if he bit them. Images of what those round, hefty globes look like free of your bra filter through his brain as Homelander’s finger clench. He wonders at the weight of them. His hand shifts, cupping his growing erection at the front of his suit as he watches you and wonders what you’re thinking of. Homelander makes a throaty growl.

Do you fantasize about the tempered strength in his arms or the unyielding hold of his fingers? Homelander’s grip on you had certainly stirred something primal in you when you’d kissed, but no. That’s not what you focus on while gently working the vibrator between the folds of your sex.

It's that needy sound he made—the one that tugs directly on your clit. An unexpected noise that you still think about, along with the taste of his tongue. You wonder what that hot mouth would feel like against other parts of your body and if he’d make those same hungry noises. Your toes curl involuntarily at the memory as you slowly work your vibrator between your folds, letting out a soft moan as it finally sinks in.

Then you’re working your frustration out with that vibrator, sinking it in and slowly tugging it almost free of your sex as you work yourself over. In your own apartment, blissfully alone, you’re not ashamed to get loud. No, you moan freely, unaware that anyone can hear.

Except Homelander does, and he appreciates how vocal you can be. How shamelessly you arch back on your bed, legs spread wide as if giving him a show.

Idly, he wonders who you're thinking about, fucking yourself like that as Homelander works his own cock free of his suit. It can't be anyone but him. No human would fuck you that hard, not like he'd fuck you. The thought makes Homelander’s grip tighten around his cock, pumping himself in time with every thrust of that vibrator into your needy pussy.

Homelander’s fist pumps up and down his cock in tandem with every dip of that vibrator into your slick folds as he imagines exactly how your wet heat would feel and how your inner muscles would clamp down on him when you make that expression right there. Face twisted up in bliss as you moan, a smile on your lips as you fantasize away in your room.

It must be him you fantasize about as you fuck yourself. You wouldn’t make those needy little noises for anyone but him, would you? Homelander would like to think so.

Then you take away all of Homelander's doubts because it's his name he hears you moan. The sound nearly undoes him on the spot, and the twitch of his cock is almost painful in his grasp. A sharp whine escapes Himelander as he stills his hand.

Huffing, Homelander squeezes his eyes shut even as he feels his balls tighten up. Not yet. He doesn’t want to come yet, not until he knows you’re closer. Not until you’re all but whining with need. He doesn’t have to wait long, not with how you work yourself over. Thinking of him.

Homelander groans, his attention snapping to your face. To your lips to see if they form his name again. You don't disappoint. You’re lost in the pleasure, moaning his name like a prayer as you chase your orgasm.

Then the cry you make as you reach your peak—that’s what breaks Homelander. His heat vision flares as the pleasure within Homelander snaps, and there’s no holding back his release now. He snarls, his grip almost painful as he gives a few more pumps, and the Homelander is twisting in his own hand as his release spills over the edge of the roof. He watches as you scramble to turn off your vibrator, hands clumsy as you whine from the overstimulation. Homelander groans in response, his own hand giving a few more languid pumps before going still.

The flashing red of his eyes is bright enough to catch your eyes, snapping them to the sheer curtains of your window. You stare for a beat, your head tilting to the side as you wonder at the sight. A reflection from the cars passing by? A stray, distant flash from someone’s window?

Homelander quietly curses, quick to tuck himself back into his suit as he retreats into proper darkness. There’s a smirk on his lips. Homelander knows what he will do with you now. You are a moth that he will draw to the flames of his affection passion.

#the boys fanfic #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander x fem!reader #homelander writing #homelander smut #canon x you #the boys smut #plus-sized reader #🍵 play with fire #x reader

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trancylovecraft · 4 months

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(AOEX) YANDERE PLATONIC SHIRO FUJIMOTO x READER, RIN & YUKIO

(REQUEST FROM AO3)

Thank you for ordering!

Come again soon!

SEQUEL (Yanplatonic Demon! Arthur A. Angel x Okumura! Reader + Exwires)

• Ooh. Not good for all three of you.

• I headcannon Shiro as insanely protective, Possessive and Manipulative in general so this really isn’t gonna be a fun time.

• You are Rin and Yukio’s sister, The youngest triplet of the children born from the union of Satan and Yuri. You, Just like Rin, Have inherited the blue flames unlike Yukio. Your heart being sealed within the hilts of twin daggers.

• Shiro’s tendencies started on The Blue Night. When he had held You, Rin and Yukio in his arms for the first time he had grown a fondness for the three of you.

• Not like he’d ever admit it though, Shiro didn’t want to take care of a bunch of demon’s brats. Especially Satan’s, He had plans to get out of here and you three weren’t going to convince him otherwise.

• It’s only when Mephisto catches him in his bet, The one where he couldn’t back down from any demon (Including Nephilim) That he’s now forced to take care of them.

• He’s pissed, Furious beyond words. Mephisto had fooled him, His plan had worked and now he was forced to take care of Satan’s spawn as apart of his bet.

• Though something unexpected happens. He grows fond of you all, Becoming the primary caretaker amongst the monks at the convent. And sure enough, He grows attached

• You are the princess of the family, Both because you’re the youngest and because.. You remind him of Yuri both personality-wise and the way your smile just causes flashes back to her.

• Due to this, You’re spoiled to high hell. Plushes, Toys, Pillows and food. Everything you could ever want would be handed to you, Thankfully being able to be paid by his wage as a paladin.

• You get away with lots too, Often being the one to take the blame for your brothers when they screw up because.. Shiro just cannot stay mad at you when you smile at him like that.

• You also get a room to yourself unlike your brothers who had to share.

• Though this comes with drawbacks such as his protective aspect going CRAZY. Like Shiro will not let you outside of the convent without him, Not even trusting Rin or Yukio.

• Shiro might even go as far as to convince you that you have an illness. That's why you cant leave, Why you’re so spoiled! Shiro may even put a few of his familiars up to “convince” you, Kin of Astaroth you cant see due to not having a temptaint.

• Rin, Is the second most spoiled though its like comparing an anthill to a mountain when next to you.

• Rin gets more spoiled in privileges such as freedom to go wherever he wants (as long as he keeps Shiro updated via text every half hour) As well as actually being able to go to a normal school unlike you being home-schooled and Yukio doing his exorcist stuff.

• Though Rin does have freedom, Shiro has installed trackers on all of his devices and makes sure that he’s being safe. Sometimes if his paranoia was up, Shiro would follow him. If any demon tries to get near him then their heads would be off with a single shell of his shotgun.

• Knowing Rin though, He gets into a lot of fights. Shiro only wants to keep Rin safe so its only natural that he never sees any of his opponents again. Maybe in a news article but don’t worry about it, He was sketchy enough so he was bound to get into trouble eventually!

• Yukio is an interesting case.

• This is where Shiro’s manipulative tendencies really start to shine, Teaching Yukio since he was a toddler about demons and how to fight them. Though the reason Shiro does it is.. For a different reason than in canon.

• Yukio gets taught to look out for both You and Rin, Gets basically indoctrinated into Shiro’s own tendencies and made to believe that this was for all of your own goods.

• This makes Yukio the peacekeeper. Since you and Rin both look up to him, You both believe him when he tells you that Shiro just wants the best after you both come to him about your suspicions

• That doesn’t mean there isn’t any love for him though. Shiro teaches him to wield a gun to make sure he can defend himself and his siblings while he is away. Shiro isolates Yukio from others, Shura being his only companion since she's Shiro’s disciple.

• Kuro, Being Shiro’s familiar is often assigned to trailing you all and giving reports on your wellbeing. No secret is safe when Kuro is on the case.

• You all often get treated with days out, Shiro enjoying spending time with his kids. Parks, Carnivals or playgrounds. Wherever you all go, Shiro makes sure to keep an eye out due to all the horrid men in this world.

• When you all were little, Swear to god this man had a three-calibre baby holder. He thought it was funny but the pictures make you cringe inside.

• If you all ever do get suspicious and try to run away, Then Shiro would get absolutely pissed.

• His own children, The kids he had raised trying to get away from him? Unacceptable. With his skills and connections as the paladin it wouldn’t be difficult to find you all again, Easy dragged back to the parish by the tails if he has to.

• You’d all be grounded to high hell. Bars on your windows, Thrown into the same room so its easier to keep an eye on you all. The monks at the parish grow weary but they can’t argue against the paladin, Who threatens them with their jobs if they snitch.

• Shiro makes sure to off any person who could’ve hurt any of his kids, Easily covering it up and moving on with his day.

• He tries to make it up to you all, To try and make sure that you all don't fear him. You don’t, Right? He’s your father, You shouldn’t be afraid!

• In truth you all are horrified. The man who raised them was a monster, Committing deeds only revealed to them now and ones that made them want to throw up.

• You are crying, Unable to accept the truth as you hide under your covers. Rin lashes out like a cornered animal, Yelling so angrily but deep down he is terrified. Yukio is in denial, Insisting that there must be some explanation for why Shiro had been acting like this.

• When Satan possesses him and he dies in a burst of blue flames, He can only hope that he did a good job. That his children, And only his will be safe.

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chemical-bunz · 3 months

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Hello, can you tell us more about your slenderverse au?

YES I CAN!!! So:

Slenderman/The Operator/The Tall Man is roughly humanoid decoy used by a much larger Entity (The Ark) to lure in prey.

The Entity struggles to interact with the physical world in more fine-tuned manners that would allow for more refined hunting (trying to hunt in the Physical is like a human trying to navigate an anthill), so it enlists the use of Proxies.

Proxies are humans who have been Infected and Infested by “Slender Sickness”, which begins as a bullseye-shaped wound, easily mistaken for a tick bite. Soon after infection, the victim will begin to suffer from brain fog and eventual amnesia, alongside fevers (giving them a cold feeling) and pneumonia (causing the coughing fits).

As it progresses, the victim will be become more irritable and paranoid, lashing out and potentially infecting those around them.

This is when the Cycles begin.

You see, the infection needs a bit of help in order to grow, and so the Operator begins a process of taking the Infected and forcing them into a cycle of death and reiteration (as seen in Everyman Hybrid) until their will breaks, and the infection fully matures.

Once the infected break, surrendering their lives to the Operator, It reaching out its tentacles to slash a sigil into their infection mark, binding them to it’s service.

From there, they are given a very small amount of power, which enables them to hunt and infect new prey for the Operator.

Proxies still maintain their humanity, much to their displeasure, as they are forced to kill and torture people, especially those they knew when they were still normal.

#my post #[my art]#art #digital art #painting #[my post]#illustration #artists on tumblr #oc #original character #slenderman #Slenderverse #slender proxy #creepypasta proxy #creepypasta #injury #creepypasta fanart #marble hornets #everymanhybrid

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ratzmatazz · 7 months

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if I were immortal I would spend ten thousand years removing every parasite from every whale just so they could experience some respite, even if only for a moment

#news from the anthill #is it crueler though to do this because then they'll know what it could've been like?????#much to think about

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whitedarkmoonflower · 9 months

Note

Hi, could you write something about Sihtric rescuing a princess (Alfred's daughter) and they both falling in love for each other despite the princess is about to marry somebody else.

Princess

Pairing: Sihtric x reader

Authors note: I must admit this request is already for some time in my inbox. I really hope you are still here to read it, dear Anon. Besides that my real life is a bit demanding right now (I mean it positively), I hesitated to start writing as I thought there are already so many fics about this. But when I finally started, there was no stopping 😅.

Warnings: mention of death, violence, and murder, fluff, angst and, yeah, I got a bit horny at the end, so SMUT, 18+, loss of virginity, sad ending. I am sorry, lately I am not good at happy endings.

Word Count: 7,904

Part 2 Good wife

You were sitting by the window in your room, gazing out at the courtyard. The entire palace buzzed around reminding you a bustling anthill. It had been today as your father had announced your betrothal, and the wedding was swiftly arranged to take place within a week. Such haste was quite out of the ordinary, but there was a compelling reason behind it. Wessex was bracing itself for an impending war. Harald Bloodhair, the recently emerged Danish warlord, was gathering his forces near the borders. Each passing day new warriors were joining him, and his army already exceeded thousand men. Alfred was eager to confront him before his army grew even stronger, but he needed allies. Wessex alone couldn’t bring up the sheer number of skilled and trained warriors necessary for the confrontation.

Lord Ethelwold, one of the wealthiest nobles in East Anglia, had long harboured intentions of marriage with you, but Alfred had thus far deemed him an unsuitable match for his youngest daughter. Lord Ethelwold was notorious for his lack of restrain when it came to drinking and whoring. He was arrogant, reckless, and rude, but he was wealthy, and he had men. His household troops alone numbered around three hundred men, but he could rise much more by rallying his vassals. The shift in circumstances had prompted a swift change in your father’s stance. The decision about your betrothal to Lord Ethelwold had been taken without hesitation and the revelation of it reached you on the very day it was announced in the church—namely, today.

You heard a gentle cough from behind, and a familiar voice greeted you “Good evening, Lady.”

Startled from your reverie, you turned your head slowly and discovered Sihtric standing there.

“I apologize if I have disturbed you. I simply wanted to inform you that I shall be on watch this night,” the soft yet resolute tone of your guardian angel’s voice brought a faint smile appear on your lips.

Sihtric had assumed the role of your bodyguard for the past two months shortly after Alfred's spies had confirmed the lingering rumours—namely, that Bloodhair had dispatched a bunch of warriors to Winchester with a cunning plan to abduct a hostage from the royal family. That was when you had first encountered Sihtric, one of Lord Uhtred’s most trusted warriors and a Dane himself. He had been appointed to ensure your safety, along with several other warriors sent by their respective lords at Alfred’s demand to provide protection for all members of the royal family. It was impossible not to notice the tall, robust, and muscular warrior with his black, curly hair braided on the top, but falling to his shoulders in the back. His strong jawline, scars tracing his forehead and right cheek and the intensity in his big, mismatched eyes created an indelible impression. A captivating mixture of confidence, calmness and strength emanated from him. You caught yourself thinking that if your life were indeed under genuine threat, you would undoubtedly prefer him by your side. There was an undeniable aura of reassurance surrounding him as he bowed and extended his greeting in that gentle yet unwavering voice of his: “My, Lady, the honour is mine.”

From that day onward, you were consistently accompanied by at least one of the guards, and during the night a sentry always stood watch by your chamber’s door.

To say the least, you found little enjoyment in this new arrangement. It was a nuisance and an additional burden, further restricting your already circumscribed life as a princess. You were not allowed to move around freely anymore. The guards frequently denied your requests to visit certain places if they deemed this too dangerous. While it was undoubtedly much easier to ensure your safety within the secure walls of the palace, this had inadvertently made you a prisoner in your own home. To you the guards were simply your prison warders, with one strange exception – Sihtric.

The calm and composed Dane appeared to be the only one to understand how you felt practically locked up in the palace. You quickly noticed that the other guards and even the servants regarded him with suspicion, sometimes even with feud. However, it seemed not to bother the young warrior who did not let his demeanor falter at the strange and suspicious glances others were casting at him. You were curious beyond borders about him, particularly since you had never seen a Danish warrior before. Yet you couldn’t deny that he had somewhat intimidating effect on you, especially considering all the different tales you had heard about Danes and their heathen ways. You had expected him to be harsh, surly, perhaps ill-tempered, or even rude and insolent. Instead, you found yourself profoundly taken aback by his gentle, respectful and humble comportment in your presence.

It was Sihtric who willingly joined you on your journey to your cherished spot by the river, where you enjoyed reading while he patiently leaned against a tree, waiting. He didn’t object when you desired to gather flowers from the meadow, and what was even more important, he agreed when you asked him to accompany you to the small orphanage maintained by the Convent of St. Cuthbert’s Sisters. This was a place you used to visit quite often before. You went there to see the children, to read something to them, to play and sing with them. This was a part of your life you were absolutely unwilling to give up. The children's bright eyes would light up upon your arrival, and their fondness for you was evident as they clung to your dress and hands, eagerly awaiting the small toys you always brought or the captivating tales you told them. It was something that filled you with deep joy as you felt needed and loved.

All your other guards had staunchly opposed your visits. The narrow street leading to the orphanage was obscured by barrels, hay bales, and other stuff. It was hidden from the sight of the patrolling guards overseeing the marketplace and the entrance to the palace. It was a perfect place for an ambush, they had explained to you, when you tried to insist. Yet, you kept asking, hoping that someone would consent to your heartfelt request. Then it was finally Sihtric’s turn to accompany you from the church to the palace and you silently prayed that he would understand you as he had done already before.

“There’s an orphanage just around the corner behind the church. It would mean a great deal to me if you would accompany me there,” you asked with a slightly trembling voice as this was apparently your last chance.

“An orphanage? The Lady wishes to visit an orphanage?” Sihtric's gaze held a mixture of surprise and inquiry, his raised eyebrows signalling his astonishment at your request.

“Yes, please. Would you come with me?” there was something in your voice that drew Sihtric’s attention–the pleading tone, suggesting how important it was for you. Curiosity piqued him as he wondered why a princess would want to visit an orphanage, so he nodded and followed you to the narrow street.

You spent what felt like two or more hours there. The children's joy at your presence was palpable, and you couldn't bring yourself to depart earlier. You had brought two small wooden toys – a horse and a warrior and you played with the children and told them stories about how knights in shiny armour fought dragons and rescued princesses in the past days. They were dirty, their clothes nothing more than rags, but that did not stop you from embracing them and cradling the smallest among them on your lap.

You laughed with them and sang with them and when it was finally time to leave, tears shimmered in your eyes. The sisters were doing their best to provide the children with shelter and meal, but there was never enough silver for that. To ease their burden, you contributed as much as you could spare. One might assume that being a princess meant being rich, but in truth you did not have your own silver and needed to seek your father’s approval for any expenditure.

Throughout your visit, Sihtric leaned against the door frame, his gaze fixed upon you with an intensity that, at times, made you slightly uncomfortable. However, you were deeply grateful that he had granted you this moment of joy.

“That was very kind of you,” you thanked him as you both returned to the palace and ascended toward your quarters.

Sihtric raised an eyebrow, a touch of surprise in his gaze as he regarded you.

“You are the first among the guards who allowed me to go there,” you explained, “But I truly miss the children… and…” you hesitated unsure how to approach him with your next request, fearing he would reject it as too dangerous.

“Would you mind accompanying me to visit the children more often? You’ve seen them–you must understand…” you struggled to find the right words to explain the depth of your feelings, but you did not need to. Sihtric's gaze held an understanding that needed no words.

“Lady, I would be delighted to accompany you,” he nodded, his eyes filled with warmth. To your surprise he arranged for himself to be your companion on every Saturday and Sunday, attending the morning sermons and thereafter visiting the orphanage.

Following another Sunday morning sermon, Sihtric walked alongside you as you turned onto the narrow street behind the church. You should have known that something was wrong from the very first steps—the children's usually audible voices were conspicuously absent today, but even if you were oblivious of the threat, Sihtric instantly noticed the change. Without warning his hand took hold of yours, slowing down your pace.

“Lady, we need to turn back,” he whispered urgently.

“What? Why? No, Sihtric, we can’t, you know…” you couldn’t finish your saying as suddenly a figure sprang before you from the rooftop of a nearby building with an unsheathed sword in the hand. Sihtric instantly shielded you, pulling behind him.

The man raised his sword and lunged towards Sihtric with a loud shout, but Sihtric had already anticipated his move. Stepping aside, he evaded the strike, causing the man’s sword to go down meeting no resistance. The man stumbled slightly, but that was enough for Sihtric. Seizing the moment and using his loss of balance, Sihtric’s hand closed around the man’s throat, while his other hand swiftly drew his dagger, fastened to his back. In a heartbeat the man dropped to his knees, chocking, his both hands pressed at his throat in a futile attempt to stop the gushing blood. You screamed in fear, and, in the next moment, more men materialised from the shadows of the small houses. Sihtric positioned himself again protectively in front of you.

“Lady, please remain behind me, I will protect you. Don’t run, as I don’t know how many men might be waiting further down the street,” his voice exuded a calm certainty that was both reassuring and astonishing. To your surprise you felt your breathing steadying and the dread that had already almost completely consumed you receding.

The subsequent events remained a fragmented blur in your memory. The men lunged at Sihtric, their weapons drawn, stabbing, chopping, and shouting incomprehensibly. It seemed to you that the time has slowed down as you watched how Sihtric danced around them parrying their attacks, kicking at them with his heavy boots, throwing them to the ground and chopping at them with his battle axe. In the blink of an eye, it was over. Sihtric turned to you, his face, armour, and hands stained with blood, as he took a step closer, concern etched into his features.

"Lady, are you unharmed? Are you injured?Please, speak to me!" he inquired, but you just stood there immobilized, eyes widened in sheer horror, gazing upon the lifeless forms strewn upon the street, blood pooling around them. It seemed to you that there was blood everywhere. You shivered, you wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. An eerie chill coursed through your body, rendering you frozen, uncapable to move, consumed by an overwhelming sense of dread. You felt Sihtric grabbing your hand, and as you still did not show any reaction to him, his strong arms wrapped around your trembling shoulders, pulling you close to his chest.

“It is over now,” he murmured into your ear, his gentle voice nudging you back to reality, “You are safe, I promise, I will not let anything happen to you,” his soft voice slowly began to lift your paralysis, gradually rousing you from your frozen state. His rough fingers caressed your hair, anchoring you in the present moment.

“Look at me, lady! Please, look at me,” he cupped your face in his palms, lifting your head until your eyes connected, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. Tears welled up in your eyes and streamed down your cheeks, and Sihtric’s embrace tightened, your face pressed against to his wide chest, as you started sobbing uncontrollably, your face buried in his armour.

“Hush, hush, my little princess, my love. Everything is going to be fine,” his words resonated in your consciousness, piercing through the fog of fear, and leaving a burning sensation in your mind as you tried to grasp their meaning. You don’t know for how long you were standing there before you finally regained control over your sobs and became fully aware of your surroundings. Sihtric still held you in his strong arms, soothingly stroking your hair, whispering comforting words in your ear. Suddenly, a profound sense of safety enveloped you, and as your tear-streaked face turned to meet his gaze, a faint smile tugged at your lips before your legs gave way and you lost your consciousness.

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It all had happened exactly two days ago. It is remarkable how swiftly everything can be turned upside down. A mere day ago, you were hilarious, brimming with joy and gratitude to the fate that had brought Sihtric into your life. You were sure that without him, you wouldn’t have survived the assault. Yet, now, as you sat by your window, observing the people busying around the yard below, you wished that the kidnappers had succeeded. Anything seemed better than the prospect of marrying Ethelwold, but there was nothing you could do about it.

“Thank you, Sihtric,” you responded quietly and turned away in an attempt to hide your tears, but it was too late. Sihtric had already noticed you had been crying. His big, mismatched eyes filled with sympathy as he took a step closer.

“Lady, I regret deeply what happened. I’m sorry that you had to witness it. I assure you that you are safe now. I will not let anything happen to you,” Sihtric’s voice was filled with compassion and genuine care. His words were soft, laced with reassurance, and you found no reason to doubt him. After all, the young warrior had found a special place within your heart long before the dreadful incident.

Initially it was pure curiosity, that made you feel drawn to him, evolving into a genuine awe, that eventually grew into tender affection and sweet longing. The shift happened gradually as the thoughtful and quite warrior slowly opened to you, revealing different layers of his personality – the loyalty, the warmth, the kindness, all concealed behind the rugged exterior. The realisation of your own feelings for the handsome young Dane came even more slowly. You had never felt anything like this before and not to forget – you were a princess. Falling in love with a Dane, heathen and warrior, was out of question for you. But the longer you tried to deny your feelings, the stronger they grew with each passing day. Still, you successfully managed to suppress them until that dreadful assault in the narrow street. You did not know what unsettled you more – the close encounter with death or the emotional surge that overtook you as Sihtric’s strong arms enveloped you, pressing to his chest and caressing your hair. All you wished for was to prolong that moment indefinitely, to remain cradled within Sihtric’s embrace, melt into it, and let the world around you fade away. The realisation that most probably this will never happen again as you were going to be married in a week time, made your heart ache in almost physical, tangible pain.

“Oh, Sihtric, please! There’s truly no need for you to apologise. I am immensely grateful for what you did. It’s me who should be apologising to you for my foolishness, for doubting that the threat was real. If I hadn’t insisted on visiting the orphanage, if I had remained within the palace, none of this would have happened,” your voice was barely audible as you spoke.

You wanted to scream, to beg him to save you once again, to take you away from this palace and your wretched life as a princess and now even worse – as a peace cow to be married away to the most disgusting man you have ever seen. Yet, you remained silent as you knew that it was not in his power to free you from your destiny.

You continued to gaze out the window, ignoring Sihtric, who observed you with a perplexed expression. Something was certainly wrong; he just couldn’t figure out what it was. First seeing your sad and teared eyes, he thought you must be still startled by the events the day before. However, your composed response hinted him that something else had happened in between.

Initially, when Sihtric was assigned the role of a bodyguard for Alfred’s daughter, he was far from being pleased. He was a warrior and not a babysitter. Nonetheless, Uhtred insisted and Sihtric presented himself before Alfred, hoping that the king might reject him anyway. Much to his astonishment, that did not happen. Perhaps, Alfred deemed it prudent to have a Dane among the guards of his daughter, as it was reasonable to expect that the assaulters will probably be Danes as well. This however did not make the others trust or even like Sihtric. Not that this surprised him; he was used to that. What did surprise him was your non-judgemental attitude. He had expected you to despise him, even to hate him. After all, what else could he anticipate from a princess brought up in a place where everybody seemed to hate Danes. His awe knew no bounds when you greeted him on that very first day with a warm and genuine smile.

Your eyes sparkled with curiosity and nothing in your behaviour made him feel despised or unwanted. Quite the opposite. Swiftly, he found himself growing fond of you – his little princess, as he called you in his thoughts. You were cheerful, full of energy and treated everybody around you with equal warmth and kindness. Your liveliness was contagious, and Sihtric noticed how his mood inexplicably lifted in your presence. Your genuine interest in him, without a hint of suspicion or prejudice, touched a chord within him. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and for the first time, he felt at ease sharing with someone fragments of his life. Your unpretentious and unburdened smile was the last thing that lingered in his mind before he drifted off to sleep each night. Sihtric thought you beautiful, not only in your physical appearance, but in the very essence of your being. Beautiful and utterly unreachable.

The first time Sihtric consciously noticed that his affection had evolved into something more profound and powerful was during your visit to the orphanage. Standing in the doorway, he leaned against the frame, watching you playing with the children. A profound and unexplainable warmth filled his heart, captivating him. His gaze remained locked on you, as if he were drinking in the aura of the love and tenderness that radiated from your being. In that moment, a realisation struck him that he would willingly do anything to witness your unbridled happiness. But even then, he managed to dismiss the feeling as being foolish, naïve, and impossible. Falling in love with a princess appeared to him as the most ridiculous thing he could imagine.

The moment he knew he had utterly lost his inner struggle, when he could no longer deny the intensity of his love for you, occurred in the aftermath of that brief battle. The mere thought that you might be injured and hurt terrified him to the extent that all rationality left him. In that moment he completely forgot everything as he enfolded you in a protective embrace, drawing you close to his chest, cradling and soothing you. The memory of that moment remained etched in his mind. The sensation of oblivion enveloped him as he tenderly stroked your hair, breathed in your delicate aroma, and felt the velvety touch of your skin against his fingertips.

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“Your services will no longer be required after one more week,” Sihtric was caught by surprise by the sudden announcement from the chief guard. “The lady is soon to be wed and will depart for her husband’s estate.”

“The lady is to be married?” Sihtric repeated in surprise as the news slowly sank into his consciousness. His “little princess” was getting married. He had always known his feelings were impossible, a sheer madness beyond comprehensible, he was fully aware of the unlikelihood of them being reciprocated. However, he hadn’t anticipated this fairy tale to end so swiftly and abruptly.

“Perhaps it’s for the best. It was meant to end anyway. Better sooner than later, before the last remnants of my common sense have faded away,” he thought to himself, clenching his fists tightly, his chuckles turning white under the strain.

The remaining week leading up to the wedding passed for Sihtric in somewhat like an indistinct haze. He found no opportunity to speak to you or even to see you. The walks by the riverside had ceased, no more flower-picking in the meadow, not even strolls within the garden. You remained within the palace, always surrounded by attendants, your mother – the queen herself – a constant presence at your side, willing to discuss every single detail of the upcoming wedding, be it the attire, jewellery, floral arrangements, or the feast. Oddly, Sihtric couldn't help but think that this was perhaps a blessing in disguise. What could he possibly say to you? Confess his imprudent feelings and elicit a pitying smile? That wasn't what he wanted. The only sensible thing to do was to maintain distance and to leave the palace as soon as possible, before his emotions would grow stronger, as they were already inflicting considerable pain.

Finally, all was settled. With Alfred’s consent Sihtric was set to depart on the morrow - the day before the wedding. In truth Sihtric was relieved, as he was glad, he would not have to watch the ceremony. His meager belongings were packed neatly in a saddlebag, resting upon a chair within his modest room at the tavern. He had not been given a room in the palace and had stayed at the tavern his lodging paid by the king. He was ready to retire for the night; his leather armour draped across a chair, his weapons arranged upon the table. It was in this moment that an unexpected knock echoed through the room, startling Sihtric. He hesitated as he was not expecting anybody at such a late hour. The knock repeated, prompting him to pull the latch and swing the door open with an annoyed look on his face, only to be met by a silhouette hidden beneath a dark cape.

“What the hell…” he exclaimed in astonishment, his hand instinctively reaching for his dagger on his back, only to discover it was not there this time, laying on the table amid his other weapons.

“May I come in?” the voice emanating from beneath the cape sent Sihtric's heart racing. It was a voice both familiar and cherished, a voice he had believed he might never hear again. Overwhelmed by disbelief, Sihtric took a step back, allowing the cloaked figure to enter his chamber, and then quietly closed the door behind.

“I heard you are departing,” the voice spoke with a hint of reproach, as two delicate hands took off the hood revealing the bearer of the voice, his “little princess”. To say that Sihtric was surprised would be an understatement. He stood frozen in disbelief, slowly shaking his head as if attempting to dispel a dream, an impossible illusion conjured by his own fevered mind. Your eyes studied Sihtric, registering that he was shirtless and barefoot, clad only in his breeches. You swallowed hard as your eyes traced the contours of his bare chest. Awkwardness hung heavily in the air, a palpable silence enveloping the room as neither of you moved or uttered a word. Regret, like an unwelcome visitor, began to creep into your thoughts. What were you even doing here? A royal daughter, a princess of Wessex, standing alone in the presence of a half-dressed man – a Dane and a heathen, no less.

The sheer absurdity of the situation struck you, making you shiver in embarrassment under the cape.

"I've been dismissed, my lady. With your father's approval, I am returning to Cochem," Sihtric finally broke the silence, his voice striving to remain casual, though it was almost impossible.

“You didn’t even wish to bid me farewell?” your eyes continued scanning Sihtric’s appearance, seeking something within his demeanour, a concealed sign, any trace that would hint to you, that your impulsive decision to come here might not be as foolish as your common sense suggested. Your gaze lingered on his arms, recalling how they had embraced you, before moving to his hands. You could almost feel the tender pressure of his fingers against your skin, his touch caressing your cheek. There had been an undeniable gentleness in his actions, a softness and affection woven into his words. Or had you just imagined it all? You were embarrassed and angry at yourself. There was no rational explanation for your presence here; you were merely making a complete fool of yourself.

“You were preoccupied with wedding preparations, my lady. And besides, who am I to encroach upon your precious time? I apologise if I have offended you; that was never my intent. I merely did not wish to bother you,” it took Sihtric all his inner strength to maintain his composure and stay calm. Yet there was something in his voice that caught your attention.

“No, no! No offence taken! It’s just… I wanted to express my gratitude once more for saving my life,” you stumbled over your words, your voice growing almost inaudible as you added, “And I won’t forget what you said to me afterward.”

Sihtric raised his eyebrow, well aware of what he had said to you. He had been berating and cursing himself for his impulsive words ever since they left his lips. He had felt relieved as it seemed that you had been too shocked at that moment to register his words, but now it was evident that they had not gone unnoticed. Sihtric’s expression changed instantly, his gaze dropping to the floor in an attempt to escape the contact with your eyes, but not fast enough as you caught a glimpse of the mingled pain and humiliation shadowing his features.

“Lady, please believe me. I never intended to be disrespectful toward you,” Sihtric’s voice trembled with emotion as he continued to avoid direct eye contact with you, “Please forgive me if my words, spoken in a moment of deep concern for your safety, made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no! No, they didn’t. I just needed to … I wanted to ask if you truly meant what you said,” your heart raced within your chest as you took a hesitant step closer, reaching out to clasp Sihtric's hand, as though afraid he might vanish before providing the answer you so desperately sought.

“Lady, please don’t,” Sihtric’s voice wavered as he tried to withdraw his hand, a mixture of apprehension and longing in his eyes.

“Do what?”

“Don’t make me say something, I’ll regret for the rest of my days, even if it’s true.”

“Sihtric, I am losing my mind all this week, thinking that it all was merely a cruel creation of my imagination,” your own audacity startled you. You were almost confessing your feelings to a near stranger, a man you hardly knew and would likely never see again.

“My little princess, my love,” Sihtric slowly repeated the words with a heavy sigh, his gaze finally lifting to meet yours, “I meant every single word, my lady. There’s no escape for me. Regardless of where I go or what happens to me, I will always love you,” the pain laced in Sihtric’s voice was palpable. He loved you, knowing that there was no future for you both. Worlds separated you – a Saxon princess destined to wed an East Anglian nobleman, and him - an outsider, a despised Dane, a heathen, and a warrior with nothing to offer apart from life in perpetual danger and suspense. Despite it all, he found himself incapable of tearing his gaze away from you. Unconsciously, his fingers entwined with yours as you still hadn’t let go of his hand, and his forehead drew near slowly touching yours.

The world spun around you, the weight of Sihtric’s words finally sinking in, a burning sensation coursing through you, just like the first time you heard them. He loved you. It was neither a dream, not a cruel gameplay of your overheated mind. He loved you. In this very moment it was all that mattered. Those few words had changed your entire universe.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you leaned in and pressed your lips to Sihtric's. The kiss was tentative, your inexperience evident in the gentle brush of your lips against his, but it made all the last remnants of common-sense crumble in Sihtric’s mind as he responded with a fervour of a starving man savouring a long-awaited feast. His lips and tongue melded with yours, an intoxicating dance of desire and need. Sihtric’s kiss was soft, yet demanding, his lips brushing, sucking, and gently biting yours with ravenous eagerness and passion, leaving you breathless. Your head was spinning, and dizziness enveloped you as you yielded to his passion. You closed your eyes and your lips parted in a soft moan against his mouth. Sihtric's tongue slipped into your mouth, a hungry exploration that set your heart racing. His hands found your waist, drawing you closer, the heat of his touch searing through your skin. The kiss was an inferno of love, warmth, and raw emotion that left you gasping for air, lost in a realm of sensation you had never experienced before, and you wished for it to continue indefinitely.

Reality crashed upon Sihtric like a tidal wave, jolting him from the whirlwind of desire. With an abrupt motion, he broke the kiss, pulling away from you. His hand cupped your chin, his forehead resting against yours as he fought to regain his composure.

“Princess, this is madness,” his voice trembled, his eyes shut, his breath ragged. “Please, don’t do this to me. Do not awaken hope when there is none. You must leave, now, before your absence is discovered.”

Your gaze remained locked on him, your heart pounding, unable to say anything or even gather your thoughts from the intensity of emotions that swirled through you. Slowly, you reached out, your hand grazing his cheek, your thumb tracing the contours of his skin. Being this close to him made you shiver.

“I can’t…, I don’t want to,” you whispered, your voice a delicate plea. “Sihtric, please… This is my last night of my already so limited freedom, and I want to spend it with you. I want you to be the first man to touch me, to make love to me. Please, don’t reject me.”

There it was, laid bare before him, the true reason you had come, the decision you had made, dismissed and taken again during the last sleepless nights until it had transformed in firm resolve.

Your life had always been predetermined and dictated by obligations and duty; your choices limited by being a king’s daughter. You had accepted that. You knew that the alliance with Lord Ethelwold was necessary for Wessex to stand up against the Danes and you were indeed willing to bring that sacrifice by marrying him. However, there was one decision in your life that you were not willing to allow to be taken from you. And that was the reason you had come, driven by a fervent hope that the man you had irrevocably fallen in love with might feel the same way.

Slowly you untied your cape and let it drop to the floor, your gaze locked with Sihtric’s. His pupils grew wider, and his breath fastened as you placed your hands on his bare chest, letting your fingers travel down to his stomach in a tender brush. You hesitated a moment when your fingers reached his waist and the hem of his breaches and Sihtric quickly seized your hands and raised them to his mouth, placing gentle kisses on your palms.

“Princess, please, stop before it’s too late,” Sihtric leaned in closer and buried his face in your neck breathing in your scent, his fingers intertwining with yours “I am flattered, I truly am. But you don’t understand what you are asking from me.” Sihtric closed his eyes and placed a gentle kiss on your neck and then another one on your jaw, feeling painfully strained in his breeches. He desired you, no, he craved for you beyond imaginable. Your smell, your breath against his skin, your soft lips, and the feel of your body so close to him and yet so unreachable and forbidden drew him to madness. His mind told him to step back, to let go of you, but he couldn’t. With all his willpower he tried to suppress the urge to kiss you again, knowing that if he did, he probably wouldn’t be able to stop himself anymore.

“I am asking you to save me from misery and grant me the freedom of choice. I want to feel love and desire, even if that’s only for one single night. My future husband is far away from being a fairy tale prince. Can you imagine what will be my first night with him? I can, I am not that naïve as you think of me, Sihtric,” you pressed your body to his, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, making Sihtric groan loudly, lust and desire consuming him.

Sihtric’s lips found yours and crushed against them with the same unsatiable hunger as before, setting your mind on fire. His hands moved down to your waist, holding you firmly pressed against his muscular body, and you were melting in his strong embrace, feeling a shiver going down your spine and your legs getting week and wobbly. He made a step forward pressing you against the door, his lips traveling down to your jaw and then further to you neck, placing greedy wet open-mouthed kisses on their way, while his hands started tugging the laces of your dress with fumbling fingers. You couldn’t help but smile in anticipation as you helped him to untie and unlace everything until the dress slid down your shoulders and dropped to the ground, revealing your naked upper body, and leaving you only with your ruffled silk underpants. Sihtric’s eyes studied your body for a moment, drinking in all the small details, lines, and curves and then his lips were back on your neck.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, placing soft gentle kisses down to your breasts, licking and sucking gently at your hard aroused nipples. A strange burning sensation settled in your lower body and slowly consumed you, blurring your mind and vision, making you whine in pleasure your fingers trailing Sihtric’s back.

“Princess, are you sure, you want this?” Sihtric’s hoarse voice reached through your dizzied mind. You wanted to say something, but not a sound came out of your dry throat, overpowered by the overwhelming sensation of Sihtric’s touch on your body you just moaned tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Say it! I need to hear it,” Sihtric demanded, whispering in your ear as his hands slowly trailed down to your waist and started untangling the lace that was holding your underpants.

“Yes, I want it. I need it. I want you,” you finally managed to form the words, tugging harder at his hair. Your answer sounded like a desperate plea. You were already flying from the touch of his lips and hands on your body and were eager for more. You wanted him. You burned for him. You loved him and trusted him. A lustful smile curled on your lips, hearing Sihtric groan as he kneeled before you, pulling down your legs the last remaining peace of clothe covering you and revealing you completely naked before him.

“My princess, my sweet little princess, you are so breath-taking beautiful. This must be a dream, but I don’t want to wake from it,” he murmured against your skin pressing his nose to your cunt, breathing in your smell, and placing a soft kiss on it. Waves of heat washed all over your body. You had never felt anything comparable to this before.

Sihtric rose to his feet and lifted you in his strong arms with no effort at all. He cradled you to his chest and carried to his bed, placing you gently down and positioning himself beside you, his hand touching your cheek and turning your head to face him.

“If you change your mind, princess, if you want me to stop, just say it. You can stop me anytime. This is all about you tonight. You are in charge, don’t forget it,” Sihtric said quietly, but seriously. “Do you understand? Tell me!” he insisted, locking his gaze with yours.

“Yes, I do. I trust you,” you whispered back, cupping his face with both hands and leaning closer to kiss him. You started by moving your lips gently along his and in the very moment Sihtric’s lips parted as he answered your kiss, your tongue slid into his mouth. Eager to show him what a good learner you are, you licked hungrily into his mouth, your tongue finding his, curling around it, sucking at it, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to you. Sihtric kissed you back with the same passion, setting the world around you in spiralling motion again. He broke the kiss, earning a disappointing whimper from you, a lustful smile on his lips.

“I want to show you something, my love,” he purred in your ear, moving his body over yours, parting your legs and positioning himself between your thighs. His mouth started travelling down your neck to your breasts and further down to your stomach, placing soft kisses all over your body on its way. He did not stop there, his body moved further down between your legs, his mouth continuing to place soft kisses on its way now reaching your inner thigh. You stiffened from the unfamiliar sensation that filled you.

“Relax, my little princess. You will enjoy it, believe me,” Sihtric murmured, his lips moving closer and closer to your core until his wet tongue slid over your clit, licking further through you folds. You moaned heavily, digging your nails in the bedsheets, grabbing them with full force and arching your back off the mattress in obscene pleasure, as Sihtric continued devouring you, his tongue circling your clit, licking and sucking it. His soft moans against your core let you know he was enjoying it as much as you did. Your hips started to move frantically, uncontrollably against his tongue, your climax building up quickly and just as you thought there can’t be any rise in the pleasure washing over you, you felt Sihtric pushing a finger inside you.

“Oh my God!” you whimpered.

“Does it feel good, my princess?” Sihtric murmured.

“God! Sihtric! It feels divine,” you cried out as he continued to move his finger in and out of you, his tongue never leaving your clit. It was the last bit you needed to reach your peak. It washed over you in an overwhelming wave, making you cry out Sihtric’s name, pure bliss pulsing through your veins. Sihtric’s hands took hold of your hips, holding you steady in the place, his tongue continuing licking and sucking at your already over sensitive pearl. You wanted to escape him, to move away from his tongue, but he did not let you, holding you firmly until you surrendered yourself to him feeling another wave of pleasure building up and washing over you even more intense as the first one.

“Common, little princess, you can make it one more time for me. You can be loud. Don’t be afraid. I adore those wonderful sounds you make,” Sihtric hummed, pushing two fingers deep inside you and continuing to fuck you slowly with his fingers his mouth never letting go of your pussy. And you came again against his tongue and fingers, with your lips parted as you screamed out your pleasure.

“I think you are ready now. I am so sorry. It might hurt, my love, but I will be gentle,” Sihtric breathed in your ear, undoing his breeches, releasing at last his stone hard cock and placing it at your entrance.

“Princess, do you want me to?” he asked.

“Yes, Sihtric! Yes! I want to. Please, take me,” you begged. Receiving your permission Sihtric started to push slowly inside you, his thumb circling your clit. It hurt, he was so big, stretching you painfully. You buried your fingers in the bedsheets, trying to hide the pain, not wanting him to notice, but a pained whimper escaped your lips. Sihtric stopped immediately.

“Do you want me to stop? Princess, look at me! Just tell me to stop, and I will,” his voice so full of genuine concern made you want him even more. You craved for him and wanted to pleasure him just as he did it for you just before. You shook your head.

“No, I want you. Just give me a moment to adjust,” you pleaded and Sihtric leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing gently against yours.

“I love you, my little princess. I love you with all my heart. I want you to know that,” he whispered, as his lips descended on your nipples, sucking gentle at them, and setting you on fire again.

“Sihtric, take me! Don’t hold back. I need you! You are the best, that could ever happen to me,” you murmured, placing your hands on his hips and trying to pull him towards you.

Sihtric resumed his movement pushing further inside you and you screamed out shortly as you felt him forcing into you until the very end of his length, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“Husch, my love. That’s it, you have me,” Sihtric whispered kissing away your tears as you felt something warm dripping down your thigh. Before you even managed to register what had happened, he pulled out and pushed slowly back again into you, and then again and again, his pace slow and gentle in the beginning, but fastening with every thrust, transforming still lingering pain into absolute, indescribable pleasure as his length stretched and filled you, making you mewl and whine under the movements of his hips against yours. Your nails were digging into Sihtric’s back as you tried to hold onto him, and your hips started to move against his making him thrust even deeper into you.

“You take me so good,” Sihtric groaned, continuing his movements, his breath getting faster, “You are perfect, just made for me and I love you so much!” he murmured softly against your mouth, kissing you jerky.

“Oh my God, Sihtric! It feels so good! You feel so good!” you breathed out, wanting to praise him, to let him know how good he was to you, your breath getting faster and shallower with each trust, your obscure moans filling the room and mingling with Sihtric’s grunts.

“Cum for me, little princess. I want you to cum on my cock, screaming my name.” Sihtric hissed, locking his gaze with yours, “Let yourself fly! I am holding you,” his hips kept rutting against yours, his breath heavy and unsteady, being close to his own high. He wetted his thumb with his tongue and moved it to your clit, rubbing it gently and with that last touch he pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm, the fourth and the most intense in this night, hit you like a heavy storm. You felt your inner walls clench around Sihtric’s cock as the waves of pleasure and relief washed over you, making your body shake and tremble against his as you came moaning loudly, arching your back and crying out his name in pure bliss. Sihtric continued to fuck you slowly through your orgasm, letting you savour each and every wave of pleasure, his eyes drinking in the sight of you writhing beneath him.

“You are so good to me. I am so close, my love,” he whispered, “I will not cum inside you if you do not want to,” he whispered his nose nuzzling at your neck.

“Sihtric! My love! I want you, all of you, everything of you,” you moaned grabbing his hips and pushing yourself against him. This was all he needed, a few more thrusts and he came instantly with a loud growl, spilling himself deep inside you, pressing you into the mattress with his weight as he collapsed over you, breathing heavily into the crook of your neck. You stayed so for a while, your arms around him, your fingers brushing through his hair, his lips placing soft kisses on you neck and shoulder. With a heavy sigh Sihtric pulled out and laid beside you, his arms still around your waist, pulling you closer to him, cradling you in the crook of his body.

“Stay with me,” he purred into your ear, his voice dripping with longing “I know this is madness, princess. This entire night is a whirlwind of madness.”

“Sihtric, I can’t,” you replied, your voice a fragile whisper. “I love you, and that will never change. But I can’t. My father… Wessex … we need that alliance,” your heart ached at these words.

“I love you too, my little princess,” Sihtric’s voice was hoarse. “There will never be another in my life. I am all yours, and I will be waiting for you,” the seriousness and confidence in Sihtric’s voice made you shiver. You turned to face him, your lips trembling as they met his in a tender kiss.

“I can’t ask that from you,” you whispered, cupping his cheek.

“That’s not just a promise; it’s a certainty, my love,” Sihtric's arms enveloped you in a tight embrace. “I will wait for you, and whether in this life or the next, you will be mine.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you rested against his strong chest, feeling the truth of his words echoing in your mind.

Part 2 Good wife

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