♡ yandere football player x fem reader
♡ Every girl wanted to be with him and every guy wanted to be him, and to everyone around the world he was considered the embodiment of perfection. But there's more to what meets the eye, and you're one of the only people who know that very well.
♡ word count: 1.9k words
♡ warnings: yandere/obsessive behaviour, dependency, toxic relationship, kidnapping, attempted drugging, very brief and implied self-harm, nsfw (non-con)
His team had won yet again.
Critics weren't just analysing the performance itself but one particular figure that always made his presence known; whether it was deliberate or natural.
Looks, money, charisma, talent; what characteristic didn't the renowned football star possess?
Blake's motivator was his love for things that kept him on his toes and sent a rush of excitement through his veins.
The constant chanting of his name from the crowds was like music to his ears. He waved and shot them a pretty smile adorned with dimples that would surely make magazine covers.
Cameras zoomed in on each of the team players as they walked out of the field. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, he stared into the camera.
The world out there didn't know that it was reserved for one particular person, and they knew who they were.
A message.
I know you're watching.
♡
"And how do you feel about today's performance?" The lady smiled almost too brightly, holding the microphone up towards him.
"I think we gave it our all today and I couldn't have done without my team," he enthusiastically recited as if he hadn't been practising with his manager for the perfect PR response to the questions. Blake was a natural in front of the camera — he threw in some jokes and made sure to flash those pearly whites every now and then.
The interviewer chuckled, "Oh please, don't be so modest. You were amazing out there, Blake. Give yourself some credit, will ya?"
A few more minutes passed with them going back and forth before he was finally asked million dollar question:
"so, we're all dying to know, any relationship updates we should be aware of?"
For a split second, his flawless facade cracked and his smile faltered, his jaw ticking with something unpleasant. Then, almost as if nothing happened, his expression turned carefully neutral and he maintained a polite smile, "my personal life is just that, personal."
Translation: i'm not answering that. In any other situation, he'd have no problem saying it directly, but he'd rather not listen to his agent talking his ear off about it later.
But the woman obviously did not pick up on the implication and if she did, she didn't mention it. Instead, she leaned in and brushed her hand against his bicep at an attempt of subtle flirting, "Oh, come on. You're one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. Surely there's someone special in your life?"
He feigned embarrassment rather than expressing his anger and scratched the back of his head, "you're really putting me on the spot here." He paused, then added, "i'm just focused on my career at the moment. And as they say, good things come to those who wait, right?"
His answer shut the interviewer down and the last line did have some truth to it. Patience is a virtue.
♡
Pushing the bathroom door open, his hands gripped one of the sinks and he took a moment to calm his nerves.
They don't know. They don't know. It's okay.
His gaze dropped to the scar marring his otherwise perfect skin in the mirror, right under his bottom lip. Yet, instead of frustration like his manager had expressed with utter disappointment, warmth he was all too familiar with fluttered in his chest.
This was no burden, but a gift from his favourite little songbird after one of her many tantrums of be let out of the golden cage. Though it is a hassle to calm her back down, he did cherish the mark imprinted on his skin.
Blake tutted, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised it further. It was fading; he'll need to fix that up soon enough.
He shrugged on a jacket and drove home in his sleek car, ready to finally relax. The day drained him of all his energy.
Or perhaps it didn't, because when he reached his home, all of the anger bubbled up to the surface. Patience was not a virtue, because his had reached its limit because of a certain dove.
♡
Tonight was the night.
The night where you would finally be free of the shackles that bound you to that horrible, horrible man.
Blake.
To his fans and the world, he's a passionate and talented athlete. To you? He's a monster. One that stripped you off everything you've known, one that kept you for his selfish desires, one that held a warped version of 'love' in his heart.
You wanted to flee. Not even tell the police, just run far, far away where he couldn't reach you, where you would be your own person and not some pretty ornament he'd come home to admire every day.
Sanity hanging by a thread, you slipped down the marble stairs in just your socks and cute pajamas. Any captive should have injuries and tattered clothes. Except, your captor wasn't normal. And while you didn't have any physical injuries, you were still hurt.
You were supposed to be asleep, if everything went according to his plan (which usually did). The opportunity was too good to pass up; he was leaving for a match for hours. When he had given you the pill with a fond smile, you returned it and made an act of swallowing, all while keeping it under your tongue. The doors were locked due to his paranoia so you couldn't escape through there. Not to mention your hands and feet were tied, so you spent time on those too.
Finally, the makeshift rope was ready. Hours of twisting bedsheets together finally paid off and now you were ready.
One look out the window and you were already nauseous. It was such a high drop and you weren't willing to die, not yet at least. The rope tumbled down till it nearly reached the bottom, only a few feet off the garden grounds.
In and out. Nothing is going to happen.
Wrapping your limbs around the clothing, your hands clenched around it. Your eyes closed and you let yourself slide. Breathing fresh air felt true bliss, like this was your first time.
When you reached the bottom, your knees trembled with the gravity of what's going on. The closest thing you let out to a relieved sigh was a choked sound out of your throat.
You were free. You. Were. Free.
No more punishments, no more suffering, no more of his constricting love, no more-
maniacal laughter rings through the air sharply, making you halt. No.
You'd recognise it anywhere, even if you didn't want to.
"Wow, I leave for a few hours and come back to this?" He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye in amusement, though you caught a vein in his forehead throbbing. "You surprise me every time, baby. Though I gotta admit i'm a little...hurt."
Your heart stopped and you took a step back, whipping around to face him. Such beauty he had, but so undeserving of it. Your nails had dug blood out of your palms, making them dully ache however not as deep as his confessions of 'love' would pierce your heart.
He didn't have nothing in that chest but rotting flesh.
"Now, now, none of that." He grinned as he followed your steps with his longer, stronger legs and you could only pray that he showed mercy. "You really didn't think you'd get away, did you? You truly do underestimate the lengths I'd go for you.
I give you the most beautiful home, the finest foods — my love. And this is how you repay? By running away from me? From us?"
His voice progressively got louder with each word. You really pushed him to the limits.
"I-I'm sorry-"
Cutting you off, large hands shaky with barely concealed raged cluched either sides of your head, "shh, I know you are. But sorry isn't enough anymore."
It wasn't a normal, torturous kind of punishment — no, you wished it was. You wondered if falling from the window was a better fate than this.
His voice softened at your sniffles, almost as if he was comforting you, shielding from a danger that nothing seemed to poise but him. "Hey, hey, don't cry. C'mon, my dove. If you're good, I won't go too hard on you."
Cries spilled past your lips, begging him that you were sorry and that you weren't going to do it again.
And really, you were never going to. Not after what he did to you afterwards.
You were reduced to a small ball to shivers and hiccups underneath Blake on the soft, fluid-stained sheets. The pink sleepwear was discarded on the floor. Equally bare, his muscles from all the training were on display. He was now beaming affectionately as he watched your tuckered out expression.
This wasn't the first time you've been violated, obviously. But this time it felt worse, like the pain of reality came crashing down on you like a tsunami ten times harder than before. It didn't help that he kept on whispering sweet threats in your ear.
He had branded your skin roughly and taken you, only to cradle you gently with a lover's touch. The drug he had injected you with made you a willing participant in his game, made you ache with desire for the one being you wanted to hate.
You slurred like a broken record, unsure of what was even going on anymore, "m'sorry, I didn't mean to...hic"
"It's okay, it's okay" he sang softly, brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes, "y'know punishing you hurts me more than it does you, but I had to do this, you were trying to leave me, sweet thing."
A small, hidden part of you still wanted to fight for your freedom, to save yourself.
"you're so silly, thinking anyone would believe you if you ran away." He cooed, peppering loving kisses all over your face.
You closed your eyes and weakly whimpered. They would believe you, they would. Wouldn't they?
"Sometimes, the thoughts become too much for that pretty little head, don't they? You can't possible take all of it at once. But that's why i'm here. To protect you from every bad thing in the world."
His hand cupped your cheek as he tilted his head down, pressing his lips against your forehead, "I'll give you the world. Just — promise not to leave me again"
The sentences tumbling out his mouth just made you feel even more horrible.
You were broken. You had tried to convince yourself otherwise, but it was all in vain. He had shattered you into pieces and rebuilt you to fit his preferences. If you looked into the mirror right now, you don't think you would recognise yourself.
Maybe he was right. Maybe you weren't cut out for the world, maybe there were dangerous things out to get you, maybe safety was in his arms.
"Rest, i'll take care of you"
You let your eyes droop shut. Yeah, that sounded about right. He'll take care of you.
Once you finally nestled against the comfort of his chest with tiny snores, was he finally able to celebrate another accomplishment. He can't remember the last time he didn't have something he wanted, even if his beautiful dove was putting up a fight against him.
A/N: originally posted to an older blog back in 2017. I've been hunting down older fics of mine lately from older urls (@/caplansteverogers & @/caplanbuckybarnes.) if oyu locate any of them, please send them my way.
Read on ao3! Tag List!
Your hands shook as your gaze remains glued to the little stick in your hands. The team was out on a mission; they’d been gone for a few days now. You were alone in the tower except for the company of Tony’s AI that kept the security running in the building.
You couldn’t believe your luck, really. You had assumed for the longest time that you were incapable of bearing children. Yet here you sit on the edge of the bathtub with a pink plus sign shining brightly up at you. You wanted to call your boyfriend and tell him about the news right away. But he was on a mission across the world, you knew you couldn’t have him distracted and risk harming his team.
You waited for two weeks to inform him of the news. By that time, Helen Cho had already confirmed your pregnancy and had even learned the gender of the baby that grew inside you, despite you only being a little over nine weeks. It was early afternoon when the AI had announced the team’s arrival back home and you had scurried from the kitchen and ran to your bedroom to put decent clothes on before any of the men showed their faces. As you slipped into a pair of pants, you skidded out into the hallway as the elevator dinged, alerting you of the team’s presence.
“Y/N?” Tony’s voice was heard as bags were dropped to the ground. In a moment, AI’s were zooming through the air to collect the bags that the team dispensed and were zooming all over to drop them into their respective rooms.
“I was making cookies when I got the news.” You smiled as you hugged the team, kissing Bruce the moment you met up with him.
“Cookies?” Wanda asks, checking the time on her watch. “It’s barely past morning.”
“It’s a beautiful day!” you chuckled as you led the team to he kitchen where baking sheets littered the counter surface.
“This is enough food to feed a goddamn army.” Natasha notes, quickly squinting her eyes in your direction. “Wait a minute.”
You face fell momentarily and instinctively, your hand fell to your stomach.
Bruce notices the movement as well as the others and he takes a step over to you, caressing your cheek. “Y/N, is there something I need to know?”
You nod and look at the others before your eyes meet Bruce’s brown. “I’m pregnant.”
“What?” Bruce blinks in wonder as he looks between your fake and your stomach before his hands find themselves on either side of your hips.
“About seven weeks now.” you smile as you look around the room at the team as smiles break on their faces.
“Baby shower planning!” Tony yelps in glee as he grabs Natasha’s hand and pulls Steve along behind him as Clint stays behind and pats Bruce on the right shoulder before following Wanda out of the room and giving the pair of you the privacy you’d been craving from the man since he departed.
⟡ summary: you found your roommate stupidly annoying, from the girls he brought home, to the way he never cleans up. so why, all of a sudden, was he trying to get into your good graces? (this is a horrible summary, i didn’t really know how to explain this one.)
⟡⟡ college roommate!miguel au
⟡ note: i hate that i am doing this to this fic, but i promise it is not a repost, it is my writing. i am moving all of my fics to this blog. so enjoy reading this once again (maybe)!
⛦ tw: talks of miguel's toxic family, language
⛦ wc: 2k
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡
It’s not that you didn’t mind your roommate Miguel, but you thought about throttling him regularly.
Between the girls he brought home and his sometimes too-brutal of honesty, you’ve thought about packing your stuff and sleeping under a bridge (not that there were many bridges in Neuvea York) instead of dealing with O’Hara on a daily.
But instead, you got your shit together and just retaliated in other ways.
You stopped cleaning up his shit, because sometimes he was indeed a college guy, and you were tired of being that nice of a person to do his dishes, vacuum, dust, and clean his stuff. You stopped buying groceries and making meals for both of you. Whenever he brought a girl over to his room while you were in the apartment, you blasted the High School Musical soundtracks. Yes, all three of them. You had heard doors and slam and groans of frustration in lieu of this, but Miguel never argued with you about it.
Because that was the thing, he knew he was being a prick, but it didn’t ever seem to occur to him that it would affect the people in his life. Or that he should apologize for it.
The last part of your ‘Miguel must be put in his place’ plan was if he was ever extra rude to you during a conversation, you would just stop talking to him. At first, it annoyed the hell out of him, he couldn’t seem to figure out why you had simply stopped talking to him at the moment. He would get even more frustrated, his brown eyes seemly burning red. But he was smart (smarter than you probably) and put it all together pretty fast. So now when those moments happen, he would apologize softly. Which in turn, surprised you. You never thought you would hear a “sorry” muttered from his lips.
After enough apologies from O’Hara, you decided to let up on some of the parts of your plan. You stopped playing music loudly unless they were being extra loud during sex. You started cleaning up again because honestly, it was starting to bother you too. But what surprised you the most, was that Miguel met you halfway: brought over fewer girls, - and when he did, he kept it quiet - helped you with dishes, and started taking out the trash all of the time. Miguel even started cooking for the both of you. When both of you were home for dinner, you would sit on the floor in front of the small living room TV, and eat and watch a show together.
More time spent together meant getting to know each other better. You told him about your family, and he told you about his fucked up one. You discussed likes and dislikes, learning that he couldn’t stand trashy Mexican food from fast-food places; making you swear you would never bring home Taco Bell again.
You started to maybe feel things for him after you fell asleep on him during one of your dinner-and-a-movie nights. And it wasn't the fact that you fell asleep that made butterflies form in your gut, but that you woke up in your bed the following day. It had taken you a few minutes to piece it together through the drowsiness, but you realized he had carried you from the couch to your bed. You had been pouring yourself coffee when you came to that realization. Let’s just say most of the coffee didn’t go into the mug.
The next time you started to blush after thoughts of Miguel was when he came from work to drive you home in the rain. After living together for so long, you got used to each other schedules, even before you started spending all this time together. So when it was raining Wednesday night after coming from the library, you weren’t nervous about Miguel knowing where you were, more just shocked. The library on campus wasn’t too far from where you guys lived, so you always walked. But you would have at least brought an umbrella if you were expecting rain. The downpour opening the doors outside made you face the fact that you would likely catch a cold.
To the left of the doors though was Miguel's fancy sports car; rolling down a window, yelling at you to get in.
As you shut the door, setting your backpack on the floor, you asked, “How… Why are you here?”
“I got off work a little early. And seeing it rain, I decided picking you up on my way home was way easier than dealing with you with a cold for the next few days.”
You looked at him aghast. Of course, he was a bit of a jerk about it, but the actual gesture made you pause. A few months ago, you would have never thought he would do this. Even now, you had never known Miguel to be this generous to anyone.
You tried to hide your small smile as he started the drive home, but you don’t think it worked because you saw one on his face too.
But the worst part for you was that he kept on picking you up. Week after week, Miguel would text you after he was done with work and pick you up to take you home from the library on campus (even though it really wasn’t that far of a walk). Soon after, he started dropping you off on his way to work too.
Miguel kept up the niceties till Christmas: carrying all the groceries (now that you were back to paying for them since he cooked for you both now almost on a daily), letting you fall asleep on him, not bringing girls around, buying you coffees, opening doors, and letting you pick movies for your dinner nights.
He made it really hard not to fall for him.
Then Christmas time rolled around. You knew it was hard for everyone that didn’t have the best family relationships, especially in Miguel’s case where he didn’t really have anyone left that was a good human being. Finals must have also rubbed off on him, he was snappy and rude to you for the weeks leading up to the holiday. He didn’t cook and barely ate for himself.
You gave him a pass this time, mostly because you owed it to him for being so nice to you, but also because maybe you liked him. Just a little bit.
So you tried to cook, were patient with him, let him pick the movie, and hopefully cheered him up some days with one of your sarcastic jokes. You didn’t want to leave him alone. But come December 23rd, and you had to go home for the holidays.
You had your suitcase all packed for the coming week, ready to say goodbye to Miguel, when he hugged you. He hugged you. He was a massive person but felt so small wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your shoulder. It felt like an atonement for all the bad things he has said or done the past few days. You wrapped your arms around his neck in gratitude, threading a hand through his hair, whispering in his ear, “Please call me. If you need anything.”
When he finally let go, Miguel’s arms still slung loosely around your waist, you met his eyes, and reached up to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead. He leaned into your touch, so you pushed a little further and kissed his jaw, “I’ll be back after New Year’s.”
His hands tightened around you, eyes closed, and let out a shaky breath. You couldn’t think of what more to say in the moment and didn’t want to ruin the soft glow that surrounded you both. You slowly pulled away, taking quiet breaths as you left the apartment. You desperately tried to forget about him while you were home.
But that wasn’t going to happen, as Miguel showed up at your parents’ front door three days later. Thank goodness it was you who answered the knocking late one night, as your parents were getting ready for bed, your siblings nowhere near the door.
“Miguel, what-” you backtracked, “are you okay?”
“I was going to call bella. Prometo. But I just needed to see your eyes. Just for a few seconds.”
You didn’t know what to do with that. You bit your lip and twiddled your fingers, wanting to help Miguel, truly, but you were nervous about how your parents would react to you bringing a 6’ 6” man into the home randomly. And at night.
“I-”
He didn’t even let you get a word in, “I apologize bella, I should not have sprung upon you like this. I will just see you at the apartment in a few days.”
Before he could fully turn around, you grabbed his wrist, caressing his hand as you slotted your fingers in between. Yes, it would be hell to talk to your parents about Miguel staying, but you knew you didn’t want him to leave. “Wait just… come inside.” You pulled him in, staring up into his eyes as you reached around to close and lock the door, “Stay right here and let me… uhh… discuss with my parents, okay? But please, don’t leave, we’ll figure something out.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you gently slid your hand from his, walking toward the back of the house where your parents were.
Though it was one of the most awkward conversations of your life, your parents agreed to let Miguel stay the night, they could all discuss details in the morning, and formally meet him when they were wide awake.
You were going to let Miguel sleep on your bed and you take the couch, as your house didn’t have a guest room, and he was too big for said couch, but he insisted you could share your full-sized bed, and you really didn’t want to upset him more by arguing with him at this time of night.
You asked no questions about why he showed up at your house, just got ready for bed. He already showed up in more relaxed clothes so he could just hop right into bed. He was sound asleep by the time you got done with your shower and face care routine. Slowly slipping under the covers, you studied his face; still seeing the grimace he always wore, even in his sleep. It made you worry and smile at the same time, you wished you could ease whatever pain had caused him to come to see you in such a state. Clearly needing comfort, you brushed some hair back from his face, “Sweet dreams, Miguel.”
Sometime during the night, you swore you felt that same softness again, his arms cradling you, his breath softly blowing your hair. But when you woke up, the side he slept on was only faintly warm, a sign that he had been gone for just only a little while; a note laid on your nightstand:
Thank you for everything last night. I just needed to escape to you from these past few days. I can explain everything when you come home. I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful I’m sorry I left. Tell your parents I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to meet them, but thank them for letting me stay in their home with their precious daughter. Happy New Year bella,
Miguel
If it weren’t for your stupid family you would rush to the apartment, or home, as Miguel had put it.
With those words, he had confirmed it, you were stupidly in love with him. His stupidly warm eyes, his stupidly thoughtful actions, stupid full lips, stupid words (stupidly round ass), and most of all, his stupidly wonderful soul. He could pretend to be a hardass, mean, rude man to everyone but you.
And January 2nd couldn’t come soon enough, for your stupid brain could only think about Miguel’s arms holding you tightly once again.
Olive Branch | Tangerine x Reader x Ladybug | 6k | Complete
Bullet Train | 6k, complete | Tangerine x Reader x Ladybug
Bullet Train masterlist | ATJ masterlist | AO3: Otaku_girl
Summary: When Tangerine comes back from a job with Lemon, he expects a relaxing night alone watching the match. Instead, he is met with an unexpected guest — and an even more unexpected gift.
Warnings: 18+, kidnapping, dark!Ladybug, smut, read the tags 💚
A/N: Gift fic for the amazing @hederasgarden💚Based on the wonderful prompt: Ladybug kidnaps reader for Tan (knowing he likes her) as a peace offering.
Find the full fic on ArchiveOfOurOwn: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63427696
“You have 30 seconds to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ in my house.”
Time stands still as Ladybug looks up, hands carefully raised where Tangerine can see them. Furious, incredulous blue eyes stare back at him. His gun doesn’t waver.
“It’s been a while. I heard you were doing better.” Ladybug smiles at him, a wide, genuine grin that has no place on that smug bastard’s lips. “You started taking jobs again, right? That’s cause for celebration.”
Teeth grinding, the muscle in Tangerine’s jaw pulses. His eyes flick down to the Newcastle Brown — one of his beers— in Ladybug’s hand.
The nerve of some people.
“Sure, big day an’ all that. Thought I might treat myself to a night off,” Tangerine says, voice light and tight and cheery. His gun doesn’t waver. “That still doesn’t explain why the fuck you’re here.”
Ladybug tilts his head back as Tangerine edges closer. He doesn’t move, even as the other man looms above him. His smile widens. Tangerine wants nothing more than to pistolwhip the smug expression off of his stupid face. “Oh, that? I’ve been thinking—”
“Dangerous fuckin’ pastime for you, that. Did it hurt?”
“—it’s really time that we buried the hatchet, y’know? Lemon keeps saying we need to make up—”
Sharp, unblinking blue eyes narrowed in on Ladybug’s face. “Is there somethin’ wrong with you? Did you take one too many hits to the head? Makin’ it sounds like we’re soddin’ friends or some bullshit.”
He takes a step closer until his shoes are practically touching Ladybug’s own battered trainers. “There’s one thing I need to know. Just one.”
A little breaking and entering he can forgive. Stealing? Practically to be expected. But this? This crosses a line.
Tangerine cocks his gun. Ladybug’s eyes flicker down, taking in the shining, immaculate barrel as he waits for Tangerine to speak.
“The fuck are you talkin’ to Lemon for?”
Olive branch (5980 words) by Otaku_girl
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Bullet Train (2022), マリアビートル - 伊坂幸太郎 | Bullet Train - Isaka Kotaro
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Tangerine (Bullet Train)/Reader, Ladybug (Bullet Train)/Reader, Tangerine (Bullet Train)/Reader/Ladybug (Bullet Train), Ladybug/Tangerine (Bullet Train)
Characters: Tangerine (Bullet Train), Ladybug (Bullet Train), Reader
Additional Tags: Dark, Kidnapping, Restraints, Enemies to Lovers, Dark Ladybug (Bullet Train), Everybody Lives, Tangerine Lives (Bullet Train), Gift Fic, Tangerine being a delightful ball of rage, Ladybug being a surprising little shit, Post-Canon, Extremely Dubious Consent, Girl next door, Reader-Insert, no y/n, Punishment, Threesome - F/M/M, Smut
Summary:
When Tangerine comes back from a job with Lemon, he expects a relaxing night alone watching the match. Instead, he is met with an unexpected guest — and an even more unexpected gift.
Synopsis: She was barely grown up, when she stepped into the bar that was the center of Zaun's resistance. The people she met there would forever change her life, and one of them especially.
Silco x reader/OC; first-person POV; overall rating: E for Explicit; canon-compliant (though I might make a stretch on the timeline here and there to make things fit my symbolism); age gap! (younger female, older male); 9 chapters; 45k; cis female reader/POV; no beta-reader; completed
Chapter ratings/warnings: E for Explict, slight smut! unprotected intercourse, overall gloominess of the actors
Wordcount: <1k
Author's note: A very short piece in between action, a last moment of intimacy with the old Silco, before he get changed for good. Comments would be appreciated!
Today's music recommendation: Daughter - Medicine
<- previous | next ->
Act I
Chapter I
Part 2/9
"Why didn't you prepare me for this?", I asked Silco late at night between two open-mouthed kisses.
He pulled my shirt over my head and cupped my neck with both his large hand.
I felt like drowning in them.
"I didn't know how. But please, no accusations tonight. I'm going to war tomorrow. Let me just be with you tonight, okay?"
I nodded, but couldn't hold back my tears. "What if you don't come back?"
Silco didn't answer, but he kissed me like there was no tomorrow. "Please stop crying," he begged as he gently placed his body over mine. "Come, I'll make you feel better."
A wave of pleasure rolled over my body as he placed small kisses over my abdomen. I stripped him from his shirt too and clawed into his back as if my life depended on it. "I don't want to lose you."
Silco looked at me through heavy lids. In the light of his nightstand lamp, his eyes were of a warm green again. "You won't, I promise. I'll be yours forever."
After dragging my first orgasm out of me, he sighed into the crook of my neck. "I wanna see everything of you." Then he flipped us over so that I ground my hips into his, and I clawed his hands like they were my only saviors from drowning.
I crashed into him, mercilessly, sending waves of pleasure through my core.
As he felt his own high approach, he gave me our usual sign to get off him, but tonight I only clung to him harder.
Rolling my hips a few times more, I pushed him over the edge, and he filled me up with hot strings of cum. I crashed into his chest, both of us panting and shaking, and he finally rolled us over again, his hips still firmly pressed to my core. We felt like we could preserve the moment a little longer.
He finally slipped out, when both our breaths had become steady again.
Thinking about what was ahead of us, a new wave of tears dwelled in my eyes.
Hello, dear! ♡ I saw your requests were back open and I was wondering if I could request more Thranduil smut where the female reader (human) does everything she can to befriend Legolas just so she can get into Thranduil's pants "Do you think I don't know what you are doing?" 🔥🔥🔥 (modern or not. I will let you decide!). Please and thank you so much. I hope you are having a great week.
I hope you like this!
“Mr. Oropherion”
Prompt: "Do you think I don't know what you're doing?" | Setting: Library, and then the bedroom.
Pairing: Modern Thranduil x Fem Reader (Second person POV)
Themes: Smut | Soft | Slow burn | Modern AU
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol use and drunkenness | Age difference | Nicknames | Degradation | Dirty talk | Kissing | Authority kink | Penetrative sex
Word count: 4.3K words
Summary: Finishing university and having to spend the night at your best friend’s place takes a surprising turn when his father reciprocates the feelings you had been secretly harbouring for him.
Rating: 🔥🔥🔥| Minors DNI | 18+
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It was close to four in the morning when you brought Legolas back home.
The graduation party had been a resounding success; everyone had enjoyed themselves. Legolas got into a drinking game with Gimli, and neither backed down. Bottles quickly emptied, stacks of glasses grew, and then, just when it looked like the contest was heading for a draw, Gimli burped, his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head, and he fell right off his chair. That was when you knew the time had come to take your friend home. Gimli was taken by Aragorn, Boromir, and his brother, so he could sleep at their place.
"My hands tingle," Legolas suddenly mumbled, before slumping deeper into the seat and snoring loudly.
You shook your head and smiled to yourself. Tingling hands? He’s going to be in for one hell of a hangover, you mused. And begging for aspirin the moment he opened his eyes—or perhaps a quick death. Maybe both, depending on how bad the after-effects were. You turned your attention to the road. It was empty at this time, but the incessant rain only served to slow down the taxi. Still, you could make out the bright neon lights and the lightning that split the sky in white, hot flashes of light. The residential area of the city soon neared, and you gaped at all the apartment buildings. It still shocked you that Legolas and his father live in such an expensive place in the city.
Thoughts of Legolas’s father had you reaching into your purse for your phone. You would need help taking Legolas up to the appartment. It didn’t take long, and you were promised someone would be there to help you. You squinted into the gloom and pointed out the correct building to the driver. Sure enough, Feren, Thranduil’s assistant, was out by the main entrance, wallet in hand, to pay the driver. Your apologies were endless and earnest, and Feren brushed them off with a friendly wave of the hand. He and Thranduil had been up most of the night anyway, going over an important contract, finishing up things just before your call came. The three of you had to walk in fits and starts, as Legolas was taller and swayed constantly. It was a trial, taking him through the ground floor, ignoring the stares of the stunned concierges. Then the lift, where Legolas nearly tilted onto the door. Then the top floor, where again, Legolas kept swaying and dragging the two of you with him.
"Will there be a repeat of this after he comes back from his trip?" muttered a highly amused Feren.
"I don’t know," you replied. "Next time it will be Aragorn’s turn to be the designated responsible adult, so you’ll have to ask him."
Feren nearly choked on his laughter. "You lot all take turns?"
"Oh yes," you mumbled, relieved when a familiar pair of doors drew closer. "We drew straws the moment we all became friends in University. Gimli has been grumbling about this arrangement ever since."
Feren snorted and gave you the apartment key. And nearly toppled into the corridor the moment you opened the door. "Easy there, big fella," You managed to brace yourself against the doorpost, to stop all three of you from falling flat on your faces. "Not all that far now; go to bed and sleep."
"I don’t need sleep," Legolas mumbled in his sleep. "I need Tauriel. Where is she? Where is my Tauriel?"
"Sleeping in her own bed," you said and smiled, thinking of the ring you helped Legolas pick out. "And probably thinking of all the things the two of you could do on your trip. Now come on," you let Feren lead the way to Legolas’s bedroom. "Off to bed with you."
"Mmm-hmm," Legolas breathed and allowed himself to be put to bed. His snores started again the moment his head hit the pillow, leaving you and Feren with enough time to dry off his hair and remove his socks and shoes.
"I’ll be heading out then," Feren said, satisfied that his boss’s son was settled in. "Mr. Oropherion said he’d like a word with you after you’ve settled in the guest bedroom."
"Of course," you managed, after having remembered Legolas’s invitation for you to stay over, and rest. "I’ll go see what the old man wants."
With that, Feren said his goodbyes and left. And you, not knowing what else to do with yourself, made your way to the guest bedroom. Everything was just like you remembered it: the comfortable bed and softer silk sheets, the quaint furniture, and the delicate wallpaper, all covered in roses. You noticed none of it while you put your things away and left your duffel bag in a corner. A bath had to come first to get the smell of that party off of you. And how wonderful it was to feel steam and hot water, the soap that felt so good as it glided over your skin. You showered for as long as reasonably possible, and then, one glorious hot shower later, you threw on a nightgown and flannel robe, and padded into the hall.
Thranduil wasn’t there, and he wasn’t in the kitchen. You were certain he didn’t want to meet you in his private rooms, so that left you with only one other place. The library. You took your time, relishing the feel of the soft carpet under your feet, the beautiful paintings that graced the walls, and the photographs. There were so many of them that you probably wouldn’t have been able to count them all. A door then opened, making you jump and clutch your chest in shock.
"Mr. Oropherion," you managed. Thranduil had been standing by the door, still dressed in his office clothes. You tried hard not to stare as he cut a stunning figure in the crisp white shirt and black pants he wore. His hair, usually pulled up into a neat bun, was loose now. "I… I didn’t mean to keep you waiting or anything."
Thranduil studied you keenly, his vivid blue eyes never leaving yours. "It is all right," he said finally, showing no sign of anger or impatience. "Come in. There is coffee if you would like something hot to drink."
"Please," you said cheerfully, perking up at the thought of hot coffee.
And being in Thranduil’s company, of course, although you would never say it out loud. That was the main reason you befriended Legolas in the first place—to try and get closer to his father. Thranduil was a most achingly handsome man, possessing the same platinum blonde hair, blue eyes, and strange but pretty leaf-shaped ears as his son had. Captivating and very much the man in charge, Thranduil was also a mystery, a man who was fiercely guarded about himself. Even his own son knew only so much about him, and Thranduil barely spoke to you, although you were frequently visiting Legolas. Now? Now he invited you to his library of all things, with a need to talk to you. You swallowed and walked up to him.
"Feren said you wanted to have a word with me, Mr. Oropherion," you said after going inside and closing the door behind you. "May I ask what for?"
Thranduil said nothing, only gesturing for you to make yourself comfortable at a large, polished table. His, no doubt, the one he used for his work. You were content to curl up on a comfortable leather chair and watch as he brought over two steaming mugs of coffee. Yours he gave first, before making himself comfortable in the chair opposite your own. He studied you again, watching you while you sipped, how your hair had been slicked back and how your cheeks looked all flushed after your shower. His gaze intensified in a way that made your heart flutter, and then he focused on his drink and asked questions about the party, what you planned on doing now that you were done with university, if you had any jobs lined up, and was pleased when he heard you would be starting work in a few weeks time. He then turned the discussion to the matter of his son's plans.
"Legolas showed me the ring." He sighed and took a sip before putting his mug away. "It is quite exquisite, and perfect for Tauriel. I am told you had a hand in it?"
"I had to, when he showed me the rings he had in mind," you said, making a face when you remembered going over Legolas’s choices. "You’d think with a father like you, Legolas would have better taste."
You quickly went back to your coffee, trying to be as casual as possible. The chief purpose of your compliment was for Thranduil’s benefit, not just because you were talking about Legolas’s questionable taste in jewelry. Thranduil didn’t reply but looked at you keenly. You coughed and tried to come up with something else to say. The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Thranduil kept looking at you, thinking of what he should say to you, of what he should say about your comments. In the end, he decided to be direct.
"Do you think I do not know what you are doing?" He took the mug out of your hands and placed it on the table. His fingers seemed to linger over yours, but you weren’t sure if you were imagining things or not. You coughed again and tried to brush off your comments.
"Do what?"
"Trying to get my attention. Do you think I have not caught on to what you are trying to do?"
"It’s nothing, Mr. Oropherion," you said with a nervous wave of the hand. "Just a silly little nothing, that’s all."
"And the Christmas gift?" Thranduil refused to let it go. "The handmade bracelet for me? Or that bottle of fine wine? One that should have been well beyond your means? How about all the times you would look at me with such deep yearning when your attention should have rightfully been elsewhere? Were those silly little nothings as well?"
Oh, dear. The bracelet could have been explained away, but the wine? You should have known you were overdoing it with the wine, and you now realize you had not been as subtle as you thought when it came to the way you looked at him.
"Does he know?" you asked finally, hoping and praying the ground would open and swallow you whole.
Thranduil rewarded you with a brief but arresting smile. "No. Legolas does not. And since you genuinely care for my son, I have kept my silence on the matter. But that still does not answer my question. Were you trying to get my attention? And no lies, I have neither the time nor the patience for them."
You dropped your head in utter embarrassment. Thranduil tutted gently and curled a finger under your chin, lifting it so your gaze was level with his. "Were you craving my attention, y/n?"
"Yes," you replied meekly.
"I see," Thranduil said slowly, hesitantly, as he ran his thumb across your lower lip. He groaned softly when your lips slowly parted. "Was this a simple liking, something innocent, or was this something more intimate in nature?"
Your cheeks were aflame. "More… intimate… Mr. Oropherion."
Thranduil’s eyes darkened. "You want me to bed you? Have my way with your body?"
"Yes," as bashful as you were, you still answered him. You very much wanted him to spend the night with you. "Maybe more than that."
His smile simply grew, and his eyes glinted wickedly in the light. Thranduil reflected on your answer and came to a decision. The time had come for him to be truthful as well.
"What if I told you I desired you in return?" He grinned when your eyes widened in both shock and pleasure. "That I had longed for you for nearly a year? What would you say to that?"
You were stunned and confused. Over the course of the previous year, Thranduil treated you like he always did, with barely any interest. Of course, he would be polite to you, asking about your classes and your exams, but there was nothing beyond that. In truth, it was Legolas who did most of the talking. You weren't sure if Thranduil even listened to you. Now he has freely confessed to wanting you.
"But you barely spoke to me," you huffed, more than a little hurt that he would keep such a thing from you. "There were times you acted like I wasn't even there."
For this, Thranduil was remorseful. "And I apologize for being so cold with you. I do have very good reasons for concealing my true feelings, and I will talk about them someday soon, but for now I must ask if you would like me to bed you now and make you mine."
Thranduil said no more. He leaned back in his chair and gave you time to think.
He had good reasons, you mused. The age difference, no doubt; Legolas's possible reactions and the memories of his first wife's tragic passing. Thranduil took years to recover, Legolas had once said, and he refused all attempts at relationships, even ones that could only last a night.
Until now.
"Why now?" A wave of insecurity caught you unawares. The Oropherions had come from another country and were old money. Thranduil could have easily set his sights on someone like him, and he could still do it, pretending that there was no one else. After all, longing could mean many things. "And why me?"
"Is it not obvious?" he asked, after seeing doubt cloud your eyes.
"No," you flushed when he took your hands into his. Such large hands he had—hands that were so warm against yours. Thranduil raised yours to his lips, kissing them repeatedly.
"Your skin smells glorious, just like I thought it would be," Thranduil observed, his lips curling into a smile. "And soft. So soft. I cannot wait to feel your hands all over my body."
His gaze cut to yours. Your eyes were fixed on his, your pupils wide and your breathing quick. Doubt still clouded your eyes, and doubt was what he wanted to soothe.
"Are you worried I might set you aside for someone else?"
"Yes," you swallowed, but somehow you clung on to your courage. "You're an Oropherion and I'm... I'm... Me"
Thranduil grabbed your hands by the wrists and tugged on them, pulling you out of your chair and onto his. Your breath hitched when you found yourself on his lap, his arms hooking around your waist.
"I cannot ask you to simply put complete faith in me, not when you still do not truly know me," Thranduil admitted. "All I can ask is for you to give me a chance. Just one. Will you do that for me? Give me a chance?"
You looked at him, at those startling eyes of his. You found no malice, no ill-intent, just a pair of sky-blue eyes that looked at you in a way no one else had done before. One chance, he had asked. You could risk giving him one chance.
"Alright," hands moving up your waist made your breath quicken again. "One chance."
Thranduil tightened his grip, heady anticipation coursing through his veins. "And can I make you mine now?"
"Yes," you were just as excited as he was. "But where though?"
Thranduil already had a place in mind, and set you down on your feet. When he rose, you had to really look up. Legolas may have been tall, but Thranduil was even taller.
"Come," he said, holding onto your hand. Thranduil led you out of the library and into the corridor. "I know just the place."
That place turned out to be his bedroom. It was like Legolas’s but on a much grander scale, with a large four-poster bed and warm accents everywhere. There was a wooden crest of some sort hung up on one wall, an intricately carved leaf surrounded by vines.
"My family’s crest," Thranduil stood behind you. "Tis an old one; the true meaning of it has been lost to time."
His hand had been moving up your arm, making your skin prickle and warm beneath his palm.
"You can change your mind at any time," he murmured and moved even closer, his other arm slowly circling around your waist. "I will stop the moment you ask me to."
You didn’t want him to stop. Not now, not after what he was making you feel, all warm and feverish and lustful.
"What if I don’t want you to stop?" you replied, your body slowly sagging into his. Thranduil groaned triumphantly and turned you around, his arms pulling you into a tight embrace.
His kiss was far from gentle, leaving you breathless and heady. You willingly yielded, your arms twinning around his broad shoulders when he dipped to carry you, a growl slipping past his lips when your legs wrapped around his waist. Thranduil carried you to across the room, his kisses demanding and unceasing. When he set you down by the foot of the bed, you tried to undress yourself.
"No," Thranduil was quick to stop you. "Let me do it instead."
Your hands moved to your sides while skilled, patient fingers worked on the belt of your robe and drew it away. His eyes darkened at the lace and skin that lay beneath.
"Beautiful," he whispered dreamily, before tugging your robe down your arms. When it pooled around your feet your cheeks warmed immediately. Thranduil stood still for a moment, drinking in the vision that stood in front of him, before gathering you into his arms and kissing you again. You found yourself being carried into bed, its bedspread cool beneath your skin. A blissful sigh parted your lips when his tongue dipped into your mouth. You felt caged beneath him, his body heavy against yours in all manner of wonderful ways. When he pressed himself even closer, your nails nearly ripped into his shirt, leaving gouges in his back. It hurt, but Thranduil thought no pain felt even a fraction as good.
"You are going to be the death of me," he breathed and pulled away, so he could undress himself. Your blush rose immediately when the last of his clothes joined the little pile by the side of the bed and he towered before you like a magnificent sculpture come to life. You didn’t have time to even think as his lips sought yours again. He had to prop himself on one elbow, to avoid crushing you, but his kiss, oh, how sinful was his kiss, hungry and needy, and his touch, heated and possessive, as it moved all over your body. His hair felt thick to your touch, his skin petal-soft against your own. When he ground into you, more than a little hesitant, you threw caution to the wind.
"You don’t have to be gentle with me," you encouraged. When Thranduil stopped, studying you keenly, you cupped his face with your hands. You wanted him to do it, to take control and have his way with you completely. "I mean it, Mr. Oropherion, you don’t have…"
"Sir," Thranduil insisted, having brought down his own inhibitions. He wanted to hold back, to be gentle, to not fall on you like a beast, but if what you asked for was true…
"Not Mr. Oropherion," Thranduil's need to take control slowly overcame him. "Not while we are here, within the confines of this bedroom."
Your entire body flushed heatedly by his tone alone. "Yes," you gazed at him, blood roaring in yours ears. "Sir."
"Come," Thranduil settled onto his knees and held out a hand. When he pulled you onto his lap, you felt his cock—already hard—rubbing against your slick heat. Pinpricks of desire slowly grew as he kept rubbing himself against you, making you mewl and whimper into his shoulder.
"Are you sure about this, princess?" Thranduil growled, his voice deep and husky by now. "You do not want me to be gentle?"
What was it with the way he suddenly called you princess? Why did it make your pulse scramble so? "Yes," you readied yourself, eager for all the things he could possibly do to you. "Sir."
His lips crushed yours, his arms tightening around your waist like a vice. His teeth grazed over your lips, his tongue pushing past them and flicking against yours when it slipped into the warmth of your mouth. You couldn’t help but purr helplessly, your fingers raking through his hair. Thranduil forgot all sense of gentleness and decency as need lashed at him like a whip.
"So shameless, princess," he cooed, his hand making its way around your waist and onto your thigh. "The way you would look at me. Thinking I would not notice? Pitiful."
"I’m sorry, sir," you sighed when that hand of his snuck under the hem of your nightgown and glided up. "I’m so sorry."
"You should be," he muttered, "You should be very sorry."
Slap.
You jolted when he smacked your thigh. The pain that came was sharp, but the pleasure that followed afterwards…
"More," you begged, "Please."
"Sir," he reminded, before reddening your thigh again. "You forget yourself, princess."
"Sir," you mumbled quickly, "More sir, please."
Thranduil dipped and nipped your throat and your shoulder, taking care not to bruise such exposed parts.
"So needy already," he spanked your thigh a third time, moaning when you tugged his hair. "And I have just gotten started."
He kissed you again; his kisses aggressive and hot. He tugged at the hem of your nightgown, ordering you to lift your arms. The lace and silk confection went up your arms and over your waist before being tossed to the pile of clothes by the side. Thranduil pulled away to look at you, at your bruised lips, your skin gleaming in the lamplight, your disheveled hair, and your eyes, heavy-lidded, dark.
"Look at you," Thranduil grinned wolfishly as he took you in. "Already a mess."
"I am, sir," you snuggled even closer and threw your arms around his shoulders.
Instead of kissing you Thranduil pushed you onto your back, his greedy mouth exploring as much of your body as possible. You could only grip into the sheet when his teeth left darkening patches to bloom in their wake, your back arching every time he nipped at your skin. Your mewls turned into heady moans and Thranduil couldn’t get enough it.
"I often wondered how sweet you would sound when we fucked," he moaned and turned his attention to the soft swell of your breasts, dipping his head to taste. "How sweet you would taste."
"As much as I wondered how good you’d taste," you babbled without even realizing it. Thranduil chuckled before turning his attention back to what he was doing. He licked and laved, leaving your nipples throbbing by the time he had finished.
"Needy little slut, yes?" Thranduil pinned your hands over your head and forced your thighs apart with his. "But do not worry; you will get to taste me later. Lift those beautiful hips of yours for now."
You had just hooked your legs over his hips when he entered you, his cock plunging into your cunt in one quick stroke. He was so big, and it hurt, but the sensations that came with him sinking his length into you—the feel of your walls clenching around his cock—were too good, and the pain was forgotten quickly enough. Then he started to move.
Helpless and pinned beneath him, you found yourself being pushed higher up the bed every time he pulled his hips back and pushed back in, his moans matching yours. Thranduil forced himself to hold on, to wait till you had climaxed, but it had been so long, so very long, and you felt gloriously warm, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.
"Come for me, princess," he commanded, "Come for me now."
A wave of intense pleasure rose within you, threatening to drag you under. You let it drag you under, your body splintering as your orgasm ripped through you. Your senses dulled as the world around you seemed to stop spinning. So lost in your blissed-out state that you barely felt Thranduil pull out of you and spill his seed over your belly, his moan that of a deeply satisfied man.
Clarity came slowly. The sweet, restful scent of lavender oil mingled with each breath you took. You blinked your eyes and looked up. Thranduil still hovered over you, his arms trembling, and sweat gleaming on his brow. Slowly, he let go, his kisses going from raw fury to tender pecks. He massaged your wrists, helped you get cleaned up and insisted that you sleep in his bed, reassuring you that Legolas would have no issue with you being with him. Once he was sure you were settled, he quickly threw on a pair of sweatpants and went out to fetch you a glass of water. Legolas had also walked into the kitchen at the same time, and the two shared a knowing look.
"It’s happening?" Legolas asked, and made his way over to his father. "Are you and y/n together now?"
Thranduil filled out a glass of water for him and watched while his son took an aspirin for the headache that was already building in intensity. Legolas knew of his father's plan. He had seen both his friend and father pining for each other and it was he who encouraged his father to take the first step in the first place.
"Yes," Thranduil filled another glass for you and studied his son. "I will date her properly and do my best not to make a mess of things. Y/n deserves better than that."
"Good," Legolas would have grinned, had it not felt like a rat was trying to gnaw its way out of his head. "Y/n will be good for you. Besides, you’ve been a lonely, miserable bastard for too long, dad."
Thranduil blushed but smiled all the same. "One does not expect to hear such language from their own child, but thank you."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 41/?
Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Halsin/Tav/Zevlor (Baldur's Gate), Halsin/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Zevlor/Tav, Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Halsin/Zevlor (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Zevlor (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Halsin/Zevlor (Baldur's Gate), Halsin (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Lae'zel/Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Dammon/Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Gale/Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Dame Aylin | Nightsong/Isobel Thorm, Astarion/Zevlor (Baldur's Gate)
Characters: Tav (Baldur's Gate), Zevlor (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Halsin (Baldur's Gate), Gale (Baldur's Gate), Lae'zel (Baldur's Gate), Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Arabella (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Dammon (Baldur's Gate), Raphael (Baldur's Gate), Jaheira (Baldur's Gate), Rolan (Baldur's Gate), He Who Was (Baldur's Gate), Dame Aylin | Nightsong, Thaniel (Baldur's Gate), Oliver (Baldur's Gate), Shovel (Baldur's Gate)
Additional Tags: Zevlor deserves comfort, Reader Insert, Female Tav - Freeform, Switch Zevlor, Sneaky Moral Tav, Light BDSM, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Alcohol, Being a dubious influence on children, Biting, Apparently we're developing a hand kink, Chapters marked for spoilers, The group is inching towards becoming one big polycule, Meanwhile I'm just bullying sad old men, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Self indulgent and not sorry, Sneaking some fluff in with my sin, Everyone is stressed and poly and dtf instead of getting therapy, I'm the guy from ATLA screaming about my cabbages and by cabbages I mean my tieflings damnit, Sub Drop, questionable communication skills, Prehensile Tails, Oral Sex, Oral Fixation, Anal Sex, Everyone knows Halsin has a breeding kink, Zevlor might too, Hell no to the babies though, Threesome - F/M/M, Crying during sex and it isn't Tav, The adults try to honestly discuss their problems, This does not include Astarion yet lol, Rough Sex, Aftercare, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Angst, Demisexual Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Hellgrove, Pegging
Series: Part 2 of Through the Gates of Horn and Oak
Summary:
The wind blows, starting to separate the wheat from the chaff, the alliances from the shackling ties.
Could I get a part 2 of enormous sea monster reader x KOBD? I feel like the Decepticons would really like the idea of reader being on their side, she had already proved her use for them for the cause of the war, she made sure that Predaking is loyal to Megatron by ‘attacking’ him and the ship, fighting the autobots with no problem and etc. She discover the truth about the Decepticons cause and were going to attack KOBD for lying to her and turn their dead copses into something she going to use (like her new hairbrush but different-) but before she could do that, she got trapped inside an giant tube of non breakable glass, while trying to break free, she gotten smaller and smaller to human size. Her weakness is having no water, if she doesn’t have any water, she’ll shrink down to size
"You're sulking." Knock Out says as he opened the roof of your terrarium and dropped you a bag of hamburgers that he had picked from a local fast food restaurant. You came out of your hiding spot to retrieve the food and while you were at it, you shot him a glare.
"Jeeze, maybe because you're keeping me in a huge glass box?" You asked and the red mech shook his helm, "It's actually a tank, but what do you have to complain about? You get food and me and big guy look after your wellbeing."
"Is this what friends do?" You glared at him, "Use each other and then lock them up?"
"To be fair, dear, you did try to attack Breakdown and me."
"After you used me selfishly!" You frowned, "You used my kindness and goodwill against me and now you are keeping me locked in here like I'm some sort of pet!"
"Darling, don't be like that." Knock Out smiled as he looked down on you, "We do still love you, no matter what."
"Once I get out, you better pray I won't get my hands on you two…!"
